Flynn stood on the landing.
“How’d you get in here?” asked Rowland Tomlinson, clearly irritated. “We’re closed, and that front door’s locked!”
Flynn looked at me, then at Rowland Tomlinson, and there was no smile this time. He studied us both. “Man downstairs let me in from the back. Says he’s here to clean.”
“Deacon Barnett?” There was surprise in Rowland Tomlinson’s voice. “He’s not supposed to be working tonight.”
“Well, he is,” said Flynn.
Rowland Tomlinson looked dismayed. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
Flynn, still standing at the landing, fixed his eyes on Rowland Tomlinson. “I’ve come for my lady.” Then he looked at me. “Cassie, are you all right?”
“Of course she’s all right!” Rowland Tomlinson declared, his tone indignant. “Why shouldn’t she be?”
Flynn kept his eyes on Rowland Tomlinson and repeated, “Cassie, are you all right?”
I was startled, but I tried not to show it. “Yes,” I said.
“Then are you ready to go?”
“Yes,” I said again, and pushed past Rowland Tomlinson. “I’m finished here.”
“But, Cassie, we’ve got work to do,” objected Rowland Tomlinson.
“I’m finished,” I said once more. I gathered my coat, my other few things, and left with Flynn, leaving Rowland Tomlinson standing speechless at my desk.
I waited until we were outside before I stopped Flynn and asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Like I told the man, I came to get you. Justine got worried. She asked me to come. She also called your Deacon Barnett to see if he was here. She found out your boss had told him not to come today. Justine told the deacon to get right over here and unlock the door. When she called me, I got a little worried too.”
I stared at Flynn. “Why would you be worried? You don’t even know me.”
“True. Come on, let’s go to the car.”
“I was thinking I would take the bus,” I said.
Flynn glanced back at the office building. “You sure you want to do that? Your Mr. Tomlinson could come out any minute and see you standing there. You plan on going back to his house?”
“He’s not my Mr. Tomlinson, and no, I do not plan on going back there, least not tonight.” Then I just stood there, thinking what I should do next. I looked up and down Central Avenue. Most of the businesses on the block and most of the stores had already closed for the day, but the theaters were open and the jazz and other nightclubs soon would be. A whole different crowd would be on the street.
Flynn seemed to read my mind. “Why don’t you come with me and you can figure out what you want to do.”
He held out his hand to me. I didn’t take it, but I went with him. I had no other place to go. Once inside the car, I thanked him for coming for me. He smiled that fantastic smile and began to drive. As I tried to think of a place for Flynn to take me, I took note of Flynn’s car, the beauty of the upholstery and the design of the steering panel. “What kind of car is this? I’ve never seen one like it before.”
Flynn glanced over, looking surprised that those were my next words. “Mercedes.”
“Never heard of it, and I thought I knew all the car models. All my brothers love cars, talk about them all the time.”
“It’s a German make. I saw a couple like it while I was over in Germany, wanted to get one. It’s secondhand, about eight years old, had to fix it up, but it’ll do for me.”
He said nothing further and we rode in silence until I said, “Flynn, I don’t know where to go. I can’t spend the night at the Tomlinsons’, but I’ll need to let Mrs. Tomlinson know I won’t be home.”
“You want to go by there now to talk to her?”
I shook my head. “Mr. Tomlinson might come while I’m there. I don’t want to see the man and I don’t want to hurt Mrs. Tomlinson. She’s been good to me. Besides, I don’t know what I could tell her, that her husband was coming on to me?”
“That’s the truth, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I can’t tell her that. I need to call her though. She’ll want to know why I won’t be home, where I’m staying.”
“Tell her you’re staying with a friend.”
“She’ll want to know who that friend is.”
“You can tell her you’re staying with me.”
“I don’t think that would go over very well.”
“Then tell her you’re staying with Justine.”
“I don’t want to lie.”
