by Janice Sims
Valerie felt as if she had a monopoly on being hurt. She’d been there, done that, and she wasn’t ready to revisit that place just yet. Deep in her soul, she loved Norman, but she knew he’d only take her back there. Valerie Cherrelle Freeman wasn’t having it!
The next night, Valerie brought home a project to finish up. Her boss had reminded her that the billboard design for the new travel destination promotion was overdue, and she wanted it yesterday. Since two of the senior artists had resigned and one was out on maternity leave, Valerie had been swamped with their workload. Because she was cool with her boss, Valerie asked for an extra day, assuring her that she’d finish the design at home. She promised her superior that it would be on her desk the next day.
Strictly old school when it came to designing anything, Valerie always worked manually so she’d have a backup copy if the computer malfunctioned. She’d just finished the design and was duplicating it on the computer’s desktop publishing program when she began tapping the keys in synch to the rhythm of the drippy bathroom sink faucet. Valerie didn’t notice she was doing it until the dripping stopped, then she stopped. When it resumed pounding out its beat, so did Valerie.
As the evening wore on and the pressure mounted for her to finish the project, Valerie’s nerves became frayed. The faucet’s leaking certainly didn’t help matters. Her right eye twitched, and she constantly ran her hands through her hair. “Okay, enough! I’ve had it!” she blurted out, padding across the floor to the bathroom to examine the leak. “This drip-drip-drip is driving me mad.”
Valerie didn’t know what she needed to make it stop, but she was determined to find out. A half hour later, she found herself at the Red Oaks shopping area on Main Street.
Valerie entered the Red Oaks True Value Hardware Store and waited in line for the clerk, an older, settled man, to assist her. After waiting on two customers, he finally got to her.
“Good evening, ma’am, lovely breeze we’re having,” he smiled. “What may I help you with, today?”
“My bathroom sink’s faucet’s leaking, and I need to fix it.”
He exuded a quiet air of authority and warmth. “Is your hot water or cold water faucet leaking, ma’am?”
Valerie looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face, not knowing it made any difference. “Hot water.”
“Okay, that’s an easy do.” He excused himself and went around the store collecting several items, then placed them on the counter for her. “Here’s everything you need to fix that sink. Here are some pliers, an adjustable wrench, a screwdriver, and a repair kit with various size washers and screens. I’m also including some written instructions from our website and some duct tape to hold things in place if you don’t have an extra pair of hands available.”
Valerie thanked him, knowing that he had given her exceptional service. She’d never fixed a leaky faucet before, but she was determined to do it herself. She didn’t have the time or the patience to sit and wait for a repairman to do it. She paid the salesman and was on her way out of the store. Not paying attention to where she was going, Valerie accidentally bumped into someone.
“I’m so sorry, I—” She stopped mid-sentence when she looked up at a handsome man she knew very well.
“Valerie, what a nice surprise to run into you, here,” Norman chuckled, smiling as he remembered the pleasure of their kisses under the oak tree.
She felt the surging power of his presence, and noticed that he eyed her with scorching intent. She couldn’t help but feel turned on, despite her attempts not to. “Yes, it’s good to see you, too, Norman. What are you doing here?” That was all she could think to say.
“I came to pick up some picture hangers. I bought several paintings from an art show last week, and I want to hang them up.”
She perused his tall well-toned body. The man was exquisite: there was no other word to describe someone so powerfully built. “I see.”
“Valerie, I know something’s wrong, and I won’t get into that right now. I noticed what you bought a few minutes ago, and I know you have a leaky faucet. Please, let me fix it for you. I’m very handy that way.”
“Thanks, but that’s okay. I’ll do it myself.”
His insides warmed because he found her even more desirable because she was so unreachable. He knew that her pride stood in the way of accepting his help or asking for it. He admired that. “Really Valerie, I insist. You’d probably do a great job yourself, but please let me help you. I enjoy tinkering and fixing things around the house.”
