“Understood.” But if I can get this right and really make her see what she means to me, there’s no way she’ll send me packing. He needed her to know he’d be there for her, that he believed in the beauty of her dream. And the more he thought about it, the more a plan began to solidify in his mind.
* * *
“Do you know what time it is?”
Yvonne glanced down at her sister from her spot on the stepladder. “Really, Zel? Can’t you see me trying to hang these last few streamers?” She shook her head, trying to tug the strip of clear tape out of the dispenser mounted to the elastic band on her wrist. “I’ve been doing this for a while now. We came home, and I changed clothes and went right to work on decorations.” Standing four feet off the floor, she was glad she’d changed from the tan maxi dress she’d worn earlier into white jeans, a black tee, and black-and-white-striped sneakers.
Zelda, still clad in the simple white blouse and navy pencil skirt she’d worn to early service, grinned. “Yeah, I see you. I’m just trying to draw your attention to the time. Mommy and Daddy will be home from church in about thirty minutes, Sis.”
“Dang it.” Finally freeing the stuck tape, Yvonne affixed a few strips onto the end of the paper streamer to secure it in place, then climbed down from the stool. Taking a couple of steps back, she assessed her work. Braids formed from orange and gold streamers hung from the corners of the room and over the kitchen doorway, accented by gold paper lanterns. Bouquets of glitter-flecked orange balloons, tied to plastic weights to keep them from floating away, were anchored on either side of the old fireplace.
Zelda, holding a stack of gold plastic party hats, nodded her approval. “It looks good, Von. Nice work.”
Yvonne had to agree, especially considering the total lack of concentration she’d had while completing the task. Despite her best efforts to focus on preparations for the day’s festivities, her traitorous mind kept wandering back to thoughts of Maxwell. I wish things could have turned out differently. But he’s just not ready for real commitment.
Stifling a yawn, Zelda set the party hats on the oak sofa table. “Girl, I’m already beat and the party ain’t even poppin’ yet. Getting up for Sunday school and early service? I’m plumb worn out, like Granny Vera used to say.”
Yvonne shook her head. “Trust me, I’m not a fan of getting up at six thirty on a Sunday, either. But we had to go to early service so Daddy wouldn’t ask questions about us missing regular service at eleven.” She ran a hand through her hair, knowing just by touch that it looked a mess. “We needed this time, while Mommy and Daddy are in church, to finish getting the house ready.”
“I know, I know.” Zelda yawned again. “But I’m surely missing that extra sleep right now.”
“You and me both.” Yvonne sighed, knowing her sister wasn’t aware of the real reason she hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep. She’d been tossing and turning most of the night until she finally gave up and went for a run on the treadmill at five in the morning. Thank goodness my complex has a twenty-four-hour workout room. No way was I going to walk the streets at that hour.
The sound of a car door slamming drew them to the window. “It’s Quita and Ross pulling up,” Zelda remarked. “And there’s another car pulling up behind them. Looks like everybody’s here.”
Yvonne drew a deep breath, steeling herself for what was sure to be a busy day.
The party guests drove through the side yard, parking their cars out of sight behind the house. Yvonne had prearranged that to ensure that her dad knew nothing about the festivities until the last possible moment. Once that was done, Yvonne welcomed neighbors and relatives into her parents’ home with hugs, kisses, and handshakes. She showed them hospitality in the manner her parents would expect, which included giving them her most genuine smile. And even though she still felt the lingering hurt from what had happened between her and Maxwell, she let the comforting presence of the people she loved soothe her wounded soul.
“I’ve been living across the street from this family for fifteen years.” Helene Cantini smiled as she shook Yvonne’s hand. “Gordon and Marissa have always been good neighbors. They’ve looked out for me many a time.”
“It’s almost three.” Their cousin Quita stood near the coffee table, tapping her watch. “Service will be out by now, and they should be pulling up any minute.”
