Secret Desire

by Gwynne Forster

  She looked at the piece of hair on her fingers and realized that she’d been yanking on the strands that dangled over her left ear. “I’m doing my best. While we’re speaking, I’d like to ask a favor of you. Could you keep Randy for me this weekend? I have to make an important trip, and I don’t want to take him with me.”

  His silence told her that he’d prefer to have more information, but that he didn’t intend to ask for it. “Of course. We’ll both enjoy it. If you’re going where I think you are, we need to ensure your safety. Could you come to my office and make your travel arrangements on my secure phone? It’s the only one I trust.”

  “All right. May I come tomorrow around noon?”

  “Sure, and bring Randy with you.”

  The empty silence hung between them like an ominous shadow, and her heart cried out, but she couldn’t say what she felt. And she realized that he, too, remained captive to pain and pride.

  When she could, she said, “Uh…see you Saturday.”

  She went to her desk and looked at the notes she’d taken during the trial. Half of the jurors had been anxious to get home, but the other half had held out for justice, for proof of innocence or guilt. But in the end, all of them, even the woman who used the court system as the source of her mystery novels had taken it seriously. That woman believed the man had been duped, that he hadn’t known what the packages contained, while Kate had argued that the man was a courier, that each time he’d traveled, airline personnel had asked whether he’d packed his own belongings, and he’d answered yes. It had been her argument that prompted the woman to vote guilty after holding out for fifteen days.

  At least, she now knew that Luke hadn’t locked her out of his heart. From the time they’d gone their separate ways, she’d longed for him. Loyalty to the father she loved so much, who had been the delight of her young life, hadn’t let her exonerate Luke from responsibility for her father’s fate. But every morning when she opened her eyes, Luke Hickson was her first thought, and every night she closed them thinking of him, loneliness eating away at her, digging an ever bigger hole in her.

  After watching Luke on that witness stand and hearing his testimony, she wanted to embrace him, to tell him that she’d misjudged him, but what if her father maintained his innocence? She threw up her hands. She didn’t know if she could make it without Luke, and she didn’t see herself presenting her father with a grandchild sired by a man who’d railroaded him to prison. Oh Lord, what had she done to deserve such a dilemma?

  Luke got up and opened his office door. He’d never seen her looking so good. “Hello, Kate. Come on in. Hi, Randy.”

  She gazed up at him for a few seconds. “Hi. You didn’t get taller, did you?”

  Nervous small talk. Barely able to steady his voice, he knew the root of her nervousness. An hour alone with each other would cure both of them. He read the longing that blazed in her eyes, and his body threatened to revolt against its prison of denial. Lord, but he wanted her in his arms, where she belonged. He looked down at Randy, who gazed from one to the other. As clever as he was, the boy had to have sensed the distance between them.

  He put an arm around Randy’s shoulder. “Let’s go down to the lounge, son. Your mother has some calls to make.”

  When they returned half an hour later, she stood at the window in rapt attention. He couldn’t imagine to what.

  “Sit over here, son,” he said to Randy, and pointed to a chair beside the door. She was too still, ramrod straight. He walked over to her, put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him.

  “Good Lord. Baby, what happened? What’s the matter?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and groped for him—blindly. And, dear God, she was in his arms at last. In his need, his yearning to comfort her, his lips caressed her face, and he sipped the brine that streamed from her eyes. Though nearly undone by her sadness and his overwhelming desire to protect her, soothe her, he had to settle for holding her and stroking her back. And in spite of his concern, he couldn’t help glorying in her obvious need for him and in the feel of her close to him.

  “Tell me what it is. What can I do to help you?”

  She burrowed into him, and he absorbed her tremors and stilled her shaking body. “I just don’t know what I’ll do if this doesn’t come out right.”

  “Listen to me, baby,” he whispered. “You know the truth. I realize that accepting it isn’t easy, but you have the courage and the strength.”

  “He was always there for me. Always. And you…Oh, Luke!”

