Certain aspects of the world bewildered her. The war had felt like ongoing heartbreak, especially when she saw men returning broken in body and spirit, like trees after a storm. But the smaller interactions hurt even more, hurt to the point of anger, because she saw how unnecessary they were, how people chose to treat each other poorly, and knew how to inflict pain so well.
Perhaps that’s what ignited her about The Street. So many people could have reached out and helped Lutie and, at least in the part she’d read thus far, no one did. The woman had no one. The other characters extended their hands only when it would serve them. Then to hear Val Jackson—a man who could easily offer help to so many—speak so callously, it was just unacceptable. If he really thought that way, then he was far worse than people said.
He may have sensed her feelings because he seemed to recede from her and Rose in the past day or so. He didn’t eat with them the night of their conversation or the next morning. Today at breakfast he spoke only to Rose and said he would be out on the grounds after the meal. He seemed chastened and a part of Elizabeth felt she had wrongly slapped his wrist with her foibles. She wasn’t sure how to alleviate this—or even if she wanted to—but she decided she would try to be kinder when they spoke again.
When the baseball crashed into the bushes near where she and her friend worked, Elizabeth jumped. The torn leaves and crushed blooms released their scent into the hot air. Rose, still perfectly balanced on her canvas seat, looked up and she and Elizabeth both turned. Val was jogging over to them with an apologetic smile on his face and a baseball bat over his shoulder. Behind him, on the lawn, Elizabeth could see his man, Sebastian, wearing a baseball glove. She was intrigued to see Val running and the difference the motion brought to his demeanor. He glowed and seemed somehow more vital.
“Val, please!” Rose said. “Can’t you boys be more careful?”
Val bent over and kissed her on the cheek. Elizabeth got the sense they had played out this scene countless times over the years. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Rose! I’m sorry! I didn’t know Sebastian would be such a lousy catcher.” He got down on his knees in his khaki pants and white T-shirt and started looking in the bushes near Elizabeth. “Did you see where it went?” he asked her.
“Over there, I think.” She pointed to the right. He crawled around her ankles to the area she indicated and peered into the roses.
As Val looked for the ball Elizabeth pulled off her gloves. She sat on the ground near Val and watched him, pushing her straw hat back on her head.
“I’m sorry we had that—that misunderstanding the other day,” she said.
“You are?” He glanced at her then reached into the bush. “Ouch!” He pulled his arm back and she could see white, chalklike lines where the thorns had scratched him.
“Yes.” She folded her hands on her lap. “Look, we don’t know each other. I was judging you—”
“And harshly, I’d say,” he said, interrupting her. He examined the marks on his arm and looked into the bush again.
“Well, I’ve heard—” she began then stopped. She didn’t want to sound defensive. She twisted the gloves in her hands, frowned, then tried again. “You know, Rose introduced us when you got here, but I’d seen you before at church.”
Val looked up from under the bush and smiled. “You’ve seen me?”
“Yes. You sit upstairs as far away as possible.” Elizabeth wiped her hands on the green-and-white-striped apron she wore over her simple linen dress. “You never participate in the service. I’ve always wondered why.”
Val smiled broader. “You’ve wondered about me? Well, I don’t know if you want to be telling people that. I’m a man with a certain kind of reputation.”
“Yes, I know! When I said I was coming here a friend told me to watch out for you.”
Val frowned and stood up on his knees. “Oh? Who told you that?”
“None of your business.” Elizabeth heard the sharpness in her voice and looked down at her hands. “I’m—I’m sorry.”
“Well, if you have people warning you about me, then you can understand how a man like me wouldn’t be welcome in church.” Val went back to his search for the ball. “I try to lie low, take in the Good Word, don’t bother anybody. You can appreciate that, right?” He tilted his head closer to the ground. “Look, there it is. You’ve got gloves, can you get it? These thorns will tear my arm up if I try to reach in there.”
