Tension was flying high in the Mason household. Ivy threw her purse down on the nearest chair and proceeded to the bathroom. She bent over the porcelain toilet bowl and regurgitated until there seemed to be nothing left in her body. Sweat began to pour from her face, leaving her faint and exhausted.
Flushing the toilet, Ivy pulled down the lid, sat on top of the stool, and held her head in her hand. This was not what she’d bargained for and happiness seemed to be elusive. She wouldn’t be able to keep her secret long from Malik, and what did it matter now? They were married.
She gathered herself together and proceeded out of the bathroom. Malik was waiting for her in the den as she passed through en route to the kitchen to get a drink of water.
“Is there something you want to share with me?” Malik asked, as he peered into Ivy’s flushed face.
“Why do you ask?”
“Ivy, I’m not blind. Something is going on with you. Twice tonight you’ve puked in the toilet and on the floor. So I feel that it’s time you come clean because there is an explanation for your erratic behavior. Are you pregnant?”
Ivy stared at Malik as if he’d lost his mind and then cast her eyes away from him. She blew air from her lips and contemplated on what she’d say. There was no recourse but to tell the truth because the tell-tale signs were there. So what if she was pregnant before they’d said I do? They were married now, which legitimized the seed that was growing inside.
“I’ll assume your silence means you are. Were you pregnant prior to us getting married?”
“Look, Malik,” Ivy finally said, stretching out her hand. “I’ve held off telling you because I didn’t want you to think that I was trying to trick you into this relationship. I hadn’t expected that you’d ask me to marry you . . . at least not right away. But when you did, I was beside myself with joy, and I didn’t want the news that I was pregnant to destroy our moment and possibly face rejection if you weren’t on board.”
“Ivy, look at me.” Malik managed a smile. “I’m happy for us . . . happy that I’m going to be a father, although I would’ve rather you told me without all the melodrama.” Ivy looked at Malik and pushed back the tears that threatened to moisten her eyes. “Come here.”
Malik held out his arms and wrapped them around Ivy when she came to him. He squeezed her and closed his eyes and then pushed her back. “I’ve always wanted a son. My first wife, Toni, was pregnant with our son, but as you know, they were killed in a car accident.”
Surprising Ivy, Malik held her again and kissed her full on the lips, finally parting them with his tongue. He kissed her passionately, consumed with a fire that tore through the cavern within her mouth, sucking and tasting her like a luscious fruit. Still holding her close, Malik left her mouth and tasted her neck, stopping every now and then to mark his territory with purple passion marks.
As abruptly as Malik held Ivy’s lips, he withdrew, picked her up, and carried her to their bedroom, gently placing her across the bed. He swooped down on her like a swan diving for its prey, enveloping her head in his arms. Malik continued to kiss Ivy passionately, stopping momentarily to look into her eyes. There was love for him in those doe-like eyes, and he lost himself in her embrace.
Their bodies melded together like butter on a stack of hot pancakes. Each touch, each caress demanded more. Malik and Ivy were like starved children in Somalia, feeding on each other in an effort to survive. And they removed their clothes in between the sucking and grinding, sweat forming on the surface of their bodies like a thin coat of paint. And when they were naked, Malik turned into a ravenous beast, eating all he could devour.
Ivy was so accommodating for her man. She took her time and loved him up, leaving no doubt about her prowess and ability to serve her man in bed. Malik shuddered as Ivy stalked him with her tongue and body, straddling him like a goddess who ruled the world. As Ivy took control, Malik opened his eyes and peeked up at her as she rode him to the point of no return. And then he wailed up, his breathing erratic, and shouted through the roof like a grown-ass man, “Damn.”
And then it was Ivy’s turn to reap the reward of their lovemaking. She drew in her breath and then released it before being overtaken with a series of spasms that left her spent. She fell forward onto Malik’s chest and sighed with contentment.
“I love you, Malik.”
“I love you, too, Ivy.”
