Against the Wind

by Gwynne Forster

  Leslie bristled, but did her best not to show it. “Just because we’re both African-American doesn’t mean we have to be attracted to each other, Julia. In fact, Mr. Dixon dislikes me.” She measured out the flour for the apple turnovers she’d make for lunch. “And I’m not crazy about him, either.”

  Her head jerked up when she was certain she heard Julia murmur, “Too bad, ‘cause it sure would be less of a problem.”

  “What did you say?”

  Julia walked over to Leslie and faced her. “I only want what’s best for you, Leslie, and I’m almost twice your age, so grant me a little experience with life. Many a person has drowned swimming against the tide.”

  “That isn’t something I’m in a habit of doing,” Leslie said, feigning ignorance of Julia’s meaning.

  “Well, I hope not. Believe me, Leslie, I sure hope not.”

  Half an hour before dinner, she ran over to her apartment, washed up, kicked off her jeans and put on a broomstick skirt and peasant blouse. Then she brushed out her hair, glanced at the lipstick Julia had given her, decided against it and ran down the steps that led from her apartment to the garden.

  “What’s all this?”

  The sound of Jordan’s voice brought her to a dead stop. He let out a long whistle, and she’d have given anything if she’d still been wearing her jeans.

  He didn’t let her off. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Leslie, and the sight gets better all the time.”

  He was going to make her walk back to the house along with him, and if they walked into the kitchen together, Julia wouldn’t miss it and she’d probably have something to say about it.

  He stood within two feet of her, and she couldn’t see around him, though she tried. He smiled pleasantly enough, but his body sent her a different kind of message, one that held nothing so innocuous as a friendly smile. The smell of him tantalized her nostrils, and heat seemed to spring from him to her, a special kind of man’s heat. And it had a strong energy that seemed to coil around her, roping her in, a slow taming of her senses like something being marinated in preparation for a feast.

  He grinned in that way that made her heart bounce up and down in her chest. “After you. Aren’t you going to give me some dinner?”

  She moved around him with quick steps and started for the back porch. “Julia gives you your dinner.”

  He reached past her and opened the screen door, brushing her arm as he did so. “Yeah. But you’re the one who gives me what I really like.”

  Stunned at the suggestiveness with which he’d imbued that innocent statement, she whirled around and faced him. “Right now, you stand pretty tall in my books, Jordan, so don’t mess up.”

  His smile had an almost blinding brilliance, the weapon of a man certain of his masculinity and of its effect on any female whom he cared to bless with it. “Not to worry, Leslie. I’ll always take my cue from you.”

  She glared at him, and she hoped she did it convincingly, because he stood within inches of her, battering her senses. “What are you talking about?”

  His finger touched her arm, urging her on to the porch. “Same thing you’re talking about, Leslie. Exactly the same thing.”

  She whirled around and stared into the icy gaze of Ossie Dixon. She didn’t doubt that the man was more certain than ever of something that did not exist and never would. As she walked on into the house, Dixon’s friendly words to Jordan reached her ears.

  “I’ve had the sprinklers on all morning, and the tack’s in order. Think I can leave here right after dinner?”

  As she looked back, she saw Jordan’s arm on the man’s shoulder and heard him say, “That’s great, Ossie. Turn off the irrigation system and do what you have to do. See you in the morning.”

  Well, well. Ossie had made up his mind about her: if he saw what appeared to be familiarity between her and Jordan, it was her doing and she whom he despised, but Jordan remained unscathed. She got a pitcher of lemonade and put it in the middle of the dinner table.

  “My, my. Don’t we look pretty,” Julia remarked.

  “Yeah,” Cal said. “The presence of pretty women looking pretty eases away a man’s stress, cures what ails him and does his soul good.”

  Leslie grabbed the opportunity to turn Cal’s attention to Julia. “In that case, you must stay happy.”

  She needn’t have bothered, for he kissed his wife on the mouth, caressed her cheek and replied, “This woman knows what it’s all about.”

