Glorious Sunset

by Ava Bleu

  Violet, Violet, why do you put up with it? her inner voice admonished. Her eyes flowed unwillingly to the stranger trading barbs with Skeeter. Now, that was a man. Don’t you know him from somewhere? Boy, her little voice was talking up a storm, today.

  “So you think about it,” Jerome was saying. “I know we can work something out, baby. You play your cards right and we’ll see about that ring.”

  Violet blinked as a wash of rage flowed through her body and blinded her, momentarily. Was it possible this loser was holding the promise of marriage out as a carrot to get her to hand over the keys to her kingdom? Could it be he thought she was stupid or pathetic enough to put up with that? Oh, sure, she made him feel like he was the man but that was only to shut him up and keep him at her beck and call. Suddenly having him at her beck and call didn’t seem all that attractive anymore. Stomach turning, really. Heck, she’d rather be alone. She didn’t want to wake up one day sorry for all this time she was spending on a loser. If, by some horrible twist of fate, she got hit by a truck tomorrow her ghost would be truly sorry she’d wasted today on him, for sure.

  She sighed. She was tired. Tired of the game playing and trying to one-up everyone. Don’t do anything drastic, Violet, logic told her.

  “Jerome, there is no way I would ever allow you near my business. I’m sorry, this is partially my fault, really. I let you think you are more important to me than you actually are. In fact, I don’t even want you near me. In fact, I fake it in bed. Either that or I have to pretend you’re someone else to even let you touch me. I can barely stand the sound of your voice. That ‘in out in out’ way you breathe really irks me. You’ve got weak, little boy arms. I know you stare at Brenda’s butt when I’m not looking. And so, you know what? I deserve better. I’m not going to punish myself one second more by forcing myself to stay in this sham of a relationship so let’s just do ourselves a favor and consider this thing a wrap. Don’t call me. Don’t e-mail. Don’t text. Mail my things to me; don’t even bother stopping by! ’Kay?”

  She didn’t realize she’d raised her voice but when she disconnected and put the phone away both men were looking at her. Taka smiled appreciatively doing all sorts of wiggly things to her nether regions.

  “A woman who knows what she wants. I like that,” the stranger said.

  “Crazy woman, you mean,” Skeeter supplied.

  “Feisty. Commanding. Confident,” Taka replied.

  “Mean. Irritating. Annoying,” Skeeter translated.

  “Fed up. Bored. Done,” Violet finished. She opened her hand to look at the prize again, placing it on the counter where they all stared at it, appreciatively. “Sorry, gentlemen, I’m not parting with my jewelry so get a good look while you can. Skeeter, you can keep your bad mojo and you . . .” She looked the stranger up and down and tried not to linger inappropriately. It was hard. He didn’t have little boy arms. “You are just out of luck. I’m sorry I’m usurping your family’s precious heirloom but finders keepers. How did you even know it was here, anyway? I didn’t tell anyone about it.”

  “I didn’t. I just saw this place as I was driving by. I’m only here in town because I’m renovating my office building and a friend told me his new designer has this great technique of using fabric to paint the walls. They’re doing a story about it in InStyle magazine.”

  “You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me.”

  “No, I’m not kidding. Ron says this woman knows her stuff. Do you know this Brenda something-or-other from Odyssey Designs?”

  Skeeter laughed the laugh of the inconsiderate.

  Violet hiccupped: a warning of a hyperventilation fit to come. She took a small sip of air and willed her lungs not to go berserk. “I know Brenda. Yes. Yes, I do. Brenda is a good friend of mine. But you have to understand. While I respect Brenda and love her like a sister, she is a complete witch. That technique you’re talking about? Mine. Do you know how difficult it is to stand here and listen to you go on and on about a technique she stole from me? I patented the Melting technique for cripes’ sake. I should string her up by her skinny little ankles and play Ping-Pong with that hard little nugget she calls a head. Better yet, I should trample her freakish size-negative-two body until she screams to the world what a lying, backstabbing—”

  “Want to discuss it over dinner?” Mr. Handsome Stranger interrupted with a beguiling smile. Just like a man to use a vulnerable moment to jump on an opportunity.

