Deliver Me (23 page)

And Monica was
attracted to him. Of that he had no doubts. The minute his eyes had drifted to
hers, and he’d seen the desire and lust, Eli knew her feelings mirrored his
own. She wanted him.

He knocked. Nia
opened the door.

“Eli. Hi. Come on
in.”

“You do that all the
time,” Eli asked as he followed her into the apartment’s small foyer.

“Do what?” She
motioned him to follow her deeper into the apartment, granting Eli his first
view inside Monica’s private domain.

“Open doors in
strange cities without asking who’s on the other side of it?” he asked, taking
a seat on the blue leather couch.

The room was
decorated in warm colors: soft browns, reds, and muted yellows with touches of
green and blue. Framed African prints and masks hung on the walls, and several
small wooden sculptures sat on end tables and the mantle over the fake
fireplace.

“You sound like my
husband.” Nia said. “You know that man sent an intern from his law firm to the
house, pretending to be a carpet salesman? Needless to say, Phillip went
ballistic when I let him in without question.”

“I don’t blame him.
The world is a scary place. You can’t trust people. Is Monica getting ready?”
Eli asked, too wired to engage in another second of idle chitchat.

“She’s not here,”
Nia answered. “And I’m angry because I just found out I have to fly home today,
and we haven’t spent any real time together.”

Eli could feel his
blood begin to boil. “Did she say where she was going?”

“Nope. When I woke
up this morning she was already dressed. She said you would probably stop by
and told me to tell you something came up and she had to cancel.”

“Do think she went
to the hospital?” Eli asked, giving Monica the benefit of the doubt. He hoped
whatever her excuse was, it was a good one.

Nia shrugged. “Not
sure. She didn’t seem dressed for the hospital. I was just about to throw some
clothes on and walk down to Canal Street for some shopping. I haven’t spent
nearly enough money here, and now that the knuckleheads I work with have
completely screwed up one of our largest accounts, I don’t have time to do any
real damage to the credit card.”

“I’m sure you can
put a hurting on it, even with limited time,” Eli said, rising from the sofa.

“I’m still going to
try to make Sunday dinner at your Mom’s. You said her cooking was better than
the Praline Connection. I’m not taking your word for it, though. I’ve got to
find out for myself.”

“You’re welcome to
come over. You need me to pick you up?”

“No, just give me
the address. I’m not sure what part of the city I’ll be in, so I’ll just grab a
cab.”

He jotted down his
mother’s address and gave Nia a parting kiss on the cheek. Eli didn’t know
whether to feel hurt, anger, or outright rage as he exited the apartment
building.

Monica had backed
out on him.

He had a mind to
drive over to the hospital to see if she was there, but decided against it. He
wouldn’t chase after her. They had a meeting with the banquet committee
tomorrow; she wouldn’t be able to run from him then.

Eli hopped in his
SUV and drove out to Armstrong Park. He needed an outlet for his pent up energy,
and since Monica wasn’t around exercise would have to do.

He grabbed his gym
bag from the back of the Rover and dipped into a restroom, changing into
running shorts and his old pair of cross-trainers. He ran back to his truck,
deposited the bag on the front seat, then took off on the concrete path that
wound through the park.

Eli started out on a
slow jog, grateful the park wasn’t crowded. He needed the solitude to clear his
mind.

He had to figure out
what to do about Monica. Their situation had changed, whether she wanted to
admit it or not. When they had first agreed to this pretense, neither could
have known this intense craving would surface. But it could not be denied any
longer.

The thought of
turning their relationship into something more serious scared the hell out of
him. He had gone back and forth over all the reasons he should break things off
completely. Opening himself up for the pain that could eventually come was just
plain stupid. He’d felt that pain before, and he’d made a promise to himself
that he would never feel it again.

But he also knew not
to let go of a good thing when he found it. And Monica Gardner was a good
thing. A
really
good thing.

It was time for a
renegotiation of their deal...as soon as he could get Monica to sit still long
enough to talk to him. This avoidance game she was playing couldn’t last
forever. That was the beauty of working together.

As the mist from the
pond blew across his skin, Eli checked his watch, surprised at how much time
had elapsed. He took in his surroundings and realized he had run farther than
he’d originally planned. He had to double-time it as he reversed directions and
headed back to where he had parked.

Eli stopped over at
the hospital, anyway. He told himself that it made more sense to come here and
shower than to drive all the way to his home in Old Metairie, but if showering
was the only thing on his mind, why did he use the ER entrance instead of the
one he usually used?

In the end, it didn’t
matter. Monica wasn’t in the ER, and according to the nurse he questioned she
had not been there all morning.

Where in the hell
had she run off to?

Though, the more
important question was
why
had she
run? The answer was obvious, she was afraid of what they’d discovered last
night.

It was nearly
two-thirty when Eli pulled in behind Alex’s F-150. As always, the smell of
Margo Holmes’ cooking perfumed the air. Smelled like fried okra and baked
chicken on today’s menu. Eli could only hope Mama had some of her creamy mashed
potatoes to go with them.

He made his way
through the throng of green foliage on the back porch and stopped dead in his
tracks when he opened the door and found Monica and Nia sitting at the small
kitchen table with his mother and Alex.

“It’s about time,”
Margo said, rising from her seat, and giving Eli a kiss on the cheek. “We were
about to start eating without you. Let’s move to the dining room. Tobias.
Jasmine,” she called out.

Carrying Jasmine
piggyback, Toby came through the door that led to the side of the house where
the bedrooms were.

“It’s so nice to
finally use this table again,” his mother said. “With just the four of us, we
usually just eat in the kitchen.”

