Chapter Eleven
Richard entered the revolving door of the United Nations Secretariat Building and looked around. He had remembered to bring along his diplomat’s badge and flashed it to the guard who stood at the door.
“May I help you, sir?”
“Thanks,” Richard said as casually as he could, “but I need to step over there and look at a phone directory.”
“Certainly, sir.”
He found her phone number and office location at once and, as he had expected, Estelle Mitchell had moved a step higher. After copying the information, he headed for the second floor where he knew he would find telephones and comfortable seating.
“Ms. Mitchell’s office. How may I help you?”
“Good morning,” he said to the familiar voice. “This is Richard Peterson, and I’d like to see Ms. Mitchell for about fifteen minutes. I’m only in New York for the day.”
“Uh . . . How are you, Mr. Peterson. This is Ms. Mitchell’s secretary. I’ll speak with her. Hold on.”
He thanked her and held his breath, as it occurred to him for the first time that Estelle might refuse to see him. This had been his world, where being seen at all the right places and in the right company meant everything to a man’s career. He smiled inwardly as he watched a woman grasp at another’s coat sleeve, begging, “You will call, won’t you Dr. Ammil?” Dr. Ammil nodded and rushed on without having verbally committed herself. Self-importance was another commodity in abundance there, and he had certainly possessed his share of it.
“Hello Mr. Peterson. Sorry to keep you waiting. Ms. Mitchell said she can see you at eleven-thirty this morning. Should I put you down?”
“Absolutely, and thanks. I’m in your debt.”
He had about two hours to throw away, but he didn’t mind. If he hadn’t gotten his request in early, the trip would probably have been a waste of time, not to speak of emotion. In earlier days, he would have passed the time in the North Delegates Lounge, seeing, being seen, and consuming a Scotch mist, something he no longer drank. He walked through the Security Council Chamber, now empty, its staid presence proclaiming its importance in world affairs. Eleven-twenty-six. He headed for the high-rise elevator.
“Well, if it isn’t Richard Peterson. Where’ve you been hiding, man?” He recognized the Jamaican ambassador and shook his hand. “When I heard you’d quit one of the biggest posts in the international community, I didn’t believe it. You look ten years younger.”
Small talk. Something else that he didn’t miss. “I haven’t regretted it for a second.”
“What are you doing these days?”
“I live in a tiny town a stone’s throw from the Atlantic Ocean, and . . . Sorry, I get off here. Good to see you.” Thank God. Just in time to avoid the kind of banalities that he hadn’t engaged in since he left Geneva. He wondered at his lack of anxiety or of any feeling of excitement as he approached Estelle Mitchell’s office.
“Mr. Peterson! How are you? It’s been a long time.” The lovely secretary’s smile registered with him as sincere, and he remembered that he had regarded her as honest and straightforward. He extended his hand, and she rose to shake hands with him.
“I’ll tell Ms. Mitchell you’re here.”
Minutes later, Estelle’s office door opened, and she walked through it, more elegant and more beautiful than ever, her face wreathed in smiles. “Richard, how nice to see you!” He took the hand she offered, shook it and, to his surprise, the earth didn’t move. Indeed, considering the complete lack of emotional undertow the handshake caused him, he could have been shaking hands with a stranger. “My, but you look wonderful,” she said. “Leah told me you’d dropped ten years, and she’s right. Come on in.”
“You look well, too,” he said. “Very well, indeed. Congratulations on your new status.”
“Thanks. What brings you to New York? I was stunned when I learned that you’d turned down the offer of a five-year contract and walked away from one of the most coveted posts in international civil service. Are you content with your decision?”
“Absolutely. I’ve learned how to be a real person. That’s one of the reasons why I’m here.” He decided to be honest. “I needed to slay some ghosts, and that’s what I’m doing.”
Her smile vanished. “Are you making any progress?”
He didn’t hesitate, simply went with his gut feelings. “I’m doing nicely, far better than I would have thought. When I read of your marriage, it was as if the air had been sucked out of me with a vacuum, and I became something of an emotional cripple.” Her face crumpled into a worried frown, and he held up his hand to signal a halt to the direction of her thoughts. “I’m in great shape now, and your agreeing to talk with me for a few minutes has done wonders.”
She leaned back in her chair. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear this. Are you planning to live here in New York, or will you return to Geneva?”
“My home is in Pike Hill, Maryland, right on the Atlantic Ocean, and I’m very happy there. I left the service and Geneva because I thought I saw the person I’d become, and I didn’t like it. That was only the beginning.”
