Singsation

by Jacquelin Thomas

  He held up his hands. “I understand. All I’m saying is that this is a big step, Deborah. Capricorn could say no and decide not to do anything with you.”

  She shrugged, then stood and sat on the arm of the full chair in the living room. “Well, if they don’t go with my plan, I’ll just move back to Villa Rica.”

  Her words shocked them both.

  Triage stood, walked to her, then crouched and took her hands. “Deborah, no matter what you want to do, I’ll support you. But part of that support means getting you to look at the picture from every angle.”

  She nodded. “I understand, but there’s nothing for us to discuss. After I put this plan together, I felt a peace that I couldn’t believe. Triage, I haven’t felt this way the entire time I’ve been singing. So I know it’s right. I just have to find a way to make it work. Trust me on this, okay?” she said softly. “But more important, trust God.”

  He smiled widely. “Now that I can do. I love you, Deborah, and I will support you.” He kissed her gently on the lips. But when he pulled back, he wasn’t smiling. “I just want to ask you one thing—would you really consider going back to Villa Rica?”

  There was nothing she could do but laugh at his long, sorrowful face.

  CHAPTER 50

  DEBORAH FOUND HERSELF STILL WAITING BY THE phone the next day. Though she was tempted to call William, she didn’t. If he’d had any news, certainly he would have called her. But the anxiety that she had been trying to keep at bay was sneaking in like a thief in the night. There was only one thing she could do to calm the uneasiness that threatened to overwhelm her. She picked up her Bible.

  “There’s no need for me to worry about this,” she scolded herself, as she turned to Matthew 6:25 and read through to the end of the chapter. As Jesus told the people on the mountain, worry was the opposite of faith. There was no need to worry; if God said to take no thought for your life, surely He could handle a little thing like this contract.

  Only it wasn’t so little to Deborah. She wanted this badly and didn’t know what she would do without this deal. Would she really go back to Villa Rica? She was so different now, and couldn’t see herself living in her parents’ house on Peterson Road.

  When the doorbell rang, she knew it was Triage even before she peeked through the peephole.

  “Hey, baby. Sorry I’m late,” he said, as he stepped inside and kissed her.

  Deborah blinked in confusion. “Were we supposed to do something?”

  “We didn’t make plans, but you didn’t think I would let you sit over here and worry by yourself.”

  She smiled. “How did you know I was worrying?”

  “Because I know you, and . . . that’s what I’ve been doing,” he admitted.

  She laughed, but their cheer quickly disappeared. “Do you think it means anything that William hasn’t called?”

  “It means he hasn’t called, that’s all. We can’t read a thing into this.”

  She nodded.

  “Well, get your purse. We’re going to get out of here.”

  “No, I have to wait.”

  “Deborah, he’s your manager. He has every number in the world for you. Take your cell; we’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “I don’t care what you say. It would be too nerve-wracking to sit here all day. And if you make me stay, I’ll call William myself right now.”

  When he lifted her purse and handed it to her, she knew that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Begrudgingly, she followed him into his car.

  Deborah didn’t ask where they were going. Instead, she closed her eyes, and tried to imagine all of the scenarios—if Capricorn said yes, or no, or something in between.

  “Stop thinking about this,” Triage said, as he pulled into a Malibu Beach parking lot. “We’re going to have some fun out here.”

  “Okay.” She smiled, though she knew that every cell of her brain would be thinking about the call.

  “Let’s stop and get something to eat.”

  “No,” Deborah said quickly, feeling the churning in her stomach. “Would you mind if we walked awhile?”

  He took her hand and led her to the shore. They took off their shoes and walked where the ocean met the sand. They’d moved less than twenty feet when Deborah pulled her cell phone from her purse and checked to see if it was on.

  Triage grabbed the phone from her and stuffed it into his pocket.

  She smiled. “I get the message.”

  They strolled along the almost secluded strand, silently watching the waves crash to the shore.

  “You know, I was praying this morning, and I believe this is going to work out for you,” Triage said.

  She squeezed his hand. “I know it’s going to work out. I just want it settled so that I know exactly how to proceed. There’s so much I have to do—talk to Lavelle, get the songs together. . . .” She stopped and held her head in her hands. “I just want to know.”

  He took her hands from her face and kissed her palms.

  “You’ll be fine, you’ll see.” He put his arms around her, and they held each other. “But you know, Deborah, there are a lot of things in your life that have to be settled.”

  “There’s nothing more important than this.”

  “Really?” He pulled back from her and took a small stick from his pocket.

  She cocked her head to the side. “What are you going to do with that?” she asked.

  He looked at the small broken branch in his hand. “As I was praying last night, God told me that there were many things that were up in the air with you. Not only your career, but us . . .”

  She took his hand. “I don’t feel that way, Triage. You’re the only thing that I’m sure about.”

  He rubbed his palm against her cheek. “I want you to be really sure.” He knelt down and began writing in the sand.

  She laughed. “Oh, another message.” She watched as he wrote, and as the message became clearer, her eyes opened wide.

  When he finished, he turned toward her and, still on one knee, took a light blue box from his pocket.

