Finding Mr. Right

by Gwynne Forster

  Her hands stroked his back. “Will it always be like this? It was even better this time than when we were on the cruise, and I didn’t think that possible.”

  “The more we’re together and the better we understand each other’s needs and preferences, the better it will get. Do you feel sore? I couldn’t muster as much control as I needed. From the minute you took me in your mouth, I was ready to go.” He released a long sigh. “You’re so perfect for me.”

  “And you definitely suit me. I wasn’t challenging you when we were in the kitchen. I just didn’t know any other way to get what I wanted. It didn’t seem feminine to blurt out, ‘Byron, would you please take me to bed.’”

  He couldn’t help laughing. “Maybe not that, but if we’re in the right place, you know how to touch me and how to kiss me, don’t you?”

  “Suppose we’re not in the right place? Oh, well.”

  “Not to worry, sweetheart. I’ve begun to recognize your little moves. If you want me, you’ll find a way. We’d better get up and remove the evidence, because Maggie or Darlene could come home at any time. People have been known to change their plans.”

  She jumped up. “Right. Maggie is famous for precisely that.”

  Shortly before eleven, standing in her foyer, he stroked her back, keeping as much distance between them as he could, because he didn’t want to spend the remainder of the night hard and fighting the sheets. Clearly unaware of his dilemma, she tried to get as close to him as she could.

  “Why don’t you want me to hug you?” she asked him, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

  “Because I don’t have the option of going back up those stairs with you to your room. As it is, I’ll probably be staring at the ceiling most of the night.”

  “You mean?”

  “I mean.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry, darling. I’ll fill a thermos with coffee, and you can drink it on the way to the lake. Cream, no sugar. Right?”

  “You’re kidding. That’s fine for tomorrow morning, but it won’t get me through the night.” He kissed her on the mouth. “Stay sweet.”

  He had to get out of there, and quickly. He drove off just as a blue Chevrolet slowed down in front of the house and turned into the garage. Just in time to avoid Maggie’s knowing eyes. He hoped Tyra got back into her room before Maggie entered the house, because it would surprise him if anybody could hide the effects of what he and Tyra had just experienced. She didn’t know how lucky she was. No. Tyra was blessed. He’d known a few women, but not one, including his wife, who could let herself go and experience mind-blowing ecstasy with him as Tyra could. A woman without pretense or guile, and who didn’t have to fake. She took him where he’d never been and gave him feelings that he didn’t know he could experience. How had he been so fortunate?

  If she thought he would allow a court case to ruin their relationship, he’d show her. He didn’t intend to allow anything or anyone to take her from him.

  Tyra grabbed the alarm clock and raised her arm to throw it across the room when she remembered why she’d set it. Byron would call her at a quarter of six, but that wouldn’t give her time to shower, dress and make the coffee before he arrived. She dressed in her black jeans, a red, cashmere, cowl-neck sweater and black boots, combed down her hair and, as she ambled down the stairs, inserted silver hoops into her ears. The phone rang as she reached the bottom step, and she raced to the dining room to answer it.

  “Hi.”

  “You sound as if you’re wide awake.”

  “I am. I gotta make your coffee, so I got up a little earlier. What can I make for Andy?”

  “If you have any cocoa, he’d love that. I’ll bring along a two-cup thermos to put it in. See you shortly, sweetheart.”

  She made the coffee, filled the sixty-four-ounce picnic thermos with coffee, heated the milk and made the cocoa. She poured some milk into a small thermos, put sugar in a zip lock bag and looked in the foyer closet for her knee-length pea coat. When the doorbell rang, she opened it and looked down at Andy.

  “Gee, Miss Tyra, you don’t live close to us, do you?” He handed her the thermos, and she took his hand and walked with him to the kitchen. He looked at the large thermos. “If you’re bringing that, I’d better go get my dad.” Before she could answer, he ran to the door, opened it and raced down the walk. She filled Andy’s thermos with cocoa and waited, though she’d begun to get warm in that coat and sweater.

  “I’ll take my thermos,” Andy said, calling attention to his presence.

  “Where’s your daddy?” she asked the boy.

