When You Dance With The Devil

by Gwynne Forster

  “So do I.” Richard sat down and leaned back. “He’s a tough man, too, and he’ll take good care of her.”

  “Where’s Francine?”

  “She went to the kitchen to ask Rodger for some coffee. Marilyn’s gone home.”

  “How’re you two getting on? I can see you’re still together, but—”

  “I have hope that we’ll make it. She has to wade through the minute details of what I told you, and that may take a while. I’m not patient, but I have no choice.”

  Richard sucked in his breath as Francine glided toward them, her hips swaying gently as if to the rhythm of cool jazz. “You should hear those kitchen windows rattling. The wind must be at least forty miles an hour,” she said, put cups of coffee in front of them and looked at Richard. “Is your window closed?”

  “Yes, it is, but the hurricane isn’t due here for another day or so. I’d better check my corner window, though.” He stood and, impulsively, leaned down and quickly kissed her mouth. He didn’t look at her, because he didn’t want to know her reaction, but as he walked away, he heard Judd say, “You two need more of that and less of whatever else it is that you’ve been doing to each other, ’cause it ain’t working.”

  He checked the window, and found that it was closed, but more important, he saw in the distance what seemed like flashlights in the vicinity of the beach. If he told her, she’d go out there, exposing herself to that strong, cold wind, but if he didn’t tell her, wouldn’t he be guilty of disloyalty? He turned and ran back down the stairs.

  “Francine, may I see you for a minute?” he called to her from the door of the lounge. As she stood within inches of him, her voluptuous lips so close and her teasing breasts within the reach of his fingers, he nearly faltered. “I saw what looked like flashlights on the beach. Call your boss, but please don’t go out there alone.” By the time he finished the sentence she was halfway up the stairs. He wanted to follow her, but what could he do? He couldn’t go with her, and he couldn’t force her to stay home. Five minutes later, she raced down the stairs wearing pants and a hooded storm coat.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going all the way there, and my boss will meet me.” She reached up, patted his left cheek and was out of the door before he could clear his head sufficiently to ask if he could go with her.

  “I’d like to know what that was about,” Judd said when he went back to the table, “but nobody’s gonna tell me. Why didn’t you go with her?”

  “I’d tell you, friend, but I can’t betray her confidence. I’ll say this much: She’s an admirable woman.”

  “Oh, I know that” Judd said. “This has been some night. What kind of conversation do you think Fannie’s having with Philip right now? I’ll bet she’s hotter than an iron poker in a bed of red coals. I imagine you got your niece with you, one of your two blood relatives on the face of the earth, and you don’t even know it.”

  “That’s rough. I’d been thinking about the effect this has on Jolene, but you’re right. Fannie must be undone.”

  As they spoke, Harper and Jolene walked in and sat with them. Richard could see that Harper had managed to calm Jolene, and he hoped she’d be able to get over her animosity to Philip, and that she’d give him a chance to have his say.

  “You had a shock,” Judd said to Jolene, “but you got Harper here to help you through it. If I were you, I’d let Philip say his piece. Then, if you want to, you can say yours.”

  “She shouldn’t be disrespectful to him,” Harper said. “Anyway, she doesn’t need him. She’s got me for as long as we live, if that’s what she wants.” Jolene looked up at Harper, causing Richard to wonder if Francine would ever look at him that way again.

  “I only want to know why he didn’t tell me,” Jolene said. “The last time he was here, I complained to him about my mama refusing to tell me who my father was.”

  Harper slung his arm across Jolene’s shoulder. “That’s all right, sweetheart. Don’t stress yourself disliking him. The man will need you before you need him. I’d better go. That wind is picking up rapidly.”

  “I’ll see you to the door,” Jolene said. “Good night Judd, Richard. See you at breakfast.”

  Richard looked at his watch. Twenty-five minutes. Lord, please don’t let her get out of her car unless her boss is there. He went to the cooler for water that he didn’t drink, walked to the front door, and made himself go back and sit down.

  “Take it easy,” Judd said. “She’ll be back.”

