Love in San Francisco ; Unconditionally

by Shirley Hailstock

  “I can’t do that,” Leo said regretfully. “That’s about six weeks from now. Six weeks of my not trying to get in contact with her. If I showed up, I’d make her very uncomfortable.”

  “Then you like her,” Jake pointed out.

  “Were you not listening?” Leo asked a little irritably. “That’s why I can’t see her—because she’s adorable and seeing her would just make me want to get to know her more. I couldn’t even resist knowing about her broken heart!”

  Jake laughed, “I’ll never understand you. What if happiness is yours to take, and you never reach your hand out for it?”

  “I’ll just have to take that risk,” Leo said stubbornly.

  “You are coming to our wedding, aren’t you? Meghan will be there.”

  “I’m your best man,” Leo reminded him. “I can’t very well shirk my duties.”

  “You’d better not!”

  “I’ll be there. By that time I should have my Meghan-avoidance maneuvers down pat.”

  “Uh-huh,” Jake said doubtfully. “You’ve got me so confused, I don’t know what I’m going to say to Mina about you and Meghan, and she will ask. Bye, brother. See a psychiatrist!”

  “I did. Didn’t help,” Leo told him, chuckling. “Bye, bro.”

  * * *

  As Meghan knew there would be whenever her family gathered together, there was high drama at Thanksgiving dinner in the Great Smoky Mountains. Mina and Miss Mabel, their grandfather’s lady love, had made a delicious feast. Mina had told her that when she’d phoned their mother, Virginia, the day before to confirm they were coming, she’d told Virgina she didn’t need to bring anything except herself. However, Virginia, who had taken an unreasonable dislike to Miss Mabel since she’d started dating her father, showed up with a twenty-five-pound baked ham. Mina was livid because she knew how controlling her mother was and feared this was only the first shot in Virginia’s campaign to break up her father and Miss Mabel, who Virginia thought was a gold digger trying to replace her mother—and her—in her father’s heart.

  Meghan was watching Mina’s face after their mother told her she’d brought a ham. Mina’s eyes had gotten cold, and she’d bared her teeth in a moment of sheer rage and frustration, but then she’d taken control of her emotions and smiled at her mother. Virginia Gaines said nonchalantly, “It’s just a ham.”

  Meghan had held her breath, thinking Mina was about to say something scathing to their mother. Mina surprised her by saying, “Thanks, Momma. That was very thoughtful of you.”

  After that, Meghan and Desiree had each taken one of their mother’s arms and pulled her up the steps of the huge log cabin and out of Mina’s presence.

  One of these days, Meghan thought, I’m going to find out why our mom tries to control everyone around her.

  They all sat around the table: Meghan plus her sisters—Mina, Desiree and Lauren (unfortunately Petra had not been able to come home from the Democratic Republic of the Congo this year)—and Lauren’s hubby, Colton. Alphonse and Virginia, their parents. Their grandfather Benjamin Beck and Miss Mabel Brown, who up to that point was thought to be merely the cook at Ben’s mountain lodge. She was obviously more than that to their granddad.

  The table was laden with every conceivable Thanksgiving Day edible—a beautifully roasted turkey, dressing, giblet gravy, green bean casserole, glazed carrots, collard greens and sweet potato pies. Oh, yeah, and the ham her mother had insisted on bringing. Seeing all that food made Meghan wonder what Leo was doing for Thanksgiving. Maybe he’d gone to see his parents in Florida. Mina had told her that while he and Jake had been raised in the Bronx, where their parents were teachers, when their parents retired they’d moved back to Florida, where they were born, to take over the family farm in Crystal River. When Meghan learned Leo’s grandparents had been citrus growers in Florida for over fifty years, she realized why he was a gardener: farming was in his blood.

