Reye's Gold (Indigo)

by Robinson, Ruthie

  “What?”

  “He wants to see me again. He say’s he realizes that he loves me and made a mistake in leaving.”

  “Huh,” he grunted. “Well, what do you know,” he said, glancing at her face. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve done nothing but think about this since I’ve been home. I’m tired of thinking.”

  “Do you still love him?”

  “Unfortunately, I think so. What does that say about me? That after all my tears and grief, I’m actually giving him further consideration. See, Dad, I’ve always told you I’m the weak link in this family’s chain.”

  Her dad chuckled and she joined in. “Loving someone doesn’t make you weak, baby girl. It actually takes more than a bit of courage to put yourself in someone else’s hands, to risk.”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he said, mocking her, but continuing to talk. “Love is sometimes unexplainable, certainly unpredictable, and a whole lot irrational. It goes beyond what you can see to what you feel, and it’s scary. But if you find that someone, it is so worth it. Your mom was worth it for me,” he said, smiling at her. They sat in silence for a long time, looking out at the night sky.

  “You know what, Dad?” she said. “I don’t have to do anything right now, do I? I can wait and see what he does, can’t I?”

  “You can do whatever you want, baby girl,” he said, looking at her.

  “I love you, Dad.” She leaned over to give him a hug. “I love you, too.”

  * * *

  Stephen sat in his dad’s office reviewing documents from an estate for which the firm had been named executor. One of their long-standing clients had died early this week, leaving behind a large fortune to be dis tributed to his family and local charities. It was one of the services provided by their firm, a timely and thorough transfer of assets in accordance to the client’s direction, usually a will or trust. They were in the beginning stages of the process, and depending on the size of an estate, it might take years to complete the process.

  His dad was giving him a large chunk of it to work through. Stephen, having gained experience from his summers spent working at the office, understood what was required. In addition to having a law degree, Stephen held an undergraduate degree in finance, another advantage in the trust and estate business. It was now nine-thirty, and they’d been working in his dad’s office since the firm officially shut down at five. His dad had agreed to spend tonight completing the preliminary review so that Stephen could take tomorrow, Friday, off. He was going to Austin.

  “Your first trip to Austin?”

  “Yes, sir. I thought about leaving on Saturday, but I’m getting a bit anxious.”

  He looked at Stephen, proud of the man he was becoming. “Well, good luck.”

  “I’ll need it.”

  Unfortunately, the office called, and Stephen went in for a short time Friday morning, so he’d arrived in Austin around three in the afternoon. He’d booked a hotel close to the university, dropped his bags off, and had changed into jeans and a t-shirt, leaving his hotel in search of Reye. His first destination was the center where she worked. He was headed there now, taking in the city as he drove. Austin was so different from Dallas. It was more laid back compared to Dallas’ rat-on-a-treadmill pace. It was slower here, and slow was good sometimes.

  Stephen turned into the parking lot of the center, where Reye spent a large chunk of her time, filled with regrets. He was regretful that he’d never been to this place before, that he’d never helped her coach, and that he’d been stingy with his time on things that had mattered to her. He’d felt supremely sad that she’d left thinking their relationship had been just sex. It hadn’t, he’d just been clueless at the time. No use crying over spilled milk, his grandmother liked to say, so he pushed ahead.

  He walked up to the center, noting the kids around it, standing and hanging out. He gave a nod to the group of boys clumped together working at looking cool and indifferent. The indifferent part needed more work. He opened the door and walked in, taking a second to look around. The information desk was located a few steps away. He walked over, making eye contact with an older woman, short, with a short afro talking on the telephone. He stood next to her, waiting for her to finish the conversation.

  She looked up, smiling at him, holding a finger, the age-old sign for wait, shaking her head as she listened to the person on the other end.

  “Girl, let me call you later, there’s a gentlemen at the desk that needs my assistance. I’ll call you back in a minute.” Stephen gave her a huge smile, hoping his charm would aid him in finding Reye.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, I am looking for Reye Jackson. She works here in the aftercare and summer care programs.”

  “I’m sorry, son, I didn’t catch your name?”

  “Stephen Stuart.”

  “Is she expecting you?”

  “No, I was hoping to surprise her.”

  “Well, Stephen Stuart, you’ve just missed her.” His smile stayed in place, but his eyes dimmed a bit. Of course Susan knew who he was. So this was the face that belonged to Reye’s Stephen. He was indeed handsome, tall, with a beautiful pair of blue eyes, a thick head of black hair, and a smile that had probably gotten a lot of women in trouble. She also knew what he’d meant to Reye and the hurt he’d left behind. Men! She loved them dearly, but they could wreak some havoc, leaving plenty of destruction in their wake.

  “Do you know where she is?” he asked, his question bringing her back from her musings.

  She hoped she wouldn’t regret this later. “On Friday afternoons, Reye is usually at soccer practice with her team. They meet at the soccer fields located at Henderson and Third. Do you know where that is?”

  “Yes.”

  “She left about thirty minutes ago, so you better get a move on. They practice for an hour. If you miss her there, she and her dad have been working on restoring a house for the new non-profit. That address is 9234 Henderson, which is not far from the soccer fields.”

