The baby’s response was a loud wail that had Sara running into the room. Even Jackson looked surprised as the little body squirmed and tensed in full rage. Her brown face turned darker.
“All yours.” Jackson promptly deposited the baby back in Sara’s arms.
“Wimp,” Sara called over her shoulder, as she hurried back into the living room.
“Thanks for keeping her.” Martha took her child, who recognized the bottle as her tool for ultimate satisfaction. The baby opened her little mouth to speed up the process. Once she was fully engaged in her meal, Martha resumed her seat.
Sara remained standing with her arms folded.
“I know this looks bad—me, being here with my child, asking for your help.”
“That’s an understatement,” Sara said.
“I don’t know what I was thinking that day at the church. You couldn’t marry him.” Martha’s voice cracked. “I loved him.”
“Telling me a week, even a day before the wedding wasn’t an option? If you’re sleeping with my—Blake, you had to know my schedule. But you waited until I was in church with my family, friends, even co-workers to desecrate everything with your swollen belly and vile accusations.” Sara tapped her foot as the memory that didn’t need much coercion replayed. The sordid revelation took place when the priest asked if there was anyone who knew why these two should not be married. She used to think that question was rhetorical. No one expected anyone to speak up.
However on that bitterly cold January morning, the exception ruled. At first, she thought Blake was being silly and had brought in one of his friends to play the part of the other woman. Martha had looked like a cartoon character with her bright-red, cocktail length dress. Her hair was styled in an upswept French roll, and her makeup was thick and theatrical. When she stood after raising a noisy objection, the church gasped because her stomach protruded as if delivery could occur in the next second.
Sara’d wished that her body was weak because she would have liked to have closed her eyes and fainted and remained that way until everyone was long gone. Instead, her body stiffened from the onslaught of Martha’s nasty words, which weren’t acceptable in a polite crowd, much less in a church. Then Martha proceeded to tearfully explain to the church how Blake came to her bed when he wasn’t getting anything worthy in Sara’s. He was trying to do the honorable thing by taking care of both of them.
But she wasn’t having it. Reliving it with the star player only a few feet away reignited her fury. Her face tightened as the anger stirred. “I don’t know where Blake is. The last time that I saw him was when he was being taken to the hospital after my uncles beat him senseless.”
Martha shook her head. “That was messed-up.”
“You would have been next if it wasn’t for that belly.”
“I know you hate me because I have a child and you don’t. Blake said you had some problems.”
This woman was beyond clueless. “Martha, did you drive here?”
“I took the bus.”
“Here’s what I’m going to do for you. I’m going to pay for a taxi to take you back to the rock you crawled out from,” Sara said.
Martha’s face screwed up with misery. “Please. I don’t have anywhere to go. Blake was paying the rent. Then he stopped.”
“And you still love this man?” Sara walked over to the telephone directory and started flipping through the yellow pages. “Ever heard of the saying ‘what goes around’? Do you think that you were the only woman in his life? Were you that naive to think that you had him like that?” Sara snapped her fingers.
“I figured you’d know where his family is. Maybe they will help me, since this is their granddaughter.”
Clueless was too kind of a word to describe Martha’s inability to understand her current state of abandonment. Sara, however, acknowledged her awareness and also accepted that Blake was a hustler. Not marrying him, saved her from his good-for-nothing ways.
“This is what I know about his family. Blake said that his father died soon after he came back from Vietnam. His mother remarried and he doesn’t speak to her because of his stepfather,” Sara offered.
“He told me that his mother and father lived in Jamaica. His father is a retired doctor. He was here to finish up law school and then he was returning to open his own practice. We were going to be married in Jamaica after he finished law school,” Martha said.
“Did he need money for law school?”
Martha looked down at her baby, who had fallen asleep. A large teardrop fell onto the baby’s arm. “He asked for a couple hundred, at first.” She looked up at Sara. “I got my money back, though.”
“I did too, at first,” she said.
Martha wiped her cheeks with the tissue Sara handed her. “Then he borrowed a couple thousand. I didn’t make my car payment and missed a couple bills for a few months to give him the money.” A sob broke from her. “He never paid me back. They repossessed the car. My credit cards are at the limit.”
“Why come to me? I should be the last person you’d want in your face.”
“I haven’t told my parents.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.” Martha shrugged. “I look older than my age.”
Sara had her beat by three years, but felt worlds apart from her. She was young enough to be gullible and had an ego that got her in trouble.
“Look, Martha. I don’t know where Blake is. I don’t really care to know or have any dealings with him. I’m talking to you because you basically gave me no choice when you showed up at my door with your daughter. However, it took me a while to get over the drama. I’m still in cleansing mode. The only thing that I can do is help you get to your parents. Are they local?”
“They’re in Philly.”
Sara blew out an exasperated sigh. “It’s too late, but I will buy you a train ticket in the morning.”
“I can’t stay in your house.”
“Where are you going to go at this time of the night?”
“I’ve got friends.”
Sara wondered why she didn’t go to them. She would have had a far warmer welcome.
“Most of them are mad at me.”
Good. At least, her girlfriends had some sense.
