“But I’ve had my shoes off for a while, and I could use a little exercise.” Kitty slipped on her pumps, eager to walk. Maybe that would help digest all the pineapple coconut cake she felt sitting in her stomach like a brick.
After Kitty removed her cap and apron, she placed them on a pile of linens to be laundered. She grabbed her pocketbook. It hung from a hook on the back door along with a black shawl that she threw around her shoulders. Ash opened the door, holding it for her as she left the house.
From Ash’s neighborhood, where the millionaires resided in turn of the century mansions, Kitty’s street wasn’t too far away. She lived in a respectable Negro community with modest one story frame and shingle homes. It was a two-minute drive or a ten-minute walk that could be stretched to 15 at a leisurely pace. Ash chose to walk slowly, so Kitty followed his lead.
The air was cool, and except for the chirping of crickets, the night was still and quiet. The moon was just a sliver in the blue-black sky. A few streetlights and porch lamps lit the way, but it was still dark enough, late enough, and therefore safe enough, for Ash to clasp Kitty’s hand without being seen by anyone.
****
Ash had exercised considerable restraint as he’d stood next to her washing dishes earlier, but she drove him crazy and he couldn’t fight it. They walked quietly for a while, but when the porch light to Kitty’s house became visible a short distance ahead, Ash came to a halt.
“Why are you stopping?” she asked.
Ash tried to speak but couldn’t.
A streetlight was a few yards behind them. It revealed Kitty’s smile. “What is it, Ash?” she asked.
“Kitty—I—” Words couldn’t express what he was feeling. So instead, he embraced her tightly and kissed her.
After a few seconds, though, she pushed him away, laughing softly. “Ash, I need to get home.”
“Kitty, don’t pull away from me this time.” She’d never feared his advances and seemed to enjoy them. “You like it when I kiss you, don’t you?” Kitty nodded. “You’ve never told me not to.” Ash hesitated only for a moment to make sure no protest would ensue. Then he kissed her slowly and deeply.
Kitty responded in kind. Seeming to relish the depth of his passion, she gently slipped her arms around him.
When Ash pulled his lips from hers he said, “Kitty, I can’t stop thinking about you—and when I’m near you, I’m light headed. Kitty--I—I love you.”
She squirmed from his arms slightly. “Ash, don’t be cruel and play with me like that.”
“What in the blue blazes are you talking about? And who’s been cruel and playing with me, Kitty Mae Wilkes?”
“I’d--I’d never be really cruel to you—and say something I didn’t mean!”
“But, Kitty—I do love you!”
“You can’t!”
“Don’t tell me I can’t! I have eyes and I have a heart and they’re telling me I love you!”
“Oh, you have eyes all right, and they took in all the female sights at the party!”
“Come on, Kitty! Do you feel the same for me at all?” He almost pleaded. “Or have you just been leading me on for fun?”
She didn’t say anything at first. “I won’t--let myself love you.”
“Let yourself? How can you not let yourself fall in love?”
“I’m--trying not to.”
“But it’s too late, isn’t it?” Kitty nodded. Ash held her against him and buried his face in her hair. “Kitty,” he said, his breath hot against her neck, “I want you so bad it hurts.” Again, he kissed her deeply. “I want to make love to you,” he whispered in her ear. “Let me love you.”
Kitty stiffened, pressing him away. “No…I can’t. And I won’t. I’ve never done that—and I won’t—until I’m married. And we can’t get married, so—”
“But, Kitty, I want to marry you.”
“Ash! You know that’s impossible!”
“Well, we can be just as good as married.”
“Just as good? You mean you’d keep me?” Kitty sounded repulsed by the idea. “What makes you think I don’t want the same things out of life as—as someone like Miss Lillian Ann? I don’t want to be hidden away like some back alley tramp—or be gossip fodder for the kitchen help! I want to be respectfully married some day, just like she wants to be, and what you want to give me just isn’t good enough!”
“But, Kitty--”
“No ‘buts’, Ash! There’s Russell and—and he loves me—he wants to marry me!”
“Does he know you’re busy pulling my strings?”
“Ash—I--”
“You don’t love him, Kitty!”
“I could—maybe if I tried.”
