When I'm With You
“I’ll try,” she conceded. “Anyway, stop by when you get off.”
“His place is out in Arlington, right?”
“On second thought, I need to get out of the house. Why don’t we meet for dinner? I can drive in.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Seven?”
“Works for me.”
“Let’s meet up at Baldwin’s. We haven’t been there in a minute.” Baldwin’s, named in honor of literary icon James Baldwin, was renowned for its excellent cuisine, but especially for the literati who frequented the establishment, often reading from their new works, performing spoken word or just chilling. The vibe was stimulating while simultaneously relaxing.
“Perfect. See you there.”
“Bye.” Avery disconnected the call and set the phone down on the table. She glanced around. What was she going to do with herself for the rest of the day? Maybe she’d go for a run, burn off some of her pent-up energy, clear her head.
She pushed up from the couch and went into the bedroom to change clothes.
“Alice,” she called out from the front door. “I’m going for a short run. Be back soon.”
“Sure.” She peeked her head out from the kitchen. “Should I fix lunch?”
Avery opened the front door. “Only if you promise to eat with me.”
Alice smiled. “Okay.”
“Great. Be back soon—in about an hour or so.”
Avery stepped out into the bright afternoon. A light breeze blew, perfect for running. She did a few light stretches, started off and never noticed the car parked across the street.
* * *
Baldwin’s, as always for a Saturday night, sizzled with energy. Music from the house’s jazz band played their rendition of “’Round Midnight,” beckoning every customer who walked through the door to bob his or her head to the rhythm.
Avery could see from peeking around the tinted windows that separated the seated guests from the hostess station, that there were barely any empty tables. There were two sets of customers ahead of her and Kerry waiting to be seated: a couple and a party of four. Hopefully the wait wouldn’t be too long.
Baldwin’s, beyond the cultural significance of honoring the author, activist and icon James Baldwin, held a special place in her heart. On one of several visits when Rafe visited her in DC, Baldwin’s was one of the venues where she heard him play. Was it that night that she fell irrevocably in love with him when he played Coltrane’s “Love Supreme” to a standing ovation?
Kerry nudged her.
Avery blinked. “What?”
“What are you grinning about?”
“Oh,” she laughed lightly, amused that she was caught in her daydream. “Just thinking about one of the nights I was here with Rafe.”
“Table for two?” the hostess asked.
“Yes. Thank you,” Kerry answered.
She took two menus from the holder on the podium and handed them off to a waitress. “Mia will show you to your seats.”
Avery and Kerry walked several steps behind Mia as they wound their way around the dark circular tables, which were topped with white linen and illuminated by votive-candle centerpieces. The space, which was reputed to be one of the Underground Railroad passages, was rife with alcoves, thick cedar-wood rafters, plank floors and carvings in the wood walls, which urban legend claimed are the names and dates of slaves who had escaped—a testament to their passage. Each area of the two-story restaurant was designated as music, art, science, law, literature and named after a noted black figure, like Sojourner Truth, Nat Turner, Thurgood Marshall, Toni Morrison, Dr. King, Malcolm, Ida B. Wells, Gil Scott Heron, Sonia Sanchez, of course Baldwin and many others. Periodically, the management would switch out a namesake and replace it with another noted figure. On the tabletops, along with the candles, were tent cards with writings from the icons. Coming to Baldwin’s was always an experience, as well as a mini lesson on the wealth of black history.
Tonight, Avery and Kerry were seated in the Thurgood Marshall section, which was off to the right of the stage, but still with great views of the comings and goings of the space.
Avery and Kerry settled in their seats and Mia took their drink orders, promising to be back shortly.
“I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” Avery admitted. She flipped open the menu. “Yes, crab cakes!”
Kerry chuckled but then suddenly stopped.
Avery glanced up from the menu and landed on Mike, who was walking toward their table. She laid the menu flat.
“Avery...my God.” His dark brown eyes widened in genuine surprise, followed by a smile that was actually warm. He took it upon himself, pulled out the extra chair and sat. He leaned in toward Avery. “How are you?” he asked, his voice low and insistent.
