“Maya, sweetheart, you must never allow the mundane to interrupt the extraordinary,” he said. “We can go for a drive anytime, but we’re having this picnic today. You went to a lot of trouble to make sure you were free today, and I made you a fabulous lunch and we’re going to relax and enjoy ourselves right here,” he informed her. He flashed her that gorgeous smile of his and she just melted inside.
“Julian, your shirt’s wet. Would you like something else to put on? I have some scrubs around here that would probably fit you,” she offered shyly.
Without warning, he whipped off the damp blue Polo shirt he was wearing and exposed his lean body. Maya felt something she’d never experienced in her life; desire. The sheer force of it almost made her pass out. Julian was slender, but muscular with broad shoulders and a perfect musculature that was enhanced by the silky hair on his chest. Her face was flaming hot now, as were other parts of her anatomy, and she managed to squeak out a few words before fleeing to the sanctuary of her bedroom for the shirt.
“I, umm, I, ahh, I’ll be right back, please make yourself at home,” she gasped as she ran out of the room.
When she returned with a XX-sized scrub top in institutional-green, she was stunned to see that he’d spread a blanket on the floor and arranged their picnic in the middle. He was still shirtless and her second sighting of him was no less unsettling than the first. She tossed the shirt at him and turned her head away from the sight of his bronzed beauty.
“That looks wonderful, Julian. Put that on and I’ll go get the lemonade.”
She had to make herself count to twenty before she could go back into the living room with the tall pitcher and the glasses of ice, each with some raspberries mixed in. She filled his glass, topping it off with sparkling water and stirring it with a long spoon before handing it to him. His eyes widened as he tasted it and he emptied the glass before handing it back to her for more.
“Sorry to be such a pig, but that’s delicious. Almost as sweet as you,” he told her.
Maya was so relieved that his tempting frame was completely covered that she ignored his teasing. She looked at the food arrayed on the blanket and licked her lips in anticipation. “That looks wonderful, Julian. What is it?” She indicated the large round loaf of Italian bread stuffed to bursting with wonderful fillings.
“It’s my personal version of a muffuletta. Have you had a muffuletta sandwich before?”
Maya was familiar with the New Orleans favorite, a hefty po’boy-style sandwich with a special olive condiment. It was made with several kinds of olives, roasted red peppers, onions, and garlic and usually combined with cold cuts like Genoa salami, ham and the like. Julian’s was made with smoked turkey and thinly sliced chicken breast and it was divine. He cut it into small wedges and fed it to her bite by bite. He’d also brought an assortment of fresh vegetables and a fruit salad, plus a brand of kettle cooked potato chips only available in Louisiana. By the time they finished eating, Maya was too stuffed to move. She was moaning with repletion and Julian looked very pleased with himself.
“Are you enjoying our picnic, baby?”
Maya nodded her head in response; she was too satisfied to speak.
“Good, because it’s not over yet. I brought a couple of movies for us to watch while we make room for dessert.”
He’d brought copies of Cabin in the Sky and Stormy Weather and Maya was both surprised and pleased. While she got the DVD player turned on, he quickly and efficiently cleaned up the remains of their spread, with the exception of the rest of the lemonade, which he declared the best he’d ever had. They sat next to each other on the sofa and before she knew it, they were cuddled together watching the incomparable vintage movies as if they’d been a couple for years. And later, when he’d turned to kiss her for the first time, it felt like they’d been together forever, like they’d never be apart again.
***
Maya had to fight hard to keep the hot tears from overflowing as she went into the freezer for some homemade cookies. She didn’t get to cook often, and when she did she would power-cook, making dozens of cookies, for instance, so that when she wanted to give Corey a special treat, she could just pop them in the oven. She had just turned the oven on when Julian entered the kitchen. He didn’t look any better than she felt, she noticed.
He looked almost haggard and his eyes were bleak when he asked her the same question he’d asked earlier. “How could you do this to us, Maya? How?”
She looked back at him mutely. It was a question she couldn’t really answer, not now.
