by CATHY L. CLAMP; FRANCIS RAY; BEVERLY JENKINS; MONICA JACKSON; GERI GUILLAUME
“Well . . .” Anne said.
“We’ve known each other long enough, Mom,” Trey said, his voice dry and clipped.
“Dr. Fraser, there you are.” A small woman clad in striped kente cloth hurried up to him. “The speakers have been waiting for you to read over their intros before they go on,” she said.
“I’m sorry, but I need to get backstage,” Trey said to Anne. “I’m MC for the first part of the celebration. Save me a seat and I’ll join you when the speakers are finished.”
Anne nodded and watched Trey leave with what she hoped was an imperceptible sigh. She turned back to his mother.
“It’s nice you’re staying with my son.” Her words were polite, but Trey’s mother’s facial expression looked like she’d just bitten into an orange and discovered it was a lemon. “How long do you think you’ll be in Atlanta?”
“I plan to stay through the Kwanzaa holiday.”
“You’re spending the whole seven days with Trey?” one of his sisters asked.
“Yes. Maybe longer.”
Silence.
“Hmmm. I’ll call you,” his mother said. “Oh, look, Tina; there’s Renee over there.”
Anne felt a leaden weight settle in the pit of her belly.
“Oooh, look what she has on. She sure looks good,” Trey’s sister said with a grin, darting a glance to Anne and nudging her sister in the ribs.
“She sure does.” His sister’s gaze traveled slowly down Anne’s body from head to toe.
Anne turned her head to look at the woman who’d referred to her as a fat yellow heifer earlier that day, garbed in African golden metallic robes and a matching gold head wrap. Trey’s mother was making her way through the crowd toward Renee. The leaden weight in Anne’s stomach turned red-hot when she saw Trey’s mother greet and embrace Trey’s ex-girlfriend.
Trey’s sisters subtly turned away from Anne, excluding her from their circle. The line had been drawn. She’d been measured, judged, and found wanting compared to who must be their great, good friend, Renee. All Anne wanted to do was escape these women with their hard eyes and even harder attitudes.
Renee and Trey’s mother, Rachel, were coming toward them. Anne cast around for her family members. She spied her Aunt Jewel, a large woman in white robes. “Excuse me,” she said to Trey’s sisters. “It was nice to meet you, but my aunt is expecting me.”
“Hi, honey,” Jewel said as Anne scurried over to her side. “We were looking for you. Eve saved some seats near the middle.” As Anne followed her aunt, she looked back at Trey’s mother and sister. They’d crowded around Trey’s ex-girlfriend. Anne didn’t miss the scornful and dismissive look Renee cast in her direction.
Anne wanted to cry, but she lifted her chin and went on about her business. She always made sure that nobody ever knew how much they’d hurt her, way down deep.
After his talk, Trey returned to the seat in the audience beside Anne. She smiled at him, but anxiety and an inner numbness had replaced her wonder and excitement and the passion of their kisses. The people whom Trey cared about most in the world, his closest family, had let her clearly know they didn’t want her in his life. Such a familiar feeling—one she’d hoped that she could leave behind with the discovery of a place where she truly belonged.
It seemed as if her father’s family had accepted her. But what if their acceptance of her was only because they were enormously loving and tolerant people? Was the true reality that she didn’t belong in either the white or the black world—that she’d remain living on the edges always, merely tolerated, never belonging? Did Trey’s family treat her with kid gloves because she was so different from them?
The icy fear started deep in her gut and sent tendrils through her body to her heart, shattering the dreams and hopes that had been starting to grow. Her family was a part of it, but Trey was all of it. Belonging by Trey’s side was the fantasy she’d dared not allow to take shape, lest it disappear like the frail hope it was. How could she even dream of belonging to a man whose family brought her worst fears and freshest pains to the surface?
She’d had a taste of what it felt like to truly belong to a family, and she couldn’t, she wouldn’t, let it go.
