Song of Solomon (23 page)

“I don't know, Neil. I don't know,” Valerie confessed. “But I do know that you can't just give up. Not after the dream you described a few minutes ago.”

“I've never dreamed about marrying a woman.” Neil rubbed his free hand over his short strands of hair. “I never even dreamed about getting married when I was actually getting married.”

“That's why you have to try again. You said that last night there were moments. If there was even one moment of possibility, then there's a chance. I honestly believe that. I saw the way Shay looks at you when you're not looking at her. This ain't over by a long shot. I don't care what it looks like, Neil. If she hasn't told you to kiss her behind and leave her alone, then there's a chance. And if you really love her—which I know you do because I can hear it all in your voice—you won't give up. What kind of man gives up the fight against a deceased opponent?”

“When the deceased opponent is the great Mayor Emmett Ford—”

“Who he was has nothing to do with this.” Valerie was the one sounding exasperated now. “I can't even believe you're gonna go out like that. Great or not, mayor or not, Emmett Ford is still dead. The only dead man in the history of mankind who ever had any real power was Jesus Christ—and His death was only temporary. He rose on the third day with all power in His hands. It's been years since Shay's husband was murdered. If he ain't got up by now, he ain't getting up. Just by reason of his death, you win by default.

“If you're too intimidated to go get your prize, then you don't have anyone to blame but yourself. Don't blame Emmett Ford if you let Shay slip through your fingers, Neil. Blame yourself.”

“Keep your eyes closed, Ms. Eloise. Don't peek,” Chase said, giggling as he led the woman by the hand into her newly furnished living room.

“I ain't peeking, but you sure better not let me fall, boy,” she warned. Eloise's left hand was securely attached to Chase's right, and her right hand used her cane to tap the floor around her as if she were a blind woman. “First, y'all kept me locked up in that room like a prisoner forever; now you won't even let me open my eyes.”

“We'll let you open them in a minute, Ms. Flowers,” Shaylynn promised. She bounced with excitement, taking in the total view of Shay Décor's first completed job. “Bring her right here, Chase.” She pointed to a location in the middle of the floor that would give Eloise a bird's eye view of her home's new facelift.

The truck carrying Eloise's furniture had arrived at the same time as Shaylynn and Chase. Friday evening's rush hour traffic had delayed Shaylynn, almost ruining the way she wanted to unveil her first decorating assignment. After speaking with the deliverymen, Shaylynn had entered the home first and convinced her client to retreat to her bedroom while everything was set up.

The whole process, including putting up new window dressings, completely revamping the living room to include modern furniture, accents, and centerpieces, and changing the décor of Eloise's beloved kitchen, had taken just over an hour. Shaylynn had finally talked her client into getting rid of the cow print, with the compromise that she wouldn't disturb the wall art of Black Jesus and the painting of the people working in the fields. The master bedroom and bath would have to wait until next week, and as those rooms were being redecorated, the upstairs washer and dryer would be transferred to the bottom floor and placed in the utility closet down the hall for easier access. Once that was done, the only reason Eloise would have to go upstairs was if she just wanted to look in on any stay-over guests that she had. Even those bedrooms would get an overhaul from Shay Décor.

Satisfied with what she saw, Shaylynn granted permission. “Okay, Ms. Flowers, you can open your eyes now.”

“Lord . . . have . . . mercy!” Eloise stretched out the sentence as she gaped at her surroundings.

It was just the kind of reaction that Shaylynn had prayed for, making her long hours of planning and shopping worth their weight in gold. And when Eloise dropped her cane and placed both her hands over her mouth at the sight of the special surprise oil painting that hung on her wall as the first piece of artwork any visitor would see upon entering her front door, Shaylynn almost burst with glee.

“Oh my Lord,” Eloise said, moving closer and adjusting her eyeglasses for a better view. She gently smoothed her fingers over the surface of the original artwork and asked, “How on earth did you make something like this? You just thought of everything, didn't you?”

“I wish I could say that it was totally my idea,” Shaylynn said. “But the day that we went shopping, while you were admiring all of the furniture, Val pulled a photo out of her purse and handed it to me. She said that you kept one just like it in your Bible and carried it with you everywhere you went. She said it was the only professional picture that you, your husband, and all of your children had taken together. Val wanted me to have it blown up and placed into a large frame for hanging. Well, there was no way that the wallet-size picture could have been enlarged to any decent size without losing its quality. So, I took the photo to Wolf Camera and had an enlarged copy made; then I took the copy to a student artist in Midtown Atlanta, and he brought it to life on canvas.”

