“What was the man’s name?”
“What man?”
“The man who bought the desk.” She had a mental picture of the roll-top desk in Richard’s home office.
“I don’t remember. Why?”
“Do you remember what he looked like?”
“I really don’t remember. It’s been a few years. One thing I do remember though is he smoked a terrible-smelling cigar. I practically had to fumigate the place after he left. Why?”
Reference to the cigar was enough to put Marie on edge. She was sure Richard had had one of his short, fat, cigar-smoking cohorts follow her from time to time. “No reason. I asked about Anthony’s because it’s known for being a hangout for mobster types.” She watched the expression on Paul’s face change.
“You’re kidding.” His brows scrunched up until they met each other in the middle. “Are you sure? Do you mean I sold that desk to a mobster?”
“Well, I don’t know about that, but if he knew people in Anthony’s, there’s a good chance he was mixed up with them in some way.”
He shook his head. “The restaurant looked normal to me.”
“There are probably rooms in the back.”
“Come to think of it, the guy did know a lot of people there.” He paused. “Well, I won’t go back there. That’s all there is to it. And I apologize for wanting to take you there. I feel like a real schmuck.”
“Don’t feel bad. You didn’t know.” She recalled some of the similar restaurants Richard had taken her. “To an outsider, it looks like any other restaurant.”
“So your husband is mixed up with these people?”
Marie explained some of the aspects of her life with Richard on the way home. She watched his eyes grew big when she talked about what had gone on in their marriage.
“So where did you grow up, Marie?”
The knot in the pit of her stomach expanded the more family-related details she revealed to him. “I grew up in Chicago with my mother. While my father supported us financially, he didn’t live with us.” She inhaled a few breaths in a slow deliberate manner, and after filling her lungs with an ample amount of air, exhaled through slightly parted lips, preparing for what she was about to reveal next. “He’s a pretty amazing man—probably the most prominent Negro horse rancher in the country.”
The car swerved sharply to the left before Paul hit the breaks and pulled off onto the shoulder. He brought the car to a slow stop. Expressionless, he gazed deep into her eyes. “Marie, you’re either testing me or trying to shock the heck out of me. Which is it?”
Her eyes met his. “It’s neither. I’m just telling you the truth.”
After staring at her for a lasting few seconds, he pulled back on to the road, stared straight ahead, and said nothing the rest of the way home, his hands gripping the steering wheel like vices. When he pulled the car into her driveway and put it into park, he asked, “Can we talk?”
Once in her apartment, thinking she had little to lose at this point, Marie spilled out more information about her father, not leaving much out. She did the same about Richard.
Paul’s arms were crossed. “Well, I guess it shouldn’t matter who your father is.” He smiled a weak smile. “Everyone has something in their past they’re not comfortable with. Hey, I do too.” He shot her an edgy grin and whispered, “We all have at least one dirty little secret.”
Dirty little secret?
“Of course, as far as Richard goes, I would feel a lot better if you were legally unmarried to him.”
Dirty little secret?
“Look, Paul, maybe this isn’t going to…see, you’re the first date I’ve had since I left Richard two years ago, and the first date since I’ve known about my father. So maybe now you realize…”
“Oh, I realize a lot of things now.” He fingered his earlobe. “And if I’m going to be honest…”
“I understand completely.” She got up from her chair and headed toward the door. “Goodbye, Paul.”
“Let’s not call it off just yet, okay?” He stood up but didn’t head toward the door. “Can we talk more?”
Marie sat down on one end of the sofa, and Paul sat down on the other. Marie’s cat, Sheana, immediately jumped up between them and stared at Paul as he spoke.
“Can I just tell you something more about myself? Maybe get to know each other better?”
She wasn’t sure she wanted to get to know him any better.
“I was married once myself. Georgia and I were very young. She was eighteen. I was twenty. We thought she was pregnant, and that’s why we got married. Turned out she wasn’t, but we stayed together anyway. Not exactly the perfect marriage, but we liked each other enough, and it was convenient.” His eyes drifted from one side of the living room to the other as he spoke.
“Then my sister and I inherited the antique shop from our parents, and the three of us ran it together for awhile. Georgia was much better at knowing what to buy for the shop than we were, so she always went on these road trips while Beth and I managed the store. Anyway, after a few years, Georgia and I split. It just wasn’t meant to be. She wanted out, and I didn’t fight it. But we stayed friends. We’re still close.”
Marie wasn’t sure why he wanted to talk about himself when there was a much more important factor looming.
“Okay, so you said who my father is doesn’t bother you, but does who I am bother you?”
“Uh...of course we’d have to be discreet about being out in public together…that is, because of your husband and everything.”
She gave him a weak smile. Part of her wanted to ignore the fact he was dodging her question. The other part wanted to ask him to leave. “So just for clarification, you’d like to keep seeing each other, but only if we’re not seen out in public together?”
