“I couldn’t have done differently, Russ.”
“Good grief, I wrinkled your dress, and I don’t have an iron. This is terrible.”
“The only person who’ll notice will be your doorman, and I won’t spend any time worrying about his opinion. I’d better fix your supper and head home.”
“Cook enough for both of us and we can eat together.”
She cooked rice, broiled the shish kabob that she bought ready to cook and sautéed fresh spinach in garlic and olive oil. She couldn’t find a tray, so she improvised, folding a white towel over an Ebony magazine.
“This is delicious, but it doesn’t excuse you from cooking me that gourmet meal when I make it convenient.”
“You’re beginning to sound like yourself, so I can leave you without feeling guilty. I’ll call you when I get home.”
She got home after ten o’clock that night, exhausted but happy. She made up her bed, took a shower and crawled between the sheets. But sleep eluded her. She imagined that if she made one false step with Russ, he’d tell her goodbye and stick to it.
One month had passed, and she dreaded going to see Lydia. She had followed the diet faithfully, but after four weeks, she had gained two pounds. She phoned Russ that morning, learned that he was up, had eaten breakfast and thought he no longer had a fever.
She didn’t tell him that she intended to see her nutritionist, only that she had an appointment and would call him later.
“Are you certain that you followed the diet correctly?” Lydia asked.
“I did, and I hope I never see poached chicken again.”
“This diet always works unless there’s a medical reason why it shouldn’t.”
Velma sat forward. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I want you to see this endocrinologist.”
“All right, but not till I come back from New Orleans. Whatever’s wrong with me has been wrong for years, and taking care of it can wait a couple of weeks.” She thanked Lydia and left. Pictures of heaping cones of rich, strawberry ice cream flitted through her mind, and she could almost taste the Cajun praline cheesecake that teased her in her mind’s eye. She stopped at the gourmet deli near Russ’s apartment house and bought a quart of vanilla ice cream and two pints of strawberries.
“Hi, I brought you something,” she said when he opened the door, and handed him the ice cream. “How do you feel?”
“Surprisingly normal.”
“I brought us some ice cream and strawberries.”
He gazed down at her. “What happened to the diet?”
“I’m off that for the time being, but who knows—”
“Are you telling everything?”
She shook her head. “No, but when I know everything, I’ll share it.” She hulled the berries, sliced and sweetened them and served them over the ice cream.
“I don’t know why you did this,” he said, “but it hits the spot. Thanks.”
After a half hour visit, she said, “You’re no longer my patient,” pronounced him well, kissed his cheek and left him gaping at her as she dashed out of his apartment. She didn’t plan on making such visits a habit.
For the remainder of the week, she worked at getting her house in order and contracted for future catering jobs. She knew that Russ had gone back to Philadelphia—probably earlier than he should have—to work on his plans for a building that complemented the Griffith-Joyner house that the Harrington brothers had built the previous year. Sometime earlier, he suggested that they cool off their relationship, but he then laughed at the idea. He hadn’t called, and she didn’t intend to call him.
She had felt closer to him than ever when he lay sick with his head on her lap and when he told her about his mother, but none of it translated into a commitment. At least she understood one of the reasons why he found trusting his emotions to a woman so difficult. She suspected that she could blame herself, too. Hadn’t he asked her to open up and let him love her? But how could she face all that pain and hurt? She blinked back a tear and telephoned Alexis.
“Hi. Got anyplace for me to sleep this weekend? I thought I’d drop by Saturday afternoon and leave early Sunday.”
“Wonderful. We’ve turned my old rooms into guest quarters, and Tara sleeps in the room you always used.”
“Where’s her piano?”
“In her room. Please bring Henry some of those sausages you got for him last time. They’re great. Are you driving or what?”
“I’ll rent a car and drive, but I’m thinking of buying one. We’ll talk about that when I see you. Bye.”
“See you Saturday.”
