by Amy Brent
“We’ll get through this together, okay?”
She nodded. “Together is the only way we’ll be able to do it. I’d like that.”
It wasn’t an admission of her returned love, but it didn’t have to be. She wanted me with her, to work through this together, and that was all that mattered. We could work out the rest at a later stage when everything that had happened had been laid to rest and we could find it in us to move forward.
I was still holding her hand. She turned on her side, wincing, and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and I let her slip back into sleep. Even when she drifted off her fingers still squeezed mine. She didn’t let go, and I didn’t move. I would sit here so she could hold onto my hand for as long as she needed me. I would only let go when she did.
Camille
18 months later
Getting over the death of an unborn child is just as hard as getting over the death of anyone who’d been something in your life. I’d thought it would be easier to move on. It wasn’t. I thought it wouldn’t mean so much to me because she hadn’t been mine, but I’d been wrong about that.
Mark and I had sat down and we’d named her Breanna. They’d brought her to me in a shoebox, so tiny and frail. She would have been a beautiful child. She’d never belonged to Mark and Marina. She’d belonged to me, and it had been hard letting go.
Mark had arranged a ceremony for her. Sharon, my mother, Mark and me were the only people that had attended. I wouldn’t have been able to cope if there had been more. My mother had understood what it meant to me. She’d been there for me in a way Mark would never have been able to understand.
The college had understood what had gone wrong – maybe they’d felt guilty that this had happened on their campus – and I’d been granted an extension. It was a semester later than all my peers, but I was finally graduating.
I was in a room at Mark’s new house where I was getting ready for the ceremony. He’d sold the house he and Marina had shared and he’d bought this one. It was just as luxurious but it was smaller, cozier. More like Mark.
My mother helped me with my hair, pinning it to the side. I wore the black toga and she was emotional. Everything about the gambling had come out and she was even more proud of me that I’d done something about it rather than run back home.
It didn’t make sense to me. In my eyes, I’d just messed up.
“Mark is going to be here, soon,” she said. I lived here with him. Mama had flown up for the ceremony. She didn’t like the fact that Mark was so much older than me, but she understood that we had been to hell and back together and even she couldn’t deny that something like that forged bonds no one could break.
“Thank you for being here,” I said and hugged her.
Mark honked his horn outside the house and we walked out. He came early from the office especially. He got out and opened the car doors for the both of us.
“You look great,” he said before I got in, kissing me on the mouth. “I’m so proud of you.”
I smiled and got in the car. We’d been able to move on and I was happy. I was happy with him. I was happy with my life.
The ceremony was long and boring, with speeches about greatness and tenacity and all that. Our class valedictorian made a speech about moving onward and upward and in it, she mentioned me and how I’d risen despite the odds. It was strange with all the attention on me but I smiled and nodded and hoped they would look away soon.
When I received my award mama and Mark went crazy. Sharon was there, too, joining in on the fun.
Afterward, we went to a restaurant, the four of us. It was a posh place, the kind that we’d been going to more often since Mark and I had started dating officially. The staff all knew Mark. I was the young new girlfriend that they’d started getting to know, too, and I got nods and smiles from all around the room. They led us to a private table in the back where the other diners were far enough removed that I didn’t feel like a celebrity. The word of Marina and what she’d done, and what had happened to me, had come out and a lot of people knew me.
Marina had been sentenced to thirteen years in prison. I hadn’t followed the case. Mark had gone and come back with a sense of closure.
“I want to make a toast,” Mark said after he ordered champagne. He looked at me.
“To Camille, who had gone against all odds and come out ahead anyway.”
Sharon and my mom lifted their glasses and we all drank champagne. The evening was beautiful. Before dessert, mama and Sharon got up.
“You’re leaving already?”
Mama nodded. “I’m tired.”
“And I have a work in the morning.”
I got up and hugged them both. “Thank you so much. For everything.” I didn’t know where I would have been without them. Mama walked away but Sharon lingered, putting her hands on my face and smiling at me. It was strangely emotional. When she left I frowned at Mark. He shrugged.
We sat down.
“Can I order for us?” he asked. I nodded.
Mark flagged a waiter and picked up the dessert menu, pointing and discussing. The waiter nodded. “For the lady, I’d like your Special,” he said. The waiter smiled.
“Of course.”
He disappeared. Mark poured me more champagne and I laughed.
“At this rate, you’ll get me drunk.”
“This is just to celebrate.”
“Another glass?”
He shrugged. The plates with dessert came. They placed a masterpiece in front of Mark with a chocolate sculpture that looked like it had taken days. I got something similar, except it was with sugar. Underneath the webbed dome of crystallized sugar, instead of cake, sat a black velvet box. I frowned and looked at Mark.
“What’s this?”
He shrugged. I lifted the sugary dome and pulled out the box, opening it. In it was a ring with a diamond the size of a pea. My mouth dropped open and I looked at Mark. He’d gone down on one knee next to me.
“Will you marry me?”
Oh, God. I was at a loss for words. This was crazy. This was… a dream come true. I smiled, tears stinging the back of my eyes. I nodded.
