Against the Wind

by Gwynne Forster

  When Jack sat up straight and raised one eyebrow, Jordan knew that every man who worked for him was expecting Ossie to get a reprimand.

  “He was down here for a couple of minutes to get a soda. I’ll call him.”

  Jordan shook his head. “Thanks, I’ll call him.” He dialed Ossie’s phone number. “This is Jordan. I’m downstairs. I want to speak with you.”

  “I didn’t know you’d come back. I’ll be right down.”

  It wouldn’t be an easy exchange, because Ossie had once enjoyed the respect of corporate titans and everybody else who knew him. He was a proud man, and he didn’t back down readily. But he’d have to do just that, because he’d gone too far.

  He didn’t greet Ossie with his usual warmth. He couldn’t. He walked with him into the dining room. “Cal told me you were rude to Leslie and that you refused to apologize.” He saw Ossie’s nostrils flare in anger. “Before you harden your position,” he told him, “think about what I’m going to say.”

  Ossie shrugged. “I’m listening.”

  “You and I have been together through more difficulties than most blood brothers or fathers and sons, and we’ve built a relationship that has come to mean a lot to me.”

  Ossie rested against the back of a chair and crossed his ankles “But.”

  “Yes. But. Didn’t it occur to you that you were disrespecting a woman that I care about? Do you believe I’m using Leslie, and is that the kind of man you think I am?”

  “Look, Jordan. I—”

  Jordan raised to his full height. “I haven’t finished. I’m not going to bend on this, Ossie. If Julia forced me to choose between her and Leslie because of some ridiculous notion about what’s good for me, as much as I think of Julia, she’d have to go. And that ought to tell you something. Nobody on Saber Estates is going to mistreat Leslie because of me and do it with impunity. I’m giving you a choice.”

  Ossie ran his hand over his short hair in what Jordan recognized as a gesture of frustration. “Every time I see the two of you together, my back gets up. She’s got no business with you. She belongs with her own folks. I don’t like it.”

  Impatience began to wear on him, and when he ground his teeth, he knew he had to control his rising anger. “Ossie, I don’t give a damn if you don’t like it, because it isn’t any of your business. I want you to apologize to Leslie and to treat her with respect.” To his surprise, his fist hit the table. “If I saw you with a woman, white or any other color, I wouldn’t consider it my business, and I’d be courteous to her. And by damn, I demand the same of you. Anybody who doesn’t like seeing me with Leslie can ignore it or leave.”

  Ossie stared at him. “You’d scuttle everything you’ve built up here?”

  Jordan walked as far as the door, turned and said, “I am still a tenured professor at the University of Maryland, which means I’ve got a permanent job. Neither these two thousand acres, nor anything nor anybody on them is worth my self-respect, and if I permitted you to behave toward Leslie as you did, I wouldn’t be worthy of your respect or anybody else’s.”

  Ossie took a deep breath and blew out a lot of air. “Who’d have thought it? See you.”

  “Before you sleep this night, Ossie.”

  He walked out, closed the door and jumped on his horse. He sat astride Casey Jones gazing at the summer sun—big, round and intimidating—as it prepared to sleep for the night. Putting an end to the day. Forcing him and everybody else to look toward the morrow.

  He let his gaze wander over his lush fields, all that he’d driven himself to accomplish. Progress that had come sweat by drop of sweat, and acre by acre. And in it all, he saw her. Somber. Laughing. Skipping. Teasing. Her face peeped out at him from every bush, tree and grove. He ran his hands over his eyes, and she was no longer there. He remembered that he’d chased her in his dream, and she’d laughed at him and refused to tell him her name. He was damned if he’d put up with the uncertainty. The torture of not knowing who shadowed her and why. He had to settle it. Now! She cared for him, and if he had to, he’d use that to advantage.

  And Ossie. Sadness weighed on him as he contemplated losing Ossie, as good a worker and friend as a man could want. He shook his head, slapped Casey Jones on his rump and headed for the barn. If Ossie knew how much he cared for him, the man wouldn’t find apologizing so difficult, but if he didn’t do it, he’d tell him to go.

