Chapter Two
Jolene wasn’t anxious to go to church, not Fannie’s or anyone else’s. Before her mama became ill, she was in Mount Zion Church every time the doors opened, with her mama giving praise and testifying. But to Jolene’s way of thinking, a more unrighteous woman probably had never been conceived. However, she needed a friend, any friend to whom she could feel close. At least she thought that was what she needed. The empty void inside of her was a new experience, or maybe it had always been there, and she’d been so harassed, so put upon that she hadn’t had time for self-reflection. So, the following Sunday morning, she dressed in her gray and white, short-sleeved seersucker suit and went with Fannie to eleven o’clock service at Disciples Baptist Church on Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue, a twenty-minute walk from the boarding house.
“I’d ask Rodger to drive us,” Fannie explained when Jolene wanted to know how much farther they had to walk, “but this is his Sunday off. Anyway, it isn’t much farther. Besides, Rodger’s a good man, who can’t seem to say no, not even in his own defense. I’m careful not to take advantage of him.”
At the end of the long service, Fannie’s friends crowded around them, welcoming Jolene and asking her to come to the church regularly. So profuse was their welcome that Jolene began to wonder if Fannie had programmed them. Just as she began to tire of the smile she’d placed on her face and of the hugs and handshakes, Fannie pulled her from the group.
“Gregory, this is Jolene who I’ve been telling you about. She’s just come to Thank the Lord Boarding House, and she’s such a joy to be around. Like cool, fresh air on a hot sticky day. Jolene Tilman, Gregory Hicks is one of our most faithful members, and we’re very proud of him.”
Jolene gazed at the man, tall enough—about five feet, eleven inches—and nice looking. Her mama didn’t trust light skinned men, but she remembered that Emma Tilman didn’t trust any man, and forgave Gregory Hicks for his fair skin.
When Hicks extended his hand, Jolene took it, but mainly because she didn’t want Fannie to lecture her about her manners. “Glad to meet you, Mr. Hicks,” she said.
“I’m certainly glad to meet you. Miss Fannie didn’t tell me how pretty you are. I hope I’ll be seeing a lot of you.”
When Fannie’s fist dug into her back, Jolene recovered her presence of mind and said, “That would be nice.” She didn’t think she was supposed to wilt just because a man smiled.
Gregory’s eyes glistened as would a child’s at the sight of a new toy. “If you don’t mind, I’ll call you tomorrow evening after supper time. It would be my pleasure to show you our little town and maybe take you over to Ocean Pines.”
“Thank you,” Jolene said. “So far, I haven’t seen any of the place.” Her interest quickened when it occurred to her that he could give her some pointers on getting a job and making a place for herself in the community. “I’ll look to hear from you,” she said, glanced at Fannie and saw that the woman wore her approval the way a prince displays his crown.
“Hmm. Looks like I’m pleasing all three of us,” Jolene said to herself.
“You’re smarter than I thought you were,” Fannie said as they walked back home. “Gregory’s a good catch. He’s got a good job over in Ocean Pines, doesn’t run around with a lot of loose women, and he saves his money. He’s also a Christian. You won’t find better anywhere around here.”
It surprised her that Fannie assumed she was looking for a man. The thought hadn’t occurred to her. She wanted a job and some friends or companions that, from her earliest memory, her mother had denied her. And she wanted to be rid of that awful feeling deep in her gut that if she died, nobody would care. She wasn’t averse to male company, but she didn’t know how to act with a man. Mama said all they wanted was to empty themselves into you and leave you with the consequences. She wasn’t sure mama was right; if she was, why did so many women attach themselves to a man?
Besides, her mama had never said one good thing about men. Indeed, she even refused to tell Jolene who her daddy was, claiming that she hated him so much that she refused to mention his name. It seemed to Jolene that she had a right to know. After her mama died, she went through all of her personal papers, but could find nothing that revealed her father’s identity. As her mind pondered her mother’s reasons, she accidentally bit the flesh on the inside of her right jaw and, not for the first time, knew the taste of her own blood. It occurred to her that not many people disliked their mothers, as she had and still did, and that she had had her distaste for Emma since childhood.
She’s dead, and I’m still not free of her.
“You’re mighty quiet,” Fannie said as they neared the boarding house.
“Yes, ma’am. Just thinking back about things.”
