North Star (3 page)

During their eight years of marriage, Keith Preston transformed from a successful white-collar executive to a functional alcoholic, who abused people with wild abandonment. What began as a picture-perfect marriage shattered into pieces as he held on to it with an iron grip. His control was vindictive and suffocating, and all he understood were his wants. He couldn’t see the child bride had outgrown her need for a daddy.

“Ms. Aldana? Ms. Aldana?” a student called, interrupting her thoughts.

“Yes, Sarah?”

“Is the narrator Fa Mu Lan or Kingston in the second part of the story?” the nineteen-year old asked, twirling her multicolored pen.

“Kingston is using the character to narrate the novel now, but have you figured out why?”

All the students shook their heads.

“Then let’s brainstorm.” She instructed her class to place their chairs in a large discussion circle.

She clutched Kingston’s novel tightly as she placed her seat at the circle’s opening. Pushing the memories of the past out of her mind, she smiled in contentment at the teenage faces watching her. The presence of each student reminded her to be grateful Keith no longer dictated how she spent her time.

Chapter 2

Graham Sheridan entered his spacious contemporary estate, placed his laptop case on a side table, and searched for a comfortable place to recharge his fatigued mind. The living room, decorated with unique Afro Caribbean sculptures, Gordon Parks’ prints, and Al Hirschfield lithographs, welcomed him in after a long workday. He entered the room and lowered himself on a plush, chocolate Italian leather sectional that faced an entertainment center featuring two art cabinets.

The sunset-drawn shadows dancing on cream-colored walls tempered the quiet elegance of the room. He averted his gaze from the effects of dancing amber sunrays to a large Gordon Parks signed photograph above his mantle. The photo, featuring a close-up of a young black boy lying face-up in a summer field with a Junebug on his forehead, had captivated him at a Christie’s New York fine art auction twelve years ago. Graham loved the way the piece evoked his childhood fascination with nature exploration and science experiments. Staring at the large print triggered a mysterious grin as some remarkable childhood memories floated in his head. The once wiry, inquisitive child of yesteryear had finally adapted into an executive, molded by education and industry ventures.

Graham treasured the rewards of being the meticulous owner and editor-in-chief of
Psyche
magazine. In four years, he’d turned a fledgling publication, purchased with his life savings, into a literary force rivaling
Maxim
and
GQ
. He’d worked hard to gain a reputation as one of the most influential Black businessmen in the country. So tonight he’d enjoy one of the perks of his success–relaxing in his grand hillside estate in the North Dover area of Toms River. His contemporaries marveled at the grand home, surrounded by two acres of manicured grounds, as the pinnacle of opulence.

Quite a feat for a boy once groomed to be a Navy man like his father, Senior Chief Petty Officer, Nathan Sheridan. For as far back as his memory could serve him, Graham recalled how his father expected him to behave like a member of the armed forces. When Graham walked, he commanded each stride like an admiral, and when he talked, he never broke eye contact with his audience. Exactly like his father taught him. Such refinement had molded him into a commanding leader, but it had never inspired him to enlist in the armed services. Journalism was his passion.

Most fathers would be a little sensitive about their son destroying a father’s dream of passing the torch, but not his father. The day Graham squared his shoulders, peered into his father’s face, and stated firmly, “I have no intentions of enlisting into the Navy, Dad. I’ve been accepted into Princeton,” Nathan finally realized it was a destine course.

Graham remembered how his father’s face hardened for a moment until Nathan noticed the peering eyes of his younger children. So he nodded his head, denoting he understood the finality of his decision, shook Graham’s hand, and excused himself from the room. Nathan didn’t offer any congratulatory words before retreating to his den, but Graham’s decision had been accepted and no one ever spoke about him enlisting again.

Graham shook off the memory and listened to messages from his voicemail. There were four waiting. One was his copy editor complaining about the advertisement placement on page eighteen. The second came from his older sister, confirming dinner tomorrow. The third was a hang up, and the fourth, his secretary reminding him of tomorrow’s morning meeting. He mentally noted the messages, but it was the second one that caused him to dial a number.

“Hello?” a sleepy male voice answered the phone.

“Roland, it’s Graham.” Graham leaned deeper into the couch pillows, and unbuttoned his shirt collar.

“Hey, man, what’s up?”

“I’m returning Janet’s call, you know, showing her I didn’t forget about dinner.”

“You better not. She’s been looking forward to this all week.” A heavy yawn filled the phone. “I’ll have to tell her you called. She’s out at the grocery store.”

“Okay, you do that. Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I? It’s only seven o’clock, Ro.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know but a man has to keep his strength up around here. If I can find time to sleep, I grab it with both fists. If not, I’d be drifting off when I’m suppose to be listening to your sister.”

“You’re still living between naps, huh?”

