Awed by their reception, she looked up into Rufus’s sultry gaze and drank deeply of the warmth and affection she saw there. “Hi.”
“Hi. They’re obviously glad to see you. I’m surprised they recognized you from that distance. They’ve been returning library books. I let them do it themselves, and they’ve made friends with some of the librarians. It’s a big adventure and one of their favorite outings. What brings you down here?” She told him about the school board and her decision to seek its presidency.
“Grandpa doesn’t think much of the idea, but I’m going ahead with it.” Still hunkered down, she continued holding the boys in her arms.
“I think it’s a great idea. I can introduce you to a good publicist who’ll get you free television interviews, guest shots on panel shows, newspaper coverage, the whole shebang. He’s been disgusted with your school board for years, so he might not charge you. I’ll do a story on you for the Journal; how about it?”
Her eyes widened in alarm, and she released the boys almost absentmindedly, rubbing her coat sleeves nervously. He reached down and helped her to her feet.
“What is it, Naomi? Don’t you want any help? You’ll certainly need it.” His eyes narrowed quizzically.
“Y-yes, thank you. I…I just hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.” She knew he’d think her wishy-washy, but she couldn’t help remembering her grandfather’s warning.
He looked closely at her. “If you feel you can make a difference, don’t let anybody discourage you.”
“Daddy’s going to buy us hot chocolate, Noomie. You want some?” She looked at Sheldon, who regarded her expectantly, and hesitated. Finally, she told him she had to get back to her studio. Then she hugged the children, straightened up, and looked into Rufus’s cool gaze. Shaken, she told them goodbye and went on her way, aware that her behavior baffled Rufus. She hadn’t considered the necessity of a publicity campaign; cold fear clutched her heart at the thought of it. But she’d find a way, she promised herself. After all, she had nearly six months in which to make a move.
Rufus watched her until she was out of sight. The more he saw of her, the more of a puzzle she seemed. Was she reluctant to accept his help, or was it something else? As soon as he’d offered it, her enthusiasm for the idea had seemed to wane. What was behind it? He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but she hadn’t made it easy.
With the date of the gala rapidly approaching Rufus began laying out plans for a media blitz publicizing it. He would represent the Alliance, but they’d get more mileage, he decided, if Naomi spoke for OLC, and other organizations also had their own spokespersons. He hadn’t seen her in over a week, not since that morning at the library. He had wanted to see her, and not calling her had tested his resolve, but he had desisted. She was far enough inside him as it was. He didn’t want to think about her right then; if he did, the morning would be shot, as far as his work was concerned.
He worked on his manuscript until ten o’clock, gave his boys a mid-morning snack, and then telephoned Naomi to ask whether she’d be willing to make a few appearances on local television shows to promote the gala. There was a spot available that evening at seven-thirty.
Naomi agreed to his suggestion, but after hanging up, she began to worry that whoever was looking for her would be able to put a face with her name and would easily find her through her connection with One Last Chance. She wasn’t sure she was ready for that yet and fretted about it for hours. She knew that she intended to see her child, to explain why she had given it up for adoption; it would take the United States Marines to prevent it, but she hadn’t thought beyond that. The shock of having to face it after trying for so many years to forget it was only now beginning to wear off. Finally, she called Rufus, forced herself to be pleasant, even a little jocular, and gave him a weak excuse. Then she redesigned the gala program to make it impossible for anyone to trace her through it.
Thirteen years. Nearly half her life had been fraught with fear. For over thirteen years, she had let fear of being exposed about something over which she had had almost no control circumscribe her life. And because of that fear, she lived without love, without a family, without real intimacy with anyone. But she hadn’t had an idea of what she’d missed. Now she could imagine how it could be with Rufus if there were no barriers between them. Walking away from him might prove to be the most difficult thing she’d ever done, as hard as learning that she could at last see her child, a child who called someone else “Mother” and who would surely judge her harshly. But she could deal with it. She would. She had to! She wasn’t so naive that she didn’t know how uniquely suited she and Rufus were, but she knew that it couldn’t happen. One day soon, she was going to sit down and deal with it, all of it, and fear wouldn’t figure in her decisions. Lost in her thoughts, conjuring up her future, Naomi answered the phone, but the sound of his voice sent her heart racing.
“Hi.” It was low and suggestive, though she was sure that after their last encounter, he hadn’t meant it to be. “Look. I’ve got a problem, Naomi. Jewel isn’t home, and I don’t know whether she’ll be able to keep my boys for me. Could you tell me where you’ll be around three o’clock? If I haven’t been able to make an arrangement for them by then, I’m afraid you’ll have to go to the station.”
“I’ll be here,” she promised grudgingly. She telephoned Marva. “I can’t make rehearsals tonight. Can you reschedule it? Rufus said I may have to appear on WMAL this evening to publicize the gala, and I probably won’t get out of there until after nine. I’m sorry, Marva.” Marva changed the dates and advised Naomi that after leaving the station she should spend the evening with Rufus.
Rufus called Jewel, and she used the occasion to tell him that it was time he got a live-in nanny for the boys. “You can well afford it, and you won’t have to sacrifice your career and your social life while you baby-sit.”