  Leslie hadn’t realized Jordan had joined them until he said, “You lovebirds hold off for another hour until we eat. Then Leslie and I are going to give you all the space you need.”

  Cal winked in man-to-man agreement, but Leslie didn’t miss Julia’s wide-eyed amazement. Ordinarily, she would have asked Jordan for an explanation, but she decided to let Julia stew. She had planned to spend the afternoon working on her thesis, but…Well, she’d wait and see.

  Jordan bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen just as Leslie opened the kitchen door on her way to her apartment for the afternoon.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Jordan called after her. “I thought we were going to—”

  “You didn’t think any such thing,” she interrupted, “because I didn’t agree.”

  He put his hands in the pockets of his white slacks and let the look in his green eyes sear her. “But you didn’t disagree, and that’s tantamount to saying yes.”

  A green-eyed, black-haired man posed danger enough without wearing a red shirt, and she didn’t doubt that he knew it. She took a step back. “Jordan, I have to work with your other employees, and I’d rather not be the source of friction, animosity and gossip.”

  He grabbed her arm. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  Well, she was the one likely to get the fallout. If he didn’t know, she’d tell him. “I don’t know about the rest of the people who work here, but Julia doesn’t want you with me, and Ossie doesn’t want me with you. What’s more, both of them have made that clear to me.”

  A frown creased Jordan’s face. “Wait a minute. What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying you must have heard about race relations in this country and especially in this region. I’m African-American and you’re white. They don’t approve of any familiarity between black me and white you. Get it?” She brushed past him and started up the steps to her apartment.

  He raced after her. “What are your views on the matter?”

  She looked up into his eyes, but the tenderness she saw there didn’t seduce her into believing he offered her an uncomplicated relationship, and she’d had enough problems. “I’ve had a rocky life, Jordan, but I’ve always been able to carry my burdens and solve my problems. This problem will be here long after you and I have angel’s wings. No, thank you.”

  “Does that mean I can’t drive you out to the Bay this afternoon? I have a wonderful boat over there that I won at a fair. I almost never sail it, because neither Julia, Cal nor Ossie likes being on the water, and I spend most of my time with them.”

  She slapped her hands to her sides. “You didn’t hear a word I said.”

  He shrugged. “I heard you, but I just don’t see color when I look at people. I don’t care what their mother tongue is nor how well or poorly they speak English, and I don’t judge people by their clothes. If I did, except for Cal, not one of these men who work for me and whose loyalty I’d bet my life on would be here. I think a lot of Julia and Ossie; they’re family and best friends, but they don’t tell me what to do and don’t meddle in my affairs. You use your sharp tongue with me. Give them a taste of it. You going with me?”

  His fingers skimmed down her arm. “Come on,” he coaxed. “It’s Saturday afternoon, and you spend all of your time either in your apartment or working in the house.” His grin shattered her defenses. “Besides, I thought you put this on because you wanted me to see you looking nice like this. You look—” He turned away and stared into the distance. “An afternoon together won’t be the st
art of World War III, Leslie. So what do you say?”

  Without thinking, she covered his hand with her own. “Okay. Meet you at the garage in twenty minutes.”

  He rewarded her with a dazzling grin. “Make it ten.”

  * * *

  Jordan waited beside the Town Car, his head buzzing with questions. Leslie had agreed to get on that boat with him. He wondered if she realized that they would be alone on the Chesapeake Bay inside that boat. Recently, she’d shown no sign of unease with him, and he welcomed the change, but why? He kicked the whitewall tire, though he did it gently. He was tired of guessing; the thing to do was ask her about it. And that talk about race relations bothered him He hoped neither Julia nor Ossie made the mistake of mentioning that to him, because friendship didn’t cover everything. If he wanted to brighten Leslie’s day and she didn’t mind, it was nobody else’s business. He ignored the next questions that popped up in his mind: why was he doing it and had he forgotten what happened when she fell off that stool into his arms? He shrugged. He controlled his emotions; they didn’t control him. Then he laughed aloud at himself as he caught in his mind’s eye a vision of Leslie with her skirt billowing in the breeze while she picked roses the previous morning. He suspected he hadn’t yet been tested.