“That’s the only way to be. Besides, I’m not a young man anymore.” Roland groaned.

Graham could picture Roland rubbing his graying head, or patting his expanding waistline with that last comment. Roland, at forty-eight, liked people to think his wife was running him into the ground by nagging him for sex. His favorite saying at family gathering remained, ‘I gave you four Rugrats, woman. Now leave me be!’ Graham grinned at the thought of his sister’s frequent flushed expression.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ro. Tell Janet I’ll be there.”

“Okay. Nite.”

“Nite.”

Graham marched upstairs and entered his bedroom. Black and hunter green accented rich tan drapes and linens while pale taupe walls made the room inviting against a mahogany bedroom set. He enjoyed the transformation, which made the room void of all the heartache it had once experienced...
Don’t think about that
, he thought as he peeled his clothes off.
That’s ancient history.

He turned on his stereo to let the sounds of an R&B/jazz station float into the room before he entered his bathroom. He wanted nothing more than to let the events of the day pour down the shower drain. In the shower, as the hot water cascaded down his muscled body, he felt his mind clear. Then the image of the attractive lady from the library came into his thoughts. He remembered how her perfume filled his nostrils when she passed him and the sway of her hips as she walked away from him. With closed eyes, Graham raised his hands above his head and touched the cool shower tiles. Recalling the way she smiled and spoke made him grin. He’d seen Jaiden shot down before, but not in such a way that left him still thinking about the woman. There was something about her.

Moments later, Graham turned off the water and placed a towel around his waist. For a second he wondered if there was a way to get in contact with her, but she didn’t give her name. “It wasn’t meant to be,” he murmured as he re-entered his bedroom and lay across his bed.

As the perceptive lyrics of Brian McKnight filled the air, an image of the full, inviting lips of the mystery lady clouded his mind. Oh, how he wished he had a chance to see how soft they were. Her lush breasts looked ripe and inviting when she stood closed to him. He wondered how it would be to free them from the blouse’s confines. As his body started to feel the effect of his yearning, he abruptly grabbed the remote, turned off Brian’s crooning, and flicked on the television.
I need a little CNN update on today’s happenings. It’s another lonely night, but technology has to make it bearable.

For the next half an hour, Graham concentrated on the news channel, getting his fill of world and political events. With the state of the world no better than yesterday, he picked up the remote and began channel surfing. All of the channels seemed to run together when a commercial for Sara Lee appeared and stopped him in his tracks. They had a new chocolate dessert that made him think about the pretty lady hand-feeding him one of her baked desserts.

Her cooking would be a great start if she would walk in here and
...His erection begged his brain to produce the woman or stop thinking about her. He let out a frustrating groan, turned off the TV, and started toward the bathroom for another shower, a cold one, when the telephone rang. As he raised the phone to his ear, he was eternally thankful for the distraction.

“Hello?”

“Graham? Janet. Roland told me you called, but I wanted to touch base.”

Graham started to tell her he changed his mind, but knowing she’d been cooking all day filled him with guilt. “Yes, Jan. I’ll be there.”

Janet Sheridan Walker was a warm, loving woman with soft features and eyes that reminded a person of their favorite aunt. She wore her hair in a braided bob because she loved the ease of them and she always seemed to have an inquiring gleam in her eyes. As the oldest daughter of the Sheridan clan, her siblings treated her like a second mother.

“What’s wrong with you? You don’t sound right.”

Janet had a tendency to read people’s moods like a celebrity psychic—so adamant she could help, as long as she could question you like a psychiatrist. Few people could stomach her in-depth analysis, and tonight he wanted no part of her fact-finding agenda. She was the last person who needed to know his problem was stress, the kind only a lover could relieve.

“Jan, don’t start,” he begged as he sat back on the bed and rubbed his closely shaven head.

“C’mon, Graham, you know you have to tell me what’s going on. Is it work?”

Silence greeted her question.

“Okay, then it has to be personal. Who is she?”

“What!” Graham glanced at the ceiling, thankful she wasn’t there in person to see how close to the mark she’d come.

“Don’t
what
me. Who is she?”

“There isn’t a she, Jan. I’m tired. It’s been a long day,” Graham lied as he lay down on his bed, and continued to stare at the ceiling. “Why don’t you pester Jaiden about his antics, or ask the twins what they’ve been up to lately?”

“You must think I’m a stranger, huh? I’m the person that use to wipe your soiled butt. And your snotty nose. And—”

“Okay, I get the point.”

“So?”

“Really Jan, like I said, there isn’t anyone. I’m very tired. Don’t you have some cooking to do?”

Jan sighed. “I guess I could get started on the pie we’re having for dessert. It’s one of your favorites.”

