At about five minutes of eight, when she’d answered questions for half an hour, she told the packed room, “I’ll come back another time, but right now, folks, my tummy is telling me that I’m mistreating it.” Her audience laughed and stood as one to applaud her. From the clothes she wore, to her manner of speaking, her ready smile and occasional joke, she suggested that she was at one with her audience. A smart woman, one he hadn’t previously known.
He stood to leave, with the intention of getting away before she saw him. However, the cold and damp weather had brought on a stiffness in his right leg and knee, and he managed to stand only slowly and with difficulty. As he straightened up, she bypassed the people who clamored for her attention and came straight to him.
“Hi. I was so happy to see you here, Luther. At first, I thought I was hallucinating. I’m so glad you came.”
Her smile illumined her face. She stood there, calm and cool as if he wasn’t a man who had kissed every inch of her, as if he hadn’t thundered inside of her, gripping her in a powerful storm and driving her to orgasm again and again, while she thrashed beneath him begging for more. And yet…
“Why did you do it?” he heard himself say. “Why, Ruby?”
She stared at him through the deep frown that covered her face. “Why did I do what?”
He couldn’t believe it. She didn’t know what she’d done to him. He wanted to shake her until she saw the love in his heart, until she could feel how he hurt. Without another word, he swung around, limping far more than usual, and left. He thought he heard her call his name, softly as if she barely dared to, but he didn’t stop. The farther away from her he got, the better for both of them. He got into his car and sat there for a few minutes, gathering his thoughts.
Why am I blaming her? I was as much a participant in it as she, and I haven’t even bothered to find out her reaction to our lovemaking. Maybe she’s hurting, too. Oh, hell! And maybe I’m being soft as usual where she’s concerned. He pulled away from the curb. After a short while, he saw a deli and remembered the pistachio ice cream, bought half a gallon, and headed home.
For a few minutes, the lights shining from his living-room and dining-room windows alarmed him. Then he remembered Maggie. When he walked into his house, the aroma of roasting pork, spices and baking biscuits reached him, and he felt a mulelike kick in his gut. So this was what he was missing in not having a wife to come home to.
Get it together, man, and be thankful for what you have. He hadn’t felt such discomfort in his right leg in more than a year. Wondering if the weather alone accounted for it, he made a note to see his doctor.
“That you, Mr. B? Come on back here. It’s cold out there. I got some hot cider waiting for you.” She met him at the kitchen door with a mug.
He gave her the ice cream, inhaled the fragrant brew, took a long sip and looked at her with one eyebrow up. “This is good. It doesn’t have any alcohol in it, does it?”
With her hands on her hips, she leaned her head to the side and grinned. “Do tell, Mr. B. If you don’t drink alcohol till I give it to you, you’ll be a model of sobriety. Go wash your hands. Dinner will be on the table in three minutes. I’m hungry.”
It didn’t register until he was walking back down the stairs that she had delayed her dinner in order to eat with him. “You shouldn’t have waited for me,” he said. “I appreciate not having to eat alone, but I don’t want you to deprive yourself on my account.”
“Tell you the truth, Mr. B., I never did like eating alone.”
She said grace as he was putting the first forkful of garlic mashed potatoes into his mouth. He sampled the roast pork. “Maggie, if you cook like this every day, I’ll soon be overweight. This is fantastic.” He bit into a biscuit and stopped himself just before he whistled. “This is wonderful.”
Somehow, enjoying a delightful meal in his own home, a meal that he didn’t cook, enlivened his spirits and lightened his mood. “Do you have any children?” he asked Maggie.
She shook her head. “My husband and I weren’t blessed like that. And after cigarettes did him in, I decided not to risk another marriage. That one was more hurt than happiness.”
She went to the kitchen with as many soiled plates as she could carry, and he followed her with the remainder. “Wasn’t he nice to you?”
“Yes,” she said over her shoulder. “When he was there. Him and his women. Lord, I got so sick of it.”
He resisted putting a comforting arm around her shoulder, although to do it seemed so natural. “I’m sorry to hear that. You deserved better. Much better. Get your coat. I’ll take you home.”
