by H.H. Fowler
“…I can’t believe my mother did not live to see me married, and will never see what her grandchildren would have looked like…” Jasmine was saying. At that point, her voice withered and she was about to crumble into a choking spell. The amount of time she had spent talking on the phone with her mother about her loneliness, brought a feeling of hopelessness over her. Who was she going to turn to, now that her rock had been moved out of the way? She concluded after a short while, “I loved my mother dearly. I was not a perfect child growing up, but my mother understood me…”
With tears, Jasmine looked out over the crowd and for one nervous second, Wynton thought her eyes caught him staring at her. He could not help but stare at such an exquisite creature. The grace in which she moved was spellbinding. The Jasmine he remembered was hard and rough around the edges. She had always had that ability to turn heads, but now, her beauty was just plain ridiculous. Those dark, Hispanic eyes would keep him weak in the knees for days to come. How could a girl like that not be married? What fool would pass up something like that…
“She is gorgeous, don’t you think?” Tara whispered, her gaze directed toward the pulpit. “She looks just like her father.”
Wynton did not respond to Tara’s observation. He was too overcome to say anything at the moment. He knew if Tara had known about his past with Karl’s daughter, Wynton believed Tara would have been singing a different tone. She would not be so gracious with her compliments.
“I think we should go,” Wynton finally said. “I have to lay some tracks for my new album.”
“No, babe, I’m staying.” Tara looked at Wynton with a naughty smirk in her eyes. “I’m being tickled – just staring at your mother with that ugly veil. She looks hideous, doesn’t she? She is the spitting image of Chucky’s bride. Why is she sitting in that pulpit anyway? I thought devils weren’t allowed up there.”
Wynton leaned over to Tara and said seriously, “You had better keep those comments to yourself.”
Tara bent her head and enjoyed a good chuckle. When she came back up and saw Wynton’s expression, she went down again. Tears fell out of her eyes. For a full minute she could not control her laughter.
“I’m sorry, babe,” Tara said, after finally catching her breath. “You have to admit that your mother dresses like the evil woman that she is.”
Wynton could not bring himself to defend Doreen against Tara’s words, because he knew Tara was not too far from the truth. However, it did not erase the fact that Doreen was still his mother and he believed a man’s mother should be respected in his presence. Moreover, he ached to get out of the building – his father’s church – the place that had brought him much shame and disillusionment. He’d promised never to step foot back into Brandon View for as long as he lived.
He could not believe he’d allowed a woman – whom he hadn’t seen for twelve years – to cause him to go back on that promise. It would be the last time that he would give in to such a capricious impulse. Wynton stared at his bodyguards and they knew immediately that he was ready to leave.
“You can stay if you want,” Wynton said to his fiancée. “I’m leaving.”
“How am I going to get back to your place?”
“My point exactly,” Wynton quipped. “You had better be behind me by the time I get to the limo.”
If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?
- William Shakespeare
Chapter Twenty-One
“We’ve been waiting ten minutes,” one of Wynton’s bodyguards said. Wynton called the man Tiger because he was as voracious and fierce as the animal itself. “I don’t think she is coming. Do you want me to go and get her?”
“Tara loves to play these silly games,” Wynton said. “I will go.”
“Not without me, Boss,” Tiger said. “You don’t have the privilege to walk around like ‘normal’ people do. Don’t forget; I took a bullet for you once.”
“You wore a bullet proof vest,” Wynton said, with a small hint of a smile. “That doesn’t count.”
“Mr. Lakatos, the men in your security team put their lives on the line for you every day.”
“But right now I want you to stop treating me like a bloody infant. I will be right back.”
“We’re coming in if you are not back here in five minutes!”
“Whatever you say, mother…” Wynton paused as his smile pulled his lips to the side. He then said gravely, “In five minutes I could be dead –”
The limo doors flew open and Wynton’s bodyguards jumped out. “Well, in that case,” one of them said, “we are not letting you out of our sight. Why you tryin’ to mess with our minds like that?”
With his bodyguards in tow, Wynton made his way toward the exit he’d recently vacated – despite his vow to never step foot back into his father’s church. His bodyguards dropped back a few yards to give him a little personal space. However, when they saw the masses begin spilling out of the exits, they quickly changed their minds and closed the distance by fifteen feet. The last public attempt on Wynton’s life had developed out of an innocuous crowd – like the one at the church. At this point in the game they dared not take any chances.
Wynton waited near the entryway, but he did not see Tara among the bustle. Maybe, she took another exit, he thought, and after a short while, he made a roundabout turn and began searching the church grounds. There were only three ways to get in or out of the building, so Tara couldn’t have gone very far. He knew the layout of his father’s church like the back of his hand. It would have been in his best interest to forget the spot where much of his youthful debaucheries had been carried out; however, the memories were too deep.
“Wynton?”
