She leaned against the edge of the kitchen sink, waiting for Aaron to return from the laundry room. Rosalie had done a wonderful job raising the boy. He had good manners and good habits. And there was much of herself in him. She’d have to be careful not to go overboard, she reminded herself, because his mother was Rosalie Hopkins, a good, decent woman. Would she have been as generous if their roles had been reversed? She didn’t think so; she doubted many women would have been and she was going to do whatever she could to make certain Rosalie never regretted what she’d done.
Aaron walked into the apartment in his stocking feet, holding his clean white sneakers high over his head. “I oughta get going, Noomie. I’ve got a few chores to do at home if we’re going to Alexandria. Won’t take me but half an hour.” She explained that they’d be going the following day and noticed an involuntary twitch of his jaw. Was she about to learn something else about him?
“What’s the matter? The old man doesn’t want my company today, or you don’t feel like taking me?” His humorless smile didn’t fool her; he felt rejected. And his hard penetrating stare seemed out of character for the light-hearted boy with whom she’d spent the last four hours, but she sensed that it was part of him, that he could be harsh. He wasn’t an easy one, and she’d better not forget it.
“Aaron,” she told him in a soft voice, “Grandpa has company this afternoon. He said he’d rather you came tomorrow, when he can spend all his time with you. In fact, he said he wouldn’t care if you went over there and stayed with him.”
“He said that?” His face brightened immediately, and he didn’t seem to need an answer, but treated her statement like a self-evident truth. He sat down and began pulling on his sneakers, and she sighed deeply. What a turnabout!
“Before I go, you want to tell me what you do for a living? I know you’re an artist, but how do you make money doing this?” After explaining her work to him, she put on her coat and boots and informed him that she was driving him home. He didn’t need to know that she was afraid for him to skake on the highways at the height of the rush hour.
“Phone your mom and tell her we’re leaving. I don’t want her to worry.”
“She’s still at work, but I’ll phone her.” He did, and when they got in the car, he looked at the bag in her hand.
“I sure hope you put some of those biscuits in there.”
She patted his hand, aware that she no longer felt as if by touching him she violated his privacy. “There’s nothing here but biscuits, and you’re going to tell Rosalie that I sent them to her.” She put her arm across the back of the seat and looked at him.
“On your honor?” He grinned sheepishly, and she supposed that his little mannerisms would always pull at her heartstrings. She’d just have to get used to not hugging him at such times. He wouldn’t have liked it at his age if he had been living with her all his life.
“I’m wai…ting.” She sang the word.
“Okay, but you sure drive a nasty bargain. Why don’t you just give me a couple of them now? That’ll hold me.”
She tossed him the bag. I’m a pushover, she thought, as she drove. Aaron tuned to a rock station, and her mind drifted to Rufus. What would he and Judd talk about? If only she could share with him her feelings about the morning she’d spent with Aaron. She couldn’t judge whether she and her child had made any progress toward real friendship, because he had so quickly shown suspiciousness of her. She had never felt so helpless, but there was nothing she could do but wait; it was all up to Aaron. She glanced at him sitting there, seemingly without a care—his head resting on the back of the seat, his fingers tapping his knees to the sounds of rock—and looked quickly away. She had the urge to throw caution aside, tell Rufus everything, and pray that he’d take her in his arms and keep her there.
“Are you in a hurry all of a sudden, Noomie? Sixty is kinda fast in the city.”
She took her foot off the accelerator. “Sorry. My mind wandered.” She parked in front of the house, and her spirits soared when Aaron patted her shoulder and teased, “Thanks. You’d better get your pilot’s license if you’re planning to continue flying. See you tomorrow.”
She stopped by a bakery and ordered a cake, bought some oils and other supplies, locked herself in her studio, and turned on the answering machine. Hours later, the burning in her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten dinner, and a glance toward the window informed her that it was dark and snowing. The telephone had rung several times, but the caller had hung up as soon as her message had begun. Satisfied with her logo design for a record company’s new label, she prepared to leave. The telephone rang again, and moments later, she heard his hypnotic voice.
“Did you call me earlier?”
“Three times. I hate those infernal machines. You promised a magazine interview for OLC, and I’m thinking it would be more impressive if the story covered spokesperson for several of our foundations. I’ve spoken with an editor of African Americans Today, and she would like, say, five separate stories in the same issue. I’d write the overview, and you would be the lead. What do you say?”
He had the ability to burst her balloon without trying. Her heart had thumped wildly at the sound of his voice, at the chance that he’d missed her or just wanted to talk with her. But no—he’d called to talk business. She glanced over at her drawing board at the sketches of which she had been so proud, that had made her feel like skipping instead of walking to her car, and wondered how she’d let his impersonal manner suck away her good mood so easily.
“Could we talk about this some other time, Rufus? I’ve just realized it’s snowing, and I’d better get home. I don’t know what condition the streets are in.” She thought she heard him sigh, but she wasn’t sure.
“Wait there a few minutes while I step outside and check the weather. Stay there until I get back to you.” He hung up before she could tell him she didn’t want his on-again, off-again caring. She shouldn’t have answered, she told herself, knowing that after she heard his voice, hardly anything could have prevented her from lifting the receiver.
