“Why?” Sam asked him.
Jethro rinsed the knife, dried it off, and returned it to the knife block. “Oscar Wilde once said that the tragedy of women was that they all become like their mothers. I’m not sure I’d dispute him; my mother was certainly like my grandmother. Here. You take the ice, and I’ll bring these glasses and the lemon.”
Sam walked back to the living room feeling as if he’d had a kick in the throat. “Where’s the turkey, Dad? I didn’t smell a thing in the kitchen.”
“The dinner is catered. I didn’t want Edwina to prepare it, and my cleaning woman says she can’t boil water. This way, we eat and repair to the living room as if we’re in a restaurant. The caterer will clean the kitchen.”
Feeling as if he’d had the air sucked out of him, Sam sat beside Kendra, put an arm around her shoulder, and left the serving of drinks to his dad. He wondered if his gesture of affection to Kendra was genuine or if it was generated by his guilt. He’d withdrawn from her in response to his father’s quote of Oscar Wilde—though God knows Wilde was anything but a paragon of virtue—and he was covering it by putting his arm around her shoulder.
Some weeks earlier, he hadn’t withdrawn, but after a logical consideration of their relationship, he had purposefully slowed it down. However, this was a gut reaction aided by the solid distaste he already had for Kendra’s mother. If Kendra noticed, she didn’t let it show.
Almost as soon as he and his father returned to the living room, the doorbell rang, and Jethro went to answer it. “How are you? Thanks for coming a little early and sparing me a fit of nerves,” Sam heard his father say, and figured that the caterer had arrived.
“You know I always keep my appointments in good time, Mr. Hayes,” a female voice replied. “Bring that on in, Allen.”
Jethro returned to his guests. “My caterer and her assistant are here, so we’ll have some hors d’oeuvres in a few minutes.”
Sam got up and walked over to the piano. He couldn’t stand hypocrisy, and he was, at the moment, living it. “Dad, when did you last have this piano tuned?”
“About a month ago. It should be in tune.”
Sam beckoned to Kendra, pulled out the bench, and sat down. “Do you sing?”
“Not unless I want to clear out this place. Do you?”
“I’ve been known to carry a tune. What’s your fancy—pop, blues, jazz, or classical?”
“Whatever you’d like to play. I love music.”
“How about some Ellington?” He didn’t especially want to play jazz, but he figured he’d better keep it light, and after letting his fingers dance over the keys in a warm-up, he played “Sophisticated Lady,” because he knew she liked it.
“Sing something,” Jethro said. “It’s been ages since I heard you sing.”
Sam didn’t want to sing, because he preferred to sing ballads, and he did not want to sing a love song. So he sang “I Still Suits Me,” a playful song that Paul Robeson made famous in the movie, Show Boat. He loved the song, and it suited his rich baritone.
“That’s quite some talent you’ve got,” Bert Richards said.
“I’d like to hear you play something from an older classical composer. Ellington wrote classical music, but you know what I mean.”
“Do you know ‘Rite of Spring’?” Kendra asked him. He did, and he was happy to play it for her.
“Thank you,” she said when he finished. “You’re really talented.”
He thanked her. “My dad will tell you he had to ride herd on me to make me practice, but after I saw some real progress, I enjoyed practicing.” He got up and turned to Bert.
“I bet you didn’t bring your guitar, but there are at least two guitars here.”
“Let’s wait for that till after dinner,” Jethro said. “Mrs. Watkins is about to give us some hors d’oeuvres. I’ve heard that you’re very skilled at the guitar, Bert, and I want to hear you play when I’m in a relaxed mood.” He turned the radio on, and soft, easy-listening music surrounded them.
At the dinner table, the conversation turned to art and travel. “The day after I graduated from college, I went to France on a tramp steamer,” Bert said. “If I’d been smart, I would have stayed there for a few years.”
“But in that case, you wouldn’t have had me,” Kendra said.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. You might have had a differently shaped nose or been a half inch shorter or taller, but you would have definitely come along.”
