Unforgivable Love

by Sophfronia Scott

  On the last block she started running until she reached the shelter of the foyer of Val’s building. As she stepped in, she caught her reflection in the glass of the door. Her eyes looked wild and frightened. She frowned and leaned her back against the stone wall. She waited to catch her breath. There was something lopsided and wrong about the way she looked. How could she be running scared from her mama and about to be a mama herself? It made no sense. She made no sense. What kind of mama would that make her? Would her child be as scared as she was? The thought squeezed a knot in her stomach and she wanted to cry. Instead she rubbed her tired eyes and stood up straight.

  Inside the doorman raised an eyebrow when she asked for Val Jackson. He seemed to hesitate, and his sharp eyes cut up and down her figure before he finally picked up the phone. She couldn’t hear what he said because he turned his back to her and hunched over the receiver. Then he motioned toward the hallway in the back to his right and told her to go up. He spoke the apartment number in a dark, low tone. Cecily pushed the hood off her head and tried to walk to the elevator looking as dignified as possible. She sighed with relief when she made it to his floor and Val opened the door.

  “Cecily, what are you doing? How did you get here?” He stuck his head out into the hallway and surveyed the corridor. “Did anyone see you?”

  “I ran, I think, most of the way. Mama went to a lunch with some friends, but I have to get back soon.” She peeled off the dripping raincoat.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She took a deep breath and let the words pour out in an overflowing stream. “I’m pregnant! I’ve been checking and waiting for my period but it’s not there. It’s just not there! I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Mama’s gonna kill me!”

  “Stop it! She’s not going to kill you.” He turned his head and called into the apartment. “Sebastian!”

  He appeared so quickly and quietly it made Cecily jump. Val handed him Cecily’s raincoat. “And bring a towel,” he said.

  Cecily put her hands up to her hair. She hadn’t given any thought to what she must look like. She tried to think about what a mature woman would do. She pulled her shoulders back and took a deep breath as she followed Val into his living room. It helped that there was something soothing about the smell of his apartment. She couldn’t tell if it was cologne or aftershave but it smelled warm and earthy and spicy all at the same time and it made her feel a little better. Val looked distracted and she wondered if she had interrupted him. What did Val do all day? It never occurred to her he might not be there. She could have risked the trip for nothing. She could have called. So stupid of her. She saw papers on his desk—taking care of business? Is this what men did? Write orders? Send money?

  He led her to a large blue sofa with black and white cushions. “Now sit down,” he said. “And calm down. Stop going on like that.”

  She lowered herself onto the couch and nodded. “Have you found Sam yet?”

  Val shook his head and sat next to her. “Sebastian is still asking around, but right now it looks like he skipped town.”

  She covered her eyes and began to think. She ran over every word Sam ever said to her. He’d given her no indication of being unhappy with her, of wanting to go away. If he had a club date with a band, people would know. Sebastian could find that out. Of course she and Sam hadn’t seen each other in weeks, but would he really abandon her? He wouldn’t unless he . . .

  She looked at Val, her eyes wide.

  “Do you think he already knows?”

  He paused as though he were considering the possibility. Cecily felt her stomach go sour. Finally he said, “Don’t be silly, how could he? You haven’t told anyone, have you?”

  “No, no one!”

  Sebastian returned and presented Val with a thick white towel. Val handed it to Cecily and dismissed Sebastian. She mopped at her damp cheeks and pressed both palms into the towel to absorb the sweat on them.

  “All right, now, Cecily.” Val put a firm hand on her shoulder and the pressure of his touch helped her to focus. “I want you to listen to me. We’ll find Sam, all right? He’s bound to turn up somewhere. Then I’ll set it up so you two can spend the night together.”

  “How?” Her hand flew to her mouth. The moment she said it Cecily knew it was a silly question. Val had been able to find his way into her house and into her bedroom without Mama knowing about it. Why couldn’t Sam?

