The Honey Well

by Gloria Mallette

  Arnell again stood. “Damn it, James! You’re acting like I committed a crime. So what. I didn’t see you last night. Big deal! It was not an act of treason, nor was it a sin against God Almighty. Geez, let it go. Stop haranguing me.”

  James slumped back and crossed his legs. He looked away.

  Arnell felt like an emotional yo-yo—angry, unworthy, remorseful, bitter, then angry again. Now she was back to being remorseful. She knew she had hurt James’s feelings. She went to him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He still wouldn’t look at her.

  “Can we get past this?” she asked. “Last night was my fault. I admit that. I am really sorry.”

  Reluctant to accept her apology, James said nothing. He and Arnell locked eyes. He saw the tears beading up in her eyes. She saw the hurt in his eyes. Dear Lord, please don’t let me lose this man.

  Arnell lowered herself to her knees in front of James. He uncrossed his legs. Arnell eased up between his thighs. She slipped her arms around his waist and lay her head on James’s chest. She closed her eyes and nestled against James as he wrapped his strong arms around her.

  “We’re okay, aren’t we?” James asked.

  James was breaking her heart. She had already broken his, he just hadn’t felt it yet.

  “Arnell, you’d tell me if we weren’t okay, wouldn’t you?”

  The word yes caught in Arnell’s throat. A yes would have perpetuated the lie. In hindsight, she had never been fair to James. She had robbed him of his choices the moment they met. He had a right to decide if he wanted to be in a relationship with a woman like her. He had a right to know who he was really marrying, and he should have known this before either one of them was emotionally invested. Now she dreaded the look of disgust that would surely replace the look of concern, of love, in his eyes. Yet, Arnell saw no other way out. She was going to have to tell. It was the only way to free herself of Esther’s control. As long as she kept the lie going, Esther was going to keep calling her back. The truth had to be told.

  “Arnell, baby—”

  “I love the way you feel,” she said.

  “Mmm,” James said, moving his hands sensually up and down Arnell’s back. “You feel mighty good yourself.”

  Lifting her head, Arnell raised up to touch James’s lips. They kissed deep and long, their passion for each other instantly magnetic. She let James help her up off the floor. She let him take her hand and lead her into her bedroom. While Arnell’s mind wouldn’t let her forget that another man had touched her last night, she told herself that making love to James was far removed from that incident and that bastard of a man. But the truth was, this might be her last chance to make love to James without him looking at her like she was a tramp, because tomorrow at dinner, she was going to tell him the truth in front of Esther. Tomorrow was going to be the start of a new life. The question was, was James going to be a part of it?

  Fifteen

  The late afternoon sun nearly blinded Arnell as she climbed out of James’s car in front of Fiorentino’s Ristorante. She had forgotten her sunglasses, but not her engagement ring—it weighed heavily on her finger as she walked into the restaurant on James’s arm. She felt like she was walking the plank. Following behind the maitre d’ Arnell said a silent prayer—Lord, give me the strength to get through this. Right away she saw that her prayer wasn’t strong enough. Esther was wearing a low-cut, cleavage-revealing pale pink blouse that was far from classy. Tony was sitting back from the table as usual because his rather large belly wouldn’t allow him to get closer. Esther and Tony both were sipping wine.

  “Well, it’s about time,” Esther said. “I gave you two up for lost.”

  The maitre d’ placed two menus on the table and walked away.

  “Mrs. Rayford, good to see you again,” James said.

  “Yes, James, it’s good to finally see you again.”

  Tony stood—all five foot ten, two hundred and thirty-five pounds of him. He opened his arms and Arnell stepped into his familiar embrace. She kissed him on the cheek. He kissed her back—on both cheeks.

  “How’s my girl?” Tony asked.

  “I’m fine.” Arnell stepped out of his arms. “Tony DiAngelo, this is my fiancé, James Stanton, whom you would have met six months ago if you had made it to my engagement party.”

  “Arnell, il mio amore—my love—you know I would have made it if I could have. My business stranded me in Italy longer than I expected.”

