Hildreth 2-in-1

by Denise Hildreth Jones

  For a moment I felt a sting rise up in my throat. But I pushed it back down.“Thith ith abouth uth.” I tried to keep my composure. “Thith ith abouth you mafing a therrible misthake . Thith ith abouth uth noth ruining our wifes.”

  “What? Our wives?”

  “No, I said, our wifesth!”

  “Savannah, I haven’t ruined my life. I haven’t made a mistake either. I just went on with my life. And I only made that decision the day you sat at that table right there”—he pointed to the table for two at the front window—“and let me know that school was your priority. Do you think I would marry someone while I had unresolved feelings for another woman? If you think that, then you never really knew me at all, Savannah.”The expression in his eyes was one of hurt, which I had only seen from him on a couple of occasions. But there was something even different in them tonight. A resolve. He had thought this one through, and long before he walked in a few minutes ago, hoodooed by Paige.

  “Buff thif wafn’t how if waf thuppothe thoo be . We were thup-pose thoo be thogether forefer.”

  “What?”

  He was making this painful.“You’re killingth me here. I saith . . . we were thuppose thoo be thogether forefer!”

  “Supposed to be together forever? So, I was just supposed to wait until you got through doing everything else you wanted to do and then, when you were ready for me, I was supposed to be right there waiting for you?”

  I looked at him with a look Duke has used on me many times. A look that said,“Well, when you put it that way, it has a slightly different ring to it.”

  “Don’t cock your head at me . That is exactly what you thought.

  And I knew you thought that. And the mere fact that you thought that proved you didn’t love me the way I loved you.”

  As he said that, his expression softened. And he walked over to me and put his hands on my bare arms. But he hadn’t even noticed my lovely spring attire. No, he was looking straight into my eyes. “I loved you from the time we got caught in Wesley Monumental Church at midnight with Pastor Mason. I loved your quirkiness and your clumsiness.” He pointed to my lip. “I loved everything about you. But that day, sitting in this very place, I realized you didn’t love me that way.”

  “Buff I—”

  He placed his finger in front of my face.“Don’t talk anymore. It is painful for you, obviously, and painful for me to decipher.” That made us both smile. “It’s okay, Savannah. It’s okay that you had dreams and visions and plans. And it’s okay that you weren’t ready. But I’ve changed. I’m not the kid you caught fireflies with or skipped school with or got your first kiss from. I’m a man. A man in love with a wonderful woman. A man fortunate enough to have loved two amazing women in his lifetime. But our chapter is over.”

  I studied his gaze to see if there was any hint of doubt in his own words. One glimmer of apprehension was all I would have needed to grab him and hold him and share the gentleness of a kiss we had once known. But there was none. No doubt. No hesitation. No second thoughts. I suppose I had known that already. “Now you go out there. Change the world. Love will find you. When you’re ready, it will find you.” He laughed. “I’m not sure it can handle you, but it will find you.”

  He kissed me gently on the cheek. And a small tear fell from the corner of my eye that surprised even me. He took his thumb and gently wiped it away. As he held my hand and led me to the front door,my mind raced with what this man had been to me . He would never know he held my greatest secrets and my only kisses. He would never know that years down the road, stories would be written about him. He would just never know.

  He opened the front door, let go of my hand, and turned back to me.“This is over, Savannah. It’s time for you to start writing the next chapter of your life.”With that I watched him slowly disappear up the street and take his place in a world of past conversations and onetime loves.

  “I wuff you,” I said quietly.

  Unfortunately it was loud enough for the harassing curly-headed pedaler to have heard. He had apparently witnessed the entire parting episode. He and his dog. He pulled his ringlets right up next to me and stopped. Peeking his head inside the coffee shop, he leaned back and shook his head.

  “Shuffup!!!” I declared straight into his smirking face. I might have even sprayed him with a little spit, but who cared? My soul was broken, floating on the barren sea of heartbreak. I slammed the door closed and locked it before he could dare to enter.

