Believe in Me (Strickland Sisters Book 2)

  The Strickland Sisters Series: Book 2

  Alexandria House

  Pink Cashmere Publishing, LLC

  Arkansas, USA

  Copyright © 2017 by Alexandria House

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing 2017

  Pink Cashmere Publishing, LLC

  pinkcashmerepub@gmail.com

  http://pinkcashmerepublishing.webs.com/

  Dear Readers,

  Wow! I had so much fun writing Stay with Me, and to see how well you all received it made me feel like I really did something, lol. I hope you’ll enjoy Renee’s journey, as well.

  Happy Reading!

  XOXO Alex

  Believe in Me

  More than a year after leaving her unfaithful husband, Renee Mattison is ready to move on, but how can she move on from someone who refuses to let go?

  Lorenzo Higgs is handsome and magnetic with a past that would send most women running, not to mention a little emotional baggage. Renee knows she should be afraid of Lorenzo, but the only thing that frightens her is the possibility of another broken heart.

  The two share an electric attraction and a smoldering chemistry, but will they learn to truly believe in each other enough to build a lasting love?

  1

  “I hate to ask you to do this on your weekend off, Renee, but we’re stuck here. This was supposed to be a quick overnight trip and then this ridiculous storm hit. We can’t leave until it passes over.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, sounding unconvincing even to myself. I was supposed to be having lunch with my sisters. We planned some type of get-together every couple of weeks or at least every month as a form of sisterly bonding and a way to stay up on what was happening in each other’s lives, something that was especially hard to do with the way my sister, Angie, and her husband traveled for events or commercial shoots. Her being in town at all was a miracle, but on a Saturday? That was almost unheard of.

  “No, it’s not, and I truly am sorry.”

  “Look, I really do understand. It was your mother-in-law’s birthday. You guys needed to go see her. And no one was expecting all hell to break loose with the weather there. Am I disappointed to have to work today? Yes, but I’ll be fine. And you only had the one patient that was due, right?”

  “Yes, and if it helps, she lives in a very nice house, has a supportive family. This should be a good experience.”

  “I’m sure it will be. You know I love home births, anyway.”

  “Yeah. Hey, thanks again, Renee. I’ll make this up to you. I’ll take your call next weekend.”

  “Deal.”

  I ended the call and quickly went about the business of changing into a pair of scrubs. My bag was pretty well stocked and still in the trunk of my car, so I didn’t have to worry about dropping by the birthing center to pick up any supplies.

  As I was leaving, I peeked into the kitchen and told my mom I was heading out.

  She looked up from the cookbook she was studying at the table. “Where you going?”

  “Taking call for Cass. Got one in labor.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Oh, I hope it goes well. Tell me all about it when you get back.”

  I smiled and wondered to myself why she liked hearing these birthing stories. I’d shared a ton of them with her since moving back home over a year ago. “Okay, Mama.”

  *****

  I had known Cassandra Johnson since nursing school where we became fast friends, both opting to continue our educations and eventually becoming midwives, sharing that graduation as well. It’d been Cass’s idea to open the birthing center. We had both been working in hospitals and clinics and were both making good livings. The last thing on my mind was undertaking something as massive as opening our own medical facility, but Cass had this vision that I couldn’t help but get on board with. She was a teen mother, having two kids by the time she was eighteen, and shared with me how horribly she was treated, disrespected, and disregarded, not only because she was young and unwed, but because she was black, young, and unwed. She told me about how being poor and on Medicaid limited her birthing options at the time. She wanted to open a center where all women, especially women of color, would be respected and could make choices concerning their bodies and how they brought their children into the world regardless of their racial, social, or economic status.

  Admittedly, Cass did most of the ground work, even getting her uncle, a practicing obstetrician, to sign on as our medical director, but I did my part financially and aided in most of the decision-making. And three years after she came to me with the idea, Genesis was born. “Affordable women’s health care with a personal touch” was our slogan. Genesis was a place where women of color could feel welcomed and empowered. And then there were the scholarships, for lack of a better word. We held fundraisers throughout the year and used the funds to assist our teen and low-income patients with purchasing things they needed for their babies—everything from car seats to cribs. In return, they pledged to finish high school. Mothers who had already finished high school pledged to enroll in a university or a community college. When funds allowed, we even assisted with child care costs.

  We’d been friends for nearly nineteen years, and I’d never known her to be a liar, but when I plugged the address into my GPS and saw that the house was located in the Braxton edition, I knew at the very least she’d downplayed the house by describing it simply as “nice.” The Braxton edition was even more exclusive than the neighborhood my mother’s house was in, with huge homes protected by tall gates and high fences. The richest of the rich resided there. And with that wealth seemed to come a level of entitlement I hated to deal with. So as I backed out of my mother’s driveway, I sighed and braced myself for what I was about to face.

