Читать книгу After the Loving - Gwynne Forster, Gwynne Forster - Страница 9

Back in her room, Velma stared at the blue caftan that she had begun to alter before Russ altered her. Until the previous evening, he’d never seen her in anything but a caftan, and that hadn’t stopped him from liking her and wanting her. She was damned if she’d ruin her dress. She hung it up. If he didn’t want to look at her in her green silk caftan, she’d eat her dinner in the kitchen. From the window she saw that the snow had become heavy, and recalled the Christmas Eve just past, the happiest Yuletide of her life. She had thought that night that Russ would at least kiss her with the passion that she knew he felt, but he had settled for putting his arm around her and resting her head against his shoulder.

That night, the Harrington men had sat around the Christmas tree and the lighted fire in the den, each with a woman, along with Henry and Tara in an idyllic family celebration. Everyone, including her, had thought that the men would pair off for the night with their women, but Russ had walked up the stairs with her to her room, kissed her cheek and told her good-night. And it was clear to her the next morning that Drake did not spend the night with Pamela. Three extraordinary men governed by their own counsel. She heard the voices on the lower floor, and rushed down to greet Tara.

“Auntie Velma, do you want to hear me play the piano? Mr. Henry gave me my piano, and Mr. Telford teaches me how to play it.”

“You’re gonna have to stop calling Tel Mr. Telford,” Henry said.

“I know. Soon as he comes back, I’m going to call him Daddy.”

“Hadn’t you better ask your mother about that?” Russ asked. “You have a daddy.”

“I know, but I never see him, so I only have to call him that when I see him. I’m going to let Mr. Telford be my daddy.” The tears that glistened unshed in her eyes finally dripped down her cheeks. “If he won’t be my daddy, I’m going to run away.” Her eyes beseeched Russ. “Can’t he be my daddy, Mr. Russ? Can’t he?”

Russ dropped down on his haunches and pulled Tara into his arms. “He will be your daddy. It seems to me he has been ever since you came here. Telford loves you as much as you love him, so no more tears. All right?”

She nodded. “Do you think my mummy will let me call him Daddy?”

He hugged Tara and stroked her back. “You’re five, going on six, so it seems to me you should call him Dad.”

She threw her arms around Russ’s neck. “Thanks, Mr. Russ. That’s just what I’ll call him.”

Velma wondered at the significance of that strange conversation with a five-year-old and thought of her father, a man with whom she could never communicate to her satisfaction. Russ understood Tara and knew how to quiet her fears. She looked at Henry who seemed awestruck, with his gaze pinned on Russ. No one had to tell her that to Henry, Russ’s behavior was out of character. She mused as to the reason and, especially, whether it could be traced to what had gone on between Russ and her that day. Her heart fluttered, more with joy than with excitement, when she thought he might be softening, that—like her—he had begun to feel the need for love.

“I’ll be in and out for the next couple of weeks,” Russ told Velma after dinner that evening. “We’re thinking of building an annex to the Florence Griffith-Joyner Houses in Philadelphia, and I need to work there for a while. If you need me, you have my cell phone.”

“Who’ll shovel the snow?” She asked the question more to show an indifference to his leaving Harrington House for the remainder of her stay than because she worried about snow removal.

“If it continues after I leave, Henry will call a snow-removal company. Drake’s leaving in a couple of days for Barbados. We’re building Frenchman’s Village there—an apartment, hotel, shopping mall complex—and, as you know, he’s the engineer for all our projects.”

“You’re the architect, Drake’s the engineer and Telford is the builder. How did that happen?”

“We decided on that when we were teenagers, and it suits us.”

“Wasn’t Drake planning to eat dinner at home tonight?”

“He decided not to risk driving through this snow. He’ll be here tomorrow. Join me in the den for some cognac? Henry and Tara will probably have some kind of juice.”

She didn’t want casual chitchat. As much as she loved her niece and Henry, she didn’t want to talk with them right then, and the thought of an hour of impersonal conversation with Russ had about as much attraction for her as poison ivy. Nonetheless, she said, “I won’t drink, but I’ll sit with you while you enjoy yours.”

He leaned against the big walnut commode that had belonged to his maternal grandparents and looked at her. “How is it that you so often manage to surprise me with the right words or behavior?”

She lifted her shoulder in a slight shrug. “It isn’t intentional, I assure you.”

He straightened up. “Oh, I know it isn’t. It’s you.”

