Breaking the Ties That Bind

by Gwynne Forster

  Chapter Eight

  On her way to work, two days after the big snowfall, Kendra stopped at Suzy’s dress shop. “I need something to wear to a jazz concert at the Kennedy Center,” she told Suzy, aware that she’d probably have to tell her friend more than she had planned.

  “If you were going by yourself, you’d wear something that you already have,” Suzy said, “so let’s go for a soft suit that’s appealing to a man, but won’t overdress you. Okay?” Kendra tried on several, and liked each of them.

  “I see you’re keeping this guy a secret. When are you going to let us meet him?”

  Getting around Suzy was no mean feat. “You think I’m buying this for a date?”

  “Sure as my name is Suzy Monroe. No point in hiding him. These days, if a guy has all of his teeth, stands up straight, and isn’t hung up on weed, he’s a catch.”

  “He’s a university professor, and I fell for him as he was walking toward me.”

  “You go, girl. He must be something.”

  “He is, Suzy. He’s wonderful.”

  Suzy reached up and put her arms around Kendra. “You’ve got my blessing, friend.”

  She left the store with a burnt-orange wool crepe suit that had a rounded collar on the short, fitted jacket and a straight skirt that flared slightly at the bottom.

  On Saturday night, with her hair curled around her shoulders and gold hoops in her ears, Kendra looked at herself in the mirror and said aloud, “Who is this woman? When I get my next paycheck, I’m going to splurge and buy a nice perfume.” She didn’t think she’d ever looked that good before. Even her eyes seemed larger. The intercom buzzed.

  “Mr. Hayes to see you, Ms. Richards.”

  “Thanks. Please ask him to come up.”

  Minutes later, the doorbell rang, and she tingled all over as she rushed to the door and opened it.

  Sam stared down at her for a second. “Wow! If it wasn’t bad manners, I’d whistle.”

  Happiness suffused her. “And if I knew how to whistle, I would, too,” she said. “Come in.”

  He handed her a long-stemmed American Beauty rose wrapped in cellophane and tied with a red ribbon. “Thank you. It’s beautiful,” Kendra said.

  “But not as beautiful as you are.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. No one had ever said she was beautiful. She gazed up at him with a question in her eyes that asked if he was serious, not about her being beautiful, but about her. And, as if he understood her, he enclosed her in his embrace.

  “You are precious to me, Kendra. Don’t forget that.”

  When she tightened her arms around him, he pressed his lips to hers, and the electriclike sparks that united them when they first met shocked them both. He gripped her to him, ran his tongue over the seam of her lips until she opened to him, and loved her until she trembled in his arms.

  “I think we’d b . . . better g . . . go,” she stammered, got her coat from the closet and handed it to him.

  He helped her into it, locked her door, and walked arm in arm with her to his car. As he drove out Woodley Road to Sixteenth Street, she noticed the still-glistening snow on the lawns of many homes and the icicles that had formed on trees. “Sam, can you see how beautiful this is? It’s breathtaking in the moonlight.”

  He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Yes, and I just said to myself, damned if I’ll let it get to me. Kendra, as soon as you felt the tension growing between us back there in your apartment, you cut it off and pushed me away. Don’t you think we’ll eventually make love?”

  “Not when we’re on our way to meet your dad.”

  “I know that, and it is not the answer to my question. You can be candid when it suits you. What about being candid right now?”

  “I know how I feel about you, Sam, but you haven’t told me whether you want us to be more than friends. I mean—”

  “You definitely do not mean that. At your age, you know when a man cares for you, and you definitely know when he wants to make love with you. Be straight with me, Kendra. It isn’t like you to be coy.”

  “Sitting here in the front seat of this Town Car with you and telling you bluntly that I want to make love with you is not something I’m going to do. If you want the answer, there are other ways you can get it, and you’re old enough to know that.”

  She had not expected his chuckle. “You certainly know how to say what’s on your mind. If I could park somewhere right now, I’d get the answer. You’re the most provocative woman I’ve ever known.”

  He slowed to a stop for the red light, and she slid a little closer to him and rested her hand on his knee. “I’m sorry you can’t park anyplace.”

