He exited the room, closing the door gently behind him, and headed to his room. He was pissed off. What gave her the right to talk to him like that? He was her boss and he was paying her an excessive sum to give him the best care and treatment. He should fire her and send her packing back to New York.
He paused. She was giving him the best of care, he reasoned. He was the one behaving like an ass. From the time she’d come to the island, he’d put up barriers to frustrate her.
Did he really want to get better?
He lowered himself to the bed, realizing that he was still hot and sweaty from the session. He didn’t care. The sheets could be changed and even replaced if he wanted.
He stared up at the ceiling fan swirling around him. A wave of sadness washed over him. Was this what he wanted for his life? An isolated life that left him feeling sad and alone? One of the dreadful things about coming here was the realization that those people he’d called friends were not really friends at all. Without blinking an eye, they’d deserted him. He had planned on denying them entry to the hospital. He didn’t want them to see him in such bad shape. However, they’d never come. He’d realized at that time that despite his celebrity status, he’d been alone.
When he’d been discharged from the hospital, he’d run home to Barbados. Not that he could really call Barbados home. In fact, he’d never visited the island, not even when he’d purchased his house. His reason for buying it had been simple. He’d needed somewhere to come to when he’d wanted to get away from the craziness of New York and California, where his other homes were. Each time he’d attempted to come before, he’d recoiled at the decision.
At that time, coming back had scared him. He could not admit it to anyone, but he knew the memories of his childhood had been too strong.
But the accident and his recovery had changed that. When he’d stepped on the American Airlines flight that day, he’d tried to control the panic boiling inside as the island grew nearer and nearer.
The first few nights on the island, he’d hardly slept, expecting countless relatives to come visit unannounced.
Fortunately, those feelings had subsided and he’d settled into a comfortable existence.
But was that what he wanted? Or did he want to feel alive?
He closed his eyes, feeling the unfamiliar sting of tears. He didn’t cry, not even when his mother had passed away.
But tonight, something strange was happening inside and he wasn’t sure if he liked or wanted it. But the tears came, large wet drops that seemed not to want to stop. He gripped one of the pillows on his bed and buried his head in its depth.
When he was all cried out, he felt better. Felt as if a burden had been lifted off his shoulders.
For some reason, he believed that everything was going to be all right. Tomorrow would be another day, a different day. He didn’t want to be sad and alone anymore. He wanted to live, wanted to be better, and the only way he was going to do it was if he felt like he was living.
He rose from the bed and walked to the bathroom. The usual pain was there, but it was slightly more bearable.
After taking a shower, he headed for his workshop. For some reason, he felt inspired. Maybe he could get the project he wanted to work on started.
He sat on the stool with his gaze on the lump of clay lying there. He placed his hand on it, feeling its warmth radiate playfully under his fingers. He started tentatively, the awkwardness of using his left hand a hindrance at first, but he calmed himself, making sure to take his time. He raised his right hand, immediately feeling the pain, but he tried to ignore it. Sweat formed on his forehead and nose, dripping onto the worktable, but he fought through the pain until it became the usual irritating throb.
Under his hands the clay came alive, and the mound started to take shape and form. It was crude and imperfect, but the shape of the egret was clear. The wings spread wide hinted at the bird’s awkward flight, but there was a sense of freedom that he’d wanted to achieve. He looked at his work and felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction.
Unexpectedly, pain cramped his fingers, causing him to grunt. His hand tingled and throbbed. Maybe he’d done too much, but that did not lessen his sense of accomplishment.
He glanced at his cell phone. It was long past midnight. He didn’t realize he’d worked so long. He was tired, but he did not feel like moving. His hand felt tired and sore.
He moved to the small couch against the wall. He’d rest for a few minutes, then head up to his room. He had therapy in the morning and he didn’t want to be late.
Chapter 8
Aaliyah pushed the door of the workshop open. On the short couch, Dominic lay asleep, his feet hanging off the edge.
For a while she stood staring at him, unwilling to disturb his slumber.
In his dream world, he was different. While awake, there was a hardness about him; asleep there was a softness and gentleness she didn’t quite associate with him. He looked incredibly handsome.
She walked toward the couch, coming to a stop and glancing down at him.
She called his name but there was no response. She reached down and shook him gently.
He slowly opened his eyes.
He stared at her; she stared back.
“I overslept, didn’t I?” he asked.
“Yes, you did,” she replied.
“I’m sorry. I really wanted to be there on time.”
“That’s fine. We can have our session later today. Change is good every now and then.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I didn’t sleep well last night, either, so I overslept, as well.”
“I think I’m going to go up to my room, take a shower and get a few hours of sleep. You sure you’ll be fine?”
“Yes, I have some work to do on my computer and I’d like to give my sister a call.”
“Feel free to make any long-distance calls you want to. I’m sure you’d want to keep in contact with your family in New York.”
“Thanks, I’d love to call my sister Eboni. It was hard to be separated from her again so soon, especially now that she is pregnant.”