  “Easy, sweetheart. Do what you have to do. When you get back, I’ll be here.”

  He’d never seen her cry, never seen her without her composure. If he could just…

  He glanced toward the door and, as he expected, Randy had locked his gaze on them, an anxious expression on his young face. It was then that he realized the extent of Randy’s trust in him, for the boy hadn’t run to his mother when he realized her distress, but had left it to him.

  “Did you eat lunch?”

  She shook her head.

  “The three of us could go out, or I can have something delivered here. What would you like?”

  “I’m not hungry, but Randy hasn’t had lunch.”

  He couldn’t stand to see her so down, and it occurred to him that he ought to change the scene. She wouldn’t slouch in the presence of strangers. “Then maybe we’d better go out,” he said. True to her fashion, she stepped away from him, put a smile on her face, and laid back her shoulders.

  His heart skipped a beat when she wrinkled her nose in an effort to make light of what had just transpired. “All right. Give me a second to repair the damage I did to my eyes.”

  “I don’t see anything wrong with them. “What’ll it be? Hot dogs, hamburgers or—”

  “Crab cakes,” Randy said. “My mom likes them.”

  So the boy would offer concessions to brighten things for his mother. All wasn’t lost. “Works for me, Randy,” he said.

  At the door, Randy took his left hand, and Luke wanted to put his other arm around Kate, but he couldn’t. No matter that he loved her to the recesses of his soul; he knew he wouldn’t go any further with her unless she accepted his integrity in what he did for a living. His life’s work as a police detective demanded that his woman and his family accept and respect that he had to do what the law and his conscience dictated, that he could do nothing less.

  At least he knew the worst of it, that her father was doing a fifteen-year stretch at the Federal Correction Institution in Cumberland, Maryland. She wouldn’t have given in to the pain that seared her if Luke hadn’t put his hands on her and offered her his body’s comfort. She’d needed him. For years, she’d stood on her own, alone in spite of the husband who’d vowed to put her above all else. She’d never cried on a man’s shoulder, not even Nathan’s, and she wasn’t proud of losing her cool in the presence of Luke and her son. But how many women were forced to choose between their beloved father and the other man they loved? She snapped the small case shut, unplugged her computer, closed her piano, checked the back door and walked out of the apartment. Head high, she told herself that what she’d learn in Cumberland—or anything else—would not break her.

  She hadn’t expected Luke to take her to the airport, because she hadn’t given him her confidence, hadn’t told him where she was going though he’d guessed. But when she saw that Jenkins waited for her her heart lightened and her steps quickened. She tipped the taxi driver and let him go.

  “He said phone his cell number and let him know what time you’ll get back.”

  She thanked him. “Wish me luck.”

  He frowned, and she wished she hadn’t said it, but immediately he smiled, flashing white teeth against his honey-beige complexion. “You got it, Miss Middleton.”

  “Thanks, and I think it’s time we switched to first names.”

  He walked with her to the boarding gate. “Have a good flight, Kate.”

  At the prison she told the
guard in reception, “I’m here to see Jethro Raven, please. Tell him his daughter, Kate Middleton, is here.”

  The guard scrutinized here, flipped through a folder, and said, “Sorry, but Raven doesn’t accept visitors.”

  “But—”

  “I said he doesn’t accept visitors.”

  She refused to give up. “Would you please tell him it’s a question of life and death? I have to see him. Ask him please not to do this to me.” She fought back the moisture that threatened to cloud her vision.

  “Let me see some official ID.”

  She showed him her driver’s license, and he let his gaze roam over her. Finally, apparently having made up his mind about something, he lifted the phone receiver on his desk.

  “Send Raven out with a guard. I think this visitor’s okay, but who can be sure?”

  She’d have to ask Luke why the guard seemed to be protecting her father. Or was he suspicious of her?