“I noticed you walking with a limp tonight,” she said. “Did you hurt your foot?”
“If it hasn’t been obvious to you already, Maggie, that means it’s less noticeable than I’ve always thought it was. I lost my right foot and part of that leg when I was an officer in the navy SEALS. I got in the way of a land mine.”
She walked up to him, her face clouded like that of a mother in pain for her child. “How do you walk so…so noblelike, Mr. B?”
This time, he did pat her shoulder. “I wear a prosthesis.”
“Well, that’s one big word, and I don’t know how it hooks up to your leg, but maybe it’s irritating your leg. Why don’t we go to the emergency room and have it looked after?”
He stared down at her. “Are you kidding? It’s ten-thirty.”
“You don’t want to get an infection. I do declare. Men don’t have no sense whatever about taking care of themselves. You want me to drive?”
He rubbed his chin, not because he was angry or irritated, but because the woman really cared.
“Thanks,” he said, “but I can drive. Let’s go.”
He was glad they did, because he got relief from the nagging pain.
“This pad’s about worn out,” the doctor said, “and you’re irritating the flesh every time you put pressure on it. It’ll be fine now, but you want to watch it.”
“You’re an angel,” he told Maggie later, as he got out of his car and walked her to the door of her apartment, although she insisted that he didn’t have to do that. “Thanks. My leg’s fine now.”
“You’re welcome. See you in the morning.”
He drove home thinking how much easier it would be for Maggie if she were his live-in housekeeper. The house was so big, he’d never know she was there.
He’d built the house when he still hoped for a family with Ruby. He knew now that would never happen, and as he pulled into the driveway, the big house reminded him of the futility of his dreams.
What caused her to behave as she did? He’d give anything if he could stop torturing himself about it!
Ruby remained near the door of the community center staring at Luther’s back as he hurried away. Maybe if she understood him, she could bridge the gap that had recently seemed to widen whenever they met. Why had he come to her lecture? He knew more than enough about running a business. And she wished she knew what he meant when he asked why she did it. She released a long breath, glad she had the presence of mind not to leave without finding the social worker and thanking her.
With the frigid wind slapping her face, she hunched her shoulders for warmth and hurried to her car. Maybe if she had a roommate, she wouldn’t need Luther so badly. No, she couldn’t do that; her sisters would start feeling sorry for her.
She stepped into the dark foyer, turned on the light and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. It was useless, she knew, but she still checked her phone in case Luther had called. “I owe myself a better life than this,” she said to herself, “and I’m going to have one.”
The next morning she dressed in her gray knee-skimming crepe skirt, red and black scoop-neck cashmere sweater and black suede stiletto-heeled boots, then added her coat, gloves and scarf and headed for an appointment with a new client.
“What seems to be your basic problem?” she asked the man. “I can see that you’re overstocked, but what else—”
&n
bsp; He interrupted her. “Uh, how long have you been doing this kind of work?” the man asked her, his beady eyes seeming about ready to pop out of his head. “You…uh couldn’t be the boss of a big company. Babe, you got it everywhere it counts.”
She glared at him. “Don’t forget how much you’re paying for this consultation,” she snapped. “If you want to waste the time, fine with me!”
“I was expecting your boss.”
“I am the boss.”
And so it went. Three consultations, and instead of worrying about their business problems, the men worried about the ache in their groin. She hoped for a different reception at her last consultancy of the day. The woman had a bakery that thrived on a small scale, wanted to expand and needed advice on financing the expansion.
“For as much as I’m paying your company,” the sixtyish woman said, “I expected somebody more experienced, not a fashion plate with her skirt up to her behind.”
Ruby rolled her eyes. “Mrs. Henry, I have a degree in business management and five years of experience as a consultant to small businesses. I know what I’m doing. If you’re not satisfied, don’t pay. Shall we get on with this, or not?” Ruby noted the woman’s reaction and concluded that her client understood attitude.
“All right, Miss Lockhart, let’s get started.”