To her relief, Tara began to yawn and nod almost as soon as they went into the den. “I’d better put her to bed,” Velma said to Russ and Henry.

“Good night. Sleep well,” Russ said, letting her know that their evening was over.

“Good night,” Henry said. “As for sleeping well, ain’t no point in telling you to do that, ’cause you’re gonna be awake half the night. You young people think you got forever to start living. Dumbest thing I ever heard of.”

“You’ve got my life all laid out, Henry,” she heard Russ say as she started down the hall with Tara, “but I will live it my way, not your way or Telford’s or Drake’s. You listening to me?”

“Yeah, and I ain’t heard nothing you haven’t said before. You’re running from that one just because we think she’s good for you. Go ahead. Make yer own bed hard. I ain’t the one sleeping in it.”

She would have been happier if she hadn’t heard that exchange between Russ and Henry. She put Tara to bed, laid out her clothes for school the next day, pulled off her shoes and tiptoed up the stairs to her room. The last thing she wanted was to bump into Russ. He and Henry didn’t seem to notice that she ate hardly any supper. Hunger pangs pelted her belly, and she drank two glasses of water in an effort to ease the pain. Still longing for solid food, she eased between the sheets and tried to sleep. Three hours later, she sat up and turned on the light beside her bed, exhausted from dreams of a battle with oversize steaks and spareribs and of trying to hide huge hamburgers from Russ, whose mocking laughter echoed everyplace she went.

Before breakfast the next morning, Russ got the snowplow and cleaned the circle in front of the house, the road leading to it and the one that connected the house and the warehouse. Sitting in the office at the warehouse, he telephoned Allen Krenner, their foreman, and told him what he and Velma had discovered.

“I haven’t got a clue as to how that could happen, Russ,” he said, “but from where I sit, at least one of the culprits works for either the manufacturer or the packaging company.”

“You don’t think the accountant is involved?”

“Hard to say, Russ, but I wouldn’t bet on it.”

He trusted Allen, a longtime family friend. “Whoever he is, I’ll find him.” He hung up, made the necessary notes in the daily log and went home to get his breakfast. After eating, he checked the weather on local radio and phoned Velma. “We got about eight inches of snow last night, so I doubt school will open today.”

“Oh, dear,” she said. “I had planned to drive Alexis’s car to Baltimore today. I need to take care of some business.”

“The roads will be open by ten o’clock, but most businesses will probably be closed. If it can wait until tomorrow, you can drive me to Baltimore, and I’ll get a train there to Philadelphia.”

Twenty minutes later, he had reason to be thankful that he was at home. “Aunt Velma! Aunt Velma!” he heard Tara screaming, obviously on her way up the stairs.

He bolted from the room and met her as she reached the landing, both hands on her belly. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

“My tummy. My tummy. I thought it was candy, and I ate it.”

He grabbed her and ran as fast as he could to Alexis’s rooms. “What? Show me.”

She pointed to the remainder of a substance that he supposed Alexis used either in her sculpting or painting. He tried to force Tara to give up the substance, but she couldn’t, and when her eyes widened, he knew that her stomach pains had intensified. He went to a closet.

“Get your coat,” he told her.

She pulled one off a hanger, and he sped down the hall still carrying her in his arms. “Velma!” he called. “Get your coat and let’s go.”

He ran into the kitchen. “Henry, Tara swallowed something toxic, and I’m taking her to the hospital in Frederick this minute.”

He pulled out his cellular phone and punched in Velma’s number. “Get ready to come with me right now,” he said, when she answered. “Tara swallowed something, and we have to take her to the hospital.”

Minutes later he put Velma, Tara, blankets, and his first-aid kit in the backseat of his Mercedes and headed for Frederick. “How do you feel, Tara?” he asked the child, more worried that he would let either of them know.

“My tummy hurts, Mr. Russ.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, “and that’s why we’re taking you to the doctor.”

“Did I do bad, Mr. Russ?”

“No, you did not. You made a mistake.”

“Do you think she has a fever?” he asked Velma.

“Her forehead is cool, so I don’t think so.”

“Last time I was in Frederick Hospital, I went there to see my uncle. One of the shocks of my life. Someday, if you’re interested, I’ll tell you about it.”

“If it was important enough to shock you, of course I’m interested.”