Velma thought that over for a few seconds after she hung up. Already, her sister had settled into the role of wife and mistress of Harrington House. Russ needn’t worry about that marriage; Alexis loved Telford and couldn’t help appreciating how different her life was from what it had been with Jack.
With every muscle screaming for help after she pulled and pushed boxes and furniture most of the day, she crawled into bed, moaning relief as she did so. Sleep, precious sleep, was all she wanted. But as she began to doze off, the telephone rang.
“Hello,” she murmured, only half asleep.
“Hi. This is Russ. It seems as if I awakened you. It’s early. Are you all right?”
“Me? All right? I guess so. Have a seat.”
“Hey. Are you asleep, or…?”
“Who is this?”
“Russ.”
“Hmmm. Hi, love.”
He nearly skidded off the elbow of the highway. Hearing that low, sultry voice sent a message straight to his loins. “I’ll hang up and let you get back to sleep.”
“I don’t wanna sleep, I wanna be with you.”
He saw a rest stop for trucks up ahead, slowed down, pulled in and parked. He didn’t want to miss such conversation as she could muster in her present state, but he couldn’t risk hearing it while driving.
“You want to be with me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“When? What did you have in mind?”
“Stop teasing me. You’re so sweet. Hmmm.” Silence.
“Velma, are you asleep?”
“Why don’t you ever kiss me? I love the way you kiss… Hmmm.”
It wasn’t fair to invade her privacy, asking intimate questions that she didn’t know she was answering, but as tight-lipped as she was, he refused to feel guilty.
“What do you like about it?”
“You taste good and you make me feel so good, but I’m too big and you can’t hold me close like I want you to. I’m so…”
He listened for the rest of her sentence, realized she’d fallen into deep sleep and hung up. He eased back onto the highway and headed for Baltimore.
Even half asleep and in a sensuous mood, what she looked like was paramount in her thoughts. A capable, successful woman who let herself be a captive to the size dress she wore. He sucked air through his front teeth in dismay. If she was hell-bent on suffering about it, too bad. As much as he cared for her, he wasn’t prepared to deal with her feelings of personal inadequacy. He’d been around enough self-denigrating men and women to know he didn’t want an intimate relationship with a woman who didn’t love herself as she was. He glanced over his left shoulder and moved into the center lane. If she would only let herself accept what a wonderful person she is, beautiful, intelligent, accomplished and witty. And loyal. Precisely what I like in a woman.
“Oh, what the hell!”
When he arrived at Harrington House Saturday afternoon and saw the gray Pontiac parked in the circle, he wondered whether Dolphe had come back to test his luck with Velma, and took pleasure in thinking how disappointed his friend must be. He streaked up the steps and pushed the door open as quickly as he could, escaping the biting cold.
“Eeeowww!” Tara squealed when she saw him. “Mr. Russ! Mr. Russ, come see my new room. My dad put my piano in it.” She lifted her arms, and he picked her up and folded her little body to his chest. Only two weeks, an
d he’d missed her more that he would have imagined.
“Where’s everybody else?” he asked, walking up the stairs with her in his arms.
“Dad went to meet Mr. Drake, and my mummy and Aunt Velma are in the guest room talking low so I won’t know what they’re saying. Mr. Henry said I should call you Uncle Russ. Can I call you Uncle Russ?”
“You certainly can. I’d like that a lot.”
She kissed his cheek several times. “I like it, too.”
“Whose gray car is that in front of the house?”
“Aunt Velma’s. She had to bring Mr. Henry some sausages.”
He couldn’t help grinning. He knew of nothing so refreshing as a child’s innocence, and Tara coupled hers with the charming way she had of telling everything she knew.
So Velma and he were destined to meet whether or not they planned it. To discourage Tara’s free talk, he changed the subject. “What are you planning to call Drake?”
“Uncle Drake, like Mr. Henry said.”
“I like your room,” he told her of the sunny yellow-and-white color scheme, and attractive child’s furniture. “Play something.”
