He told himself to straighten out his head, that it was not a time for what he was thinking and feeling. “Can we see each other tomorrow? I . . . uh, I think I’d better leave.”
She tightened her hold on him. “It’s early yet. Do you have to go?” she asked him, twisting around to be able to see his face.
“I’d better,” he replied as the pressure of her body against him intensified his need to have her. He started to move her from him, but she obstructed his movements. “Kendra! You’re asking for trouble.”
“Is that the new name for it?”
“You’d better quit while you’re ahead, Kendra.”
“You’re leaving me? And you call that being ahead?” she asked him. “Not in my book.”
“On whose terms am I staying?” he asked, no longer able to pretend a casual, laid-back attitude.
“Ours, Sam. Not yours or mine, but ours.” He lifted her and carried her to her bedroom.
Kendra trembled not with fear of Sam, but of herself. Was she like Ginny? Was this the beginning of something that she wouldn’t be able to control? Had she inherited a slavishness to sex?
“What is it? What’s wrong, Kendra? If you’re not sure, we won’t do this. I don’t want you to have reservations about making love with me. It is the most natural step for a man and woman who love each other. Talk to me.”
“I don’t want to be like her, Sam. I don’t want sex to govern my life.”
“Shh. Sex doesn’t rule her. Greed and want govern her life. Sex for her is a means to an end. Tell me if there is anything I need to know.”
“Thanks. I’m practically ignorant about this. Does that disappoint you?”
He leaned over her and began to stroke her bare arms and let his fingers drift over the tips of her breasts. “No. It means I won’t have to correct another guy’s mistakes.” He stretched out on top of her and let her feel his flesh and the bulk of his genitals as he rested his weight on his elbows and shifted slowly and erotically over her. Evidently satisfied that he had awakened her, he rolled off, leaned over her, pulled her nipple into his mouth, and began to apply his talent.
An hour later, she gazed up at him, happy and sated. “Can it be like this all the time?” When he answered in the affirmative, she asked, “If that’s so, why do couples split up, sometimes after long years together?”
“If something goes wrong in a relationship, I imagine that the effect shows first when they’re in bed, provided they get that far. You didn’t want to kiss me, Thanksgiving night. Remember? You certainly didn’t want greater intimacy.”
“I don’t know. If I knew then what I know now, given a little pressure, I might have caved in.”
“Don’t you believe that. Pride can be very strong in relations between lovers.” His lips brushed hers softly and thoroughly as if they were his to do with as he pleased. “I hate to think of what I came close to losing,” he said, hardened inside of her and took them on a fast romp to powerful explosions.
Hours later, when he’d gone home and telephoned good night to her, she sat up in bed with the sheet pulled up to her shoulders, wondering about what could come next. Her mother could jettison all that she held dear and would think nothing of it. And if she didn’t get professional help for Ginny, she’d either kill herself or someone else. God forbid that Ginny should ever see Sam again. Kendra doubted she’d use discretion even if she were married to him. He’d snubbed Ginny, and she’d get even if it killed her. How did anybody become so asocial, without morals or social conscience? “And Lord, why do I have to look like her?” she asked herself.
She awoke, still discombobulated, the next morning, Sunday, and after alternating moments of joy and anxiety, she telephoned her father. “Good morning, Papa, I thought I’d go to church with you this morning, since I’ll be with Sam this afternoon .”
“Really! What brought this on, homage to heaven or contempt for hell? You’re volunteering to go to church?”
She wasn’t even tempted to be a smart aleck with her father, so she swallowed the clever comment that had settled on the tip of her tongue and said, “It will be the only time I can spend with you today.”
“In that case, why don’t I pick up some fresh croissants, and you scramble some eggs, fry some bacon or sausage, and make some coffee. I’ll be over for breakfast in an hour.” He finished the command in a voice filled with laughter.
She wasn’t sure that mirth was in order, at least not on her part. If he willingly skipped church, it was because he wanted to know what had transpired between Sam and her. “Give me an hour and fifteen minutes, Papa, I just got up.”
“All right. See you then.”
She showered, dressed, and set the table. They’d have croissants, but she made biscuits for him to take home. As she tripped around the kitchen in a joyous mood, she suddenly stopped and nearly slipped on the tile floor. Her father had advised her to talk with Sam in her apartment, provided that she loved him. Reflecting on that for a few minutes, she realized that he knew they would want to make love if they made up, and he couldn’t advise her about that. But it was crystal clear to her that her father wanted her to marry Sam Hayes. She sat down in a chair beside the kitchen table and rubbed her forehead as if that would make everything clear and logical. Marriage in the foreseeable future hadn’t been in her plans.
She got up, turned the sausage, and told herself that she’d play it as the cards fell. She loved Sam and, after the loving he’d given her and the way he’d made her feel, she didn’t want to think of a life without him. Suddenly, laughter poured out of her. Her papa was skipping church, because he wanted to know what had transpired between her and Sam, but he’d get an edited version.
She rushed to answer the doorbell. “Goodness, Papa. You’re looking younger every time I see you. Do you have something to tell me?”
A grin spread over his face, and she reached up and kissed his cheek. “I wish I did. This place smells wonderful.” He sniffed. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d make biscuits?”
