The Love Labyrinth

By Pamela D. Beverly

Noelle Harrison is a hard-working wife and loving mother to two young sons. Although supportive of her husband Wayne's professional pursuits, she rails at his constant out-of-town travel to conferences and seminars. What about her needs and wants?

Facing a life-threatening situation, she has a decision to make.

There are two sides to every story. Or maybe three.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pamela D. Beverly
• Release date: May 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9780998673219

Pamela D. Beverly

Pamela D. Beverly is a management analyst employed at a training branch in Washington, DC. She resides in Fort Washington, Maryland, and considers herself a student of human nature. This is her first novel.

Book preview

PART ONE

Chapter One

Noelle sat patiently on the hard wooden pew with her family as the massive Reverend Atkins droned on and on. She put into practice her technique for remaining alert–sitting up straight to the point of discomfort to prevent her from falling asleep. And although she scolded her children when they did it, she occasionally fidgeted.

The sunlight streamed through the nearly floor-to-ceiling frosted windows, casting the church pastor in an ethereal light. Noelle found herself almost counting the dust particles that danced in the air as Reverend Atkins occasionally waved an arm or shook his multi-jowled countenance in the direction of his large congregation.

Noelle felt herself losing her hold in the battle of consciousness as her eyelids begged her brain to close them for just a few seconds longer than a blink. She lurched forward, almost falling off the pew. Eyes flying open, Noelle caught herself in the nick of time. She noticed in a side pew, about six rows ahead to her right, that her embarrassing moment had not gone unnoticed, for there was a man looking directly at her. As their eyes met, the man’s gaze did not waver. Looking away, she busied herself with smoothing down her son Wayne Jr.’s shirt collar. Forty endless minutes later, Noelle herded her children out of the still-crowded church and down the stairs. Junior, who had been ready to leave about five minutes after they arrived, hurriedly tumbled down them, headfirst. Noelle’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

"Oh my God! Junior!" She tried, without success, to grab him as he fell past her. He landed in a heap at the foot of the stairs, nearly knocking down a man who had been standing near them. Other churchgoers stared in horror or attempted, in vain, to grab the boy.

Grinning with a rakish air, Junior bounded to his feet like a jack-in-the-box, with only a scratch on his forehead to show for his misadventure.

By that time, the man had turned and assisted Junior’s mother in brushing the dust from his coat and slacks. He looked down at her, smiling. He seems to be all right. This one yours?

Unfortunately, Noelle half-joked, realizing he was the same man who had been staring at her across the pews. He gives me a mini heart attack every ten minutes, always doing something death-defying. She handed Junior the key fob. Take your brother to the car, please. I’ll be there in a minute.

To the man, she said, Thank you for helping me with him.

His smile widened. I gotta say he looks like a handful."

They both are. Smiling inside, it dawned on Noelle that the man seemed to be attempting to stall her. She watched as he tightened the sash of his dark gray trench coat and slid his hands into his pockets, making it obvious that he was in no hurry to leave. But why? Surely he’s noticed that I’m wearing a wedding band, Noelle thought.

You know how it is. Little boys can’t sit still for long, especially in church. Afterwards, they’ve got to release some of that energy that’s been building up those two long hours. I remember I was like that. People hurried around them to their cars, waving at friends and acquaintances as they left the church. How old are they?

Wayne Jr., the one who attempted to fly a moment ago, is seven and Rodney is five. Noelle’s gaze traveled to the front doors of the church. Most of the parishioners had vacated the building and she needed to make sure the boys were all right. Look, I must tell you—

They continued to stand there in the chilly, gray February afternoon, looking at each other. Yes? the man asked.

Noelle’s heart beat in an uneven rhythm. Although his voice was warm and friendly, the man had a virile, commanding presence. And despite what was coming out of her mouth, Noelle was excited by his demeanor as well as his obvious interest in her. Guess I still got it, she mused, unable to conceal a smile. The logical side of her brain wrenched itself free of the giddy side’s clutches and she replied, almost shouting, I’m married. As she stood there hugging herself, Noelle felt self-conscious. Squinting at him a little, she shivered as a stiff breeze made its way down her coat collar and through her wool dress, as though she wore nothing.

The man smiled lopsidedly. It looked more like a smirk, yet to Noelle there was an engaging quality about it. I kinda guessed that. Judging by the flash of gold and the rock I saw on your left hand.

Not being known for beating around the bush, she asked, So, why all the small talk?

He was right back at her. Because I’d like to take you to lunch tomorrow, Mrs.—

Noelle Harrison. What part of no did the man not understand? I don’t think so. I don’t see the point.

He yanked at his tie, his gaze unwavering. Why does there have to be a point? Can’t people speak to one another around here? You are a human being first off, not a prison inmate.

Her face grew hot. Look, I’m nobody’s inmate. Just because I’m married doesn’t mean that I’m in prison.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was a poor choice of words. There was the soft smile, then, Can’t you have lunch with a man besides your husband?

