by Donna Hill
She reached across the table and covered Raymond’s hand with hers. Her smile radiated the love and thanks that she felt for him and the spark in his eyes reflected it right back. That was what she’d been so afraid of losing. A moment of fear tightened her chest. She would beat this illness. She had to. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with this man in whatever part of the world that they wound up.
* * *
Raymond and Jacqueline waved goodbye to Matt as he hurried toward the subway to make a late afternoon appointment.
“I know I promised myself and you, but…how are you feeling?” he asked as he wrapped one arm around her waist and the other he extended to hail a cab.
To be honest she was thankful that his arm was around her and that they quickly caught a cab. “I’m good,” she said, looking up at him with a bright smile. The undertow of fatigue was sucking her out to sea. She allowed him to help her into the cab and she settled in and rested her head on his shoulder. She felt as if none of the pieces of her body were connected or had any substance. As exhausted as she was on some days, she was often terrified of going to sleep for fear of being too exhausted to wake back up.
Raymond pulled her close as the cab sped along Amsterdam Avenue. “I was thinking, baby…”
“Uh-oh,” she teased.
“Not funny. I was thinking I would find my way around in your massive kitchen and fix us a great dinner. The fridge and cabinets are stocked. There has to be something in there that I can whip up for us. We can curl up in that big bed and watch a movie. How’s that sound?”
She could have cried she was so relieved. “Perfect.”
“And I don’t want you doing anything. I got this.”
“You won’t get an argument from me.” She snuggled closer and the next thing she knew, Ray was
gently nudging her awake.
“We’re back and you’re going right up to bed. And don’t give me any crap about how you’re not tired.”
She blinked the world back into focus and straightened up. “Fine.” She opened the door and stepped out in the cooling afternoon. The breeze somewhat revived her.
Raymond came around from his side of the cab and walked with her upstairs. Jacqueline Lawson would never simply give in. He didn’t give a damn what she said, she wasn’t “good.” And that terrified him.
Chapter 19
Jacqueline tried her best to put on a good face once they’d gotten inside. Her legs ached and they felt like wet noodles at the same time. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed, but she didn’t want to let Ray have any idea how weak and tired she was. She knew the moment that she did, he would hover over her. And that would make her crazy.
“Go on up and relax or nap or whatever you want to do. I’m going to see what we have to fix and plan out something special.”
She looped her arms around his waist. “You sure you don’t want any help?”
“None.” He clasped her shoulders and turned her body toward the stairs. “Go. I’ll be up soon.”
She stifled a yawn behind feigned wide-eyed indignation. “There’s a deep freezer, too,” she said, heading for the stairs. “Gotta be something good in there.”
“I’ll check. Now, go.”
She finger-waved goodbye and went upstairs. By the time she reached her bedroom she barely had enough energy to get out of her clothing. She tossed her outfit on the club chair, kicked off her shoes and crawled under the covers. Within moments she was in a deep, dreamless sleep.
* * *
Raymond turned on the sound system and adjusted the radio dial to 88.3 WBGO, the jazz station. Soon the unmistakable sound of Sonny Rollins filled the air. Ray bobbed his head and riffed along as he searched through the freezer and found a whole red snapper. He took it out and set it in a pan of water to defrost. He opened the fridge, hoping to find a beer, and much to his surprise there were a half dozen bottles of Carlsberg. As he took one off the shelf, it hit him that whether Jacqueline had intended to or not, he was on her mind when she planned to come to New York. He found an opener, poured the icy brew into a glass and took a long, satisfied swallow. A slow smile moved across his mouth. Jacqueline Lawson was nowhere near as disconnected as she pretended to be. And he knew in his soul that once she really let go, she’d realize that she needed him as much as he needed her.
The sultry sounds of Gloria Lynn’s April in Paris was up next on the radio lineup as he washed vegetables and checked for what brand of pasta was handy.
While he was chopping some peppers he heard a cell phone ringing but it wasn’t his. He looked around. The ringing was coming from Jacqueline’s purse. He walked over to the table. The phone was protruding from the side flap. He picked it up, saw the name and answered.
“Hey, Traci, it’s Ray.”
“Ray, hi. Um, did I call you by mistake?”
He chuckled. “Naw. This is J’s phone. She’s asleep. She left her phone downstairs.”
“How is she?”
“She says she’s fine.” He took a swallow of beer and set it down. “But I can see the tightness around her eyes. And she tires easily even if she won’t admit it. I can see it.” He sat down on the stool at the island counter.
“When is she going to see the specialists?”
“Tomorrow. I’m going with her.”
“Good. At least that’s some progress. Listen, Ray, Jacqueline is my best friend in the world. She’s like a sister to me. I’ve never betrayed her trust in all the years that we’ve known each other. But this time I truly believed that what she was doing was wrong. A part of her always knew that. But she was too damned stubborn to admit it.”
“I know. I’m glad you told me and I’m pretty sure she is, too. No one really wants to go through any kind of health crisis alone.”
