A Kiss of a Different Color

by Bettye Griffin

“But wasn’t that in the Thirties?” Miranda found this revelation astounding.

  “Yes, and that’s why they had to keep their affair a secret. At that time it wasn’t accepted for a black man and a white woman to be a couple. That didn’t mean there was no interracial dating going on, of course. Paul Robeson dated white women before that, and Billy Eckstine did afterward, but always under wraps, until Sammy Davis, Jr., did it openly.” Birgitta sighed. “I was too young to understand why Uncle Woody couldn’t take me to the corner store for ice cream like my mother’s other men friends had.”

  “I guess we’ve come a long way.” Miranda thought of the times she had encountered racism in Bismarck: that time at the stop sign with the male passenger, the time in line as they waited to get into the Wizards game, even the ball player’s racist assumption that he had a right to her affections simply because he was black and Jon wasn’t.

  “It came too late for my mother and Uncle Woody,” Birgitta said sadly. “It broke her heart when he ended it, but he’d fallen in love with someone else.”

  “A black woman.”

  “No, but she wasn’t white, either. I think Mor said she was Polynesian. They got married, and apparently it upset a lot of movie people, and possibly hurt his career.”

  “Did the marriage last?”

  “Until the day his wife died. Mor took the break up hard, and that was one reason she decided to go back to Minnesota. Well, that and the war, which left the future of movie musicals in doubt.”

  “Interesting,” Miranda remarked.

  “You and Jon are also an interracial couple, Miranda, but you don’t have those types of restrictions on you. I hope the two of you will follow your own hearts. My mother followed her destiny, but she would have had a much happier life had she been able to marry the man she loved.”

  Miranda took a long sip from her lemonade and put the glass down on a marble-topped end table. She knew she had to hear what Jon had to say, and hear it soon. With a smile, she said, “Yes, Mrs. Lund, I agree with you completely. I’m going to go now. Would you tell Jon that I was here, and that I hope we can talk soon?”

  Birgitta beamed. “I’d like nothing better.” She reached for Miranda’s hand and gave it a surprisingly powerful squeeze.

  In that moment Miranda realized that Jon’s grandmother was about as fragile as an iron butterfly.

  Nina looked up with surprise from the book she was reading. “Are you leaving so soon, Miranda?”

  “Yes. Your mother had a clear message for me, and it didn’t take long for the delivery.”

  “I’m so glad you came over. We’re all hoping that you and Jon will work out your difficulties.”

  Miranda found it more than a little embarrassing that Jon’s entire family knew about their estrangement. “We’ll see,” she replied, sounding as noncommittal as she could. “Don’t get up. I can see myself out.”

  “All right. Hope to see you again soon, Miranda.”

  “How long will you be in town?”

  “Until Sunday.”

  The day after the dance competition, Miranda noted. She waved at Nina before going out the front door…just in time to see Jon’s Equinox pull into the driveway.

  Chapter 30

  Miranda’s feet suddenly stopped working, as if she had just stepped in wet, quick-hardening cement. All she could do was look at the headlights of Jon’s truck.

  After what seemed like infinity to her, the door to the passenger side opened and a tall, broadly built sixtyish black man emerged. “Hello,” he said cordially as he approached, his right hand extended. “I’m Cliff Washington. I’m…a friend of Nina’s.”

  “Miranda Rhett. I’m a friend of Jon’s,” she said, almost absently. She barely looked at Cliff; her eyes were glued to the driver’s door. It wasn’t so dark outside yet that she couldn’t see him sitting there, looking at her.

  Cliff gave a knowing chuckle. “I guess I’ll see you inside.”

  “Oh. Oh, yes. Nice meeting you, uh…” with embarrassment, she realized she didn’t remember his name. He didn’t seem upset; he simply went to the front door and rang the bell.

  The driver door opened and Jon stepped out, one leg at a time. His hair and white t-shirt were both damp with perspiration, and he also wore navy-and-white basketball shorts, socks and white gym shoes.

  Sweaty or not, it was all she could do not to throw herself into his arms, but she waited for him to make the first move.

  He ambled over slowly. “Hi,” he said when he stood about two feet away.

  Miranda stood with her hands in front of her, awkwardly clasping the straps of her purse. “Hi. I was, uh, visiting with your grandmother. She called me at work and asked me to come.”

  Jon nodded. “I should have known. That explains why she had to make this sudden pilgrimage to Bismarck four days after being discharged from the hospital.” He looked at her wistfully. “I thought you might have come because you wanted to see me.”

  Her fingers tightened around her purse straps. “No, but…but we can talk, if you’d like.”

  “I missed you,” he whispered.

  A wave of hurt swept over her, and she struggled to keep her voice even, with only partial success. “Then why did you toss me to the wolves the way you did?”