  At midnight, Richard was still in the lounge, alone, when the door opened. He rushed to meet Francine, grabbed her and folded her into his arms. “Thank God you’re here and you’re safe. Did you get him?”

  “No, but we caught one of his cohorts, a man who claims to know every move Ronald Barnes makes. I can’t thank you enough for telling me you saw those lights. I know what it cost you, because you knew what I’d do.”

  Drained of both energy and emotion, he put an arm around her waist. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs.”

  At her room door, Francine looked up at Richard for a long time, and he waited. Silently. Finally, she repeated what she said earlier, “You didn’t have to do that,” hugged him, squeezed him to her body and opened her door. “See you in the morning.”

  He hadn’t expected that she would give in easily, but she hadn’t made him sweat, either. She was honest and sincere in her relationships, and if he got her, it would be more than he deserved.

  “I’m going to try to get back home—when had he begun to think of the boardinghouse as home?—before my dad comes,” Richard told Judd the next morning, leaving the breakfast table a few minutes after Francine went to work. I have to go down to the courthouse and fill out some forms for my mayoral candidacy.”

  “You mean you’re not meeting your father?”

  “Meet him? How can I? He doesn’t own a watch, doesn’t believe in schedules and hates regimentation. Said he’ll be here today, and he will.”

  Judd seemed perplexed, and he didn’t blame the man. A lot of people thought his father odd.

  “What if he gets lost?”

  Richard zipped up his leather jacket, tied a scarf around his neck and let a grin slide over his lips. “My dad get lost? Judd, he could find his way to the Khyber Pass without a map. See you later.”

  Jolene plodded down the stairs for breakfast, wishing she were somewhere else. She didn’t want to encounter Philip Coles. Why hadn’t she guessed, and why hadn’t her resemblance to Fannie rung a bell? “How’s it going this morning?” she asked Judd, who’d already begun to eat.

  “Same as usual. How are you?”

  “I called in sick this morning. First time I have done that. I didn’t feel like smiling and being cheerful all day, and since I’m off, I’ll do some Christmas shopping. Want me to get something for you?”

  Judd stopped eating. “Hold on. You’re babbling, and that means you’re nervous. I’m the same Judd, and you got no need to hide your feelings and your problems from me.” He paused. “Good morning, Philip. Come over and join us. No point in sitting by yourself. We’re family.”

  To her amazement, Philip Coles got up, came to their table and asked her, “Mind if I sit here, Jolene?”

  Time was when she’d have told him what she thought of him, but Harper had begged her not to be rude to her father. “No. I don’t mind.”

  He sat with them, and Rodger brought Philip’s breakfast of fruit, Belgian waffles, sausage, and coffee. He ate silently for a few minutes and then stopped. “Jolene, I didn’t have proof that I was your father until two weeks before Emma died. I asked her right after you were born, and she swore there’d been other men. I accepted that because I wanted to, but I knew even then that she had never been with another man. I made her admit it when I brought her that last communion. Oh, I’m guilty. I knew it all those years, because you looked just like Fannie and my father.”

  She felt no compassion as she gazed at him. “Why didn’t you marry her?”

  “Em
ma broke it off before I knew she was pregnant, and then she began to live like a hermit with that mother of hers. When you were born, I got a shock, because I hadn’t known she was pregnant. I thought she’d stopped coming to church because she was angry with me. And she became as mean as a rattlesnake. I stopped caring for her. When she did admit it, she made me swear not to tell you. I didn’t have to take that oath, but it was an easy way out for me. I . . . I hope you will forgive me.”

  “It’s gonna take a lot for you to forgive yourself,” Judd said, “’cause the first time you saw Jolene, you knew she was yours. How’s Fannie taking this?”

  “She was furious with me at first, but she seemed to get used to the idea and told me how proud of Jolene she is, and how happy she is to have a niece and an heir. Jolene, that man who was with you last night is first class. Solid as a rock.”

