by J. J. McAvoy
“Yep,” he said, taking our stuff toward the house.
When I stepped inside, they popped streamers at me. “Welcome home, Gwen!”
Pulling streamers off my head, I laughed. Maybe this would be all right…
Chapter Twenty-One
The Inquisition of Eli Davenport
Eli
It was cute how worried and nervous she was for me, but there was nothing she could do or say to her father that would make him ease up, nor did I want her to. What her father wanted was for me to prove to him that I was worthy of his daughter. In most cases, for fathers, that’s impossible. I would never be worthy, I would just become tolerable. That was fine; tolerable was good. It was just I had no road map to get there, and what made it worse was the last person who had tried was an absolute buffoon of a man. Masoa Poe now had as much faith in me as he did in a snowman lasting in the desert.
“I made all your favorites, Gwen.” Her mother led her to the table where she had laid out a whole spread, from baked chicken and salmon to gravy, bread, rice, and pies.
Guinevere looked down the length of the wooden table, and then back to her father. “Thank you, but please tell me you haven’t been eating like this. Dad, you had a heart attack. Shouldn’t you be eating fruits, vegetables, and nuts?”
She had a point.
“Do I look like a deer to you?”
She frowned.
He shook his head. “Your mother’s been keeping me on the health food, okay, sweetheart? This is just to welcome you home. Maybe if you remembered how good home-cooked meals are, you would come home more often.”
“Eli’s a great cook,” she said proudly, taking her seat.
I noticed the boys all quickly sat around her, forcing me to sit across from her and right next to her father at the head of the table. Her mother sat at the other end.
“You cook?” her mother asked me, placing the dishes around.
“Ma’am, my mother wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She nodded proudly. “Now, if someone else would listen to their mother.”
“Who will say grace?” Guinevere changed the subject, quickly raising her hands.
I looked at her and she nodded.
“You don’t say grace?” Roy questioned.
“I do.” Not.
“I’ll say it, then.” Guinevere clapped her hands together. “Bless this food, and the people who prepared it. Many thanks for the meal and the company, may it fill our stomachs and electrify our souls.”
“Not bad.” Roy nodded toward her. “I like the ‘electrify our souls’ bit.”
“City Slicker, what does your mother do?” Jeremy asked, grabbing a piece of chicken.
“She’s the acting chairwoman of the hospital I work for.”
“So, you are both doctors? What type? You look like a dentist,” Malik questioned next.
I shook my head at Guinevere, telling her not to jump in. I could see what they were doing: asking all Masoa’s questions so he didn’t have to.
“Dentists are important to a person's health. I, however, am a neurosurgeon, while my mother’s specialty was pediatric surgery.” I took a bite of the salmon. “This is incredible, Ma’am.”
Guinevere grinned. “What did I say? Home of the—”
“The best wild salmon in the country!” I replied, shaking my head as I fought the smile spreading on my lips.
“And you thought I was joking.” She nodded proudly while stuffing her face and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud; she was cute. She glanced up at me and I kept staring at her.
I was about to say something when her father coughed beside me, reminding us we weren’t alone.
“Thank you, Eli. I’m glad you enjoy it,” her mother cut in.
Jeremy’s eyes narrowed in on me as I ate. “Neurosurgeon, huh? Fancy, but does it count if your mom runs the hospital?”
“I graduated top of my class at Yale Medical. I was offered the choice to stay there, but I wanted to be closer to my family. So of course I went to work for my mother’s hospital.”
I knew it was coming. I felt it.
Don’t ask. Don’t.
“And your father?” Roy pressed.
Called it.
Guinevere put her fork down. “Guys, we just got back. Can you save the questions for another time—”
“It’s fine. My father was also a neurosurgeon. He died of a heart attack when I was eleven. I was there with my mother and younger brother when it happened.” I looked to her father, who had yet to say anything, but whom I could feel watching me. “So, sir, I truly hope you are taking much better care of yourself. The last thing I want is for Guinevere to feel like she was cheated out of time with her father.”
Just like I knew it would, the dinner table became silent; it was why I hadn’t wanted them to ask—I knew it would just make them feel awkward.
“Okay.” Jeremy cracked his neck side to side. “Lightning round. You ready?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“How old are you?” Malik asked, not answering me.
“31.”
“Born on?”
“June 23rd.”
“Where do you live?”
“Right next door to Guinevere.”
They all looked to Masoa, then Guinevere, and back to me.
“He lived there first, and I moved in next door,” Guinevere replied. “No, I didn’t know.”
Roy picked the questions. “Where did you grow up?”
“Townhouse on East 63rd Street in New York.”
“This your first time ever leaving the city?”
“No. I’ve traveled, but mostly to other cities.”
“Do you have any kids?”
“No.”
“Do you want kids?”
“Eventually.”