Of course I can. If I want to. What am I saying? She looked around, distracted. "Let me get this straight. You want to be my friend?"

Yes I do, Noelle. Something wrong with that? His smile was full of innocence.

Just lunch, right?

That’s right.

That’s a new one.

You know, you’re kind of cynical. A lot of women here in the D.C. area are cynical.

Noelle exhaled. Men always had to give their opinions about something, whether it was asked for or not. Here we go. Well, you know you can go back to where you came from, wherever that is.

He seemed unfazed by her irritation. You looked like you needed a friend.

That stopped her short. She gazed into his face and could see that he actually believed what he was saying. After a moment, she said, I don’t need a friend but… okay. I work part-time so I’m off at twelve. Is that too late for you?

Not at all. And my name’s Clark Johnson. You can meet me at the restaurant, if that will make you feel more comfortable. He pulled a crisp, white business card from his wallet and handed it to her. Call or text me tomorrow. I’ll give you all of the particulars then. See you later, Noelle.

He walked her to her car. After getting into his car parked nearby, he drove away.

Chapter Two

Noelle was in a foul mood when she awoke the next morning. After church the previous day, she discovered her husband, Wayne, was packing to attend yet another conference.

How long is this one? she mumbled as she stood in the bedroom doorway, a hand on one hip.

He had been stuffing underwear and socks in a suitcase on the crème-colored coverlet that draped the bed, the decorative pillows flung out of the way. Wayne Harrison was tall, yet of stocky build, with a golden-brown complexion and a thick mustache. His hair was receding a little in front, but he was still an attractive man in a rugged sort of way. Five days. I’ll be home by the weekend.

Whoopee.

Wayne had turned, a look of exasperation crossing his features. Noelle knew she could drive the man to drink sometimes with her attitude, but at that moment she didn’t care. She was justified so a thing like that didn’t matter. Now what’s wrong?

Noelle stalked toward the bed. She pulled off her pumps, dress and hose, amazed at how dense he could be at times. She flung the dress and hose onto the bed and kicked her pumps out of the way. You promised to cut Rodney’s hair this weekend. Have you taken a look at it lately? And you know you’re the only one he allows near his head. The health department’s going to come knocking on our door one of these days—

Give me a break, will you? I’ll cut it first thing Saturday morning. All right? Wayne dropped the lid of the suitcase and zipped it shut. Damn! Here I’m trying to climb the corporate ladder and all you want to do is knock me down. Now, may I have a kiss?

They had kissed, more out of a sense of duty than desire. Afterwards, Wayne donned his coat. Picking up his suitcase and garment bag, he headed out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the front door, with Noelle following. I’ll talk to you and the boys tomorrow.

Don’t do me any favors, she snapped, slamming the door behind him.

After getting the boys off to school, Noelle headed to her job working as a cashier in a supermarket from eight until noon. Throughout the morning, she found herself pulling out the card with Clark’s work and cell phone numbers on it. Her curiosity got the best of her and after clocking out, Noelle walked swiftly to the supermarket parking lot. Out of earshot of the coming and going store patrons and other employees, she pulled out her cell phone and affixed a Bluetooth listening device to her right ear.

Hello. Clark Johnson? she asked, willing the quaver out of her voice.

This is he. There was a pause. Noelle? The simple pronunciation of her name sounded very intimate spilling from his lips. He had a soft southern accent.

Yes. Noelle twisted the silver bracelet she wore around her wrist. I wanted to know if you’d still like to have lunch. With me.

Hey, I’m glad you called. Of course. I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t want to.

Okay. Her face radiated heat from the inside out. So, where would you like to uh–do this?

I was thinking about L’Elegance. Do you know it?

Sure I do. It’s pretty fancy.

Not a problem. I’m paying, remember?

That’s not what I meant, Noelle insisted, becoming a bit exasperated. I don’t have to take these snide remarks, she thought. Look, maybe this isn’t such a good idea.

His deep, rich voice softened, the southern timbre becoming even more pronounced. There was something very appealing about it. C’mon now, don’t try to back out. I’ll meet you there in… say about an hour?

That’ll be fine. I’ll see you there. Noelle hung up and continued to head to her car, thinking, Just lunch. Someone to pass an hour or two with, besides the kids. She made a face at herself. Yeah, right. Who are you trying to fool?

The muted tones of the voices and silverware against china were barely heard by Noelle as she followed the hostess to the table where Clark Johnson sat, waiting. He quickly stood and stepping behind a chair, pulled it out for her.

Glad you could make it, Clark remarked, looking taller than she remembered. He was dressed in an olive-green sport coat, black shirt and black slacks and even in the dim lighting, the thick band of his gold watch gleamed. You look very nice.

Not good enough for this place, she thought. The smell of expensive perfume and cologne was intoxicating. Aloud, Noelle said, Thanks. I like what you’ve got on, too. She paused. You know what? That sounded stupid. I don’t know why I said that.

Clark smiled and his eyes glowed in the light of the single candle positioned between them on the tiny table. You’re nervous, I guess.