She sat down at her drawing board to wait for his call and busied herself developing ideas for a cosmetics ad. At the knock on her door, she looked at her watch; almost twenty minutes had passed. She should have realized that he’d come. She opened the door to him and the blast of cold air that still swirled around him. She hadn’t seen him in knickers before. The thick Scottish tweeds and knee-high leather boots suited him. With the heavy parka, they gave him the look of a rugged outdoorsman. He walked in without waiting for an invitation, and she gave full rein to the laughter that bubbled in her when she noticed the snowflakes sticking to the tiny black curls on one side of his head.
He lifted his brow quizzically. “I amuse you?” It was difficult at times to know whether he was serious.
“I didn’t realize you’d come here. The weather must be terrible. Who’s with Preston and Sheldon?”
He shrugged and unzipped his parka. “I left them with a sitter, a young boy who lives across the street. They had a great time with Judd this afternoon. I think they’re ready to adopt your grandfather; they’re crazy about him.” He tilted his head to one side and narrowed his eyes slightly. Here it comes, she thought.
“I can’t imagine why you were surprised to see me. You must have known I wouldn’t let you drive in this blizzard if I could prevent it. I’ll drive you home. Don’t worry—I’ll get your car to you tomorrow morning.”
She frowned, nodding hesitantly. She was taking Aaron to visit Judd tomorrow and she wouldn’t consider postponing their visit; it would be the first of her son’s birthdays that she’d spend with him, and she’d already seen how quickly he could become suspicious of her.
“But I’ll need the car by eleven.”
“Then I’ll have it here by eleven.” She had to fight to hold down the pa
nic; what if Rufus found Aaron at her apartment? But she breathed a sigh of relief when it occurred to her that she could phone Aaron and tell him she’d pick him up. Letting the breath out of her lungs slowly, she mustered a little enthusiasm and agreed to his suggestion.
At her apartment door, he asked whether she planned to invite him in for coffee. “I haven’t even had dinner yet, so you’d have a long wait for coffee,” she hedged. She suspected that coffee wasn’t his goal, but how could she deny him something so simple after his generous gesture, going out for her and driving her home?
“Ask me in anyway, and give me a chance to warm up before going back out there in that blizzard.” She tried to ignore the coolness of his grin, the clear evidence that something displeased him. He walked in behind her, unzipping his parka as he did so.
“Don’t be so melodramatic,” she threw over her shoulder. “It’s just a little snow.” But she sensed before the words were out that he wasn’t in a mood for humor.
“This place always looks so warm and inviting. Like you.” He stood looking down at her, his eyes and facial expression unreadable.
She placed her hands on her hips, stood with arms slightly akimbo, and gazed up at him. Bravado seemed the best way to handle Rufus right then. “Rufus, I’m going to eat my dinner and you’re going to drink a cup of instant coffee and then go home.”
The message in his eyes carried the precision of words. “Want to bet?” they asked her, as he took a few steps closer, almost but not quite crowding her. She wouldn’t let him see how he affected her and stifled the tremors that threatened to unbalance her.
“Don’t start anything that we aren’t going to finish. It’s bad for my nerves.” She laughed. “And we’re as far apart tonight as we were last night. Nothing’s change. You know that.”
“Nothing’s changed because you won’t trust me; you won’t share what’s inside you, eating at you.”
She looked past him to the refrigerator. “And that’s because you’ve never shown me a good reason.”
“Then you admit there’s something.” He moved closer but she backed up a step and looked at him steadily, neither confirming nor denying it.
He took his parka from the back of the chair, put it on and started toward the hallway. “I don’t really like instant coffee. Your car will be here in front of your door at nine.”
Another evening gone sour, she thought, as he reached out and dusted her cheek with the back of his hand. “Good night, Naomi.” It seemed that lately their partings always left them further apart than when they’d gotten together. She warmed some leftovers in the microwave for dinner. Later, she called Aaron and told him she’d stop by for him at noon. Rosalie had enjoyed the biscuits. “You can send some more any time; they were delicious,” Rosalie told her, and added, “Next time, stop in and visit for a while. You’ll be welcome.”
Rufus drove slowly. Considering his state of mind, he’d be smart to walk. Something about his driving her home had made her fearful, or at least sufficiently concerned to hesitate. It was understandable that she might not want him to go home with her, their libidos were almost certain to flare up if they were alone together. He knew he should wait until she straightened out whatever was bothering her, but he was increasingly doubtful that she ever would. Walking away no longer seemed an option for him; he loved her and needed her, and if she didn’t come to him soon, he was going to force the issue. Failure wasn’t something he was familiar with. He laughed at himself. He’d come full circle—from disliking her to letting her get into his blood. Then, he’d fallen in love with her, and if he knew anything at all, he knew this was for keeps. His mother would have loved her, too, he reflected.
