by Wayne Jordan
* * *
That evening after work, George suppressed his pride and drove over to Rachel’s home. Her car was not in the driveway, but he still knocked on the door.
The door opened abruptly and Grace’s head popped out. She glared at him.
“Rachel and Gregory are out,” she said, her eyes condemning.
“I wanted to talk with her, but I’ll have to come back another time. She won’t talk to me.”
“Under the circumstances, what do you expect?”
“Okay, I deserve that. I know she found out about the papers filed in court, but I need to explain to her what happened. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
Grace hesitated. He could see her anger was dissipating.
“You want to come in?” she said reluctantly. “You had better have a good explanation for what you did.”
He walked inside, his face hot with shame.
“You need someone to talk to and you need advice before you mess up your life and Rachel’s again. I’m your best bet.”
He closed the door behind him and followed her down the hallway and into the sitting room.
She indicated the bright pink sofa and waited until he sat before she took the chair opposite.
“You hurt her again, George. Things were going so well between the two of you.”
“I didn’t mean to do it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“When I discovered I had a son I was angry. Before I spoke to Rachel, one of my colleagues offered to check stuff out for me. Unfortunately, the papers ended up on our office manager’s desk and she thought they had to be filed.”
“But why would you make a decision like that without talking to Rachel? That’s the same thing you did thirteen years ago. You broke her heart then and now you want to do it again.”
“I know, I know. I don’t have any excuses for back then, but I was just a boy. I just got scared at what was happening.”
“I’m sure if you had discussed it with her, the two of you would have made some compromise. You know her, George. Do you really think Rachel would deny you your son? If you think that, then she can’t be the person for you.”
He stared her full in the face; the shame he was feeling intensified.
“If she really, really wanted to keep him from you,” Grace continued, “she could have stayed in Anguilla.”
“That’s true,” he acknowledged.
He hesitated. What the hell was he going to do?
“So how do I solve this problem?” he finally asked.
“Give her a day or two,” Grace suggested. “She’s not ready to talk with you now, but she will be.”
“I hope so. I’ve missed nearly thirteen years of my son’s life. I don’t want to miss much more of it.”
“I understand how you feel and I think he should know. Rachel feels that you need to give her time, but she doesn’t credit Gregory with the intelligence she knows he possesses. He’s a smart, mature boy and I’m sure he would deal with this situation better than the two of you. Kids have a storehouse of resilience that we don’t seem to realize they have.”
“I hurt her so many years ago and I’m not sure how to heal it, heal what we had.”
“In time, George. You were always one to want instant solutions to your problems. That’s why she beats you in court. She’s a thinker. She internalizes things before she makes decisions. Always, except when she was with you. You had the ability to make her laugh. She was such a solemn child before she met you. She needed someone like you in her life, someone to make her smile, and you had the ability to do that. That’s why when you walked away she was so devastated.”
“I have every intention of making her smile again. I agree with you. I’ll give her time, a few days. After that, I’m going to come and see her again.”
“You know she still loves you?”
“The other night, I thought so,” he said, feeling his face warm with the embarrassment. “At the first sign of trouble, she balks on me.”
“Clearly there are issues of trust that the two of you need to work through. You both just have to stop being so stubborn. That’s the problem.”
He nodded, acknowledging that what she said was definitely true.
“I’ll do what you say,” he said. “But I’m going to talk to her whether she likes it or not.”
“I didn’t expect anything else. You know what you have to do. You have to fight for what you want.”
“I intend to. I’ve made some mistakes that I can’t go back and correct, but I intend to make sure she recognizes that we all belong together.”
“Good.”
“So I have your blessing?” he asked.
“Did you have a doubt?” she responded coyly.
“No, but the gentlemanly thing demands that I ask.”
“Would you have allowed any objections from me to stop you from going after her?”
“No,” he responded without hesitation.
“Then you’re just the kind of man I want for my daughter.”
He stood, waiting until she stood before he took her hands in his.
“I love your daughter and my son,” he said. “I plan on making sure that we’re a family. I know it isn’t going to be easy, but I’m a determined individual.”
Grace moved closer to him, drawing George to her. He rested in her embrace. Since his mother’s illness, she’d been the only one he could turn to. He’d not done it often in recent years and he regretted it. She’d been his only link to Rachel and when he’d thought Rachel was forever lost to him, he’d broken his tie with Grace, only making the occasional duty call. He missed the warm camaraderie they’d had in those early days.
When she finally released him, she stepped back and looked at him long and hard.
“I trust you to do what is right. Don’t let me down.”
“I won’t,” he said.
She led him to the door, rising on her toes to kiss him on his cheek.
“Get home safely.”