They continued bantering back and forth about his fixing her sink. What Valerie really wanted to do was tell him to go away, but she didn’t because a crowd of nosy townspeople—who were also members she recognized from Red Oaks Christian Fellowship—had a ringside stance, enjoying their little floorshow. They seemed to be latching on to every word, and she knew that Red Oaks was like any other small town. Everyone knew everyone else and was prone to gossip about everything they heard or saw. Not wanting to be grist for the Red Oaks gossip mill, she agreed to let Norman help her. If these folks were going to have something to talk about, her business wouldn’t be one of the topics.
Thinking ahead, Valerie told Norman to follow her in his car. That way, when he was finished with her sink, he could leave.
Soon, they arrived at her house, and, after taking off his jacket, Norman rolled up his sleeves and got right to work.
There was still the matter of a question that hung between them, unasked and not discussed. “Valerie, you’ve been so cold toward me, lately. Did I do something that I might not realize?” he asked, fiddling with the sink.
She wasn’t sure if now was the time to tell Norman what was going on in her head. But if she wasn’t anything else, she was fair. As things stood, it wasn’t right of her to treat him so horribly when he’d done nothing wrong. The tension Valerie felt rose. She felt the palms of her hands get clammy, and she wrung them together. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she began. “When I was in college, I made a bad mistake, Norman. I met a music producer, Lucas Williams, who told me that he could help me get a record deal with a major New York label—and I believed him.” She handed a wrench to Norman.
“Why shouldn’t you have believed him if he presented himself as a professional?” he asked. “Did you have any reason to doubt him?”
“No, that’s just it,” she reminisced. “In the beginning, he was nothing but professional. He worked with me on my voice, wrote songs with me, then recorded those songs, as well as some I wrote. We even completed a master demo tape.”
“Wow, a demo tape? You should’ve been on your way. Pass the pliers, please.”
She passed them and continued her story. “Yes and no. Yes, that demo was to be shopped to the major record companies in New York, and we even discussed going through some of the labels in Nashville to tap into the country market. But no, nothing he promised ever happened.”
His chest became heavy with pity because he had a bad feeling about what she was going to say. “Why not, Valerie?”
A bleak, wintry feeling engulfed her. “He made me fall in love with him, took my virginity, and led me to believe he loved me and that we’d get married. But when I got to the restaurant he had chosen for our engagement, where he was to give me the ring…He stood me up.”
Norman’s heart broke for her. He was beginning to understand why she was so afraid, and why she pulled away from him so suddenly after their relationship had reached a new plateau. “That’s awful, Valerie. That’s one of the lowest things a man can do to a woman.”
She passed him a small washer and watched him change the worn-out device that was making her sink leak. “You think so, huh? Well, it gets worse. I went to the studio where we had recorded, which happened to be in the same complex where he lived. I thought that I’d lost my mind, because the studio was empty. Everything was gone—equipment, our tapes, the master reel, and all my songs! I found the housing manager, and he told me that Lucas had moved away, and he
hadn’t given management or anyone else advance notice.”
“Valerie, don’t beat up on yourself. You did nothing wrong; the guy was a liar from the get-go.”
Stress lines formed on her brow and her eyes were haunted with anxiety. “That’s not all. I cried so much and so hard that I made myself sick and almost flunked out of school. That happened in my junior year, but my parents and big sister helped pull me through with their prayers and TLC. That was bad enough, but what nearly killed me was hearing the songs that I had written and worked so hard on being sung by someone else! I knew they were mine and that I was owed some money. Well, I took everything I had to prove it to a lawyer. When he looked into the case, he told me that Lucas had the rights to them in perpetuity because I had signed some papers to that effect that his lawyer had drawn up. My attorney said that although that type of contract was unethical, it wasn’t illegal. So there wasn’t anything I could do.”
Norman sucked in a breath. “Ouch, that must’ve hurt, Valerie.”
