Chapter Eight
Richard hunched his shoulders against the wind that howled from the Atlantic and, with Judd walking upright beside him as if unmindful of the cold, headed down M. L. King Jr. Avenue toward Rhone Street. “Too bad we can’t drop these computer classes until spring,” he said to Judd. “I know it sounds chicken, but I do not like this weather.”
“It only lasts two or three months, and think how good it is living here the rest of the year.”
“I’m glad the library is close to the boardinghouse.”
“Everything in this town’s close to the boardinghouse. Trouble with you isn’t the cold weather. You’re in the dumps, and you gotta get yourself out of it. What’s the problem?”
“I’m not in the dumps, Judd. I’m discovering that life can throw a hammerlock on you with no warning, and I have to deal with it. I also have to figure out what to do about the boarders’ attitude toward me. When I came here, I didn’t give a damn what any of them thought of me, but I see how they are with each other, almost like brothers and sisters and . . . well—”
“Everybody wants to be liked, son. Trouble is you thought they should look up to you. They probably did, but you’re getting to know them, and you want them to care.”
“Judd, do you know that Francine and Jolene are the only people, other than you and Fannie, who said anything to me about the party I gave for you? All the rest acted as if a party like that was their bloody due. Did any of them congratulate you on your birthday?”
“Joe Tucker did. I guess they figured singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me covered it. Worrying about that hasn’t crossed m’mind, and shouldn’t bother you, either. They’re humble people. You did that for me. Do something for them, and maybe they’ll see you in a different light. Did you invite any of them to come to the adult computer classes?”
“No, but I will. Good idea.”
It had been twenty years since his status was a matter of concern to him. Once he had set his sights for a career in international politics, he shot arrow-straight to the top. And now, he had no status that meant anything to his fellow boarders. After supper that night, he created a notice on his computer, printed it out, gave it to Fannie and asked her to put it on the bulletin board.
“Sure,” she said. “This is wonderful.” She read the notice: FREE INSTRUCTION IN TENNIS, SURFING, DARTS, CROQUET, BRIDGE. “Richard, honey, you’d better do this in groups of three or four. Otherwise you won’t have a scrap of time for yourself. Of course, I doubt any of them have a clue as to what croquet is.”
“Anybody sixty or sixty-five years old ought to appreciate a game that doesn’t involve using a lot of energy.”
“Right. I’ll read this out at supper tomorrow evening. Uh . . . Richard. I appreciate what you’re doing. You’re improving the quality of life for my boarders, but you may find that some of them won’t appreciate it. They will appreciate you, but they may not like some of these activities.”
“As long as some of them enjoy it,” he told her, as a tightness settled in his belly. If no one accepted his offer, it wouldn’t kill him.
“I want to learn how to play bridge,” Jolene said when Fannie finished reading the notice. “I can’t swim, so it wouldn’t make sense for me to take up surfing.” Titters of laughter followed her admission that she couldn’t swim.
“What can you teach me that doesn’t involve sitting down?” Joe Tucker asked him. “That’s all I do when I’m not on the construction site.”
He’d known somehow that Joe Tucker would accept his offer. “Tennis and darts. I have a feeling you’d love darts,” he told the man. “And all of you are welcome to take the adult computer classes we’re running at the library from four-thirty to six-thirty Mondays and Wednesdays.
“You can teach me how to throw those darts, too,” Judd said. “I played tennis when I was twenty, and it got to my legs even then.”
“I’ll play tennis with you sometime,” Francine said, but he knew without being told that she didn’t mean it, that she offered because she thought the other boarders expected it of her.
In the end, it was clear to him that his offer would change nothing. Later as he sipped espresso coffee and played blackjack with Judd, he had an urge to be alone, to relapse into the self-centered behavior that he’d told himself was in the past.
“I think I’ll turn in, Judd.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me? What ails you’s got nothing to do with the attitude of these people toward you, and you know it. You want her, but you can’t have her on your terms. And you should be thankful for that. Maybe she can bring new meaning to your life. If she proved to be just another notch in your belt, pretty soon you wouldn’t want to be around her, certainly not on the same floor in a house this size. You turned over a new leaf, and you’re not a player any longer. Remember?”
“Judd, I’ve accepted more lecturing from you than I have or would from my father. What man wouldn’t want Francine? She’s beautiful.”
“It ain’t her looks that’s got you tied up. It’s her.”
“Point taken. Now, cut me some slack, will you?”
“All right. But get used to a little deprivation; it’s good for you.”
Richard leaned back in his chair and let the laughter roll out of him, and he felt better, cleansed, as it were, because of it. A little deprivation? Hell, he hadn’t had a woman since he left Geneva, Switzerland, eight months earlier. He had missed the sex, but he was proud that he had freed himself of the compulsion to charm and bed every woman who let him know she was available, proud that he had rid himself of the false persona, the automatic chicanery.
“What’s so funny?”
He brushed his chin with the fingers of his left hand and looked at the cards in his right hand. “Funny? Not one single thing. Play your hand.”
“You’re getting so good at blackjack that I think I ought to introduce you to pinochle. Of course, we’d need at least a third person.”
