Yes, I Do

by Gwynne Forster

  “Look, if you think you can’t be away from your office for a day and a half, say so. I’ll be back Thursday.”

  “Oh, August, I’m so happy for you. And of course, I’ll go with you,” she said, in the shadowy tone of one coming out of a trance. “I was trying to figure out how to shuffle the deck here, so to speak.” They agreed on time and other particulars, but he wasn’t fooled by her explanation. She had hesitated to go. He told himself to pay closer attention. He didn’t intend to give her up, but he believed in correcting errors and solving problems at the root the first time he noticed them. That policy had made him a successful executive, and he’d use it to keep his marriage on track.

  They had barely greeted each other before he realized the absence of the warm camaraderie and togetherness that they had shared ever since their movie date, the closeness that he’d felt with her, the indescribable feeling of oneness. He ascribed his own feeling of separateness, of there being a distance between them, to his anxiety that the man he would meet might not be his long sought brother. But to what could he attribute her quiet, somber manner? As the plane touched down on the runway, he felt her hand cover his and squeeze in a gesture of support and forced a smile in her direction.

  “If it isn’t Grady, we’ll keep right on looking until we find him,” she said. “And we will find him.” He gave silent thanks, leaned toward her and captured her mouth. She was there for him; that was all he’d needed.

  Almost as soon as they walked into the waiting area and looked around, he felt Susan tug sharply at his hand and point to two men in the distance who had begun to approach them. The taller of the two men smiled, and his heartbeat accelerated. Susan grabbed his hand and started running toward the men.

  “It’s him!” she yelled. “August, it’s him. It has to be. His smile is just like yours.”

  He ran with her, speechless, barely aware of his moves. They reached the men and stopped short, as the two men searched each other’s faces, hope gleaming in their eyes. August thought he heard Susan say, “Oh, Lord, let it be,” but he didn’t move his gaze from that of the man in front of him. He found his voice.

  “Grady, do you remember our father?”

  The man smiled and in a nearly identical voice said, “Of course I remember him. He only had one leg. He lost the other one at the sawmill where he worked.”

  “I can’t believe it. After all these years. My God, Grady, this has to be the happiest moment of my life.” He didn’t care that tears streamed down his face as he embraced the man whom he didn’t doubt was his blood brother. Jessie and her sister had been right; they could have passed for twins. He tried to control the excitement that clutched at him, but couldn’t manage it and finally rested his head on Grady’s shoulder and let the tears flow. After a few minutes, they stepped back from each other, unashamed of their wrenching emotions and teary eyes, and smiled. Grady had a question of his own.

  “I’ve got a birthmark, August. What is it and where is it?”

  August grinned; he’d forgotten about that, hadn’t felt the need for any further proof after he saw their father’s smile on Grady’s face. “There should be a round black, hairy spot the size of a quarter or fifty cent piece on your left shoulder.”

  “Want to see it?” Grady asked, laughing as though they shared a private joke, as indeed they did.

  “Not really, and I’m sorry for all those times I taunted you about it.” He followed Grady’s glance to a tearstained Susan, reached out and gathered her to him.

  “Grady, this is my fiancée, attorney Susan Andrews. We plan to be married on Valentine’s Day.”

  “Say, that’s only about three weeks,” Grady exclaimed, ignoring Susan’s outstretched hand and bringing her to him in a warm hug. “I’ll try to make it.”

  August quirked an eyebrow. “Try hard. I’m having a big wedding and inviting every single person I know, so you’ll have to be my best man.” He could see that his request pleased Grady, who agreed and invited them all to his home, a small ranch house on a hill with a spectacular view. He didn’t doubt that Susan would remind him that he and Grady had similar preferences for houses. As they walked into the living room, he saw that the room was sparsely, but elegantly furnished with modern pieces. Pleased, he smiled at her. But when he caught Susan’s withering glance, he knew that her mind was centered on his announcement of a big church wedding, something to which she obviously hadn’t accommodated herself. Well, if he was lucky, their crowd would gather in the famous Rainbow Room.

  They sipped coffee while Grady related to them experiences he’d had growing up without August. Susan offered to leave so that they might have privacy when Grady told of personal, almost intimate and sometimes nearly tragic happenings in his young life, but August held onto her hand, though at times with unsteady fingers. He marveled that the man before him could have survived months at a time in freight cars, stealing food from restaurants by posing as a delivery boy, picking strawberries in the spring and sorting potatoes in the autumn.

  “When did you go to school?” Susan asked, clearly appalled that a child should have had so painful and precarious a life.

  “A pullman porter on the Atlantic Coastline became interested in me when he caught me stealing books from someone’s compartment and discovered that I wanted to read them and not sell them. I was about eleven. He took me home with him, and we worked out a deal. He’d send me to school and take care of my expenses if I’d look after his mother. Mama Ada was about eighty or eighty-five, she wasn’t sure, and couldn’t walk too well. She refused to move out of her house, although it was little more than a shack. I made her fires, got water from her well, swept her yard, went to the store and got her groceries, and did just about everything else that she needed done. After six or seven months, I decided to move in with her, and it was a smart decision. She’d once taught grade school, and she still had a trigger sharp mind. She made me her project, and within a year and a half, I was right where I should have been in school. She tried to teach me everything she knew, and I tried to take it in. I got a scholarship to the University of North Carolina, and I was on my way. My goal was to find old Chester Faison and show him that I’d made a man of myself. I did go back to Wallace, but he’d long since died, and his daughter, Ruthie, didn’t even remember that we’d once been foster children in that home.”