“You’re crazy!”
“Mama says that the man should love the woman a little bit more in a marriage and--”
“You don’t love him at all so that blasted equation doesn’t even work!”
“Oh, Ash—what does it matter? He’s husband material! He’s nice, he’s handsome, he’s smart. He’s from a good family! We’d lead a respectable life!”
“What does it matter? You’d be miserable!”
“Not half as miserable as I’d be living as a white man’s mistress!”
“Kitty, I love you. I wouldn’t marry anybody else—I don’t want anybody else.”
“I need to get home.” Before she could turn away from him, he pulled her back.
“Kitty—don’t go yet. I mean all I’ve said. I love you so much—I’d marry you in a heartbeat if I could. I’d give you everything—I’d make you happy. And I’d provide for you—and our children.”
“Children! You think I’d want children in an arrangement like what you’re talking about! I’d never be able to show my face in a respectable crowd of people!”
“Kitty, as far as I’m concerned—you’d be my wife.”
“You wife? And just who would you tell that you’re—married to me?”
Ash was taken aback by her question. “I—I couldn’t tell anyone, you know that.”
Kitty looked at him coldly. “I have to go.”
“Kitty—please—don’t leave me yet.” He held her against him. Once again she didn’t protest as he kissed her passionately. Her arms wrapped around him firmly as she kissed him with just as much intensity. “Tell me you love me,” he said softly. She didn’t say anything. As if forcing her to admit the truth, he kissed her even more fervently. “Say it.”
“Ash,” she was breathless, “I—I love you. But,” she pulled from his embrace, “I—I have to go. Goodnight.” Kitty quickly ran to her house.
Ash watched her run up the steps, then shut the door. The light from the porch lamp disappeared. For a while he stood there, hoping she’d come back. But soon a car rolled by, its bright headlights nearly blinding him. After that, Ash finally walked back home.
Chapter 4
Ash looked in the mirror over the bathroom sink. He ran a comb through his wet hair, then applied a dab of Brylcreme to keep it neatly slicked back. He’d just showered and dressed. Mondays were always hectic. He dashed to his bedroom, grabbed his jacket, then rushed down the hall.
It was almost eight. Breakfast would be served at any moment, and then he’d need to leave with Dad. Mondays and Thursdays were the days he worked in his father’s law office. And those mornings in the kitchen were usually filled with too much commotion; at least too much for a quiet conversation.
Ash quickly descended the back stairs, then stood out of sight near the rear kitchen entrance. Coffee was brewing and he smelled muffins baking. But right now, Ash wanted to catch Kitty alone so he could talk to her. He’d thought about her all weekend, and hadn’t seen her since he’d walked her home Friday night.
Ash slipped on his jacket and peeked into the kitchen. He watched Kitty take muffins from the oven, then carefully remove them from the hot tin to a breadbasket. Moments later he saw Izolla carry a platter of fried eggs and sausage patties to the dining room. Betty Jean followed with a tray o
f juice glasses. At last, Kitty was alone.
Ash made his move. “Kitty,” he whispered loudly.
She jumped, startled to see him there. “Ash!” She smiled.
“Did you think about what I said Friday?” he asked quietly. Kitty only nodded. “And did you think about me?” He winked.
Kitty’s eyes sparkled, but before she could answer, the swinging door flew open and heavy footsteps shook the floor. “Mr. Ash,” Izolla yelled, “get away from Cat! She’s slow enough as it is. You don’t need to be in here slowin’ her down any more.”
“Sorry, Izolla, I just wanted to--grab a muffin,” Ash said.
“Grab a muffin?” Izolla snorted. “Whenever I fix muffins you decide you’s gonna have them dry old corn flakes instead.”
“Well, this morning,” Ash gazed at Kitty, “they looked so good—I couldn’t resist.”
“They look the same way every time I make ‘em!”
Ash moved his eyes from Kitty to Izolla. “That’s true, they always do look good. And I always want one. I have to exert considerable will power not to give in. But today--” he looked at Kitty again, “I just can’t help it.” Eyes still on Kitty, Ash reached for a muffin.
“Mr. Ash,” Izolla snapped, “you wait ‘til those muffins are on the table, you hear!”