  Now she gazed around the table at the people she loved most in the world. Her mother was a small copper-skinned woman with long, wavy black hair with silver streaks in it. Her skin color and hair texture had been inherited from a Native American mother and an African American father. Right now she had her hair in a bun at the nape of her neck, looking like the scholarly woman she was. She was the principal of a large high school in Raleigh and had earned her PhD in education while almost single-handedly raising five daughters. Their father, Alphonse, had been an army man and was away quite often when they were growing up. He’d earned the rank of general before retiring about a decade ago. He was sitting beside Virginia, still looking soldierly with his tall frame, bald head and thick moustache.

  She and her sisters favored each other, but still had distinct characteristics. Mina, for example, had practically the same skin color as her four sisters, a reddish brown that was a mix between their mother’s coppery skin tone and their father’s medium brown. However, for some reason, Mina’s hair was thicker and kinkier than that of the other sisters, who wore their naturally curly hair down their backs. Mina had a glorious full Afro that she sometimes wore in braids, but that she preferred to let run wild, à la Diana Ross in the rain at that concert in Central Park. Or that was what Meghan thought, enviously, whenever Mina wore her hair in an Afro.

  All the sisters had warm brown eyes, noses proportionate to their faces and full lips. And ranged in height from five-three, Petra, to five-ten, Lauren. Lauren was practically glowing now because she was expecting Colton’s child.

  Meghan sighed happily. Her first niece or nephew. She loved children. She wanted to match her mother in the number of children she had, five. Three girls and two boys. She’d grown up with all sisters and thought there should be some gender diversity in there.

  Mina, who was sitting next to her at the table, interrupted her thoughts by asking, “What did you think of Leo?”

  Meghan’s happy thoughts of her future children immediately vanished. Her face flushed with embarrassment. “I blew it,” she told Mina. Then she went on to tell her she thought she’d talked too much. Had probably given him too many impromptu history lessons. While she’d thought there was some mutual admiration going on throughout the day that Saturday, she wasn’t so sure anymore because he hadn’t phoned her once since then.

  Mina looked mortified. Then she looked angry, and Meghan could guess what was going through her warrior sister’s mind. How dare he reject my sister?

  So Meghan told her she didn’t want to talk about Leo anymore. It hadn’t worked out. For whatever reason, he simply wasn’t interested in a woman who was too young for him, as he’d put it.

  “Okay, I won’t mention it again,” Mina promised, searching Meghan’s face a moment, her expression both sympathetic and curious.

  “C’est la vie,” Meghan said, as carefree as she could manage. The truth was, she was still hoping Leo would come around. But she hadn’t heard from him in six weeks.

  On a brighter note, their mother then got into an argument with their eightysomething grandfather about Miss Mabel (more than twenty years younger), during which he stood up and proudly announced Miss Mabel was his new wife.

  Another wonderful, drama-filled Thanksgiving.

  Leo drove to Crystal River, Florida, with Malcolm as his lone companion. Malcolm even managed to look excited about it from his perch in his puppy car seat. The elevated seat allowed him to see outside, and he seemed to be enjoying the view.

  The trip was about a nine-hour journey, farther than when Leo had lived in Atlanta. But he wanted to see his parents and grandparents, so he left Durham on Wednesday night. He spent the night in a hotel in a small Georgia town to rest, was back on the road early Thursday morning and was soon in Crystal River. In western Florida, it was called Crystal River for the crystal clear natural springs within its boundaries.

  The farmland his folks had owned for more than half a century boasted a spring where he and Jake use
d to swim when they were kids. The property was nearly a thousand acres, many of which were orange groves, plus a long tree-lined road that led up to the main house.

  It was a beautiful day, and warmer in Florida than North Carolina. As he got out of the SUV, he raised his face to the sunlit sky and took a deep cleansing breath. Somehow the air smelled better at home. He stretched his jeans-clad legs and rolled the kinks from sitting so long out of his shoulders, then went around to the passenger side and got Malcolm out of his puppy seat.

  Malcolm wiggled mightily. Leo put him down, and Malcolm calmly walked over to the nearest plant and peed on it.

  “Who is that peeing on my roses?” Leo’s mother’s voice came from the direction of the porch of the well-maintained farmhouse.

