by D. A. Young
Graham fist-bumped with her. “I see you, babygirl. Now, how about the zoodles?”
Rory pursed her lips with distaste and shook her head adamantly. “Zoozles are yucky! Noooo! Zoozles are bad. Mummy!”
“The zoodles are a bone of contention between Rory and Annabelle,” Edith explained with a twinkle in her eye while Annabelle muttered under breath. “She knows they’re really vegetables and not pasta noodles.”
“Should I take a guess who’s winning this battle?” Graham teased Annabelle. In turn, she gave him a woeful look.
“Nope; it’s too embarrassing to admit. Let’s just say that I’ve acquired the necessary skills to become a hostage negotiator,” she informed him dryly before addressing an obstinate Rory. “Come on, lovey. Eat your dinner or no dessert.”
“Yucky zoozles, Mummy!” Rory pushed her plate away. “Disgusting!”
Annabelle pinned her daughter with a stern look that gave her child pause because she knew Mummy was about to get real, really quick. “Young lady—”
“May I?” Graham interrupted her quietly, seeking her approval to deal with Rory. Annabelle exchanged a quick glance with Edith who smiled encouragingly.
“Go for it,” Annabelle replied cautiously. Rory was her heart and such a joy to be around, but when it came to making a point and getting her way, this child of hers could be a handful and extremely willful.
“Zoodles are yucky? Are you sure about that, babygirl?” Rory appeared to contemplate Graham’s question before giving her answer— a vigorous head nod that made her tiara wobble.
“Yesss! Yucky!” Rory wrinkled her nose for emphasis. The kid was too freaking adorable for words. She was happy, carefree, and obviously adored by her mother and Gigi. Graham could see that she was the superstar in their world.
He used his fork to twirl the zoodles onto it and speared a succulent prawn. Graham held his fork out for Rory to see before slipping it into his mouth. It was damn good. The prawns were fresh, and Graham could taste the garlic, parmesan, and lemon Annabelle had used. The sweet tang of the tomatoes was the perfect contrast to the heat of the chili flakes and citrus.
“You’re wrong, babygirl. This isn’t yucky at all. It’s yummy!” To prove his point, Graham ate a forkful from her plate while she eyed him suspiciously. He noticed hers was missing the chili flakes and that Annabelle had used parmesan only. He winked at Annabelle, who gave him a grateful smile in return. “Mummy really put her foot in it!”
He was aware of Annabelle watching his every move with Rory in a protective manner. His being here in her sanctuary was making her edgy. She didn’t like that he knew something about her that no one in Baymoor was aware of. He now knew her weakness and the main reason she stayed away. Graham also noticed that she was the only one at the table with a cutting knife between her and Edith and that she sat directly across from him. There was also nothing between them except their dinner plates. The bowl of pasta, pitcher of peach-lemonade, and bowl of sliced French bread were shifted to the side, making the table look off-balance. The path gave Annabelle easier access to him. Graham knew that she wouldn’t hesitate to go for his throat if she felt like he was a threat.
“Ewwww! Silly, Mr. Ram!” Rory grabbed her tummy and giggled uncontrollably. “Feet don’t go in your food! Gross!”
Her laughter was contagious, but Graham managed to suppress his as he made a big production of going in for a third bite, but Rory grabbed his hand. “No, my turn, Mr. Ram! You watch me eat!”
“Are you sure, babygirl?” he asked with a doubtful expression. “I thought you said it was yucky?”
“Nooo!” Rory pouted. “I eat now and you watch me!”
Graham observed with amusement as the little girl made a big production of sitting up straight in her chair and twirling the noodles onto her fork. Carefully, she speared a prawn and brought the food to her lips. Rory took a dramatic deep breath and closed her eyes as she shoved the food into her mouth and slowly chewed. Her eyes popped open. “Mmmm! Ish good!”
“Told ya, kid.” He let his fork hover over her plate. “Do you think you can finish the rest of your food? If not, I’m gonna have to eat yours and mine…”
“Mr. Ram, that’s my food!” Rory pulled her plate closer to her protectively, eyes sparkling with indignation at her new friend’s ridiculous idea. Her mulish expression was priceless. “Eat your own!”
