Seduced by Moonlight

by Janice Sims

  “Gerry and I can stay a couple of hours,” Darlene volunteered.

  “You know I’m down for anything,” Danielle told her mother.

  Sonia wasn’t so sure about her new friend, but he surprised everybody by saying, “I can vacuum with the best of them!”

  Sonia gave him such a beautiful smile that the poor man almost tripped over his own feet as he went in search of said vacuum.

  Cherisse smiled broadly. Mary was lucky to have such good friends.

  The next day at work, Cherisse went in with the same prayer on her lips—“Lord, let today be a quiet day.” And, as always, it went unanswered. Or maybe, she reasoned at around lunchtime when a buxom brunette wearing a miniskirt, a low-cut blouse and stilettos walked up to the nurses’ station and announced that she was Amy Whitehall’s mother and demanded to see her, His answer was no.

  There were two other nurses in the station and Cherisse let one of them handle the woman whose eyes were darting around the area as if she were afraid someone was following her. As well she should be, Cherisse thought. The police had left orders for the nursing staff to phone them if Amy Whitehall’s mother put in an appearance. They had been trying to locate her ever since Amy had been admitted.

  “I’ll take you to her,” Katy said to the woman as she moved past Cherisse and gave her a furtive look on her way from behind the desk. Cherisse took that to mean Katy had also remembered that the police needed to be notified.

  With her back to the woman, Cherisse mouthed to Katy, “Okay,” and smiled reassuringly. All they needed today was to have to deal with an emotionally distraught parent.

  After Katy disappeared down the corridor with Amy Whitehall’s mother, Cherisse quickly consulted the important numbers posted on the wall next to the telephone. Getting an outside line, she dialed the number of the Denver Police Department and asked for the detective in charge of the Amy Whitehall case. In a few minutes a female’s voice said, “I’m Detective Brennerman.”

  Cherisse told her that Amy Whitehall’s mother was at that moment visiting her daughter.

  “Be right there,” was all Detective Brennerman said.

  Cherisse figured the detective didn’t have time to waste on words. They really wanted the Whitehall woman.

  After Cherisse put the phone down she waited on pins and needles. She wanted to go down to Amy’s room and offer moral support to Katy, who was probably making some excuse to stick around during the mother’s visit because she was afraid to leave the woman alone with her patient.

  But more than one nurse in the room might spook the mother, so Cherisse remained at the nurses’ station, her ears pricked for any sound of a disturbance coming from Amy’s room.

  A few minutes later, Gerald, who had taken an early lunch, came back on the floor and checked in at the nurses’ station before making his rounds. Cherisse, still waiting either for the police to show up or for Amy’s mother to go ballistic, smiled nervously at him.

  “Amy’s mother showed up,” she explained to a perplexed Gerald.

  Gerald tensed. He had come to love that little girl and the thought of her being in the presence of a neglectful parent didn’t sit well with him. “Who’s in there with them?” he asked evenly.

  “Katy,” Cherisse answered. “I phoned the police about twenty minutes ago. I thought they’d be here by now.”

  “They should be,” he said, and looked in the direction of Amy’s room. “I’m going down there. I’ll just introduce myself. I have been her principal nurse, after all.”

  “Yes,” Cherisse said, “but today, Katy’s the one on duty.” She appealed to him with her eyes. “Be cool, Gerald. The woman wouldn’t do anything stupid in a public place.”

  Cherisse wasn’t convinced of that. In her years as a nurse she’d seen some freaky things. She didn’t put anything past anybody. But she had to keep Gerald from allowing his emotions to overrule his head.

  Everybody had to stay cool. The police would be there soon, and they would take the woman with them for questioning.

  Now, there were two tense people in the nurses’ station. Cherisse had been seated in front of the carousel going over patients’ charts when the Whitehall woman had shown up. She still sat there. Gerald paced.

  Suddenly, the bell over the bank of elevators sounded and when the elevator doors opened, two uniformed policemen and a woman in a gray pantsuit stepped onto the floor.

