Read Country Love (A Billionaire BWWM Romance) Online
Authors: Mia Caldwell
Country Love (A Billionaire BWWM Romance) (33 page)
Chapter Forty
Sanniyah
I hang
up the phone and wait to feel sad. But there is nothing left to feel. I have
cried too many tears.
I almost
loved him, but then I lost him and now I have to be with my mother.
"Sorry
about that, Mama," I say, taking her by the elbow. I hold her tightly all
the way down the steps of the house on the corner, and when we reach the
waiting cab, I can barely bring myself to let her go long enough to get into
the seat myself.
I
am
a planner. It's what I do. But Otis
already had everything planned: the funeral, the casket, the flowers, right
down to the music he wanted the choir to sing. Otis did all the planning to
make sure that my mother and I wouldn't need to lift a finger.
Except
he didn't leave me with anything I could do to feel better. The minutes are
ticking by as I ride with my mother to the church, empty and hollow like the
place where my heart used to be.
My
mother takes a deep breath as we pull up at a stoplight in sight of the church.
I reach over and grip her hand, covering it with mine. Our hands are so alike,
the same shade of caramel, the same long fingers. Her nails look bitten and
ragged, but then again, so do mine.
She
squeezes my hand as she looks up at me. Her wedding ring bites into my fingers
as she clutches me hard, but I don't mind. It gives me something to feel other
than loss.
"You
remember that night at St. Ambrose House, baby? That time I didn't come
home?"
I
startle slightly. "Of course, mama." My mother doesn't talk about our
time in the shelter, not ever.
This
the first time she has mentioned it to me in years. The cab rolls forward and
she turns to look out the window. I can barely hear her voice with her turned
away from me like this, and I have to strain to listen as the torrent of words
pours out of her.
"I
was working, where was that? The temp job way the hell out in the suburbs? I
had to take three different busses to get there."
"I
remember," I say softly. I would sit up, yawning, waiting for her to get
back before I could bring myself to sleep.
"The
second bus never came that night. I told you this. It just plain never showed
up. The other people, they were calling friends and relatives, but I didn't
have none of that, so I had to start walking. By the time I got home, I had
broken curfew by five hours and you were fast asleep."
"You
didn't have a late pass."
"No,"
she shakes her head as we pull up in front of the church, but she makes no move
to get out. Silently, I shake my head at the cabbie and nod at the meter. She
isn't ready to get out yet. Not yet. "I had to meet with the Night
Screening Staff at the temporary shelter."
"Otis,"
I smile.
"It
was the worst day and the best day of my life." Her smile is soft and
faraway. "The shame of it, having to explain why I was late to a man who I
had never met...a volunteer even, not even someone who was paid to deal with my
bullshit, but someone who had the time and money to think all of this was
fun
. I was pissed, honey, more pissed
than I had ever been in my life. They were going to kick me out of the shelter,
pack up all our belongings and just throw us out on the street and here I had
to talk to this old man who kept nodding his head at me like he
knew
my story. Like it was something he
could
understand
. I was all sweaty
and stinky and yelling about my girl being kicked out on the street, and here
this man, this volunteer, just listens to me. Before long, he had me telling
him things...." Her voice softens at the memory. "For the first time,
I get to have someone actually hear my story from start to finish." She
inhales haltingly. "And then he let me cry. And he put his hand on my
hand, like you're doing now, and I cried even harder. Then he stood up and let
me cry on his shoulder. He smelled like Jergens and Lemon Pledge, I'll never
forget it."
"He
is, was, the best," I say, tears gathering in my eyes.
She
shifts and turns to me, clasping both of my hands in hers. Her gaze is like
wildfire. "I'll never be ashamed for leaving your father the way we did.
Up and running in the night. We had to. One or both of us was going to
die." I swallow all the harder to hear her talk about the man, the first
man, who I had called Dad. He stalked my nightmares like a dark shadow and we
rarely talked about him for fear of bringing the nightmare to life. "We
didn't have anything but the clothes on our backs. I know that. It was tough
for you, and no, I never had a plan for us, what we were going to do once we
ran. I know you always hated that about me."
I start
to stammer but she shushes me with a look. "No, I didn't have a plan for
us, but life shows us what needs to happen. That night when I broke curfew, I
met my Otis, your real dad.
Doors
shut in life and then other ones open. And that door opened and gave me Otis,
the great love of my life. I would have missed him if things had gone like they
were supposed to that night."
"I
know, Mama." And I do. I really do. I take her hand in one of mine and
with the other I pay the cabbie handsomely. When she nods that she is ready, I
help her out of the back seat and hold her tightly as we walk into her
husband's funeral.
It is a
hot, muggy morning, the threat of thunderstorms hanging heavily in the air. I
feel like I can't draw a full breath. And the heat inside the church is even
worse. Everyone is already fanning themselves with the programs before the
service even begins. Tricia and Rita give me small, sad waves from the back of
the church as I pass and I feel my heart swell slightly to see their familiar
faces in the sea of unfamiliar ones.
Speaker
after speaker comes up to extol Otis's virtues. I hear stories I never heard
before, and very little of what I hear jibes with the memory of the
straight-backed old man who shadowed my mother like a guardian angel. The
strangeness is starting to get to me, the unreality of this all. I try to keep
my focus on the words being said but I keep feeling like I'm just going to
float away. The finality of their words, the quiet sobs behind me, the oppressive
heat of the church, it's all starting to make me feel faint.
