After the Loving

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After the Loving Page 21

by Gwynne Forster


  She didn’t know how to take that. He seemed to be admitting to Henry that their relationship would be permanent. But she knew you couldn’t draw water until the well was sunk, so she didn’t dwell on it. Still…it seemed out of character for Russ. When she turned back to the counter to continue peeling potatoes, she felt Russ at her back as he slid both arms around her and nuzzled her neck. Joy suffused her and, as much as she disliked peeling potatoes, she would willingly have peeled them for hours.

  A short while later, Telford and Alexis found them that way. “I was hoping you’d get here this weekend,” Telford said to Russ; then, he walked over and kissed Velma’s cheek. If Russ saw the grin on his brother’s face, he didn’t mention it. She noticed that Alexis stayed in the background as if she wanted to avoid spoiling what must have seemed like an unspoken love between Russ and herself.

  “Any problems?” Russ asked, though he didn’t move his arms from her waist.

  “None, but I wanted to talk over the renovation of the Joshua Harrington houses.”

  “We can do that now.” Russ turned to Henry. “I want that deposit slip, and I don’t want any trouble out of you about it.” He tightened his arms around her in what everyone present had to recognize as an expression of caring. “I’ll see you later,” he said for her ears alone, walked over to Telford and said, “Come on.”

  “I see you’ve been making progress,” Henry said to her after the two men left the kitchen. “You’d make more if you used yer head for something other than them cornrows.”

  She washed the potatoes, put the peelings in the garbage can, washed and dried her hands and looked at Henry. “My deep affection for you is not enough to prevent me from telling you to mind your business, Henry.”

  Alexis gasped, but Henry’s response was to suck his teeth. “Say anything you want to, but I bet you’ll pay attention to my words. Thanks for peeling the potatoes.”

  She kissed his cheek. “You can’t imagine what a pleasure it was.”

  “I’ll bet. You shouldn’t have to peel potatoes in order to get next to him.”

  She knew Alexis would follow her to her room, so she locked arms with her sister. “Where’s Tara?”

  “In her room. She’s being punished for refusing to speak to her father. He called, although he didn’t ask for her, but I told her to come to the phone and say hello to him. Would you believe she flatly refused? Said he didn’t come to see her, so she didn’t want to talk with him.”

  “Doesn’t he have visitation rights?”

  “He has no rights, because he gave me full custody in exchange for my share of our common property. Millions. You know that. Still…I asked him to visit her once a week, but he hasn’t been here since a couple of days after Christmas.”

  “Then I don’t blame her,” Velma said. “Children are gifted at identifying a phony, especially if it’s a parent.”

  “I’m not going to entertain that idea, because I know it will take us straight to your feelings about our parents.” They walked into Velma’s room and closed the door. “What did Russ say about your hair?”

  She sat on the chaise lounge, crossed her legs and folded her arms. “Now don’t you start.”

  “So he didn’t like it any more than Henry does. Of course, Henry’s from the old school.”

  “What about you?”

  Alexis sat beside her and draped an arm across her shoulder. “I suppose you’re going through a phase, though I don’t see why it should have this effect considering how tight you are with Russ. He made love to you, didn’t he?”

  “What? Why do you say that?”

  “Because I remember how Telford was with me after he took me to bed. He was always loving. But after that, he couldn’t keep his hands off me. You’re not as pretty in the braids as you are with your hair hanging around your face.”

  “Henry said I ruined my face, and Russ wanted to know what I’d done to myself.”

  “Whatever’s eating you, hon, get it straightened out as fast as you can. You’re important to Russ. Don’t let him decide he’s put his eggs in the wrong basket. Did he get the DNA results?”

  “Yes, and of course the results were negative. I went to the hearing with him. Oh, Alexis, I love him so much.”

  “Does he know it?”

  She nodded. “He knows it.”

  “Work on it.”

  “I will,” she said, and as soon as Alexis left the room, she picked up the telephone and dialed her lawyer.