  “It’s not me this time,” Leo joked, jogging over to give his mother a big hug.

  Katherine Williams-Wolfe had a good grip, and by the time she let go of her son, his chest ached a little. Leo looked down into his mother’s lovely face. At sixty-two, she was around five-six and trim. He and Jake had gotten their love for physical activity from her. She was a runner from way back, and had had them doing it by the time they were old enough to show some interest in the sport. He and Jake were still runners.

  His mother was the parent from whom he and Jake had inherited their clear brown eyes. Hers were twinkling up at him now.

  Behind them, Leo’s father opened the screen door. He was sixty-five, and although he didn’t exercise as much as his wife, he was in pretty good shape. His short Afro—not receding yet, Leo noted—was solid silver these days, and he wore a short beard that was fuller than Leo’s and more luxuriant, too, Leo thought a bit enviously. He was one suave-looking senior citizen.

  “Leonidas!” his father shouted. “Welcome home, my boy.”

  It was his mother who’d named him Leonidas, after the Spartan king, and named Jake Jason, after a mythological Greek hero who was the leader of the Argonauts. His dad was the only one in the family who called him Leonidas, though.

  Leander Wolfe was six-three. The same height as his sons.

  He looked into his son’s eyes now and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Leo laughed shortly. His father had the uncanny ability to know when something was weighing heavily on his mind.

  “There’s this woman,” Leo started to explain.

  Malcolm chose that moment to run up the steps onto the porch, and his mother, who loved puppies, bent down, scooped him up into her arms and exclaimed, “I finally get to meet my grandson, Malcolm X.”

  “It’s just Malcolm, Mom,” Leo said, smiling. “He’s too mild mannered to be Malcolm X.”

  Katherine held Malcolm at arm’s length, peering into his beautiful brown-green eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. He looks like he’s going to grow up to be a good guard dog to me. As soon as he was finished watering my rosebush, he came straight to his master.” She looked up at Leo. “How old is he?”

  “Nine months,” Leo answered.

  “Oh, you’re just a baby,” his mother cooed at Malcolm, who licked her face appreciatively.

  Katherine turned and walked into the house. “Come on in. Your grandmother and I are cooking dinner. Did you stop for breakfast? I can whip you up something real fast.”

  “No, we’re fine,” Leo told her. “We stopped at Cracker Barrel.”

  He walked into the familiar house, which had high ceilings and was open concept. The living room, kitchen and dining room were one big space. He could see his grandfather sitting on the couch watching the morning news, and his grandmother in the kitchen stirring something in a big white ceramic bowl.

  He felt that old sick feeling he got in the pit of his stomach whenever he saw his parents and grandparents. It was a mixture of love and regret. He loved them so much, and he regretted he wasn’t around them more, sharing in their lives. They wouldn’t be here forever, and he would miss them terribly when they were gone.

  He went and shook his grandfather’s hand. At ninety-four, Ellis was his oldest living relative. He used to be over six feet, too, but the years had shrunk him a couple of inches. Not a very demonstrative man, Ellis was satisfied with a handshake. But he could tell by the happy expression in his eyes that he loved his grandson.

  His grandmother, Etta Mae, was ninety, but she still got around rather well. She quit stirring whatever was in the bowl and came toddling over to him. Her small body was clothed in her ever-present outfit of knit pants and long-sleeved blouse with comfortable shoes. No matter the season, that was her uniform. Leo didn’t think she ever got warm enough to wear short sleeves. She was around five-two and slender, so maybe she did need the extra layers to keep warm.

  “Leo!” she shouted, her voice strong in spite of her size and years. “What a lovely surprise!”

  Leo gently hugged her frail body. Then he kissed her soft cheek. She smelled like baby powder. “I told you I was coming,” he reminded her.

  She looked at him through her thick glasses with a puzzled expression on her softly wrinkled face. “You did?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Well, I must have forgotten because I don’t remember,” she said with a sweet smile. “Where’s Jake?”

  “Oh, he had to work,” Leo told her.

