“Speaking of grandmothers, I was thinking about yours earlier . . . well, at least her ring. I’m sure you’d like to have that back. Keep it in the family.”
“You’re the one getting married.”
Maxine rubbed her brow. “I should give it back to you. I already have one. And I’m sure your mother has missed it.”
“Not lately. There’s no rush.”
“It’s not right for me to keep it. Especially now.”
“I’m sure Teddy Bear would agree.”
“Stop calling him that! You don’t even know him.”
“Well, he sounds like a teddy bear—he’s safe in your arms, but are you safe in his? He must not be man enough to hold you up or support you since he doesn’t know about Celeste. And I bet that means he doesn’t know about me either.”
Maxine stood so abruptly she almost tipped over her chair. “Like you supported me, you mean, after you found out I was pregnant?”
At first, the sound of her heartbeat whooshing inside her eardrums was her only answer. That and the loud silence that resonated with their mutual pain and anger and regret. At last, she managed to speak around the rawness of her throat. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. Besides, you probably didn’t call me to talk about the ring. Or Theodore.”
His own voice sounded choked. “No, I didn’t. But you tend to give me more than I ask for.” He cleared his throat. “We need to talk about Celeste. The last time I called you, we got interrupted.”
Maxine shuddered, thinking of what Lilian had overheard.
“But we need to talk in person anyway. This isn’t a subject we can handle over the telephone or in a ten-minute car ride. Can we meet for lunch or coffee? I promise to provide tons of cream and sugar.”
Maxine walked around her apartment. She stopped at the window and leaned her forehead against the glass. “Mother says I drink it like a child playing grown-up.”
“Maybe your coffee helps you keep your sweet disposition.”
She snorted. “That’s likely. But you’re right—we should talk in person. Think we’ll behave better?”
“That depends on what you mean by better.”
“Jay. Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“It. This . . . this verbal two-step, this . . .” Maxine huffed and focused on the creek peeking through the spray of leaves.
JD sighed again. “I don’t know how to talk to you anymore. What to say. I have all these plans before I call you or see you, and then I hear your voice. You either say something that makes me mad or that makes me remember. I find myself reacting instead of acting. I’m not used to feeling out of control, and it unsettles me. Makes me uncomfortable.”
“You mean, I make you uncomfortable.”
“Yes, you make me uncomfortable. This situation. A situation I created.”
“That we created.” Maxine thought a minute. “Let’s start over. Not all the way over, but let’s back up a little bit.”
“To Sassafras?”
“What?”
“That restaurant I keep going to, hoping to run into you. You won’t answer my calls or let me watch Celeste rehearse, and I can’t stop by your house. So that left me Sassafras.”
“And Mama Ruby’s.”
He chuckled. “And Mama Ruby’s.”
“You go to Sassafras looking for me?”
“Let’s just say I’ve probably put on a good five pounds since I moved here. The host? He thinks I’m stalking him. His birthday is next week, by the way.”
Her laughter mingled with his.
“Okay. You can stop going to Sassafras. I did. And I didn’t ban you from Celeste’s rehearsals. Well, I guess I kinda did.” She turned away from the woods and saw her pantsuit hanging on her bedroom door. “Why don’t you come tonight, to Celeste’s concert?”
JD was quiet for a moment. “You mean with you?”
“With us. I’m going with my family. You can meet us there.”
“And sit with Mr. and Mrs. Owens? Will there be a sniper waiting on the roof?”
Maxine walked to her bedroom and traced the hem of her slacks. She picked off lint and flicked it into the air. “No, Jay. I’d hate to deprive you of the opportunity of seeing your . . . seeing Celeste perform her solo. I’m sure we can all behave ourselves for a couple of hours—not that you have to sit with me. With us. I just want you to know you’re welcome. And maybe now I won’t have to worry about you lying in wait in Spring Hope.” She listened to what sounded like his fingers tapping.
“I suppose it’s worth the risk of seeing Vivienne. But what about your Teddy B—er, your fiancé?”
