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  The idea in Ace’s mind was that these ceramic figures would enhance any African-American’s home. He decided to share the pieces, along with a zebra figure, with Elyse and Emerald to get their opinions. Perhaps he would even exhibit one in the store’s front window.

  When Ace appeared at the front door, his arms full, Emerald met him at the door and opened it, noting his awkwardly shaped packages.

  “Ace, man! Where have you been?”

  “Whoo,” he panted, “just let me put these down. How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. Everything’s going good.”

  He smiled at her as he set his bundles down on a nearby book table.

  “That’s good to hear, Em. Look, I brought some fig urines that I want to show you and Elyse. She here?”

  “Elyse?” Emerald called out to the back of the store.

  “Ace is here. Has something he wants to show us.”

  “Coming, one moment,” Elyse called back.

  Ace could hear her high heels tapping on the floor and when she came into view from behind the book stacks he was awestruck. She looked so vibrant, so alive. Her eyes were bright and her hair . . . She had cut it short and wore it with sleek, wispy curls around her face. She looked at least five years younger than when he’d last seen her. He didn’t know what had changed her but she was different. Before, a heavy dark aura of sadness had seemed to hover over her. Today that sadness was gone and in its place he saw an almost incandescent glow.

  “My God, you look wonderful, Elyse! Mind if I put my arms around you once more? You look so good. Maybe you don’t need a friendly hug.”

  “A friendly hug is always welcome,” she said as she walked into his embrace. “Good to see you, Ace.”

  For Ace the moment became an epiphany, a revelation. This woman was becoming very important to him. Quickly, he let her step away, afraid that his feelings might show and he knew it was much too soon for that to happen.

  His face flushed from the emotional tension he was undergoing at that moment, so he turned quickly to his wrapped packages. He knew both women had their eyes on him, watching as he unwrapped each one. First, the elegant giraffe, its long neck stretched up from its sleek but muscular body. The decoupaged effect, shiny gold with glistening black spots, was striking. Both Elyse and Emerald gasped with delight as Ace placed the figure in the front window.

  “Ace, it’s beautiful!” Emerald said.

  “This is my idea of zirafah, an Arabic word for giraffe, although its origin is probably African,” he told them.

  Then he unwrapped the elephant figure, its thick muscular trunk raised in a triumphant gesture.

  He saw the delight in Elyse’s eyes when he revealed the statue.

  Elyse picked up the figure. “Oh, Ace, I must have this one! Got to have it! It’s one of my sorority’s symbols!” He grinned, pleased with her reaction.

  “Then you shall have it!”

  “How much is this beautiful treasure?”

  “The delight in your face is all the pay I need. It’s yours, with my pleasure.”

  Standing by watching the two, Emerald sensed a distinct change in the budding relationship between them. For a brief moment it was as if she was not even in the room.

  Then, seeming to remember that Emerald was quietly observing them, Elyse said to her, “Do you like it, Em?”

  “I do. Really, I do like it. Ace,” she winked at him, “you know how to create magic with that artistic talent you have. These pieces are so original, so unusual, one of a kind. Go on, my brother!”

  Chapter 10

  Holly’s new assignment was proving to be rewarding. She was excited and motivated by the new experiences of working with occupational, physical and speech therapists. She found that she was anxious to get to her job. Each day presented new challenges, and she realized she felt eager to meet them.

  Branch was delighted with the positive change he saw in her. He had stronger hopes for their future together now that she was so much happier.

  “Holly, hon, I’m so glad you’re doing so well in this new job of yours. You really like it, don’t you?”

  “Branch, it’s finally the way to a better future. I see positive changes in the patients. I see them make steady improvement, and they are so happy, making plans to go home. It’s not at all like the patients I took care of before. Of course, I do miss my old patients, like Mr. Harkins. And I do stop in to see him when I can.”

  “I’ll bet he misses you.”

