Breaking the Ties That Bind

by Gwynne Forster

  A chill seeped into Kendra’s body and she began to shiver. “Did you say she? What did she want?”

  “She said she hadn’t received her debit card, and asked if we would mail her a new one. She spoke of an emergency.”

  By now, Kendra was standing and breathing hard. “To what address did she want you to send the card?”

  “The woman gave an address on Kalorama Road.”

  “Thank God for that security question. She would have cleaned me out and thought nothing of it.”

  Ms. Marris gasped. “You know who it is?”

  “I sure do, and I’m going to decide what to do about this latest attempt to ruin me.”

  “If you’ll tell me who she is, I’ll take care of that for you.”

  “Thanks, but I’d better get some advice about this. I may call you back.”

  “All right, but as soon as you can, stop by the bank and give us a second security question and answer because she knows what the question is, and she may wheedle the answer out of you.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be by as soon as this snow clears. She won’t learn the answer, though I suspect she’ll ask everybody who knows me. At any rate, she doesn’t know the PIN. Thanks again.”

  “You’re welcome, and thank you for banking with Westwood.”

  Kendra knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on her mid-term paper, so she put away her notes and called her father. Ginny needed psychiatric counseling, and if she didn’t get it and soon, she would eventually get a stiff jail sentence.

  “Hello, Kendra. Couldn’t you get to school this morning?”

  “Classes were cancelled, Papa, so I was catching up on my homework. Then the bank called me. Guess what Mama’s done now?”

  “I’m not sure I want to hear it.”

  She related to him the details of her conversation with the bank’s officer. “Papa, if I let them, they’ll probably indict her.”

  “Of course they will. She attempted to commit a felony.”

  “What should I do?”

  He was silent for a while. “You’ll do nothing. I’ll call Ginny and let her know that we know what she tried to do and that if we identify her, the bank will indict her for an attempted felony. I’m also going to tell Ed, because she’ll run to him for help. Add a second security question to your account, but forget about the rest. One of these days, she’s going to meet fate face to face, and fate will not back off. What time will you leave home for work?”

  “Considering what’s on the streets, I’d better leave no later than three o’clock.”

  “I have a buddy with a tow truck. We’ll be at your place at three this afternoon, and we’ll pick you up tonight.”

  “You sure he won’t be busy?”

  “He doesn’t do snow removal. Besides, he’s got lots of those trucks. He’s my chess-playing buddy, and I know I can count on him. I meant to tell you that I like Sam, and I like him for you. He’s a man who knows where he’s going and how to get there, and he cares a lot for you. I mean, a lot.”

  Her father didn’t go overboard for people, and his praise for them was almost never effusive. When he said he liked Sam, she had to listen. “Why do you say that?”

  “I watched him as closely as he watched me. He couldn’t keep his eyes away from you, and when he thought I wasn’t looking, he managed to touch you. But the way that he looked at you, with his heart in his eyes, told me all I wanted to know. Sam Hayes knows exactly who he is, and he’s full of self-pride. He’s got good manners and a great sense of humor.

  “I’ll tell you this: You’d better not get on his wrong side, because he’s straight, and he demands that of anyone close to him. That man is not single at his age because he hasn’t been able to find a woman. If I was a betting man, I’d put a lot on his having ditched a faithless woman or lost a good one in a tragedy. He can have his pick.”

  She tried to remember another time when her father had spoken that long on any subject, but she couldn’t.

  “Papa, you discerned all that after being with him for four hours?”

  “It took me less time than that. I know people, and unless you do something foolish, I’m expecting him to be the father of my grandchildren.”

  She wished that he could have seen her reaction to that, for her eyes felt as if they had doubled in size. “Papa! For goodness’ sake! Is that why you insinuated that he was going to marry me? I could have sunk through the sod in that park. I was so embarrassed.”