  “Just like a man,” Violet said. “You think you can use this to get into my pants you’ve got another think coming, mister. You’ve already messed up, siding with my enemy... I mean, my friend, Brenda. And just because I’m single and available and you are tall and strong and sexy doesn’t mean I’m attracted to you.”

  “That’s fair,” he said. “Lovely Violet, I’ll forget your friend’s name entirely if that’s going to be an obstacle to getting to know you better. Any woman worth having is worth working for and I’m not one to shy away from a challenge.”

  “If a brick wall is a challenge.” She waved a hand up and down in front of her to pantomime the obstruction. “Yes, there is a serious challenge here. I am done with men weighing me down. I am done with men who think they can just ride my coattails. I’ve worked hard for what I have. So what I’m not a size negative two?”

  “I like a healthier woman, myself.” He shrugged. “I’m a big guy, wouldn’t know what to do with a tiny lady.”

  “Oh, I’m not intimidated by your size. A good right hook or a Smith & Wesson evens the playing field just fine. So what if I talk a lot?”

  “I happen to like a good conversation.”

  “I am not dumbing myself down for a man ever, ever again. I am done setting myself up for failure. I am finished inviting losers into my life.”

  He smiled. “Then my timing is perfect. I don’t have a single strand of loser DNA in my entire makeup. Technically, I’m royalty. I’m not conceited but I am a catch.”

  “Humph,” Violet said.

  Skeeter couldn’t stand it any longer. “If y’all two are finished making googly eyes at each other how’s about you get the heck out of my store? Give me a headache. Unless you want to sell me that brooch? I’ll give you one hunnert and fifty, that’s my final offer.”

  Violet rolled her eyes at him. “If you offered one thousand fifty I still wouldn’t sell it to you, Skeeter. You’re a thief and a con man. Your practices are unethical and inexcusable. You should be shut down or run out of town. I can barely stomach you. I’ll see you next week.”

  “Okay, see you next week, then.” He gave a friendly hand up in good-bye. “I’m gonna finish up in back and when I get back out here I expect the two of you gone.” He headed to the back and then turned back to Taka. “Do you want this bowl or not?”

  “No, you keep it, Skeet. I’m not going to be involved in purchasing illegally smuggled cultural artifacts, even if they are part of my birthright. If I were you, when the folks at U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement call to ask about that bowl I suggest you point them to the source because it’s a felony to steal from an archeological dig for personal profit.”

  Skeeter stared at Taka a long moment, then: “I gotta make a call.” He shuffled to the back faster than he’d come out front.

  “Oh, dear,” Violet said. “He’s a pain in the rear, but he’s old and helpless.”

  “He’s old, all right,” he groused, his frown following Skeeter until he disappeared from sight. When he turned back to Violet again his face was relaxed and happy like she was the precious jewel he was trying to swindle from her. “And you, you haven’t told me what you think of the brooch. Holding on pretty tight. Mind if I take a closer look at it?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.” Violet saw his onyx brown hand reaching for her jewelry and she, instinctively, did the same. She got to the brooch first and his hand clasped hers, instead. His hand clasped hers and in her mind’s eye the hand was in a different time and place. In her head she was standing at an altar, so
full of love and hope tears were frozen in her eyes. Violet looked at the stranger beside her in the dark jacket and open button-down shirt and suddenly she pictured him just as majestic, only dressed in a heavy silk robe over a bare chest, a crown on his head, and love in his eyes.

  She snatched her hand away and the brooch went skittering to the floor, but she left it there, backing away from it, and him. He bent to pick it up, turned it over in his hand, and, from where he was crouched, looked up at her. His face was a combination of confusion, wonder, and emotion.

  “My God, the legend is true. King Taka’s writings, all true.”

  Danger, Violet Jackson, her head screamed. Remember him, said a little voice.

  Suddenly the big man didn’t seem so harmless. Crouching there, his furrowed brow in a worried face meant more because, instinctively, she knew he wasn’t a stranger. She didn’t know what he was or who he was, but something told her he had the potential to cause her insurmountable pain.

  “Holy . . . Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” he said, standing slowly. “Are you remembering what I’m remembering?”

