“Do you want mayonnaise on your sandwich, honey?” Lena asked from the kitchen.
Keisha peered up tiredly. She sat on the couch Indian-style in a pink bathrobe and flannel pajamas, reading a book. Her thick hair was pulled into a haphazard ponytail atop her head.
“What did you say, Ma?” she murmured. She then glanced irritably at the ringing phone.
It had been ringing almost constantly for the past three days. She had unplugged it at least eleven times already, when she couldn’t take the steady electronic bleating anymore. Each time she would wait a few hours before plugging it in again, hoping that whoever was trying to call had finally given up. But that was never the case. The annoying bleating would resume and she would ignore it until it finally got to her. She was growing weary of repeating this routine.
“I said, ‘do you want mayonnaise on your sandwich’?” her mother shouted over the ringing.
“Mayonnaise is fine,” Keisha muttered. She then returned to the yellow-tinted pages of the book sitting in her lap.
“You plan to put on some clothes soon, KeKe?” her mother asked, peeping around the edge of the kitchen entryway.
Keisha glanced down at her pajamas and frowned. “I do have on clothes.”
Lena sighed heavily, tossed aside a dish towel, and crossed her arms over her small chest. She leaned against the door frame, cocked an eyebrow, and pursed her lips. “I mean clothes that aren’t pink and shoes that don’t have bunny rabbits on them, baby.”
“What difference does it make?” Keisha muttered. She flipped another page in her book. “I’m not going outside anyway.”
The two women had decided to hang out at Keisha’s place, determining that there was more strength in numbers. They had been hounded by reporters for days and neither one wanted to be cornered alone by a pack of photographers. They felt like prisoners, nay, cellmates, in Keisha’s third floor apartment but they refused to venture outside—at least, not until the media storm calmed down.
Her mother rolled her eyes. “Keisha, you can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“You’ve been acting depressed all week,” Lena exclaimed, flapping her arms helplessly. “You’ve been walking around your apartment in those pajamas for days! Have you even washed your face? Brushed your hair?”
Keisha lay back against the sofa cushion and closed her eyes. “Ma, this has by far been the worst month in my entire life. How would you expect me to behave? Should I throw on a sequined dress and high heels and go clubbing?”
“Keisha, that’s not—”
She stopped when the doorbell rang.
They both looked at one another, exchanging the same expression of panic. The bell rang again, now joining the persistent bleat of the house phone. Lena stirred uneasily in the kitchen doorway.
“Who do you think it is?” Lena asked anxiously.
“Oh, Ma, you know who it is! Who else could it be but one of those reporters,” the younger woman spat, tossing aside her book in frustration as the doorbell rang yet again, this time in quick succession as if someone were holding their index finger on the button and refusing to let go. “I’m getting so tired of this,” she said through clinched teeth. She balled her fists at her sides.
“Keisha, just ignore it, baby,” her mother pleaded as Keisha stomped toward the front door. “Don’t answer it, please!”
“No, Ma! I am fed up to here with this!” Keisha shouted over her shoulder. Her mouth twisted with frustration. “The phone is ringing off the hook every day. Now I have people ringing my doorbell. I may be miserable but I refuse…I refuse to let them drive me crazy, too,” she yelled before turning back to face the door again. “Get away from my door!” she bellowed. When the ringing continued, Keisha’s nostrils flared. “Get away from the door or I will call the police!”
And abruptly, the ringing stopped. For several seconds the living room was filled with nothing but the sound of Keisha’s panting breath. After some time, she finally relaxed her stance. She took a deep breath and looked over her shoulder at her mother.
“Maybe you scared them off,” Lena whispered hesitantly.
“Maybe,” Keisha said. She began to walk back toward the couch but stopped when the doorbell rang again. Her eyes widened.
“That’s it,” she muttered. “That is it! Ma, get the phone!” Keisha quickly unlocked her front door, preparing to curse whoever stood on the other side. She angrily swung it open. Her lips were curled and her teeth were bared. A hand rested on her hip. “I warned you!” she yelled. “I told you that if you didn’t get away from my door I would—”
Keisha paused when she saw Will’s sad, dark eyes gazing down at her. Her heart seemed to skid to a halt and she gaped openly.