She noticed his puzzled expression.
“I have three sisters whom I was separated from when our parents died. Last year, the private investigator my sister Eboni hired found me.”
“How old were you when you were separated?”
“I was fourteen. I’m the oldest. There’s Eboni, then Keisha and Cindi. Eboni was ten, Cindi was eight and Keisha was seven when our parents died. Eboni and I have been trying to find our other two sisters.”
“It may not be easy, but I’m sure you’ll find them.”
“Eboni has a lot more faith than I do. She keeps saying that she knows we’ll find them.” She lowered herself to the couch.
“I would think you’d be the one with all the faith.”
“I know what you mean. But it’s different.”
“I see no difference. You want me to be strong and have faith so that I can be whole again. It’s the same type of faith.”
She nodded in agreement. What he said was true.
“I remember when we were kids, our mother would read us fairy tales. I loved those stories, but always wondered why the characters were never like me. I realized that fairy tales were just what the name suggested. Tales...with unrealistic endings.”
“You don’t believe in happily ever after. I would think that most women do.”
“I’m not sure I believe in endings like that anymore. Eboni still does. She got married last year to a wonderful man, she’s pregnant and expecting her first child. So maybe she’s living her fantasy, but she may be one of the rare ones.”
“What’s happened to you to make you so bitter?”
“I’m not bitter, but perhaps rather troubled by life. And you seem to be just as uneasy as I am.”
“Maybe I am. I have reason to be. I’ve lost most of what made me into the person I am.”
“But those a
re superficial things.”
“I resent your calling my career superficial.” Anger lit his eyes. “I loved my craft.”
“So why all the action-filled testosterone flicks?” she asked.
“Just because I did those flicks didn’t mean I didn’t want to do something else. I did a small indie project a few years ago and I was actually in negotiations to do something on a larger scale. From the time I read the script, I wanted the role. I appreciated the director taking a chance on me, and in the audition, I gave my all.”
“So what happened?”
“I got the role and then this happened.” He indicated his hand.
She nodded, feeling his pain. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry for me. I want you to continue to challenge me and push me to get better. I realize now that I’ve been really dumb. I’m definitely not the slacker type. I’ve always fought for what I’ve wanted.”
She yawned.
“I think I need to get some breakfast and catch up on my sleep, and I see you need to get a bit of rest, too.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yawn like that, but I am starting to feel a bit tired.”
“I’ll see you this afternoon. I think we both needed a break.”
She watched as he rose from the couch. When she was sure he was safely up, she turned to walk away.
“Thank you,” she heard him say.
She turned around.
“What for?”
“For making me want to live again.”
Not knowing how to respond, she just smiled.
Maybe she’d done something right.
* * *
When Aaliyah arrived in the gym later that evening, she was surprised to find him there already. He wore an unexpected smile on his face. She’d never seen him smile during any of their sessions. In fact, he demonstrated total dislike for whatever took place in the gym.
“You’re early,” she said.
“I did promise you I’d be here.”
He was dressed differently, less casual, as if he planned on taking his therapy seriously. She could not help but smile.
He smiled in return.
“So are you ready to get going?”
“Whenever you are,” she replied.
“I’m ready.”
* * *
That evening, she searched in the closet for one of two formal dresses she’d brought to the island with her. It was one of the dresses Cheryl had insisted she buy during her makeover.
She slipped it on, loving the feel of the fabric, just like she’d experienced the first time she put it on. She loved the softness of the blue. She glanced in the mirror, seeing the sexy woman who’d stared back at her just a few short weeks ago. Since arriving on the island, she’d buried that person in her old clothes, trying to make sure she looked professional.
Tonight, she felt soft and feminine. She felt strange. Even when Andrew was courting her, she’d never been really concerned about how she dressed. They’d known each other for so long, it hadn’t seemed important. Their love was one that had grown over time.
She remembered her parents talking about their own love. Her parents’ love for each other was not usual, but a special kind of love she didn’t quite believe in. When she thought of love, she equated it with security and loyalty and commitments. Her parents shared the wild kind of love, controlled by emotion, that she had little time for.
She picked up her favorite fragrance, Eternity Moments, and squirted a bit behind her ears and other pulse points. She glanced in the mirror one last time. Content with what she saw, she headed downstairs.
When she entered the dining room, she was immediately greeted by the smooth sounds of Jill Scott’s latest. She definitely had not seen Dominic as the jazz type, but it was a pleasant surprise.
He immediately turned. An unexpected grin lit up his face. Damn, he was gorgeous. She didn’t usually think of men as gorgeous, but he was. Despite his attempt at a rugged look, he was clean shaven and his hair neatly cut.
He walked slowly toward her and she noticed his slight grimace of pain. She ached to comfort him, but she was his therapist. She had to try to remain professional, though that was becoming more and more difficult with each day.
There was a part of her that ached for more, that even now wished he would kiss her again and relieve the need she felt inside.