  “I know. Harper’s wonderful, and to think I almost loused up with him.” She answered her cell phone. “Hi. I called in sick, but I’m fine. I was on my way to being depressed, but I’m getting over that. Reverend Coles? He’s eating breakfast with Judd and me. I’m going shopping. You will? Wonderful. I’ll be ready in an hour. Bye.” She hung up. “That was Harper. I have to dress. See you later.”

  She was supposed to feel something, wasn’t she? Shouldn’t she feel some natural kinship for her father? Well, she didn’t, and maybe she never would. She loved Harper and Judd and Richard and Francine and Fannie. For now, that was enough.

  Richard got home late that afternoon after having been fingerprinted, photographed, questioned, and interviewed and after submitting to a physical examination. He had also filed papers, espoused his political philosophy, and articulated his plans and dreams for Pike Hill. And he had begun to wish no one had suggested that he run for mayor. Where was the running? He didn’t have an opponent. “We’ll have posters and petitions out by noon tomorrow,” the councilman had told him. “You’re a celebrity around here; most any newcomer is. You’re a shoo-in.”

  He paused at the entrance to the lounge. Every boarder except Francine, Jolene, Barbara, Lila Mae Henry—the fourth grade teacher—and himself crowded around his father, and he had never heard such laughter in Fannie Johnson’s earthly haven.

  “I see you’re at it again, Dad,” he said and rushed to embrace his father.

  “Richard, honey, you got real roots. See if you can get your daddy to stay with us for a while,” Louvenia said, her eyes gleaming.

  “Yeah,” Arnetha agreed. “He’s real folks.”

  Richard stared at the two women who hadn’t spoken a hundred words to him in the ten months he’d lived there with them. And he was ready to keel over when Percy Lucas sidled up to him and said, “Richard, would you and your father care to go with me down to Bakerside? We could pick up some nice crabs, and your father would see how the crabbers work. It’s real interesting.”

  Since when did Percy Lucas know how to pronounce his name? He caught himself before his lower jaw dropped. “I’d like that a lot, Percy, and I’m sure my dad would, too. I can’t thank you enough.” Percy looked suitably pleased, and Richard looked around him, aghast, for there was Marilyn stroking his father’s arm and holding a dish of her homemade ice cream inches from his father’s mouth.

  Harland Peterson had conquered the Thank the Lord Boarding House. Richard observed his father closely and realized that he looked like Percy and Joe and Judd, that he drank the ginger ale—no doubt provided by Judd—straight from the bottle, and that no one would have confused him with an ambassador.

  His father raised himself to his full six feet three inches and hugged Richard. “Glad to see you’ve settled down with some real human beings. I take it you’ve finished with that cocktail crowd. I never felt comfortable with that bunch. Judd tells me you’re like a son to him. I may get jealous.”

  “Better watch ’em. They’re like Mutt and Jeff,” Louvenia said, her comment reflecting her age.

  Richard didn’t know what to say to all the camaraderie directed at him. He thought of the schemes he’d tried in order to get his fellow boarders to like and accept him, with no luck. Yet, his father managed it merely by being himself. Harland Peterson was one of them, so they accepted him and therefore also his son.

  Percy, of all people, came to his defense. “Now y’all stop teasing Richard.”

  “How long have you been here?” Richard asked his father.

  Harland leaned back in his chair and stretched his suspenders, running his thumbs up and down them. “Got here just in time to eat that fantastic food Marilyn served for lunch.” He winked at Richard. “Pardon. I mean dinner.”

  And just long enough to charm your subjects, Richard thought with a grin, although he failed to associate his own ability to charm women effortlessly with the trait he observed in his father. To his knowledge, Harland Peterson had been a woodsman, an amateur boxer, truck driver, and taxi driver. His father would probably say that he’d also been a bum in most European countries and that, since his retirement six years earlier, he had tramped through a good part of the world. He was a people person, and the bigger the crowd around him, the happier he appeared to be. That was one trait he didn’t get from his father for, although he’d mastered it while in international circles, he had little tolerance for small talk with strangers.

  Arriving from school, Lila Mae Henry burst into the lounge. “Y’all see that weather out there? Those clouds are almost jet black, and the wind is so strong I could hardly control my car. Looks like that hurricane is finally coming.”