  “You were also mad as the devil. But did you hear him object? I didn’t. If it wasn’t a possibility, he’d have straightened me out. A man isn’t anxious to meet a girl’s father, unless he feels a lot for her and wants to know what he’s getting into. And he can learn a lot about her from what he sees of her parents.”

  She had yet to win an argument with him. “You must be busy, Papa, so I’ll—”

  “Busy with a foot of snow on the ground? I’m getting a chance to catch up on orders and accounts. I’ll see you at three. Meanwhile, I’ll get Ginny straightened out. Love you, girl.”

  “I love you, too, Papa.”

  She hung up, went to her living-room window, and looked down at the snow. She didn’t see five people and not a single automobile. The scene reminded her of stories she’d read as a child, and she decided she would put a birdhouse and a birdbath on her balcony in the hope of attracting the little creatures. The snow made fancy patterns on the tree limbs, designs that might have originated on an artist’s palette.

  She had an urge to walk in the woods among the snowburdened trees. On an impulse, she telephoned Sam, who was also at home because his university’s classes had also been cancelled.

  “Hi, Kendra,” he said in a voice that reflected his surprise. “How nice to get a call from you.”

  “I was looking down at the snow. It’s so beautiful that I had an urge to walk in the woods. I can’t do that, but I could at least tell you how breathtaking the scenery is from my balcony.”

  “You’re right. This isn’t a good day for strolling among the trees, but it means a lot to me that when you wanted to take that walk, you wanted to do it in my company.”

  She wouldn’t have phrased it that way, but it was an apt description of her thoughts. “It would be nice. Papa told me that he enjoyed being with you.”

  “I’m glad I met him. I understand you better, but he’s a paradox, at least he seems that way. He’s a first-class butcher, plays the classical guitar like a pro, he’s educated, youthful, handsome, and vigorous. He’s alone, yet he loves company. Have you figured him out?”

  “It isn’t difficult. He married my mother when he was twenty-two, right out of the university. She did a number on him, and it took him almost thirty years to recover fully from it financially. Because of her, he lost our home, and everything we owned. She ruined his credit, and if you can’t get credit, you can’t have a house, car, business, or anything else that costs more than a few dollars. You can imagine how badly he wants to remarry or even to develop close ties with a significant other. He had intended to be a classical guitarist, but she couldn’t stand to hear him practice. She said it gave her a headache.

  “He worked his way through school as a delivery boy for a butcher, from whom he learned about meat and other foods. Later, when Mama’s antics indirectly cost him his job and we were almost penniless, the butcher took him on and taught him the trade.”

  “What a pity. I’m sorry. Does your mother do these things deliberately?”

  “Occasionally she does, but mostly not. She thinks only of herself and never of the consequences.”

  “I didn’t mean to pry, but I . . . well, I like your dad.”

  “I don’t mind, and neither would he. If you play chess, he’ll tell you all about it. That’s one way to get him to talk.”

  “I’ll give him a call, and maybe we can have a game of chess. Are you going to try and get to work?”

  “Yes. Papa has a friend with a tow truck. They’ll take me to work and bri
ng me home. I’m sure Mr. Howell won’t appreciate it if I don’t go in. The show must go on.”

  “So I heard.”

  “I’d better get back to studying. Call in or fax a request.”

  “Great idea. Listen for me around nine. Bye for now, sweetheart.”

  “Bye.”

  “Now who can that be?” Ginny asked aloud as she rushed to the phone, hoping that someone at Westwood Bank had found a way to send her that debit card, and praying that Asa was not the caller.

  “Hello,” she said, annoyed that the number didn’t show in the caller-ID screen.

  “Ginny, this is Bert. Westwood Bank called Kendra. To shorten a story that you know well, they want the name that goes with the address you gave them, so that you can be prosecuted for an attempted felony.”

  Perspiration beaded her forehead and dampened her bra and her thighs. “What are you talking about?”

  “Try that or any other trick aimed to get into Kendra’s bank account again, and I’ll see that you spend a good long time in jail. If you had succeeded, you would have committed a felony. If Kendra won’t expose you, I will, and it won’t cost me a drop of sweat. You’ve got it coming.”