Graham rubbed his eyes as her words reminded him of the lady in the library. “I can’t wait. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He disconnected their call and ran a hand over his face. Janet’s inquisitive nature had him rattled like he’d been pulled over for speeding by a cop. If his sister could read him that well over the phone, then she’ll lace his plate with truth serum at dinner tomorrow. And at her dinner table he won’t be able to  hide he was stressed about a woman.

How long had it been since he’d had a woman in his life that stirred his curiosity? Well, anyone that could be a serious contender.

Then he remembered the words embossed on the folder the lady had carried. He quickly sat up, picked up the phone, and asked information to place a call to the Mason Community Center for him.

As the phone rang in his hand, he formed his words carefully, hoping he wouldn’t sound like a complete idiot.

“Mason Center?” a woman’s voice answered.

“Hello, I was wondering if you could help me. I found a folder in the public library with your Center’s name embossed on it. The lady who left it was wearing a lavender blouse and a tan skirt. I wanted to return it to her.”

“Do you know the woman’s name?”

“No, but she was in the library at around five o’ clock today.”

“One sec.” Several minutes passed when another woman’s voice filled his ear.

“Hello, this is Ms. Mason. I’m the director of the Mason Center. I heard you have one of my colleague’s folders.”

“Do I? Okay, how can I get it back to her?”

“You can bring it over here. I’ll make sure she gets it tomorrow.”

Graham searched his brain for a quick response. “I was hoping I could give it back to her myself. When will she be at the center?” He rubbed suddenly damp palms on the towel covering his thighs. Instinct told him he would have some difficulty prying information from her.

“I-I’m not sure. You can drop it by and I, or my secretary, will make sure she gets it.”

Graham, sensing the close of the conversation, replied, “Okay, I’ll drop it by sometime tomorrow. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

It was a long shot, but what a pleasant turn of events
. He nodded his head and placed the phone on its charger. Now he knew the lady could be found, and the realization made a smile wash over him from head to toe.

Caresse enjoyed this time of night. Her nine- and seven-year-old daughters, Nyla and Messina, fresh from their baths, snuggled up with her on the couch as they watched the ending of their favorite Disney Channel television show,
Wizards of Waverly Place
. She loved the warmth of their baby powder scent and their giggles when she tickled them. The peace of her home always made her enjoy this special time of evening.

At the show’s end, she kissed them goodnight and watched as they bounced upstairs to the room they shared. Soon, Caresse would hear them talking quietly about the events of their day before drifting off to sleep.

It had been a busy day, but her job as an executive assistant would be easier tomorrow since her boss had left for a much-needed vacation. Maybe she could offer Yvette an extra hand with the fundraiser after all.

A thoughtful smile curved Caresse’s features as she remembered the teenagers at the center participating in her class, instead of drifting into subconsciousness with iPod ear buds planted in their ears. She sparked their participation by implementing a ‘Reading and Reward’ system of iTunes and Starbucks gift cards for each completed book. Now all of her students enjoyed literature and reading the classics. Moreover, the center was keeping her daughters active with martial arts, tennis, and gymnastics.

Caresse turned off the TV and ascended the stairs, thankful that tomorrow was Friday—the day her cousin, Diane, would take the girls away for a Jersey shore vacation. In anticipation, Nyla packed a week ago, while her little sister, Messina, managed to collect five bottles of sunscreen.

When Caresse entered her bedroom, she slipped off her beige silk robe to revealed a matching gown that ended mid-thigh. She got into bed and turned on the TV. The screen filled with the dashing Old Spice guy. She exhaled a long sigh of contentment and admitted the good-looking actor didn’t hold a candle to the handsome man she’d met in the library.
Now that guy exuded sex.

Her body reminded her of that fact when her nipples hardened and her pulse quickened. A sudden ring of the phone jarred her from her thoughts.

“Hello?” Caresse answered as she flicked her reading lamp on.

“Girl, did you leave something at the library today?” Yvette asked, almost out of breath.

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“Some man called the Center, saying he found a folder belonging to a lady that fits your description. He wants to return it.”

Caresse’s mind raced to the two fellows she met in the stacks. She wondered which one of them was trying to track her down.

“Hello? Carè, are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here. What did you tell him?”

“I told him he could bring it by tomorrow, and I’ll give it to you. He sounded disappointed, but he agreed.”

Caresse stared at her folder on her dresser. “Did he leave his number?”

“No? Why? Is he someone important? You aren’t keeping secrets from me, are you?”

Caresse cupped her chin. She knew Yvette was dying to hear the details. “Are you busy right now, or can we talk?”

“For you, girlfriend, I’m all ears.”

His strong hands ripped opened her blouse as his urgent lips kissed her passion-bruised lips. They were tangled together on his office desk with only one thing on their minds—limiting the space between them. She undid his belt to free him from the confines of his trousers.