Chapter Ten
Richard watched Judd rush up the stairs, sprightly as a far younger man and seemingly unmindful of his eighty-five years. He sensed that Judd loved his sister, but did love—any kind of love—do that for a person? Alone in the living room, Richard walked over to a window near the fireplace and looked out. Pecans covered the earth beneath two enormous pecan trees. He shook his head in wonder. If the family members didn’t want the nuts or didn’t need income from them, they could at least give them to a needy person. Musing over the idea, it occurred to him that, as recently as two months earlier, no such thought would have crossed his mind. He marveled at the changes in himself.
“Hi.”
At the sound of that soft, feminine purr, he whirled around and stared into the face of temptation. Five feet, eight inches tall; big, almond-shaped brown eyes; a honey complexion; youthful breasts nearly popping out of a tight sweater; and rounded hips in jeans slung so low that he could see the beginning of her pubic hair. He caught himself a second before he would have released a sharp whistle.
“Who’re you?” she asked him with all the cockiness of a female aware of her feminine assets and of their effect on a man.
“Richard Peterson. Are you as reckless as I suspect you are?” he asked her in a tone that was part arrogant and part scornful. He judged her to be about twenty-one or twenty-two.
She shortened the distance between them to about five feet and cocked her head to one side, openly appraising him as a man.
“Like what you see?” he asked, tersely, then turned and resumed his inspection of the world beyond the window.
“Sure beats anything I’ve ever seen in this town,” she replied. “How long are you staying?”
Annoyed as he was, he recognized himself in her. A player sure of her shots and unconcerned about what they hit. He commented on her remark. “Beats any thing you’ve seen, huh? Where, other than Raleigh, North Carolina, have you been?”
“Nowhere,” she said airily. “Can I . . . uh . . . give you something?”
He thought for a moment that he had swallowed his tongue, and when he recovered from the shock, he said, “You should have more respect for your elders,” aware that he was grabbing at any means of shielding himself from her sexual onslaught. However, instead of taking him seriously, she laughed.
“I can take care of myself. Can you?”
He swung around, then, gritting his teeth, and his gazed captured her hardened nipples, which strained against the tight sweater. “Oh, I can take care of myself,” he said, “and you, too. You like to challenge men, do you? Well, if I take you up on that, you’ll never forget it.”
She looked him in the eye. “That’s what I’m hoping.”
“I see you’ve met Gretchen, m’ niece.”
Richard looked up to find Judd’s gaze locked on him and a quizzical expression on the old man’s face. “Yes,” he said, hating the sound of wariness in his voice, “we’ve met.”
“Can I tear you loose long enough to take you upstairs to meet m’ sister?”
“Sure. That won’t be difficult,” he replied and immediately regretted putting Gretchen down. Wasn’t he partly responsible for her fresh behavior? Hadn’t he made the mistake of registering his reaction to her on his face and in his demeanor? Hell, he’d behaved like a stallion on a stud farm for so long that it had become as native to him as the clothes he wore. He swore harshly beneath his breath.
“How’s your sister doing?” he asked Judd as he followed him up the stairs.
“Well, I haven’t seen her in a while, but she looks pretty good, and her voice is as strong as ever. Still, I know she’s sick.”
In the room, a chamber decorated with white furniture and curtains, and heather blue walls, bedding, and carpeting that impressed him as a cheerful place in which to be sick, Judd took his sister’s hand. “Josie, this here’s m’ friend, Ambassador Richard Peterson.” He decided that to correct Judd would deprecate him in some way, so he accepted the reference to his former status.
“I’m so glad to meet you, sir,” she said. “Judd’s letters are full of nice things about you. Thanks for bringing him to see me.”
“I’m glad we could come. How are you feeling?”
“Pretty good, all things considered. Yesterday, the doctor told me I’d soon be up and that he doesn’t expect me to . . . check out for a while yet.”
“That’s good news,” Richard said. “Perhaps the next time we come, you’ll be able to show us around your city.”
“Not much to see, but I sure will enjoy showing you what’s here. Judd, ask Gretchen to come here, please.”
“I’ll do it,” Richard said. He went to the top of the stairs and called her. “Your mother wants you.” She didn’t answer, and he stood there staring while she took her time, sashaying up the steps like an exotic dancer. At the top of the stairs, she managed to brush his body while looking him in the eye. He’d never seen such a brazen woman, and he had a mind to teach her a lesson.
“You want me, Mama?” she asked, the picture of innocence.
“Honey, would you give Ambassador Peterson and your uncle Judd some lunch? They must be starved after that long drive.”
Richard held up his right hand. “Oh, no. We don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“I baked a North Carolina ham yesterday, and I made some buttermilk biscuits this morning. We’ve got string beans, corn and coconut cake. There’s plenty,” Gretchen added, looking at her mother and not at him.
