“Thanks for stopping by to chat with me,” said Andrea.
They strolled into the winery, smiling, and giving the impression of a perfect couple. Why wouldn’t he be with me? What didn’t I do?
Tawatha admired his drive. Four locations. She eyed the laptop Royce pointed out earlier and wondered why she hadn’t thought of the idea that was suddenly brewing. She retrieved the device from the desk, turned it on, and waited for it to boot up. Royce typed out the user name and password for her on a slip of paper that he’d placed on the desk. She sought the answer to her questions through Bing. In less than ten seconds, she had the addresses of each of James’s locations. She jotted the addresses down.
James Dixon, if you give me one more chance, I know I can make you happy.
Chapter 7
Aunjanue waited outside for her best friend, Tarsha. The stuffiness of the house and the breaking news story of her mother’s release from prison sent her to the comfort of her backyard flower garden for fresh air and regrouping. How could someone let a murderer back on the streets? She waited for dusk to arrive and hoped a hint of darkness would keep the neighbors at bay. Aunjanue, or Onnie as she was known to friends and family, assumed the backyard would shelter her from impending commentary. Since being granted guardianship to Lake and Lasheera by her grandmother, Roberta, Onnie accepted pity heaped on her by the community as God’s way of helping her breathe. Once known as “the art student who’s gonna make a name for herself,” she quickly became “that poor girl whose mamma up and killed three of her kids over somebody’s husband.” After her brothers and sisters perished in the fire during her sleepover at Tarsha’s place, strangers approached her at odd moments. In Kroger, a woman gently pushed her aside in the self-checkout line and paid for Onnie’s field trip snacks. “It’s my way of helping you through this,” insisted the woman. She slid a one hundred-dollar bill in the cash slot, waited for the change to flow in the lower receptacle, and thrust the change in Onnie’s hands. She disappeared before Onnie could protest or return the change. Other times, people stared, and acknowledged her with a nod or sigh. Sometimes she could hear them say, “I hope she’s okay.”
Onnie removed a pair of gloves and a bag of Miracle Gro, her favorite cultivator, from the gardening table in the shed. Times like these called for turning dirt and talking with her best friend. This year, Lake suggested she plant peppers and tomatoes along with her flowers. She looked around at the burgeoning hollyhocks and azaleas in the yard. She imagined her sister, S’n’c’r’ty, sniffing the beauties and complaining they didn’t smell like roses. Her brothers, Grant and Sims, would probably clip them and place them in a vase for cute girls at school. They were gone but not forgotten. They lived on in her memory. She sketched drawings of how she imagined them now.
“You doing okay, Onnie?” asked Mrs. Rosewood, her next-door neighbor.
Startled, Onnie grabbed her chest.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, dear. I saw the news story earlier, and well, I was worried about you.” Mrs. Rosewood, donning her after-work attire of a soft-pink velour tracksuit, matching Keds, and a bottle of sparkling water, joined Onnie near the flowers.
“I’m okay, Mrs. Rosewood. I needed to get out of the house for a few minutes. I’m waiting on Tarsha now.”
“I’m so glad she’s coming by. You know I’m not one to pry, but remember my doors are always open for you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They hugged and Onnie watched her amble toward her house.
Onnie knelt now, gloves hugging her trembling hands, and the bag of Miracle Gro keeping her company. She sprinkled the plant food on the dirt and willed herself to keep her evil thoughts at bay. She hated her mother and hoped she didn’t try to get in touch with her. Her hate for Tawatha escalated the day she left Castleton Square Mall. A man walking behind her said, “Damn, you are the baddest woman I’ve ever seen.” She quickened her steps, embarrassed by the attention she received and the familiarity of his words. Men spoke the same sweet nothings to Tawatha when they went out together. She went home that day, tried on her new outfit, and quarter-turned in the mirror. Tawatha’s image stared back at her. Onnie purchased a T-shirt and jeans from the mall; they fit perfectly. She looked just like her mother with her delicate, rich brown face, hefty breasts, small waist, and large derriere that garnered date offers and inappropriate conversations wherever she went. Little did those men know, Onnie hated math, but her equation about life was simple: man plus sex equaled children and complications. She vowed to remain a virgin until she married, if she ever decided to take that path. She’d be a professional student if necessary, acquiring more degrees than a thermometer if it meant not being lovesick like her mother. She dated Roger Keys, captain of the Northwest High School football team. He respected her and didn’t pressure her for sex, but she suspected someone was keeping him company when she wasn’t around. She pulled weeds from the peppers when a familiar voice called out. “Couldn’t wait for me, could you?”
