BOMAW 1-3

by Mercedes Keyes

Sipping her drink, she couldn't help but think of that stupid old woman, Merriam Styles, glad the old biddy was dead. She remembered arguing with the woman, it had become heated. All of her efforts to locate him and the truth of what she suspected, led her to Merriam. Had she not died, she might have possibly killed her. To learn that she was the reason he had suddenly disappeared from Melba's, angered Georgiana. If it hadn't been for her, she might have been able to buy him herself. But the old lady had gotten to him first. Hmph, yelling at me…you dried up old bitch! She remembered finding the woman in her garden picking roses when she introduced herself, tried to get a little information out of her concerning Shawn. Stupid old woman had been immediately defensive and protective of him, trying to pretend that he nor she had been anywhere near Melba's. Well she knew better, had shown proof of the fact that she had been a member there. Then she'd made the mistake of turning on Georgiana, angering her so that she'd pushed the older woman down, yelling over her. Bringing her back to her senses was seeing the woman struggling for her next breath, then grabbing her chest. Georgiana had been quick and discreet in her departure, only to hear later that day, Shawn had found the woman dead in her garden.

  Finishing her drink, Georgiana hailed the bartender for another one, thinking about her daughter. "Silly twit," she muttered, never once wrestling with her conscience or letting it bother her that she lacked maternal devotion to her. As far as Georgiana was concerned, it was every woman for herself. She'd done her part as far as her daughter was concerned, she owed her nothing more beyond the point that she could care for herself. Life was too short for wasting precious time doing for other people what they wouldn't appreciate anyway. It was all about her own needs. She had everything else in life that she wanted, but the ultimate man to compliment her. That man was Everett Styles. She would never refer to him as Shawn, she preferred the name Everett…it was more of a match for his style and manner. Her mind slipped into a fantasy of them together. Him dressed in only the best Armani suits, wearing the best cologne, hair cut and styled back with a tan that made all the women seeing him drool as he escorted her about on his arm. For him, were she certain that he would be hers, she would get rid of her husband.

  "God I want you," she moaned with the rim of her glass to her lips, tilting it to take a sip. The alcohol was loosening her inhibitions, stirring her imagination of them together in bed. "I need to get laid, and soon...preferably by you, Everett Styles. God I want him! How...how do you make a man like that your own? That black whore! Who are you?" She sighed, shaking it off. "No worries, I always get what I want...one way, or another."

  * * *

  Deidre sat trying to make up her mind on what she was going to do. Here she was at a time in her life where she should be settled into a routine, only to find that she was no better off than she was years ago. How could she explain being thirty-four years old and still living in her parent's home? She sniffed as the cool wind blew through the beautiful park across from the Capital building. Looking around her, she wondered what her future held. She kept thinking about Shawn's past. Porn. She still couldn't believe it, that he'd done such a thing. Granted, it was obvious he was very young. She was not naive to the lifestyle many in L.A. lived in order to make it. The fact was, knowing that he too had stooped to such actions, didn't dim what she felt for him one bit. She wondered if his parents knew? She doubted it, she knew that Shawn was very guarded concerning his parents. They meant the world to him. He had only praises to sing as far as they were concerned. Following their marriage, he'd taken her home to meet them. Their entire lifestyle was completely different from anything she had ever experienced. The food they ate, the banter between siblings, the way they dressed and entertained each other. As hard as she had tried to fit in, she was awkward at best. Even so, all had been kind to her, and Shawn had been patient, understanding and loving.

  Tears rushed to her eyes. "God please, I want my husband back, I want him back. Give me another chance." Even as she muttered the prayer, she knew that there was no chance. He'd tried to give her the opportunity to turn things around, to put their small family first. He'd pleaded with her the week before their court appearance not to go through with it, to think of their daughter. She'd almost given in, but then her parents had disclosed his affair with the airline stewardess and she'd walked away. Angry and hurt by her rejection, his last words had been, "If you go through with this, Deidre, know this—there is no turning back. Do you hear me? There is no turning back! It will be final! I mean it!" he'd shouted.