So she knew that her mother wouldn’t approve of her behavior. Hmm. Probably a phony. Suddenly, his bruised nerves heated up. He’d bet a few thousand that she was a virgin. An experienced woman wouldn’t feel the need to broadcast her sexuality. Well. Well. He swallowed the liquid that accumulated in his mouth, and closed his eyes, for he remembered the one experience he’d had introducing a woman to her sexual potential. Before it was over, she drove him to the stratosphere, so to speak.
“Until you’ve eaten North Carolina ham, you haven’t tasted ham,” Judd said.
Richard observed Judd’s eagerness to show him hospitality, even though he expressed it through his sister. “You won’t catch me turning down this kind of food,” he said. “Of course, I’ll stay.”
He had to admit that the food was, indeed, first class and that he hadn’t eaten better biscuits. “You’re an excellent cook,” he told Gretchen. “These biscuits are to die for.”
“Thanks.” Her eyelids fluttered. “I’m good at everything I do.”
Judd’s fork clattered against his plate. He looked first at his niece and then at him. Now what? She had made her interest in him clear to Judd, who stopped eating and stared at her. But Gretchen continued her game as if Judd was either too old or too stupid to know that she was flirting with Richard. He saw the disappointment and the sadness on the old man’s face and was moved by it. In forty-four years, he had made one friend, and he was learning that doing things for a person didn’t prove friendship, that loyalty was probably the test. For the past hour, he had been thrashed alternately by the ravages of his libido and by what remained of his habit of accepting what women offered, provided it interested him and had no strings. He looked at Judd, who seemed shrouded in sadness, and decided to put an end to it.
“How old are you?” he asked Gretchen, and he could see that she was taken aback.
“Uh . . . twenty-two.”
“I’m exactly twice your age and old enough to be your father. You’ve been flaunting your breasts and your behind at me ever since I’ve been here. I’m tired of it, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop it right now.”
She gasped. “How can you say that?”
“I’m a man of the world, Gretchen, and when it comes to women, I haven’t misunderstood one in years. And trust me; I’ve had a slew of ’em. No point in being offended. I didn’t get mad when you deliberately brushed against me at the top of the stairs.” He changed the subject. “Judd, if I told Marilyn how good these biscuits are, she’d never forgive me.”
He hardly believed the change in Judd’s demeanor. Had Judd really thought he would take his friend’s niece to bed for the sport of it? “You’re too smart to tell Marilyn that,” Judd said and turned his attention to his niece. “You just learned a lesson and, if you got any sense, you won’t have to learn it again. You thought I didn’t know what was going on, didn’t you? I was on to you from the time I came down here to ask Ambassador Peterson to come meet m’ sister. Try that on some men, and they’ll make you deliver whether you want to or not.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle Judd.”
“You should be. You got any lemonade or sweetened iced tea?”
She brought a pitcher of each and, to Richard’s surprise, she rejoined them at the table. “What’s it like where you live, Uncle Judd?”
Judd sipped the iced tea with relish, the pleasure of it mirrored on his face. “Water everywhere. Perfect in summer, and just cold enough in winter. All in all, it’s a lot like paradise.”
With a long sigh, she leaned back in her chair, a person without purpose. Richard looked at Gretchen, twenty-two years old, bored with her life, and ripe for trouble. If she thought he was going to provide excitement for her, she could forget it.
“We ought to get started pretty soon,” Judd said. “Fannie will kick up a storm if the two of us are late for supper.”
“Right,” he replied, though the prospect didn’t worry him. “I’ll run up and say good-bye to your sister.”
Judd drained his glass of its remaining iced tea. “I’ll go with you.”
“I don’t think we’ll make it home for supper,” Judd said about two hours later. “We’re just getting to Northampton.”
“You’re right, and this looks like a good place to stop,” Richard said as they approached an inn, a large white brick structure with red shutters at its windows, smoke billowing from its chimney, and an elegant facade that faced the ocean. “Let’s see what this place is offering.”
“Nice place,” he said to Judd when he returned to the rented Chevrolet. “What do you say we spend the night here? I’ll call Fannie and let her know. It’s on me.”
“I can’t let you pay for m’ room,” Judd said. “Pretty soon, you’ll be broke, and I’ll have to take care of you.”
“I already paid in advance,” he told Judd. “Come on.”
After an excellent supper of fish right out of the bay, he sat in the lounge sipping coffee and thinking over the day. A day in which he’d done something that he would always look back on with pride. He hadn’t let his friend down, and he had turned his back on what every molecule of his body screamed for—sex with a luscious female naïve enough to give him carte blanche.
“I got a lot to thank you for,” Judd said, bringing him out of his reverie.
“What’s that?”
“You could have had Gretchen if you wanted to, and for a while there, I thought you would because she was getting to you. You’ll never know what a relief I felt when you put her in her place. She loves to toy with men; I’ve seen her at it since she was twelve or thirteen. She’s a tease, and I hope you taught her a lesson.”
Richard rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand. “For once, I did the right thing.”
Judd rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Yeah, and you haven’t always done that, have you? When you dance with the devil, son, you gotta pay the tab, and I suspect you owe him.”
