Ryann’s heart was still racing, but this time for different reasons. This time it was with excitement, and with hope. A long time ago, she had stopped hoping for ‘a good man’. It had been so long, she almost couldn’t remember ever hoping for that. But the desire for a baby, or even more than one, had been there for ages. It ebbed sometimes over the years, as her career took center-stage, and then flowed stronger than ever at other times. But it never went away.
She used to picture a girl, who would be like her in some ways and unlike her in others. They would have the kind of closeness Ryann and her mother had never had. She would mold and guide and support her daughter, and love her to pieces. And when she was older, Ryann would have everything prepared, and would have planned and saved—for her to go to college, for a gift of a down-payment on her first home; and for her wedding.
“Why me?” Ryann asked quietly.
“Why not you? You’re beautiful, you’re ambitious. You’re hardworking, and conscientious. And look at the way you’re acting right now. I know you wouldn’t take being a mother lightly.”
“But I’ve had lots of men in my life, and may still …”
“Not while you’re pregnant with my kid, you won’t,” Spencer said, his voice unexpectedly forceful.
“See, that right there is why something like this would never work. Because you’d have all these ideas about how I live my life, and when there’s an actual child involved, you’d have even more ideas. I don’t need some man trying to tell me …”
“Why you tryin’ to start conflict? I don’t think I’d ask for anything you wouldn’t already do. Like not havin’ niggas all in and out of the house while my kid is …”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Ryann held up a hand. “You’re talking like I said we would do this. I’m saying that I don’t even get why you want to.”
“Why do you want to have a kid?” Spencer challenged.
“I don’t know. It’s … I just do. I’m getting older, and it feels like it’s past time.”
“Same for me,” Spencer said, shrugging. “Why is a man any different?”
“Who knows why, Spencer? But you just are. It’s a fact. Babies come, and men go.”
“And if I did—which I won’t—you won’t be any worse off since you were planning to do it on your own anyway,” he pointed out.
Ryann said nothing. Because he had a point.
“Why’s this so scary?” he asked. He touched her thigh and Ryann recoiled, because if he touched her now it would weaken her. He withdrew his hand. “Why?”
“It’s one thing to know you have to make do without something,” she said, without looking at him. “But it’s a much worse thing to think you have it, and then to have to re-learn how to live without it.”
Spencer nodded as though he understood.
“If I get in my head that I’ll have someone to raise my child with, and then lose that …”
“You won’t lose that. Not if you have a kid with me.”
“How can I know that though?”
“How can any woman know that, Ryann? Hell, my mother was married to my father for nineteen years, and his ass skipped out anyway. You never know what anyone will do.” Spencer moved closer so that now he was sitting right alongside her. He bowed his head, pulling aside the neck of his shirt to expose her shoulder. He kissed her there. “You just have to trust me, that I’ll be your lover, and your friend … and that …”
“You keep saying that ‘lover’ stuff,” Ryann interrupted, trying not to smile. “It’s obvious where your priorities are …”
Spencer shoved her back against the sheets and parted his shirt, exposing her nakedness once again. “Being your lover means more than lovemaking,” he said.
When she was lying there, the white shirt gaping wide, he grabbed her ankles and positioned himself between her knees.
“Spencer …” she said weakly. “We’re still talking.”
“Later,” he said. “Let’s talk later. For now, just … let me … taste you.”
Shit. What woman in her right mind would say ‘no’ to that?
When she was spent and limp, Spencer moved up her body, kissing along her quivering thighs, pausing at her trembling stomach and again at her breasts. Finally, he kissed her on the lips and when Ryann expected, and was poised for him to push into her, he instead sat up.
Rolling her gently to one side and then the other, he retrieved his shirt and shrugged it on. Then, as she watched with an expression of incredulity, he got dressed. If he had entered her then, she would have allowed it. It would have been so much easier to simply let it happen, than to decide.
“Take your time,” he said, as he walked out of her bedroom. “Think about it and then give me a call.”
Ryann still hadn’t thought of a thing to say by the time she heard him make his way downstairs, and moments later, open then shut her front door as he left.
“I hope you’re not telling your man all my business, Ivy,” Ryann said under her breath as Eli walked past the living room and out to Ivy’s backyard.
It was Saturday. Three days since Spencer made his unconventional proposal, and two since Tone had signed and delivered a check to the Coalition for six-hundred thousand dollars. One check, and a hundred thousand dollars more than originally pledged. The full-court press had worked, and now the filmmaker was chomping at the bit, eager to see the progress from his investment.
Greg had promised Ryann her commission on Monday, or as soon as Tone’s check went through, and shortly after, Spencer had emailed board members for an emergency meeting to announce the donation, and to begin a strategic planning process to maximize both the contribution, and the new connection to a high-profile donor.
But Ryann hadn’t seen him, nor heard from him since Wednesday when he had walked out of her bedroom leaving her spent, but still horny, and confused as hell.
“Of course I told Eli,” Ivy said. “Are you kidding me? That’s not the kind of thing I could have possibly kept to myself.”
Ryann smacked her friend hard on the hand.