  Deborah held her hand to her face, but Triage gently brought it to his mouth and kissed it.

  “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now,” Triage said, as he opened the box and revealed the glittering jewel. “I bought this for you while I was in New York, though I wasn’t sure when I would give it to you. But last night when you said you might have to go back home . . .” He paused and looked into her eyes. “I knew this was the time. I don’t want to be without you. I love you.” He turned back to the words he had written in the sand.

  “You want to marry me?” The words squeaked softly through her lips.

  He smiled, then placed the ring on her finger. “Deborah Anne Peterson, will you marry me?”

  Deborah had dreamed of this moment all her life, but the joy she felt was nothing like she imagined it would be.

  Triage rose from his knee and stared at her. “Deborah, you haven’t said anything.”

  “Oh, Triage . . . yes, yes, I’ll marry you.”

  “Now that’s the best news I’ve had all day.”

  They kissed as the ocean’s water swirled around their ankles.

  The call from William was almost forgotten as they sat at Bayside Shrimp sharing a platter of fried shrimp and French fries. An autograph-seeker interrupted them only once, and Triage had proudly introduced Deborah as his fiancée.

  “This is so beautiful,” Deborah gushed again. She could barely take her eyes from the antique-style platinum band and two-carat diamond.

  He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “I was really nervous about this.” He looked at the ring. “I wanted to get something that was beautiful and would let you know how much I love you.”

  She smiled. “I love you too.”

  They talked through the afternoon, reminiscing about how they got to this point and making plans for their future. It wasn’t until Triage parked at Deborah’s apartment that
the thought of William’s call came rushing back to them. Triage handed Deborah her cell phone, and she checked for messages, hoping that somehow they hadn’t heard the call. But there was nothing in her voice mail.

  Deborah sighed. “Well,” she began, taking Triage’s hand and leading him into the condo, “I’m not going to let anything spoil this day.” She hugged him. “You have made me very happy, and this is all I need.”

  But a moment later, when the phone rang, they looked at each other.

  “Do you think—”

  “Go ahead and answer it,” Triage yelled.

  She laughed, but then got serious when she heard William’s voice.

  “Deborah, I’ve been trying to reach you. Didn’t you get my messages?”

  “I’ve been checking my cell phone all day.”

  “Oh, I left you a dozen messages at home. Anyway, it’s a go! Capricorn said they would do it.”

  “Really?” She sank onto the couch.

  “What? What?” Triage searched her face for some clue.

  “You put together quite a plan, but what sold them was having Lavelle and Triage featured on the album. You’re sure they’ll do it?”

  “Yes.” She closed her eyes and said a quick prayer that Lavelle wouldn’t have a problem with this. Her plan was that they would sing the duet they’d been singing: “I’m Lost Without You.”

  Triage squeezed her hand, trying to get her attention, but she was listening to William and agreed with his request to meet in the morning.

  Finally, she said, “William, thank you so much.”

  When she hung up the phone, Triage said, “They’re going to do it.” His statement was a hopeful question.

  Deborah bobbed her head.

  He lifted her from the couch and swung her in the air. “Oh, baby. Congratulations. You are going to be so big! I just know it.”

  “Can you believe it? William didn’t give me many details, but he said that it was a go—especially since you and Lavelle are going to sing on the album.”

  Triage pulled back. “What are you talking about?”

  She put her hand over her mouth. “I forgot to ask you. But my ace in the hole was having you and Lavelle featured with me.” She put her arms around his neck. “You wouldn’t mind, would you, baby?”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, so now you tell me, and now you’re begging. But that’s okay, because I love a woman who begs.”

  “I guess that means you’ll do it.”

  “Are you kidding? I’d do anything for you. I keep telling you that I have to take care of the daughter of the woman who took care of my mama!”

  She laughed, twirling around in the middle of the living room. “This is a glorious day!”

  “I just want to ask you one thing. Which was better—my marriage proposal or the call from William?”

  Deborah took Triage’s hand and led him to the couch. When she kissed him, there was no doubt of her answer.

  CHAPTER 51

  TRIAGE PACED THE LIVING ROOM FLOOR. “I DON’T know if we should do it this way. Maybe we should fly to Villa Rica,” he said nervously.

  Deborah put down the telephone. “Triage, I want my parents to find out about this before it’s in the tabloids. Someone from Tiffany’s is going to tell that you bought this ring,” she said, holding up her hand, “and sooner or later, it’ll be front-page National Intruder gossip.” She put her arms around his neck. “Besides, we don’t have time. I have to start on this project tomorrow, and you have your new album. . . .”

  He nodded, but his forehead was still wrinkled in doubt.

  “You’re scared of my father?” She chuckled.

  “No, I’m not.” He sat on the couch and wrung his hands. “But this is the first time I’ve ever asked a father if I could marry his daughter.”

  Deborah laughed. “Well, that’s a good thing, honey. My father will be glad to know that.”

  He grimaced.

  “Oh, come on. You’re being much too serious about this. My parents like you.”

