Yes, I Do

by Gwynne Forster

  “Grady Jackson,” they replied in unison.

  He sat down. Could there be two men with that name who looked almost enough like him to be his twin? He thanked the women, opened his checkbook and began to write.

  “No, don’t give us any money,” Jessie said. “Our expenses were paid, and that’s enough. I know how I’d feel if I couldn’t find my sister. Here’s his address.” He read, Grady Jackson, Chemist, 37 Rond Point, Ashville, North Carolina. Could it be that he’d looked all over the country, and Grady had never left North Carolina?

  Nearly crippled with anxiety and his shirt wet with perspiration in spite of the frigid January weather, August decided to check into the hotel room that his P.I. had reserved for him. He wasn’t sure he could find the strength to do anything else. He fell across the bed, couldn’t stay there, got up and went to the window. He needed Susan. He honestly believed it was the first time he’d ever needed her right down to the recesses of his soul. He called her.

  “Any luck?” she asked him. He heard the fear in her voice.

  “It’s the best lead I’ve ever had. I don’t know what I’ll do if it fizzles out.”

  “Are you okay?” That hesitant speech, the attempt to hide the tremors in her voice. She was there for him. He hadn’t known how much solace it would give him to have that assurance. And he needed it.

  “Yeah. I’m handling it,” he lied.

  “I’ll come down there, if you want me to.”

  The temptation to say yes, to scream it, was powerful, and he almost said it. But impulsiveness was foreign to him, and the consequences of her being in his hotel room flashed through his mind. He couldn’t put her in a separate room, not even an adjoining one, and if she stayed with him, he’d make love to her all night long.

  “I’ll never forget your offer, Susan. I appreciate it more than you could know, but I’ll be back tomorrow morning. We can be together in the evening.”

  “I thought you might need me.” Her voice betrayed a feeling of rejection, but he knew himself and knew the awesome strength of his desire for her. And he knew, too, that if they made love for the first time under those conditions, he’d be out of control. He’d destroy the feelings that he had nurtured in her with such care. And he’d ruin her trust in him.

  “I need you, Susan. God knows I do. And that’s the problem. Our relationship is still fragile, and I don’t think it can withstand what I’d put you through tonight if you came down here.”

  “I…I thought I should be with you if you’re having a hard time. I’m a big girl, August.”

  He couldn’t help laughing. “I know that, honey. But I think we’d better do it my way. Okay?”

  They finished the conversation, and he hung up. If I wouldn’t take her to bed when she practically asked me to, he told himself, I’d be less than a man if I used her to ease my personal torment.

  “Stop beating a dead horse,” Susan snapped at Oscar Hicks just after the Monday morning senior staff meeting got under way. She sat one place down from the head of the conference table as the firm’s protocol demanded, and Hicks sat one place farther down across from her. His antipathy toward her was common knowledge among their peers, and he scowled furiously at her stern reprimand.

  “Our client is wrong,” she continued, “and if you hold out longer, he’ll lose it all. Settle out of court.”

  “My, aren’t we testy this morning,” he sneered. Two senior partners agreed with her, ending what could have been an unpleasant session. He cornered her in the hallway as she walked toward her office.

  “You think everything’s going your way, don’t you? A smart person wouldn’t make an enemy of me, Ms. Andrews.”

  She didn’t break her stride. “I told you when the two of us discussed it that you would lose that case if you persisted in going for a killing, but you didn’t take my advice,” she explained patiently. “And you won’t take it now. But if that case goes to court, you won’t win. There isn’t a judge anywhere who can’t see that your client is lying, that his documents are not authentic, and that it’s a trumped-up charge. For your own reputation, you should settle now. You and the firm will get something, as well as our client. But if you go to court, we’ll end up paying the cost of court and probably getting sued.” She wasn’t surprised that her gentle tone failed to placate him, because he seemed to thrive on conflict.

  “You know it all, don’t you? This is my biggest case, and you’re telling me to turn tail and run. You couldn’t be jealous?”