He smiled and opened the door, closing it behind him and waiting for the click to indicate it had been locked.
He walked slowly down the steps to his car.
A few minutes later he was driving along the highway, his thoughts on Rachel.
Sweet Rachel. He’d loved her so much back then. She’d changed him in way he hadn’t expected. She’d accepted the brash, teenage boy and taught him to be a gentleman. It had not been easy since he’d always considered being a gentleman a bit too proper and wimpy, but the first time she’d refused to get out of the car before he alighted, he’d been a bit annoyed. At that time he’d wondered, What the hell is wrong with her hands?
But she’d been more stubborn than he was and he’d really not planned on sitting in the parking lot of the cinema for the rest of the night, so he’d relented.
Over time, he’d realized that treating her like a lady had made him feel good. In reciprocation, she’d treated him like a gentleman and he’d reveled in the attention she’d showered on him. His slight insecurities about his height had dissipated and he’d grown in confidence and self-esteem. He’d blossomed under her tender, loving hands…in more ways than one.
The memory of their lovemaking the other night stirred him. He’d been amazed by what had transpired between them. They’d made love twice during the night and he still felt hungry for her.
Over the years, he had indulged and satiated his need for intimacy, but none of those women came close to what Rachel did to him. Maybe that was the reason he had not married. He had no desire to settle for less than what he had with Rachel.
He wanted what they had back then, what he’d caught a glimpse of the other night. What they’d shared h
ad been more than sex. They’d connected in the very special way only two individuals who loved each other could connect.
He turned into his driveway, slowing the car.
He’d do as her mother said. He’d give her a few days, but when he felt he’d given her enough time, he would be visiting her home again.
Chapter 15
Rachel had not expected a day to pass without George attempting to call her, so when three days passed without any glimpse of him, she almost felt disappointed.
She closed the file on her desk and sighed. She really was fooling herself. Tonight, when she reached home, she would call him. In the past few days her anger had mellowed. She really should have given him the chance to talk, but she’d been too angry.
There was a knock at her door and her response was reflective and habitual. “Come in.”
George.
Her heart stopped.
He stood silently, a determined, stubborn look on his face. A flustered Michelle walked in, her frustration evident. She’d never seen Michelle like this.
“I tried to get him to wait, but he refused. Shall I call security?”
“No need to,” she responded. “I’ll take care of this. Mr. Simpson won’t be long.”
Michelle nodded but did not move as if she didn’t want to leave Rachel alone, but she eventually turned and walked away.
George walked forward. “I came here with the intention of being angry and shouting—if that was the only way to get you to talk to me. But that would only make things worse. We need to talk.”
“Yes, we do.”
“Are you free to go to lunch?”
She glanced at her watch.
“Yes, I can go. Just let me get my bag. Where are we eating?”
He called the name of her favorite restaurant in the city. Just a five-minute walk away made it the perfect place for a lunch.
She rose from her chair and walked around the desk to stand in front of him. “As soon as you’re ready.”
He stepped back, allowing her to leave first and then followed.
Outside, they walked to The Balcony restaurant, situated in Cave Shepherd, one of the island’s most popular department stores.
When they were seated, she looked at him, wondering how he would approach the situation they found themselves in. Before he spoke the waitress came and took their orders. Though she was hungry, she didn’t want to spend too much time deciding on it, so she ordered her favorite: mashed potatoes with spicy gravy and a tossed side salad. The hearty salad made of locally grown produce was also one of her favorites.
“I just want to set the record straight. Those papers were not to be filed,” he said cautiously.
“So why were they?” she responded calmly, but he could see the fire in her eyes. “I thought we’d come to an understanding and you still went on and made your plans.”
“Are you going to let me explain?” he said.
“Explain? Everything seems quite clear to me.”
He stood. “We go a long way back, Rachel. I thought you knew me, but for some reason you always think the worst of me. I know that I hurt you those many years ago. I’ve said I’m sorry but it keeps coming back to that. If we want to be friends, then you have to let it go or my staying here to talk to you makes no sense. What do I do?” he asked firmly.
“Sit, please,” she said quickly. She glanced around the restaurant. Eyes were on them.
He lowered himself to the chair.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m listening.”
* * *
When George completed his explanation, Rachel looked directly at him, searching for the truth and finding it in the sincerity of his eyes. For the first time, she realized that he looked sad. He hadn’t slept well. She could tell. She didn’t know what to say, whether or not she should give him comfort.
“I know I made you angry. I know it’s going to be hard for you to trust me, but look at me. I may not be a different man on the outside, but inside I’m different. I’m no longer a boy. I’m a man. I want my son and yes, I was worried that you wouldn’t want me to be his father. I had every right to be worried.” He paused.