  “You let me worry about that. Once we square that away, all you have to do is wait a few weeks. Then you tell him you’re pregnant with his child.”

  She wrung the towel in her hands. “But that’s not true!” It was bad enough she was lying to Sam about being true to him. She had been able to make herself feel better about it by thinking what happened with Val was a temporary and necessary situation. But could she lie about a child? For a whole lifetime? She could barely think about being a mother—how could she look Sam in the face and tell him a lie like that? It felt sinful, sinful in a way she couldn’t fit around lying about sleeping with Val. That was different. But why? Maybe because this kind of lie would hurt people. It would hurt Sam and it would hurt a little baby who hadn’t hurt anyone. The burden seemed too big, bigger than the Empire State Building.

  Val pulled the towel away and took hold of her hands so she had to look at him directly. “Cecily, I need you to grow up here. Your mama is making plans for you to marry somebody within the next six months. Who would you rather marry, Sam or Frank Washington?”

  She shook her head as though he should know the answer was obvious. “Well, Sam of course! I love Sam.”

  Val touched her face with his warm fingertips. “All right then. This is the only way you’re gonna make that happen. And to fix it so that your mama doesn’t kill you. You got it?”

  Cecily stared back into Val’s dark brown eyes and realized Sam wasn’t the only answer to her problems. She thought about the dream that inspired her to seek out Val. She had to be truthful to herself—what did she expect in coming here? Did she want Val to help her get rid of the baby? Lord no! And she wouldn’t have told him about being pregnant if she thought he would want that. Val Jackson was her baby’s daddy, and she must have known in the bottom of her soul if she still wanted a life with Sam, she needed Val’s help—and his willingness to let his child be raised by someone else. Now here he was being that beacon of light and giving her the words, the permission, for what she’d really wanted all along. Suddenly she felt the weight of what he was doing. She felt selfish and ashamed because she would be the one to get what she wanted. She bowed her head and nodded. “Okay.”

  “Great.” He lifted her chin with his fingers and smiled. “Cecily, it will be all right, I promise. We just have to find Sam.”

  Warmth flowed into her face and she believed him. “Yes.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Val

  Harlem, September 1947

  September 3, 1947

  Dear Val,

  You may be surprised to receive this. Why should I write when I have the complete joy of seeing you every day? But I do believe a letter is necessary. I can’t stop thinking about the way I behaved that day when Louise was there. You must have been so disappointed in me. I know I showed every sign of having no faith in you. I’m sorry. Love can’t exist where there’s no trust so I must mend this breach. The best way I know how to do that is to put down on paper the depth of my love for you.

  Val, I’ve searched my whole life for something to do that matters. No one has ever let me even try to do meaningful work. Not my father, not my husband. But you have seen meaning in me, enough to inspire you to change your life. It made me happy because you shone a light on me and showed me that I exist and I’m important—me, Elizabeth. You seemed to be able to take something good from every little thing you’ve seen me do, from praying and serving in the soup kitchen to cutting flowers and hitting a ball. You act like all the things I do hold up the universe for you.

  And why shouldn’t I do this for you, my dear ot
her self—yes, I even give those words back to you!—because I realize what I do benefits you and what you become enlivens me. Can there ever be a more perfect match? When we make love I feel I am home. Your skin has the scent of warmth and inevitability, as though I’ve always known you and have only been marking time waiting for you to arrive, waiting for my life to begin. Now here you are. Here we are.

  My excuse for that terrible day can only be jealousy—stupid, naked jealousy. You have to know it’s my own insecurity, my own doubts about measuring up to such a striking woman. Please don’t think for a moment I ever stopped loving you.

  I’ll close here because I expect you at any moment and I want to put this in the mail. I’m too embarrassed to hand it to you myself. See how silly and timid I still am? But be patient with me, Val, please be patient. I promise I will atone.