She spun around to see compassion flowing from her best friend’s face. “Tarsha.”
“Come join me on the swing,” said Tarsha. She held up a bag of goodies from her part-time job.
Onnie ditched her gloves and headed to the pergola with Tarsha, regaining her appetite as the smell of chicken stew watered her mouth.
“I thought you didn’t get off until ten,” said Onnie as she grabbed the Panera Bread bag from Tarsha.
“I told my boss I had a family emergency. You are family, right?” said Tarsha. She swatted Onnie’s hands from the bag and removed chicken stew, an apple, and sweet tea. She placed a napkin on the swing, laying the food out so Onnie could eat.
“You didn’t have to do that. I’m glad you did, though.”
Tarsha took a deep breath. “How are you doing?”
“I don’t know. I’m mad. I want to cry and scream—do something. I know if I do something crazy, I’ll have to go back to therapy. I want to maintain my composure. It’s just like my mother to mess things up. We were going out to dinner tonight to celebrate my college acceptances, and she gets out.”
“How did that happen?”
“Some sort of jury-tampering technicality. I don’t know the details and don’t care. She’s dead to me and I don’t want to see her.”
“What if she does?”
“What if she does what?”
“Onnie, you’re the only child she has left. Well, the little girl, too, but you told me someone adopted her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did a drive-by through the neighborhood to stalk you from a distance.”
“Auntie Sheer and Uncle Lake are two steps ahead of you. Lake contacted the police to ask them to patrol the neighborhood, and Mr. Wilson said he’d look out for me at the school.”
“Mr. Wilson, your art teacher?”
“Yes. And Mrs. Rosewood stopped by before you came to let me know her doors are open. Translation: I’ll be looking out for you like the new and improved Five-O.”
Their laugher eased the tightness of the mood. Onnie took the top from her soup, grateful that Tarsha remembered her favorite food. Since her siblings died, other girls at school attempted to befriend her, but she questioned their motives. Tarsha remained her rock and sounding board.
“Momma said she wants to take us shopping in Cincinnati this weekend. It’s a small token of her being proud of you for getting into all the colleges you applied to.” Tarsha gave Onnie the sweet tea.
“I’d like to go away, but I’m finishing some canvasses this weekend with some other art students. We have the nursing home community service project. I like spending time with the elderly folks we met.”
“I’ll ask to be put on the schedule this weekend also. I wanted us to go shopping together, but if you’re going to the nursing home, I’ll work.”
“Tarsha, thanks for being my friend and not judging me. I wouldn’t have made it all these years without you and your family.”
“That’s what friends are fo
r, sis.”
Tarsha stopped short of calling Aunjanue her sister from another mother. The words Tawatha and mother didn’t mix.
Chapter 8
I have a female penis, James thought. He closed his eyes, willed sensuous desires, but nothing made the captain stand at attention. Come on, boy, not tonight. Stop being so moody and rise. He had stalled Shandy for the past thirty minutes. Feigning banquet exhaustion, he made a beeline for the bathroom, turned water on full blast, and hummed an Usher tune. James sat fully clothed on the toilet and formulated excuses not to have sex with Shandy.
My head is woozy from all the wine.
Baby, aren’t you sleepy? Let’s rest for strength and get it on early in the morning.
