“No, he didn’t. And if you make the mistake of asking him that question, I guarantee he won’t speak to you again. He detests her.”
“I see.”
“Do you? This is serious. If a man can’t hold the woman he loves without thinking of his distaste for her mother, who looks just like her, what will he do? Does he want that woman to be the grandmother of his children? In some states, grandparents may retain certain legal rights in respect to their grandchildren. And no man would want Ginny for a mother-in-law, keeping his wife—and thus his family—in constant turmoil.”
She dropped herself back into the chair. “So it’s him or Mama.”
Bert stared at her. “For goodness’ sake, don’t be ridiculous. He deserves better than a comment like that.”
“Why didn’t he tell me this? Why did he tell you?”
Bert threw up his hands. “I’m your father, so there are things I can’t be candid with you about. How did you get to be so naive? The man is frustrated. After a perfect Thanksgiving at his father’s house, you couldn’t kiss him, because he’d been cool toward you. And why had he been cool? Because of your mother. I suggest you call him, tell him you want to talk with him about his conversation with me. It’s important, and it’s urgent. Talk with him where you have absolute privacy. I suggest your place, that is, if you love him. If you don’t do this soon, you can forget Sam Hayes, and you will regret it for a long time. A woman is blessed if she has the love and caring of a man like Sam, and especially in this town where there are ten women to every eligible man.”
“Why did he talk with you rather than his own father?”
“Obviously, because he didn’t want to expose you to Jethro. If I were his father and he told me that, I would advise him to leave you alone. That’s why he came to me.”
She tried to digest all that her father had said. After some minutes, she took in the sadness on Bert Richards’s face and voiced her understanding of it. “You didn’t tell me everything, and what Sam has to add is going to hurt even more. But as long as she didn’t inveigle him into bed with her, I can take it.”
“My advice to you is control your temper, and do not accuse him of anything. He does not deserve that.”
“You needn’t worry, Papa. I trust him far more than I would trust her. Thanks for lunch and for trying to soften the blow. I’ll call you.”
“Let me check whether the rain has stopped.” It hadn’t, so he called a taxi for her. “I’ll meet you tonight as usual.”
She’d get to work too early, but she didn’t mind. In the meantime, she could get a lot of studying done. The pounding of rain on the taxi’s rear window made her think of sleep, but she shook off the urge to close her eyes and dialed Sam at home, for she knew he wouldn’t be at school the day after Thanksgiving.
“Hello, Kendra. How are you?” he said by way of a greeting.
“Hi, Sam. I’m on my way to work. I had lunch with Papa, and he called a taxi for me, because he couldn’t get away from the store. Sam, I need to see you and talk with you. Would you have dinner with me at my place tomorrow evening?”
Was he hesitating? “Well, if you’d rather—”
“I was trying to recall whether I’ve made a commitment for tomorrow, but I think not. So, yes. I’d like that very much, and I’ll look forward to seeing you. What time?”
“Seven o’clock. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you, too, Sam.”
She hated the stilted conversation, and the distance between them that seemed to have stretched endlessly in just one day. But she knew that neither of them was going to pretend anything, and that they would speak and act true to their feelings.
“Sam, neither you nor I is capable of pretending joyful conversation, and I imagine that like me, you’re going with your feelings and not make small talk. I respect that in you. Tomorrow, I guess we’ll find out if we still have anything going for us.”
“We will, and we have, Kendra. Thank you for making this gesture. See you at seven tomorrow.”
She didn’t say good-bye, because that was not the way she wanted to terminate a conversation with him. When she got out of the taxi in front of the Howell Building, her umbrella was of little use. The rain continued, and the wind was, if anything, stronger. She dashed into the building, but not quickly enough to avoid getting wet. Inside, she shook out her umbrella, pulled off her shoes, left both in the doorman’s package room, and padded barefoot to the elevator.
“What’s the matter? Don’t I pay you enough for you to afford shoes?” Clifton Howell asked when he met her in the corridor. She had learned that, in addition to being charitable, he had a devilish sense of humor.
“You certainly do, sir, but if I buy shoes, how am I going to afford champagne?”
“Touché!” he replied without the semblance of a smile.
To her astonishment, when she stopped by the doorman later to pick up her umbrella and her wet shoes, she found beside them a pair of rain boots that were her size.
“Whose are these?” she asked the doorman.
“The boss ordered them for you, Ms. Richards. He said your shoes wouldn’t dry by midnight, and you can see that he was right. Those shoes got soaked.”
“That’s nice of him, but I don’t want him buying my shoes.”
“It wasn’t personal, ma’am. He would’ve done the same for me. I’ve been working this door for twelve years. He even bought a scooter for my son.”
“That’s different.”
“Not really. I told my six-year-old that I couldn’t afford a scooter, and the little devil called Mr. Howell and asked him to pay me more so he could have a scooter.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, ma’am. Everybody who works here has a similar story. Enjoy the boots. His wife probably picked them out.” She slipped on the green-dotted black boots and left the building with her shoes in her hands.
