“I love you too. That’s what friendship is all about—being there for one another.”
Prodigal knew Teary far too well. When Faith told him that she had called, he surmised that Teary must have been going through a bout of depression. He was right.
Prodigal admitted to himself that he asked a lot of Faith when it came to accepting Teary. Faith tried to understand the depth of her husband’s relationship with Teary. Other times, like earlier today, Faith was just the opposite. But he loved Faith. There had been times she doubted the depth of his love for her. Faith struggled to grasp why the love Prodigal and Teary shared was just as strong of a bond as hers and Prodigal’s. In a way, Teary did have something Faith didn’t possess, and even though she would never admit it to Prodigal, there were times when Faith despised Teary. Prodigal would talk to Teary and tell her things that he wouldn’t discuss with Faith. Prodigal wasn’t aware that Faith knew he still confided in Teary, but a woman always knows.
Slowly Faith began to make peace with the fact that Teary and Prodigal would always be close and she would just have to be fine with that. Maybe it was true that Teary knew a part of Prodigal that Faith probably would never know, but as his wife, Faith knew the part of him that satisfied her, that part that belonged to only her, that only she and Prodigal would share, and in that she tried to remain content, confident and secure.
“Look, I’m going to ask you for the umpteenth time. Why not come up for a visit?”
Teary was not about to agree to doing such a thing. She’d tried that before. The one time she actually went to visit them on her vacation turned out to be her first time and last time. Faith treated her cordially. Two of them even did some shopping. Teary spent time getting to know the twins too, but she and Prodigal didn’t get the chance to spend much time alone. He talked to her about moving to Bonsai Bay, but she wouldn’t even entertain the idea knowing that it could be a move that could possibly destroy his otherwise great marriage. Men were so clueless at times, Teary surmised.
“You haven’t seen how much the boys have grown, Teary. Well, you have,” Prodigal corrected himself. “But I’m not talking about through a computer photo. I mean, you should come and see ‘em in person. How about it?”
“I would love to, but work is really hectic and it probably will be for a while. I’ve been promoted to Assistant Editor. With that comes more responsibility you know.”
“Wow, fantastic. I’m proud of you,” Prodigal exclaimed. “I know who I can run too when I need to borrow some big bucks.” They both laughed.
“Now, do you see why I have to call on you, Prodigal? You can always make me laugh and bring me up out of the dumps. Hold on a minute, will you. My Admin just buzzed me.”
“Sure,” Prodigal replied.
A few seconds later Teary returned to the phone. “Well, I’ve just received my cue. I’m needed in a meeting. We’re getting in a big news story. I’ll talk to you later. Kiss the boys for me and hug Faith. And thanks, love you.”
“Take care, Teary. I love you, too. Bye now.”
chapter 25
Heart’s Desire
After finishing art school, Fantasia opened Trinity Three Gallery and Museum. Selling for no less than $2,500 a whop, it wasn’t unusual to find pieces of her art in the homes of the rich and famous. The girl was definitely a winner with anything and everything a bundle of money could buy. Her sprawling five-bedroom home was nestled in a private mountainside residence in Belleaf, Maryland. She rented a vacation home in southern California and a cottage in Massachusetts.
Fantasia persuaded her mother to retire and relocate to Belleaf. Under Fantasia’s tutelage, Ruth learned much about the world of art. A lady of leisure and pleasure, Ruth didn’t have to do a thing if she didn’t want to, yet she loved spending her days at the gallery. Every morning after carefully choosing one of her signature designer outfits, Ruth commandeered her black on black Jag through seven o’clock rush hour traffic.
For some reason, people tended to gravitate toward Ruth and Fantasia. The mother daughter duo were often recognized for their philanthropic work, in addition to Fantasia’s exquisite artwork.
Despite Fantasia’s success and good fortune, Ruth continued to be concerned about Fantasia’s lack of interest in a relationship. By no means did Ruth want to give Fantasia the impression that in order to be happy she had to have a man. Of course that was far from the truth. But she did want each of her children to experience the kind of love she found with Solumun.