  Her mother and father had propelled her onward and she'd gone through with it. Six weeks later, she was certain that she carried his second child. Sobbing to her mother that she'd made a mistake, distraught and not knowing what to do, she'd given her medicine to calm her down. She'd fallen asleep only to awaken in the hospital. She'd miscarried. Devastated because the unborn child had been her one and only means to possibly win Shawn back, she had a slight breakdown. By the time she came out of it, she realized that she needed to harden herself. She gave up all hope and found comfort in angry bitterness. Giving up on all connected to him, she'd delved into work, the finance company. There was also Angela. While she loved her daughter with all of her heart, there were times that she was jealous of the relationship she had with her father. Then guilt would eat her alive and she would try to make up for it by showering her with gifts. No matter how much money she spent on Angela, nothing ever seemed to come close to pleasing her as being with her father. Deidre was afraid she was not really cut out for being a mother. She thought about the one role model she had, and it was no wonder that she at times had to force herself to spend time with her daughter. She didn't really know how to function in the midst of someone so young. Being an only child, with a strict cool upbringing, left her working hard at trying to figure out how to make her have fun. She loved her, but something was missing…there seemed to be no connection.

  Now...this. She'd run away to be with him. Maybe I should just do as father said and leave her to him.

  Suddenly a long stem rose appeared before her, and the words kindly spoken captured her attention. "No one so pretty should look so sad." She looked up into gentle brown eyes. "Here, take it," the black man offered the rose again. Smiling, Deidre took it. He winked at her and walked away, carrying the remainder of the dozen roses he'd pulled the one she held from. "You're lucky, whomever you are," she muttered, watching him stroll off and he never looked back. She sniffed it again and remembered back to when she was a young girl. Jeremiah Franklin, son of her parent's maid. He use to come to their house right after school to meet his mother, and then they would leave on their way home. They became fast friends, then one day out of curiosity, she'd kissed him. Her father caught the act and fired his mother. Jeremiah's mother had begged him not to, that without the job she would not be able to pay her rent. He hadn't listened, he fired her and forbade her to ever come back on their property again. A month later, Deirdre overheard her mother telling her father that Mrs. Franklin had committed suicide. That Jeremiah and his younger brother had been sent into foster care.

  Deidre sniffed the rose. Sighing deeply, she checked her watch. It was almost one o'clock. She took her cell phone from her purse and dialled Shawn's cell phone again. He answered.

  "Yeah?"

  "Well? Where can we meet?" she asked.

  "At the Dane County Courthouse. We have to go before the judge there."

  "Dane County Courthouse! Before the judge? What are you up to, Shawn McPherson?"

  "It's too heavy to go into over the phone, Deidre, meet us there in thirty-five minutes. I'll tell you what's going on then," Shawn said, then clicked off.

  "If you think you're going to take my daughter from me, you've got another think coming!"

  Chapter 36

  Shawn clicked the phone off and slipped it into the top pocket of his leather. He looked up for their waitress and signalled that they were ready for their check. She nodded from across the busy restaurant; he turned ba
ck to waiting for Sylvia and his daughter to finish in the washroom.

  Sitting as he was in the Country Kitchen restaurant, his mind was ever busy as usual. The Clerk of Court had called to say the judge could see them at 2:00pm. He was nervous right then, so much was happening that he wondered if in the midst of it all, he would lose his grasp on things that meant the most to him. He was worried about his daughter. Worried about what her actions would mean for him. What they would mean for her, and as a result, what disclosures might erupt from it all. Nervous tension made his stomach queasy. Finally when his life was becoming stable and he had a woman in it that meant the world to him, would give him the type of family setting he now longed for, it could all be washed out because of his stupid past.

  "Don't take this direction...I swear, boy, 'cause if you do…you gone regret it one day! I don't know when, I don't know how, but if you keep going as you do…you're going to look back one day and hate what you've done!" He wondered how many times his father's words would rush down on him before they broke him.