Mark took the ring and slid it onto my finger. He got up and kissed me. The waiter removed my plate and replaced it with a dessert similar to Mark’s. I laughed, overwhelmed, and we dug in.
Life is never predictable, and often our choices lead us in a different direction that we ever could have imagined. If I hadn’t lost all my fortunes in a stupid Blackjack game I would never have met the love of my life. We’d been through so much together, the bond between us was stronger than any relationship either of us had ever had.
There were still times when I thought of Breanna and then I ached for her, craving the feel of her inside of me again. She would always be my first child, but when Mark and I married I wanted to try again. I wanted children of my own, children I could tell about the little girl that should have been.
But I only wanted to do it when Mark was ready to be a father. I wanted us to be happy together. There was still a lot of time. After all, I’d only just graduated.
We had the rest of our lives together, and I looked forward to it.
FORBIDDEN LOVE
Chanise was on her way down to the office when she got a phone call from her daughter's daycare.
“Ms. Johnson?” the school secretary asked. “This is Amanda Palmer, from Bright Eyes Daycare.”
“Yes? Is something wrong?” Chanise was in her car, with the phone on speaker. She started pulling over to the side of the road right away, worried that something had happened to her daughter.
“Well, it's nothing too bad,” Amanda said. “But Deena has had a little accident.”
“Accident?” Chanise's hands gripped tighter on the steering wheel. “Is she okay?”
“Yes. Sorry, not an injury, Ms. Johnson. I mean she made a little mess. She's fine, but I'm afraid she needs a change of clothes.”
“Oh.” Chanise let out a long breath
of relief. “Okay. I can come by and pick her up. Sorry about that.”
“It's no problem. She's just a bit upset about her dress, that’s all. She said it's new.”
“Yes,” Chanise said. “She just got it for her birthday. All right, I can be there in about ten minutes.”
“Okay, that'll be fine.”
Chanise turned the car around and headed for the daycare. She would be late for work, but that wouldn't really be a problem. One of the few advantages of working for her dad was that he gave her a bit of leeway when it came to this sort of thing. She called him to let him know that she would be a little bit late. He told her not to worry about it. Apparently, there was only one patient scheduled for today anyway.
When Chanise arrived at the daycare, Deena was sitting off to the side of the room by herself. The teacher greeted Chanise as soon as she came in. “Hi. Sorry, we had to call you in the middle of the day. Deena's been in a bit of a mood because of her dress.”
“It's okay,” Chanise said. “I don't really have time to run home and get her a change of clothes, so I'll just bring her to work with me.”
“If that's what you want to do,” Amanda said.
Chanise went over to the table Deena was playing at. “Hey, baby girl. Momma's here.”
“Momma!” Deena jumped out of her chair and wrapped her arms around Chanise's legs, hugging her tight. “I made a mess and my dress is ruined! Look!”
She stepped back and held her skirt up, showing off the stain. Chocolate milk was spilled all over the front of the dress. It looked like an effort had been made to clean it up, but the stain was still visible.
Chanise took her daughter's hand and led her to the door. “We'll get it cleaned up. I promise. But for now you're gonna have to come with me to Grandpa's office.”
“Can Grandpa clean my dress?” Deena asked.
“No. Don't worry about that, baby girl. I'm going to get it fixed up when we get home.”
“But...”
Chanise knelt in front of her daughter to look her in the eye. “Now, baby, you just have to be patient, okay? I promise. It’ll be okay.”
“Humph.” Deena stomped a foot on the ground, frowning in her best grumpy face.
Chanise sighed and stood up, tousling her daughter's braids. “Let's go, sweetheart.”
She got Deena into her car seat and they headed for Grandpa's office. When they got there, there was a single patient waiting in the waiting room. He was a big, muscular man who was nearly as tall sitting down as Chanise was standing up. He smirked at Chanise as soon as she walked in, his eyes roaming over her curvy figure. “Well, hello there,” he said. “I was getting mad about being kept waiting, but I'm starting to think it was worth the wait.”
Chanise snorted and rolled her eyes. She didn't have time for her father's patients to be flirting with her, especially not some jock white boy who looked way too full of himself. “I'm sorry about the delay,” she said, keeping her most professional tone. “If' you'll just give me a moment, I'll get your paperwork.”
“Take your time,” the man said.
His eyes followed Chanise as she led her daughter through the door that led to her desk, separated from the waiting room by an opaque glass wall. She kept the window closed for a few minutes while she got Deena changed out of her dress. She didn't have any clothes in Deena's size stored at the office, so she zipped her up in a spare hoodie that was so big in such a way that the bottom sagged on the ground. She had to roll the sleeves up several times to keep them from dangling off the ends of Deena's arms, and Deena had to pull the bottom of the sweatshirt up in order to walk.
“Okay, baby girl,” Chanise said, “you go color or read one of your storybooks, okay? Momma has to work for a while.”
“But I wanna play outside,” Deena protested.