“Teach Francine. That is, if she doesn’t already know.”
“Not a bad idea. I may have to show you two how to have a real friendship, one that will withstand the effect of your libidos.”
Richard knew that Judd meant well, but he didn’t want to think about Francine. It was about all he’d done for the past twenty-four hours. “You just may have to do that. But for now, change the subject, will you?”
When Judd’s eyelids seemed heavy and he began to play with less enthusiasm, Richard told him good night and started up the stairs. “Uh, you got a minute, Richard?”
He turned to face Joe Tucker. “It’s a good thing you’re doing for us, but this gang would rather play pinochle, whist, or blackjack or shoot pool than do the things you offered to teach them. These people think croquet is something you fry.”
He looked at the man who spent three to four days a week as a construction worker and yet volunteered to help Fannie whenever she needed a handyman. “You’re probably right, but I have to teach what I know.”
“I’m not working this Friday, so if you’re around, I’ll be glad to get a lesson in dart throwing.”
“Okay. I’ll bring a dart board and some darts home tomorrow. I love the game, and I’ll enjoy having someone to play with. You think we can get Percy interested?”
Joe flexed his shoulder in a shrug. “I dunno. Percy’s been acting strange ever since summer, as if he doesn’t have any confidence in himself.”
So he wasn’t the only one who noticed the change in Percy, although he was probably the only one of the boarders other than Percy who had a clue as to why. “If we can get him to play darts with us, that ought to change.”
“Maybe. I wouldn’t bet on it. Still, I’ll ask him if you want me to. Let’s start this Friday.”
He agreed and continued up the stairs to his room. He felt better, and he didn’t understand why. The object of his discontent hadn’t said anything to him all day, except to offer to play tennis with him in the presence of the other boarders. Yet, he had a sense of peace, the same feeling that had pervaded him when the computers he’d managed to obtain arrived at the local library. He heard the sound of footsteps made by high-heeled shoes, and his breath lodged in his throat, but when they continued past his door, he let out a long harsh breath and stopped himself seconds before his fist slammed into the wall.
Jolene made her way up the stairs to her room, glad that at last she could stop smiling. All evening, she had faked joviality and warmth, when she had wanted to crawl into bed, tuck herself in a fetal position and bawl. Gregory had called because he said he would, but he hadn’t said anything that would allow her to believe they would be friends again. Didn’t men want truthfulness and honesty from women? It was just her bad luck that she’d been forced to talk with him while riding the bus and her conversation wasn’t private. He didn’t say he would call again, nor did he suggest that she call him.
It’s my fault. Still, I had to tell him the truth, because I don’t want to live a lie. I want him to like me as I am; if he can’t, I’m glad I know it now. I care for him, but I’ll get over it. I have to. And I’m going to help Richard with the children in that class. I promised, and I’m not going to let Gregory’s attitude get in the way. She lifted her gaze to the ceiling and, in a prayerful tone, asked aloud, “Isn’t there one person anywhere who can love me? Really love me?”
At breakfast the following morning, she joined Judd and Richard without waiting for an invitation. “I’ll be at the library at five-fifteen, Richard,” she told him. “Believe me, as soon as those kids get used to me, you will not have any disciplinary problems.”
“I’m glad to hear it. They get rather rowdy sometimes. Once or twice, I’ve wanted to smack them.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Really? I don’t think that’s permitted.”
“It isn’t, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to do it. If you think you can make them orderly without committing a crime, more power to you.”
The following afternoon, Jolene walked into the children’s computer class and looked around. She didn’t see how anyone could learn in that atmosphere. She saw a ruler on a table, picked it up, walked to the front of the room and slapped the ruler vigorously against the desk.
“Be quiet, all of you,” she said. “Sit down, and give me your attention. The first one to speak without permission will go home at once and will not be allowed to come back.” The silence was immediate and complete. “I’m Miss Tilman, and I do not tolerate misbehavior. I am here to maintain order during this class. If you cannot be quiet and pay attention during the class, your parents will have to pay for private lessons, because you are not going to disrupt this class. Misbehave once, and you are out.”
She glanced toward the door and saw Richard and Gregory standing there with their mouths slightly ajar. “Your teachers are here,” she said, “so show them how well you can behave. I’ll be in the back of the room, and I’ll be looking at every one of you.”
Within minutes, she realized that she should have brought along a notebook and pencil, for those children were learning what she needed to know. Next Tuesday I’ll be one of the students and, if it isn’t too late, I’m going to register for the adult courses. I must have been out of my mind to pass up an opportunity like this. What about Gregory? What will it be like seeing him three nights every week and being just another one of his students? I’m not a baby, she told herself. I’ll deal with it.
At the end of the class she stood at the door as the children filed out of the room. “Goodnight,” she said to them.
“Goodnight, Miss Tilman, see you next week.”
Richard approached her, his face wreathed in smiles. “This is the best class we’ve had. You were wonderful.”
“It was amazing,” Gregory said. “And they didn’t seem to resent you.”