Wynton slowed his stride and looked behind his shoulders – only to discover that the woman who had called his name was not the woman he was searching for. Jasmine Benton, Wynton said to himself, you are even more beautiful up close. Those eyes of yours are gonna kill me…
“I wasn’t sure that it was you,” she said. If Jasmine was excited to see Wynton after twelve long years, she did not show it. She spoke to him as if they were picking up from where they’d left off yesterday. “You did not have to make the effort. I know you and my mother were not on the best of terms.”
Wynton felt his mouth go dry. How did he respond to a woman with whom he’d had so much history – which also felt as though he was meeting her for the first time? It would be difficult trying to formulate words without sounding stupid. Jasmine had only been standing in front of Wynton for less than a minute, but he struggled hard to keep his lecherous thoughts at bay. Those thoughts – if he took them seriously – would make him feast upon Jasmine’s cleavage. Wynton had a weakness for women’s breasts, and he was known to blatantly show it. The mood was too inappropriate to ‘act’ out his sinful proclivities. What would Jasmine think of him then?
“Twelve years is too long to be holding a grudge,” he heard himself say. “And, I would never take pleasure in your pain, Jasmine. So, please, accept my sympathy for the loss of your mom.”
Jasmine did not know why hearing Wynton say those words touched her more deeply than she’d expected. Her lips trembled, which prompted more tears to rush down her smooth cheeks. Embarrassed, she turned away, but Wynton – being the affectionate man that he was – reached out and gently rested a hand on her shoulder. Gradually, he pulled her into him and hugged her. It did not matter that people were milling around them. It was as if they were in their own world. Somehow, in the back of their minds they knew that they would have to sit down and discuss some things.
****
Tara breathed a sigh of relief as she left the bathroom stall. The last fifteen minutes had been a pleasurable experience with the porcelain goddess. She had no idea what she might have eaten that upset her stomach so suddenly. Even her pride could not prevent the inevitable: When it was time to go; it was time to go. She was
hed her hands and then sprayed a copious amount of cherry freshener into the air.
It was a good thing that no one else came into the bathroom when she exited the stall because she would have been thoroughly humiliated. If someone saw her standing at the mirror, it could always be explained that the person before her was the one who had swallowed a rotten cow. Scents so pungent just did not come from her. She pulled the bathroom door open and stepped out.
Now, Tara’s next order of business was to find Wynton. She knew he would not leave her stranded at the church. More than likely, he was in the limo waiting on her. He might be fuming, but he would get over it as soon as she snuggled up next to him. It did not take much for Wynton to drop his defenses.
When Tara banked into the foyer she was surprised to see that it had cleared out so quickly. Where did all those people run off to? she thought and then smiled humorously. I hope they are not that excited about going to a graveyard. Now, that would be totally sick…Tara had not read the back of the program, where it said that Sharon’s body would be taken from the church to be cremated.
Two padded benches had been fastened to the walls in the foyer, which was Paul’s idea of creating a welcoming atmosphere. Tara took the liberty to sit and readjust the straps of her shoes around her ankles. She had not untied the first one before hearing snippets of conversation resonating from the corridor. She initially paid it no mind – almost appreciating that she was not alone, as she’d originally thought. Then, something was said that yanked her attention front and center.
“…when you leave the crematorium, meet me at our usual spot,” the woman said. “You look like you could use a bit of relaxation – if you know what I mean.”
“I don’t feel up to it –”
“Of course you do,” the woman spat, interrupting the man. “Today calls for a celebration and I want to show you how happy you have made me…”
“I have plans for tonight –”
“Shhhhh…” It sounded as if the woman silenced the man with a wet, passionate kiss.
Tara’s heart was beating at the bottom of her feet. The woman’s voice sounded strangely familiar, but Tara did not want to believe what her ears had heard. There had to be an explanation. Maybe the woman and the man were practicing for a part in a movie, or had been cast for a role in a Romeo and Juliet production. The more Tara allowed her imagination to run wild, the more she realized that maybe she had ended up in the right place, at the right time.
If her suspicion turned out to be what she thought, then she would consider herself the luckiest woman alive. Eventually, her curiosity got the best of her and instead of her continuing on the outside to ‘reconnect’ with her man, she tiptoed toward the other direction.
She edged against the wall and slowly rotated her head until one of her eyes landed squarely on her targets. At first, Tara began to focus on how wildly the couple was kissing, but when she noticed the woman’s translucent veil, which had been tossed behind her head, Tara’s heart almost gave way to a cardiac arrest. She had just made fun of that ugly veil. How could she forget it so soon? She pulled her head back in and leaned against the wall to catch her breath.
Doreen? What the hell are you doing with that woman’s husband? Tara was tempted to look again – just to be sure that her eyes had not deceived her. However, the weight of the image in her mind was enough to drag her toward the main exit. She stumbled down the steps in search of her fiancé. Tara could see the limo in plain view. It brought some measure of relief, but it seemed as if her feet could not reach it fast enough.
“Tara!”
She froze in her tracks. She closed her eyes in thanks to God that it was Wynton’s voice, because for a moment she had the crazy idea that Doreen had found her out. When Wynton drew close and placed an arm around her shoulder, she gave into her panic-driven emotions.