She grabbed her fork and promptly went to work finishing her dinner. The adults followed her cue and conversation continued between Edith and Graham. Annabelle was still recovering from the fact that he was in her house and looked right at home, sitting next to her child and conversing with the woman who was more of a mother to her than her own had been. Rory was absolutely taken with Graham and the feeling was apparently mutual. Annabelle suspected it was because having a man around was a novelty and something her mother didn’t allow unless it was a neighborhood get-together or birthday party.
It was heartwarming to see Graham interacting with Rory so effortlessly. The way he leaned in attentively and paid close attention to her daughter’s incessant chatter as if what she was saying was the most important thing in his world was priceless. Annabelle was amazed that as big as he was, she didn’t view Graham as threatening and imposing, but rather as a protector as he towered over Rory’s tiny frame. Rory’s giggles escalated, and Annabelle wished she had a camera to capture her child’s happy upturned face as Graham smiled down at her, just as captivated.
So, he was not just a good-looking charmer who had way with women. He had skills with kids too. Dammit! She really didn’t want to like him. Or think about how good he looked sitting next to her daughter, having the time of his life as if it were perfectly natural and he’d been there from the jump. Annabelle’s instincts told her that Graham was a good person. They also told her he was a player. Whoever reformed him would be putting in that hot werk with him between the sheets. Well, it wouldn’t be Annabelle. No man was worth the aches of the head, body, and heart, no matter how fine he was.
Again, that uncomfortable feeling of resentment washed over her. Who the hell did Graham think he was? Sittin’ up here tryin’ to turn her out with his looks, getting along with her family and charming them, all while lookin’ like a damn snack?! He threw his head back and laughed at something Rory said, exposing the strong column of his throat, his eyes crinkling sexily and those perfect white teeth a stunning contrast against his beautiful brown skin. His lips were all full and kissable. Bitable even and that damned perfectly lined goatee framed them just right. Annabelle forced herself to look away and grab her drink, thirstily chugging it down and hopelessly trying to quench a heat that had nothing to do with the chili flakes. Her eyes caught Edith’s, and she scowled at her friend’s know-it-all look, rolling her eyes when the older woman mouthed, ‘Told you so’.
Annabelle stuck her tongue out at her as she stood up and took her dishes to the sink. Needing some fresh air, she opened the shutters over the sink and absorbed the tranquil view of the beach, Graham’s words from this afternoon weighing on her mind.
Rory’s biological father could never know how wonderful she was and because of that Annabelle would never go back to Baymoor. She couldn’t take the chance of Davis finding out that she’d been pregnant. He wouldn’t stop until he took Rory from her. Like hell that would ever happen. Davis tried his damnedest to break her, but God had chosen to bless and build Annabelle back up with the gift of her daughter.
She’d known him her entire life, and in the small town of Baymoor, such an occurrence wasn’t unusual. A year older than her and of a higher economic stature, Davis had barely paid attention to the chubby girl who had a crush on him from afar. The affluent Fowlers only flocked with those of their stature and position, and a girl whose family ran the struggling Gas ‘N’ Go convenient store was not for the handsome Fowler heir.
He used to come to the store, and when Annabelle wasn’t working at the animal hospital, she’d assist her parents there. She’d f
illed Davis’s gas for him while he and his friends laughed, listened to music, and waited for her to finish cleaning the windows of his Mustang. Davis had never given her more than a cursory look. Everything changed when they both signed up to do Baymoor High’s production of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”.
Chapter Eight
Past
“Girl, I can’t believe you’re not trippin’ about playing the role of Titania to Davis’s Oberon!” Annabelle’s best friend Kenya teased her as they walked through the hallway on their way to Chemistry. “You know you stay crushin’ on him!”
“Quit playing, Kenny!” Annabelle shushed her as she looked around nervously, hoping no one had heard her loud-mouthed friend. “You know it’s not even like that.”
