A Love So Deep (19 page)

R
ita
picked at her crab cakes as she and Graham sat in silence. They exchanged a quick glance, Graham managing a smile while hiding behind the nagging feeling that something was not quite right. Rita managed her own smile, then looked away to avoid any further questioning from Graham about her sudden trip to Oakland.

Rita looked out the window—the rain now sheets of nasty water that splashed violently on the pavement.

“You seem distracted.”

“No, just enjoying my time with you.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

“Believe it. I love you, Graham, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He smiled. She smiled back.

“Let’s get your things from the hotel. Leave your car here, and we’ll pick it up on our way back.”

“Splendid idea.”

“I thought so, too.” Graham motioned for the waitress. “Check, please.”

“I can’t wait to get back to your place.”

“We are in sync tonight, however, I was thinking about stopping off at The Water Hole a moment. Surprise them.”

“We don’t have to; I’d rather just go to your place and make love to you, if that’s not being too presumptuous of me.”

“Presumptuous? It fits into my plan quite nicely. We’ll stop at The Water Hole first for only a few minutes, though. I need to check something out.”

Rita said nothing. The same awful feeling that had consumed her earlier in the evening was present again. Rita didn’t know what to make of it, but for now, she’d be safe at Graham’s side.

Rita glanced about the room looking for no one in particular. She relaxed and exhaled when she saw no familiar faces. The mix of sweet fragrances rushing from human flesh intoxicated Rita as the parade of party-goers passed in front of her on their way to have a good time.

Rita turned just in time to see Graham enter the building. They had come in separate cars, and Rita had managed to get to The Water Hole ahead of him.

Graham reached for Rita’s hand and led the way into the dimly lit club finding seats in a far corner of the room. Although Rita could have a seat anywhere, she opted to remain out of sight. If Clyde had any inkling of her presence, he’d have her up on stage in a heartbeat.

It was local talent night, and a young woman with a sultry voice was on stage. She sang a few contemporary jazz numbers and sounded much like Anita Baker. Her physical likeness to Anita was uncanny, except she wore her hair in small locs pulled back by a band made of Afrocentric material that matched the garment she had wrapped around her. She was good.

Rita sipped her wine and caught Graham’s eyes as they bore into hers. He was a wonderful man, and there was no denying her love for him. He took another sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving her. All of a sudden, Rita had an urge to pour out her soul to Graham—to release the tension of the day—and what was really going on in her life.

Graham saw erratic movement in her eyes and became alarmed.

“Are you all right, Rita?”

“Yes,” she stuttered. “Why do you ask?”

“Your eyes were dancing around like they were on fire.”

“Say what?”

“Yeah…your eyes seem troubled—like you were in deep contemplation and toiling with whatever has your attention.”

Damn
, Rita thought.
Why does he have to be so perceptive? I’ve got to control my emotions
.

“You know,” Graham rambled on, “your eyes and body language can convey a lot of things.”

“Who made you the smart one?”

“Look, Rita. Look into my eyes and tell me what they are saying.”

Rita blushed and a big smile flew across her face. “You love me, Graham Peters. Tell me I’m right.”

“Oh, you’re right, all right. You hit the nail on the head. But you didn’t get it all.”

“All? Graham Peters, I am not a mind reader.”

“Look into my eyes, Rita. Read my eyes—see all they’re saying.”

Rita pretended to gaze deep into Graham’s eyes, but when she locked on, she had to pull away. The message was strong and vivid—just like the singer who sang another of Anita’s songs, “Caught Up in the Rapture of Love.” Graham’s eyes spoke volumes about his love for her—his deep abiding love. And…she saw that he wanted to hold her, never letting her go. He wanted to shield her from all harm and danger. He wanted to make love to her—love that knew no boundaries, love that turned heartbeats into soft music, love that turned a cold chill into a raging fire.

“Whew,” Rita said at last. And they chuckled, lost in the sounds of those around them and the songstress who dared them to ride along.

“You must have seen a lot,” Graham chided. “I thought I was going to have to call the paramedics to bring you back to life.”

“Funny.” Rita tapped Graham lightly on the arm. “What do you see when you look in my eyes now?”

“I see a beautiful woman.”

“No, silly. Look into my eyes.”

“I see someone who loves me as much as I love them, who will go to the end of the world with me, who’ll be by my side no matter the journey. I also see a mysterious woman who holds many keys to doors yet to be unlocked.”

Rita abruptly moved her eyes away.

“What’s wrong?”

“I love you, Graham, with all of my heart. You’re the bookend that has eluded me for so many years. I believe we have what it takes to stand the test of time.”

A wide smile crossed Graham’s face. It was contagious. A smile that crossed a country mile was all over Rita’s face and every ounce of her being. Then she spotted him out of the corner of her eye, staring straight at her and Graham.