She got on her knees and looked into the rosebush where he was pointing. The ball sat like a big white egg lodged between the rose’s thick canes. “But I’m not like that,” she said. She pulled on her gloves and gently pushed her hand through the leaves. “I don’t believe in keeping someone out of a congregation because of their past. I’m of the mind Christ came for the sinners, not just the righteous. The door must stay open for those who need God the most.” She extracted the ball and handed it to him.
“Yeah, you’ve pegged me right. I am most in need.” He stood and brushed the dirt from the knees of his pants. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, but I didn’t really do anything.”
“Oh.” Val touched her on the shoulder lightly with just one finger. “You’ve already done more than you know. More than you know!” He laughed and started to walk away but stopped as though he’d forgotten something. “Hey, you want to hit a few?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Oh, I wouldn’t know how. I don’t know anything about baseball.”
“That’s okay, I’ll show you. Come on.”
She hesitated then helped herself up from the ground. “Excuse me, Rose, I’ll be right back.”
Rose didn’t look up. She plunged a cut stem into the bucket by her side. Her hands took hold of another flower and she placed the shears around its stem at an angle. She snipped it. “Of course, dear.”
Elizabeth followed Val back to where Sebastian was waiting. He tossed the ball to Sebastian then turned to her. “Here,” Val said, pressing the bat into her hands. The heavy wood dropped to the ground, bending her wrist. She felt the tiny muscles strain.
“Ouch! That hurt!”
“No! You gotta hold it up! Hold it up!” Val took Elizabeth’s other hand and made her wrap both around the end of the bat. “Okay, now look at Sebastian. Over there, look at Sebastian! He’s going to pitch the ball to you.”
Elizabeth held the bat up in front of her like a club. It felt so heavy she thought she would drop it. Sebastian shrugged and shook his head.
“You gotta get in your stance. Here, separate your feet like this.” Val stood in front of Elizabeth. “Put one foot here and one foot here.” He waited until she had matched the placement of his feet. “Now bend your knees like this.” He modeled the movement for her. She imitated him but once she did she forgot to hold up the bat. It flailed uselessly in her hands. “Here, let’s try this,” he said.
Val positioned himself behind her and brought his arms around her shoulders. He put his hands where hers gripped the wood. “Okay, now pull it back like this.”
He was too close.
His thick biceps felt like steel bands around her arms. She couldn’t move. Elizabeth tried to turn her head toward him to protest. He had her encased with his body. Her heart thumped fast.
“Bend those knees and put your body into it! Swing it around this way.” He made the bat sweep through the air in front of her. His body twisted and she twisted with him. She felt the muscles of his groin, hard and insistent, pressing into her backside. No!
Elizabeth released the bat and pushed his arms down and off her. “Stop it! Stop it!” She didn’t say anything else. She couldn’t say anything else. She only wanted distance, as much distance as possible between them, so she started walking. She felt a rush of blood flood her face. She didn’t notice how easily he had let her go.
He was calling her.
“What’d I do? What’d I do? Hey!”
She didn’t look back.
CHAPTER 15
Val
Mercy
lands, June 1947
Val had enjoyed watching her walk away that fast. The motion of her legs had given her butt a rhythmic movement he found endearing. This next expanse of time would be important and he wanted her to spend it alone. He knew she would make some quick excuse to his aunt and retreat to her room. That was exactly where he wanted her to be, thinking of him.
For now he contented himself with a cigarette on the terrace. He watched the shadows grow longer over the great green lawn while he smoked and savored the day’s gains. For the first time, he had held her. Sure, she was holding a bat and he was making a big show of guiding her swing, but it was physical contact. He placed his hands on the cool stone slab shelf, supported by curvy columns and running the length of the terrace. The warmth from her skin ran down out of his fingertips and into the stone. She had smelled of cocoa butter, rose hips, and something he’d forgotten. He closed his eyes to summon the scent from his memory—the smell of skin warmed by the sun.
