Love Me or Leave Me

by Gwynne Forster

  “Ground-up plumbing, cement laying, and for years I drove a crane. I can still do that. Call me Bond.”

  “My name is Drake. Can you return to your old job?”

  “No, indeed. The foreman called me that n-word, and I spent ten months in jail for beating him almost lifeless. No man, white nor black, is going to lay that on me.”

  “The basic plumbing at my site is finished, but none of the fixtures have been installed in the bathrooms and kitchens. Are you interested?”

  “And here I was prepared to spend weeks, maybe months, looking for a job. Yes, indeed. I’m interested. I can give you good references.”

  Drake waved his hand to indicate that that was not important. “After meeting the members of your family, I figured out the kind of man you are.” He looked at Pete. “Bring your father over to the site tomorrow morning on your way to school.”

  He had a feeling that his relationship with the Jergens family would mean more to him than it did to them. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but something, maybe a sixth sense, told him this was his lucky day.

  Chapter 5

  Sunday morning, several weeks after her last encounter with Drake, Pamela drove out to Druid Hill Park and sat on a bench beside the lake. The strong breeze rippled the quiet water, and she closed her eyes, held her face up to the sun and breathed deeply of the clean fresh air. She had a decision to make and had sought the peaceful surroundings to help her clear her head and focus on the pros and cons of the most important step she was likely to take. In the past two months, three seemingly eligible men—excluding Drake—had waltzed through her life. Among them she could have chosen looks, charm, status, prestige or sex appeal, but none offered tenderness and caring, stability and the prospect of abiding love. She’d turned her back on them all.

  She had been writing in the notebook she brought along, and suddenly, she scratched out those thoughts and told herself the truth. She wasn’t physically attracted to any of them, couldn’t imagine herself in bed with any one of them, and compared them unfavorably and unfairly to Drake. Tom was attentive and strongly attracted to her, she recalled, but when she danced with him, she could have been holding a broom. And after her second date with Jeff, she refused to answer the phone when she saw his number on her caller ID screen. What woman wants a man who starts talking about sex before she even kisses him? Oscar Rankin held no appeal for her.

  She folded her notebook and put it in the carryall bag she’d brought along. “I’m not going to barter myself for a baby, as badly as I want one. There are plenty of little babies who need a mother, and I’m going to adopt one,” she told herself. The weight of her anxiety over childbearing at a late age slid away from her and with it the stress of constantly looking for a prospective father for the child she wanted. As she drove home singing “Oh, Happy Day,” the gospel song her maternal grandmother loved so much, a feeling of freedom pervaded her.

  Later, relaxed and more content in spite of her longing for Drake, she phoned her parents. “Hi, Mom. I’ll be home next weekend. I’ll email you my itinerary tomorrow.”

  “We were expecting you, darling. To miss this occasion would almost be like missing Christmas. There’s a big party Friday night, so be sure and bring along a formal. Everybody will be dressed to the nines.”

  “Thanks for reminding me. Where’s Daddy?”

  Her mother’s warm chuckle—a sound that had the ring of love to it and which she had adored from the time she knew herself—was audible through the wire. “He’s still at church. For years he wouldn’t go near one, but I dragged him there Easter Sunday, and he’s been going ever since. I’m so happy he goes that I do not ask why.”

  Next, somebody was going to tell her she owned the British crown jewels. “Just proves anything can happen, Mom.”

  “Or maybe if you pray as hard and as long about something as I have about your father and his attitude toward organized religion, your prayers get answered.”

  “Give him a hug for me. I’ll see you in a few days.”

  “Take care of yourself, dear. Bye.”

  She hung up and went to the closet in which she kept her dressier clothes. Her gaze fell on the burnt-orange chiffon. “Nope,” she said aloud. “My man-hunting days are over.” Looking farther, an off-shoulder sleek gown the color of tea roses and with a slit to just above the left knee caught her attention. “You’re it,” she said. “Man or no man, at least I’ll feel good about myself if I wear this one.”