“I sure hope Uncle Gordon is gonna be surprised.” Ross, Marissa’s nephew, a freshman at Central, grinned in Yvonne’s direction.
“I think he will be,” she said, then turned toward her sister. “Zel, you didn’t let anything slip, did you?”
Zelda shook her head. “Nope. And besides that, Mommy’s been a champ about keeping him busy and completely in the dark about our plans.”
“I already got my good hiding spot.” Greg, Gordon’s younger brother and only sibling, chuckled as he eased to a seated position on the floor behind the sofa. “One of you youngsters will have to help me up, that’s all.”
Greg’s wife, Aunt Shelly, joined him. “They’ll have to help us both up, baby.”
Yvonne couldn’t help feeling wistful as she watched her relatives. Would Maxwell and I have been like that? Still joking with each other after thirty years together? She doubted she’d ever get the chance to find out the answer to that.
She cupped her hands around her mouth and said in a theater whisper, “Quita’s right. Everybody needs to get in their hiding place.”
“Dibs on the coat closet.” Zelda’s sneakers squeaked on the floor as she slid past her sister, pulled open the door, and slipped inside before shutting it behind her.
Yvonne snapped her fingers. “Dang. I was gonna hide in there.”
“Only room for one,” Zelda called from the recesses of the closet.
Shaking her head, Yvonne scanned the room for a good spot that wasn’t already taken. Seeing an opening, she scooted into the narrow space between the piano and her mother’s potted ficus and crouched low.
The familiar rumbling of their parents’ old Buick sliced through the air. The room fell silent as they all waited for the guest of honor to appear. Next came the scratching of the key in the lock, and Yvonne covered her mouth to stifle a giggle as her mother asked her father if he knew how to work a key.
The door swung open, and Gordon lumbered in.
Yvonne and everyone else jumped from their hiding spots. “Surprise!”
Gordon stood in the doorway in his favorite brown suit and matching fedora, his mouth hanging open a moment, before he said, “What in the world?”
“Happy birthday, honey.” Marissa grasped his hand in hers, leaning up to kiss him on the lips.
He smiled. “Oh my goodness.”
Cheers went up among the assembled guests as the birthday boy realized what was happening.
“You girls, come here.” He gestured to Yvonne and Zelda with his hand, and they dutifully went to their father’s side. Embracing them along with their mother, he announced, “Thank you all so much. You didn’t need to bring any gifts here today, because having these three girls and people like you who care about me is gift enough.”
Yvonne felt the warmth of her father’s love wash over her, and it did much to improve her mood.
“Aww.” Shelly appeared on the verge of tears.
“I brought you something, though,” Greg quipped.
“Well, now, if you already paid, I’ll take it.” Gordon laughed as he gave his wife and daughters a squeeze. “I’m not one to turn down such generosity.”
Marissa shook her head. “You’re such a ham. Come on in the kitchen, everybody, and eat some of this food.”
The party got underway in earnest then. Zelda started up an instrumental jazz playlist on her phone, streaming it to a portable speaker to up the ambiance. Everyone ate, conversed, and laughed, celebrating the happy occasion. Yvonne stayed busy by waiting on her f
ather and some of the other older folks in attendance, bringing them drinks and whatever other items they requested. She was glad to see to their needs, because serving others was part of her nature. Her grandmother had always declared she possessed a servant’s heart.
Today, while she battled the vestiges of sadness that threatened to overcome the festive mood of the day at any moment, she needed the distraction.
I served Maxwell, too. I took care of his daughter, helped him find his identity as a father. I gave him my heart. But when it came right down to it, I was doing all the giving. He only took from me.
When everyone was settled, her melancholy finally got the better of her, and she went outside to sit on the back patio. Settling onto the floral fabric cushion on her mother’s wicker settee, she gazed out over the backyard. The thicket of pine trees beyond the chain link fence hid the busy road from view, but she could still hear the faint sounds of traffic. Her mother’s azalea bushes were starting to bud, indicating a possible early bloom. Thinking of the way the yard would look by April, when the bright fuchsia blooms would be as large as saucers and as numerous as the stars in the night sky, brought a bit of joy to her weary mind.