He leaned in toward her and then quickly backed off when Sheana issued a short hiss.
He stared at the cat. “I wish I could say I’d be your big protector, from your ex and all, but the truth is I’m pretty much a wimp when it comes to tough guys.” He leaned even farther back from the cat. “I was beat up as a kid. Quite a bit.” He had a crooked smile on his face. “So maybe we can just keep a low profile?”
She examined his face, still not sure what to make of him and his avoidance of her direct questions. She suspected Richard didn’t bother him as much as her father did. “Look, I’m trying to understand what you’re saying…”
“All I’m saying is I would like to get to know you better.”
She took her time responding. “Okay. And then what?”
“Then what?”
“Yes. Where could we go with it?”
“With what?”
“The relationship?”
Paul gave her a blank stare. “Well…let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. She had already opened the door, and now she was going to barge through it. “Let me be a bit more direct, Paul. Could you ever see getting serious with someone like me?”
Paul’s eyebrows arched up. “Serious?”
“Yes. Serious. Like in marriage.”
Even Sheana’s ears perked up.
He looked down at his feet with an unfocused gaze and then leaned over to swipe a smudge from the toe of his shoe. “Well, unless I misunderstood you before, I thought technically you were still married.”
“I plan to get a divorce.”
Paul stared at her for a long moment before responding. “Okay.”
“What if I was divorced, what then?”
“What do you mean, what then?”
“Would you feel differently about me, about our situation?”
He gazed out the window with a fuzzy expression on his face.
“Are you going to answer me?”
“I don’t know what to say. What situation?”
She knew she was pushing him too hard and too soon, but all of a sudden she felt as though she was talking to all of mankind and had to get things off he
r chest.
“What about children? Do you want children someday?”
He eyed her like she had just sprouted horns. He rubbed his forehead with one hand and then took in a jerky breath. “I have to admit that not having children has always been something I’ve regretted. Georgia wasn’t able to have kids, and that, quite frankly, may have been the downfall of our marriage.” His Adam’s apple appeared to have a mind of its own. “But I’m not here to talk about marriage…and certainly not children, Marie. I’m…”
“Well, let’s just say that having children is important to me. What would you say to that?”
“I’d say you’re talking to the wrong guy.”
“Why?”
“Marie, we just met.”
“That’s not the real reason.”
Paul got up. “I think I should go.”
Marie dug in her heels. She wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily. “And I want to finish this conversation. Would it be out of the question to have children with me?”
His words were slow and deliberate. “Okay. No. I couldn’t do that with you.”
She stared at him for an uncomfortable few seconds. “Why?”
“Because…you know…they could be…colored. I would think you wouldn’t want children because of that as well.”
A surge of blood crept up her neck, causing her to lose focus. Even though she saw it coming, hearing him say the words was shattering. Her open hand drifted up to her mouth and slid down her neck. “I can’t believe you just said that,” she said, feeling as though someone had punched her in the stomach—hard.
He headed toward the door. “This conversation is going all wrong. All I’m trying to...”
She didn’t wait for him to finish. “All you’re trying to do is…”
“Look, up until now, I kinda liked you, but all this talk about marriage and children…well, to be blunt, I couldn’t bring myself to father that kind of child.” He stumbled over the words. “C’mon, who could?”
If he had set off a bomb in the room, it would have had less of an impact. She faced him. “That kind of child?” Her glare flew to his face. “You just don’t get it, do you?” She tried hard not to be controlled by her emotions, but by this time they had all swirled to the surface. “For your information, I am ‘that kind of child.’ How in the hell do you think that makes me feel hearing you say that?”
Before he could answer, Marie continued her barrage, the words cracking from her mouth like a boxer throwing punches. “You are nothing but a bigot! And you’re too damn stupid to even realize it. Get out! Just get out!”
She slammed the side of her fist into the wall, unable to hold back the tears. “Go home! Go to hell for all I care! I never want to see you again!”
When he reached the door, he muttered something Marie didn’t comprehend. She waited until she heard the sound of his car engine and then drifted to the sun porch and into the welcoming gloom of the moonless night sky. She watched him pull out of the driveway, the emptiness sweeping over her like a slow fog.
The light drizzle of rain that had been coming down all evening suddenly turned into a downpour. Marie poured herself a glass of wine and curled up on the living room sofa. Sheana jumped up, sat on her lap, and looked at her sympathetically.
She tried to sort through the details of the evening. That kind of child. The words gnawed at her. Marie spent the rest of the evening reflecting…on everything. “I’m not going to let him or anyone else bring me down. I’ve made it through worse situations than this,” she said aloud, not succeeding in holding back the tears. “Well, you won’t be seeing him around here anymore, Sheana.” She stroked the purring cat’s back. “But it looks like you didn’t like him much anyway, did you, sweetie?”
The wind picked up, pelting the rain against the windows, almost drowning out Billy Eckstine.
