All I Want Is Forever (7 page)

“Let's not talk about that kind of thing. You'll get all worked up and want to go back to your volunteer work at the community center.”

“My doctor says I should keep active. I'm in charge of the summer reading program for the children.
And—” Mama Rose stopped at the look Talia gave her and smiled impishly. “You busted me.”

“That's right. Forget it.” Talia rose and went to the phone. “I'm going to order dinner for you before I leave.”

“Okay, I give up. For now,” Mama Rose added quietly.

“I heard that,” Talia shot back.

“Will you see Derrick tonight? The house is all fixed up. That nursing service sent an aide over.”

“I'll be back. The social worker here said I can spend a couple of nights with you. Just until you feel comfortable,” Talia said.

“Nonsense, go home and have dinner with Derrick.” Mama Rose gazed at her.

“Stop with the Derrick stuff. Nothing is going to happen between us.” Talia spoke through clenched teeth.

“Interesting. I never said anything was going to happen. Which tells me it already has,” Mama Rose murmured.

Talia pretended she hadn't heard her. “Yes, this is for Mrs. Travis in suite 344-B.” She ordered the dishes Mama Rose had checked on the menu list. “You're all set.”

“Good. Don't let me keep you, sweetie. The six o'clock news is coming on.” Mama Rose waved at the door. “Now go.”

“The way you're rushing me out maybe you've got a hot date,” Talia said with a grin.

Mama Rose turned on an icy glare. “Out!”

“Uh-huh, you can give it, but you can't take it.” Talia darted out the front door just in time to avoid what was surely a razor-sharp reply.

Talia drove toward Mama Rose's house thinking of
her older brother. Seeing him again hadn't been at all what she had expected. Karl had always been as much of an embarrassment to her as Monette. As a child she'd endured taunts first about Monette and then Karl. Still, they were her family, and she'd gotten into fights when other kids called them names. Then Monette would take off with yet another boyfriend, and Karl would get arrested again. More and more she'd given up trying to defend them.

As impossible as it seemed, Karl had turned his life around. Could Monette be trying as well? Talia tried to imagine Monette living a conventional life. All she knew was the flamboyant, unreliable woman who'd left her alone to face a scary world. And from what little Derrick told her, Monette hadn't changed at all.

“Just let me help Mama get straight and out of this state before she lets the dogs out,” Talia muttered as she turned into Mama Rose's driveway.

 

A week later Talia talked into the headset of her cell phone while making notes. She walked around the temporary office she'd created in one of the five bedrooms of Mama Rose's house. Pete gave her a rundown on what was going on at the office in Washington. Talia had insisted over objections from her colleagues, assuring them that things were going very well with Mama Rose. Although she wouldn't admit it, Mama Rose actually made friends and enjoyed the recreational activities at St. Francis. Still, she never missed a chance to say that she fully intended to return to her home of forty-five years.

“Yes, Pete. I'll meet with Larry Perrilloux next week on Wednesday.” The phone on a desk rang just as the doorbell sounded. “Geez! The other phone is driving me crazy and someone's at the door. Let me call you later. Right.”

She let the answering machine take care of Mama Rose's phone while she jogged to the door. Mrs. Lanier, one of her foster mother's longtime friends, chirped that she would visit and bring a casserole later. The woman had three eligible nephews and thought all of them were perfect for Talia. Talia had spent the last week dodging her attempts at matchmaking. Then she'd had to deal with leaking faucets, the tree-cutting service for the acres around the house, and a host of other domestic duties.

“This was supposed to be a relaxing visit once Mama got settled. What the hell happened?” Talia muttered.

She opened the door prepared to deal with yet another late repairman. Instead, Derrick stood on the front porch. “Tall” and “gorgeous” were the first words that popped into her head as she gazed at him. His muscular biceps bulged from the white short-sleeved knit shirt tucked into olive green slacks. He still held his car keys in one hand.

“I hope you don't mind.” Derrick's dark brows drew together over the rim of his sunglasses. “I could come back another time if you're busy.” He gestured to the headset.