  “Gotta be them,” Cherisse said.

  She heard Gerald give a huge sigh of relief.

  The three people went straight to the nurses’ station. The woman addressed Gerald with, “Doctor, I’m Detective Brennerman. Would you direct me to Amy Whitehall’s room?”

  Cherisse was sure Gerald wanted to let them know he was a nurse, and proud of it, and berate them for not getting there sooner, but like a good nurse he led them down the hall to Amy’s room with haste.

  Cherisse watched as Gerald turned around and made his way back to the nurses’ station several feet away from Amy’s room. And as soon as the three entered the room, Katy came walking out of there as swiftly as her skinny legs could carry her.

  Shortly after that, sounds of a scuffle came from Amy’s room. It sounded like chairs were being overturned. And perhaps the IV pole had been knocked over, and Amy’s lunch tray had crashed to the floor.

  Gerald went to leave the station, but Cherisse reached out and restrained him. “Let them do their job.”

  She could feel the muscles in Gerald’s arm tense up.

  They waited five more minutes and then the two uniformed officers emerged, each of them holding Amy’s mother by an arm. She had come out of her stilettos and in her struggle she’d split her bottom lip and it was bleeding. Detective Brennerman brought up the rear, a satisfied smile on her lips.

  As they approached the nurses’ station, she said, once again to Gerald, “Someone should go in to Amy now. I think she’s a little upset.”

  Gerald, now that Amy wasn’t in harm’s way, let the detective have it with both barrels. “I’m glad you got this dangerous criminal—” he gestured to Amy’s mother, who had gone limp in the grip of the officers and didn’t appear dangerous at all “—but you all took your sweet time getting here. Anything could have happened!”

  Detective Brennerman, a thin, green-eyed brunette, smiled icily. “There’s always room for one more in the service vehicle.”

  Gerald didn’t hear her because he’d already turned away and was heading down the hall to Amy’s room, as were Cherisse and Katy.

  As far as the nurses were concerned the police officers had ceased to exist. The only person who mattered at that moment was their patient.

  Amy, who in the past few days had recovered the ability to speak and move her limbs, was quiet when they entered the room. Gerald went to her and took her hand in his. “How are you, sweetheart?” he asked tenderly.

  A dry-eyed Amy looked nervously at the doorway. “Is she gone?”

  Cherisse came around and gently touched Amy’s cheek. “You mean your mother?”

  “Yes,” said Amy. “Is she gone now?”

  “Yes, she’s gone,” Cherisse said softly. “She won’t be back for a while.”

  “Good,” said Amy, and then tears spilled down her cheeks. “She hurt me. It wasn’t my daddy. My daddy loves me. I remembered it when I saw her. I remembered everything.”

  Cherisse, Gerald and Katy looked at one another in amazement. All this time they’d been heaping recriminations on Amy’s father, when it had been her mother who had beat her and left her for dead. After hearing of Amy’s recovery on the news she had probably come there to either finish the job or beg Amy not to say anything.

  “Did you tell the police that when they were here?” Cherisse asked.

  “No, they didn’t ask me anything,” Amy said.

  Cherisse gently squeezed Amy’s hand. “Well, don’t worry about that right now, sweetie. You close your eyes and try to rest.”

  She left Gerald and Katy with
Amy and went to phone Detective Brennerman’s office. The detective probably had not had time enough to make it back to the police station. She would have to leave a message.

  About forty minutes later, Detective Brennerman, alone, stepped off the elevator and didn’t bother stopping by the nurses’ station. She went straight to Amy’s room.

  When Cherisse got home on Monday night, she was met at the door by Danielle, who hugged her and took her shoulder bag and coat. Her daughter’s dark brown eyes danced when she regarded her. “Guess who got flowers today?” she said in a singsong voice.

  Cherisse assumed they were from Dante to Danielle. Rich kid that he was, at least that’s how Danielle jokingly referred to him.

  So Cherisse said, “You?”

  Danielle guffawed. “I wish! No, you did, mother dear, from Mr. Harry Payne.”

