“Look, Honey,” she chirped. “Mommy and Daddy are here for you.”
“Thank you,” Daylin whispered, scooping the baby from the woman’s arms. Maurice expressed his gratitude, giving everyone in the room a hug before cradling Daylin and their baby.
“Officers have the suspect under arrest,” declared the head of security. “She was trying to board a plane to Florida when a passenger recognized her picture from a post on Facebook and alerted a flight attendant.”
Daylin quickly took a seat in front of the two male staff members that were in the room and began nursing the hungry baby. In a flash, Maurice covered Daylin and Soraya with his jacket.
“We’re pressing charges,” Maurice announced. “I’ve already called a lawyer.”
Maurice kissed Daylin’s smiling lips.
Ms. Hargrove’s tear-stained face passed by their door, glowering at Daylin as the Michigan State Police escorted her out of the area. Daylin simply looked at the woman, continuing to feed the baby as the escorting officer yanked her forward.
Maurice thanked the airport security and attending officers one last time as Daylin packed the baby in her car seat.
“We’ll need you to follow us down to the 9th Precinct to file a report,” one officer said.
“We’re right behind you.” Maurice picked up the car seat and followed Daylin and the officers out of the room.
“Thank God this didn’t turn out another way,” Daylin said, tears of joy streaming down her smiling face.
God had given her more than she had. No longer would she live in fear or apologize for any of her choices.
Chapter 14
Indian summer brought red and gold leaves and warm autumn breezes as Daylin and Maurice prepared to celebrate their union.
Vibrations of love and happiness filled the air as the soloist sang Major’s “This is Why I Love You” as Maurice stood at the altar alongside the stocky clergyman, awaiting the arrival of his bride. The soloist closed out her rendition as the music transitioned into a smooth jazz composition.
Tears welled up in Muarice’s eyes as Daylin’s strapless Vera Wang gown sparkled from neckline to hem as she strolled down the aisle of the chapel, which had been exquisitely decorated with white roses and white calla lilies.
Daylin stood at the altar; Maurice almost skipped to her side, where he saluted his bride with a kiss.
“Hold on a minute,” the clergy said with a chuckle. “There’ll be plenty of time for that.”
The crowd laughed, watching Maurice’s excitement.
“More than I want you to believe in fairytales, I want you to believe in lifetimes,” Maurice expressed his voice so thick with emotion he had to clear his throat to continue. “I never want to spend another day wondering what you’re doing or who you’re with. I love you, Daylin Nichole and there’s nothing I’d rather do than spend this lifetime with you.”
Daylin unfolded the paper that she held tightly with her bouquet.
“Maurice, more than I dreamed of having a knight in shining armor to come and save me or Prince Charming to give me the kiss that would awaken me from a nightmarish existence, I dreamed of having a friend.” Daylin said shaking, tears running down her beaming face. “A friend that would accept me—flaws and all. A friend who I could talk to about anything. A friend who knows that the Wolverines will always be the best team on the planet,” she said with a chuckle as the crowd laughed along. “And then came you. You are my knight, my prince, and my friend and one day you’ll be Team Wolverines,” she jabbed as Maurice chuckled. “I’m grateful for you and it is my honor to be your wife and friend for life.”
“Aww,” the chorus of voices murmured in the crowd.
“Is there anyone here who believes this couple should not be united in holy matrimony?” the clergyman inquired of the guests.
Soraya’s wail broke the momentary silence.
“Excuse me, Princess, but you’re not supposed to protest,” Maurice teased.
“She’s not protesting. It’s dinner time,” Daylin informed him with a smile.
Chuckles rippled through the chapel as every eye flashed to the cherubic faced baby with the afro puffs that competed with the size of her plump her cheeks.
“Well, if no one else has any objections,” the clergyman said smiling, “by the powers vested in me, I am honored to announce Mr. Maurice and Mrs. Daylin Wilson.” He raised a brow. “Now you may salute your bride.”
Maurice kissed Daylin long and hard as the crowd cheered their congratulations.
“I guess this is the next lifetime,” Daylin whispered.
“There’s no guessing about it,” Maurice corrected. “And this lifetime will be so much sweeter than the last.”
Sweet Summer Breeze
Agave Sugar
Anita L. Roseboro
Chapter 1
Sleep never came until first light. For almost ten years, Summer’s nights had been spent tossing, turning, and chasing ghosts. The Blues joints in Atlanta were the only places where she felt at home. People went to places like that because they were running from one thing or another. Hiding from themselves and the ghosts within. Something she and they had in common.
Summer settled into the leather seat in a cozy corner of Café 290. The music unwound the coils of stress wrapped around her, that tried to squeeze what was left of any peace of mind. Being the Director of The Guardian Ad Litem office meant fielding daily calls from volunteers, social workers at their breaking points, and lawyers who’d become weary of the system. The turnover rate in her department was at an all-time high. Budget cuts from the state and the increased need to hire more volunteers put a strain on her reserve. Now, she simply needed relaxation. Slowly, she sipped a glass of “Black Bubbles” Sparkling Shiraz and let the melodious saxophone soothe her soul as the cares of her world slipped away.