That evening, Fannie called up to Jolene with the news that Gregory wanted to speak with her on the telephone. Shock reverberated from Jolene’s scalp to the ends of her toes. She hadn’t expected to hear from him so soon. Mindful of Fannie’s strict house rules, she threw off her robe, donned an old house dress that she had worn during her mama’s illness and raced down the stairs.
“Hello. This is Jolene.” She hated that she sounded breathless and that he would know she ran to take his call.
“This is Gregory. There’s an old movie about Dr. King showing at that movie house on Ocean Road near you. Would you like to go tomorrow evening about eight thirty? Supper ought to be over by then.”
“Uh . . . yes. Thanks.” As soon as she agreed, she had an attack of nerves, for she had no idea how to deal with a man. If mama was facing her eternal judgment, she had a lot to account for.
“Good. I’ll be at Miss Fannie’s place for you at eight o’clock sharp.”
She hung up and turned to see Fannie standing nearby, folding and unfolding her hands. “He’s coming here for you, isn’t he?”
Jolene nodded and fled up the stairs. Shaken. She had agreed to go out with a man. A date. The first date she’d ever had. If the behavior of the church women was any measure, her date was a man who appealed to females. He certainly looked good to her, especially his big, grayish-brown eyes with their long, silky lashes. She guessed she was doing all right.
“I’ve been looking for a nice girl,” Gregory said to Jolene, taking her hand as they left the movie theater, “and I’d like us to be friends.”
Jolene let him hold her hand, because his grip gave her a warm, comfortable feeling. “I’d like it, too. Right now, I have to get a job.”
“I’m a phone company supervisor over in Ocean Pines, but I hope that’s temporary. It’s my intention to manufacture sails. If you want to make money around here, you have to do something connected with water, and I’ve noticed that no one anywhere near here makes or repairs sails.”
“Do you know how to make them?” she asked, her interest piqued.
“Sure.” He seemed to dismiss the question as trite. “If you need a lift from time to time, I’ll be glad to help during the weekends. Other days, I’m working till four-thirty.”
Jolene thought for a minute. There was something he could help her with. A telephone company supervisor would be a trusted person. “I’m going to have trouble getting a job, because all I’ve done the past ten years is take care of my sick mother and grandmother, and I don’t know anybody here except Fannie.” She held her breath as she waited for his response and let it out slowly when a smile floated over his face.
“After all the good things Miss Fannie said about you, I can certainly give you a character reference.” He wrote something on a card and handed it to her. “When you apply for a job, tell them to call Gregory Hicks.”
“I sure do thank you, Gregory.” If he worked at the phone company, maybe he could get her a phone.
“It’s getting warm enough to swim,” he said as they approached the boarding house. “We could go swimming Saturday afternoon, if you’re not busy.”
Her feeling of inadequacy was never far from her consciousness, and it returned with alacrity. She stopped walking, withdrew her hand from his and looked at him. “Gregory, I don’t swim. My mama always saw to it that I didn’t have a free moment for any kind of recreation. I can’t even dance.”
He took her hand again and started up the stone steps. “I’m going to enjoy teaching you to do both.”
They entered the foyer, and he took a pad from his pocket, wrote his home and cell phone numbers on it, tore off the page, and handed it to her. “Here are my numbers, in case you need me for something.”
This was her chance. “You shouldn’t call me too often because the phone is down here in the hall, and Fannie or somebody has to call me to come downstairs.” She hoped he’d take the hint, but he said nothing, kissed her on the cheek and left.
Gregory headed down the street to where he’d parked his white Ford Taurus. Invigorated. Wondering if his ship was about to dock. One look at Jolene Tilman and he’d fallen hard. It hadn’t made sense, so he’d called immediately and asked for a date in order to test the attraction. Now, he knew. It was there, and it was solid. He wanted her: A woman who was simple, reserved, maybe even shy, plainly dressed but with large brown eyes that seemed to reflect the wisdom and secrets of the ages. Yes, and pain, too. Even as he acknowledged his introduction to her, he had imagined himself nestled in her arms, sucking at her pretty breasts and then losing himself inside of her. But he was in no hurry for that. He had learned the hard way not to let his penis lead him. Leaning against the shiny-white Taurus, his long El Greco-like silhouette spanning the width of Ocean Road, he made up his mind to have Jolene for himself. Maybe not permanently, but for as long as he wanted her.
