When You Fall...

by Robinson, Ruthie

  When You Fall…

  Ruthie Robinson

  When You Fall…

  Published by Ruthie Robinson

  Copyright © 2012 Ruthie Robinson

  All rights reserved.

  FoglihtenNo4 Font by gluk

  eBook and print editions by eBooks by Barb for booknook.biz

  Dedication

  To Gwendolyn Gail Morgan who unknowingly provided the substance behind the heroine Carter. Thanks for your patience in responding to my many questions and texts regarding all things horse.

  We go way back… sixth grade-way-back, met after school one day, the girl with the perfectly shaped-afro and your love of horses, my friend and my sister by another mother. This book is dedicated to the girl with the horse named Star, a mean-assed dog named Tiffany, and the mother who always greeted me so warmly at the door.

  Thank for your unfailing support and encouragement to do what makes me whole, always in my ear with your sound and wise counsel. You’ve been a continuous source of calm and clear headed thinking to my scattered, jumping-around-all-over-the-place-self.

  Thanks for years of advice, love, support, but mostly, thanks for being my friend. You are the best—the real deal Holyfield.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Thanks to Lisa Jansen, Andrea Charles, Jenny Rosenblum, Hilary Thomas, and Kathy Lesko for reading, editing, advice, and friendships. As always thanks to my family for your continued support.

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  One

  Friday night

  He was gorgeous—all tall, brown-skinned male, head cleanly shaven, decked out in a tailored, dark colored suit that fit him like a second skin. He had matured into a very handsome, self-assured man, not too different from what she remembered. Bentley—her one and only serious love—the boy she’d played with before she was aware that boys could be good for other things.

  He stood surrounded by men like him—handsome with the world on a string—his entourage. She remembered some of them, too; friends from their college days. There were a few she didn’t know—newer pro teammates, perhaps.

  He’d always been confident. He’d always been this sexy, cool, and kind man. The kind part had been the most difficult for her to walk away from.

  She made her way over to his side and he turned to face her, as if some invisible force tethered them. There used to be. He stretched his right arm out and caught her around the waist, pulling her into his muscular body. The champagne in his other hand hadn’t moved in the slightest. Smooth Bentley and she went willingly.

  “Hey stranger,” he said, lowering his voice to its old familiar octave. He looked down into her eyes.

  “Hey,” she whispered, her breath leaving her, eyes locked with his.

  “Most of you know Carter from when we were at Georgia Tech,” he said, removing his eyes from hers for a second to skim over his buddies.

  “Hi Carter,” they said.

  “Thanks for coming. I wasn’t sure you would,” Bentley said, returning his attention to her.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. It’s not every day you get married,” she said.

  He turned away from her, giving off an unspoken signal, causing the friends surrounding him to disappear.

  “How long has it been?” he asked, still with her tucked under his arm, pulled snugly to his side.

  “It’s been a while for sure,” she said, stepping away, putting some air between them so she could think.

  “I know.”

  “You look good,” she said.

  “So do you.”

  “Thanks for inviting me,” she said.

  “We were good friends—not just lovers. Why wouldn’t I invite you,” he said, tilting his head to the side.

  “The way it ended, I guess,” she said.

  “It ended the way it ended.”

  “You know it wasn’t your fault that we broke up. It was all me. I wasn’t ready,” she said.

  “I know,” he said, giving her that smile he was so famous for. “I know you weren’t ready. But it’s all good, you know,” he said, looking into her eyes. He had turned serious now. “Things turned out for the best.”

  “We were good together,” Carter said, not hearing the end of his sentence.

  “Yes, we were,” he said, and she could tell his mind was also back in time, their college days with him playing football, she trailing along to games and to parties and back to his dorm room, then them moving in together after college. He’d finished school first; it took her slightly longer.

  But it had changed, somehow. She had changed. He was looking at going pro, and she wasn’t sure she was interested in following him anymore; plus she’d grown tired of all the others—women and men—jostling for a piece of him. She wanted to make her own way, to prove to herself that she could.

  “But you know what? I’ve been lucky twice, and I think you would like my bride to be,” he said.

  “Remember that time we snuck into the locker rooms late one night?” she asked, changing the subject. He laughed and she did, too. Thirty minutes passed before someone touched his shoulder, abruptly ending their trip back in time.

  “I’ve got to go or my boys will kill me,” he said, smiling into her eyes. “This party is just the appetizer, I’ve been told,” making a face and laughing. “It was good to see you again,” he said, back to being serious. “Thanks for coming, and if I don’t see you later, I wish you the best. Always.”

  “You, too,” she said, smiling back, before leaning in to place a soft kiss on his lips, wiping away the lipstick with her thumb afterwards.

  “See you,” she said, watching as he was swallowed up by his fellas, looking back at her over his shoulder, a huge grin on his face. Her chest felt tight.

  #

  “Frankie,” Carter said into the phone. “Frankie, wake up.”