Rufus didn’t want to be vexed with his sister. She had made the point numerous times over the past three years, but in this instance it really annoyed him. It was one of her more subtle hints that Naomi would be a welcome sister-in-law, and they hadn’t even met.
“Jewel, I’m not going over this with you again. If you have to go to a PTA meeting, keeping my boys is out of the question. I’ll work it out.”
“You could get married, you know,” she shot at him. “It’s time you forgave Etta Mae; you’ve been divorced for more than three years, and she’s still ruining your life because you insist on seeing something of her in every woman you meet. Give it up, Rufus; you’re hurting yourself.”
His long, deep sigh was that of a man whose patience had been exceeded. He knew that his sister was right; forgiving and letting go had always been difficult for him. He chose to reply to only part of her comment.
“I want a companion for myself, Jewel, and if I ever remarry, it will be to a woman who can be a mother for my sons. Find me that woman, and maybe I’ll take your advice. Well-informed, brainy career women make great companions, but in my book, they’re not the best wives and mothers because they’re never home; nor should anybody expect them to be. And the woman who’s likely to stay home all the time, keep house, and live for her family alone might be good for the boys and is probably what today’s family needs, but she’d bore the hell out of me. Believe me, single is better.”
“I’ve got a career, and I’m a good wife and mother.”
“Yes, you are. You’re committed to your children and your husband, and he’s committed to you. The two of you are a team, and that’s what a marriage should be. But your kind of marriage is not common.”
“Thanks for the confidence; you should be eager to get what Jeff and I have. If you don’t know a good woman when you see one, talk to my husband and get a few pointers,” she admonished him. He hung up thinking about what she’d said and about what he wanted. He wanted Naomi, an
d no amount of advice from Jewel’s husband or anyone else would change that.
She answered after the first ring. “I’m afraid you’ll have to go on tonight,” he informed her without a trace of regret. “I’ve already told the station’s program director that one of us would be there. So how about it?”
“I’m sorry, but I just can’t. Bring the boys over here, and I’ll keep them for you.” Why was she stammering, and what had happened to her normal poise? He jerked the telephone cord impatiently, alert to a possibly hidden reason for her refusal.
“I thought you said you’d be busy. If you’re busy, how can you take care of my boys?”
“I’m expecting a business call,” she told him, digging a deeper hole for herself.
“At night? At home? Are you leveling with me?” He was openly suspicious of her motives now.
“Okay, I’m a poor liar. I just hate speaking in public without notes and without enough time to prepare myself. I’m uncomfortable with it.” She was talking rapidly in a high-pitched voice that told him she had lost her composure.
He couldn’t buy it. “As fast as you are with the repartee? You want me to believe that? Look, if you don’t want to do it, just say so. I’ll go if you’re still willing to take care of my boys for a couple of hours. I’m due at the station at seven o’clock, so we’ll be over at six.”
He sat for a long time, pondering her strange behavior. Not for one second would he believe that she’d be nervous speaking about anything so dear to her as One Last Chance. She was a high school teacher, for Pete’s sake, trained for impromptu speaking. She was lying. Period. He thought of the way he felt about her, how that feeling was growing with each day, and experienced a tinge of apprehension. His coach had once said that one could excuse a blind man for getting into a hole, but not a man with sight. “I can see,” he reminded himself.
Naomi watched Rufus take the greatest of care unstrapping the boys and removing their coats. He hugged them so many times before leaving that she thought she might cry, and to her surprise, the twins waved him off without a tear. She had fortified herself with plastic building blocks, an electrical musical keyboard, and a pair of walkie-talkies that worked. Once they discovered the walkie-talkies, she had no problem with discipline, because Preston sat in the foyer and talked to Sheldon, who remained in the kitchen. Rufus called just before air time and asked to speak with them, but she vetoed the idea.
“I’ve got a good system going here, and it’s working perfectly. The sound of your voice will definitely disturb the peace, so no, you can’t speak with them.”
“I can’t speak with my boys?”
“You got it.” She knew that she’d shocked him, but figured that after thinking it over, he’d see the logic. If he didn’t, well, she had a full plate dealing with her thoughts of her own child. Afraid of being exposed on the one hand, and on the other, wishing she had it with her. He’d soon be with his boys.
Rufus expected to find Naomi and the boys in total chaos, but when he arrived, he saw the three of them sitting at the kitchen table, laughing and eating. “What on earth did you give them, laughing gas?” He had worried that his boys would wear Naomi out and that she wouldn’t be able to control them, and he relaxed visibly. He didn’t want to put a damper on their fun, but he was too relieved to be jocular. Leaving the station, he had fought a thrill of anticipation of seeing Naomi with his children. He could barely wait to get back to her. The incredible scene that greeted him gave him hope—something that for years had remained beyond his reach—but he tried to squelch the feeling that rose in him. If he wasn’t careful, he’d do something that he would regret for a very long time.
“Laughing gas? Of course not,” she objected, affecting what he knew was her favorite pose, that of pretended detachment. “These boys know their roots; I gave them southern fried chicken and buttermilk biscuits.”
“This time of night.”