“Later, baby, okay?” Chanise smiled at her daughter and kissed her forehead. “I promise I'll take you outside in a little bit.”
Once Deena was occupied with her coloring books, Chanise opened the window between her desk and the waiting room. The patient walked over and leaned his elbows on the windowsill, looking down at her and smiling. “So, are you my shrink?” he asked.
“No, you'll be speaking with Dr. Johnson.” She decided not to mention that the counselor was her father. There usually wasn't any reason to let patients know that she was related to him. It tended to lead to people making assumptions that she had only gotten the job because he was her father. When the truth was that she had turned down a higher paying job in order to work at her father's practice. She felt like this was the best place for her, and she was proud to help her father keep his business running. Especially since without her help, he would never be able to keep the books in order.
“Your name, please?” She asked the man, slipping into her professional tone of voice. Since there was only one patient scheduled today, it was a moot question, but she had to make sure that the man wasn't in the wrong office. There were several other practitioners in the same building, and mix-ups did happen from time to time.
“Jake Stone,” he said. “What, you don't recognize me?”
She glanced up at him. His face wasn't familiar. Ruggedly handsome, but not familiar. “Sorry, should I?”
He looked a bit disappointed. “I won the Superbowl a couple of years ago. Come on. Don't you watch the news?”
“Not the sports news,” Chanise said. “Sorry. Here, I'll need you to fill this out.” She handed him a clipboard with the standard questions for a new patient.
He took the clipboard, frowning at it. “Is this really necessary? I'm only here because my coach said it’s mandatory. I figured I would go in, talk to the shrink for a few minutes, and then you can sign off on it to show I did what I was told. No big deal, right?”
“I'm sorry,” Chanise said, handing Jake a pen. “We have the same procedures for all patients. It'll only take a few minutes.”
He let out a long sigh. “All right. If I have to jump through hoops, I will.”
He took the pen, and his fingers brushed against her caramel skin just for a moment. A deliberate moment, she thought, based on the way he winked at her.
She pulled her hand away and slammed the window shut, blocking him out. Then, while he was filling out the required forms, she checked the computer for information about the patient. It turned out he had been sent here for therapy because of issues he had been having with other players on his team, resulting in some kind of fighting in the locker room. According to the information the coach had emailed them when booking the appointment, Jake had to undergo mandatory counseling for anger management before he would be allowed to return to the field.
Chanise snorted and shook her head. Not only was he a jock, but he was a jock with a bad temper. She knew she would have to keep this one under a tight leash.
A few minutes passed before Jake knocked on the window. Chanise opened it and took the clipboard when he handed it to her. “Thank you,” she said. “It'll just be a few minutes.”
She started to close the window, but he leaned into it again, blocking her from shutting it. “Mind if I wait here?” He asked. “It's not every day I get the chance to chat with a fine piece of caramel delight like you.”
Chanise narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”
“What?” Jake spread his hands, grinning at her. “It's a compliment. I like a girl with a bit of booty on her, too.” He leaned through the window a bit, trying to look at her ass.
“Okay, you listen to me,” Chanise said, standing up from her chair. “I am not your 'caramel delight,' and I don't need some pasty-faced jock coming in here, trying to get his freak on with me. Now, if you'll excuse me.”
She shoved him back and slammed the window shut before he could say another word. He protested from the other side of the window, offering her an apology, but she ignored him. And she made sure to excuse herself into the back to take care of some paperwork when her father came out to br
ing Jake back into the counseling room. She didn't care to look at that fool man's face ever again.
* * *
Chanise saw Jake again a week later when he came in for his next appointment. It was a busier day that day, and there were several other patients in the waiting room. One man was busy filling out updates to his insurance information, and a young mother was sitting and reading a magazine while she waited for her teenage daughter to finish her counseling session.
Jake walked up to the window, flashing Chanise a smile. She looked up at him and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Fortunately, for her, he seemed to be in a more subdued mood this time.
“Hi there,” he said. “Got any more forms for me to fill out?”
“Not this time,” she said. “We have all the information we need from you. I'll just need you to sign in.” She handed him the clipboard with the sign in sheet.
He signed his name and entered the time of his arrival. When he handed the clipboard back to her, he said, “Listen, I wanted to apologize to you for last week. I guess we got our signals crossed or something.”
“Is that what you think happened?” Chanise asked, folding her arms. “Because to me, it seemed like you were trying to put the moves on me while I was at work.”
He blushed slightly and lowered his eyes. “Yeah, well, I'm sorry about that. I'll be on my best behavior today. Promise.”
She watched him doubtfully, but she decided to give him a chance. “All right. Take a seat. Dr. Johnson is with another patient. It'll be a short wait.”
“No problem.” He turned away, then paused and looked back at her. “By the way, I don't think I ever got your name.”
“Chanise,” she said.
“Chanise. That's pretty.” He flashed her a smile, then went to sit down. Chanise watched him through the window as he started chatting up the young mother. Within a couple of minutes, he had her laughing and smiling.
Chanise shook her head and turned back to her work. It seemed like some women were easier than others were.