  “Le scuse—excuses,” Arnell teased, knowing that the truth was that Tony’s wife had gone to Italy with him and made him stay with her family longer than he wanted to.

  “Arnell,” James said, “did you just speak Italian?”

  “Of course she did,” Tony answered for Arnell. “Arnell speaks fluent Italian.”

  “Really? I didn’t know.” James looked questioningly at Arnell.

  “It’s no big deal,” Arnell said, realizing she had never told James she spoke Italian. It was a subject that had never worked its way into their conversations.

  Esther smiled a secret little smile to herself.

  “Sure it is,” Tony said. “To speak Italian well when you’re not Italian, è una cosa grande—is a big thing. I’m very proud of Arnell. I taught her well.”

  “Yes, you did,” Arnell agreed. “The language courses alone would not have been as authentic, but moving on, James Stanton, Tony DiAngelo.”

  Tony extended his hand. “Glad to finally meet the man that won Arnell’s heart.”

  James took Tony’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, sir. Arnell speaks very fondly of you.”

  Arnell sat in the chair she had been standing behind, which happened to be next to Esther. “Mother.”

  “Hi, sweetie. You okay?”

  Arnell gave Esther a What do you think? look.

  “Why didn’t you return my calls?” Esther asked in a low voice.

  “Need you ask?” She cut her eyes away from Esther and looked at James. Tony was still holding onto James’s hand.

  “I love Arnell like she’s my own. James, I trust that you’ll take good care of her.”

  Arnell could see James sucking in his breath. Tony was crushing James’s fingers into each other. While Esther smiled, Arnell shook her head. Tony was such a bully. She had known he was going to do this even before he did it. He had done it with the only other man—Calvin—she had introduced him to. She hadn’t warned James because the truth was, she got a sick little kick out of Tony’s obvious challenge of strength and character in a man. Being Italian, Tony said it was a tradition in his family that every man brought into his family be challenged by the man of the household to see if he had le palle—balls. If a man made a noise or commented about the vise-like grip that assaulted him, then he was un ragazzo di pasta—a dough boy. If he kept his mouth shut and challenged back, then he was a man worthy of the woman he courted. Some time ago, Calvin, Arnell’s date, had grimaced and made a grunting sound. He did not challenge Tony; perhaps because the assault was so sudden, there was no time to fight back before his poor hand was crushed. Even if Calvin had been able to present some sort of attempt at a challenge, he probably would not have won. Tony was sixty-four years old, but in his day, for twenty years, he had been a national arm wrestling champ. His grip and his arms were still powerful.

  At first alarmed, James had indeed sucked in his breath, but he quickly tightened his grip on Tony’s hand and squeezed back. He set his jaw and locked eyes with Tony, who was shorter by four inches and outweighed James by at least fifty pounds, but James’s strength was more than equal. He hadn’t been pumping iron three days a week for the last five years for nothing. He and Tony both clamped their teeth behind lips that smiled falsely.

  “Okay, boys,” Esther said. “It’s a draw. Can we get this dinner started?”

  Until Tony let up, James wouldn’t.

  “Tony, you’re upsetting me.” Esther sipped on her wine.

  Letting up, Tony cracked a smil
e. “Buon uomo—good man.” He gave James a hearty slap on the back. “Arnell, I like your young man. Ha cuore—he has heart. Ha delle palle forti—he has strong balls.”

  James looked puzzled.

  “He says that you’re a good man and that you have heart,” Arnell translated with discretion, although it mattered not to her whether Tony liked James or vice versa. It was too late.

  Smiling, Tony winked at Arnell.

  “Thank you,” James said.

  Tony sat. “James, you’re marrying a princess.”

  “That, I know,” James said smoothly as he eased his sore hand under the table and began to slowly flex it to get the blood flowing and to stretch out the pain in his bones.

  “Now that we all love each other,” Esther said, “can we please get the waiter over here before I faint? It’s been hours since I ate anything.”

  Arnell picked up her menu. “If you were so hungry, Mother, you should have asked for the bread basket.”

  “I could have, but it’s not very good manners to eat before all the dinner guests are seated. I thought I taught you that. Where is that waiter?”