This time, they looked to Guinevere, who quietly finished off her salmon. Finally, she gave up and glared at them before turning to me. “I’m not a kids person,” she replied.
I found that hard to believe. “You love kids. You spent most of your time visiting them in the hospital.”
“Oh, I love them, but in expected, limited doses. Plus, I can always just give them back to their parents,” she replied.
“She wants her mother to die of a broken heart is what she is really saying,” her mother replied, frowning at her.
Guinevere sighed. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve gone from a hard no to a maybe.”
The boys looked at me.
“Are you out of questions?” I asked.
“What’s your favorite movie?” Malik asked as seriously as he could.
“Guys, really?” Guinevere frowned.
“I have to agree, that was a weak one.” Her mother laughed.
“Ocean's Eleven.”
“Me too.” Guinevere smiled.
“Wait!” Roy raised his hand. “Which version, 1960 or 2001?”
“2001.” I hadn’t even known there was an earlier one.
All of them—including Guinevere—groaned.
Her mom shook her head.
“He can’t be perfect.” Guinevere tried to defend me, but ended up frowning. “Really? Clooney over Sinatra?”
“I really didn’t know there was an earlier one,” I said to her, causing a few sighs.
Malik grinned. “No one thinks it’s a weak question now, huh?”
“Did you know Eli owns a Black 1965 Aston Martin DB5 Vantage Convertible?” Guinevere asked, trying to save me.
All the guys looked to her.
“No way.”
“I took a picture.” She sang happily and tried to get her cell phone.
“No phones at the dinner table,” her mother said.
“It’s a 1965 Aston Martin,” Malik said to the older woman.
“Mrs. Poe, it’s James Bond’s car,” Jeremy added.
“No phones at my dinner table,” she repeated sternly.
“Yes, Ma’am,” they both said.
I chuckeled
.
For the most part, Guinevere kept them entertained with her stories from the city, everything from randomly dancing on subway platforms to local musicians, the mural she had painted, and even her failed attempt to run. I noticed she spoke with her hands when she told her stories, as if she was trying to paint a picture in the air. Every once in a while, she would shift her hair to the side, shoot me a small smile, and then focus back on the men around her. When she stood up to clear the plates with her mother, so did I, taking them from her.
“It’s fine, I got it. Finish your story,” I said, following her mother.
“I’ll admit it, City Slicker is pretty smooth.” Malik whistled.
“Keep talking, Malik. I will get you back, I promise,” Guinevere threatened him.
“I’m an officer of the law now, Gwen. I’m not scared of you—”
“Is filling your truck with spiders against the law?”
I looked back as as I put the plates in the sink; she and the rest of them just laughed at his horrified facial expression.
“Aren’t we a little old for pranks like that?”
“Said the man who’s ‘not scared,’” Roy muttered, drinking his water.
“Like giant children, aren’t they?” her mother whispered, shaking her head.
“Don’t we all kind of revert to giant children when we’re around our siblings? As mature as I hope I am, I still enjoy messing with and teasing my little brother,” I said as I rinsed the dishes.
“So they don’t make you nervous?” Her eyebrow rose.
“Not at all.” They were at least talking. My eyes shifted to her father sitting at the head of the table, listening to his daughter.
“I got it, thank you, Eli. You can head back to the table.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Besides, once you sit, Guinevere will come over and the boys will go for some fresh air on the lake. Good luck.” She winked at me.
I wanted to know if she was in my corner or not, but figured I’d just have to wait and see. Sure enough, when I headed back, Guinevere got up to help her mother.
“It’s too warm in here,” Jeremy said, right on cue.
“Should we go outside for some fresh air?” I asked him.
All three of them looked me up and down before their gaze moved to Masoa, who stood, turning to his wife. “Sweetheart, we are heading out.”
“Really? All right, we will join you all soon,” she said as if she was surprised.
Yep, the one I have to really watch out for is her mother. “I’ll be fine, ma’am.”
Guinevere's eyes shifted to me.
I tried my best to silently let her know not to worry. Grabbing my coat, I followed them out.
Guinevere
“Mom,” I said pointedly as I dried the dishes. I knew her; she had something to say. “Just let me have it.”
“First, I want to know: is he a fling, or he does he mean more to you?”
“Do you bring flings home to meet your parents?” I asked softly, putting the plate up in the cabinet.
“If he were a fling, I would say have fun. Let your—”
“Mom, if you say inner goddess...”
She smirked. “Sweetheart, no one has an inner goodness, we aren’t shooting a Pantene commercial. We all just have sexier versions of ourselves. Besides, life is too short not to have fun, Guinevere.”
We are not having that talk. “And if he isn’t a fling?”
“And if he isn’t a fling, I have nothing to say to you, because you will do what you want. It’s who you are. I don’t know anything about him yet. I just know that when it comes to men, your track record isn’t great.”
