No One But You (5 page)

“I’m right here.”

Jackson frowned at the voice coming from the other side of the bookshelf in front of him. An impatient tapping drew his attention. He pulled out a book sitting at eye level for a better view. “Sara?”

“Shh.”

Jackson looked on either side to see why he should be quiet. From his vantage point, no one seemed to be paying attention to them. He turned to look at Sara’s face, which was almost pressed against the small opening.

“What are you doing? Who are you hiding from?” Jackson whispered back to her, growing alarmed.

“I’m not hiding. I’m in the middle of my interview with Alethea Walker. I actually didn’t expect to see you.”

“I wandered in here. Go back and do your thing with the writer lady.”

“It’s Alethea Walker.” Sara appeared next to him, looking quite displeased. “And I don’t want to mess this up.” She bit her lip. “So could you just leave, please.”

“Fine. You’re acting like you’re interviewing the Queen of England.”

Sara pushed him out of the aisle. “Go,” she mouthed.

“I’ll take the title Queen, but of England, no way. I’ll leave that to Beth, the second, to do her thing in Buckingham,” a raspy voice interrupted them.

“Ms. Walker!” Sara exclaimed, looking mortified.

Jackson stepped back to allow an elderly dark-skinned woman—who was tall, stately and handsome—-approach. When she joined them she smiled and offered her hand.

“I’m Alethea, young man.”

“Jackson.”

“A last name for a first name. Interesting.” She turned to Sara. “You know a name says a lot about a person.” She rested her hand on Jackson’s arm. “I sense strength in you.” She glanced over at Sara, who looked miserable. “Young man, I also sense a gentle spirit in your darling eyes.” She turned her back on them. “I’ve gotten the books I need. No need to stay in this musty building any longer.” She looked over her shoulder. “I don’t do this often, but I’m going to go with my gut. Both of you, join me for lunch.”

Jackson didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t mean to interrupt Sara’s meeting. Clearly Alethea’s invitation caught her unaware. And the blazing anger crackling from her told him that she wanted him gone.

“Ms. Walker, thank you so much for the invitation. I’ve got a couple things to do around town. I’ll catch up with Sara later.” He nodded to Sara, letting her know that he’d read and understood the message. When she offered a small smile, he relaxed.

“First things first—please call me Alethea. Ms. Walker is for my mama, who’s long gone. There’s no way that you’re not coming to my house. It’s been a while since I had a handsome hunk of a man as my captive audience.”

“I’m sure that you exaggerate, Alethea,” Jackson said.

The old woman headed toward the exit, as if expecting them to follow her. “Sarafina, you’ll also benefit from my hospitality, which will be better for your interview. When I’m relaxed on my own turf, I’ll open up. But I hope you don’t have the standard, boring questions. See both of you in an hour.” Alethea waved, jangling the many silver bracelets decorating her wrist.

Jackson waited for Sara to indicate what she wanted to do. Once again, he screwed up. All he had planned to do this morning was wander around the town. Now he was all caught up in a situation that could make either woman peeved at him. Although he didn’t care about Alethea, making her irritated at Sara because of him wouldn’t help his cause with Sara.

“Do you want me to process the hotel checkout?” he asked, hoping to be helpful.

“Yes. I’m heading back to the city right after this.”

Jackson followed Sara out of the library. He stood at the passenger door, hoping that she was going to unlock it. His body slightly relaxed when he saw the knob in the door pop up.

“Did you get much of the interview completed?” He chanced a glance at her profile.

Her mouth tightened slightly before she responded. “No, she’s not an easy subject. She hops from one subject to the next. She refused to sit. Basically she maintained control and let me know that she wasn’t going to make my job easy.” She turned an accusatory glare at him. “Well, that is, until you came along.”

“Hey, I’d rather be heading down to the pie-eating contest than sitting in on a school project.” Since this opportunity didn’t allow him personal time with Sara, he wasn’t that excited about this new game plan. “I’m not jumping up and down.”

“You should feel honored to be in the company of Alethea Walker,” Sara shot back. “She’s a legend. Her life is rich and her experiences make us seem as if we’re standing still. Her essays reflect so much passion and even anger for the injustice and inequalities that she has seen and experienced.”