Her words sank in, even though he didn’t want them to impress him. He drove several miles without speaking, but at last he was compelled to respond. “I wish I could see inside of your head, know how your thoughts form and why they seem almost always to fall so nicely on my ears.”

“I try to tell the truth. I am not interested in being clever or witty, though some people say I am. I just try to be myself.”

He wished he’d been looking at her when she said that. “Including the other night when you blew kisses to your fans in that restaurant? It will be a long time before I let you forget that.”

“I told you that I’m a prankster. That came as natural to me as breathing.”

“How’s she doing? Don’t let her go to sleep.”

“Right. And that’s what she’s trying to do.”

“Talk to her. Anything to keep her awake. We should be there in about ten minutes, providing a highway patrolman doesn’t catch us.”

At last, he parked in front of the hospital, jumped out and took Tara from Velma’s arms. “If you pray, this would be a good time,” he told Velma, slammed the car door shut and raced into the emergency room.

A nurse took Tara from him, but although he knew he had to give the child up for care, a heaviness formed in his chest when he handed her over. “She swallowed some material that her mother uses either for painting or for sculpting, and she complained of terrible stomach pains.”

“Thanks. Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of her.”

“Can we go with you?” he asked the nurse.

She shook her head. “Sit here. I’ll let you know how she is.”

Velma’s hand clutched his wrist. “Should we put the car in the parking lot?”

“Yeah. I guess so.” But leaving the waiting room was like deserting Tara, and he couldn’t do that. As if she understood his feelings and divined his thoughts, she held out her hand. “Give me your keys. I’ll move the car.”

He reached into his pocket, got the keys and handed them to her. “Thanks.” Feeling that his heart would break, he stared up at her as she stood over him, her face the picture of compassion. Then, on what was certainly an impulse, she leaned forward and kissed his lips.

“You got her here in time, and she’ll be well taken care of,” she said. “It’s hard for me, too, but please try not to worry. You’re a wonderful man. I’ll be right back.”

She left him, and he leaned forward with his knees apart, rested his forearms on his thighs and let his hands dangle in front of him. Useless. Powerless. Unfamiliar feelings. He got up, walked to the other end of the small room and retraced his steps. Walls white and bare, gray chairs side by side around the room. Why didn’t someone put pictures in waiting rooms, or anything to distract a person’s attention? He walked back to the other side of the room. If only he could kick something! Thinking that an hour had passed and wondering why Velma hadn’t returned, he looked at his watch and grimaced. Less than twenty minutes had elapsed since he stopped his car in front of the hospital.

Since he stopped… What had he been thinking? He didn’t allow anyone to drive his car except Telford and Drake, and he wasn’t keen on their doing it. Maybe he should pray, but he didn’t know how to begin. He sat down, leaned back in the chair that was too small for his big frame and closed his eyes. He remembered the Lord’s Prayer from his childhood, and he said it then in barely whispered tones. When he opened his eyes, Velma stood before him.

She handed him the car keys. “I parked on the side. No news yet?”

He shook his head. “No. She’s so little. What could they be doing to her?”

“Probably pumping her stomach.”

He sprang forward. “Will that hurt?”

“I’m not sure. I hope not.” He started to get up, and she tugged at his hand. “Honey, try to relax. They’ll tell us something soon.”

She caressed his hand, and he let her do it; he needed the comfort. “That little girl is so much a part of me. If she were my own child, I doubt I could love her more. Telford, Drake and Henry adopted her at once, but it took me a long time. One day late last summer, I saved her life, and she’s been in here ever since.” He pointed to his heart. “I couldn’t bear it if she—”

She sat beside him then and put her arm around his shoulders. “She’s going to be fine.”

He closed his eyes in an effort to blot out his surroundings and tried to think of his next project, but he failed. He sensed that Velma stood up abruptly and opened his eyes to see the nurse approaching, her face brilliant with a smile. He rushed to meet the woman.

“Is she…? How is she?”

“She’s fine, but we want her to rest a couple of hours before you take her home.”

“You’re sure? You’re sure she’s all right?” he asked her.

“Absolutely. You got her here in good time, so there won’t be any permanent damage, but there certainly could have been. She said she thought she spit it out when she realized it wasn’t chocolate, but she swallowed enough of it to make her very sick. If you want something to eat or drink, there’s a cafeteria on the first level down. Take the elevator.”

“Can we go in and see her?” he asked. “Just for a second?”

“I’d rather not. It’s important that she rest. Are you Mr. Russ?”