  * * *

  It was Ossie’s love for Jordan that propelled him to the white Georgian mansion as darkness settled in. He had procrastinated until he could no longer justify his stubbornness. He knew he’d gone too far with Leslie and that he’d crossed the line of decency with his rude statement to her. He didn’t know what had gotten into him because he had always prided himself on behaving as a gentleman. Even when he’d been down and out, living on the streets of Baltimore—he had never approached a woman for a handout, though he knew they were more likely to give; he hadn’t wanted to embarrass them with his presence. He walked slowly, remembering the punishments he’d gotten as a child because he’d refused to apologize for something he’d done.

  He stopped at the barn and leaned against the old tree where Jordan had kissed Leslie at high noon in the presence of anyone who cared to see it. And that wasn’t the first time he’d kissed her in public. When a man did that, he was making a statement. He walked on. If he was honest, he’d admit that Jordan wouldn’t misuse Leslie or any other human being. Besides, the woman carried herself with as much dignity as anyone he knew or had known, and what she deserved from him was not rudeness, but respect.

  He reached the back porch, stopped and jammed his hands in his pockets. “Don’t beat yourself to death about it, Dixon,” he admonished himself. “Do what’s right.”

  Just what I need, he thought, following the voices down to the basement, a big audience. He stepped into the recreation room and, as he’d expected, got the undivided attention of Jordan, Cal, Leslie and Julia.

  “Good evening, everybody,” he said before looking directly at Leslie. “I had no right to speak to you as I did, and I won’t do that again.” He tipped his hat. “Good night, all.” Then he turned on his heel, ran up the stairs and headed for the dormitory.

  Halfway between the house and the barn, he stopped. He didn’t know a thing about Leslie, he mused, but he did know that he was a God-fearing man, and it wasn’t his place to judge her or anybody else. That was God’s prerogative. One more thing for confession the next Sunday. Any way you measured it, he’d been out of line. He could see why a woman—any woman—would want Jordan and find him irresistible. Jordan said she meant something to him, and he suspected it went deeper that that. It would take a lot for him to embrace the idea of black women with white men, and he’d have to pray about his attitude. Yeah. He’d have to see what he could do to make amends.

  * * *

  Ossie’s statement hadn’t mollified Jordan, however, and he’d started up the stars after Ossie when Cal stopped him. “Let it be, Jordan. For Ossie, those few words were tantamount to your getting down on your knees and begging for forgiveness.”

  Jordan ran his fingers through his hair. “But—”

  “Just let it go, son. The man humiliated himself.”

  Jordan slapped his fist into his left palm. “With that half-assed apology?”

  “Yeah,” Cal said. “I remember making you go without supper one night because you refused to say even that much. Let’s close it.”

  “I…I’ll leave it for now.”

  Cal slung an arm around Jordan’s shoulder. “Good. Sleep on it.”

  Jordan went back down to the recreation room where Julia had begun teaching Leslie how to shoot pool.

  “Julia, will you excuse us? I have to speak with Leslie.” Julia looked from one to the other and headed upstairs without commenting.

  “You want to talk to me about Ossie?” Leslie asked him.

  “No. That’s between him and me.” He looked at her for a long time. With that smile, she could b
ring a man down more easily than a chain saw could fell a tree. He shook his head, then surprised himself when he walked up to her, grabbed both of her shoulders and stared down into her face. “You wanted us to back off and get to know each other, understand each other and develop a friendship. Friendship is based on trust. Now, I’m asking you for a few simple truths. Have you committed a crime?” Seemingly unperturbed, she shook her head. “No, Jordan. I am not a criminal. What else?”

  He had to ignore her unshed tears, though it hurt him to see them. “All right. You said you’re not married. Are you engaged?”

  At that, she bristled and tried to move away, but he held her. “If I were engaged, I would never have kissed you. I am not a cheat.”