“You won’t be. We’ll call Justine. She’ll make a place for you.”
I didn’t like the idea of staying with Justine and her boyfriend again, but I didn’t have much choice. I had no family in Los Angeles, no place else to go, no real friends either, no one except maybe this man.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
Flynn drove to a café on the other side of town. He said we would call from the café and also have dinner. When I objected to dinner, he said, “You’ve seen Justine’s place. You think she’ll have dinner waiting when you get there?”
I relented. I was hungry and I admitted to myself that I would rather be with Flynn for as long as possible than without him at Justine’s apartment.
The restaurant was small, almost like a big kitchen, and everyone there seemed to be Mexican. As we entered, some of the diners turned curiously to look at us. I felt out of place; it was as if we were interrupting a family dinner. A middle-aged man with a mane of luxurious silver hair came rushing over with a wide grin on his face. He spoke in rapid Spanish and embraced Flynn. Flynn returned the embrace, greeting the man in fluent Spanish. He addressed the man as Papá Miguel. Then he introduced me.
The gentleman was Señor Peña, proprietor of the restaurant, and he greeted me warmly, taking my hand in both of his before calling out to someone in a back room. Within moments a woman and several children emerged, and they greeted Flynn with the same enthusiasm as the man had done, hugging him warmly and smiling sweetly at me. Two young men also emerged and hugged Flynn. They were the Peñas’ eldest sons, Jorge and Eduardo. Then the woman, Señora Peña, speaking only Spanish, gestured toward her kitchen and even I understood she had to get back to it. The children lingered around Flynn until their father shooed them back to the kitchen. Then, after a few words from Flynn, he led us to a large desk set behind a colorful screen in the corner of the room. It was obvious to me it was his own personal desk, with papers stacked high. A telephone was on it.
“Here, you sit,” Señor Peña said to me, rolling back the desk chair. “You can make your calls from here.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Señor Peña smiled widely. “When you finish, hijo, you come over to the table in the corner. I’ll fix it up real nice for you and your lady. And I’ll bring you a feast for two.” He hurried off, and for a moment my gaze lingered after him as I relished how he referred to me.
“I’ll call Justine first,” Flynn said, picking up the phone. After a couple of minutes of explanation to Justine of what had happened at Tomlinson’s office, he hung up. “She said she won’t wait up for us, but you can sleep on the sofa for tonight. I have a key, so that’s not a problem. We get there when we get there.”
The next call was to Mrs. Tomlinson. It was obvious from her tone that her husband had not yet made it home. I told her I was spending the night at Justine’s and apologized for not calling earlier. She was understanding, knowing, she said, that young folks needed time to do fun things on a Friday night. She told me to be careful and I told her I would see her tomorrow. As I hung up the phone, I wondered what I would say to her tomorrow. I knew I had to move out. There was no way I could stay under the same roof as Rowland Tomlinson.
Once we were seated at our table, Flynn asked me what I would tell her and I admitted that I didn’t
know. “Like I told you, she’s been good to me. She treats me like a daughter. If I could’ve given her two weeks’ or even a week’s notice about moving out, it would make more sense . . . but just moving out all of a sudden . . . how do I explain quitting my job?”
“You could tell her the truth.”
“I told you I can’t do that.”
“Well, maybe you can just tell her that you met a man, fell madly in love, and you’re running off with him.”
I laughed. “And who would that be?”
“I could be there when you told her. It would be obvious.”
“And you know what would happen then? Mrs. Tomlinson would be on the phone the very next minute calling the operator to get my Uncle Hammer up in Oakland and he’d be down here the next day.”
“Well, it was a thought, and still a possibility.”
I knew he was teasing me with the proposal, and I smiled. “I don’t think so. You don’t know my uncle. Nobody gets on his wrong side.”
“He sounds like a formidable man. Maybe we’d better come up with a new plan.”
“Maybe we’d better,” I said, laughing. “He is a formidable man.”