  Arnell dropped her menu back onto the table. She looked at James. He didn’t seem to be fazed. He knew how contentious Esther was, she had told him so. She had also told him that their relationship was not the typical mother/daughter relationship, that they had their problems and, specifically, that Esther could be a bitch. But it didn’t make Arnell feel any better that James was seeing Esther in action.

  “Esther, be an angel,” Tony said. “Let’s just have a nice evening. You wouldn’t want Arnell’s young man to get the wrong impression, would you?”

  “James, am I offending you?”

  “Not at all.”

  “See, Tony, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Esther—”

  “Tony, don’t waste your breath,” Arnell said, annoyed. “We both know what she’s doing.”

  “What am I doing?” Esther asked, feigning ignorance. “James, they’re ganging up on me when . . .”

  Arnell sighed impatiently.

  “. . . they know I hate to be kept waiting. Especially when I’m hungry.” Esther lay her hand gently on Arnell’s shoulder. “I’m sorry if I’m embarrassing you, sweetie.”

  Arnell leaned into Esther. She lowered her voice. “Stop it.”

  “What?” Esther asked, this time feigning innocence.

  Arnell wanted to scream, Stop acting like you have to have all of the attention.

  James could see that Arnell was upset, but he found the banter between her and Esther amusing. He wanted to laugh but stifled the urge. He cleared his throat.

  “Sweetie, you have no sense of humor. I was teasing you. You are always so serious. Isn’t she, Tony?”

  “Esther, you know that Arnell has always been a very serious young lady. I can remember when she was in her early twenties and she got her first car.”

  Esther smiled. “Now, that was a scream.”

  “Tony, please,” Arnell said, “do not tell that story.”

  Tony rubbed his fingertips with his thumb. “Il mio silenzio non viene economico—my silence doesn’t come cheap.”

  Arnell smiled in spite of herself. Tony had a way of making her smile. That was his special talent from the moment he became Esther’s special friend. Tony came into their life three months after Esther opened the mansion for business. That was twelve years ago. After meeting Esther, Tony didn’t want the young girls she offered him. Thankfully, he didn’t even want Esther’s daughter. It was Esther that turned Tony on. At the time, Esther was fifty years old, had a body that rivaled any young woman, and when she worked her magic, Tony was a goner. Their first night together was a marathon of sex and God knew what else. Tony ended up spending the night, which was against Esther’s own rules. Tony paid well that night and would pay well this night. Except now, neither he nor Esther viewed the money as payment, but a gift. Either way, money was never an issue for Tony—he owned a very profitable floor and wall tile business. Contractors and homeowners came from all over the tristate area to buy from him. No, Tony wasn’t hurting for cash. He was able to take care of Esther just as well as he took care of his wife and his five grandchildren. His three children were all in their forties. His eldest son was his partner.

  “I’d like to hear about Arnell getting her first car,” James said. “Especially if it’s funny.”

  “Good, because Arnell was a hoot.”

  “Traitor,” Arnell said to James.

  “Tell it, Tony,” Esther encouraged.

  “James, I took Arnell to pick out her new car. See, I have a friend who has a Honda dealership so I knew we could get a good deal. Well, Arnell picks out this silver Camry. Hot little number. My friend tells Arnell that she should take the car for a test drive. Now, I noticed that Arnell was a little nervous. I didn’t think much of it. It was her first car. I figured she was a little excited, you know, a little nervous. She only just got her driver’s license a few months before.”

  Arnell dropped her head forward. She realized she would never ever live down that day.

  Esther prompted, “Get to the good part, Tony.”

  “Okay . . . okay. James, you gotta picture this,” Tony said, beginning to talk with his hands. “Arnell is driving. She’s nervous. She’s gripping the steering wheel with both hands so tight, her knuckles are sticking out. You ever see a little old man or a little old woman behind the wheel of a big car?”

  Smiling broadly, James had been listening intently. “Yeah, they drive hunched over the steering wheel.”

  “Exactly. They have this stern look on their faces yet they look like they’re about to kiss the wheel.”