  “Right here, sweetheart. How much coffee did you make?” He kissed her on the mouth, and she glanced down to see an expression of bewilderment of Andy’s face.

  “Why’d you kiss her, Daddy?”

  He put the strap of the thermos over his shoulder and took Andy’s hand. “I kissed her because I like her.”

  “Oh. Don’t you like Aunt Jonie?”

  She wondered how he’d get out of that. “There are different kinds of like,” he said, locked her door and took her hand with his free one.

  “Good morning, sir,” she said to Lewis Whitey, Byron’s father, who had gotten out of the car and waited for them beside the back door of Byron’s Cadillac. She kissed his cheek.

  “How are you, Tyra? I’m happy to see you again.”

  “Grandpa didn’t kiss her in the mouth, Daddy.”

  “You bet he didn’t. Did you thank Miss Tyra for getting up early and making cocoa for you?”

  “She put cocoa in my thermos? Gee. Thanks, Miss Tyra. My daddy and my granddaddy love coffee, Miss Tyra. Is that why you brought so much?”

  “I like it too, Andy.”

  “It’s gonna be cold,” the boy said. “Daddy, did you tell her to put on long underwear? I’m wearing too many clothes.”

  Neither of the men answered him, and she was glad the boy hadn’t directed the question to her. She turned so that she could see Andy and his grandfather in the back seat. “Do you usually catch any fish, Andy?”

  “Yes, but sometime I need help when the fish is big. I hate to put the worms on my hook. Who’s going to put the worms on for you, Miss Tyra?”

  If he wanted her to stay in the car while they fished, he’d just given her a good reason. “I haven’t thought about that,” she said, cast a side glance at Byron and had an urge to punch him. She didn’t see anything funny about the boy’s question.

  They arrived at the lake around seven o’clock as planned. Lewis built a fire under his twin hibachi, dumped a bag of charcoal on it, baited his hook and went over to where Tyra sat on a huge boulder wondering if she had bitten off more than she was willing to chew. She definitely was not putting her hands on any worms.

  “I’ll bait your hook, Tyra. Byron’s waiting for you to ask him to do it, so that he can tease you. I see your relationship has taken a giant step, and nothing could make me happier.”

  She looked up at him. “How do you know that?”

  “I’m seventy-two years old, been there, seen that and done that. Don’t let Andy’s smart-alecky behavior get to you. As soon as he’s sure you love him, he’ll be sticking to you like a tick.”

  “So far, we get on well,” she said, although she didn’t think their relationship had been tested.

  Lewis confirmed that when he said, “Andy is clever and accomplished beyond his years, and he likes to show off. Don’t accept nonsense from him the first time, and it won’t be a problem a second time. Do you understand? No matter how cute it seems, correct it.”

  She looked at Lewis Whitley for a long minute, taking in what he’d said and what he’d left unsaid. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that more than I can tell you.”

  “You’re welcome. Do we understand each other?” She nodded. He wanted his son to marry her, and if she needed help, he was there for her. However, she refused to join in cahoots with anyone against Byron, not even his father. If she got into trouble with Byron, the two of them would have to work th
rough it together. Still, knowing his father approved of her was like a shot of adrenaline, and she got up, walked out on the edge of the pier, where the wind ripped through her, and cast out her line.

  Lewis caught the first fish, a four-pound pike, and immediately cleaned the fish and prepared to coat it with cornmeal and fry it. Andy ran over to Tyra, “Is anything pulling on your line? Daddy’s is way over there pulling in a bass, and I don’t have a thing.”

  “I don’t have anything on my line, either, Andy. I think I’ll go get some coffee.”

  “I’m going with you, Maybe the fish don’t bite when four people are trying to catch them. I always catch them when there’s only Daddy, grandpa and me.”

  She got that undercut, but she didn’t plan to comment on it. At the campfire, she handed Andy a paper cup and unscrewed the top of his thermos.

  “This is good, a lot more chocolate-like than Daddy and Aunt Jonie make. I love chocolate and caramel. Thanks for the cocoa, Miss Tyra.”

  Lewis patted Andy on the shoulder. “Tell your daddy we’re ready to eat, son.”

