Ecstasy

by Gwynne Forster

  Steve finished the cake, stashed their dishes in the sink, and leaned against a wall, facing his brother. “You mind if I meet her?” At Mason’s startled look, he added, “Skip’s crazy about her and, when it comes to people, kids have good antennas. What do you say?”

  Mason shrugged both shoulders and resisted reaching for his old keys.

  “Alright with me. I’ll arrange it.”

  Steve shook his head as though displeased. “Mason, I’m asking you to bring her to my apartment to see me.” Their gazes locked, and Mason understood that Steve was demanding respect.

  “Okay. I’ll speak to her.”

  * * *

  He parked a few feet from the Hideaway’s front door, because he intended to stay just long enough to get Skip, but Laura rushed to him waving a subpoena and clutching a legal-size envelope in her other hand.

  “I got a court summons to witness against my own sister, and I know this letter contains one for Jeannetta. Alma Williams has gone too far with her lies. This will be the talk of Pilgrim.”

  He couldn’t believe it. “Let me see that.” He looked at the claim that Jethro Williams currently resided with Jeannetta Rollins in West Tiana, Long Island, and that the claimant demanded restitution from Jeannetta and a divorce from Jethro.

  “What are we going to do?” wailed a distraught Laura.

  Mason examined the document closely and shrugged. “Forget it. Didn’t you notice the dates between which they’re supposed to have been living there? According to this, it began before I put Jeannetta in the hospital. Do you want me to stop it now, or do you think Jeannetta would like to see Alma Williams eat crow?” He walked to the phone as the last words fell from his lips.

  “Hello, Jeannetta.” He told her of the court orders.

  “Would you like me to call the judge, have the hospital send the record, or what? It would serve her plenty if you let the town know what she’s like.” He listened to Jeannetta’s story of how it had begun and her culpability in not having denied it, for the sake of vengeance.

  “Alright. I’ll speak with the judge.” He did, and received the judge’s agreement that Alma would be penalized if she mentioned the accusation again. That done, he stopped by the Hideaway, collected his son, and headed for home.

  * * *

  Jeannetta sat on the porch in the late afternoon autumn sun reading through her novel and making minor corrections. She loved the story and what she’d done with it, but it saddened her. She was glad for the telephone interruption.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Jeanny. Whatcha doing?” A smile eclipsed her face at the sound of Skip’s eager voice, and she told him she’d been working.

  “I think you ought to come here with me and Dad, Jeanny. I don’t like this woman who keeps calling Dad.”

  She didn’t know what to say. “How’s your father?” seemed a safe thing.

  “He’s okay, Jeanny, but some woman named Betty calls here every day, sometime three or four times. I’m not saying she’s Dad’s bird. That’s you. But, like, I don’t want this chick to be my mother.” She couldn’t help smiling, though twinges of anxiety stole through her.

  “Skip. I’m not sure you should be telling me this. Your father is entitled to privacy, and...”

  “Yeah. I know. I’m squealing on him, but she ain’t no good for him. She don’t even like me, Jeanny. And I sure as...I don’t like her.”

  “I’m sorry, Skip, but if your father wants to see her and talk with her, there’s nothing I can do.” His words hit her like sharp darts in her chest, but she controlled her voice. If she cried, Mason would hear of it. She managed to conclude the conversation. What she wanted most right then was to hear Mason’s voice, but she couldn’t make herself call him. She had to talk with someone, so she called Laura. And wished she hadn’t.

  * * *

  “I was just going to call you, hon,” Laura began. “I suppose you know one of Mason’s old flames is helping Clayton with his lawsuit. Clayton says she’s given him some useful information, but I tell you I’m not sold on her. She’s calling him all the time, and now she’s taken to coming up here, claiming it’s ‘such a relief from New York.’”

  Jeannetta laughed at her sister mimicking the woman. “Don’t think of her as competition, Laura; Clayton has eyes only for you.”

