Breaking the Ties That Bind

by Gwynne Forster

  “Thanks. I hope I’m as much of a man as he is. When will we see each other again?”

  “I’ll study until around three tomorrow.”

  He played with the fingers of her left hand. “And after that?”

  “Do you really want to see me again tomorrow?”

  He wanted to shake some sense into her, but he settled for placing a hand on each of her shoulders and looking her in the eye. “I want to see you as often as I can and for as long as possible, and don’t tell me that surprises you. I’m strongly attracted to you, and I want you. That’s normal.”

  “I know that,” she said. “Can we go?”

  He stood, grasped her hand, and walked with her to the foyer. After helping her into her coat, he buttoned it. “The next time you’re here, I’ll give you a tour of the place.”

  “I like what I’ve seen.”

  He stared down at her for a few seconds, then leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You make the nicest promises,” she said with a wicked glint in her eyes.

  He wasn’t sure he liked that, and he didn’t know the source of his uncertainty. “Are you laughing at me, Kendra?”

  A grin formed around her lips. “Kind of.”

  “What’s amusing you? Let me in on it so I can laugh.”

  The grin became a laugh. “I’m not trying to ring your bell,” she said, seeming to plead for his understanding. When she managed to control the laughter, she said, “It’s . . . you’re trying so hard not to give me the wrong impression. If I didn’t trust you, Sam, I definitely would not be here.” She eased her arm through his. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  He locked the door, and with her hand snug in his, walked down the short hallway to the elevator. He stopped himself as he was about to whistle a song from the summer of his sexual awakening. He rarely whistled and never in a public place, but at the moment he had a need to express the gaiety and the freedom that he felt. He couldn’t explain the feeling, but he knew it sprang from the hand he held, from the evening that was about to end, and from the way he hoped it would end.

  Chapter Six

  Sam parked a few doors down from the apartment building in which Kendra lived, helped her out of the car, closed the door and—

  “You got change for a cup of coffee, buddy?”

  Sam swung around. He hadn’t seen the man approach, and he would have if he hadn’t been so absorbed in what could happen when they got into Kendra’s apartment. He took several steps backward and maneuvered so that Kendra was behind him.

  “I don’t have any change.”

  “Then give me your wallet.”

  Looking the man in the eye, he felt something hard at his right side.

  “I’ve got a few dollars,” Kendra said. “Just a minute till I find it.” Sam could not imagine what her motive was, so he remained still and focused his attention on the man.

  “If she’s being funny, you’d better tell her to zip it while she can.”

  “Thank goodness, I found it.” She stepped around Sam and extended her left hand in which she held several bills.

  The thief grabbed the money. “What else you got in there? Ow!” he yelled, jumping up and down, rubbing his eyes and screaming in discomfort.

  “What the hell happened?’ Sam asked Kendra, who was calmly dialing a number on her cell phone.

  “Don’t worry. He’ll be useless for a good while. I’m calling the cops.”

  Sam stared down at the man, who writhed on the pavement with an open switchblade knife lying beside him. After dealing with the police, who arrived within minutes, they continued to Kendra’s apartment.

  Kendra had a feeling of bravery while confronting the man, but as they approached her apartment, she became aware that Sam hadn’t said another word and that he was not holding her hand.

  He took her key, opened the door, and closed it behind them. In the dimly lighted foyer, he turned to her, and she saw from his demeanor that kissing her or any other affectionate exchange with her was not on his mind.

  Staring into her face without an iota of warmth in his expression, he said, “You’re going to tell me why you’re carrying pepper spray on a date with me.”

  So that was it. She had offended his masculine pride. “My father meets me at night when I get off from work. He gave me this a few nights ago to use in case he couldn’t meet me some time and I had a problem such as we had tonight. He made me promise never to take it out of my pocketbook. My money was in my coat pocket, but I had to fish around in my pocketbook to find the pepper spray. I saw the movement of his hands and, after years of living in high-crime neighborhoods, I knew he’d reached for either a gun or a knife.”