She smelled like summer and life. He recognized it from his own skin, his elbow so close to his face as he prepared to bat when he played ball in the streets as a child; his kneecaps as he leaned over them, sitting on a stoop waiting for his mother to bring him a cold cup of fresh lemonade. But at this Val shook his head. This was an unnecessary detail. He wouldn’t access something so familiar to him.
What was more important—his test had worked. He’d felt her heart beating like a caged bird in her chest. Her skin tensed beneath him once he had his arms around her. All this meant she could be affected by him, stirred by him. If she had been indifferent and stood like a pillar, cold and unmoving, he would have had little hope of succeeding. But now hope shone bright and it lit his way clearly.
Sebastian poked his head through the open French doors. “Sir, I was able to reach Reverend Stiles. He’s on the telephone now. You can use the line in the library.”
“Thank you, Sebastian.”
Val stubbed out his cigarette in the thick glass ashtray on the table and went inside. The library, floor to ceiling, was covered in oak paneling except where it was all shelving filled with row upon row of volumes—his aunt’s beloved collection. He crossed the red-and-gold Oriental carpet and picked up the heavy black receiver from the desk.
“Reverend Stiles! Val Jackson.”
“Hello, Brother Jackson!”
His voice boomed through the line too heartily for Val’s taste. He pulled the receiver away from his ear.
“Reverend, I’d like you to come up to Mercylands after the service on Sunday to visit for a day or two. That is, if you’re available?”
“Of course! I’d be delighted to see you and Mrs. Jarreau. She’s all right, I hope?”
Val leaned against the desk, his back to the door. “Oh, my aunt is fine, Reverend, just fine. She’ll be happy to see you. I just wanted to talk to you about a couple of things.”
“Then I’ll be there.”
“Good. I’m not coming down for the service, but I’ll send my driver to pick you up. Is three o’clock okay?”
“Yes it is, thank you. It’ll be nice to have a break from the city. It’s boiling hot here.”
“Great, then I’ll see you day after tomorrow.”
“Yes. You have a blessed evening.”
“Goodbye.”
He went up to his room and stood at the open window overlooking Gethsemane Lake. Sebastian, as Val knew he would, soon followed.
“Sir.”
Val turned, his arms crossed. “Okay, Sebastian, here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll take dinner in my room tonight and tomorrow. But I’ll be downstairs for breakfast. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And when I get down there I want at least three newspapers waiting for me at my place at the table. I want the Times. The others can be whatever you can get.”
“Yes, sir.” Sebastian took a small notebook and pen from his pants pocket and began to write.
“On Sunday I want you to drive down and pick up Reverend Stiles. He’s going to join us for a couple of days. Let my aunt know so she can have a room ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m going to lie low for a bit until he gets here. If my aunt or Mrs. Townsend ask about me, tell them I’m taking a walk or I’m in my room reading. Got that?”
“Yes, sir.” Sebastian looked up from his notebook, an eyebrow raised. “Do you want me to get any particular books for you?”
Val paused and thought. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked out the window again, considering his options. Then he nodded and turned back to Sebastian.
“Get me a Bible. And whatever my aunt has by Langston Hughes, bring that too. That’s good thinking, thank you.”
“I’m glad to help, sir. Is that all?” Sebastian finished his notes but still held the pen to the paper.
“No, that’s it. Thanks.”
Sebastian nodded, spun on his well-polished heel, then paused. He put a hand in his jacket pocket, pulled out a small envelope, and turned back to Val.
“I forgot to tell you, sir. This arrived in today’s mail.” He handed the envelope to Val and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
The tips of Val’s fingers went cold. He stared at the familiar handwriting for a moment before tearing the note open. A shiny red “M” decorated the top of the card. She’d written nothing on it other than a large swirling question mark. He put it back in its envelope and took his lighter out of his pocket. When the flame licked high enough to consume half the card, he dropped it onto a large ashtray on the desk.