She tried not to show her pleasure in receiving their compliments. “Children expect two things from us: love and discipline. They accept that the two go together, and they will put you to the test. I just let them know that they are the children and I am the adult. I rule.” She laughed, although mostly from nervousness, for Gregory had trained his piercing gaze on her, and she couldn’t fathom its meaning.
“How do you know this?” Gregory asked her.
With her head tilted to the side, she took a good look at him. Tall and handsome with eyes that could make a woman want to drown in them. Remember, girl, you’re not pumping up any man’s ego. So straighten up, she told herself. To Gregory she said, “I was once a child, and I know what worked and didn’t work with me. I got more discipline than I needed, but I wouldn’t have minded that if there’d been even a modicum of love to go along with it.” She switched her gaze to Richard. “Where’s Judd?”
“He’s in the reading room working on his plans for the spring camping trip he gives for high school senior honor students every year.”
It seemed as if everyone she admired was doing something for the community. I really have been on the wrong track, she told herself. “Richard, hadn’t we better start home? It’s twenty-five minutes to seven, and Fannie will trip for sure if three of us are late for supper.”
“Absolutely.”
“I can drop you over there,” Gregory said, and Richard accepted the offer before she could turn it down.
She walked past Gregory without speaking and went to the reading room. “Come on, Judd. It’s almost time for supper. Gregory offered to take us home, and Richard accepted before I could say no.”
“Why would you say no? M’ legs will appreciate the ride.”
If she had told him the truth, that it was because of her pride, he would have lectured to her about it, so she didn’t answer him. No doubt the three men expected her to sit beside Gregory in the front seat, but she reached the car first, opened the door and sat in the back. When the three men stared first at her and then at each other, she sought to soften her action: “I defer to you, Judd.”
“Are you sure that’s what you did?” Richard whispered to her as Gregory pulled away from the curb.
Why should she lie? “No, but it sounded good.”
Three weeks after making his offer to teach recreational activities to the boarders at Thank the Lord Boarding House, Richard admitted to himself and to Judd that what he offered held no interest for his fellow boarders. Only Joe Tucker and Jolene had taken advantage of his generosity. Francine didn’t need tennis lessons; she had played since early childhood. “They aren’t interested in me,” he told Judd at breakfast one morning, “and I have decided that I don’t give a damn.”
“You do, or you wouldn’t mention it. Why don’t you and I go fishing over on Isle of Wright Bay? It’s just a few miles from here, and it has some of the best striped bass anywhere. Or we can go down to Assawoman Bay and see if we can get a few crabs, but I’d rather fish.”
“Let’s fish. Won’t it be cold?”
“Yeah, but the fish will bite. If it was summer, we’d go at daybreak, but around eight will be fine. We can call Dan, the cabbie, and—”
“I’ll rent a car, and we can do as we please.”
The minute he said it, he realized that he was settling into a friendship with Judd, a meaningful and deepening relationship that he’d never had with anyone, man or woman. And how strange that it should occur not with a man his age or who had known the world as he had but with a working-class man senior to his father. A man whose formal education had ended with a high school diploma, but whose knowledge often surpassed what one would expect of learned individuals, and who possessed an enormous capacity for friendship and caring.
As he rose to leave the table, he patted Judd’s frail shoulder. “I’m glad I know you.”
Judd stopped eating and gazed at Richard. “What brought that on?”
“If I didn’t have you for company, I would probably have left here long before now. Can we go fishing tomorrow?”
“We can, and if we catch enough, Marilyn will cook them for us.”
Richard imagined that his face showed his distaste for the idea that popped into his head. “Who’ll clean them? Not me.”
“Rodger. The man loves fish.”
“They’re not biting today,” a fisherman told them the next morning as they drove up to the bay. “Been out here two hours and didn’t get so much as a jerk on my line.”
Seeing the disappointment on Judd’s face, Richard said, “We’re going to fish. Let’s go over to Ocean Pines. Gregory’s shop is right there at the water’s edge, so he’ll know where we can get a boat.”
By noon, they had a dozen striped bass, plus catfish and pike. “These fish practically jumped into the boat. I have a feeling that nobody’s been fishing here for a while,” Judd said.
They offered Gregory some of their catch. “I’m not one for cleaning fish,” he said, “but if you two are willing, I can fry up a batch of the catfish that I bought from the fishmonger, bake some cornbread, and whip up a salad, and we can lunch here in the shop. I have soft drinks, tea, coffee, milk and water.”
“Sounds good to me,” Judd said. “Richard, you got your cell phone with you? If we don’t tell Fannie we won’t be in for lunch, she’ll preach us a sermon.”
“I told her not to expect us. Plenty of good food between here and there.”
Halfway through the meal, Judd wiped his mouth on the red paper napkin and looked straight at Gregory. “I’ve reached the age, Gregory, where I say what I think, and if I need an answer, I go to the source. I don’t gossip about anybody’s business, and I don’t lie about anybody.” Richard wondered what was coming, and Judd didn’t keep him waiting.
“Jolene. She’s not m’ daughter, but I feel like a father to her. She’s a girl who’s known nothing but tragedy and ugliness, and she’s just easing out of that shell she used to live in. She’s never mentioned you to me, but I’m certain you’re very important to her. Do you think things are going to work out between the two of you?”