  All my love,

  Elizabeth

  Val sat alone, his feet propped up on the desk, reading the letter over and over. He had it at last, the proof Mae demanded. The feeling of victory pumped through his veins and he wanted badly for it to be enough. Because if it were enough, if he could just be satisfied in knowing that he had won, then there would be no reason for him to betray Elizabeth.

  He could keep the letter, and cherish it, and feel blessed. But what did it say about him that he was still thinking about giving the letter to Mae? If he were truly a better man, wouldn’t he dismiss the thought outright? If he weren’t a better man, then the letter only proved Elizabeth a fool for believing in him. It pierced his soul to think this of her. Once again she proved to be so much bigger than he was. How was it she fought so well for him and he couldn’t lift a finger to protect her? Scum, that’s what he was.

  It was getting late. The shadows were growing long over the buildings outside his window. He had to make a decision soon. He didn’t know how, but it might be possible Mae already knew of the letter. She would gain the upper hand if he withheld it from her. Maybe it was better this way, that he finished things with Mae, closed out accounts. He might be in a better position to protect Elizabeth if he played the game to its natural finish. If he did that, he saw no reason why he shouldn’t end up with his love.

  Val stood up and called for Sebastian. He would need to know the latest information on Mae’s whereabouts.

  THAT NIGHT THE rain fell steadily but Val stood beneath the stairs at the brownstone’s ground floor, and was grateful for the cover. He knew it wouldn’t be possible to get a key, even though Sebastian had wanted to try, but Val knew the trouble that would run through the house like a tornado if its owner discovered disloyalty. Besides, he had the smarts to work a lock himself. After a few minutes he gained entry.

  The house was as it had appeared from the outside, shut up and dark. Using a flashlight he found the back stairs and made his way up and along the corridor until he reached a certain door he once knew well.

  He opened it quietly. They were there, the two forms on the bed, just as he’d thought they would be, but they weren’t asleep. He waved the flashlight over them and Mae, quick as ever, turned on a lamp. She wore a long ivory-colored negligee and a matching robe over it. Sam was shirtless but, Val was relieved to see, wearing pants. He thought about what Aunt Rose had said and wondered if Mae really wanted the same thing he had with Elizabeth—a pure, joyful experience of love. If that were the case, and they were fighting essentially for the same thing, then this might turn out to be a battle royal.

  “Oh, here you are!” Val feigned cheerfulness. “Don’t you know how worried I’ve been? The house all shut up, no word for weeks.”

  Mae stared calmly and, Val noticed, didn’t move the arm she held possessively over Sam’s chest. “I told you I was out of town.”

  “Oh, that’s right! Well, maybe I forgot. I’m getting on, you know. My mind isn’t what it used to be. But really I was looking for this guy.” He nodded at Sam. “My talented friend here, Mr. Delany.”

  Sam got up like he’d been shot out of a gun and began putting on his shirt. Val enjoyed the stunned look on Mae’s face.

  “Uh, me, Mr. Jackson?”

  “Val, it’s late.” Her note of warning was unmistakable but Val ignored it.

  “I know, I know. And I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t so important. Sam here would want to know about Cecily.”

  Sam fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

  “Cecily? Is there something wrong with Cecily?”

  “Aw, come on, man, what do you think? She finally gets back after being gone all summer and you know the first thing on her mind is ‘Where is my man?’” He pointed at Sam.

  Sam put a hand to his chest as though he had to remind himself of something. “That’s me.”

  “Of course, you dummy. You’d think the world was gonna end, the girl’s been crying so hard. Almost made herself sick.”

  Sam’s eyes widened into saucers. “Cecily is sick?”

  Val wanted badly to laugh but that could wait. Instead he shrugged. “Naw, she’s fine now. She’ll be even better when she hears from you.”

  “Man, thank you, Mr. Jackson! You’re right, I was so stupid to go away like that.”

  Mae sat up then and Val moved over to Sam and grabbed his hand before he could detect her wrath. Sam shook it vigorously.

  “I better get going. I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Jackson.”