  “Thanks a lot, Tony,” Arnell said. “It was the first time I had ever driven in rush hour traffic.”

  “Rush hour? Arnell, it was two in the afternoon.”

  James laughed.

  “Go on, Tony, finish the story,” Esther prompted again.

  “Well, we’re driving, real slow mind you, down Fourth Avenue in Bay Ridge. Real slow. Other drivers were blowing their horns at Arnell to get out of their way. I’m trying to get Arnell to put her foot in the floor and she finally gets the car up to about thirty, when a couple of cop cars come roaring up our ass. Arnell panics. She speeds up. I tell her to pull over. She screams, ‘I can’t! I can’t!’ Everyone is pulling over, except for Arnell. She’s about to cause an accident. A cop car is on her ass, pushing her. She’s screaming, the cop car is screaming, hell, I’m screaming. I think my ass is about to be split in two.”

  Tony starts laughing. Esther is chuckling. James is cracking up.

  Although she is embarrassed, Arnell is snickering softly behind her hand.

  Catching his breath, Tony continues. “This cop shouts at Arnell on his PA system. ‘Pull over! Pull over, now!’ Arnell really starts screaming then. She jams her foot into the brake. The car fishtails before it screeches to a halt, narrowly missing about ten other cars.”

  “Tony, stop lying. It was not ten cars.”

  “You’re right—it was nine.” Tony howled.

  Esther and James both laughed.

  “I know who my friends are not,” Arnell said, trying to not laugh herself, but failing. She went with it. It felt good to be laughing.

  Again, Tony had to catch his breath. “Get this, James. The cops were on their way to an emergency. The second car forgets about the emergency and screeches to a halt next to us. These two cops, mad as hell, jump out of their car with their guns drawn, shouting at Arnell, and me, to get out of the car. One is pulling on Arnell’s door, which is locked. Arnell is . . .”

  “Still screaming,” Esther said, laughing. Tears were streaming down her face.

  “. . . still screaming.” Tony wiped at his own eyes. “When I release the lock so that the cop could open the door, Arnell screams, ‘I didn’t steal this car! I’m not in the mob! He is!’ ”

  Esther doubled over with laughter.
Tony laughed so hard he began coughing.

  Remembering the whole fiasco, Arnell laughed pretty hard herself. At the time she couldn’t laugh, she had been scared out of her mind. The police made her and Tony raise their arms above their heads and stand spread-eagle. They were patted down and questioned right out there on Fourth Avenue in broad daylight. It was truly an embarrassing situation.

  “Oh, no she didn’t,” James said, laughing. “Don’t tell me she thought the cops were after her because you were Italian.”

  Nodding, Tony kept coughing and laughing. He tried to drink some water.

  “Arnell thought Tony’s friend was a mob connection,” Esther explained.

  “Hey,” Arnell said, “I was young. I didn’t know. I had just seen The Godfather.”

  “Yeah, that Italian classic,” James quipped.

  “We’re all in the mob, right?” Tony chuckled. “Arnell thought the cops were on to us. It took me damn near twenty minutes to explain that Arnell was a new driver and that she was out test driving her new car.”

  “Did they give her a summons or threaten to pull her in for failure to yield?” James asked.

  Tony waved his hand. “Naw. They were my fratelli.”

  “Brothers,” Arnell translated for James before he asked.

  “Oh, shit,” James said, laughing.

  “Hey, we look out for each other.”

  “Yeah, that Italian thing,” Arnell said, feeling somewhat vindicated. “That’s why I panicked. I don’t look Italian.”

  “No, Arnell,” Tony said, disagreeing. “You panicked because those cops had you driving like a bat out of hell and you thought that car was going to take flight and leave earth. I think you aged ten years in two minutes that day. I don’t think you drove that car for a month after that.”

  “Two months,” Esther corrected, smiling at Arnell.

  “Even then it took a while before I could hear a siren without my heart pounding. But, hey, at least we get a good laugh out of it every now and then.” And indeed, to Arnell, it felt good to laugh again.

  Sixteen

  Tony and James were still laughing when the waiter appeared.