  Jake’s had lost its sparkle. Jake’s felt cold and lonely. Jake’s had apparently held Grant’s heartbreak years before, and mine today. What a wretched place.Once my place of joy and laughter, now my home of bitterness and woe. Packing up two cold steaks, I put them in the refrigerator so Duke could at least experience some pleasure in what had come to be his concrete world. Duke and I were more alike than woman and beast ought to be. Our worlds were colorless and our meals takeout. After folding the white linen tablecloth and placing it neatly atop the other items of lost hope,my picnic basket felt like a heavy pack of burden . This wasn’t the way moments like these were supposed to end. It wasn’t the way my practiced ending had transpired. I had us slow dancing to the music we would hum together. Our new song,“Ready to Take a Chance Again” by Barry Manilow . What I like is none of Thomas’s business.

  I pushed the table back to its place and walked through the swinging doors that led to the back room. I turned off the lights, and with them the light of my heart. As I closed the door behind me, I knew it would be years before I could ever enter Jake’s again. Well, okay. I’d show up tomorrow morning for a Coke. But only because it was utterly necessary.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Talking was too painful. Both physically and emo-tionally. Paige let me sleep on her sofa. She consoled me and helped me wipe away my tears . Well, there weren’t any more tears, but there was a lot of slurred whining. However, our top ten list of “Why Savannah was a better catch than Miss Redhead”—made in conjunction with the viewing of David Letterman—was rather cathartic.

  Morning came crashing in hard and furious. My head was killing me from a caffeine overdose . The only highlight was that my lip had retreated to a somewhat normal level. And the lowlight was my mother’s message regarding my depiction of her in today’s column.

  I stared at Paige’s check in my hand. Two thousand dollars. Liberation.

  Ms. Austin was on the morning news. The local news-caster found it hard to believe that she was born and raised in the South.

  “Why? Southerners aren’t all big hats and afternoon tea. Some of us like our coffee as espressos and some of us favor black to pastels. There is a progressive voice of the South that is unmistakably being voiced and heard.”

  The recent journalism-school grad responded,“I can see where that would be true.”

  “I’m just trying to help people from my part of the world realize that the conservative mind-set of the old South isn’t what this new generation needs or truly desires.”

  “What do you feel this generation desires?”

  “Someone who listens. And actually hears . Then fights to help implement their concerns and ideals. And who helps their voice to be heard.”

  “Well,we’re glad you had a few moments to spend with us this morning. Ladies and gentlemen, Ms. Faith Austin.”

  Faith smiled that perfect smile. She had it . Whatever it was. She had it.

  I tilled alone. It was best. God and I had a lot of talking to do. He seemed quiet. Again. So I just kept the conversation going. Reminding Him how miserably last night had transpired. Nothing to my liking. And nothing to His, I was certain. Reminding Him that if He was passing out more it, I would like some of my own. By the time I was through, the only consolation I could imagine was Coke. Coke and flip-flops. No pearls today. It hadn’t rained down. No use in trying to pretend. At least for now.

  The question slammed into me as soon as I entered the back door.“I expected you last night . You said you would be there.” />
  “No sir, I said I would try.”

  He leaned against the steel counter that held my liquid delight and extended a cup.

  I took the cup from his hand, filled it full of ice, and watched the dark, powerful fluid flow.“My meeting took a detour and I had to regroup.” I leaned against the counter while the events of last night came back like a stampede. I took a long swig of my Coke, which burned all the way down. Nothing was so good. “Whoo! That’s good stuff.”

  “So, your dinner with Grant didn’t go as you expected?” he asked with a perfectly stoic expression.

  Had I possessed any remaining liquid in my mouth, it would have surely escaped through every cavity in my head.“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

  “Savannah, did you know that not telling the entire truth is really not truth at all?”

  I pursed my lips and wrinkled my brow and turned to stare at him.“How do you know everything?” He started to give a quick response.“No, seriously, Dad . How do parents know everything? Is there not one thing I can do that you wouldn’t know of?”

