Against the Wind

by Gwynne Forster

  “I’m Jordan Saber.” He was neither friendly nor unfriendly, and he didn’t ask the stranger to come in. He just waited cautiously, aware that the man seemed perfectly at ease as he extended his hand.

  “Thank you for letting me come, Mr. Saber. I’m Franklin Collins.” Jordan hoped the shock of hearing that name didn’t register on his face.

  “Leslie told me her father was dead.”

  “I’m her father’s brother. I’ve been searching for my brother and his family for years. About six months ago, I finally got track of Leslie and also learned that Frederick was dead. Until then, I hadn’t known that he had a daughter.” Jordan observed him silently for a minute. Franklin Collins was neither defensive, hostile nor threatening in any way. He stepped back and invited the man into his home.

  Jordan sat at his desk, seating the man in a comfortable leather chair that sat at an angle facing him. The man refused the offer of a drink.

  “What is your connection to Turner Baker?” First things first.

  “None. I followed him from here one day. When I caught up with him in a bar, he declined to give me any information. So I traced him through his license plate and finally went to see him. I told him who I am and why I’ve been looking for Leslie. He said the simplest thing would be to call you. Frederick was my twin brother. So if you doubt that I’m Leslie’s uncle, we can set aside your concern as soon as she sees me. Frederick always swam against the tide. Against our parents, the schools, the community. Everybody. He left home on our eighteenth birthday, and in the thirty-nine years since, there was never a word.”

  For a while, Jordan said nothing, and the man left him to his thoughts. Finally, Jordan questioned him. “Do you drive a brown sedan?” The man nodded. “And did you inquire about me at the university?”

  Franklin Collins smiled. “Yes, I did. I wanted to know who I was dealing with and what kind of man my niece was living with.”

  Jordan bristled. “Leslie is not living with me. She works here. Everybody who works for me lives on the Estates.” He noted what was clearly satisfaction and approval on the face of Leslie’s uncle.

  “What do you want from me?” He was putting the man on the spot, but he considered it a fair question.

  “My parents are long dead. My wife died two years ago after a long and very difficult illness. She was always very frail. We wanted children, but we were not fortunate. Leslie is the only surviving relative that I have, or at least that I’m aware of. I want to know her. That’s all. Is it too much to ask if I may meet her?”

  Jordan saw nothing wrong with that, but he couldn’t speak for Leslie. And considering her wariness of strange men, he couldn’t anticipate her reaction to meeting a long-lost uncle. Best introduce her to the idea slowly.

  He observed Franklin closely, making up his mind. “One more thing. Why did you contact me rather than speak directly to Leslie?”

  “Baker advised me to speak with you, and he’s a no-nonsense man, so I took his advice.”

  “You were right to do so.” He related enough of Leslie’s life to prepare her uncle for rejection. This time, the offer of a brandy was accepted. That his guest warmed the snifter of fine brandy slowly between the palms of his hands before inhaling it gently, then taking a small sip and swirling it on his tongue, was not lost on Jordan. The man had some class.

  “Tell me about yourself.”

  He learned that Franklin Collins was a lawyer, born and raised in Nashville, Tennessee, and had been graduated from Duke University in Durham, North Carolina. He’d studied a year in England as a Fulbright Fellow, gone back to Duke and gotten his law degree. His wife’s eight-year illness had left him nearly broke, partly because he’d quit work in order to spend the last year of her life at home with her. He told it without any expression of bitterness or self-pity, and Jordan couldn’t help admiring the man.

  “Where do you live now?” he asked him.

  “For the past two years, I’ve been living wherever my search has taken me. Now that I’ve found Leslie, I hope to go back to my job in Nashville, if it’s still there. If it isn’t, I’ll find another one or go into private practice. I’ve some contacts there.”

  Jordan liked what he’d seen and heard. He nodded thoughtfully. “All right. I’ll ask her if she’ll see you.”

  Jordan asked Cal to entertain the visitor, excused himself and went to speak with Leslie. Her initial disbelief didn’t surprise him As she explained, her father had never spoken of a brother, had in fact claimed that he didn’t have a family.

