“I know,” he replied, turning her to face him. “And we will take as long as you need, Delphina.”
THE ENTHUSIASM JANE INITIALLY BESTOWED on Victor from the night at Cistern cooled, not only because of their dates’ less-than-stellar locations, but also because he resided in a garage apartment.
“Deli, you are my dearest friend, so please forgive me. You are thirty-one, for Christ’s sake. You deserve better than a man with a starter career.”
Delphina knew her friend meant well, but she thought Jane’s concerns were misplaced. She figured the best remedy for her friend’s ailment rested in a natural unfolding rather than explaining that her boyfriend threw himself so much into work that he could not care less where he lived at this station in his life, something he said he was open to changing “when the right one comes along.”
“Jane, please join me for Victor’s open house. You need not stay long, just a quick hello will certainly compensate for the doubts you have raised.”
“You’re letting me off the hook rather easily, Deli. Thank you. You know my heart is in the right place.”
“I know. Meet you at your office at six o’clock on Thursday?”
“Sure … You know, I can certainly find my own way and meet you there.”
“No, it’s a good excuse to see your new office. And … it’s not that far away.”
Delphina arrived at Jane’s office a few minutes early and took a seat next to the receptionist. She knew Jane had a late meeting with her mentor, Mr. McClelland, the description ringing in her ears, “He can be such an asshole! Swears and constantly challenges me. And you know what? I adore him! If he wasn’t so old and fond of men …” and she concluded with a burst of laughter, eyes full of light, revealing how much she had taken to him.
The older gentleman she deemed Mr. McClelland gave her a nod as he left Jane’s office. Delphina conceded that he was alluring in a rugged kind of way. She found it hard to believe he was gay. What a lucky man, she said to herself, thinking about how Jane met his husband at the firm’s holiday party last year.
“Come on in,” Jane called, appearing at her office door.
Delphina walked in, placing her bag on a chair before heading to the window. “This is amazing. I can see the University of Houston Downtown from here.”
“We’re neighbors! I am glad you are teaching a class there this summer. I always thought you would make a good college professor,” Jane said.
“It’s funny how life finds ways to work itself out. It feels like a natural fit. So many of my students attend school there after Heights. Well, the ones who are fortunate enough,” Delphina said as she turned back toward her friend. “I’m really proud of you, Jane.”
“Thank you. I never would have thought I would work in a place like this,” Jane admitted, raising her hands in the air. “This firm has been here since 1928, the year after the building opened. There are big shoes to fill.”
“And you will bring your own shoes to fill … from Neiman’s!” Delphina teased. “You ready?”
“Yes, I am ready. Ready for a drink,” Jane replied, with her head buried in her handbag, looking for her lipstick. “Where are we heading? I don’t mind driving.”
“Sixteenth floor.”
“Are you shittin’ me?” Jane gasped, pausing with lipstick in hand.
“Please refrain from such vulgar language! We are, after all, in a fancy law office!”
“Yeah, but it belongs to an attorney who is the mentee of Mr. McClelland!”
The elevator doors opened ten floors below as if cuing the first scene of a performance. The elevator, elegant and old world, bore a sharp contrast to the neutral hues and modern fixtures of the redesign. Delphina and Jane stepped from the elevator, and Delphina watched Jane from the corner of her eye as Jane’s gaze swept the room to get her bearings.
“Delphina!” Victor called from across the floor, waving in his smart designer jeans and crisp white shirt.
As he made his way through throngs of people, pats on the back, and attempts to engage him in conversation, Jane murmured, “Hmmm. I’ve been fooled.”
He snatched two glasses of champagne from a server tightly gripping her tray of flutes, wary of the crowds rushing for more bubbly.
“I’m so glad you both could make it! Jane, I can’t believe in a city this size that we work in the same building.”
“This place is incredible, Victor,” Jane said, her eyes scanning the room. “I knew someone was moving in on this floor, but I had no idea. Hey, there are a few partners from my firm.”
