Better for Us. Vanessa Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ your heart? Do you think Jaylen is yours?”

      Noel’s eyes closed with the weight of what he was going through. “I still can’t believe that Ryla gave Jaylen my middle name but never said a word to me about this baby.” He shook his head as he flopped back into his chair. He thought about the years he spent drinking, gambling and womanizing. He’d ruined his reputation so badly that he’d almost lost his way. “Things in my life could have been so different if I had known that I had a child.”

      “I realize that this is difficult for you. It would be difficult for any man to discover that the woman he loved and practically idealized has done something like this to him. But, my brother, you’ve got to keep the faith.”

      Noel knew that his brother spoke the truth and everything he said was for his own good. Several years ago, Donald had found him passed out in a bar where the patrons had not only taken pictures of his inebriated state, but had posted them online. By the next morning, CNN, MSNBC and every other news station had documented his fall from grace. They focused the world’s attention on the fact that the great Noel Carter’s knee injury had occurred during negotiations for his second three-year deal. The first contract had earned him five million a year, and this contract was about to double that, but then the knee injury happened, rendering the contract null and void. The newscasters had speculated that the voided contract had sent Noel on a drinking binge.

      Only Noel and Donald knew that Noel’s wounds went deeper than a voided contract. By the time that contract had been voided, Noel had already made enough money from his last basketball contract and endorsement deals to keep him living in luxury for a very long time. And Noel had business interests that would earn him more money in years to come. So, the loss of a simple contract didn’t bother him much. Not being able to play the game he loved, and not having the woman he loved by his side was what had bothered him the most.

      Since his basketball days, he’d invested in the stock market and a few urban renewal projects. Some stocks lost money, but the majority of his investments were making money. His urban renewal projects provided him with a community focus and reminded Noel of his desire to do more for his people. So, he’d put his hat in the race for the House of Representatives. They were acting like clowns right now with John Boehner as their leader, but Noel was still convinced that he could get in there and do some good. His campaign manager had warned him that the race would be an uphill battle because of all the drinking and womanizing he’d done in the past, but Noel had assured Ian that he was on solid ground. Now Noel wondered how many votes Ian would predict that he’d lose because of an illegitimate child.

      “Do you want to pray, Noel?” Donald finally asked.

      “I’m not sure what I want right now, Donald. I just know that I’m starting to feel that same hurt that drove me to the bottle in the first place.”

      * * *

      “Mommy, Mommy, do I smell French toast?” Jaylen asked as she ran into the kitchen with her grandmother trailing behind.

      Jaylen’s favorite breakfast was French toast, and considering the news that Ryla had to deliver this morning, she figured that she’d better step her game up from the Cap’n Crunch, cereal she let Jaylen eat on Saturday morning. “And check it out,” Ryla boasted. “I got you some strawberry syrup, powdered sugar and whipped cream.”

      Jaylen jumped for joy. “Just like we put on the waffles. Is this a special day or something?”

      Okay, maybe she went a bit overboard, but it wasn’t every day that a little girl met her father for the first time. Noel had been so angry last night that he hadn’t told her what time he would be back today. But she wasn’t concerned about that, because if she knew nothing else, she knew that Noel Carter would be ringing her doorbell at his earliest convenience today. “It’s not a special day, honey. But let’s hurry up and eat, because there is something I’d like to talk to you about.” Ryla turned and looked at her mom with imploring eyes. “Do you think you can hang out with us for a little while this morning?”

      Juanita Evans-Berkley gave her daughter a big Texas smile as she sat her Coach purse down on the counter. “Are you kidding? For French toast with strawberry syrup, I’ll hang out with y’all all day.”

      “Thanks, Mom,” Ryla said, grateful that she would have a shoulder to lean on today. “Well, ladies, help me set the table so we can eat.”

      Ryla went to the refrigerator and took out the apple juice and orange juice, while Juanita took the plates out of the cabinet. Jaylen grabbed the napkins and forks. As Ryla put three glasses on the table her hand was shaking a bit.

      Juanita glanced at Ryla. “Is everything okay?”

      Ryla poured apple juice for Jaylen and then picked up the orange juice to pour herself and her mother a glass. “Sure, everything’s okay,” she said. But then the doorbell rang and Ryla almost dropped the juice. She gripped the orange juice bottle with a firmer hand and poured the juice in the glasses. She then put both juices back in the refrigerator and started chewing on her index finger.

      “What’s wrong?” her mother asked.

      “Nothing’s wrong,” Ryla hurriedly said. “Why do you think something’s wrong?”

      “Well, for one thing, you’re chewing on your finger. You only do that when you’re trying to figure out how to get out of something. The doorbell has rung twice so far, but you haven’t yet moved an inch to answer it.”

      Ryla took her finger out of her mouth and stepped away from the stove. “Can you fix Jaylen’s plate while I go and see who’s at the door?”

      “Sure thing, hon,” her mother said with a lifted brow.

      Ryla took baby steps all the way to the front door. She fully expected Noel to show up again today, but not at ten in the morning. She had hoped he would at least give her until noon to break the news to their daughter. But as she looked out the peephole at the double-fudge fine black man standing on her porch, her suspicions were confirmed. She had to take a moment to study his face before opening the door. From his short fade to the well-manicured goatee, to his Hershey’s Kiss chocolate skin, everything on Noel was perfection.

      Well, everything but the scowl on his face as he pushed the buzzer several times in a row. Ryla swung the door open. “My goodness, do you really need to wake the neighborhood?”

      “I’ve been standing here for five minutes. And I know it doesn’t take that long to get to the front door in your house.”

      Was that supposed to be some sort of crack about the size of her house? She put her hand on her hip and protested, “I was busy. And you did come over here without calling first.”

      “Do I have your number?” Noel rhetorically asked.

      Noel’s voice was rising, so Ryla stepped out on the porch and closed the door behind her. “You might want to keep it down a bit.”

      With nostrils flaring, Noel said, “I didn’t come over here to play games with you, Ryla. Is Jaylen home this morning or not?”

      Nodding, she said, “She and my mother just arrived. But I haven’t had time to tell her about you yet.”

      “When do you suppose you’ll get around to that?” he asked, in a sarcasm-infused tone.

      “She’s eating breakfast right now. I was going to tell her as soon as she finished.” СКАЧАТЬ