  * * *

  He’d said ten minutes. She looked at her watch. Twelve. She dabbed perfume behind her ears, grabbed her shoulder bag, locked the door and tripped down the steps. She didn’t know why he’d asked her to go with him, and maybe she should’ve said no, but he made it seem so natural. As if they were ordinary people. But it wasn’t natural, and they weren’t the average man and woman going for an afternoon outing. A whole world separated them, though he didn’t seem to think so. Or, if he did, if didn’t matter. It wasn’t just the color thing. The loan company owned half of what was in her bankbook, and that wasn’t much, but Jordan had wealth, power and status. And he was a catch, too. She’d bet every penny she had that women flocked to him like bees swarming around honey.

  A few paces away from the car, she stopped. His left foot rested against the edge of a front tire, and he leaned against the open door on the passenger’s side staring into the distance, while the breeze frolicked through his black wavy hair. She swallowed in an attempt to get rid of the lump in her throat, but it stayed there. This man could mean more to her than was healthy. More than was wise. As if he knew he had the advantage, at least for the moment, he clasped her arm, almost caressing it, to assist her into the passenger’s seat, and his hot energy jumped through her sheer cotton blouse and burned her all over.

  Every time he touched her, something like electricity shot through her. Exciting her. And warning her too. Turner had said that if she didn’t want Jordan, she’d better get out of his way. A chuckle bubbled up in her throat, and she let it out. Maybe it was Jordan who should get out of her way.

  “Let me in on the fun,” Jordan said, backing the car out of the short driveway. “I like a good laugh too.”

  She felt free. Liberated. Faron Walker had stood up in court and yelled to her, “Wait’ll I get out. I’ll never let you rest.” Not since the public defender had called to tell her that he was out of jail had she been a free person. Free to read in the library, sit in a park, browse in a museum, go to church or a concert, or stroll along the street like anybody else. She couldn’t even work in a public place and had been forced to leave her job as a bank officer when she’d spied him lolling against a car in front of the bank’s door. She didn’t mind wearing an apron, cooking, cleaning and finding excuses not to leave the Estate, but oh, it felt good to change the scenery, to put on a feminine dress and go out with a good-looking man. Her mind and her spirits soared. She laughed aloud. Jordan’s head snapped around. She knew she’d surprised him, but she wouldn’t dare tell him how alive she felt.

  “What’s going on, Leslie?”

  She leaned back, folded her arms and rubbed them from shoulders to elbows. “It’s such a beautiful day. That’s all.”

  His raised eyebrow told her what he thought of that. He added, “Any special reason?”

  In that air-conditioned car, her arms tingled as though attacked by prickly heat. She finessed his question. “Blue skies everywhere. Jordan, why did you ask me to go boating with you. You can have your pick of company, women or men.”

  In a sober, thoughtful tone, he said, “I want to know who you are when you’re not wearing that apron. You’re an enigma, Leslie, and you interest me. I’ve always found intelligent, independent women intriguing, but you’re also purposeful as well as charming.” He half-laughed. “And I don’t faze you one bit. I like you, and I want to get to know you.”

  Put off by his candid answer, she joshed, “I thought it was my peasant look today.”

  He took his glance from the highway long enough to look at her. “Is that what you call it? It’s pretty and feminine, but it’s got nothing to do with my asking you to come with me.”

  She didn’t want them to get into a discussion of him and her. Better change the subject. “Where do you keep your boat?”

  She sensed his pride as he leaned back in the driver’s seat, rested his arm against the door and put the car into cruise control. “Over in St. Michael’s. Another ten miles from here. She’s a thirty-foot cabin cruiser.”

  She turned to him. “You mean you won a boat that big?”