Thoughts of any new plan were delayed by the serving of our meal and a flurry of exchanges in Spanish. There was a lilt to the words, smiles on faces all around, and the discomfort I had felt earlier was gone. I asked Flynn about his relationship with the Peñas. “I’ve known them since I was a child. They’re kin to my father.” He did not elaborate, and from the brevity of his answer, I knew not to question him. This was obviously something he did not want to talk about.
As we finished our meal, the Peña family joined us at the table. The restaurant now had begun to clear and we lingered over a drink called sangria. I began to feel somewhat light-headed and put the drink down. “What? You don’t like the sangria?” asked Señor Peña.
“No, I do,” I said. “It’s delicious! It’s just that . . .” I glanced at Flynn. “Is this wine?”
“Yes, of course, special to Mexico!” Señor Peña responded proudly.
“Oh, well, that’s my problem then,” I said, feeling just a bit foolish. “I’ve never had wine before.”
“Not any kind?” questioned Flynn. His arm was now resting on the back of my chair, not touching me, but close, oh so close. His nearness made me flush.
“Country Baptist,” I said, as if that explained it all, “and there are some things country Baptists just aren’t supposed to do.”
Flynn laughed and so did the Peñas.
“You want, Miss Cassie, I’ll bring you something else,” offered Señor Peña, moving to take my glass.
I stopped him, putting my hand protectively over it. “Oh, no . . . the sangria, it’s fine. Maybe this is what I need tonight anyway. It’s been a hard day.”
By the time we left, the café was closed. Flynn had kept saying we should go, but the Peñas kept insisting that we stay, that it had been too long since they had seen Flynn. Finally Flynn stood, asked for the bill, and pulled out his wallet.
“What!” exclaimed Señor Peña. “You insult us! We’re family!”
“You see, that’s why I don’t come more often,” explained Flynn. “Here, let me pay for this.”
Señor Peña pushed away Flynn’s hand and the money it held. “Would you pay for a meal if you came to the house? For you, this is the same as taking a meal at our home. Put your money away, hijo mio, it’s no good here.”
Flynn smiled. “Guess I don’t come back again, you treat me this way.”
“Well, that’s up to you,” retorted Señor Peña, “but you know always you’re family and our door is always open to you.” Flynn then spoke to Señor Peña in Spanish. The two hugged, and as Flynn and I started out, unexpectedly, Señor Peña gave me a fatherly embrace and said softly, “You come again, Miss Cassie Logan. I can see you are special to our boy. He’s never brought anyone here with him before.”
I couldn’t help but feel that despite the awkwardness of the day with Rowland Tomlinson and the uncertainty of my future, all had been worth it, for what I was feeling now as we left the café: a closeness to the Peñas and a closeness to Flynn and whatever world he was from. Maybe in part it was the sangria that made me feel this way, but more likely, it was because of Flynn.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
I did not want to leave Flynn, and I knew he knew that. “You want to go to Justine’s now?” he asked as we drove from the café.
I shook my head. “But I suppose I have to. . . . It’s late.”
“Cassie, when you’re with me, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. The time doesn’t matter.”
I didn’t question what he meant by that. I decided to let him guide me through whatever was to come. I trusted him. I didn’t know why, but I did. I nodded and rested my head against the car door. The sangria had made me sleepy. I covered my mouth as I yawned, then asked, “What do you want to do?”
He reached over and placed his hand over mine resting on the seat. “It’ll take us a while to get there. You’re sleepy, so sleep.”
I didn’t ask him where we were going. I just nodded again. I trusted him to take me where he chose. With his hand over mine, I fell asleep. I did not wake until the car stopped.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
“Cassie, we’re here,” he said.
I looked around groggily. “Where?”
He got out of the car. I stared at what was before me, a framed wire gate with barbed-wire fencing running from each side. A large “NO TRESPASSING” sign, visible in the darkness, was spread across the gate. My door opened, and Flynn held out his hand to me. I took it. “Where are we?” I asked.
