Sealed With a Kiss

by Gwynne Forster

  Rufus turned to her. “I’m leaving you in your lobby tonight, because if I get past that, I’ll be in trouble.” He didn’t soften it with a smile.

  “I’ll keep you out of trouble; trust me.” She wished she could believe that, but she failed to convince even herself.

  “Yeah, I know, Just as you always do.” His voice held a hint of amusement, enough to remind her exactly how little immunity to her he had. He braced his right elbow on the backrest and rested his head in his hand.

  “I’ve never had such a puzzling relationship with anyone, female or male. You and I have a great deal in common. We like each other…well, most of the time we do, and we want each other. All the time, I’d say. You know, there are times, Naomi, when I feel in my gut that you’re right for me, that something really good could develop between us. But there are other times when I doubt that, when I’m positive I don’t know you at all, that something important about you is hidden somewhere. And that it’s hidden intentionally.”

  She had been looking at him, listening intently, and getting the uncomfortable feeling that she had already lost her way. She was going to hurt and hurt badly no matter what she did.

  “But I don’t…” she said aloud, and stopped.

  “Don’t what? Don’t hide what matters most?”

  She shook her head and tried to divert him. “You’ve said a lot in those few words, Rufus; I’ll have to consider what you’ve said. I want to give you honest answers, but you want me to think about things that I’ve been unwilling to address.”

  He rested his arm lightly around her shoulders. “Am I ever going to know who you are, Naomi?”

  She raised her left hand to his face, acting innocently, motivated purely by her need to touch him, to show him some tenderness, to communicate the deeply compassionate nature that she so rarely allowed him to see. He looked down at her as she caressed his jaw with featherlike touches. “It seems we’ve both had difficult lives,” she said, almost in a whisper, seducing herself with the intimate gesture of stroking his face. “If I get all the answers and if we’re still friends when that happens, I’ll share those answers with you.”

  “I want to believe you. Why don’t you try trusting me? I won’t disappoint you. Believe me, I know how it feels, Naomi, when someone you care for lets you down, when you find that you can’t depend on that person.” She’d seen him wicked, serious, angry, and in other moods, but he had not previously allowed her to see him in a state of such heartrending vulnerability. Suddenly, his carefully sheltered need was exposed and she could see the man who’d missed out on the strong parental attentiveness that he’d craved as a child, and who had seen his dreams of his own happy family and graceful home dissolve into bitterness.

  She didn’t think; her arms stole around his neck. She leaned toward him, and without the least hesitation, he met her with an urgent, hungry kiss, crushing her to him. Everything that had gone on between them throughout the afternoon and into the evening had been leading up to that moment, when his stifled groan told her how much he needed her. Instinctively, she drew him closer to her, kissed his stubbly cheek, his closed eyelids, his chin. She couldn’t say the words, knew even in her passion that she had better not say them, but her every gesture said, I adore you.

  They sat silently, entwined in each other’s arms, buried in their separate thoughts. Finally, he reached into the back seat and got a beautifully wrapped rectangular package.

  “Open this after you get home,” he suggested, almost diffidently she thought. “I hope it’ll be okay.”

  She looked from him to the gift and started to speak, but he shushed her.

  “Please accept it, Naomi. If it isn’t all right, I’d like you to exchange it for something that is.” She took it graciously, her heart pounding; what was the meaning of it?

  Naomi hated to think of Marva as her mentor, but she admitted that she turned to her friend whenever she had a serious problem, even though she invariably ignored Marva’s advice. She drained her coffee cup and glanced around her friend’s new kitchen. Marva had been observing her closely, adding little to what had passed for a conversation between them, and Naomi knew Marva had noticed that she lacked her usual verve.

  “How are things between you and Cat?”

  “The same. And why to you always call him ‘Cat’? I don’t like that name; it’s not him. Cats are stealthy.”

  Marva chuckled and, embarrassed, Naomi shifted her glance as she realized she was being protective of Rufus.