Thirty
Today was a brand-new day. Margo was determined that she was going to rid herself of the funk that had engulfed her in the belly of a thick, cumulus cloud since her baby boys were born. Some would call it postpartum blues but, in reality, it was being strapped to not one, but two newborns to raise alone—two babies she loved dearly. But that was her reality, and she needed to get on with life, embrace it, suck it up to what it was. No matter how she tried to color the thing, it was what it was. She was a middle-aged woman with brand new babies.
The weather forecast called for sunny skies and it would do her good if she and the babies got out of the house for a while. A stroll through the park seemed to be the perfect antidote for her blues.
Margo got up and rushed through the shower, taking an extra minute or two to pamper herself with a splash of sensual oils and lotions. She blow-dried her hair and curled it, after which she twirled in front of the mirror, arched her back, did a couple of body stretches and proceeded to get dressed, opting for a simple pair of salmon-colored shorts that cuffed at the edges topped off by a white-ribbed tee. She looked good.
She hurried and got the babies up, fed and bathed them, then dressed them in matching plaid shorts and white tees with necklines made of the same plaid material. Gathering up Pampers and light blankets in the event she’d need them, Margo neatly placed them in the black and gray Eddie Bauer diaper bag that matched the twin’s double stroller. Picking up the bag, Margo kissed her little men and marched downstairs where she grabbed their essentials like milk and juice and added them to the diaper bag. And then they were off—Margo and her boys.
After tucking the boys in their respective car seats, Margo drove to downtown Raleigh, the capitol of North Carolina, ending up in its heart and finally at Moore Square Park. Moore Square Park, with its manicured landscaping, housed a giant copper acorn that symbolized Raleigh as the “City of Oaks.” Its old-style lampposts and cobblestone streets in the City Market gave it an old European feel that excited Margo, conjuring memories of long ago when Jefferson served in the military overseas.
It was one in the afternoon, and mothers with their young children milled about. This was the last week of summer vacation before the children had to give up their days of leisure for the classrooms and their continuing education. Margo strolled around, letting the slight breeze whip around her face, checking the twins every few moments to make sure they were all right.
They seemed to enjoy the activity that surrounded them. Both Ian and Evan waved their little hands and cooed as Margo pushed their stroller into the thick of the park. They seemed to sense that other children were just as delighted to be at the park as they were—every now and then beating the little white food tray on the stroller.
About an hour into their tour, the boys began to wine, and Margo found a bench and sat down, taking each twin in her arms independent of the other and feeding them. Other mothers with their children stopped in front of Margo to gawk, coo, and offer congratulations about her beautiful bundles of joy. Margo smiled. This was the best idea she had in a long time. Nothing else mattered; it was she and her boys.
Two more hours passed and Margo couldn’t believe that the time had flown by. The twins were getting restless, a true indication that it was time to go home. Margo pushed the babies down Blount Street and headed for the parking garage on South Wilmington Street along with several other mothers. Traffic was beginning to get heavy, and there was no way Margo wanted to be in the middle of downtown when all the government employees bailed out of their offices in an half-hour.
One more block to go. Babies content again, Ma
rgo marched along. She could see South Wilmington Street and she breathed a sigh of relief . . . ready to begin her trek home. Easing the stroller off the sidewalk and into the street, she proceeded to cross the street.
Then she heard it before she saw it. The long squeal of an automobile as it made an attempt to break to a stop as it rounded the corner without stopping at the stop sign—SCREECH . . . BAM.
A deafening, morose filled the street . . . the kind of feeling that folks who’ve claimed to have encountered a UFO must feel when they say a bright light from a spaceship engulfs them. And then in an instant, the real-time switch was turned back on. People watched transfixed while others raced to Margo’s rescue as she fell to the ground but not before she tried to shield her babies from harm. Even in her intense pain, she became the protective mother hen.