  “Carter? What is it? Do you know what time it is?” Frankie asked, as she turned to peer at the clock on her nightstand.

  “Late?”

  That was an understatement, Frankie thought, checking the time. It was past 3 a.m. “What’s wrong?” she asked, sitting up in her bed.

  “I shouldn’t have let him go.”

  “Let who go?”

  “Bentley.”

  “Carter, how many times are you going to do this to yourself?”

  “You should have seen him tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “At the bachelor party.”

  “You went to his bachelor party?”

  “He invited me.”

  “Carter….”

  “He said that we were good together. I could tell that he meant it, too. I should have married him. It should be me standing up there with him before the minister tomorrow. What was my problem anyway? I could have learned to overlook the other women fawning over him. I could have given up my dreams for my life. Hell, I gave them up anyway. How stupid was it to pass him up—handsome, talented, and rich. I could have learned to play the dutiful wife.”

  “Carter, this doesn’t do you any good,” Frankie said. “Carter,” she said again. She could hear the subtle change in Carter’s breathing.

  “
Carter? Where is your inhaler?” Frankie asked, knowing that her friend was headed for an asthma attack. She heard Carter take a few puffs on her inhaler. She waited a few minutes. “Carter, stop crying,” Frankie put her feet on the floor and looked over at Sarah, her partner, who was beginning to stir.

  “Do you want me to come over?” Frankie asked.

  “No, I’m fine,” Carter said quietly. “I made a mistake, didn’t I, in letting him go? He loved me, didn’t he?”

  It was silent on the phone. “Yeah… he did,” Frankie said, and listened as Carter continued to cry.

  “Good night, Frankie. Thanks for listening,” she said, after a few minutes.

  “’Night. You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”

  “You mean something more stupid than letting Bentley get away? No, I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

  “You don’t have to go to the wedding, you know.”

  “Sure I do. He was a good friend. I do have to go,” she said.

  “Well, you won’t be alone. Gwen, Sandra and I will be there as well,” Frankie said.

  “Thanks,” Carter said, hanging up the phone.

  “Carter?” Sarah asked in the darkness.

  “Yes,” Frankie said.

  “Bentley again?” Sarah asked, quietly.

  “Yep,” she said as she laid back on her bed.

  Carter and Bentley had been together for a long time—maybe since middle school, but definitely through high school and college, and a little time after that. Frankie had thought they would have married, and was surprised when Carter broke it off with him. She said she wanted to do something other than follow Bentley around, something other than playing the role of girlfriend to the famous football player.

  Frankie sighed and closed her eyes. Tomorrow was going to be a big day. She would need her strength to see her friend through.

  #

  Saturday, 2:00 p.m.

  “If there is anyone who thinks these two souls should not be joined in lawful matrimony, let him speak now or forever hold his peace,” the minister said, his voice reverberating clear into the quiet air surrounding the wedding ceremony for two young members of his flock.

  Okay, it’s now or never, Carter thought, rising slowly to her feet.

  “I do,” she said, raising her hand tentatively in the air, like a student in school, unsure she had the correct answer. She took in a breath of air as all 350 members, family and friends, of the Greater Mount Olive Baptist Church of Light, Love, and Redemption’s eyes turned to her.

  Carter knew most of these alarm-filled faces. She had been baptized in front of them, guided them to their seats in her capacity as usher where she’d served faithfully late into her teens. These same folks now stared back at her in shock as if she’d rolled up in here with a glock in her hand. Silence consumed the church.

  Apprehension marked the minster’s face as he turned to the sound of her voice. Disbelief, shock, and varying degrees of oh-no-she-didn’t found residence on the faces of the bride and the twenty-plus members of the wedding party. A collective gasp escaped from the mouths of those assembled.

  “Excuse me, Carter,” the minister said, his face working at neutrality.

  Carter looked over at Bentley, the groom, for a sign that she should continue. His look of shock matched the bride’s. That hadn’t been her intention at all.

  “Carter,” the minister said again, bringing her eyes back to him. “Did you have something to say?” he asked.

  “Well… er… I… thought that perhaps,” she said, clearing her throat, twisting her hands together, before starting again. “I thought perhaps…” she broke off, looking down at her hands. She gathered her courage and started once more. “I thought that Bentley…” her voice trailed off as she pointed her arm in his direction, surprised at how heavy it felt.

  “I, er… thought that maybe Bentley might want a way out,” she said, her eyes once again on his, questioning.

  “Carter,” Bentley said, rubbing the back of his neck, a sure sign that he was aggravated. “Whatever gave you that idea?” he asked, speaking up loudly, holding her eyes to his, in that old way of his, all strength and determination.

  “Last night, I thought you said that you and I were good together.”

  “I did,” he said, rubbing his neck again. “I was speaking strictly in the past tense, Carter,” he sighed. “Did you not hear the rest of what I said?”

  He paused to give a quick glance to his fiancée. “No, you didn’t,” he answered for her, shaking his head, sad to be here, doing this to her.