Then Heath walked through the swinging door. “Izolla, what’s going on in here?” He spotted his brother next to Kitty. “Catherine, is Ash getting first dibs on those muffins?”
“Ain’t nobody gettin’ first dibs on nothin’, Mr. Heath,” Izolla shouted, “now go sit down!”
“I deserve first dibs,” Ash said to his big brother, “‘cause I worked up an appetite. I was out running while you were still sleeping.”
Izolla threw up her hands. “Both of you’s actin’ like six year olds! Now Cat,” Izolla changed her hard-edged voice to one of grandmotherly intonation, “Mr. Heath, he likes the last muffin from the batch.” Izolla pointed to one Kitty hadn’t yet removed. “When you scrape up all the batter that’s left, and pile it into that last muffin cup, it bakes up real pretty and nice. Put that one on a little dish for Mr. Heath and set it at his place.”
“Thanks, Izolla,” Heath said, as he walked from the kitchen, sounding content in knowing that he’d receive the best muffin from the batch.
“Now, Izolla,” Ash said, as if he had a serious bone to pick, “you’ve always favored him over me, haven’t you?”
“He didn’t give me near the trouble you did growin’ up, and he likes my cookin’!”
“I like it too,” Ash said, “I just don’t eat three of everything you make.”
“That’s because you’re the runt,” Heath said on his way out the swinging door. He held it open for Betty Jean as she rushed by.
“Miss Joan and Mr. Louis just sat down,” Betty Jean said, as she poured coffee to serve. “Mr. Louis said those muffins smell mighty good and he’s wondering where they are.”
“Cat, what you waitin’ for?” Izolla scolded. Ash didn’t leave Kitty’s side, but watched as she finished removing the muffins to the breadbasket and placed the last one on a saucer for Heath. “And you just better sit yo’self down, Mr. Ash, and get out of the way.”
Ash and Kitty’s eyes met one last time. With his back to Izolla, he mouthed the words, “I love you.” Kitty smiled. So much for trying to talk to her now, Ash thought, walking from the kitchen. That would have to wait until later.
****
Ash opened the back door of the mansion, his beige seersucker jacket slung over his shoulder. Once inside, he threw the garment over a chair at the kitchen table. Striding toward the icebox, Ash loosened his tie and opened his collar. He took out a fresh pitcher of ice water and poured himself a glass.
Today his dad had told him to leave the office early. Louis had a confidential meeting with a client at 4:15. But prior to that, most of Ash’s day had been spent in the courtroom observing his father defend a different client accused of embezzlement.
After finishing one glass of water, Ash poured himself another and set it on the counter. He looked at his wristwatch. It was just past 4:30. Dinner smelled good, cooked and ready on the stove. Ash rolled up his sleeves, then peeked in the large pots to see what Izolla had fixed. Looked like chicken and dumplings, collard greens, and yellow squash. Izolla usually took a little afternoon break from 4:30-5, so she was nowhere in sight. Oddly enough, neither were Kitty and Betty Jean.
All day long, Ash hadn’t been able to concentrate on much anything. Thinking about Kitty distracted him. After failing to talk to her this morning, he’d hoped to now. Most days around this time, she and Betty Jean were in the kitchen. He’d find her. She couldn’t be far away.
Ash raked a hand through his hair, then propped himself against the counter. He picked up his glass and held the ice water to his temple, trying to relieve the heat. For a moment he closed his eyes, hearing only the buzz of the ceiling fan and the tinkle of ice cubes as he moved his glass. Ash had been up since before 6:00, and now as he thought about making love to Kitty, he almost drifted off, but a knock at the back door jolted him awake.
Ash strode across the kitchen, still holding his water. When he opened the back door, he saw a well dressed Negro standing there. “Good afternoon, sir,” the Negro said in a low deep voice.
Ash knew he’d never met this young man, yet there was something vaguely familiar about him. He wore a black suit on his tall slim frame, and appeared rather bookish with a bow tie and horn-rimmed glasses. His black hair was shortly cropped, and his skin, a deep reddish brown. From the Negro’s grim expression, Ash pegged him as somebody that didn’t smile all that much.