“What about Theodore?”
“Will I meet him tonight as well?”
“No, he has a conflict tonight. You’ll have to wait for official introductions.”
“Does that mean we can meet for coffee after, to talk?”
She froze.
“Maxie?”
This isn’t a date, Maxine. He’s coming to Celeste’s concert, and then he wants to talk about her. There’s nothing wrong with talking with him like a grown woman over coffee. Maybe I’ll skip the French vanilla creamer.
“Maxie?”
“Okay. Yes. I’ll clear it with Mother.”
“Clear it with your mother? Aren’t you a little engaged for that?”
“I’m not asking her permission, JD. We had dinner plans afterward to celebrate the occasion. I can’t simply bail.”
“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll join you. Technically, I’m family, too. Right?”
“Jay.”
He chuckled. “I couldn’t resist another little cha-cha, Maxine. I’ll see you tonight. Concert’s at . . . ?”
“At 7:30. But we’ll be there early to help Celeste and find seats.”
“Then I’ll see you around 7:00—as long as Mommy says it’s okay.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
MAXINE CRUNCHED ON AN APPLE SLICE, a far cry from the lemon pound cake of her dreams. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Vivienne slid the cast-iron pot into her oven and adjusted the temperature, then rose with her hands on her hips, glaring at her daughter. “Then what did you mean? Girl, I don’t know where you put your head.”
Maxine’s throat pulsed as she swallowed. “I take it you disagree.”
“You darn skippy I disagree! And I bet your Theodore would, too.” Vivienne retrieved her apron from the hook by the stove and tied it around her waist.
Celeste’s right. Mother does get worked up. Maxine took another bite.
“‘I invited JD to attend the concert with us.’ That’s all you’ve got to say?” Vivienne looked down. With a furrowed brow, she removed the apron and again, hung it on the hook.
“Actually, no, ma’am. We’re going out for coffee afterward. So I can’t make it to dinner with you and First John.”
“You . . . ! What . . . ? Are you . . . ?”
“Mother, didn’t you say JD’s return was a good thing?” Maxine hopped down from her perch and walked to the refrigerator.
“Not so you could start datin’ that boy again!” She reached for the apron.
Maxine gently took the flower-sprinkled cotton cloth and held it behind her back. “Nobody’s talking about a date. He asked me to meet him for coffee to talk about Celeste—and I’m the one who invited him to the concert.” She hung up the apron herself and faced Vivienne. “So am I messing up big dinner plans?”
“No. Celeste asked to go out with friends from the orchestra, and we’re going to take the boys for pizza nearby. You could join us.”
“And watch Second John and Robert fight over the last slice of pepperoni while Zan and First John engage in their Steph Curry versus Lebron debate? No thank you. Then it sounds like we’re all set. See you in . . . ?” She drained her glass of water and checked her watch. “An hour fifteen?”
Vivienne caught Maxine by her hand. “Child, listen to me.”
“Mother—”
“Listen
to me now if you don’t ever listen to another thing I say.” She set Maxine’s glass on the island and clasped her daughter by the shoulders. “Don’t mess things up with Theodore just because that boy slid back into town, thinkin’ he can pick up where he left off. Yes, you need to iron out this thing with Celeste. Hear him out, but guard your heart. You’re a soon-to-be married woman. Act like it.”
“Would a ‘soon-to-be married woman’ ask her mother’s permission to go out? Or still be living at home? Hanging out with her little brothers on the weekend? I think it’s time we both let me grow up.”
“I feel like we’re goin’ through it all over again.”
Maxine gritted her teeth and turned away from the tears welling in Mother’s eyes. “Do you really think I’ve learned nothing in my life, that my commitment to Teddy is that weak?” But what about your commitment to God, Maxine?
“No, no. I just worry about the hold that boy has on you.”
“I think you should stop calling him ‘that boy,’ for one. At least use his birth name. James.”
“James who?”
Maxine and Vivienne turned toward the back stairs and found Zander standing there, holding his basketball.
