Frank Murphy walked reverently across the grassy well-tended field. It was so peaceful here, he thought, moving around the headstones and up the small incline to his sister Faith’s final resting place. It was here that he could come and think and talk with his sister about the things that troubled his heart and weighed down his spirit.
He removed his hat, his close-cropped dark blond hair streaked with gray, and chest full of medals glistened in the sunlight. He knelt down beside Faith’s headstone and brushed away the leaves and dried flowers, placing a fresh bunch in its place.
“I know it’s been a while, sis, but you’re always in my thoughts.” He paused measuring his words. “Things are not good, Faith. I feel everything coming apart around me.” He chuckled disheartenedly and briefly shut his green eye. “My past is coming back to haunt me, as you said it would. But back then I didn’t see any other way out. As much as Hamilton meant to me, I couldn’t let him destroy my career.” He sighed. “But now, looking back, I wish I’d done things differently. Maybe I could have reasoned with him. But he was so hell-bent on seeing justice done, he was blind to anything else. I was given a job to do. I was following orders. He should have understood that. Chemical testing on our own men has been going on for decades. They did it in Korea and Vietnam and it continued in Desert Storm.” He ran a hand across his weary face. “And now his daughter is interviewing James’s son.” He shook his head at the absolute irony of it all. “How long will it be before the trail leads back? We were able to cover up the ‘accident.’ But this…” He sighed heavily. “Victoria went to see Maxwell after all these years. We worked hard to dismantle that relationship, and I’ll still do whatever is necessary to see to it that it never happens again.” He looked ahead watching a family place flowers on a headstone.
“I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for caring for Victoria all of those years. You were as close to a mother as she’d ever have. I know how much having children meant to you and how devastated you both were to find out that you couldn’t have children of your own before John died. And I’ll move heaven and earth, Faith, to ensure that Victoria keeps that memory of you as her mother. It was the one thing I could do for Hamilton and it’s a final trust I’ll never betray.”
He sat back on his haunches and looked out onto the horizon. A soft breeze blew around him carrying the sweet scent of flowers and fresh cut grass. “I still think about Celeste, Faith. How different would things have been if I’d convinced her that we could be happy together? But her heart was always with Hamilton even after he married her sister, Sharlene. I’ve tried to stay away from her, Faith, to put her in the back of my mind. But I can’t. When you love someone you want to share your life, your hopes and your fears with them. I guess that’s what brought me to her house this morning. She’s not well, Faith, and the thought that I’ll soon lose her too is tearing me apart. I was able to handle loving her from afar. But not to be able to ever see her or hear her voice again… Now the painful irony is, she’s at the end of her life, but she handed me a ticket to a new one.” He shook his head as the sting of tears burned his eyes, slowly spilling over his dark lashes. “What…what am I going to do, Faith?” His voice broke as his body shook with sobs. “What am I going to do?”
Celeste moved slowly through the airy house, opening windows and pulling aside the curtains. She felt better today than she had in a while. The pain was bearable. Absently, she pressed her hand to her stomach. The doctors said the growth on her ovaries was inoperable, but perhaps it could be controlled with chemotherapy. She’d laughed at that then. Being a nurse, she knew what that did to a person. Often the treatment was worse than the cure. She’d opted to live out the rest of her life the best she could.
Turning away, she walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of lemonade and took it out to the enclosed patio. The patio was her personal haven, a place that she often retreated to when she needed to think. With the surprise visit earlier in the day from Frank, these few moments of reflection were just what she needed.
Birds sang melodiously in the trees, the sun shone brilliantly in the sky, all a testament to the wonders of nature. She pulled the long yellow-and-white-striped lounge chair closer to the front of the patio to get the greatest benefits of the sun and the breeze. Stretching out, she allowed the warmth of the sun to soak into her tired bones.
Placing the glass on the ground beside her, she leaned back and closed her eyes. Images of the handsome Frank Murphy as he looked that morning standing on her doorstep filled her vision. Her heartbeat picked up its pace at the memory. He still had the ability to make her feel weak in the knees, even after all of these years.
“I know I should have called first, Celeste,” he’d said in greeting, “but I just needed to see you. Do you mind if I come in?”
Celeste stepped aside. “Please. Come in.” She followed him into the house, thankful that she’d dressed in a bright yellow sundress and had put on some makeup to cover the dark circles beneath her eyes.
Frank stopped in the center of the living room and turned toward her holding his hat in his hands. She could see his struggle to hide the shock of her looking so thin.