He stood, satisfied that he’d done the right thing in facing her and his demon. “Thank you for these few minutes. I’m happy that life is treating you well, and I hope it continues that way.”
She got up, walked toward the door, turned and smiled. “I’m glad you came, Richard. When we last saw each other, we didn’t part on the happiest of terms, and we can both remember this parting with satisfaction. I see a difference in you. Not many men or women have the courage to do what you did.”
He stood there looking down at her, letting his gaze sweep over her. Then he smiled a smile that came from his heart. “You’ve done exceedingly well. This is a man’s world, and you’ve made it and still retained your femininity. It’s admirable,” he told her, and he smiled because that was all he felt for her, admiration.
She held out her hand for a cordial good-bye. “Thanks. I wish you good luck.”
He shook her hand, unmoved by the physical contact. “Thanks. I certainly wish you the same.”
“I appreciate the appointment, Leah,” he said to Estelle Mitchell’s secretary. “You’re as gracious as ever.”
“Thanks. All the best to you, Ambassador Peterson.”
Minutes later, he was in a taxi on the way to his hotel. With any luck, he could be back in Pike Hill in time for supper. As the taxi sped up Third Avenue, he dialed the airline on his cell phone and booked a two o’clock flight. At the hotel, he paid the driver. “Wait for me. I’m going to LaGuardia Airport. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
He got off the plane in Ocean Pines at five-forty and phoned Dan for a ride to Pike Hill. Gosh, I’d better tell Fannie to expect me for supper.
“That certainly didn’t take long,” Judd said when Richard dropped his overnight bag by the door and walked into the lounge.
“No point in staying longer. I did what I had to do and came home.”
Judd turned off the television. “You satisfied with the way things went? Or you planning to let me worry every minute you were gone and then come back and not tell me a blasted thing.”
“Of course not. She’s as beautiful, elegant, and intelligent as ever, and I didn’t feel a thing. Not a single spark.”
“Well I’ll be danged if I didn’t tell you so.”
“We had a gracious, civilized meeting in her office and wished each other well. Period. I never felt so good in my life.”
“Yes siree,” Judd said. “This is a fine day.”
He looked at Judd and couldn’t help grinning. “Think you can substitute a glass of wine or sherry for that ginger ale you love so much? I feel like celebrating.”
“I don’t mind if I do. Haven’t had a glass of sherry in years.”
“We can go down to the Inn after supper. No chance Fannie would have any spirits here.”
Richard’s gaze settled on the fire that crackled in the fireplace, warm and welcoming. “Tell you what. Let’s have a glass of wine. It’s too cold and too windy for a stroll down Ocean Road.” He looked at his watch. “I’d better get up to my room and change before supper.”
“Yeah,” Judd said. “You don’t want everybody to think you’re being uppity, and you sure don’t want Francine to walk in here and see you chatting with me when you haven’t even told her you were back.”
He patted Judd’s shoulder. “Right. I’d trust you to mind my business any day. You’re good at it. See you shortly.”
“You haven’t been doing such a good job of it, though I admit you’re improving all of a sudden.”
“Better late than never,” he replied, enjoying the intimacy that comes with friendship.
He bounded up the stairs, and as he reached the hallway, Jolene closed her room door. “Hi, Richard, I thought you were coming back Wednesday. Is everything all right?”
“Couldn’t be better. I finished my business, so I came home. How are things with you?”
She seemed thoughtful, nodding her head. “Good for you. I turned a corner, and I think it’s for the best.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said. “We can talk after supper. See you then.” Whistling the toreador’s song from the opera Carmen, he dropped his bag beside the door, inserted his key, and walked into the place he called home. He went at once to the window, pushed aside the curtain and looked out as if to reacquaint himself with the view of the sound and the ocean that he’d come to love. Not the clear green water of the Caribbean Sea, the Lido beach outside Venice, Italy, the banks of the Seine in Paris or the majestic Mount Blanc that he often saw from his office windows in Geneva ever gave him the peace he found in the Atlantic’s frolicking waves.
Good heavens, he thought, I haven’t whistled in years, a lot of years, but it felt good to let go. He had twenty minutes, time for a shower. If he was lucky, he’d see Francine before the watching eyes of their supper companions inhibited his greeting. “My Lord, I’m bursting at the seams,” he said to himself. “Down boy!”