“It did, and for a long time, I wouldn’t and couldn’t listen to the radio, because they played several of my songs. They’d hit the top of the charts, and I knew that Lucas was living large off my money and my lyrics. I also couldn’t get involved with another man and give him my heart. I won’t let any man hurt me ever again, Norman, not ever!” Tears cascaded down her cheeks, cleansing her of what she’d kept hidden away inside of her for so long.
So badly did Norman want to take her hurt away. If he could have borne it for her, he would have. He swept her into his loving arms, molding her body to his to keep her safe and secure. “I’m here, and I’ll never hurt you, and I won’t let anyone else hurt you. I will protect you, Valerie.”
She kept her head on his hard chest until there weren’t any tears left. She felt lighter having gotten that heavy burden out of her system, but she knew she wasn’t quite ready to pursue a relationship with Norman yet. Her heart just wasn’t ready. “Thanks, Norman, but I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to protect me.”
Looking into her eyes, cupping her chin and tilting it up so her eyes would meet his, he declared, “I love you, Valerie Freeman.”
Although his words made her heart thud and her pulse race like never before, she couldn’t and wouldn’t process it—not right now—that would only complicate things for her. So she took the high road. “Thanks for fixing my sink, Norman. I really appreciate your help.” With that, she gave him his jacket and pressed a twenty-dollar bill in his hand. Then, she opened the door and wished him a safe journey home.
Eight
Valerie signed up for every bit of overtime that her boss would give her. She did the same for volunteer projects—anything to keep her idle mind off Norman. To her way of thinking, between putting in her day hours, overtime hours, and volunteering to work on special projects, she’d be so tired that she’d pass right out and wouldn’t have time to remember or realize how much she missed Norman, or how much she loved him—despite herself.
Like that old song about washing that man right out of one’s hair, she was going to work him right out of her mind. And she did—for a time, but eventually love caught up to her, and every time she closed her eyes, she saw visions of Norman’s handsome face kissing her, holding her hand, or saying sweet things to her that made her feel like a woman. Every time she fell asleep—exhausted though she was—Valerie dreamed of Norman, and all of the dreams were the same.
In that recurring dream, she sang her heart out in church, making the saints shout, dance, and praise like never before, but the only difference was that Norman wasn’t there. Worried about him, her singing took on a melancholy tone because she wondered where he was. She poured every ounce of love she felt for him into the song, hoping that the synergy between them was strong enough for him to feel it—wherever he was. Obviously, it was, because he came charging down the aisle to where she stood, stopped the service, and proclaimed his love for her in front of the congregation, who said that was the best example of true agape love—sent from God—that they’d seen in a long time. Together, Valerie and Norman strutted off into the sunset.
Feeling that even her sleep was cruel in not allowing her to forget her beloved Norman, she pulled her listless body out of bed and prayed. She asked God to either take her mind off Norman or help them to get back together—if that was His will. She proposed in her mind that she would give that matter over to God and leave it with Him, because she sure wasn’t handling it very well on her own. Then, after weeks of restlessness, she slept like an infant—soundly, and through the night.
Valerie went on about her life, dropping the volunteer work. It was too much, and she felt herself burning out. She still did overtime, but not to the extent she had a few weeks ago. Her apartment resembled a gift shop because of all the flowers, chocolates, and stuffed animals Norman sent her. She had read all of the cards enclosed with them, but she didn’t call him to thank him, or accept any of his calls, because where Norman was concerned, she knew she was susceptible to his charms. If she was going to stay whole, strong, and unhurt, she had to ignore him—no matter how much her heart was breaking. The heaviness in her chest felt like a millstone. It was as if a rock had fallen through her heart, shattering it into little pieces. She took her head in her hands and cried tears that made the loneliness she felt for Norman even more chilling. I love you, Norman, but this is for the best. If I give in, you’ll wind up hurting me like Lucas, and I’d die before I let that happen, she thought, the emptiness she felt wrapping around her like a cocoon of gloom.
