Breaking the Ties That Bind

by Gwynne Forster

  She stared at him. “Have you thought how you would have felt toward me if I had just walked past her—or any woman who appeared to be homeless—and gotten into your car? I can’t deal with this right now, Sam. With the help of my uncle—her brother—the judge in her case committed her for one year to an institution for psychiatric care.”

  “With your concurrence?”

  “I was present at the sentencing, and I have decided to check on her once or twice a month to see that she is indeed receiving treatment. I don’t feel responsible for her, but if she gets better, maybe she’ll leave me alone.”

  “I see. What about us?”

  “I don’t know. This feeling is so raw. I’ve tried not to think of that night. Maybe it’s about her. Maybe it’s about you. It could be both. I’ll try and sort it out.”

  “Do you think you can take my phone calls?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll try to. Good night.”

  “Good night, and thanks for not having me arrested for harassing you.”

  Her eyes widened. “That never entered my mind. Good night.”

  The next afternoon, Sam received a text message from his father. “Can you drop by for supper tonight, say, about seven? See you then.”

  Hmm. That sounded more like a command than an invitation.

  He got there a few minutes before seven, and they embraced each other, as usual.

  “I brought you a bottle of Hine’s fine VSOP Cognac. That stuff you served last week was lousy. So what necessitated your command to dinner?”

  Jethro released a hearty laugh. “Feeling testy, huh? How about a beer? I still have some of those great porterhouse steaks Bert gave me. Steak, baked potato, asparagus, and sliced tomato is what you’re getting.”

  “That’s hard to beat.”

  They ate in the kitchen, as they did in the years after Sam’s mother died. “What’s on your mind, Dad?” His father’s silence was getting to him. He hoped that his dad didn’t have a health problem.

  “What went wrong between you and Kendra? You’re both unhappy. I see it in you, and it’s evident from the change in her demeanor when she’s on the air. What happened? I’ve been expecting you to tell me that you’ve asked her to marry you.”

  “This is a first-class meal. No wonder you don’t hire a full-time cook.”

  “Lacey’s here to clean and do the laundry three times a week, and she always cooks dinner. That’s more than enough for me. Are you going to answer my question, or are you telling me to butt out? I’ve got a personal interest in this.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’d like to be a grandfather. Look. Let’s cut to the chase. I like that girl. What’s wrong with her?”

  “It isn’t her; it’s her mother. A more distasteful woman will be hard to find.”

  “Have you seen any of that in Kendra?”

  “Actually, she’s everything that her mother should be, but the thought of having that woman in my life makes me sick.”

  “Start at the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”

  They talked until late in the evening. Jethro got a snifter of cognac, inhaled it, and then sipped slowly. “Aren’t you proud of Kendra? I can’t see how she got where she is with a burden of that measure and significance. She’s right that you should have supported her that night. She’s not only hurt, but I think she’s deflated.”

  “That’s possible. I was listening when you called in during her show, and what you told her touched me. That’s the night I waited for her in the lobby of her apartment building.”

  “You still love her, so get busy before she convinces herself that she can live without you. And you should know that if you meet her needs, she won’t need a mother who abuses her.”

  “I hear you. What about you and Edwina? I had thought you two would be married by now.”

  “Don’t worry about Edwina and me. I’m not foolish enough to lose her again. And if you think you want to spend the rest of your life loving a woman you can’t have, let me tell you that you don’t. I have time; you don’t. When I was your age, you were four years old.

  “I’m planning to go fishing the first part of March, and I’m hoping I can persuade Bert to go with me. With a business like his, he must have some reliable workers who can maintain the shop for him.”

  “He does,” Sam said. “Why not wait till spring break, and I can take the boat out?”

  “Good idea. I’ll see what Bert thinks. I’m glad we had this talk. I don’t want to see you lose that woman.”

  “And I don’t want to lose her.”

  Sam drove home, all the while pondering his next move. Inside his apartment, he reminded himself that he had won Kendra’s trust by being straight and honest with her, and that he wouldn’t resort to clever tricks. At half past twelve, he telephoned her and held his breath.

  “Hi, Sam.”

  “Hello, Kendra. You can’t know how happy I am that you answered the phone. I had dinner with my dad, and we spent the evening talking about you and about you and me. I’m . . . this is so unnatural. I can’t say what I’m thinking and feeling. Can you and I be together Sunday after you finish studying?”

  “I’d like that, Sam. I ought to be free around one.”

  “Any news about the story you wrote on your visit to Italy?”

  “Oh, yes. Professor Hormel told me today that each of my professors gave me an A, plus I get a semester’s credit for it, and that’s a bonus that I hadn’t expected.”

  “Congratulations. I’m proud of you and happy for you, Kendra. You deserve every reward that you get.”

  She wasn’t dancing for joy, but she was happier than she had been for a long time. She meant to stand her ground and, for as long as her mother was in that institution for treatment and care, she would discharge her filial responsibility, even though Ginny Hunter did not and never would deserve it. Surely, Sam could live with that. She sent an e-mail to his iPhone.