He was on his way down the stairs when the front door opened, and a gust of wind chilled his body, still warm from the shower. His instincts told him to wait, and he stopped midway on the stairs. He heard her pointed heels tapping quickly in the hall floor, and then he saw her. She stopped and stared at him, speechless.
She had never looked so vibrant or so beautiful. Surely the sun was shining on her. He opened his arms, and she raced up the stairs and launched herself into them. “Is it all right, now?” she whispered. “You’re back so early. Tell me it’s all right.”
He locked her to his body. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Things couldn’t be better.” It wasn’t the time for what he wanted and needed. He kissed her hair and the side of her face. “Hurry, or you’ll be late for supper.”
When Richard entered the dining room feeling as if he walked on air, Judd’s face shone with delight, and he wondered how and when he had become transparent, at least to his friend.
“You’re back early,” Fannie exclaimed. “I sure hope that means things went well with you up there.”
“Exceedingly well. Thanks.” He looked around and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Where’s Percy?”
“He’s on a run down to Florida. Ought to be back tomorrow. Poor Percy; he’s gotten to be the saddest person I ever saw.”
Francine entered the dining room followed by Barbara, and Fannie stood. “We’re all here. Let us bow our heads and thank the Lord.” She said the grace, Rodger placed generous portions of spiced shrimp before them, and a hush fell over the room. “When they don’t talk,” Fannie said, “they’re enjoying the food.”
He glanced toward Francine, saw that her gaze was upon him, and smiled. At least he hoped he smiled, for he felt like splitting his face with a grin. He didn’t think he’d ever been so happy, not even when he was elected executive-director of the IBNDA.
“You’re in a great mood tonight,” Fannie said. “Anybody would think you just won a divorce.”
For a woman who never went near the water, Fannie could beat anybody he knew fishing. “Right church; wrong pew. I’ve never been married,” he said, and hoped that took care of her curiosity.
Just as he was beginning to think the evening couldn’t be more perfect, Marilyn emerged from the kitchen, walked over to him and put a dish of crème Courvoisier in front of him. “I made it ’specially for you,” she said, rubbing his back, “and you’ll get your espresso later.”
“Thanks,” he said, “but I make it a habit not to mislead women, Marilyn, so I’m letting you know right now that I’m spoken for. I appreciate the dessert, though.”
“Well, I’m not spoken for,” Fannie fumed, “and the next time you bring something to this table, be sure you bring it for both of us.”
“I keep forgetting,” Marilyn said.
“I’ll bet you do,” Fannie retaliated. “If I had male equipment, you’d remember.”
“Wouldn’t be able to forget it,” Marilyn said, with her head high as she flounced toward the kitchen in a huff.
After supper, Richard asked Fannie to excuse him and rushed to speak with Francine. “This is one time I’m sorry I don’t have a car. We could go to one of the lounges in Ocean Pines and talk in private,” he told her.
“We can drive my car, but first I think you ought to ask Judd to excuse you. He’s so used to having your company after supper that—”
“Yours, too. Get your coat.” He walked over to Judd. “Francine and I are going for a ride so we can talk.”
“Do a good job of it, friend. Opportunity usually knocks only once. Was I right that you’re over that New York lady? Estelle, I believe you said.”
“Yes. We had a pleasant talk, and I got back here as fast as I could.”
“I wish you luck with Francine. She’s a tough one, but she’s worth every bit of the feeling you invest in her. Have a good time.”
They walked hand-in-hand to her car. “Would you like to drive?” she asked him.
“I don’t mind.” She tuned to an easy-listening radio station, rested her head against his shoulder and waited for whatever he wanted to say. “Let’s just listen to the music. When we talk, I want to look at you.”
He parked in front of the Bridle and Saddle Lounge. “Does this place suit you?” he asked Francine.
“It’s perfect, especially since the tourist season is over. It will be almost empty.”
“What would you like?” he asked her after they took a booth in a far corner.
“A piña colada.”
“I’ll take the same without the rum,” he told the waitress.
“Did you see her?” Francine asked, letting him know that how he felt about Estelle had been uppermost in her thoughts.
“Yes, I saw her in her office this morning for about fifteen minutes. Neither of us needed more time. We talked, wished each other well and meant it, and we parted on good terms.”
She knitted her brows. “But I had the impression that you cared deeply for her, that you might still love her. I thought your feeling for her was what prevented the two of us from developing a meaningful relationship.”