Breathing in deeply, she stepped forward, causing him to stop. She didn’t want him to exert himself unnecessarily.
He paused by the table, waiting for her to reach him.
“Are you ready to eat or do you want to continue listening to some music?” The food was already there. She noticed the dishes on the buffet table, kept warm by the flickering flames of the sterno canisters.
“To be honest, I’d prefer to eat right now. My workout earlier has left me hungry and tired. We can listen to music while we eat.”
“My sentiments exactly. I’m hungry, too. I haven’t been eating much these days. I never was a big eater, but I haven’t had much of an appetite since the accident.”
“Well, let’s see if we can improve your appetite tonight.”
“Maybe.” He pulled out a chair, indicating that she should sit.
“Thanks,” she replied, lowering herself into the seat, but then rose again. “Remember, dinner is buffet-style.”
“Oops, I forgot. Mrs. Clarke is off for the night. She has one of her never-ending church meetings.”
“Do you want me to take care of your plate?” she said. “You just need to let me know what you want.”
She immediately noticed his indecision. He was too proud.
“I’ll get whatever you’re having. Mrs. Clarke says they are all my favorites. So I’m sure I’ll enjoy everything.”
Aaliyah walked to the table, uncovering the dishes. Delicious aromas tickled her nostrils. Her stomach grumbled. She filled one plate with a selection and then the other.
When she was seated, she said, “Is that fine?”
“I thought you said you were hungry.”
“I am hungry, but I think I’ve been doing a bit too much eating. Mrs. Clarke’s cooking has been pure bliss, but I have to control my portions.”
“I agree. I need to tone up a bit. Thanks to the sessions, I’m on my way back to a fit body.”
Definitely fit, she thought. She would love to run her hands all over his tight, firm muscles.
“I must go to church with her while I’m here,” she said, changing the conversation to a safer topic. “I don’t usually miss worship on Sundays, but I wasn’t sure about where to go while here. Do you go?”
“On occasion, but I haven’t been since I came to the island. I haven’t been feeling that sociable or spiritual,” he confessed.
“It’s in times like this, when you don’t feel spiritual, that you need to exercise your faith.”
“Well, my faith is a bit fragile right now,” he replied.
She nodded. What he said was true. She remembered exactly how she’d felt when Andrew died. She’d not been in any way responsive to God. It had taken her a long time before she’d stepped back into church.
She picked up her fork, waiting for him to do the same. She tasted the first mouthful of creamed potatoes and sighed with delight.
“I didn’t realize creamed potatoes could taste so good. Mrs. Clarke tempts me to always want seconds.”
“I wasn’t sure if I’d keep her on staff, but when I tasted her first meal, I hired her immediately. I just wish she were willing to travel, I’d take her wherever I go.”
“I’m sure that when you travel, you eat.”
“I do, but it’s not the same as eating Mrs. Clarke’s food. Definitely inferior. When I was in New York a few weeks ago, I couldn’t wait until I got back home. I missed her cooking.”
She lifted the fork to her mouth, tasting the succulent salmon, savored with the spices of the island.
For a while they ate in silence.
When
she was done, she placed her fork down.
“Do you want dessert?”
“I’d just like a glass of wine, white preferably.”
“I’m sure I can find a bottle or two. You want to retire to the living room? I’ll go get a glass.”
“I can get it,” she offered.
“Just let me do it,” he insisted. “I’m not totally helpless.”
“I’ll wait.”
When he was gone, she turned the music up. Jill Scott’s sultry voice came over the speaker system, which seemed to run through the whole house.
She stood, looking out the window, watching the dimming daylight and the first stars as they started to appear.
When he walked in, he carried a bottle of La Mondotte. She recognized it since it was Eboni’s favorite wine. She’d always been content with the less expensive variety, but when she’d tried La Mondotte, she immediately tasted the difference.
He rested his cane against the wall and poured two glasses, handing her one when she reached him.
She took the glass and sipped daintily as she felt the warmth spread through her body.
She wasn’t sure if it was really the wine or Dominic that caused the heat in her body, but she knew she liked being with him.
“I’m going to sit now. Sit next to me,” she said.
He waited until she lowered herself to the couch before he sat next to her.
For a moment they sat in silence, savoring each other’s presence.
“So how did you get into modeling and acting?” she asked, breaking the silence.
He hesitated for the briefest of moments.
“I was in high school and wanted to act, but not necessarily model. However, a woman, Chandra Crane, who owns the Crane Agency, saw me, liked my look and asked me if I were interested in modeling. Since I saw it as a stepping-stone to what I really wanted to do, and my father knew what I wanted, we signed the contract. I started modeling when I was still in high school. My first contract was with the Urban Boys clothing lines, and then I went on to bigger things.”
“You grew up in New York?”
“Just my mid to late teenage years.”
“Before then?”
“I grew up here.”
“Here? In Barbados?”
touch my heart Page 7