Holding her side, Margo pushed up on her knees but the pain was too severe. Wherever her strength came from, she released her babies from the stroller, held them to her bosom as droplets of blood from their tiny hands drenched her tee. Margo screamed to the heavens and both Ian and Evan screamed louder. “Please help me and my babies,” Margo cried, rocking back and forth but falling back to the ground, holding onto the twins for dear life.
“Let me help you,” a young, black sister with a short, close-cropped snazzy hairdo said, admonishing her two girls that looked to be seven and eight, their heads full of micro-braids, to stay on the sidewalk. “Let me hold one of them for you.”
“My babies. My babies,” Margo cried. “Somebody call 911. Please help me; don’t let me die.”
“Don’t worry, sister, I’m right here with you.”
“I can’t lift my leg,” Margo said, her voice rasping and the tears still flowing.
“I’m a nurse,” a white woman said, pushing through the crowd of onlookers. She knelt down and tried to take Evan from Margo.
“Please don’t take my babies,” Margo cried, as blood flowed from her leg.
“What’s your name?” the nurse asked.
“Margo.”
“Margo, lay still and let me look at your babies. We don’t want to move them too much in the event they’ve sustained any injuries, critical or otherwise. Moving them will compromise their recovery.”
“Okay,” Margo whispered.
Looking at each twin, it was easy to assess on the surface that they had both sustained lacerations and Ian had a small gash on his tiny forehead. His constant crying indicated that the extent of his injuries might be bigger than she could see.
“We’re going to let this kind lady hold your other baby and keep them both warm until the ambulance arrives,” the nurse said. “Now let me look at you.” After a moment, the nurse looked at Margo, who looked pale. “Your leg is broken . . . hopefully your hip isn’t. Don’t move. I’m going to take this blanket from the back of the stroller and tie it around your leg to stop the bleeding. An ambulance should be here soon.”
“Thank you,” Margo said to the nurse, and then looked around for the sister who held both Ian and Evan. “Thank you, too,” Margo said faintly.
“Stay with us . . . keep talking,” the nurse said.
“Get him,” someone shouted, as the driver of the automobile attempted to get away. There was so much commotion that it was hard to ascertain what was going on. But it was clear in an instant as the brave men in the group of spectators jumped on the car of the driver that hit Margo and her babies and pulled him out of the car. The driver, a young white man in his late-teens or early-twenties, tried to fend off the mob that had formed and shouted obscenities at him.
Margo lay in the street, a sweater that someone had offered underneath her head. “How are my babies?” Margo whined. “I want my babies. Please don’t let anything happen to my babies.”
Sirens could be heard in the distance—first the police and then the ambulance. The crowd moved to allow the emergency vehicles access so they could take care of the victims. The paramedics rushed to Margo’s side, while witnesses gave the police their accounts of the accident. The driver was handcuffed and put in the back of a patrol car, while the paramedics whisked Margo and the babies off to the hospital.
“Please save my babies,” Margo begged, as the paramedics administered first aid to the twins first, Ian seeming to have suffered the brunt of the accident, along with Margo.
“Ma’am,” one of the paramedics began, “we are going to do our best. All I can say is that you had someone in high authority watching over you and your kids . . . your angel, if you believe in them . . . because this could’ve been a totally different outcome. I’m a believer, and I’m telling you that God fixed it so that the car sideswiped you instead of hitting you full force.”
Margo finally looked up into the face of the man who talked about faith, angels, and God. Tears spilled from her eyes, and she was rendered speechless. When Margo regained her composure, she looked at the man again. “Thank you. Thank you. God, please save my babies.”
The ambulance flew to Wake Med in lightning speed. Hospital interns from the emergency room met the ambulance and whisked Margo and the babies away to a triage room to access the trauma to the babies while they waited for the pediatric doctor to arrive. Margo clutched her heart and prayed. Then she pulled her BlackBerry from her purse and dialed Jefferson’s number.
Thirty-One
It was mid-afternoon, and the Myles’ brothers had something to show their father.
“Hey, Pops, you busy?” J.R. asked, followed by Winston.