Kendra had no difficulty deciding what to cook. She defrosted cutlets that her father gave her and planned a menu around them. She planned to serve a gourmet meal, but she was not going to put on anything sexy. To her way of thinking, sex was the last thing they should be considering. She got her apartment in pristine order, set the table, added white candles and white roses with sprigs of baby’s breath, and regarded her handiwork.
“Not bad,” she said aloud. “I wasn’t born to wealth, but I know how to live, thanks to my father.”
Gazing at the warm colors of beige, persimmon, and avocado in her living room, the big picture windows, and the sparks shooting up the chimney, she remembered how happy she was when her father handed her the receipt for her shares in the co-op. No matter what happened this evening, she told herself that she would not let it bring her down, that she would plod on until she reached her goal, and then go on with her life. She chose an avocado-green sheath that just covered her knees and exposed very little cleavage. He couldn’t say that she was luring him.
Punctual as usual, he rang the doorbell at seven, and when she was about to open the door, she opened her right fist and saw the prints of her fingernails. Relax, Kendra. He’s only a man!
She opened the door and gazed up at him. “Hi.”
He stared down at her for a few seconds, and then a smile barely touched his lips. “I’m about as uptight as you are. How are you?” He handed her a bunch of pink and purple calla lilies.
A gasp escaped her before she was able to control it. “Sam. These are so beautiful. Thank you so much.”
“You may imagine that buying them gave me a lot of pleasure. It meant that I at least was going to see you.” He handed her a bag. “Unless we’re going to drink the red, please put the white in the refrigerator.”
“I guess you’d better have a seat; otherwise, I’ll appear inhospitable. I’m glad you agreed to come. You look wonderful. I’ve always liked you in that navy blue suit, white shirt, and tie of assorted blue colors,” she said, embarrassed at resorting to small talk.
“I know. You once told me. That�
��s why I wore it.” He’d been walking beside her, but he stopped and looked directly at her, his gaze seeming to pierce her. “Kendra, if we continue this way, saying things just to stave off the silence, I don’t think I’ll be able to stand it. It’s colder in here than it is outside. I care as much for you as I ever did.”
“It is not cold in here. I have a fire in the living-room fireplace, and I am not cold.” She thought of the cool color she’d chosen to wear, and smiled inwardly.
“But you still don’t care to kiss me.”
“You don’t know that. Have a seat, and I’ll bring you something delicious.”
He watched her walk away from him and head to the kitchen. She seemed amenable to listening to what he had to say with an open mind. He didn’t know what Bert had told her, but he suspected that it was favorable to him. He hoped so. She was back quickly with tiny hot cheese puffs filled with Gruyère cheese sauce. He chose one, bit into it, and with his hand suspended between his mouth and the tray she held, he said, “At the risk of making you mad, let me tell you that if the meal is of this quality, I’ll be thoroughly seduced by the time you serve coffee.”
“I’m glad you like them,” she said with a slow wink. “I made plenty.”
He wanted to ask her if she was flirting with him, but he’d better not press his luck. “Where did you put the calla lilies?” he asked when she came back to him with two glasses of white wine.
“In my bedroom. Those are my favorite flowers.”
“I’m glad I chose them. I can’t wait for dinner. It didn’t occur to me that you’d cook this evening. How did you learn to cook so well?”
“My grandmother was a fantastic cook and, while growing up, I watched her, but my dad’s also a very good cook, and whenever he’d be doing something in my presence, he’d lecture and teach me how to do it. So I guess I learned mostly from him.”
“I’ve begun to realize that he’s a remarkable man. I’m not much of a cook.”
“That’s because you never had to cook.” She got up and tuned the radio to easy listening music. That suited him. He just didn’t want to hear any of the song that had a shared meaning for them. “We can eat now,” she said, and lit the candles. She would keep a home of which a man could be proud. He wanted to say the grace, but it was her table, so he left the gesture to her. But she reached across the table, took his hand, and said the grace. Then he poured red wine into their glasses and she raised hers.
“I am praying that when you leave here, you and I will both be happy.”
He held his glass tilted toward her. “So am I, Kendra. So am I.”
She served veal cutlets with madeira sauce and complemented them with an imaginative assortment of vegetable dishes, ending the meal with Brandy Alexander pie; and coffee.
After dinner, he sat in her living room facing the log fire and sipping coffee. If they couldn’t mend their relationship, he’d be in for a long stretch of unhappiness. He’d put up a front, just as he’d done when Giselda disappointed him, but this would be worse, and he may as well acknowledge that fact. He followed her to the kitchen.
“I’ll help you clean up.”
“Sure you want to?”
“Unless it’s a matter of life or death, I’m not likely to volunteer to do something I don’t want to do. You cooked a wonderful meal. Sit over there in that chair and keep me company.” Since he didn’t want to talk, he sang “Mariah,” one of his favorite songs. “I don’t remember all the words,” he told her.
“I do. It’s a song that deserves a good baritone voice, and you have it.” She repeated the words, and he sang them, but he soon tired of it, for he knew they were substituting the singing for the conversation that they needed to have. He finished cleaning, closed the dishwasher, and took her hand.