“Yes. I’m Russ Harrington, and this is Velma Brighton, Tara’s aunt.”

“I’m glad to meet you. I’m Nurse Parker. She said to tell you she’s not sick. She’ll be out in two hours.”

“Two hours to…well, at least she’ll be all right,” he said to Velma. “Let’s go downstairs and get something to eat.” They got on the elevator and went to the cafeteria. He chose a hamburger, french fries and salad. He put it on the table and stared at it.

“What’s wrong?” Velma asked him.

He ran his fingers through his silky curls and then rubbed the back of his neck. “I must be losing it. I don’t eat junk like this.”

“This chicken fried steak is pretty good, want a sample?”

He tasted it. “Not bad.” He dumped his tray of food into the trash bin and returned with the steak, mashed potatoes and a container of milk.

“After we finish, I want to go upstairs and see my uncle. He’s terminally ill, and my brothers and I are his only visitors. I’d like you to come with me, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind. I’ll be glad to go with you.”

He found Fentress Sparkman propped up in bed reading the Bible that Russ had given him as a present the previous Christmas.

“How are you feeling, sir?”

“Some days, I feel pretty good, some not. I’m glad to see you. Telford sent me an invitation to his wedding. Did he marry a woman you like?”

“Yes, indeed, and he’s on his honeymoon right now. This is Velma Brighton. Velma, my uncle, Fentress Sparkman.”

Sparkman nodded his head. “Glad to meet you.” He patted the Bible. “It was good of you to give me this, Russ. I read it all the time. You and your brothers have made my last days happy ones.”

Russ grasped the frail hand that reached out to him. “It’s too bad we couldn’t have had a normal relationship all along, sir. I’ll be back to see you as soon as I can.”

“Don’t make it too long. Thanks for coming and bringing your friend.”

They told him goodbye and went back to the waiting room. Almost as soon as they sat down, he heard himself telling her the story of his uncle and his father. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” he said, “except maybe because it still surprises me, makes me wonder. That story had a strong effect on me—I pay careful attention to the way I treat people. A stranger, even an enemy, could be a close relative.”

He got up and walked toward the door leading to patient care. “What’s holding them?” He walked back to Velma. “All I have is that nurse’s word.”

Velma walked over to where he stood strung out with anxiety. “She’s a professional, Russ, and she deals with patients’ families all the time. She wouldn’t mislead us.”

He slapped his left fist in his right palm. “You’re right, I know, but it’s taking so long. How could she be so weak that she needs to rest for two whole hours?” He remembered to call Henry who he knew was worried about Tara and anxious for her well-being.

“How is she?” Henry asked as he lifted the receiver.

He told Henry as much as he knew. “It appears that she’ll be as good as new. I just didn’t want you to worry more.”

“Worry more? I never been so upset in me life. Thanks for letting me know.”

As Russ hung up, the door swung open, and the nurse wheeled Tara through it in a wheelchair. “Mr. Russ! Aunt Velma! They put a tube down my throat, they gave me this big bunny and these balloons, and when I get big, I’m going to play the piano for them.”

He raced to the wheelchair, stopped and stared at the nurse. “Can’t she walk?”

“Yes, but we always release patients this way.”

“Do you have a clerk or someone who I can pay?” he asked her.

“Fill out this form, and we’ll send you a bill. After you do that, she may go.”

He thanked the nurse, filled out the forms and lifted Tara from the wheelchair. He looked the child in the eyes. “If you ever give me another scare like this one, I’m going to tweak your nose.” Her giggles filled his heart with such happiness that he couldn’t help hugging her as he walked to his car with her in his arms and Velma holding his hand.

As he drove home, the thought occurred to him time and again that he’d learned much about himself in the last five days, all of it important and some of it life-changing.

After supper, when they had finally tucked the excited little girl in bed, he sat with Velma and Henry in the den musing over what he considered his odd behavior.

“Henry, I had planned to work on a project we have in Philadelphia, but what happened with Tara suggests to me that I ought to work here at home until Telford gets back. Drake can’t stay home. He has to leave for Barbados tomorrow.”

“Well, I ain’t what I used to be, and I haven’t driven a car in years, but Velma here can drive. You don’t have to change yer plans. We can manage.”

“I know I can count on you, Henry, and that you care as much for our home as I do. After all, it’s your home. But my mind tells me to stay here, and I don’t mind doing it. My computer and my brain are about all I need in order to work.”