Chapter 7
Trey knew a lot of women who’d let him know they were available for lovemaking whenever he desired, but he only wanted Anne. The memory of her soft lips and softer body made his pulse quicken. The Kwanzaa celebration at the community center seemed to last forever as he anticipated what he would do with her when he got her home.
The time had finally arrived. He opened the door and let her walk ahead of him. He laid his coat over a chair and watched her struggle to hang up her monster coat in the closet.
Her body wouldn’t have appealed to him before he met her. He imagined what she’d look like nude. Short, around five feet, two inches tall, she probably weighed at least 160 pounds, maybe more. Her breasts were small and pert, emphasizing her hippy, pearlike shape. He couldn’t imagine a body more desirable. The thinner women he’d preferred previously now seemed boyish, hard and angular, lacking in form and femininity.
He wanted to know every single inch of Anne. She was the essence of femininity to him and the new standard by which he’d now forever judge other women. How could his tastes change so suddenly and radically?
Maybe they hadn’t changed. Maybe he’d gone for the women who’d flirted with him—who’d made themselves easily available. Was it as simple as his being attracted to women who radiated confidence because they were bathed in cultural acceptance and approval for their thin body types? Or maybe he’d tended to choose women whose figures were similar to the tall and thin shapes of his mother and sisters.
For whatever reasons, he’d never taken the opportunity to know a heavier woman in a romantic or sexual way. He’d never been particularly repelled by heavy women—some of the thicker sisters he knew carried themselves like queens—he’d simply never considered them sexually. There was always some thin woman in his face or on his arm or in his bed.
Trey moved toward Anne and encircled her waist from behind, instantly aroused from the softness of her pressing into him. He bent to kiss her neck and was shocked at her stiffness—so different from the yielding passion they’d shared before.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “I’m tired.”
He let her go, and she moved away from him.
“Do you want to talk?”
“Talk about what?” she said, irritation edging her voice.
Trey’s eyes narrowed. “Talk about us.”
“What’s there to talk about?”
“Don’t play games with me, Anne.”
She took a deep, shuddery breath. “I’m not playing games. I need some time. Everything’s been so overwhelming.”
Trey was not the sort to press a woman, but he couldn’t remember when he had wanted a woman so badly. He ached for her.
“How much time do you need?” he asked huskily, reaching for her again. He couldn’t help pulling her against him and letting her feel the full length of his arousal.
“I’ll let you know.” She pulled away.
Trey watched her walk away, feeling confused, frustrated, and bereft. Damn, it was going to be a long night.
Anne stared sleeplessly into the darkness of the guest bedroom. She’d walked away from the man of her dreams and the undoubtedly sizable erection that was the direct result of physical and mental stimulation from yours truly. Surely she’d lost her mind.
Anne sighed. She’d never imagined in a million years that her fantasies would come true. She’d never imagined that the actual opportunity to get naked with Trey Fraser would come her way. Faced with that opportunity, she choked.
She ran her hands under the covers over the fleshiness of her belly and the thickness of her thighs. How could he want her? Was it just because she was available? But Trey surely had his choice of women. She remembered the angry possessiveness of the slender and attractive Renee
. He could have been with her if he wanted.
Maybe she should have held her breath and jumped in Trey’s arms. Maybe the water would have been just fine, but the fact remained that she’d never swum before. She was willing and ready to take her first strokes, but her first attempt would probably be somewhat awkward. Someone like Trey was likely used to highly experienced master swimmers. What would he do when he discovered that she’d never even dipped her toe in the pool?
She’d never been penetrated, never had anything more from a man than heated kisses and fumbling fingers. What would Trey do when he had to deal with her sexual ineptness on top of everything else?
Finally, that encounter with his family had done her in. The funky attitudes of his mother and sisters shredded the tatters of the self-confidence she had tried to garner to find the nerve to get naked in front of Trey Fraser.
She remembered his hot passion and hit her fist against the mattress. She should’ve rushed out and rented some X-rated videos for pointers. She could have turned out all the lights and made sure they were in a pitch-black room. She would have dived for the covers as soon as . . .