  “It wasn’t like that. Miranda. I was just looking at the logistics. Jeff told me I could discuss it with you and get back to him, but sitting there in his office, I realized right away that it made sense. I make more money than you do. I have a house and can invite anyone I want to stay here. You, on the other hand, have privileges at Chelsea’s and can’t even have male company after ten o’clock. Any way you look at it, I’m in a better position to take care of you than you are to take care of me, but I can’t do that without my salary.”

  She blinked. “Jon…you were…you were actually going to take care of me if I lost my job?”

  “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “Frankly, yes.”

  He made a sheepish nod. “I guess I had that coming. You know all about me, Legs, about the change in women with each season, how I hook up, have some fun, and then c’est la vie without a backward glance. What you don’t know is that I’ve changed. You made me want to change, by showing me the difference the right woman makes.” He shook his head. “It’s been a blue world without you, Legs. What do I have to do to get you back?”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me your plan, Jon?”

  “Because I know how independent you are. You told me you insisted on keeping your own place, even after your parents asked you to come back home. And I didn’t know how you’d feel about living with me.”

  Miranda thought about all her heartache of the last week. “I wish you’d told me.”

  “I’m sorry. I’d planned to. Then Mormor got sick…it never occurred to me that Jeff Johansson would spill the beans while I was away. He knew I made the decision right there in his office, but I know he presumed I’d discussed it with you by the time he called you in.” He took a step and closed the distance between them. “Of course I wanted to take care of you. You might not believe this, Miranda, but the truth is that I’m in love with you.” He held out his hand to her, she reached out to meet it, and the next thing she knew she was in his arms, squeezing him as tightly as she could while he did the same to her.

  Her voice came out muffled against his chest. “Oh, Jon. I never thought I’d hear you say those words to me. I was afraid to hope…I think I’ve been a little bit in love with you from the very beginning, that first night at Hot to Trot.”

  He pressed his lips against the hollow behind her ear. “And now that you’ve dipped your big toe in the River of Jon?”

  She giggled. “You have all of me…my head, my toes…my heart. I didn’t tell you because…well, nobody wants to be in love all by themselves.” She stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck, melting into him as they kissed, slowly and deeply. As he reveled in the feel of her warm body, Jon recalled her telling him
that she had more to lose than just her job.

  He’d been so blind. But damned if he’d ever let that happen again.

  “Legs?”

  “Hmm?”

  “As much as I’m going to love making up with you, let’s try to avoid these lapses in communication in the future. I don’t like the odds.”

  “That’s up to you, isn’t it? I mean, you’re the one who didn’t tell me your idea and put me through all this heartache.” She blew out a breath. “Just thinking about it makes me mad all over again.”

  “Oh, come on, baby, don’t be that way,” he said in his most persuasive manner.

  “No, I won’t. Open communication, I promise.” With her lips puckered, Miranda breathed in deeply as she squeezed his waist, then exhaled. “Oh, have I missed you. And as glad as I am that your family are visiting, I wish they weren’t here. I want to be alone with you, and there’s nothing I can do about it, other than go home and take a cold shower.”

  “To hell with that.” Jon bent his knees and hoisted her over his shoulder, caveman-style, then headed for his truck.

  She squealed. “Where are we going?” she asked once she caught her breath.

  “To your place. As you pointed out, mine is a little crowded at the moment.”

  “But I’d be breaking the terms of my lease—”

  “To hell with your lease.” He opened the passenger door and deposited her on the seat. “If Chelsea raises a stink, you’ll just move in with me.” He bent and planted another hungry kiss on her mouth before slamming the door shut and running around to the driver’s side.

  “Jon? Don’t you think you should tell your family where you’re going?”

  “Believe me, they’ll figure it out.”

  Jon managed to drive to Miranda’s without getting stopped for speeding. They both jumped out of the truck, and Miranda fumbled for her keys. Voices came from the kitchen in the rear of the house, and she wasn’t surprised when both Chelsea and her boyfriend, Ryan, came out to make sure she was the one who just come in.

  Miranda felt a little embarrassed by Chelsea’s wide grin. Miranda had shared with her friend that she and Jon were on the outs, but declined to give any details, saying only that she didn’t want to talk about it. Naturally, Chelsea was thrilled to see him with her.

  “Hi,” Miranda said, her eyes making a silent plea to Chelsea to act normally.

  She came through. “Hi, there. Good to see you, Jon. How’ve you been?”

  “I’m good, thanks, Chelsea. But we all have to talk another time. If you’ll excuse us, Miranda and I have some serious making up to do.” Once more he hoisted her over his shoulder, caveman-style. He sailed past Chelsea and Ryan to the door that lead downstairs. Miranda raised her head to see poor Ryan taking a few steps backward and lowering the hand he’d outstretched to greet Jon.

  Jon opened the door, then turned to face Chelsea. “Oh, and by the way,” he said “I know this generally isn’t allowed, but I’ll be spending the night here. Just wanted to give you a heads up. Good night!” he called cheerily as he descended the stairs.