Sam watched the interplay between father and daughter and surmised that their relationship was much like his with his father. If only he hadn’t stopped at Rooter’s with James Enders, he wouldn’t have that awful taste in his mouth of seeing Ginny Hunter in his mind’s eye, propositioning him, or making street-level remarks to the bartender. How could he have an honest relationship with Kendra and not share with her what he now knew of her mother?
“Kendra just won a nice scholarship to do research in Europe and write a journalistic account of it,” Bert said, beaming with pride.
“I’m going to Italy in January,” Kendra said, and it was the first Sam had heard of it.
“That’s wonderful,” Edwina said. “Italy’s lovely when it isn’t filled with tourists, though you may need to speak Italian.”
“I’m going to take a crash course.”
Sam looked straight at Kendra, his expression cool and unfriendly. Why hadn’t she told him? They rode together from upper Northwest Washington to Alexandria, Virginia, and telling him about an event so important to both of them didn’t occur to her?
“She won the trip by coming out on top in some stiff competition at Howard’s School of Communications where she’s a student,” Sam said, his tone as impersonal as if he were lecturing in Psychology 101. He was proud of her, but he’d be damned if he’d show it right then. He wanted to ask how long she would be gone, but if he did that, he’d tell everyone present that they were not as close as he had thought they were.
His father asked the question for him. “Will you be away for the entire semester?”
“Only for a month. The scholarship is for six weeks, but my boss at the radio station called Professor Hormel and prevailed upon him to allow me to go for a shorter period. I wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask that, but I’m happy for the change, because I still have to pass all of my classes that semester. And I prefer it also for personal reasons.” With a shy smile, she glanced at Sam, and then lowered her gaze.
At times, she was so soft that he wanted to protect her from everyone and everything. He told himself not to give in to it, that caring for Kendra meant dealing with Ginny Hunter, and he didn’t want that woman cluttering up his life.
“No thanks,” he said to his father’s offer of a martini cocktail. “I’ll stick with gin and tonic. A martini is suicide for anybody who plans to drive a car within the next five hours.”
Bert declined a drink. “I’ll have something during the meal, and that will be aplenty for me.”
Sam nodded appreciatively. The more he saw of Bert Richards, the more he liked him. Here was proof that a sensible man did not always make sensible choices in women.
Dinner was served, and as they headed for the dining room, he said to his father in hushed tones, “I’m surprised you didn’t invite one of the unattached women in your office as a date for Bert.”
“It never occurred to me. I believe in letting a man choose his own poison. It keeps things a lot less complicated.”
Jethro said grace, and Sam noticed that Bert mouthed the words along with him. He asked him, “Do you attend church regularly, Bert?”
“If you mean every Sunday, yes, I manage that, but I don’t participate in the many weekly activities and services. Occasionally, Kendra attends with me, and that’s always a pleasure.”
“You’re fortunate,” Jethro said to Bert. “My only son has to sleep late at least once a week. You’d think a big-shot medical specialist prescribed that his great sleep-in should take place on Sunday morni
ngs.”
“Dinner is ready, Mr. Hayes.”
The caterer served smoked salmon pate; corn and oyster chowder, followed by raspberry sorbet for a palate cleanser; roast turkey with dressing and gravy, wild rice pilaf, asparagus tips, and cranberry relish; Port du Salut and St. Andre cheese; and for dessert, she presented the brandied baked Alaska to a rousing applause.
Jethro uncorked two bottles of Moët & Chandon champagne, explaining that the champagne was a gift from Bert. He raised a glass to the caterer.
“Thank y’all,” she said. “Catering for Mr. Hayes is always a pleasure. I’m happy that you enjoyed it. I’ll serve the espresso in the living room. Would anyone prefer regular coffee?” No one did. Along with the espresso, Mrs. Watkins and her helper served toasted pecans, mints, and grapes.