Jefferson looked up when his sons entered his office. “Got all the time for the two of you. What you got?”
“Not much,” Winston said, stealing the conversation away from J.R. who looked at his brother in disbelief. “We’ve got a design without text or photos. We aren’t sure what anything is supposed to look like. Did you get any idea from this woman while you were taking her money and getting her to sign the contract?”
Jefferson was quiet for a moment.
“Ohhhhhh,” J.R. said playfully. “I get it. You had to give up something to get the goods.”
“And you must be on crack,” Jefferson retorted. “What kind of businessman do you think I am?”
“Winston, I think I touched a nerve. Am I right, Pops?” J.R. egged. “Look at you. You’re in that place where you want to lie, but you already know we’ve got your number. Spill it, Pops. We’re all grown men here.”
Jefferson laughed. “J.R., you are out of your mind. We’ve got plenty of work here, and I’m not going to chase any tail to get any.”
“Well, is he right, Dad?” Winston pressed, then laughed. J.R. joined him.
“Of course not. I didn’t even want to take Toni on as a client.”
“Did you hear that, J.R.? Dad called the client by her first name—not Ms. Gillette, or Ms. Toni Gillette, just Toni. I hope you didn’t screw her, Dad.”
“Gentlemen, you need to slow your roll, and recognize that this is your father you’re talking to. Secondly, I’m a businessman who doesn’t need to lay with any woman to get business. As I’ve said time and time again, I’m running a reputable business here, and . . .”
“Saved by the phone,” J.R. said, allowing the laughter that was caught in between his diaphragm and ribcage to escape. “Pops, you got to get up early to put a lie like that over on us.”
“Quiet while I take this phone call.”
J.R. and Winston held their waists to keep from laughing outright. Jefferson picked up the phone and was surprised that Cheryl had called his private number instead of using the intercom.
“Cheryl?”
“Yes, Mr. Myles, Ms. Toni Gillette is here and she says she needs to see you right away. Do you have a minute you can spare to meet with her?”
“Sure, Cheryl. I hope you’re treating our new client well. In fact, the guys and I were talking about her project, and I must say she’s right on time.”
“Well, I’ll send her to your office. Thank you.”
Jefferson hung up the phone.
“What was that all about?” Winston asked.
“Ms. Gillette is here and wants to see me about her project.”
“I guess that means we’ve got to exit, Winston,” J.R. said, rapping his brother on the chest while trying to keep his composure.
“No, I want the two of you to stay,” Jefferson said. “You are an integral part of this project, so you need to hear what she has to say.”
Before the guys were able to move away from Jefferson’s desk, the door to his office flung open. A statuesque woman, her skin the color of Beyoncé’s, slid into the room. She wore a yellow, satin-cotton, shirtwaist dress that was belted around the waist. The hem of the dress rested two inches above her knees, while the top two buttons of the dress were unbuttoned, showing just enough cleavage to excite everyone in the room. “Jeffer . . . son,” Toni said, but stopped short of saying anything else, surprised to see the two young men huddled at Jefferson’s desk.
“Ms. Gillette, come in. Let me introduce you to my sons.”
A look of surprise and delight crossed her face. “Your sons? They’re as handsome as you are.” Toni gave J.R. an extra special once over.
Jefferson cleared his throat. “My sons and I were just talking about you.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Would you like a seat, Ms. Gillette?” Winston offered, pulling back a chair that he was leaning on that sat in front of his father’s desk.
“Would love to sit,” Toni said, now giving Winston a second helping of her flirting.
Toni sat down and crossed her bare legs, causing both J.R. and Winston to drop their eyes momentarily to view one her fine assets. And then she dangled her yellow mule on the tip of her foot that crossed her leg, distracting the brothers totally. Jefferson watched his sons and he smiled internally.
“The guys are ready to place text and photos into the website and get a good understanding of how you would like for it to look. They’ve designed some templates for you to review.”
In My Rearview Mirror Page 13