He studied her face, not sure what she was getting at.
“You don’t tell a woman on her deathbed—oh by the way, I’m divorcing you.” She met his eyes. “Is this what you want, really?”
Myk knew it wasn’t. He wanted to grow old with her—help her rebuild her center—make love to her in every country in the world; but more importantly, he wanted to love her until the day he died. “No, it isn’t.”
“Then now’s the time to tell me all about this secret life, don’t you think?” Sarita winced as a stitch pulled. “After that, I’ll decide if I want to divorce you.”
Myk shook his head, chuckled softly, then told her all.
When he was done, she was quiet for some time, then said, “That’s a pretty ambitious job.”
“I know.”
“And NIAis just an experimental group for now?”
He nodded. “Yes. If it works here, the government may try and establish it in other cities. We’re the test case. We’re being funded for about eighteen months more.”
Sarita mulled over all he’d said. She had nothing but admiration for the men and women he was working with and hoped they would be able to make a difference.
He then added, “I don’t want anyone else coming after you because of me.”
Sarita’s heart swelled hearing his concern, but he didn’t get to take all the blame. “This was my doing, too. If I hadn’t made that deal with Fletcher—”
All they’d shared since the night they met in Room 1533 came back to her. She loved this man as much as she loved hot fudge sundaes. Was he really trying to break things off? “I thought we were getting along okay before all this happened.”
“We were, in fact—” He paused, trying to find the words he wanted to use to relay the depths of his feelings.
“What?”
“I’m in love with you, Sarita. Plain and simple.”
Sarita let his declaration feed her soul, then told the truth. “Plain and simple, I love you, too.”
Myk couldn’t believe it. He viewed her closely. “Are you sure?”
“Sure as I can be. You’re one of a kind, Mykal Chandler.”
“So, I can tear up the divorce papers?”
“Into tiny little pieces.”
For the first time in his life, Mykal didn’t know what to say or do. He wanted to climb to the hospital’s roof and yell out his happiness so loud folks would hear him in Sault Ste. Marie. “Will you marry me, again? I want it to be at the center.”
Sarita was stunned. “Why, Grandma, what a soft heart you have.”
He leaned over and kissed her lips. “The better to love you with, my dear.”
She grinned, and he grinned back.
Twenty
Myk and Sarita were married again at the center on Valentine’s Day. Drake was asked to officiate, and the the kids decorated the place like a wedding cake.
Standing up with Sarita were Shirley and the Army. Myk chose Walter, Keta, and Silas to be his supporting cast. He tried to get Saint to stand up with him, too, but Saint refused to put on a suit, so he stood off to the side to watch the happy proceedings with the rest of her friends. Kerry Fukiya came bearing a beautiful emerald silk stole that he presented to her as a gift. Sarita gave him a strong, grateful hug, and he bowed solemnly in response. He and Myk shook hands, then Kerry smiled and went to stand beside Saint.
Drake had just began the words when an elegantly dressed, elderly women draped in furs and diamonds swept into the center. Hurrying to keep up with her determined stride was a drop-dead-gorgeous young man dressed in chauffeur livery. Everyone turned to stare.
“Who’s that?” Sarita asked.
Myk swallowed. “My grandmother and her latest chauffeur.”
“Mykal Vachon Chandler!”
Myk winced. “Hey, Gram.”
Sarita could see smiles on the faces of Drake and Saint.
“Don’t you ‘hey, Gram’ me,” she said, walking up. The crowd parted like the Red Sea. “I should take a switch to you for not letting me know you were getting married. I had to find out from Saint.”
She then turned to Sarita, and said, “Hello, dear. I’m Eleanor Chandler. You sure you want to marry this lug?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Eleanor eyed Sarita closely. “You know he’s arrogant and bullheaded?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know he can’t cook? Not even a boiled egg.”
Sarita liked Eleanor on the spot. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You still want to marry him?”
Sarita nodded.
Eleanor sighed, “Okay then. Go ahead, Drake. Hurry up and marry them before the girl changes her mind.”
Everyone laughed.
After the ceremony, the party began. The buffet prepared by the Army was set out, and Myk popped the corks on the champagne he’d flown in from California for the adults. Shirley and a few mothers had to convince the kids to turn off the hip-hop so Myk and Sarita could take the traditional first dance, but once Myk and Sarita were done, the music went back to thumping and bumping.
When the dance ended, Walter, who’d had a bit too much champagne, stood up, and said, “Shirley Lee, I want your hand in marriage.”
Shirley looked up from the cake she was eating, eyed him for a moment, then said, “If you still feel that way in the morning—we’ll talk.”
Once again laughter filled the room.
When Myk got finally Sarita home, he carried her upstairs and into his room.
Sarita was so happy. “I feel like I’m floating on air.”
Myk chuckled, “I think you had too much champagne.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” she said, grinning.
He set her on her feet, looked down into her eyes, and said, “I love you very very much, Sarita Chandler.”
“And I love you, too. So much so, that I got you something.”
He grinned down. “What?”
She ran out of the room, and he thought to himself, Yep, too much champagne, so while he waited for her to return he stripped off his tie and thanked God for putting her in his life.
She was gone so long, he almost went to find her, but she returned wearing a flowing red kimono that was as transparent as a cloud. The open halves were bordered with a band of silk-topped lace that also edged the cuffs of the long filmy sleeves. It had no buttons or ties, it just hung open, tempting him with teasing flashes of her breasts, the nook of her navel, and her red hot thong.
Myk swore his eyes were going to burn out of his head. She must have taken a quick shower, too, because her body looked oiled, and he could smell her sexy perfume. “My, my, my,” he said. She looked rich, scandalous, and ready for whatever pleasures he wanted to bestow.
In her hand she had a square thin package wrapped in gold paper. “For you.”
Myk took it and gave her a soft passionate kiss in thanks. Tearing off the paper, he revealed the book inside. When he saw the title, he roared with laughter.
She winked at him, and he asked, arousal in his eyes. “Do you want a bedtime story?”
Desire rising, she nodded. “Yes.”
He reached out and teased a nipple until it hardened just the way he liked it. “Have you been good?”
“Oh, yes,” she breathed.
Myk slipped out of his clothes. A few moments later, he was beside her in his big bed and one light was turned up just bright enough for him to see the words. Opening to page one, he began to read: “Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Red Riding Hood….”
A content Sarita snuggled closer and smiled.
About the Author
BEVERLY JENKINS has received numerous awards, including three Waldenbooks Best Sellers Awards, two Career Achievement Awards from Romantic Times magazine, and a Golden Pen Award from the Black Writer¹s Guild. In 1999, Ms. Jenkins was voted one of the Top Fifty Favorite African-American writers of the 20th Century by AABLC, the nations largest on-line African-American book club. To read more about
Beverly, visit her website at www.beverlyjenkins.net.
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Books by
Beverly Jenkins
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THE EDGE OF MIDNIGHT
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THROUGH THE STORM
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Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE EDGE OF MIDNIGHT. Copyright © 2004 by Beverly Jenkins. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition January 2007 ISBN 9780061737022
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Beverly Jenkins, The Edge of Midnight
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