  “I never heard of such nonsense.”

  “Go ahead. You’re like lemmings headed for a cliff and for self-destruction. If your shenanigans didn’t affect my child, I wouldn’t give a damn. As it is, I don’t care what you do, but if you hurt Kendra, you’ll deal with me. And I will be merciless.”

  He hung up before she could tell him what she thought of him. Damn Kendra. She had to go and tell him, and who knows what she told the bank. Washington was such a small place. She couldn’t afford to get into anymore trouble with the law, and she definitely couldn’t expect anything from that bank. Damn everybody!

  Feeling defeated, she telephoned Asa. “Hi. Stop by here on your way to work.”

  “For how long?”

  “Long enough,” she said, not caring how he took it.

  “What’s the matter? You can’t wait till tonight?”

  His arrogance irritated her, and she wished she hadn’t called him. But when he got into her, he made her feel that she was the only person in his world. “When are you going to learn to be a gentleman,” she said, striking where she knew he was vulnerable.

  “What does being a gentleman have to do with you wanting me to come over there and fan your hot coals.”

  “You’re hopeless,” she replied, avoiding answering him and, at the same time, taking care not to rankle him.

  “I’ll see you at twelve o’clock.” He hung up without saying good-bye.

  She stared at the receiver in her hand and with the quick movement of her right shoulder, she dismissed her problems and any affect that they could have on her life.

  “You’re what I call a loyal employee,” Clifton Howell said to Kendra when she arrived at work. “Tab called in saying he couldn’t get here, and June has a cold. It’s a damned good thing I know how to operate these controls and play these CDs. How’d you get here?” She told him. “You get double pay today, and give your father my thanks. A radio station can’t go off the air, but I don’t think I could have carried this thing for twenty-four hours. So, I’ll sleep in my office until eleven, and if Arnold doesn’t come in, I can keep things going until two, when we sign off. See you later.”

  With the program director freaking out at home because of the snow, Kendra had to select the music. So she decided to make life easy for herself and make it a night of jazz and blues. She loved Frank Sinatra and Luther Vandross, but with two straight hours of Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald interspersed, she could get a lot of studying done. To her astonishment, callers loved the program, proving that the greatest mix of performers didn’t always meet with viewer approval.

  When her direct phone rang at nine, her heart raced. “This is WAMA on a cold, snowy night. Feeling the blues? Some coming right up. What can I play for you?”

  “Hi, K. This is Sam. Your show is wonderful. I’d like to hear a golden oldie, ‘Everything I Have Is Yours’ by Billy Eckstine, and I should appreciate your dedicating it to my special girl, who loves to walk through the woods in the snow.”

  “Th . . . Uh . . . coming right up. I’m sure that special girl is listening with both her ears and her heart. Have a good night, Sam.”

  “Thanks. The same to you.”

  She found a re-mastered CD of the old recording and listened carefully as the great voice sang the intimate love song of a man who wanted to give everything to his beloved.

  “I guess he just likes Billy Eckstine,” she said to herself,

  “because I don’t believe he feels that way about me.” She put on some blues interspersed with Louis Armstrong, and her automatic answering machine recorded numerous calls applauding her selection. At ten-thirty, Howell walked in and sat beside her in the other chair.

  “We’ve had a good response tonight. Here are some tickets to the Kennedy Center for a performance by Clarissa Holmes and The New Jazz Trio. They’re great. I catch them whenever I can.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll let you know how it went.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m going to tell Josie to pep up our programs with more jazz. Thank you again for coming in tonight. Arnold can’t get here from Silver Spring, so it’s good that I could get some rest.” She told him good night and got outside just as the big red tow truck pulled up.

  “I was listening when Sam called you. He’s a brave man,” Bert said. “Never would I play that song for a woman. You’re my daughter, but the chance that you’re different from the rest of your gender is nil. Be sure you don’t disappoint that man.”