Around ten in the morning, two days later, he looked up from his draft board and glanced at his bedroom window just as a silver-gray Lincoln Town Car turned into the circle that graced the front of Harrington House. A familiar car. He got up, went downstairs and opened the door at the first peal of the doorbell.

Jack Stevenson. “What can I do for you, man?” he asked Jack.

“I want to see Alexis.” He started past Russ, but didn’t get far before he felt the weight of Russ’s hand on his shoulder.

“What do you want with her?”

“It’s not your business.”

Same old Jack. “It may be her husband’s business. Would you like me to give him a message?”

“What husband? What the hell are you talking about?”

The pleasure he got from anticipating Jack’s reaction to his next words sent tremors through his body. “Didn’t anybody tell you? Alexis Harrington is on her honeymoon with Telford Harrington. As we speak, man.”

“You’re lying to me.”

“Sorry. It’s a matter of public record. Check it with the minister of the First Presbyterian Church in Frederick, or with me, since I was best man and legal witness. You want to check it with Velma? I think she’s playing checkers with your daughter.”

Jack stared at him. “The big guy. He got her after all.”

“Nobody in this house ever doubted that they would marry. Uh… You want me to call Tara?”

“Naah. I’m…I’m out of here.”

“Really? Yesterday, just before I took Tara to the emergency room in Frederick General Hospital, she asked me if she could call Telford ‘daddy,’ and I told her she had a daddy. She said she only has to call you daddy when she sees you, and she doesn’t see you often. What do you think she should call her stepfather?”

“Damned if I care.” Jack moved the few steps toward the front door, but Russ had one more rock to toss and put his hand on the doorknob, effectively imprisoning Jack.

“I got your daughter to the emergency room in time for the doctors to save her life, but since it didn’t occur to you to ask how she is, I won’t tell you.” He opened the door, and with a sweep of his hand, invited the man to leave.

“I see we won’t be bothered with you in the future, buddy, and good riddance,” he called after Jack.

He went into the kitchen and related the incident to Henry. “There’s no telling how he might have behaved if I hadn’t been here. Jack learned months ago not to cross me.”

Henry raised an eyebrow. “Oh, his type is nothing to worry about. Just put his five-year-old daughter in front of him, and he’s ready to go.” He stopped kneading dough. “Alexis sent him an invitation to the wedding, but I guess he didn’t open it, probably thinking it was something about his daughter. She don’t need him. Tel’s her daddy, and has been since the day she came here.”

Russ stuffed his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and leaned against the kitchen counter as memories of his mother flooded his mind. “I’ve often thought that there ought to be some kind of test for parenthood, or at least mandatory classes for people who bring children into this world. My mother and Jack Stevenson would have been prime candidates.”

Henry oiled a bowl, put the bread down to rise and covered it with a sheet of plastic. “It ain’t good to think like that, Russ. Miss Lizzie was one of those people that needed freedom. She loved her children, but she didn’t like being married and having to answer to another person.”

“I’m glad she bothered to give birth to me and my brothers, but if she did that, she should have accepted her responsibility to take care of us. Instead, she took off without warning whenever she felt like it. I remember waking up one morning and going in my parents’ room and asking my father where she was. He wiped a tear, didn’t look at me and said, ‘I don’t know, Son. I don’t know where she went.’ That was the day before I started first grade. She came back, and she left again. When Dad died, she came back and stayed, but I didn’t give a damn. I was eight.”

“I know. It affected you more than it did Telford and Drake. Since Mr. Josh died, your brothers and me are the only people you let get close to you. Best thing that could have happened to you, Son, was finding out how much Alexis loves her child. She come here that day, she told me later, with a total of thirty-eight dollars to her name right after she signed away twelve million in exchange for full custody of Tara.”

He released a sharp whistle. “I didn’t know it was that much. Jack Stevenson is a jerk. I don’t see how any human being could fail to love Tara. Well, if I’m going to stay home, I’d better get to work.” And he’d have to find a way to avoid Velma except at breakfast and supper when it would be impossible. As it was, thoughts of her interfered with his concentration, and that was a first.

His mind made up, he told Henry, “I think I’ll work in the office at the warehouse. Less distraction.”

“Yeah,” Henry said. “She ain’t likely to go down there. If I need you for anything, I’ll call you on your cell phone.”