  The waitress came and laid the check before him. Glancing up with a smile he was far from feeling, "Thank you," he offered and returned his pensive stare out the window. The sun was out, but it was a cold day. He'd had to run Sylvia by the Wal-Mart, letting her out so she could go in and purchase a coat for Angela. What she'd run away wearing wasn't appropriate for the weather. He had sat in the SUV watching them dash inside as he parked to wait. As mix-matched as they were, in less than 24 hours, there was something between them that he'd never seen between his daughter and Deidre.

  Earlier, when they were still at the hotel and he'd come out of the shower and dressed, Sylvia was there waiting for him so she could talk to him. She had tears in her eyes and began telling him right away the state of Angela, what she was feeling, her request again, and the way she'd been living while with Deidre's family. He knew that what was happening was stressful, and no doubt Sylvia was exhausted, certainly that was part of the reason she was so emotional, bursting into tears as she was. Plus it was obvious she was touched and naturally a soft-hearted person, regardless of the strong front she put up for him. When it came to Angela, she was as compassionate as he felt a "real" mother would be. In her telling, he had to hug and comfort her from being so upset over Angela, which moved him, bringing them closer to see her so worked up over his daughter. Once she'd calmed down, he'd informed her of the decision he'd come to already before she'd shared with him what she had.

  "How would you feel if I told you, I've decided to try and gain permanent custody of her? It was on my mind all last night. Now you tell me this. Sylvia…I know this might be more than you bargained for…but…I have to get my daughter. My plan is to hire a lawyer and try to persuade the courts to let me be a full-time father to her. So, now, I suppose the question is...is that going to be okay with you?"

  "Shawn, she's your daughter...and from what I've noted just in the last few hours, she needs you. I was going to try and talk you into possibly fighting for her, but I wasn't sure how you would take me asking that."

  "So you're going to support me? All the way? Which means when we marry, she will be with us. You will be the main role model—mother—in her life."

  "Shawn...I'm fully aware of what this means, should you win your case."

  "And you're ready for it?"

  She had sighed deep and looked at him long and hard. "Again, I have no choice."

  "You know what, I don't like it when you put things that way!" he hurled. "You make it sound as if it's something I'm forcing on you. As if I'm forced on you! Teenage girls knocked up are forced into things!"

  With a slight shake of her head, Sylvia had chuckled as she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Shawn had shot up from the bed in a huff. "What's funny now?" he demanded. She only shook her head and said, "I'm not laughing at that, Shawn, it's irony that's got me right now. Look, Shawn...I'm here, aren't I? I was going to try to persuade you into fighting for her. So what does that tell you? What is it with you? Do you trust that I love you or not?"

  Shawn had raked his fingers through his hair. He was battling feelings of insecurity. He was scared. Things were happening that he hadn't bargained on.

  Sitting there in the restaurant now, Shawn sighed again. His next thought was when Angela had finally come to his room. He and Sylvia told her the decision they'd made together. She had been elated, throwing her arms around him, she was so happy. Shawn had drawn back away from her, taking her by the arms to put distance between them. Ever since her false claim, he felt uncomfortable with her that close, hugging him. Sylvia had noticed the look on his face as they made eye contact. Angela felt the difference as well, looking at her father strangely. "Daddy?"

  "Look, ummm, Angela...I think it's best you not…you know…do that any more, I mean."

  "Why?" she asked with her face crumbling.

  "Just…just…don't, okay?" he requested awkwardly.

  "Don't you love me anymore, daddy?" she asked, distressed. "I said I was sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, daddy...I didn't mean it."

  "You don't have to cry, Angela. I just—"

  "You don't love me anymore!" she accused him, her eyes welling up.

  "Angela, I just told you we're going to try to get custody of you, full-time—all the time like you wanted! If I didn't love you, would I be trying to do that?" he'd asked.

  She had only shrugged, backing away from him with her head down, she looked behind her at Sylvia and turned to her. Something in her knew that with her, there was someone who knew what she was feeling. Sylvia had gathered her into her arms as the young girl wrapped her arms around her waist and hugged her tight. Sylvia had leaned down and gently reminded her, "Remember what we talked about last night, honey, remember? Time...do you?"