“Ouch!” Ivy laughed. “I’m just being honest! I didn’t even wait ten minutes before I had to tell him the whole story.”
Ryann rolled her eyes. And then, because the curiosity would kill her otherwise, she had to ask. “And … what does he think?”
“He thinks if you want a baby you should do it.”
“Really?” Ryann glanced in the direction Eli had gone, surprised.
Unless she was mistaken, Eli didn’t think much of her. It wasn’t outright dislike, but she knew how she came across—she was the ‘bad influence’. The friend who would counsel his woman to go out on the town when he wanted her home; the one who would introduce Ivy to some random man, just so he would be occupied while Ryann busied herself with his friend. And since he’d had his own run-in with a ‘loose’ woman who had abandoned him to raise their son on his own, Eli was unlikely to think of Ryann as good mother material.
“Yup. He said that single parenthood is hard—and trust me, he’s right—and that if you’re going to be a parent, and have someone who wants to do that with you, it would be stupid to choose otherwise.”
“Huh.”
“He’s very pragmatic,” Ivy said matter-of-factly.
To hear Ivy tell it, Eli wasn’t just pragmatic, he was damn near perfect.
Right now, he was out back, grilling steaks and vegetables, keeping an eye out for his son and Ivy’s while they played. And Ivy sat around drinking wine with a girlfriend. When Ryann had gotten there a couple of hours earlier, he was just coming in himself, having taken Jaden, Ivy’s son, and his son Zion, to football practice.
Ryann pretended not to watch as he herded the boys out of the foyer and toward the backyard, cautioning them that they’d better not make a mess, and that they had only one hour of play time before they had to shower and get ready for lunch. He was as good as any husband Ryann had ever seen, and came with the added benefit of having his own place when Ivy needed hi
m to go home. Not that Ivy ever seemed to want him to go home.
But Spencer would. He would, and he did. He knew intuitively when Ryann was just on the cusp of having had enough. And then he would slip away like a ghost, leaving her alone for a day or two, never even calling to check in. And just as she began to want him again, and to wonder when he might come, he reappeared without a word of explanation for either his departure or return.
“And you know what I think,” Ivy said. “This is a way better situation than that crap you pulled with the diaphragm.”
Thinking back on it now, Ryann was almost ashamed she had done that. Spencer hadn’t deserved being the victim of what now felt like temporary insanity.
“Yeah. Probably.”
“Probably? Definitely. And I like Spencer. He’s … solid.”
“How the hell would you know something like that from meeting the brother one time, Ivy?” Ryann challenged.
She had never told Ivy about Spencer’s prison time. Not because she thought Spencer would object, but because she didn’t want Ivy—even though she was the least judgmental person Ryann knew—to judge him.
“I’m good at reading people.”
“If that’s the case,” Ryann said snidely, “why the hell would you be friends with me?”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “C’mon. Let’s go eat. I can smell those steaks and my stomach is screaming to be fed.”
Ryann stood. “No. I think I’ll go home and catch up on some stuff. I’ll call you later.”
Ivy stood as well. “You sure? There’s plenty of food. Eli always cooks like it’s the end of the world or something.”
Shaking her head, Ryann smiled. Seeing Ivy this much in love did her heart good. It hadn’t always, but now, it did.
“No, I’m good. Much as I’d like to spend my Saturday overeating and drinking all your wine, I got stuff I need to do.”
They hugged and Ivy walked her to the door, standing there, watching, and waving as Ryann backed out of the driveway.
“Hey, baby girl. What’s good?”
“Everything’s good when I’m talking to you,” she said reflexively.
Actually, she had only just awoken from a nap. She had fallen asleep after coming back from Ivy’s and sitting on her bed, thinking until her head hurt, tossing countless scenarios, and what-ifs back and forth in her mind. The phone had helped edge her into full wakefulness, while she lay there, eyes half-open and contemplating the chores and errands she had used as an excuse to get away from having to witness to much more of Ivy’s domestic idyll.
“I like that,” Rick said, his laugh deep and heartfelt. “I like that. But what you been up to? It was good to see you the other day. You know you turn heads whenever you walk up in here, right?”
“Thank you. But I think most women turn heads in a prison,” Ryann said wryly.
“Not like you though. Not like you. I bet you turn heads out there, too.”
Not this again.
“But still, you alone, Ry? How come you don’t have a man?”
‘Baby girl’, ‘Ry’. He was the only person who called her either of those pet-names. Whenever she heard them, she was twelve again, and thirteen and fourteen, looking up at him in awe, thinking there was no one more handsome, more perfect, more beautiful.
“I have friends, Rick. I told you.”
“Sitting in here, watching the years go by, sometimes watching other dudes’ families come in, I see girls change to women. They come in lanky like string-beans, wearing braces, then in what seems like the blink of an eye, they come in shapely and beautiful, wearing makeup; then pregnant, then with a baby, and the next year maybe two.”
“And then you see them come in all tired and haggard, and angry and sad,” Ryann said. “Right?”
“No. Not right. Not always,” Rick said.
“You’ve seen me change,” Ryann said defensively.
