Sealed With a Kiss

by Gwynne Forster

  Judd appeared irritated. “Are you telling me that you dance like that with a woman you’re hardly speaking to? In my days, no decent woman would have permitted you to dance with her that way, and no gentleman would have attempted it.”

  Rufus sighed. “Maybe that’s because cold showers hadn’t been invented,” he muttered under his breath.

  Judd’s hearing proved to be fine. “What? I’m serious here. The whole of Washington and every town near it saw that show you two put on,” he stormed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “My God, boy, didn’t you know the television stations had their cameras there? African Americans of our status have to set a good example. Everybody expects more from us.”

  Rufus wasn’t impressed with that reasoning; he leaned forward. “Of course, I didn’t know that our dance was being televised.” Though if he had, it wouldn’t have made one iota of difference once he had her in his arms. “There’s no point in being upset about this, Reverend; I haven’t compromised her, and I won’t. As for that dance, Naomi already gave me the devil about it.”

  The old man peered at him. “You can’t make me believe you’re not interested in each other. You’re the one man I’ve met who could turn her head. And if she doesn’t turn yours after what I saw last night, I want to know what you’re made of.”

  Rufus sat back in the generously overstuffed chair, getting more comfortable, and gave the man one of his intentionally indecipherable grins. “I came here out of respect, but this is really none of your business, sir.” He stood.

  Judd looked up at Rufus and released a long, tired breath. “I’m living on borrowed time, son. I’ll be ninety-five in a few weeks, and I’m all she has. I’d hate to have to leave her all alone. She’s so fragile.” He’d spoken almost as if to himself. “I hope I haven’t caused any hard feelings.” He stood tall and straight, for all his ninety-four years.

  “None whatever, sir.”

  “Well, at least I got to meet one of my favorite football players. It was good of you to come.”

  “It was my pleasure.” Rufus stepped toward the foyer and turned, surprised, when the old man’s thin fingers grasped his arm.

  “I don’t care what you said. My Naomi wants you. It’s been more than fourteen years since she let herself get as close to a man as she was to you last night. And I know that for a fact.”

  Rufus opened his mouth to speak and closed it, at a loss for words, not certain that he wanted that information and positive that within its core lay the key to her character.

  “I know she acts tough, son. She learned a long time ago to harden herself to life; she had to. But that toughness is just a front; deep down, she’s very fragile. My Naomi spends a lot of time hurting. You’re strong, just what she needs. Well, goodbye.” They parted with a friendly handshake.

  Rufus drove toward Washington, pondering Judd Logan’s revealing words. He had known almost from their first meeting that Naomi’s flippancy was a shield, and he had begun to realize that her insistence that marriage was not for her was nothing more than pretense, her solution to a problem that she had found no other way to handle. He suspected the real Naomi was the woman who cared that a young slum girl needed a role model, who responded to him without ego or inhibition, who gave herself to him totally in every kiss or caress. The real Naomi, he surmised, was the woman in whom his sons had immediately sensed warmth and tenderness; they had been drawn to it. That kind of woman needed a nest and knew it.

  He stopped downtown at Garfinkel’s to buy long-sleeved T-shirts for Preston and Sheldon. They outgrew their clothes so rapidly that he bought them a size larger than they needed. As he left the store, a thought occurred to him, as he headed back toward the shoe department.

  Tired, cold and discouraged, Naomi let herself into her studio, questioning the wisdom of what she’d decided to do. She pulled off the wig and threw it in her desk drawer, stored the contact lenses, and sat down at her drawing table. She had wasted an hour sitting in a cold, rented car, and no one had entered or left that house. But she was doggoned if she would let it get her down. She took out her sketchpad, closed her eyes, and tried to imagine how the design should look. She’d finished the ad campaign for the ice-cream company, but the parent firm had engaged her to design new paper milk cartons. No, she thought, green wouldn’t work for milk.

  She reached for the phone after its first ring. “Logan Logos and Labels. May I help you?”

  “Hi. So you’re finally there. Most people are in their office between three and four, Naomi. Do you always take a late lunch?”

  She had completely forgotten lunch. “I work when I’m getting results, Rufus.” It wasn’t a lie, and her whereabouts were not his affair. She told him, “As a writer, I’m sure you’ve had experience with that. Did you call to apologize?”

  If Rufus hadn’t remembered his conversation with Judd, he might have interpreted her words as a mild reprimand or even rudeness. He did neither, but inquired, “Should I?” He couldn’t believe she was still annoyed because he’d given her that blistering kiss and left her without explanation. Surely she understood why he’d had to get away from her and fast.

  “Why did you call?” She hoped her voice didn’t reflect her wariness. She wanted to see him, to be with him, but while she’d waited in front of her son’s home, she’d decided to put Rufus out of her complicated life once and for all. She was going to focus on finding a way to know her son and his adoptive parents and managing it without her grandfather’s interference.

  Her brusqueness apparently didn’t discourage him. “I called because you’re the only woman I’m kissing these days, and my energy is low. Thought I’d get a little sugar.”