  “Are you messing with me?”

  “Of course not. Why would you think that I don’t want you to kiss me till I’m practically out of my mind?”

  The light changed and he turned onto New Hampshire Avenue and headed for their destination. “Sweetheart, I think that big snowstorm must have fogged up my mind. Thanks for clarifying this thing. I consider myself welladvised.”

  “Now you’re pulling my leg.”

  “Am not. Just don’t want you to get a big shock.”

  “I forgot to tell you that I received by messenger this afternoon a note from Clarissa Holmes granting me an interview after the show. She included with the note a pass to her dressing room. I want you to come with me.” She showed him the recorder that he had given her. “This is all I need.”

  “How’d you contact her? Did Howell make the connection?”

  “He won’t know a thing about it till I broadcast it. I wrote her a letter, telling her that I knew her story from a novella I read several years back, and asked her for an interview, so that my listeners would know how far she’s come. I’d thought she wouldn’t answer. I wonder if she’ll let me introduce her to your dad.”

  “When we get there, you can ask her. Tell her he doesn’t want to come in, only to meet her and shake her hand. If she says no, it’s not a big loss.”

  “How am I supposed to introduce you, other than by your title, I mean?”

  “Tell her I’m your lover.”

  “But you aren’t.”

  “But I will be soon,” he said, not bothering to control the laughter.

  “Okay. Miss Holmes, this is Professor Samuel Hayes, my soon-to-be lover. How’s that?”

  “Your sense of humor is going to cause me to wreck this car. Switch to another topic.”

  “Who’s your dad bringing to the concert?”

  “You’ll find out in about eight minutes when I get my suspicion confirmed.”

  “Sam, I’m excited.”

  He didn’t need to know that this was her first really big date. She had had lots of dates, some of them at interesting places, but not with a man like Sam Hayes. Their being with his father, a prominent attorney, made it even more special. Or maybe it was special because of the way she felt about Sam. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and began to hum “Everything I have Is Yours.”

  When the car stopped, Sam got out, gave the car keys to a parking attendant, walked around, and took her arm. It did not surprise her that he didn’t need directions. She stepped into the red-carpeted grand foyer—illuminated by at least a hundred hanging chandeliers and dominated by Robert Berks’s three-thousand-pound bust of John F. Kennedy—and reached for Sam’s hand. The pace at which her life had changed since the day she found Clifton Howell’s iPhone suddenly made her dizzy. They went down to the A level where Sam checked their coats.

  “We’re meeting here,” he told her, and immediately she saw Jethro Hayes coming to meet them with Edwina Prill close to his side.

  To her amazement, Jethro stepped forward and hugged her before embracing Sam. She said, “I’m so glad you could come, Mr. Hayes and that you brought Edwina with you. I was hoping to see her.” She and Edwina embraced, and she knew that she was seeing a different Edwina. This woman was not with a stranger she’d seen once twenty years earlier. She was with her lover an
d proud of it.

  Sam explained the evening program, including Kendra’s interview with Clarissa Holmes. “If you can wait for us in one of the lounges, we’ll get together for a drink or something later,” Sam said.

  “I’m glad to hear this, Kendra. Of course, we’ll wait. This is a day in which you can do no wrong,” Jethro said. “You won’t believe how much I love to hear Clarissa Holmes sing. And that trio is a great one.”

  “We’re in the KC Jazz Club tonight, Dad, so we can get a sandwich or something there, but I suspect we have to finish eating before eight-thirty when she comes on. Fortunately, clubs have to serve food if they sell drinks.”

  “I’m too excited to be hungry,” Edwina said, “but I don’t know how long that will last.”

  They took their seats at table three, second row on the center aisle. “A ham and Swiss cheese sandwich on whole wheat for me,” Jethro said to the waiter, and looked at Edwina. “What do you want?”

  “I’ll have the same.”

  Sam looked at Kendra. “What would you like, sweetheart?”

  He’d called her sweetheart within earshot of his father. “I’d like ham on focaccia bread.”

  “Great idea,” Sam said. “I’ll have the same with Swiss cheese and a Vodka Collins.” He looked at her.