He didn’t bother to answer. As long as Henry could breathe, he’d say whatever came to his mind. “See you at supper. I’ll get a sandwich out of the vending machine in the basement at the warehouse.”

“Won’t taste like nothing.”

“Right, but it will serve the purpose.”

At the same time, Velma was considering ways to avoid encountering Russ. She knew that it was mandatory that they all eat supper together, for Alexis had made that a house rule. However, nothing prevented her from leaving before breakfast. That evening after supper, she laid out Tara’s clothes for school, read stories to her niece and went to her room early. She heard Russ’s steps as he mounted the stairs and her breathing stopped until she heard his bedroom door close. She had known that he wouldn’t knock on her door, and she hadn’t wanted him to, but in her heart she longed for him to come to her.

She slept fitfully, rose early and got Tara ready for school. She’d never been efficient at braiding hair, and Tara didn’t like the result. “Aunt Velma, I’m going to learn how to braid my hair,” she said after looking in the mirror.

“I don’t blame you. The school bus will be here in ten minutes, so let’s hurry.” At the front door, to her surprise, Russ was waiting for them.

“Hi,” he said. “I’ll walk with her out to the bus. It stops almost directly in front of the house, but the walkway may be a little slippery.”

She stood in the foyer beside the big oval window watching as Russ lifted Tara, hugged and kissed her and set her on the bus. She hadn’t known him to be so affectionate with the child and wondered again at the reason. He seemed surprised to find her still standing there when he returned.

“I had planned to work in Philadelphia for a few days, but with both Telford and Drake away, I think I’d better stay close to home.” He told her about Jack’s visit the previous afternoon. “I wouldn’t put it past him to do something to upset Telford, who he detests. I told the bus driver not to release her to any man but me, and I’ve just this second decided to go to the school and warn the principal.”

“Surely, he wouldn’t—”

“A principled man wouldn’t treat his daughter as Jack treats Tara. He didn’t want Alexis when she was his wife, but as soon as she divorced him for philandering, he wanted her back. Telford got in his way. I’d better get moving.”

“I’m driving to Baltimore today. I hope to be back before supper time.” It was on the tip of her tongue to add: so you won’t need to work in the warehouse.

As if making the connection himself, his left eyebrow shot up. “Driving Alexis’s car?” She nodded. “Better let me check it out.”

He opened the closet beside the door leading to the downstairs game room and got a bunch of keys. “Be back in a few minutes.”

She sat on a stair step, waiting for him and ruminating about his protectiveness. He was responsible for the house and the family in Telford’s absence. Maybe that accounted for it.

“It’s okay. Be sure and take my cell phone number in case you need me for something.”

“Thanks.”

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, and she sat on the third step, but he still towered over her. She looked up at him, seeing his long-lashed and slumberous dark eyes, full bottom lip and square but dimpled chin; the muscled chest that emphasized his six-foot-three-and-a half-inch height, his long legs, flat belly and the aura of power that he exuded. She sucked in her breath and knew he saw and heard her.

His breathing accelerated, and she could see his Adam’s apple bobbing furiously. Her tongue rimmed her bottom lip, and he seemed to gulp air. He wanted her, and she wanted him inside of her. Disgusted with herself for having started it and for her inability to control her passion for him, she jumped up and raced up the stairs. But he reached the landing when she did, pulled her into his arms and lifted her hungry body to his, chest to chest and loins to loins.

“Russ. Oh, my Lord.”

He stared down at her, his nostrils flaring, his eyes telling her what she knew his mouth wouldn’t say. His lips were so close that she breathed his breath, and her senses swirled dizzily as her nostrils caught the odor of his heat. Spirals of unbearable tension snaked through her and, frustrated beyond reason, she put her hands behind his head and brought his lips to meet hers, open and waiting.

He plunged his tongue into her mouth, and she took all that he would give her, as he tested and tasted every centimeter, swirling and tantalizing until she moaned the agony of her desire.

Recovering as best she could, she rested her head against his shoulder. “Stop playing with me, Russ. You give in to your feelings when they overwhelm you, but you don’t want this to go anywhere.”

“I am not playing with you. Whether you were aware of it or not, you gave me one of the most seductive invitations a man could get. You know how things are with us. What was I supposed to do? Pretend you weren’t there?”

His arms tightened around her and she kissed the side of his neck. “You’re famous for your self-control, so—”

“So I decide when to use it. Is that what you’re accusing me of?”