  “It surprised me, too, Papa. We haven’t gotten anywhere near that far, but I’m not saying we can’t get there. Anyway, he made me feel good. Mr. Howell told me to thank you and Mr. Grayson for bringing me to work and coming back for me.”

  “Tell him I’ll look after my daughter for as long as she needs me.” The truck stopped at the building in which Kendra lived. “I see they cleaned off your sidewalk. See you tomorrow. Let me know if you need help getting to school.”

  “I will.” She kissed his cheek. “Thanks a lot. Thanks, Mr. Grayson. Good night.”

  As soon as she closed the door of her apartment, she dropped her bag on a table in the foyer, turned on the light, and opened the envelope that contained the tickets. Four tickets for second row center at eight o’clock Saturday night. And at the Kennedy Center, yet! What would she do with them? Her papa couldn’t go, because he closed at nine on Saturday nights. She told herself that Sam would have a suggestion. Another thought floated through her mind. She could invite her friends, The Pace Setters, but there wouldn’t be a ticket for Sam, and she wanted to be there with him. She put the tickets on her night table, got ready for bed, crawled in, and quoted Scarlett O’Hara, Tomorrow is another day. She didn’t have to decide about those tickets right then. Humming “Everything I Have Is Yours,” she soon fell asleep.

  Sam telephoned her at eight the following morning, as he usually did and, after they spoke for a while, she told him about the tickets and asked if he wanted to go.

  “Absolutely, I do. I love that velvet voice of Clarissa Holmes, and her trio is one of the best. Did you ever hear her?”

  “No, I haven’t, but if I like her, I’ll try to get an interview for my show.”

  “If you manage that, Howell will stand on his head.”

  “Would you believe I hadn’t thought of that? And I’m hoping to be a reporter. I’d better start thinking of myself as one. The recorder you gave me has multiple uses, I see. Sam, what am I going to do with the other two tickets?”

  “If you don’t want them, my dad would walk all the way from Alexandria to your house to get them.”

  “Okay. It’s all set. Tell him to meet us there at a quarter of eight next Saturday.”

  Hmm, she thought, after hanging up. This is going to be interesting. I can’t wait to see who Mr. Hayes brings with
him.

  As soon as he hung up, Sam telephoned his father.

  “Hi, son. What’s up?”

  “Hi, Dad. Everything’s great. Would you like to see Clarissa Holmes and The New Jazz Trio Saturday night?”

  “Would I what? Of course I would, but those tickets have been sold out for weeks.”

  “Maybe, but Kendra has four tickets, and she said you can come and bring whoever you like. She and I will meet you in the lobby at a quarter of eight.”

  “She’s got four tickets? Are you sure?”

  “So far, I’ve found her to be very reliable.”

  “You bet I’ll be there. I’d like to know how she got them. I’ve tried every way I knew for the last few weeks.”

  “She was the only one of the staff of WAMA who managed to get to work yesterday, so her boss, Clifton Howell, gave her the tickets, plus a bonus.”

  “If she went to work last night, she deserved them. Give her my thanks. Aren’t you going to ask me who I’m bringing?”

  Sam smothered the laugh that seemed bent on pushing itself out of him. “I figured that if you didn’t tell me now, I’d certainly find out Saturday night. Are you bringing Edwina?”

  “Things are going well with us, son. We picked up right where we left off all those years ago. I never touched her that day, except to shake hands with her, but you can say a lot without opening your mouth.”

  “I suppose that answers my question. I’m happy for you. See you Saturday.”

  “I’ll be there, and thanks.”

  Sam hung up and mused over his father’s admission that he’d fallen hard for Edwina when they met earlier, and had done absolutely nothing about it. He wondered if he’d have the strength to live up to his own guidelines for integrity and honor as his father had done. He couldn’t imagine never making love with Kendra, never holding her and feeling her warmth and feminine softness. “I hope I’ve got half as much strength as he has,” he said to himself. “I never want to do anything that I’m ashamed of.”