  Angela nodded that she did.

  "Good, keep that in mind."

  Seeing that with his own eyes stunned Shawn. In the whole ugly situation, in no time at all, Sylvia had bonded with his daughter. She trusted Sylvia, which told him something else. For a child to do that, to reach out to a practical stranger, meant there was something urgently vital, missing in her life. Something that she hadn't been getting that Sylvia was sharing willingly, naturally, and Angela felt the validity of it. Affection, communication, tenderness, hugs, empathy and kindness. He couldn't help the thought, my god Deidre! What have you been doing to our daughter, or better yet,not doing?

  Reflecting back now, running over the course of their marriage from the time Angela had been born, being a mother had not been natural to Deidre. From the very start, she'd struggled with motherhood. At Angela's birth, she had been nothing but nervous, with an anxiety that at the time he thought was normal. Looking back now, her nervous attempts with trying to touch and embrace the newborn, were as if she had been a spectator forced to participate. Her face lacked the emotional joy that a new mother should display. She had been almost horrified, while guarding it closely. She tried to breastfeed, something she didn't want to do, but only because he had asked her. However, the first attempt not only embarrassed her, but put her off something so natural and the baby as well, crying out, "I can't, I can't, I can't...take it, take it, take it!"

  "It!" She called her. "It!"

  Remembering that now made Shawn sit and shake his head, seeing it all so clearly now. He'd needed to go home and clean up, take a nap, so left her in the capable hands of the nurses who tried to give her support, instruction and direction, understanding how the baby was her first. By the time Shawn showed up, she was in tears and needing him to change the baby. Dress the baby. Basically everything she should have felt joy and excitement in doing, she pleaded with him to do. He also carried Angela from the hospital, while Deidre was rolled in the wheelchair facing the fear of having to go home and be a mother to this new person. Again, Shawn had put it down to her being a new mother, too nervous to trust herself with the newborn, and add to it the fact that she'd lived such a life of privilege, that it was going to take her longer to ad
just.

  Unfortunately, as the days, weeks, months rolled by, her progress was slow at best. She didn't seem to pick it up as he thought she would. He was waking up most of the time in the middle of the night, feeding the baby because Deidre slept right through her crying. She refused to bath her, saying that she was afraid of drowning it. She called her it one time too many, making Shawn shout, "Her name is Angela! An-ge-la! Not it! She's your daughter! What is your problem?" Hurt, Deidre turned and ran into their bedroom to cry her eyes out, sobbing that she was a terrible mother and how sorry she was. Unable to see to the baby and her, Shawn would let her cry as he bathed his daughter. Diapered her, dressed her, fed her, talked to her, cradled her, and caught her first real smile. Realizing things could not go on as they were, he started leaving them together alone for hours at a time to force Deidre's hand to participate in their daughter's first year of life.

  She finally began to notice that Angela was indeed human, real, with her eyes looking for her or her father. The more time she was forced to be with her, the better at being a mother she became, but it wasn't natural…it was forced, although he knew that she loved her. Smiled at her more, touched her more, and seemed more fascinated by her. Especially when Angela began to crawl, grab things and make baby babbling noises. While that was indeed good, Shawn noticed another growing problem.

  She didn't clean house.

  Many, many times he'd look up from painting to notice that their large loft apartment was littered with diapers, bottles, toys, spilled messes, and other things left to lay. He would stand looking around, wondering when she would notice it and do something about it. After a few weeks with the diapers smelling up the apartment, he would come from behind his canvas and clean house. Picking up diapers, taking out the overflowing diaper pail, washing bottles and pouring out formula that had been left to sour in the bottle. He washed the dishes, put things back in their places, scrubbed stains from various sources, vacuumed, dusted, did the laundry because he had run out of clothing and so had the baby. When that was all done, he'd go grocery shopping because he couldn't stomach another take out, and then cooked.