“Have you two decided about coming back to L.A.?”
“We haven’t gotten that far yet.” He paused, looked around. “You should see this place, Traci. She really had every intention of setting up here for the long haul.” His fingers reflexively curled into fists as the lingering twinge of hurt snuck up on him.
“She is extremely focused when she puts her mind to it. I told her it was crazy, but she wouldn’t listen. I’ll probably plan a trip out there as soon as she knows how long the treatments will last. Anyway, tell her that I called and I’ll try her tomorrow evening.”
“Sure thing.”
“And Ray…”
“Yeah…”
“Thanks for not giving up on her.”
“I couldn’t even if I tried.”
“Take care.”
“You, too.” He got up and returned the phone to Jacqueline’s purse.
At some point he was going to have to make some decisions of his own. He had a house in L.A. He couldn’t up and leave it. The work was no problem. He was fortunate that he was in the kind of profession where he could work from anywhere in the world. When things settled down he and Jacquie were going to have to do some serious talking about what their lives were going to be like. As much as he loved the vibe of New York City, he was not feeling the cold weather of the North. He’d had enough of that growing up in New Jersey.
One step at a time. The first hurdle was getting Jacqueline through these clinical trials and getting better. After that all the other steps would fall into place. But one of those steps needed to be taken tonight. He’d waited long enough.
* * *
When Jacqueline awoke several hours later the sun had already set. The sky above the high-rises was a deep orange. She stretched like a lazy cat and sucked in the mouthwatering aroma of whatever Ray was cooking up in the kitchen.
She slowly sat up. Her head wasn’t spinning, and she actually felt as if she had bones in her body and not spaghetti. She swung her feet to the floor and stood, then padded off to the
bathroom for a quick shower. When she was done she made swift work of lotioning her body and finding something easy and relaxing to wear. She picked out a salmon-colored satin lounging set that she’d picked up from a Victoria’s Secret when she’d been in England. She’d never had a chance to wear it.
She peered into the mirror and applied a light coat of mascara and a splash of tinted lip gloss. She pulled her hair up on top her head and fastened it loosely with a clip. A spritz of her favorite scent went behind her ears, the base of her throat and at her ankles and she was ready to meet her man. She grinned. She liked the thought of that.
* * *
Ray didn’t hear her approach. Thelonious Monk’s “Blue Monk” was keeping him company. He was busy bobbing his head to the music of the great pianist and composer while checking on the progress of his stuffed red snapper. It was a recipe he’d picked up from his mother, but rarely had the chance to use it.
Jacqueline stood in the archway watching him move easily between the stove, the fridge and the sink, turning, prepping and seasoning with ease and periodically miming playing the piano. A half-finished bottle of Carlsberg beer sat on the counter. He’d set out dishes and wineglasses and somehow had located her linen napkins.
He finally sensed her presence and slowly turned toward her with a wide grin on his face. “How long have you been standing there?”
Her arms were folded beneath her breasts. A sparkle was in her eyes. “Long enough catch your piano playing impersonation.”
He patted his chest with both hands. “I got skills, girl.”
“Yeah, baby,” she said with a playful tone of sarcasm tickling her voice. She stepped fully into the kitchen. “Sure smells good.” She tried to peek at the pots but he shooed her away.
“Go sit. You’re messing up my rhythm.”
She ran her hand down the curve of his back and looked up at him from beneath long lashes. Her voice dropped an octave. “I doubt that your rhythm could get messed up.”
“Careful,” he said, pulling her close. “It’s already hot in the kitchen.” He kissed her briefly on the lips and playfully squeezed her bottom. “Want a glass of wine?”
She giggled and swatted his hand away. “Sure.” She pulled up a stool and sat at the island.
Raymond took a bottle of white wine from the mini wine fridge beneath the island counter, popped the cork and poured it into her glass.
“Thanks.” She took a cooling sip.
He opened the oven and took out the glass tray with the stuffed snapper. The air filled with the tantalizing aroma of cooked spices. He set the steaming tray on the counter, right under Jacqueline’s nose.
Her eyes momentarily rolled to the heavens. “Humph, humph, humph, I’m going to have to walk away and take these naps more often if this is what’s going to be the result.”
“Anytime, baby.” He finished off his beer. “Ready to eat or do you want to wait awhile?”
“You really think I can sit here with this in front of me,” she said, indicating the golden-brown fish, “and not want to eat?”
Raymond grinned, making his eyes crease in the corners. “Well, in that case…” He arranged the dishes and flatware on the island countertop, cut into the stuffed snapper and placed a hefty chunk on Jacqueline’s plate.
The snapper was stuffed with seasoned yellow rice and black beans, scallions, bell peppers and baby shrimp. He took a large glass bowl from the fridge and forked out a finely chopped and colorfully adorned spinach salad onto her plate.
“Nothing like a man who can cook,” Jacqueline said in admiration as she looked over her fare.