  Water from the shower sprayed over Jon and Miranda as they kissed. They’d already lathered each other’s bodies thoroughly and were ready to move to the next stage, a flat, dry bed, but couldn’t seem to bring themselves to leave the shower, despite the tight space, since it had only been designed to hold one person. Finally Jon reached out and turned off the water, then lifted her off the floor by her hips and stepped out of the shower, both of them dripping wet from head to toe.

  With her feet dangling uncomfortably several inches off the floor, Miranda raised them and wrapped them securely around Jon’s waist. She managed to snatch the towels she had laid over the sink before they got into the shower and ran one over her saturated hair. She squealed when Jon dropped her onto the mattress, protesting, “We’re going to soak the sheets. We might not notice it now, but it’ll be uncomfortable for sleeping.”

  Jon perfect masculine form loomed over her. “Who says we’re going to get any sleep?” he said before his lips covered hers.

  Miranda wrapped her arms around his neck. He skillfully rolled over, bringing her with him, until they were in the center of the queen-size mattress with her lying atop him. His strong hands pressed into her back, holding her as if he never intended to let her go. His erection poked into her belly, and she reached down to stroke it. Jon groaned in pleasure, whispering for her to continue. “I was starting to worry that you’d never touch me like that again,” he said between gasps. “Sometimes never can be a frightening word.” He reached out and touched his fingertips to her jaw. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t gotten you back.”

  “But you have gotten me back, Jon. And now you’ll play hell trying to get rid of me.”

  He moved his hands to her shoulders and pulled her upper body down to his. Their faces only inches apart, he said, “Fat chance of that happening. I never knew it could be like this with anyone. I love you, Miranda. I swear to God I do.” He lifted some strands of long, wet hair that had fallen forward and brushed them back.

  Miranda was so overcome with emotion that she couldn’t speak. She stopped stroking him and simply stared at his earnest face, her heart bursting with happiness. “Jon,” she managed to whisper.

  He applied more pressure to her upper back, and she lowered her lips to his. Their tongues mingled in a mating dance, and although he had not applied a condom, Miranda made no protest when he lifted her hips, positioned his penis, and lowered her on to it. She straightened her back to feel the full brunt of his masculinity inside her, her head thrown back, her wet hair streaming down her back. Residual water from the shower bounced off her body as she rode him, and he reached up with both hands to cup her breasts. She looked down at his pale hands on her dark body and saw not just a stark contrast in pigmentation, but the hands of the man she loved touching her body in the intimate way that only he could do.

  She closed her eyes and rhythmically raised and lowered her hips, gladly taking all he had to give her. A wonderful tingling sensation spread throughout her body in waves with every thrust, and each one felt deeper. She whimpered in pure delight, creating a primal song in conjunction with his moans and whispers. Her muscles clenched his penis, and when his hands gripped her hips and held her steady as he began pushing into her with the driving force of a machine gun Miranda knew she could not last. She shouted her pleasure as her body began to soar in a way it never had before. She fell onto him, weeping with joy, as his own body was spasming. They clutched each other tightly, and he repeated her name—her real name—over and over.

  They laid together until the last wave of their respective climaxes passed. Jon raised a hand to stroke her hair. “Open communication,” he muttered. “I’ll never take a chance on letting you slip away again. I promise you that.”

  “I can make you a promise, too. From now on I’ll always give you the benefit of the doubt.”

  He squeezed her tightly. “You’re going to have to see about some type of birth control. I just did something a little dangerous. But I think I only have one condom in my wallet.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

  “If it isn’t, I guess I’ll have to make an honest woman of you.”

  Miranda blinked. Did Jon just say he would marry her? Jon, who didn’t believe in marriage? She decided to change the subject and address something she’d been curious about. “Hey, your mother’s boyfriend is black.”

  “Uh…yeah, I did notice that.”

  “I was just kind of surprised, that’s all. Um…your grandmother showed me the actor her mother was in love with.”

  “It just wasn’t their time. I’m grateful you and I don’t have that problem. But I want you to know, Legs, that in my family we look at the person as a whole. We don’t just look at someone and see only black, white, or Asian. And if they’re all right with us, we can become friends…or lovers. No one in my family has ever objected to anyone simply on
the grounds of race.”

  She nodded. “I see that now.”

  With a firm hand supporting her back, Jon gently shifted to his side, putting Miranda on her side as well. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ve got to use the john.”

  The wet linens chilled Miranda’s damp body. She rolled over, trying to find a dry area, without success. As he emerged from the bathroom she said, “This is what we get for using the sheets as towels. Just as I feared. They’re soaked.”

  John pulled her into an embrace. “You’re really sharp tonight, Legs,” he teased. “You noticed my mother’s boyfriend is black…you noticed the sheets are wet. There’s no pulling the wool over your eyes tonight.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, pull this over your eyes.” She gathered her thick towel-dried hair and playfully shoved it in his face.