Why am I sitting out here thinking about Maxwell, anyway? I doubt he’s thinking about me.
She knew the answer. He’d become a part of her, in so many ways. The fact that he’d hurt her didn’t erase everything they’d shared. She couldn’t simply forget his smile, his kiss, the way his hands had felt as they caressed her body. No matter how hard she tried to shake them, those memories remained. I don’t know how I’m going to move on from this. But if I have to choose between being with him and pursuing my lifelong dream, my dream wins out.
Zelda came out of the house, plopped down beside her on the settee. “What’s your malfunction, Von?”
Yvonne glanced at her sister’s face. “How did you even know I was out here?”
“Mommy was in the kitchen, and she saw you through the back window.”
“Ah.” She didn’t have to turn around to know her mother was probably still there, watching them. “It’s a long story.”
“Okay, then give me the shorthand version.”
She pursed her lips, blew out a breath. “Let’s just say now that I know who Maxwell really is—or rather, who he’s not—it’s over between us.”
Zelda’s eyes widened. “Well, that was short-lived. What happened?”
Yvonne shook her head. “I don’t want to rehash all that. The gist is, he’s not supportive. It seems like he’s expecting me to just give up my dream so I can fit neatly into his life.”
“Oh no.” Zelda leaned back against the seat cushion. “You’ve been talking about owning a day care since forever. If he really would ask you to give that up, then you’re right to move on.”
“Well, he hasn’t exactly asked me to give it up.” Yvonne sighed. “But it’s pretty clear he’s not invested in my success as a business owner. Now that I work for him, I don’t think he wants me to go any further with my career.”
“Sounds like he’s gotten comfortable with things the way they are.”
Yvonne shrugged. “I guess he has.” Maybe that was how Maxwell felt, but if so, his idea of comfort was the opposite of hers. “If he wants this quiet life, where I stay home and help raise his daughter and do nothing else, I can’t be happy that way.”
“I’m not trying to get in your business, but it seems to me you miss him.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“With you sitting out here moping while there’s an actual party going on inside? Yes, Sis, it’s obvious.”
Yvonne shook her head, raked a hand through her hair. “He just…let me leave, Zel. He didn’t fight for me. He hasn’t called or texted… I just don’t know what to think.” If not for the passion he’d displayed in bed or when he talked about his own work, I’d think he didn’t possess any.
“I’m not gonna tell you to reach out to him. I think, based on what you’ve described, that he should be the one to reach out.” Zelda clasped her hands together. “If he tries to make things right, let him make his case. Give him a shot, but if it doesn’t feel right in the end, feel free to walk away.”
Yvonne nodded. “That seems reasonable.” Too bad reason rarely ruled in matters of the heart. If he were to call her right now, she wasn’t sure if she’d answer. He’d hurt her deeply, and she wasn’t sure she could—or should—trust him again. “At least I won’t have to go to work this week. I promised I’d stay until he found a replacement, but Sasha will be with her mother all week.” She was grateful for the vacation, because she’d need the time and space to clear her head.
“Listen, you know I’m with you, no matter what you decide to do.” Zelda reached over, giving her hand a squeeze. “I’d advise against telling Daddy about this, though. Knowing him, he’d be ready to fight. He doesn’t go for anybody hurting his daughters.”
Yvonne nodded. “I know. And I appreciate it.”
“Great.” Zelda stood. “Now, let’s get back inside before all the good snacks are gone.” She held out her hand.
The gesture reminded Yvonne of when Zelda was a little girl and they’d held hands to cross the road to the ice cream truck. With a small chuckle, she took her sister’s hand and headed back inside the house.
Chapter 22
Maxwell pulled into the driveway at his parents’ house Monday, guiding his SUV into a spot behind Alexis’s car and Kelsey’s old pickup. Shutting off the engine, he drew a deep breath, bracing himself for what might be waiting for him.