Talia blinked at him, still dazed by his appearance. “What? Oh, I just hung up anyway.” She took off the headset.

“How are things going?” Derrick fidgeted with the car keys. “Mama Rose is doing very well from what I hear.”

“Yeah, and loving every minute of being difficult.” Talia shook her head. “Payback for all the trouble I gave her as a teenager I guess.”

Derrick grinned. “You weren't that bad. But she looks great.”

“Oh?” Talia looked at him.

“I went to see her the other day. You'd just left.” Derrick cleared his throat.

“I see.” Talia stepped back and opened the door wider. “I'm losing my mind. Come in out of the heat.”

“I just stopped to say hi is all. I don't want to interrupt your day or anything.”

“It's okay. Come on in and have some peppermint lemonade.” Talia beckoned him inside. “Whoa! I sound like a Southern country lady.”

Derrick laughed as he came in. “In another three weeks you'll be wearing Miss Rose's favorite yellow apron with the ruffles and baking a cake.”

“When pigs fly!” Talia retorted. She led him down the hallway past the living room. “Come on into the kitchen and don't say a word.”

“What do you mean?”

Talia opened the refrigerator and took out a glass pitcher with large lemon slices floating in it. On the counter was a plate of tea cakes. “Not one word,” she repeated. “I only made this because of all the folks trooping in and out of here.”

Derrick pressed his lips together for a moment before he spoke. “Miss Rose's special peppermint lemonade recipe. Confess, Talia. You wore the apron.” He took off his sunglasses and placed them on the countertop.

“No, I did not!” Talia fought the urge to grin back at him.

“Alright, if you say so.” Derrick shrugged. “Next thing you'll be making little lace doilies.”

“You want to drink this lemonade or wear it? I'm not into domestic chores.”

“Right. You're a high-powered, big-city consultant, a twenty-first-century career woman.” Derrick nodded. “But I'll bet you look darn cute in that apron.”

“Very funny!”

Talia started to toss a plastic straw at his head, but he caught her by the wrist. Heat shot up her arm and went straight to her head. The feel of his smooth skin against hers set off an erotic tingle. His grip was loose, more like a caress. She stared at him in a trance as he pulled her against his chest. Her heart beat faster with each breath. Closer and closer his face came toward hers, until their lips were only an inch apart. Derrick's gaze drifted up to her hair. He touched the curls against her forehead with such tenderness she gasped. Then he traced a line down her cheek and along her jaw with the tip of his forefinger.

They stood that way for several minutes, with only the ticking sound from the wall clock breaking the silence. Talia fought off the sexual hunger that was slowly building into a roaring storm. Derrick leaned down just as she moved away. She escaped to the other side of the kitchen.

“You want a tea cake with your lemonade?” She turned her back to him and took two glasses from the cabinet.

“I want whatever you have to give.”

When he spoke right over her shoulder she dropped them. Derrick's hands shot out with lightning speed, and he caught both before they hit the floor. He put them on the counter without taking his gaze from her face. Talia swallowed hard at the double message in his response.

“I don't know how much I have to give,” she said quietly.

Derrick wore a wise and patient smile. “You're going to be here at least another month, maybe two. Even though the time will rush by, I won't rush you.”

“I'm going back to D.C. There's no doubt about that,” Talia said.

“I know. But I can't pretend you're not here and that I don't want to see you,” Derrick replied.

Talia gazed at the hard chest outlined by the soft knit cotton of his shirt. She imagined rubbing her hands over the skin, savoring the texture of soft curly hair on it beneath her fingertips. As if he could read her mind, Derrick leaned forward, placing his palms flat on the counter on either side of her. He was making it hard to resist temptation. Every ounce of common sense she had screamed at her to back away from this man. He was too much of what she had left behind. Still, she struggled to remember exactly why being with him was dangerous. She tried hard to conjure up the fear and pain that had driven her from Rougon years before.

“You don't have to run from me. I'll let you go.”