“Can I get you something?” she asked nervously, rubbing her hands—which had suddenly become cold—together.
“No. Nothing thanks. May I sit down?”
“Of course. I’m sorry.” She patted her soft curls and crossed the room, taking a seat opposite him. “What brings you out here, Frank?”
He folded his hands in front of him and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “I know it’s been a long time for us, Celeste. And I know you made a decision a long time ago that I’ve tried to live by.” He swallowed and shrugged in confusion. “Maybe it’s old age, maybe it’s loneliness.” He shook his head. “I just know that I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching these last few weeks—looking at my life—the choices that I’ve made and the things I’ve done.” He looked up. “I know I’m not making any sense. But…what we had Celeste…I never forgot. I can’t forget…”
“Frank, please…”
“No. Hear me out, Celeste.” He averted his gaze then looked directly into her pleading hazel eyes. “I know you chose Hamilton over me even though he could never love you the way I did. I thought it would kill me when you became pregnant with his child.” Celeste shut her eyes and lowered her head as the painful memories consumed her.
“But I made myself go on, Celeste. I had to. And all of these years I kept the secret and my promise to the both of you. I wanted to hate you. I wanted to hate him. But I couldn’t. Instead I took my pain out in every other way that I could—through power and manipulation. For a moment, I was happy when he was killed. I thought that maybe you would come to me then. But you never did.”
He stood up and began to pace the room, moving backward and forward through time. “And when Victoria was born and looked so much like you as she grew older, I wanted her to be my own daughter—our daughter. But that was never to be.”
Unknown to him the prevarication of his words slammed against her, making her wince. Would she ever be able to tell him the truth, even now—that she envied her sister Sharlene so desperately that she’d been willing to take and claim what was never hers—if only to have whatever Sharlene had? As if that would somehow make her Sharlene’s equal, worthy of love.
But how much time did she really have? It wasn’t fair to Victoria for Celeste to go to her grave with a lie that she’d constructed to assuage her wounded heart.
Slowly, Celeste rose, her large eyes filled with years of pain and deceit. “Why don’t we take a walk outside, Frank?”
More than two hours later, Frank returned to his car, his mind and heart still spinning from the revelations. His sturdy body felt as if it had been ravaged in battle. All these years he’d never known. He sat down in the car and turned his gaze toward Celeste’s home. How could she have done this—deprived him—deprived them all?
His emotions struggled to consume him. They vacillated between rage and a pain so deep he could not find the words to describe it. And yet he still loved her—after all she’d done. She was a woman who needed love more than anyone he’d ever met. She measured her worth by what her sister had. It was not until today that he fully understood the magnitude of her resentment for her sister Sharlene, which stretched back to their days as young girls. But Celeste never outgrew the sibling rivalry between her and her younger sister. Instead, it bloomed, and grew like the cancer that now pecked away at her life.
Frank was visiting his buddy, Hamilton, when he spotted Celeste across the crowded grounds of the George Washington University campus. She was so beautiful in an almost effervescent way, he realized, his heart knocking hard against his chest. He poked Hamilton in the side and angled his square chin in Celeste’s direction. “Who’s that?”
Hamilton gradually looked up and in the direction Frank indicated. “What about her?” he asked with caution, a slight edge to his tone. “That’s my lady’s older sister, Celeste. Why?” Hamilton’s dark eyes drilled into his friend’s green ones.
Frank gave a little shrug. “Why don’t you introduce me?”
“Why should I? It can’t go anywhere, Murphy, and you know it. So why stress yourself?”
Frank stared at him belligerently. “Because I’m white?”
“Yeah, pretty much. You may not have a problem with it, but plenty of others will, including her folks. You may be a liberated northern boy, and all that good stuff about crossing the color lines is not a problem for you, but this is still the fifties, man. Down South fifties. Whether you want to believe it or not, blacks and whites still don’t mix in most of this ‘liberated’ country of ours.”
“If you won’t introduce me, then I guess I’ll just introduce myself,” Frank replied, totally ignoring Hamilton. He pushed himself up off of the grass and began a slow stroll across the sloping hill.
“You’re asking for trouble, Murphy,” he yelled to Frank’s retreating back.
And trouble was exactly what Frank Murphy got, from the instant Celeste Winston turned around and stared at him with those incredible hazel eyes. His heart was hers for the taking.