She leaned back and gazed into his face. So close and so precious. “Don’t you?”

His rough half laugh almost startled her. “I would have gotten to you if I’d had to jump over a mile-deep ravine. Decision had nothing to do with it.” A grin spread over his face. “I suppose I ought to put you down.”

“Yes, considering how much I weigh.”

“It probably gets less every day, considering how little you’re eating.”

“That’s the problem. I haven’t lost an ounce, and I’m hungry all the time.”

“Then stop being vain and eat. Losing weight won’t change your personality and probably not your face. They’re what I find most attractive in you or any other woman. I’d better get dressed if I’m going to Tara’s school.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Be careful driving.”

She had told him she hadn’t lost weight, but she had actually gained a pound. “If this continues, I’m going to see a nutritionist,” she vowed to herself. “Henry, I’ll be in Baltimore most of the day,” she called to him from the kitchen door.

“Ain’t no need for that. Russ is working at the warehouse today.”

“Henry, I am not going to Baltimore to avoid Russ.”

“You are so. He’s running from you, and you’re running from him, though I can’t for the life of me see what the two of you are running for. Any adult who’s around you for ten minutes can slice the heat with a knife, it’s so thick.”

“That’s not very consoling, Henry.”

“I ain’t supposed to console you. That’s Russ’s job. I’m just watching the two of you postpone the inevitable. Soon as Tel and Alexis get back here and start showing you how nice it can be… You just watch. I ain’t saying no more.”

After determining that Henry didn’t need anything from Baltimore, she started on her journey, shocked to have discovered that Russ had driven the car out of the garage and positioned it so that she wouldn’t have to back out.

“I could love that guy,” she said to herself, and not for the first time. “He’s everything I need, but I don’t believe he’s even thinking about developing a relationship with me, to say nothing of marrying me.”

In Baltimore, she made her first stop at a real estate company that specialized in small business needs. After settling with the agent as to what she wanted, she headed for Layne Bryant’s, intent on seeing how she would look in jeans.

She didn’t like the jeans, stretch or otherwise, and settled on two pairs of pants, one oxford gray and the other dark tan. She looked around until she found a sweater, below-hip length and very loose with one side tucked and held up with a self bow. She liked the design and bought lavender and burnt-orange versions of it. Then, she gathered her courage and went into the dress department, trying not to notice the beautiful caftans as she passed them. She saw a navy blue silk-crepe dress that had three-quarter-length sleeves, a fitted silhouette and flared ruffles at the hem. She tried it on and, encouraged, found a burnt-orange replica and bought both of them.

Maybe I’ll never wear them, she thought, unless Alexis says they look all right. But what did her svelte sister know about what did or didn’t look right on a short, overweight woman? She put her parcels in the trunk of the car, bought a bag of miniature Snickers to make herself feel better and headed back to Eagle Park, munching as she drove, diet forgotten.

She arrived at Harrington House half an hour before seven, heard Tara practicing the piano and rushed to her room to shower and change. She expected comments from Henry and Tara, but she prayed that Russ at least would keep his opinions to himself.

When she got downstairs, feeling self-conscious in her brown pants and burnt-orange sweater, Tara greeted her, “Aunt Velma, Mr. Russ came to my school today and talked to my teachers and he brought me home from school, so I didn’t have to ride the bus. Mr. Russ loves me.”

She knelt before the little girl and wrapped her arms around her. “Of course he loves you, all of us love you.”

“You look pretty, Aunt Velma. Is Mr. Drake coming home tonight?”

“No, dear. He’s gone to Barbados for a few weeks.”

“Oh. He likes to go there a lot.”

Tara took her hand and walked with her to the breakfast room where Russ and Henry waited for them. As soon as they sat down, Russ said grace.

“Mr. Russ says my grace takes too long,” Tara said, blessing them all with her smiles and giggles.

“Henry, this food is first class,” Russ said of the medallions of pork, saffron rice, artichoke hearts in cream sauce and asparagus.

“I made a brown Betty for dessert. Alexis left a slew of recipes, and I’m using ’em. I suppose you know how to cook, Velma.”

At least he hadn’t mentioned her clothes. “Henry, I have two degrees in home economics, and I make a living catering galas and other affairs. And you ask me if I can cook.”

“Well, you don’t have to do the cooking yourself. You can hire somebody.”