Fantasia was well aware that her mother was concerned about her lack of romantic involvement. She was always the bridesmaid never the bride and it suited her just fine. So what if she was a thirty-four year old virgin. It was definitely by her own choice. She’d had many an opportunity from many a man, but none could sway her to give up her heart or her body. And contrary to rumors that circulated in the tabloids from time to time, she wasn’t a lesbian. She was, however, determined not to allow love to destroy her life as it had her mother’s.
“Fantasia, sweetheart, are you going out this evening?”
“Nope, I have quite a bit of paperwork to finish up this weekend. Tonight’s the perfect time to start, Mother.”
“Fantasia, for goodness sakes, it’s Friday night. Don’t you have something better to do?” Ruth asked in an irritated voice.
“Momma, you mean someone better to do, don’t you? Look, let’s not go there tonight. I don’t have a date and I don’t want one. How many times do I have to tell you that I’m happy with things just like they are?” Fantasia sat on the edge of her office desk with her each arm folded inside the other one. The look of aggravation was evident in Fantasia’s wrinkled brow.
“I don’t want to argue with you tonight, Fantasia. I just hate to see you working all the time. Life’s too short not to enjoy it.”
“I know that, Mother. And you see, that’s where you’re wrong. I am enjoying my life. You don’t seem to think so, but I am. You equate loving someone with being fulfilled and happy.”
“That’s not true.” Ruth retorted, her frustration mounting. “I never said that.” Ruth didn’t want to upset Fantasia but the elevated tone of Fantasia’s voice told her it was too late. “I understand what you’re saying. Everything is not going to be a bed of roses in life Fantasia; I never said it was.”
“A bed of roses?” Fantasia stood up and gave a fake laugh. “That’s one thing you’re right about. Life is nothing but a game to be played, Momma. And your God is the one who is the orchestrator of it all, including your no nonsense view of love. What kind of love takes a father away from his children, Momma?”
“Oh, please, Fantasia,” Ruth started to cry.
“Tell me that, Mother. Don’t cry now. “Why does God allow the things He does?” Fantasia scolded. “And you want me to fall in love? You want me to do what you don’t even do yourself because you know the consequences too.”
Ruth stared into her daughter’s cold and callous brown eyes before she whisked around and ran down the corridor to the sanctity of her office.
Fantasia stood at her office doorway, watching her mother until she disappeared into her office. Sorry, Momma, Fantasia thought to herself. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I’m sick and tired of being made to feel like I’m wrong for not wanting a man in my life, or God for that matter. I don’t see the sense in any of it. So what does it matter? God does what he wants to do and I’m going to do my thing, live my life the way I want to. I’ll help others when I can and to hell with falling in love with anyone just to face heart break in the end. Turning around, she closed the door behind her. She replaced what had just happened between her and Ruth with the task before her. Taking a seat behind the walnut desk, Fantasia kicked off her Jay Cabachi heels and proceeded to leaf through the pile of neatly stacked papers.
Meanwhile, Ruth fell back in the arms of her plush office chair. She spied the box of Kleenex tissues resting on the end table and quickly grabbed one to wipe away her tears and clean her
runny nose. She allowed her perfectly coiffed hair to lean against the high back of the chair. She needed answers before she could dish out any more advice.
♦
Suave, debonair and strikingly handsome, widower William Phillips was CEO of the multi-million dollar Phillips Technology Corporation, which licensed and monitored Internet access, usage, and user name licensing. A great philanthropist and a lover of the arts, he had a special love for Fantasia Runsome’s artistic flavor. Several of her art pieces lined the walls of his lavish office space in the Savoy Towers and in his mountaintop mansion. It was his normal routine to have his personal courier to pick up pieces of Fantasia’s art from her gallery for his perusal before the public had a chance to purchase it.
Never having met her in person, William Phillips decided it was time to pay a personal visit to Fantasia. His assistant contacted her to make arrangements for him to visit the gallery. He wanted her to design a special piece for the waterfront mansion he had just built in Rhode Island. He also wanted to discuss the upcoming annual charity ball that Fantasia and her mother had agreed to chair.