  She backed away until she ran flush into a table and there was no place left to go. She could barely see him but for trying to ignore the images flashing through her mind. She couldn’t allow herself to look at them, not any of them. And she didn’t want to look at him. It seemed no place was safe.

  “Stay away from me. I don’t know who you are but I don’t want what you’re selling. Just stay over there. Or, better yet, take that cursed piece of jewelry and go.”

  She watched his face go through a metamorphosis of emotion. Something was happening within him, maybe the same thing that was trying to happen within her. But unlike her panic, when finally his face settled it was into a calm, peaceful expression. When next he focused on her his eyes lit as if he were a child in a roomful of Christmas presents. He reached a hand out toward her and she flinched. Concern washed over his features.

  “Can’t you see? Can’t you remember?” he asked. “Aren’t the memories coming to you, love?”

  Chapter 29

  “I . . . I . . . Please leave me alone,” she croaked, weakly.

  Taka quickly assessed the situation and realized any excitement he was feeling or wanted to express would have to take a back seat because Violet looked like a deer in headlights. It didn’t matter that he felt more alive, held more memories, and carried more hope than he’d ever had before; none of that mattered if she wasn’t in the same state of mind with him.

  He dropped his hand and looked at her a long moment, working up something to say, when Violet gasped with a sudden, breathy hiccup. The burnished copper skin of her face flushed and it was immediately apparent she was having a hard time breathing, but trying to keep an eye on him while doing so.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, quickly. “Are you sick? Asthmatic?”

  “No, no, not really.” She gasped and put her hand behind her to lean her weight on the table. “Just need . . . a minute.” But her breathing was coming faster now.

  He watched her, helplessly. A minute ago he’d merely been Taka Olufemi XII with only the stories and legends of his ancestor who claimed to have been a king. He’d been fascinated by those stories as a child, memorized some of the journals. He never understood his connection to his namesake. But now, today, he was no longer merely a descendent. He no longer felt like only the man he was in this lifetime. He was no longer merely business owner, Taka, with no connections and no responsibilities beyond making himself happy. Now he was also King Taka Olufemi. And the information in his head was not just images of what he had read. Now they were memories. He felt like he was awake for the first time. He felt the hopefulness of being in the midst of an amazing thing. He felt happy beyond words.

  But his wife was standing before him, hurt and scared. His wife! After all these years he finally had another chance and he was dangerously close to losing her, again.

  “I understand,” he said quickly. “You’re seeing all these things you never wanted to see. We’re at this place again, aren’t we? Please, just hear me for a moment.”

  “A quick moment,” she said, still panting from the onslaught of some sort of panic attack. Her eyes kept darting from his as if afraid to see him, but in the seconds they landed they were raw, wounded, beautiful dark mink brown. She hunched in her labored breathing, as wary as if she expected a blow or a pain so great it would land her in the fetal position. He understood that pain. He understood why she would be afraid of him causing it.

  “A long time ago, he . . .” He started and then stopped. That wasn’t going to work. “A long time ago I was a king and you were my wife. I bought this pin for you as a wedding gift.”

  She hiccupped and looked around. “Do you see a paper bag around here anywhere? Where the heck is Skeeter?”

  “I had it made especially for you,” he burst, bringing her eyes swinging to his face again. “The day we got married was the best day of my life. I vowed to honor, love, and cherish you. I took that vow seriously. But because of my mistake, one horrible day everything was destroyed. And you were torn from my life. You were killed.”

  “I don’t want to hear this,” she gasped, quietly. “I don’t want to know you, I really don’t.”

  “If you didn’t want to know me you wouldn’t still be standing there. You wouldn’t still be gasping for breath, remembering when the murderers took your breath from you. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I failed you, I know that. And after you died I had a hard time accepting that you were gone. I didn’t want to live if I couldn’t have you. So God sent me on a journey and until this moment I had forgotten all of it. He sent me from my home to spend three days with you.”

  “What are you talking about? I’ve never met you until today; I’d have remembered.” She said it but her eyes darted from his.