“Afternoon,” Ash said. “Can I help you?” It finally dawned on him why the boy looked so familiar. Ash had just read an article in National Geographic about a display of mummified Egyptian pharaohs. There were lots of photographs, and this fellow looked just like one of those mummies. Ramses the something; Ash couldn’t remember the exact number.
“I’m here to see Miss Catherine Wilkes.”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“Russell Graham, sir.”
Russell was a little taller than Ash, so Ash stood as tall as he could, trying to stretch his five foot eleven and three quarter inch frame to that even six feet he claimed to be. Not taking his eyes from the serious looking Negro’s, he drank a long gulp of water, then scowled. “You got the wrong house.”
Before Russell could say anything else, Ash felt someone grasp his shoulder from behind and push him aside. It was Kitty.
“A—Mr. Ash—I’m right here. And stop being such a prankster.” She smiled. “Mr. Ash Kroth, this is Russell Graham Jr., and I was expecting him.”
“Nice to meet you,” Russell said, but he didn’t look at Ash, only Kitty.
Too taken aback by how glamorous Kitty looked, Ash didn’t say anything back to Russell. Her hair, no longer a kinky mass, was smooth, set in soft curls that framed her face, and she wore makeup that only enhanced her natural beauty. Satin pumps matched the off the shoulder apricot dress, and its shiny fabric shimmered against Kitty’s cocoa brown skin. The straight cut accentuated her curves, and a tantalizing side slit revealed just enough leg. But when Ash saw Russell’s eyes assess every inch of Kitty’s body, his blood nearly hit the boiling point.
“You look absolutely stunning, Catherine,” Russell said.
“Thank you, Russell.” She grabbed his hand. “Come in. Miss Joan said that would be fine.”
“Catherine,” Miss Joan called, as she walked through the swinging door. “I thought I heard someone knocking. Is this your young man?” She asked, rapidly waving the new paper fan she’d received at yesterday’s church service.
“Yes, ma’am,” Catherine said. “Mrs. Kroth, this is Russell Graham Jr., Russell, Mrs. Kroth.”
“Why, Russell Graham Jr.” Miss Joan smiled broadly, extending her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
Ash noticed his mother acting a bit mo
re animated than usual. She’d probably had a dose of Lydia Pinkham. Mother, and all her middle aged friends going through the change of life, raved about that blasted medicine. It had the same effect as two or three glasses of wine.
“I’m familiar with your father’s work,” Miss Joan continued. “It was Russell Graham Sr. that handled the body of one of my most faithful servants, Effie Watson, about five years ago. I attended the visitation at her sister’s home, and Effie was absolutely beautiful—and so natural looking.”
“I’m glad her appearance left a memorable impression, ma’am,” Russell said, in a smooth baritone voice.
“Oh, indeed it did. And Catherine tells me that after you graduate next year, you’ll be going to mortuary school so you can eventually take over the family business.”
Behind Russell’s back, Ash looked at Kitty strangely. With exaggerated disbelief he mouthed the words “mortuary school?” Kitty bit her lower lip, then looked down and began playing with her fingers.
“Yes, Mrs. Kroth,” Russell replied.
“Well, it’s a fine business, and unfortunately, quite profitable. People never stop dying, do they?” She smiled.
“Yes, ma’am, but we must accept that death ultimately is a part of life.”
Miss Joan laughed a little. “Death a part of life,” she mused. “I guess I never thought about it quite like that. Well, I just wanted to say hello, and compliment your family’s work.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Miss Joan fanned in broad strokes across her face and chest. “I won’t take up any more of your time. I’ll leave you alone so you and Catherine can socialize while you wait for your other guest to arrive. It was nice to meet you, Russell.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Kroth.”
“Ash,” Miss Joan said as she strode toward the swinging door, “why don’t you come with me and tell me about your father’s case in court today.”
“I will—in a minute.”
So this was Russell, Ash said to himself, a mummified mortician. Kitty couldn’t marry him! Russell looked like he couldn’t crack a smile, and he seemed half dead! If she did marry him, vivacious as she was, Russell would suck the life out of her just like Bela Lugosi in one of those vampire movies!
The Governor’s Sons Page 4