This Holiday Magic. Celeste O. Norfleet

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       Chapter 4

      Twenty minutes later they arrived at her town house. In silence side by side, Janelle and Tyson walked up the short path to the front door. As soon as they got to the top step they stopped. Standing beneath the security lights over the door, each had a front-door key in hand. “You go ahead,” she said, motioning for him to step up and open the front door.

      “No,” he said, stepping back. “Please, it’s your home. After you.” She put her key in the lock and turned the latch. “Are we just going to ignore this and pretend?” he asked.

      “I’m tired, Tyson. I don’t feel like playing games tonight.”

      “This isn’t a game, Janelle,” he assured her.

      “Fine, let’s pretend. How about we play a game called ‘truth or truth’?”

      He sighed. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” His eyes sparkled beneath the lights.

      “I can’t believe you. One day you were there, we were talking about getting married and starting a life together, and all of a sudden the next day you were gone.”

      He was stunned by her comment. “Janelle, my leaving had nothing to do with what I feel for you. It was about me. I needed time. I needed to go. But when I came back you were gone.”

      She scoffed. “What a surprise, and so convenient. At least be original. Isn’t that always the go-to excuse? ‘Oh, no, baby,’” she mocked, “‘it’s not you. It’s me. It’s not that I’m through with you now, or that I was just using you to kill time. I’m just leaving you to go back to my real family now.’”

      “Is that what you think? That I had another family someplace else? That I left you because I was through with you?”

      “Are you going to seriously stand there and tell me I’m wrong with your daughter and probably your wife waiting inside?” She stopped suddenly. The thought of coming face-to-face with Tyson’s wife sent a stunned shock wave through her system.

      An instant later the door opened. Janelle held her breath. Mrs. Ivers stood there, smiling at them. “I thought I heard voices. Why are you two standing out here in the cold? Come on inside.”

      “Good evening, Mrs. Ivers,” Tyson said.

      “Hi, Mrs. Ivers. Thank you so much for loaning me your car.”

      “Hello, Tyson. Janelle, is everything straightened out?”

      “Yes, I’m going to stay at my dad’s house for a while. I just came back to drop off your keys and pick up my luggage.” Janelle handed her the car keys.

      “Oh, dear, I already put your bags upstairs in the master bedroom. I can go get them.”

      “No, no, that’s okay. I’ll get them,” Janelle said, walking toward the stairs quickly. Then she stopped and turned. “Mrs. Ivers, is there someone upstairs?”

      “Someone, yes. Aneka is upstairs, asleep in her room,” Mrs. Ivers said, looking at Tyson curiously.

      As she climbed, Janelle glanced behind her and saw Tyson watching her. She quickened her pace. She wanted to get her things and get out—and away from Tyson—as soon as possible.

      She continued down the hall, opened the already-slightly-open door wider, stepped inside and looked around. A dim light shone from a lamp on a night table beside the large king-size bed; the drapes were open, allowing moonlight to beam in, giving the room a warm, cozy glow. Just as the living room downstairs, it was fully furnished and beautifully decorated with stunning furniture that wasn’t hers.

      She spotted her bags on a cozy love seat in the alcove beneath the bay window. Grabbing one of the handles, she pulled it to the floor. As soon as she did, it tumbled open and a mass of clothing fell to her feet. She knelt and began stuffing things back inside.

      “Here, let me help you.”

      She stiffened, hearing Tyson’s voice as he knelt beside her. He picked up her hair dryer, curling iron and several pieces of intimate apparel.

      “I have it,” she said, quickly taking everything from him and zipping the suitcase up again.

      He stood and reached down his open hand to her. She stared at his hand without responding. “I won’t bite you, Janelle. I promise.” She took a deep breath and took his hand and stood.

      A few seconds passed, her hand still in his. They stood toe to toe, staring at each other in the muted darkness. Neither spoke; Janelle didn’t even dare to breathe. For the first time that evening there was a silent moment of peace between them.

      “You’re wrong,” he said softly, answering her earlier question. “I’ll take these downstairs.” She nodded and followed, and then she stopped when movement in the bed caught her eye. He set the bags down, then walked over to lean down at the side of the bed. Janelle watched his movements. That was when she saw the tiny figure snuggled beneath the covers, holding tight to the bride doll Janelle had brought back from Africa. She walked over and stood near.

      “Daddy...” The little girl moaned softly and reached out to him.

      “Shh, I’m here. Go back to sleep,” he whispered, giving her a hug and a kiss on her forehead.

      After tucking the covers over the child, Tyson straightened and smiled. Janelle instantly saw the unconditional love he had for his daughter in his eyes. It was heartwarming to see.

      “That’s not her doll,” Tyson said, turning to Janelle.

      “No, it’s not. It’s mine.”

      “It’s beautiful.”

      “It’s a handcrafted Ndebele bride doll. A friend of СКАЧАТЬ