  “You know how we know, Savannah? Because there is part of us inside of you. And we know ourselves very well.” He tapped me on my nose, then proceeded to head back into the front of the shop.“By the way, your article was . . . interesting.”

  I headed straight to the paper and snatched a copy of the morning news from Marla’s desk. I greeted her quickly but friendly and headed to my hallowed haven. But I wasn’t to sit. No, Jessica buzzed me as soon as I entered my hole; Mr. Hicks wanted to see me.

  I would be fired. I was certain. Who wouldn’t be certain? I couldn’t do anything right. Except create a blaring headline. Oh, yes, I had mastered that one. I walked slowly. Even wanted to scream, “Dead woman walking!” But who would care? Most would be glad. I would give Paige her money back. I would live with my mother and die old and wretched.

  Jessica had disappeared into obnoxious oblivion. I was grateful. She made me weary. Mr. Hicks was snacking on a country ham biscuit and had more crumbs on his tie than around his mouth.

  “Oh, Savannah. Come in, come in.” He tried to brush away the remnants of breakfast from his face unsuccessfully. “I wanted you to know you did a great job with your story . You gave me a kick,” he said, chuckling.“I wish I could have seen your mother in a silk eye mask. I didn’t even know all the activity that was happening around there.”

  I sat down across from him more confident.“Well, thank you, sir. I’m glad you liked it.”

  “Yeah.” He placed the other half of his biscuit aside and brushed the crumbs from his desk. “I thought you would give us some ‘sidewalk sermons’ like your mother has been giving on the evening news. But you branched out, young lady. Gave us a laugh and kept self-righteous opinions to yourself. Couldn’t have written it better myself. Now, go get ready for tomorrow’s deadline.”

  “Well, thank you, sir. Really, thank you so much.” As I started out the door, I noticed a yellow file on his desk bearing Joshua’s name and a “Dated Material” stamp. Joshua’s story. Unopened. I couldn’t help it.“Did you not read Joshua’s story?”

  “What?” He looked down, confused.“Oh, this?” He picked up the file.“No, I haven’t gotten to it yet.”

  “But it’s dated. It was for today’s paper!”

  “Oh, I didn’t notice.”

  “How could you not notice?” I asked, incredulous.

  “Because I didn’t, Savannah,” he snapped.

  “Well, you should have . You really should have.”

  I left, my cadence not as enthusiastic as Mr. Hicks’s compliments of my work warranted. And the nuisance coming up the aisle conjured the usual dread. Jessica turned the corner and headed in my direction, with none other than Faith Austin at her side. The city’s new darling looked exceptionally fabulous today. Her long dark hair spread symmetrically across her shoulders, and her camel-color pants and matching lace top looked almost tie-dyed.

  I hesitated for a moment. I felt too casual next to this woman in my flip-flops and white capris. Jessica didn’t even notice me until we were practically flip-flop to Ferragamo.

  “Hello, Ms. Austin,” I said with a nod. “Jessica.”

  “Savannah,” Jessica snipped.

  “Hello, Savannah. How are you this morning?”

  “Doing great, thank you very much. Just heading back to work . What are you ladies up to this morning?”

  “We were trying to have a conversation,” Jessica snapped.“And I believe this conversation was between A and B”—she pointed to her and Ms. Austin—“so why don’t you C your way out of it?”

  I raised my right eyebrow and fought desperately not to laugh in her face.

  Ms. Austin had trouble hiding her smirk as well and spoke to me anyway.“I liked your article today. I expected a downright assault. But you were rather refreshing . The Pilates episode got me good.”

  “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the whole thing though.”

  “That shouldn’t take too long.” Peanut gallery.

  The two mature ones tried to ignore the child.

  “Ms. Austin!” came Mr. Hicks’s voice. He was smiling like a child with a crush on the teacher. “Come on in here and let’s get this interview going.” He ignored both Jessica and me as he took Ms. Austin by the hand and began to lead her to his office.

  She looked back with a smile.“Maybe we can have dinner soon.” Her cell phone rang as she turned around. She answered it with a rather perturbed,“Hello?”