Anne sighed again. Shoulda, coulda, woulda wasn’t going to get her anywhere. One thing was certain: she wasn’t lying when she told him that she needed time.
Oh, well. Tomorrow was another day, and another chance to get it right.
“I really should go and stay with my family,” Anne said the next morning as she pulled a box of cereal from the cabinet.
Trey’s head jerked up from the cup of coffee he was nursing. “You said you’d stay here at least through the week of Kwanzaa. I don’t see any reason for that to change. Why do you?”
Because of the way he talked, the way he moved, the way he smiled, the way he smelled, and, most of all, how badly she wanted him, Anne thought. The man was going to give her a heart attack if she didn’t jump his bones, but she might have a stroke if she did. He was a walking, talking catch-22. But there was no way she could say that to him.
“They want me to stay with them,” she answered, avoiding his eyes.
“Yesterday you said you were overwhelmed. Moving in with your new family would only increase your stress.”
Anne had no answer. She went to the refrigerator and got out the milk.
“I think we need to talk about what happened in the car yesterday. Did I offend you?” His voice was soft and sexy. She shivered in reaction to it. How was she going to deny this man anything?
Anne busied herself pouring the flakes of cereal into her bowl. “You know you didn’t offend me.”
“I didn’t think so, but the way you were last night says otherwise,” Trey said, a touch of frustration in his voice.
Anne paused in the act of starting to pour the milk on her cereal, feeling anxious and edgy. She’d thought that she’d be able to dodge talking about the issue. But it seemed that her silence on the matter wasn’t going to make it go away. “Let me get this straight,” she said. “You think a kiss or two entitles you to instant sex? Is that it?”
Trey leaned back in his chair and stared at her through narrowed eyes. “No, I don’t suppose that is it,” he drawled.
“Well then,” Anne said, picking up her bowl and dumping the cereal in the garbage disposal. The sight of food suddenly made her feel nauseous.
The doorbell rang and Trey got to his feet with a barely stifled curse. Anne heard women’s voices, and the state of her stomach didn’t improve. What if it was—?
Anne’s fears were realized when Trey’s mother and sister sailed into the kitchen.
“You’re still here?” his sister asked, looking like she smelled something bad.
“Obviously,” Anne said, making an effort not to sound snappish.
“What was your name again?” Trey’s mother asked.
“Anne.”
“I’m Rachel, Trey’s mother, and this is his older sister, Tina,” she said, just as if they hadn’t met the night before.
“I remember you,” Anne answered. She glanced at Trey and noticed him watching the chilly interchange with interest.
“We were going out to catch the white sales and thought we’d drop by and see if there was anything you needed?” Rachel said to Trey.
“Nope, we’re fine,” Trey said.
Anne saw Rachel’s lips tighten at the usage of the word we.
“Maybe Anne would like to go with you,” he added.
“We’re picking up Renee,” Rachel said. “Anne, I’m sure you understand that might be a little awkward.”
“It might be a touch,” Anne said, her voice so dry, it could pass for the Sahara.
“Trey, Renee wants us to tell you that she wants her velvet bedspread back.”
“That’s fine. Hold on; I’ll give it to you now.”
“Oh no. We don’t want to lug that heavy thing around. She’ll be around later today to pick it up.”
“I don’t want her coming by. If she wants the bedspread I’ll drop it off by your place later, or you need to go ahead and take it to her,” Trey said.
“I have no idea why you’re being so unreasonable,” Rachel said. “You had a wonderful relationship with a wonderful woman and you tossed it away.” She looked pointedly at Anne. “For no decent reason,” she added.
Anne had had enough. “Excuse me,” she said, and left the kitchen.
“Your taste in women has certainly deteriorated,” she heard his mother say. Anne shut her bedroom door behind her and didn’t wait to hear Trey’s answer.
She needed some fresh air. She grabbed her coat and left Trey’s house before his mother and sister emerged from the kitchen. She walked down the street toward her grandparents’ house. She’d planned to go and see them today anyway, and right now a walk would do her good.