  Drake stepped off American Airlines Flight 1739 to San Antonio and strode through the terminal, enjoying a chance to stretch his legs after nearly a five-hour flight. At the baggage-claim area, he saw a large sign that bore his name and a smile bloomed on his face as he walked toward it.

  “I brought the sign in case you didn’t remember what I looked like,” Magnus Cooper said. “Drake Harrington, this is my wife, Selena Sutton-Cooper.” Drake shook hands with the tall, elegant and beautiful woman—precisely the type of woman he would expect Magnus Cooper to have.

  “Welcome, Drake,” she said in a voice that set him back with its low tone, soft timbre and slight hesitation between syllables. It reminded him of Pamela’s sexy way of speaking. “We’ve been looking forward to this. The fatted calf is on a spit and the pigs have been roasting slowly all day. I hope you’re not on a diet.”

  Drake looked hard at her, aware that he was frowning. “Did you say pigs?”

  She turned to her husband. “Didn’t you tell him? Drake, our relatives and friends come from all over the country for this occasion. Tomorrow night, we sponsor a grand ball at the Hyatt, so…” She looked at Magnus. “You did tell him to bring a tux, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, he did. In fact he underlined it,” Drake said. He liked Selena Cooper at once and set his heart on enjoying a rare vacation.

  Relaxing during the forty-minute drive to Waverly, where the Cooper ranch was located, Drake found himself enjoying the great expanse of the Texas landscape, the rolling hills and the rich greenery. When at last they reached the wrought-iron gate with a big bronze letter C at its top, he sat forward and pinned his gaze to the window beside him. He got an idea of the wealth and size of the estate as the town car eased along the road leading to the big white house, a field of bluebonnets on either side of the road and more butterflies flitting among the flowers than he’d ever seen. As they reached the house, he glanced at his watch. A seven-minute drive on the man’s property from the public road to the house. He didn’t know why, but the scene gave him a joyous feeling. He was going to have a weekend free of worries about himself and Pamela, and of concerns about overstretching Harrington, Inc.

  A man took his bags from the trunk of the Lincoln and stopped to speak with Magnus. “Drake Harrington, this is Jackson. He’s my foreman and my friend, and he and his wife, Tess, look after Selena and me.”

  He shook hands with the man. “Delighted to meet you, Jackson. Maybe you can tell me why you’ve got a calf and pigs roasting. Seems to me that would feed an army.”

  Jackson grinned. “I see you don’t know Texans. This is meat-eating country, and meat means beef. The non-Texans will want barbecued pork, and if I’d left it to my wife, we’d be cooking not three pigs but four, plus all those chickens we’re frying up. You all have a good time while you’re here, Mr. Harrington.” He left them to take the luggage to the guest room, Drake surmised. “I imagine you’re tired after the trip,” Magnus said. “But if you aren’t, I’d like to show you around. Do you ride?”

  “I do, indeed, and I’ll change with that in mind. I’m not one bit tired.”

  As they rode around the ranch, he listened to Magnus’s plans to build a home on the property for Jackson and his wife. “I figured a two-bedroom ranch style would be best. As they get older, they won’t want to climb stairs. They’ve been good to us, and I want them to retire in comfort.”

  He met Tess later when she and Jackson joined them for dinner. “Get a good night’s sleep,” Tess told him, “’cause you
won’t see a bed again till two or three o’clock Saturday morning. When we party, we don’t fool around. The people start arriving around ten or ten-thirty in the morning.”

  He thanked his hosts and went to his room, a masculine chamber with a big walnut sleigh bed—much like his own—and other appointments suitable for a man. “Hmm. A guest room for men and one for women. I’ll have to remember that.”

  The next morning, after a swim and a light breakfast, he read the local paper in his room and, around eleven o’clock, walked outside to see what a Cooper barbecue was like. His bottom lip dropped at the sight of over a hundred people milling around, children in swings and on slides, adults playing softball, tennis, badminton and croquet. What a sight, he thought. It was almost like being in a huge public park.