Gregory placed his knife and fork on the edge of his plate and looked his questioner in the eye. “I don’t know, Judd. When she first came to Pike Hill, I thought so, and I wanted that, but so much water has flowed under the bridge, so to speak, that I’m no longer sure. I can’t say no, because there’s much about her that attracts me, and I don’t know how she feels about me. So I can’t say yes, either.”
“Fair enough. As long as you’re straight with her—”
“Bet on it.”
“Gregory’s a good man,” Judd told Richard on the drive back to Pike Hill. “I suspect Jolene took a wrong turn somewhere.”
“I think she probably took more than one wrong turn, but something happened to shake her up, and she’s showing remarkable maturity for somebody who was still wet behind the ears less than a year ago. I’m realizing that I like her.”
“Me, too. I think a lot of her. I wish there was some way I could . . . well, never mind.”
Richard slowed down to take a sharp curve. “Something happened between her and Percy that took the starch out of the man. I’m sure of it. He’s a pitiable caricature of his old self.”
“I thought I was the only person who suspected that. I’ve a mind to speak to her about it, but I’m scared that if I do, she’ll cave back into herself.”
“I know,” Richard said. “I was hoping he’d play darts with Joe and me, but when Joe asked him to join us, he refused.”
At the boardinghouse, Richard followed Judd to the kitchen to find Marilyn. “Richard and I caught a lot of striped bass, some pike and catfish. How about a good fish fry for supper?”
She looked at her watch. “I was going to have roast pork, but nothing beats fish right out of the water. Roast pork can wait till tomorrow. I’ll tell Rodger to get to work on ’em.” She looked at Richard with a lowered gaze and a half smile. “Which ones did you catch? I want to be sure and eat one of those.”
Damned if flirting wasn’t as much a part of her as her skin. The woman couldn’t resist doing it. He’d have to stop getting angry with her and learn to ignore it. “I don’t know one fish from the other until I taste it. Seems there’s something different about catfish, but I don’t know what that is.”
“And here I was all primed to eat something of yours.”
“Give her a bar of chocolate,” Judd said. “Thanks for cooking the fish, Marilyn. I’m beginning to feel as if you’re discriminating against me.”
She nearly glared at him when she said, “What do you mean?” so he knew she understood his comment.
“Let’s see, there was Henry Gray who left because you drove him half crazy. Ronald Barnes, Joe Tucker, and Percy Lucas managed to cool you off, and I thought Richard had done the same, but apparently not. You shouldn’t cheapen yourself by making a play for every man who lives here. You’re too fine a woman.”
“I don’t do that,” she said. “Can I help it if everybody misunderstands me?” Richard watched her demeanor sag, a proud bird whose wings had been cut. Mortified.
“Happens to all of us,” he said and wondered why he felt the need to soothe her.
“If you’re going to the lounge,” she said, “I’ll send Rodger with coffee and some of the pineapple-upsidedown cake we had for lunch.”
Judd thanked her, and they went to the lounge to wait for Marilyn’s effort to redeem herself in the only way that she knew, by serving impeccable food.
“You felt sorry for her,” Judd said. “There’s something about this place that changes people. Six months ago, you would have spoken harshly to her. I see you’re thinking more about other people and less about yourself, and it’s a good thing.”
“She was more hurt than embarrassed. Anyway, I’ve stopped disliking her.”
Rodger arrived with cake and coffee. “I see you brought a mess of good fish. I’ll get to ’em right away. Nothing makes me happier than a good Southern fish fry, some good old hush puppies and some collard greens stewed down with some smoked ham hocks. I tell you, I can taste it right now.”
“I know what you mean,” Judd said. “Thanks for cleaning them.”
“My pleasure.”
“Feel like a stroll along the beach this afternoon, Judd?”
“Naah. I’ve breathed enough cold salt air for one day. You go on and enjoy yourself.”
He didn’t feel like working on his memoirs. Facing who he’d been for most of his life had become increasingly painful with each chapter he wrote. He’d stopped writing at the point where Lindsay Elliott fell out of bed reaching for him and begging him to spend the rest of the night with her. She had been a sexual carnivore, exhausting him with her need for orgasms. To begin with, he’d had no interest in her as a person, but the beautiful breasts she’d all but exposed to him and her invitation to have his way with her when and as he pleased fitted his usual pattern; it was easier to take what was offered than to risk his reputation as a distinguished diplomat and seduce a woman. She had offered, and he took until he’d had a surfeit of her. But now, he hated that era of his life to the extent that he was unable to write truthfully about it.
He put on a black leather jacket and headed for the beach. He saw Francine at once, disguised as a clam fisherman. Did she think she would apprehend a smuggler at three o’clock in the afternoon? He strolled along until he came to a huge irregularly-shaped boulder and sat on the side away from the bay but where he had a clear view of Francine. The wind stormed in to the shore bringing a blast of cold and salty air from the ocean beyond. He knew she had to be cold, and he wanted badly to put his jacket around her, for in her disguise, she was thinly dressed.
