Easier Said Than Done (22 page)

"After my grandmother died, I went to Montego Bay to get away from all the crap that was going on here. I started my practice and worked myself until I was too exhausted to think or feel anything. I had nothing left for you, Kingston. You deserved everything and I had nothing to give you. It was as if I just couldn't hold on to the women in my life. Joanne. My grandmother. You.”

Damon's words chipped away at the rock solid barrier that I was trying hard to keep around my heart. I could better understand where he was coming from, but I still couldn't let go of the pain, the hurt and lonely nights. “A phone call, Damon, that's what I deserved more than anything—a simple phone call. The worst thing about what happened was the not knowing. You could have told me that you needed space, or that you were too busy or whatever it was. But I
deserved to know something. Yes, it would have hurt. Yes, I would have been mad; but I would have been able to start the healing process a lot quicker than I did.” My breath was coming in spurts as I shook my head. “I would sit around praying that you would call me. I'm not proud of that, but I loved you so much.

"My mother told me to only be a fool for love once. You were my one time. I won't do it again.” My words added another layer to the tension between us. “And for the record, I would have never left you. Joanne and your grandmother, they didn't have a choice. I did, and I chose you.”

Damon's shoulders slumped. “I loved you, too, Kingston. It took working with underprivileged children in Montego Bay for almost three years before I could come to terms with everything that had gone on in my life: from my parents leaving, to losing Joanne, to losing you. But after so much time had passed, it seemed like it was too late for apologies.”

“It is never too late for apologies, Damon. It's never too late to try to right a wrong.”

“I really loved you, Kingston. I need for you to hear that.”

“How could you have loved me, and done that to me—just leave me like that? Your walking out made me question everything about our relationship and some things about myself as a woman. For years, I couldn't go out with a man and not compare him to you. I was
miserable and I was bitter. I hated that I gave you so much power.” I dragged my hand through the water watching the bubbles reappear in the path left by my fingers. Anything was better than looking into Damon's eyes.

“It was an honor to have you in my life, and I'm sorry for causing you so much pain. I didn't mean to abuse the trust you had in me.”

I waved off any more apologies. “I've come to peace with what happened. Well, as much peace as I could. Ten years is a long time. I guess we just weren't meant to be.” I steeled myself before looking at him. “I do have one question, something that still bothers me. And be honest, Damon. I mean, what can it hurt now, right? Was there someone else waiting for you when you got back? Did you have another woman?”

Damon's mouth went slack. “No. There was no one else, then or now,” he said, a frown flashed against his face.

“You don't really expect me to believe that.”

“I didn't say I lived like a priest. I've dated.” He shoved his hand through his hair, dreads wrapping around his fingers. “But no one has ever come close to capturing my heart the way you did. I don't think anyone ever will. You stay in the back in my mind, not letting anyone else in.”

“Damon,” I started, then shook my head. I didn't know what to say. It was too much to take in at one time.

He took my hand in his. “I know it's been ten years. But I still have to say it. Forgive me, Kingston, please.”

“I forgave you a long time ago.” At the hopefulness and untainted love reflected in his eyes, the dam broke and tears flowed down my face. This conversation had been the cherry on the top of a heart-wrenching day. The embarrassment I felt for crying in front of Damon made matters worse and I cried even more. Damon put his arms around me and pulled me close. I resisted for only a moment before melting into his warmth.

“It's all right, sweetheart,” he whispered over and over, punctuating each statement with a kiss. And then the clincher, “I meant it when I said the feelings never went away. I still love you. ”

Our chemistry exploded like instantaneous combustion and I could no longer hold back, no longer wanted to hold back. I returned his kisses with urgent ones of my own, moving my hands hungrily over every part of his wet body and memorizing every inch of his anatomy. Damon's hands searched just as purposefully, sliding the straps of my bra off my shoulders and down my arms. He placed a hand over each breast, rubbing gently at first and then more forcefully causing my nipples to blossom under his attention. I kissed him again, this time slow and lovingly. I nudged his lips open with mine and allowed my tongue the freedom to tease and
caress. Damon groaned deeply into my mouth and placed his hands on my waist, picking me up and positioning me so that I faced him, straddling his lap. Our hips moved in a circular motion and when I felt his need pushing against me, I tried to angle closer to him.