  “Thank you,” he said, his eyes reflecting surprise.

  “I love Reye like she was my daughter, and she has given so much to the children here. I want her to be happy, and if you ever hurt her again, I’ll personally come looking for you.” Her smile was broad, but he believed she meant business.

  “I won’t, and thanks again. I’d better get moving. Thank you . . .”

  “Susan,” she said, “Dr. Susan Houston, Reye’s boss.” She extended her hand for him to shake.

  “Nice meeting you, Dr. Houston, hope to see you more often,” he said, accepting her hand. He gave her another one of his smiles as he backed away from the desk and walked out the door.

  The fields were located fairly close to the center, within five minutes or so. This neighborhood was mixed, Hispanics, African-Americans, whites, some Asians. He pulled in to the parking lot of the soccer fields and got out of his car. There were three fields, sitting side by side. He spotted Reye on the field farthest from him. The other two fields were being used by adults, playing as if they were representing their country for the world cup. He was glad he’d taken the time to change.

  The kids were divided into two lines standing side by side, facing the soccer goals, practicing their shooting. Reye stood in the middle of the goal; large goalie gloves covered her hands as she stood catching the balls while giving instructions to the children as they took their shots. One of the kids’ shot hit her in her chest. It was caught easily and rolled back to him. Stephen walked over to stand next to the goal. She glanced over at him, surprised.

  “Where did you come from? And how did you know where I’d be?”

  “I stopped by the center and Susan told me you were here. Can I help?”

  “Sure. I guess you could be the goalie. It’ll give me more time to work with the kids. We are working on striking the ball correctly.”

  The kids had stopped and were watching them intently. She called them over t
o her. “Kids, this is going to be our goalie for today. His name is Mr. Stephen.” He looked out into ten or more assessing pairs of eyes.

  “Hi,” he said, “I’m a friend of your coach. I met her last year when I played soccer against her.” The children’s eyes swung back to Reye. “I love soccer, and I started playing when I was your age and continued to play all through high school,” he continued.

  “Let’s take a water break and then we’ll start again,” Reye said to them. The kids took off like bullets to the side of the field that held their water bottles.

  “So, how was your Christmas?”

  “Fine. I spent it with my family, as usual. Yours?”

  “It was good.”

  “How long are you going to be in town?”

  “The weekend. I thought I might talk you in to a movie or maybe you would have dinner with me?”

  “I wish I could, but I usually help my dad on the weekends and I have a soccer game with the kids tomorrow.”

  “Maybe I could help. I came to see you, so I don’t mind hanging and helping you and your dad.”

  “Maybe. We’ll talk after practice,” she said, walking away. She moved to stand in front of the kids, who were back in line, ready to resume the kicking drill.

  “Ready when you are,” she said, turning to look at him. He’d forgone the use of gloves and assumed the goalie position, waiting for the first kick. The kids were much more enthusiastic in their kicks with him in the goal. Stephen was impressed by some of their techniques, and he told them so. He listened as Reye offered instruction and further demonstration to the children. She was a good coach, he thought to himself.

  After about what seemed like fifty kicks on goal, Reye called the kids over to her. They formed a circle around her. “Are you all ready for tomorrow’s game?”

  “YES!” her team shouted as Stephen walked towards them.

  After noticing Stephen, Shondra raised her hand. “Is he going to be there?”

  “I don’t know. If there aren’t any other questions,” Reye said, extending her hand out in front, little hands piled in on top of hers.

  “One, two, three, Lightning,” the children chanted.

  “Don’t forget to take your water bottles and balls home,” Reye reminded them as she stood watching them leave. Stephen stood next to her.

  “So what time and where is your game tomorrow?” he asked.

  “It’s at 9:00 a.m. over at the Riverside fields, why?”

  “I’d like to help.”

  She turned and moved to pick up the cones and other soccer-related gear. He dogged her steps, helping her. “Do you usually eat before you work with your dad?”

  “Sometimes, but I hadn’t planned to tonight. I’d planned on going there after practice.”

  “Can I see your house? Susan gave me the address, but I’m not sure how to get there.”

  Reye gave him directions as they walked backed to their vehicles. “I’ll meet you over there,” she said. “Okay. See ya later.”

  The house was within five minutes of the field. He pulled up to the two-story home, parking behind a large truck. Probably Reye’s dad, he thought, turning off the ignition and taking a moment to look around. Pretty yellow paint on the main parts, trimmed in white, large porch, with a yard that was neatly trimmed. It would make a nice home for children. No sign of Reye’s truck, though. The lights were on in the house, so he got out and walked to the door, which stood open behind a screened door.

  “Hello,” he called out, ringing the doorbell. He could hear music softly playing in the house, jazz maybe, something instrumental. He heard someone walking towards the door. A very tall older African-American man stood before him. He was tall, taller than Stephen by about three inches, and built like an oak tree.

  “Can I help you?”

  “You must be Reye’s dad. Mr. Jackson, right?” No response. “You don’t know me, but I’m a friend of your daughter’s. My name is Stephen Stuart. I’m in town for the weekend and wanted to see Reye’s new project. I just left her at the soccer fields. She said she was on her way.”