“We wanted to extend the invitation to the tenants. This building is pretty special, you know? Like family,” he replied before turning to Delphina. “Hey, Deli, I need to check something real quick, but then I want to introduce you to some people, okay?”
“Sounds good,” Delphina replied, beaming at Victor as he walked to the other side of the room while stealing a few glances back at his admirer.
“He adores you,” Jane said, eyes following Victor.
“Adores?” Delphina questioned.
“Yes. Adores. The way he looks at you,” she replied, turning to her friend. “You may very well have found the one.”
Jane excused herself upon Victor’s return, chatting with her partners and weaving in that Victor Walsh was her best friend’s boyfriend.
Had Delphina anticipated she would have spent the night by his side, her day would have been filled with anxiety, wondering how to be and what to say. Flocks of guests, from tenants to clients to colleagues in the industry, all clamored for a piece of Victor and his partners, offering congratulations and wanting to be part of new opportunities that knowing them might afford.
Delphina attempted to extricate herself on a few occasions when the conversation turned more serious, but Victor always pulled her back, at one point whispering, “I want to remember this moment with you,” before kissing her on the cheek.
She met scores of people, and those who knew Victor well studied her with curiosity. Naming her profession as a teacher did not garner much interest other than a nod or the common, “I don’t know how you do it. I could never be a teacher!” Given the event and her relationship, she did not utter her stock reply, “Then don’t,” but she managed to weave in that she not only planned to use her PhD in English for the advancement of secondary students but also for students matriculating to the University of Houston Downtown, a place that welcomes the inaugural collegiate experience for many families.
“As Thomas Jefferson asserted, ‘An enlightened citizenry is indispensable for the proper functioning of a republic.’” A stupefied look usually followed this remark, garnering her much more adulation, which she accepted as an apology.
“Mr. Dunn, I’m so honored you made it tonight,” Victor greeted the distinguished older man, extending his hand.
“The honor is mine. If only my grandfather could see what you’ve done to this floor!” he laughed, mouth open and head nodding as he surveyed the room.
“Mr. Dunn, I’d like you to meet Delphina. Deli, Mr. Dunn’s family business has resided in the Niels Esperson since the building’s inception in 1927.”
“Well, it started out as Doyle Lumber way back then, but yes, we were here. What an unusual name. Lovely name. And are you in architecture, as well?”
“No, sir. I am a teacher,” Delphina replied, waiting for the respectful nod of flat interest.
“Where do you teach?” he asked.
“Heights High School,” Delphina said, tickled that someone showed a slight interest.
“My, my, it’s a small world. My grandmother … mind you, I don’t remember her, died when I was not even a year old … volunteered at Heights. She was very devoted to education. There is even a scholarship in her honor.”
“Was your grandmother Ilona Doyle?”
“Yes! You are familiar with the award, then.”
“Yes, I see it promoted every year.”
“What is it they say … somethin
g about degrees of separation?” Mr. Dunn asked.
“Six. Six degrees of separation,” Victor replied.
“Funny how that works, yes?” Mr. Dunn responded, laughing to himself.
The last guests left at half past midnight, leaving Victor’s partners and their spouses, along with Delphina, to offer one final toast to the firm. When Delphina made her way to a back office to gather her handbag, she noted the abstract cutout of the walls made to expose the brick from the original construction. She placed her palms flat on the bricks’ surface, wondering about the last soul from many moons ago who touched the same spot and wondering how often degrees spiral back in time, uniting people to one another’s past and not just their present.
“Too much champagne?” Victor joked, raising his hands next to hers on the wall, pretending he needed the wall as support.
“Probably. But that’s not why,” she said, embarrassed. “Just thinking about the history of the building.”
“A woman after my own heart.” Victor pulled her closer to whisper, “Stay with me tonight. I’ve waited so long.”