“He’s an old friend of Max’s who just moved back into town. Remember, he’s running that community outreach center,” Celeste answered from two risers up, just behind him.
“Oh yeah, Hillsong!” Zander stepped into the kitchen, his little sister on his tail. “What’s up? Y’all look like Mayweather versus Pacquiao.”
Maxine faced Mother in her corner and braced herself for a fight. “We’re meeting for coffee, but she doesn’t want me to go.”
“Can she stop you?” Her brother chuckled at his mother’s look. “I know she still lives here, but she’s grown. She only answers to Teddy.” He dribbled his ball.
“I don’t answer to anybody but Jesus, thank you very much. And I don’t still live here. I live there.” Maxine pointed out the back window toward the garage.
“Well, you still live here, Zan, so stop bouncin’ that ball in my house. And where do you think you’re going with that? You should be gettin’ ready!”
“Ma, I’ve got nearly an hour to shoot some hoops. I’m not the one performing tonight.”
She pursed her lips. “What about you, Celeste?”
The teen waggled the finger hooked around a hanger. “I need you to iron my blouse.”
Maxine lowered her head and walked to the back door.
“Wait, Maxine! You’re going out with Mr. Lester? The Lenny Kravitz look-alike?” Celeste raised an eyebrow. “What’s up?”
“Nothing’s up. We’re just catching up over coffee. He’s coming to the concert.”
“He is? You can officially introduce me!”
“Officially introduce who?” Maxine’s hand froze on the knob.
“Me! As my sister, you’re my in. We want to work at the center this summer.”
“Who’s we?”
“My friends. Me. We.”
Maxine turned her back on the perfect O of Vivienne’s mouth. “Um. Let’s think about that. I don’t want you doing too much.”
“But tonight’s the final concert of the season, and I’ll have more time before rehearsals start up again in August.”
“We’ll see. Today’s main objective is getting you to the auditorium on time. Bye for now!”
The last thing she heard before she slammed the back door was, “Boy, if you don’t get that ball out my house . . .”
________
“You have been awfully quiet.” First John inclined his head toward his wife.
Indeed, up to then, the twenty-minute drive had been funereal, save for the beeps and taps of the twins’ iPods in the rear and the ca-thunk, swish of the windshield wipers. Maxine’s eyes hop-skipped from her stepfather’s in the rearview mirror to the part at the top of her mother’s head, all she could see from the middle row of First John’s Yukon XL. Beside her, Celeste plucked her imaginary bass with closed eyes, and Zander read Moby-Dick in his seat behind his father.
They continued driving through downtown until finally First John turned on his signal and stopped in front of the auditorium. He put an arm across the seat and looked from Maxine to Vivienne. “Is this because we’re late? I’m sorry my interview ran long. And I had no idea traffic would be this heavy.”
No, First John. I’m the whale on the end of her harpoon this time. But Maxine smiled. “You were only fifteen minutes late.”
“So we’re all right?” Her stepfather glanced first at Vivienne before catching Maxine’s eyes.
Vivienne murmured, “Mmm-hmmm.”
“Of course, First John.”
“Okay, then . . . Maxine, get Celeste situated. Zan, Second John, and Robert, y’all go in and get us good seats, enough for all of us, plus Roy, Ruby, and Lerenzo—and remember, no horseplay. Your mom and I will park.”
“And don’t forget Mr. Lester,” Vivienne growled.
Maxine decided not to reply. She gathered her light wrap around her, opened her door, and held an umbrella over Celeste as the boys scrambled out after them. As her parents pulled away, Maxine saw her mother’s mouth moving and her hands directing an invisible choir.
Backstage was a beehive of activity. A trio of flutists trilled in the corner. Oboists licked their reeds behind trumpet players who were either cleaning their horns or tuning up. Musicians stepped over clarinet cases and saxophones propped up like abandoned bicycles, while other performers reclined against the rear wall or unpacked more instruments.