When we
are finally given leave to rise, my knees wobble a little and I have to sit
back down heavily. No one notices. My mother is now in the arms of Mrs. Parker
and her birthmark, being clucked over by all the church ladies who had told her
to keep fighting, keep pushing Otis for more treatment, more intervention, more
fighting. They are mouthing platitudes about him getting rest with God now, and
suddenly I am just angry.
"Yahya,
honey, come with us, okay?" Tricia is over me in an instant. "You
need some space."
I am
shaking even harder. "I need to be with my Mom," I tell her through
tightly gritted teeth.
"Your
mother is fine, everyone is looking out for her. Let me look out for you."
I am
about to argue, and then I shake my head. "Tricia, I feel like I want to
lie down and sleep forever."
She
nods in mute sympathy. "You're shaking pretty hard. Come on honey. You've only
got to hold it together for about another hour, then I'll tuck you in and give
you something to knock you out."
I smile
weakly as I let her lead me to Rita's car. "What am I going to do when you
move?"
Rita
shoots a quick, anguished look at Tricia, who shakes her head quietly.
"We'll figure it out," she says, in a non-committal way. "You're
good at figuring things out."
"I
used to be," I mutter, allowing myself to be tucked into the passenger
seat. "I can't figure anything out, anymore. Nothing is going according to
plan...at all. My best friend is moving, my stepfather just died and Carter
chose the worst possible day to call me again."
Tricia
makes a noise of commiseration as Rita punches the cemetery address into her
GPS. "What did he say?"
I shake
my head. "That he's ready. And that wherever I am, he's coming to meet me,
right now."
The sky
is nearly black with boiling clouds tinged with green by the time we get to the
cemetery. I don't even have an umbrella with me, and my heels sink into the
muddy ground at the graveside. The wind whips around us, and I feel the shaking
that has been with me since the funeral turn into teeth-chattering shivers. I
clutch myself as they hastily lower the casket into the ground, trying to cover
the hole before the heavens open. As my stepfather is swallowed by the earth, I
shake so hard that I am afraid I am going to shatter into a million pieces.
Warm,
strong hands grip me from behind just as the first fat raindrops fall, mixing
with my tears. I look up to see Carter's face, his arms wrapped tightly around
me as the pastor closes and wipes his Bible.
Shock
robs me of my words. He is here, on the mainland, out in the open and clearly
unafraid. He is facing his worst fears to be with me today. "You're
here," I whisper.
"I'm
here," he says. It's all he needs to say. He grips me tighter and I am no
longer shaking so hard. Carter is holding me together.
Epilogue
"Careful
there."
Sanniyah
holds my hand tightly and together we pick our way over the rocks to where
Cammy and Greg are standing, ankle deep in the lapping waves. "This is our
spot," she whispers to me, gesturing to the log where we sat together the
first night we met. The night I hadn't kissed her. I have spent the last four months
making up for that mistake, kissing her as often as she will allow, and
sometimes even more than that.
The
woman in the flowing dress has water coming up to her knees now. The tide is
coming in and the sun is poised at the edge of the horizon. It's time. Greg's
mother is looking tired but happy, sitting erect in the wheelchair we fitted
with inflatable tires for the occasion. I sling my arm around Sanniyah and she
rests her head on my shoulder as the three of us watch my sister and Greg get
married.
The
ceremony is over in ten minutes and I am glad. Cammy is so overwhelmed that she
is stuttering, but Greg knows what to do. I don't have to worry about my baby
sister. She's in good hands.
"I'm
glad she at least wore the dress," Sanniyah sighs, nuzzling into me.
"I at least got to plan that for her."
"And
look how beautiful she looks," I nod, watching her lift the hem of the
dress a little higher to dodge the inrushing waves and she and Greg and her
brand new mother in law pick their way carefully back to the main house. I
don't have that much more time.
"Shouldn't
we be following them?" Sanniyah asks, stretching.
"Just
a sec." The sun dips lower down, just a sliver of orange visible above the
water. This island is paradise, but it no longer feels like the only place I
can be happy. I have this woman to thank for that.
As the
last droplet of sunlight slides away, the lights in the tree flicker on. I hear
Sanniyah's breath catch as she watches the twinkling bulbs come to life, one by
one until the whole cove is sparkling like its own private galaxy.
Her
eyes are wide as she looks around us. "Carter...what is...?" Then she
finally notices that I am on one knee.
"Sanniyah
Jones," I hold up the ring her mother helped me choose. "You've made
me whole. Loving you is the easiest, most natural thing I've ever done and I
intend to do it for the rest of my life if you'll let me. Will you marry
me?"
I could
live for the next thousand years on the strength of that delighted smile. "Of
course. Oh my god Carter, you planned this!"
I grin
as I slip the ring onto her finger. "I did, aren't you proud of me?"
"I
thought you didn't plan," she chastises me as she cups my face, kissing
me, hard. "But here you waited until the right moment, strung all these
beautiful...fairy lights in the trees."
She
narrows her eyes and I am laughing in spite of myself. "I know, how'd I do
in your...professional opinion?"
She
brushes my cheek with the hand that's wearing my ring. "I still say
they're cliché..." she answers cheekily, her hands fiddling around my
zipper. "But I'll forgive you if you kiss me right now."
THE END