  He strolled through the crowd and stumbled, banging his foot against a stake that supported the food tent. It couldn’t be, but it was. He stared at Pamela Langford approaching him arm in arm with a tall man of around forty. He didn’t move because he couldn’t get his breath. What was she doing there and who was that man? He recovered from the shock and remained in her path, bold and assertive. If the man wasn’t her husband, and that didn’t seem possible, he could get lost. First anger and then the pain of rejection sliced through him. The man, as tall as he, bent slightly to hear her words, his manner solicitous and intimate. As they neared him, Drake stepped in front of them, effectively blocking their path.

  “Hello, Pamela. I didn’t dream I’d see you here.”

  Her eyes widened and she gaped as if she was swallowing air. “Drake! What are you doing here? I had no idea that you knew Magnus and Selena.”

  He gazed down at her, beautiful in a yellow shirt, white pants and white sneakers. “Magnus once told me that he had a cousin in Baltimore and that you were that person, but I’d forgotten it.” He waited for her to introduce the man, and when she didn’t—obviously because his presence there stunned her—he introduced himself. “I’m Drake Harrington.”

  “John Langford.” The man extended his hand. “Glad to meet you.”

  Excitement streaked through his body, and he thought the bottom dropped out of his belly. “Any relation?” he asked in a voice so calm that it nearly startled him, as he prayed silently that he wouldn’t hear the word husband.

  “Third cousins,” John replied. “Pamela is my favorite relative.”

  He let out a long breath of relief. “She’s a favorite of mine, too,” he said without a trace of friendliness. “How about showing me how to handle this barbecue, Pamela. I don’t know the pork from the beef.”

  “It’s labeled,” she said, glaring at him.

  Let her glare. He had no intention of giving her over to that cousin. “How do you like Baltimore?” he asked John, fishing for information as to how close he was to Pamela.

  “I haven’t seen that town since I was twenty-two.”

  So far, so good. “I take it you attended a university in Baltimore.”

  “Johns Hopkins. And you?”

  Hmm. So the man was taking his measure, too. “Howard University and the University of Maryland. Architectural engineering is my field.” He knew that Pamela was mad enough to spit, but he didn’t care. He wanted Cousin Langford to get out of his way, and the sooner the better. “Why don’t you Texans show me how to maneuver around that table over there?”

  He ignored Pamela’s glare. Third cousin John was going to move over whether he liked it or not. They strolled over to the picnic tent that housed a thirty-five-foot-long and seven-foot-wide table laden with food. He put himself between Pamela and her cousin, and slipped his left arm around her waist, a little reminder to her of the way his hands felt on her body.

  “What should I start with? I get hungry just looking at all this food.”

  She explained that the food was presented in sections: with separate areas for fruits, bread, meats, seafood, rice and other starches, drinks and sweets. He wondered at her graciousness, angry as he knew she was, until she deliberately stepped on his foot.

  “Oh. Please excuse me,” she said, showing her teeth in a brilliant smile.

  Drake looked down at her and let a grin take over his face. “I can prove that you know your foot is a lethal weapon,” he said, referring to the injury she inflicted on Lawrence, “so you be careful.” Let Cousin John frown with displeasure; he couldn’t have cared less.

  Her sheepish facial expression, much like that of a small child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, told him that she was softening. He pressed his luck.

  “Is there a reason why you wouldn’t want me to be here today?” He asked her purposefully loud enough for John Langford to hear him.

  “Why wouldn’t I want you to be here? You could get lost in this crowd. I’m just surprised that you know Magnus and Selena.”

  Making it clear that he’d had more than enough, John put his hands on his hips, looked Drake in the eye and spoke in a voice that was anything but friendly. “What’s going on between you two?”

  “Nothing,” Pamela said.

  Simultaneously, Drake replied, “No point in getting testy, buddy. We’re not lovers yet, but we’re headed that way.”

  At her gasp, he slipped an arm around her waist again and caressed her side and back. “You know it’s true, Pamela. We have our highs and lows, but eventually, and soon, we’ll settle it the way in which God provided for men and women to settle things.”

