“What do we do now?” Sherelle asked.
“I promised your mother we’d decorate the tree.”
Before the decorating process began, Sherelle picked up the eight-inch box and handed it to Lennie. “You might want to return this and get your money back. I don’t have the words to fully explain right now, but as much as I want you to stay, I can’t allow it. I’m still trying to wrap my head around what I almost did to you. This gift only complicates things for me. Lennie, you’d do me a great favor if you’d just leave.” She shoved the eight inch box towards him. “I’m sorry.”
Lennie stopped when he reached the door. “I’ll go because you asked me to. But there’s something I want you to remember. I’ll always love you. Nothing will change that. I want your love of your own free will. And I’m willing to wait for it.”
After she closed and locked the door, she pressed her back against it and sobbed uncontrollably. She missed him. When she stopped crying, it dawned on her that she’d made asking for an interview that much harder.
Chapter 18
The New Year brought about change. Sherelle promised her parents she’d call every weekend. While in the mood for new beginnings, she also decided she’d put other changes in place. From this day forward, she’d leave work at a decent hour, get more sleep, and at least be kinder to Major Laurence Williams, an idea she thought might meet with her parents’ approval. How she’d be kind to Lennie without melting under his gaze, she had no idea, that’s providing she’d ever see him again. For all she knew, those same gorgeous eyes might spit bricks into her chest once she got around to asking him for an interview. She didn’t want to think about that now. Sherelle decided to reserve that dilemma for another day.
She beamed after rising at six a.m. on the first Saturday since her parents’ departure. She opened her new curtains to let the early sunlight in then she read Psalms 23, 37, and I Corinthians 13:4-8. The Apostle Paul had a perspective on love she craved to understand. Her scripture reading reminded her that she needed to call the cab company to arrange for someone to pick her up at ten thirty sharp on Sunday—every Sunday. She planned to go to church whether it rained or snowed. She had more repenting to do.
After her reading, she phoned her parents and allowed their conversation to drag on for thirty minutes without a need to end the call. During the weekday, she rose no earlier than six forty-five to prepare breakfast, sometimes cooking her favorite, Eggah, an old Egyptian recipe.
For lunch she power-walked at the park. At four-thirty sharp, she cleaned her desk and walked out the door by five fifteen. If someone on her team had a hard time meeting a deadline, everyone pitched in, including other departments. This reduced overtime pay. Randall Osborne loved Sherelle’s revamped leadership role and he didn’t hesitate to compensate her for it. They soon made a deal. Anytime she worked extra hours, she’d bargain for and he’d grant a day off instead of monetary compensation.
On the train ride home, she saw Lennie three times, but hid from sight to avoid contact. She still had a hard time dealing with the fact she nearly ended his career. Nightly dreams reminded her that she had grown too weak to deny she loved him. No way she’d tell him that. She had a nagging fear that in the end all she’d do is hurt him all over again.
Lennie, however, didn’t make it easy on her to forget the pain she’d caused. Shortly after he left her apartment on Christmas Eve, he started leaving food at her door. Always hot, she couldn’t understand how he’d gotten the food to her apartment in what seemed like minutes before she arrived. Days later he started leaving voice mails at the same time Monday through Friday. “I’m calling to remind you that I love you,” he’d always say. She felt relieved if that’s all he said.
But on days when he’d leave longer messages, she’d barely get through the night. His words stuck in her head all day long. “All this time, I’ve been a coward. A fool. I never should have left that night without explaining myself. There’s a hole in my heart without you. I want to see you,” he had said on one voice message. “For some reason, today was harder than yesterday. No matter what I did or where I went, I thought about you. With each passing day, I’m dying inside. I never told you this, but I took a picture of you when we were in Richmond. I look at it every night before I drift off to sleep and wonder if I’ll ever get to hold you, kiss you, or run my hand through your hair. ” After a short pause, he said, “Sherelle, I love you.”