  Danielle paused long enough to put her mother’s shoulder bag and coat away, then she ushered her mother into the kitchen, where her grandmother was sitting at the kitchen table reading the evening paper as she sometimes did after she’d prepared dinner.

  On the kitchen counter sat a beautiful bouquet of yellow roses, at least two dozen. They smelled heavenly. Cherisse felt an impulse to float over to them and inhale their heady fragrance, but she was compelled to go and kiss her mother’s satiny cheek first and murmur, “Hi, Ma, how was your day? Dinner smells divine.”

  Jo smiled up at her after receiving her kiss. “Hello, sweetie. Read the card already. I’m dying to know what it says, that is if the contents aren’t too personal.”

  Jo and Danielle stood on either side of her as she got the card and silently read the note:

  I was trying to think of which flower you smelled most like and this is it, the yellow rose. From this moment on I won’t be able to look at one without thinking of you. Harry.

  Cherisse felt warm all over. What a day she’d had. But to come home to this made it worthwhile. Smiling, she handed the card to her mother. “It’s all right, you can read it,” she said. “I’m going to call Harry and thank him. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  They would not start dinner without her.

  In her bedroom, Cherisse removed her shoes and tossed them into the closet, then she went and sat on the bed next to the nightstand. Picking up the phone, she glanced down at the personal card Harry had given her. She had entered his personal information in her address book, but had left the card next to her bedroom phone in anticipation of phoning him from that spot.

  Dialing his number, her heartbeat picked up its pace. She had initially been disappointed that he hadn’t been able to say goodbye to her and Danielle when they had checked out Sunday morning. Considering it a bit longer, however, she had decided that she was glad he had not. It might have been awkward. They certainly could not have kissed each other goodbye with Danielle standing there.

  The phone rang four times before the machine kicked in. Cherisse hesitated. She didn’t want to leave her disembodied voice on his machine. But how would it look if he checked his caller ID and saw that she had phoned and had not left a message.

  She waited for the beep, but it never came because Harry picked up and blurted, “Cheri!” He sounded a bit breathless. “How are you?”

  “Harry,” she said, her voice husky, “I’ve had one of my signature Mondays where if anything could go wrong, it did, and then I came home and saw the flowers you’d sent and your gesture made me feel so much better. Thank you!”

  Harry laughed softly. “I spent so much time in the florist’s shop that the woman asked me if I was having a hard time choosing. ‘No,’ I told her, ‘I know exactly what I want and I’ll know it when I see it, or more accurately, smell it.’ And when my nose got a good whiff of the yellow roses I knew they were the ones.”

  “I never thought I smelled like a yellow rose,” Cherisse said. “I usually don’t even wear cologne. It’s not recommended at work so I rarely use it.”

  “But you smell so good,” Harry said.

  “That’s soap and water and body lotion,” she said, smiling. “Harry, you’re making me blush, all this talk about scents is reminding me of how good you smelled Saturday night.”

  “Your smell, your taste, everything about you is etched in my memory,” Harry said softly. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

  Cherisse couldn’t believe how turned-on a phone conversation was making her. She dug her toes into the carpet, trying to concentrate on something other than the ripening of her body due to Harry’s sexy voice.

  Clearing her throat, she said, “I feel the same way.” Suddenly shy, she wondered how she was going to feel on Saturday night when he came to pick her up for their date. All this pent-up passion might explode and she might jump the poor guy the moment he came to the door. For that, though, she would have to make sure the house was empty. Let Danielle go out with her girlfriends or Echo, who was still pretending to be the best friend, and convincing her mother to go to the movies with the Silver Foxes, a group of ladies she had known practically all her life. That might work.

  But then she thought of another obstacle. She should go ahead and tell Harry about it so he wouldn’t be surprised when he came to the house. “Harry, you should know that Danielle’s father is going to be staying with us for a couple of months until he finds somewhere to live. Danielle asked him to stay and as it turns out, it’s okay with my mom. I’ve been outvoted two to one. He will be here when you pick me up Saturday night.”