“You're killing me,” Damon moaned.

I laughed throatily as he kissed my neck, sucking gently before leaning lower so he could capture my nipple in his mouth. I threw my head back, and my hair spilled around my shoulders. Damon seized the opportunity, tangling his fingers in my hair and holding me captive as his tongue tormented first one nipple, then the other. It was my turn to groan and I pulled him closer, as he tried to scoot out of his shorts without unseating me. I laughed at his clumsy attempts. His third try was successful. My undergarment was much easier to deal with. Damon ripped it off with a breathless promise to buy me a new one. I didn't care. Only one thing mattered right now and with one push, Damon handled that, too. After what seemed like a lifetime, we were united again as fully as two people could be.

* * *

Every ounce of energy I had was gone. Between the heat from the hot tub and our fierce lovemaking, I could barely move. Damon repositioned me so that he could cradle me in his arms. Slowly, the reality of what had just happened washed over me. I felt raw, vulnerable—and scared.

“I've got to go,” I said, jumping from his arms and the hot tub.

Damon's smile faded and he started to climb out after me. “Why are you leaving so soon? I thought we could have more therapeutic sessions inside, maybe make love in a real bed. We've never done that.”

“No,” I protested. “I've got to go.” I slipped my skirt and jacket on and stood holding my shoes in my hand. I'd put them on later. Damon started to follow me, but I stuck my hand out. “ Don't,” I told him, running toward the front of the house.

“Kingston, please don't go,” he said; but it was too late. I'd already faded into the darkness of the black Jamaican night.

Chapter 18

When I woke up, I changed my flight. It cost a pretty penny, but the other options could cost far more. Pacing the length of that back porch, I drank my second cup of coffee while Uncle Winston, Auntie Dawn, Andrew, and Adana sat on the porch. Aunt Lonnie and Uncle Lee were in the living room, listening to the late morning news on the radio from Pa-pa's room. Aunt Bea roamed the yard inspecting the garden, clicking her tongue at the weeds. Bianca was still asleep.

Toy's barking signaled the arrival of the attorney, eleven o'clock, right on the dot. The bedsprings squeaked as Bianca got up, her bare feet padding on the floor as she walked down the hall to the bathroom.

Queenie had earned the day off, staying late to help last night. Plus, I thought it would be best with only family present. I rinsed my coffee cup while the rest of the family chitchatted with the lawyer in the front room. Everyone was ready to get this over with, not all for the same reasons, though.

Bianca slipped through a side door, yawning and joined me in the kitchen. “I was worried about you last night,” she said giving me a brief hug.

I returned her hug; worried that Bianca could smell the lingering aroma of sex clinging to me. A short laugh escaped my lips. “No, you weren't. You're nosey and wanted to know what I was doing. I was fine, just needed a little fresh air.”

Giving me a sly grin, she asked, “So, just how fine are you? I kinda' put two and two together when I noticed you and Damon were gone at the same time.”

“We had to put some things to rest.” A blush warmed my cheeks. “I'll be leaving to go back to Chicago later this evening. If you're not in too much of a hurry to get home yourself, I'd love for you to take me to the airport.”

Bianca's intuition kicked into overdrive. “That must have been one heck of a conversation. You'll have to tell me the story one day.”

“I will, over another bottle of wine and bag of cheese popcorn.”

Bianca grimaced. “I'll stick to fruit punch next time. And, yes, I would be more than happy to drop you at the airport on my way home. I'm anxious for things to get back to normal too.” She looked into the dining room where everyone had gathered, then turned back to me. “ Ready to do this?”

“Ready as I'll ever be.” I squeezed her hand. Ten minutes later with everyone seated around the dining room table, the attorney, Mr. Bartlett, pulled some official-looking papers from his briefcase and shuffled them around.