He was offering her heaven even if it was fleeting. Talia closed her eyes, dizzy, as her mind argued with her body over what to do next. Reason said she should tell him to get out. The woman inside her said, “Take him, girlfriend!” She opened her eyes again to gaze at him. As though sensing she was overwhelmed, Derrick backed away.

Talia crossed her arms in a posture of emotional defense. “No, you won't
let
me go. I make my own decisions.”

He picked up his car keys. “Maybe I'd better leave.”

Talia wanted to lighten the moment and make some kind of peace with the strange electricity between them. She would leave Rougon. There was no doubt in her mind about that. Still, she wanted to be with him for the few weeks she'd be in town.

“Without tasting my version of Mama's lemonade and tea cakes? Chicken.” Talia hoped her smile worked.

“Okay, I'll hang out with you. Just don't give me the ‘We'll always be friends' speech.” Derrick smiled back, his head tilted to one side.

Talia felt a flush of sexual energy at the simple ges
ture. He made it hard for her to give that speech with his sensual magnetism. She forced her gaze away from the full, smooth lips that called to her.

“Agreed. One tea cake or two?”

“One is fine.”

Derrick sat down at the square-shaped kitchen table and watched her pour lemonade in the glasses. Talia placed the plate of tea cakes between them and sat across from him.

“So what's up?” Talia took a sip of the cool liquid.

“What do you—” Derrick stopped at the look she gave him over the rim of her glass. “Monette called me from the prison. She knows you're in Louisiana.”

“Don't tell me. She wants to see me for a touching mother-daughter reunion,” Talia added with a grunt. “Who told her I was here?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Your brother had already called Monette. I just confirmed you were in Rougon.” Derrick picked up a tea cake. “It won't hurt to see her once.”

“With Monette once is too much.” Talia shook her head. “I separated from her a long time ago just to survive.”

“I know she took you through it and back.” Derrick started to reach for her hand, then stopped. He picked up his glass instead. “At least think about it.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Talia pushed away thoughts of her biological mother.

“Sure. Dinner is a good subject. We could go to Satterfield's tonight.” Derrick wore an innocent expression.

Talia squinted at him. “I'm not sure.”

He held up both hands. “No hidden agenda, I swear. I'll treat you to a good meal, and we'll talk about the weather. Don't tell me you're going to eat your own cooking.”

“Hey!” Talia swatted his arm. “Just for that I'm going to cook you a great meal.”

“Uh, I appreciate the offer, baby girl. But you've been working hard all day. Let's go out.”

She stood. “I get the hint. Before I leave you will eat my cooking.”

His expression softened. “That sounds great.”

The temperature of the air around Talia suddenly shot up. Without thinking, she'd stepped closer to the edge. “Ahem, right. Come back to get me around six-thirty. I need to check on Mama Rose and finish a few projects first.”

Derrick drank the rest of his lemonade and grabbed another tea cake. “Will do, ma'am. I'm looking forward to it.”

Talia felt a spike of anticipation and apprehension when she looked into his dark eyes. “See you then.”

She walked ahead of him down the hall. She was conscious every step of the way of his gaze on her body. By the time they reached the front door, all her nerve endings seemed to tingle. When she turned around to say good-bye one last time, the desire in his eyes shook her to the core.

“I'll see you in a little bit.” Derrick leaned down and brushed her forehead lightly with his lips.

Damn, he's not playing fair!
Talia suspected from his expression that he knew exactly what effect he had on her. She squared her shoulders, determined not to give in. “Good deal, pal.”

Instead of a frown, Derrick gave her an affectionate pat on the cheek and a smile. “Right.”

She watched him walk away, admiring the way his broad back narrowed at the waist and the great butt. As his black Toyota 4Runner drove away she took a deep breath. At least she had hours to fortify herself
against another shot of Derrick Guillory's potent charisma. Why hadn't she just said, “No, I have plans”? Talia got busy with work to avoid thinking about the answer.