Richard leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “And how! I’m no saint, and you know it. If she hadn’t been your niece, I’d probably be in her right now, good intentions be damned. It’s been a year since I touched a woman.” He sat forward and looked straight at Judd. “You know, something happened to me. You could say it was an epiphany of sorts. I felt cleansed after I straightened her out. For the first time in my memory, I did the right thing with a woman at a time when . . . when my needs said do the opposite.”
The fire crackled, and sparks shot up the old fashioned chimney, but it was more than the fire that warmed Richard Peterson. For the first time in his life, he had a friend with whom he could talk, a friend with whom he needn’t bother to posture or pretend. He leaned back again, clasped his hands behind his head and spoke softly.
“You know, Judd, I don’t believe there are many men my age who can regret as many deeds and as many experiences as I do. I was self-centered from childhood, demanding things that my parents couldn’t afford. As I look back, I realize they made so many sacrifices for me, denied the fulfillment of their own needs for my sake and with no thanks from me.
“I’ve mistreated more women than I’ve been gracious to. Oh, I didn’t abuse them physically, slander or betray them, but I took what they offered—knowing that I had beguiled them with charm, manners, and my appearance—and then I left them to deal with it as best they could. I’m speaking of dozens of women, Judd. Married, single, young, old, white, black, any color or nationality. I made love to them efficiently, flawlessly, felt nothing but physical release, and went on my way.
“When I was nineteen, I fathered a child with a girl I loved and wanted to marry.” Judd’s eyebrows shot up, but he said nothing. “But she had her own agenda,” Richard continued, squeezed his eyes tight and said, “and she aborted it. I felt that for many years.”
“Is that what keeps you from committing to Francine?”
“No. I got over that some years ago. But I met a woman in my circle, well placed, and her status about equal to mine, and she was no pushover. I thought she was playing hard to get, but as it turned out, she wasn’t. She was elegant and well aware of who she was. There was a guy around her, but I discounted him as of no importance. Certainly no competition for me, an ambassador.
“I meant to have her as one of my trophies, nothing more. When I’d about given up, she let me make love with her, and I fell in love, but she didn’t. More proof that I didn’t understand her. She let me down gently, and about six month later, she married another man. Not a night passes when I don’t think about her.”
“How long ago did all this take place?”
“I last saw her three years ago. I reached the pinnacle. I had everything. I went from life in a four-story walk-up apartment in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, to executive-director of an important nongovernmental international agency in which my personal office was bigger than the apartment in which I grew up. The world was my oyster, and I walked away from it.”
Judd’s creased brow showed how perplexed he was. “Why, for goodness sake?”
“I had paid too dearly, stepped on too many people on my way up. I couldn’t enjoy it. I began to see my shallowness and that of my colleagues. I couldn’t stand it. I wanted out. Forty-three years old, and I didn’t have a person I could call friend, didn’t even know I needed one.” His sigh seemed to pour out of him like water streaming from a jug. “When I realized that I cared deeply for you, I was shocked. It was a strange new feeling. I don’t know how it came about, but I’m thankful.”
Judd sipped what was left of his cold coffee, thoughtfully, as if he wanted his next words to have strong import. “You’ve painted a dark picture of yourself, Richard Peterson. Now, I’d like you to tell me some of the good things you’ve done.”
“What do you . . . Oh, I suppose there’ve been a few.”
“But the ones that stay on your mind are the ones you’re not proud of. Whatever you did that you’re not proud of, let it loose. Let all of it go, including that woman.”
“Judd, I can’t forget her. It’s as if she’s my jail sentence.”
Judd cocked his head to one side and looked Richard in the eye, his expression stern. “You want it to be your jail sentence. Don’t enjoy your punishment so much. Go to see her, talk with her, and get rid of that thing that’s bedeviling you. Then you can get on with your life.”
“But, she’s married. I can’t do that.”
“You can so, and it’ll be the best discipline you ever had. When you face her, you may find you’ve been overestimating your feelings for her.”
“Suppose I find that I care more for her than I thought I did. What if seeing her exacerbates an already intolerable situation?”
Judd threw up both hands as if losing patience. “It can’t happen. If it could, you wouldn’t feel the way you do about Francine. You haven’t taken Francine to bed, because you won’t lie to her and treat her the way you treated all those women you didn’t care about. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”
Richard got up, walked to the fireplace, stood there for a few minutes, and then went back to his chair and sat down. “I promised myself I wouldn’t call or contact Estelle in any way, that I’d respect the fact that she’s married.”
“Normally, I’d agree, but your passion for that woman has been your bedmate for so long you think you can’t sleep without it. I see what’s going on between you and Francine, and I say you don’t love any other woman.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“’Cause I’ve lived a long time. I know when I’m looking at lust and when I’m looking at love between two people who are perfect for each other.”