When his messages didn’t grant him an audience, he came by. She’d hear his light tap on the door, but she never answered. Sometimes, in her stocking feet, she’d tiptoe to the door and quietly sit and listen to his pleas. Then she’d spend the rest of the evening crying herself to sleep. He would inevitably call the same night, saying, “Since I couldn’t get you on the phone, I came by your apartment today. Guess you weren’t home. Maybe you just didn’t want to answer the door. Still, I want to see you. Please give me an opportunity to explain.”
One day her overloaded recorder stopped working. She dropped her bags to the floor, sat on the bed and patiently listened to each message to determine which she’d delete in order to make room for new ones.
Today, after she got off the train, she decided to brave the bitter cold and walk two blocks to the dry cleaners to pick up a dress. Matter of fact, she’d bought several new dresses—four arrived this week. She loved showing off her legs, but soon learned she had to supplement her wardrobe with several pair of wool slacks if she wanted to avoid catching pneumonia. Sherelle had already worn the dress twice. One of her favorites, she planned to wear it for the interview scheduled to take place in another week. Still without the courage to ask Lennie for an interview, she toyed with the idea of Randall Osborne firing her if Lennie suddenly became unavailable. For reasons unknown, of course. Sherelle shook her head. “That wouldn’t be right,” she said to herself.
Grocery shopping taxed her patience, but as long as she was out she might as well pick up a bottle of ginger ale on her way home from the dry cleaners. Although her parents had done a fine job of stocking her cabinets, once at the grocery store she loaded the cart with meat, vegetables, and anything else she thought might keep her from venturing out into the cold again.
At checkout, the lines tempted her to forfeit everything inside the cart, except the ginger ale, and move to the Express Lane. Her mother’s voice chimed in her ears, “. . . stop taking so many showers and always being in a hurry.” Sherelle tousled her hair a time or two, smiled, and waited.
Though Lennie stood some distance away, he recognized Sherelle by the way she tilted her head and ran her fingers through her hair. He also noticed the dry cleaning draped on the cart. Did she have a date? The thought chilled him. He asked the lady behind him to save his spot before he moved up the line. He touched a man on the shoulder then slipped him a twenty to switch places.
He expanded his chest before he decided to make a move, stifling his need to hold her. Lennie buried his face in her hair and kissed the top of her head. “Hello beautiful.”
The familiar voice warmed her. In her mind, she eased inside his arms and opened her mouth to kiss him. But the minute her eyes landed on his handsome face, reality replaced her joy with dread.
“I didn’t expect to see you.” Sherelle sounded smug. She stepped to her right to put more distance between them, and perhaps more distance from the problem at hand.
“I can’t believe you’re in a grocery store,” Lennie teased. He looked at her dry cleaning straddled across the shopping cart then pulled lightly on the garment. “Going somewhere fancy?”
“I just came in to pick up a few things.” Sherelle ignored his question about the dress. She didn’t think it appropriate to put him on the spot in a public place and ask for an interview.
“You must be desperate,” Lennie said, smiling.
“Not as much. I made New Year’s resolutions and things are going well.”
“Is this all ma’am,” the clerk asked.
&nb
sp; “Yes,” Sherelle replied.
“How are you?” Lennie asked.
“Not bad. You?”
“Not sure you want to know.”
The clerk gave Sherelle her change.
“Why wouldn’t I want to know?” Sherelle asked as she grabbed her groceries and waited for Lennie to check out.
“It’s a long story. No need to discuss it here. You’ve been getting my messages?”
Sherelle looked down. “Yes, I have.”
“Can we talk?”
“I’d rather not. It’s still uncomfortable for me. If I didn’t say it before, I want you to know I’m sorry.”
“Let’s talk.”
“I can’t. I just can’t.” Sherelle tried to wipe her eyes, but her groceries spilled to the ground. Lennie scurried across the sidewalk and grabbed the ginger ale, then scooped up a cucumber and several tomatoes and placed them inside her bag.