Around three o’clock the following Saturday afternoon, he arrived at Thank the Lord Boarding House prepared to swim. “We’re going to start in the pool,” he told Jolene, referring to the public pool in the park that faced the boarding house. He hoped she’d wear a scanty bikini, but he doubted that she would. Still, the one-piece suit she wore allowed him to see enough of her high, firm breasts and rounded hips to whet his appetite.
“You have to trust me,” he told her.
Her glance might have withered a weaker man. “If I didn’t, do you think I’d be standing here in water up to my waist and nobody nearby to keep me from drowning but you?”
“Hardly. Would you mind smiling? I haven’t seen you do it yet.”
A startled expression slipped over her face and then, in a grudging way, her face creased into a smile. He looked away. I’ll be damned if I’ll make a fool of myself over her.
“We’ll start with the breast stroke. It’s easier than the crawl, or at least, it was for me.”
After an hour, he suggested that they dress and go for a ride. “Unless you have something else you’d like to do.”
“Not a thing. Thanks for the lesson. How’d I do?”
“You did well, but don’t try it alone.”
“Oh, I won’t. I’ll wait till you’re free again.”
They dried themselves in the warm sunshine, dressed and got into his car. “With this, you won’t have any trouble getting my calls.” He handed her a cellular phone. “I’ve already set it up for you, and I wrote the phone number on the box.”
Her eyes widened, and he sucked in his breath when both of her arms reached for his neck. Quickly, he held her away from him. Plenty of time for that when he was ready.
“Thanks so much, Gregory. I didn’t see how I could have afforded to put a phone in my room. This is the perfect solution.” She cradled the phone to her breasts. “Gee, thanks.”
His frown lingered on his face for he thought he detected a note of triumph in her voice, and then he shook his head as if that would discard the notion. He might have imagined it, but just in case he hadn’t, he’d be careful.
“You stay to yourself, do you?” Judd Walker observed when he entered the dining room the next morning and sat at a table with Richard, deliberately, with the intention of annoying him, for Richard always sat alone at the little table for two, unless Fannie joined him.
“I’ve found that a man travels fastest when he travels alone,” Richard replied without moving his gaze from the front page of The Maryland Journal.
“Where you in a hurry to get to? All I’ve seen you do is walk along the beach. You don’t have to hurry to get to that; it’s been there since the beginning of time, and it’ll probably be there till Judgment Day.”
Richard put the paper aside and sipped his coffee. “I’m used to being busy.”
“I suppose you are. Everybody here’s been busier than they are now. All except Lila Mae Henry, the fourth grade teacher. She’s still working. And there’s Percy Lucas. He still drives an eighteen wheeler, though he’s cut down to three days a week on the East Coast. You’re young. Why don’t you go back to work? You’re not sick, are you?”
Richard leaned back and stared at the old man. “You don’t want my life history, do you?”
A rumble came out of Judd’s throat in the form of a belly laugh. “I’ll bet it’s interesting. Not many men your age would try to give me my comeuppance. I’ll be eighty-five before this year is up.”
Richard had thought the man at least ten years younger. “You don’t look it.”
“That’s because a glass of wine or one bottle of beer is m’ limit, I never smoked, never caroused, and I haven’t made a fool of m’self over women.”
“I can’t say the same.”
“I know you can’t. What you running away from? Or should I ask who you running from? When I was your age, I owned and managed one of the biggest canneries in Cambridge, which is why I can do as I please now.”
Richard suspected that his tolerance for the old man’s meddling was about to expire, but he didn’t want to be rude. Judd didn’t know who he really was and that he was accustomed to some deference. People didn’t sit at his table uninvited and didn’t ask him personal questions, either. He decided to get some answers himself, since the man wanted to talk.
“Why don’t we get some more coffee and drink it in the lounge?” he asked Judd, “So Rodger and Marilyn can straighten up the dining room.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
“How long have you been living here?” Richard asked after they settled in the lounge.
“Thirteen years. I’ve been here longer than any of the present boarders. Fannie opened it a few months before I came. Most of the folks have been here over five years. I couldn’t ask for a better home because I don’t have to do a thing for m’self unless I want to. The place is comfortable, the food is great, and I’m not by m’self. I’m with people I like.”
“You . . . uh . . . never married?” Richard wanted to know how it felt to live one’s life alone, and maybe lonely, as he was.