“And that impression had merit. Until this morning, I hadn’t seen her for several years, not since I learned that she married and, until recently, I believed that I still loved her. When my feelings for you became so strong, I was less certain about Estelle, and I wanted the freedom to . . . to let what I felt for you have sway.”
The waitress brought their drinks and a large bowl of trail mix, and he lifted his glass to Francine. “Here’s to a long, happy relationship.”
She nodded, sipped the drink and began stroking the back of his hand, almost absentmindedly, as if her thoughts were elsewhere. “And you could settle that within yourself in fifteen minutes?”
“Less than that. The minute I saw her, I knew. Oh, she’s still a knockout, but after longing for her all that time, mind you, I was with her, and I didn’t have the least urge to touch her. We shook hands, and I felt nothing.” He ran his hands over his hair. “Francine, I’m talking about a woman who once rocked me clear out of my mind. Who knows how it would have been if I . . . if I hadn’t developed this feeling for you.”
“So you were lovers.”
“Once. It sunk me, but the earth didn’t move for her. I suspect that helped her to realize she was in love with another man.”
“Is she happy?”
“I didn’t ask her. My response to her, my evaluation of my feelings for her wasn’t contingent upon that, but she appeared to be very happy, and I’m glad about that.”
Francine sipped her drink slowly, contemplatively. Then she raised her head, and her gaze bore into him. “Can there be anything between you and me, Richard? I want to know now. I’m in deep enough as it is.”
He leaned back in the booth, and took her hand in his. “You’ve given me some anxious, painful moments and cost me one entirely sleepless night when I didn’t know whether you were in trouble or not, alive or dead. I thought I’d go crazy. I’d rather you had most any profession other than that of undercover cop, because I fear for you whenever I’m not looking at you. But fate or Providence . . .” he let a grin slide over his face . . . “has taken the matter out of my hands. I love you, and I want you, badge and all.”
Her hand grabbed her chest, and she gaped at him. “You what?”
“Francine, if you love me, I want us to see if we can make a go of it.”
She seemed addled. “I do love you. I’m certain of that. What will we do?”
The sudden thudding of his heart startled him, his breathing accelerated, and he grasped both of her hands. He didn’t know if he could speak. What had he done to deserve such happiness? “Francine. Sweetheart,” he managed to say. How could he tell her what he felt?
“How will the folks at the boardinghouse react to us?” she asked him, but that was the least of his concerns.
He slipped his arm around her and tightened it. “For the time being, we’ll have to be circumspect, and Fannie will have to change places with you in the dining room.”
She snuggled up to him to the extent allowable in that cherished watering hole of the Maryland blue bloods. “I hope I don’t have to break Marilyn’s arm,” she said with a brilliant smile lighting up her face.
He needed to hold her and love her, and he could see trouble ahead. Until now, he hadn’t minded the rules that Fannie stipulated as if they were equivalent to the four Gospels, but he would need Herculean willpower to stay out of Francine’s bed while she slept three doors from his room. “Let’s go home,” he said, as he stood and held out his hand.
She drained her glass and took his hand. “I never prayed so hard as I did when you were in New York. You didn’t say you’d be seeing a woman, but I knew it, and I knew why. I’m so thankful that it’s over.”
“So am I.”
He assisted her into the car, went around to the driver’s side, got in, closed the door and turned to her. She was his woman now, locked in his arms with his tongue deep in her mouth, and he intended to see that she never wanted another man. Now that he had stopped trying to control his feelings for her, what he felt in his heart nearly overwhelmed him.
He broke the kiss, and she gazed at him, puzzled. “I’d rather not have an accident on the way home,” he told her. “And I think we’d better plan a weekend some place, and soon.” As he held her, he had a sensation of not belonging to himself, of seeming to float into space, a part of the universe. Lord, he loved her!
“I love the feeling of your arms around me, strong, like an ancient fortress,” she said. “How about Miami next weekend?”
A woman who wasn’t coy, but honest and forthright about her feelings was to be prized. He hugged her, rejoicing in the treasure he held in his arms. “Great. I’ll meet you in Ocean Pines when you get off work Friday.” He put the key in the ignition and headed for Pike Hill and Thank the Lord Boarding House.
The next morning, Jolene raced down the stairs prepared to gobble up her food and get to the bus within thirty-five minutes. If only she hadn’t overslept, but after a nightmare awakened her, she hadn’t been able to get back to sleep until nearly dawn. She sat at the table with Judd and Richard, comfortable with the notion that they would welcome her.