When they both stood face to face, Lennie reached in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “You’ll catch a terrible cold if you don’t stay dry.”
“Thank you.” Sherelle nodded in the direction of her apartment. “I need to go.”
“Yes. Of course. January has turned out to be a cold month. Stay warm.”
Several times Sherelle started to turn around and ask if he’d do the interview, but the question stuck in her throat. When she finally built up enough courage to look behind her, Sherelle stood in the middle of the sidewalk and wondered if she'd ever see him again. Bustling against the cold, she headed home, trying but failing to keep tears from falling.
###
At the corner, Lennie looked behind him, regretting his inability to persuade her to give him ten minutes of her time. He'd promised himself the next time he saw her, he wouldn’t be so tongue-tied. But he’d been naïve regarding the power she had over him. Had he kept his wits about him, he would ask her out to dinner. But as he looked at his cold shaky hands, he realized Sherelle had once again rendered him defenseless.
###
Sherelle thought about Lennie as she put groceries away. She knew there was no way out of the interview. If she called him right now, maybe his anger over the idea would simmer by Saturday. Then perhaps they’d perform the interview and somehow go their separate ways and get on with their lives.
Thoughts of the interview frazzled her nerves and suppressed her appetite. She decided to shower. Afterwards, she sat on the bed and grabbed the worn Look Magazine she had read four or five times and flipped through the pages once more, her mind never wavering too far from thoughts of Lennie.
When her landline rang and interrupted her thoughts, she glanced at the caller ID.
“Hi,” she said with the gentleness of someone in love, ignoring the fact she needed something from him, something he had every right to deny.
“I can’t get you off my mind. I had to call,” Lennie said. “It was nice to see you today. Please let me explain. Just give me ten minutes, Sherelle.” Lennie fell silent for a brief moment. “I love you more than you’ll ever know.” Lennie laughed nervously. “I wanted to tell you that on the street. But for some reason, I couldn’t get that out earlier.”
On the brink of caving in and finally admitting her deep affections for him, Sherelle rubbed her eyes. “I need to do this,” she blurted out.
“Do what?”
“Okay. Here goes.” She sighed then stuck out her chest and forced the question out. “Can you do an interview with me on Saturday?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Our executive editor wants me to conduct an interview with you regarding the rescue last year.”
“What?”
“We need the story. The anniversary is coming up in three months and Randall seems to think there might be spinoffs from it. He wants to run the story February 1st. Will you do it?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No. I’m dead serious.”
“Sherelle, I’ve recanted that story so many times that I hear it in my sleep. I can’t do that again. Can’t they find another story to tell?”
“Sorry. Randy’s bent on this one. I tried to talk him out of it.”
“That’s not hard to believe. I’m sure I’m the last person you want to see or do an interview with.”
“How can you say that? I was thinking of how you felt. Not myself. I knew you didn’t want to go through that again.”
“You thought of me alright. How come you didn’t ask me this on the street?”
“I didn’t think you’d do it.” Sherelle paused and thought again. “Alright! I didn’t have the nerve to ask you.”
“And all of a sudden you’ve got the nerve now?”
“No. My knees are knocking. The truth is I felt I didn’t have the right to ask you. Lennie, I perfectly understand if you don’t want to do the interview. I’ll call my boss and tell him to find another story. I respect your decision.”
“Respect my decision? Cancelling the interview would work in your favor. It gets you off the hook. You won’t have to see me, remember what we went through, or remember what we had. You can’t deny you felt something for me. That’s the part that stays buried in all this.”
“Lennie, we were two lonely people who shared something traumatic. That’s all. Not everyone who shares a traumatic experience falls in love.”
“I did,” he said, his voice steady. “I love you, Sherelle and nothing is going to change that. Not your stubbornness or your dreadful work hours or your pursuit of a job title.”