The following day brought similar reactions to Ruby’s new image. “I like the way I look,” she said to Opal in one of their phone conversations, “and I am not going to change to suit somebody’s bias.”
“Yeah, but we’re talking money here,” Opal said. “Your clients are older people, and they don’t trust anybody who doesn’t wear Oxford gray.”
“The women, maybe, but the men see a roll in the hay. Let ’em sweat. I like the way I look, and I’m not changing it.”
“Tone it down a little bit. Maybe leave the boots home. If you look as stunning in those new clothes you bought as you did at my wedding reception, I can’t blame those guys.”
“Oh really, Opal. I didn’t have a single date all last year. I cut my hair, shortened my skirt and lowered my necklines, and men show up like bees after honey.” All but the one I want.
For almost thirty years, people had looked through her as if she didn’t exist. If wasn’t her fault if the average person didn’t seem to be able to distinguish between character and cleavage. “I’m not remaking Ruby Lockhart to suit them,” she said to herself after hanging up.
However, after several new clients cancelled appointments, Ruby had no choice but to concede failure. Dejected, she stopped wearing makeup, put the fashionable boots in the back of her closet and went to work wearing pant suits, cowl-neck sweaters and flat-heeled boots. She hated the way she looked, but she welcomed the added warmth against the blasts of frigid Canadian air.
Without a more attractive alternative, she struck out for the Detroit Institute of Arts that Saturday afternoon. After admiring some eighteenth-century masterpieces, her gaze caught the silhouette of a man who stood before a portrait by Gilbert Stuart. It couldn’t be. Without giving thought as to why she shouldn’t approach him, she walked over, reached up and tapped Luther on the back of his shoulder.
“Hi.”
He turned around, and his eyes lit up when he recognized her. But as quickly, they clouded over with indifference. “Hi. I almost didn’t recognize you.” He didn’t smile, and after a second or two, he turned back to the portrait that had previously captured his attention.
She started toward the room in which the Rembrandts were displayed, but suddenly had no taste for them, and left the museum. She looked more or less as she always had, yet he alluded to the change in her appearance that had begun after Christmas. She didn’t know what to think. Maybe he was saying she should be herself. She sighed. Why should she care what he thought? All right, so he found her sexually uninteresting. A fine time to let her know it after rocking her out of her senses. Well, she’d show him!
That night she went to Paige’s first wedding rehearsal as the “new Ruby,” dressed in a long, wide-tiered black suede skirt and a scoop-neck cashmere sweater, with large gold bangles in her ears. Her spike-heeled boots pinched her feet. “Why are you having the rehearsal so early?” she asked Paige, who parked behind her in front of the church. “Aren’t you supposed to have the engagement party first?”
Paige took Ruby’s arm and started toward the church’s front door. “All of Lyman’s ushers are professional basketball players, except one, and this was the only time he could get them all together. Come on, Lyman will have a fit if I’m not there holding his hand.”
Ruby’s heartbeat took off when she saw that Paige had invited Luther, though she wondered in what capacity. Seeing the groom’s friends, nearly all of whom were basketball players and apparently eligible, she decided to give Luther the space he seemed to want. And when Craig Murphy, the most famous of the group, singled her out for attention, she did not ignore him.
“Are you Paige’s sister? he asked her and then answered his question. “No, you’re not. She doesn’t look a bit like you.” A smile flittered across his face. “Too bad for her. I hope you like basketball.”
“I liked it when I played left forward on Howard University’s varsity team.” His eyes lit up, and a grin exposed his glistening white teeth. This man is infectious, she thought. I’d better watch my step.
“Maybe you can give me some tips,” he said. “I also play left forward.” She threw her hands up, palms out as if in surrender. “If you’re hanging out with Lyman Epse, I’m sure there’re no flies on you, Craig. I couldn’t teach you a thing.”
As soon as she said it, she knew she’d left herself open for a witty jibe, and he didn’t disappoint her. “I’ll bet you could, and I’m sure I’d enjoy the lesson. If you live here in Detroit, I’d like to see you again.”