  I’ll be studying in the Library of Congress tomorrow, from eleven to five in the main reading room, at First and Independence, SE. The reading room is the best place to study, if I need reference books. It’s so good to be in touch. K.

  She washed her stockings and underwear, showered, got ready for bed, and went into a sound sleep.

  Her father’s call awakened her the next morning. “What do you know?” he asked her after they greeted each other. “I hope you’ve had your coffee.”

  She hadn’t. “I just opened my eyes. Tell me.”

  “Jethro invited me to go fishing on his boat with him sometime at the end of March or the first week in April, weather permitting.”

  “No kidding! I’m getting the feeling that he wants to make sure I marry Sam.”

  “Probably. That’s the main reason why I’ll leave Gates in charge of my shop for an entire weekend. I expect you and Sam will join us.”

  “Don’t bet on it. No one’s mentioned it to me.” But Jethro did mention it. He also told her that she’d no doubt prefer to enjoy the boat with Sam rather than with the parents.

  By the first week in April, she and Sam were once more constantly together. One evening as he sheltered her from a torrent of rain, she said to him, “Sam, you’re spoiling me. What would you do if I began expecting you to guarantee that it wouldn’t rain or snow on me? And that I wouldn’t get cold?”

  “I’d do my best to keep you dry and warm in winter, and cool and dry during vicious summer heat and humidity. You see something wrong with that?”

  She hadn’t had much nurturing in her life, and she wasn’t going to thumb her nose at it. “Not one thing, honey. Not a single thing.”

  And so it went. Both of them kept a tight rein on the fierce passion that had characterized their relationship in the days before she went to Italy. And although she told herself that she preferred it that way, she knew that their eventual coming together would be explosive.

  Over two months after Ginny was confined to the facility for treatment, she indicated that she
recognized her daughter’s presence. “Why do you come here? Do you get some satisfaction from knowing that I have to be here unless I want to go to jail?”

  Kendra questioned the effect of lying, decided that she wouldn’t, and said, “In a way, yes. It comforts me to know that you won’t badger me for money or embarrass me at my job, but I hate to know that you have a condition that requires psychiatric treatment. I come here to make sure that these people are giving you the treatment you need. That’s my duty.”

  “I’m glad to know you’re not doing it to show how much you love me,” Ginny said, and sucked her teeth in apparent disgust.

  But she didn’t fool Kendra, who had never before heard her mother use the word love. “Absolutely not,” Kendra replied. “I wouldn’t embarrass you or myself by getting into such emotional mush. See you in a few weeks.”

  Before leaving, she reported the conversation to the therapist. “She’s coming along,” the woman said, “but she’s got a long, hard road ahead. Don’t expect miracles.”

  Who knew whether Ginny would stay there long enough to make genuine progress? She still possessed a hefty share of arrogance and of egotism, and neither bode well for the cure her mother needed. Kendra took comfort in the knowledge that, in less than three months, Ginny had made a small step toward good mental health.

  On a Friday morning in mid-April, during spring break, Sam headed his Buick Enclave out of Washington, D.C., full of hope and not a little anxiety. He glanced at the woman beside him, her head resting against the back of the seat and her eyes closed, as she hummed softly. As a singer, she had no skill, but he managed to detect snatches of Stevie Wonder’s “I Just Called To Say I Love You.” He patted her thigh to let her know, without the benefit of words, that he shared her mood.

  Around eleven o’clock, they reached St. Leonard, Maryland, a tiny settlement on the Chesapeake Bay where he moored the boat, a thirty-eight foot schooner that he and his father owned jointly.

  “We’re lucky that Dad and Bert were down here last weekend,” he said, “and we don’t have to put her in shape for sailing.”

  “I know. I don’t think my papa has ever raved about anything as much as he did about that boat, the fishing, and the joy of being out on the Chesapeake Bay.”

  “Dad enjoyed it, too. I hope you enjoy it as much as your father did.”

  At the boat, he lowered the gangplank by remote control, took her hand, and walked on. “You stay here,” he said, pointing to the lounge, “while I get our things.”

  He was back in fifteen minutes, telling himself that he didn’t want to give her head time to start controlling her emotions. “I’ll put your bag in the captain’s quarters.” He turned to go, but she stopped him.

  “Where will you put yours?”

  “Not to worry. That’s a bed.” He pointed to the sofa on which she sat. She gave him a long, unfathomable look, picked up her bag, and strolled into the captain’s quarters. He stood there for a couple of minutes, reflected that she seemed neither angry nor annoyed, and got busy putting away their supplies. By the time she reappeared in white jeans, blue sneakers, and a blue, collared T-shirt, he thought he’d burst out of his skin.

  “You all right?” he asked her.

  “Oh, yes. This is one snappy machine. I can’t wait to get started.”

  “You mean the boat?” She nodded. “As soon as we eat a sandwich, we’ll take off. I’d like some fresh fish for supper.”

  They sailed down to Trappe, on Maryland’s Eastern Shore and docked upstream. “Dad said the fish here practically competed for a chance to get hooked. We’ll see how they treat us.”

  He baited their hooks, and they sat in deck chairs and waited. “These are more than we need,” he said of their fish a couple of hours later.