“I made them for you to take home.”
“I’ll take the croissants home. Let’s have the biscuits. Nobody makes them as good as you do.”
She poured orange juice, put the food on the table, and they sat down to eat. He said the grace, ending it with, “I don’t have to ask, Lord, because I know you answered my prayers. Amen.”
“You’re still the champion biscuit maker,” he said after biting into one. “How are things between you and Sam? Have you talked with him yet?”
“Yes, sir. We talked last night.”
He stopped eating, rested the utensils on the side of his plate, and leaned back in the chair. “Where did you talk?”
“Here. I invited him to dinner.”
He nodded. “Good. Did you air everything out? I mean, did he tell you the rest of it?”
“Yes, sir. He told me how he met her and what happened.”
“Then you know that what’s been bothering him is that he doesn’t want such a woman for a mother-in-law and definitely not for the grandmother of his children. So don’t think you can have it both ways. He won’t stand for it.”
“We haven’t gotten that far, Papa.”
“A smart man does not lock the barn door after the horse runs away; he takes care to lock the door while the horse is still in the barn. You understand?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve been hoping to get her into counseling.”
He pulled air through his front teeth, a gesture that she hadn’t known him to make. “Don’t waste your time or your money on that. I paid for counseling for Ginny, when we were trying to preserve the marriage, but she took the checks, destroyed them, and didn’t go near the counselor. When I didn’t see an improvement, I called the man, and he told me he’d seen her only once.”
“Then what will I do, Papa.?”
“Leave her to heaven, for goodness’ sake. How are you going to redirect somebody who doesn’t know she’s lost?”
“I guess that’s
the problem. Did you bail her out?”
“Me? Of what? I didn’t know she was in trouble again. Maybe Ed did.”
“I don’t think so. He said Dot put her foot down, because they have three children to take care of and send to college. Mama already owes Uncle Ed twenty-eight thousand dollars for bailouts and loans.”
“It’s too bad. I can’t imagine what she’ll do.”
Kendra took a deep breath and told herself once more to be thankful for her father. “How can you eat so much of this fattening stuff and not gain weight, Papa?” she asked him when he took a third helping of biscuits and sausage.
“Simple. I exercise every morning, and I usually have cereal, juice, and coffee for breakfast. This is a treat. Thanks for changing the subject. I spend enough time worrying about the relationship between you and Ginny.”
Her relationship with her daughter was not on Ginny’s mind. She had avoided indictment for the accident for lack of proof that she was the driver. Because she was wearing leather gloves, she’d left no fingerprints on the steering wheel or elsewhere in the car. The police admitted that the fact that the old man had never had a driver’s license was not proof that he couldn’t or wouldn’t drive.
She sat in her living room staring out the window facing Kalorama Road. What did she have that she could pawn or sell? She didn’t want to part with that pair of bronze antique jugs, because the pawn broker wouldn’t give her much for them. She could ask Bert if he wanted to buy them, but she had told him at the time of the divorce and property settlement that she didn’t know where they were. After considering her options, she stood, walked with wooden legs to her closet, took her grandmother’s eighteen-carat-gold blue cameo locket and chain set from the box where it had rested for fifty years, and put it in her purse. Monday morning, she’d sell it wherever she could get the most money.
She felt no remorse for having to part with it. “It’s the way the cookie crumbles,” she said aloud, lifting her shoulder in a shrug, and heading to the kitchen to open a can of bean soup for her lunch.
Life has a way of screwing some people, and I’m getting more than my share. Kendra’s got that high-powered job, so she can just get off some of that money. I don’t care what Ed says or does.
Chapter Thirteen
Sam leaned against the wall just inside Kendra’s apartment looking at her and musing over the suggestion she’d just made. “You and your father want to have Dad, his date, and me for Christmas Eve dinner?”
“Yes. You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
“Actually, I do, but that will mean you won’t be able to attend the Omega dance with me December the twenty-third. I haven’t been in several years, but since I have a beautiful woman to show off, I thought I’d go this year.”
“Thanks for the compliment. Maybe I could—”
He interrupted her. “We can go to my alumni dance New Year’s Eve. What about WAMA? Will you be working over Christmas?”
“I’m off from the twenty-second to the second, and Mr. Howell is giving me a bonus because I haven’t missed a day, not even in blizzard weather.”
“And you’re leaving for Italy January fourth.” He hadn’t realized that he would develop a negative attitude about her being alone in Italy for an entire month, but he had. And he knew he’d better keep that to himself. “Be sure that those Italian men don’t put their hands on you, and I mean not anywhere.”
She bristled and let him see it. “I don’t have to go that far in order to engage in hanky-panky. I can do that right here.”
He held both hands up, palms out. “All right. That was probably out of place, but I don’t feel like apologizing, because I meant it.” He ran his hands over his hair, bruising his scalp in frustration. “Do you know the topic you’re going to do your research on while you’re there?”
“I’ve been thinking about food in Florence, Milan, and Rome, and how that can be related to differences in the people.”
“That’s a great topic, because both the food and the people differ among these cities. You’ve probably guessed that I’m chatting because I don’t want to leave you. Kiss me and let me get out of here.”