  She slowed her steps. “Oscar, suit yourself. As for me being jealous of you, let’s just admit that your imagination has gone berserk.” She didn’t look at him, because she knew he’d appear crushed; Oscar thought himself wise, imaginative, and dashing. Poor misguided man. She didn’t have the time nor the inclination to polish his ego; she had problems of her own.

  She went into her office and closed the door. It hadn’t been necessary for her to go after Oscar as she’d done in the staff meeting. His performance lacked competence, but she could have put it in a memo. She resisted dropping her head in her hands and giving in to her feelings. She knew that August had been tormented last night, but he’d nevertheless refused her offer to be with him and, while she didn’t claim to understand men, his refusal hadn’t made sense. She couldn’t force herself to work, a new experience, so she called her aunt.

  “I knew it was you when the phone rang,” Grace said. I’m not going to cry, Susan lectured herself. Instead, she went on the attack.

  “Aunt Grace, this whole thing with August is ridiculous. What do I know about him? How do I know he isn’t seeing someone down there in Washington?”

  “Well, at least he’s put a fire under you. If you’re worried about that, you care about him.”

  “Of course I c…I don’t give a snap what he does. Oh, Aunt Grace, I do. I do. I really care for… Oh, what am I saying?”

  “That’s your heart speaking, girl. You better listen to it.”

  “I’m hanging up.”

  “Now. Now. I can pick you up at about five, if that isn’t too late, and we can get a little something to eat. Might make you feel better. Did August tell you why he went to D.C.?”

  “His brother.”

  “That’s been a long hard trial for both of them. They’re looking for each other.”

  “I’m ashamed of myself.” And she was, she told herself.

  “No need for that. You’re human, you care for him, and you’re not sure of him though I don’t know why not. This should have happened to you when you were a teenager. But no, when other youngsters were learning the opposite sex, you decided the most important thing in life was cybernetics. I think that’s what you called it. Where’d it get you?”

  “Aunt Grace, I don’t need this lecture. See you at five.” I’m going to get some work done if it kills me, she told herself after hanging up, but within seconds, her secretary buzzed her.

  “Mr. Jackson on line two.”

  “August, where are you?” Her breath seemed trapped in her throat. Had he found Grady?

  “I’m at LaGuardia airport. I’m still looking, but I have hope now. I want to see you tonight. How about seven-thirty at your place?”

  She breathed at last.

  “I’ll be there,” was as much as she could manage. She hung up, phoned Grace and canceled their date. Might as well clear her desk; nothing related to that office was likely to push August from her thoughts. She couldn’t help wondering how she had become so strongly attached to him this quickly. Admittedly, with his mesmerizing brown eyes, high cheek bones, smooth dark cleanly shaven skin, pouting bottom lip, and tantalizing smile, he was better looking than a man had any right to be. But her world had a plethora of handsome men. August was more, she mused. Far more. Strong. Oh, yes. She was learning that he had enormous strength, and it had taken her a while to realize that his gentleness and tenderness with her was just that: strength, not weakness. When August had her in his arms, everything else could go skate; he
made her feel as though her world and everything in it was perfect. She locked her desk, shaking her head at her new self-knowledge, snapped her briefcase closed and gazed across Upper New York Bay at the Statue of Liberty, wishing she could see that far into her future.

  Susan tried to calm herself and to appear casual, her normally decorous self, when she opened the door for August that evening. She looked her best and knew it, and she wanted to behave as if his staying in Washington overnight and refusing her company hadn’t bothered her. She steeled herself against his charisma and looked into his eyes but, even as she did so, she knew he could see her joy at being with him. Without a word, he stepped into the foyer and took her to him. Tiny sensations of prickling heat raced all through her body when his lips claimed her, and she let him cherish her. Her heart hammered in her chest like a runaway train as his knowing fingers roamed over her arms, shoulders, and back and his talented tongue found its home inside her mouth. If she could only get on him, under him, inside of him…if she could just drown in him. She felt his arousal and lost all reason. In wild abandonment, her body took control, and she sucked on his tongue, telegraphing to him the power of the need he’d provoked in her.

