Deborah Mello - In the Light of Love

In conjunction with the woman’s already volatile temperament, she was becoming increasingly difficult to deal with. Talisa made a mental note to discuss it with her father so that they might consider giving her mother’s doctor a call to ask for advice.

Rolling over onto her stomach, Talisa reached into her nightstand drawer for a telephone directory. Flipping quickly through the pages, her disappointment was thick when she found no home listing for Jericho Becton. She found his office number, though, and repeated it in her mind as she agonized about whether or not she should call it. With nothing to lose, she reached for the phone extension and dialed.

A woman with a deep, Southern drawl answered the line. “Doctor’s office. May I help you?”

Talisa cleared her throat, trying to will the nervous butterflies from her abdomen. “Yes, please. I’m trying to reach Dr. Jericho Becton.”

“I’m sorry, but the office is closed. You’ve reached the answering service. Is this an emergency?”

“No, it isn’t. I just needed to speak with him.”

Talisa could hear the woman flipping through a pile of papers before she spoke again. “Dr. Jericho Becton isn’t on duty so I’m unable to page him for you. In fact, we’re directing all his calls to his father, Dr. Elijah Becton. According to my notes, Dr. Jericho will be out of the country for the next twelve months. His father is handling all his patients. Would you like me to page Dr. Elijah for you?”

Talisa shook her head into the receiver. “No. That’s not necessary. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

“Not a bother, dear. If you change your mind, just give us a call back. Any of the operators will be able to reach the doctor for you.”

“Thank you.” Talisa disconnected the line, wiping at a tear that had edged its way to the corner of her eye. “Just perfect,” she muttered under her breath. “Of all the lousy luck…”

There was nothing left for Jericho to pack. His mother had arrived earlier in the day, navigating his laundry, his shopping, the watering of his plants, and organizing his duffel bag of casual clothing to prepare him for his trip. He smiled as he thought about his mother, the way she easily flitted from one chore to the other, ignoring his pleas for her to let him take care of things on his own. She’d been ignoring him since he’d been knee-high and able to tell her no. She’d chosen instead to do for him as if he were unable to do for himself. The relationship had made for some interesting moments between them when Jericho had grown old enough to challenge her parental authority and assert his independence. Folding his own laundry, preparing his meals, and making his own bed had been more than a task with Irene Becton at the helm.

Jericho reached for the telephone, tempted to dial the woman’s number one last time. Giving it a second thought, he dropped the receiver back onto the hook. He’d already left three messages with the woman who’d answered the telephone. Three times he’d been told that Talisa wasn’t home to take his call. Three times Talisa hadn’t bothered to call him back. Maybe he had been wrong about what he thought he’d seen in her eyes the night the two of them had met. He inhaled sharply, the memory of her pulling at his breath. The telephone ringing distracted him from his thoughts.

“Hello?”

“Jericho, hello.”

The man heaved a deep sigh, pausing noticeably as he recognized the voice on the other end.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?”

“What do you want, Shannon?”

“I just called to tell you what a delightful time I had the other day. I was hoping we might be able to do it again.”

“I don’t think so, Shannon. I was obligated for one afternoon. That’s all.”

“So, is that what our date was to you? An obligation?” The woman’s tone was quickly brimming with tension. Jericho could feel the hostility beginning to spill across the telephone lines.

“It was your twenty grand, Shannon, and you got what you paid for. I was just upholding my end of the contractual agreement.”

“I still love you, Jericho. Why are you being so hateful?”

Jericho sneered. “There isn’t an ounce of love between us, Shannon. A woman doesn’t do what you did to a man she claims to love.”

“I made one mistake, Jericho. I deserve another chance.”

Jericho scoffed at the thought. “Is that what we’re calling what you did? A mistake?” He shook his head into the receiver. “Don’t do this, Shannon. You know that there is never going to be anything else between us. Don’t make this difficult.”

“I’m trying to make amends, Jericho. I want to show you what you still mean to me.” The woman’s tone was beseeching as she whispered loudly into the telephone, tears outlining her words.

Jericho refused to be moved by the display of emotion. “I have to hang up, Shannon. I have things to do. Thank you for calling.”

“Jericho—” Shannon started before the dial tone filled her ear.

Jericho was annoyed by the rise of anxiety that had suddenly filled the pit of his stomach. As he stood with the telephone still pressed against the palm of his hand, the phone cord pulled from the wall, his body shook uncontrollably.

At the Atlanta airport, Jericho sat waiting for his British Airways flight to Entebbe, Uganda. He had a six-fifteen departure time, so his plane wouldn’t land until seven twenty-five the next morning. With an extended twelve-hour layover at London’s Heathrow Airport, he wouldn’t see Africa until Monday morning, after a second overnight plane flight. He would have more than his fair share of time to while away, thinking about things that did nothing but cause him anxiety.

At that particular moment, Shannon Porter and Talisa London were both on his mind. So deep in thought, he barely noticed the flow of passengers gathering in the hard seats to the right and left of him. When a young child brushed against him, the little boy racing from his mother’s side to his father’s, the touch against his pant leg caused Jericho to jump with surprise. The child gave him a cautious stare, and then lifted his small hand to wave before scurrying off to peer out the large glass windows to the aircraft parked outside.

Jericho heaved a deep sigh. He had no interest in spending his entire two-day journey to Africa thinking about any woman, especially one who wasn’t interested and one he surely didn’t want. Unfortunately, the memories of both females seemed intent on haunting his spirit. He sighed again, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead as he finally looked up, taking in the view around him.

A newspaper stand caught his eye and he rose from his seat, shifting his carry-on bag against his shoulder. Pulling a copy of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution from a wire rack, he dropped a dollar bill against the counter and headed back toward his seat, not bothering to wait for his change.

As dark as his mood, the paper’s headlines were dismal at best, and the drab surroundings of the airport did little to lift Jericho’s spirit. He dropped back into a seat, tossing the paper onto the chair beside him. An airline attendant caught his eye and smiled, mouthing hello as she gave him a come-hither look. Jericho gave her a quick bend of his lips, then dropped his gaze back into his lap. He still had over an hour to wait before the airlines would start boarding flight # 0062 and he had no desire to make small talk. He closed his eyes tightly, crossing his arms against his broad chest.

He flashed back to the night of the auction and Talisa’s warm smile. The woman had been a breath of fresh air and Jericho had inhaled the essence of her like much needed oxygen. The connection between them had been instantaneous, Jericho had thought, reflecting back on the waves of energy that had spun like a raging fire between them. He had been out of control, his mind lost in the brilliance of their connection. When she had bid, countering each offer, he had taken that as confirmation of his emotions, confident that she, too, was feeling the same things he was.