The Lover

by Forrester, Nia

  Spencer narrowed his eyes. “So, it’s got nothing to do with you and me.”

  “I hope not,” Ryann said.

  “So if you don’t want to tell me right now what it is, why’d you bring it up?”

  “Because I want you to remind me. And because, if I don’t commit to talking to you about it, I might just be tempted to let it drop. And I don’t think I should let it drop.”

  “Ryann, now you’re making me …”

  “No, it’s …” She seemed to decide to stop herself before saying it was fine. Instead she sighed. “I feel like it’s time to talk about it, that’s all. I feel like I’m in a place where maybe I can.”

  “You want me to come back there right now and we just …get it out? I don’t want you stressed out about something if you don’t need to be. Especially not now. You’re just starting to get your weight up where it needs to be, and …”

  “No, seriously. You don’t need to come back. We’ll talk about it on Sunday. And as long as what you told me this morning is true, then …”

  “What did I tell you this morning?”

  “That you love me.”

  “Baby. Yeah. Of course it’s true.”

  “Good. Then … Sunday. We’ll talk about it Sunday.”

  “It’s a date. Now get your lazy ass out of bed and go to work.”

  Spencer ended the call with a smile on his face, and then it promptly dissolved. That little niggling thing … that tiny nagging feeling that had been at the back of his mind returned tenfold. Something to do with Ryann and her mother, Ryann and her family …

  The phone rang again and Spencer hit the answer button. His sister May’s voice filled the car.

  “Spencer?” Her voice was thick with tears, and before she spoke another word, he knew.

  Lightening up on the weight of his foot on the gas pedal, Spencer pulled over to the side of the road and waited through the sound of his sister crying.

  “It’s Mom,” May finally said between gulps.

  ~32~

  What they said was true—sometimes the cure was worse than the disease.

  Spencer’s mother didn’t die of cancer; she died of a heart attack in her sleep. Apparently, some chemo drugs were known to weaken the heart, and Mrs. Hall had been one of a relatively small percentage of people who suffered the deadliest consequences of that side effect. She was buried on a cold and rainy day in Hampton, Virginia where she had lived much of her adult life before the disintegration of her marriage.

  Spencer, and a contingent of his male cousins were pallbearers. And it was on the occasion of the funeral, rather than at her baby shower, that Ryann met Spencer’s other sister, Joyce, for the first time. She arrived with her wife, and was dressed in a simple, chic, black sheath and black patent leather pumps of medium height. She nodded her acknowledgment of Ryann when introduced, but like May, and like Spencer, she seemed too overcome with grief to truly absorb her surroundings or the people in it.

  Standing at the graveside, listening to the singing of hymns and recital of some of Mrs. Hall’s favorites Bible verses, Ryann could hardly absorb anything herself. She was preoccupied by the blank look in Spencer’s eyes, and the way his lack of emotion, ironically, betrayed the depth of his emotion. He had stayed at Ryann’s house ever since he got the news, and she had played hostess to his friends stopping by—Greg and his wife, Simone, Miss Gladys from the Coalition, and various of the men he had helped over the years, and all of those he employed, including the errant Jerrell, and Louis, who had once stopped by just to detail and tune-up Ryann’s car.

  Throughout the visits, and the paying of respects, Spencer hadn’t said much, just nodding his acceptance of condolences, enduring hugs and then sitting quietly while everyone else figured out how to fill the silence. Ryann felt adrift and unmoored by his silence, because Spencer was always the one who kept things moving with, and for them. He pulled her out of her dark moods, rescued her from herself, and took care of things. Even when their relationship was fractured, or distant, or devoid of lovemaking, he had been the lover and she the beloved. She wasn’t sure she knew how to assume his place, but she knew for certain that now, more than ever, he needed her to do just that.

  In the evenings, after she cleaned up their meals—usually something that someone else had brought over—and showered and turned in for the evening, Spencer stayed up. Ryann tried to lie awake and wait for him, but usually, one, or two and even three a.m. would come and she would still hear him, moving restlessly around the house downstairs, unable to be still.