“This is the way to go,” Bert said. “To enjoy a meal like this in your own home with not even the slightest scent to tip off the menu.” He raised his glass, “Jethro, you’re a man of class and imagination. I’ve enjoyed this tremendously.”
“So have I,” Kendra said, “and to spend such a wonderful Thanksgiving with both my papa and Sam makes this very special for me.”
Sam looked at his father—who sat comfortably among his guests, with his arms around a woman who he’d wanted for years before he finally got her—and told himself that his own life was going to be smoother, that he was not going to spend years missing and wanting any woman. He glanced down at Kendra, pulled her closer to him, and a grin spread over his face. His dad at least knew what he wanted.
Except for occasional banalities, Kendra was silent during the ride home with Sam. She couldn’t say that she hadn’t enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner at Jethro Hayes’s home, because she had. Seeing her papa in the company of men with whom he belonged and watching him hold his own with them was an experience she didn’t have often, and one that she would not soon forget. Sometime between leaving her apartment and arriving at Jethro’s home, Sam had changed. Further, she figured that while in the kitchen helping his father, he must have had an epiphany. Oh, he tried to act as if nothing had changed, but throughout her life, she’d lived with on-again off-again affection from her mother, and she had become a master both at detecting it and at living with it.
When they arrived at her apartment, it did not surprise her when he indicated that he didn’t want to come in. “I want you to come in, Sam. I want to talk with you.”
His quick shrug told her that he was ready and able to take whatever came.
She led him to her living room, took off her coat, and waited for him to let her know whether he planned to remove his. He took it off, and she draped it across a chair along with hers. She sat down in a side chair.
“Sam, what happened from the time we were at the movies until now? You told me you were sure, but you weren’t. I don’t like being on a seesaw. It’s very painful. I thought we had everything going for us, and you’ve led me to believe that you care for me, but something has derailed this relationship. What have I done? I’m not asking how I can repair it. I just want to know.”
He leaned forward and looked her in the eye. “Why didn’t you tell me that Howell succeeded in shortening the time required for you to stay in Europe? Hell, you didn’t even tell me you’d chosen Italy and that you’d be leaving in January.”
“That is not the reason for your icy treatment today, and you know it. We’d been at your father’s house over an hour when I told that. I didn’t tell you earlier, because I’d planned to reveal that to you about now when we returned from dinner. In fact, I bought my first bottle of champagne for that purpose. It’s in the refrigerator,” she said, the finality of her voice saying that it would remain there. “If Papa hadn’t needed to preen,” she went on, “I wouldn’t have mentioned it in that group.” She folded her hands and waited for his explanation.
“I’ve been moving too fast, Kendra. And every time I tell myself to slow down, the advice only works for a short while. I don’t want to make a mistake with you, and I don’t want to create a problem for myself. You’re important to me. I know it and I feel it. But it came so easily and with such resounding power, that it stunned me.”
“I see. So you don’t believe in it. Well, if you want to go your own way, I don’t promise to wait for you to change your mind. I’ve learned from you the sweet contentment to be found in a loving companion, and I hope never to be without it.”
“Just like that, you’re willing to say, it’s been nice and so long?”
“Don’t misunderstand me, Sam. What I’ve been saying is that I refuse ever to beg any man to be with me, no matter who he is or how I feel about him. If he wants to go, he can walk. If I cry all night, he’ll never know it.”
“Well, I’m not ready to finish it. I don’t know that I’ll ever be. I told you the truth when I said you’re in here.” He pointed to his heart.
“Then what’s wrong? Something is not right. Is there someone else?”
“I haven’t looked at another woman since I met you. But you’re right; I’m having trouble giving my whole self to this. It—”
“You mean you’re having trouble giving your whole self to me. Let’s call a spade a spade.”
“There’s something I have to resolve. I hadn’t thought it would have significance for my relationship with you, but in spite of myself, it does.”
