A Love So Deep (15 page)

Rita dreaded her impending meeting. Life’s circumstances somehow had a way of reaching out and grabbing you—pulling you back to places you hoped to never revisit. Such was the case, and if there had been any other alternative, any other way at all, she would have taken it rather than be where she was at this moment.

Signs of the Embarcadero whizzed by on her left as Rita pushed the BMW farther toward Oakland’s epicenter. Downtown Oakland loomed in the distance, tall buildings rising from the ground like age-old stalagmites. It would be another few minutes before she would exit the freeway. Her meeting was at the Starbucks nestled among several rows of stores and restaurants at the Oakland City Center near Preservation Park. Rita exited the freeway and made a right onto Broadway, making a series of turns in an effort to find a convenient parking space.

A vacant space was not to be had. Businessmen and women walked briskly in and out of office buildings. Some stopped at a café or bistro to catch a late lunch; others ran a quick errand during a long session break at a conference they attended at the Marriott Oakland City Center. Rita looked at her watch. She had another five minutes.

Rita drove down Twelfth Street and hung a right on Martin Luther King Jr. Way. She drove alongside Preservation Park, a beautiful setting comprised of restored homes with a fountain at its center. It depicted a nineteenth-century Oakland neighborhood. Preservation Park sat on a plot of land once neglected but now renovated. Emulating the glory days of Oakland, it boasted architectural history that included Victorian- and Italian-styled homes. Several homes that still rested on their original foundation had historic value. Many used the park for a variety of nonprofit events. Rita turned down Thirteenth Street and at last found a lonely parking spot on Jefferson.

The large Louis Vuitton purse hugged Rita’s side as she made her brisk getaway from the car. She was now ten minutes late and still had to walk a couple of blocks before entering the City Center Plaza. A string of quaint shops and small eateries occupied the little square. When Rita spotted Starbucks, she stopped and looked over her shoulder, then ahead again, recording the scene in her memory. Then she stepped into the coffee shop, the aroma of the various café flavors swirling about her nose. She scanned each table until she spotted him sitting off in a far corner, reading the early edition of
The Oakland Tribune
.

He looked much different than she remembered. He sat slouched down in his seat in a coffee-ground-colored trench coat and a black turtleneck sweater. Dreadlocks replaced his usually close-cropped haircut, and he seemed tired about the eyes, though they were somewhat shielded by a pair of reading glasses. But she still recognized him—and he was still somewhat handsome.

Rita stood clutching her purse tightly, not sure if she wanted to go through with her meeting. As she contemplated what she would do, he looked up from his paper, glanced at his watch, and put the paper down, never taking his eyes away from her. He was also growing a beard, she noted, that appeared to be in its infancy. A large café latte sat on the table and the crumbs of a blueberry muffin scattered about the saucer it had lain in. She saw a look in his eyes and began to move in his direction as if the question were settled. Rita took the seat opposite him, not quite sure what to say.

“You look good, Rita. It’s been a long time.”

His voice was gruff in a sexy kind of way—the voice that once aroused her to unknown depths. Disconnecting her eyes from his, she answered him in a low whisper. “Yes, it has been a long time, William. In fact, I had not expected to ever see you again.”

“Well, I’m glad you came. If I didn’t need your help, I wouldn’t have asked. Would you like something to drink?”

“No thanks. I would like to know, though, what this is all about. How come you couldn’t tell me on the phone? It cost money for me to come down here.”

“Look, Rita. I…well, I…I just need you to do this one thing for me. I can’t explain right now. I’ve been carrying this insurance policy on you for years, and I need to cash it in for the cash value.”

“Is it some kind of business venture or are you out of money?”

“Did you bring the $15,000?”

Rita was silent for a moment, a little put off by his forwardness. “I did, but…can’t you tell me what it’s for? You sounded so urgent and made it seem imperative that I come right away.”

“It is urgent, Rita. My life is depending on it. I can get $10,000 from this policy once you sign it and hopefully everything will be all right.”

“Are you gambling?” There was silence again. “Remember, I was married to you once.”

William sucked his teeth and looked into her eyes, those beautiful eyes he had hurt on so many occasions. “I need the money for a deal that could go bad, and if I don’t hurry up and handle it, it will cost me a lot more than it will right now.”

“Some things never change.”

Rita sat with her hands folded. She lowered her head and reached back into her time capsule searching for one of those happier moments with William. There were a few.

“Where do you want me to sign?”