“Will,” she murmured breathlessly.
“Hi, Keisha.” He gave an awkward smile that looked more like a grimace. “How are you?”
Keisha quickly slammed the door shut.
Her mother frowned in confusion. “Why did you do that?” Lena asked. “Was it a reporter?”
“It’s Will. It was Will!” Keisha exclaimed. Panicked, Keisha instantly reached for the scrunchy atop her head and ripped it off. She lowered her hair and quickly tried to finger-comb her matted locks, but to no avail. She knew she probably looked horrible. She gazed down at her pajamas and bunny slippers, wishing that she had heeded her mother’s advice and changed her clothes. Keisha closed her eyes and took a deep breath before quickly opening the door again, just as Will turned to walk back down the hallway toward the elevator.
“Wait!” she shouted, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket. “Please don’t go! Don’t go!”
He frowned. “But you shut the door. I thought—”
“I’m sorry,” she pled. “I didn’t mean to. I mean…I didn’t mean to slam the door. I…I…” She sighed. “I’m so sorry.”
In so many ways, she thought helplessly. You have no idea how sorry I am, Will.
He quickly shook his head. “No, I’m sorry for laying on your doorbell like that,” he said quietly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t know if you would answer if I didn’t.”
“It’s okay. I, uh, I-I-I…I didn’t…I didn’t know it was you.” She fought to regain her words but couldn’t.
Might have considered looking through the peephole, she thought to herself.
Part of Keisha was happy to see him, but the other part of her wanted to burst into tears. So much had happened since the last time they had spoken. She had dreamed of one day finding the courage to go to Will and tell him that she was sorry. “Will, you were right,” she had wanted to say and ask for his forgiveness. He had been right about Parker. He had been right about politics. He had been right about everything. And now he was standing at her door, finding her in ratty pajamas with bags under eyes, and she couldn’t formulate a comprehensible sentence because she was so confused, so tongue-tied.
“I’ve brought someone to see you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
“To see me?” she asked, surprised. Who else could be out there? Keisha blinked and stared into her apartment hallway in bewilderment.
A man then stepped forward. She could barely see his face under the navy blue hood of a Georgetown sweatshirt and the large aviator sunglasses that were perched on his thin nose. He grinned sheepishly behind a thick, black mustache that looked rather odd on his face, as if it were a little bit too big for his head.
“Hello,” he said softly.
Keisha squinted. The voice sounded vaguely familiar.
“I-I apologize for…my appearance,” he said as he pushed the hood off, revealing salt and pepper hair. “I-I …just wanted…to see you,” he said as he removed his sunglasses and then peeled off the strange-looking mustache. “Will and I thought this would be…the best way…to do it,” he said hesitantly.
Keisha’s breath caught in her throat as Dupré’s smile widened. Her stomach clinched.
She was being assaulted with so many bombshells today that they were leaving her staggered and bemused. She swallowed loudly and licked her lips, desperately thinking of something appropriate to say to him. “C-c-congressman Dupré,” she stuttered awkwardly, extending her hand toward him for a shake, “g-g-good to see you again, sir. Would you please come in?”
Always the politician, Dupré’s face remained firm, but she could tell from the look in his eyes that this was not the greeting he had expected. He stared down at her hand for several seconds before taking it within his own. He then patted it gently. His green eyes seemed to glaze over with tears.
“Good to see you again, too, Keisha,” he said quietly as he stepped through the door. “I am…truly…glad to…” He stopped, then abruptly dragged her into his arms. Keisha’s head landed hard against his shoulder as her eyes widened in shock. She watched as Will gave them a warm smile from the doorway.
“Congressman Dupré?” Keisha whispered.
She listened to Dupré weep softly as he buried his face in her hair, and she instinctively began to rub his back to comfort him. “It’s okay,” she whispered, closing her eyes as she felt them dampen with tears. “It’s okay, really.”
They stood in silence for several minutes, just holding one another. Keisha was amazed. For decades, she had imagined doing this, feeling her father’s arms around her. But, believing that her father was dead, she had assumed that any hope of one day being in his embrace was just a fantasy. But here he was in her living room and she could feel his warmth, smell his aftershave. It was definitely a dream come true.