“Where do you want to talk? We have to stop procrastinating.” They walked into the living room, and he waited to see where she would sit. She chose the sofa, and he took comfort in that, but he needed to see her face when they talked, so he sat facing her.
“How much did Bert tell you?”
“He got as far as your reaction to Mama’s flirting with you. What was your reaction to that?”
“Outrage and disgust. After thinking about it for days, I became anxious about you and me and whether I could handle dealing with a woman like her. Because whether you want to accept it or not, she’d be a fixture in my life for as long as I care deeply about you.”
“Papa didn’t tell me all of it, did he?”
He took a deep breath and slapped his right fist into the palm of his left hand. He wasn’t going to lie. They needed the truth. And as much as it pained him to hurt her, he had to tell her.
“No, he didn’t. I stopped at Rooter’s Bar and Grill the day of that second big snow, with a professor in my department, and saw a woman sitting at the bar. The bartender was making it clear that she was his woman, but she was casing me.” He didn’t let her loud gasp stop him. It was what it was, and he didn’t intend to mince it.
“She looked so much like you that I asked the bartender her name and nearly got kicked out of there until I told him that she looked exactly like my girlfriend. Then, he got interested and told me her name was Ginny Hunter. Before you know it, they were having words, and she let him have some gutter language. I could even handle that, but when she was strolling out, she stopped and invited me and the man with me to come to her apartment where, she assured me, it would be very warm. I told her that she was not my type.”
“That’s d-disgusting. And you think I would do things like that?”
“That never occurred to me. The problem is that I can’t get it out of my head. I want to put my arms around you and hold you, and the picture of her making that pass at me . . . oh, hell. I don’t know how to put it. I couldn’t continue without leveling with you about it and knowing that you accept that I can’t stand her and don’t want her in my life. I’m sorry, but there it is. She owes you a lifetime more than she’s given you.”
He observed Kendra closely. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I told you that when I was in my early teens, I stayed in my room with the door locked, because Mama’s men friends made passes at me, and she paid it no attention. But I didn’t realize she had such loose morals.”
“When did you last see her?”
“I don’t remember. Last I heard, she had violated her probation, had a car accident, and was in the hospital with a sprained or broken wrist.”
He sat forward. “Did she call you?”
“A nurse called, but I told her to call my uncle, her brother. He refused to help her.”
“What had she done?”
“She had an accident while driving a rented car without a license, but she claims that she wasn’t driving. The only other person in the car, an older man, had never driven, or so his daughter said. Mama told the policemen a lie. I don’t know what will happen to her.”
“Do you want me to bail her out?”
“Do I—are you serious? After what you just told me, why would you do that?”
“I’ll do it, because I hate knowing that you’re unhappy, and . . . and because I love you.” She slapped her hand over her mouth, and her eyes widened as she stared at him. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“You . . . you never told me. I know you care, but . . . that must have really shaken you up.”
“It did, more than you can guess. How do you feel about me right now?”
“I’m hurt and embarrassed by Mama’s behavior, but that’s nothing new. It’s just so close this time.”
“But what about me?” He had to know. If she blamed him, he was out of there.
“I love you, and I’m not going to let you bail her out. She was driving an unregistered and uninsured car with a suspended license, and well above the speed limit. One day, she will kill someone.”
“Are you saying that you love me and can accept that I don’t want your mother around me?”
Her ey
es blinked rapidly, but not a tear fell. “Don’t you realize, Sam, that I don’t want to be around her? It’s the tragedy of my life. Being with you has given me more happiness than I ever expected to have. My father and grandmother have loved and cared for me. If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t have known what love is. But you’ve given me so much more. With you, I’ve known emotional security and belonging, the feeling that someone needed me. When you wanted to slow down, I wasn’t sure if you were saying you needed space, a distance between us. I’m still not certain.”
“I try not to analyze myself, and it’s a good thing. I realized that I was getting in deeper and deeper with you, that the minute I left you, I wanted to go back to you, and I developed a driving, barely controllable need to make love with you. I’d never had such feelings for a woman, and it scared the bejeebers out of me.
“I told myself—and with my professional knowledge to back it up—that I didn’t know important things about you, things that could wreck a committed relationship, and I confess that your mother’s attempt to steal her own child’s pocketbook fueled that misgiving. My growing acquaintance with Bert is the only concrete thing that has happened between then and now to alleviate it. I went to him because I needed his advice and support.”
She nodded slowly. “He said that if he were your father, he would have told you to forget about me, that Mama is too much baggage.”
“If you feel that you have to have her in your life in the role of mother, I . . . I don’t think I could handle that. You and I agreed to try and find out if we have anything going for us. That means not dating other people and exploring each other’s personalities and interests. Are you still willing?”
He didn’t like the sadness in her eyes or her not-quitecertain expression. “I asked you once before if you were sure. I’m asking you again. Are you sure this is what you want?”
“These past weeks have been a great teacher. I’m sure.”
She got up, walked over to him, and stood looking down at him. Then, without preliminaries or warning, she sat in his lap, put an arm around his neck, and put her head on his shoulder. “I needed you so badly,” she whispered.
Breaking the Ties That Bind Page 23