He figured that she made the kiss as brief as her own libido would allow, before stepping back and gazing at him with an expression that said, Of all the women you’ve encountered, you want me. Something flickered in her eyes, and he knew that heat had begun to furl up in her.
“What is it? Don’t you want me to leave?”
She turned him to face the door. “Of course I don’t, but I can’t always have things the way I want them. I have to study.” He kissed her again and left.
Kendra got ready for bed, crawled in, and prepared to study. The telephone rang and, not remembering to check the ID, she answered. “Hello.”
“Hey kiddo, this is Flo. Sorry to call so late, but when I called earlier, no one answered. You’ve been out of touch lately, but that’s to be expected since you’re in school. Us Pace Setters are planning a Christmas Eve shebang at my place. Be sure and come, and bring that guy who’s keeping you away from us.”
“Oh, Flo, I’d love to, but my papa is having a dinner party that night, and I’m his hostess.”
“Oh, crap! Can’t you come over after your dinner?”
“Flo, honey, you know I love you guys, but I can’t walk out and leave my papa’s guests on Christmas Eve. He’d be scandalized. We planned this before Thanksgiving. You’ll have to excuse me this time. My papa never lets me down, so you know . . .”
She let it hang. Flo wouldn’t think of leaving her parents’ guests at a holiday party. It had taken time, she knew, many years, but Kendra was beginning to say no without a feeling of guilt. The knowledge buoyed her, because she would one day be able to stand up to her mother without feelings of remorse or guilt. She’d gotten better at defending herself against Ginny’s drama, but she still felt badly about doing it. She hung up as quickly as she could, because she knew that Sam would telephone her before he went to bed.
“I want a word with you, Ms. Richards,” Professor Hormel said when Kendra walked into his classroom the next morning. “I like your outline, but remember that your story shouldn’t be more than twenty-five double-spaced pages long. And you chose an interesting topic. However, proving your premise ought to cost you some effort. Good luck.” He handed her an envelope. “Here are your introductions to establishments in Rome, Florence, and Milan. I’ll see you back here February the first.” She thanked him and found a seat.
She arrived at work that evening and found a stack of Nat King Cole CDs and a note from the program director advising her that the week of December 6th to December 21st was Nat King Cole week, commemorating the first African American to have a television show, and the last episode of the Nat King Cole Show on NBC. She liked Nat’s music, but she didn’t see it as especially appropriate for Christmastime, so she played an hour of Nat King Cole and then switched to instrumental jazz. At eight-thirty, the operator told her to pick up the phone. She did.
“Hello out there. KT speaking. Who’ve I got here?”
“Hi, KT, this is Clarissa Holmes. Remember me? I called in to wish you and that nice man I met with you a very Merry Christmas and a great New Year.”
“What a great surprise! I’ll tell him, and I wish the same to you and Brock. Come back to see us soon. In a minute, I’m going to play your recording of ‘After Sundown.’”
“Thank you. Live life to the hilt, friend. Bye for now,” Clarissa said, and hung up.
Yes, Kendra said to herself. I needed to hear that, and I’m going to begin applying it come January.
When she went to bed the night before Christmas Eve, every muscle in her body ached. Her father had a reasonably good cleaning woman, but Kendra had polished the place until it glistened. Then, after she and her father had dressed the eight-foot Fraser fir tree, she prepared the turkey, stuffed it, made two lemon chiffon pies, prepared the vegetables for cooking, and put them in the refrigerator.
/> “You should have let me have the dinner catered,” Bert said. “You’ll be half-dead when we’re ready to eat.”
“You got someone to clean up. That’s what I hate to do,” she said.
Bert looked at the table and shook his head in wonder. “That’s the first time I’ve seen my mother’s porcelain on a table since she died. I don’t think Ginny set the table properly once in the five years we were married. When you marry, I’ll give you my mother’s porcelain, silverware, and crystal.”
“What if you marry again?”
“If I ever do that, my wife can choose her own tableware.” He pointed to the table. “That will be yours.”
“Seven is a strange number to have for dinner, Papa. Maybe we should have invited one more person. What about Gates?”
“Gates is married, and it’s just as well. He wouldn’t know a linen napkin from a handkerchief.”
By five o’clock Christmas Eve, Kendra had the dinner ready, except for last minute chores, and was soaking in a sea of pink bubbles in her father’s Jacuzzi. She dressed in a red, floor-length silk sheath that displayed all of her assets, combed her hair down below her shoulders, clipped silver hoops to her ears, and applied perfume in strategic places. She noted that she was showing a good deal of cleavage, but what the heck! Cleavage was in.
She answered the door
“Come in. I’m Mr. Richards’s daughter. Are you going to help us with the after-dinner cleanup?”
“Yes, ma’am. My name is Emma Barnes, and I’ll serve for you, too, if you want. If you’re having it in courses, please write out the menu and tell me which serving dishes you want me to use for the different items. I’ll take care of the rest.” Emma walked into the kitchen and looked it over. “Good. Dishwasher, nice counters, and plenty of space. Don’t worry about a thing.”
Breaking the Ties That Bind Page 24