  “You’re getting to be too sensitive,” Marva told her, in a voice laden with censorship. “You don’t seem willing to match wits and just do girl talk anymore. Why won’t you talk?” She propped her chin up. “You like him a lot; you know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I know it. It’s time I got back to work; I’m not at leisure, like you are.” She quickly collected her handbag and the portfolio that she had brought along in order to test Marva’s reaction to her ad campaign layout.

  Marva laid a hand on her arm. “You’re not yourself, Naomi, or at least, not the person I think I’ve known. I’ve realized for a long time that you have secrets, important ones, but I thought you’d come to terms with whatever those secrets were about. Lately, there seems to be something tearing at you; everything is forced. Your smiles, your laughter, even your humor is forced. Your smiles, your laughter, even your humor is forced, and it’s been more and more noticeable since the gala. Get on top of it before you drown in it. You won’t talk to me; can’t you confide in Cat?”

  Marva was only five foot three and had to reach up to put her arm around Naomi’s shoulder. “I was certain that after the way the two of you danced that night, you’d have become very close by now. Let him love you, honey,” she drawled. “It’ll change your whole world; your big problems will get smaller; work will be easier; even the stars will be brighter. Believe me.” Her laugh was rich, throaty, and knowing. “And that’s just for starters.”

  “Thanks, Marva. But Rufus is only part of the problem. I’ll call you.” She wanted to get out of there; nothing was as simple as Marva claimed. She had a husband whom she adored to share her problems and to hold her at night. When a load got too heavy, she could just hand part of it to him. I can’t look forward to that, she reminded herself as she started her car, with Rufus or any other man. And if the stars don’t get brighter, that’ll just be my tough luck. She drove to her studio and buried herself in her work; it didn’t help.

  Naomi got home late that evening, out of sorts and hungry. She went into her bedroom to change and saw the present from Rufus that so far she hadn’t had the courage to open. She made coffee, heated the rolls and roasted Cornish hen she had brought in, and sat down to eat with the beautifully wrapped box beside her plate.

  I’m being silly, she told herself, and opened the box with shaky fingers to find a pair of green leather dress shoes that were remarkably similar to the ones she’d told him about. How had he guessed that she wore size 9B? And why had he done it? She thought about it for several minutes and decided that he had wanted to make up for something missing in her life; the shoes were merely a symbol. She slipped them on. They were a good fit and matched the green Chinese silk dress. Her heart lurched as she looked at them. She longed to telephone him, but decided against it, fearful that her raw emotions would betray her. Instead, she wrote him a thank-you note and signed it, “Love, Naomi.”

  Three evenings later, Rufus walked out of the OLC building and into its back parking lot, a place that he disliked, especially at night. With the simple act of walking through a door, he was transported from a progressive environment to the profusion of crying children and blaring radios and televisions that emanated from the neighboring apartment buildings. He walked swiftly over the buckled pavement and stopped, all his senses alert. With the help of the overhead lightbulbs that shone from the unshaded apartment wi
ndows, he could see in the twilight three figures in animated discussion a few feet from his car, and he was certain Naomi was one of them. He moved stealthily closer and leaned against the wooden fence that bordered the lot, ready to defend her if necessary. His eyes became accustomed to the near darkness, and he recognized first Linda and than a young man. Their words drifted to him.

  “Naomi, I’m not doing anything wrong. What’s wrong about my going to a party?”

  “You’re going against your mother’s orders, Linda, that’s what’s wrong. You’re getting involved with the wrong crowd, and this man is too old for you. And why do you need an overnight bag just to go to a party? When you find yourself in trouble, you’ll regret this night as long as you live. I know what I’m talking about. Look around you. Isn’t this the environment that you’re trying so hard to escape? Well, it’s the one you’re headed toward, if you go through with this. I know you’re hungry for love, Linda, but you won’t find it tonight. Wise up, honey, before it’s too late.”

  Would Linda go off with that man and leave Naomi standing there after she’d pleaded with her? And where was the man’s common sense? Linda was a minor. He made a quick decision, rounded two cars, and stepped between Linda and her friend.