After some time he finally stood back and cupped her face in his hands. “Such a beautiful girl,” he murmured softly, scanning her features as his thumbs absently rubbed her cheeks.
She smiled bashfully before wiping away an errant tear. Was he kidding? I have to look a total mess, she thought.
Keisha watched as Dupré slowly shook his head. “I know what you’re thinking, but you are,” he said. “You are beautiful. You know that? And when you smile like that, you look just like my mother when she was your age. I swear you do,” he insisted as he squinted his eyes. “I wish I had a picture of her with me,” he said. “It’s just …uncanny how much you look like her.”
“I always thought so, too,” her mother interjected quietly from the other side of the room.
Dupré blinked. He slowly pulled his hands away from Keisha’s face and swallowed loudly as he looked at Lena. He must not have realized that he and Keisha were not alone in the living room. Keisha watched as his face went ashen as he stared at her mother, as if looking at a ghost.
Lena gave a warm smile as she tentatively stepped toward them. “I always thought that she looked a lot like your mother, too. You see it when she frowns, when she gets that little wrinkle between her eyes,” Lena said, pointing to the juncture between her brows. “I think it all the time. ‘There goes Mrs. Jacqueline Dupré all over again,’ ” she said, laughing slightly, though no one laughed with her. She tilted her head. “Hello, Vincent. It’s good to see you.”
Dupré didn’t respond and only continued to gaze at her.
Keisha stood back, not knowing what to expect. She searched Dupré’s eyes, seeing hurt and anger welling up in them. Her heart went out to both him and her mother. She knew this had to be hard. She couldn’t imagine being in their shoes, seeing a former lover after so many years, after so much had happened.
“I’m glad you came,” Lena continued gently despite his cold silence. Her dark eyes glazed over with tears. “I’m so glad that…that Keisha finally has gotten the chance to meet you as her…her father.” She clasped her hands in front of her before bringing them to her chin, as if she was praying. “That makes me so glad.”
Dupré frowned and cocked an eyebrow. “It…does?” He sounded surprised.
Lena quickly nodded. “Yes, of course it does, Vincent. And I’m…” She sniffed. “I’m sorry for making you two wait so long to do this. I hope…I hope you can forgive me.”
“You really mean that? This…this isn’t an act?” he suddenly blurted out.
Keisha’s mother frowned, looking hurt by his words. She slowly shook her head. “No, Vincent, it’s not an act. I mean every word I say.”
“Is that right?” Dupré narrowed his eyes. “Then can you explain to me why you did decide to make us wait so long?” he rumbled. “Why didn’t you tell me I had a daughter? Why did you just run off without a word? I didn’t know where you were, what had happened to you!” he said, raising his voice. “You left me wondering for all those years, Lena!” he shouted. Dupré angrily pointed a finger at his chest. “I want you to tell me what I did to deserve that, to be treated that way! Was I cruel to you? Did you think I’d make a bad father?”
“No! No, Vincent, it wasn’t anything like that!” Lena sighed. “All of this happened when I was very young,” she explained softly. “We were young. I thought…I thought it was the best thing to do at the time. It was a mistake. I know that now.”
Keisha watched as Dupré gritted his teeth. “All this time, all these years, Lena,” he kept muttering. “Do you realize what you did that day? You didn’t just pack up a bag and walk out on me! It wasn’t as simple as that.”
“I know, Vincent,” she pled. “I never meant to hurt you. I just—”
“You changed me, Lena!”
Keisha felt that they were being propelled back in time, that she was witnessing the continuation of an argument that had started in her parents’ small apartment in Southeast, D.C., back in 1979. The bitterness and hurt between them was probably as strong today as it was thirty years ago.
“But you got to finish law school,” Lena argued quietly, her voice faltering. “You went on to bigger and better things.” She looked as if she wanted to weep. “Like I knew you would. Like I always knew you would, Vincent. I didn’t want to drag you down. I just wanted the best for you. That’s all.”