“Ask Rodger to wrap up your breakfast,” Judd said, “and you can eat it on the bus. No point in making yourself sick.”
She looked at Rodger. “Would it be too much to ask?”
Rodger smiled, as he always did when one of the boarders asked a favor of him. That smile and his willingness guaranteed him many presents at Christmas. “Give me ten minutes, Miss,” he said.
Jolene thanked him and looked at Richard. “Maybe it’s too personal, but I would like to know if everything’s all right with you and Francine. I wouldn’t like her to be . . . well, hurt.”
When he stopped eating, she thought she might have annoyed him, but he winked at her. “I’m pretty certain that she’s happy, Jolene. Thanks for your concern.”
Maybe she had changed, but so had Richard. “That’s wonderful,” she said with a feeling of true joy. Rodger handed her a box and a thermos, and she thanked him. “See you both this evening. Bye.” She floated down Ocean Road, singing “God Didn’t Make Little Green Apples,” a pop song she learned from a schoolmate and the only one she knew. If it hadn’t been for Judd’s thoughtfulness, she’d have missed the bus, for the driver revved the engine as soon as she stepped on it. I guess that’s what love is, she thought as she dropped coins into the box. Caring about a person’s well being. If so, that means I care about Judd, Richard, Francine, Joe, and Fannie. She laughed to herself. Imagine me caring about Fannie.
“Good morning,” she sang to the driver, still in heightened spirits.
“And good morning to you. From the way you sound, I guess you heard.”
She looked down at him with what she supposed was a quizzical expression. “Heard what?”
“I dropped by to see Masterson yesterday after work, and he told me he’s going home day after tomorrow.”
“Really? That’s good news.” She headed for the back of the bus where she could eat in peace.
“He told me to tell you to come to see him before he leaves there,” the driver called to her.
“He did? Thanks.” She kept walking.
“When you start managing my new shop,” her boss said that morning, “I’ll raise you to seven hundred a week. You’re doing all right. Just be careful, and don’t let people like Vida walk all over you. She’s a user.”
She gave him a hard look. “You’re really going to give me that job?”
“I said I would, didn’t I? We’ll open the first of the year.”
“Thanks,” she said, feeling weak in the knees. “I’ll do my best.”
“I know that. You’ll do all right,” he told her, and it was high praise coming from him.
She left work that afternoon thinking of her future, confident that she would always be able to take care of herself. She hadn’t spent a penny of her inheritance since she went to work at the beauty parlor. Richard was right, she admitted. She alone was responsible for herself and everything that happened to her. She could read and reason, so she couldn’t blame Emma Tilman for anything but being a lousy, unfeeling parent and for not telling her who fathered her.
Deciding that she should visit Harper to see whether he needed anything, she got off the bus at Crane Street and, on an impulse, bought a pint of butter-pecan ice cream and, with the December wind at her back, hurried to the hospital. At his door, she hesitated before knocking, remembering when, in her nightmare the previous night, she walked through a door and dropped into space. She knocked.
“Come in.” He leaned against the wall beside the window, and his voice was strong and steady.
“Hi. Gee, I forgot you were so tall.”
He turned toward the door and, when he saw her, a light flashed in his eyes—nice eyes, she realized—as a grin spread across his face. He started walking toward her. “Jolene!” he exclaimed, his joy almost palpable. “I’m so glad you came. Did Jack tell you what I said?” He leaned down and kissed her cheek.
“He told me you were going home tomorrow,” she said, backing away from the heat of his nearness. “What did he tell you? That guy doesn’t even know my name, and until you called him Jack, I didn’t know his.” She didn’t want Harper to think she got on familiar terms with every man who drove the bus between Pike Hill and Salisbury.
“He didn’t have to know your name; he described you perfectly.”
Better not ask what Jack said. She didn’t want Harper to think the man interested her. She didn’t ask herself why she wanted Harper to think well of her, but she admitted to herself that she was off his blacklist and she wanted to stay off. She changed the subject.
“I brought you some ice cream.”
“Gee, thanks. I haven’t had anything good since you brought me that dinner Thanksgiving Day. Have a seat.” He opened the ice cream and took the spoon from the bag.
“Won’t that spoil your supper? You won’t be hungry.”
“No way can you spoil hospital food.” He stuck the spoon in the ice cream, pulled the heaping spoonful out with the relish of one removing a dart from the bull’s-eye, and savored it. “You still seeing that guy in Ocean Pines?”