  2

  I pulled up to #20 Kensey Lane and rolled my window down, reading the small sign affixed to the thick brick post that held an intercom speaker and a keypad. Following the directions on the sign, I pressed the green button, and said, “Um…hi, this is Renee Mattison, one of the midwives from Genesis Birthing Center. I’m here to assist Melyssa Higgs.”

  As I was waiting for a reply, the iron gate groaned and began to slowly open. “Okay…” I muttered, as I rolled my window up and pulled through the gate onto the winding driveway, finally parking in front of the three-car garage. I was at the massive door with my rolling case next to me, hand raised to knock when it opened to reveal a huge man, and when I say huge, I mean enormous—tall, wide, and downright ominous looking. He didn’t speak, just moved to the side so I could enter the house, but I wasn’t altogether sure I wanted to enter it.

  “Uh,” I said, still standing outside. “Um, is this the Higgs residence?”

  He nodded, stepped back a little further.

  “Uh…”

  “Who’s that, Rell?” a voice coming from somewhere beyond the door yelled.

  The big man, presumably Rell, turned and looked at whoever it was wherever they were and opened the door wider, but still didn’t utter a word.

  A second or two later, another man approached the door, the kind of man who makes your breath hitch and your heart race. Tall, probably about six-five to my f
ive-seven, and big, but smaller than Rell. Wide shoulders and extremely handsome with smooth, semisweet chocolate skin, a neat mustache and goatee, thick eyebrows and lips, and dark, deep-set eyes. He wore sweat pants and a black t-shirt. The energy in the air shifted, became almost electrified, and I was suddenly aware of an intoxicating scent infiltrating my senses—his cologne.

  “You from Genesis?” he asked, a look of concern etched into his face.

  I nodded, composed myself, and said, “Yes.”

  “Good! She’s saying she feels like pushing, but it’s too soon, right?”

  “Where is she?” I asked, now fully recovered from the introduction of his comeliness and ready to handle the task at hand.

  “Up here. In the tub.” He started toward the stairs, and I took the cue, following him as Rell closed the front door. “I’m Lorenzo Higgs, by the way,” he said.

  “I’m Renee Mattison.” I would be so glad when my divorce was final and I could be a Strickland again.

  I made myself not look at the back of his body, and instead, concentrated on the stairs and my own feet. “How long has she been having contractions?”

  “Ah, she started hurting yesterday afternoon, said she had pains off and on all day and into the night, but they didn’t get bad until early this morning. It got to the point that she was screaming and shi—um, and stuff like an hour ago, so I called you guys.”

  “Bless her heart, she’s been laboring for a long time.”

  We were on the second floor, and he was leading me down a carpeted hallway that smelled of fresh linen. “Yeah,” he said, “I’ve hated seeing her hurt like this. I’ll just be glad when this is all over.”

  I smiled. So many husbands were this way, worried, anxious. It was endearing, really, and while it warmed my heart, it also made it ache just a little bit more. I couldn’t recall the last time my estranged husband had ever seemed concerned about me.

  I followed him into an enormous room, past a gorgeous four-poster bed and into a bathroom that was larger than my bedroom in the home I’d shared with my husband, Robert. And sitting in a huge alcove tub set under a window was the patient. Just as I was thinking the tub had probably been built to accommodate Mr. Higgs, I fully took in the scene before me. The woman in the tub breathing through a contraction wasn’t a woman at all, but a girl, no more than sixteen or seventeen. She wore a black sports bra, and I was sure she had nothing on beneath the water. An older woman was sitting in a chair beside the tub rubbing her back. My admiration of this man’s concern flew out the window. He was older than her, much closer to my age than hers. She had no business here with him, but I suppose the huge mansion I was in had something to do with their union. But then again, the man was handsome with chiseled features.

  I need to mind my own business.

  “Melyssa?” I said, in a calm voice.

  When I entered the bathroom, her eyes were closed and the older woman was encouraging her to breathe. After I said her name, she opened her eyes and fixed them on me.

  “Is it okay if I check you out? See how far you’ve dilated? I know you feel the need to push, right?”

  She simply nodded, and I dug into the front pocket of my cart and grabbed a pair of gloves. “Is latex okay?” I questioned.

  She nodded again.

  I pulled on the pink gloves and kneeled beside the tub. As I checked her, I asked, “Has being in the water helped with the pain?”

  “Yes,” she said softly, as she reached up and grasped the older woman’s hand.

  “Good.”

  “It’s almost over, baby,” the woman said.

  I quickly pulled my hand back, startled by what I’d felt. I needed to check her vital signs, but that was going to have to wait. “This is your first pregnancy?” I asked.

  The girl nodded.

  “Well, your body is definitely doing its job efficiently. The baby is crowning. You felt like you needed to push, because it’s time to bring this baby into the world.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “It’s time to push.”