Talia took another turn around the Louisiana State Capitol building. Located in Baton Rouge, it towered over the compact yet busy downtown area. The historic building had beautiful marble floors that reflected images like glass. The regular legislative session had ended in June. She glanced at the large round watch face on her left wrist. Ten minutes until her appointment with Senator Jackson. She took the stairs down to the legislative offices instead of the elevator. Plush carpet the color of golden sand stretched down the hallway. Having scouted out the territory twice before coming, she knew the way to the offices of the chairmen of the three judiciary committees. Senator Jackson chaired Committee C, which handled the issue of sentencing laws. His legislative assistant, Marti Campo, was talking to a secretary when Talia walked through the door. Marti stood tall in three-inch heels and a form-fitting navy skirt. Her blond hair was neatly cut short and framed her heart-shaped face perfectly.

“I've got a few changes on this summary for the governor's people, Layla.” Marti shuffled a thick sheaf of papers as she found her notations.

The secretary, a young woman of about twenty-five,
pursed her lips as the older woman talked. “Looks like more than a few changes.”

Marti's frosty blue-gray eyes sparkled with anger. “That's why we call this ‘work,' right?

“Yeah.”

“I'll need a perfect copy no later than noon,” Marti said in a clipped tone. She turned to Talia. “I hope you're Ms. Marchand. I've got to stay on schedule.”

Talia stood and extended her hand. “You will be.”

“Thank God! This has been a day, and it's not even ten o'clock.” Marti glanced at her wristwatch. “This way. Senator Jackson had another meeting called at the last minute. Layla, do we have fresh coffee?” she called over her shoulder as she marched ahead of Talia down a short hall.

“I guess,” came the bland reply. “With all this work I don't have time to check.”

“Damn temp workers,” Marti said to Talia, then opened a door whose top half was frosted glass. “She's pissed because I keep interrupting her social life on the phone. Have a seat. I'll get us some coffee.”

Talia looked around the roomy office. Located in the basement, the office suites of legislative leaders had undergone a massive renovation. Marti had beautiful framed prints of Louisiana flowers and swamp scenes to substitute for windows. Talia sat down in one of several plush chairs that matched the golden-hued carpet. Talia had not missed a name that rang a disturbing bell in Marti's rush of words earlier. Marti came back with a steel coffee carafe on a tray with four mugs, sugar bowl, and nondairy creamer in small packets.

Talia accepted a cup of black coffee from her. “I'm glad you could meet with me so soon. I'll only be here a few weeks.”

“You'd think with the session over I could take a breath. But no!” Marti sat in a chair on the opposite
side of the brightly polished cherrywood table. “Enough of my problems. Mandatory sentencing.” She looked at Talia and took a sip of coffee.

“I've read Senator Jackson's proposed bill. He's had a tough time convincing his colleagues.” Talia put down the cup and took a notepad from her briefcase.

“Tough? We got our tails kicked.” Marti shrugged. “Not that we were surprised. The public sees crowds of thieves and worse getting out of prison. Not a sight to encourage the average citizen terrified of crime.”

“So the legislators who voted to kill it in committee are ‘tough on crime' types?”

“It's election time. Two high-profile violent crimes took place during the session.” Marti frowned.

“Senator Jackson decided to back off until next year?” Talia looked at her.

“Yeah, but there's a lot we can do before then. I guess that's where you and your outfit come in.” Marti gave Talia an appraising glance.

Show time.
Talia knew this tough lady wanted to know if she had a clue. “I have a rundown on the history of other states' efforts to tackle mandatory sentencing. California is the best known. They were one of the first states to enact the so-called ‘three strikes' law.”

“Right. I—” Marti stopped when a dark-haired man wearing gold wire-rimmed eyeglasses tapped on the door. “About time, Jim.”

“Morning. Sorry I'm a few minutes late.” The tall, lanky man smiled an apology. He held a gray suit jacket on one arm and carried a black satchel in the opposite hand.

“Talia, I'm assuming I can call you that,” Marti said with a grin.

“Sure,” Talia replied.

