Chapter 33
MOM, POPS?”
Solomon stepped into the foyer of his parents’ home. Instead of the smells of cooking food wafting toward him, the fragrance of his mother’s favorite imported diffuser filled the space.
“They are not here.”
Solomon turned to his left and saw Simon sitting in the study through the French door.
“Mom left to have dinner with Aunt Thea. Pops is on his way from a meeting.”
His shoulders tensed. “Okay, I will talk to them later, then.”
He couldn’t tell them what happened with his test over the phone. It needed to be in person, but he would have to wait until another day. Might as well be on Sunday with the whole family.
His brother looked at him expectantly. It was unusual to see him sitting down in front of something other than a computer or without a phone in his hand. “What are you reading?” Solomon asked, stepping inside the West African–themed study. He sat down on one of the tufted-leather accent chairs.
“Just a book on team management.” His brother placed the book down. “Got to learn these skills somehow, since I don’t know what the future will hold.”
Solomon pressed his hands together. He looked around the room.
Out of all their houses, this was the one that held their family’s most personal effects.
This was the place that his parents never rented out to anyone else.
Over the years, he’d wondered why his mother had been so adamant about having a home base here.
But since coming here for his physical therapy program, he’d seen firsthand the charm of Huntsville and especially Hope Springs.
Each month that passed made it harder to even consider moving to New York.
And once he’d gotten a second chance with Kenya, disguised foolishly as fake dating, moving away from her seemed impossible.
“How is your girl?” His brother moved from the desk to the adjacent chair.
“I don’t know.” Gone was his need to deflect or deny. “We spoke sometime after the wedding, and I haven’t heard much from her since. But I haven’t tried either. Had some stuff to finish.”
Simon nodded, his eyes assessing his big brother knowingly. “I felt really bad for her. Being with our family, our people, isn’t easy. And then she was so nervous to be on the mic.”
Solomon sat back, spread his arms out across the chair. “I should never have put her in that situation.”
“Why did you?”
“She shouldn’t have been there at all. I reconnected with her and pulled her in to distract Mom and Dad. Thought if they saw me in a relationship, they would let me breathe in other areas of my life.” It sounded foolish to his ears.
“Like the business.” Simon turned forward, his eyes scanning the bookshelves behind the desk.
“Yeah, and then when she found out I knew Robert Bluestone, she wanted the opportunity to meet him to pitch him something for work. I wanted to put her in a position to catch his attention before introducing her.”
“And it backfired.”
“In the worst way.”
Simon chuckled. “Man, that was brutal.”
Solomon’s defenses rose. “Because she embarrassed us? Because she didn’t fit into all of our college-educated boxes?”
Simon lifted his hands in surrender. “Hold on, brother. I’m not laughing to make fun. Believe me, I know how hard it is to bring someone into our family.” He paused and glanced at Solomon. “I saw how you were with her. She seems to mean a lot to you.”
Solomon sensed the release in the words. There was a new peace in his brother.
“I didn’t think so at first, but honestly, now I’m hoping I haven’t lost her for good.”
“Good luck telling Mom and Pops.”
“Ahh.” Solomon grimaced. “I don’t know how to even approach that. I need to talk to them about my test first.”
“Because you failed.”
His head swiveled. “Why would you think that?”
Simon made a sound against his teeth. “The way you walked in here with that sorry frown on your face told me everything I needed to know.”
His brother’s tone was almost jovial, but would his next words diminish the mood?
Solomon exhaled. “So with all of that, you know things are going to change, right?”
Simon shrugged, reached to the desk to pick up the book.
He held it up like a glass to toast. “Things have already changed. Had a good talk with Aunt Thea. You know how she pours the advice on.” They both chuckled at how their Aunt Althea loved to talk and how her wisdom was worth every minute.
“And I’m realizing that I can hold back in fear or change right along with it. ”
Solomon held his brother’s gaze. Nodded. Felt some weight lift from his shoulders, some pressure off his chest. “You also met someone in New York, didn’t you?”
Simon opened the book. “She’s moving to New York. But that’s none of your business.”
Solomon chuckled. “Noted.”
Simon peeked at him over the paperback. “Are the renewal plans finalized?”