She hadn’t expected that question, and a frown creased her forehead. “Uh . . . he did something I didn’t like, and I don’t plan to see him again. My boss promoted me. He’s opening another shop the first of January, and I’ll be the manager.”
He savored several spoonsfull of ice cream. “That’s great, Jolene. Congratulations. You know, you’re not a bit like the Jolene who rode my bus every day, and I really like the change.”
“Thanks, my friends at the boardinghouse are telling me I changed, too.”
“I can imagine. So what happened between you and that guy? I want to know if he still means anything to you.”
Hadn’t her experiences with Gregory taught her not to tell a man everything? Still, it paid to be honest, and Harper was only a friend. “Well, I told him as much about myself as . . . as you said I should. He cooled off for a couple of weeks, and then he attempted to get me in a compromising position, I mean he . . . he didn’t give me a choice. He . . . just assumed . . . Oh heck, I walked out on him, and the next day I sent him the price of the movie and dinner.”
He sat as still as the night, and he seemed to have stopped breathing. “Have you talked with him since?”
“He called that night, but I told him what I thought of him and hung up. I think more of myself now, Harper.”
“Right on. You gave the guy what he deserved.” He handed her a piece of paper. “That’s my address and phone number. I know where you live, but I don’t have your phone number.”
She gave him the boardinghouse phone number. “I’m going to return this cell phone to Gregory. I can afford one myself.” She put the paper he gave her into her pocketbook, looked up at him, and he shifted his gaze, but not before she saw mirrored in his eyes such affection and feeling as she had never seen before.
She jumped up, nearly knocking over the chair in which she sat. “I’d better go. I don’t want to be late for supper.”
He placed the container of ice cream on the floor and stood. “Thanks for coming and for this treat. I love ice cream. You made my day.” He walked with her to the door. “When I get back to work, I may not be driving a bus, and even if I do I probably won’t have the same route, and I want to see you again. I don’t mean while I’m driving a bus; I mean socially, man to woman.”
Her heart seemed to tumble down to her belly. “After all the trouble I caused you, I didn’t think—”
His arms went around her, his tongue flicked across the seam of her lips, and she opened to him and took him in.
“You must feel something for me,” he said after releasing her, “or you wouldn’t tremble in my arms. I’ll call you when I get home.” He stared down into her face, and she stared back at him. Poleaxed. Reeling from the shock of what she felt while he kissed her.
She had to get away. “I’ll . . . uh . . . bye.” With a hand on his chest, she pushed herself from him, rushed down the corridor to the exit and fled down the stairs, forgetting about the elevator or the sign-out notice at the nurses’ station. She left the hospital in a trot, almost running until, breathless, she leaned against a lamppost, gasping. Winter darkness had set in, and the clear moon shining above made the night seem colder and her world lonelier. For the first time in months—since Harper made love to her and then told her why he didn’t want to see her again—she felt like crying.
Maybe she was one of those women who lost her common sense whenever she was near a man. No. That wasn’t true, because she’d stood her ground with Percy and Gregory and hadn’t let them treat her as if she were a nobody. If only she understood men. If only she’d had a father to teach her those things!
She walked on to the bus stop and, when the bus arrived, she gave thanks that Jack was not its driver. When Jolene reached the boardinghouse, she didn’t stop in the lounge but hastened upstairs to freshen up and get a grip on her nerves. She was midway up when Percy started down the stairs as if in a hurry. He saw her and stopped, then turned in retreat, but she rushed forward and grabbed his arm.
“What you want with me? Turn me loose,” he said.
“Please. I’ve been trying for weeks to thank you, but you won’t give me a chance.”
He stared at her. “Thank me. For what?”
“For being so kind to me, Percy. I did a terrible thing. A lot of men would have forced me to . . . you know, but you were such a gentleman, and I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.”
“I didn’t look at it that way,” he said, his voice low and tremulous. “I figured you’d be laughing at me.”
“Oh, no.” She rested her right hand on his arm. “I’m grateful, and I thank you so much for not telling anybody here about it.”
He moved his head from side to side, seemingly perplexed. “You can bet I didn’t tell anybody about that, and I’m glad you didn’t. Maybe we can forget about it.”
“Thanks. I don’t do things like that anymore, Percy. When I came here, I’d never had a date with a man in my entire life.”
He stared at her. “What do you take me for?”
She told him of her life with her mother and grandmother and her ignorance of the world beyond Emma Tilman’s house. “I’ve learned a lot since I’ve been here.”