“You like it, Ms. Eloise?” Chase asked.

Eloise had barely begun to nod her head when a river of tears burst from her eyes. She covered her face with her hands and wept openly. Shaylynn knew that they were joyful tears, but she still felt a twinge of grief, aware that the hurt of Eloise's losses also played a part in her emotional outburst.

Just like he had done to Shaylynn in church as she sat crying while Neil sang, Chase walked up to Eloise and began consoling her with strokes of his hand. The child rubbed Eloise's arm until her lamentation subsided. Shaylynn dabbed the tears from her own eyes, and then handed the woman some fresh tissues that she'd pulled from the box that sat atop her television. After thanking her, Eloise wiped her face, and then looked down at Chase.

“And thank you too,” she said, rubbing her hand across his cheek, and then sitting on her new couch beside the place where Chase stood. Still looking at the child, Eloise said, “You remind me so much of my young-un when he was a boy. He was a good kid—sensitive, just like you—always trying to make his mama feel better when I felt bad. Dr. Taylor grew up to be a good man too. And you know what?”

“What?” Chase asked, looking wide-eyed and expectant.

“He really likes you.”

“I like him too,” Chase said.

Shaylynn swallowed, and then pretended to admire the vase on the coffee table that held live roses. Neil had told her that white roses were his mother's favorite.

“Sol likes you too, Mrs. Ford. He likes you a whole lot.”

Shaylynn looked at Eloise, and then at Chase. She couldn't believe the woman would say such a thing in front of her son. Chase looked back at her like she was supposed to reply, but Shaylynn didn't know what to say. After their experience on Wednesday night, Shaylynn had asked Neil not to call her anymore. She just didn't think it was proper. At least, that was what she told him. In reality, she was frightened—frightened that for the first time since Emmett's death, she longed for male companionship. Not just any male. Shaylynn longed for Neil.

She thought of him constantly and prayed for him daily. When her telephone or doorbell rang at odd hours of the day, she hoped that it would be his voice or his face that she would hear or see when she answered. And two nights ago at Canoe restaurant, as much as Shaylynn fought him off both verbally and emotionally, she had to inwardly admit that he made her feel like a teenager being romanced for the first time. When she looked across the table, she saw a man who admired her and wanted to take care of her. When they were sitting in the middle of the scenery with the river just a stone's throw away, she saw a man who longed for a chance to love her and longed for her to love him in return. The incident at Canoe wasn't the first time she'd ever felt loved, but before the night was over, it was the most loved she'd ever felt.

Even now, when she closed her eyes, Shaylynn could see Neil as he stood from the iron bench and pulled her up with him. He'd wrapped his arms around her, and the jacket that he had draped around her shoulders fell to the ground as they danced together. They moved to and fro together just like that night at Sambuca, but on the grounds of Canoe restaurant, Neil held her closer and she held him tighter. Feeling his touch and touching him in return sent ripples of delight through the nerves of her fingers and arms. Shaylynn thought that her entire body would liquefy when he placed his lips near her ear and continued his serenade, accompanied by the music that played in the background. But the kisses were what swept her off her feet the most. Neil's lips against her flesh were almost more than she could stand.

He'd kissed her forehead; then his lips found a vacant space near the outer corner of her eye. Shaylynn began losing herself and longed for the strength to push him away, but she couldn't. Neil's next stop was her right earlobe, and though he spoke no words, his mouth caressed the sensitive spot with the tenderness of a whisper. Shaylynn was shocked at her own eager response to the touch of his mouth. She pulled him closer and could feel the muscles of Neil's forearms harden beneath the sleeves of his shirt. It had been seven long years since she'd allowed herself to be kissed by a man in such a sensual manner.

Neil had moaned in anticipation as his lips moved toward hers. Shaylynn saw them coming, and she knew that she had to shake herself out of the spell. The beautiful yet dreadful spell that the man she loved, yet despised, had placed her under. If she allowed those lips to connect with hers, she would melt, and her liquefied heart—the one that for years had belonged only to Emmett—would become one with Dr. Neil Taylor . . . Solomon Taylor. She couldn't let that happen, and from somewhere within, she found the strength to pull away.