  “Where’s that man who helped you?” Susan asked.

  “About ten miles from here. He’s retired now, and I usually run by to see him and his wife every Sunday after church. Of course, Mama Ada’s been gone a long time. We’ll catch up with the rest later, August. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”

  August leaned back in the comfortable business-class seats as the big plane headed for New York and draped his arm around Susan’s shoulder. So much to digest, to think about. His life had been rocky at a time when he was a youth trying to get through school, but he’d had a much easier life than Grady. He gazed down at the woman whose head rested trustingly on his shoulder while she slept, and counted his blessings. He had his brother once more, and he had at his side this woman who had come to mean everything to him. More than she could know. When she’d grasped his hand and promised that they would look for Grady until they found him, he’d known that, after twenty-six years, he was no longer alone.

  How could so much go wrong in less than two days? Susan paced between her desk and her window overlooking the Statue of Liberty. Her contract stated that the next partnership was hers and that she should apply for it after six months—five weeks hence. But she’d just been told that partners were not expected to take extended leave and that she would have to promise not to do that. The partners knew her age and were forcing her to choose between partnership and motherhood. They hadn’t put it in writing but, if she didn’t cooperate, they’d easily find a reason to withhold the coveted promotion. There was no mistaking Oscar’s hand in that attempt at blackmail. On more than one occasion, he had alluded to there being a conflict between her job and
marriage. Upset and more depressed than she could ever remember having been, she called August.

  “What’s the matter, honey? You sound low, almost as if you’ve lost your best friend. Tell me.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. Why don’t you bring over a great big pizza about seven and I’ll make a simple salad. I don’t feel like cooking, and I don’t want to go anywhere.”

  “I’ll be there. Chin up, I promised that, as long as I’m breathing, I’ll be with you no matter what, and I mean that. See you at seven.”

  They’d eaten half of the pizza, discarded the remainder, and straightened up the kitchen, but neither had mentioned what had depressed Susan earlier that day. She knew what his reaction would be, despite his promise of support, and she dreaded the confrontation. He took her hand, walked them into her living room, sat in her big barrel chair, and pulled her gently onto his lap.

  “Since it’s so painful you dread talking about it, I gather I’m not going to like what you say. Am I right?”

  She shifted slightly on his lap, remembered where she was and the probable consequences of not remaining still, and nodded. “You’re right, and it’s about the office.”

  “You can’t get time off for our honeymoon?” he queried, and she could see that he braced himself for an unpleasant discussion.

  She shook her head, sighed, and faced him. It couldn’t be avoided. “They’ve added a condition to my partnership contract. It’s unwritten, but it might as well be in black and white. I have to promise not to take any extended leave for the first three years after I’m a senior partner.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” He placed her on the floor and stood up, his face mottled with fury. “Nobody can stipulate such a requirement. Besides, I suspect it’s against the law in New York. And even if it isn’t,” he roared, “you can’t leave a few weeks old baby and go back to work. What if you got sick? They’re full of baloney. You’ve got rights.”

  “I’m not being given the choice. If I want the partnership, I have to agree and in writing, and they will enforce it.” She hadn’t thought that August could get so angry, and it frightened her as she watched his lips tremble in cold fury. He slammed his fist into the palm of his right hand.

  “If you sign that and they can hold you to it, that will be the end of our dreams of a family. You can’t do it,” he repeated emphatically before laying back his shoulders and cocking his head in a gesture of finality. “We’ll go to court.”

  She couldn’t help feeling as if her world had begun to dissolve into nothing, but she wouldn’t allow him see how badly she hurt.

  “And if I win, they’ll make it so miserable for me that I’ll be glad to leave there. So what you’re suggesting is that I walk away from my other dream, my dream of that partnership for which I’ve struggled so hard. I’ve worked nights and weekends, foregone vacations, lived without friends or lovers, devoted my youth to the pursuit of that dream, and you’re giving me the same choice that my boss gave me. The world is full of healthy, well-adjusted, bottle-fed babies. I’m sorry, August.” She raised her chin a little higher and shook her head.

  Pain flickered in his eyes as he stood mute, waiting for her last word. Her mouth tasted of gall, and her stomach churned as she anticipated his verdict, words that would chill her soul. She felt an inexplicable loneliness, as though he had already left her. He had never seemed so handsome, so desirable, or so remote. So little inclined to shelter and protect her as she’d come to expect of him. She looked down at her hands, to shield from him the anguish that she knew he would see in her eyes.