At about five o’clock, as winter darkness encroached, she took her bucket and shovel and trudged toward Rhone Street. He didn’t intercept her, fearing that he might destroy her cover. He remained on the beach for another ten minutes until he figured she’d left the area, but as he reached Rhone Street and Ocean Road, he met three men, and one of them walked with a slight limp. He didn’t doubt that that man was Ronald Barnes. He took out his cell phone to call Francine and realized he didn’t know her cell phone number. Furthermore, he doubted that she had gone to the boardinghouse dressed in that manner.
“I can’t call the police, because this is a secret operation, and I’m not supposed to know about it. Well, hell!” He jogged home and waited in the lounge to intercept her when she came in. Why the hell did he have to fall for a woman who, at any minute, could be killed by a bunch of thugs? Exasperated, he popped his knuckles for the first time in fifteen years (when he became a first-level ambassador, he was advised that knuckle popping was unbecoming to his status). A policewoman. A mental picture of his former associates’ faces upon learning that he wanted a policewoman made him laugh.
“We’re phonies, every last one of us.”
At about six-thirty, he heard her quick steps in the hallway and dashed out of the lounge. “Can I have a private word with you, Francine? It won’t take but a second.” A look of apprehension flashed across her face, and he knew that his visage mirrored his concern.
“What is it, Richard?”
“Ten minutes after you left the beach this afternoon, Barnes and two other men arrived. I wanted to call you, but I don’t know your cell phone number, and I couldn’t call the police without breaching your confidence.” He grasped her arm. “Please don’t go back down there. It’s too dangerous. You can’t handle three men, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
She inhaled a long deep breath and let it out slowly. “You recognized me?” He nodded. “I got a tip, and now I realize it was meant to get me out of the way. According to the information I was given, those men were supposed to meet there between three and four. I stayed until five-fifteen, and they arrived around five-thirty.”
“The person who gave you that tip is a worm. Is he or she in your department?”
“Absolutely. But not for long. I’d better get—”
“Please, Francine, don’t go back out there now. Call the police, but don’t go. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. I have to do my job, Richard.”
“Then take me with you. I’m as good a shot as you’ll find anywhere.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “That would be against the law, but thanks. How’d you learn to shoot so well and why?”
“Skeet shooting. I’m also an Olympian.”
“Hmm. Why doesn’t that surprise me? I’d better hurry. See you at supper.”
He held her arm, unwilling to countenance her going back to the beach alone. “Does that mean you are not going back to the beach tonight?”
“I’m not going back, but I have to alert my captain so that he can take the necessary measures. Thank you for caring.” She dashed up the stairs and left him standing there.
Now what? She was a professional, and he respected that, but knowing she could be in danger and unable to circumvent it went against his grain. He went back into the lounge and challenged Judd to a game of blackjack.
“So you aiming to take it out on me, are you?” Judd said. “You’d be better off throwing darts with Joe Tucker.”
“Aw, come on, Judd. It isn’t that bad.”
“It is so. It takes a tough man to love a woman like Francine. My wife was like her: soft and sweet, but strong and independent. She could change a tire quicker than I could, and she wasn’t afraid of anything. I never felt threatened by it. She loved me, and she was as soft as a ball of cotton in my arms. Francine will be like that; she’ll love you, but you’ll never be able to tell her what to do.”
He knew that, and he had to decide whether he could handle it. As things were going, the choice was being taken from him. He would support her in whatever she decided to do, but he was damned if he wanted a life in which fear drained the blood out of his body every time his woman left him. He picked up the hand of cards that Judd dealt him and looked at them.
“I should have been paying closer attention to you, Judd. I suspect you’re not above cheating me.”
“No, I’m not, but as long as there’s no money on the table, you can depend on m’honesty.”
Richard looked at his watch. “This hand’s useless. I’m going to wash up before dinner. I’ll bet you’ve got blackjack.”
Judd spread out his cards. “A joker and the ace of spades. See you later.”
Jolene walked into Harper’s hospital room that Friday evening with a bunch of pink roses and a pint of butter pecan ice cream. She didn’t know how to get his attention, for he sat in his wheelchair facing the window precisely as he had when she last visited him. She supposed he knew that she had a strong sense of guilt about him, and that she wanted him to know she was sorry and wished him well.
“Hi, Harper. I hope you don’t mind a little company for ten or fifteen minutes.”
He turned the wheelchair around to face the door. “Well, hi. I’d begun to think that after all you told me last time you were here, you weren’t coming back. Come on in. They took my neck brace off yesterday. See?”
She wanted to ask him if he had any visitors other than herself, but didn’t. Such a handsome man as Harper would have girlfriends. She sat in the one chair in his room, and he rolled his wheelchair to face her.
“Thanks for the flowers, and thanks for the others that you sent. They lasted a long time.” His gaze seemed to penetrate her, but she didn’t mind, for it bore no hostility. “You’re nice to come here to see me, Jolene. We didn’t part on good terms that night. I was hurt and angry and self-righteous and . . . I drove like a maniac. I also wasn’t nice the first time you came to see me, and I’m sorry about that.”