William pushed the insurance policy in front of Rita, moving the now cold latte off to the side. “Sign by the ‘X.’”

Rita picked up the papers and examined them, running her fingers across her name on the face of the policy. “The end,” she murmured under her breath—her words not lost on William. “You know, William, most policies are surrendered upon death of the insured.” Rita looked up when William didn’t respond. “I guess I should feel fortunate in that I’m able to sign my name on the dotted line and able to walk out into the sunshine even though I don’t get to keep a cent.”

“Enough, Rita. Just sign the paper, please. And don’t forget the…”

“Don’t worry, William. I’m not going to run off without giving you the money.”

William sighed. Rita signed the papers ignoring William’s audible exploits. Putting her pen down, Rita reached for her purse and pulled out the cashier’s check she had tucked away for safekeeping in a hideaway compartment. She held it in her hand, toying with it as if indecision had set in about actually giving it up. William watched Rita until their eyes met. And she handed the $15,000 over without fanfare.

“Thanks,” he said.

“I’ve got to go now. I have nothing else to give, William. I hope everything works out for you.”

“You just got here. There’s no need to run off unless you gotta meet that old man you’ve been hanging out with.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rita stammered, her voice showing signs of irritation.

“My, my, my. I’ve never known you to lie, Rita—not you, the epitome of the All-American girl.”

“And now we’ve become arrogant since we’ve gotten what we wanted. What I do with my time and who I see is none of your business. You ceased to exist a long time ago in my life, and whatever you think you might know is again, none of your business.”

“Okay, Rita. Calm down. Everyone is looking this way. I didn’t mean to get you all riled up. I’ve just watched how you cuddled up to lover boy at The Water Hole.” Rita fell back in her seat in disbelief. William had observed her without her knowledge. “Oh, I live in Oakland now, in fact, I’ve been living here for the past few months.”

Rita’s hands went to her face. A slight smirk passed over William’s face as he sat back and wallowed in her obvious discomfort. Rita stood and William rushed to his feet ready to offer assistance if needed.

“Stay away from me, William. I’ve given you what you’ve asked for, and I can’t help you any further. Stay away.”

“Do you love him, Rita?”

“It’s none of your business. Have a nice life, William.”

Rita walked as fast as her pointed-toe, suede camel boots would take her. She felt a small trickle of water run past her cheeks. It couldn’t be true. William could not have been in Oakland and she not see him. She had been puzzled with his choice of cities to meet in. What was he up to? She had not seen William in over fifteen years. Her life finally had meaning, and she was sure she’d met the man who truly loved her for who she was. Surely, this was not to be the onset of a nightmare. Rita needed Graham in the worst way, if only to hold her.

William watched from the window as Rita flew past and then out of sight. She was still a good-looking woman, but more than that, she could be a great asset to him in the future. There had to be a way to make Rita see that. She was wasting her time with the widower. Once he had been all she needed. William looked at the cashier’s check and Rita’s signature on the insurance policy. Yes, she could be a great asset to him down the road, and he’d do all within his power to make that a reality.

T
he
day had not panned out as Graham anticipated. His patience grew into irritation waiting for Rita to call, especially since Charlie announced three hours earlier that Rita was in town. He didn’t quite know what to make of it. Was Rita hiding something from him? How did Charlie figure into the equation? There was certainly a cloud of curiosity surrounding Rita’s visit to Oakland.

To top it all off, Graham had run from one dead end to another. He tried relentlessly to catch up with his in-laws but to no avail. They hadn’t quite caught up with the twenty-first century and probably never would; they had refused to get an answering machine. They claimed that if people thought whatever they had to say was important, they would call back until they were able to reach somebody. Graham’s only hope was that they wouldn’t stop by today. It was not a good day to talk about Sister Mary Ross’ accusations.

There had been five messages from Sister Mary Ross when Graham returned home. Each message pleaded with him to meet her for either breakfast or dinner—to talk about things. There was nothing he wanted to talk to Sister Ross about.
The nerve of that woman
, Graham thought, shaking his head like he’d come out of a bad dream.

Now his stomach was all tied in knots—all because of a woman, a beautiful woman he had met less than a couple of months ago while grieving the loss of his beloved Amanda. And he was in love—fell for her like a ton of bricks from a demolished building.

The air seemed thick as Rita moved blindly and hurriedly sought refuge in her car. She couldn’t believe William had been spying on her right under her very nose—right in the very room where she performed, where she sang out of her heart—songs that made people laugh, songs that made some sad, songs that called to lovers in the night like they had called her.