“I’ve been a widower for thirty-one years. We didn’t have any children. I have a niece who keeps in touch with me and a nephew who comes by to see me at Christmas and calls from time to time. My family’s here in this house.”
He drained his coffee cup. “You’re a remarkable man. I want to get some writing done this morning. See you at lunch.”
“Looks like it’s gonna rain, so I’ll be down here if you get bored up there.”
Richard lifted his hand in a slight wave and went up to his room. He had to admit that the conversation with Judd had been a satisfying one, even if it consisted mainly of Judd’s quizzing him. He didn’t have a single person with whom to discuss the situation in the Middle East, the reconstruction of Angola, pollution of the environment, or any of the other issues that had been a part of his daily concerns for the past dozen years. The people with whom he lived had no idea who he was or what he was capable of accomplishing and didn’t care. Why had his Swiss friend thought that he would be content in such a place and among people who didn’t think far beyond their next meal? A gust of wind sucked the curtain out of the window, and he hastened to close his room door. “You can’t look at a book and judge its contents,” Fannie had lectured, and he knew that, but these books seemed to have blank pages.
I have to find something to do before I go insane. If I could just tell somebody how I feel! Maybe the old man plays chess.
He closed his window and went back to the lounge where he found Judd reading a newspaper. “You don’t happen to play chess, do you?”
Judd rested the paper on his right knee, fingered his chin and angled his face toward Richard. “We never did meet properly. M’name’s Judd Walker. Chess? Don’t know the first rule, but I’ll go a few games of blackjack with you.”
Richard walked up to Judd and extended his right hand. “I’m Richard Peterson, and I’m not very good at blackjack, but I expect you can give me some pointers.”
“If I wasn’t busy cooking your lunch, I’d take both of you to the cleaners in some cutthroat pinochle.” Richard looked up to see Marilyn standing over him with a glass of lemonade. “It’s pretty hot, Richard, and I figured you could use a little help cooling off.”
“The air conditioning works fine for me,” he said. “Maybe Judd needs it.”
“I wouldn’t mind some lemonade,” Judd said, “but that’s not the kind of cooling off Marilyn has in mind.” He leaned back and fixed his gaze on her. “I’m old, but I ain’t deaf or dumb, and m’memory’s fine, so don’t think your insinuations will pass over m’ head. And another thing. M’daddy fathered his last child when he was eighty-seven.”
“Yeah? I’ll bet you scored a few in your day,” she said to Judd, then turned and left without looking at Richard.
Nearly a minute passed before Richard absorbed the import of Judd’s words. “You’re a cagey one. I thought she was actually talking about the climate.”
Judd shrugged. “She’s one you have to watch. If you’re not careful, you’ll be looking for another boardinghouse, though I don’t think there’s another good one anywhere around here.”
“What’s Fannie’s reaction to having her boarders move because her cook crowds them a bit too closely?”
Judd’s laugh did not reassure Richard. “Fannie’s practical. A room never stays vacant more than a week or ten days, but where’s she going to find another cook like Marilyn? The woman’s cooking is legend in these parts, and she’s completely dependable.”
Richard didn’t like what he was hearing. Estelle was the last woman he’d wanted, and a fire for her still burned hotly within him, but he knew himself well. If he got the itch, he’d let any woman who appealed to him scratch it, and Marilyn’s age didn’t detract from her blatant sexiness.
“She’s too old to play games,” he said to Judd.
“Don’t fool yourself. She’ll play, and so will you.”
“Time was, but those days are behind me.”
Judd reached down to the bottom shelf of the coffee table, picked up a pack of cards and shuffled them. “You can be certain of that when they lay you in a box.” He shuffled the cards again. “Cut.”
That afternoon, just before five o’clock, Jolene telephoned Gregory as he left his office. “I just wanted to try out my new phone on you. Where are you?”
He had expected her to call earlier, but it pleased him that she used discretion about contacting him while he was at work. “I’ve just left the office. If you’re not busy, I could drive by your place, and we could spend a couple of hours together.”
“I’d like that. I got two phone calls today about possible job opportunities, and I’m thinking about taking the job in Salisbury. How would I get there?”
“We’ll talk about that when I see you, which should be in about twenty minutes.”