  He walked with her into her living room. “Come over here and let’s sit down. I need to digest this thing. I didn’t expect that in this neighborhood, but I suppose I should have. Thieves know where to get the bigger haul, and it isn’t from the poor. You upset me when you walked up to that man holding out that money. My first thought was that I couldn’t protect you, and that he might use you for a hostage. I was horrified.”

  She didn’t want him to dwell on it. She knew that most men prided themselves on their ability to protect their woman and she’d taken that role from him.

  “Can we put it behind us, Sam? If he had hurt you, I don’t think I would ever have gotten over it. I was afraid, but I would never stand by like a shrinking violet and watch anyone hurt you. I couldn’t do that.”

  He leaned against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. “This has been a very eventful night, filled with surprises.”

  “Bad ones?”

  “Except for the incident with that unfortunate thief, I certainly wouldn’t say bad.”

  “Does this mean you aren’t going to kiss me tonight? I mean kiss me. Not one of your safe little cheek smacks.”

  Laughter poured out of him, and she thanked God that he could laugh about it.

  “You are precious, Kendra, more precious than you could realize. Walk with me to the door.”

  He reached for her hand and, needing the physical connection to him, she leaned into him in a bodily caress and rested her head against his shoulder. He slid his arm around her and turned her to face him.

  “I told you, Kendra, that I don’t want to make any mistakes with you. That doesn’t mean I don’t want you. God knows I do. Kiss me?” Her hands moved past the lapels of his jacket to his shoulders, and as she gazed up at him, her eyes must have portrayed her vulnerability and her trust in him, for a strange turbulence leaped into his eyes. He lowered his head.

  She had thought that she wanted him to kiss her, but when she looked into his eyes, eyes that mirrored such tenderness and caring, everything changed. She knew for the first time in her life what it meant to need a man. And as if he saw and understood the change in her, he lifted her to him with an urgency that excited her and, with parted lips, she took him in. Feeling him inside of her, she clutched him to her in a frenzied passion. But when his hand pressed her buttocks, she stepped back.

  He opened his arms to her. “It seems unreal, but I care deeply for you,” he said.

  “This is awful, and it’s so wonderful,” she said. “Considering the life I’ve had, this seems like something in a novel.”

  “Yes,” he said. “It seems to have an agenda of its own. When we meet tomorrow, I want us to talk. We’re both in this deep, and we need to know more about each other. I’ll be here tomorrow at four, and we can spend the afternoon and evening together if you’re willing.”

  “I’d love that.”

  “Dress casually.” His lips brushed hers sweetly and gently. She’d never felt so cherished, protected, and cared for. He gazed at her for a second. Then, he was gone.

  Kendra didn’t know whether to be happy or scared. Maybe it wasn’t real and Sam Hayes had supernatural traits that drugged her into a hypnotic state whenever she was in his presence.

  “I’m being silly thinking such things,” she told herself. “I just haven’t known a man
who made me feel as he does. I’m going to stop second-guessing him and my feelings for him. After all, he’s only a man.” She made a pot of strong coffee, changed into comfortable clothes, and sat down to study.

  At eight o’clock Sunday morning, four hours after Kendra went to bed, her phone rang, awakening her. She lifted the receiver, saw a blank ID screen, and said hello. Hearing no response, she said hello again and again. “Whoever you are, I don’t like you. Not one bit.” She slammed the receiver into its cradle. Ginny. No one else who knew her would do such a thing. “That woman causes me more pain than I’d have if she stabbed me.”