  “Me too.”

  Jethro ordered bourbon and water for himself and a dry martini for Edwina.

  “Thank you,” the waiter said, tearing his gaze from Sam with great difficulty.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” Kendra said to herself. “Poor fellow!”

  “Have you written out your questions for the interview?” Jethro asked her.

  “No, sir. I memorized them, and I’ll use the recorder Sam gave me. It’s really a gem.”

  They finished their sandwiches minutes before the band walked out on the stage to resounding applause. A man standing at the center mike smiled broadly and said, “That’s Oscar at the piano, Konny with the bass, and I’m Raymond, the old man among these young Turks. I play the guitar and the dobro. We’re gonna warm things up for Clarissa Holmes.”

  For the next thirty minutes, The New Jazz Trio drew from the audience sounds of whistling, applause, and stomping to tune after tune of classical and modern jazz. Then, Raymond stepped to the mike, bowed, and said, “You’ve been a great audience. Let’s give some love to the first lady of jazz, Clarissa Holmes.”

  The audience stood and applauded the tall, elegant woman. When they finally sat down, Clarissa said, “Thank you so much. I always begin with this love song that I first sang to the man who is now my beloved husband, Brock Stanton.” The spotlight shifted to table three on the first row, and the man half stood and waved at his wife. When Clarissa finished singing Duke Ellington’s “Solitude,” Sam took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the tears from Kendra’s eyes.

  She looked at him and whispered, “I didn’t know I was crying. She sang it so movingly.” His arm eased around her waist, and she let herself settle into the comfort that he offered.

  “You’re such a tender person,” he whispered, “yet you’re so strong. I’d like to have you all to myself for a few days. In fact, I think that’s what I need with you.”

  “Be careful over there,” Jethro said. “Her face is reflecting every word you say.”

  “Yeah? In that case, it’s a good thing her face can’t reflect what . . . Oh, never mind.”

  Clarissa finished a fast, rocking number and announced, “This next song was written by my super-talented bass player, Konny Patterson. It’s a song for new lovers, ‘Another Kind of Blues’” She sang it with soul-rending intensity. After three encores, she begged the audience to release her. “I have an appointment for forty minutes ago, and the band and I have to catch an early flight. See you next time.”

  Sam got the attention of an usher, and told him of Kendra’s appointment with Clarissa Holmes. He asked to see Kendra’s backstage pass and ushered the four of them to Clarissa’s dressing room.

  “I’m Brock Stanton, come in,” the tall, handsome man who opened the door said. But Jethro remained at the door with Edwina. “Come on in,” Stanton insisted. “Have a seat. Clarissa will be here in a second.”

  Kendra stepped forward and extended her hand to the man. She hadn’t expected such a cordial greeting. “I’m Kendra Richards, Mr. Stanton. This is Professor Hayes, my uh—”

  “Significant other?” Stanton finished for her.

  “And these friends are Jethro Hayes, an attorney, and Dr. Prill, who only want to shake hands with Ms. Holmes.”

  “Who only wants to shake hands with me?” Clarissa Holmes breezed into the room wearing a silk caftan splattered with a dusty rose and lavender abstraction, that flattered her flawless skin and elegant features. “Y’all have a seat. Which one is Kendra?”

  “I am. This is Professor Hayes; his father, Attorney Jethro Hayes; and Dr. Edwina Prill.”

  “I’m glad to meet y’all. Kendra, honey, that was just about the nicest letter I ever received, so warm and down-to-earth.” She looked at her husband. “Honey, can’t we offer them something? I think some guy sent some champagne that’s in here. I don’t drink, but I can toast these friends. What do you teach, Professor Hayes?”

  “Psychology.”

  Clarissa winked at Kendra. “Honey, you have to watch it. He can zoom right in on our little feminine tricks.”

  She couldn’t help scrutinizing the woman. “You think he’s with me?”

  “Child, I know he is.”

  “And don’t ask her why,” Stanton said. “Clarissa will answer any question you ask her.” He poured champagne for the six of them, raised his glass, and said, “We meet many people, but none who’ve seemed like old friends, as all of you do.”