The dining room
table was decked out with a lace tablecloth and satin placemats. Mama had
broken out her wedding china to set the table, and even had a short vase filled
with fresh flowers for a centerpiece.

“Everything looks
great, Mama,” Eli said, taking a seat directly across from Monica.

She avoided eye
contact, choosing to focus her attention on the place setting in front of her.

Toby sat across from
Nia, and Alex and his mother sat at the opposite heads of the table. Jasmine
sat in the chair Alex had dragged from the kitchen table and placed between his
and Eli’s spot.

“What’s up, my
little African Violet,” Eli whispered to his niece.

She rolled her eyes.
“Hi, Uncle Eli.”

“Are we ready to
eat,” Margo asked.

Nia’s “Yes, indeed,”
was heard above everyone. “I was told this is the best food in New Orleans, and
I’ve been waiting to find out if it’s true.”

“I can assure you,”
Toby said, “It’s the truth.”

“Since Tobias is
home, I think he should have the honor of saying grace,” Margo said.

“Sure, Mama,” Toby
answered. “I know E has probably forgotten how to say grace, since it’s been so
long since he’s gone to church.”

“Just say the damn
prayer,” Eli snarled.

“Elijah Marcus! Not
at the dinner table, and especially not in front of company. I apologize,
ladies.” Mama looked over at Nia and Monica. “My sons tend to revert to
adolescences when they get together.”

“As do most men,”
Nia remarked, eliciting a laugh from the women at the table.

Eli caught Monica’s
lame attempt at a smile. If she didn’t relax soon, his mother would know
something was up.

Eli looked at Monica
across the table, and—surprise, surprise—she actually looked back.
He sent her a silent, but unmistakable message: Don’t blow this! Convincing his
mother they were a couple was the whole point of their deal. If they didn’t
start acting like one, Mama would definitely pick up on it.

“Tobias, grace,” his
mother said. They all held hands and bowed their heads.

“Heavenly Father,
bless this food, the cook who slaved over it, and the people who are about to
tear it up. Amen.”

“That was very
adult,” Alex commented, tearing his dinner roll and placing half on Jasmine’s
plate.

“Thank you,” Toby
responded. “Now can we eat, please? This is the first meal I’ve had in four
months that didn’t come from a box.”

Ceramic dishes
filled with mashed potatoes, baked and fried chicken, smothered greens, fried
okra and buttered corn made their way around the table.

“I’ve told you about
eating that processed garbage, Tobias,” Margo chastised.

“It hasn’t killed me
yet.”

“But Mama will,”
Alex laughed. “You’re going to have to get some dry ice and start shipping him
meals if you want that fool to eat right.”

“She won’t have to
ship it too far, right, Toby?” Eli asked. Toby gave him a murderous look, which
Eli returned, making sure his brother knew mentioning his possible return to
New Orleans was payback for the crack about church. Too bad Mama didn’t catch
the hint.

“You’ve been quiet,
Monica,” Alex said.

Everyone’s attention
turned to where Monica sat, nibbling a piece of chicken. Eli’s heart skipped a
beat.

“Alex is right,
sweetheart. Is everything okay?” his mother asked.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Monica
answered.

“She couldn’t get a
word in with all this talking,” Toby said in Monica’s defense.

“This is great,”
Monica said, “My family never ate meals together.”

“That’s so sad,”
Margo said. “I cannot imagine sitting at the table without my boys around me.”

“And me,” Jazzy
inserted.

“And you, too, baby
girl. Sunday dinner is an institution in this house.”

“It really is
lovely, even the bickering,” Monica said, her smile more genuine this time.

“You haven’t heard
bickering yet,” Alex said. He licked mashed potatoes off his right knuckle and
pointed two fingers in Eli and Toby’s direction. “Get these two on the golf
course. It’s like a replay of Tyson versus Holyfield.”

“I’m just happy they
haven’t hurt each other yet, at least not enough to require medical attention,”
Mama lamented.

Eli exchanged a
smile with Toby, though he could still knock his brother upside the head.

To Eli’s surprise,
Alex kept Monica engaged even more than Mama. Several times over the course of
dinner he brought Monica into the table’s discussion. Nia needed no one’s help.
She was a natural conversationalist, and had charmed the apron strings right
off Mama.

It wasn’t until Alex
started asking more personal questions—seemingly out of the
blue—that Eli started to suspect his brother was up to something. Alex
tried to play it smooth, addressing both Monica and Nia about how they chose
their careers, what part their families had played in their decisions, and
whether anyone other than family had influenced them, but Alex wasn’t known for
his subtlety. Every time his older brother opened his mouth, Eli cringed.

“I always had my
heart set on being a doctor,” Monica said, her elbows resting on the table,
hands folded underneath her chin.

“It’s a hectic job.
Even though we live in the same city, E and I can go a week without seeing each
other.”

“He gets enough
complaints from me,” Mama chimed in.

“I understand,”
Monica said, sending Nia a knowing look. “But career goals have always been
very important in my family.”

“Putting in long
hours is second nature to the Gardner’s,” Nia added.

“None of your
boyfriends ever complained?” Alex asked Monica.

Eli nearly kicked
his brother under the table.

“Well...it did pose
a problem a few times, but nothing major,” Monica said, glancing uncomfortably
around the table.

“It’s a good thing
you and Eli are together. You understand each other’s schedules. It’s like a
perfect match.”

Eli’s fists
clinched. What was Alex doing? Eli wanted to do this on
his
time. He did not need an older brother, who was as inconspicuous
as a brick landing on her head, bombarding Monica with a bunch of private
questions.