“This is James Rand. Jim, Talia Marchand of Pete
Gallagher and Associates in Washington, D.C.” Marti smiled.

“Nice to meet you.” James Rand held out a long-fingered hand as he studied Talia closely. Monette's new lawyer smiled at her.

Talia tensed. “Hi.”

He glanced at the carafe on the side table. “Bless you, Marti.” Jim put down his jacket and briefcase, then poured himself a cup.

“Jim is the director of the Tulane Law Center. He has a national reputation on this issue and a lot of others pertaining to sentencing patterns, including the death sentence.”

“So I've heard.” Talia took a deep breath.

Jim sat next to Talia. He drank deeply and sighed. “So what have I missed so far?”

“Talia has been doing her homework on other states.” Marti nodded with an expression of approval.

“I've read several of your articles on the subject, Professor Rand.”

“Even the most cursory examination shows the obvious; poor people end up in jail more often and with longer sentences.” Jim set his mug down with a thump.

“Which doesn't mean they're not guilty,” Talia said. “Something the critics are quick to point out.”

“We're not trying to help people get away with crimes. If one segment of the population committing similar offenses gets the benefit of probation, shouldn't everyone?” He leaned forward.

“Okay, granted. But people should be held accountable for breaking the law.” Talia lifted a shoulder.

“I thought she was here to help us.” Jim wore a crooked grin as he drank more coffee.

“I see her point, Jim. We have to answer the opponents,” Marti replied.

“Exactly, especially since they have valid arguments,” Talia said. “There is no such thing as a victimless crime when you get right down to it.”

“Not everyone sent to prison is guilty. Even those who did the crime shouldn't do the time longer because they're poor or Black,” Jim countered.

“Liberals use those arguments. They're not in control at the moment.”

“Don't I know it.” Jim looked at Talia hard again. “I hear your firm usually comes down on the right of most issues.”

“True, but my boss doesn't follow strict party lines. Pete likes to make his own decisions on individual issues.” Talia took another folder from her briefcase.

“What about you?” Jim's bushy eyebrows arched over his dark eyes.

Talia decided honesty was the best route to take. “I'll admit to mixed feelings on the issue.”

“Have you been the victim of a crime?” he asked.

“We all pay one way or another,” Talia said smoothly.

“Well, I've been a victim. Some little creeps broke into my condo six years ago. I'd like to get my hands on 'em, too!” Marti wore a fierce expression.

“There you go. A typical gut reaction to crime.” Talia nodded at Marti. “You've got to do a lot better than trying to get the public to feel sorry for convicted felons.” She wanted to steer them away from the personal.

“Which is why I'm interested in your thoughts.” Marti got up and poured more coffee into her mug.

“The wording in Senator Jackson's bill should change. Take the bite out of your opponent's best argument.” Talia glanced from Marti to Jim Rand. “Emphasize getting tough on crime.”

“What?” Jim wore a puzzled frown. He took off his glasses.

“You're joking.” Marti blinked at her.

Talia sat forward. “Listen, I've seen the polls from his district. The biggest fear after job security is crime. Some of the poorest neighborhoods are held hostage by drug dealers.”

“Yes, but they also have suffered the highest rate of incarceration. They see the ugly side of the law when it jails their kids,” Jim said, pointing at her with his glasses in one hand.

“Most of those people, Professor Rand, are the victims of these so-called kids. While mama is trying to get her little darlin' out of prison, her neighbors are inside dancing for joy.” Talia met his gaze head-on. “I grew up in the same kind of place.”

“I'm not disputing the impact of crime, but—”

“You can't ignore it either,” Talia broke in. She turned to Marti. “The opening of the bill starts out talking about how long sentences don't change crime rates. Then it goes on about the need for social services. I say begin with the need to concentrate limited law enforcement dollars on the most heinous offenders.”

“I don't know. Senator Jackson has always been a vocal advocate for rehabilitation and crime prevention.” Marti's neatly arched eyebrows drew together in concentration. “His base of support is mixed, but more liberal on the issue.”