  He looked at her steadily. “I met your friend, Brenda. I met Gary and Jerome, saw your company, stayed in your apartment, stopped your neighbor from stealing your paper, ate your period chocolate.” He gave her a light, tentative smile. Anything to wipe the panic from her face. “You’d remember if it didn’t mean having to remember the pain, too. I had three days to win your love but I failed. God took me back home, healed my body, and told me to take care of my kingdom. I spent the next three days burying our people, our things. Burying you, my queen. I traveled to a safe, simple spot, settled, founded a town, married a woman who had lost the love of her life, had kids, and began writing journals. And when I was old and my body worn out I told God I was ready to go home. And He said to me, ‘Taka, you’ve got someplace you need to be.’” Taka felt the tears try to start as the memory came back vividly. “There I was on my deathbed and He tells me He is sending me on a journey. Tells me He put a little bit of me in this stone to send out into world as a beacon and a guide. A guide; so my spirit could find you. A beacon; to let you know I was on my way.”

  He turned the brooch over in his hands. It looked so old. It had lived through many hard years, had somehow traveled the earth and seas and found its way home. Found its way back to the woman who’d inspired it. A piece of him still lived inside, perhaps always would. He reached out to hand it to her. She looked at his hand for a long moment and then, tentatively, accepted it without allowing her fingertips to touch any part of him.

  “He told me that someday He’d give me the same face and body, which was a relief because I knew you liked this face and body. I asked Him when I’d find you and He said, ‘It may happen tomorrow or a thousand years from now. Whenever it happens will be at precisely the right time.’ I didn’t want to hear anything about a thousand years but I wasn’t going to argue, this time. I was old and sick as a dog but I died with a smile on my face. I left that life happy because I knew I was on my way to you.”

  She was almost back to breathing normally, now, but still she looked at him suspiciously, clutching the brooch like a lifeline.

  “Look,” she said, softly, lips bunch
ed like the words were causing her pain. “You seem like a nice man, but whatever is happening here, I don’t want that kind of turmoil in my life.”

  “Is that what your heart is saying?”

  “My heart doesn’t run me, mister. My head says you’re trouble and it’s been my experience that my head is right. Don’t try to convince me otherwise. Don’t try to tell me not to know what I know.”

  He nodded, momentarily halted by logic. She had always been intelligent. She smelled condescension like smoke from a burning village.

  “You’re right,” he admitted, humbled. “You put yourself in my hands once because your heart convinced you to and I failed you, terribly. I failed myself. I prided myself on being all powerful, all knowing, all seeing; but I didn’t see what was coming. And I didn’t listen to you or your concerns. Why would I? I was the king who walked with angels, right? You think I’m dangerous and I can’t argue with that. Truth is, Taka, the twelfth, is almost as arrogant as Taka, the first. Some things just don’t get lost in the wash. But until this moment there were so many things I didn’t understand. I understand everything now.”

  “Like what?” she asked, shyly, as if asking from some deeper place, some rarely touched spot, opening itself up for the first time in, perhaps, a very long time.

  “I took it all for granted. I’ll never know what could have been prevented if I had been a better man back then but I know how precious every day is. I know how important it is to show your loved ones how you feel. Until the end of my days as King Taka I regretted a lot, but mostly I regretted not taking that horse ride with you that day.”

  Violet looked down quickly as if in sudden pain, a sob muffled in her throat. He could feel her silent plea for him to stop but he couldn’t stop now. He was at that place; the place just on the verge of her soul, the place where he could push through or back off. He wasn’t giving up on her this time.

  “I’m a better man, today. Better than the king Zahara married. Better than the genie who spent most of three days misunderstanding this woman named Violet Jackson because he couldn’t see past his own needs. I’m a better man. I look into your eyes and I see every hurt, every pain you’ve tried to hide, even the ones you weren’t able to. There was a time when I would have said I’d give anything to have you. Today, I would give anything to be with you. I thought there would be more time for us. When you were gone I missed how you would look at me with that mischief in your eyes and tell me how a proper husband should behave; the way you used to speak to me, before people around us told you it wasn’t proper to speak to a king that way, even if you were his wife. I missed your beauty and freedom and joy. You were my strength. You were what made me great. My love, when you were gone, I didn’t know how to take another step.”