“I know, Harper, and it was all my fault.”
“How’s it your fault? I’m a grown man. Nobody made me drive like that on a road I’d never been on before. I knew better.”
But she didn’t feel absolved. “Like I said, I didn’t know how to treat people, but I’m learning. I’m still worried about . . . you know . . . I told you about the man who lives in the boarding house. His personality has changed. It’s as if he tries to shrivel up, as if he’d like to crawl into a hole and hide. He doesn’t talk to anyone, only eats his supper and goes to his room. I’d give anything if I could undo what I did, but I just couldn’t participate in that. He’s still mortified, and I don’t know how to help him.”
Harper shook his head as if perplexed. “That’s a tough one. One of the worst things that can happen to a man is to get that kind of proof that a woman doesn’t want him. You’re probably the first woman to tell him that he didn’t have any technique. Sounds to me as if he’s been seeing ladies of the evening.”
“The change in him is becoming obvious to all the boarders. I wish I could do something.”
“Well, if you can get him alone, tell him you hope he hasn’t told anybody about that incident, that you’re still embarrassed, and that you appreciate the fact that he was such a gentleman about it, or something like that. He was, you know. Some men would have forced you.”
She nearly laughed when she remembered what actually outraged Percy. “Maybe it was wasting his money that got to him at first. I offered to pay for the room, and he accepted that, but when he parked to let me out about a block from the boardinghouse, he seemed near tears and ordered me not to tell anyone about it. I assured him that I didn’t want anyone to know, either. I’ll do as you suggest.”
Her gaze fell on the bag in her hand. “Good grief, I forgot to give you this butter pecan ice cream.”
He reached for it. “I’ll take it. The last thing I’ll get in here will be ice cream.” She handed him the ice cream, a paper napkin and a plastic spoon. “I’d better be going. My landlady gets bent out of shape if any of us comes to supper late. She’s got more rules than a third grade teacher, but they make the boardinghouse a really nice place to live.” As she stood to leave, a tall, stately woman who she figured to be about sixty or sixty-five walked into the room.
“Hi, Mom. This is Jolene Tilman. Jolene, this is my mom, Louise Masterson.”
“How are you, Mrs. Masterson? I would have known you were Harper’s mother, if no one had told me. What a striking resemblance! I’m glad to meet you.”
“I’m glad to meet you, and I’m really happy to see that Harper has company. I live in Hyattsville, and I can’t get here every day.”
Jolene edged toward the door. “I’ll see you again, Harper. Good-bye, Mrs. Masterson.”
“Thanks for the flowers, and especially for this great ice cream. Bye.”
I can’t visit him too often, she told herself. I remember how he said he felt about me, and I don’t want to cause any more problems than I already have. She hurried to the bus stop, and when she boarded, she dropped her money in the slot, said “Good afternoon,” to the driver, and made her way to the back of the bus.
I’m not getting friendly with any more men. If you say “Hi” to a man, he thinks you want to go out with him, and if you’re not friendly, he thinks you’re stuck up. I guess I would have learned all that if I had ever been a teenager. She looked skyward. “Mama, you did a real job on me. You took away my youth, and I’m just learning what I should have known when I was sixteen. You got a lot to answer for.”
Jolene rushed into the boardinghouse at twenty minutes to seven and headed to her room to freshen up. She met Percy Lucas on the stairs and stopped, prepared to speak to him in the way Harper suggested, but when Percy saw her, he turned and went back up the stairs and on to his room.
Shaking her head, perplexed, Jolene said aloud, “I’ve got to do something about that man, but what?”
She looked up to see Francine walking toward her. “What’s wrong? Is something bothering you?” Francine asked her.
“Something is, but I have to work it out myself.” The warmth of Francine’s hand on her shoulder consoled Jolene, and she wanted to ask her help, but the thought of sharing that woeful experience with a woman as worldly as Francine embarrassed her.
“If you need a friend, I’m here. See you at supper.”
If she needed a friend? She’d never had a female friend, and after trying to make one of Vida, she wasn’t sure that having one was a good thing. Yet, it didn’t take a genius to know that gender was the only thing Vida and Francine had in common.
“Maybe we can have some coffee together after supper, Francine,” she said and continued to her room.
After supper, Jolene joined Francine in the lounge, and they sat at a small table beneath a painting of Mary McLeod Bethune. “I always admired this woman,” Francine said, pointing to the portrait. “She founded Bethune-Cookman College in Daytona Beach over a hundred years ago, and it exists and thrives today. Gender and race didn’t prevent her from making a contribution to her people and from earning a name for herself.”
“I wish I could do something like that, Francine. I had so much fun helping Richard and Gregory with the children in the computer class at the library tonight. If I had a college degree, I could do things.”
“In four years or less, you can have one. Why not go for it?”
“I was just going to take some courses, but I think I’ll register for a degree. There’s so much I don’t know, and I keep learning by making mistakes, hurting people, and myself.”