Maxine and Celeste bumped against mothers and fathers milling through the crowd, listening to their soloists, and dragging younger family members around the curtain and into the concert hall. She waved off her brothers and inspected Celeste.
The teenager turned three hundred sixty degrees. Her black skirt billowed out below her wrinkle-free white blouse. “How do I look?”
“Lovely, of course.” Maxine smoothed a strand that had escaped her sister’s side bun. “Très chic.”
A crevice formed in each of Celeste’s cheeks as she smiled. “Thank you. Mama bought me this silver clip. It helps me stand out.” She tugged at Maxine’s wrap. “It’s not raining inside, you know. What are you hiding under there?”
Laughing, she slapped at Celeste’s probing hands and gathered the material closer. “Shouldn’t you get ready? Check in with the conductor? Warm up or something?”
“You’re probably right. It is after six.” She craned her neck to see over and around Maxine.
Maxine turned to look before questioning Celeste with an arched brow.
“I’m just looking.” Celeste scoured the area again, then smoothed her skirt. “Making sure everybody’s here.”
“Everybody like who?”
“Everybody like everybody. Anyway, I should unpack my bass.” But she scanned the room again before moving toward the string section.
“Okay, I’ll go meet Mother and First John. Break a . . . bow or something. You know what I mean.”
“Do I though?” Celeste waved a dismissive hand over her shoulder.
Maxine wondered what was going through the girl’s mind. As far as Maxine was concerned, it didn’t take the sparkly pin to make the willowy, bubbly teen shine in the undulating sea of ebony. She used both hands to part the burgundy velvet curtain and slipped through. She wound her way through the crowd to the foyer and searched among the other concertgoers for her parents.
“Our girl’s all situated?”
Maxine approached the deep voice. She nodded at First John and Mother. “She’s getting her bass. Want to find our seats? The boys should be holding them down by now. I’ll join you in a bit.”
“We will, but I’m waiting for . . . There they are!” Vivienne waved. “They don’t see me. I’ll go get them. Be right back.” She stuffed her sweater into her husband’s hands.
Maxine moved aside to let a percussionist clicking his drumsticks together push between them. She square
d her shoulders. “If you have something to say—”
“Viv has probably said more than enough.”
“Yes.”
“But just in case she left something out . . .” Her stepfather swallowed. “Maxine, I let you down years ago by not saying enough, and I won’t make that mistake now.”
Maxine opened her mouth to interrupt, but she pressed her lips together.
“I don’t care if you’re thirty or one hundred and thirty. I will always be your . . . well, you will always be my daughter. When you left us, we were lost. All we could do was pray and hope and believe that God was watching over you. Then you came back to us, with Celeste. And we haven’t stopped praying and hoping and believing—for both of you, for all of you.
“And God has answered our prayers. Not just that you would mature into the beautiful, talented young woman that you are. Or that you would develop your own faith in Jesus Christ. But we have been on our knees praying that nothing would ever turn your heart from us or take you away from us again. And here he comes.”
“First John, JD didn’t break into our house one night, wrap me up in a blanket, and spirit me off somewhere. I made my own decision.” She lowered her voice. “However bad.”
“But he was older than you, more mature. He was raised better than that. To just leave you and his baby . . . And now he’s come back. You have your whole life ahead of you, Maxine. After all you went through—what we went through—now you have a burgeoning career, a husband to look forward to, a family of your own. We’ve prayed and believed, and now we see the fruit of all those seeds we planted. I hate to see you run headlong into something.”
“I’m not rushing into anything! I didn’t then, and I’m not now. Did you forget that I was fifteen when I met JD? We didn’t get married until I was seventeen!”
First John held up a hand. “What did you say?”
“Who’s married?” Celeste popped out from behind First John, holding her bow.
Vivienne strolled up with Ruby and Lerenzo. Vivienne straightened her younger daughter’s collar and smoothed her hair. “Child, where’s your bass?”
“Large strings and percussions are already set up onstage. Who got married?”
'Til I Want No More Page 20