  “Whoa, honey,” he said at last, gasping for breath. She must have looked bewildered, because he didn’t release her but shifted her to his side and held her there. “Honey, when you get started, you really move, don’t you? Anything to eat?” She gulped. Maybe he could shift gears with the speed of sound, but she was still in that other world he was so good at creating.

  “Uh…yeah. I ordered us a catered dinner for eight o’clock. Okay?”

  “Sweetheart, can’t you cook a bit?”

  “If I have to—after all, chemistry was one of my best subjects in high school and college.”

  August closed one eye, raised the eyebrow of the other one and shook his head. “I thought we were talking about cooking.”

  “We are. Cooking is just a matter of blending flavors and substances, and chemistry is pretty much the same. You mix stuff and hope it doesn’t blow up in your face.”

  August’s stare would have been worthy of someone witnessing a supernatural phenomenon. “If you’re serious, honey, I guess I’d better do our cooking.”

  Susan couldn’t suppress a broad grin. She hadn’t lied to any great extent: ordinarily, the average human could turn out a better meal than she, but the five menus that she’d mastered would please the most discriminating person.

  “In that case, fair is fair,” she deadpanned, “I’ll make coffee every morning.” His rippling laughter warmed her from her head to her toes. She led him toward the kitchen where she’d stored a pitcher of Oklahoma High in the refrigerator. She reached toward the refrigerator door, her lips still tingling from his kiss, withdrew her hand and looked at him. She hadn’t meant to issue an invitation, but her eyes must have communicated to him her churning need and the sweet communion for which she longed. In a second, she was in his arms, caught up in wild passion. Frissons of heat darted through her, and every molecule of her body screamed to have him within her. The flesh of her arms and shoulders burned from the loving touch of his hands, and her body was his to manipulate. Flaccid. Submissive. She parted her lips for his kiss and took what he gave. Hard, possessive loving. She couldn’t help shivering in frustration when, as suddenly as he’d set her afire, he released her.

  “You’ve got to stop doing that to me, August,” she said, when she could get her breath.

  “What?” It pleased her that he, too, seemed to struggle with his emotions.

  “You know what I mean. Isn’t there anything intermediate between your mind-blowing kisses and no kiss at all?” Oh, oh, here we go, she thought, as he started to smile.

  “Honey, I don’t believe in doing a thing halfway. Nothing. And that includes… Well, you’ll see. Hmm. This is good. What is it?” he asked, savoring the cold drink.

  “Peach juice and carbonated Mateus Rosé. Aunt Grace concocted it. She calls it Oklahoma High. Don’t ask me why.” Her eyebrow arched sharply, but after thinking for a moment, she decided not to comment on his sudden shift in demeanor; he did it often, and she’d have to get accustomed to it.

  She answered the door, paid the caterer, and served the food.

  “Did you miss me?” he asked in a voice that she thought rather subdued.

  “You were only gone overnight.”

  “I know, but that was long enough to miss me.”

  “I had things on my mind,” she hedged.

  August folded his napkin, dabbed at his mouth and grinned.

  “Liar. Those kisses were worth a thousand words.” His tone softened, and the dark sonority of his voice caressed her. “I missed you, and I’m counting the hours until I don’t have to leave you.”

  “You don’t—”

  “Of course, I do,” he interrupted. “Once we agree to something, we don’t reopen it.”

  “Not even when the agreement involved duress? You did pressure me, you know that.”

  “No comment,” August said, refusing to be drawn into it. “Did you put in for leave so we can go on our honeymoon? How much time did you ask for?”

  “How much…” She didn’t try to hide her shock. “Honeymoon? I thought… Well it didn’t occur to me that…” Her voice drifted into silence.

  “Shame on you, honey. Do I look like a man who wouldn’t give my bride a honeymoon? They could spare you for two weeks, couldn’t they?”