  “When did you make the cornbread?” Tyra asked Lewis.

  “Last night. It’s cracklin’ bread. Byron’s fishing for catfish, and this goes great with them. How about a taste of that coffee?”

  She poured a cup for him and one for her, sat down on a nearby stump and sipped it, warming her hands with the cup. “Have you caught anything?” Byron asked when he arrived bringing three good-size catfish.

  “Not yet,” she said. “Right now, I am happy to sit here close to the fire.”

  Byron walked over to her, bent down, kissed her forehead and whispered, “Andy’s right. I should have told you to wear your long johns.” She didn’t laugh although he enjoyed a good guffaw. He poured a cup of coffee, sipped it and stretched out his legs. “This hits the spot, sweetheart. Don’t worry, you’ll catch something before we leave.”

  “Sure,” she said. “But I won’t enjoy having pneumonia. It’s freezing out here.”

  He brushed her cheek with the tips of his finger, as lightly as if he feared bruising her. “Sorry I can’t warm you up the way I’d like to. Be back in a minute.” He took a nail from his pocket, nailed the tail of the largest catfish to a nearby tree, made a small incision, and pulled the skin off the fish. He took it to his father. “I did my job with this, but I have no idea how to clean a fish.”

  “I’ll do it. Serve Tyra and Andy some cornbread and a piece of this pike, while I fry the catfish.”

  “When are you going to eat?”

  “When I finish frying this catfish, I’ll have some of all of it.” Lewis took a long sip of coffee. “This coffee is delicious. Take good care of her, son. I don’t think you’ll be able to duplicate her.”

  “Neither do I, Dad. She’s very special.”

  After enjoying the kind of breakfast he’d loved since early childhood, Byron longed to stretch out with Tyra in his arms and go to sleep, but neither the weather nor the presence of his father and son would permit that.

  His dad looked at him and laughed. “Self-control is good discipline, son, and the sooner we learn it the happier we’ll be.”

  “I’m glad you’re having such a good time,” he said, but Lewis only laughed harder.

  “I’ve known since I was Andy’s age that the longer I wanted something, the better it was when I finally got it. Where did he and Tyra go?”

  “Andy wanted to help her catch a fish, because she didn’t catch anything, and we did.”

  “How are they getting along?”

  “Hard to say. Andy didn’t want her to come with us, but she made cocoa for him, and he’s delighted she’s here. He doesn’t like sharing me with other people.”

  “That’s understandable. I wouldn’t worry, though. She doesn’t chase him, she draws him to her. They’ll get on just fine.”

  Byron stood and looked at his father. “You’re talking as if this is a done deal.”

  Lewis looked into the distance. “No, but I’ve seen you with a lot of women and not one who could hold a light to Tyra. I knew that when I met her. If she’s loving—and I can see that she is—and if she’s a good lover, you’ve got a gold mine. My last word on the subject.”

  “I’m not arguing with you, Dad, but we’ve got a few steeples to hurdle.”

  “They can’t be too high.”

  “You’re right. They’re not, but they’re troublesome.”

  “Let me tell you something, son. If you’re not stubborn, and she’s not stubborn, you should be able to sit down together and work it out. Choose a time when no one is likely to interrupt you, when you’re totally alone and likely to be for some time.”

  He understood what his father said and what he hadn’t said, but he doubted that talking about it would solve it. He had to tread carefully to avoid crushing her spirit. He looked up and saw that his father watched him like an eagle watches a hawk.

  “Does she love you?”

  “Yes. She loves me, and I love her. That is not the problem. It has to do with our work, and she and I didn’t create the problem.”

  “I see. So we’re dealing with professional pride. If I were you, I’d enjoy losing. Remember that you’re famous in these parts. Well, let’s clean up. If they don’t come back soon, I’m going to check on them.”

  Byron got a pan of water from the lake and put out the fire, dumped the hibachi, cooled it in the lake, cleaned and dried it. He was putting it in the trunk of his car, along with the thermos jugs, when his father returned dragging a recalcitrant Andy.

  “We only caught two fish,” Andy cried, “and I’m not ready to go home.”