  “He says you can verify it by looking at him, that he’s your father’s twin.” He couldn’t say why he felt such relief when she agreed to meet Franklin Collins.

  “Give me a few minutes.” Her nervousness stabbed at him and, in a gesture of support, he draped his arm around her shoulder.

  “I think you’ll like him. I do. But how I feel is irrelevant. The minute you want him to leave, he goes.”

  Leslie’s gasp when she saw her uncle told Jordan what he needed to know. Her face ashened, and she leaned against the doorjamb for support. Boldly, he placed his arms around her shoulders to steady her and to remind her that he was there, and there for her. The man who claimed to be her uncle stood as Leslie entered the room and waited for her to make the first move. Jordan saw the gesture as one of consideration for Leslie, and he walked slowly to Franklin Collins, his arm still snug around her. She regarded the man before her the way a woman scrutinizes her nylons for runs before dressing for a special date. Not with apparent curiosity, but with an almost impersonal hope.

  She spoke first. “I’m glad I didn’t just happen upon you some place. You and my father must have been identical twins.”

  He smiled. “Yes, we were. And I’m sad to say Frederick resented it every day that I knew him.”

  Jordan would have left them alone, but Leslie clung to him as one clutches a lifeline. He stayed with her, knowing she’d had an emotionally crippling shock. When Julia and Clifford joined them, bringing tea, coffee and cookies, Clifford greeted Franklin with exuberance.

  “I’m glad to meet you. Now Leslie has some family, too.” He grabbed Leslie’s hand, looked up at her, his face shining with joy, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Leslie, this is our absolute very best day in the whole entire world.”

  His smile blessed them all, and he said to his uncle, “Isn’t it just awesome, Unca Jordan? Now me and Leslie both have a family.”

  “Yeah, it’s awesome all right.”

  He corrected his nephew’s grammar and regarded their guest. “Will you stay for supper, Mr. Collins? That’ll give us all a chance to get better acquainted.”

  Franklin Collins smiled, his demeanor that of a man contented with himself and at ease in his surroundings. “Thank you. I’d like that very much.”

  * * *

  Leslie wasted no time getting answers to questions that had nagged her. Her uncle informed her that he drove a brown Buick, not the brown Taurus that had followed her from Westminster to the Eastern Shore and along Highway 695 when Cal drove her to Westminster, and that he had never thrown pebbles at her bedroom window. And he made it clear that her question about the pebbles didn’t sit well with him.

  Jordan grabbed her arm. “When did this happen?”

  “Several times. Maybe half a dozen.”

  He released her hand and began pacing the floor. “And you never told me? Not even after I damn near caught a man trying to break in on you? How can I protect you when you insist on withholding this kind of information?”

  “That night was the last time it happened. Since then, I’ve been staying over here in the house, and I figured that there was no point in telling you.”

  “No point?” He turned first to Cal and then to Franklin. “Does either of you understand how the female mind works?” He threw his arms up in frustration. “That settles it. I’m going to find that man, whether you help me or not,” he declared, drawing an inquisitive stare from Franklin Collins.
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  Later, they all sat around the living room fireplace swapping stories, singing and enjoying the music that flowed from Jordan’s fingers as he demonstrated his skill as a guitarist. When he glanced at Leslie and coaxed from the strings the haunting, “If I Loved You,” she had to blink rapidly a few times to hold back the tears. How could he know she loved that song, that when she’d first heard it as a teenager, she’d wept for her loneliness?

  Did he know the words, and did he mean them? Words that spoke of love for all time. Endless love. She thought her heart would burst with love for him. The song held deep meaning for him too, she realized, when his voice floated to her on the air, and she thought he’d asked her to come to him, that he’d whispered “I love you.” But he hadn’t parted his lips, though for that second, his eyes must have telegraphed that message from his soul to hers. How else could she have heard it? He glanced up at her as he neared the song’s end and mouthed the words reminding her that she would soon leave him. She couldn’t bear the distance between them and, as his fingers teased out the closing notes, she walked over to him and sat on the floor beside his chair. He finished the song, stood, helped her to her feet, looked into her eyes, and all else around them faded into oblivion.