He’d gotten a call from his father earlier, asking him to come over for dinner. “It’s time for me to make things right, with your mother and with all of you,” Humphrey had said. Since his father had sounded genuinely contrite, he’d agreed to make an appearance.
He got out of the car and walked around the side of the house to the back patio as he’d been instructed. The stone patio, which extended from the rear of the house by a good twenty feet, held his mother’s large, L-shaped wicker sectional. The behemoth patio furniture was a deep shade of brown, had solid navy-blue all-weather cushions, and boasted enough seating for eight. A stout wicker rectangle sat near the center of the sectional, serving as both a table and a footrest for those sitting near it.
There was also an outdoor dinette table, in the same wicker as the sectional, which had a tempered glass top. The table also seated eight, and as Maxwell passed it on the way to the sectional, he observed several covered trays had been placed there.
Seated on the sectional now were his mother and sisters, all seated on the right side.
“Hey, y’all.” Maxwell took a seat next to his mother, beside the center cushion. After they’d all exchanged greetings, he asked, “What’s going on? Where’s Dad?”
Kelsey shrugged. “Said he was going to pick something up, and he’d be right back.”
He jerked his thumb in the direction of the dining table. “What’s all that?”
“Dad had the caterer bring over some finger foods.” Alexis shrugged. “I guess he thought it would help break the ice for his…whatever this is.”
Leaning back against the cushion, he placed his arm around his mother’s shoulder. “I’m only here because he claims he’s ready to set things right. Mom deserves that. We all do.”
Del, who’d been silently and absently flipping through an issue of Southern Living, nodded her head. “I just hope he’s serious about this. I’ve been waiting so long for him to come around.”
Maxwell watched his mother, taking in the tension lining her face and the way her shoulders slumped as she sat next to him. His father had wounded her, and she wore the emotional bruises he’d left behind. Wanting to comfort her, he gave his mother’s shoulders a squeeze. “Don’t worry, Mom. Whatever happens, I’ve got you.”
She gave him a weak smile. “Thank you, Son.”
>
They made small talk for a few minutes, and Maxwell felt his mood soften a bit as he listened to his mother and sisters chattering.
Then, Humphrey came walking around the side of the house. And he wasn’t alone.
Maxwell didn’t know which was more shocking: his father’s scraggly, unshaven appearance or the two guests he’d decided to bring along.
Trish Oliver, their petite, fair-skinned former neighbor who originally hailed from the Louisiana bayou, walked a few steps behind Humphrey. Her close-trimmed brown hair, highlighted with blond, framed a round face with dark brown eyes. Maxwell hadn’t seen her in more than fifteen years, and her appearance hadn’t changed much in that time.
Jeffrey Oliver, tall and lanky, had a complexion that matched his mother’s but facial features that mimicked his father. He seemed hesitant, his steps slow and measured, and he seemed poised to turn tail and run at a moment’s notice.
Maxwell felt his jaw tighten. His mother’s shoulders stiffened beneath his arm, and in a flash, she was on her feet.
“Humphrey Lee Devers. How dare you bring that tramp to my home?”
Trish’s face folded into a frown, one that seemed to express more discomfort than offense.
“Del, please. We need to iron all this out, and I’m too old to manage a six-stop apology tour.” He gestured for Trish and Jeffrey to sit on the left side of the sectional while he sat down in the middle. “Besides, you said never to bring her into the house. And I didn’t.”
Delphinia fumed. “You’re an ass, Humphrey.”
“I won’t dispute that.” He looked around at everyone present. “All I’m asking is that you give me twenty minutes. In twenty minutes, I’ll take Trish and Jeff home, and they won’t be on your property anymore.”
“It’s not Jeffrey I have a problem with, and you know it.”
Trish exhaled, scooting farther away from the center of the sectional and pushing Jeffrey along with her. “Humphrey, I can’t believe you’d bring me here without talking to your wife about it first.”
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