And as soon as the make-out session ended, the guilt began. It was that guilt that drove Shaylynn to tell Neil that they could not see one another again. No phone calls, no visits, no dinner dates, no text messages, no roses, no e-mails, no nothing. The only dealings they could have would be where her son's schooling was concerned. Her boundaries were specific, and to her relief—yet her chagrin—Neil agreed to comply. There was a large part of Shaylynn that hoped he'd be his usual persuasive self and insist on reaching out to her. She wanted him to break the rules, but he didn't. Shaylynn hadn't heard from Neil in two days, and because of it, she ached.

“You know he's just a phone call away.”

Shaylynn winced, opened her eyes, and was embarrassed to see both Eloise and Chase watching her. Chase looked perplexed, but Eloise peered at Shaylynn through knowing eyes, as though she had just taken the trip down memory lane along with her.

At a loss for words, all Shaylynn could say was, “I, uh . . . I . . .”

Eloise rescued her. “Chase, honey, why don't you go upstairs so me and your mama can talk for a minute, okay? Ty left some of those video games up there in the room where y'all slept. Why don't you go and play awhile?”

With excitement propelling him, Chase bounced up the steps as fast as his legs could carry him.

Eloise patted the cushion beside her. “Grab that tissue box off the television, and come sit down next to me. You need to get a feel of my new sofa anyhow, so you can see what a good choice you made.”

Shaylynn already knew the furniture was comfortable. They'd all tested out the showroom model in the store that day. Still, in childlike obedience, she followed Eloise's instructions, handing her the box of Kleenex as she sat.

Eloise placed the box on the sofa space between them and immediately began speaking. “When your husband, Mr. Ford, was alive, you not only longed for his presence, you longed for his touch. You thought about him constantly in every way. You didn't just want to be with him, you wanted to be with him intimately. Your body craved him just as much as your spirit did. Am I right?”

Not sure where the line of questioning was going, Shaylynn hesitated before saying, “Yes.”

“That's what being in love is. You felt that way because mind, body, and soul, you were in love with your husband. Now, before you answer my next question, I need you to really give it some thought. Okay?”

A nod served as Shaylynn's reply this time.

“Do you still have that kind of yearning for him? Do you still walk around your house every day, wishing he was there to talk to you; sit at your dinner table, wishing he was there to eat with you; lie in your bed at night, wishing he was there to fulfill your every desire? Do you still long for him in the same manner as you always did?”

Shaylynn wanted to blurt out an emphatic, “Yes!” but she couldn't. Not honestly, anyway. There was a time after his killing when Shaylynn did still have the same level of desire, in every way, for Emmett as she did before his death. In fact, it wasn't that long ago that those feelings had remained. But as Shaylynn now mulled over Eloise's words, she realized that somewhere along the way, that type of pining for Emmett had subsided. She couldn't pinpoint the precise time of diminishment, but at some point, it had. Eloise didn't even wait for her to answer.

“The reality of it is, you're not in love with him anymore, baby. You're trying to convince yourself of something that you know ain't still so.”

Shaylynn turned away to try to hide the new flood that was rising in the dam of her eyes. The truth made her want to crumble to the floor in theatrical fashion, kicking and screaming like Kimberly Elise did when she played the role of Helen McCarter, the dutiful wife who was being physically thrown from her house in
Diary of a Mad Black Woman
. Shaylynn had never wanted to fall out of love with Emmett, but here she was, seven years later, forced to admit to herself that she had.
Oh my God. What happened?

“It ain't nothing wrong with it, baby.” Eloise spoke like she was a mouthpiece for the Lord. She pulled tissues from the box and pressed them into Shaylynn's hands. “You're not disrespecting your former husband, and you're not doing anything wrong. You're just still living, that's all. And in life, everything changes in its due season, even the heart.”

Shaylynn dabbed at new trickles that raced down her cheeks.

“You still love him, Mrs. Ford, and you probably always will. But you're not
in love
with him. If you were, it wouldn't hurt so much that you pushed away my young-un.”

Just like Shaylynn figured . . . Neil had told her. Eloise knew everything. Again, Shaylynn's mind reflected on Wednesday night. Neil was visibly shaken when she told him that she couldn't return his affections. He said nothing to her on the ride back to Eloise's house to pick up Chase, and although he did the gentlemanly thing in walking her to her door, carrying her sleeping son in his arms, Neil barely even looked at Shaylynn when he said good night. The feel of Eloise grabbing her hand brought Shaylynn's thoughts back into the living room.

“Change is good when God orchestrates it.” The woman tapped Shaylynn's wedding set as she spoke. “When I removed the old furniture out of the house, I wasn't removing the deceased son or the deceased husband that used to sit on that furniture with me. It's in the heart where all the love and the memories hold dear, not in material things.”