Chapter 18
When Julian looked at Maya, it was as though no time had passed since the last time he’d held her in his arms. She looked a little different, but she was still his Chocolat, his beautiful chocolate baby doll. She was too skinny and she had a becoming new hairstyle, but everything else was the same. Except, of course, for the fact that she’d borne his child and neglected to tell him about it for the past four years; that was the part he was having a little difficulty with. He fully expected the explosive temper for which he was known to have erupted by now, but for some reason, it hadn’t. He was angry, of course, but he was also confused and the two elements didn’t mix well in his normally logical and orderly mind.
Maya spoke first, asking where Corey was.
“She’s upstairs talking to her granddaddy on the phone. She’ll be down in a minute, I’m sure,” Julian answered.
“Don’t count on it. Corey can talk a person’s ear off. I think you’ve noticed that by now.” Maya gave him a weak smile and handed him a glass of lemonade.
Julian had noticed a lot of things as Corey showed him around the house. She had held his hand and showed him everything there was to see from room to room. He had to admit his heart stirred in a special way when he looked into Maya’s bedroom. It was simply furnished but it looked like a magazine illustration. Maya had a knack for making discount store finds look like designer goods. He remembered the love she’d lavished on their first home and how much he loved coming home every night. The tour ended in Corey’s bedroom and she was thrilled to show it off to him.
“This is my room, Daddy. I have a big-girl bed and everything,” she informed him gleefully. It was a delightful-looking room, feminine and pretty in various shades of pink, pale yellow and lavender. A big Hello Kitty stuffed doll was centered on the bed, and an array of smaller stuffed toys and dolls were on the shelves and the dresser. “Come sit down, Daddy, and see my things,” she cajoled. Julian was more than happy to comply; he wanted to see where his daughter was growing up. The first thing he noticed was the picture on the nightstand next to the bed. To his shock, it was a picture of him and Maya with their arms around each other, smiling for all they were worth. It had been taken on the day they eloped, the happiest day of his life.
Corey saw him looking at it and eagerly told him that she had lots more pictures. “I have a whole book, Daddy. Here, I’ll show you,” she said eagerly and ran to her bookcase, where she retrieved a medium-sized pink scrapbook with her name on it in a pretty script. “Open it, Daddy. Mommy made it for me when I was little,” she said excitedly as she climbed up on the bed with him. She took off her shoes and tossed them on the floor. “No shoes on the bed, Daddy. Mommy will get you for it,” she warned.
“I’ll try to remember,” he said with a grin. “Okay, sugar, let’s see what we have here,” he said as she snuggled into his side as if she’d been doing it since birth. He opened the book and was stunned to see the contents. The first pages were snapshots of him. Some from childhood, some from adolescence and college and others from the blissful time he and Maya were together. And the pictures weren’t just stuck on the pages, either; there were carefully handwritten stories about him and little decorative items to make each page vivid and entertaining.
“See, Daddy? That’s you! And see, there’s my grandpa, and my uncle Wade and my uncle Philippe and uncle Lucien. And that’s my grandpa’s house right there,” she said, pointing at a p
icture that was indeed of the family home in New Orleans. “And that’s my aunt Paris!”
Julian was so shaken by emotion he couldn’t trust himself to speak. Maya had obviously educated their child on the facts of her family; she hadn’t hidden anything from her about who her people were. She had, in fact, presented them very lovingly and with great detail. Yet she couldn’t pick up a phone and say “Oh, by the way, we’re having a baby”?
Corey began patting his arm. “Daddy, I have a present just for you, okay? I’m going to get it for you,” she said excitedly as she climbed off the bed and scampered out of the room. Julian was glad for her departure because it gave him a chance to wipe his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose. She was wrong. No matter how beautiful Corey is, no matter how much she told Corey about us, Maya was wrong to do this. It seemed as though he had to keep thinking harsh thoughts in order to remember that he was the plaintiff, not the defendant. She was the one who had a lot of explaining to do and no matter what she said, this was the most heinous thing a woman could do to a man, as far as he was concerned. She must have really hated me to leave town knowing she was carrying our child.