  “Well, he does scold me sometimes. Says ‘Not the same, child, when I don’t see your young face round here.’ But he did say he was happy that I was ‘movin’ on up.’ I miss him, too. He was one of my favorites.”

  Branch had negotiated a turn into a street that would take them to Columbus Avenue in the South End. They had agreed that morning that, since it was Friday, they would go out to dinner. They were headed to Papa Joe’s Ribs and Soul, a down-home restaurant. Although located in a small strip mall, the building stood alone, a one-story sandstone-colored brick building with a fivefoot-wide swath of green grass on its front and sides.

  A green awning with a scalloped border proclaiming that this was Papa Joe’s hung over the entrance.

  Holly and Branch got out of the car and walked to the wide wooden door that had decals of American Express, Visa and Discover cards posted on its stained glass window.

  The pair stepped into a small alcove, breathed with relief as the welcome air conditioning swept over them. There were several chairs where patrons could sit while waiting for a table. They walked up to the lectern to be greeted by a young black man dressed in a black tuxedo.

  “Good evening, sir, ma’am,” he said.

  “Good evening,” Branch answered.

  Knowing how busy Friday nights were at the restaurant, Branch had already made a reservation.

  “A diner reservation for Adkins,” he told the maitre’d.

  The man checked his list, picked up two menus from a slot beside his lectern, and after making a check mark beside the name Adkins, said, “Please follow me, sir. Your table is ready.”

  He led them to a table on the right. A window looked out to the street, but there was little foot traffic on the sidewalk.

  “Is this acceptable, sir?”

  “This is just fine,” Branch said as the maitre’d seated Holly and handed each a menu.

  “Enjoy your dinner. Your server will be with you shortly.”

  Holly looked around the room. Pictures of famous black people formed a montage on the walls over the booths. There were black and white photos of Quincy Jones, a smiling Count Basie, Louis Armstrong and his trumpet, Ella Fitzgerald, Nancy Wilson, and even younger persons such as Wynton Marsalis, Stevie Wonder and Queen Latifah. Many of the photos showed Papa Joe posed with the entertainers. His white starched uniform hid some of the bulkiness of his large, muscular body and the pleated toque on his gray head added distinct authority. This was a man who knew who he was and exactly what he was doing.

  A jazz trio, piano, drums and bass guitar, were seated on a raised platform. In front of them was a small parquet dance floor. A few couples were making good use of it. The music invited them to do so.

  “This joint is jumpin’,” Holly said to Branch. “Sure is.”

  Papa Joe’s place smelled really good. Word of mouth had made him justifiably famous for his southern cooking. It was well-known, for example, that he marinated his barbecued ribs overnight in a secret recipe containing bourbon and rum. The swinging door from the kitchen sent enticing scents of freshly baked cornbread and cinnamon- and brown sugar-candied sweet potatoes.

  Holly was glad to see their waiter approaching their table. She was hungry.

  “Good evening. My name is Lucas Anthony. I will be your server tonight. May I get you something to drink?”

  “A light beer for me,” Branch said.

  “Water with a slice of lemon, please,” Holly said.

  “I’ll be right back and then I’ll take yo
ur orders.”

  “Seems like a nice young man,” Holly observed, watching the waiter move away. He was tall, with the slender, leggy body of a tennis player. His brown skin had a healthy bronze glow, as if he’d spent many hours outside.

  “Could be a college student working his way through.”

  Holly nodded her head in agreement.

  “I know what it’s like to have to work so hard. Thank God I don’t have to do that anymore.”

  “Holly, you don’t know how glad I am to see you so happy. I was really worried about you one time back there, but now . . .”

  “I’m very lucky, Branch, and I know it. Believe me, I’m going to do my very best to make the most of this opportunity. Somehow I feel that I have a better chance of making it now.”

  Lucas, their waiter, brought their drinks to them and took their orders.