“Wish I could be that certain,” Richard said and blew out a long breath. He had exposed himself to Judd, a man he’d known a mere eight months, in a way that he’d never revealed himself to another human being. He spoke to the man in soft tones. “You don’t think less of me after what I just told you?”
Judd furrowed his brow. “Me? Not a bit, and why should I? I’m only concerned with who and what you are now, m’best friend, the fellow who gave me—an old man—m’first birthday party, who opened a new world to a lot of people in Pike Hill. Sixty adults and well-nigh seventy-five kids will have computer skills because of your efforts. You’re a fine man.”
He hoped his eyes communicated his feeling at that moment, for Judd’s words touched him deeply. “Thank you,” he said. “You don’t know what hearing you say that means to me.”
Richard and Judd arrived in Ocean Pines around eleven o’clock the next morning and returned the rental car. After wondering what he could do to placate Fannie, Richard bought a bushel and a half of crabs, called Dan, the taxi driver, and he and Judd got to the Thank the Lord Boarding House in time for lunch. Fannie met them at the door.
“I don’t like my boarders to stay out all night, but at least you called so I wouldn’t worry.”
Instead of responding, Richard pointed to the sack of crabs. “We thought you’d like to have these. The crabber had just pulled them out of the sound.”
The reprimand forgotten, her eyes widened, and a smile brightened her face. “Oh, thank you. Thank you! Lord, I do love these crabs. We’ll have them for supper.” She dashed off in the direction of the kitchen.
Richard gazed at Judd. “How do you like that? I knew she’d lecture to us, and I also knew that those crabs would cool her off.”
“Yes, siree,” Judd said, scratching his head. “There’s more than one way to seduce a woman.”
After a day of acting for the first time as manager of the beauty parlor in her boss’ absence and dealing with the consequent hostility of her coworkers, Jolene stepped off the bus and rushed up Ocean Road, her eyes burning from the wind’s assault. Getting a second promotion should have made her happy, and in a way, it had, but she didn’t seem able to shed the weight of Gregory’s indifference or to forgive herself for having caused it. Maybe if she hadn’t told him all those things about herself . . . No. She wanted a clean slate, and she’d done the right thing. “I’ll get over it,” she told herself.
With the icy wind slamming into her, it seemed to her that the short, three-block walk took far longer than usual. When she finally reached the Thank the Lord Boarding House, she fumbled in her pocketbook for the door key, but couldn’t find it. After a minute or so, the door opened, and she stared into Richard’s face.
“Thanks. My fingers are so numb I couldn’t feel the door key.”
“No problem,” he said. “Glad I was down here.”
She started up the stairs, turned and walked back. “Richard . . . you . . . uh . . . got a minute?”
“Sure. Let’s go in there.” He pointed to the lounge.
She sat across from him and tried to figure out how to begin. “I’ve never known a man like you,” she began without planning to say that. “You’re so perfect, Richard, so you must know a lot of people.”
He stiffened, and she suspected he thought she intended to ask him for something. “Richard, how do you make friends, and how do you know when somebody is your friend?”
He stared at her until, embarrassed, she rose to leave. “Please don’t go. I’m the last person you should ask that question, Jolene. I have no idea. Judd is the only friend I ever had.”
It was her turn to stare. “What? You’re joking. You’re so handsome and so . . . so polished that anybody would want to be your friend.”
His laughter held no mirth. “Jolene, what a person looks like hasn’t a thing to do with friendship. The way I see it, friends are people who’re there for you when you have nothing to give them. What’s the problem?”
She hadn’t thought he’d tell her anything so personal as his not having friends. She reached toward him, but quickly withdrew her hand. “Richard, my life is a mess. I had a chance to start life here without my mother riding my back, free to live like other people, to make friends so I wouldn’t be so lonely, and to find someone who would care for me. I never had anyone who loved me, starting with my mother, a mean, bitter woman who wouldn’t even tell me who fathered me.”
He didn’t seem to react to her statement and she remembered that she had already told him about her mother.
“You’ve made remarkable progress here, Jolene, and you should take pride in that.”
“Richard, whatever I know about life now, I should have known when I was sixteen. I’m almost thirty-six.”
She looked him in the eye and took a deep breath. “I’ve met several nice men since I’ve been here, and I’ve messed up with every one of them.”
“What do you mean?” He wasn’t sure that he wanted to serve as a confessor for Jolene or anybody else, but he remembered his relief after spilling his guts to Judd, and he softened his tone to give her courage. “Sometimes it helps to talk about it.”
“I thought all men wanted from women was sex, that they used them and left them to handle the result as best they could. That’s what my mama said, and she said it all the time. I think she hated men. When I came here, I’d never gone anywhere with a man; all I knew about them was what my mama said.
He leaned toward her. “You didn’t date any of your school mates?”
She shook her head. “Gregory Hicks was my first date. He liked me, and it gave me a . . .” she looked for the word . . . “a superior feeling, so I used him, asking him to take me to expensive places, maneuvering him into buying me a cell phone, writing me a job reference, and things like that. Then, I stood him up for Bob Tucker. I see my mistake now, but he’s apparently not much interested. Oh, heck, I might as well tell you all of it.” And she did, including the insensible loss of her virginity. He whistled sharply at that.