  “I wish life was like this,” she said, more to herself than to him, but she knew he heard her.

  “Give it a chance, Kendra. Give me a chance.”

  With a look that was level and direct, she said, “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Do you still love me?” he asked, leaning toward her while grasping the tail of a good-size pike.

  She stood and faced him. “Yes, I love you. If I tried to stop, I don’t know where I’d begin.” She didn’t want a piecemeal discussion of their relationship, she wanted it all aired out, and when they stopped talking, she’d know whether they would be together forever or would say good-bye forever when they got back to Washington. “We’re going to talk, Sam, but let’s wait till you dock for the night.”

  He put the fish into an ice box, closed it, and said, “If I hadn’t been handling that fish, I’d try to drown myself in you.”

  “Everything I’m wearing is washable, including my shoes.”

  He stepped closer, enclosed her in the warmth of his arms, and held her there. “I’ve needed you so badly, down deep where the pain stayed. I love you so much. Have you forgiven me, and do you truly trust me?”

  “I’ve forgiven you. It took awhile, but I tried to put myself in your place, and I had to acknowledge that if it had been your father instead of my mother, I probably would have broken ties with you and wouldn’t have renewed them. I never stopped trusting you.”

  He held her tight without speaking for so long that she stroked the side of his face and asked him, “What’s the matter?”

  “I haven’t prayed much in my life, but I prayed about this, day and night. Will you marry me?”

  It was D-Day. If he stood his ground about Ginny, would she do the same and walk away from him? She moved out of his arms and leaned against the door that led to the lower level.

  “Do you love me?”

  “As I love my life.” He walked over and knelt before her.

  “I will love and care for you and our children and do everything I can to ensure your happiness and well-being.”

  “What about my mother? I won’t allow her ever to abuse me again, and I won’t tolerate any of her tricks, but I won’t watch her destroy herself, either. I won’t bring her to live with me, and if she doesn’t change her outlook on life, she won’t have access to my children.” She eased down until they were face to face. “But Sam, I couldn’t ignore her if she were truly in need. I’d lose my self-respect.”

  “You’re offering more than I’m asking. I want you on any terms and without conditions. Will you be my wife?”

  “Oh, yes! Yes!”

  “Did you really think I was going to let you sleep in the lounge?” she asked him that night as he lay above her, slowly climbing down from the heights of ecstasy.

  “After what I’d been through the past three months, I wasn’t counting the chicks before they were hatched. I’ve learned never to do that with you. Wait a minute.” He looked at his watch, saw that it was only a quarter of ten, and dialed Bert Richards’s phone number.

  “Hello, Bert. This is Sam. Kendra just promised to marry me, and I remembered only now that I forgot to ask your permission.”

  “I figured months ago that it was time. I’m glad to hear it, Sam. You two have my blessings.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll take good care of her.”

  “I have no doubt of that.”

  “I’ll call my dad tomorrow,” he said to Kendra. “Right now, I want to enjoy my bride-to-be.”

  Epilogue

  Five years later, Kendra Richards-Hayes and Samuel Hayes sat at home, gazing with pride upon their children, Alex and Ellen Hayes, ages three and one, respectively. Sam had been elevated to dean of psychology at the university, and Jethro and Edwina Hayes were on a perpetual honeymoon. Bert Richards had formed a string quartet which, with performances and record sales, netted him more money in a week than his butcher shop earned in a month. His dream had finally come true, and he had taken on a new life partner, who he married soon after Kendra was graduated from Howard University with a bachelor of arts degree in communications, magna cum laude.

  After a year of treatment as an inpatient in a rehabilitation facility, Ginny Hunter ha
d improved to the point that she had a steady relationship with a reasonable man who she appeared to care for, but she had not attempted to affect a normal mother–daughter relationship with Kendra, and Kendra neither expected it nor felt that she needed it. Ginny visited her grandchildren occasionally, but didn’t appear to want a close relationship with them.

  One summer evening, as they sat around the swimming pool at the back of their seven-room Tudor house in Westmoreland Hills reflecting on their lives, Sam sipped from a glass of lemonade, put it down, lifted little Alex into his arms, and reached for his wife’s hand.

  “She doesn’t care for our stay-at-home lifestyle,” he said of Ginny, “and she comes when she thinks she has to. As long as that doesn’t bother you, I’m grateful for it.”

  “So am I.”

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  1. The average student graduates from college at age twenty-two. Why is Kendra struggling to graduate at age thirty-two?

  2. What element of Kendra’s character is most responsible for her big break as she strives toward her goal?

  3. What is the opportunity that enables Kendra to take that big step and register at Howard?

  4. What occasion almost wrecked that chance, and who engineered it?

  5. Kendra’s father buys her an apartment in a good neighborhood. What command does he give his daughter about the apartment?

  6. What was at the root of Bert Richards’s decision to divorce Kendra’s mother?

  7. What do you regard as evidence of Kendra’s moral fortitude? Her weakness?

  8. Do you think Ginny Hunter is mentally impaired?

  9. Do you believe she is simply evil? If so, why?