“You got to decide what was best! But you never asked me! I had no choice but to move on!” he yelled, the veins bulging in his throat as his face reddened. “It was either that or sitting around feeling sorry for myself! I had to focus on something! I was ambitious, Lena, not because I wanted to be. I was ambitious because I was cold and empty and you made me that way!” he yelled, pointing his finger at her.
“Vincent, I can’t—”
“If it wasn’t for Sara I never would have opened myself up to anyone ever again,” he continued, cutting Lena off, “especially any woman!” He took a deep breath. “You crushed me, Lena. Do you realize that? It’s time that you realize what you did!”
Lena opened her mouth and then closed it. She looked down at the floor with a pained expression, accepting her long-delayed reproach for the decisions she had made all those years ago.
He took another deep breath. “Oh, that felt good,” he murmured, placing a hand to his chest. “It felt good to finally say it. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to yell at you, Lena.”
She gave a sad, wry smile. “I’m guessin’ thirty years,” she muttered in return. “It looks like it felt good to get it off your chest.”
“And you!” Dupré said, suddenly turning to face Keisha.
Keisha blinked and frowned. “Me?” What on earth did I do?
“Yes, you!” Dupré replied, nodding his head firmly. “I hear that you’re just as obstinate, just as hell-bent on calling your own shots regardless of reason or how the other person feels.”
Keisha’s frown intensified. What was he talking about?
“I know,” her father said. “I know about you and Will, Keisha.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t imagined Will would tell Dupré what had gone on between them. And judging from the glare and the angry expression on her father’s face, it seemed that Will had told him a lot. She crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to meet Dupré’s gaze. Instead, she stared at her bunny slippers.
“I also know what happens when you choose to go the route you’ve chosen: silence and stubbornness,” he said. “You believe you know what you’re doing, I presume? You don’t have to answer for your actions to anyone? Well, is feeling that you’re right going to keep you warm on those nights when you realize that you’re the reason why you’re alone?”
Keisha opened her mouth and then closed it, not knowing how to defend herself. She suddenly turned to her mother, hoping the older woman would come to her defense, but Lena helplessly threw up her hands as she fell back onto the sofa.
“Don’t look at me, baby,” Lena said with exasperation. “According to your father, I don’t have too much room to talk.”
Keisha resisted the urge to pout. Suddenly, having a father wasn’t quite so enjoyable anymore. They had officially reunited only five minutes ago and he was already lecturing her. Keisha had already come to these conclusions on her own. She didn’t need Dupré telling her all this.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.
“Really? What am I thinking?” she asked, mimicking his deep baritone. What was he, an all-knowing genie?
Dupré gave a smug smile. “That you’re ready to apologize to him for the way you treated him. Unfortunately, it’s too late. He’s no longer here.”
Keisha’s eyes instantly darted to the door of her apartment. Her father was right. Will was no longer standing in the doorway. She frowned.
“Where’d he go?” she exclaimed, making Dupré shrug in return.
“I would guess he’s probably heading back home,” he said nonchalantly. “He has to start packing soon if he’s going to make his flight.”
Her frown intensified. “Flight? W-w-what flight?” she stuttered. “Where is he going?”
Dupré shrugged his shoulders again. “I’m not sure exactly. Somewhere in Texas. Houston, I believe. He has an opportunity for a big consultancy job down there. It should last quite a few months. He plans to leave immediately after the election. He told me about it before we came here and…” Dupré sighed, “…I gave him my blessing. The opportunity was too good to pass up.”
Keisha quickly shook her head. “Leave? He can’t leave for Texas!”
Dupré cocked an eyebrow. “Why not? The campaign’s done for. Parker’s going to win. Why shouldn’t Will seek opportunities elsewhere, especially when…” Dupré’s voice trailed off and his green eyes lowered.
“When what?” Keisha watched as her father crossed his arms over his chest.
“When there’s nothing to keep him here,” he finally replied.
That hit Keisha like a wallop to the stomach. “But what…what about me?”
Dupré raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I was under the impression that you didn’t want to see him again. Or at least…that was what he told me,” Dupré said with a tilt of the head. “But maybe he was mistaken. Maybe you could…let him know that.”