“And if it wasn’t for that something, whatever it is, you would be able freely to express your feelings for me? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Yes. You see, I still need your warmth and affection, your presence, your company. I . . . I still need you.”
She closed her eyes, tried to digest his words and to understand them. “You think you’re still capable of kissing me the way you did in that movie theater?”
“Of course. If I were guided by my feelings for you, I could kiss you with as much genuine passion as I ever did.”
“I see. So the change is in your head.” She didn’t think she could handle that. Standing, she picked up his coat and handed it to him. “In spite of this downer, I don’t remember having spent a more pleasant Thanksgiving.”
He stood, put on his coat, and walked with her to the door. “Please don’t make a date for Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve that doesn’t include me.”
“Are you asking me for those dates?” From then on, she didn’t intend to assume anything in respect to Sam.
“Yes, and some between now and then.”
“Like what?”
“Like my frat dance. Don’t push me, Kendra. From the minute I met you, I vowed to be absolutely straight with you about everything. Please don’t reward me by being picayunish.”
She didn’t need to comment on that. “Is your fraternity dance black-tie or tails?”
“Black-tie, and please let me know the color of your dress so I won’t clash with it. If there’s time, I’ll have the cummerbund made to match it.”
“Then, I’ll decide what I’m wearing this weekend. Thank you for the gesture.”
“Don’t. I want every man there to know you’re with me.”
In spite of the dull feeling around her heart, she laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Sam, you’re a professor of psychology, so the word schizophrenic must occur to you with some frequency these days. Mind you, I’m not making a diagnosis, but your recent behavior is rather peculiar since I saw no evidence of it earlier.”
“I know. I’ve been inconsistent with you. Kiss me?” He’d phrased it as a question. He’d been honest, and she owed him the same, so she reached up and kissed his cheek.
He stared down at her. “Is that as much as you can give?”
“It’s as much as I feel right now.”
His gaze seared her, deep and penetrating as if he searched for something beyond his grasp. “I’ll be in touch.”
She didn’t watch him as he walked to the elevator, and that was just as well, for he didn’t look back.
It was his fault, and he’d better do somethin
g about it. If anybody should understand how a person’s behavior affected others, especially intimate friends, it was a professor of clinical psychology. Truth was admirable, but sometimes it was out of place. Kendra had just showed him how tough she could be when she hurt. And he didn’t doubt that she hurt. He got into his car, ignited the engine, turned it off, and took his cell phone out of the breast pocket of his jacket. He dialed Bert Richards’s number.
“Richards speaking.”
“Bert, this is Sam. I’ve just left Kendra. I need to talk with you. It’s early yet. Can you and I meet somewhere? It’s very important.” He knew he’d taken the man aback, but he also knew that Bert Richards loved his daughter and that the man would meet him halfway.
“Sure, Sam. It was clear to me at your father’s house that you and Kendra have lost something since we were together in Rock Creek Park. I live on Colorado between Kennedy and Longfellow. Most coffee houses are closed now. We can talk here, if it isn’t too far out of your way.” He gave Sam the address.
“Thanks. I appreciate this. See you in about fifteen minutes.”
He hadn’t thought about the kind of home Bert Richards would have; in fact, he tried not to judge a man by his possessions. Yet, when he entered the charming foyer of the sixstory building in which Bert lived, his eyebrows shot up. Blue and rose Persian carpets covered the hardwood floors; soft-white sconce lights against dusty-rose walls gave the area a soothing and inviting appearance.
“I’m Samuel Hayes. Mr. Richards, please,” he said to the uniformed man seated behind a horseshoe-shaped desk.
“He’s expecting you, Mr. Hayes.”
Bert waited for him at his door, which stood slightly ajar, a gesture that assured Sam of the man’s cordiality. “Come in, Sam. You look oppressed,” Bert said. “I gather this has to do with Kendra. Otherwise you would have talked it over with Jethro.”
Breaking the Ties That Bind Page 21