“There I was thinking about you and here you are. C’mon in. Have you had breakfast?” Helen asked.
Anne’s hunger returned full force at the delicious smells coming from her grandmother’s kitchen. “No, not yet.”
“You’re just in time. I made fresh biscuits.”
Anne followed her grandmother’s small and plump figure to her warm kitchen. It was decorated in hues of yellow and gold, with copper pots hanging from the ceiling. Her Aunt Jewel was sitting at the table digging into a heaped plate.
“It’s good to see you, honey. Fill yourself up a plate and come and join us.”
Anne was happy to comply. Soon she and her grandmother and aunt were all seated at the kitchen table digging in.
“Where’s . . .” Anne didn’t really know how to refer to her grandfather. Grandfather seemed too familiar. Referring to him by his first name seemed disrespectful, and his last name far too formal and distant.
“Are you asking about William? Call him Papa. Everybody else does.”
“That’s what everybody calls my other grandfather, too,” Anne said.
She stared at her plate. She hadn’t thought about her grandparents since she had talked to Grammy. But they were her family, a part of her, and she knew without a doubt that they loved her despite their flaws. She missed them.
“You miss them,” said Helen, reading her mind.
“They definitely have issues, especially over my father and race—but yes, I miss them.”
“And that’s the way it should be,” Jewel said with a gentle smile. “They raised you, and from the looks of you, they didn’t do a bad job. They obviously valued you, and it shows. You got a pride about yourself despite what you told us about being raised a black girl in a white world.”
“They love me,” Anne said without hesitation. Of that there was no doubt.
“And that young man you’ve got. Oooo-eeee, girl. He’s so fine, and a professor, too. That’s one good catch you reeled in.”
“I haven’t reeled him in. And he definitely isn’t my catch. I really don’t know him that well.”
Jewel’s eyebrows shot up and Anne’s grandmother looked surprised. “Then why are you staying with him?” Helen as
ked. “That is, if you don’t mind talking about it,” she added.
Anne’s mood dropped several notches as she thought about the scene with Trey and the subsequent visit by his mother and sister. “I met Trey a few weeks ago at a book signing at my university. I told him that I wanted to find my father’s people and he gave me his card. When I arrived at Atlanta and showed up on his doorstep, he let me in.”
“He just let you in?” Jewel asked, a look of disbelief on her face.
“Yes. On hindsight, it seems strange, but at the time it seemed right.” Anne chewed her food slowly, musing. “It’s as if we’ve known each other for ages. I couldn’t imagine staying with a stranger, but Trey has never, ever seemed like a stranger.”
“How romantic,” Jewel said.
“Romantic?”
“I see how he looks at you. And he had a fit when we wanted to bring you home with us after we first met you,” Jewel said.
“Maybe he feels obligated.”
“I doubt that,” Helen said. “He doesn’t seem a man to do anything out of mere obligation. I bet he’s crazy about you.”
“He just broke up with his girlfriend—a serious relationship by the looks of it. His mother and sisters are good friends with her.”
“Those are the people I saw you talking with at the community center?” Jewel asked.
“Yes. Trey’s old girlfriend was there. They let me know I was a poor second compared to her.”
“But you’re staying with him and she’s not,” Helen said firmly. “Men don’t let women stay in their homes out of obligation, especially on a brief meeting like you told me you had. Like I said, there’s something more there.”
Anne felt miserable. What was happening between her and Trey certainly wasn’t romantic hearts and flowers. Right now it felt more along the lines of steamy lust. “He’s a man,” she said.
“Yes, he is.” Helen raised her cup to her lips. “And smart women don’t let men like that go easily.”
“His old girlfriend sure isn’t.”
“I was talking about you,” Helen said.
Trey planned to celebrate Kwanzaa quietly at home with Anne that evening. While she was out visiting her folks, he cooked fried chicken and mashed potatoes along with green beans boiled with ham shanks so long they were begging for mercy.