Sherelle slammed the phone on its cradle. Lennie’s words made everything stand still. Trying to work or sleep or think with his voice lingering in her ear every day seemed impossible. Frustration knocked her to the floor. She cupped her warm face in her hands, denying then admitting she had always felt something deep for Lennie.
Those feelings first crept inside her while she paced Germany’s hospital hallways as doctors frantically tried to get Lennie’s bleeding under control. She’d clung to his side and prayed for hours, crying, spilling out regrets. When he finally opened his eyes, she kissed them, praised God for his stable blood pressure, for the steady beep of the heart monitor.
Those same feelings teased her during their October motorcycle ride through the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. Her feelings deepened the moment she opened the door on Christmas Eve. His voice mails replayed in her mind all through the night.
Having no idea how long it rang, she gazed at the telephone then snatched it off the nightstand.
“I’ll do the interview,” Lennie said.
“You will?”
“When and where?”
“Saturday. Eleven o’clock. At the Ritz Carlton on 22nd Street. Lennie, you really don’t have to—”
“See you there.”
Chapter 19
“Is everyone comfortable?” Elizabeth asked.
“Meaning that neither one of us wants to be here, I think we’re as comfortable as we can get,” Lennie said, sitting with his legs crossed. He tried to avoid staring at Sherelle, but he couldn’t help it. He noticed how she gracefully smoothed out the skirt of her dress. How her eyelashes batted endlessly as she struggled to avoid eye contact. How her amber skin diluted to a frosty champagne against the harsh bright camera lights.
At the sound of his voice, Sherelle looked up then turned away. In the span of a few seconds, she noticed things about Lennie that she had forgotten. Like the tiny scar above his left eyebrow or his large manicured hands. They resembled nothing of the aggressive soldier who’d rescued her from a chaotic city and protected her through rampant gunfire. How those same hands had gently held her close and wrapped around her waist on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. She’d forgotten about his smooth face and shrewd jawline. Or his moist lips that kept moving and spewing out words she didn’t understand. Could they be soft and solvent as cotton candy?
“Sherelle? Sherelle?”
“Huh? What?
”
“You ready?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, I’m ready.” Sherelle tugged at her blouse to ensure buttons were fastened, ruffles in her collar straightened. Before she finished, someone hovered over her.
“You missed one. The ruffle of your collar is stuck in the side of your neck,” Lennie said.
A woodsy scent emitted from his body and lingered when he returned to his seat.
“Shall we get started?” Elizabeth asked.
“What’s that cologne you’re wearing?” Sherelle asked.
“Lagerfield.”
“Hmm.”
“If you’re planning to buy me a bottle, they discontinued it.” Without answering, Sherelle turned away. He couldn’t help smiling at her smug expression.
“Are we ready?” Elizabeth asked. No one answered. “Okay. Today is January 17 and this is an interview with Major Laurence Williams and Sherelle Lindsey.” Elizabeth turned and spoke to someone behind her. “Taylor, is that sound bite okay?”
“It’s fine Liz. Go ahead.”
Elizabeth: Major Williams, let me first say how happy we are that you decided to grant us this interview.
Major Williams: You’re welcome.
Elizabeth: Can you take us back to that day in April almost two years ago . . . the day you rescued Sherelle Lindsey?
Major Williams: My team checked their equipment several times then we checked each other’s clothing.
Elizabeth: Why was your clothing significant?
Major Williams: We had to make sure we blended in and looked like everyone else. We knew the location of the American female, but feared the spot was too hot.
Elizabeth: By hot you mean—what exactly?
Major Williams: There was too much terrorist activity in the area.
Elizabeth: Was the rescue quick?
Major Williams: Yes. She helped us out a great deal.
Elizabeth: Did you have contact with Ms. Lindsey beforehand?
Major Williams: Oh, no. I’m afraid if we had, she’d probably have blown our cover.
Sherelle: There’s no truth to that.
Major Williams: Matter of fact, she probably would’ve thrown us out and told us she’d leave when you felt good and ready.