“I didn’t know it was important until Jim was so shocked and disgusted. Mama had never mentioned it to me.”
“My Lord!”
She plodded on. “Harper told me I didn’t have feelings for a man, that I was only out for what I could get. I caused him to have that accident, and the first time I went to the hospital to see him, he told me that he’d fallen in love with me, but he didn’t want any part of me.” She sat forward. “Richard, I don’t mourn my mother.”
“Wait a minute! You can’t blame this on your mother. You could read, and you could have talked with other people. You could also have observed relationships between the men and women you met. You’re the one who charted your misdeeds. A thirty-five-year-old woman is responsible for herself and for everything she does, so stop blaming your mother. You wanted revenge against her, your unknown father, or maybe against life, and you took it out on men because you’d been taught that men are the source of all problems.”
She pushed back the tears that threatened to embarrass her. “Maybe you’re right, but I was so immersed in my newly found freedom that I didn’t consider the effect of what I was doing. Francine told me that men have feelings, that they love, hurt and suffer just like we women do. She said a man’s tenderness is a precious thing. Richard, I had never heard words like those.”
“That caused you to change?”
“No. I was already looking hard at myself, thanks to Harper’s accident, experiences at my job, and living here. You, Judd, and Francine have taught me what I should have known twenty years earlier.”
Hearing the agony in her voice and seeing the pain etched on her face tugged at his heart. He knew nothing of women’s sufferings, had become inured to the effect on them of his callousness. In Jolene, he saw himself as he had been when he strode through life stepping on women as if they were weeds.
Francine would love and cherish him, but he wanted Estelle. Jolene wanted Gregory Hicks, but Harper Masterson nearly gave his life for love of her. Jolene had the power to straighten out her life and, he realized with a start, he could do the same with his own life. He leaned forward and capped his knees with the palms of his hand.
“I’m not used to giving personal advice, but I think you’re pining for the wrong man. And you ought to straighten things out with Percy. I knew something had happened between the two of you, and I can see why he was devastated. It took the starch out of him.”
“I know. I wrote him a letter, but I haven’t given it to him yet.”
“A letter? Talk to him. Face him. If you don’t, he’ll continue to avoid you.”
“Thanks, I’ll try to find an opportunity.”
“If you’re interested in doing the right thing, Jolene, you’ll make an opportunity.”
“I will. Thanks for talking to me and listening to me. I hope you don’t think I’m a bad person.”
“Why should I? Your slate’s as clean as mine. I’d be the last person to judge you.”
She rose to leave him, and he stood. To his astonishment, she reached up and kissed his cheek. “See you at supper.” She did it impulsively, he knew, but the feeling it gave him of belonging, of rapport with a kindred soul would remain with him for a long time.
She started toward the stairs, stopped and turned back. “Francine is in love with you, Richard. Are you going to try to fix things up with her?”
That she would ask him such a personal question startled him at first. Then he smiled. Hadn’t they just shared intimacies such as only friends would do? “Right now, she’s my number-one priority. Thanks for telling me that.”
Judd would be coming down soon, so he hurried to his room for a few minutes to himself before dinner. He didn’t feel like sharing his feelings with his friend. He had a decision to make, an important one, and he didn’t want to be influenced by anyone’s logic but his own. He stared out of his bedroom window at the darkness that fell so early on November evenings, the waves that lashed on the sound barely visible. As he stood there, a full moon seemed to rise out of the ocean beyond, casting its light upon the waves that danced and undulated beneath it like a woman grasping at sexual relief.
A knock on his door brought an end to his ruminations. “Yes?” he opened the door and gazed down into Fannie’s face.
“I wondered if you were all right, Richard. You’ve never been late for a meal, and I wondered if anything was wrong. Is everything okay?”
He could hardly believe the tender solicitousness in her voice. She was not exercising authority or attempting to control his behavior as he might once have thought. She cared, and the idea stunned him. As quickly as he could, he retrieved his aplomb.
“I’m sorry, Fannie, but I’ve been wrestling with . . . something that’s terribly important to me, and I let the time slip by. I’ll try not to let it happen again.”
She continued to look at him very much in the way that a mother examines a child. “I’ve never done this unless one of my boarders was sick, but if you won’t feel comfortable eating in the dining room, I’ll bring your dinner up to you. You seem a bit ill at ease.”
He forced a half smile. “You’ll never know how much I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I’ll go down with you.”
She patted him on the shoulder, and he realized that was the first time she had touched him. “I’m glad. If I can do anything, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”
“I certainly will,” he said, and he meant it. When they reached the bottom step, he voiced the decision at which he arrived while descending the stairs with her. “I’ll be away for a few days beginning this weekend, but I ought to be back here by Wednesday.”