“Yes and no. That is part of what I needed to confirm with them. The invitations are out, and Nneka has the details, but the missing piece is—”
“Missing,” Simon finished for him. He laid the book in his lap. “You got a call to make, big brother.”
Solomon sighed. “I do.”
Simon grinned. He closed the book, stood up, and tucked it under his arm. “I’ll leave you to that. God speed.”
Solomon gave his brother the peace sign, watching his lean form slip through the slightly open door.
Their conversation was a start. Maybe his brother was on his own journey of realizing that seasons changed. And that didn’t have to be a bad thing.
His brother had hinted at making a certain call, but Solomon knew just as clearly as he’d felt his pull to physical therapy that he needed to do something different in this moment.
He pulled out his phone and made a few swipes until his finger hovered over his contacts whose last names started with B.
The number had been given to him, scribbled on the back of a business card. Just common courtesy, he’d figured, because of his parents’ connections, so he’d never made a call. Never had a need to. But someone else needed this now.
“Yes, hello. May I speak to Robert Bluestone?” Solomon shifted in his chair, straightening his posture.
“May I ask who is speaking, please? He is not taking calls today, but I will leave a message,” a woman responded.
Solomon cleared his throat. Time to stop hiding from who he was. “Please tell him that Solomon Anruchi, son of the Fayson Incorporated founders, is on the phone and needs to speak to him as soon as he is able.”
“Hold, please.”
After thirty seconds, the assistant clicked back on. “If you can wait and call back in fifteen minutes, Mr. Bluestone will speak with you.”
He could wait. Even though he’d failed his test and his future was more uncertain, the career of the woman he loved didn’t have to be.
KENYA BUZZED the intercom at the front door of the middle school. “Can I see Principal Stewart, please?” Friday was her mother’s least busy day, so she hoped she wouldn’t miss her.
The door clicked, and Kenya walked to the front desk in the office. The receptionist smiled. “Hello, Kenya, good to see you.”
“Nice to see you as well, Ms. Childers. Is my mom in her office?”
Ms. Childers wrote on a label and then handed it to Kenya. “She’s in the library. Do you know the way?”
“Yes, thank you.” Kenya pressed the visitor sticker to her chest. She walked down the hallway, remembering the turns to take even though she’d only been here a couple times.
Her mother had been a teacher in another district when she was in school, and then once all the girls graduated, she applied for an administrative position in this one.
Noise filtered into the hallway as some class doors opened and closed.
When she reached the library doors, she paused as a group of preteens walked out with their teacher, half of them taller than her.
When the last one exited, she walked into the sunlit library.
The room felt smaller and less intimidating than the libraries she remembered growing up.
But what never changed were the longing and fear that mingled when she saw all the books lined up.
Her mother stood still in one of the rows, holding open a book and smiling as she flipped through.
“Hey, Mama,” Kenya said softly.
Her mother looked up, eyes rounded in surprise. “Kenya, what are you doing here?”
“Came to see you, to talk for a few minutes if you have them.”
Her mom closed the book and motioned for Kenya to follow her. They entered one of the private rooms that surrounded the central section and closed the door.
Kenya looked around. “What are these rooms for?”
Her mother’s smile was soft, wistful. “Lots of uses. Many times for the ones who need a little extra help.”
Ones like her.
“I’m sorry, Mama, for how I reacted when you came to see me after the reception. I wanted to tell you after church the other day, but with everyone around, I was just so . . .”
“I know. I’m sorry too. It just hurt me to see how hurt you were. I was so concerned that injuring your ankle would affect you, and then to hear what happened.” She sighed. “I’m so sorry.”
Her mom settled her gaze on Kenya. “I never wanted you to box yourself in. While things are different today, there used to be so much stigma on having dyslexia when you were in school. I didn’t want you to settle for what other people said you could or couldn’t do.
I wanted you to be able to figure it out for yourself and to rise above. ”
Kenya stretched her arms out on the table, clasped them. “Mama, you don’t know how many times I felt so stupid. If I couldn’t have done sports and my art classes, I don’t know what I would’ve done.” She swallowed. “Mama, sometimes school was torture for me.”
Her mom reached for her hand. “It was never my intention for you to feel less than anyone else in our family, or in your classroom. And I pushed you because I wanted to prove all those teachers wrong. I pushed you because I wanted to prove that you could be whatever you wanted to be.”