You look tired. Get some rest, Shandy.
She knocked on the door and interrupted his cop-outs. “May I join you, James?”
“Give me a sec, Shan.”
“If I give you a sec, you’ll be finished showering,” said Shandy. He could hear the desperation flooding her voice.
James stripped, grabbed a face cloth, and jumped in the shower. He quickly sponged his hair and body. He wrapped a towel around his body and opened the door for Shandy. He yawned and pretended not to see her naked body or the wide grin on her face. The sight of him shrouded in a towel dimmed her smile.
“Oh, I thought we would shower together,” said Shandy.
“Shan, my head’s a little woozy from all the wine,” he said. James kissed her forehead and strung together his other excuses. “Aren’t you sleepy? Let’s rest and get it on early in the morning. You look tired. Get some rest, baby,” said James. He gave her butt a light tap and headed to the bed.
Livid, Shandy yanked a shower cap from the caddy, angry with James for ignoring her again. They’d perfected their public façade: handholding, kissing, and finishing each other’s sentences. Behind closed doors, the distance grew monthly. Lately, she found him staring at nothing, deep in thought, and short on words. She watched him mail out child support checks to his son. She caught the address shift from California to Georgia. Whenever she asked him what was wrong, he lied and said it was about the businesses. She knew that was a lie because money may as well have been falling from the sky into each salon. If he wants his son to live with us, why doesn’t he say so? Maybe he’s cheating. Women throw themselves at him when we’re together, so I can only imagine what they do when I’m not there. She pushed away the thought, lathering and scrubbing her body vigorously. It’s tonight or never. He has to make up his mind. She leaned into the massive shower heads, tears flowing and mixing with the water. She sat on the warm granite shower seat, embarrassed she’d allowed herself to fall for a man who wasn’t her husband. I moved in this house without a ring or a solid commitment. What’s wrong with me?
She stood, vowing to be a woman and settle the matter. She dried off and entered the dark bedroom. James’s shoulders rose and fell in his familiar sleep pattern. He couldn’t have fallen asleep that fast.
Shandy counted to ten and flipped on the light. “James, we need to talk.”
He pulled to covers back and faced her. “Can’t this wait until the morning?”
“We’ve been waiting long enough to have this discussion. We may as well get it out in the open,” said Shandy. She held his hand. “Do you want me?”
“You’re very special to me, Shandy.”
“That’s not what I asked. I want to know if you want me. We don’t do anything outside of business.”
James’s iPhone lit up. He reached for the phone on the nightstand, but Shandy took it from him, spied the 706 area code, and slipped the phone in her robe pocket.
“May I please have my phone, Shan? It could be business.”
“Or it could be someone else calling. What kind of business discussion goes on after midnight?”
James controlled his temper by clenching and unclenching his fists. He understood her frustration and didn’t want to upset her. Reason with her. “Shan, at least let me see if it’s a supplier. I haven’t checked my phone for hours. It could be an old message.”
She tossed the phone at him and went downstairs to the kitchen.
He entered his passcode. He noticed a text from Aruba’s number six hours ago. He also saw six missed calls from her father’s number. Aruba’s message simply stated, “I’m.”
Panic stricken, James dialed Lance’s number, choosing to listen to the voicemail later.
“Son.” He answered on the first ring.
“Mr. Stanton, what’s wrong? Is everything okay? Did something happen with Jeremiah?”
“How soon can you get to Georgia, James?”
“I can take the next flight out. What happened?”
Shandy reentered the bedroom sipping a cup of coffee. The shakiness in James’s voice halted her.
Wanting privacy, James took the call in the bathroom.
“James, Aruba tried to commit suicide earlier today. She’s been despondent for months now, and she tried to end it all today. The doctors said if I had found her ten minutes later, she would have died. Nella didn’t want me to call you, but I feel you have a right to know what’s going on. Divorced or not, you still have a child together. Fair is fair.”