  Naomi laughed. Drat him; he knew how to get next to her. “Well, here goes a kiss right through the wire. Now, hang up, and let me work.”

  He didn’t let her off. “You complain about Judd, but you’re certainly his granddaughter.”

  “Whatever do you mean? Of course, I’m his granddaughter. My father was his only son.”

  “I mean you’ve either inherited or copied his bluntness and directness, and I have to tell you, it looks better on him than it does on you.”

  “How do you know so much about him?” She felt the skin crawl on the back of her neck. What had the old man been up to now?

  “He wrecked my day with a summons out to Alexandria this morning to explain my intentions toward you.”

  Naomi let out a mild shriek. “He what? Oh, my goodness. He must have seen us on television last night. I saw the cameramen, but then I forgot about them. This is none of his business.”

  Rufus chuckled softly. “I told him precisely that, but I could have saved my breath.”

  “You told him it was none of his business?” she asked, in frank admiration. “I wish I’d been there.”

  “He took it like a man, sweetheart,” he told her, and she sensed his sincerity in the endearment. “I liked him. I liked him a lot. I want to see you, Naomi, but I don’t want to leave my boys with a sitter again tonight. Could you come over about six and have supper with us? I don’t like to feed my boys too late. I’ll take them and get some fried chicken and other stuff, maybe some rice and gravy from one of the takeouts just off Connecticut Avenue. Would you like anything special?”

  He’d just assumed that she’d accept, and she was tempted to refuse him, to stick to her resolve not to see him again. But she had missed Preston and Sheldon, and the thought of being with them even for a little while raised her spirits from where they’d dropped while she’d sat in that cold car, watching a house in Silver Spring.

  “I guess not, but I could bring something, too. See you at six.” She hung up, stared at the phone, and thought of the reasons why she should call him back and tell him that she had changed her mind. But she knew she wouldn’t do it; a
n hour and a half was already too long to wait. Her heartbeat accelerated at the thought that she would soon be with him.

  “What’s in the bag, Noomie?” Preston asked her, pulling at her shopping bag. Rufus watched his sons greet Naomi, dancing happily and plastering wet kisses all over her face, and his anxiety about his relationship with her increased with each passing second.

  He and Naomi set the table, put the food, including what she’d brought, in serving dishes, and placed it on the table. Her reaction to his heated look showed her pleasure at his obvious approval.

  “You actually cooked greens and baked sweet potatoes? Do you know how crazy I am about collards and sweet potatoes with fried chicken? Did Jewel tell you?”

  Her shy smile told him that his comment pleased her. “I’ve never spoken with Jewel. I just thought it would be nice to have it.”

  Four little fawnlike eyes gazed up at them. Rufus looked down at his children and had a ridiculous urge to search them. There were times when they seemed to have special knowledge enabling them to sense any change in his emotions. He dismissed the thought, glanced back at Naomi, and caught her struggling to replace with nonchalance the passion he’d glimpsed in her. He flicked an index finger beneath her chin.

  “I want to kiss you, and I’m going to.”

  “But the children…”

  “They already got theirs,” he said, heedless of his previous concern. “Now, I want mine.” He touched her lips with his own in a brief, sweet kiss, intending to make it chaste. And he would have if he hadn’t sensed in her response a need as strong and compelling as his own. What had come over her? He stared at her in amazement. She had moved away when he’d attempted to deepen the kiss, the first time she’d broken his kiss. He looked down at his boys; she’d shown concern for them in a situation where she’d never shown any for herself. Had he been completely wrong about her? He sat down at the table, said grace, and began to eat, but his mind was not on the food.

  Naomi watched Preston and Sheldon indulgently as they devoured the greens, sweet potatoes, and fried chicken. Sheldon indicated that he’d like to have it again. “That was good, Noomie. You coming back tomorrow?”

  She saw Rufus’s back stiffen. “No, Sheldon. But I’ll come see you some other time. All right?” She pulled an apple pie out of the other bag and earned the undying gratitude of all three Meade males.

  The boys had been put to bed over their strong objections. “They’re usually more cooperative than they were tonight,” he told her, stretching his long legs out in front of him as the flames flickered in the great stone fireplace. “They know I get more work done when they cooperate, and they take pride in contributing to what I do. I show them how much I’ve written, but lately, Preston has taken it upon himself to criticize my progress.” Rufus smiled. “He doesn’t think much of five or six pages for half a day’s work. Thank God, Sheldon is kinder and fattens my ego every time Preston takes me down a peg.”

  Contentment warmed her as she watched him, captivated by the love in his eyes. She stored in her memory the honeyed tone of his voice as he talked about his precious children.

  “I’d give anything to have grown up surrounded by that kind of love,” she said wistfully. “And I hope I get to experience it just once.” She leaned back and sipped her cool coffee. Rufus remained silent, as if comprehending that her words were to herself, that she had not meant to share such private thoughts.

  “Grandpa tries; he always has, but he and I are the products of two vastly different eras. I try to remember that.”

  His penetrating and compassionate look aroused her need to feel his arms like steel bands around her, but she glanced away. Sometimes, she thought, he seems to be looking into my very soul. As if realizing that she was reaching for something deeply personal and beyond his means to provide, he leaned toward her slowly, seeming to fear disturbing her.