  “Anybody want some more coffee?”

  Only Julia would have realized how close she’d come to putting her arms around Jordan and losing herself in him right then and there. She expressed her thanks in a smile and nod of her head, and she could tell that it cost Jordan something to snap out of it. A sober expression eclipsed his earlier warm demeanor; he didn’t have to tell her that, for him, the evening was at an end.

  Jordan said to Franklin Collins. “It’s getting late, and I don’t know where you’re headed. We’d all be pleased if you would spend the night with us.”

  “I appreciate your hospitality,” Franklin said. “Thank you.”

  Jordan rubbed his chin. A man with good manners appealed to him. “Leslie and Julia will show you to your room,” he said. “Breakfast is at seven-thirty.”

  He glanced at her and briefly closed his eyes, a gesture that betrayed to her his longing. Then he shook hands with Franklin, let the fingers of his right hand graze her cheek and told them all good night.

  After breakfast, Franklin Collins bade them goodbye. Leslie didn’t want him to leave with nothing because, she realized, she liked him and wanted him to be a part of her life.

  “You’re welcome here as often as you care to come,” Jordan told the man, who seemed touched by Jordan’s generous gesture and looked to Leslie for confirmation. She hesitated for a second and then stepped forward and embraced her uncle.

  “Come back soon, Uncle Franklin, and keep in touch.”

  Jordan watched as they smiled through their tears. This had been a healing experience for Leslie. At least he hoped so. A paternal uncle was a close relative, and this one gave every indication that he was worthy of trust.

  Leslie announced at supper the next evening that she had to be in College Park early Monday morning to register for the coming semester.

  Before anyone else could react, Jordan took the moment. “I’ve got to be there, too, to register my students. And I’m changing from one class on Tuesday evenings to two classes on Tuesday afternoons. My department secretary will make our reservations. You can ride in with me Sunday evening, and if you’ve finished by noon on Monday, we can be back here by three o’clock.”

  He wanted to hug Julia when she moved quickly to forestall any objections or excuses that Leslie might offer. “That’s great. We’ll all have Sunday night out. Clifford wants to see that new Disney movie, and Cal and I can take him Sunday afternoon. Then the three of us can have supper at Tandy’s. A little time away from this kitchen won’t hurt either one of us, Leslie.”

  After supper, he went into his office and closed the door. Leslie hadn’t uttered a single word in response to his suggestion that they go together to the university. But he had no intention of backing down. It was D-Day for them, and if she didn’t know it, she would, and soon.

  “Come in,” he said in response to the knock.

  Cal walked in and closed the door. “This step you’re taking could torpedo your relationship with Leslie.”

  “Or cement it,” Jordan said. Cal had struggled with him through his adolescent years, and he didn’t resent his remark any more than he would have frowned upon advice from his father.

  “I just hope you know what you’re doing, son.”

  “Yeah. I can appreciate your concern, because I feel like I’m stepping on hot coals. But I love her, and I have to deal with it.”

  “I know you do, and I know how important this is to you. Just think of her first and yourself last.”

  Jordan shoved his hands in his pants pockets and leaned against the edge of his desk. “I’ve never done otherwise.”

  Chapter Ten

  Leslie threw her suitcase on the bed, unopened, and walked out on the balcony that adjoined her hotel room. The evening glowed with an awesome beauty, not quite as cold as it had been, but eerie in its dusk-gathering quiet with the lingering reds and purples of the sunset. Jordan had registered them, they’d gone to their separate rooms without speaking, and she was grateful that he seemed to have sensed she needed time to herself. She hadn’t bothered to determine where his room was, though she suspected he was also on the fifth floor. Her nerves had begun pitching throughout her body as soon as Jordan suggested they travel together and stay in the same hotel. Filled with anticipation, and maybe even a little dread, she’d been too nervous to eat much dinner, and now, hunger pangs gnawed at her belly. She stepped back into her room and began to unpack the few things she’d brought—a dress, robe, gown, cosmetics, stockings and a pair of dress shoes.