  Mr. Hicks closed the door behind them and left Jessica staring at the veneer.

  “I guess you’ll have to C your way out,” I said with a shameless giggle. I deserved to laugh.

  “Be careful with those two,” came the voice over my shoulder as I descended the stairs . The same voice that had snickered over my shoulder yesterday as Grant walked out of my life and into the land of regrettable remembrances.

  “Well, I would think you would find both of them stunningly beautiful,” I said, ignoring the bounce of his curls that I was certain were following me.

  “You clearly have no idea what I find beautiful. I can see right through women like them.” He kept his steps on my heels.

  “Oh you can, can you?”

  “Yes, and I can see through women like you too.”

  I opened the door to the first floor and turned to stare him down. I expected a smirk. Even a wide-eyed smile. But he just stared back. It was a look I’d never seen on his face in the less than two weeks we’d known each other. It forced a nervous laugh. Odd for me, with this annoyance.“See through me? What are you talking about? Everyone else seems to like my article,Mr. North.”

  “I’m not talking about your article. That is an issue in and of itself. I’m talking about yesterday at the coffee shop. You acted pathetic, Ms. Phillips.”

  “How dare you talk to me like that? I don’t have to listen to this, coming from a man who doesn’t even have a car.” I turned on my heels, or not, to my pitiful world. My word. I had just defended this man to my boss. I knew he would follow. I knew he would reply. But he didn’t. He left me there . With pathetic and Ms. Phillips dangling like piercing participles in the air.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Aperson should be allowed to enjoy lunch. It should be an unstated law: Lunch hour is to be enjoyed. Add that as commandment eleven, and Vicky would willingly stay chained the rest of the year. Despite Joshua, this was a good day. And I was going to enjoy the rest.

  Coke from Jake’s for lunch was the only thought on my brain. Until I got the Coke . Then the thought of food began to cross my mind. I opened up the refrigerator to see if Richard or the twins had brought anything desirable from home. Only the aluminum wrapper of two cold-hearted steaks caught my eye.

  I closed the refrigerator and stared at my hand that held the handle. Then I opened it again. Snatched the steaks out of the refrigerator, laid one in Duke’s bowl, and took
the other one along with the morning paper and my Coke to the park bench directly across from the coffee shop. A raised hand was all I offered those who greeted me as I passed.

  As I sat down, a tune caught my ear, and my new bench buddy caught the corner of my eye. I hid my steak beneath my paper.

  “Savannah, I had no idea I had met a star.”

  “Good morning, Joy . You haven’t been walking into any more streets, have you?”

  Her floral belly shook. But her hair looked neatly combed. She sat down on the bench, oblivious to the fact that I was about to have a moment to myself.

  “You wrote a nice piece, Savannah.”

  “Actually I was just about—”

  “But it wasn’t clear what you really think about what is happening.” She pulled an orange out of her purse and began to peel it.

  “It’s not really about what I feel. It’s more about what I observe through the lives of others.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes, stories are about what interests people. I try to tell others’ stories.”

  She continued to peel and never looked up. “Well, you told other people’s stories all right . Your poor mother hasn’t smiled all morning. And that tall, beautiful, but extremely loquacious girl that follows her around carrying a tiara didn’t fare too well either. And pity the people who were in their company this morning.”

  I stopped and looked at her. She apparently needed me to help educate her on what newspaper reporters actually do.“I just tell it like life lives it.”

  “But isn’t life really about how events affect us and change us?”

  “Yes, life is, but not necessarily human-interest stories.”

  “So, you don’t want your stories to change people?”

  “Well, yes, that is the intent of all my stories . That was why I wanted this job. Because the lady who did this before me . . .” I paused for a moment and thought of Gloria Richardson, who had held this position prior to my arrival . The brief time that had transpired since Gloria’s death and my first day on the job blew by me and came to rest inside my thoughts. I looked down at the paper lying on my lap and my picture staring back at me in the same place Gloria’s had through my six years of college and graduate school.“Yeah, my stories should change people,” I muttered.