“Not when specific questions are asked.” Talia pulled another report from her briefcase. “His constituency is 37 percent African-American. They're conservative on several issues, rising crime is one.”

“He recently met with a coalition of Black leaders who are concerned about racial profiling.” Marti shook her head. “I'm not sure he'll go for it.”

“Show him the numbers,” Talia said, and tapped the report with a forefinger. “He can still address community programs to prevent crime. As you said, it's election time.”

“You seem pretty conservative on this issue, Talia.” Jim Rand eyed her with interest.

Talia's heart thumped. “I'm not that different from the people Senator Jackson represents.”

“Let's talk specifics. Give me bullet points to cover with him,” Marti said.

“Sure.”

Talia hadn't worked on the Hill without learning the value of distilling complex information down to basics. Most lawmakers depended on their staff to help them navigate complicated issues. For an hour and a half, they went over all twelve of the short paragraphs she'd written. Jim argued that race and economics as factors should be included. Talia stood her ground despite the glances he gave her from time to time. At the end of the meeting he followed her out. They went through a side exit door toward the parking lot. Bright September sunshine bounced heat waves up from the concrete surface.

“Good-bye, Professor Rand.”

“Good-bye, Ms. Marchand. We've met before I think.” He gazed at her with one finger on his bottom lip. “I was in D.C. last year for a symposium on prison reform.”

“We've never been involved in prison reform.” Talia put on her sunglasses as a shield.

“I see.” Jim studied her for a moment longer then smiled. “Well, we've had an eye-opening discussion. I suppose you think I'm a typical white liberal from the ivory tower of academia.”

Talia smiled slightly. “It helps to see all sides of a question.”

“As long as we don't become the enemy. I don't want Kelvin to draft a bill that adds to the problem,” he replied.

“The problem is getting people to take responsibility for their families and themselves.” Talia extended a hand. “Nice to have met you.” She hoped it would be the last time.

“Same here.” He shook her hand and walked away.

“Lord, just let me get Mama Rose taken care of and out of this state,” Talia muttered. She pressed the remote on her key ring, which opened her rented red Pontiac Grand Prix.

 

Derrick stared at her. “What's on your mind? It sure isn't what's left in the bottom of your cup.”

They were seated in CC's Coffee Shop in downtown Baton Rouge. They'd been to a jazz performance at M's Fine and Mellow Café earlier. Now they sat at an outside table enjoying a breeze from the water. The riverfront was alive with strolling couples and families. CC's was in a renovated parking garage, with a view of the Mississippi River. The large bridge linking East and West Baton Rouge Parishes was strung with white lights. Traffic across it was barely visible. The cars and trucks looked like toys in the distance. Talia couldn't help but smile at him.

“You've got more answers than Miss Cleo,” she teased, referring to the colorful psychic.

“Ah, darlin', I see what's goin' ahn,” Derrick said, imitating Miss Cleo's Caribbean accent.

Talia laughed. “What do the cards tell you?”

“That you've been working too hard for one thing. Slow down.”

She sighed and sat back in her chair. “I'd like nothing better. I've got as much to do here as I had back in Washington.”

“You take on a lot because you enjoy the fast pace.”

“You and your boss got me into this whole sentencing issue,” Talia replied with a raised eyebrow.

“If I'm the reason you're back home, then I won't complain.” His deep voice issued a sultry invitation.

Talia breathed hard as they stared into each other's eyes. The gray cotton sweater she wore seemed too hot suddenly. She squirmed in her chair as a tickle of lust surged up the insides of her thighs.

“I'll be gone in about three weeks.” She looked out at the levee.

“So you keep reminding me. We have dinner, and you mention it. We go see a play, and you mention it.” Derrick heaved a deep sigh. “I think I've got it, Talia.”

“Sorry.” She felt a stab of guilt at the sadness in his tone. “I didn't mean to beat a dead horse.”

“Maybe you're trying to convince yourself?”

Talia toyed with a paper napkin. “I don't understand why you got hooked up in crime fighting after all we've been through,” she said quietly.