She glanced at Russ, and found his gaze pinned on her. “If you want a sample, I’ll cook one day this weekend.”

“I’d like a sample,” Russ said almost before the words left her mouth. “Make it Sunday. One of my college buddies is having supper with us. I was going to take him out to dinner because I don’t like adding to Henry’s burdens, but since you’re cooking—”

“Ain’t no burden to add an extra plate. He ain’t on a special diet, is he?”

Russ shook his head. “Tara, did you finish your homework?”

“Yes, sir. I did my whole workbook.”

“What about your reading?”

“I read that yesterday. Can I go play the piano?”

“After your Aunt Velma or I checks your homework, you may.”

“And after Mr. Henry gives me some black-cherry ice cream,” she said, bringing a laugh from the adults.

Once more, she left the table feeling as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. She took the plates into the kitchen, rinsed them and opened the dishwasher. As she raised up to get the plates off the counter, she glimpsed Russ’s gray pinstriped pants.

“You could at least make some noise when you walk. Scare the bejeebers out of a person.”

His hands gripped her shoulders, his lips covered hers, and she tasted him. “Russ!” His fingers sent fiery ripples spiraling along her arms, and she pulled his tongue into her mouth, loving him, shaken by the terrible sweet hunger he stirred in her.

When he released her, she gripped his arms for support. “Russ. Honey, would you please leave me down here on planet earth. I want to stay off this seesaw of yours.”

“I like the way you look, and I wanted you to know it. Warm and sweet.” He kissed her nose. “Nice nose, too.”

In the days that followed, she planned her time carefully and managed not to be alone with Russ except on the rare occasions when he surprised her, as he said, “Just so you’ll know I’m here and that I know what you’re doing.”

She didn’t ask him what he meant, because she knew. She also knew that until he indicated that he wanted more from her than hot kisses, more than a casual relationship, she intended to stay out of his way.

“If you’re going to let me cook tomorrow, Henry, I’d better run into Eagle Park and do some shopping.”

“Guess you’d better. If you told Russ you’d do it, that settles it. He don’t break his word for nothing, and he expects the same of everybody else. Check the pantry before you make yer list.”

She returned from shopping, made a large bowl of crème Courvoisier, put it in the deep freezer, made raspberry sauce for it, marinaded a pork roast and called Henry.

“The kitchen’s yours till around one tomorrow,” she told him.

“If you need from one to seven to get dinner together, you must think the president’s coming.”

She winked. “What makes you think he isn’t?”

Not to be outdone, Henry called to her as she walked down the hall, “If that’s the case, it’s high time you started acting like it. If a man’s head honcho, his woman lets him and everybody else know it.”

Russ turned the corner with Tara holding his hand. “Who’s head honcho?”

Henry didn’t look at him. “Humph. Since you don’t know, telling ya won’t do a bit of good.”

She hurried up the stairs, went to her room and busied herself with plans for the gala she had contracted to service in New Orleans. The more she thought about it, the less attractive the venture appeared.

Darkness had already set in that Sunday afternoon around five-thirty when she began setting the dining room table. She decorated it with a large crystal bowl of pink and white rose buds that she had bought in town the previous day, and pink candles in crystal candle holders. She used a white damask cloth and napkins, white porcelain that had a tiny pink floral design, heirloom silver and crystal goblets.

At the last minute she decided to wear her new navy blue dress, added rose quartz beads and earrings, combed out her hair, remembered his comment about short women piling their hair on their heads to look taller and pinned hers up on top of her head.

“I’m not going to remake myself for him, and I want him to know it,” she said aloud and she walked down the stairs.

She dressed Tara in a red-and-white-checkered pinafore and secured her hair with two red clamps. “Sorry, honey,” she said, “braids will have to wait till your mother gets back.”

“How many more days?”

“Five.”

She clapped her hands and exuded happiness as giggles poured out of her. “And then Mr. Telford will be my daddy… I mean my dad.”

“He’s been your dad ever since the wedding.”

Tara’s wide eyes stared up at her. “Will he like being my dad?”

“He will love it, because he loves you. Let’s go. It’s supper time.”

“Who’s she?” Velma heard a male voice ask, looked in the direction from which the voice came and saw a tall man-for-the-ages sexual dynamite staring at her.

“She’s Velma Brighton. Why?” Russ asked his guest.

“Why? You have to ask why? Is she yours?”

“No, she isn’t,” Russ replied. “Dinner’s ready.”