“The hell it ain’t!” Kenya’s neck rolled so hard, Annabelle wondered how she didn’t get whiplash. “If it ain’t like that, then why are we always at that fool’s games when you’re not at the animal hospital or working at your parent’s spot?”
“Dang, heffa! Excuse me for wanting to show a little school spirit!” Annabelle huffed, pissed that her friend was calling her out and in public no less. “You know I have to save up for college. In my spare time, I just want to hang out where everyone else is chillin’!”
“Uh-huh, say what you want, but in my opinion, he ain’t all that. He’s so stuck-up. I don’t even know what you see in him.” Kenya whipped out her yellow tube of bronze Cover Girl lip gloss and slicked it over her lips before sliding it back into her purse. “Then again, you don’t exactly go out of your way to look attractive, you know. Don’t get me started on how you’re always hanging out with the animals and kind of smell like them.”
Watching her friend, Annabelle felt a pang of envy. They were like apples and oranges. Where she was on the short side with a full curvy body, Kenya looked like she just stepped out of the pages of YM. She was slender, sophisticated and had a flair for clothes. She knew all the latest beauty trends, was outspoken with great confidence, and stayed in the beauty shop. Annabelle would rather die than put on makeup and lived in sports jerseys and sweats and her hair in a tight bun on top of her head. They were an odd combination but had been best friends since kindergarten. There wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do for each other.
“Then it’s a good thing it’s not up to you, smart-ass.” Annabelle snapped. “Obviously, he’s not interested in me. Why would he be when girls like Vivica are chasing after him? I’m not trying to be like all the other girls running up on him! Now, can you please do yourself a favor and shut up?”
Without waiting for Kenya’s response, she rushed ahead of her to class.
Later that evening, in the privacy of her bedroom, Annabelle studied her reflection in her vanity mirror. Normally, she didn’t care what others thought of her, but Kenya’s remark about her appearance had stung more than Annabelle cared to admit. As she tried different angles in the mirror, Annabelle concluded that Kenya was a crackhead. She liked the way she looked. Her smooth, dark chocolate complexion was exactly like her mother Samantha’s and Auntie Cee’s. Annabelle loved that she had that in common with the ladies she considered her role models.
She kept her skin makeup-free, only using Palmer’s cocoa butter and sunscreen, and it was smooth and unblemished. IF she had to change something about herself, perhaps maybe she’d get her thick eyebrows trimmed? Currently, they looked like two pregnant caterpillars sunning on her face. Annabelle pulled her night cap off and unbraided her thick plait. The waves that fell around her face were pretty, but Annabelle wasn’t about trying to upkeep a high-maintenance style like that.
It was impractical when working with the animals at the hospital and not practical to do at all if it was only to get a boy’s attention and not just for herself. Happy with her decision, Annabelle rebraided her hair and slipped her wrap back on. If Davis didn’t like her the way she looked, then who cared? She had a 4.0 grade point average and was focused on keeping it. College and veterinary school were going to be expensive, and her parents were already struggling financially. Making ends meet was becoming challenging with the arrival of a fancy new convenience store with a car wash in town five months ago.
Every cent she earned at the hospital was going to be snatched right out of her hands to pay for expenses that scholarships wouldn’t cover. Annabelle decided to put her romantic notions of Davis behind her and focus on her future.
***
She was very successful in her endeavor until two months later. It was the night of the play, and everyone was scrambling around to take their places. Annabelle stood next to Davis as they waited in the wings for their part. She smiled at him in greeting, and he took more than his normal perfunctory moment to examine her. Kenya had insisted on styling her hair in big fluffy curls and applied a heavy coat of makeup that felt like cement on Annabelle’s face. She had no idea why girls wanted to experience this garbage on a daily basis.
“You look nice.”
Annabelle was too busy focusing on Mr. Banker, the theater director who was yelling for dimmer lighting, to hear Davis compliment her. “I should probably go and help Chelsea find the lights before Mr. Banker has a heart attack.”