The awkward and strange feeling came over her again. Was William at the restaurant tonight? She had to will her eyes to remain as Graham had last seen them. She didn’t want him to read fear and the possibility of exposure in her eyes. Rita had to get out of there.

“Sweetie, was I right in reading that you wanted to make love to me?”

“That’s always in my eyes.”

“Well, why don’t we make good on that desire of yours, because I can safely tell you this, my eyes are saying the same thing.”

Graham grinned again. He took Rita’s hand and ushered her toward the door while William watched from a safe distance—almost in silhouette in the dim light of the club. Someone spotted them and called out, “There’s Rita Long. Girl, sing us a song.”

Rita smiled politely at the friendly face of a cigar-toting gentleman, the cigar sitting at the vertex of the “V” his middle and index fingers had formed. Rita put her finger to her lips and softly mouthed the word “no,” only causing the gentleman to say her name louder.

The crowd turned in her direction and began to clap and chant Rita’s name. Graham gave her a friendly nudge to go up front and sing her heart out. It was intermission, and Rita’s appearance would certainly be the highlight of the party-goers’ evening.

Rita wanted to run, but the smile on Graham’s face and the cheers from the crowd made it all but impossible to refuse their request. Then she saw William come from the side of the stage, clapping along with the others. She thought she saw him mouth the words, “I love you.”

Rita walked in staccato to the stage, not wanting to be here at this moment. She turned around one last time to look at the begging crowd before climbing up the stairs to the platform. Rita stiffened, then walked the few feet to the microphone, releasing it from its stand.

She stood contemplating what she would sing—the unfamiliar band waiting their cue to follow. Rita lifted her chin, stared into the crowd, and closed her eyes.

“I’ve been so many places in my life and time. I’ve sung a lot of songs and I’ve made some bad rhymes.”

Rita continued to blare out the lyrics of the popular tune. Couples latched onto each other while Graham stared at the woman who had grabbed his heart, who had become his obsession, who held such a strange mystique and now sang such a sad, sad song.

Only moments ago, they were full of joy and jubilation—ready to lie in each other’s arms and make love. She sounded sad and far away, but Graham let it go, not finding any explanation that would explain this seemingly sudden onset of pain. Rita looked out into the audience—her eyes vacant and absent of expression.

Rita finished the song and rushed from the stage amid a thunderous applause. Graham sensed her urgency and rushed forward to assist her. When she reached Graham, Rita took his hand and squeezed it tight.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said.

Her adoring fans were cheering her on. Just as they were about to leave the building, a younger woman in a black-and-white tweed suit approached them.

“Ms. Long, you were wonderful. I wish I had a voice like yours.”

“Well, thank you…”

“My name is Angie, Angie Black. Some of my co-workers and I came down to catch the local talent tonight.”

“Do you sing, Angie?”

“Some, but I’m not that good. Oh, I wish I had a voice like yours.”

“Well, maybe the next time I’m in town, I can look you up.”

“Oh, God, that would be great! I have a business card somewhere,” Angie said, digging frantically in her small compact purse. “Here it is. You can call me anytime. I can’t thank you enough.”

“You already have.”

Graham took Rita’s hand once again, and they dashed out into the night in a downpour that refused to let up. And along with the falling rain, a stream of tears flowed down Rita’s face.

William watched the whole scene. It was coming together better than he had anticipated. As William stood watching Rita’s exit, a heavy hand fell on his shoulder, startling him a bit.

“You’re still in love with her.”

William said nothing but turned his head slightly in order to see his casual observer better. He dropped his shoulder, and Charlie’s hand slid back to his own side. William turned and went back to the bar leaving Charlie to muddle over what had just happened.

Rita sat behind the wheel of the BMW too exasperated to put the key into the ignition. Her life had been uncomplicated for the last fifteen years, now all the peace and tranquility she enjoyed seemed threatened by William’s sudden desire to rekindle a burned-out flame. What they once had would never be again.

The day’s events crossed Rita’s mind like a prop plane flying through the sky. She was not beholden to William. There would be no more money no matter how desperate his situation. He was more than likely throwing it away anyway.

The sight of William galled Rita, and the fact that he had now made Oakland home complicated matters more. Rita sensed William wanted more from her than the money she had given him. It frightened her because he had made it known that he wanted to get back with her. William would always know when she was in town, especially when she gave a performance, and keeping William’s present fixture in the community from Graham—a community both William and Graham shared—was becoming a difficult task.

She jumped at the loud beep of Graham’s horn. Rita hurriedly turned on the ignition to keep Graham from thinking something was wrong and get out of his car. She needed this moment for her private thoughts—a time for reflection. Tonight had not gone exactly the way she planned, and her last glimpse of William, staring at her as if she were some kind of Madonna, unnerved her.