She didn’t get a chance to tell him that they’d fallen asleep and had awakened hungry. Preston intervened, “And we got a surprise. We saw you on television, Daddy, and Noomie said you were talking to the people.”
“Yes,” Sheldon intoned, “and we had a nap after it.”
He forced himself to look at Naomi, though he didn’t want to, didn’t want her to see what he was feeling. How had she persuaded his two little hellions to behave civilly? He saw the softness in her and responded to it. And that vexed him. Where was his resolve of just that morning? He didn’t want to care for her, didn’t even want to like her, but she was likable and he cared; he couldn’t deny it. And he would no longer deny that she would probably be lovable if he was ever foolish enough to drop his guard and let himself do the unthinkable.
“Want a biscuit, Daddy?” Preston inquired, reaching toward his father.
“Yes. Don’t you want to join us? I’ve got some string beans, too, but the boys didn’t want any, so we struck a bargain, and they’re drinking milk instead.” She worried her bottom lip and looked at him expectantly. “But maybe you don’t like soul food.”
Rufus forced a light smile. It was the best he could manage; with every new move, she crawled deeper inside of him. “Sure, I like soul food,” he said, pulling up a chair. Sheldon reminded Naomi that she had also promised them ice-cream.
“All we want,” he added.
Naomi seemed to know when she was being taken. “Sheldon,” she admonished him, “good little boys always tell the truth.”
Rufus’s eyes rounded in astonishment. “They’re dressed identically. How do you know which is which?”
“Same way you do. As you said, their personalities differ.”
He tried to reconcile the soft and gentle woman before him—the one who patiently tended his boys, loving and teasing them—with her other strong, clever, and elusive self. If this was the real Naomi, or if her two selves had their proper places in her life, there was a chance that he could have with her what he’d yearned for but hadn’t wanted to admit. He needed a woman he loved in his life, his home, and his bed, one who loved him and needed him and loved his children. But she had told him repeatedly that she didn’t intend to become involved. Well, he had said the same, but maybe…
Chapter 6
The phone rang once. “Hi.” Rufus leaned back against the headboard of his king-sized bed and waited for more of her soothing voice. But she didn’t say more, so he plunged in.
“I didn’t realize you’d be in bed so early. It’s only about eleven o’clock. I didn’t thank you properly for taking care of my boys, and I…well, thank you. They seemed to have enjoyed the experience.”
“Me, too.” She wasn’t forthcoming, and it was unlike what he’d come to expect of her. He marveled at the pure feminine spice of her voice; every time he heard it, he felt as if she was toying with him. Deliberately and carelessly seducing him. He searched for something banal to say, something that would guarantee that their conversation didn’t become too personal.
“What would you have done if it had been Maude Frazier calling you?”
“If I can greet you with ‘hi,’ it’ll do for Maude.” So she was waiting him out; it was a trait of hers that he admired; patience. She didn’t mind silence, and lulls in conversation didn’t make her nervous. Since he called, she seemed to imply, he should do the talking.
“What did you think of my interview? Think it was a good advertisement for the gala?”
She apologized and congratulated him on a very professional performance. “I’m ashamed that I didn’t mention it when you were here. You did yourself proud, Rufus, but I don’t suppose you’re asking me for praise.” Her voice seemed more distant, as if she had moved further from the phone. “I’m told that your mere entrance into a football stadium brought thunderous roars from your fans. You must be sick of adulation.”
He let that pass. She w
as right; he didn’t give a hoot for praise. Never had. “It hadn’t occurred to me that you would let my boys watch. It’s the first time they’ve seen me on television. I thank you for that.”
She knew that he could have thanked her before leaving her apartment; in fact he had, so she waited for the real reason why he’d called. Probably to interrogate her some more about her refusal to do the television interview, she surmised. Suddenly apprehensive, tendrils of fear began to snake down her back, and she attempted to disconcert him.
“Rufus, what happened to the boys’ mother?” She hadn’t realized that the question was on her mind, and his long silence told her that he didn’t welcome it.
His succinct reply confirmed it. “She didn’t care for marriage, motherhood, or domesticity in any form, so she left.”
“Did you love her?” She tried to sound as if his answer was unimportant.
“I married Etta Mae because I’d made her pregnant. She wanted glamour, so she got a man whom she thought would give it to her quickly. She got pregnant by pretending that she was taking the pill, though as she later told me, she had never taken a birth control Pill in her life. But she knew I would marry her if she carried my child. I was sick of the spotlight, and I wanted a home. I committed myself to the marriage and to her.” His deep sigh was the only evidence he gave of the pain his explanation must have caused him. “We might have made a go of it,” he continued, “but her priority was to be more famous and more sought after than Iman or Naomi Campbell. Nothing was going to prevent her being the top African American model in the country, even the top model. Etta Mae is driven. Driven to escape everything that plagued her as a child. Her mother brought her here from Alabama when she was ten. She told me she suffered verbal abuse and ridicule from her schoolmates, because she was poor and different, and that she’d sworn she’d best them all. I suspect she has. Did I love her? No. Etta Mae isn’t lovable, Naomi, but she gave me my sons.”
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