“I’ve only dated Sebastian—”
“And how many times have you wanted men you can’t have? You used to have a crush on Jeremy, right? But he only had eyes for Stevie. So you just stood there waiting, and he never saw you that way.”
“That was different, it was just a little high school crush.” It had honestly meant nothing; I never even said anything to anyone.
“Wasn’t Eli supposed to marry someone else? He isn’t just with you to get over her, is he?”
I frowned, wiping down a cup. “You make it seem like I wasn’t also in a relationship.”
“True.” She nodded, shaking her hands.
I handed her the towel.
“But when your relationship ended, how did you feel?”
“I was upset, of course, and angry and embarrassed.”
“And you felt free,” she finished.
I stopped, because I had felt that way. For the briefest second right after it happened, I had felt like I could breathe.
“When you truly love someone, when you have found your match and they walk away from you, or you are forced to walk away from them, freedom is nowhere on the list of things you feel, because that feeling comes from being with them, Guinevere.”
“So you’re saying I didn’t truly love Sebastian, fine—”
“I’m saying whether you know it or not, you are falling in love with that man. But is he capable of falling in love with you now, or are you just an escape for him?”
When she said it, I hated how the first thing I thought about was all the times he'd told me he didn’t like to have to think about anything around me, how he liked to lose track of time with me. I felt like someone was sitting on my chest.
“What is that proverb you always say?”
“Le ntombazane izinkanyezi emehlweni akhe bayokhanya njengokukhanya ebusuku,” she replied in Zulu.
I nodded. “The girl with stars in her eyes will shine like the moonlight… Let me shine, Mom.”
She sighed but nodded. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but just remember to protect your heart, Guinevere, or it really will break this time.”
Eli
Taigi barked, hopping around Masoa’s leg. He even howled up at the night sky.
I couldn’t blame him, actually. I had never seen this many stars in one place in all of my life. It was like someone had spilled a million tiny diamonds onto a dark sheet. A thin crescent moon sat just to the left of it all.
“So, City Slicker.” Malik came over, placing his arm around my neck. “Cypress so far?”
“It’s just as beautiful as Guinevere described,” I replied as we stopped at the lake, the sky reflected in it.
Taigi ran up to me with a stick between his jaws. It reminded me of the ones he often grabbed when we went running, and I threw it for him. He fetched and dropped it at my feet.
Kneeling next to him, I scratched his neck. “So, we are still on for a run tomorrow, then?”
“Aye, Taigi! You’re on the wrong side.” Jeremy clapped for him to come over to him.
But Taigi lay down, rolling over for me to scratch his stomach.
“He’s been in the city for too long, it’s messed with his head,” Masoa replied. With one whistle, Taigi was back on his feet and running to his side. “I’ll see you boys later. I’ll let Gwen know you left.”
“See you later, Masoa.” They headed off on their own and nodded back toward me with smirks on their faces.
Roy shook his head and added, “Good luck.”
The silence was potent as they disappeared, leaving us both at the edge of the water.
“How long have you been seeing my daughter?” he asked, crouched down, flicking a rock into the water. His eyes were so clear the water seemed to reflect in them, and in turn, the sky as well.
“Not very long. We were sort of friends for a time before that.”
“Sort of friends. And that means?”
“We fought and teased each other constantly, though I believe I started it by calling her a con artist.”
He stood. “You called my daughter a con artist?”
“Yes, I did, right after I found out how much money my mother bought her painting for. I believe she called me Dr. Asshole in return. Sometimes, I swear she’s still thinking it in her mind.” I smirked.
; “Aren’t you supposed to be making me like you with your gentleman routine and whatnot?”
“Oh I am, just discreetly. Besides, it’s only the first day, you still have to get a few rounds in, sir. Then, and only then, when you’re ready to like me, you will.” I put my hands into my pockets, staring upward again. I felt like I could look up at the stars forever.
“That story about your father, was it real?”
That was the only thing that angered me, and I turned to him seriously. “If you remember anything about me, sir, please remember this: never will I ever lie on my father’s name, nor use my family for my own advantage. There are some lines you just don’t cross. Family is mine.”
“Is everything okay?” Guinevere came out holding a tray of iced tea.
“Everything is fine,” Masoa said.
I nodded, thanking her for the glass.
“Well, Dad, it’s been a long day. I’ll show Eli his room.”
“The one in the basement.” His eyes narrowed.
“Of course,” she replied, all but pulling my arm as her mother came outside.
“Goodnight,” I said to her mother as Guinevere led me back into the house.
“Congrats, you made it through round one.”
She led me down the hall. I noticed the floors creaked loudly when we walked. “So this is why he wanted me in the basement?” I wondered if he had somehow made the floorboards creak like that just for this reason.
She flicked on the lights, exposing one wall covered in books adjacent to a giant mirror hanging above a dresser, all over a carpeted white floor. My bag was already beside it, by the door to what I guessed was the bathroom. “Are all of those yours—”