Tonight, Avery desperately wanted to get away from everything that reminded her of Paris and what happened. Mike was a big reminder. They were both on duty the day of the explosion. When she came to, debris and bodies were everywhere. Mike was hurt during the blast. Her training kicked in and she began aiding the injured, one of them being Rafe’s father, another was Mike, among the dozen or so others. She and Mike had their standoffs during their time at the Secret Service, both personal and professional, and were both up for the same promotion. Ironic that Mike should be right as rain and she was...
“Good to see you, too, Mike,” Avery finally said.
“Word on the street is that you’ll be back this week. True?”
“True.”
He nodded. “It’ll be good to have you back, Avery. Really.”
“Thanks, Mike.”
“Well, good to see you. You, too, Kerry.”
Kerry umm-hmmed in her throat.
“Enjoy your evening.” He got up and walked away.
Kerry reached across the table and covered Avery’s fisted hand with her own. “You okay?”
Avery nodded. “Fine.” She pushed out a breath. “Going to have to get back to dealing with Mike sooner or later.”
“I still can’t believe that with all you went through, the heroics not to mention the injuries that you sustained, that Mike is even in the running for the promotion.” Kerry shook her head in disbelief.
“You know as well as I do that this is an old-boys’ club. The fact that women are part of the club at all, and rising up the ranks, still ticks off a lot of the establishment. If they can find anything to disqualify me, they will.”
Mia returned with their drinks and took their dinner order.
Kerry raised her glass. “To kicking butt and taking names.”
Avery tapped her glass against Kerry’s. “All day.” She took a long sip of her frozen strawberry margarita. She would not let anything or anyone stand in the way of getting what she rightly deserved, even if that meant lying to the doctors. No way would she stand down and let Mike walk in the shoes that should be hers. She picked up the tent card and read the inscription. It was a quote from Thurgood Marshall. “A man can make what he wants of himself if he truly believes that he must be ready for hard work and many heartbreaks.” Exactly, and she was ready.
Chapter 4
Even after all the time that had gone by, and Miami, Florida, had become her home for the past sixteen years, she still kept up with the news from Louisiana and DC, and of course New York City, from her online subscriptions. It helped in her ongoing recovery to read about things that were once so familiar to her. There were still, even now, parts of her life that she could not distinguish between reality or a false memory. But the one thing she knew for certain was that she had been deeply and irrevocably in love. Now he was in love with someone else, marrying someone else.
His smile still made her soul shift, her heart beat just a little faster. She ran her finger across his face on her computer screen. He looked happy, truly happy...without her.
She lifted her hand and touched the scar that ran the length of her forehead, which she covered with bangs or innovative hairstyles. The burns she’d sustained on her legs had healed well, and were barely noticeable anymore. Some days when the pain was really bad she used a cane, but most of the time the medication the doctor prescribed worked.
She tilted her head to the side, studied the image from an angle. His fiancée was beautiful in an understated way. A part of her knew that she needed to let him and the past go. But the part of her that remembered what her life had been like with him wouldn’t let her. He was the only thing from that time that she truly remembered. Them. The two of them against the world. The memory anchored her, kept her from losing the last vestiges of herself and falling into a dark hole of a manufactured past.
Sixteen years is enough time to move on. Rafe clearly did. She had for the most part. It was best—at least that’s what her parents had told her. She’d believed them even though much of what their relationship had been was more mist than substance. The fact that she’d survived at all was a miracle, the doctors said, and memory loss was the price that she paid for her survival. She’d done years of physical therapy, rounds of plastic surgery, seen countless specialists, but most of her life prior to that day was hazy at best. Except for Rafe Lawson. He was the only constant.
She longingly studied his picture before closing the cover of the computer. Much of what her life could have been was ripped from her, her body altered, her memory stolen. For years she’d been at the mercy of doctors and therapists and her parents, and bit by bit she began to create a new life. But she had to go back into the past. She owed it to herself and to Rafe. He loved her first and seeing her again would make him remember.
