Smacking his dry mouth, he could barely speak. "Hello."
"Shawn?"
"Yeah." He throat was croaky from a deep sleep that he wanted to return to.
"It's Deidre! Where are you?"
"In…bed," he answered, feeling himself about to drift back off to sleep. "What time…is it?" he asked.
"It's 8:30! Where's Angela?"
Silence...Deidre waited. "Shawn! Are you there?" she shouted.
"Yeah! What?" he snapped, cranky from lack of sleep.
"Where—is—Angela?"
"She's...with...Sylvia."
"Sylvia! That woman, Sylvia?"
"Yeah," he mumbled.
"Where are you? Where is that? Where is she?"
"In…Madison...a hotel. We're sleeping...call back later," he said.
"Which hotel? Why is she with Sylvia and not you?"
"Call—back—later!" He clicked off, dropped the phone, and turned over.
Sylvia lay unmoving. Her eyes opened. Discomfort strong enough to wake her, made her lay for a moment to understand where it was coming from. Then she realized what it was. Her breasts were aching from laying on her stomach. She turned slowly to her back in the bed of the comfortable hotel room, shifting her covers slowly as she turned her head to look over to the bed next to her. Shawn's daughter lay there sleeping. She was in a deep sleep, the sound of her soft snoring filled the otherwise quiet room. She turned her head towards the window and saw sunlight shining through the slits of the curtains. Suddenly her mouth grew very moist as nausea washed over her. Her eyes grew wide. She stayed still, willing it to go away. Forced to swallow, the nausea continued.
"Nooo," she whined softly to herself. Swallowing again, she closed her eyes. Her hand went down over her rib cage to her lower belly. "I can't be," she whispered softly to herself. Thinking back to her other two pregnancies, she reflected on the time she knew she carried Crystal. Morning sickness had started almost exactly two weeks after her conception. This was now day sixteen since she and Shawn made unprotected love to each other. "Oh Shawn, we really don't need this right now," she mumbled, wishing the nausea would pass. She lay wondering was he up yet. She turned and looked at the digital clock next to her bed, it was 10:40am. She couldn't get back to sleep and wasn't going to try. There were things they all needed, like toothpaste, a change of clothes, deodorant. She slowly sat up, and sure enough, a stronger wave of nausea surged within. Again she sat still on the side of the bed, wishing she had a saltine.
Looking behind her, she checked to see if Angela was still sleeping soundly, and she was, tossing her head the other way for her hair to stream down the side of the bed. Taking a deep cleansing breath, Sylvia stood and waited to see what would happen. The queasiness was still there, but nothing stronger. She walked to the bathroom and used it, washed her hands, splashed her face, and shook her head gazing at the way her hair looked. Running her fingers through the thick wavy mass, she shook the bed-head flat area out with her hands because she didn't have a comb on her. Coming out of the bathroom, she grabbed her jeans from the chair and put them on. Then her socks and shoes. She went to Angela's bag to see what was in it. She'd packed for herself, four pair of pants, three shirts, socks, underwear, a comb and brush, toothbrush, perfume, a little girl's make-up compact, a diary, and her little pink wallet.
Sylvia set it down. There was no deodorant or toothpaste. She would have to go down to the gift store and pray they had some of the things she and Shawn would need. Taking the pad by the phone, she wrote out a note for Angela just in case she woke up while she was gone. Grabbing her purse, she quietly left the room.
Down in the gift store, she bought two tubes of toothpaste, two toothbrushes for herself and Shawn, deodorant for him and one for her. She thought he might need a comb, so purchased him one; clean shirts for them both, T-shirts would have to do, a shower cap, shower cream and lotion for her and Angela, the day's paper, a teenage magazine for Angela and a few of the little cheese and cracker snacks, skip the cheese, she needed the crackers.