  Jethro stood. “I’ve met many celebrities, but none with your warmth, kindness, and down-home friendliness. I’ve been your fan since your first CD came out, and I always will be.” He drained his glass. “Now, Edwina and I will leave so that Kendra can get her interview.” He looked at Sam. “We’ll wait for you in the Chinese Lounge.” Stanton walked with them to the door.

  Anxious to begin the interview, Kendra said, “Ms. Holmes, I appreciate your doing me this honor. I’ve brought my recorder. It’s very powerful and will give excellent sound for the radio. Do you mind if I use it?”

  “No indeed. Since you won’t have to write, we can just sit here and talk.”

  “How much of your story published in the novella, The Journey, is true?” Kendra asked.

  “Everything but those little details in the story. Even the parts about the band members is fairly accurate.”

  They talked for more than half an hour. “I’ve taken up so much of your time that I’m sure I’ve tired you out, especially after that long program you gave tonight. Thank you for the interview. I’m going to have a two-hour Clarissa Holmes program one night next week when I’ll broadcast the interview and all of your CDs. I need a few nights to advertise it, so I can’t tell you which night, but I’m gunning for Thursday. Thank you again.” She stood to leave.

  “Thank you, Kendra. I appreciate your interviewing me and giving me a spot on your program.” She shook hands with Sam. “You the spittin’ image of your daddy. He must be real proud of you. Next time I’m in Washington or anyplace near here, I’ll send Kendra four tickets. Give my regards to your daddy and Dr. Prill. You Hayes men know how to pick your women.” She and Stanton walked to the door with them. Clarissa and Stanton embraced them, and they left.

  Kendra saw a ladies’ room. “Excuse me a minute, please,” she said to Sam. She opened the door, gasped, and stepped back, shaken.

  Sam rushed to her. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

  “Come. Let’s get away from here right now.” She brushed his hand away and quickened her steps toward the grand foyer. Sam pulled her into a telephone booth. “Tell me this minute what’s wrong.”

  “Ginny. She was in the ladies’ room. My mother.”

  “
What? Are you afraid of her?”

  “No. But if she saw me, she’d make a scene in front of everybody, and spoil one of the most beautiful nights of my life.”

  He pulled her into his arms and rocked her. “What kind of ogre is she? If she finds you, don’t say a word to her. I’ll take care of it. Try to be calm, take a few deep breaths, and tell yourself that you’re not alone, that I’m here for you. Smile. If you’re miserable, Dad will detect it in a minute.”

  “I’m okay,” she said after a minute or two. “Let’s go.” Sam held her hand as they walked the nearly empty hallway that led to the grand foyer and the Chinese Lounge. “It’s been a fantastic evening,” Kendra said. “I may never get over this.” She wanted to ask Sam how he thought the interview went, but decided to wait and let him volunteer his thoughts about it.

  “I was beginning to think you two were so excited that you’d forgotten we were waiting,” Jethro said when they entered the lounge. “How’d it go?”

  “She’s a genius at it,” Sam said. “I was flabbergasted. You’d have thought she’d spent her life doing nothing but interviewing. And she made it so intimate. I was really impressed.”

  Jethro regarded him with laughing eyes. “You must have been. I’m ready for a very late-night supper. Edwina knows a good place.”

  “Congratulations on the interview,” Edwina said. “I’ll be listening for it.”

  The valet brought Sam’s car, and they were soon headed for Treadwell’s, a supper club in the Southwest section of the city.

  Later, Sam stood with Kendra beside the closet in her foyer helping her out of her coat. “You gave me a shock tonight. Is there any way that you can get your mother to straighten out her life and stop damaging yours? That interview was a triumph, a big coup for you—and a glimpse of her demoralized you. Do you want us to talk to her together, to get some kind of understanding with her? I can’t bear to see you the way you were after you saw her. You deserve better.”

  She took a deep breath and, shaking her head slowly, she said, “You can’t reason with her, Sam. And you can’t rely on her promises. She does and says what suits her at the moment. I don’t think she’s mean, though Papa disagrees, but I still can’t deal with her.”