  “Humph,” Laura snorted. “You know that, and I know that, but I’m not sure about this hussy, walking around here all day dressed up with her pants so tight I think they’ll split, and a pound of makeup. I can take care of her, though,” she seemed to assure herself. “Clayton said she used to be Mason’s girl, and maybe she’s really after him. Clayton said she’s typical of those New York women.”

  “Laura, I’m sorry, but my pot’s boiling over. I have to go.” Jeannetta hung up, looked toward the ceiling and sucked her teeth.

  “Clayton said. Clayton said.” Didn’t the man ever do anything but talk? She hadn’t lied to Laura; she’d used an apt figure of speech. And she liked Clayton, even admired him in many respects but, for heaven’s sake, he wasn’t the latter-day oracle of truth, no matter how hard Laura tried to make him into one. She returned to her reading, but couldn’t muster an interest in it. Had she been foolish in rejecting Mason’s proposal? Could she have taught him the meaning of love once they’d married? Too late now, she reminded herself; he has grievances of his own.

  Chapter 14

  Mason walked into Skip’s room. “I didn’t hear the phone ring; who were you calling?” The boy gazed at him, eyeball to eyeball, and refused to back down. Without being told, he knew Skip had called Jeannetta, and that he wouldn’t apologize for having done it.

  “Well?”

  “I called Jeanny. You’re not planning to marry Betty, are you?”

  “What? What gives you that idea?”

  The boy’s belligerence had vanished, to be replaced by a sad, worried look. “’Cause she’s always calling you, and you always talk to her.”

  Mason sat down, because he didn’t want to seem threatening. “I’m your father. You look at me when you speak, but you don’t stare me down as you would a roughneck kid. Don’t ever do that again.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Alright. Now, Skip, I won’t always run my personal life to suit you, but you can be sure that I’ll take your interests into account. You do not have to worry about my marrying Betty. Okay?”

  “Okay.” From the boy’s release of breath, he imagined that he’d been deeply worried.

  “But what about Jeanny, Dad? She...I like her so much, and she likes me a lot. I know she does.” He looked at Skip’s worried face, at the moisture pooling in his eyes. He didn’t want to see him cry, and he knew that, if one drop fell, Skip would be mortified. He walked over to him and knelt in front of him.

  “I love her, Skip, and I’m trying to straighten things out; I can’t promise more. I have some errands to do, and I’ve decided it’ll do you good to go with me.”

  They walked down to Bloomingdale’s and Mason bought two pair of jeans, three dress shirts, two ties, two crew-neck sweaters, and overcoat, and a pair of leather gloves, all in medium size. He and Skip took the bus to One Hundred and Eight Street and Third Avenue and walked over to Park. Mason found the homeless engineer at once and called him aside.

  “This is my son, Benjamin Fenwick; you didn’t tell me your name.”

  The man didn’t bother to contain his surprise; with eyebrows raised, he cocked his head to one side and rubbed his chin.

  “Ralph Harper.” He looked at Skip. “How do you do?” To Mason’s amazement Skip replied, “Cool, how ’bout you?” and extended his hand.

  Mason handed the man the package of clothing. “I’m Mason Fenwick. My brother has a job for you repairing office machines. Don’t worry, he’ll teach you. It’s ni
ght work in office buildings around the city. Here’s his phone number, and fifty dollars for whatever you need that isn’t in this package. You said you couldn’t look for work because you couldn’t make yourself presentable. Now you can.”

  The speechless man managed to mutter his thanks, turned to his friends, and waved.

  “Where’re you going now, Mr. Harper?” Skip asked him.

  Ralph Harper’s startled glance at Skip telegraphed his surprise at being addressed in such a manner. “To the shelter, man. This time when I get a shower, I can put on clean clothes. Make sure you don’t ever need one of those places. They’re the pits.”

  “You think he’ll do it, Dad?”

  Mason was making up his mind about some other unfinished business.

  “I don’t know, son. I gave him his chance, and he has to do the rest. What did you learn today?”