She played Kreisler’s “Caprice Venoise,” then folded her hands in her lap and looked at him. “Did you like it, Uncle Russ?”
“It was beautiful. I’m proud of you.”
“I better practice,” she said and was soon lost in the sounds she made.
He gave himself a good talking-to and convinced himself that he shouldn’t look for Velma. He went instead to the kitchen and greeted Henry.
“How do you like picking up after yerself?” Henry asked him.
He allowed himself a laugh and patted Henry’s shoulder. “Haven’t had any experience with that yet.”
“Then yer place must look like a pig pen.”
“Not really. I limit my kitchen activities to making coffee and putting a few waffles in the toaster. The dishwasher takes care of clean-up.”
“What about the bath and the bedroom? That gets dirty, too.”
“It’s a big apartment, Henry. When it piles up, I’ll get a cleaning service.”
“Don’t wait till you get a dispossess notice.”
He draped an arm around Henry’s shoulder. “I’m not that bad. I may create clutter, but I can’t stand filth. Where’s Velma?”
“Down the hall there with Alexis. She come in here looking good. What’s with you two? That fella Andrews called here two or three times asking for you. I finally told him you and Velma had moved, and he acted like I shot him. Did my soul good. A man that won’t take no for an answer is either silly or dangerous.”
“Think I’ll mosey down the hall and break up that sisterly confab.”
He felt less sanguine about it than his words suggested. He could hardly wait to see her, but then what? He knocked on the door and waited.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Russ. Oh, dear. I didn’t know you’d be here this weekend. Come on in. Alexis and I are just catching up.”
She turned to leave, and he detained her with a slight grip on her hand. “I won’t come in, but I’ll be in the den for a while, if you’d like to talk. How are you, Alexis?” he called out.
As he expected, she came to the door. “Fine. No trace of the flu? I hate the thought of your being sick alone in that apartment.”
He couldn’t resist planting a few questions in Alexis’s mind. It would serve Velma right for not telling him she’d be in Eagle Park for the weekend. “Thanks, but I wasn’t alone. Velma took care of me.” He looked at Velma. “Don’t forget to give me the bill for that dress I ruined. I liked that dress. You think the cleaners can straighten it out?”
At first, she seemed surprised, then she narrowed her right eye and poked out her chin. “You didn’t ruin the dress. I had it cleaned and wore it here today. Perspiration won’t harm first-quality silk.”
“Give me the cleaning bill.”
“Of course not. It was my pleasure. I’ll join you in the den in a minute.”
With her eyes shooting sparks and her demeanor that of one about to spit fire, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go to the den. But what he said to her was, “Would you like me to fix you a drink of some kind in the meantime?”
“I’d love a lemonade mist.”
“A…” He caught himself. “My pleasure.”
He strode down the hall and into the kitchen. “Henry, what’s a lemonade mist?”
“Never heard of it. Is that what she said she wants?” He nodded, wondering how Henry managed to read his thoughts. “Don’t worry about it. Put some shaved ice in a glass and pour lemonade over it. Another way to water down perfectly good lemonade.”
He made the drink and set it on the bar. Understanding a woman was a full-time occupation. She entered the door smiling, walked over to him and kissed his cheek. But when she would have moved away, his left arm shot out, encircled her waist and drew her into his embrace.
“You want to play?” he asked her.
“The… Somebody may walk in here.”
“Let them. Open your mouth and let me in.”
“Russ. Honey.”
“Yes. Yes.” He slipped between her parted lips, trembling as she sucked his tongue and caressed his face and neck. Her nipples beaded against his chest, and he caressed her left breast, pinched and teased it until his mouth watered, and he lifted her to fit him. Her hips began to weave and undulate against him, and he tried to move her from him. But she locked her legs around his and let herself feel his bulk.
“Velma! For heaven’s sake, do you want us both scandalized? Sweetheart, let go.”