  “You’d better be careful, fellow. This girl is fifteen, and you’re at least twenty. Don’t you know that if you touch her, you could get a jail sentence? What’s your name?”

  “My name is Rodney Hall, Mr. Meade,” the man told him, surprising Rufus that he was recognizable under the dim lights. “And Linda told me she was eighteen. I don’t hang out with underage girls; that stupid I’m not. Linda’s real nice, and I like her, but I sure thought she was older. Looks like I’m in your debt, man.” He turned to Linda. “Stay out of trouble, kid, it’s rough out here in the streets.” Rufus watched Rodney walk away, hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched. Better to be disappointed, he thought, sympathizing with the man, than to face a jail term.

  Rufus had some questions to ask Naomi. Her involvement with Linda was personal, he’d swear to it. She identified with the girl as though they were mother and daughter. His conviction about the strength of their tie deepened when Naomi attempted to embrace Linda and the girl responded by turning away, seeming to sulk.

  He sensed Naomi’s disappointment in Linda and thought, unhappily, that she’d have preferred that he hadn’t witnessed that scene, which seemed to have left her shaken. But he had, and he wasn’t leaving that lot until she did.

  “Hello, Naomi. Linda. It’s just six-thirty. Would the two of you join me for a soda or coffee? I can’t suggest dinner, because I have to get my boys in about forty minutes.” Both declined. He turned to Linda and winced when he saw tears streaming down her face. She must have been deeply hurt or embarrassed, for she dropped her head and turned her back to him.

  He walked around to face her. “Rodney may be a nice guy, Linda; I don’t know. Whether he is or not, you shouldn’t have deceived him. Don’t lie to a man about your age. You could ruin his life, and you’ll almost certainly ruin yours if you settle for a one-night stand.” He regarded her intently.

  He didn’t like the silent treatment he was receiving from Naomi, who was behaving as if he wasn’t there, as if she resented his interference. He walked over to her and reached for her arm, but she backed away, almost stumbling over the uneven pavement.

  “I’ll see you to your car, Naomi.” What had he done to make her behave as if he was poison? He reached for her hand. “I take it you’re driving Linda home, so you two come on. I’m not leaving you here in this back lot in the dark, Naomi, and you know it,” he growled. After she drove off, he got into his minivan and sat there, letting the motor idle. He’d just been given a clue to who Naomi was, and he didn’t know what to do with it. Maybe he should have asked Linda whether she and Naomi were related. Naomi hadn’t seemed like herself. She hadn’t wanted him to touch her, and she’d barely said a word to him. He was more puzzled than ever.

  An hour and a half later, Naomi sat down to a cold supper of fried chicken, baked sweet potato, and milk. She had driven Linda to her home at North Capital and P Street. Not the worst neighborhood, but close, and waited until the girl was inside her door. Had she herself been that naive fourteen years ago, looking for love in the wrong place? She thought back to the scene in the OLC lot. To leave the lot, you either went back into OLC or through the gate and into the dark alley. If Linda had gone through that gate with Rodney, there’d have been no turning back. Naomi marveled that such a gifted, intelligent girl had given no thought to the consequences. Was the need for love so powerful? Did she need Rufus like that, and did it explain her attachment to Chuck?

  She answered the phone after its fourth ring. “Hello. I’m busy; may I call you back?”

  “In that case, why didn’t you just let your answering machine say that for you? If my boys weren’t in bed, I’d invite myself over. Could you call a taxi and come over here? That way, I can at least be responsible for your transportation. How about it?” She thrilled at the sound of his deep, masculine voice, but she couldn’t talk with him or see him, not when she felt so raw. She’d been through the wringer once tonight, and she wasn’t going to subject herself to Rufus’s inquisition. She didn’t know how much of herself she had exposed to Linda, nor what he had heard. But Rufus was like a master agent; nothing escaped him, and he always got what he went after. She stalled.