After supper, he sat with Judd and Francine in the lounge, exchanging banalities, for his mind wasn’t on the conversation. Finally, he said, “I have to be in New York the first of the week, but I should be back here by Wednesday. You two behave yourselves.”
He glanced at Judd who nodded his approval. “When you get to be my age, nothing for you to do but behave.”
“When will you leave?” Francine asked him.
“Sunday morning.”
“I spent the day getting m’annual medical checkup,” Judd said, “and I’m worn out. See you in the morning.”
Francine accepted a cup of cappuccino from Rodger and took a few sips. “Is this a business trip?”
He tapped the table with the fingers of his right hand. “You could say that.”
She lowered her gaze, and he knew that she had guessed correctly that he intended to see a woman. “When did you decide to go?”
“While I was walking down the stairs on my way to supper. Francine, it’s important that I do this. I have to know where I’m going. Do you understand?”
“Not really.”
“I need to put my house in order.”
She toyed with the fingers of his right hand, concentrating on them as if seeing a Rembrandt for the first time. After a few minutes, she looked up and focused her gaze on his face. “You have my blessing.”
On Saturday afternoon, Jolene sat in her room reading one of the books on personal development that Judd brought her from the library. She was realizing that any information she needed could be found in a book and that Richard was right in saying she shouldn’t have been ignorant about the facts of life because she could read. She hadn’t bothered to tell him that if her mother thought she was reading, she would find something for her to do, that she had no life of her own. She had hardly begun the chapter on manners when her cell phone rang. Thinking that it was probably her boss, she was tempted not to answer.
“Hello,” she said, letting the tenor of her voice tell the caller that she was being disturbed.
“Hello, Jolene. This is Gregory. How are you?”
She managed to get her breath back. “Hi. It’s nice to hear from you, Gregory. I’d begun to think you weren’t planning to call me again.”
“Uh . . . no such thing. I had some issues to work through.”
She told herself that it was his call, and that she should wait to find out what he wanted but, in her eagerness to resume a relationship with him, she eased his way with small talk. “It’s pretty cold outside. I didn’t expect this so early in the winter.”
“I hope you don’t think it’s too cold to take in a movie with me this afternoon.”
Her antenna went up. The women in the beauty parlor claimed that if a man invited you out during the week or for an afternoon date, he didn’t think much of you. “I’m busy this afternoon,” she said, “but we could see a movie this evening.”
“I was thinking we could see a movie this afternoon and then have dinner someplace.”
She wanted to kick herself. Hadn’t she learned that conniving to get something from men could backfire? She could offer to change her plans, but she remembered that she broke a date with him in order to go out with Bob Tucker. “Maybe tomorrow, Gregory, provided you’re not busy.”
“Well, I usually prefer dates for Saturday, because I have to get to work early Monday mornings, but . . . all right. Why don’t I come by for you about two tomorrow afternoon?”
“Fine. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you.”
After she hung up, she replayed the conversation in her mind. “Something’s wrong here,” she said aloud. “Wonder what it is.”
When she walked into the dining room that Sunday morning, Richard sat at his usual table, and an overnight bag leaned against the wall beside it. “Mind if I join you?” she asked him.
“Not at all. Judd will probably be down here in a minute, so pull up that chair over there.”
“You going somewhere?” When he told her his travel plans, she said, “Gosh, I hope you don’t decide to stay up there. I’m so used to you, it wouldn’t seem like home here without you.”
He stopped eating. “Jolene, that is the nicest thing you ever said to me. I’ve also begun to regard this place as my home, and I think that’s because this really is a family.”
“It is, I guess. We’re a bunch of misfits, but we get along better than some blood relatives. Would you believe Gregory called me for a date? I’m seeing him today.”
“Have a good time, but take a good look at the situation and try not to pretend what isn’t real.”
“Meaning?”
“If you don’t feel it, don’t act it. You know what I’m saying?”
“Good morning, Rodger. Scrambled eggs, sage sausage, popovers, coffee, and orange juice, please.” She turned to Richard. “I think so. After I talked with him, I felt something wasn’t right, but I’ll give it a shot.”
“Here’s Judd,” he said. “How are you this morning, friend?”
“I’m m’usual self for this time of day. Too bad it’s not summer. I could use a good, bracing swim.”
She waited until Richard finished eating and stood to leave. “I think I heard the doorbell.”
Richard looked at his watch. “That’s Dan. Right on time. Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need luck,” Judd said. “You need a clear head. Safe trip.”
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Jolene said, but when they entered the hallway, she saw Francine leaning against the banister rubbing her eyes. “I got up to tell you good-bye,” she said to Richard.
The situation appeared awkward to Jolene, so she said, “Why don’t you kiss him good-bye, Francine, and let him go. His taxi is here.”
Richard thanked her with his eyes and drew Francine into his arms. To give them privacy, Jolene went back into the dining room and sat with Judd.
“I thought you were telling Richard good-bye.” Did she detect a note of censorship in his voice?