Entering their room, Angela hadn't moved, she was still sound asleep. Nibbling on the narrow saltines, again she wondered if Shawn was awake yet. He couldn't be, or else he would have called or been over there. Knowing that either of them could wake any moment, she jumped in the shower. Washing over her body, little could be denied with her breasts proving to be sore and achy, her nipples were very tender. She refused to dwell on it. She just couldn't, not now...there was enough on her plate. Going through her afterbath routine, she dressed, put on a little face powder that she always carried in her purse, and some lipstick. The smell and taste of it made her mouth water, she was queasy again. She ignored it and went out of the bathroom, straightening up the room. Angela slept on. It was 11:30am. She grabbed the things she bought for Shawn and again left a note for Angela to get in the shower if she woke while she was across the hall, to get dressed so they could have breakfast.
She tapped on his room door, within seconds, he snatched it open, surprising her. He was on his cell phone, obviously just awakened by it and not happy, holding the door open for her to come in. She did, sitting the things she bought for him on the TV table. He was standing in his boxers.
"Angela is still asleep, Deidre, and before we meet you, we're going to clean up and have breakfast," he said, Sylvia stood staring at him as he talked. He was certainly bed-head fresh and grumpy. His eyes looked a bit puffy as well, as if, he'd had a hard night...dare she imagine it, he'd shed a few tears. The thought of him in that room alone, sobbing in silence, made her look away from him. Her feelings of protectiveness, coupled with the need to take care of him, was surprisingly overwhelming. Going through her mind was the possibility that he was the father of her next child, should all symptoms prove to be what she was unable to face at that moment. He was rubbing his eyes, leaning against the bathroom door, holding the phone to his ear. "You know what...I'm not in the mood for this. I have your number, I know where you are, and I'll give you a call as soon as we get our shit together. Go shopping with your mother or somethin', I don't know." He sighed deep and looked at Sylvia, reached over and lifted her chin to make eye contact, then gave her a weak smile and a wink while his thumb caressed her lower lip gently. He brought his hand away, keeping the eye contact with her.
His gentle gesture, seeing that smile and wink, relieved her a bit. No matter how bad his mood, he wasn't going to take it out on her. She knew that Deidre was on the other end, and wished they all could get along better, but considering the way the woman was with her, he just might have his reasons for being short with her.
"I told you because she had to!"
Sylvia figured that they were no doubt in the midst of a small argument over why Angela was with her.
"Because!" He refused to explain now.
"I'll tell you about it when we get together!" he answered, growing more upset.
"No! I'm not gonna tell you now! Now let me off the fuckin' phone!"
Shawn let out a deep sigh, listening, then looked to the ceiling rolling his eyes with the shake of his head, softly he apologized, "Don't cry. I'm sorry for cursing at you. I know you've gone through a lot. Yes...I understand." More pauses and listening. Sylvia thought she better leave him to talk alone and went to exit the room. He grabbed her arm, pulled her back, shaking his head at her, wanting her to stay. "Deidre … Deidre …Deidre...let me off the phone, the sooner we get it together here, the sooner we can meet."
"Yes! She will be there with us! Most certainly she will."
Sylvia didn't need to be told who the she was.
"You'll find out what it has to do with her when we meet...goodbye!" He clicked it off, whether she was done or not, and stood looking at Sylvia. "Let me go wash my mouth out. My breath, no doubt, smells like shit."
Sylvia grinned and passed him a toothbrush, the tube of toothpaste, deodorant and a new T-shirt. "Here you go, take care of everything. While you're in there, I'll go check to see if Angela is awake yet," she
told him, heading for the door. "Hey, it's a new day, another morning, you still love me?" he asked in such a little-boy-like voice, it gripped Sylvia's stomach. "Oh, Shawn, of course I still love you," she said in the open door. "It sure would be nice sometime, if you said it first," he whined. She chuckled. "I'll have to work on that, promise...now go clean up."
"Well, can I hear it?" he asked.
"I love you," she reassured him, smiling, and then headed across the hall.
Angela was just sitting up when she walked in the room.
"Good, you're up. I brought some toothpaste and deodorant for us. There's also shower cream, lotion, and the shampoo and conditioner the hotel provides. We need to get moving, your mother is here."