  He nodded and switched into the left lane in order to pass a slow-moving RV. “Leslie, I don’t make bills unless I can pay them off at the end of the month. If I’d had that much cash to spare, I’d have my thoroughbred farm. As it is, I’m depending on my peach crop for that. We have an unusually heavy yield this year, so I ought to be able to get my horses in the spring.”

  “You planning to race horses?”

  “No, indeed. I’m going to breed horses, and I’ve got some good fallow land I’ve been saving for that.”

  With her curiosity peaked, her mind sprang into action. “Why don’t you sell the boat?”

  He shook his head. “I wouldn’t get a third of its value. Boats are like cars; the minute I took possession, it became a used vehicle.”

  She wanted him to talk to her, to tell her about his life and his work. “But I thought you were a farmer,” she said to encourage him.

  “I am, but one long drought can wipe out a farmer. I’ve diversified, but even with vegetables, fruit trees and pecan trees, I’m vulnerable. Besides, I love horses.”

  He pulled up to the dock, cut the motor, and they got out. Crisp salty air stung her face, and to her dismay, the sun disappeared behind the clouds. She observed the vestiges of wealth: schooners, sailboats, yachts and cabin cruisers everywhere. Some with flags that told of their long voyages from Canada and Mexico.

  He took her hand. “Come on over here. I want to pick up something.” They entered a small shop that smelled of roasting chickens, cheeses, barbecue, garlic and baking bread, and a matronly woman greeted Jordan with enthusiasm and not a little deference.

  “Here you are, Mr. Saber,” she said, blessing him with a smile and handing him a yellow basket and a bill. “Any time you need anything, you just call.”

  He paid with his credit card, and she couldn’t help noticing that he folded a bill and pressed it into the woman’s hand.

  “God bless you, sir,” she said and clasped her hands in a prayerful attitude. “Y’all have a safe trip, now.”

  He thanked her and, with the basket in one hand, he grasped Leslie’s right hand with his other one and headed them toward the boat.

  “It’s gotten cloudy. We’d better hurry.”

  He stepped on the deck with her seconds before a loud bark of thunder split the silence, closed the door behind them and led her below. She stared in awe at the walnut finished paneling, soft leather seating, recessed lighting and parquet floors.

  “Jordan, this is plain decadent. I had no idea…” She left the thought unfinished. No point in letting him know she’d never been on a boat before. “What’s in there
?” she asked, pointing to a brass-handled door.

  “Captain’s quarters,” he replied and hastily followed the words with, “Let’s put this stuff in the kitchen. I was hoping for a sunny afternoon.”

  So he had a bedroom in there and didn’t want her to focus on it. Hmmm. He showed her the tiny kitchen, put the food and drinks in the refrigerator and led her back to what she supposed was the lounge.

  “I don’t hear any thunder. Want to go up on deck? If the weather’s clear, I’ll take her out. Okay?”

  He started up the steps, reached back and took her hand. And it felt so right, as if her whole body was in tune with his, as it had never been with anyone else’s. The way a composer’s music sounded better when he played it than when anybody else tried. The way poetry took on new meaning and added brilliance when read by the poet. The way she squeezed his fingers at the very moment he squeezed hers.

  They stepped on deck, and he turned to her with a grin all over his face and lights dancing in his green eyes. “The sun’s shining. Let’s go!”

  She could only nod, for he mesmerized her with the joyous look on his face and the eagerness in his voice. If anyone had told her that he could express such childlike enthusiasm, she probably wouldn’t have believed it. She looked out over the Bay. Water as far as she could see. Water the color of his eyes. If she didn’t back up in a hurry, she’d fall through the cracks.

  * * *

  He took the boat over the gentle waves, exhilarated as always by the sense of freedom and adventure it gave him. Did she enjoy it as much as he? He hoped so. She stood near the boat’s prow with the wind blowing her hair from her face and her skirt billowing like a colorful kite in a March wind. She had her face to the breeze, as though embracing it. But she was so quiet.