  When she neither agreed nor denied it, but continued to gape at Drake, eventually speechless, John put his plate on the table, looked hard at her and said, “See you around.”

  The man walked away, and Drake couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “Did I mess up something?”

  She poked him in the chest with her right index finger. “How did you dare to do that, Drake? You were out of order. You don’t want a relationship with me, but you don’t want me to have one with anybody else.”

  “It didn’t occur to me that you had something going with your cousin. If he’d muscled in on me, I’d have taught him a lesson. Anyway, you didn’t object.”

  She examined something over his left shoulder, avoiding eye contact. “I didn’t want to create a scene.”

  “Really? But you are glad to see me, aren’t you? I was stunned when I saw you arm in arm with that self-conscious turkey and annoyed as hell.”

  “What right did you have to be annoyed?”

  “Plenty. I remembered how you heated me up, and I didn’t like the idea of his having the same pleasure. Look, he’s gone now, so let’s enjoy ourselves. What’s that over there?” He pointed to a pile of avocados-in-shell, stuffed with crab meat and sitting on a tub of cracked ice.

  “It’s a Cooper special, and it’s fantastic,” she said.

  His arm tightened around her. “Forgive me for banishing John?” he whispered, then leaned over and kissed her cheek.

  “Are you trying to con me?”

  “I’m trying to make certain that you don’t want any of these Joes strutting around here.” He didn’t smile when he said it. “I didn’t like seeing you with that guy.”

  She didn’t smile, either. “You know what to do if you want to claim turf.”

  He swung around when a hand lay on his arm and stayed there. “Did we meet in Atlanta this past March at a dental convention?” She was a tall, willowy woman with large, wide eyes, wearing more lipstick than he would have thought any one pair of lips capable of accommodating. She didn’t remove her hand from his arm, but let it remain like a caress. “I’m Charlotte Bryant,” she said in a voice wispy and sultry.

  No point in showing his annoyance. “Sorry,” he said. “I stay away from anything and anybody having to do with teeth unless I have a toothache. Must have been some other guy.” He forced a half smile and turned back to Pamela, who eyed the intruder with all the friendliness of a hungry lioness going for a kill.

  “That’s a cheap way to get an introduction to a man,” Pamela fumed as the woman walked away. He wondered if s
he noticed that he didn’t acknowledge the attempted introduction but instead made light of it.

  “Let them know I’m yours,” he said, realizing that he’d just taken a giant step, “and they won’t do that.”

  She looked at him with serious eyes, eyes that showed pain, yes, and hope. Her lips trembled when she said, “Are you?”

  Only the crowd around them and his intense dislike for public displays of affection prevented him from taking her into his arms, loving her and telling her what was in his heart. He gazed down at her, hoping to communicate with his eyes even a modicum of what he felt right then. Someway, somehow, he had to have his dreams and her along with them. She sucked in her breath, reached for his hand and squeezed it.

  “Selena promised me she’d have some eligible men here,” a woman said. “And you’re the most eligible one I’ve seen.” He didn’t turn around.

  “This one is eligible, but he’s with me.”

  If his life had depended on it, he couldn’t have prevented the smile that floated over his face. Nothing Pamela could have said would have made him as happy. He was hers, and he wanted her to take pride in that fact. With his hand gripping Pamela’s waist, he turned, faced the woman and lifted his left shoulder in a careless shrug.

  “Excuse us, please, miss. I want to try out that pork barbecue down there.”

  As they walked to the meat, poultry and seafood section, he wondered what he could do right then, short of a public declaration, to let her know that from the moment he saw her arm in arm with her cousin John, he stopped resisting the inevitable: that he didn’t want another man to touch her. Not then. Not ever.

  He sampled the barbecued pork and enjoyed it, but he noticed that she barely tasted hers. “You don’t like it?” he asked her. “I think it’s the best I’ve ever eaten. Try the shrimp or maybe the beef.”

  “I couldn’t eat…anything right now.”

  He bent closer. “Don’t you feel well? I’ll take you to the house if you want me to.”