Season of Change

By Tumika Patrice Cain

Book one in the Seasons series is an impactful powerhouse read that will stay with the reader long after the last pages have been turned.

Avery and Alicia were the picture-perfect couple. Unfortunately, time has a way of revealing fractures in what appears to be an airtight relationship. The aftermath of recent experiences sends t

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inkscriptions LLC
• Release date: Dec 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9780991507733

Book preview

1

Alicia

Imust admit, according to today’s standards, we did have it going on. There was not one of those sought after trappings of success we did not possess. To the eyes of the world, we had it all: the mansion in one of the most exclusive areas of Bloomfield Hills, flashy cars and all the toys anyone could ask for. If I lived in the world that would have been wonderful, but I didn’t. I suppose if having things were enough to satisfy me, then I should have been happy and never desired anything outside of what we already possessed.

Sometimes money is just not enough. Take it from someone who knows firsthand, having money is not the ultimate be all, end all final destination leading to tranquility. What has far more lasting weight are those things that are not tangible and cannot be bought. Peace would be among those priceless treasures not pursued with the intensity it deserves. It is only when something is missing that its true value becomes apparent. I had finally reached a place where I wanted more, I just could not play the games any more. There was nothing to hide, no pride that I was willing to save face for. I was willing to do whatever it took to be free. You see, despite all that we had, none of those things were enough to protect me from what was going on in my world. I had become a prisoner behind the walls of this perfectly manicured estate. For the sake of my health, my sanity, my life, I had to break free no matter what price I had to pay for that freedom.

Looks can be so deceiving. People in general are masters of manipulation, showing others only what they want them to see. They hide all the real and meaningful parts of their lives that are truly able to liberate others and make a difference. I am no better than the vast majority. Probably worse than most, if I think about it.

There was no way to see the hairline fractures of our fragile existence looking only through the naked eye. We worked very hard to keep it that way. It is only through the high powered magnifying glass of life that the rips and tears and chips could be seen. It is only through that same lens that what could be seen was a foundation too shaky to build on. Too shaky to hold the high rise of our lives we had built on top of it. Is there anything worse than a beautiful edifice appearing oh so fine, yet its very foundation could make the entire structure come tumbling down, falling upon the heads of all those in its wake? Well, that is us and this is our life.

We met when I was scarcely more than a child, although no one could have told me I was only a child at the time. It amazes me how time has a way of revealing all those things we never took the time to see, even when they were staring us directly in the face. I had just graduated from Oakland University a few weeks prior. My mentor, surrogate mother and all around good friend, Kate Larraby and I were at the opening party of a new art gallery having a great time when in walks this handsome man. It seems like a lifetime ago and in the same breath it feels as if no time has passed at all. I thought those were the good old days.

It was just something about him. I was young, cute, and pleasant so guys were coming on to me all the time, but it was something about the way he held his head. Something in the way his gaze didn’t waiver from mine when our eyes met. Something in the I am lion king of the jungle way he watched me all evening before he made his move; an air of sophistication and confidence that I didn’t see in guys my own age. Sure he was extremely attractive, with none of the youthful lankiness I saw in young men. He was all man, and I was all in. As I think back on it, I realize now that I never stood a chance. He was far too skilled in the ways of men and women for me to be much of a match, young, sheltered innocent that I was.

Beautiful. He looked me directly in the eyes while he spoke to me as we stood in front of a mixed media sculpture by Donald Calloway. It took a few seconds for it to sink in, but the way he was looking at me, I knew that what he’d said was directed to me and not the sculpture.

Thank you. My intent was to smile politely then walk away, but there was something in his gaze that drew me, almost as if his hand were on my arm staying me. In truth, we were standing at least three feet apart, but I remained immobile. Somehow I managed a small smile in his direction. I could not seem to turn my eyes away from his gaze.

What is your name? His hazel eyes continued to speak to me long after his mouth stopped moving.

Alicia. Surprising myself that I was able to speak at all, my voice became a little stronger, more confident as I repeated my name. My name is Alicia Cantrell. And you are?

Avery Ayers. Alicia, it is a pleasure to meet you. In all the years I had heard my name pronounced, I had never heard it sound as if it were a beautiful flower like it did rolling off his tongue. His full lips called me, his eyes grabbed me and his hand, when it touched mine, claimed me.

Pleased to meet you, Avery. All those years in the limelight of my parents’ high profile world paid off. Silently, I thanked my parents for all of their tutelage and insistence on etiquette classes and private tutorials in the ways of social graces.