Jackson snorted. “Sounds like a snoozer.” He shook his head, chuckling. “You can hero-worship Alethea and I’ll hero-worship Sanaa Lathan—she was hot in
Blade.
”

Sara grabbed the seat belt and pulled it around his neck until he choked. “Take that back.”

Jackson reached out and tickled Sara, who giggled and squirmed away from him. Their levity eased the tension, somewhat.

Minutes later at the hotel, Jackson tried to stay out of Sara’s way as she moved through the room in a harried state, muttering about how irritating men were. And why she didn’t need to bother with dealing with the past. So much for the few minutes of laughter they shared.

“I wish you wouldn’t talk about me like I wasn’t here.”

Sara held up her fist with clothing balled in her hands. “As if I was that lucky.”

“What did I do wrong, now?” Jackson wanted to get out of the small quarters. He needed fresh air and open space. He didn’t know how to fix the problem. But more importantly, he hated being the bad guy in this scenario.

Sara opened her mouth, but then shook her head. She continued gathering her belongings, her muttering much subdued.

“Look, I’ll accompany you to Alethea’s home. And then disappear into the background.” Jackson walked slowly toward Sara. Her nervous pacing had worked its way under his skin like an army of startled ants. He reached out when she bustled past him with the same piece of clothing that she’d had in her hand for the past few minutes. “Come here,” Jackson said.

“Look, I don’t have time for any pep talks.”

He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her gently into his chest. Like a cocoon, he wrapped his arms around her, willing her to be still. Gradually her protests quieted. Jackson breathed in the floral scent of her soft hair.

“I know that you like to have everything and everyone marching to your beat. Sometimes, there is an exception. Alethea looks like she’s going to be your exception.” He smoothed her hair, cradling the back of her head. “Let’s get out of here. Get your interview done, and we’ll head back home.” He sensed that he’d reached down to where her fear had manifested. He didn’t want to let go until the calmer side of Sara emerged.

Sara kept her head against Jackson’s chest. His heart beating at her ear sounded steady and consistent, unlike hers. For so long she yearned for his arms to be around her. With his surprise visit, she’d been afraid to enjoy his touch. His soothing words calmed the rising unease that overwhelmed her thoughts with Alethea’s change of plans.

“Are you okay now?” Jackson raised her chin with his finger.

Sara nodded, releasing a big sigh. “All set.”

“We’re cutting it close to checking out.” Jackson looked at his watch. “Sure you don’t want to stay tonight? You might be beat by the time you’re done.”

Another night in a hotel room with Jackson would definitely break her willpower. In his arms, she had to fight giving in to the hunger that her body and mind craved. She refused to believe that her body’s aching needs were anything more than physical.

Nothing soft and romantic could be the reason.

“No, we need to get on the road.” Sara pushed away from Jackson. “We can get back early and you can make it back to your hotel in Chicago.” He would be in his bed and she in hers.

She witnessed the droop in Jackson’s shoulders, but he remained quiet. Sara enjoyed a small feeling of victory at standing up to her weakness. She may have craved Jackson’s touch, but she wasn’t about to give in and fall into bed—in a sexual sense—with him.

After checking out of the hotel and loading up the car, they arrived at the author’s home with time to spare. In keeping with the rural surroundings, the modest-sized house sat on about three acres of land. Alethea led a brief tour, explaining that the previous owner was a farmer, but she didn’t follow suit with raising cattle. Instead, she had a conglomeration of dogs that represented the major breeds and a few that Sara couldn’t identify.

“These are my babies. I keep them cordoned off when I have company. Otherwise, you’d be licked to death.” Alethea headed up the steps to the house. “Welcome to my home.”

“Thank you for inviting us.” Sara tried not to sound like an overzealous fan, but failed.

“Here, let’s sit in the sunroom. We can enjoy the view without the crisp fall air chilling us to the bone. I hope you’re ready to eat. I had Rose make her delicious chicken salad. I have either garden salad greens or freshly baked sourdough bread.”

“Sourdough bread for me.” Jackson provided the biggest grin to their host.

Alethea’s face lit up, much brighter than when Sara shared her appreciation with the author. Sara glanced at Jackson, wondering what got him talking. Was it the fresh bread?