  Chapter 10

  “Thirteen years is a long time,” the lawyer told Velma over the phone, “so don’t expect too much. I have a man with an excellent record of finding missing people. What can you tell me about your father?”

  She read her father’s letter to the lawyer. “‘I’m sorry, but I’m leaving for Canada. I just can’t stay here now. It’s too much. Sell the car and the house. The money ought to see you both through school.’”

  “That was all?”

  “That and the nearly four thousand dollars cash that he put in the envelope. He was a distinguished university professor, wrote many papers on molecular biology and was at one time president of his professional society. I forgot its name.”

  “If you have any of his published papers, send me a couple. If he’s working, this shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  After hanging up, she found several of her father’s professional papers in a trunk where she kept painful mementos of the distant past and mailed them to the lawyer along with a photocopy of her father’s handwritten letter to her. Having taken that step, she had to deal with the anxiety and jangled nerves that set in at once. Nonetheless, she managed to concentrate sufficiently to develop and present to the city housing commissioner her proposal for use of the warehouse she wanted to buy, and to outline its potential benefits for the neighborhood in which it was located.

  She returned home from the commissioner’s office anxious to shower and recover some mental energy, for the man’s assistant had exhausted her with rapid-fire questions that she had not anticipated. However, before she could begin to unwind, the phone rang.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi. This is Russ.” As if she wouldn’t know his voice awakening from a hundred years’ sleep. “Want to do a good deed?”

  “How good?”

  “The local chapter of my fraternity has its annual dinner-dance next Friday night, and I forgot about it until I saw this notice in the mail that’s been here at least six weeks. Will you go with me?”

  “Six weeks? I’d like to see what your desk looks like.”

  “My desk is neat. It’s my inbox that’s overflowing. Will you go?”

  “Of course. I’d love to go. What will you wear?”

  “Tux.”

  “What color is your cummerbund? I don’t want to wear a dress that clashes with it.”

  She thought she heard a snicker or a laugh. “I have a few. White, red, gray, something called burgundy, mauve—”

  Her bottom lip dropped. “Where did I get the idea that you’re conservative? You’re a social butterfly.”

  His deep sonorous laugh sent darts zinging through her limbs. “Me? To think of myself as a butterfly, social or otherwise, boggles my mind. Most of the occasions on which I’ve worn this tux have been business related. I didn’t even consider attending previous fraternity parties, but I figured it would be pleasant to go with you because you’re such a good dancer.”

  She thought for a minute. Something didn’t add up. “Russ, I guess I’m surprised that you joined a fraternity. I would have thought that you wouldn’t tolerate the hazing.”

  “I barely made it, but from my great-grandfather down to Telford, Harrington men had been Omegas, and I didn’t want to be the one to break the chain.”

  “What about Drake?”

  “He’s a born Omega. Let me know what you’d like me to wear. Okay?”

  “In a couple of days.”

  After searching for hours the next day, she found a dark peach-colore
d, one-shoulder chiffon gown fitted to the hips with a set-in flair that flattered her figure.

  “It’s the perfect style for you,” the saleswoman said, “and the color is flattering, so I don’t know what’s wrong with it. Wait a minute.”

  She left and returned with an off-black wig that had straight hair that curved beneath the chin. “Try this on, and let’s see how you look.”

  Velma stared at the effect. “I’ll take the dress.”

  “What about the wig?”

  She shook her head. “No thanks. My own hair is longer than this.” Thursday morning, she would get a new hairstyle, but only because long hair made her look better in her new evening gown. And Russ had better not comment. She told him what she bought, and he replied that he’d wear white accessories.

  When she opened the door for him that Friday evening, he sent a long, sharp whistle through her house. “All this for me? Baby, you’re a dream, and I’m a lucky man. Can I have a hug?”

  She stared up at him, tall and resplendent, a man to make any woman feel like a queen just to walk beside him. His eyes darkened, and she took a step backward.

  “A hug, yes, but nothing more or I’ll have to redo my makeup.”