Would you care to dance? Avery asked. Not quite waiting for an answer, he was already leading me to the small dance floor as he posed his question. His tall, six foot plus frame towered over my barely five foot three inches. A rock hard wall of rippling muscles twisted and twirled me in a slow waltz. Enveloped in a cloud of his masculine scent, time ceased to exist and so did the others milling around us. Kate was a distant memory. We danced a few songs, and then exited the floor to get punch and to talk. Before long the event had come to an end. To this day I do not remember much of the art that was presented, nor do I remember who else was present. From the moment he approached me, he is really all I remember.

Avery was a beautiful man. It was more of a distinguished, sophisticated, well-tended look about him. Coffee with heavy cream, thick, full lips outlined by a well-manicured mustache. Tall, muscular, broad shoulders, thick arms. Those arms told of many hours spent working out. Just all around good looking. Well-spoken with a deep baritone voice. There is nothing in the world like a beautiful man with the voice to match. Instantly, I liked this man.

As the evening drew to a close, we found ourselves not wanting to part company, but knowing it was impractical for us to spend the remainder of the evening together. After he walked us back to Kate's car, we exchanged business cards. Once the realization hit me that I had abandoned Kate, I felt kind of bad for having left her to fend for herself all evening, but she’d found an acquaintance from some organization to which she belonged to spend time with, so she was okay. I was impressed that Avery didn't exclude Kate from the conversation. Nor did he treat her like a third wheel, as if she had no right to be there just because he had his own agenda. Kate noticed it, too. Before we parted, he promised that I would be hearing from him soon. I was secretly looking forward to it.

Well, it has been my pleasure meeting both of you lovely ladies. His words were directed towards both of us, but his eyes were solely for me. Do you have a long drive ahead of you?

Only about 45 minutes, Kate answered.

Avery reached out to open the doors to the car, depositing us safely inside. Well, travel safely. Have a good evening. He smiled and stepped back to allow Kate to drive off.

Good night, I said to him out of the open car window as we drove past. He watched until we had exited the parking lot then slowly walked to his own car.

No sooner had we turned the corner in Kate's red LeBaron convertible than she uttered, So are you going to go out with him or not?

If he actually calls, probably so, but it doesn’t matter.

Who are you kidding, sitting over there trying to act as if you are unaffected. I saw you watch him out of the rearview mirror until you couldn’t see him anymore. Come off it! We burst into girlish laughter.

Yeah, he is fine. But, hey! Don’t think you know me! I laughed out loud and settled back more securely into the cream leather seat, leaning back against the headrest.

Kate and I seemed an unlikely pair. She is an older white woman who appears very natural and earthy, but we have been friends since I was in high school. We met on a campus tour while I was in the eleventh grade. We hit it off immediately and continued to keep in touch throughout the remainder of my high school career. When I finally got to OU, she took me under her wing and we have been inseparable ever since.

Kate has become kind of a mother to me over the years. I vaguely remember her mentioning she'd been married before, but she has no children. I suppose I'm the daughter she never had, which was just fine with me.

Kathryn Denise Larraby is probably the nicest person I've ever met. She is beautiful in a holistic, natural sort of way. She is about five six, long, healthy, blond hair and the clearest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. I call them doe eyes. She is also one of the most acclaimed artists of the day. She does it all, from sculpting and watercolors to charcoal and pastels. She is a walking billboard for her creations, since she wears the most amazing one-of-a-kind clothing that she designs and makes.

We pulled into her two and a half car attached garage before too long and were greeted with the silence I find so comforting each time I visit her Beverly Hills estate. Visiting Kate's house is always a treat. It is by far one of the most inviting homes that I have been in. Kate doesn't believe in having a house with rooms that you can't use. She says, What good is having a living room you can't live in? Go figure! Needless to say, Kate's house is very lived in. It's sunny and bright. She is one of the few people in Beverly Hills who has a substantial amount of land surrounding her house. The house was designed by and for her before the area became heavily populated.

We had planned a leisurely visit that included my staying the weekend at her home. With all of her civic and cultural activities and the stress of finals, graduation, moving, and job hunting, time had been scarce for us to connect, so we were both looking forward to playing catch up.

Neither Kate nor I really drink alcohol, so in anticipation of the evening to come, she'd brewed some of our favorite tea. With colorful, whimsical patio glasses filled high with the cool beverage, we made our way to the three tier deck off of the back of the house, to sit, chat, and be at one with nature. It was a perfectly lovely and relaxing weekend. Just what I needed to regroup and propel myself into the world of working adulthood in the week to come.

When I arrived home on Sunday night I could see on the caller id that Avery had called three times. I found that to be flattering in a way, although I didn't call him back. Instead, I took a shower and prepared myself for work the next day. I’d landed a job with Cummings Advertising agency and would be starting the following morning, so I needed to prepare for my first day on the job. He would just have to wait.