He set her on her feet, but she wouldn’t look at him. He put an arm around her, moved to the sofa and sat down with her. “I know I precipitated that,” he said, “but were you teaching me a lesson? Was that it?”
“Alexis probably thinks you made love to me while I was dressed. I wanted to sock you.”
“So you asked for a drink that didn’t exist.” He stifled a laugh. “I made it anyway. It’s over there. What else?”
“It’s always that way when you… I mean when we kiss. I never want it to stop.”
“Do you remember my calling you a couple of nights ago when you’d just gone to bed?”
“Vaguely. I woke up the next morning and saw that the phone was off the hook. I recalled you saying ‘This is Russ,’ or something like that. Why?”
He repeated the conversation to her. “You said I don’t kiss you, and I wondered where you were those times we heated up the atmosphere. And if you wanted to be with me, why didn’t you tell me you would be here this weekend so we could drive over together?”
“You didn’t tell me you were coming, either.”
“But I was going home, and you were visiting my home. There’s a difference.”
“Oh, stop splitting hairs. One is noon and the other is twelve o’clock at midday.”
“All right. Let’s start again. Are you angry with me?”
She looked directly into his eyes. “You’re kidding. The only answer to that is a good yawn. How could I be angry with you after what happened here a minute ago?”
“Search me. I decided today that I don’t understand women, and I’m opening myself up to learn.” She laughed, and it was a good thing, because he had to laugh at his own foolishness. “I’d suggest we see a movie, but Drake will be here soon, and I’d like to be home to welcome him. I haven’t seen him for over six or seven weeks.”
“Then let’s watch the national ice-skating competitions. Want to?”
He got up, got the glass of rapidly melting lemonade mist and handed it to her. “If you don’t drink this, I may not forgive you.”
She sipped the drink, put the remainder on the coffee table and lay her head against his shoulder. He liked it when she took liberties with him and welcomed her into the circle of his arms.
As they watched the skaters, he thought how much he had changed since Telford’s marriage to Alexis, how less sure he was that the woman in hi
s arms wasn’t for him. He needed to make love with her, but doing that would be a commitment to at least work toward a lasting relationship. And he suspected that if he ever got inside of her, he wouldn’t want to leave. She heated up easily, and he hadn’t even begun to mold her into the ball of fire he knew she could become. If she would only let him know her.
“Whoops. That was too bad,” she said when a skater fell during the freestyle program. She always empathized with anyone in trouble, and he liked that about her.
The doorbell rang. “Excuse me, sweetheart. That must be Drake.”
He rushed to the door, unlocked it and opened his arms to his younger brother. “Welcome. Glad you’re back here safe.” He picked up Drake’s bags. “I’ll take them up to your room.”
“I didn’t realize you’d be here, man. This is great. Soon as I get out of these clothes, we’ll catch up. Who else is here?”
“Velma’s in the den.”
“Things okay with you two?”
“We’ve more ground to cover but…well, so far so good.”
“Glad to hear it. I like her. Is that Tara playing the piano?” Russ nodded. “I’ll be damned. She’s moving fast.”
The music stopped, and Tara came barrelling down the hall. “Mr. Drake. I mean, Uncle Drake. I been listening for you.”
Drake picked her up and swung her around. “How’s my best girl?”
“I’m getting big.” She giggled and kissed his cheek. “Mr. Henry said I have to call you Uncle Drake. Can I call you that?”
“That’s what you’re supposed to call me. If Telford’s your dad, I’m your uncle.”
They settled into a happy convivial evening. He was happy to be at home with his family, but getting a place of his own was the right thing. He talked with his brothers late into the night, discussing their projects, planning and exchanging ideas, each reporting on his aspect of the work.
“Velma and I made a frightening discovery while you both were away. I’ve been dealing with it, but all three of us will have to work at this.” They were immediately alert and listened intently as he described the discrepancies between bills of lading and the content of the unopened containers, as well as between items in opened cases and those listed in the records.
After the Loving Page 13