  “I know who you are,” said Mr. Jackson, his expression still stern.

  That wasn’t the response he was expecting. “May I come in, sir?”

  “Sure.” He backed up to allow Stephen entrance.

  He and Mr. Jackson stood in the foyer taking stock of each other. No time like the present to lay it out on the line, Stephen thought. “Sir, I met your daughter last year when I was in my last year of law school. We dated most of the year, but I didn’t meet many of her friends or family. I don’t imagine you have a good opinion of me.”

  “Should I have a good opinion of you?”

  “No, sir, you shouldn’t. I didn’t treat Reye as well as I should have, which I regret. All I can say in my defense is that dating Reye was a new experience for me and affected me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I saw her again at the awards dinner in Dallas last weekend, but I would like you to know that even before then, I had made up my mind to try and make amends to her, sir. I didn’t realize until later that I loved her, which I’ve since told her. I would like to marry her, sir, if she agrees. I’ve not told her that yet.”

  Mr. Jackson looked him over and smiled slightly. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, you will have your work cut out for you.”

  “Don’t I know it, sir,” he said, chuckling.

  “Make sure this is what you want. I won’t have her hurt again,” Mr. Jackson said, all seriousness, looking more than a little frightening.

  “No, sir, I’m serious. It won’t happen again.”

  “Well, good, then, you can start winning Reye’s favor by helping me replace the sheetrock that has a hole in it in the kitchen.”

  “Sure,” Stephen said, following Mr. Jackson. “If you don’t mind me saying so, meeting you was easier than I thought.”

  “Well, I’ve got to tell you that I love my daughter, and watching her after you left was hard. As a parent it is always difficult to see your children hurt, especially if it is your only girl. But your leaving brought good things for her. Life usually does. If you’d stayed, she might have put her career and ambitions on hold. Ambitions I’m not sure she knew she held.” He stopped and placed his hand on a section of sheetrock. “Grab that end of this sheet,” he told Stephen. They walked it over to an empty spot where a portion of the wall had been. “Can you hold that in place?”

  “Sure,” he said. Reye’s dad continued talking. “Your leaving forced her to do something with herself, giving her efforts to those children. This house and the nonprofit were an indirect result of that hurt, and it could very well be her life’s work. So, as far as I see it, it’s all good.” He grabbed his nail gun and nailed the sheet into place. He stepped back and looked over the wall. “I’ll need to tape this later. Reye and I have done most of the work in here. She purchased the property with my help.

  Now all we have left to do is paint. I hope you don’t mind getting dirty.”

  “No, I don’t mind. I’ll be here on weekends to see her, so I will be available to help whenever you need me.”

  Her dad looked at him, reassessing him. “Serious, are you.” It was more a statement than question. “Where are you staying?” Mr. Jackson asked.

  “At a hotel near downtown.”

  “Every weekend?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, we can’t have that. Tell you what, when you are in town, plan on staying with me and my wife. But we don’t need to tell Reye that just yet. This way you can get to know her mother and me, and we’ll have a chance to get to know you.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “No, we don’t mind. In fact on Sundays we have a customary standing breakfast with our children, those that are in town and can make it. The wife starts cooking around nine. Why don’t you come over this Sunday morning? Reye will be there. Here is my card, my home number and address are there. Call if you
get lost.”

  “Thank you, sir, I will.”

  “We’d better get started painting.”

  The two of them worked in companionable silence for the rest of the evening, talking about Stephen’s future plans and family. Before he knew it, it was ten and they had worked through all of the bedrooms and the hallway upstairs. All that remained was the main room downstairs. There was still no sign of Reye. Mr. Jackson had gathered all of the paint supplies they’d used and was in the process of cleaning them. “Well, it looks like Reye must have gotten tied up. This isn’t like her,” Mr. Jackson said as his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. “Here she is. Hey, Reye,” he answered, his face again showing no expression as he listened. “We were just finishing up and getting ready to leave,” he said. Stephen left the room, giving him privacy for his conversation with Reye.

  He was a little hurt that she skipped tonight. After all, he’d come to Austin to see her; the least she could do was cooperate. He laughed at himself, shaking his head, he was so full of it sometimes. He would be the one who needed to make the effort for a while. He wanted this, but he knew it wouldn’t be easy. Even so, he didn’t want to contemplate her not forgiving him. He would see her tomorrow at her team’s game, and, with any luck, he would talk her into having dinner with him. He hadn’t taken her out much when they’d been together. Mostly they had spent time at her house, gone to an occasional movie here or there, and dinner had been mostly pick-up or delivery. He should have made more of an effort to treat her as more than a warm body. But man, she wasn’t just a warm body—although he really loved her body— she had been more, and he felt remorse that she’d never known that.

  He turned as Mr. Jackson entered the room. “Well, son, it seems Reye got tied up and wasn’t able to make it over after all. She say’s she’s sorry about that.”

  “No problem. I’d better get going. It has been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Jackson,” he said, extending his hand, which was captured in a firm handshake. “I look forward to seeing you and your wife on Sunday,” he said.