  “What’s the problem, Andy?” Byron asked the boy. “Have you forgotten that you do not disobey or disrespect your grandfather? Have you lost your mind? Apologize to him this minute.”

  Andy wiped his eyes and handed the fish to his father. “I’m sorry, Granddaddy, but I want to stay and fish with Miss Tyra. She hasn’t caught any fish.”

  “She can catch some next time,” Byron said. “We’re ready to go.” He looked at Tyra. “Did you at least get a bite?”

  “Not that I know of, but Andy and I were singing so loudly that we may have frightened them off.”

  He stared at her, not believing what she’d said. “No doubt about it.”

  “Daddy, can I spend the night with Miss Tyra? I’ll be good. Honest I will.”

  “Maybe sometime in the future, son, but not tonight.”

  “You let me stay with granddad, so why can’t I stay with Miss Tyra?”

  “We’ll discuss this at home, Andy. Miss Tyra will not be home this evening, for one thing. In addition, you must wait for an invitation.”

  Tyra paused in the act of getting in the car and stood inches from him looking into his eyes. “Who said I won’t be home this evening?”

  “I’ve hardly been near you. Either Dad or Andy has been pushing me out. I want to see you tonight. We can go to a movie or just sit in the park or on my back porch. I want to be with you.”

  “Why not,” she said without the semblance of a smile. “Next week, we’ll probably be at loggerheads, and I’m going to hate every minute of it.”

  He helped her into the car and fastened her seat belt. “Have no fear, Tyra. I will never do anything intentionally to hurt you.”

  “I hope you’re right,” she said. “From the bottom of my heart, I hope you’re right.”

  Chapter 11

  After arriving at court a few minutes early, Tyra stopped at the cooler and drank a cup of water, mainly to calm her nerves. She didn’t want Byron to see her jittery and lacking her usual composure. She sat on the front row between Jonathan and Darlene, perspiring in spite of the perfect, late October Indian-summer weather. Byron walked in, elegant and sure of himself, giving the impression of a man who was lord of all he surveyed. He spoke a few words to a man who looked as if he’d drunk too many cans of beer, glanced in Tyra’s direction and smiled. Although she felt as if she’d
been tied into a knot, she smiled in return.

  “This is just the first hearing,” Darlene told Tyra and Jonathan. “I’m almost certain that there’ll be at least one more. Getting a final judgment in Family Court isn’t easy, and if Becky is at odds with her father, it may be especially difficult in this case.”

  A few minutes later, Darlene stood, addressed the judge and presented her case. At the end, she questioned why the state should pay for Becky’s care and confinement and for the child when Jonathan wanted to do it and had the support of his family. She also asked why Murphy Tate should be allowed to deny a child its father’s nurturing and care.

  Tyra watched Byron intently throughout Darlene’s argument and Jonathan’s testimony, and noted that Byron’s eyebrows shot up repeatedly while Jonathan spoke. She couldn’t understand why Byron didn’t put his client on the witness stand, but instead, asked the judge for a recess, stating that he wanted Becky’s testimony. Murphy pulled at Byron’s coat, evidently hoping to prevent his putting Becky on the stand, but the judge ruled that since her well-being was the issue, she should be allowed to testify.

  As they left the courthouse, Jonathan told Darlene, “My big brother—he’s my half brother—thinks this whole thing stinks. He’s willing to help me take care of Becky until I finish school. He’s an airline pilot.”

  “Tell him to call me at work today,” Darlene said.

  In the afternoon, three days later, when the case reconvened, Edward Hathaway—Jonathan’s half brother—sat with Darlene, Tyra and Jonathan. Darlene called Edward to the stand, and he testified to his younger brother’s good character and to his own willingness and ability to help Jonathan support Becky and her child. “Our mother wants to take care of Becky and insure that she receives proper medical treatment, and both our parents want her to stay with us until she is of age and can marry my brother or has the court’s permission to marry.”

  Byron faced the judge. “Your Honor, a father is legally entitled, right or wrong, to deny the marriage of his underage daughter for whatever reasons he chooses. However, because of Jonathan Hathaway’s testimony as well as Edward’s, I want to call Becky Tate to the witness stand.”