After everyone helped themselves to the simple, but tasty fare, Sara set aside her plate. She wiped her mouth and fingers, hoping to communicate the clue that she was ready to start the interview. However, Alethea and Jackson, with heads close together, were in deep conversation. Sara cleared her throat to regain control of her interview.

“Alethea, let’s start again.” Sara took out her small tape recorder and set it on the table. She pushed in the Record button and sat back.

“Oh, no.” Alethea looked up and shook her head fiercely. “I will not be taped.”

“My apologies,” Sara said quickly, grabbing the tape recorder to stop it. “I wanted to prevent misquoting you and making sure that I captured the essence of your thoughts and motivation.”

“I understand where you’re coming from, but I still can’t give you permission.”

Sara didn’t want to make the incident into a big deal. She wasn’t a reporter by trade. Knowing when to lay low and when to go charging after a topic was based on gut reaction. She sensed that her subject today would test those abilities.

“Plus I’m not partial to being interviewed, like I warned you. But we can chat over our meal and maybe you’ll get some kernels of information. Okay?”

Sara nodded. What choice did she have?

Alethea turned her undivided attention toward Jackson. “I don’t think that you are from here, right?” She didn’t wait for his nod. “How long have you been chasing after this young lady?” Alethea chuckled, clapping her hands.

“I wouldn’t say that he’s chasing after me,” Sara felt compelled to explain, especially at the smug look on Jackson’s face.

“If you say so.” Alethea turned back to Jackson.

“I’m an old friend of Sara’s. I’m in town for a few days and didn’t want to pass up any opportunity to hang out with her. However, I was fine keeping myself busy for these few hours while she conducted her interview with you.”

Alethea waved her hand dismissively. “I’m always up for the company of a hunky young man. As a matter of fact, my interest motivated my parents into sending me to Smith College for women. I wouldn’t say that it toned down my wayward personality, but I directed my juices toward writing.”

Sara relaxed against the chair. She sensed a great story about to be told. Although Alethea carried her fifty-five years well with only fine lines and a slender body, the author had a well-documented lifestyle that bordered occasionally on the wild side.

“My first couple of essays had a militant edge. Hey, I was young and idealistic.” Alethea chuckled. Her gaze took on a faraway look, while a small smile played on her lips. “My parents had a fit when I decided that I was moving to Africa.”

“Africa?” Jackson queried in awe.

Sara looked over at Jackson. Even he’d fallen under Alethea’s spell.

“Hey, it was the seventies. I was celebrating the various African countries’ independence. Met quite a few notable leaders of the Pan-African movement, which took me on a journey through the Caribbean.”

Sara could only shake her head. Alethea lived the life that she dreamed. At a young age, this author had purpose and passion. After the emotional upheaval in her past, Sara couldn’t fathom moving around, much less taking off to live on a faraway continent. She craved order and stability—two things that life hadn’t offered up to her.

“Which country?” Jackson asked.

“Guyana.”

Sara couldn’t comment since she’d barely heard about the country.

“What took you there? Was there a revolution? Civil rights issue? Protests and marches?” Jackson probed.

Alethea shook her head. “Unfortunately it wasn’t such a noble cause.”

“Love?” Sara asked, before raising her hand to her mouth. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sound…”

“Uh-oh, sounds like you have a strong opinion.” Alethea stared hard at Sara, who shifted uncomfortably, knowing that Jackson also studied her.

“Why did you go to Guyana?” Sara opted to refocus on her interview.

“A man who meant the world to me invited me to his homeland. We’d met in Africa. He was a popular political figure who had garnered support from two sides who were bitter enemies. I loved his fervor for politics. Often I went to his rallies, ready to help with his cause.”

“What happened?” Sara prompted, fully engrossed in the story.

“Elections were at hand. He decided to throw his hat in the ring, rather than let the old establishment take over, or allow some of the more radical parties to step in.” Alethea played with her bracelets. “Those were exciting times, let me tell you.” She grinned at them. Her face appeared years younger with her recollection of the past. “We decided that we wouldn’t bring me out as his woman until after the elections, so voters wouldn’t be distracted.”

From what Sara remembered in Alethea’s bio, she’d never married. There were no children. As a matter of fact, there were rumors about her sexual preferences. Somewhere in this, Sara doubted that the ending of this story included a husband.