  “Yes, I said that we were good together. I did in fact tell you that. But I also said that I’d been lucky enough to find that and more with my fiancée. I didn’t mean or want you to disrupt my wedding,” he said, now looking at his intended with love-filled eyes.

  Had he said that part, too? Carter couldn’t remember now. Her mind had become preoccupied with the past—about them being good together—and what she’d let go. She’d apparently grabbed on to only the words she wanted to hear, and quickly moved on to maybe she’d been given a second chance at this whole marriage business –the answer to her prayers. He would be hers… But nope, guess not.

  Of course there was love in his eyes for his bride. He was a good guy, and had been one when they had been together. Unfortunately, she hadn’t recognized how hard it would be to find another one like him.

  “I’m sorry that you misunderstood,” he said, turning back to face Carter, “and if I gave you any idea that I wanted to be with anyone other than LaShondra, then I apologize,” he continued, going for sincere, turning back to face his intended. You could hear the collective breaths of the congregation, as they sighed their approval.

  All heads turned to her now, and not a friendly face could be found in the crowd after Bentley’s declaration. All sat waiting for her response.

  “Huh,” she said, no idea where to go with this now. This was so not turning out the way she’d envisioned. “Well, then… er… sorry. I’m sorry,” she said, pointing to the minister now. “Continue on,” she said, before plopping down. Her butt hit the hard pew with a dull thud, only to pop back up a few seconds later.

  “You know what?” she said, looking around at the faces still trained on her. “I just remembered that I’ve got to be somewhere,” she said, a weak smile in place. “So sorry to interrupt.” With a shake of her head, she forced another smile and checked her wrist, pretending to be engrossed with the timepiece on her arm. “You won’t believe this, but I’m late. Yes, I’m late for that engagement, so I’d better get moving,” she said, looking around for her purse, which was now in the hands of her friend Sandra. As promised, Carter’s three besties attended the wedding to lend their moral support, but they’d had no idea of her plan.

  “Oh, hell no,” the bride said, coming out of her shock-induced trance. “I know you didn’t come up in here trying to break up my wedding,” she said, moving her arm like some gangsta in a movie, warming up for a fight. That wasn’t good. She was way larger and taller than Carter and apparently used to fighting for her man. The preacher cleared his throat again, shocked now for a different reason.

  “LaShondra, let’s remember whose house we are standing in,” he said, trying to get everyone back on track. Too late. Two of the bridesmaids were moving away from their places on the altar, one of them removing her earrings, and the largest one, the matron of honor, had stepped out her shoes, handing her bouquet of flowers off to one of the flower girls. How sad. Even the flower girls were giving Carter the evil eye.

  “I’m so sorry,” Sandra said, popping up out of her seat, standing up next to Carter. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, louder this time, waiting until she had everyone’s attention. “She’s been off her meds. What can you do? I’ve tried everything to get her to take her medication,” she continued, as she handed Carter her purse; actually, it was more like hitting her with it than handing it to her. She reached for Carter’s arm and turned h
er to face the aisle.

  She gave Carter a small push to get her moving, stepping around those seated next to her in their row. Sandra’s voice was the only sound in the quiet room.

  “You know it’s so hard to get a handle on mental illness,” Sandra said, as they inched past the first few people seated next to them—a young couple who’d politely turned their legs so she and Carter could pass, and a little old lady sitting next to them who apparently couldn’t hear.

  “Excuse me,” Carter said to the elderly woman, who was looking at her with confusion in her eyes. Sandra had to bend down to the woman’s ear. “Excuse me. May we pass?” she said, louder and directly into the old woman’s hearing aid. The little lady turned, and they scooted pass her little knobby knees. They were sharp, Carter thought, as they passed her.

  “We are still trying to figure out the correct dosage. You all know how that can be,” Sandra said with a laugh. “Excuse me,” she said again, this time to a very heavy-set man. He was wearing a nice tie, even though it was rather on the short side, lying on his overly large stomach. He stood to let them pass, but it was too much girth to get around. He sat back down and they climbed over his legs. Carter had to hold her dress down so her goodies wouldn’t show.

  “She’s been to so many psychiatrists already,” Sandra said, stopping now. They were two people away from reaching the end of their row. Sandra’s eyes found the bride.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt. And such a beautiful wedding, too,” she apologized, waving her hand to include all of the wedding party. “You look amazing, girl. You are rocking that wedding dress—got yourself a fine man—got the whole happily-ever-after thing working for you,” she added, waving to the bride like they were old pals.

  She added her best we-will-survive smile while pushing Carter past the last two people. “Excuse me,” she said to the woman, and then the young boy, who must have been her son, who thought it might be fun to poke his finger in Sandra’s butt. Sandra gave him a mother’s look reserved for small children that misbehaved. He ducked his head and pulled his legs up on the pews, wrapping his arms around his knees. He was old enough to know better.