  Ginny was not thinking of the pain she caused her daughter or anyone else. Fate was chasing her and seemed to be closing in. She had decided that she wanted Asa on a more permanent basis than she had originally thought. But the brother considered himself king of the hill, a godsend to womankind, and he didn’t do anything unless he wanted to. To make it worse, she had, at age fifty-two, sixteen years on him, and she knew she’d better do something and soon. Maybe Kendra would let her have a few hundred or a thousand if she could come up with a good story. She’d even offer to do Kendra’s hair and manicure at no charge. Ginny Hunter was not going to stand on her feet all day, five days a week, working on a bunch of ridiculous women. Period. She dialed Kendra’s phone number hoping to catch her before she went to church.

  “Hello?”

  Ginny opened her mouth to speak, remembered the agreement she’d signed with her brother, Ed, and hung up. As sure as she appeared before that judge for having broken the agreement, she’d go to jail, and she’d had it with jail. She hung up, sat down on a chair near her bed and, for the first time in her memory, tears cascaded down her cheeks until they wet her gown.

  Damn Ed. Damn Kendra. Damn the whole bloody lot of them. She had to have some money, and she’d get it no matter what she had to do. She meant to keep Asa happy. He was not going to get away from her.

  When Sam rang Kendra’s doorbell precisely at four o’clock that Sunday afternoon, she answered the door wearing a pair of brown corduroy pants and a burnt-orange turtleneck sweater.

  “Hi. You said dress casual,” she said, in effect apologizing for her appearance.

  He pressed a quick kiss to her lips and handed her a small package. “Hi. Did you manage to study?”

  “I got a lot done. In fact, I caught up. What’s this? Can I open it now?” She imagined that her eyes sparkled like those of a child at Christmas as she opened the package without waiting for his reply. “Sam! What’s this? It looks like a recorder.”

  “That’s what it’s supposed to be. Now you can take notes almost anywhere, dictate your assignments, and let the computer print them on the screen. It’s very handy, and it will save you a lot of time.”

  She pressed the recorder to her breasts, not so much because of its usefulness, but because he’d thought of her and wanted to make her life easier. Reminded suddenly of her rule about not accepting gifts from men, but wanting to keep it, and still holding the precious gift, she looked at him with a sad expression on her face. “I don’t think you should be giving me presents, and I shouldn’t accept this.”

  “You need it, Kendra. I couldn’t offer to help pay your tuition, and I need to be there for you. Can’t you accept such a small thing from me?”

  His facial muscles worked furiously in what she realized was an effort to control his emotions. She’d hurt him. With her arms wrapped around his waist, she attempted to undue the damage.

  “Sam, my father and my grandmother are the only people who ever gave me anything without expecting something in return. I’m sorry if I made you feel badly. I didn’t want to.”

  “Will you keep it?”

  “Yes.” She hugged him. “Thanks. I love it.”

  “It’s chilly outside, so perhaps you should put on a scarf and some gloves. I thought we’d drive over to Alexandria. There are nice places to walk and to explore, to eat and to watch people,” he said with an apparent enthusiasm for the little things of life. “Would that be a waste of your time?” he asked, and she wondered if he was judging her.

  “I don’t consider the time I spend in your company a waste.” Her chin went up when she said it.

  “I love chili dogs, and I haven’t had one in a long time. A tavern in the old town sells some of the best I’ve eaten. Could you eat that for dinner?”

  She rested a hand on his arm. “You and I have surely led different lives, Sam. I’ve eaten hot dogs and coleslaw for dinner more times than I could ever count. You’ve never been poor, but I’ve never had money. My father has made certain that I didn’t want for anything important. But until the last couple of years, he was poor. He owns and operates an upscale butcher shop now that caters to the moneyed classes, and he’s doing well, but he’s seen very hard times.”

  Sam didn’t want to get into her background—for that was what he wanted to know about—until they were seated in a comfortable and quiet place. Who was she really, and what could she tell him that would enable him to understand her and to know whether he’d developed such strong feeling for the right woman?

  He found a place to park and walked with her along Queen Street in Alexandria’s “Old Town,” enjoying the light breeze and the pleasant late-autumn Sunday. He stopped at an old building.

