Playing the Hand You're Dealt (4 page)

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Authors: Trice Hickman

BOOK: Playing the Hand You're Dealt
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“A brothah's just tryin' to hold on . . . nahmean? Just tryin' to hold on.”
It amazed me that Carl had the nerve to say some of the things that came out of his mouth.The victims of natural disasters around the world were just trying to hold on. Our soldiers deployed in foreign lands and the families they'd left behind were just trying to hold on. Families who'd lost their homes due to layoffs and the economic downturn were just trying to hold on. Carl, on the other hand, was just trying to stay one step ahead of the law!
“Carl and I are going to step out for a minute,” Samantha said, trepidation lacing her voice. “I'll be back in a little while.”
They turned to walk away, but then Carl stopped and looked back at me, stuck his hands deep into his pockets, and said, “Yo, Emily. I'm sorry to hear 'bout yo moms.”
His condolence was short and simple, but I could tell it was genuinely sincere. “Thanks, Carl.” I was touched . . . a little.
They'd barely gotten out of earshot before Ms. Gerti started speaking her mind. “Now see, they're supposed to be broken up. At least that's what she claimed last month. I don't know why that child is always messing with men who ain't no damn good. She was raised better than that.” She sighed. “That boy can't even keep his pants up around his damn waist. And he don't work a lick, but he drives a fancy car and wears more jewelry than you and me put together. Now how the hell you figure that?”
Ms. Gerti brought up a point that was a bone of contention and embarrassment for Samantha's parents—Carl's
questionable
career. He claimed he was a rapper, excuse me, a musical artist. But we all knew the truth. His real line of work was selling drugs.
“Ms. Gerti, you know as well as I do what that's all about,” I said.
“Yeah, child, I know. And it burns me up.The only good thing that Carl can claim in his sorry-ass life is that precious little angel sleeping upstairs.” She sighed again.
“Samantha doesn't talk much about it, but has Carl been spending time with CJ?”
“No, thank God,” she said, raising her hands in the air as if in praise. “The only time he comes slithering around here is when Sam blows into town on the weekends every other month. I think he can smell her drawers as soon as she hits the city limits.” She frowned. “Plus, you know he's not too welcome around here anyway. Ed made that clear years ago, and Brenda, shoot, she nearly shits in her britches when you mention his name.”
“Well, at least CJ's got his grandparents, and you.”
“And you, too.” Ms. Gerti smiled. “CJ loves the ground you walk on.You're the only real mother that child's ever known, taking him in and raising him like your own. You're a good friend, Emily. Not many people would do that,” she said as she put her hand on her hip. “So when're you gonna get married and have some babies of your own?”
I shrugged. “It's hard to find a good man, Ms. Gerti.”
“Yeah, but you're a beautiful girl. You're smart, educated, and just as sweet as you can be.With all that going for you, you should be married by now. Didn't you leave a boyfriend behind in Atlanta?”
“Um, yes, I did.” I blinked as I thought about my failed relationship with Bradley. “He just wasn't the right one for me.”
I dreaded when people asked me that question. My mother, God rest her soul, used to ask me all the time. “Emily, when are you going to settle down and get married? I don't want you to end up alone,” she'd said more times than I cared to remember.
I'd dated quite a few men, most of whom had been very nice and intelligent, and treated me well. But none of them had ever ignited a spark in me, and that was because the flame had been lit eleven years ago and had never gone out. Over the years I tried desperately to make my relationships work. The last man I dated, Bradley Johnson, had been a really sweet guy. He was an architect with a large firm in downtown Atlanta.We were together for a year and a half, my longest relationship to date. He was handsome and kind, and we even had a decent sex life.
My mother loved Bradley and had visions of wedding cake and baby booties in our future. Samantha thought I had temporarily lost my mind when I broke up with him. “That man is fine, and he's paid. Don't fuck it up,” she'd said in her classic, no-frills wisdom. Bradley had been ready to propose, but I couldn't let that happen. I knew it wouldn't have been fair to him because my heart rested in a place he would never be able to reach.
Ms. Gerti looked squarely at me. “I hope you're not waiting for a perfect man, 'cause, sugar, there ain't no such thing.”
“I know. I just want someone who . . . who moves me.”
“Moves you?”
She chuckled, shaking her head. “You young girls kill me with all that crazy talk. Just get you a man who respects you, pays the bills, and gives you what you're looking for under the sheets and you'll be all right.”
“That'll work, too,” I said, joining her for a laugh.
We chatted a little longer before Ms. Gerti's eyelids started to flutter. She walked over to the coffeemaker. “You still an early riser?”
“Like the sun.”
“Want a cup of coffee in the morning?”
“No thanks. I've cut out coffee. I'm drinking tea these days.” I smiled, raising my cup of lukewarm green tea that I'd made from the basket Samantha gave me.
Ms. Gerti reached into the cabinet above her head, pulled out a box of Earl Grey, and sat it by the sink. “If you ask me, nothing beats a strong cup of joe in the morning.” She nodded, scooping out a precise measure of gourmet coffee from a bag she'd taken out of the refrigerator. She pushed a few buttons to program the machine and then opened the breadbox and split a bagel down the middle, placing it in the toaster. I could see that this was a nightly routine that no doubt helped her to prepare for the next day.
“Good night, sugar.” Ms. Gerti smiled. She gave me a hug and then headed out the back door.