“I’ve done a lot of dumb things since I’ve been here, Judd, but flinging myself at Richard Peterson is not one of them. Richard is busy kissing Francine.”
Judd drained his coffee cup. “That sure is a relief.” She didn’t know what part of her statement he referred to, but it didn’t matter. Judd was their judge-penitent, though she knew he didn’t aspire to the role. But he was the one person all of them could count on for the unbridled truth.
Once, she would have awaited two o’clock and Gregory Hicks in a state of anxiety, and she couldn’t understand the calmness with which she dressed, saw that she had half an hour to spare, and went down to the lounge in the hope of finding Judd there.
He sat alone watching the Ravens wallop another team. “Who’s winning?” she asked him.
“The Ravens, but that ain’t nothing to crow about. They’re playing the worst team in the league. My, but you look nice! Who’s the lucky fellow?”
“I’m going to the movies with Gregory.”
He locked his fingers together, pressed them to his diaphragm and leaned back. “Now there’s a fine young fellow. All the same, you watch your step.”
She tried to assimilate the meaning of his cryptic advice. “I’m only going to the movies and maybe to dinner with him, Judd.”
“If you’re eating out, don’t forget to call Fannie before supper time.”
“I won’t,” she said. The doorbell rang, and she leaned over and kissed his forehead before strolling to the door. “Hi. Won’t you come in while I get my coat?”
Gregory’s eyebrows shot up, and she realized he hadn’t expected that, possibly because she either met him on the porch or at the door when they dated previously.
“Thanks. I’ll wait here,” he said and stepped inside. If he noticed her blue suit, he didn’t mention it, but there was still time. He drove to a movie house in Ocean Pines, explaining, “I remember you liked to get away from Pike Hill. This place is nice, and the popcorn’s good.” He parked in the parking lot across the street from the movie house, and she was relieved when he walked around to her side of the car and opened the door. Maybe having told him all the terrible things she’d done didn’t cause him to change his mind about her.
For ninety minutes, they munched on popcorn and held hands. She didn’t see much of the movie, and that didn’t much matter, because she’d already seen The Philadelphia Story twice. As she watched it, she wondered why he hadn’t asked her if she wanted to see it. After the movie, he drove them through Ocean Pines, stopped at a roadside restaurant and parked in back of it.
At least it will be warm inside, she thought, wondering why he said so little, and why she seemed so dissatisfied, when she had waited months to be with him again. “It’s beautiful,” she told him as they entered. His sharp glance signaled his awareness of the sound of relief in her voice, but she couldn’t help it. Not even her one date with Bob Tucker had been so strange.
“Surely, you don’t think I’d take you to any other kind of restaurant,” he said, and though the contours of his face changed and his teeth gleamed, the result couldn’t be called a smile. She ordered a pork chop dinner, not because she wanted it, but because it was the cheapest entrée on the menu.
“How’s your business coming along?” she asked him.
“Real good. I don’t remember telling . . . I hadn’t started my business when we used to see each other. How’d you know about it?”
“Judd was bragging about you.”
“That’s nice of him. How’s your job going? You still at the beauty parlor?”
“Yes, and I’ve had three raises. Whenever the boss is away, I’m the manager.” Both of his eyebrows shot up. “I’m going to learn as much as I can about that business, and I might open one myself if I decide to stay in this part of Maryland.”
His interest heightened. “Why wouldn’t you stay? You can make a good living here, especially in the beauty business. Tourists crowd in here from April to October, and you know the sisters and their hair.”
What was it about that topic that made him warm up and talk? Well, the pork chop wasn’t as good as the ones Marilyn cooked, but it wasn’t bad, so he could talk or not. She put a smile on her face and let herself enjoy the meal.
“Would you like a glass of wine?”
She gaped at him. “I don’t drink, and I didn’t think you did.”
He seemed disappointed, though she couldn’t imagine why. “It rounds out a good meal.” When he glanced at his watch, she did the same and saw that it was only a quarter of six.
“Would you like to see my shop?” he asked her.
“I would, indeed. I’d love to see how you make sails. I always thought they were so beautiful billowing in the wind. Is it far from here?”
“No. It’s right in town, down at the water’s edge. I bought the place a few months back. It suited me perfectly.”
It wasn’t the shack she thought it would be, but a sturdy structure that gleamed with a fresh coat of pale blue paint, the windows and door trimmed in white. She imagined that he painted it himself, and he agreed that he did.
“I save however I can,” he said. “Come on in.”
The room she entered could have been any store with the merchant’s wares and talents neatly and attractively displayed. He walked through the store. “I work back here.” He pushed open an adjoining door, took her hand and walked into what was clearly his private quarters. “I cook in my work room, but I sleep and entertain in here.” She gazed around, taking it all in, the long and roomy sofa that she figured became his bed at night, the big leather chairs, the oriental carpet, wide-screen flat television, the furnishings of an elegant living room.
She whirled around and looked at him. “You live here. This is your home.”