Norman felt as if he were in a twilight world, half alive without Valerie. He missed their drinking vanilla chai together after rehearsal, their quiet dinners, and phone conversations right before bedtime. Every part of his body ached for her. But at this point, he was beyond pain, and was merely hanging on to survival.
“Lord, I love her so much, what should I do? How do I make her know that I’m the real deal and would never do her wrong?” he wailed, half in prayer, half in misery. A vein in Norman’s neck pulsed. He kicked over a chair, and he punched the wall in frustration.
Not knowing why, he picked up his Bible and read various verses about manhood and a man’s role in marriage. After reading them, he knew that the task of convincing Valerie she should marry him was on him.
As always, Mother Maybelle wasn’t but a phone call away whenever Norman needed her. She had called him to come over to fix some loose tile in her shower, but decided not to when she heard the sullen tone in his voice. She had a sixth sense that told her whenever Norman was in trouble. She’d made several attempts to get him to talk about what was wrong, but he refused.
The feeling that Norman needed help was especially strong, so Mother Maybelle had an idea. She told him that she had something urgent to do and that she’d call him later.
Mother Maybelle spent the whole day preparing a delicious meal that was sure to keep him still so she could instill some more of her kitchen wisdom in him, as well as get inside of his head. If her home cooking wouldn’t loosen his lips, nothing would. As she’d promised, she called Norman and invited him over that evening.
“Come on over here and love my neck, son,” she quipped, setting two plates at her table when he arrived. “Give me some sugar.”
Norman gave his foster mother a big hug and a kiss on her cheek.
Her heart soaring with good cheer, she loaded his plate with baked ham, red-eye gravy, collard greens, candied yams, and two cloverleaf rolls filled with sweet creamy butter. Then, she fixed her plate and blessed their bounty.
“This feels like bribery, having a Sunday or holiday meal during the week,” he said, sprinkling hot sauce on his greens. “What gives?”
“Now, you just stay out of grown folk’s business and listen to me,” she ordered, not cracking a smile. She sounded as fierce and protective of him as he knew her to be. “I’m not blind, Norman. I see how Valerie’s been chilly toward you, lately. What, you’re in the doghouse with her
, already?”
“No, ma’am,” he answered, his mouth full of her tasty meal.
She cut her eyes at Norman and gave him “the look.” “Looka here, Valerie Freeman is a class act. She’s one heck of a woman, and the Lord has laid it on my heart to tell you that she is your wife. Y’all love each other so much that everyone’s taking bets about your wedding date—except you both need to own up to it and do something about it. Any woman worth having is worth fighting for. Now, go fight for that gal. And don’t stop there when you marry her, give her as much loving as she can stand and make it so good that she won’t ever think about anyone or anything else except getting home for more!” She scooped more yams onto her plate.
Norman reeled with astonishment, his eyebrows shooting up. “Mother Maybelle!”
“You better do something about those eyes, boy, before they pop out of your head. Don’t Mother Maybelle me! Remember, I’ve been married before and been around the block a few times! I know what time is, okay? Now, I’ve helped you all I can; the rest is on you!” she reminded him.
Over a second helping, he got an earful from Mother Maybelle about what a good husband should do to please his wife and about the virtues of marriage. Then, she put him to work as she’d originally planned.
After dinner, Norman raced home from Mother Maybelle’s, his mind whirling with all of her advice and admonishments. In fact, he couldn’t get there fast enough, moving in haste with hurried purpose. He was determined to get Valerie back, and now he had a plan.
He shook, as fearful images of her rejecting him built up in his mind. But that was a chance he was willing to take. Dialing the phone, he trusted in that knowledge, as well as in his love for Valerie. “Good evening, Valerie, it’s Norman,” he intoned, feeling sure of himself. “This standoff between us has gone on long enough, and it’s time to put some things on the table.”