To his surprise, she didn’t wait for him to ring the doorbell but stepped out of the door as he parked in front of the house. He didn’t know what to think of that and wasn’t sure he liked it. However, he had no reason for suspicion, so he dismissed it, supposing that she was eager to be outside in the near-perfect weather.
He got out of the car and went to meet her, bent down and kissed her quickly on her lips. Her eyes widened, and she looked back toward the front door, leading him into a moment of self-examination. He asked himself why he’d kissed her on the mouth and didn’t have an answer. Surely, he knew better than to be impulsive when it came to women. He also wanted to know who she thought might have seen the innocent kiss and whether that person had a special interest in it. He opened the passenger door for her, went around and seated himself.
“There’s a bus going to Salisbury every hour on the hour daily, and from seven to nine in the morning, it leaves on the half hour as well. You get it on the corner of Bay Avenue and Ocean Road right by Joe’s Watering Hole.”
“That’s only two blocks from the boarding house.”
“Right.” That settled, he had some questions for her. “Where did you go to school, Jolene?” He pulled away from the curb and headed toward Ocean Pines.
“In Hagerstown where I grew up. I only finished high school. Mama said I didn’t need to waste money on college. She wouldn’t even buy me a prom dress.”
He reached across her and flipped on the radio. “Something tells me I didn’t miss anything important by not meeting her. She sounds like a hard woman.” He noticed that Jolene played with her hands, lacing her fingers, buffing her nails on her thigh, and resting her hands intermittently on her knees, her belly, and in her lap. Yet, she hadn’t spoken as if she were nervous.
“I’ve been blessed,” he said, musing aloud. “As a child, my parents doted on me. They still do. We’re a loving family. Very close and always there for each other. I doubt anybody had less money than we had. I wore shoes to school that had holes in them, and you could see all ten of my toes, but I was a happy child.”
“Didn’t your feet get cold?”
“What do you think? Sometimes I thought that they had frozen. But I didn’t complain, because I knew that whenever my parents got a few cents to spare, they spent it on me. As long as I’m living, they won’t want for anything. I’m building them a retirement home.”
“Before you build a home for yourself?”
His head snapped around. “Why do you ask that?”
She moved from her slouched position and sat erect. “I think it means you’re unusual.”
“Maybe I am.” He didn’t like the turn of conversation, but he had to give her the benefit of the doubt. From what she’d told him, she hadn’t had much experience with give and take, except that she gave, and her mother and grandmother took.
She seemed thoughtful, and he waited until she spoke. “I hope you don’t mind my asking why you haven’t married.”
It was a fair question. “I borrowed every penny of my college tuition and, with the low-paying jobs I was able to get until recently, it took me ten years to repay the money. I got engaged a while after that, and it proved to be the biggest mistake of my life; she wasn’t what I’d thought. I saw all the signs and ignored them, so you could say it was my fault I got mired in that relationship. Since then, I haven’t allowed myself to step into the trough of romance. You might say I’ve been wary. The moral of the story is, never lower your standards.” She didn’t like that, but she didn’t know why.
In Ocean Pines, he turned off Route 90 into Harpoon Road and stopped. “Want some ice cream?” he asked Jolene. “I can’t resist an ice cream truck. When I was little, there wasn’t any money for ice cream.”
“Thanks. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
He bought them each a cone of butter pecan ice cream and, with the driver’s door open, sat with one foot on the pavement and the other in the car while he ate his.
I’ve spent two afternoons with her, he thought, but I haven’t learned much more about her than I knew when I met her. I want her, but if she wants me, she’s damned clever at hiding it.
He put his left foot into the car, closed the door, started the engine and headed back to Pike Hill and the Thank the Lord Boarding House. Surely, a feeling as strong as his couldn’t be one-sided. Inside the foyer, he pressed his lips to her cheek.
“See you at church Sunday?” She nodded, but her gaze unsettled him. He didn’t try to decipher it. In due course, he’d know what he needed to know. One thing was certain: He didn’t plan to come out of it the loser.
A glance at the big clock in the foyer told Jolene that she had nearly an hour before supper, time to relax and wash up. Gregory thought a lot of her, she was sure of it. Ambling upstairs, she hummed, “In the Sweet Bye and Bye,” one of her mama’s favorite songs.