I studied him from under hooded eyes. Not quite what I had expected, Mr. Bartlett appeared to be about the same age as Mama Grace and meticulous with everything, including his
dress. Although the temperature already hovered at ninety degrees, he wore a light beige tweed suit, with a light blue handkerchief folded in the pocket, and a starched white shirt. He stood before us like a teacher about to lecture an unwilling class, smoothing his unruly, white mustache and adjusting his spectacles. Uncle Winston tapped his foot while Aunt Lonnie darted sideways glances at me. We were trapped, so we waited in silence until Mr. Bartlett decided to begin. Everything that pertained to this transaction was going to happen according to his timetable and not one minute before.

He cleared his throat. “Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen. Today, this sixteenth day of December in the year of our Lord two thousand and thirteen,” he began. “We are gathered here to read Grace Marie Montague's Last Will and Testament.”

Toy's sudden bark startled us and all heads turned to watch her scurry out to the front porch, her nails making a scraping sound on the tiled floor. A few seconds later, she came trotting back, followed by Damon. Shocked silence greeted him, but no one was more surprised to see him than me. Uncle Winston started to rise in objection, but it was soon obvious that Damon was supposed to be here and Uncle Winston sank back into his chair with a blush slowly making its way up his neck.

“Hello, everyone. Sorry, I'm late. I had an unexpected patient stop by the clinic and I couldn't turn her away.” Damon shook Mr. Bartlett's outstretched hand. At least someone seemed happy to see him.

“It's good to see you again, young man. You're just in time. I was afraid I'd have to meet with you separately.”

Damon claimed the empty chair next to Andrew, directly across from me. Andrew looked puny compared to Damon, not just in a physical sense, but also in an overall manhood kind of way. Damon was dressed causally in jeans and a button-up shirt with his hair pulled back. He glanced at me and smiled, oblivious to the turmoil his mere presence was causing inside of me. I didn't smile back. What the hell was he doing here?

Mr. Bartlett continued, “As I was saying, in order to lend a more personal feel to her last wishes, Mrs. Montague wrote a letter to dispense of her monetary and physical possessions. Granddaughter, Kingston Phillips, has been deemed Executor of Mrs. Montague's estate and will work closely with me in order to make sure that her wishes are carried out accordingly.” His gaze skimmed over me, sizing me up as if to see what I was made of, as if this was going to be the single most important task that I'd ever undertake. And it just might be. When I passed his approval, he said, “If we are all ready, then we shall proceed. I have made copies of the letter for each of you so you may follow along if you wish.”

He took several sealed envelopes from his briefcase, then passed them around. When Uncle Winston eagerly started to open his, the attorney held up his hand, brought out a tape recorder and set it in the middle of the table. “Mrs. Montague made a tape recording of her wishes. Before you open these, I would like to make one thing perfectly clear—despite this Last
Will and Testament being partially in letter form, it is still legally binding.” Mr. Bartlett's eyebrows rose threateningly. “And in my fifty-four years of practicing law, I've never had a will contested.”

With that said, he nodded and envelopes were ripped open. Aunt Bea pulled out her white napkin tucked in the sleeve of her shirt. I ran my finger over the words that Mama Grace painstakingly wrote in anticipation of her death. Still standing, Mr. Bartlett picked up his own copy of the will, pushed the play button on the tape recorder and Mama Grace spoke from the grave.

“
To my sister, children, grandchildren, and their spouses. This is my Last Will and Testament. I know you may be anxious to get to the monetary issues, but I will reach there in my own sweet time. First, I want to impart some good advice, which, if you follow it, will bring you better returns in the hereafter.

"Money is a curse and the source of most evil, but a necessity to get on in life. I, however, do not want to be guilty of leaving too much of this evil to any one person. I think as I get more into the division of assets, you will be surprised at how much wealth I have amassed in my life. Your grandfather and I, with the aide of our attorney, have made some very wise investments. So, I died a rich woman. But I have also been poor and have found that no matter how much money you have, there is no real happiness on this earth. Earthly pleasures are only for the moment. Real happiness must be lasting.