“You lucky you still living. Well, thanks for talking to me. I tell you, I feel a whole lot better about it knowing that I didn’t do nothing bad. I’ll see you down at supper.”
Inside her room, she closed the door and leaned against it. “That’s taken care of, thank the Lord, but tomorrow after work, I have to go to the library and face Gregory, a man who has no respect for me.” The thought tempered her relief at having restored Percy’s self-esteem, which she did at the expense of the truth. However, she promised herself that she would take that computer training course and help keep the children orderly during their computer training, Gregory Hicks notwithstanding. She washed her hands, replaced her woolen sweater with a long-sleeved red blouse, combed her hair, and headed for the dining room.
At the bottom of the stairs, she bumped into the Reverend Philip Coles. Caught off guard, she articulated her reaction to seeing him. “Are you here again, for goodness sake?”
He seemed to shrink, obviously taken aback, but she felt no remorse for her ungracious remark. “Well, it has been several weeks since I was here.”
“How are things, Reverend?”
At the sound of Richard’s voice, Jolene whirled around and looked up into his censoring eyes. At least, she thought he censored her. If she had heard him coming down the stairs behind her, she wouldn’t have made such an incautious comment to Philip Coles. After all, she had the reverend to thank for her present state of well-being.
“Uh . . . hi, Richard.”
“Hi, how’s it going?” he said and continued to the dining room.
She had known Philip Coles all of her life, or at least as long as she could remember, and she had never felt hostile toward him, mostly, she supposed, because she accepted her fate and never considered his failure to help ease her plight. Looking back, it seemed to her that he abandoned his role as her mother’s spiritual leader.
She took her seat between Joe and Louvenia, and greeted them with more cheer than she felt. Philip Coles said the grace, and she made herself bow her head while he did it.
“You seem down,” Joe said, “and, that’s a pity ’cause you look real nice and fresh like you just came in out of the wind.”
“It’s cold tonight,” she said and, in an effort to be friendly, added, “I got a raise today, and after the first of the year, I’ll be managing one of my boss’ beauty parlors.”
“That’s wonderful, Jolene. You oughta be jumping straight up and down. I never saw a person change as much as you have since you came here, and it’s all been for the good, too.”
She liked Joe, but she’d never found a way to tell him that, and she didn’t want him to think she was coming on to him. “I wish I’d had you for a big brother,” she told him and watched his face crease into a smile.
“That would’ve been great. I never had any sisters. I . . .” He lowered his voice. “Did I hear Percy ask Judd if he’d like to have some tangerines when he came back from Florida Saturday? I hope he’s coming out of that cocoon he’s been living in.”
She glanced toward Percy and saw that Judd had locked his gaze on her. “He can only guess,” she said to herself. To Joe, she said, “I wonder where Francine is tonight.”
Jolene was tempted to go to her room after dinner, but she knew Fannie would take her to task for ignoring Philip Coles. However, to her surprise and satisfaction, he did not approach her but sat with Judd and Richard.
“What a night!” she said to Joe when Percy walked into the lounge and took a seat.
“Yeah. I’d give anything to know what’s come over Percy all of a sudden. He’s like his old self.”
Richard looked at his watch. So this was what his life would be like, wondering and worrying about Francine whenever he wasn’t looking at her. She’d said she had to go to Ocean City and would be late getting home, and he couldn’t call her because the ringing phone might alert someone to her presence. He sighed and accepted Rodger’s offer of a cup of espresso.
“You know, this is an odd coincidence,” Judd said to Richard and Philip, “they’re not a bit of kin, but they sure do look a lot alike.”
“Who’re you talking about?” Richard asked him, as if he didn’t know.
“Fannie and Jolene. I noticed it when Jolene first came here, but with both of them wearing red tonight, they could be mother and daughter.”
“Well, I can assure you that Jolene’s mother is dead,” Philip said, “because I officiated at her funeral.”
“That’s right,” Judd said. “I believe Jolene did tell me that you were her mother’s pastor. What do you know of her father? Jolene said her mother never told her who he was, and I think that’s the least a person should know. Don’t you?”
“In most cases, I’d say, yes. From what I can tell from casual conversations with her, Jolene seems to be making wonderful progress. She’s developed into a charming woman.” He didn’t look at Judd while he spoke, and neither that nor what appeared to be an attempt to change the subject was lost on Richard.