She stopped humming and turned around when Arnetha Farrell, a retired nurse’s aide, called to her. “Girl, you sure are a fast worker,” Arnetha said, a big grin exposing the gold that framed her two upper front teeth. “I never would a thought it of you. So quiet and all. But they say still waters run deep.” A tall woman with dark, ashy skin and in the habit of wearing more makeup than would suit a teenager, Arnetha was both imposing and comical.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jolene said.
“Come on, now.” Arnetha’s voice dripped with honey and warmth. “I saw Gregory Hicks kiss you right there in the foyer. Half the young women at church are after him, but you been here three weeks or so, and he’s already kissing you. Girl, you go get ’em.”
“We’re only friends,” Jolene said, exasperation giving a sharpness to her voice, and headed up the stairs.
“Only friends! Did you hear that? Only friends don’t kiss,” she heard Arnetha say to someone.
“You have to watch ’em nowadays,” a female voice replied. “I hope Fannie knows what she’s doing letting everybody in here. This has been a decent, peaceful place, but before you know it, the house will be crawling with every Tom, Dick, and Harry who’s after a roll in the hay.”
“You said it,” Arnetha replied. “I don’t know what these young people are coming to.”
Jolene turned and walked back down the stairs. “How are you, Miss Arnetha? Miss Louvenia? After listening to you two, I’ve just decided not to go to church tomorrow. I always thought my mother was a big hypocrite, but the two of you make her seem saintly.”
Without waiting for a reaction, she went to her room and called Gregory on her new cellular phone. “I’ve decided not to go to church tomorrow,” she said after greeting him. “I’ll explain it when we meet.”
“I see. Well, there isn’t much to do around here on Sundays except see a movie, and we’ve seen the one that’s playing.”
If he was trying to avoid seeing her, he could forget it. “Then let’s drive over to Ocean City or maybe Salisbury.”
His silence lasted too long for her comfort. “I’ll be over right after church,” he finally said, but she detected a change in his tone.
Maybe I should have gone to church, but I didn’t feel like watching those two old biddies shouting and praising. They’re as mean as my mama was.
“We’ve got company for supper tonight,” Fannie announced that evening before saying the grace. “Joe Tucker’s kid brother, Bob, is with us. Welcome, Bob. Let’s bow our heads.”
Bob Tucker, sitting between Jolene and his brother, Joe, fidgeted throughout the prayer. “You seem out of place in this bunch,” he said to Jolene. “What’re you doing here?”
She focused on the plate of soup in front of her. “Telling will take too long.”
“In that case, how about going down to Joe’s Watering Hole with me after we eat?”
“Not tonight, Bob.”
“You got a date?”
“I have something to do.” She wanted to go with him, but couldn’t bring herself to risk it, and she knew he could read the eagerness on her face.
He put his spoon down and let his gaze roam over her face. “All right. How about next weekend and we go over to Baltimore and check out the scene? This place is dullsville.”
Excitement coursed through her. “I’ll let you know.”
“All right. What’s your name?”
“Jolene Tilman. You live around here?”
“Naah. I live just outside of Ocean Pines. We’ll get together next Saturday or Sunday.”
“Bob’s not overloaded with compassion for people,” Joe Tucker told Jolene the next morning at breakfast. “He’s not going to do anything wrong; too much pride for that. But he looks out for himself, and anybody else, male or female, can catch as catch can.” She suspected that he’d rushed to breakfast early in order to warn her about Bob, for he hadn’t buttoned the cuffs of his red shirt.
His stern expression gave her the willies, but only momentarily. If Bob would take her to Baltimore a few times, maybe she could find a job there instead of in Salisbury. She had money from the funds her mother left her and from the sale of the house, but she didn’t intend to spend a penny more of it than was absolutely necessary.
“So what was your reason for not coming to church this morning?” Gregory asked her as soon as he drove away from the boarding house that Sunday afternoon.
He listened to her tale of Arnetha’s comment and Louvenia’s speculations about her with barely any interest. But when she added, “I couldn’t appreciate a church service with those two women amening and shouting all around me,” his head snapped around, and she thought he braked abruptly.
His stare held anything but the warmth and compassion she had associated with him. Indeed, it seemed hostile. “I hope you’re kidding,” he said.
Realizing that she had dropped a few notches in his estimation, she hastened to redeem herself by playing upon his sympathy. “I hope I’m going to see you on my birthday, since you’re my only good friend.”
He rubbed his chin slowly and, she didn’t doubt, thoughtfully. “Your birthday is when?”
“Wednesday.”