  He opened his arms. “I didn’t know you were wearing any.” His arms closed around her, and she clasped him as tightly to her as she could. He looked down at her, his gaze full of passion. “You take my breath away. Let’s go before I lose the will to leave here.”

  Inside the elegant Wyndham Baltimore Inner Harbor Hotel, he checked her wrap in the cloakroom and headed for the mezzanine and the fraternity’s predinner cocktails.

  He recognized his feeling of accomplishment—yes, and completeness—as he strolled with Velma into the reception room, and he understood that feeling. Although he had become an architect known for the high quality and imaginativeness of his work and a member of a respected firm, he had never felt successful; indeed, he hadn’t given it serious thought. As one of the Harrington brothers, he had always accepted his identity as a man to be reckoned with, but hadn’t considered the implications.

  He looked down at Velma and realized that he saw himself at last as a whole man, separate from his brothers, on his own and with a woman he loved and who loved him. Perhaps that accounted for the changes he saw in himself. The lessening of the alienation, the distance from others that he’d lived with as long as he’d known himself, and a contentment he hadn’t known he lacked.

  “Now this is a pleasant surprise,” a fraternity brother and Howard University classmate said to him. “It’s been years, man. I didn’t even know you lived around here.”

  “Same here,” Russ said. “It was worth coming just to see you.” He put an arm around Velma’s waist in a gesture that he knew signified possessiveness, but the smile on her face said she didn’t mind. “Miss Brighton, this is John Gandy, a buddy from my undergraduate days.”

  “I’m glad to meet you,” she said and extended her hand. It seemed to him that John held Velma’s hand a bit too long, but he didn’t share his thought.

  “I’m going to move toward the bar and get us a drink,” he told John, “but I want your phone number.”

  John handed him a card. “And I want yours. Right here in Baltimore and I didn’t know it. I don’t want to lose you again,” he said, pocketing Russ’s business card.

  To his mind, the dinner didn’t differ much from dozens he had eaten at conferences, conventions and assorted events, and he said as much to Velma.

  “I have a contract to cater this affair year after next, and you won’t eat chicken à la king. Do they always have these banal speeches?”

  “Always. I can’t wait for the dancing.”

  Later, when the first notes of “Everything I Have Is Yours” wafted through the room, he rose and extended his hand to Velma. “Dance with me.”

  She stood at once, a warm welcoming smile lighting her face, and he walked with her to the dance floor, holding her hand as he weaved his way past tables and standees. He loved the way she moved into his arms, knowing that she belonged there, and caught his rhythm at once. Caught it and swung with him the way she did that time they made love. He told himself to think of something else, but her feminine scent and soft, yielding body made it difficult for him to think of anything other than the thrill after thrill of loving her, of being buried deep within her body.

  He felt a tap on his shoulder, turned and stopped dancing. “What is it, Dolphe?”

  Dolphe Andrews grinned in triumph. “You know the rules. Yield, man.”

  He narrowed both eyes. “When it comes to my woman, I make the rules. Do you want to dance with this man?” he asked Velma.

  “No. I don’t want to dance with him. I don’t want him to touch me,” she said.

  “All right, Dolphe. This is one woman you can’t have, so let this be the last time you hit on her. If you’re foolish enough to try it again, you will deal with me, and I will be merciless.” He resumed dancing. “Oh, yes. And don’t call my home in Eagle Park again. You understand?”

  Dolphe’s face dissolved into a quizzical frown. “Look, Russ. I’m sorry, man. I hope there are no hard feelings. You probably won’t believe me, but this is the truth. I’m not tomcatting. The first time I laid eyes on Ms. Brighton, I was a goner, and it never happened to me before. I wish you the best, man.” He walked away without waiting for a reply.

  “Well, hell!” Russ said under his breath. To Velma he said, “If he hadn’t trampled on so many girls when we were at Howard, I’d feel sorry for him, but you can’t treat people that way without paying for it.”