When he arrived at the gallery, he was handsomely dressed in taupe Armani slacks with alligator loafers that displayed a splash of charcoal brown and perfectly matched his attire. The taupe and brown pinstriped silk shirt fit his muscular build to a tee. The fifty-eight year old mingle gray-haired man with the matching thin mustache and goatee made Ruth skip a breath when he strolled through the smoke glass double doors of the gallery. Fantasia had told Ruth that she was expecting him. What she’d failed to mention to Ruth was just how handsome Mr. William Phillips was. Even though he was a great philanthropist, he was rarely seen in public. Ruth had seen photos of him from time to time, but they did him no justice. Feelings that she had not felt since Solumun’s death swelled in her.
As William approached the attractive woman with the flowing black tresses, he started to feel somewhat excited. She had long legs with curves in all the right places. I wonder if this lovely vision of beauty is Fantasia's mother? He thought. Could this be her?
William hadn’t been the least bit attracted to or concerned with any woman since the death of his wife, Lois. She had died several years ago from complications brought on by a stroke but William was still recovering emotionally from the strain her death had placed on him.
The black and white linen dress tastefully nestled against Ruth’s full breasts. The black buttons that traced the back of her dress outlined her figure even more. Her legs were encased in sheer black pantyhose and her size seven and a half feet were encased in two-inch black and white leather sling backs. She wore her hair in curls that cascaded around her shoulders in a way that seemed to be calling William to her.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m William Phillips. I’m here to see Fantasia Runsome,” he said in a heavy, masculine and sexy northern accent.
“Hello, Mr. Phillips. I’m Ruth Runsome, Fantasia’s mother and the Director of Trinity Three. We were expecting you,” Ruth replied, while extending her perfectly manicured hand to him. “I must say that I’m glad we have finally had the opportunity to meet face to face.”
When their hands intertwined in the shake, William felt the coolness and soft texture of her skin. She smelled good, like freshly cut flowers. It reminded him of Lois. His deceased wife loved cologne and expensive lotions. No matter where she went, what time of day or night, Lois smelled heavenly. When William thought of her, he imagined that she had heaven smelling like a pasture of roses. God, did he miss her. Since her death, he had not become involved or even been the least bit interested in another woman. Since his sons were grown now and doing well for themselves, William spent his time involved in his church, business and philanthropic works. When he laid eyes on Ruth, however, he felt something stirring inside. He didn’t quite know what it was. All he knew was there was some attraction toward her. And now, the smell of her body and the touch of her hand made him know by no uncertain terms that he was still alive.
While William was thinking of Ruth, Ruth was thinking to herself, his hands feel so manly, so masculine. They feel like Solumun’s hands used to feel. Hands that played jazz with my body. That’s how she described Solumun’s touch. He had smooth, melodious hands that could play her like a soft, mellow song. No man had ever been able to move her like Solumun. She had long since stopped trying to find one who did. Before she moved to Belleaf, she had been involved with only one man since Solumun’s death. His name was Ralph Gordon.
Ruth was working the second shift at Broknfield Medical Center when she first met Ralph. He was at the hospital visiting his best friend who was recuperating from a diabetic induced coma.
It didn’t take long for Ruth to discover that Ralph Gordon loved to talk. Every day when she passed the room heading to nurse’s station 707 he was there chattering away to his friend. She guessed they had to be rather close because she noticed Ralph never missed a day visiting the man. When she went in to check the patient’s vitals, Ralph was always pleasant.
“Good afternoon, Nurse Runsome,” Ralph would say. “Did anyone tell you that you’re like a breath of fresh spring flowers on a rainy day?” The first time he told her this, Ruth tried to pretend she was offended.
“I beg your pardon,” she said in a stern voice. “Surely you aren’t talking to me in such a way.”
“Well, the name tag says your name is Nurse Ruth Runsome, and you’re the only one in here who could possibly come close to smelling like fresh spring flowers. Old Country here sure doesn’t and I know I don’t. So there, you have to accept it.” He flashed a gold toothed smile.
“Old Country?” Ruth found herself blushing and looking confused at the same time.
“Well, I guess a thank you is in order, Old Country.”