  “Naomi, will you come over here, sit beside me, and lay your head on my shoulder?” He spoke in a low, gentle voice, as if trying not to break her mood.

  “What?” He smiled and held out his hand. But she had snapped out of it.

  “Why can’t you come over here?”

  “I didn’t want to seem threatening and you…I was just being a friend.”

  Naomi looked at Rufus with new eyes. Was there a chance that he had enough room in his heart to love one more person? To love that person just half as much as he loved his boys? She quickly shifted her thoughts from that dangerous path. “I’d better be going; I have a few things to do at home.”

  He had been looking at her, and she supposed that her need was mirrored in her eyes. “Don’t run away, Naomi. You don’t need to be alone just now, and I’m here. Lean on me. Just this once, let me take the weight of what it is that burdens you.”

  She wished she could put out everything, that she could just open up and let it out. Let go of the awesome weight that had been suffocating her for nearly half her life. If he loved her, she might have a chance finally to live a normal life, to love a man and let him love her, because only a man who loved her deeply would understand and accept. Rufus wasn’t that man; he was judgmental and unforgiving. She was never going to meet one who would willingly share her awful burden, and she wouldn’t risk exposing herself to rejection and maybe even scorn for something over which she’d been too young to control. She glanced up, saw him watching her, and plastered a bright smile on her face.

  “Really, Rufus, you’re imagining things. I’ve got to produce a draft design for a milk carton, that’s all.”

  Discouraged by her refusal to trust him, he stood and helped her to her feet. The backs of his fingers scraped through his short, curly hair, and he began to speak slowly, his tone grim.

  “Stop fooling yourself, Naomi. Until you admit the importance of whatever it is that you fear, your life won’t be what it could be, what it should be. If you face it, you’ll move mountains to straighten it out. And you’ll find the strength to do it. I know. Come on; I’ll walk you to your car.”

  He’d sworn to himself that he would have her, but he wondered now if the price wouldn’t be higher than what he was willing to pay. She carried a lot of emotional baggage, maybe too much. Yet he couldn’t help wanting to protect her, to banish the gnawing anxiety that he sometimes sensed in her. But neither could pretend to be undisturbed by her attempt to belittle what they felt for each other.

  She gloried in the security of his hand holding hers as they’d walked, but he hadn’t kissed her good night, and she went to bed empty and lonely. Her conflicting feelings—her need for Rufus and her longing to know her son—gave her a feeling of hopelessness. Why did it have to be one or the other? And why had she let herself begin to yearn for the love that she knew Rufus was capable of giving? A love that she hadn’t known existed until she had seen him with his children. And she wanted the gentleness that she knew he possessed. But somehow, she had to know her son. Maybe, if she could see him, talk with him just once. She didn’t want to hurt him or his family in any way. Thinking of that made her question whether she shouldn’t stay away. Confused and uncertain, she wondered if she was ready for a clean break from Rufus, giving up One Last Chance, and possibly inviting ruinous public exposure. It was nearly daybreak when she finally fell asleep.

  Several evenings later, the One Last Chance board of directors nominated Naomi as its delegate to the National Urban Alliance convention in New Orleans. She had never been there, hadn’t been a convention delegate, and had no idea what was expected of her. She fretted about it, then tucked in her pride and called Rufus, who was an NUA officer.

  “I’ll call you back in a few minutes,” he told her. She decided he’d made a power move, but she couldn’t blame him. Her behavior with him had been anything but consistent.

  He returned the call after half an hour. “Your call surprised me; how may I help you?” She win
ced at his coolness and forced herself to assume a casual demeanor as she told him of her board’s decision, but she wouldn’t let him see how his coolness had affected her.

  “I’ve got a lot of material here that might help you. I’ll sort through it and bring it over tomorrow night after my own board meeting, if you’d like.” His tone was impersonal.

  “What about the boys?” She wanted him to bring them, even as she savored the idea of being alone.

  “Jewel keeps them overnight when I have a late meeting or another engagement.”

  You mean when you stay out all night, she thought, feeling a cold tightness in her chest.

  “Tomorrow night is fine with me. Thanks, Rufus.” She didn’t know how to hang up and just held the receiver and said nothing. He, too, seemed unable to break contact. Nervous and ill at ease, Naomi resorted to flippancy, thought it lacked her usual bite.

  “Just think, if you’d been as reluctant to hang up on me once before, we probably never would have met.”

  “I didn’t hang up on you.” He paused briefly. “Did I?”

  “Yes, you did. When your Ivan-the-Terrible temper roared out of control, you said a few cutting words and hung up.”

  Rufus chuckled, but his deep voice sounded more like a growl. “I’ve got better manners than that, lady.”

  “I know. That’s one reason why we got acquainted.”

  “What’s another one?” He considered why he enjoyed needling her; a twenty-minute conversation with Naomi when she was at her devilish best could brighten his life for days.

  “Your ego’s big enough, Meade.” She was sorry as soon as she’d said it.