Raymond loaded up his own plate, placed the tray with the balance of the fish on the top of the stove and then sat opposite her.
Jacqueline poured some wine into his glass. She raised her glass toward him.
“Here’s to the chef,” she said.
He touched his glass to hers. “To going down easy.”
Jacqueline cut into her food and took a mouthful. Her eyes closed in ecstasy. The array of flavors burst in her mouth like a symphony reaching its crescendo.
“Oh, my goodness. This is…”
His brows rose as he waited for the verdict.
“Incredible.” She chewed slowly, savoring every morsel. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked you where you learned how to cook like this.”
“As quiet as it’s kept, I went to Culinary School in New York for about a year.”
Her eyes widened. “What? I had no idea.”
He grinned. “It was my grandmother that gave me the cooking bug.” He forked food into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “My folks didn’t have money for camp and vacations, so they’d send us off to relatives for the summer. I usually got Grandma Mae. When I would visit with her during the summer she always had me helping out in the kitchen…and the fields…and the barn.” He shook his head and chuckled at the fond memories.
“Where did your grandmother live?”
“Mississippi.”
The simple word gave them both a momentary pause. The often dark and tumultuous history of the state was embedded in the memory of African Americans for generations.
“While she had me out in the fields pulling up collard greens, potatoes and snap peas, gathering peaches and apples, she’d tell me what it was like growing up as a young girl in Mississippi. My great-grandparents were both slaves on a small plantation not far from where my grandmother’s wood-framed house stood. They instilled in her a sense of pride and dignity and enough good sense not to let it show and get lynched or worse.”
He took a long swallow of his wine then refilled both of their glasses. “She told me how she and her brother had barely survived the great flood of ’27 when they got separated from their parents. They clung to a tire that they’d hung in a tree for four days.”
“Wow, that’s amazing.”
He gazed off into the distance. “I remember Grandma calling me from playing to sit at that old wobbly wood table in the kitchen and peel peaches for cobbler. It was the kind of hot that sucked the air from your lungs and coated your skin. Too hot for shirts or shoes. Everything stuck to you like fly paper. No air-conditioning, either, back then.” He chuckled and shook his head at the memory. “I swear…the heat.... Anyway, Grandma Mae was busy slicing peaches and telling me about how terrified black folks were when those three civil rights workers turned up dead and just a year after Medgar Evers was assassinated. She said, folks wouldn’t go out after dark and always walked in twos and threes. Didn’t matter what the laws of the land were. It was different in Mississippi.”
He pushed his food around with his fork then took a mouthful. “Every time I was at her side for more than a minute, she’d start telling me some story or the other. Like how she used to work for this one white family and she would always cook too much food so that she could take it home for her family. Either they never caught on or didn’t care, because she worked for that same family for nearly thirty years.”
Jacqueline laughed at the image and tried to imagine this big strapping man as a little boy chopping collards and peeling peaches while he listened to the wisdom of his grandmother, and realized with a pang just how different their lives were growing up.
“She was an amazing woman,” he continued thoughtfully. “She’d never gone beyond the third grade but she could read and write, and knew when she was being cheated at the cash register. She could drink a grown man under the table then get up for church on Sunday morning and cook every meal like it was her last.”
“It sounds like she’s who you got your thirst for
storytelling from as well as a love for cooking.”
He nodded his head in agreement. “I’d have to agree with you on that one. Of course, I never appreciated it until I was much older.”
“Do we ever appreciate w
hat adults have to say when we’re kids, especially if we’d rather be doing something else other than listen to them?”
They both chuckled at that one then grew thoughtfully quiet. The silence was as soothing and appropriate as the sounds of Cassandra Wilson singing her rendition of “Time After Time” as if the music was synced up with their emotions.
Raymond looked across the counter at Jacqueline. The aura of serenity that settled around her only illuminated her inner beauty. It was enough to steal his breath away. He didn’t want to miss any of these moments. He wanted to be there for her, to catch her when she fell, wait for her to come through the door at night.
“J…”
Her gaze flickered toward him, and a soft smile moved gently across her mouth.
He drew in a short breath and reached into his pants pocket then slowly raised his hand. He opened his palm and the diamond ring that he’d been carrying around like a talisman for months gleamed in his hand. His throat went bone dry and when he began to speak his voice hitched.
Jacqueline’s lips parted. Her eyes widened and jumped back and forth from Raymond’s face to the future that rested in his hand.
Raymond ran his tongue along his lips, cleared his throat and reached across the table with his free hand to capture Jacqueline’s fluttering fingers.
“J. I had a whole speech planned…” The corner of his mouth lifted into a half grin.
Jacqueline blinked rapidly to keep the threatening tears at bay. She tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth.
“Baby…I don’t want to be without you. Simple. As many times as I’ve been around the world the only place I ever wanted to come back to was to you.” His brows drew together. “And whatever the future has in store I want us to do it together.” He glanced down for a moment then directly at her. “I need you to say yes, J. Marry me.”