Rita was agitated and annoyed, her anxiety level driven high. The BMW was in sight. She picked up her pace, hoping to put more distance between her and the unsettling meeting of a few moments ago. Rita miscalculated how low the car was to the sidewalk, nicking her suede boots, causing a small tear as she swung the car door open. That only irritated Rita more.

“Damn,” she said out loud. “This is all your fault, William.”

Behind the wheel, Rita rested her arms on the steering wheel. She was not going to let William’s revelation unnerve her. She had to get a grip; she had a new man—a man who loved her—all of her.

Going to Graham’s right away wasn’t such a good idea now. Rita needed time to relax and think things over. She wasn’t sure what seeing William meant. It was best to not worry about it. After all, she and William were divorced.

Rita looked across the dash. It was 2:30. Maybe she would stop and get a cup of coffee before calling Graham. That would calm her nerves.

The Oakland A’s were in a slugging battle with the Seattle Mariners. It was Eric Chavez against Ichiro Suzuki. Graham sat slumped in the oversized chair, his angora sweater and khaki slacks now wrinkled. He was in front of the tube watching his favorite team, the A’s, beat up on the haggard Mariners. His favorite pastime was ceasing to placate him.

“Top of the ninth inning,” the announcer said, “Mariners, three; Oakland, seven. It’s a great day to be in the Bay Area.” Graham nodded—his mouth partially open.

The telephone rang, startling Graham awake. He dropped his arm carelessly along the side of the chair, jerked the receiver from its hook and fumbled to keep it from falling.

“Hello,” Graham said in a flustered voice, not yet fully awake.

“Hi, Graham, this is Rita. Wanted to let you know I made it safely, and I’ll be there shortly.”

Graham hesitated, and then spoke slowly, careful not to show any signs of irritation. But it was in his tone, hidden but yet felt. “Can’t wait to see you,” Graham said with an air of indifference. “When should I expect you?”

Rita sat up straight, almost knocking over her cup of coffee. She looked down at her cell phone to reassure herself that the number she had just dialed was indeed Graham’s. There was something in his voice—agitation, maybe even jealousy. What was it? Rita hesitated too long, and she could hear Graham calling out for her.

“I’ll be there in about an hour. I’ve just about concluded my business. Uhh…”

“Yes?”

“Are you all right? Is something wrong? You seem distant. You do remember that I said I had business to take care of, which was my reason for being here.”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

“Oh,” Rita said. “I’m at Barnes and Noble at Jack London Square. Would you like to meet me down here? Maybe we can get a quick bite to eat at T.G.I. Friday’s or Jack’s Bistro.”

“No, why don’t you come on over? We can sit and talk, and then I’ll take you out for a nice dinner at Kincaid’s Bayhouse. I hear the seafood broiler and the crab cakes are finger-lickin’ good.”

Graham’s mood seemed to lighten and Rita’s along with his. She didn’t offer anything else. Her business was just that…her business. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“I’ll be expecting you,” she heard Graham say as she clicked the off button. Rita pondered her phone call and then took a sip of her hot cappuccino dosed with a hint of vanilla. The chatter from the small cluster of groups pigeonholed in the coffee shop grew louder and drowned out the confusion wreaking havoc in her head. She drank up, anxious to get to her next destination.

Rita finished her coffee, purchased a couple of books she had been dying to read, and headed for the door. For a moment, she felt a strange vibe—a force trying to get her attention. She looked about, turning her head from left to right. Nothing out of the ordinary, yet she felt uncomfortable.

It was 3:30 p.m., and a few tourists straggled about. The BMW sat on a corner two blocks from the bookstore. Rita walked briskly, constantly searching and scanning her surroundings, becoming totally aware of all that encompassed her in a 100-yard radius. She pulled the keys from her purse and rubbed against the small canister of mace that lay at the bottom.
There is no reason to be alarmed
, she thought. But just in case, her secret pal and weapon of choice was at her fingertips.

She arrived at her car without incident and hurriedly drove away. William’s words came to haunt her:
I’ve watched how you’ve cuddled up to lover boy at The Water Hole
. Rita shivered at the thought.
He’s been watching me. Hmph, maybe I need to get some real protection.

Her body relaxed as she entered Chester Street. Not much had changed since she was there last. She saw Graham’s Buick Regal in the driveway and a car she didn’t recognize. The car didn’t belong to Deborah or Liz. It was an older model. Graham hadn’t told her anyone would be there.