The night is like a lovely tune
Beware my foolish heart
She watched the rain fall, trying to make sense of things, swiping away the tears with the soggy handkerchief she clenched in her hand.
Take care my foolish heart
She went to bed, and in time, she fell asleep, in spite of the roar of the pounding rain.
CHAPTER 13
A Very Special Lady
Marie awoke before dawn the next morning after a fitful night’s sleep. Needing to get out of the house to clear her head, she drove down to the river.
A man and small boy fished off the bridge. Two young boys rowed downstream in a bright red canoe. Gulls called to each other in the distance. Useful distractions. She stared at the mirror-smooth, slow-moving water.
Marie got out of her car and sat on a bench near the water’s edge, allowing the healing warmth of the sun to penetrate her skin. Dragonflies skimmed the surface of the water, catching sunlight on their iridescent wings. She tossed a pebble into the water, breaking its peaceful surface.
She stared at the water in a trancelike state until a frog on the riverbank diverted her attention, its fat belly dragging on the ground as it stumbled along, probably looking for its next meal. She breathed in the cool fresh air until her emotions, still ripe from the day before, subsided.
When home, she called Karen and told her about the fight with Paul.
“Well, lady, what did you expect when you backed him into a corner like that?”
“I know. I know. But I could see what was running through his mind, and I had to hear him say it.”
“Well, you asked for it, then.”
“I suppose.” Marie paused, not sure if she wanted to admit everything. “I think I was unconsciously just using him.”
“How so?”
“Maybe all I was doing was testing the waters as to what might happen if I started dating again.”
“Keep talking.”
“I didn’t know what to expect when I told someone I was still married, and even more so that my father is a Negro.”
“And you thought Paul might be a good patsy?”
She didn’t like Karen’s choice of words but accepted it. “Mm-hmm. If I’m really honest with myself, I’m afraid so. And now I feel terrible about it.”
“Because of the way you treated him?”
“I feel bad that I used him. I feel bad that he reacted the way he did. I should have just ended it without any confrontation, or not gone out with him in the first place.”
“I’m not surprised at all at his reaction. Look, you’ve got to understand that no one likes to see whites and coloreds mix. You may not like that or think it’s right, but that’s the way it is. Paul’s no different.”
“He probably thinks I’m some kind of freak show. I wonder why he wanted to get to know me better anyway.”
“What did you really want from him?” When Marie didn’t respond, she added, “Be honest.”
“I wanted him to accept me for who I was.”
“Maybe that’s what he was trying to do.”
Leave that go, Marie. “I don’t know. I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I?”
“Have another glass of wine, hon. You’ll feel better. Meanwhile, I gotta go. Talk to you later.”
Marie called her father that evening and told him about Paul.
“I can’t say I’m surprised. It sounds like you pushed him into it.”
“I know I did. And it was wrong, but…”
“No, I see why you did it. Just learn from it, sweetheart. By the way, have you filed for divorce yet?”
“No. I keep going back and forth about what to do, and in the meantime, I do nothing.”
“Can I give you some advice?”
“Of course.”
“Do something. And even if that’s waiting until the statute is up, make up your mind what you intend to do, and do it. To think too long about doing something often becomes its undoing. I’m not sure who said that, but it’s worth following.”
“I’ll work on that. And thanks…Dad.”
Later that week, as Marie turned
the corner onto her street after a shopping trip in Leavenworth, she saw his car parked in front of the main house—a dark blue 1936 Auburn. It had to be Richard’s. With nowhere else to go, she cruised by the house. The car was empty. She drove around the block, and when she returned, the car was gone.
She called Karen.
“How long has it been since you’ve heard from him?” Karen asked.
“It’s been almost a year, but less if you count when I’ve felt his presence.”
“You’ve got to get over him. He’s going to drive you crazy.”
Karen should have known better. She of all people knew that things that happened years ago could still reach out and grab you by the throat. “I know. I just wish I knew how to do that.”
It took several glasses of wine that evening for Marie to drift off to sleep, her last thoughts being maybe she needed to confront Richard once and for all. As fate would have it, she got that opportunity the following day.
Karen had invited Marie out for dinner and a movie for her twenty-fifth birthday. Marie stopped in Karen’s dress shop after work to pick her up. Karen was in the back room closing things up when Richard entered the front door.
He walked in with a casual gait, looked around the store, and then smiled at Marie.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Richard exuded his usual level of confidence. “Just in the neighborhood and thought I’d do a little shopping. What a nice surprise to see you here.”
A wave of confidence swept over her. “You know damn well whose shop this is. Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Don’t be coy with me. You didn’t drive five hundred miles to shop in a woman’s clothing store. Why are you really here?”
“I’m here to do some shopping, but I must say it’s always nice to see you again. Happy birthday, by the way. You’re looking as beautiful as ever, sweetheart.”
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