James held the phone to his ear as he headed toward the closet. He pulled out a suitcase and placed it on the bed. Shandy whispered, “What’s going on?” Distressed, he ignored her.
“Where is she now?”
“We’re in Augusta. She’s in the emergency room at the Medical College of Georgia. She’ll either be admitted here or sent to another facility. We don’t know right now. She has a seventy-two-hour hold before she’s released.”
James pulled casual clothes and shoes from the closet.
“Should I fly into Atlanta or Augusta?”
“Augusta. I think you should get here as fast as you can. Jeremiah’s gonna need you now more than ever.”
“I’ll call you when I get there.”
James ended the call. He was still aflutter with packing.
“I heard bits and pieces. What happened to Aruba?”
“She tried to kill herself today.”
Shandy folded her arms. “James, I’m sorry.”
Shandy approached James to hug him, but he stopped her. Socks in hand, he tossed them in the suitcase and motioned for Shandy to sit on the bed.
“Earlier, you asked me if I wanted you. I care for you. I respect you, but I can’t go on in this relationship with you. I’ve never stopped loving my wife—my ex-wife. We both made some dumb mistakes over the years, but that place in my heart for her remains. It always will.”
Shandy sighed. “Those were the most refreshing words you’ve spoken since we’ve been together.”
Puzzled, James looked at Shandy. “You’re not upset with me?”
“I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with myself for thinking things would change. You haven’t really been with me since the first year we met.”
James knelt next to Shandy on the floor and held her hand. “We’re so good together in business,” said James.
“Not so lucky in love,” said Shandy. She released his hands, stood, and headed toward the closet. She removed cologne and aftershave from his side.
“You don’t have to help me pack. I know this is hard enough for you,” said James.
“Business is business. You need to make sure you have everything before you leave. Who knows when you’ll be coming back?”
“True. We’ll have to keep in touch about the day-to-day operations. I anticipate I’ll be gone about a week and a half.” James sat on the bed and rocked back and forth.
Shandy spoke to break the awkwardness. “Listen, I’ll log on to Delta and book your flight. How does that sound?”
James, dizzy from the shock of his ex-father-in-law’s call, rubbed his temples. “I did this to her. If I’d been faithful and treated her right, she wouldn’t be fighting for her life.”
“She left you for someone else.”
&n
bsp; “After I dogged her out.”
No verbal tennis match tonight. “Window seat or aisle?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
James kept his head in his hands. He wasn’t sure what he’d say to Jeremiah or his former in-laws, but he knew he had to make amends—if not for himself, then for the sake of his son.
After a few mouse clicks, Shandy said, “Your flight leaves at six in the morning and arrives in Augusta at 9:26 a.m. You have one stop in Atlanta.”
Shandy pulled him from the bed to the chair. She then propped her feet up on the ottoman. She felt a twinge of jealousy rise as she placed her head on his shoulder. “Someday, I want a man to love me like you love Aruba.”
“You’re a hell of a woman, Shan. It will happen.”
“Just not with you.”
He placed his arms around her, embraced her for what he knew would be the last time, and mentally prepared himself to get his family back.
Chapter 9
James landed in Augusta later than anticipated at 10:18. He exited the plane swiftly in an attempt to get away from the chatterbox who had sat next to him since the flight from Indianapolis. She seemed quiet until he slid into his window seat. Cocking her head to one side once he sat down, she uttered, “Dixon’s Hair Affair! Leave your worries at the door, right?” The twenty-something petite woman extended her hand, and for the next three hours, she dominated the conversation about everything from hair care to her impending divorce. She fondled her tennis bracelet the entire time she spoke and made a point of telling James her divorce would be final by the spring. She added that she planned to marry again before turning thirty. She ran her fingers through her relaxed braids and said, “I’ve been thinking of going natural, but I’ve heard horror stories of how the relaxed and natural hair separate from each other. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
Forgive Me Page 4