  “Yeah, that was before I was trying to become their son-in-law.” Triage ran his hand over his head. “You should have heard the way your father talked to me the morning I answered the phone when Phoebe died. He said, ‘Milton, is that you?’” Triage had lowered his voice to a deep bass. “I had just fallen asleep, but he woke me right up—scared the daylights out of me!”

  “He’s that way with everyone—except your grandmother.”

  “She’s another one who’s going to be hard to tell.”

  Deborah sat down next to him. “Why? I think Mother Dobson likes me.”

  “Oh, she loves you. That’s what scares me! Suppose she says that I’m not good enough for you?”

  Deborah laughed again. “Now you’re being ridiculous.” She picked up the phone and dialed the number. “Here.” She handed the phone to him.

  As the phone rang, Deborah wiped a bead of perspiration from Triage’s forehead.

  He coughed. “Hello, Mr. Peterson. This is Tri . . . this is Milton Waters.”

  “Hello, Milton. Has anything happened to Deborah Anne?”

  “Oh, no, sir! Deborah Anne is fine. I mean, I think she is . . . she’s right here, but I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Well, good,” Elijah said. “You know so much stuff goes on out there, that I just worry about Deborah Anne being all alone.”

  “She’s not alone out here, sir. She’s with me.”

  “Well, she’s not with you all night. But I just pray for her and pray that she doesn’t get involved in the wrong things or with the wrong people.”

  Triage closed his eyes. Oh God, he thought.

  “Milton, was there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

  He cleared his throat again. “Yes, sir . . . you know, Deborah Anne and I have been . . . well, we’ve been dating—”

  “Yes, I know that—”

  “And I’ve come to love her. Very much.” He paused, but when the silence continued on the other end, Triage took a deep breath. “Well, I asked Deborah Anne to marry me, and I would like to ask for your permission to marry your daughter, Mr. Peterson.”

  The silence continued.

  “Mr. Peterson?”

  “Virginia,” Triage heard Elijah call. “Would you pick up the phone in the kitchen, please?”

  Triage closed his eyes and moaned.

  “What’s wrong?” Deborah whispered.

  Triage shook his head and then opened his eyes when he heard Virginia’s voice.

  “Deborah Anne, is that you?”

  “No,” Elijah said. “This is Milton. He just asked me if he could marry Deborah Anne.”

  “Milton, is that true?” Virginia asked.

  If he weren’t on the phone himself, he never would have believed this was happening. All he wanted to do was hang up, but instead he swallowed and said, “Yes, ma’am. I want to get your permission to marry Deborah Anne?” He didn’t mean for his statement to sound like a question.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful. Isn’t it wonderful, Elijah?”

  “Well, there are some things I want to know first. Milton, how do you intend to support my daughter?” he asked brusquely.

  Triage frowned. Didn’t this man know that he was a superstar? “Well, Mr. Peterson, I make a very good living—”

  The laughter on the other end of the phone startled him.

  “Milton, I was just kidding. And yes, you have our permission.”

  “Yes, definitely. Is Deborah Anne there?” Virginia said. “We’d like to talk to her.”

  “Oh, yes. Thank you.” Triage quickly handed the phone to Deborah, then collapsed onto the couch.

  “Mama, isn’t it wonderful? Daddy, I’m so happy.”

  “Deborah Anne, you’ll have to come home. There are so many plans we have to make.” Virginia spoke quickly, the way she always did when she was excited.

  “Oh, Lord, I think that is my cue to hang up,” Elijah said. “I love you, baby. And we
want you to be very happy.”

  “I am, Daddy. I love you too.”

  Deborah chatted with her mother for a few more minutes and finally hung up after getting her mother’s promise not to tell anyone until Triage had a chance to call his parents and his grandmother.

  “I won’t tell anyone for now. But tell Milton to hurry up. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold this secret.”

  When Deborah hung up, she leaned back on the couch and grinned at Triage. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  Triage held his hand to his chest. “If it wasn’t so bad, why has my heart stopped beating?”

  They laughed.

  They had made a date to meet with Lavelle and Vianca at Lavelle’s house that afternoon.

  “I’m going to ask you this one last time,” Triage said as he drove up the winding driveway. “Are you sure you want to leave Lavelle? You could do this solo album and still stay with the group.”

  “I know, but I can’t do this halfway. I’m trying to make a statement with my music. I can’t be onstage doing one thing and saying something else on my album. Now that I know better, I have to do better. In every way.”

  Triage took a long look at Deborah. “That is why I love you so much. I’m becoming a better man because of you.”

  “Oh sweetie, what a wonderful thing to say.”

  When they stopped in front of Lavelle’s house, he was already waiting at the door.

  “Hey, guys,” he said, hugging Deborah and shaking Triage’s hand. “It’s been a while.”

  They walked into Lavelle’s massive living room. Vianca was sitting at the grand piano, which was in the middle of the floor.

  “Hey,” she said simply, and continued playing.

  Deborah sat next to her on the bench and hugged her. “How’ve you been? We don’t spend any time together like we used to.”

  There was sadness in Vianca’s eyes when she looked up. “I know. I’ve missed you.”