  The music ended, and he stood in the middle of the dance floor looking at Velma. “I’m sorry. If I’d had any idea that this would happen, you never would have met him in my home.”

  “He must have been the campus Romeo.”

  “He was a good student, and we got on well enough, although we were never tight. I wanted the grades that would get me into graduate school, and he wanted the girls.”

  The band struck up a calypso, and with Velma swinging her hips and twirling around him, he quickly forgot about Dolphe Andrews. They danced until the lights blinked, and he couldn’t remember a time when he had enjoyed a social occasion so much.

  “Are you tired?” he asked Velma.

  “Not one bit. Why?”

  “Let’s go over to Hunt’s Club, get some coffee and maybe dance some more. I mainly want an excuse not to end the evening.”

  “We’ll be together tomorrow, won’t we? I told Alexis that I’d see her this weekend.”

  “I’m not sure I can get there. I spent so much time at the Joshua Harrington houses here in Baltimore that I neglected the Florence Griffith-Joyner apartments in Philadelphia. And with Drake not here to supervise the work, I should be there. Tell you what. I’ll get there later Saturday. Okay?”

  She assured him that it was, and it occurred to him that Velma didn’t nag and never asked him to inconvenience himself. With a start, he realized that he’d do anything for her short of violating his principles or breaking his neck.

  On the way to the cloakroom later, he saw John Gandy waiting beside the women’s lounge. “What ever happened to Amelia?” he asked John of his college sweetheart.

  John nodded toward the women’s lounge. “She’s in there. She’s also the mother of my three-year-old son. Can you wait till she comes out?”

  He looked at Velma, who nodded in agreement. “So you two got married. That’s great. I’d love to see her. Is she still hooked on Dr. Pepper?”

  As he expected, John laughed. “She stopped drinking it when she was pregnant. Here she is.”

  “Honey, I’m sorry, but there are a lot of women in there. I know you don’t like… Russ Harrington! My goodness, what a wonderful surprise.”

  Russ leaned down and kissed her cheek, then introduced her to Velma and watched with pleasure as the two women greeted each other warmly.

  “I want you two to come over for a good visit,” Ameli
a said. “How about Saturday next week, at about six for dinner? It’ll be just the four of us, so we can talk.”

  “I’d like that,” he said. “Will you be free then, Velma?”

  “Yes, and I’ll look forward to it. Thank you for asking me, Amelia.”

  Later, as he and Velma ate almond-cream wafers and sipped espresso coffee at the Hunt Club, he surprised himself by saying, “You don’t have a coy bone in your body, and you can’t imagine how refreshing that is.”

  For a moment, she seemed perplexed. Then she shrugged and said, “Me? Coy? You’re right. I guess I’m too frank for that. In my case, being cute would send the wrong message.”

  He ignored that, not wanting to enter into a discussion of her weight and figure. A man had just made a spectacle of himself over her, and she still didn’t believe she had an attractive figure.

  “I’ve heard better dance music,” he said, “but it’s passable. Want to dance?” She agreed, and they joined the other dancers in a slow two-step.

  After an hour, he tired of what he thought of as the imitation jazz music, and suggested that they leave. Standing in her foyer later, he put his arms around her and held her as close as he dared, for he wanted to avoid the fireworks that ensued whenever they came together. He let his mouth brush hers, but she parted her lips and, unable to reject what she gave, he opened himself to her loving and let himself cherish her as he longed to do.

  “You don’t want to take this any further tonight,” he said, having caught her signal, “so I’d better leave. You…you’re lovely, and I enjoyed being with you.” He winked, hoping to lighten the effect of the words he felt impelled to utter. “You suit me in every way. You understand?” He kissed her nose and left.

  Velma turned the car into Number Ten John Brown Drive and suddenly wished she had stayed in Baltimore, for her relationship with Russ would be the focal point of her sister’s conversation. That and whether she had stopped dieting. She rushed up the stone walkway, rang the doorbell and rubbed her hands together to create warmth. She soon heard footsteps.

 

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