“It’s Andrea, right?” His comment drew her attention back to him. Davis gave her an arrogant smile that meant she was supposed to be bowled over by him.
She stared him down as if he’d grown three heads while her ego took the blow. Was this the best her crush could do? Sarcastically, she replied, “Yeah, sure my name is Andrea. Whatever, man.”
“The hell is your problem?” Davis demanded as he looked down his nose at her, annoyance in his hazel eyes.
“I’m not the one with the problem!” Annabelle snapped back, bristling with anger. “My name ain’t no damn Andrea! It’s Annabelle! How could you not know that? We’ve only lived in the same town and gone to the same schools together our entire lives! Let’s not forget we’ve been practicing for this play for a month and a half in close proximity. Except when you’ve been goofing off with your homies. But whatever, dude, it is what it is. Rather than stand around and plug your clueless ass in, I’m going to see if Mr. Banker needs any help.”
Annabelle left him staring after her. What an ass! He would never change.
***
He’d forgotten his line. Annabelle could see the panic, followed by frustration and anger in Davis’s face as he struggled to recall the lines, his mouth moving wordlessly. Up until this point, the play was going smoothly, and the audience was enjoying the lively cast of characters’ antics. This was Annabelle and Davis’s last scene together, and he was out of words. Her eyes drifted from him to the other characters waiting for him then out to the audience as they, too, waited expectantly. They met his father’s, Brenton Fowler, and the disappointment and embarrassment in his face were blatantly evident.
Annabelle wasn’t sure why she chose to help him, but just because he was a self-absorbed jerk didn’t mean that the entire cast deserved to suffer from bad reviews. She threw herself at him, improvising a fit of passion, and Davis instinctively caught her. Annabelle wrapped her arms around his neck, and he tightened his hold around her face as she whispered, “You can thank me later for saving your ass!”
Annabelle whispered the words in his ear, and Davis belted them out in a strong clear voice.
Through the house give gathering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire:
Every elf and fairy sprite
Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty, after me,
Sing, and dance it trippingly.
Annabelle spun out of his arms with a little improvised dance before reciting her own lines:
First, rehearse your song by rote
To each word a warbling note:
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.
When the play was over, and the students had changed back into their own clothes, Annabelle was approached by Davis and his p
arents. Brenton was grinning ear to ear while Edith appeared carved from ice. Brenton left his family to wrap Annabelle in a bear hug. “You were magnificent, my dear! Edith, wasn’t she something?”
Although a doctor in his own practice, Brenton oversaw the board for the animal hospital that his veterinarian father had run before his passing. He could often be found floating between his private practice and the animal hospital, doing procedures that the veterinarians looked the other way on because of the Fowler money.
“Congratulations on a job well done,” Edith smile was robotic and held no warmth or sincerity.
“We saw the way you came to Davis’s rescue, young lady. You’re a quick thinker, and this hasn’t been the first time it’s been brought to my attention either! The veterinarians have nothing but great things to say about you and how well you handle the animals in any situation. No weak stomach at all.” Brenton smiled proudly but as he turned to his son, his tone was considerably cooler. “What do you think, Davis? She’s beautiful, gracious, and a quick thinker. Any decent young man would be happy to call her his girlfriend, wouldn’t you agree?”
Davis’s bronze complexion flushed and his hazel eyes held resentment as he looked at Annabelle and muttered, “If you say so, sir.”
“I do, son,” Brenton said congenially to his son, giving Annabelle his back to address him. She was unsure of what transpired, but whatever it was caused Davis to wither under his stare. Brenton turned back to Annabelle and bowed gracefully. “We won’t take up any more of your time, Annabelle. Go and celebrate with your friends! Congratulations, again.”
“Thank you,” Annabelle waved and headed toward Kenya, Chelsea, Georgie, and her older cousin Inez, who were waving impatiently at her. Standing behind them were her parents, wearing proud smiles and holding a balloon arrangement and a small bouquet of daisies. Annabelle hadn’t seen them earlier in the audience and knew it was because of the long hours they’d worked at the store. She appreciated that they’d made the effort to come and support her.