Chapter 5
Rafe returned to his Louisiana home, soothed somewhat by his aunt’s calming words. She’d pulled him to the side shortly before he left to remind him that Dominique was his reflection and could have been his twin instead of Desiree’s. Dom lived for excitement, upsetting the status quo and making a splash. Add in the fact that she adored her big brother and it was no surprise that she wanted the world to share her joy. Not to mention that Dominique Lawson thrived on attention, even if the attention was vicarious. He grabbed his go-bag from the trunk and carried it inside, thankful that he didn’t have to use it. He shut the house door behind him, picked up the pile of mail he’d left on the table and turned on the lights against the overhanging gray of a new day. His aunt J was right. He and Dom were two sides of the same coin. He tugged off his jacket, tossed it on a side chair in the living room and dropped the mail on the couch, before turning on some music. Truth be told, the announcements and the pictures didn’t really bother him, but they bothered Avery. So, somehow, he was going to have to get Dom to put a halt to her personal public-relations campaign, and for his sisters Lee Ann and Desiree to loosen the reins of wedding planning. And he had to do all that without starting WWIII. Lucky me.
He crossed the living room to the bar and fixed a shot of bourbon and then flopped back on the couch. He took a deep swallow, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. On Sunday he would get with Dominique and straighten things out. End of that story. But he still had plenty of other business to handle now that he was home, and he intended to make a quick pit stop to New York to get with Q, since it was unlikely that he’d bring Muhammad to the mountain, before returning to Virginia.
A lot had been put on hold since Avery’s and his father’s injuries from the bombing in Paris. Even though his nightclub and his foundation had good people at the helm, he kept his hand in. Lack of oversight was the downfall of too many businesses, and he had no intention of letting his become a statistic.
He finished off his drink and went through a mental checklist of everything he needed to take care of in the next few days. One thing that nagged at him, and something that he and Avery never really discussed, was where they would live. His businesses were in Louisiana, but her job was in DC. He supposed it was an unspoken understanding that he would be the one to relocate. It was easier for him, of course. Didn’t mean he had to like it.
He blew out a breath and stretched his arm to gather up the mail he’d dumped on the other end of the couch, flipped through the envelopes and relegated each to either take care of or ignore. He stopped halfway, tossed everything else aside as he stared for a moment at the embossed return address of which he was very familiar with—the family attorney. Or rather his father’s attorney that the family used. How had he missed this?
Frowning, he turned the envelope over, ripped it open and pulled out the thick sheaf of folded papers. His head jerked back as he read the first page for the second time.
“What the hell...” His eyes ran over the words in utter disbelief and rising fury.
His father had always tried to control the lives of his children no matter how old they were or how far away they moved. But this! He hurled a string of expletives, picked up his phone to call his father but stopped. This conversation deserved a stare-you-in-the-eye sit down.
He shoved the pages back in the envelope, got up and put it in his go-bag. After he took care of his business here at home and in New York, his father’s office in DC would be his next stop. He pulled out his cell from his back pocket and swiped to his phone calls. He pressed the phone icon, leaned back and waited.
“Hey, darlin’.”
“Hi! I’m just walking in the door.”
“Oh. Okay. Go get settled. We can talk another time.”
“No. It’s fine.”
He heard a door close. “Everything good?”
“Yes. Kerry and I went to Baldwin’s tonight.”
He chuckled. “Love that place. Who was on set tonight?”
“House band. What about you? How was your visit?”
“Went well.” His gaze drifted to his bag and the envelope that stuck out. “Anyway, cher, you get yourself together. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m kinda beat.”
“Okay. Tomorrow, then.” She paused. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, cher. No matter what. Rest well.”
“I will.”
Rafe pressed the icon to end the call and tossed the phone toward the far end of the couch.
Chapter 6
Generally, after talking with Rafe, she always felt better, secure, uplifted, everything but what she felt now. She slipped out of her robe, turned back the sheets and crawled under the covers. Something was wrong. She felt it in the tone of Rafe’s voice. It wasn’t what he said, but what he didn’t.