  After the laying to rest, there was a brief repast at the church, and then Spencer and his sisters, Mrs. Hall’s immediate family, made the long drive back to Maryland, and to May’s house. It was by design. The siblings did not want to entertain mourners in their home, but to grieve alone, and comfort only each other. They had hired a limousine large enough for them all, so Ryann sat next to Spencer for the ride, watching his face and that of his sisters, and thinking that she could not recall seeing people so sad.

  She wasn’t sure, she thought with shame, whether she could muster these feelings if it were her mother who had been lowered into the ground in a casket.

  Halfway through the ride, when Ryann had given up on the idea that she needed to fill the silence with aimless conversation, and when her eyes were beginning to grow heavy, Spencer reached out and placed a hand on her middle.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Ryann noticed his sister, Joyce, sitting directly across from them with her wife, lower her eyes to Spencer’s hand, a strange movement working the corners of her mouth.

  “I’m good,” Ryann said.

  Her voice was hoarse. Actually, she was starving. But these days she was always starving. None of the calories she consumed seemed to remain with her. Her babies were ravenous for whatever nutrition she provided them, and so she provided them as much as she could, as often as she could.

  “How’re your feet?” Spencer continued. “In those crazy shoes.”

  Ryann had refused to wear flats and the only black pumps she had that fit were super-high throwbacks from the days when that had been her standard footwear. Now, she had to practically squeeze her feet in them to begin with, and they had only grown more uncomfortable throughout the day. How, when he surely had other things on his mind, Spencer had even managed to think about that, she didn’t know.

  “My feet are fine,” she lied.

  “Give ‘em here,” he said.

  Ryann hesitated. He reached over, and hooking his hand under her knees turned her around on her seat so her legs were on his lap. Sliding her shoes off, he grimaced when he saw the deep grooves across the tops of her feet. Looking out the window of the limo at the other cars, and the miles of highway zipping by, Spencer massaged her insoles, while May looked on, a smile on her face.

  Once they got to Maryland and May’s house, everyone piled out of the limo and into May’s kitchen. Her daughters were once again with Quincy’s parents, so there were only the adults. They all sat in May’s expansive kitchen, talking and sharing stories about their mother, while Ryann, Quincy and Joyce’s wife, Misty, listened. It was the only time since the news of her death that Ryann had seen Spencer smile and laugh. Joyce spoke the least among the siblings, and May sat close by her, often taking her hand, and giving her one-handed hugs, pulling Joyce against her, and trying to pull her out.

  In the middle of a story about their mother catching Joyce sneaking out of the house to meet, at the time, a boyfriend, Joyce burst into loud and inconsolable tears and Spencer’s eyes filled. But even then, he looked over at Ryann, checking on her.

  “I’m fine,” she mouthed.

  But, unsatisfied that that could possibly be true, Spencer stood and reached out for her to take his hand. She took it.

  “Q,” he said to Quincy. “You got a room we can use?”

  “Yeah. Of course.” Quincy sprung up, looking relieved to have a mission that would take him away from Joyce’s
emotional breakdown.

  He led them upstairs, past his daughters’ room, past another that Joyce and Misty were occupying for the weekend, and to another that looked like it doubled as a home office. Apologizing for the mess, he cleared off the day-bed and, as he left them alone, reminded them of where the bathroom was.

  “You want me to take you home?” Spencer asked, looking around at the room. Even with Quincy’s attempt to clear it a little, it was far from comfortable. “We’re only a couple miles from your house, so …”

  “No,” Ryann said quickly. “As long as you’re here, I’m fine to stay.”

  “I’ll be downstairs with my sisters, but you get some rest,” he said. “Give them some rest.” He stroked her stomach. “And I’ll bring you something to eat in a minute.”

  Ryann nodded and sat, then lay back on the day-bed. Almost as soon as she did, she yawned. Spencer smiled at her, an indulgent look, and something that was unmistakably love, in his eyes. When he turned to leave her, Ryann said his name.