  She gazed around her and shuddered, seeing drabness personified and an enormous lock on a metal door that she imagined protected the world from the men behind it. She thought of her father’s love of gardening, plants and sunshine, of his early-morning walks. And she remembered the tale he told her as a child about the stars—Jack Star and Mary Star—who lived above in the heavens and lit the sky each night with baby stars to brighten the world. At age twelve, she had no longer believed it, but she’d loved hearing the story’s singsong rhythm in her father’s mellifluous baritone. Now, at thirty-eight, she could still be soothed by a sonorous male voice, like Luke Hickson’s.

  “I’ll smile if it kills me,” she promised herself.

  After a routine search, a guard escorted her to a small room, sparsely but serviceably furnished with comfort at a minimum. She supposed it served as the visitors’ room.

  She stood when he walked in as erect and proud as ever, and a glance at the guard told her not to expect privacy. They stared at each other until she could stand it no longer. Realizing it was her move, she ran to him with arms outstretched.

  “Kate. Oh, Kate,” he moaned, holding her to him. “I didn’t want you to see me here like this. I didn’t even answer your letters, because I didn’t want my grandson or anyone else to know you received mail from prison.”

  She stepped back and let her eyes behold him. “I…I didn’t expect you to look so…so much like yourself. You look good.”

  “So do you. Lord, so do you. Child, you’re just like a flower in full bloom.” He shook his head as though in wonder. “You knew I didn’t want you here. So why have you come?”

  “Papa, I…” She looked at her watch. Only twenty-three more minutes, so she took a deep breath and told him about Luke.

  “When I learned he was the detective who arrested and accused you, I confronted him, and we broke up. But, Papa, I love him, and he loves me. I want you to tell me your side of it.”

  “Kate, he only did his job. I was guilty, because I didn’t use my head. I let money get in the way of my good sense. You know that I started a courier service right after you left Orangeburg. Strictly legitimate. I handled everything from packages to pets to kids. A man asked me to deliver a package personally because it was valuable. I was so carried away with the money he said he’d pay that I forgot to ask him what was in it.

  “Fifteen hundred dollars plus transportation costs to rush a twenty-five-pound package from Orangeburg to Portsmouth didn’t seem outrageous, so I did it.

  “After I got caught, the man sent word that if I breathed anything to anybody, his friends would finish off every one of my relatives. And he still sends me a reminder from time to time. I took the rap. It’s a tough lesson, but even in this place I’ve managed to find some rewards.”

  She clung to his hands. “What do you mean?”

  “I teach Sunday school classes, and I’m helping some of these men learn to read.”

  “But, Papa, you’re not guilty of any wrongdoing.”

  “I am, and don’t you forget it. I’ve asked myself many times why I didn’t question the man. That package could have contained a bomb. I have to be honest with God and myself, Kate. I didn’t ask because, deep down, I didn’t want to know.”

  Her mind brought back to her the case she’d heard as a juror. Was it only the act that mattered? Didn’t intent count for anything?

  “What about Luke Hickson?”

  “The arresting officer? Very respectful, but no nonsense. Not one iota. He’s standing his ground, is he?”

  She nodded. “He isn’t likely to budge. If I can’t believe he was right in arresting you and pressing for your conviction, it’s over.”

  Her father stood, signalling that their time was up. “And he shouldn’t budge. The man did what he had to do. I didn’t, so don’t let me stand between you.”

  “Time’s up, miss.”

  Quickly she kissed her father. “If I get a post office box, will you answer my letters?”

  He didn’t speak, but she remembered that whenever something pleased him a lot he’d just light up his face with a big smile.

  With Saturday night and Sunday morning waiting to be used up, she called a taxi, went back to her hotel and wrote her father a note thanking him for the visit. Then she stretched out on the bed and faced some truths.

  Luke took his prized pizza from the oven and cut hefty slices for Randy and himself while the boy finished setting the table. Then he got a pitcher of fresh lemonade and a can of beer from the refrigerator, sat down, and said grace.