“My dream” was all Flynn said.
He led me to the gate. A padlock was on it. He pulled a key from his key chain, unlocked the padlock, and pushed the gate open. “Come into my dream,” Flynn said. I entered and followed him across a grassy field. There was a full moon, and the outline of trees and mountains were visible against the sky. He led me across the field and just when it seemed we were about to fall off a cliff, the land opened up and before us was a bowl of trees and mountains outlined beneath the moon.
“Oh, my Lord . . .” I was awed by what I saw.
“Just wait ’til daybreak,” Flynn said. “Maybe you will have seen something like it, but I never have.” I took in his dream with silence. “Wait here,” he said. “I need to go back to the car for a minute.” I acknowledged his leaving with a slight turn of my head, then stared out at the wonder of the night. The sky was clear, the stars were bright, and the moon shone down like the sun. “I brought some blankets,” Flynn said when he returned. “Flashlight too, if we need it.”
I eyed the blankets. “And what do you expect us to be doing on a blanket?”
He shook his head at my wariness. “Nothing you don’t want to do,” he said, tossing one of the blankets to me and spreading the other at the base of a tree. “For now, we’ll just sit.”
The night was chilly and I wrapped the blanket around me. We sat some distance from each other; Flynn’s back was against the tree. We gazed out across the valley to the mountain range beyond and we talked. We talked through the night. Mostly, Flynn left the talking up to me. He seemed fascinated by my stories. But again, he seemed not to want to talk much about himself. He did not want to talk about his childhood. He did not want to talk about the war. What he did want to talk about was this land and his dream.
“Man who owns this land says it can be mine in a few years. I’ve got a contract with him. Minute I saw it, I knew it was something I had to have. I’d love to build a house on it someday. I’d design it and build it myself. That’s my dream.”
He was holding me by now. I sat between his long legs, bent at the knees, as I rested against his chest. His back was still against the tr
ee, his arms encircling me, but his eyes were on the sky, on the land. When the sun rose, we were both silent, watching its splendor. It was I who broke the silence. “Now I understand,” I said.
He looked down at me and turned my face toward him. “I’m glad,” he said. “I wanted you to.” Then, for the first time, Flynn kissed me.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
“You know what you want to do now?” he asked me.
“No.”
The sun was well above the mountains. I pulled myself from his arms and sat directly across from him. “I was thinking. It’s nice of Justine to ask me to stay, but I don’t think it’s the best idea. I mean, I’d pretty much be in the way. It’d be crowded, especially with Justine’s children there. I’ve got a little money saved. I could maybe go to a hotel for a few days while I look for another job. Maybe a colored hotel on Central.”
“Well, there is the Dunbar on the Avenue. But there is that other option,” Flynn said quietly. “Like I said before, you can come stay with me.”
“Don’t forget what I said about my uncle.”
“So your uncle doesn’t come after me, I can always find another place to stay for a while.”
“Justine mentioned you were involved with somebody. From the way Justine talked, I don’t know if staying at your place would be such a good idea.”
“Justine sometimes talks a little too much.” He was silent, then spoke cautiously. “The lady Justine spoke about has her own place. I have mine.” That was all he said.
“Doesn’t matter. You know I can’t stay at your place anyway.”
Then together we both said, “Country Baptist.”
“There’s an older lady I know. Name’s Mrs. Hendersen. Maybe if you stay with her, help her, you could have a place to stay without charge for a while, and a room of your own. There are other women staying there too.”
“But I’ll still need to find some outside work. I’ll need to earn some money.”
“Well, first things first. Let’s go and see what she says.” Flynn pulled me up. He picked up the blanket and together we folded it. With the blanket squarely folded between us, his arms clasped at the back of my spine and mine clasped at his, he kissed me again. The sun warmed my skin.
All the Days Past, All the Days to Come Page 16