Noelle waited for the hostess to depart. Aren’t you?

Settling back in his chair, he shrugged. No need to be. I’m having lunch with you. As far as I know, that’s not a crime.

Noelle looked around the restaurant, not knowing where to rest her eyes. He is so attractive, she thought. His smooth, dark-chocolate complexion begged to be touched. Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s married.

A waiter, looking as if he stepped from the cover of Playgirl—with a chiseled face and body to match—arrived to take their orders. Once he had announced the specialty of the day, he seemed to vanish into the dim interior. Clark appeared to be relaxed as he ordered steak and lobster and Noelle ordered Cajun shrimp, drizzled with some sort of French sauce. In the meantime, as they waited for their appetizers to arrive, he loosened his tie. Noelle, I’d really like it if you would stop looking everywhere except here where we are. A person would think that you stole something.

She bowed her head, feeling stupid. I’m sorry. Forcing herself to look up and make her voice sound bright, Noelle asked, So, where are you from? I know it’s not here in the D.C. area.

You’re right. I’m from a little town in Louisiana, right outside of Shreveport. But I’ve been living here in Maryland for almost eight years now. Got folk up in Newark also, but I like it better down here. How about you? You from here?

Yes, I’m from Maryland. I’m from Waldorf, but I’ve been living in Greenbelt since–since before I got married. After saying the word married, the air suddenly felt stuffy to her and it was an effort just to breathe. So, what kind of work do you do?

I’m a paper pusher.

Mr. Playgirl Centerfold Personified filled their water glasses and placed a basket of just-baked rolls and butter on the table, then once again departed into the semi-darkness.

Excuse me?

Clark laughed and Noelle’s eyes found their way to his lips. Fortunately, he seemed oblivious to her rapt scrutiny. I’m a project manager in an office downtown. I get to handle special projects, work with a lot of different and interesting people. I enjoy it. What do you do?

I work part-time as a cashier at the Twenty-Four/Seven in Greenbelt. Noelle took a sip of water from her glass. Her throat and lips felt parched. What is wrong with me? she mentally berated herself. I already know. Guilt. She tossed her head. I don’t know why I feel guilty. Wayne doesn’t seem to care about being with me. Aloud, she said, I like it because I can get my children off to school and be there when they get home.

That’s good. They’re not latch-key kids or stuck with a lot of babysitters. I think kids need that structure. There are some people who wouldn’t agree with your choice, though. They don’t give working inside the home much respect anymore. Clark continued to look at her over the flickering candlelight. His eyes probed hers. What does your husband do?

Say what? He goes out of town a lot. I really don’t want to talk about him. She jumped to her feet. You know, maybe this was a mistake.

Clark made no move to restrain her. All right, then. I thought you’d like a nice lunch. I’d like to get to know you better. You looked like you needed somebody.

Grimacing, Noelle remarked, Gee, thanks, as she slowly sat down again.

I didn’t mean it like that. He smiled. I just meant that we all need someone to talk to. Just because I’m a man doesn’t mean that I can’t be your friend, simply because you’re a married woman. A woman can have a male friend. I’ve got a number of women friends.

I’ll just bet you do. You really want to be my friend? Right. She continued to give him the side-eye.

Clark shrugged as the waiter placed their salad orders before them. Is there a law against that?

For a while Noelle was blessed with the luxury of not having to talk as they ate. She studied him in a subtle way. Damn, he’s fine. And he’s got the most beautiful skin. Her eyes swept down his face, past his thick eyebrows, compelling eyes and a mustache that framed a sexy pair of lips. Oh, my goodness, she murmured, shaking her head.

He looked up and caught her. Something wrong with your food?

No, my salad’s fine. In fact, it’s delicious.

You were shaking your head.

She could not suppress the smile that made its way to her lips. I was just thinking.

About what?

You sure ask a lot of questions.

I’m a curious person.

And you know what curiosity did to that cat.

Yeah, well, I’m kind of hardheaded. He grinned.

I see.

They sat there, looking at each other in silence for a moment. A few minutes later, their main courses arrived. Why am I here with this guy? Noelle thought as she watched the man who claimed he wanted to be her friend attack his steak and lobster with controlled enthusiasm. My husband is out of town and here I am with another man. And a younger one too, I’ll bet.

He swallowed and said, as if reading her thoughts, Please stop looking so guilty, Mrs. Harrison. I’m not going to bite you. I saw something in you yesterday that I liked and I just couldn’t walk away without talking to you.

At the car, Clark gently took hold of her arm. Wait a minute, Noelle. Will I get to see you again?

I don’t think so.

I told you, I go by the name of Clark.

Noelle shook her head as she opened the door and lowered herself into the seat. I’m sorry, Clark. I’m just not used to this sort of thing.

Neither am I, Clark replied in a defensive tone. He took a deep breath, looking down at her. Look, you’ve got my numbers. Text me or call me if you’d like to get together again or if you just want to talk. See you around. With that, he turned and began