Had he brought up her concerns about the wedding and it didn’t go well? Had he gotten into it with his sisters? She should have told him not to say anything. She was a big girl and didn’t need her husband-to-be running to her rescue. She was skilled in dealing with insurmountable obstacles. How difficult could three sisters be?
She turned on her side and switched off the nightstand lamp, but it was hours before she finally fell into an exhausted sleep.
* * *
Alice was busy in the kitchen when Avery wandered in close to noon.
“Well, well, there you are.” She wiped down the counter with a damp cloth. “You were up late.”
Avery plopped down on a counter chair. “Couldn’t sleep after I got in last night. Thought watching television would help. Sorry if I kept you up.”
“Not at all. I’m a night owl. Came down to make some warm milk and I saw the television light on under your door.” She came to stand beside Avery’s hunched form. “Are you feeling okay? You don’t look like yourself.”
Avery forced a smile. “Who do I look like?” she teased.
Alice placed a comforting hand on Avery’s stiff shoulder. “Like a woman who needs to talk.” She sat down.
Avery blinked rapidly. She lowered her head and then glanced briefly at Alice. The only female in her life that she’d confided in was Kerry. Growing into womanhood without her mom, there was a reluctance inside that kept her from forming any female bonds for fear that the bond would be broken, taken from her like her mother was. She had no frame of reference for mothering, even as she desperately craved it.
Tears, unbidden, slid from her eyes. Instinctively, Alice gathered Avery in her arms and held her close, let her cry. Tenderly she stroked her back and cooed soft words into Avery’s hair. “Let it out,” she soothed. “It’s all right.”
“I’m s-orry,” Avery whispered and sniffed.
“Nothing to be sorry for. We all need a good cry every now and then.”
Avery sniffed harder, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and lowered her head.
Alice eased back but kept her hands planted on Avery’s shoulders. “Want to tell me what’s bothering you?” she gently asked.
Avery pushed out a long breath. “I don’t know how to handle being in this family, any family. I’ve had to go at it on my own for most of my life. Then there’s my career. It’s all about orders and following instructions, being on alert, suspicious.” She sighed. “In my life outside of work it’s the only time when I can pull away from the straitjacket of my everyday life. Now, with the wedding and Rafe’s family...all of those mixed feelings and experiences tumble all over each other and I don’t know how to deal with it.”
Alice patted Avery’s thigh. “When you spend hours out of your day being on alert, looking for shadows in every corner, it’s got to be hard to let that go, to trust that there are folks that ain’t the boogeyman, that don’t intend to hurt you, that only want to get close because they really do care. Rafe loves you and you love him, and he’s not going to see you struggle against the weight of his overbearing family.” She wagged a finger. “At the same time, you gonna have to dig deep and find a space that you can open.” She smiled. “Burdens and troubles ain’t so heavy when you have help.” She tipped her head to the side. “How many weddings you planned?”
Avery’s eyes widened. Her mouth opened a bit but then closed.
“Hmm. Those girls, if they know nothing else it’s how to put a wedding together.” She chuckled. “Give them and yourself a chance. I understand the ties that bind you at work. You don’t get to speak up, only take orders, and it’s hard to break old habits. But...how ’bout this. Next time, you initiate the get-together. You call Dom or Desi and tell them your thoughts. One step at a time?” Her right brow lifted with emphasis.
Avery pushed out a breath. “You’re right. This is all so new to me.”
“As much as those Lawsons may fuss and feud with each other, the love and the bond that they have is unbreakable.” She squeezed Avery’s hands. “They want you to be part of that. And if you give it a chance, you might find what you’ve spent your life looking for.”
Avery wiped away the remnants of her tears and offered up a wobbly smile. “I’ll try.”
Alice winked. “Good girl. Now,” she planted her hands on her hips, “hungry?”
She smiled for real this time. “Starved.”
Chapter 7
Avery finished her late breakfast, took a shower and went for a short run. She pushed through the stiff breeze wrapped in muggy air. Before she’d gone a little more than a block her skin grew damp and a line of perspiration dribbled down the center of her spine. Her limbs pumped. The fuel of adrenaline rushed through her veins, and clarity pushed through the cobwebs of her thoughts.