He’d never felt so quickly, or so intensely about anyone as he had about Celeste Winston in the short months that they went from discreet friends to secret lovers. He knew it was a forbidden love—a love frowned upon by society. Maybe that was the incendiary device that fueled their clandestine passion. All he knew for certain was that he couldn’t stop himself if he’d tried.
Foolishly he’d believed they could surmount the obstacles. What he could never defeat, however, was Hamilton Delaware and the hold he had over Celeste’s heart, or the obsession she had in besting her sister.
Frank put the car in gear and mindlessly pulled away, looking back only once. All he’d ever coveted in this life was now a possibility. Celeste had handed to him the key to a dream he’d lost forever. Within his grasp was an opportunity to make some atonement for the deaths and destruction of which he’d been a part. But what awaited him on the other side of the door, should he dare to open it? If he dared, he’d have more reason than ever to keep Reese from uncovering his past.
Reese puttered around in the spacious kitchen, pretending to fix something edible for breakfast. “Can’t go wrong with toast,” she mumbled, looking over her shoulder for any signs of Maxwell. She popped two pieces of whole wheat bread in the toaster and depressed the lever.
Smiling and rubbing her palms together as if she’d accomplished a great feat, she pulled open the refrigerator door and took out the container of apple juice. Moving easily around the center island she retrieved two glasses from the overhead cabinets and placed them on the counter at the precise moment the rather burned toast ejected.
“What are you burning in here?” Max grumbled, turning up his nose as he entered the kitchen. He took a quick glance at the toast in Reese’s hand and the total look of dismay, overlaid with disgust on her face, and he burst out laughing. “Please tell me you can boil water,” he howled.
She slammed the two damning objects on the counter, pieces of burnt bread scattering across its top. Whirling away, her silk kimono fanning around her, she stomped toward the door, her humiliation complete.
“Hey, hold your horses,” Maxwell chuckled, biting down the last of his laughter. He grabbed her arm just as she attempted to whiz by him. He spun her stiff body around until it lined up perfectly with his. Merriment danced in the depths of his onyx eyes and it took all Reese had to maintain her irate front and not laugh instead.
He ran his finger along the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry?” he asked more than stated. She gave him a good punch in the chest, or at least the best she could do under such close circumstances. He kissed her forehead. “Why don’t I fix breakfast and you just relax and look beautiful?”
“Don’t patronize me,” she huffed, pushing away from him. “I just never really learned to cook. My aunt Celeste refused to have me in the kitchen. I had no sisters or brothers or other relatives to learn from.” She shrugged. “When I finally moved out on my own, my life was so fast-paced I didn’t have the time or the inclination to learn. Take-out is my middle name.”
Maxwell bit down yet another chuckle. “That’s understandable,” he said off the cuff. He inhaled deeply and let out a long breath. “We’ll just have to remedy that situation. Instead of hitting the town restaurants, we’ll whip up our own meals.” His smile was slow and warm and it touched another corner of her heart. This man would never stop surprising her. “Starting with breakfast, ’cause I’m starved. Especially after the workout you gave me this morning,” he said, flashing her a leer.
Maxwell was patient to a fault and as many times as he wanted to shake his head in disbelief at her lack of culinary skills, he kept his own counsel, encouraging her all along the way.
By the time they were finished preparing a breakfast of hash browns, western omelets, corn muffins and herbal tea, his once spotless kitchen was a disaster area. But Reese was so pleased with the outcome, her pleasure erased any thoughts of the big cleanup.
Maxwell took his last mouthful of the delicious fare. “That wasn’t so bad,” he commented.
“It was actually fun,” she grinned. “Now if I can just remember everything…”
He chuckled. “You will,” he assured. “It just takes practice—and patience.”
She gazed at him with a newfound awakening. “Something that you seem to have plenty of with some to spare. I really appreciate that.”
He winked. “See, I’m not such a bad guy after all.” He leaned back in his seat and patted his full stomach. “And just to prove that point, I’m going to help you clean up the kitchen.”
With the dishes finished and the kitchen returned to its immaculate state, Reese and Maxwell walked out onto the deck. Maxwell sat along the railing, his arms crossing his hard body. Reese opted for a seat on the lounge chair. She lay back and closed her eyes against the brilliant sun.
He’d thought long and hard about telling her of his father’s suspicions. Watching her now, having been with her in the most intimate of ways, opening up to her—he knew he couldn’t lose her and telling her might just make her run all the way back to Chicago.
Yet not to tell her that she might be in jeopardy was only serving his own purposes. He couldn’t keep her sequestered out here forever.