  “Think this over, Susan. Be certain of what you want, because if you tell me it’s over, I’ll believe you.” He spoke in soft tones that were devoid of emotion. “You may choose that partnership and break our engagement, but you won’t get over me, Susan. Not now, and maybe never. I’ll be everywhere you turn, because I am the man who awakened you and made you feel, really feel deep down. All the way to your gut. I know you. I’ve set you on fire, and you’ll never be content until I finish what I started. I’m willing to go part of the way with you in this, but I need some evidence that you’re agreeable to making some sacrifices. Think it over.”

  She watched him, too stunned to move, as he let himself out. She had assumed that they would compromise on this as they had with all of their other disagreements, but they’d each reached their limit, each confronted the future and refused to relinquish their dream. She thought of calling Grace and discarded the idea, unable to endure one of her aunt’s lectures.

  August caught a taxi and headed home. Yesterday, he’d had everything. Grady was back in his life and, in less than three weeks, Susan would have been his wife. Now, he had to cancel their wedding plans, the caterer, the white limousine that he’d ordered for his bride’s trip to the church and their ride to the reception, her bouquet of white roses, the honeymoon that he’d planned as a surprise for her. He got home and paced the floors, trying to decide what he could give up. After an hour, he was determined to find a way; he wanted Susan, and he wanted, had to have children. He took their wedding bands out of a drawer, sat on the edge of his bed and looked at them, looked at his dream, the life he’d yearned for ever since he’d lost his parents. Those years when he didn’t have Grady. Ever since he was ten years old. He would not accept defeat. He had to talk to her.

  “Susan,” he began when she answered the phone, “are you willing to give up all of our plans? Can you just forget what we feel for each other? We’ve built a wonderful relationship, and I know that we would be happy together, because I’ll make sure of it.”

  “August, we won’t settle anything this way. Why does it all depend on me?”

  He had to resist laughing, because he knew she’d think he was trying to snow her.

  “Honey, can you give me the boot as easily as that?” he asked her, trying to lighten their conversation. “What about the soloist I hired. I didn’t tell you, because I wanted her to sing a love song from me to you.” He was sure that his pride in the little surprise reached her through the wires.

  “What singer? What song?”

  “A lady from church. She has a lovely voice, and she told me that she’s sung it many times.”

  “What song, August?” He couldn’t figure out why her voice sounded darker and stronger, unless she had gotten annoyed, and there wasn’t anything for her to be upset about.

  “‘Through The years’,” he said.

  “But I wanted ‘Ich Liebe Dich’.”

  “‘Ich Liebe Dich’?”

  “That’s German for I Love Thee,” she announced, a bit haughtily, he thought.

  “Thanks, but I know that.”

  “Did you study German, or did you spend some time in Germany?”

  He had to laugh. She could arrive at some of the most far-fetched conclusions. “A German girl taught me that.” He waiting for a ripping comment, but she fooled him.

  “A Ger… When?”

  “Before I met you. We’re getting off of the subject, Susan. Now, as I was saying—”

  “Did you tell her you loved her?”

  He groaned. She had to be a first-class lawyer. Give her the scent of something, and she put on her blinds and went after it.

  “What happened?” she persisted. “Do you still know her?”

  “Sure. She sends me cards at Christmas and for my birthday. So I—”

  “Your birthday? I don’t even know when that is, and she sends you cards all the way from Germany. At least I hope that’s where she is.”

  “My birthday is October nineteenth, and you are deliberately trying to sidetrack me with these frivolous questions.”

  “I’m never frivolous.”

  “More’s the pity.”

  “August!”

  “I want Miss Lewis to sing ‘Through The Years’ at our wedding.”

  “If you see things my way, and if we ever do get married, I want a man to sing ‘Ich Liebe Dich’.”

  He thoug
ht about that for a few seconds. If she was being agreeable, he could give a little.

  “Well, since it’s going to be a big wedding, there’s no reason why we can’t have both songs, and I’ll have that much more time to look at you in that lovely white satin gown.”

  “August we haven’t settled one thing. I haven’t agreed to a big church wedding and not to a satin gown, either.”

  “All right. All right. We’ll take that up later. But you don’t want to give up our home, do you? What about our home, honey?”

  “What about it? It’s in the middle of a bunch of trees, and that’s country from where I stand.”

  “But we could have nice walks in the woods, especially in the spring.” He nearly laughed again when her exaggerated deep sigh reached him over the phone.

  “That’s still the country. And I’d rather sip espresso on a sidewalk café on Columbus Avenue on a nice spring evening. No thanks.”

  “Aw, honey, don’t be so difficult.” He paused, thinking of another carrot to dangle before her. “Well, what about my music? You’ve never heard me play the guitar. Not once.”

  “I told you I hate country music.”

  He was beginning to suspect that, while she was serious about some of it, she had begun to enjoy pulling his leg.

  “I also play jazz,” he corrected, “and Dittersdorf wrote a considerable portfolio of wonderful classical guitar music, most of which I know from memory.”

  “Then let him play it.” He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard a giggle.

  “Too late. He’s been dead for centuries. What about our honeymoon? Don’t tell me you’re not interested in that.”

  “I told you that was overdoing it,” she reminded him. “A weekend at the Waldorf would have been plenty.”