  He stopped and turned to face her again. And then, she couldn’t think of a thing to say. Nothing that would communicate what she felt, in any event. Were there even words for what she felt? Anything she might think of was sure to be inadequate.

  His mother had died, and he still had room for her in his broken heart.

  “Get some rest, baby,” he said again, when she said nothing more.

  And then he shut the door and was gone, leaving Ryann feeling even more inadequate to the task of ever being quite the lover to Spencer that he had been to her.

  “I ain’ seen nor heard from him in a week,” Greg said.

  “He’s still trying to get back on his feet after …”

  “I know. I know. Miss Hall wasn’t nothin’ but the truth. When I came out, she embraced me more than my own people. So I know. But the world turns, and he’s lettin’ all kinds of sh … all kinds of stuff slip.”

  “Like what?” Ryann asked a little snappishly.

  Greg was in her office, having stopped by after calling her to say he needed to speak to her urgently. And now that he was there, he was pouring out a litany of what sounded to Ryann like a million reasons no one at either the Coalition or Spencer’s construction business could operate at one hundred percent without him telling them what to do. She was, frankly, annoyed to even be having the conversation. Greg, if he was a partner, needed to act like one and have Spencer’s back when he needed that.

  “Look, I run the Coalition. All them properties he workin’ on? I ain’t got the skills nor the time to look after all that.”

  Ryann idly rubbed her stomach and exhaled impatiently. “So who does, Greg? If not you, then who?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Jerrell maybe. I mean …”

  “The same Jerrell who’s two weeks out of rehab.”

  “That’s who he hired, that’s who he’s got,” Greg said, shrugging again. “What can I tell you? It’s …”

  “Does he know the schedules for all the properties?” Ryann asked.

  “I guess. And there’s that girl in his other office, whatshername …”

  “Donna?” Ryann asked, recalling when Spencer referred to his assistant.

  “Yeah. Her.”

  “Well, then let’s find out. We can talk to her, and …”

  “Maybe we should call Spence and …”

  “No,” Ryann said firmly.

  Her mind flashed back to that morning, and Spencer still asleep when she left. He had finally collapsed into bed sometime around four in the morning. She knew because he woke her when he did, putting one arm around her middle, pulling her back against him and sliding the other down between her legs.

  ‘I can’t sleep,’ he said, his voice muffled by her hair, agonized, and exhausted. ‘I’m tryin’ but I can’t. I need … I need you, baby. I need …you.’

  So, exhausted though she was, Ryann opened up to him, gave him what he needed, and felt grateful that she could give him that relief, and that immediately afterward, he had fallen into a deep, heavy sleep.

  “We’re not bothering Spencer right now. It’s been a week since he put his mother in the ground. He needs more time, and we’re not worth shit if we can’t find a way between us to give that to him.”

  Greg stared at her for a moment then pursed his lips and nodded. “But …”

  “But what, Greg?” Ryann asked, her voice hard.

  “There’s also all the other stuff happening with Tone and the documentary. And we got a Board meeting next week, and …”

  “You and I are going to take care of all that, too,” Ryann said.

  “Okay, but …”

  “There are no ‘buts’. We’re taking care of it. And if I hear that you called Spencer. I mean even one time, I’m going to come over to your office and choke the hell out of you.”

  At that, Greg grinned. “Then I guess I won’t be calling him.”

  “Damn right you won’t,” Ryann said, not returning his smile. “And by the way, when this is all over with and he’s back on his feet again, you better hope I don’t tell him how you bitched out when he needed you.”

  Greg’s smile faded.

  “Are you sure you know what the hell you’re doing?” Ivy asked.

  “No, I’m sure I don’t know what I’m doing,” Ryann said. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “You’re like a hundred months pregnant! With twins. You can’t be going onto some construction site in the dead of winter! What if you trip, or …”

  “Are you listening to me, Ivy? I said, I know. Where’s your man at?”