He could feel the anger rising and derived an eerie fortitude from it; it was almost like an elixir of strength flowing through his veins. Just then, Corey returned with another album. This one was purple with Daddy written on it in gold letters. He had to smile; it was in his fraternity colors. While Corey made herself comfortable again, he put an arm around her.
“What have we got here, sugar?”
“This is your book, Daddy. Mommy made it for you. Open it up and see,” she urged. Julian smiled indulgently at her eagerness until he turned the first page. There was Maya, wet from perspiration with tears of joy rolling down her face, holding Corey. They were still in the delivery room and although Maya would no doubt argue with him, she had never looked more beautiful to him. There were pictures of every day of Corey’s first year from the moment of her birth. Her first year was captured in page after page of pictures, six to eight pictures per page. As she grew older, there were fewer pictures per year, but each year was represented. As with Corey’s scrapbook, there were little notes and stories about her and all her firsts; her first word, her first steps alone, her potty training and all the funny little things she’d done and said since her birth.
The anger he was carefully nurturing was at war with the rush of emotion that was overcoming him and he was finding it hard to breathe. Thanking God for His intervention, Julian pounced on his cell phone when it began to chime. He couldn’t have said what he’d have done without the distraction; probably broke down in sobs like a damned punk.
“Yeah, Judge, we’re fine. We’re looking at scrap-books, actually. You coming to get me or what?”
“Is that Grandpa? Can I talk to him?” Corey asked.
“Absolutely, sugar. I’m going downstairs to talk to your mommy, okay?”
He left her sitting on the bed, propped up against the pile of ruffled pillows with her legs crossed, looking exactly the way Paris had looked at her age. He walked into the wall on his way down the stairs, but he was too full of raging emotions to notice. This must be what people feel like when they wake up from comas. Years have passed and all they remember is the day they passed out. This is crazy, this doesn’t make any sense, he thought as he followed the fragrance of fresh-baked cookies to the kitchen.
And there she was, looking as pretty as a pile of ripe plums in a basket. The woman he’d fallen in love with at first sight, the woman he’d sworn to love forever, the woman who’d broken his heart in so many pieces he still hadn’t found them all. She turned around when she heard him and he was savagely pleased to see that she looked nervous. She looked terrified, in fact, and he took a momentary perverse pleasure in her fear. He needed to see that; he needed any means necessary to keep the upper hand, and the notion was unsettling. He accepted the glass of raspberry lemonade she put in his hand and a jolt of memory accosted him. Their eyes met and he relived the first time he’d had the refreshing drink.
“It’s still wonderful, Maya. Thank you,” he said quietly. “But this doesn’t change anything. You and I have a lot to talk about. How could you hate me so much that you’d keep that beautiful little girl away from me? How could you walk out on me, knowing you were carrying my child and not look back? You took something from me that I’ll never get back, woman. You took the first years of my child’s life, years I’m never going to have again. How in the hell could you be that cruel, Maya?” His voice was low but it resonated with pure fury. The pain was etched on his face and he was visibly controlling himself with great effort. The look on Maya’s face was one of astonishment. She stared at him as though he were suddenly speaking another language.
“Julian, what are you talking about? This was your choice, too. I admit I was wrong not to pursue the matter further, but that was how you wanted it. Once you made it clear that you wanted your affair more than you wanted me and our baby, what else could I do?”
Now it was Julian’s turn to look at Maya as if she were speaking Xhosa or some other foreign tongue. “Maya, don’t start that crap again,” he began angrily. He stopped as soon as he heard Corey coming down the stairs.
“Daddy, Grandpa said to call him back. Ooh, lemonade! And cookies! Is this a party, Mommy?”
Before Maya could answer, her pager went off. She punched a speed dial number into her cell phone and said she’d be right there. “Okay, sweets. Mommy has to go in to work. Get your shoes on and get your bag and let’s roll,” she said briskly.