Naomi and Aaron found Judd pacing the floor when they arrived shortly after noon, worried that the storm would interfere with their visit. After the most elaborate lunch she’d ever known Calvin to prepare, Naomi brought out Aaron’s birthday cake. She wouldn’t have thought that a person’s smile could bring her so much pleasure. But there was more to come. Happiness flooded her when Aaron leaned over a chair that was between them, wiped the chocolate crumbs from his mouth with the back of his hand, and kissed her on the cheek. She had to try hard not to overreact. To her surprise, Aaron didn’t want to leave, not even when she reminded him repeatedly of the slippery streets and encroaching darkness.
At the door, she heard her grandfather tell Aaron, “You can stop calling me sir and call me Grandpa. Won’t hurt you one bit to do that.” She watched Aaron closely for any sign of resentment, but didn’t see any.
The boy looked at Judd in the eye and told him, “I know who you are, sir. If that’s what you want me to call you, it’s all right with me. Uh, s—I mean, Grandpa, my mom said she’d like to meet you. Maybe you could call her sometimes.” He looked from one to the other. “Thanks for the birthday lunch and especially for the cake. Chocolate’s my favorite.” Naomi bit her lip. It had been on the tip of her tongue to say that Rufus also loved chocolate cake.
Aaron arrived the next afternoon, as agreed, for another painting lesson. His talent and swift mind impressed her. She realized as they worked that Aaron wouldn’t hesitate to ask her any questions that came to his mind. She hoped it was become he felt comfortable with her. Maybe she could ask him about something that had been bothering her.
“Aaron, how did you feel about your adoptive father?”
“I loved him,” he told her. “He was great, really great. We were real close, and I still miss him. But I always felt something wasn’t right. I didn’t look like anybody. I’m a lighter complexion than my mom and dad, and my hair’s like yours, wild and woolly. Theirs was softer and, you know, tame. Most of my friends looked a lot like one or both of their parents. Now, you…” He put the scraper aside and looked directly at her. “I look like you. Just like you. It’s eerie as…it’s eerie. You must look like your dad, ’cause both of us look like Grandpa.”
The telephone rang, and she reached for the extension on the kitchen wall.
“Hello.”
“It’s Sheldon, Noomie.”
“Sheldon? Darling, where are you? Home?” She remembered that Rufus had said he was going to teach the boy how to dial her number. They talked for a few minutes.
“I have to go now, Noomie. I’m supposed to stay in my room because I’ve been bad. We miss you, Noomie, and we want you to come see us.” She told the child that she missed him and Preston, too. He hung up and she suspected that he’d been caught outside his room. She went back to her drawing board, distracted. What had they been talking about before that call?
“What’s the problem, Noomie? Who was that?”
She told him, adding cryptically, “The problem is that I can’t have my cake and eat it, too.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t that be a blast?” he quipped. Then, as if sensing an undercurrent of emotion in her, he queried, “Is Sheldon the son of that man you told me you love? Remember the day we met? You told me that.” He looked steadily at her, seeming to grow older by the second. “You said the guy had four-year-old twins.” He touched his head with his forefinger. “I’ve got a memory like an elephant, Noomie; I never forget anything.” She knew her silence whetted his appetite for more information, and because she didn’t have any answers, he’d draw his own conclusion, indicting her.
“Why can’t you go see the kid? Seems to me if he likes you so much he called you, you’ve been spending some quality time with him. Is it because of me you don’t see them anymore?” She had promised him that she’d answer truthfully any questions he had about her.
She leaned back and rested her elbows on the drawing board. If she was going to keep his respect, she had to appear to be in control. “I don’t see them as much as I did, because their father and I are not so close anymore.” She watched his eyebrows shoot up and braced herself for more quizzing. He didn’t disappoint her.
/> “Did he drop you?” She shook her head, an amused smile playing around her lips.
“I didn’t think so. You didn’t tell him about me, did you? You’d rather drop him. Look, if you’re ashamed of me, just pretend I don’t exist. I don’t need to hang around here, and I can get to Alexandria by myself.” Her mind raced as she searched frantically for words that would reassure him, prevent a break in their relationship. He reached for his jacket, and she grabbed his hand.
“Aaron, no man is worth losing you again.” He stared at her long and hard, as if trying to see inside her, and she had to reach deep within for the strength to withstand his scrutiny without flinching. Suddenly, he shrugged nonchalantly, as if none of it mattered.
“Whatever. I’d better be going; my mom likes for me to be home before dark.” He zipped up his jacket, slanted his head, and asked her, “Do you still love this guy?” She nodded. He looked at his feet, then directly into her eyes. “I’m not sure I like this. I’ll see you in a couple of days.” He gave her his thumbs-up sign and left, and she wondered if she was going to lose both of them.
Chapter 17
Rufus turned off his computer. He should punish Sheldon for having disobeyed him, but he sympathized with the child. Sheldon and Preston loved Naomi and missed her as much as he did. Preston translated his hurt into anger, but Sheldon’s temperament was different, and he suffered more. He had tried to protect his boys from what they were experiencing with Naomi, but an hour after they’d met her, it was too late. They feel for her as instantaneously as he did. Naomi seemed to have a way with the Meade males.
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