“Reese,” he whispered, reluctant to mar this peaceful moment.
Slowly she opened her eyes and squinted up at him. Her pulse picked up an extra beat when she saw the strain etched across his face. She bolted up in her seat.
“Max…what is it? Don’t look at me like that.”
He kneeled down next to where she sat and took her hands in his. He looked down at their hands, then into the depths of her questioning amber eyes. “You already know that for some reason, Reese, there are people in very high places who don’t want you digging into my past.” He swallowed. “And apparently they’ll do whatever is necessary to keep you from finding out whatever it is they don’t want you to know.” He took a breath. “I had more than the reason I gave you for asking you to come out here with me.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “What’s the reason, Max?” she asked with hesitation.
He let out a short breath. “My father felt it best if we stayed together,” he paused, reluctant to continue when he saw the flash of fire in her eyes. Her mouth tightened into a thin line. “It would be easier for Larry to keep an eye on things if we were…”
She held up her hand to stop him. “I don’t want to hear anymore.” She threw her legs over the side of the chair and stood up, nearly knocking Maxwell down in the process.
“Reese, listen…” He reached for her arm. She pulled away so violently the lightweight chair turned over on its side.
“Go straight to hell, Max,” she spat, her anger causing her to tremble. “All the while you were whispering sweet nothings, that’s just what it was…nothing!” Her voice sounded strangled as she fought back tears of despair. She leaned dangerously forward, hands on hips with her neck rolling in time to her condemnation. “You’re just following orders. What makes you any different from Daddy, who you claim you can’t understand?” she retorted with venom.
Maxwell felt as if he’d been blindsided. How could she think so little of him—even now—after what they’d shared, after what he’d given of himself? His response was hollow. “If that’s what you think of me, Reese, then this relationship isn’t worth the time it took to drive down here. If I didn’t give a damn about you, do you really think it would matter to me where you were? Do you really, deep down in your heart—” he poked her in the chest and she recoiled “—believe that I went through all of this—” he waved his hands expansively “—just for a few days and nights of rolling in the hay?” His voice lowered to a grumble. “If that’s all I wanted, there are more women than I care to count that would have been more than willing to warm my bed.” He lowered his gaze and shook his head. “You really don’t get it, do you?” With that he brushed past her and strode through the house and up the stairs.
The door to the upstairs bedroom thudded so loudly, Reese jumped out of the daze she was in. She spun toward the sliding glass door, her eyes winding up the spiral staircase. Without further hesitation she followed in Maxwell’s wake.
Maxwell stalked the four corners of his bedroom. Hurt wouldn’t adequately describe how he felt at the moment. Disappointment moved in the right direction and even that wasn’t sufficient. Maybe he should have told her that part of the reason for them being together was for her own protection—and he’d do whatever was necessary to keep her safe.
Abruptly, he halted his pacing and paused for a moment in front of the window. He braced his palms against the window frame and stared, unseeing onto the horizon. She had every right to be upset, even to doubt him, he rationalized. He, of all people, should know about mistrust and deceit. He swung toward the door just as it opened.
Her eyes were two large pools, drawing him into their bottomless depth. His heart knocked in his chest, a combination of anticipation mixed with an inkling of fear.
Reese stepped into the room. She closed the door silently behind her and pressed her spine against it—hesitating—unsure of what it was she saw in his gaze.
Maxwell clenched his jaw and crossed the room in—what appeared to Reese—slow motion. He kept coming until the barest whisper separated them. She held her breath as his invariable gaze bore down into hers.
He lowered his head. His kiss was tentative, treading lightly, slowly seductive. She wanted more.
Reese wound her long, bare arms around his neck. Reaching up on tiptoe she pulled him closer. “I’m sorry,” she murmured against his hot mouth. “I’m sorry. I should have told you everything,” he groaned against her neck, trailing kisses along its length. “I wanted—needed to protect you.” He pulled back and searched her face. “Can you understand that, baby? I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“I can’t remember the last time anyone cared enough about me…” her words caught in her throat. Shimmering pools floated in her eyes.
Maxwell crushed her lush body solidly against his. “Until now,” he whispered finishing her sentence.
She hugged him tighter. “But I’m a big girl, Max,” she uttered against his chest. “I need to know what I’m dealing with just as much as you do. I’ve spent the better part of my life in the dark. Please.” She looked up at him. Her eyes implored him. “Don’t you do that to me, too.”