“The couch can be pulled out into a bed. You and Sonia will be comfortable.”
On cue, Jackson stepped out. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He had his overnight bag slung over his shoulder.
“Don’t you leave.” Sara followed him.
Jackson put his hand on the doorknob and grinned. “There’s only one bed,” he whispered as he leaned toward her.
“It doesn’t matter,” Sara replied.
He looked over at the new guests. “I’m Jackson.”
“Martha Lewis.” Martha looked curiously at them.
“Martha and Sonia are staying on the sofa bed. I’ll need your help with readying the bed.” She glared at Jackson, fighting the urge to wipe the silly grin from his face.
“What you’re doing is very kind, Sarafina.”
Sara didn’t know whether he was pulling her leg, or if he was really impressed that she’d managed to be civil throughout this ordeal. They got busy fixing the bed with extra pillows to keep the baby in place.
“May I use the bathroom?” Martha asked.
“Sure. I have a couple large T-shirts and sweatpants you can use to sleep in.”
“Thanks.” Martha disappeared into the bathroom, gratefully holding onto the clothes.
Sara volunteered to keep watch over the baby. For the first time, she actually looked at the child. She couldn’t trust her feelings when she held Sonia in her arms. Whenever she looked down at the child, her anger was tempered. The innocence of this baby girl wound its way into her heart. This child was an involuntary player in this ugly episode.
“I’m proud of you,” Jackson whispered in her ear. He stood behind her with his hand casually on her waist.
Sara pulled her hand away from the ba
by as if she had been caught in an embarrassing act. The child stirred, but then sank into sleepy oblivion. “She looks like him.”
Jackson pulled her against him and rested his chin on her shoulder. “You’ve got to let it go.”
He had no idea how close she was to letting go and letting him in. But this current state of events reminded her of what surrendering to any man could do. She had been made a fool of in two major relationships. Although she played by the book, apparently no one else with whom she’d been involved had the same rules.
Martha emerged from the bathroom. Sara stepped away from Jackson, her face a little warm at being caught.
“This means that I get to shack up with you for another evening.” Jackson’s voice tickled her ear with a warm breath.
“Good night, Martha.” Sara ignored Jackson while she turned off the main lights and went into the kitchen to turn on that light as a night-light. “Let me know if you need anything, Martha.”
“God bless you.”
Sara shrugged. Her anger was turning to pity.
Jackson closed the bedroom door when they entered.
Suddenly she felt drained. Her emotions strained at her like contracted muscles. She struggled with the buttons on her shirt, but her fingers felt thick and unwieldy. “Darn it.” She dropped her hands to her side, weary and irritable. Hot tears crested on the edges of her lids. Her lips trembled. A swell of emotion grew heavy in her chest. She looked around blindly through the thick veil of tears for someplace to escape.
“Baby, are you okay?” Jackson straightened up from taking off his pants.
Sara rubbed her forehead. She wanted to run. Run out of the room, out of the apartment. She wanted to breathe in fresh air away from everyone. Too many memories collided. Too many emotions warred.
Jackson, who she thought she’d hated, now stood with his arms outstretched. All she had to do was hold onto those strong hands that knew her so intimately. She was tempted to have his arms wrap around her body in a fierce embrace and melt under his strength.
That would be so easy.
And that would be so weak.
Jackson dropped his hands to his sides when she did not react.
Sara went into the bathroom and undressed. For a second time, she would be sharing her bed with Jackson. Methodically she applied her facial cleaner, working it against her skin. She felt like the bad guy with Martha and her baby. She felt like an unfeeling, insensitive boob with Jackson. After washing off the cleanser and patting her face dry, she inspected her skin for any signs of a wayward pimple before applying an astringent. The vapor stung her eyes and she blinked rapidly. She had a right to be furious and angry and to feel put upon. Skipping the moisturizing stage, she swung open the bathroom door.
Jackson was in his usual position under the covers, remote in hand, with the other hand propped behind his head. “Hey, join me.” He flipped back the cover for her.
Sara slid under the cover, but didn’t snuggle against Jackson’s body, as he further invited. Instead she slid a pillow into place between them.
“Thought we were buds now that we’ve shared a bed or two,” he said and grinned.
“You know what bothers me?” She paused, but not really for him to answer. “You’ve come bouncing back into my life with all intentions for a do-over. But did you lose any sleep over what you did to me?”
Jackson had the grace to look startled by her comments. He turned to her. “What I did to you still bothers me. I tried to do what I thought was best for you and my family.”
“So I put you in a difficult position because I wasn’t from good stock? Well, my stock hasn’t improved since you left,” she said.
“We were young.”
Sara only stared. She wanted a guarantee. But what could he possibly do to grant her that wish?
“Do you love Blake?”
“I can honestly say that I never loved Blake. What he did to me was not only treacherous, but more of a blow to my ego.” She turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “What you did to me was like ripping out a part of my heart. Repairs are in progress, but it’s not healed. And yes, we were young, so I gave unconditionally and expected the same. I feel like an injured soldier after a dirty battle and I won’t make that mistake twice.” She closed her eyes to hold back tears. She shook her head to reaffirm her position on the matter.