“It’s only been a month,” she teased, returning his kiss, feeling her resolve fade. She had discarded every other romantic relationship in her life, but this connection was the one she wanted to keep.
“Five weeks, and it feels like even longer. And that’s a long time when you are in love.”
That night, Victor proved to be the first man with whom she could sleep soundly through the night—her ear to his chest, the pulse of his heartbeat kissing her temple, reminding her of the fragility of life that she pushed to the back of her mind in order to function every day. She changed positions when her arm cramped, stretching out to the other side of the bed only to reach her left foot over to his, the warmth of his body a comfort to her restless soul.
CADMUS
Autumn 2007
CADMUS’ HEART POUNDED WHEN HE saw the name of the sender in the upper left-hand corner: Genevieve Butler. The last time he had seen his great-niece was at Callista’s funeral. He remembered the way she had looked back at him from the front of the church. He was amazed when her eyes found his own, her spot on the front pew quite a distance from his at the back. She was a child, and he remembered noting her countenance was on the cusp of transitioning to young adult. He wondered if she now assumed her mother and grandmother’s aura.
The return address confirmed the rumor: She was a student at Harvard Law School. Ilona would be so proud of her accomplishment.
Dear Uncle Cadmus,
I know I am taking a chance not only with this letter but also with the liberal use of the word “uncle,” seeing as we are connected in lineage and not relationship. Forgive me if my actions appear bold. It is an indicator of my desire to build the latter, if at all possible.
I grew up seeing the interlocking Ds throughout Houston, but my identity centered on one, Dunn. While I suppose it was a natural tendency given that it is my mother’s maiden name, I have always been curious to know more about the Doyle side. Uncle Michael was always very kind to me, but he never wanted to talk much about Patrick, his brother and my great-grandfather, despite my repeated attempts to bait him in conversation. He talked about his father, my great-great grandfather, and the legacy he was proud to carry on in his honor.
I know even less about my great-grandmother. Since she passed away when my mother was barely two, she held no first-hand memories. Grandmother Callista was reluctant to speak much about her, I presume the reason nestled in shame or some other regret based on her tone and countenance when I asked, but I do not know for certain. She kept a photograph of my great-grandmother on her vanity, and more than once I stumbled in the room to see Grandmother Callista stroking her mother’s face, a grainy black-and-white photograph of her standing on Main Street in front of the Merchants and Manufacturers Building. I do know she valued education and wanted to teach. This fact brings a smile to my face. I am certain she could not be more pleased of what came of the building, lumber from the Doyle family continuing to support the dreams of students in the University of Houston Downtown.
Perhaps we can visit the next time I am in Houston. I welcome you and your husband to visit me in Cambridge. I know a man of your intelligence would appreciate the culture of the city, and I would like nothing more than to take you both on a stroll throughout campus. We have so much to learn about one another, and I do hope God will grant us the time to do so.
In hopeful anticipation of your response,
Genevieve Butler
Cadmus made a beeline to the house. Placing the letter on his desk in the library, he reached for his fountain pen with one hand while the other reached for a sheet of heavy ivory stationery from the tray. Happy, overjoyed, excited—none of the adjectives seemed to fit. It took him a minute more to place his feeling: affirmed. Although he and Robert enjoyed a beautiful life together, her acceptance brought to light the depths of his void.
Glancing back to the envelope, he noticed a face peeking at him. He held the photograph of his great niece, and despite the exponential dose of Irish blood that ran through her veins, she clearly took after his mother. His eyes filled with tears as he wondered if Ilona and Callista were finally at peace.
DELPHINA
Autumn 2007
DELPHINA HAD NEVER SEEN HER daddy in a suit, much less a tuxedo. She did a double take when he stepped out from the town car, captivated by the image of how he may have looked had he been born into a different circumstance.
“Oh my, Daddy!” she gushed, making her way from Jane’s house to the car. “You look so handsome!”
His eyes filled with tears, his lower lip curling in to fight a full-fledged flood.