  “Well, what about it?”

  “I’m eating dinner. I’m tired, and I’m going to bed. If you called about Linda, I saw her safely to her door.”

  “I didn’t call about Linda; I called about you.”

  She leaned her left hip against the table and contemplated the probable effect of telling him that she didn’t want to see him anymore. None, she decided. “Rufus, we’ll have to discuss me some other time. I’m going to turn in.” Don’t lie to a man, Linda. She hadn’t lied to Rufus, but she hadn’t told him the truth, either, and she felt as though she was caught in her own trap. He had wanted to protect her when they were in the OLC lot, but she couldn’t allow it. If she ever began to depend on him…

  “There’s no point in trying to run from your problems, sweetheart,” he said, getting her attention. “Like the man in Samarra, when you get there, whatever’s chasing you will be waiting.”

  “I don’t want to see you tonight, Rufus, and I took Philosophy 101 almost twelve years ago.”

  “You told Linda to wise up. You wise up! You send a man a note and sign it, ‘Love,’ and the next time you see him, you behave as if he’s a leper. And you accused me of being inconsistent. Maybe we’ll run into each other in New Orleans. Good night, Naomi.”

  She replaced the receiver and threw out the rest of her dinner. There were times when he made her truly happy. And then, like now, she could be miserable because of him. She wished she’d never seen him, and she wished she didn’t have to go to that convention in New Orleans.

  Chapter 9

  When she arrived at the registration desk of the conference hotel in New Orleans, Naomi saw that Rufus had just checked in and was deep in conversation with an attractive blond clerk. Of course, the little blonde doesn’t care that fifteen or twenty of us are waiting in line to register, Naomi thought crossly. He hadn’t noticed her, and it was just as well, she figured; her feelings for him just then were anything but friendly. Distasteful was more like it. She recognized the sensation as one of jealousy and soothed herself with the thought that jealousy was as natural and spontaneous as yawning. She laughed softly at herself, but loudly enough for Rufus to hear from a distance of five feet and turn toward her. Sweet, feminine triumph flowed though her when he immediately smiled at her, the pretty registration clerk evidently forgotten.

  He greeted her with a captivating smile. “Hi. We should have taken the same flight.”

  Still slightly miffed at t
he pleasure he seemed to have been getting from his conversation with the pretty clerk, she replied grumpily, “Why didn’t we?”

  “Good question. Probably because if you’d wanted us to travel together, you’d have answered the messages I left on your machine yesterday morning.” He shoved his luggage aside, and a middle-aged woman immediately sat on it, nodding an apology toward him.

  A delicious little quiver darted through her chest. At least he’d called. “It wasn’t deliberate,” she explained. “That machine has been giving me problems. I didn’t get your message.” Then, feigning disinterest, she slipped into her old pattern of behaving differently from the way she felt. “Don’t let me keep you from your little blond friend over there.”

  He laughed heartily, and she knew he recognized her annoyance as a cover for jealousy and that it pleased him. “You could have called me and suggested we fly together,” he reprimanded. “It isn’t etched in stone, as you like to say, that between the two of us, I make all the calls.”

  She didn’t want to give up her annoyance; it was a good defense against the fevered turmoil into which seeing him had plunged her. She couldn’t seem to move her eyes from his full bottom lip that always looked inviting—hard and tender at the same time. He raised his hand to rake his fingers over his hair, and her gaze fell upon his strong, tapered fingers, those pleasure giving digits. She could almost feel them stroking her. Her glance rested on his face, and she had an urge to run, because she knew he’d read her thoughts.

  He winked, and her recovery was swift. “I’m glad to know that a nineteenth-century guy thinks it’s okay for a woman to invite a man to join her on an out-of-town trip,” she told him, falling back on flippancy.

  “I thought we’d gotten well beyond the stage where you cover your real feelings with sarcasm,” he told her, as a grim look settled over his face. “Say what you really mean, what you feel, Naomi, even if it embarrasses you. At least you’ll know you were honest.”