Up until she said that, Angela was drooping, still sleepy, but hearing that her mother was there in Madison perked her up. "Here! In Madison?" she asked with a panic-stricken look on her face. "Well, yeah, surely you knew she would come for you?" Sylvia asked standing by the TV stand in front of the bathroom door. "Not this fast! I don't wanna go back with her! I don't! I wanna stay here! Please, Sylvia...I wanna stay here!" she started right away.
"Ohhh, Angela, under the circumstances, you can't, sweetheart. Perhaps if what you said hadn't been said, the courts might hear you out and give you more time with your dad. But now, I'm certain they wouldn't hear of it."
She started crying. "I can't believe I'm so stupid! What am I gonna do? I don't wanna go back there, Sylvia! I hate it in that house! They don't even like me there! They never talk to me, only my mom does! When I'm there, they expect me to stay up in my room all the time! I can never have any friends over! I can't have a cat, a dog, nothing! I don't wanna go back!"
Sylvia stood listening in sympathy for her, but was at a loss of what to do. "What about when you get to visit your friends? Won't you miss them?"
"Grandfather doesn't allow me time with friends. He says people with means and wealth shouldn't be with people that don't have what we have. It makes them think they can just drop over, or borrow money! Or use me to get in to see what we have so they can plot to steal it!"
"What!" Sylvia asked incredulous.
"It's true. I only see my friends at school. Or when my dad comes, he'll go get them and then take us all out and bring them back to the condo, so we can play in the pool, and he barbecues for us and stuff, he's always let my friends come over. But...mom can't, because we live with her mom and dad."
"I don't understand, why your mother doesn't have her own home?" Sylvia asked, growing angry at the thought of this child having to live like that.
"I don't know. Grandfather says it makes no sense for her to move out, that that house is plenty big enough for all of us. Once she moved out of the house she and daddy had, she just never looked for a house for us."
"Does she know how you feel living there? Have you told her all of this?"
"She knows, she lives there, too. I mean, she takes me places and stuff. To the movies, out to eat...but...she works at that big office building most of the day, so we can only do stuff on the weekends."
"I see, well...come on…get in the shower, we have to go before the judge. They'll be calling us pretty soon, no doubt, now that your mom is here. Chances are, he'll hand you back over to her and that will be that," Sylvia explained, so sorry to see her so unhappy as she stood before her about to enter the bathroom.
"Couldn't I just come and live with you?" Angela asked, desperate not to leave her father, even if it meant living with someone she'd only known a day.
"Ah, sweetheart, you don't even know me. Why would you want to live with me?"
"My dad knows you. He loves you. If you weren't really nice, he wouldn't love you. I promise I would be good. I won't be any trouble to you. I wouldn't run away, ever! Please…please don't make me go…go back there," she pleaded and began crying, wiping at her eyes. Sylvia's eyes filled with tears instantly. "You hate it that much that you would leave your mother?"
"She…she can…can come see me...ple-pleeease!"
"Ohhh, sweetheart, come here." Sylvia pulled her into her arms and hugged her to her breast, in that instant, she was in love with Shawn's child. In the blink of an eye, an unexplainable maternal protectiveness surged up to hold onto her. With her eyes closed and her cheek resting on the top of her black silky head, she wondered what in the world they were to do. The thought of her having to go back into such an unhappy home, where it was obvious children were not allowed to flourish in a way that assured a well-balanced lifestyle, was unthinkable.
"I don't know what can be done, Angela, I truly don't. But I'll talk to your father. Go get in the shower now, when you're done, just knock on the door across the hall."
"Okay," she squeaked low, and went into the bathroom.
Chapter 35
"I can't believe he has my daughter with her. I can't believe it! I mean...why? What right has he to just pass our daughter over to this perfect stranger?"
"And…a negro at that!" Deidre's mother pointed out.
"That has nothing to do with it, mother! I wish you would stop going on and on about it! I would feel the same way if she were white!" Deidre snapped, her mind in a whirl over what could possibly be going on.