It was late Monday night when Avery finally caught up with me. I'd had a very long day and was just coming in from the fitness club. I made a quick stop in the bathroom to run a steaming tub full of plumeria scented bubble bath when the phone rang.

Hello, I answered with a bit of exasperation in my voice. I hadn’t bothered to check the caller ID before picking up the phone and, therefore, had no idea who would be calling me.

Hello, Lady. Did I catch you at a bad time? That voice, smooth as silk, answered back.

It took me a couple of seconds to catch the voice, but when I did I smiled a little to myself and said, Oh, hey Avery. Yeah, a little bit. I'm just getting in. Can I call you back in about forty-five minutes?

No problem. I'll be here.

I had a nice, long soak in the tub and let all of my worries disappear down the drain with the bubbles that managed to hold on until the end. Now I was feeling a little bit more like myself and felt more like talking.

Feeling better? is how he answered the phone when I called him back.

You just assumed it was me, huh?

Caller ID is a marvelous thing, he answered back with a bit of a chuckle. Long day?

Long like you wouldn't believe.

Want to talk about it?

Without meaning to, I went into all the details of the day that added stress to my life. Avery was a good listener. Never once did he criticize what I said or how I felt. Occasionally, he'd just offer a bit of advice on how to deal with the politics that are sometimes present in the workplace. I felt loads better by the time I was finished.

Thanks for listening. It's just what the doctor ordered.

No problem. So, pretty lady, when can I see you again?

I was already starting to feel really good about him. Tell me what you had in mind, and I'll let you know.

We decided to go to Symphony in the Park at Chene Park and out to lunch that upcoming Saturday. The week flew by and we talked on the phone for hours every night. It seemed that we went from being complete strangers to being friends in no time at all. There were never any of those awkward moments that are so prevalent among people who are just getting to know each other.

It was refreshing to hold an adult conversation with a male where the topic of that conversation wasn't focused on sex, cars or money. Now that I think about it, we never even discussed it. The young men that I dated in college just didn't have a clue that women wanted polished men and that just because they had a penis didn't automatically make them men. Avery talked as if he had nothing to prove, which of course, he didn't. I began to look forward to our nightly talks. Not only was he intelligent and funny, but cultured as well. I couldn’t ask for anything more than that.

Saturday finally rolled around and Avery picked me up from my apartment at eleven fifteen. He showed up to my door with Calla lilies, which are my favorite. He'd been listening to me all those nights, and I was touched that he took the effort to hear me. It had been my experience with men that they'd much rather guess what it is that you want instead of listening to what you say. Then they don't seem to understand the attitudes they get in return for being presumptuous. So that gesture told me a lot about Avery.

Please come in and have a seat. I am almost ready. Would you like something to drink?

No, thank you. Just take your time. He looked around my small apartment to get a greater sense of who I was.

Thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful. I see you were listening to me. I called out to him from my bedroom where I was putting together the finishing touches for my look.

Of course I was listening. And just so you know, you are much more beautiful than these flowers could ever be. Then he gave me a look so intense it could have burned a hole right through me as I walked back into the living room. I took the flowers off the table and escaped to the kitchen to put them in water.

My apartment was rather nice, I thought. It was just a one bedroom, but I had it decorated nicely. I'd painted the walls a medium taupe and the ceiling and trim white. My couch was cream and had lots of abstract patterned throw pillows on the couch and floor. As a housewarming present, a dear friend who specializes in furniture design made me a set of one-of-a-kind tables that matched my style to perfection. I had a few pieces of art that I'd invested in. Although nice, it was quite sparse and contemporary, but not cold.

You've got some great pieces in here. I thought you said you weren't a collector.

That's not exactly what I said. I told you that I considered myself to be an appreciator. I do have a few pieces, but I am not at a point financially, where I can afford more of the pieces I love. So, I consider myself to be an appreciator, since I can appreciate many more pieces than I can afford, I answered, sitting on the edge of the sofa, watching him go from piece to piece.

He smiled at me as he turned around from admiring an original Vinh Lee charcoal of an Asian lady brushing her hair by a waterfall.

Well, you certainly are more than just a pretty face. Are you about ready to head out?

Two weeks before, I'd purchased a really pretty navy linen sundress with a halter design. My knees were just slightly exposed and right above the hemline was a navy lace insert. Navy espadrilles donned my feet. I've never been much of a make-up wearer, so the only coloring I wore that day was mauve tinted lipgloss and black mascara. My hair was simply pulled back into a ponytail with flat bangs making me look a bit like a china doll. I grabbed a pretty shawl I had picked up in a resale shop that was once white, but was recently dyed navy and walked towards him.

You're almost too pretty to touch, he said with a wink once I was fully dressed. But I'll take my chances.

We chuckled a bit and finally made our way to his car. Avery drove a classic white 1978 convertible Corvette with red interior.