He didn’t respond until after he’d parked in the parking lot of a roadside movie house on the outskirts of Ocean City, got out of the car and opened the door for her. He stood beside the car, inches from her, staring down into her face until her nerves seemed to stand on end. After what seemed like ages, with his fingers raking over his tight curls, he said,” Would you like to go out to dinner?”
She caught herself a split second before she said, I’m paying for my supper at the boarding house. “Thanks. I . . . uh . . . I’d like that.”
He didn’t respond. Somewhere, she’d made a mistake, for he had little to say then or on the drive back from Ocean City, and he didn’t suggest that they swim as she had hoped he would.
“I’d like to get home early. PBS is showing a story on Muddy Waters tonight.”
“I wish I could see it,” she said. “I can’t imagine the folks at the boarding house letting me watch that in the lounge.”
He parked, went around to the passenger side and opened the door for her. “They probably won’t. Well, I’ve received several calls requesting references for you, so you’ll soon be working, and you can put a television in your room.”
When she walked into her room, two thoughts plagued her: Gregory hadn’t offered to give her a television for her birthday, and he didn’t kiss her on the cheek as he’d previously done.
At supper that night, she wanted to ask Joe Tucker, her seat mate, what he thought of Louvenia, but decided against it and was glad she did when the two of them began to carry on a conversation across from her. She wondered if any of the other boarders felt as lonely as she, an outsider who the others ignored. In the far corner, Richard Peterson, who joined the group after she did, carried on what appeared to be an amiable conversation with Fannie. Everybody talked and smiled with someone. Everybody but her. How she wished she could understand the emptiness, the constant ache inside of her! On Wednesday, she’d be thirty-six, and nothing interesting had ever happened to her.
Gazing up at the two white-globed chandeliers that shone bright above the green and white and red and white checkered tablecloths that gave the room its hominess, she saw them as remnants of the gaslight era, anachronisms well suited to Fannie’s house laws and restrictions. Bob didn’t think she belonged there, and he was probably right, but she needed a family, and the boarders were the closest approximation to one that she had.
Gregory arrived at six-thirty that Wednesday evening, dressed in a business suit much like the one he had worn to church, and she was glad she’d worn her good black dress with the ruffled collar. But if he noticed how she looked, he didn’t comment on it. He didn’t bring flowers, either, but maybe men didn’t do that in Ocean Pines and Pike Hill. She’d have to ask Fannie.
When they walked into the restaurant, she stopped and stared at her surroundings. She had never been in that kind of place. Soft lights, candles on the tables, white tablecloths and napkins and three or four long-stemmed glasses beside each plate. She couldn’t believe what she saw. A man led them to a table, and she gasped when she saw the beautiful vase of tea roses.
“Are they for us? I mean, can we keep them?”
“They’re for you,” Gregory said. “I hope you like them.”
She didn’t think she ought to tell him that no one had ever given her flowers. “They’re beautiful. I definitely like them a lot. Thanks, Gregory.”
“My pleasure.”
She watched him carefully so that she wouldn’t make a mistake. With three forks, two knives and two spoons facing her, she felt lost, almost as if she were the butt of a joke. He didn’t talk much, but she didn’t notice that until they were leaving the restaurant.
“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight. Don’t you feel well?”
“I’m fine.” The man who showed them to their table handed her a small shopping bag into which he or someone else had put the tea roses. Gregory gave the man a bill. “Dinner was delightful. Thank you.”
“Who’s that man? Is he the owner?”
“He’s the maitre d’.”
“Oh.”
He disappointed her when he didn’t ask if she wanted to go anywhere else. It would have been a good time for him to start her on the dance lessons he’d promised to give her, and she said as much.
“Isn’t there any place around here where people dance?”
His right shoulder flexed in a quick shrug. “Probably, but this isn’t the night for it.” He said hardly anything on the way back to Pike Hill, and let the jazz voice of Billie Holiday erase the silence.
“I had a good time,” she told him when they reached the boarding house. “It’s the best birthday I ever had.”
“Is that so? I’m glad you’re happy.”
He walked her to the front door, but didn’t go in. “I’ll see you Saturday afternoon.”
She waited for him to kiss her, but he only half-smiled, winked, and left. She didn’t know what to make of it. She did know that she’d lost some ground, that he could be a useful friend—already had been, in fact—and that she had better find a way to straighten things out.