  Her napkin dropped into her soup. “But two whole weeks! I’m on an anti-trust suit, and I may have to argue it before the Supreme Court. I can’t take—”

  He interrupted in an exasperatingly mild voice. “But, honey, slow down. If it isn’t on the Court’s docket for this session, you have until October, almost ten months. So, as soon as you get the Court’s agenda, we can make plans. No excuses. I want you all to myself where nobody knows us, and I need a lot longer than two weeks, but I’ll settle for that. We need time, sweetheart.” His lips curled into a grin. “Just wait. You’ll wish you’d taken at least a month.” He walked around to her, lifted her out of the chair and sat down.

  “I care for you, sweetheart, and I’m going to make you happy.”

  She leaned against him. “Aunt Grace is nuts. The only thing we’ve had in common so far is the homeless. With everything that counts, you’re odd and I’m even.”

  His eyebrows jerked up sharply.

  “What does that mean? The fact that we’re both compassionate and care about less fortunate people says more about us than our taste in furniture.”

  “What about the place where we’ll live?”

  “Country or city, ranch house or whatever, that business about where we’ll live wasn’t important.”

  “Of course not,” she grumbled, “you got your way.”

  He got up and put the dishes in the dishwasher, claiming that she looked too beautiful to touch anything soiled. Then he smiled at her, and his tone was very casual.

  “I’m glad you like the house. It’s got plenty of rooms, and four or five children won’t make it seem crowded.” The water glass that she’d been holding crashed to the floor.

  “Did you say three or four?”

  “I said four or five.” She had to sit down. Ignoring her consternation, he plowed on. “I’ve longed for a family most of my life. I guess most people who are orphaned at an early age feel like that. And I suppose being without my brother accentuated the need.”

  She looked first to heaven and then at him. “And less than five kids isn’t a family?”

  He stopped pretending and faced her. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I figured two would do it.”

  He dried his hands and started toward her, but she was onto his methods of persuasion. She backed away. “Two? Honey, this is more serious than honeymoon, house, engagement ring, and church wedding combined. I love kids.”

  She stared at him, hoping to convey how far off base he was and to bring him around to
reason before they got into another fight, because this was one that August Jackson was not going to win.

  “You don’t have to overindulge yourself to such an extent just because you love them. No way.” She wouldn’t allow herself to be swayed by his look of…of injury and dismay. You’d think she was attempting to deprive him of a divine right. She braced herself for his next sally, but he chose to plead.

  “Honey, you don’t understand. Most of my life, I’ve been dreaming about my little kids playing around my feet before a nice big winter fire while I read stories to them. Don’t you love kids?” He took a step forward, and she took one backward.

  “Sure I love children, but I’m already thirty-five and, if we’re going to ensure the children and me the best chances for good health, our babies should be spaced at least two and preferably three years apart. If I have five, I’ll still be having babies when I’m fifty.” She threw up her hands as though in despair. “And even if I were younger, I’d have to have quintuplets if you want a crowd of them playing around your feet because babies grow up.”

  He frowned and ran his slim fingers over the back of his tight curls. “Honey, can’t we discuss this?” She looked toward the sky as though seeking help. “We are discussing it. Can’t we just have two?” When he suddenly relaxed and began to smile, she prepared for battle.

  “How about three? I’ll help you.”

  Both hands went to her hips. “You’ll help me? You’re darn tootin’ you will. How else do you think I’ll get pregnant?”

  This time, his smile began in his eyes, which gleamed lustfully, and his beautiful white teeth showed themselves in an appreciate grin that developed into a howl. When he could stop laughing, he offered an explanation.

  “What I mean, honey, is that I’ll do everything and anything to keep you comfortable and to ease your burden.”

  Thinking that her heart would burst, she ran to him and threw her arms around him. “Oh, August. You’re so precious.”

  He hugged her to him fiercely, and she could feel a new emotion, something akin to a healing energy radiating from him. He buried his face in her neck and murmured, “Baby, this is the first time you’ve ever come to me like this. You always respond to me, but you haven’t opened yourself to me and asked me to reciprocate your feelings. A man needs that, too.” She held him as close as her strength would allow.