Rita approached Graham’s house and parked the car on the street. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t pull into the driveway, just a feeling.

She shrugged it off and walked casually to the front door. Before she could ring the bell, the door flew open. An anxious pair of eyes, set in an obviously bewildered face, met her. Rita was unable to read Graham, but somehow she knew it was associated with the yellow Coupe de Ville sitting in the driveway.

From out of nowhere, a large, stately woman appeared behind Graham. “Aren’t you going to invite her in, son? Don’t let her just stand out there on the porch.”

Rita glanced between the two of them, unsure if she was willing to endure another episode that might send her blood pressure skyrocketing. Whoever this woman was, she seemed pleasant enough. She had an air of familiarity about her, though, and she called Graham “son.” Then it dawned on her. Yes, it was Amanda’s mother. The striking resemblance was carved in the chiseled contours of the woman’s face, from the high cheekbones to the cleft of her chin. It made Rita recall the day she held Amanda’s picture in her hand while Graham stood off in a corner, observing her.

But Rita was not up to a confrontation with this woman about being in Graham’s life so soon after Amanda’s death. It had been more than she could endure at the hands of Deborah and Liz as they hurled their angry insults at her. Rita thought about making a fast exit, but she heard the woman shout out for her to come in.

“Hello,” came a voice from somewhere behind Graham.

“Hello, Rita,” Graham said in a voice huskier than usual. He took Rita’s hand and ushered her into the house. “This is my mother-in-law, Martha Carter.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Carter.” Rita extended her hand and Martha took it, cupped it in her own left hand, and patted it with her right.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Martha said to Rita with a slight bow of her head.

Rita wasn’t sure if the woman was trying to be sarcastic or she genuinely meant it. Martha’s lips were set in the shape of a crescent moon and her teeth, real or false, glowed like they’d just been polished.

“And this is my father-in-law, Elroy Carter,” Graham continued as they moved farther into the living room.

They exchanged similar greetings. Rita noticed Mr. Carter had the same painted smile on his face, although she did not detect any hint of pretentiousness.

“Anybody want tea or coffee?” Martha called out, trying to break the tension in the room.

“There isn’t any made, and…”

“Son, entertain your guest. I’ll take care of it. You all look as if you need something. I know I do. No sweets in here, either,” Martha droned as she opened up the refrigerator and kitchen cabinets. “I’ve got a sweet tooth, and I guess I’m just going to have to wait until I get home.”

The group began to giggle until the giggles became a crescendo of crazy laughter with all of Martha’s crazy antics. And like a defroster unfogging a steamy window in blinding rain, the tension seemed to ease.

“You’ve been the topic of many conversations in our town lately, Ms. Rita,” Elroy said when the laughter had died down. “Now I understand why.”

Rita blushed and became ill at-ease again. She arched her eyebrows in confusion, unsure what direction the conversation was going. Graham had said very little since she arrived. He almost seemed intimidated by his in-laws. Rita looked at Graham, hoping he’d pick up the conversation and keep her from the witches’ pyre.

“I’ve got coffee for everyone,” Martha said before anyone got a chance to say anything further. Cups and saucers rattled on a gaily painted tin tray Martha carried along with a coffeepot and four spoons. She gave each a set of utensils and poured Elroy’s coffee first, Graham’s next, then Rita’s, and finally her own. She placed the tray on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch next to her husband.

“What did I miss?” Martha asked.

“Nothing, Mom,” Graham finally replied.

Needing to say something, Rita blurted out, “I am a dear friend of Graham’s. I was in town on business, and I came by to see how he was doing.”

“Honey, we know who you are,” Martha piped in. “You’re a very beautiful lady. I see why my son-in-law is smitten with you.”

“Mom…”

“No, Graham. Let me,” Rita cut in. “Mr. and Mrs. Carter, I understand how you might feel seeing Graham with someone else besides Amanda.”

“I never said he shouldn’t be…”

“I want you to know that he is a good man, and I understand how your daughter fell in love with him. Graham still loves Amanda dearly, although she is not physically here. He’s told me all about their wonderful life together, his wonderful children, his wonderful in-laws and how Amanda was his whole life. While it seems I might be slightly jealous or wanting the same thing for myself, I’m not. I met a man drowning in his sorrow, hurt beyond repair, it seemed. I met a man who could only talk about one woman, and her name is Amanda. I met a man whose love is so deep it seemed impossible he could love another. Somehow, we found our way to each other; I call it a blessing from God.