The waitress arrived with their food. The young woman looked at him coyly. There was interest in her eyes and Rachel felt the sharp pang of jealousy.
“You’re all right?” George asked, concern in his face. “All of a sudden you look unwell.”
“I’m fine. I must really be hungry. I haven’t eaten since breakfast and it’s almost two o’clock. I usually eat around midday.”
“So what do we do from here?” he asked. “Of course, I’ll make sure my colleague stops the papers.”
“I’d appreciate that. I know we agreed to wait before we told Gregory, but under the circumstances, he needs to know. I’m not sure how he’s going to handle it, but we’ll deal with that when we see how he reacts.”
“I promise I’ll be there to support you.”
She glanced at him, looking at him with eyes that saw the man he was. She’d been so silly.
“I’m sorry, George. For all of this. The years you missed with Gregory. If I could go back and change it I would, but I can’t. All I can do is make it easier for you to get to know him now. I already know he likes you, so that’s half of the problem over.”
“I hope so. I don’t know what I’d do if he rejected me.”
“I’m sure he won’t. He’s way too devoted to cricket, and with the promise of going with you to a few games on Saturdays, you’re a friend for life.”
“At least we have something in common, so that’ll be a good starting point.”
“Yes, that’s good.” She nodded.
“How would you like to go out with me tomorrow night? Not dinner, just a drive in the countryside.”
She hesitated, uncertainty in her eyes.
“And I promise to be on my best behavior,” he reassured.
“Sounds like fun,” she finally said. “And I’ll hold you to that good behavior.”
“How about dessert?” he asked when she put her knife and fork down on the empty plate.
“Definitely not. I can’t afford to put on weight. I haven’t been given the okay for the gym. I need to be careful not to overindulge.”
“Never known you to refuse dessert,” he remarked.
“Oh, things have definitely changed. I have a kid now so I know what it’s like to put on unwanted weight. I’m sure you don’t have that problem. Do you go to the gym each day?”
“More or less. Though I prefer not to go on Sunday. I like to get to church. On Saturdays I have cricket so I still get some exercise.”
“Church? You were not much for church when you were younger.”
“Didn’t I tell you that I have changed? I believe that we should respect God, and going to church isn’t a bad thing. I refuse to get caught up in the politics going on within the church. I just go, spend some time with Him and then I head back home.”
“I’m impressed,” she replied. “There is our waitress. I really need to get back to work.”
George called the waitress over and gave her a roll of bills. She thanked him, smiled sweetly and left.
“I wanted to say thanks for accepting my invitation to lunch. I know you haven’t been too happy with me lately, but I’m glad we were able to get this situation resolved.”
“I am too,” she said. “Promise me something.”
His eyes fixed on her and he nodded.
“Don’t hurt him,” she continued. “Please. Don’t see this as a fad. Only do this if you plan on being in it for the long haul. I don’t want my son, our son, to get attached to you and then you walk away. I’ll never forgive you if you hurt him.”
&n
bsp; “I won’t, Rachel. I promise I won’t.”
“Then that’s all I need to know.”
* * *
When she returned to work, she spent the remaining time meeting with one of her colleagues about a case they were working on and visiting the facility’s library to research a few items of case law.
Around four o’clock she packed her bag and headed home. She wanted to spend some time with Gregory. They’d go to the park and while she walked, he could race his remote control car with the boys who usually hanged there in the evenings.
Then they’d talk. She experienced a moment of dread but stifled the feeling. Things were going to be all right. Gregory would deal with this situation well. He was her sensible, mature son.
When she arrived home, he was doing his homework. She gave him a hug and kiss.
“You can go take a shower and get dressed.”
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Bring your remote control car,” she replied.
“Oh, goodie. We haven’t done this in ages.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m all better now.”
“Good, I don’t like it much when you are ill,” Gregory said, racing to his room.
She walked to her own room to shower and dress.
Downstairs, twenty minutes later, she found Gregory waiting anxiously.
“You’re ready?” she asked.
“Of course, Mom. Let’s go.” He held her hand and dragged her out the door.
“You told your grandmother you’re gone?”
“Yes. She said to enjoy ourselves.”
Before she could step forward, the door was opened and he was racing down the steps. She laughed. Her son never ceased to make her laugh.
* * *
Rachel walked along the hiking trail for the second time before she came to an abrupt stop and flopped down on the bench, breathing deeply but feeling the exhilaration that came from opening her pores. She felt great.
Across the parking lot, on the basketball court, a group of boys maneuvered their remote control cars. Frequent cheering floated across the complex. She hoped Gregory had won a race or two. Not that it mattered whether he won or not. His enjoyment came from taking part in the actual racing.