“This is the third time I called. I didn’t think there was anything to do in Pike Hill but swim. Where were you? This is Bob.”
She looked around to see whether anyone was in earshot. “A friend took me out for my birthday.”
“Yeah? Congratulations. I’ll be over Saturday morning around eleven, and we’ll go over to Baltimore and see what’s happening. Okay?”
Excitement coursed through her. She had a feeling that Bob Tucker lived by his own rules. “Great. What’ll I wear?”
“What? Uh . . . whatever you want to. We’re not going to a grand ball.”
They were nearly halfway to Baltimore that Saturday when she remembered that she hadn’t called Gregory to tell him that she couldn’t see him that afternoon. Oh, well. He’s not much interested now anyway. And Bob is a lot more to my taste.
But she would find that she lacked the sophistication to keep up with Bob Tucker, for he was constantly coaching her. Nonetheless, she wanted entrée into his world of beautiful women, bars, and jazz.
“What do you want? Beer or a cocktail?”
“I . . . uh . . . I don’t drink.”
“You don’t . . . is this some kind of joke?”
“No. My mama wouldn’t have it in the house, so I never learned how.”
“Want to learn now?”
She shook her head. “I’d rather not. Maybe next time.”
“You’re all right, babe,” he said, as the evening grew late. “Fannie’s gonna blow a gasket if you walk in there at two o’clock Sunday morning.” He took a few sips of beer, let his gaze travel slowly over her, not hiding his appreciation for what he saw.
“Tell you what. You spend the night with me at my place.”
She nearly choked. “I’d better not do that tonight, Bob. Fannie may put me out, and I need the boarding house.”
“I got a feeling that this is something else you never learned how to do. What a waste! Am I right? You never stayed out all night with a man?”
Feeling as she did when her mama found her diary and read it, she squeezed her eyes tight and prayed that she wouldn’t cry. She found the strength to nod, but in the depth of her shame, she couldn’t utter a word.
He put the beer bottle on the bar and stood. “Stop beating hell out of yourself, babe. It’s no problem. There’s always another woman.”
When she got inside the boarding house, she sneaked up the stairs as quietly as she could, but when she opened her door it creaked as if its hinges had rusted, a sound she hadn’t previously heard. She opened her cell phone, saw that she had four messages and closed it without checking, for she knew Gregory had called her.
“Well, if he had been warmer the last two times we were together, maybe I wouldn’t have forgotten to call him,” she said to herself. You shouldn’t have made a date with Bob knowing you had one with another man, her conscience nagged. She shrugged, undressed and crawled into bed as her watch confirmed that it was one-thirty, later than she had ever been out of the house in her life. She set the clock alarm to seven-thirty. If she went to church, maybe Gregory would forgive her.
It did not surprise Gregory that Jolene went to church that Sunday morning, for he knew she would be seeking ways to make amends. He didn’t care what excuse she gave. If Miss Fannie didn’t know where Jolene went or with whom, that meant Jolene had deliberately stood him up. Lately, he had developed misgivings about her, but he had been willing to trust her until she proved unworthy of it. He’d never cared for women who expected gifts from men, and she had sorely tested him when she hinted that she’d like to have a television. Giving her a cell phone had sent her the wrong signal.
His anger at having been stood up, wasting his Saturday afternoon, had already abated, and he was glad, because he had been furious enough to insult her. His passion for her had tempered, and as far as he was concerned, her behavior the previous afternoon had served as a wakeup call. He’d been traveling too fast. She was still in him, but he didn’t have to do anything about it.
As soon as the service ended, he left church by a side door, walked around to the front and waited. She came out of the front door and he walked directly up to her.
“Where were you yesterday at one o’ clock?” She didn’t have a car, so someone must have taken her somewhere, someone whose company she preferred to his. She gaped at him, and he knew he’d caught her off guard.
“Hi. I . . . I meant to call you, but—”
He cut her off. “I don’t care about that. Where were you? Miss Fannie couldn’t imagine your whereabouts.”
“Are you going to fall out with me about it?”
“Definitely not. That would be a further waste of my mental energy. See you around.” He dashed across M. L. King Jr. Avenue to Delaware Heights where he’d parked his car, got into it, and headed home. One woman was able to trick him because he was an idealist. If another one duped him, it would be proof that he was a fool. He was not a fool.