“You’re stunning, Lil’ D,” he whispered as he wrapped her in an embrace. “Guess you’re not my Lil’ D anymore.”
“Daddy, I’ll always be your Lil’ D,” she said, pulling back to face him, a tear sliding down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb, his rough hands marking a contrast to the well-dressed image he projected.
“Heavens, Benny! No more tears! We have perfect makeup here,” her momma teased, bringing a needed moment of levity as they climbed into the car.
Delphina knew she would be on from the moment she stepped from the car, seeing the wedding was at Marmion Park on Heights Boulevard. No vestibule, no cry room to primp until the last second; she would step out to see Victor standing in the gazebo waiting for his bride. And there he was as the car pulled along the curb, surrounded by his friends, his smile visible from her seat.
“Delphina Ann, I do believe you made an excellent choice,” her momma said as she looked out the window, prompting her to wonder if she were talking about her choice of husband or venue.
Victor and Delphina wanted a simple wedding, having lived through many southern productions, from elaborate receptions at country clubs to small town celebrations at halls across the Texas countryside. And although their friendships and families spanned both ends of the spectrum, those events held one thing in common: They were enormous undertakings. Nuptials under the gazebo at a Heights park, a reception at the old firehouse turned reception venue with friends and close family—they wanted a more intimate, simple affair to reflect their style. Their only indulgence was Texas Tea, the band, which the couple eagerly armed with an extensive playlist including their song, “Waltz Across Texas.”
Delphina accepted her daddy’s hand as she stepped from the car, the string quartet striking a chord the moment she placed her feet on the bumpy curbside flanked by pecan trees. As they made their stroll down the sidewalk, her eyes locked with Victor’s. She gave thanks to the heavens above that she had fallen in love with a man who accepted her intensity, even embraced it. She thought of the nights she wept quietly in his arms, his palm stroking her head as he told her how much he loved that she felt life so deeply. He told her he knew she was connected to something greater; she was an old soul, as was he, and together they would channel their energies to create a beautiful
life. In the silence of those nights, she knew he spoke the truth. His words echoed the same message etched in waves, pebbles, and vines that she had relied on as a young child to bring her peace.
Her daddy kissed her one last time on the cheek, as did her momma. She turned to Victor, and with joined hands they faced forward, life partners who gave one another the courage to commit in the face of impermanence.
DELPHINA
Spring 2010
“I HAVE PLENTY OF HAND-ME-DOWNS to give you. We will remain a family of four. Factory closed,” Jane shared.
“And I have quite a few things left over, too,” Libby added. “You are welcome to them.”
“Your girl clothes outnumber the boy clothes by 3:1.”
“Well, you might have a girl.”
“No, it will not be a girl. I am more of a boy mom, I know it,” Delphina confidently replied.
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jane said, slightly put off.
“Please don’t take offense. You know what I mean.”
“I know. It’s fine,” Jane said. “Pregnancy hormones are a bitch.”
Delphina, however, did not know what she meant. She did not know how to explain that in her heart she felt more connected to the idea of a son. Having a daughter did not seem in the realm of possibility.
“Are you sure it’s a girl?” Delphina asked the doctor later that week in a defiant tone, with Victor squeezing her hand to be quiet.
“I’m sorry, forgive me,” she said before asking again, “You are certain?”
“As certain as we can be at this point, which is pretty certain,” the doctor retorted.
The nurse gave Delphina and Victor a look of disapproval before returning to her notes, shaking her head. Delphina hoped anecdotal records were not a part of this process.
She made it to the restroom just in time, locking the door as she burst into tears, wondering why in the hell she was overwhelmed with sadness. The baby was healthy, and when she thought about it intellectually, she did not care whether she had a boy or a girl. But she could not shake the feeling that she was meant to have a son, and she struggled to reconcile this feeling with the reality that a little girl was on her way.
Drops of Cerulean: A Novel Page 31