  She answered the phone, knowing it was Jordan. “Are you about settled? I’d like to have supper pretty soon. Meet you in the lobby in, say, ten minutes?”

  Ten minutes? She hadn’t even finished unpacking. “Could I have half an hour?”

  Jordan agreed and hung up. He stood gazing down at the telephone resting in his cradle. What had she been doing since they’d separated an hour and a half ago? Hadn’t she expected them to share the evening meal? He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

  “I’m not backing down,” he told himself and stepped out into the corridor.

  * * *

  Leslie wondered why she was taking a shower when she’d had one that morning—especially since she’d told Jordan that she’d meet him in 30 minutes. At least she had had the presence of mind to wear a shower cap. She dried off quickly, applied some body lotion and began to dress, reaching for the burnt orange woolen knit dress she’d decided to pack at the last minute.

  She gazed at the curves of her body that the dress exposed. What would he think seeing her dressed that way? Well, she hadn’t brought anything else, so she had no choice. She found a matching color lipstick in her makeup kit, put on the big, gold-toned ear hoops that she’d bought on a whim and brushed her hair until it shone, floating free well below her shoulders. Where was the perfume that her foster mother had given her when she’d graduated from college? She searched her handbag frantically, annoyed with her nervousness and intuitively feeling the age-old feminine need to arm herself with a delicate, luring scent. Relieved to find it, she dabbed some on numerous spots on her body.

  She sat down on the bed to put on her slippers, simple, black suede pumps, and a feeling of weakness, akin to a delicious wickedness, permeated her body. She stretched the way a young lioness does when she hears the fierce roar of her mate. A vision of the way he’d looked at her when he left her flashed through her mind, and frissons of heat went arrow straight to her loins. She ignored the ringing telephone, got her handbag and reached for the doorknob. Her glance took in the full-length mirror attached to the door, and she did a double take and stared at herself.

  Was she that woman? The transformation from the girl of over seven months earlier into the stylish woman in
the mirror stunned her, but heightened her confidence. She said a silent prayer and left the room.

  As the elevator descended, Leslie wondered how he would react to her. “Where the hell is she?” she heard him wonder aloud, pacing the floor beside the elevator as the door opened. His long, smoldering look told her she needn’t have worried about his reaction to her appearance.

  * * *

  He had a sense of immense relief. He didn’t know what he’d expected of her, but—Well, she was there! It wouldn’t have surprised him if she’d locked her room door and gone to bed. They had hardly spoken since leaving Dexter, and he couldn’t figure out why she’d withdrawn so completely. He could have told her that he’d never touched a woman who wasn’t willing, but he hadn’t. She ought to have sense enough to know that, he reasoned. Besides, he was damned well going to make her willing. She was something of a shock, though. He had always liked the way she looked, even when she was working, and he’d certainly seen her dressed up. But he hadn’t ever seen her looking the personification of sexiness. He was glad he’d had the presence of mind to discipline his tongue as well as his physical reaction to her.

  “You’re worth every second that I waited.” She’d faint if he voiced the rest of his thoughts. He took her elbow, looked down at her and softly breathed the words: “You’re beautiful, Leslie. I’m proud to be with you.”

  Something approximating a smile crossed her face. “Thanks. You’re not bad yourself.”

  Her facial expression told him her nerves were on a rampage, and he was going to avoid doing and saying anything that would make her skittish. He led her across the lobby to the entrance of a very nice restaurant that adjoined the hotel.

  * * *

  As taut as a marksman’s bow, she concentrated her energy on quieting her nerves. Jordan not only wouldn’t make a move that would cause her distress, he’d take to task anyone who did. Yet, she couldn’t banish the feeling that she was about to take a proverbial walk into outer space.

  “Leslie?” He held the chair for her, waiting for her to sit. His gentle, almost impersonal smile should have reassured her, but when his hand casually caressed her shoulder, she nearly jumped And she knew he’d noticed, because nothing escaped him. He was by nature perceptive, and when it came to her, he seemed doubly sensitive.