  “I would like the home fried chicken, the breast, please, and peas and rice with a side order of candied sweet potatoes. And may I have a house salad, vinaigrette dressing?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lucas said, turning to Branch. “Sir?”

  “Please bring me an order of ribs with red beans and rice. Do you have scalloped tomatoes?”

  “Indeed we do, sir.”

  “Good. I’ll have a side order of that and the house salad with Thousand Island dressing. Oh, and another ‘light,’ please.”

  “My pleasure, sir.”

  They sat quietly, listening to the music and watching the couples dancing.

  “Know what, Branch?” Holly asked.

  “What?”

  “I’m thinking that maybe I can start taking some college courses part time at night.”

  “Good idea!” he agreed. “There’s nothing wrong with night school as long as it doesn’t interfere with your day job, and you don’t try to overload. Maybe one or two courses a semester.”

  “I understand. Probably go slow, rev up my study habits.”

  “You know, Holly, you’re an inspiration. I might try to do the same thing. I always wanted to go to med school.”

  Holly’s face brightened. “Let’s see what we can figure out. Maybe go to the same school . . . that is, if you’re willing to provide the transportation. I’d help with the gas.”

  “To be with you, my girl, I’d drive you anywhere, and don’t worry about the gas. Are you kidding me?”

  “The more I think about it, the more I think I should try. Maybe, Branch, we should check, see what’s available out there. Get some catalogs, go online . . .”

  “Right. What would be your major, your goal?”

  “I think nursing, perhaps make geriatrics my specialty. People seem to be living longer these days, and since I already know about working with the elderly, that’s a place to start. What do you think?”

  “Sounds practical to me. You’ve been working in that field so I’d say you have a leg up.”

  “What about you, Branch?” Holly asked as she twisted her stemmed water goblet. “What do you want to study?”

  “Always wanted to do something in the medical field. I like what I’m doing now in the OR, but there are limits, and I won’t be able to go any farther than I am right now. But I do know there is a career that I’d like to look into.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s called physician’s assistant.”

  “I’ve never heard of that. What, you’re like a doctor or something?”

  “No, not really, but you can do some of the things doctors do now.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. You can provide a diagnosis, some therapy and preventive health care under the supervision of a physician. You can examine the patient, take medical histories, order and read lab tests, lots of stuff like that. But I’d need to get my bachelor’s degree. Already have a couple of semesters under my belt. I think I’d be happy if I could become a PA. They make good money, too.”

  “You know, Branch, it seems to me that we should do something with our lives that we want to do, not let our lives just happen.”

  Branch felt his heart lighten up, and a feeling of hope and well-being swept over him. Just perhaps this new, more optimistic attitude would be the path to the other major goal he sought, that of a loving, lasting relationship with this girl, Holly Francis.

  Their meal came then and they were both hungry, so for a few minutes they ate in silence.

  Finally Holly took a deep breath, leaned back in her chair.

  “I didn’t know how famished I really was,” she said. “This food is great, isn’t it?”

  “Glad you’re enjoying it.”

  Holly saw the friendly warmth in his eyes and knew that she had never had a better friend than Branch Adkins. She picked up her fork and returned to her food. She noticed a family being escorted to a table near where they were seated. She watched as the younger of two boys pulled out the chair to seat his mother. The lad looked up at his parents, smiled at the words of praise his family gave him. He acted real grownup as he took his own seat. Holly thought he could have been about eight years old.

  “Branch, did you see that? That little boy was so proud to seat his mother.”

  “Yes, I did. Shows that those two boys are being well brought up. Most black families expect good manners from their kids.”

  She agreed, nodding her head.

  “I’m thankful that my mother and grandmother wouldn’t tolerate any nonsense from me. And not having a father, well . . .” Her eyes softened.

  “You missed that, didn’t you?”

  “I guess. I always wondered what he was like.”

  “What do you really know about him?”

  Branch didn’t want to upset Holly, but he sensed she wanted to broach the subject of her dad.