  “In that case, we’d better board up the windows,” Harland said. “Any hardware stores around here?”

  Harland purchased supplies, and as the men boarded up the windows, he let them see his skill with saw, hammer, and nails. “Your father is a wonderful man,” Fannie told Richard. “If he wants to have a beer, it’s all right with me.”

  He stared at her listlessly, for his thoughts were not on his father, Fannie or the house. He needed to know where Francine was and what she was doing. The windows rattled, and it seemed at times as if the entire house shook. He watched Judge Judy with Judd, his father, and Joe Tucker, but if his life had depended on it, he couldn’t have described one case. When his cell phone rang, he jumped up, ran to the hall and answered it.

  “Peterson speaking.”

  “This is Francine. Grab Joe, Percy, or Rodger and come to that big rock on the beach. Put on your storm coat and hurry. Now!”

  He didn’t have time to explain, so he grabbed his father. “Come with me, Dad. I need you for something.” Five minutes later, they headed for the beach in his father’s rented car. He explained the situation. “Do whatever she tells you to do.”

  “Sure. What’s she to you?”

  “Everything. If my luck holds out, she’ll be your daughter-in-law.”

  “All right. I’m with you all the way.”

  Richard parked half a block from the beach. “This wind is really something,” he said as they plodded along, pitting their strength against the wind’s brutal force. “I’ve never been in this kind of storm—Stop.” He thought he saw her sitting on the sand beside the huge boulder. He resisted calling her, but he knew she didn’t see him.

  “What’s that?” his father asked. “Could that be some men pulling a boat to shore? Do you see Francine?”

  “Shh. Over there beside that big rock. Let’s see if we can get there without those men seeing us. They crawled to within a few feet of her. “Francine, this is Richard.”

  “Thank God. Stay down low. There’re three of them. Who’s with you?”

  “My Dad.”

  “Not to worry, Francine,” said Harland. “I spent a few years as a heavyweight amateur boxer, and I can still put it down. Quiet. Here they come.”

  Richard trained his eyes for the man with the limp, Ronald Barnes, the ringleader and the one Francine had to take. Suddenly he heard the snap of a gun, and Francine stood up.

  “Treasury Department Officer. Freeze or I sh
oot.”

  He had never been really scared before, but he could hear his teeth chattering. All three of the men lunged toward Francine, and he heard the gun as one man fell backward. He grabbed the bigger of the other two men, knowing that his father would enjoy knocking the other one to the sand.

  “Did you kill him?” Richard asked Francine.

  She knelt beside Ronald Barnes and handcuffed him. “No. I only put a bullet in his shoulder low enough to drop him. You got here just in time. I knew I couldn’t handle the three of them unless I killed them without giving them a chance, and I didn’t want to do that. My boss is over half an hour away.” She put handcuffs on the other two men, straightened up and blew out a long, heavy breath. “Thank God, that’s over.”

  She extended her hand to Harland. “I appreciate your helping me out, sir, and I’m glad to meet you.”

  “I’m certainly glad to make your acquaintance, but I sure didn’t expect to meet my son’s girl on a beach in a hurricane apprehending thugs. It’s been exciting, and I do love adventure.”

  “Why didn’t they shoot?” Richard asked her.

  “These guys don’t carry guns. If they’re caught, they try to lie their way out of trouble, but if they are carrying a gun, they’re already felons. Uh . . . I have to stay here with my prisoners until the other officers arrive, but if it’s getting too rough out here for you—”

  He didn’t see the point in glaring at her, because she couldn’t see him in the darkness. “It’s best we both pretend you didn’t say that,” Richard said, working hard to keep his voice gentle and soft. When she thought about what she’d said, surely she would apologize.

  A federal officer and two policemen arrived and relieved Francine of her prisoners. “We need you there to book ’em,” the man he presumed to be Francine’s boss said. “You can tail us.”

  Both of Francine’s hands went to her hips. “Not tonight. I’ve had enough of this weather. I’ll probably come down with pneumonia, and just in time for Christmas, too.” She looked at him. “Let’s go.”