Ruth had played her defenses well over the years, daring a man to get near her. She wore a mean demeanor and came across as stuck up and unapproachable. It was rumored that most of the hospital staff called her the icemaker but Ruth didn’t care. As a matter of fact, she had come to love the nickname they had for her. That way, she didn’t have to worry about any of the men there trying to hit on her.
Ralph allowed a hearty laugh to escape his lips when she called him Old Country. “I’m not Old Country. That’s what I call my buddy here,” he said, reaching out and touching the side of the hospital bed where his friend lay.
Ruth hid a subtle smile then turned and walked away. He is sort of cute and a big flirt too.
After a two week hospital stay, the day arrived when Ralph’s friend was discharged from the hospital. Ruth arrived to work a few minutes early to take his vital signs and to say her good-byes.
“Hold on a minute," Ralph said as he stepped quickly toward her. “I hope you’ll at least let me get your phone number. I’d like to call you sometime. Maybe we could go out and have a cup of coffee or even take in a movie.”
Ruth hesitated before speaking. “Look, I don’t know. I just don’t see that I’ll have time for anything like that. As a matter of fact, I’m sure I won’t.”
“Sure you will. I won’t accept no for an answer. Anyway, it’s not like I’m asking you to run off with me, woman. Just let me call you sometimes. I’ve enjoyed talking to you these last couple of weeks and you seem to have liked talking to me too. I think we could be friends. Please, say yes. I promise I won’t talk your ear off. Whaddaya say?”
“Well,” she said, hesitating once more. “I guess it’ll be okay. And you are right. I have enjoyed talking to you.” By this time Ruth was blushing from ear to ear. She wrote her number down and gave it to Ralph.
“It’s settled. I’ll give you a call this weekend if not before.”
“Okay, goodbye Mr. Gordon.”
“What did I ask you to call me?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ll be seeing you, Ralph.”
Ralph turned and winked. “You can bank on that,” he said grinning.
Ralph and Ruth began to talk two or three times a week. She had to admit t
hat having a man to talk to for a change felt kind of good. She still remembered and missed the long conversations she and Solumun used to share, so it was refreshing and quite revitalizing to talk to Ralph.
They often met at Ruth’s house for coffee. Sometimes they rented videos and munched on popcorn. The initial extent of their intimacy was a sweet, tender kiss they shared from time to time. However, three months into their relationship, Ralph and Ruth made love. She didn’t remember sparks flying or firecrackers going off. The night was nice, though. Ralph invited her over to his place. Though it smelled like stale cigar smoke and beer, it was quite neat and clean. He had a mixed breed terrier he called Puffy. Ralph had never been married and did not have any children.
“What’s on the menu this evening, Chef Ralph,” Ruth teased.
“Let’s see, I’ve prepared a meal of T-bone steak, baked potato and Caesar salad,” he replied. “We’re going to sip on white Zinfandel with dinner.”
“Ahh, I see. I like the sound of this.”
After a delicious meal and two glasses of wine, not only was Ruth full, she felt a little giddy. She hadn’t drunk wine or any alcoholic beverage for years. They relaxed on the couch listening to a CD of the 70’s best love songs. When he kissed her this time, he was more passionate. His tongue knowingly found his way to hers and she found herself becoming quite aroused. It had been twelve years since Solumun’s death, twelve years since she had been touched, kissed and caressed. Twelve years since she had made love. She had come to trust Ralph, and not only that, she cared about him deeply and he about her.
That night they made love slowly, gently and passionately. Two people who were lonely and lost in a mean and evil world. Two people who were searching for some companionship, who wanted to belong to somebody. Two people became as one as they satisfied their wanton desire.
Over the next two years, they enjoyed each other’s company without talk of commitment or the mention of love. Ruth welcomed Ralph’s companionship. It was because of him she began to feel better about her life without Solumun. He erased some of the bouts of loneliness that used to attack her spirit from time to time. She didn’t want to face, however, what was staring her dead in the face. She’d known for quite some time that Ralph was in love with her. She saw the way he watched her when he thought she wasn’t looking. She felt it when he kissed her and stroked her. But she could never love him in the way he deserved.
Into Each Life Page 18