  “Not to get homeless and to help the ones I see.” Mason knew a sense of joy that came from loving his son, and he had no doubt that he would give his life for the boy. He grasped Skip’s hand.

  “Let’s go out on Long Island to see Jeannetta.”

  The smile on Skip’s face and the added bounce to his step confirmed the boy’s excitement and eagerness to see her. Mason stopped short. In his happiness, he had momentarily forgotten that a deep chasm separated the woman he loved from himself. He didn’t want to disappoint Skip, but he doubted the wisdom of an impromptu visit to Jeannetta.

  “I think we’d better call first, son; she may not be home.”

  * * *

  Mason closed his bedroom door and phoned Jeannetta. His pulse pounded when he heard her voice. Soft. Feminine.

  “Jeannetta, this is Mason. How are you?”

  “Fine. Which Mason is this?”

  In spite of the annoyance that he wanted to summon, he laughed. “Which one do you want?” He hoped the noise he heard was a giggle.

  “That’s below the belt and ungentlemanly. Either answer will incriminate me.”

  “Gentlemen seldom win this kind of battle, sweetheart. Go ahead and incriminate yourself; it may prove beneficial.”

  “To whom?”

  “To both of us. Since you don’t plan to give quarter, I’ll take the heat. How about Skip and I drive out to get you? My older brother, Steve, has practically demanded that I bring you to meet him. We’ll drive you back out there. What do you say?” He held his breath, certain that she would deny him this chance to see her.

  “That would mean ten hours of driving for you in one day, because I can’t leave Casper overnight. Today’s Saturday. So why don’t I take the train in to New York tomorrow morning; you and Skip meet me; we go see Steve; eat lunch or something; and you drive me back? I think that’s a better plan.”

  His heat slowed to its normal pace and he let out a long breath. What had happened to make her agreeable to seeing him and, especially, to meeting his brother?

  “What time will your train get in to Penn Station?”

  “Ten-twenty.”

  “Good. We’ll be there.”

  “Who’ll be with Skip? The doctor or the man?”

  Relief. He laughed for the joy of it. “Woman, you don’t give up easily, do you? Well, neither do I. Which one do you want?”

  Her laughter rang like bells, warming him long after he replaced the receiver.

  * * *

  Jeannetta stepped off the near-empty train with one thought; if he hadn’t forgiven her, why was he taking her to meet his brother? She had agreed because she meant to earn that forgiveness if she could, and she wanted the chance to teach him what love meant. She saw Skip running to her, his face shining with pleasure, and quickened her steps.

  “Jeanny! Here she is, Dad.” She hugged him, surprised that a boy his age would welcome an outward display of affection. She looked up into Mason’s glittering eyes. Eyes that invited her to drown in them.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Skip elbow Mason in the ribs. He looked down at his son.

  “Aren’t you supposed to kiss her or something? Like, this ain’t cool.”

  She watched for Mason’s reaction and relaxed when he grinned and said, “Kissing should be done in private. And don’t forget: you’re still twelve; you don’t run my private life; and don’t use street language. Right?”

  “Right. But you are going to kiss her, aren’t you?”

  Mason looked up and tortured her with the hot gleam in his eyes. “Trust me, son.”

  Her heart galloped throughout the ten-minute ride to Steve’s apartment.

  * * *

  She liked Steve at first sight. A big, handsome man, he wore the same demeanor of competence and strength as his brother.

  “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time, Jeannetta, and I appreciate your coming all the way from Long Island to see me.” They entered the living room, and her heart seemed to drop to her stomach. The elegant woman sitting on the sofa fitted Betty’s description; surely Mason wouldn’t...

  Steve introduced her. “Jeannetta Rollins, this is Vivian Allen; Viv is what we call her.”

  Mason’s secretary. She acknowledged the introduction, not surprised to learn that Viv knew about her. But why was she there, and why wasn’t Mason surprised at her presence?