  Now who could that be? He got up and went to answer the doorbell. “Miss Patterson!” Just what he needed with Randy in the kitchen. “Is something wrong at the store, or with Kate?”

  Jessye tossed her head, and her hair spread out like the points of a Japanese accordion fan. “Luke, honey, I’m not used to such a cold reception from a gentleman.”

  He didn’t doubt that, but if she didn’t lay off him, he’d give her cause to wonder if he was a gentleman. He ran his hand over his head and told himself to be patient. “Jessye, will you please stop playing games? My dinner’s getting cold.”

  Years ago, when he was nineteen or twenty, he might have been challenged by the promise of her seductive smile, but he was forty-two. And where women were concerned, he’d fought and won more battles than Jessye could incite.

  “Well, you could invite me to join you, since I haven’t eaten.”

  Ease up, man, he admonished himself. “I’m sorry. I can’t invite you in. I have a guest. So if you’ll ex—”

  “Well, I just wanted to give you a chance to get to know me. Will you be free tomorrow evening?”

  Her posture slackened and, instead of looking him in the eye as she usually did, her gaze settled on a spot to the left of his head. She hurt. Her entire demeanor shouted it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as gently as he could without inviting her further interest, “I have to meet Kate at the airport tomorrow night.”

  Her eyebrows flew up. “I didn’t know she went out of town. Where’d she go?”

  Glad he could tell the truth, he replied, “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  Her hands went to her hips. “Why don’t I believe you?”

  He couldn’t help grinning at the reply that came to his mind. “Because you’d prefer something more melodramatic. More sensational. I’d better go eat. See you.”

  He watched her walk slowly down his walkway. A waiting taxi told him that she hadn’t had much faith in the success of her visit. He wished she’d give up. He went back to his pizza.

  “What did Cousin Jessye want, Captain Luke?”

  His hand stopped just as the pizza reached his lips, and he focused on Randy. “How’d you know that was Jessye?”

  Randy finished chewing his mouthful of pizza. “Nobody else talks like that. All that honey and sugar stuff. What’d she want?”

  Now, there was a good question. “Just a friendly visit, I guess. Nothing special.”

  “Oh! What time’s my mom coming back?”<
br />
  Clever little mind. He’d associated the two. “She hasn’t called me yet, but I expect she will tonight. Don’t worry. We’ll meet her.”

  “Sometimes I don’t like Cousin Jessye. Not all the time, but sometimes.”

  He couldn’t accept that. “She’s a good person, Randy. Give her a chance. I know she’s not like your mother, but Kate’s exceptional.” He swallowed the rest of his beer and stood. “Let’s clean up. The National Spelling Bee is on TV in a few minutes, and I want you to watch it.”

  He went up to his room and dialed Jenkins. “Russ, did you tell Kate to call me?”

  “I sure did, Luke, and she said she would. She…uh, seemed a little shaky to me. Nervous, like.”

  That didn’t surprise him, but it wasn’t like her not to hide it. He didn’t want to ask Jenkins the destination of her flight, though he was sure that Jenkins, being the smart detective that he was, had noted the plane’s destination and any scheduled stops en route.

  “I doubt she’d ever fly for pleasure,” he said, fudging the truth.

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Thanks for seeing her off, friend. Be in touch.”

  “You bet.”

  For heaven’s sake, why didn’t she call? Didn’t she know he’d be out of his mind with worry until he heard from her? He went into his den, got his briefcase and tried to study her case, to piece together the bits of evidence. One by one, he discarded the leads. If only he had a motive. He’d never suspected her in-laws, and after visiting them he’d scratched them off the list. He couldn’t keep three shifts of two men on watch—one at her store, and the other at her apartment—indefinitely. The department wouldn’t support it, and very soon, he wouldn’t be able to justify it. He looked down at what he’d been doing with his right hand—swirls of clouds and flocks of birds in flight beneath them. He laughed at himself. Maybe he ought to give up chasing criminals and doodle for a living. Seven-thirty. He dialed Rude Hopper.