“Hold on, Maya. Where is she going and why?” Julian demanded.
“This is my last night of being on call for a shift in the emergency room. I just finished my residency and I was hoping this wouldn’t happen. Unfortunately, I just got called. There’s a five-car pileup on the interstate south of here and some of the victims are being airlifted in. I’m taking her to her sitter because I can’t very well leave her here, now can I?” Her resentment of his question was evident in her posture and the sharp tone of her voice.
“Well, why can’t I stay with her?” Julian asked.
“Because I won’t be back until morning and I can’t ask you to babysit all night,” she told him.
Now it was Julian’s turn to look resentful. “I can’t babysit my own child, but I can certainly stay with her, unless you don’t trust me.”
“Daddy’s going to stay all night? And put me to bed and tell me a story?” Corey’s elation needed no interpretation.
Julian silently dared Maya to protest. “Okay, fine,” she said. “Only no more liquids before bed and make sure she’s in the bed by nine at the very latest. She has all kinds of ways of circumventing bedtime,” she said with the smile he remembered.
“Come kiss me good-night, sweetness. And be very, very good for Daddy, you hear me?”
Julian watched as Maya grabbed her keys and headed for the front door. “There’s an extra set of keys on the hook by the refrigerator. My cell phone number is on the refrigerator door and so is the admin number for the emergency room. If you need anything or can’t find something, call the admin number and they can get a message to me.”
She had her hand on the doorknob when Julian caught up with her. He had Corey on his hip as though he’d been carrying her that way for years. “Wait a minute,” he protested.
Maya paused and turned to look at him. “What?”
“You be safe out there. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?”
She looked surprised at the sound of concern in his voice. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for asking,” she said softly. Before he realized what he was doing, he kissed her on the lips. “Take care of yourself.”
Mac was relieved when his cell phone went off and he could see Julian’s number on his caller ID. “Well, he’s still alive, that has to be a good sign,” he cracked to Ruth as he answered the phone. They talked for a few minutes and when the call was over, Ruth was waiting expectantly for a r
eport. He looked at Ruth and rubbed the back of his ear with his forefinger before speaking. “Julian is spending the night,” he said.
Ruth’s eyes widened the way they did when she was excited. Before she could let out a whoop of joy, Mac covered her mouth with his hand. “Hold on, honey. Maya got called in to work and instead of taking Corey to the sitter, Julian wanted to stay with her. He was calling me to see if I could bring him his bag and to let me know he wouldn’t be back tonight.”
She wouldn’t be discouraged, though. “That’s still a good sign; no, a great sign, Julian. She wouldn’t let him stay there unless she still trusted him. She knows him well enough to know that he’s going to take care of the baby and she’s confident that he’s not going to try and steal her away in the middle of the night. Believe it or not, that’s progress,” she said confidently.
They were still in the living room, where they had been watching Last Holiday with Paris. Paris agreed with Ruth completely, adding that she would be more than happy to take Julian’s luggage to Maya’s house.
“In fact, this is a good time for me to pick his brain a little. I’ve had just about enough of not knowing what the heck went on between them. I love Maya and I want my sister-in-law back in the family.”
The look of determination on her face was all too familiar to her father, who just shook his head. “Okay, Cupcake. But you drive carefully and call me when you get there. And don’t bully your brother, let him talk if he wants to, but don’t interrogate him,” he warned.
“Who, me? Would I do that?” she asked in a fake-innocent voice.
Ruth and Mac looked at each other and answered in one voice,”Yes!”
It took about fifteen minutes for Paris to get the gear in the car, with Mac’s help. After she and Kasey were on their way, he returned to the loft with a look of utter satisfaction on his face. He went in search of Ruth, who was in the bedroom. “We’re alone, honey, just the two of us, you and me. We have the whole place to ourselves and a lot of time on our hands. How do you think we should spend it?”
Before the Storm (The Cochran/Deveraux Series Book 9) Page 18