“Why, yes. I didn’t see the point in owning this and paying the high rent that apartments in this town demand.”
“It’s great. Congratulations. I didn’t know you were taking me to your home. I’d like to go now, if you don’t mind.”
“Why? We . . . uh . . . haven’t had a chance to renew our friendship. Sit down over here, and I’ll make us some coffee.”
“I’m surprised you’re not offering me wine.”
He walked up to her, big, strong and handsome, and wrapped her in his arms. “Kiss me, baby.”
She moved her face from the path of his oncoming mouth. “I’m surprised at you, Gregory. I looked at you as a man among men, a perfect gentleman. But you aren’t. I want to go home right now.”
“Look, you’ve been around,” he sneered. “So why not me? At least I won’t mistreat you.”
“You’re mistreating me now. I don’t feel anything for you, Gregory. Not a single thing. You could be one of those poles in your office back there. I haven’t felt right about this since you called me yesterday, and now, I know what it was that I sensed. You were too calculating. I know, because that’s how I was until I caused Harper to have that accident, and until Francine, Judd and Richard taught me some sense. Everybody thinks you’re so great, and I did too, but honey, you ain’t worth pig droppings.”
He grabbed her shoulders. “How dare you say something like that to me!”
“It didn’t cost me any more nerve than it cost you to do what you did. And don’t think this will make me fold up. No, sir. I’ll be at class tomorrow evening on time.”
She rushed through the store, out of the shop and onto the street, walked a block, saw the car rental store and went inside. “I need a taxi to Pike Hill,” she told the man, whose gaze suggested that he would gladly take the job. “I can call Dan for you. He’ll go anywhere so long as you pay him,” the clerk said.
She thanked the man and prayed that Gregory wouldn’t walk into that store until she was in Dan’s taxi. Dan arrived almost at once, and as she walked out of the store with him, Gregory drove up, got out, and rushed to her.
“I don’t need you, Gregory, and I’m not going anywhere with you. If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll call the police on this cell phone you gave me.” She got into Dan’s taxi and left him standing there. As soon as she was inside her room, she wrote a check for seventeen dollars and eighty cents, the cost of the dinner and movie, and put it in an envelope. At eight-thirty, when she knew Judd would be in the lounge, she went downstairs and gave him the envelope on which she had written Gregory’s name.
“Would you give him this tomorrow evening, please?”
Judd looked at the envelope in his hand. “Any reason why you can’t give it to him?”
“I won’t be speaking to him,” she said. “Thanks.”
“I see. You mad with him, or with yourself?”
She started to sit down, but changed her mind. From now on, she planned to keep her sins to herself. Nobody was perfect, including Gregory Hicks. “Let’s say I’ve finally grown up.”
Judd rubbed the little hairs that had begun to surface on his chin. “I’m glad to hear it, and I’ll be more than glad to deliver this letter.”
She told Judd and the others gathered there good night and went to her room. To her amazement, she neither cried nor wanted to, but busied herself laying out the clothes she would wear to work the next day. Later, as she prepared for bed, she remembered Richard’s words that she was pining for the wrong man, and wondered whether he was aware that Gregory didn’t respect her. He had, once, she knew, but in her desire to be honest with him thereafter, she’d made the mistake of telling him how she had behaved with men, and he probably wondered why he shouldn’t have her too. It would never happen. Not as long as she breathed.
When her cell phone rang, she knew that Gregory was the caller, and she was tempted not to answer. But I’ve invested a lot in that man, and I owe it to myself to have the last word. “Hello, Gregory.”
“How did you know I was the person calling you?”
“I knew.”
“I wanted to know whether you got there safely and to tell you that I’m sorry the evening ended as it did.”
“No hard feelings, Gregory. I made the mistake of being honest with you and giving you a choice. You made one. You did your thing, and I did mine. That’s all there is to it. Good night.” She didn’t wait for his reply, because no matter what it was, it would not have made a difference.
She got to the bus stop the next morning minutes before the bus arrived. “I see you’re early,” the driver said. “Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?”
Her immediate reaction was one of annoyance, but when she looked at the man, he held up both hands, palms out. “You can’t blame me for trying. You said ‘no,’ and I understand that word. Okay? I hear Harper Masterson’s scheduled to leave the hospital one day this week. Man, that’s a miracle. Doctors gave him a thirty percent chance to survive, and they say he’s walking around.”
Gregory and memories of her date with him had pushed most other thoughts from her mind, and she realized she hadn’t thought about Harper. “I’m glad he’s going to be all right,” she told the driver. “He’s a very nice man.”
“So I hear, and you said that before.” She dropped her money in the box, and he pulled away from the curb. “You have to go after what you want in this life, girl. That’s the only way you’ll get it.” She looked around but didn’t see another passenger to whom he might be talking, walked on to the rear of the bus and sat down. If Harper would be as good as new, and if she could manage to speak with Percy, maybe she could get rid of her guilt, or at least some of it, and stop worrying about all the wrong she’d done.