  “It’s all right, man.” Val chucked him on the shoulder. “Come see me tomorrow.”

  Sam started to leave the room, hesitated, and turned. “Uh, Mae, I mean Miss Malveaux—”

  “Oh, don’t worry, Sam.” Val clapped him on the back and guided him to the door. “I’ll look after Miss Malveaux. She and I have a lot to talk about.”

  Val closed the door behind him.

  Mae lowered her chin and frowned. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

  He recognized the look, her bullish one. But he had already decided: there would be no destruction tonight. He waved the letter in front of her face. It was his ticket, his protection—proof of his obedience. He dropped it into her lap. A twinge of doubt, hot and sharp, pierced his stomach. He ignored it.

  “You told me not to waste your time.” He sat on the bed, watched her face as she read, and wondered what would come next. Mae was right about him. He didn’t deal well with curve-balls. She was a master of the unexpected. It would be a matter of staying focused and trying to catch what she threw at him. But giving up the letter freed him. It meant he’d held on to nothing. His hands were empty and waiting for Mae.

  “How very basic,” Mae said at last, folding the letter and handing it back to Val. “She’s not one for creative phrasing, is she?”

  Val smiled. This was a cheap shot at Elizabeth, but one easily fielded. He took the letter and tucked it back into the pocket of his jacket.

  “Oh, I’m willing to bet your piano playboy hasn’t gone beyond the ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am’ stage yet.”

  Her chin rose up, full of defiance.

  “Sam is devoted to me! And he’s much more interesting than you are.”

  Val laughed and shook his head. “Oh, Mae. Are you trying to back out of our deal?” He touched her leg under the sheets. “And here I thought you loved me.”

  Her face softened. Her mouth opened slightly and her fingers gripped the sheet next to her. He thought she looked brittle, even vulnerable.

  “I do love you,” she said.

  His smile faded. Blood rushed to his groin. He held his breath. He didn’t dare move. She seemed to sense this because she rose and positioned herself behind him. She whispered words he hadn’t heard in years.

  “Don’t ever think I don’t want you.”

  He leaned back into her and exhaled.

  “But do you want me?” she asked. “Do you want me in the way we’ve always wanted each other? If I could believe you did, it would be so easy for me to honor our agreement. So easy.”

  She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his chest. She kissed the t
op of his right ear. He forced himself to keep his eyes open. He stared up at the white plaster of the ceiling.

  “You know I do. I always have.”

  Her arms tightened around him.

  “I don’t know. That woman—she’s changed you.”

  “She doesn’t matter. You mean more to me than she does.”

  “Then why are you still with her?”

  “Hey, it’s not like I haven’t tried to dump her. She’s even caught me red-handed with another woman.”

  Mae’s lips touched the curve of his ear. She whispered, “And what happened?”

  “She forgave me. She’s like that—that’s how she loves me. I can do no wrong.”

  Mae pulled herself around to glide to the front of his torso until she sat on his lap and he held her.

  “You should have expected her to be sticky like that. But I can help you.”

  “How?”

  “You’ll have to follow my directions exactly or it won’t work. Promise?”

  He nodded. He didn’t use words because he didn’t want to hear himself agreeing to whatever came next.

  “This is what you do.”

  She kissed him lightly on the brow just above the top of his nose. He closed his eyes.

  “You tell her you’re bored. It’s time to move on. She will be shocked. She’ll want to know why. You will say, ‘I just can’t help myself.’”

  He opened his eyes. Her hands cupped his face but she gazed away from him at a spot in the air just to his left as though she were looking to pull her words out of the void.

  “She will cry. She will ask what she’s done wrong. They always ask that. You will say this is how you are. ‘I just can’t help myself.’ And that would be true, wouldn’t it, Val?” She ran the soft pad of her thumb over his lips. He nodded slowly.

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s what will make it easy. A truth well told is much more effective than a lie.”

  He tucked his head and nuzzled his face into the warm skin of her chest.