She loved Rafe. There was no doubt about that. Yes, she was overwhelmed by the rush of family, even a little scared. But if what Alice said was true, they wanted her to be part of who they were. She’d never had that before, but because she wanted a life with the man of her dreams she would find a way to work through her issues.
Avery rounded the corner and headed back to the house. Just as she slowed in front of the walkway, a car door opened and a man got out, blocking her path.
“Avery Richards, right?”
Her senses leapt to high alert. Instinctively her hand flew to her waist, where her gun would have been.
“Whoa!” He held up his hands. “Reporter.”
She frowned. “Reporter? What do you want?” Her nostrils flared.
“I was hoping I could get a statement from you.”
“I don’t give statements.” She tried to move, and he stepped into her path.
Her body flexed. “Step aside.”
“I was hoping you would give me a comment about your engagement to Rafe Lawson. Your father is Horace Richards, right? Senator Richards.”
Her head snapped to the right. “What did you say?” She took a step toward him and he flinched.
“Look, all I want is an exclusive for the paper. Playboy Lawson and heir to the family jewels hooks up with a senator’s daughter—a Secret Service agent—that’s news.”
“Get away from me.” This time she shoved him out of her way and started up the walkway.
“Are you staying here now? Have you moved in?” he shouted to her back.
Avery quickened her step, a beat short of a jog until she reached the front door. She took a quick look over her shoulder. The reporter snapped her picture. She opened the door and shut it solidly behind her. She leaned her back against it, felt her heart hammer in her chest.
Alice was walking toward her with a blue cloth shopping bag in her hand. She stopped halfway. “What is it?”
Avery vigorously shook her head. “Nothing. That run took more out of me than I thought.”
Alice hurried over. “Go in and sit down. I’ll get you some cold water.”
Avery forced a smile. “Thanks. That’s probably what I need.”
Alice went off to the kitchen. Avery pulled herself together and walked out onto the back deck. Now she was being followed by reporters? How in the hell did they know where she...of course, the papers announcing the engagement. She pushed out a breath of frustration and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. This was not good. The last thing she needed was to be followed around by reporters or photographed while she was on duty. Dammit!
Alice pushed open the screen door to the deck. “Here you go, sweetheart.” She extended the glass of ice water toward Avery.
“Thanks, Alice.” She took several long swallows before setting the glass down on the circular wrought-iron table.
Alice studied her for a moment. “Feeling better?”
Avery nodded. “Yes. Thanks.”
“Okay. Well, I have my daily errands to run. Shouldn’t take too long. Need anything while I’m out?”
Her thoughts swam. “Um, no. Thanks, Alice.”
Alice turned and went back inside.
Avery lowered herself onto one of the lounge chairs. What was she going to do? Rafe felt it best that she stay in his home so that she wouldn’t be alone. But clearly his house was being staked out. If there was one reporter, eventually there would be others. Going home might not be a better option. They probably knew where she lived.
She headed up to the bedroom, pulled out her suitcase and began to pack. Then she called Kerry.
Chapter 8
Avery checked the bedroom. Satisfied that she hadn’t overlooked anything she shut the door and pulled her small rolling suitcase behind her. She made a quick stop in the kitchen to leave the note she’d written for Alice.
She took the extra set of keys that Rafe gave her and locked the door behind her. When she’d insisted that he drive her car to his house, it was more a matter of trying to maintain some sense of control. She turned the key in the ignition. Now it was her method of escape.
A little more than a half hour later she pulled up in front of Kerry’s house and parked on the street. She stared at the house. What was she doing? She wasn’t a runner. She didn’t run from problems to avoid confrontations. Guess there was a first time for everything. What she needed was some space to think. The very idea that she was being watched creeped her out in a way that being followed by her father’s private hire when she’d first started dating Rafe didn’t. This was different. She turned the car off just as Kerry’s front door opened, and she stepped out.