She didn’t look in Luther’s direction, but she could feel his gaze burning her. She nodded. “If you really want to,” she said, trying to decelerate Craig’s pace, “you’ll call me.”
“Are you giving me the brush-off?” he asked her.
“No. I’m giving myself time to think about it. I suspect I’m older than you, and—”
“What difference would that make? I’ll bet you went to graduate school.”
“I got an MBA at the University of Michigan, and I work as a consultant to small businesses.”
“Interesting,” he said. “When I break a leg or something or get too old to play basketball, I want to operate a round-the-world tour company. I love to travel.”
“The wedding party’s lining up over there,” she said, almost relieved to be able to terminate the conversation. Every glance in Luther’s direction found him looking at her.
“Since my parents are gone, Luther’s escorting me,” Paige told them. “Opal is my matron of honor, and Craig is Lyman’s best man. Everybody line up according to height. Luther, honey, would you escort Ruby, please.”
Luther didn’t seem happy about that prospect, Ruby thought. “Don’t worry,” she said to Luther from the corner of her mouth. “I’m not likely to fall down, so you won’t have to touch me.”
“What do you mean by that?” he whispered. “What’s gotten into you lately?”
She looked at him then, unwilling to treat as trifling something that pained her so deeply. “I miss the wonderful relationship I’ve had with you for most of my life. But I no longer mean anything to you, and I’ve decided that I’m not going to care. You do your thing, and I’ll do mine.”
A shadow that could have reflected pain flashed in his brown eyes and he frowned as if he’d missed the point. But true to his nature, Luther stood taller as if to say, I refuse to hurt. What he actually said was, “Let it lie. This is a time for pleasantness, for happiness.”
“Yes,” she said, dripping sarcasm, “let’s not spread any gloom by being honest.”
He grabbed her arm. “Why did you go to bed with me?” And then his lower lip dropped, for he had evidently shocked himself by
his frankness.
She raised her head in that aristocratic way that Amber always described as arrogant and said, “Because I wanted to. Because I always wanted to. Subject closed.” Let him digest that. She ignored his widened eyes and the gaping hole his mouth had become. “Maybe you ought to figure out why you took me to bed.” When she saw that he was at a loss for words, she couldn’t remember when she’d felt so good.
“Don’t forget your places now,” Paige called out, relieving Luther of the need to answer Ruby’s challenge.
Following the rehearsal, Ruby hugged Paige and her sisters, dashed out a side door, rushed to her car and went home, avoiding both Luther and Craig Murphy. However, Craig evidently did not plan to be rejected.
“How did you get my phone number?” she asked him when she answered the phone less than ten minutes after walking into her house.
“What’s the problem? I asked Paige. Can we have dinner tomorrow evening? Or lunch tomorrow if you’re busy in the evening. You’re not getting away from me, lady.”
She thought about it for a few seconds. “How old are you, Craig?”
“Twenty-six, and I don’t care how old you are.”
“Aren’t you playing somewhere tomorrow night? This is the height of the basketball season.”
“Day after tomorrow. I’m off tomorrow.”
“Hmm. Okay. Lunch.” He gave her the name and address of the restaurant. “See you at one.” She rationalized that she had to eat, so it wouldn’t hurt to eat with Craig.
After hanging up, she kicked off her shoes and went to the kitchen to make a sandwich. “I wonder what’s on Luther’s mind now,” she said aloud. “I gave him plenty to think about.”
Luther thought about her words through most of the night, and by sunrise, there only seemed to be one logical conclusion: His prosthesis repelled her. She had been sober, or so she claimed; she’d wanted to make love with him; and he gave her complete satisfaction. He knew it, because at the moment of release, she’d gripped him so powerfully that he nearly lost control and, in the end, he gave himself as he’d never done with any other woman. If she wanted Trevor Johns, Craig Murphy or any other man, he couldn’t do anything about that. Maybe she felt she needed a whole man. She was entitled to one, and that excluded him. With a sad shake of his head, he pounded his right fist into his left palm, thinking back to the days when he commanded eighty navy SEALS, the toughest men in the service. Sometimes, life was hell!
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