"You mark my words, they're slick! I'm betting she's out to hook your daughter in order to have a stronger hold on him. They are cunning...don't you think they aren't. Silly daughter of yours has played right into her hands. I get a feeling we're going to need to call in a lawyer! I can feel it...yes...we better give him a call."
"Mother! I can't think with you going on and on and on! Please!" Deidre stopped her pacing to growl.
"Oh, come on! What's there to think about? If they weren't up to something, he would have told you where they were, so we could just go pick her up and leave already! But he didn't! I'm beginning to wonder if they didn't put her up to this! I have a feeling he has plans of trying to take your daughter from you. Em-hmm, run away my ass! What child would leave all that she has to go with him, unless he's promising her things!"
"Shawn would never try to take her away from me. He would never!"
"Don't you dare presume to know him! After all, who would have thought that he'd ever couple up with a negro! Why would any white man want a black woman?" She shivered in distaste.
"Mother! The same reason any man wants any woman! What is it with you? On top of everything else, you're also a bigot!" It was Deidre's turn to shiver.
"And I can't believe you're taking that so lightly that he's with one!"
"It's nothing new, mother! It has gone on from the beginning of time! You are not going to turn this into a racial matter! Her being black is the last thing on my mind! I've never met one black person that has done me any harm! But I've crossed a few white bitches in my time!" she argued, and in her mind said, sad to say, one of them includes my own mother.
"Aah, I see where this is going. You're being like this because we made you break it off with that black boy you liked when you were fourteen!"
"There was nothing to break off! It was completely innocent! That was a long time ago! Please, let's not go back...I know you don't want me to remind you of how you and father wrecked his life. His mother's life!"
"Wrecked hell! We probably spared him a lot of heartache and trauma! They both learned to keep in their place, not to dare and try to cross over into our white world. They don't belong in it, unless they're serving or cleaning."
"Enough! Goodbye! You in large doses is equivalent to angel dusting!" Deidre fired off, heading for the door. She needed to go for a walk and think. Slamming the hotel door behind her, she strode down the hall towards the elevator. The Concourse Hotel was located in the downtown area of Madison. The sights included the Capital Building, theatres, shops and a central park that Deidre headed for, stepping from the elevator past the luxurious gift shop.
Georgiana left their Governor's Club room and searched out the restaurant bar. There she sat sipping her Bloody Mary, thinking about nothing but Shawn. At
one point, she thought she was crazy obsessing over him as she was. Had he not rematerialized in her life married to her daughter, of all people, she might have been able to forget him. The man responsible for giving her the best pleasure she'd ever had had been hidden behind a mask and headscarf, but she wasn't fooled. She knew it was him. The look that crossed his features still showed clearly in her mind. What else could explain his blatant actions of never wanting to be in a room alone with her, doing all he could not to make direct eye contact. He didn't even like her near him. Were he on one side of the room, and she tried to cross it towards him, he made an excuse to move or leave the room.
Yes, you are him, indeed. Why do you run from me? No woman can give you what I can, she thought hungrily. Her heart was beating so fast, her system surging from the memory of him having it all, knowing all of what was needed to bring her the kind of soul-shaking climaxes some women could only dream about. Having seen him time after time, watching the way that he walked, listening to his voice, his gestures and movements, gripped her in the knowledge that she just might be in love with him. If not, then certainly an overwhelming lust with him. She'd worked along with her husband to make sure their marriage didn't last. Yet even after the divorce, he still refused to see her alone. Avoiding her phone calls, the messages that she left him. She'd humiliated herself just about, trying to get him to admit that he was what she knew him to be. Then one day, he was gone—again! Moved back to Wisconsin, no word to his ex-wife or daughter as to where. With her pride singed, she decided to drop her pursuit of him. Unfortunately, everything she'd done to wash him from her mind, her body, her soul, proved unsuccessful. She couldn't wait to see him again. She smiled. Run from me, will you? You'll never be able to get away from me. Not ever, Everett Styles.
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