  She looked up at the older woman again. “Ma?”

  The woman squeezed her hand. “You can do it, baby. Come on!”

  I tried not to think about the fact that this woman had let this grown-ass man get involved with her child and got to work, coaching the young lady through delivering a beautiful baby girl while her mother remained at her side, encouraging her. Her husband hung in the doorway of the bathroom with an almost horrified look on his face, and I had to fight not to roll my eyes when the young lady called for him to come cut the cord.

  He hesitantly stepped forward and took the scissors from me as his wife held the baby up a little. His hand was shaking, so I placed my hand on his arm and smiled warmly at his sorry, pedophilic butt. He looked me in the eye and gave me a little nod, then with a steady hand, cut the umbilical cord.

  “Thank you, Zo. Thank you so much,” the tearful new mother said, as she held the wailing baby to her.

  “You got it, princess. You know that.”

  I wanted to sigh. No, I wanted to scream. I had seen so many young girls fall into this trap with older men, it was sickening. Bless their hearts, they were just clueless.

  What does that make you?

  That thought made me halt my hands. Yeah, I’d been a fool, too. An old one. Hell, that probably made me dumber than them. So I cleared my head of any judgmental thoughts and prepared to deliver the afterbirth.

  Two hours later, after I’d checked out both baby and mother, weighed the eight-pound baby on my hanging scale, helped the new mom with her first breast feeding, and swallowed my disgust when she announced the baby would be named Loren, after Lorenzo, I packed my bag and left the overly-thankful Melyssa lying in the massive bed with little Loren cradled in her arms.

  I made it to the door where Rell stood at attention, and I had to wonder if he’d been standing there for the entirety of my visit. He gave me a slight smile and a nod, and as he reached to open the door, a voice coming from behind me said, “Hey, Doc! Wait up!”

  I spun around to find Lorenzo bounding down the stairs, and again, had to fight not to roll my eyes. “I’m not a doctor.”

  “I can’t tell. What you did up there? Man, that was amazing!”

  I shook my head. “Melyssa did all the work. I just helped her through it. Little Loren is gorgeous. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. Hey, I feel like we need to pay you extra or something. I mean, wow. I’ve never seen anything like that before. It was…”

  “Beautiful?”

  “Yeah. Beautiful.”

  “Well, I don’t take tips, but we do take donations for our scholarship program. You can call the office Monday for details.”

  He nodded as he clapped his huge hands together. “I will. I’ll do that for sure. Thanks, again.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  “It meant a lot to my sister to be able to have her baby here. And I’m just happy it happened the way she wanted.”

  I frowned slightly. “Sister?”

  He looked at me, and a flicker of recognition lit in his eyes. “Yeah, Mel is my baby sister. You didn’t think—”

  “Actually, I did.”

  He chuckled. “Wow. This whole time you’ve probably been thinking I was some asshole predator.”

  “No. It was none of my business. Still isn’t.”

  “Well, anyway, thanks. I’ll definitely be making that donation.”

  “Thank you.”

  In my car on the way home, I smiled and wondered to myself why I was so relieved to find out he was Melyssa’s brother.

  3

  I sighed as I parked in my spot in front of Genesis. I usually arrived early enough that I was often the only person in the building for an hour or so unless someone was laboring or in another stage of childbirth. In that case, a nurse and either Cass or I would be there attending to them. But there was no patient there that Monday morning. No other nurse. The only
car on the lot was mine…and my husband’s.

  I knew when I finally got up the nerve to file for divorce and have him served, he’d find a way to see me since I had been ignoring his phone calls and had instructed my mom and my sister, Nicky, not to let him in our home. He hadn’t been desperate enough to show up at my job, but I suppose I’d forced his hand.

  As I opened the door and climbed out, Robert hopped out of his car and approached mine. I closed the door and waited for him, wanting to get this confrontation over with before I began my day.

  “Good morning, Robert,” I said, as pleasantly as I could manage.

  He replied with, “What the hell is this, Renee?!” as he held up what I assumed were the divorce papers.

  I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off.

  “You gonna just do some shit like this without discussing it with me first?!”

  “Robert, you’ve known since the day I left that I wanted a divorce. It’s been more than a year. Making it official is way past due.”

  “It’s not only about what you want! What about what I want? I want my damn marriage back!”

  “No, what you want is to stay married to me for some unknown reason while doing whatever with whoever, and that’s not happening. Not anymore.”

  “That’s not what I want!”

  “I think little Robert Jr. proves that’s a lie.”

  “That was a mistake. A one-time thing. We can move past it if you’ll try.”

  “Move past you having a baby by another woman? I don’t think so. Look, I need to get in here and get to work. There’s nothing to discuss; nothing you say will make me change my mind. Our marriage is over. Whatever we had ended a long time ago.”

  “But I still love you, Nay. I do.”