Keisha quickly nodded and ran to the other side of her living room to grab her phone. “Okay,” she said as she began to dial his cell phone number, “I’ll call him and tell him. I’ll ask him to come back so that I can explain everything and—”
“It won’t work,” Dupré suddenly interjected, vehemently shaking his head.
Keisha paused from dialing. She frowned over her shoulder at her father. “Why…why won’t it work?”
“His phone’s turned off. He was getting tired of the press calls. You won’t catch him that way.”
Keisha sighed, now feeling defeated. “Well, should I wait until he gets home? I wanted to tell him face to face. I wanted to—”
“It’s not too late to catch him, Keisha,” her father said. “He just left a few minutes ago. Maybe you can get him before he drives off.”
It took only a second of hesitation for Keisha to quickly weigh the pro of running downstairs to find Will and throwing herself in front of his car, if necessary, to stop him from leaving for Texas, and the con of being seen by everyone, including the press, in her pajamas and bunny slippers with no makeup and her hair all over her head. She quickly decided it was worth the embarrassment. Keisha bolted toward her front door and down the apartment hallway to the elevators, pressing the glowing “down” arrow button.
“Come on,” she barked as she waited impatiently for the metal doors to open. Keisha angrily pressed the button again, pacing back and forth. She finally gave up and ran toward the stairwell. Her heart was thudding in her chest by the time she finished racing down the three flights of stairs to the crowded lobby on the first floor. Keisha quickly realized that most of the throng was composed of reporters and photographers. She glanced around hesitantly and bit her lower lip.
Don’t be afraid, she told herself. Keisha took a deep breath and bolted toward the glass-paneled front door. Most of reporters did double takes as she ran by them.
“Miss…Miss Reynolds?” one blonde man with a note pad in his hand asked, blinking in surprise at her ensemble.
“Not now, guys,” she yelled over her shoulder. She almost fell through the entrance as she ran to the parking lot.
“Will!” Keisha shouted. “Will!”
Keisha looked around her desperately, gasping as she searched for Will’s car. Her breath misted in the cold air. Her sense of panic increased with each second she didn’t spot him.
Did I miss him? Tears started to well in her eyes. She’d jump in her car and head to his house in Annapolis if she could, but she left her keys sitting on the coffee table upstairs.
“Keisha?” a male voice called to her from across the parking lot.
Keisha squinted against the darkness. The instant she saw Will standing next to his Audi, her eyes widened and she smiled from ear to ear. “Will!” she exclaimed, running toward him.
Will shut his car door and frowned. “Keisha, what the hell…What are you doing out here in your pajamas?”
“I-I wanted to…I w-w-wanted to c-c-catch you before you l-left,” she said as she fell against his chest, her teeth chattering from the cold.
“What?” he asked, squinting at her in confusion. He shrugged out of his coat and wrapped the garment around her shoulders. “Do you realize that it’s almost 30 degrees out here?”
She pulled insistently at his shirt. “Yes, but—”
“So you do realize it?” he continued, gazing at her. “And for some reason you thought it was okay to go outside in this flimsy cotton,” he said as he plucked the lapels of her pajama shirt and looked down at her feet, “and fuzzy animal slippers.”
The conversation was definitely going off track. Keisha had to tell him how she felt and she had to do it before he left. There was no way she was going to wait six to eight months to profess her love. Who knew what could happen or worse, who he could meet in the interim?
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Will, I just wanted to—”
“Did those reporters see you in this?” He rubbed her shoulders, trying to warm her up. “Good God, Keisha, are you trying to end up on the evening news?”
“Would you just let me finish?” she shouted, making him stare at her in shock. Keisha sighed impatiently. “Look, Will, I just wanted to tell you…” She closed her eyes again. “I just wanted to tell you that I was…sorry…for everything that happened, for everything I said. It wasn’t fair to you and I-I just wanted you to know that before you left.”
She opened her eyes to find him gazing at her somberly. He licked his lips and leaned back against the car door. “Why the sudden change of heart?” he asked.
She slowly shook her head. “It wasn’t sudden, Will. I’ve been thinking about this for a few days now. It’s just when I found out you were leaving for Houston, it was the kick in the butt I needed to finally tell you.”