  “My mother said that he was eighteen, a college student, and that they both decided to give me up for adoption. Mother was sixteen, and both thought too young to start a family. She said that my father signed away all responsibility so that I could be adopted, but she said my grandmother talked her out of that and the two of them raised me.”

  “Do you ever think about finding him?”

  “When I was younger, but not so much anymore.”

  “Know his name?”

  “Mother once told me . . . Barry. Barry something. I’m not sure.”

  “Probably could find him if you went online, made a search.”

  “H-m-m-m. Maybe, maybe not,” she said quietly.

  Wisely, he decided not to pursue the topic. He had noticed a sadness in her face. Maybe later he’d bring up the search business again if and when she seemed more amenable to the idea.

  Chapter 11

  It turned out to be a warm summer morning Elyse drove Barry’s Volvo to keep her appointment with Dr. Barnes. She left Mattapan Square and drove down Blue Hills Avenue, noticing and thinking about all the changes that had taken place in the area. Formerly the area had been the core of Jewish families; now it was redefined by new residents, mainly African-American.

  There was the former delicatessen known as the B&B, named for two brothers. It was famous not only for its fine food, but had become legend as the place for politicians to meet and greet. Elyse smiled as she drove past the building, now a Caribbean food mart. She recalled being told that presidents from Roosevelt to JFK had made stops at the well-known spot.

  She continued down Warren Street to Melnea Cass Boulevard, named for an African-American woman who had been active in civic affairs. Soon she found herself merging with traffic entering the city and she breathed a sigh, releasing the tension she had been feeling as she exited Route 93 onto Cambridge Street. Within minutes she drove into the parking lot beside the medical building.

  It was such a beautiful day that Elyse felt her spirits soaring with hope. She took the elevator to the fifth floor. Her mother’s admonitions still echoed in her mind.

  “I hope you know what a burden you’re taking on, one that you don’t need, just to prove a point. Whose, I don’t know,” her mother had rail
ed at her. “And,” she had hammered at Elyse, “how are you going to pay for all these tests and stuff you have to go through?”

  “Don’t worry, Mother, my medical insurance will cover it. And I have Barry’s life insurance as well,” she explained, knowing that if she didn’t, her mother would keep nattering at her.

  As she exited the elevator, she shook her head as if to release the negative thoughts. Today was not the day to be burdened with troublesome thoughts.

  * * *

  “Good morning, Mrs. Marshall, how are you?” Dr. Barnes said when he entered the examination room.

  Elyse was sitting on the exam table, feeling quite undressed as she was clothed only in the obligatory hospital gown called a “johnny.” She wondered how it had gotten that name. She accepted the doctor’s warm handshake, buoyed by his friendly approach. His touch was businesslike and firm as he completed his examination.

  “Everything is just fine.” He smiled at her as he washed his hands at the sink. “You may get dressed, and I’ll speak with you in my office.”

  In his office he directed her to a comfortable chair and opened her file.

  “First, everything looks good. We’re right on track. First, I’m going to start you on medication that will stop your periods. Then we’ll place you on hormones to increase your egg production. And we do need to regulate your ovarian cycle. We have to determine the optimum time to perform the sperm implantation. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  “You’re going to be a fantastic mother, I just know it,” he added.

  “Thank you, Doctor. I hope so.”

  “Not to worry, you will be.”

  “Could I . . . could I ask you a question?”

  “Oh, of course, by all means, my dear. What’s on your mind?”

  “How long will this preparation be? Will I be pregnant this time next year?” she wanted to know.

  “Possibly, but we really can’t set a timetable until we see how your body responds. We will move forward quickly and steadily as dictated by the progress we make. Remember, I said ‘be patient.’ ” He smiled as if he wanted to put her mind at ease. “I realize this is a new experience for you. But I want you to be excited and, yes, happy, too, as you go through the most extraordinarily rewarding experience in your life. It happens every day, but it is still magic, still unbelievable. You’ll see.”