Val looked out the window again and a strong breeze, the first in a few days, blew into the room. It made the leaves on the trees whisper excitedly as though they too relished a pause from the heat. He was glad for it—he wanted his aunt and her friend to be comfortable. Elizabeth would retreat after today and he needed to do the same. But he knew he could beat her at this because she wouldn’t want to leave Aunt Rose alone, especially once she realized Val wouldn’t be with Rose. It was the perfect situation now. He would be able to orchestrate his moves from his room, but Elizabeth would think she was acting all on her own.
He thought of how light she’d felt in his arms. Her wrists—little, thin, birdlike wrists—delighted him. He took a cigarette from the pack on his desk and lit it. He exhaled out the window and watched the blue stream of smoke float toward the lawn. A short burst of laughter rose up from his throat. He really hadn’t meant to press so hard against her but he couldn’t stop himself. How easy it could have been with any other woman to push her against something, the terrace rail for instance, just the right height, and then slide her skirt up above the dimpled knees, over the soft round thighs, up over the firm tomato shape of her ass and remove the annoying undergarments until she was fully exposed and open to him.
He had taken women like that before—yes, too many times. And wasn’t that what he enjoyed about the prospect of Elizabeth? That it would be different with her? But different how? He honestly didn’t know, but the fact that it was a mystery lying somewhere on a near horizon drew him in. This riddle tasted delicious, like the sweetness of a piece of butter brittle in his mouth in the moment before crushing it with his teeth. He would wait. He could wait. This waiting he loved.
CHAPTER 16
Elizabeth
Mercylands, June 1947
Elizabeth felt like a child who had been warned many times away from a hot stove, but whose confidence had made her careless. Now she was singed and humbled. She kicked at the rug in her bedroom and paced in frustration. She had been so ridiculous. How could she let him stand so close to her—like that?
She kept pacing. The movement comforted her. Even berating herself was easier than allowing herself to quiet down. She knew she would do that, eventually, and she wasn’t looking forward to the contemplation that would follow. Because in quiet moments she had to consider the strange feeling that this man—this Val Jackson—had been skirting around the edges of her cons
ciousness much longer than she realized, perhaps even before she noticed him sitting in the upper pews at church. There was something about him that seemed familiar, even inevitable, but how could that be? She knew nothing about him apart from the gossip she heard from friends.
A thought came to her and Elizabeth began rummaging in her things for Gladys’s most recent letter, but had she brought it to Westchester with her? It would help to read it now, to read her friend’s reassuring words one more time.
When she couldn’t find it she went to her desk and pulled out paper and a pen from the drawer in front of her. She scrawled the letter quickly but the words mentioned only the pleasant grounds and Rose Jarreau’s abilities as a warm and gracious hostess. At the end she wrote, “Write soon and tell me how you are.” If she could have put more urgency behind the sentence without alarming her friend she would have. But Elizabeth knew she wouldn’t have to mention Val Jackson; Gladys already knew he was there and would send the reinforcing words Elizabeth required.
She rang for the maid even before finishing the letter, and sealed it as Annie stood waiting.
“Annie, has the afternoon mail gone out yet?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Take this, please, and make sure it goes today.”
“I sure will, Mrs. Townsend.”
With the letter posted, Elizabeth sensed calm returning to her. She placed her palms flat on the desk and stretched her arms out in front of her. She faced the windows but the balcony and her seated position prevented her from seeing anyone walking the grounds. Was he still out there?
She played the scene in her mind again, his arms around her, his voice just inches behind her right earlobe. She noticed there was a juvenile quality to what happened. What if he was just being playful and silly—no different from a high school boy seeing how far he could go? Elizabeth pulled herself forward and laid her forehead on the desk. Maybe she had made too much of it, being indignant, running away like that. It would only give him reason to tease her in the days to come. She had to pull things back. She would have to go down to dinner and show him he had not upset her in any lasting way. If he brought it up, she would laugh and correct him lightly. She was sure Rose would support her in this, and Elizabeth would follow her lead. Nothing her nephew did ever seemed to ruffle Rose. Elizabeth wanted to learn how to cultivate the same even temper.
Unforgivable Love Page 14