  Harry was silent for a few seconds. “You say you were outvoted. Does that mean you have a reason why you don’t want your ex to stay with you? Does he upset you in some way? Flirt with you?”

  “It’s not that,” Cherisse told him. “Charlie and I don’t have that kind of divorce. We were never the kind of divorced couple who still flirted or, God forbid, still slept together on occasion. No, there is no love left as far as I’m concerned. I’m sure he feels the same way. It’s not a subject that’s ever come up. It’s just that I resent Charlie for not supporting Danielle more after the divorce. Not just monetarily but emotionally. And you should see her with him, she adores him. I suppose there is a bit of jealousy I have to contend with, too. I just don’t think I want to come home from work and see Charlie every day for two months. I might snap at him, get everything out in the open that I’ve been bottling up for years. It won’t be pretty. I don’t want Danielle to see that side of me.”

  “She knows you’re human,” Harry said reassuringly.

  “Yes, but I’ve kept her away from the acrimony for years. I didn’t want to be seen as the villain when Charlie invariably came out smelling like a…rose!”

  Harry laughed. “Okay, I’ve been forewarned. There won’t be a reenactment of Clash of the Titans in your living room come Saturday night. I admire Charlie Washington as a ball player. I don’t see why I can’t get along with the man.”

  Cherisse didn’t say anything but those sounded like the proverbial famous last words. She hoped her instincts were wrong this time.

  Chapter 10

  Danielle was excited. It was Thursday, the day her dad was supposed to arrive. She went through her day as if by rote, going through the motions but not really paying strict attention in any of her classes. Thank goodness there were no pop quizzes or she would have flunked them all.

  Between her calculus class and her advanced chemistry class she was switching out her textbooks and notebooks at her locker in the hallway when Echo came up behind her and goosed her. Danielle elbowed him in the side.

  “Ow!” Echo cried, hunching over in pain. “Girl, your skinny elbows are deadly weapons.”

  Echo was six feet tall to Danielle’s five-nine. He wore his natural black hair in a huge afro that made him look like a throwback to the seventies. His clothing, while clean, never fit him, but hung on his trim, muscular body. But then, Danielle mused, as she eyed him, it didn’t matter because Echo looked good in anything. He had flawless brown skin with red undertones, a sexy mouth and eyes the color of
burnt honey.

  He leaned his square-jawed, clean-shaven face closer to her as she shut the locker door. “What’s the matter?” he asked softly. “Having second thoughts about your dad coming to stay with you and your mom?”

  “Nothing of the sort,” Danielle said. She put her chemistry book and notebook in the canvas bag she carried her school supplies in and tossed it over her shoulder. The hallway was filled with other students checking their lockers or hurrying to their next classes.

  She and Echo were both in advanced chemistry so she knew when she turned and began walking in the direction of their classroom he would fall into step beside her, chatting all the while.

  “You’ve been moody ever since you got back from Vail,” he observed, his gaze on her face. “Are you missing lover boy from D.C.?”

  Danielle narrowed her eyes at him. “A lady does not kiss and tell.”

  “He kissed you?” Echo asked, his voice squeaking.

  Danielle looked straight ahead. “I didn’t say.”

  “I get the point, Danielle,” Echo said tightly. “You’re not going to tell me. All right, but answer this one question for me. What does he have that I don’t?”

  “The nerve to try to kiss me,” Danielle answered.

  Echo’s relief was written all over his handsome face. “You didn’t kiss him!”

  “No, I didn’t,” said Danielle angrily. “But you know what? I might just go ahead and kiss the next guy who tries.”

  Echo, equally upset, cried, “Well, maybe I’ll be the next guy who tries!”

  Nose in the air, Danielle huffed and kept walking. She didn’t even dignify his comment with a reply. Echo walked beside her, his prodigious brain calculating how he was going to wipe that smug look off her face.

  “When a man loves a woman,” he said quietly, “he doesn’t grab her and kiss her, he picks a special moment.”