A tall, slender man moved toward her. He had a familiar gait that signaled he was seeking out his next prey. Summer Daniels was no one’s prey or victim.
“Hey, that seat for me?” he asked.
Summer looked up with a heated intensity that made good on her name. “I prefer to sit by myself, thank you.”
“A pretty lady like yourself should never be alone,” he said, in what he believed was a seductive tone.
“That wasn’t an invitation for you to convince me. Have a good night.”
The man glared at her, then slithered off, mumbling something that rhymed with witch. Normally, it took a few of these exchanges for the rest of the men to get the message. One night, the high count was twelve.
Summer slowly returned to her zone and closed her eyes to absorb the music.
“Who’s playing tonight?”
The sound of his silky voice made Summer tremble unexpectedly. Memories of the places on her anatomy where he provided hours of pleasure reacted spontaneously. She lifted her gaze to meet those dark brown eyes.
“Maria Howell and Bill Wilson,” she replied.
Café 290 was the last place she thought she’d run into the love of her life, the man who shattered her heart. During a more pleasant time in their relationship, she had believed they were destined for the 2.5 kids, white picket fence, and rocking chairs. Not to mention, they were all set to overhaul the overworked social and justice system. Somehow, neither dream materialized.
“You always loved those sparkling bubbles hitting your nose.”
“And you always loved watching me make a fool of myself,” she replied, allowing a smile to come.
She joined him in boisterous laughter.
“Never that. You let your guard down fighting those bubbles, and it was a beautiful thing to see,” he said.
Devon snatched a chair from the table and situated it next to her. Evidently, he’d tired of waiting for her to extend the invitation. She had no intention of inviting heartbreak back into her life again. She was all good picking up the lesson on the first time out.
“How you been?” he asked.
“Wond
erful,” she lied, knowing full well that life had dealt her several blows. Some of them landed because he was no longer in her life. “What about you?”
“I’m good,” he answered.
Boy, could she tell. The man looked delectable in a suit, but he was even hotter in a pair of jeans that fit his muscular frame.
“It seems life is treating you well,” she said, her gaze roaming his body, reacquainting her mind with the best aspects of his physique—those powerful thighs, that gorgeous rear-end, six-pack, muscular chest and arms. His neck invited kisses, and so did those lips. “I haven’t seen you around here since you ended things.”
“I’ve got something important to tell you,” he replied, his gaze lowering to the table where her purse rested.
“I’ve been getting over the loss. You tracked me down because you want to give us a second chance?”
Summer thought back to when they worked in the same office, but because of a “no fraternizing” clause, she walked away. The move seemed right at the time; his career was more established than hers. She thought making this ultimate sacrifice would solidify their relationship. Boy was she wrong.
“I’m waiting,” she said, sliding closer as an up-and-coming musician took the stage while the duo took a break.
Somehow, he avoided giving out the good news as the two of them talked about parts of their past, the aspect of their relationship she missed the most.
“I’m getting married in two weeks. We’re expecting a baby in December.”
Chapter 2
He presented those two pieces of info and had the utter gall to smile the entire time, not realizing that the rest of her world had taken a plunge.
Summer nearly choked on her drink. The liquid slid down the wrong pipe and she coughed to clear her airways. Devon slid the drink from her hand and gave her a few pats on the back to help things along. Once she regained her composure, she could barely wrap her mouth around saying anything.
“I’m happy for you.” Infuriated was a better word. How could he marry someone else in such a short amount of time, when he had professed that he’d love Summer forever?
On the real, she had no one to blame for this but herself. She lost him because of her unwillingness to commit, but she had a good reason. Even if he still didn’t believe a word of it.
“I remember a time when you didn’t want a child,” Summer said, schooling her facial expression to stay neutral.
“I wanted one, but you didn’t want to be married. Why would you carry my seed and not be my wife? Most women want things in reverse,” Devon countered, locking his fingers into a teepee with his index finger under his chin.
“Wow. Really?” She said, feeling every bit of the censure in his tone. “So, explain how your fiancé is expecting. Did you ask her to marry you before or after the baby came along?” She glared at him, watching his mouth part and then close.
His expression hardened.
“For the record, I had no problem with either one. The timing was wrong.”
She grabbed her purse and stood but paused as she felt his touch. “I’ll catch you some other time,” she said, shrugging him off.
“Please stay,” he whispered, standing so they were eye to eye. “I wanted to tell you before anyone else did.”
“You succeeded.”
Chapter 3
“I ran into an old friend tonight at Cafe 290,” Devon announced as he slid out of his black jeans and white shirt. He exchanged them for a pair of navy pajama bottoms.
“Surely, not Summer,” Charity said, her tone as dry as her facial expression. The jealousy toward his ex-girlfriend ran deep, but he didn’t understand it.
“She seemed different somehow,” he replied, taking his place next to her on the bed. He slid the remote from the glass nightstand and flipped to CNN. “I barely mentioned that we’re getting married and we’re expecting.”