“Yeah. I have.”
“I’m not alone,” Ryann said. “For your information, I’m with someone. I have … someone.”
“You do? How come you ain’t mention it?”
“Because it’s new,” she said. “And it’s not the kind of thing you … mention.”
Rick laughed. “The hell that mean?”
So, Ryann told him.
She spoke quickly because they wouldn’t have much time. She told him everything, even about the evening of the hastily disposed-of diaphragm. Rick listened, and Ryann had no fear that he would judge her. Where he was, made judgment of other people a luxury he could no longer afford. And even before he had gone there, he never had, and never would have judged her.
When she was done, she heard him sigh.
“You don’t want a husband?” he asked finally. “Like a real, married-in-church …”
“I don’t need one, that’s all.”
“Is … is … is it because of me?” he asked.
“No!” Ryann said quickly. “Why would it be because of you?”
They got their tinny, recorded warning about the time running out.
“I don’t know.” Now he just sounded tired. “Because of what … you know. And because I left.”
“You didn’t leave. You were taken from me. You were arrested.”
“It doesn’t matter why I was gone. I was gone. And you were there, all alone with her, in that apartment, and as for the other thing …”
“Rick, let’s not spend the rest of our time talking about all that old stuff. Just tell me what you think. Am I crazy to think about doing something like that? Should I?”
He said nothing.
“Rick? So, you don’t think I should …?”
The line had gone silent.
“Rick?” Ryann said needlessly. “Rick.”
But she knew he was already gone.
~13~
“You okay, Ma?”
Spencer touched his mother’s arm, and waited until her eyes fluttered open. He hated when she did that—just fell asleep unexpectedly while in the middle of doing something else. She had been sitting in her favorite chair in May’s backyard and reading a magazine. One second she was reading and the next, her body relaxed and she let the magazine fall from between her fingers and onto the ground next to her chair. Scared him to death.
“I’m fine,” she said irritably. Her voice was hoarse. “Can I just rest my eyes for a minute without someone poking me in the arm?”
Shaking his head, Spencer let her alone and went inside. His sister, May, had just put the girls down for an afternoon nap, and was washing up the lunch dishes. She smiled at him as he came in and took a seat at her kitchen table.
“Does she do that more often lately?” he asked.
“Do what?” May looked up.
She was the prettiest of their mother’s children. Women used to call Spencer pretty when he was younger, but prison had hardened, and given an edge to his looks now, so that ‘pretty’ no longer applied. And Joyce was attractive, in her own way, but had a way of staring people down, that made even her soft, light, greenish eyes look cold.
May was the gentle soul among them, with wispy, brownish red hair in loose curls, and a perpetual, serene, Mona Lisa smile on her pink lips. She was the sister Spencer’s friends always had crushes on; the one that made them hang around his house and make excuses not to leave when all Spencer wanted to do was play basketball.
Now, she was married to a man who treated her like porcelain. But Spencer was glad May had that kind of love in her life, though. That, and the babies and home to go along with it. With her sweet nature, she seemed destined for a good, calm home life.
“She just kinda … fell out.”
May nodded. “The chemo.”
“Should she stop driving?”
“She doesn’t drive while she’s going through her treatments. I take her and pick her up afterward. Or Quincy gets her.”
Quincy was May’s husband. He called their mother ‘Ma’ and treated her as well as Spencer could have hoped for. Not too many men
out there would care for having their mother-in-law around every single weekend.
“I can help you with that sometimes,” Spencer said. “You just need to call me.”
“I know you can. But you work at different job-sites every day. You’re always on the move. But I know I can call you.” May turned to look at him, her tone reassuring.
After a moment when neither of them had spoken, she sighed.
“She’s in remission, Spence,” she said. “You don’t have to be afraid.”
“I know,” he said.
But he was.
At first, he almost didn’t know it was her. But by the time he cut off the engine and got out of the SUV, he realized Ryann was there, sitting on the steps leading up to the front door of his townhouse. He said nothing, and neither did she. Spencer walked slowly, and very deliberately toward her. Their gazes held until he was standing on the step a few down from where she sat, so that they were eye-to eye.
Wearing black Capri leggings and a white, lightweight poncho that fell to her knees, Ryann looked slightly puffy-eyed. She wore no makeup.
“You a’ight?” Spencer asked.
She nodded vaguely. “Fine.” Then she took a breath. “You know when you told me you’d been locked up?” she asked.
“Yeah?”
“I could have told you then, that my brother was too. Is. He’s still there.”
Spencer forced himself not to react. He had for a long time sensed that there was something personal about this issue for her, and always figured he would find out soon enough what it was.
“I don’t know why I don’t tell people. I’m not ashamed of him. What he did was terrible, but I love my brother …” Her voice broke. “He was more than a brother to me.”
Extending a hand toward her, Spencer kept it there until she took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet. He hugged her briefly then led her the rest of the way up to the front door. He let them in and then dropped his keys on the entryway table.
“Didn’t know you even knew where I lived,” he said.
“Didn’t. I called Greg.” She was looking around, taking everything in.
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