  Skip quickly put an end to her puzzlement. With an arm slung around her shoulder, he whispered, “Don’t sweat it, Jeanny; I think she’s Uncle Steve’s new uh...girl.”

  She couldn’t help smiling, both at his familiarity and at his words.

  “Yeah,” came his smug confirmation, “that’s exactly who she is.” I could love this kid, she thought, as the realization struck her that he was exactly her height.

  “Jeannetta, how about helping me in the kitchen while we get acquainted,” Steve said. “Mason wanted to take us all out to lunch, but I can cook as well as the next guy. Come on.” She followed him in the kitchen, took a towel from the rack and secured it around her waist.

  “What can I do to help?”

  He pointed to a high stool. “Sit over there. Don’t get it in your head that I’m meddling; I’m not. I looked after Mason from the time he was seven and I was twelve until he graduated from medical school. What happens to him is my business. Are you in love with him?”

  Her mouth opened and her breasts heaved sharply; he had to see that he’d stunned her.

  “I believe in cutting to the chase, Jeannetta. There’s a lot at stake here.”

  Might as well go for broke, she decided, when she could get her breath. “Yes. I’m in love with Mason, and I have been since shortly after we began that tour.”

  His stare, so much like his brother’s, but harder, nearly unnerved her.

  “But you don’t want to marry him.”

  Don’t let him see that you’re perturbed, she cautioned herself. “I don’t want to settle for what he’s giving me, when I know that we both would be so much happier if he could share himself fully with me. I’ve tried to explain this to him, but he doesn’t understand. Steve, I have no idea what pains him, and I wouldn’t have dreamed that he would adopt a young boy. I love him, but I don’t truly know him.”

  “I expect you never know a person until after you’re married.”

  Her withering look didn’t seem to bother him.

  “I at least ought to know what makes him angry.”

  Both of his eyebrows arched sharply. “In this case, you sure oughta. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s something to deal with.”

  She decided to voice her own problems. “Mason has reservations about me, as I’m sure you know. The way I see it, my error was in not telling him the truth about why I took the tour and that I’d had a P.I. investigate him. I did both before I ever saw him, and I didn’t tell him because I feared
he’d walk away from me and sentence me to blindness. I don’t know how to earn his forgiveness.”

  Steve propped his foot on the rung of the nearest chair and studied her for a long time. She let him. At last he asked, “What about Skip?”

  “I could love Skip as dearly as if I had given birth to him. He’s already in my heart.”

  Steve nodded, topped the eggplant Parmesan with mozzarella cheese, shoved it in the oven and sat down.

  “I can’t advise you, because there’s so much I can’t know in this case. But I will tell you not to let it slip through your fingers. It’s too precious.”

  “But it isn’t up to me.”

  He smiled. “Love him. That’s all you need to do.” She must have seemed uncertain, because he stressed it. “You heard me. Just love him.”

  “But I do love him.” She watched Steve’s frown fade into a grimace. Didn’t he believe her?

  “A couple of months ago, I might not have understood any of this, but I can tell you now that, if you love a person, you don’t keep tabs on what you give each other. My brother hasn’t known a woman’s love since our mother died when he was seven. How do you expect him to peel off a thirty-year habit of shielding himself without some help? He loves Skip without reservation, and he can love you the same way if you guide him. But if you wait out there on Long Island until he sees the light, and he hangs tough in the city questioning your every motive, the two of you will squander what you have sure as heat melts ice.” He took a pan of biscuits from the freezer, wrapped them in foil and put them in the oven, looked at her, and shook his head.

  ‘You won’t catch me doing that.”

  A cold soul-sickness settled over her. Had she failed him? Failed herself? Her own slice of love hadn’t been oversized, she reflected; was she bargaining for a sure thing? She looked up into Steve’s knowing gaze.

  “Doesn’t look good when you strip it down, does it?” he asked with merciless accuracy.

  “No. It isn’t easy to see one’s own shortcomings.” She slid off of the high stool, removed the towel from her waist, and asked him, “Sure I can’t help with this?”