Francine accepted the cappuccino that Rodger offered, sprinkled it with cinnamon and sugar and took a sip. “Ahh, this is great. Thanks, Rodger.” To Jolene, she said, “No matter how many books you read or how many lectures you attend, the only way you’re going to learn about life is by living. Oh, the books and lectures help you to reason and to chart your course, but the loyalty of a friend or the kiss of a man who truly loves you are lessons you never forget.” Jolene toyed absent-mindedly with the lemon meringue pie, one of her favorite desserts, thinking of Percy and the unpleasant lesson that flirting with him and trying to use him had taught her.
“What’s troubling you, Jolene? Can I help?”
“I don’t know. What I did was so awful that I’m embarrassed to tell you about it, but I have to find a way to make amends.”
“Is there a man involved?”
“Yes. It . . . uh happened about three months after I moved here.” With effort, she forced herself to tell Francine about instigating a tryst with Percy Lucas and about the outcome. “I feel as if I’ve damaged him irreparably. He almost met me on the stairs tonight, and turned and went back to his room. I’m so sorry about the mess I made. He’d never said a word to me or done anything to deserve it.”
“You act as if what you did is equivalent to murder; well, it isn’t. You had just learned that you have some power over men and you decided to test it. That happens to most girls when they’re teenagers. You’re a late bloomer. Write him a nice letter telling him how you feel about it, how much you appreciate his gentlemanly behavior, and send him some flowers. He’ll be delighted, and he will probably bounce out of his depression, or whatever it is that ails him.”
Jolene rubbed her hands together, smiling as she did so. “A letter. Why didn’t I think of that? Thanks so much, Francine. Lord, I hope it works, and I hope he likes roses.”
“While we’re at it, Jolene, there’re two sides to this man-woman business. You mustn’t flirt if you’re not going to follow through and keep your promise, and you never make love with a man on his terms. You do that if and when you want to. For me, I have to know that the man loves me. I know that’s old-fashioned, but I won’t give myself to the care of a man who doesn’t think I’m precious to him.”
“But suppose you want to and he doesn’t love you. Then what?”
Laughter rippled out of Francine. “I deny myself, and I suffer.”
Jolene followed Francine’s gaze to Richard Peterson. Ah, so Richard and Francine were at a standoff, because Richard wasn’t in love. If I’d had that much sense, I never would have gone to bed with Harper, and he probably wouldn’t be in that wheelchair.
“What if you’re in love with him?” she asked Francine, sensing the answer.
“I am, but I’m a disciplined person, and I don’t let my vagina make important decisions for me. If the guy doesn’t love me, we can be friends, but we definitely won’t be in the same bed simultaneously. Period.”
“But—”
Francine interrupted her. “It isn’t difficult, Jolene. Stand your ground. If you give in, you won’t be happy. Men will take what comes easily, but most of them won’t value it.” She threw up her hands. “My Lord, Jolene, to have a man who loves you and will worship every centimeter of skin on your body and every inch of the inside of you he can reach . . . I get practically unconscious thinking about it. I mean, if that’s not heaven on earth, what is?”
Jolene wouldn’t have believed that Francine would discuss anything so personal. Both simple and sophisticated, the woman fascinated her. “If you loved him, too,” she said. “I’m sure it would be heaven. Thanks for talking with me, Francine. You’ve taught me more than you can guess. I’m going to write that letter to Percy before I go to bed. Good-night.” Her cellular phone rang as she reached the top of the stairs.
Francine had hoped that Jolene would remain with her in the lounge for a while longer. She wasn’t ready to go to her room, and if she remained alone at that little table, it would appear that she was deliberately avoiding Richard, since no one avoided Judd. But she wasn’t so foolhardy as to think she could sit knee to knee with Richard Peterson and not take a whipping both from her heart and from her libido. She stiffened her shoulders, drained her cup and walked over to the table where Judd was teaching Richard how to play pinochle.
“Glad you decided to visit with your friends,” Judd said. “Do you know how to play pinochle?”
“Haven’t played it since college,” she told him, ignoring his barb.
“Good, I haven’t played it since I sold m’ business and moved here. It’s more fun with three than two or four. Want to join us for a hand? With you playing, Richard will learn faster.”
Richard got up and went to get a chair for her, brought it back and waited until she sat down. Then, he took his own seat, looked at her and said, “We can’t play tennis until spring. Would you like to learn to skeet shoot?”
In other words, would she spend time alone with him? “Thanks, Richard, but I’d rather not. Sports shooting goes against my politics. I’ll hike over one of those nature trails in Ocean Pines with you sometime.”
His gaze seemed to penetrate her flesh. “I don’t care what we do as long as we do it together.”
At her sharp intake of breath, Judd put his cards on the table and said. “I’m getting sleepy. I’ll see you in the morning, Richard. Good night, Francine.”
“Why did you say that, Richard? You embarrassed him.”
“Not by a long shot, I didn’t. Judd knows there’s something going on between us, and he is also aware that you avoided me this evening. I said that because I figured you didn’t plan to be alone with me, and I’m a man known for capitalizing on opportunities, however rare and however small. If you’re off this weekend, can we hike as you suggested? I want us to be together.”