“I’m not perfect, Sarafina. I thought I could have both worlds. I thought…Darn it, I don’t know what I thought. I screwed up.” He gently turned her face to his.
Sara opened her eyes and stared into the stormy darkness of his. “Good night,” she whispered before turning her back to him. She hugged her pillow tightly to keep from turning to him and hugging him tightly.
After four hours of tossing and turning, Sara decided to get out of the bed. She felt lousy and would have to upgrade her small cup of coffee to a large mug. Jackson’s soft buzzing snore filled the room. She strained to hear if Martha and the baby had roused.
Hearing nothing, she left the room to investigate. The sofa bed had been slept in, but there was no sign of them. Instead, there was a handwritten note in the middle of the bed. On closer inspection, Sara noticed that the paper was a receipt from a children’s toy store. On the back was a message addressed to her:
Sarafina,
I took your advice and called my parents. They will buy a ticket and I have to pick it up at the station. I took a taxi. I’m sorry for hurting you.
Martha
Sara couldn’t deny that she felt relief that Martha had gone. She did hope that the young girl and baby got safely on their way. Her wounds were simply too fresh to deal with Martha.
She looked back at the bedroom. Again, she didn’t want to deal. Quietly she got dressed. This time she left a note and slipped out the door to escape into the world of American Women’s Literature.
Chapter 6
Jackson didn’t stir until the sun penetrated the sheer curtains. He opened his eyes, shielding it from the light. For a moment, his surroundings confused him. He looked around the room, first at the familiar pajama set draped over the back of a chair, then at the wide array of perfumes and colognes on the vanity. A lingering floral scent was still in the air. Contentment settled over him as he lay back in the bed, enjoying his stroke of luck.
He sniffed the air, hoping to smell the aroma of a fabulous breakfast. When his taste buds didn’t respond, he called out. “Sara!” He yawned and stretched. “Sarafina, where’s breakfast?” He smiled, waiting for her tart response, but only silence greeted him.
Jackson slid out of the bed, fully stretching his body. He knocked on the bathroom door before entering. The apartment was too quiet. At least the baby should be stirring, unless something happened. A little alarmed, he hurried out of the bedroom.
He looked down at the empty sofa bed, then stepped into the empty kitchen. No one was in sight. The apartment wasn’t so expansive that he shouldn’t catch sight of anyone. A long beep of some appliance caught his attention. He followed the sound to find the coffeemaker had brewed a pot.
Figuring that Sara had provided this kind act before disappearing into thin air, he helped himself. With his unsweetened black coffee, he went back to the bedroom to check his cell phone. Maybe she’d left a message. He really hoped that there hadn’t been a medical emergency.
He unsnapped his cell phone off his waistband and flipped it open. There were no messages or missed calls. Now he scanned the room for clues. As his glance brushed over the bed, he saw the notepaper on Sara’s pillow. He stretched over and retrieved the note.
J
I had to get to work. Martha and Sonia have left. Thank you for staying last night. I know you’ll be busy in these last few days before you leave. Things on my side are swamped, too. I don’t want you to feel that you have to worry about me.
I’m a big girl.
S
Jackson shook his head. He didn’t need a translation of the message to sense Sara brushing him off.
The sudden appearance of Martha had spooked her, just when he thought they had made a breakthrough. Like his father, he wasn’t great with words and baring his inner thoughts.
What to do now? One thing was certain. Only two more days remained of his extended visit. He had his meeting today at noon that he’d instigated as his main reason for staying in Chicago. But after that, he would be returning to Ohio. If he didn’t make any advance in Sara’s confidence, he was certain that she’d not maintain any type of relationship with him.
He popped open his cell phone. “Denise, sorry to call you at work. Need your help.”
Sara struggled to keep her mind on the class presentations. Each group of three students took turns presenting their latest assignment. The current group defended its stance that the women’s liberation movement was influenced by literature from the earliest works by female authors.
This group could consider itself lucky that her mind was elsewhere. She’d been known to make groups vigorously defend their positions with well-researched evidence. Instead, she was holding mental pro-and-con arguments for resuming her relationship with Jackson.
The class applauded for their fellow students, bringing her attention back to the present. She thanked the group and then looked at the clock positioned over the door. Thank goodness class was over.
“Hey, soror, ready for the meeting?” Denise stood in the doorway dressed in a black skirt and red blouse, the sorority colors.
Sara wore a solid red dress, with hose and pumps. Sara rarely endured the agony of pantyhose and heels, but this was a special occasion. She followed Denise out of the building. The undergraduate chapter met on campus. However, the graduate chapter met in the meeting rooms of a local hotel.
“Is everyone coming?” Sara asked, referring to their line sisters. The chapter had over two hundred members, but only a fifth of that number regularly attended meetings.
She’d made a pact with her line sisters that they would continue to participate in the sorority after graduating from university. Building the sisterhood was vital to surviving on a big campus. Strengthening the networking system with sorority members and fellow Greeks could make all the difference in corporate America.
No One But You Page 7