I wondered how she liked living so close to the people she worked for. I loved teaching, but when I left school in the afternoon it took an all-points bulletin for anyone on staff to find me. But it was different for Ms. Gerti.The Baldwins were like her family. Even though Samantha frustrated her no end, Ms. Gerti felt like she was her own child. She had raised Samantha and her brother Jeffery with the same love she now showered on CJ. It didn't seem fair that a woman full of so much goodness had never had a husband and children of her own. I wondered if I'd end up like her some day.
I was sitting in the den watching the local news, waiting up for Samantha, even though I knew it was pointless. Brenda returned from her board meeting and chatted me up for a few minutes. “I'm so glad you're staying with us in the comfort of our home,” she said before gliding upstairs to her bedroom.
As I flipped between MSNBC and the local news, I thought about the fact that the only attractive features of living in the Baldwin home for the next couple of weeks were going to be Ms. Gerti's cooking, and spending time with CJ. These walls didn't hold the comfort for me that Brenda thought. And if she knew how I felt about her husband, I was sure she'd tell me to vacate the premises.
I walked over to the mantel above the fireplace and looked at the display of family pictures. Birthdays, Christmases, and family vacations, all captured by electronic photos and the miracle of God. I couldn't wait to put my family photos up in my new house. We didn't have exciting vacations to Hawaii or the south of France like the Baldwins. Ours had been more like Busch Gardens and Six Flags, but they'd been filled with love and happy memories.
I looked closely at a picture of the Baldwin clan on vacation circa the mid-1990s. Samantha and Jeffery had the look of defiant teenagers plastered on their faces, Brenda looked like a mother who was tired of dealing with defiant teenagers, and Ed . . . Ed had the look of clear water, and springtime, and shooting stars, and all of life's other wonders. I was temporarily drawn back to reality when I heard a familiar voice fill the room . . . the
real
reason I had waited up.
“I see you made it,” he said.
I turned around and there he was, Edward Curtis Baldwin. My best friend's father. My Sweet Pea's
Papa
. And my heart's one true desire. I had loved this man for the better part of my adult life.
I remember the first day I met him, standing in my dorm room my freshman year at Spelman. My vivacious new roommate ushered her truckload of Louis Vuitton luggage and her enchanting father into my life, changing me forever. I was instantly struck by his gentle nature, handsome face, and indelible smile. At eighteen years old, I had fallen in love. A warm sensation flooded my body that day, but it was like giving birth to a stillborn infant—knowing I'd always carry the love in my heart, but that the precious life which could've been would never be realized because it was dead before ever having a chance to breathe. So I tucked those feelings away and buried them in a shallow grave next to the loss I felt for my father.
Over the years I was always polite, but distant. Courteous, but never engaging. Kind, but never overly so. I couldn't afford to be. I didn't want him to discover my true feelings. So I kept my distance, measured my words, and hoped that my love for him would dissipate over time. Sadly, it never has.
“Welcome to DC,” he said, smiling at me in a way that made me feel warm inside.
“Thanks,” I replied softly.
He held his jacket in one hand, his briefcase in the other. His impeccable silk tie was loose at the neck and his crisp white shirt sleeves were rolled up, giving him a casual air. At a little over six feet tall, with deep brown eyes, curly black hair sprinkled with a faint touch of salt, and skin the color of creamy caramel, he was the only man who'd ever made me lose my breath. I had to remind myself to exhale before I spoke again. “Thanks for letting me stay with you and Brenda. I'm not sure when my place will be ready, but . . .”
“Take your time,” he interjected. “There's no rush here, unless you don't think you'll be able to stand us after a few days.” He laughed.
“Oh, no, that's not what I meant at all. I just don't want to be a bother.”
“Emily,” he smiled, causing my knees to slightly buckle as the sound of my name escaped his lips, “it's no bother. We're glad to have you, and please know that you're welcome to stay for as long as you need to. Besides, that grandson of mine is crazy about you. This morning he came up to me, all excited, and said, ‘Papa, Auntie Emee is coming to live with us today!' ”
I smiled, genuinely touched. “CJ is very special to me, too.”
We stood in awkward silence for a moment. Ed looked at me with inspecting eyes. He was the kind of person who noticed everything. Suddenly, I felt terribly inadequate in my denim shorts and cropped cotton shirt that showed a hint of my navel. His stare made me self-consciously aware of my exposed skin.
“So . . . you're up by yourself?” he asked, looking around as if he hoped to find more company in the room.
“Um, yeah. Samantha stepped out a little while ago.” I dared not tell him that she left with Carl. “I was waiting up for her,” I half lied.
“That daughter of mine. I can't believe she left you alone on your first night in town.” He looked at his watch and shook his head. “Don't wait up for Sam. If you do, you'll be standing in this same spot tomorrow morning.”
We both laughed because he was right. I nodded, trying to shake the warm feeling that was running through my body.
“Well, if there's anything we can do for you, just let us know,” Ed smiled.
I wanted to melt when I saw his lips curve upward and his teeth shine through like the sun. His smile was so beautiful. “Thank you.You and Brenda have done so much for me already. Letting me stay here, helping me to find a job.”
Ed had put in a good word for me at CJ's private school, where he also happened to be a member of the board of directors. Shortly after that, the headmaster called and offered me a position for the upcoming school year.

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