I have yet to figure out why tall men love such small vehicles.

He just laughed as he opened the door for me. Gentleman. I liked that. I was glad I didn’t have to remind him to get the door for me.

I got a good look at him in the daylight as he walked around to his side of the car. He truly was a good-looking man. I discovered in the daylight that his eyes were indeed hazel and piercing. Avery was wearing ivory colored linen walking shorts and matching vest with a white silk shirt. He was sharp, and I told him so. Looking at him gave me no indication as to his age. He could have been anywhere from 29 to 50. He had an ageless look about him, but the quality of his conversation led me to believe he was on the latter end of that scale. Later on, I would find out that he was in fact 36. His age posed no problem to me, and I found his wisdom to be quite a turn on.

We had quite a lovely day. When the concert was finally over, we drove to Greektown to have a late lunch at Nikki’s. The food was great and the ambiance wonderful.

Avery and I sat there for hours talking about everything from politics to dream vacations to colleges. Slowly, we sauntered our way down to Astoria's bakery for dessert. Black Forest torte is what I ordered. He decided on the Baklava, because they were both favorites of ours and we could share. I couldn't believe how much we had in common. It was as though I'd known him all of my life. We got back in his car and headed towards Belle Isle. We walked around the park just talking and enjoying each another’s company.

I guess it could be said that we were inseparable from that point on. We spent all of our free time together. He was the perfect gentleman. Except for a few heated kisses, he never made any advances towards me, even though the attraction between us was undeniable.

Because of our busy schedules it was sometimes difficult for us to get together, but we did as often as possible. I felt that God had answered my prayers for sending someone like Avery into my life. He was always so thoughtful. Just because I was on his mind, he'd send me flowers and he was always so complimentary. At first, I took his compliments lightly, thinking he was just being nice. I quickly discovered that it was just his way. We dated seriously for a year, but kept our respective homes. I just didn't feel ready to give up my space yet. This worked for us.

On the anniversary of our first date, Avery proposed to me. I received an invitation via a courier service to meet him for a candlelight dinner at an unspecified location. The spontaneity and secrecy of it sure piqued my interest, but I went along with it because he obviously had something up his sleeve. The invitation ended instructing me that my limo would arrive at 7 p.m.

I realized, as soon as I arrived at Michael's place, just why he wanted me to come there. Michael, Avery's best friend, had a beautiful penthouse in downtown Detroit at the Riverfront condominiums. It overlooked the Detroit River. From the dining room I could see across the river to Windsor and all the tall buildings and lights downtown. It was breathtaking.

I was met at the door by Michael's uniformed butler, Fitzgerald, who promptly led me into the library to await Avery. Two of the walls in the library were glass and allowed one a view of the sunken great room and formal dining room. From what I could see, there were no words in Webster to describe Michael's abode. The penthouse was exquisitely decorated in black and what seemed to be a dozen shades of gray. Shiny chrome and polished mirrors gave the appearance of power and masculinity, while accents of magenta made a woman feel right at home. I wondered if his home had ever been featured in Architectural Digest.

I'd met Michael a few times over the past year, but never at his home. Michael was a world-renowned interior designer who was single and globetrotted as often as possible. Now that I think about it, I'd never seen Michael with the same woman twice. Later, I found out that he was in fact trotting over to Paris to work on some star's vacation home.

Fitzgerald returned with a sterling silver bucket of sparkling apple cider on ice and chilled Waterford flutes. It made me smile that Avery would make this beverage choice, even though he did occasionally indulge in a glass of wine. While I slowly sipped my sparkling juice, I noticed the soft jazz that seemed to filter into the room. Charlie Parker was playing. Charlie's always been a favorite of mine. I grew up listening to his music. My parents had an extensive collection of jazz and Charlie was always a favorite to be played at their frequent social gatherings.

Avery's thoughtfulness always made me feel so warm and cared for. The fact that Charlie's music wafted through this impressive place, was just another expression of his love for me. I never ceased to be amazed at how well Avery listened to me and instinctively seemed to know just what I needed.

By this time, ten minutes had passed since I arrived and I began to wonder what was keeping Avery. Just when I was about to ring for Fitzgerald to inquire of Avery's whereabouts, he appeared, looking dapper, as usual, in black raw silk slacks and white shirt of the same material.

Sorry it took so long to get to you, Lissi. I got a little tied up with the preparations. He bent down to kiss my lips and caress my face. After that he pulled me to a standing position to give me a lengthy hug. I melted into him and smiled against his chest. My love for him was unbelievable. I never thought I could feel that way for someone, even though it's the thing I wanted most. I'd found my home when I was wrapped in the warmth of his embrace. Avery had become my home. He whispered in my ear, How was your day?

"Busy