  Then he was swept up in the daily routine of his parents and grandparents, being monopolized by one or another of them all day long. He caught up with their lives, listening to them relate their aches and pains and problems with the business. Because that was what family meant to him: sharing their ups and downs. Meanwhile, Malcolm had the run of the house, his nose to the floor, experiencing new smells and sensations and having the time of his life.

  And in the middle of all that, somehow his dad got him alone and they talked about the feelings he was having for Meghan and what he could possibly do about them.

  Leo couldn’t imagine a more perfect day and was glad he’d taken that nine-hour trip to once again be in the arms of his family.

  Chapter 4

  “Dad told you what?” Jake asked, incredulously. Leo could tell his brother was about to bust with pent-up laughter. He was standing in the middle of the kitchen, cordless phone to his ear, barefoot and wearing his robe, after showering following a five-mile run on Monday afternoon. He had returned from Florida last night, his spirit refreshed and his refrigerator now stuffed with his mother’s and grandmother’s home cooking. The five-mile run was to ward off weight gain after eating too much of that home cooking.

  “I don’t know if I want to tell you if you’re going to start laughing. This is serious business.”

  “Okay, I won’t laugh,” Jake promised. He cleared his throat, and his voice sounded totally devoid of hilarity when he added, “Go ahead, I’m ready.”

  “He said I would be a fool to avoid a woman like Meghan. He said life gives you only so many chances at happiness, and I shouldn’t blow this opportunity. He also said that the next time he talked to me, he hoped I’d have some good news on the Meghan front. That’s what he called it, as a reference to war because he said I should fight for that woman.”

  Jake guffawed. He laughed so loud and hard that he started coughing toward the end. “Good old Dad,” he got out once he was in control of himself again. “He always did have a way with words.” Then he started laughing again.

  Leo couldn’t help it; he joined in, and then they were off and running, talking about their parents and grandparents, how the farm was doing. Their cousin, the son of one of their father’s brothers, had just graduated from the University of Florida with an agricultural degree and was eager to begin working with their father and grandfather to learn the business and eventually take over, thereby keeping it in the Wolfe family.

  “He seems solid,” Leo told Jake. “We can stop feeling guilty now because we chose different careers.”

  “The family understood,” Jake said. “I didn�
�t feel guilty, you did. But maybe now you’ll begin to realize that it’s okay to be happy. To live your own life. You deserve happiness. And let’s not get off the subject of Meghan. What are you going to do about her?”

  “One thing I’m not going to do is shut her out,” Leo said. “But after weeks of ignoring her, I can’t think of a way to get back in. She’s probably done with me. Who wouldn’t be?”

  “So you’re going to wait and hope she contacts you?” Jake complained. “Haven’t you ever heard that faint heart never won fair maiden? Or something like that. Be aggressive, brother. Think of something soon because our wedding is coming up real fast, and I want to see you and Meghan dancing up a storm. Dust off your dancing shoes.”

  “I think you’re enjoying yourself a little too much at my expense,” Leo accused him.

  “You’re right, I am,” Jake admitted. “Mina and I are rooting for you. But you’re right about one thing. Meghan is pretty down on you. She’s calling you Mr. Darcy. I don’t know what that’s in reference to. Mina says it’s a character in a romance novel.”

  Leo frowned. Meghan thought he was proud and picky and possibly a snob? Nah, she couldn’t believe that. “I know to whom she’s referring,” he said quietly. Then it dawned on him. Because he’d told Meghan he thought she was too young for him, she’d concluded that he was coming up with all sorts of excuses not to date her because he thought she wasn’t good enough for him. Just like Darcy first rejected Elizabeth because he thought she was beneath him due to her exasperating family. But that didn’t apply to him. He didn’t think he was too good for Meghan. He thought she deserved someone better than him. She didn’t know that, though. She thought he’d rejected her because he thought he was better than she was.

  He shared his theory with Jake.

  Jake said, “Mmm, dude, if that’s true, you’re in real trouble. I don’t have any idea how you’re going to get out of this one. I have no advice.”