“You’re right,” Richard said. “She’s blooming in spite of the wreck she was when she came here. I can’t imagine that none of Jolene’s teachers, the members of your church or even you didn’t call her mother down about the way she treated Jolene. She came here knowing less about life than the average fifteen-year-old girl, and she paid for it.”
“And she paid a lot,” Judd said. “Seeing what she’s done with herself since she came here and the talent she’s got, it’s difficult to imagine what she could have amounted to if her life had been different. Somebody’s got a lot to answer for.”
“Yes,” Philip intoned, “but we shouldn’t speak unkindly of the dead.”
Judd stared into the man’s face. “The dead? I never said a word about the dead.”
“Would you like more coffee?” Rodger asked.
The man looks as if he was drowning and someone threw him a lifeline, Richard said to himself.
“No, thank you,” Philip said. “Coffee keeps me awake. Well, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ll have a chat with Fannie before I turn in.”
“Where does he sleep?” Richard asked Judd after Philip left them.
“In Fannie’s sitting room, no doubt. That man’s a hypocrite. What are you thinking?”
“Something very similar. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take a short walk.”
Judd locked his hands behind his head and rocked. “Stop worrying about Francine. She can take care of herself, and if she told you where she’d be, that ought to satisfy you.”
He couldn’t tell Judd why he worried about Francine, because he wouldn’t dare expose her even to his friend. He ran up the stairs, got a coat and headed outside into the bracing wind. She told me she was going to Ocean City, but I have to make sure she’s not down here on that beach by herself tracking Ronald Barnes. He tightened his coat collar when he turned off Ocean Road and started up Rhone Street. Seeing the elongated figure in front of him, he turned and looked back, then walked on when he realized that it was his own shadow. In the bright moonlit night, he saw the Milky Way. What a scene, he mused as he wiped the wind-induced tears from his eyes. White foam at the tips of the waves sprang out like flashes of light in darkness. Standing alone on the beach, he spread his legs to anchor himself against the force of the wind and stood transfixed while stars shot through the heavens and clouds raced over the moon, momentarily subduing it, but never fully obscuring it. He didn’t know how long he stood there, dazzled by nature’s gymnastics.
The cold began to seep into his body, and with reluctance he started home, thankful that he hadn’t found Francine risking her life on that beach and wondering what life with her would be like, but exhilarated by the salty air and the night’s brilliance. As he entered the boardinghouse, Francine stepped from the lounge into the hallway.
“Richard! Judd told me you’d gone for a walk. In this weather?”
For an answer, he lifted her and twirled her around. “You’re going to drive me loco,” he said, locked her body to his, and lowered his head. As far as he was concerned, anybody who wanted to could watch; his joy at having her unharmed, with him, and in his arms was so great that he didn’t care about convention.
“Hmm. The times are changing,” Fannie said, misquoting Bob Dylan.
“Not to worry,” Francine replied. “We’ll keep it between the lines.”
“Humph. Doesn’t look like it, but you make sure that our senior ladies, Miss Louvenia and Miss Arnetha, don’t give me a hard time about what this house is coming to. I remember how it was with me and my dear husband, God rest his soul. Too bad I couldn’t get something going between Jolene and Gregory Hicks. He’s such a fine man.”
Richard draped his right arm across Francine’s shoulder. “Fannie, these things work themselves out. Jolene will do just fine. She’s a very gifted, very attractive woman; in fact, she looks a lot like you.”
Fannie patted her hair. “You think so? In my younger days, I didn’t doff my cap to no woman.”
Well, well, he said to himself. When you lift the lid, there’s no telling what you’ll find. To Fannie, he said, “You don’t have to do it now, either.”
Her smile eclipsed her whole face. “Oh, you go way from here, Richard Peterson. I do declare!” She rushed off, her color bright and her spirits high.
“She surprised me. I thought she’d start spouting one of her rules,” Richard said to Francine.
“I did, too, and if we took it any further, I expect she would. Did you find a place for us to stay in Miami?”
“I did, indeed, and the plane tickets are upstairs in my room. I couldn’t possibly overlook a thing like that.”
Jolene greeted Richard and Francine when she emerged from the lounge on her way to her room. “Hi, you two.”
“We didn’t get a chance to talk,” Richard said, “but I want to hear about that corner you turned. Perhaps we can speak tomorrow at breakfast.”
“I’ll get down here a little earlier,” she told him. Maybe she should explain to Richard her rudeness to Philip Coles, but somehow she didn’t feel compelled to do it. The more she learned about people, the lower her estimation of the preacher became.