  No. He hadn’t thought she was. She stared into his eyes, and he had to fight the demands of his loins when her eyes took on that smoky haze that he knew signaled a woman’s rising desire. Then she wet her lips and, in spite of his intentions, he pulled her to him, bent his head and took her mouth. Shock reverberated through him when her body trembled and her lips parted. Her eagerness for his kiss scattered his senses, and he had to pull away, lest she drag him into full arousal.

  “Leslie, you care for me. I know it. Yet, you don’t trust me. You have to tell me now what you fear and why. I can’t stand knowing you’re in danger and being unable to protect you. Tell me you don’t care for me, and I’ll leave you alone.” He nestled her to his body and waited.

  After long minutes, she raised her head from his chest, stepped back and let him see her face. “Promise me you won’t ask me any questions, that you won’t grill me. I can’t go through that again. Just accept what I tell you. Can you do that?”

  What could he say? “I can try. At least for now. And I’ll believe what you tell me.”

  She looked into his face, but he’d already seen that she was wringing her hands. He wanted to take her in his arms, but he didn’t touch her.

  “My boss tried to rape me and almost succeeded. I still have two of the bruises he gave me. I brought charges against him, and the trial lasted three weeks, during which time almost everybody who ever knew me was called to testify against me. His lawyer tried to prove that I was little more than a street woman, but he couldn’t, although he grilled me all day for three consecutive days. My boss was a prominent man, but thanks to three women—former employees of his—who came to my aid, he served three years in jail. At the sentencing, he swore that when he got out, he wouldn’t let me rest. I know he wants vengeance but not what kind, and I can tell you he promised to kill me if I ever mentioned his name or brought any more charges against him.

  Whatever he’d thought he’d hear, it wasn’t anything like that. He folded her to him and stroked her back. “That explains everything, but I want you to try and forget that it ever happened. He didn’t succeed, honey, and that’s what matters.”

  He could barely decipher the words muffled against his chest. “Are you satisfied?”

  “I’ll be satisfied when I can get my hands on him.” He hugged her to him. “Thank you for trusting me. You’re safe now. Do you understand? You’re not in any danger.”

  She nodded, but skepticism clouded her face. “He lost everything, including his family because of it, and I guess he intends to make me suffer.”

  “But he won’t succeed. Not if I have my way.” He had to do something to lighten her mood. “Want to see a movie tonight?”

  She shook her head. “I have to work on my thesis.”

  He ran his forefinger across her bottom lip. “You can do that after the movie. Tell you what. I’ll buy you a big bag of popcorn.”

  She laughed, and he didn’t want her to stop, didn’t want the dancing lights to fade from her eyes. “Kiss me. Leslie, put your arms around me and kiss me.”

  “Right now?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Yeah. Now.” She reached up, kissed his cheek and got out of his arms before he could stop her. He couldn’t believe it.

  “Go mend some fences, do your books or something. I’ve got work to do.”

  She dashed up the stairs, and he watched her go. He’d have to be careful, because that incident could have shackled her with a deep-seated fear of intimacy. But that wouldn’t stop him. He’d had bigger challenges and overrode every one of them. Still…

  He shook his head. It wasn’t good.

  Chapter Six

  It had been a week since Jordan left for Kentucky, and as Leslie cleaned an antique marble table in the foyer, the doorbell rang in short but insistent peals. She opened the door to find a woman and a very handsome small boy who reminded her of someone.

  It appeared from the woman’s tired, worn expression that she was about to ask for help. But to Leslie’s amazement, she displayed cool professionalism. “Is this where Jordan Saber lives?”

  “Yes, but Mr. Saber is away on business. May I help you?” Leslie noticed that the boy seemed nervous and apprehensive. She smiled and patted him on the shoulder, hoping to put him at ease.

  “This boy claims to have an uncle with a background similar to Mr. Saber’s,” the woman said, “and the California courts have been looking for the boy’s uncle for nearly eight months. His parents died in an automobile accident. We’ve had him in foster care, but he insists his father had a brother named Saber. I’m his caseworker. He’s stubbornly maintained that he can’t be adopted because he has an uncle somewhere, but he didn’t know where that uncle was. He’s a ward of the court until we find his uncle. If Mr. Saber doesn’t want him, we’ll find a foster home for him and take it from there. When will Mr. Saber be back?”