  Ivy narrowed her eyes and stepped aside to admit Ryann into the house. “Out back in kitchen. Why?”

  Ryann didn’t blame her for looking confused. She had shown up at Ivy’s front door on a Friday morning, before seven a.m., dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, one of Spencer’s insulated work-shirts and boots, talking about needing to go check out the job sites.

  Ivy was partly-dressed for work, her blouse untucked and in stockings but no shoes. She looked like she had only just gotten done with her hair and makeup, and was about to pull the rest of her outfit together.

  “I want him to come with me. He knows about construction, right?”

  Ivy nodded dumbly. “Yeah. But …”

  “Spencer isn’t in any shape for work. He’s taking some time off since his mother passed.”

  “Oh.” Ivy shrugged. “But can’t he …?”

  “He can’t do anything. So it’s up to me.”

  A small smile played about Ivy’s lips. “Okay, c’mon. Eli and the boys are finishing up breakfast before he takes them to school, but if you need him, I can drop them off today.”

  “Thank you,” Ryann said, exhaling in relief. “Because I know ain’t nary a man on those worksites gon’ take me seriously showing up looking like this.”

  Ivy laughed. “Agreed.”

  Ryann and Eli hit both of Spencer’s jobs before noon, and Eli asked all the relevant questions of Jerrell that Ryann would not have known to ask. At first, when they pulled up, Jerrell had been truculent and uncooperative, wanting to call Spencer to make sure that Ryann had authorization to come onto the sites in the first place, and worse yet, to bring some other contractor whom Jerrell had never seen before. Ryann was finally able to persuade him to call Greg instead, who smoothed things over by confirming that Spencer was taking some time off, and that Ryann would be getting status updates until he was ready to return.

  “I understand Spence needin’ to take some time,” Jerrell said, sounding chastened once he hung up from his call with Greg. “When I lost my momma, I didn’t function right for a year. Hell, I ain’t been right since.”

  “I knew you’d understand,” Ryann said, looking him in the eyes. “Especially since recently, you needed some time for yourself, and Spencer was generous enough to give it to you. And let you keep your job.”

  At that, Jerrell didn’t just look chastened, he looked embarrassed. Ryann did
n’t give a crap about his embarrassment, just so long as she knew that he knew she was expecting him to keep the work going on schedule, and not bother Spencer in the process.

  Because she didn’t understand much of what was being discussed, Ryann wrote everything down in a little orange notebook, capturing as much of what Eli and Jerrell said verbatim as she could. If, later, Spencer had questions, she would want to have the answers for him. Mostly, she focused on recording dates, prices, and listing items of inventory that had been used, and would need to be purchased. She tried to learn as she listened, but had to depend on Eli to tell her once they pulled away from the jobsites, whether things were going well or not.

  “Based on the completion dates, they’re a little off schedule,” he said. “But nothing out of the ordinary. You’ll want to watch them over the next week or so, though. Now that they know for sure the boss won’t be showing up anytime soon, I bet some of the workers start slippin’.”

  “No,” Ryann said quickly. “No … slipping. We can’t have any of that. I’ll need you to help me, Eli. To make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “Ryann … I got my own schedules to keep, y’know? I want to help, but …”

  “Then find the time. Please.”

  Eli glanced over at her from the driver’s seat of his truck. His gaze fell momentarily to her belly. She put a hand on it and stroked it, watching as Eli’s face changed. Men were so easy sometimes.

  Eli sighed. “I can make it to his sites in the morning early, before I hit mine, and in the evening when I’m done. How’s that?”

  Good. She wasn’t above playing the pregnancy card, if it helped. And twice a day? That was far more than she would have hoped for, or expected. But keeping a poker-face, Ryann nodded.

  “I think that should do it,” she said solemnly. “I mean, I hope so.”

  Eli glanced at her again. Then again. He smiled and shook his head.

  “I know exactly what you’re thinking,” she said.

  “Oh yeah. What’s that?”

  “That you can’t believe I’m doing all this for a man.”