“You’re not ready for a genuine relationship with me, Richard, and I am not going to accept what you offered.”
He leaned back in the chair and looked her in the eye. “And what did I offer?”
If he had the guts to ask, she had the guts to tell him. “You offered me sex.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
She let a shrug enforce her words. “Nothing, if that’s what suits you. It’s not what I’m about. If you’ll excuse me—”
His hand covered hers. “You want a commitment? I can’t give it. If I let myself go with you, I’d be a nervous wreck whenever I wasn’t looking at you, scared to death that I’d find you in a heap somewhere. Lifeless. I couldn’t bear it.”
“You care for me, and you don’t like the idea. I am who I am, Richard. If and when you come to me with your true feelings bared, I’ll welcome you with my arms wide open.”
He sucked in his breath, and she knew she’d struck a blow that hurt. “As recently as a year ago, I would have taken you merely because I could and thought nothing of it, but I’ve put that lifestyle behind me. I’m straight with you. Why can’t you take me for what I am?”
“Eventually, I will, and you will be precisely what I want and need.”
He stared at her. “What the devil does that mean?”
She smiled because a glow of happiness flowed through her body. “You’ll see. Good-night.”
Inside her room, she removed her revolver and cell phone from her purse and placed them on her night table. She wondered how long that red light on her cell phone had been flashing. A check showed three messages from her captain, who wanted her to call him.
“We’re holding a man who fits the description of one of those men you saw on the beach. Can you get over here as fast as possible?” he said.
The first call had come in more than an hour earlier. She didn’t have to hide her activities from Richard, but after what he’d said earlier, she didn’t want him to see her leaving the house at ten-thirty at night. She dressed in a gray sweater, black woolen pants suit, boots, and her storm coat, put her revolver and cell phone back into her pocketbook and prayed that she wouldn’t encounter Richard. After mussing up her bed to make it appear that she’d slept in it, she managed to get out of the house without encountering anyone.
“He’s not one of them,” she said when she saw the suspect, “at least not one of the three men I saw. Next time, could you please wait until the next morning. If any person in that boardinghouse had seen me leaving there at ten-thirty at night, no explanation would convince them that I’m a moral person.”
“Sorry, but we had to make a judgment. At least we know he isn’t the one.”
“I’m staying over here tonight in a motel. The boardinghouse front door will be locked by the time I get back there.”
“Say, I am sorry,” the captain said.
“Sure. From now on, please don’t expect me to come out so late unless it’s a genuine emergency. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Richard walked from one end of his room to the other one and back again several times, pausing occasionally to observe through his window the clear moon and the waves that sloshed and danced seductively beneath it. He plowed his fingers through his hair, punishing his scalp and exacerbating the pain in his head. Where the hell had she gone at almost eleven o’clock at night? And what was she doing? Would she try to handle those thugs alone? He couldn’t stand knowing that she was probably in danger and being helpless to protect her.
“If I get my hands on her, I’ll shake her. It’s too dangerous, and her superiors ought to know that.” He slapped his left fist in his right palm. “Of all the women in this world, I have to fall for a police—fall? Who said I’d fallen?” He dropped himself on the side of his bed, leaned forward and, with his forearms on his thighs, clasped his head in his hands.
For most of the night, he listened for her steps on the stairs and in the hallway past his room with no results. At daybreak, he rolled out of the rumpled sheets, dressed and went to the parking lot behind the boardinghouse, didn’t see her car and hurried to the beach, his heart in his mouth, as his fear for her well-being rose to frightening proportions. No sign of her, and he didn’t know whether to be glad or more miserable. Where was she? If any person had entered that house during the night, he would have known it.
He faced the ocean and let the frigid wind punish him. If she’d been out there, she would have frozen. As he headed back to the house, chills gripped his body, the wind drew tears from his eyes, and he blew his breath upward to warm his face. Hunched over against the elements, he began to run. Maybe she’d come home after he left. He checked the parking lot again. What had happened to her? What if she needed him? He couldn’t stand it. She wouldn’t stay out all night, unless she was in trouble.
If only he had remembered to get her cell phone number. He telephoned Dan, the taxi driver. “I need a couple of hours of your time, Dan, as soon as you can get here.”
“Be there in half an hour, Mr. Peterson.”
Back in the house, he paced the floor of the lounge until the dining room opened for breakfast. “I have a couple of errands to do,” he told Judd. “I’ll see you at supper.”
“Where to?” Dan asked him.
“Ocean Pines. Just drive slowly around the center of town. I’m looking for a white 2004 Cougar.”
“Yes, sir.”
He tried to relax, but knew he wouldn’t until he saw her safe and unharmed. When he saw that her car was not parked at the police station, he thought his heart had dropped into his belly.
It was about eight-thirty when he yelled at Dan: “Stop right here.” A motel? Why the hell was her car parked in front of a motel? His first inclination was to go in and check the register. He stood at the walkway that led to the motel’s office and stared ahead catatonic-like, immobilized.
“What is it, Mr. Peterson?” Dan asked him. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I’ve just verified my stupidity. Let’s go back to the boardinghouse.”