Will suddenly frowned. “Houston? What are you talking about?”
Keisha tilted her head. “The big consultant job. Dupré…I mean, my father,” she corrected herself, “told me. He was fuzzy on the details. Maybe he got the wrong city. But please, Will, Texas is so far away,” she whimpered. “I know it’s a good opportunity and I understand why you’d want to leave, but before you do this please think about…”
She stopped talking when Will began to chuckle. She could feel his chest rumbling beneath her hands and within seconds he broke into full out laughter. This time, Keisha frowned. “What’s so funny?” She glared up at him angrily. “What’s so damn funny, Will?” she repeated, slapping his chest.
“That sneaky old bastard,” Will muttered, slowly shaking his head. “Keisha, I’m not leaving for Texas and there is no big consultant job.”
She blinked. “There…there isn’t?”
“No, there isn’t,” Will said with a smile. “Is that why you came running down here in your pajamas? Because you wanted catch me before I ‘left for Texas.’ ”
Keisha gritted her teeth. Dupré had fooled her. He had fooled her good. “Yes,” she said sullenly.
“So why didn’t you just call me? You didn’t have to come running down here. I would have answered,” he said as he pulled his BlackBerry out of his pocket.
“Because he said your….” She closed her eyes. “He said your cell phone wasn’t on.” Keisha dropped her head into her hands as Will chuckled again and continued to rub her shoulders. Now she was officially humiliated. “Oh, I feel so stupid,” she murmured. “I could kill him. I really could kill him, Will. Are he and my mother incapable of telling me the truth?” she exclaimed with exasperation.
“Only when they think they know what’s best for you,” Will replied. “Look, I wouldn’t be too mad at him. He had good intentions.”
She stared at her feet. “Which were what?” Keisha spat. “To prove yet again how gullible I am?”
“Of course not,” Will said as he placed a finger beneath her chin and raised it so that she would look into his eyes. “To bring you to me.” He then lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her so tenderly that all her anxiety and anger melted away. Keisha closed her eyes, leaned into him and sighed, so grateful to feel his lips again. When he pulled his mouth away, she opened her eyes and smiled.
“I missed you,” they said simultaneously and laughed, though Keisha quickly became somber.
“There are so many things, Will,” she said quietly as she stared at his chest, “that I wish I could take back, that I wish I could do over again.”
He slowly shook his head. “Keisha, don’t—”
“No, Will,” she insisted as she raised a hand to his lips. “Let me finish, please.” She bit her lower lip and then frowned. “I shouldn’t have walked out on you that night. You didn’t lie to me. I know that now.”
“No, I did not,” he said softly. “But I knew it was coming. I should have warned you. You were right about that. But I was scared that it would frighten you away.”
“I shouldn’t have put so much trust in Dr. Parker either,” she continued. She then ruefully shook her head. “He didn’t deserve that trust. He’s changed, Will. And I’ve change. I see things…so differently now. I wish I could go back and change everything.” She sighed and shook her head. “But I can’t.”
“No, you can’t,” he said quietly. “But you can try to make it better. You can learn from the mistakes you’ve made, Keisha. I should know,” he said with a wry smile. “I’ve made many that I’ve had to come back from.”
“But even with us,” she said. “I don’t know how—”
“Anything and everything that was said or done, I forgive you, Keisha,” he said earnestly. “And I hope you can forgive me. Does that make you feel any better?”
She slowly smiled. “Yes, it does.” But then she looked down again and frowned. “Though I wonder if my father will be just as forgiving. Thirty years ago Ma broke his heart and now I’ve ruined his career. I set out from the beginning to make sure that he didn’t win this election.” Keisha took a deep breath. “And now it looks like I’m going to get my wish.”
Will and Keisha stood silently for several seconds. He tilted his head. “Not necessarily.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “How do you figure that?”
“Step into my office, m’ lady,” he said as he slowly opened a car door for her. “It’s cold out here and I have something I want to share with you.”
It was now her turn to give a wry smile. “What do you have up your sleeve, Will Blake?”
He grinned. The old, methodical Will who could always find the right maneuver had returned and, yes, he did have something up his sleeve.