  “Two decades before the Civil Rights movement, an African American attorney named Samuel Wilbert Tucker staged a sit-in here because African Americans couldn’t use the library.”

  “Way back then? What happened?”

  “The five men were arrested, but the case was dropped. A year later, Alexandria built a library for blacks. That was in 1940. Common decency in this country is a very recent thing. This town is replete with history of African Americans’ journey from slavery to where we are today.”

  “Yeah, but some of it, like that horrible Bruin ‘Negro Jail’—where enslaved people were held while waiting to be purchased—fills me with hatred.”

  “I know,” he said, easing his arm around her, “but bitterness is a festering sore that only hurts the one who is embittered. Let it go. This is where we eat,” he said, opening the door of King’s Tavern. “It’s quiet and cozy, and we can talk.” He guided her to a rear corner not far from a fireplace. “I like to sit here and watch the flames.”

  A waiter approached and gave them menus. “I’m having chili dogs and a bottle of Heineken beer. Have whatever you like.”

  “I want two chili dogs and some lemonade,” Kendra told the waiter.

  The waiter seemed skeptical. “Madam, the chili dogs are big.”

  “Thanks. I’ll risk it.”

  The waiter brought their food at once, and to Sam’s delight, she bit into a chili dog, closed her eyes, and moved her head from side to side as she enjoyed it.

  Should he begin a serious conversation while they ate, or should he postpone it until they’d finished? She solved the question when she said, “This is fantastic, but think how good it would be if the chef got his beef from my dad.”

  “I gather you’re very close to your father, because you speak of him often and with such pride. You’ve never mentioned your mother. Why is that? Isn’t she living?”

  She stopped chewing and swallowed with difficulty, or so it seemed to him. Instead of rescuing her with some meaningless words, he decided to say nothing and see how she’d handle it. She took a few sips of lemonade, put the glass down, and gave him a level look.

  “I hate to shock you, Sam, and I hope this doesn’t change your opinion of me. My mother does not love me, and I’m not one bit crazy about her. Any contact with her gives me pain, but she is oblivious to anybody’s feelings but her own. My father divorced her when I was six. She didn’t want to work, so she stayed home. And it was she whose job it was to write checks for the bills for utilities, house mortgage, car payments, etc. But she spent the money on herself and her friends, which my father discovered when he faced foreclosure on the mortgage, the utilities were cut off, and his c
ar was repossessed. According to him, when confronted, she merely shrugged and said she should have married a man with money.

  “I lived with my grandmother until she died when I was eleven. Thereafter, I lived with my mother until I went to college, though my father supported me. It was pure hell. She spent the money my father sent her for child support, on herself, including that for my clothing, everything. He finally opened an account at a clothing store with the stipulation that only I could shop on his account, and she tried to force me to buy things for her.”

  Sam hadn’t thought it was so bad, but as he reflected on what he knew of her, she bore the marks of parental neglect. “How did you manage those first two years at Howard University?”

  “I had a full four-year academic scholarship. My dad was paying my living expenses, but at the end of my first year at Howard University, Mama sued my father for increased child support, and he countersued for full custody, which he won. But that battle was so costly, that he didn’t have money left to support me while I went to school. He kept me there for my sophomore year. Then, I dropped out, originally for a year, I thought, and went to work to save money for the next two years.”

  “I see. So the letter you wrote to the Washington Post was about you and your mother?”

  “Yes. I thought you had guessed that. Anyway, I’ve been trying to find an opening to tell you. I had thought it presumptuous of me to assume that, after knowing me for such a short time, you’d be interested in that aspect of my life.”

  “I considered it a ninety-percent probability, but I couldn’t be certain until you told me. You have no idea how much I admire you. It takes a strong and determined person to surmount the obstacles you’ve faced. Where are you now with your mother?”

  “She leaves me alone right now because her brother demanded it and forced her to sign an affidavit to the effect that she wouldn’t contact me by any means until after I’ve finished Howard. If she breaks the promise, he may let her go back to jail.”