  “In a couple of days. Come in, and I’ll get someone who may be able to help you.” She looked down at the young boy. “What’s your name?”

  “His name is Clifford, and I’m sorry, but we don’t have time for a visit. I’ll bring him back next week.”

  She took the boy’s hand and turned to leave, but at his unspoken appeal to her, Leslie whirled around. “Julia, come here, please.” She told Julia the story.

  As Julia studied Clifford, her face bloomed into a smile. “This is Jordan Saber’s home. If this boy is his nephew, he belongs here. Son, what is your full name?”

  He looked steadily at Julia, his gaze intense as though deciding whether to cast his lot with her. Apparently satisfied, he replied, “Clifford Saber, ma’am. Can I stay with my Unca Jordan for good? I want to stop moving.”

  Julia regarded him with admiration. “And what was your dad’s name?”

  The boy showed no emotion. “His name was Haskell Saber.”

  “Sure. You’re a Saber all right. You’re named after your grandfather, and you look just like your uncle Jordan did at your age. How old are you, Clifford?”

  “Eight, ma’am.”

  Julia turned to the social worker. “Madam, this is Clifford’s home now. You may come back next week and talk to Jordan, but you can leave Clifford with me.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. Ask Mr. Saber to call me.” She handed Julia her card.

  “Do you think he’ll call her?” Clifford asked Julia.

  “You needn’t worry about that, son. You’re a Saber, and Jordan takes care of his own. My name’s Julia, and this is Leslie. We’ll see you Monday.”

  Clifford was interested in how he would be received. He looked at Leslie. “Is my Unca Jordan nice?”

  She guarded her expression, lest she betray herself to Julia. “He’s a wonderful man.”

  The social worker took Clifford’s hand. “Come along. Something tells me you needn’t worry anymore I think we’ve found your uncle and that you’re going to be happy with him.”

  Clifford didn’t want to leave. “I sure will be glad when Monday gets here. Bye.”

  * * *

  Leslie’s lectures to herself did nothing to abate the anxiety with which she awaited Jordan’s return. She stared out of the windows, forgot to put baking powder in a batch of biscuits and, more than once, Julia had asked if she was having a problem
with her hearing. She discarded the pretense of calm and accepted that she couldn’t wait to see him, couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss he’d given her. Seven days. When he’d first left, she’d bent dreamy-eyed over her thesis, her thoughts only of him. Then, she’d browbeat herself into finishing chapter six and outlining the remainder of her study. She couldn’t sublimate any longer; she needed to hear his voice.

  “Jordan! Where are you? What’s happened? I was on my way out of my mind when this phone finally rang. I didn’t know whether to be worried that you might be in trouble or angry at you for not calling.” She reveled in the sound of his velvet voice with its deep masculine resonance, not even attempting to conceal her joy.

  “I’m fine. But I barely get a minute to myself before midnight, and I wouldn’t call you that late.”

  She sat up and turned on the light. “What about the horses? Did you get what you want?”

  “You bet. These Kentucky horse breeders know how to do business. You okay?”

  “Life’s different when you’re not here. Real different. It’ll be good to have you back.”

  She could imagine the scowl on his face when he roared, “Woman, when are you going to say what you think and feel?”

  She gripped the phone. She’d already said more that she should have, and she didn’t think it wise to pour out her soul to him about what he meant to her, when she couldn’t become involved with him. She pressed her left hand to her forehead. Oh, how she wanted to tell him how precious he was!

  Instead, she said, “And you know what I’m thinking and feeling, do you?”

  His long silence unnerved her. “If you don’t feel any more than you’re telling, I wasted my two bucks.”

  She laughed because she couldn’t help it. A crazy happiness zinged through her. “It was a good investment. Believe me,” she said. “Hurry back.”

  She could almost feel his frustration. “I will, and I hope you stand behind your words,” he grumbled. “Getting a speck of encouragement from you is about as easy as pulling hens’ teeth, and they don’t have any. See you next week.”