“I thought something happened to you, girl. Did you know how long I was looking –”
Tara spun around at Wynton so swiftly she almost knocked him off his feet. She gripped both of his arms and said in a fit of giggles, “I am going to the Bahamas with your mother!”
“What?”
“You heard me, Wynton,” Tara said. “I will go and spend those four days with Doreen. We will have a lot to discuss.”
Wynton cocked his head in disbelief and said suspiciously, “What did you drink while you were missing for those thirty minutes?”
“Babe, I know this is important to you,” Tara babbled on. “Let’s just say that I had time to think about it and I realized how much of a drag I have been.” She nervously jammed strands of hair behind an ear, and then stared Wynton dead in the eye. “When do we leave? Because I’m ready to pack my bags right now.”
“The reservations are for Saturday afternoon…” Wynton paused, completely stumped by his fiancée’s bizarre behavior. “Could I ask you, baby, what brought this on?”
Tara let out a huge sigh and smiled – almost listlessly. She turned away from Wynton and continued her journey toward the limo. Wynton stood there for a moment and tried to take it all in. His woman had lost her mind – he was sure of it, but what surprised him more was the fact that she had strode past Jasmine – as if Jasmine had been an apparition. The Tara he knew would have never done that. He looked back and questionably studied the church. Something had definitely caused Tara to trip.
Wynton started for the limo, his gait showing proof of his confusion. If his bodyguard had not shut the door of the limo, he would have left it swinging open. He turned to face his fiancée one last time before the limo sped out of the parking lot. She had ditched the dread he had seen in her eyes and had replaced it with a look of confidence.
“Are you okay,” he asked guardedly.
Tara squeezed his arm warmly and said, “Why wouldn’t I be, babe? I consider myself the luckiest woman alive. I have you and that is all I need.”
Tara brushed her lips against Wynton’s and then sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. Wynton, on the other hand, turned his gaze to the window and watched as the city zipped by in one, big blur. His life was becoming strangely interesting.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Marcia woke with a severe pain in her head, which was the result of all the crying she had done the previous night. Brian was ignoring her again. With the help of her friend Phoebe, she had sent him half a dozen texts, but he hadn’t the compassion to respond to at least one of them. And, for a while, she went back to thinking her blindness was the reason for the distance she felt from Brian.
She remembered the last time they were together at the restaurant. He had told her he wanted to use the bathroom. When he returned to their table, his mood had changed drastically. He short-answered her questions and within five minutes he stood up and told her that he had to leave. She wished she could have seen what made him so uncomfortable all of a sudden.
Lord, I know this is the man of my dreams, Marcia prayed silently. You have placed me in his life to care for him – but how sad that he doesn’t even know it as yet. I feel so connected to Brian and I believe, Lord, that it is Your doing. I have never pined this way for a man in my life. The connection is not even sexual…Marcia’s prayer was cut short by the ring of her cell phone. She began groping in the spot where she usually kept it, which was on one of the shelves built into the headboard of her bed.
“Hello?” she answered expectantly.
“Marcia Gippings?”
“Yes…”
“How are you? This is Clyde Barr – the Eye Specialist you inquired about recently.”
“Oh, yes…” Marcia sat up, feeling a bit disappointed that the call was not from Brian. She perked up nonetheless and continued with a steady pace. “I have heard wonderful testimonies about how you’ve helped dozens of blind people receive their sight. Are you really calling from the Sussex Eye Clinic in Brighton?”
Clyde gave a big, hearty laugh. “I have lived near the south-coast of England for most of my life. My family migrated here
while I was yet a young lad. You are certainly receiving a call from Brighton. Can’t you tell by my accent?”
The warmth in Clyde’s voice made Marcia feel at ease almost immediately. She smiled and said bashfully, “Of course, Doctor Barr. I’m just so excited to finally speak with you.”
“My pleasure,” Clyde said and then he jumped right into Marcia’s motive for the call. “So, what can I do for you? Do you mind if I presume that you are experiencing a loss of vision?”
“Yes, and I believe there is a chance that I can get my sight back.”
Clyde gave another big laugh and said, “You are quite the confident one, aren’t you? I can tell that you are the sort that makes my job a lot easier. Tell me a bit of your background and maybe I will be able to advise if Sussex is the right decision for you. And, please confirm, you are in Brandon, Florida?”
“Yes…”
Marcia paused and wondered briefly if she should have come right out and told Clyde where she had really grown up – the place where she lost her sight in a horrible incident. She did not like rehashing the memories of that day, because each time she did, it fortified feelings of hatred for her father. However, she could not let the past hinder the progress of her future. The cause of her blindness would eventually come up anyway, she decided. So, she bit the bullet and took Clyde fourteen years back to her father’s scrapyard in Longview, Texas.
Marcia did not leave out any detail – sordid as it had been – she relayed the tragedy with amazing composure. She had Clyde’s full attention – especially when she told him how she and her sisters had suffered under the brutality of their father’s sick mind. The conversation lasted for more than twenty minutes and when Marcia was through, she could hear Clyde’s painful sighs coming through the receiver.