Charity snuggled into him. “I’m sure that’s the last thing she expected to hear.”
“Maybe, but she needed to hear it from me, not some random person,” he said, still pained by the expression on Summer’s face as she rushed away. She even forgot to pay for her drinks.
“What difference does it make who she heard it from?” Charity snapped. “She’s no longer your concern.”
She rolled onto her side and placed her hand over her stomach.
“She’ll always be my concern, regardless of our relationship,” he countered. “This with you was a total surprise to me. I was honest about that.”
She glared at him and rolled away. She was asleep before he could say anything else.
Devon’s thoughts drifted to Summer as he watched Charity. Maybe if he’d been a little less demanding about having kids immediately after marriage, she would be the one sleeping next to him. He had been shocked at her stance on waiting three years after marriage to have kids. That was the issue. He knew if he didn’t lock in the terms, she would find a way to extend them.
Despite his feelings for Charity and their unborn child, he still loved Summer. She would always be the love of his life, but Devon would do everything in his power to protect Charity from being hurt. He cared for her and wanted to provide for his child—if “it” was actually his child.
Charity had approached him at Sweet Georgia’s Juke Joint a few months after his separation from Summer. That wasn’t long enough to get over what he’d felt would be the love of a lifetime. At the time, his heart still being held hostage didn’t matter to Charity.
How two drinks ended with a one-night stand was a puzzle he’d never figure out. He was still fuzzy on the details of their night together, when she swore their child was conceived. As a Que, he could drink his frat brothers under the table. So, how two drinks could put him so far out of the zone that he couldn’t remember ending up at her house, let alone sleeping with her, was a mystery.
Chapter 4
Summer again spent the night wrestling with her pillows. The pain of finding out that Devon had moved on so quickly when she was still on the fringe of heartbreak was almost too much to bear. She tried to push that aside, but only snatched two hours of sleep.
All court cases were on Wednesday, which usually made for a hectic Thursday.
“Summer, did you have a late night?” asked her secretary Daryl Simmons, poking her head into Summer’s office. “Would you like some coffee?”
“No, thanks. What’s the first hearing for today?”
“Actually, all the hearings for today have been postponed,” Daryl said as she entered the room with a bottle of water. “They haven’t been able to find a replacement judge to sit in for Judge Waters.”
“What happened to him?” Summer asked.
“Food poisoning. He was admitted to Emory University Hospital late last night.” Daryl placed the much-needed bottle of water on Summer’s desk.
“Sounds serious. Probably from eating Marge’s cooking again,” Summer remarked with a laugh. The judge often joked that his wife’s meatloaf would be the death of him.
“Maybe more of a precaution, since he had a hernia and the bleeding ulcer last year,” Daryl replied. “You only have two appointments today: one at three and the other at five.”
“I’ll be in my office catching up on the research the clerk sent. Were you able to find out any more about the person coming in later?” Summer took a sip of her water, and wished it were coffee, one of the vices she’d given up a few months ago when missing one of the five cups in her day started bringing on headaches.
“Only that she’s new in town, and somehow thinks she might need someone to help protect her child,” Daryl replied as she swept out of the office.
As the evening drew near, Summer finished her call to a social worker concerning a wandering child who was found eating her neighbors’ cat food. The child was immediately placed in Child Protective Services, and Summer arranged for a volunteer to meet with the child.
“Summer.” Daryl knocked and entered the office simultaneously.
>
“Yes. Summer waved her in with the phone she was placing in its cradle.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Daryl said, pulling up a chair in front of Summer’s desk. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, but your five o’clock called and said she had an emergency. She’ll call and reschedule.”
“Did you find out any more about her?” Summer flicked her pen on the desk. If the woman had been more considerate, Summer could have left an hour ago.
“Only her first name, Charity. When I asked for her last name, she said it wasn’t important,” Daryl replied, her purple hued lips pulling into a smirk. “Why are you concerned about this one?”
Summer rubbed the stress from her neck. “The vibe I got the day we spoke gave me chills.”
“Well, I’ve known you for five years, and I don’t ever recall you being wrong about something feeling off. That’s how you’ve landed such a good track record.”
“If she calls back, try to reschedule her with someone else. I’m going to work out and then go home. Set the answering machine and take the afternoon off, since we have no appointments this afternoon. No sense in both of us missing out on this beautiful weather. I know you’ve been working some very late hours since we took on two other districts. Our caseload has tripled. Please call the temp agency tomorrow and get some additional help.”
“Thanks, Summer. I could use a little help, now that you mention it.”
“Get out of here and have a good night.”
Summer left the gym, her mind filled with conversations with Devon. She didn’t want to risk running into him again, so another visit to the jazz club was out. The maze of traffic seemed very thick for this time of day, so she dashed off I-75 to take a more scenic route home through one of the more affluent neighborhoods off Northside Drive. Something about looking at the beautifully landscaped yards reminded her of a happier time in life, when her parents were together.
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