Читать книгу Scarlet Woman - Gwynne Forster, Gwynne Forster - Страница 10

Callie ran to him with arms open and tears glistening in her eyes as he stepped into the terminal. Wordlessly, they held each other, seeking comfort in shared sorrow. Although she was two years older, once they became adults he’d treated her as a younger sister. He’d always loved her, and as a small boy, had followed her constantly unless there was work for him to do. He picked up his suitcase, and they walked arm in arm to her car.

“Thanks for meeting me, Callie. How’s Mama doing?”

“Pretty good. She said she expected it, though she hadn’t thought it would be so soon.”

“Neither did I, and I was with him yesterday. How’d you know I’d be on that plane?”

“It was the next one in from Baltimore, and I knew you’d make that one if you could.”

He remembered Melinda’s comment about his lack of male chauvinism just as he was about to ask Callie for the keys to her car, and he smothered a laugh. Instead, he asked her, “You want to drive, or you want me to drive?”

The startled expression on her face was evidence that he ought to mend his ways. “You’re going to sit in the front seat beside me while I drive?”

The laugh poured out of him, until he stopped trying to stifle it and leaned against the car, enjoying it.

“What on earth are you laughing at?”

He told her, leaving out what he considered irrelevant. “Maybe she was telling me something. Do you think I don’t have enough respect for women?”

Both of her eyebrows shot up. “You? No, I don’t think that. You’re a man who takes charge, and I expect you’d want to drive even if it was John’s car.”

He opened the driver’s door and held it for her. “You drive. As for me driving John’s car with him sitting there, you and I both know he’d have to be deathly ill. Did he get in yet?”

“He’ll be in tonight.”

Much as he disliked facing what he knew awaited him, it was nonetheless good to have the affection and support of his siblings, John and Callie. He knew they’d all be strong for their mother, but did they hurt as he did and did they feel cheated of a father’s love? Maybe some day they’d talk about it.

Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t the smile with which his mother greeted them. “I’ll be lonely when y’all leave,” she told them, “but he wouldn’t want us to sit around with long faces.”

He hugged his mother and walked into the house, feeling the difference the second he stepped across the threshold. The windows were wide open, and the curtains flapped in the breeze that flowed through the rooms. He turned to look at his mother with what he knew was an inquiring expression.

Her smile radiated warmth and contentment. “The last thing he said to me was ‘enjoy what’s left, and let the sunshine in.’ I’ll love him as long as I breathe, but I aim to do that starting now.”

The pain began to crowd his heart. Maybe it wasn’t the time, but he couldn’t hold it back. “You loved him so much, as hard a man as he…he was?”

With a vigorous shake of her head, she said, “He wasn’t hard. I know he seemed that way to you children, but the day he married me, he promised I’d never want for anything. Sometimes he worked all day and most of the night to keep that promise. I hurt for you all when you were growing up, and I didn’t like to see how you felt about him, but he taught you the values that would see you through life.”

“Mama, when I was ten or eleven, I’d get so tired I couldn’t even run.”

“I know, son. And I remember how he held my hand and cried at your college graduation as you stood up there and gave that speech, top student in your class.”

She turned to Callie. “When you got your degree, he said we’d go to your graduation even if his strawberries rotted on the bushes while we were gone, and you know the value of those berries and what they meant to him. He loved all of you.” She sniffed and blew her nose, fighting back the tears, but her eyes remained dry.

“John surprised us with these air conditioners he designed for his company,” she went on, “and your father walked all the way to Mr. Moody’s house and asked him to come down and see what John did. He was so proud of you all.”

Her arms wound around his shoulder, reminding him that he could count on her when everything else failed, and it had always been that way. “You were the one he worried most about,” she said with a wistful smile, “because you are so strong-headed, and you were so angry with him. Let it go, son.”

Why did the price of forgiveness have to be so high? He looked at his mother with new insight about the way their family life had been when he was young and bitter, and now he had to know more. “Did he ever tell you he loved you?”

Her lips parted in what was clearly astonishment. “Yes. All the time. Not always with words, maybe, but in numerous other ways. Let it go, son. Let the sunshine in.”

Blake lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “I guess I have to. The trouble is I wanted to love him.”

“You children made his last years beautiful. He had a lovely home, more than enough for us to live on even if we didn’t work, and for the first time in his life, he had a little leisure time.”

“I’m glad we could do it.”

John arrived that evening and they finished the funeral arrangements while they reminisced about their childhood. Blake didn’t like the drama and commotion that accompanied Southern mourning, and he was glad to have a moment alone. He walked out to the front gate where the summer breeze carried the scent of roses and the clear moonlit night brought him memories of his childhood. And loneliness. He went inside for his cell phone, came back and telephoned Melinda. Maybe it didn’t make sense, but he needed to hear her voice.

“I’ve just been thinking that I had no idea where you are,” she said after they greeted each other.

“I’m in Six Mile, about twenty miles outside of Birmingham. It’s small, barely a hamlet. Here’s my cell-phone number. Call me if you want to.”

“I will, and I’m glad you called me. How’s your mother taking this?”

“Philosophically as usual. I guess it’s worse for me than for Mama and my sister and brother, because my relationship with him was so much poorer than theirs, but I’m making it. Being with John and Callie, my older brother and sister, and talking things over with them puts a clearer perspective on my childhood. I’ll be fine.”

“How’d you get there from Birmingham? Rent a car?”

He leaned against the gate and inhaled the perfume of the roses. Strange how the floral scene reminded him of Melinda. Bright. Cheerful and sweet. “I’d planned to rent one, but Callie met me.” He told her of Callie’s reaction when he asked her whether she wanted to drive her own car. “I’ll have to be more careful. Callie says I’m just a guy who takes charge, but that can seem overbearing. What do you think?” He realized that he wanted her to think well of him, and that surprised him, because he didn’t remember ever caring whether anyone liked him. He had to do some serious thinking about what Melinda Rodgers meant to him and what, if anything, he’d do about it.

Her voice, soft and mellifluous, caressed his ears and wrapped him in contentment. “I think you’re tough, and I imagine you can be overbearing, but you haven’t treated me to any of that, so I don’t know.”

“What were you doing when I called?”

“I…uh—”

“What?” He told himself to straighten out his mind, lest his imagination get out of control.

“Well, I was lying here looking up at the ceiling, and don’t ask me where my mind was.”

“Would I be presumptuous to think your mind might have been on me?”

“Roses are red and violets are blue.”

He laughed because he couldn’t help it and because so much of something inside of him strained to get out. “I wouldn’t take anything for that. Go ahead and keep your secrets.”

“Are you going to let me know when you’re coming back so I can meet you?”

He closed his eyes and let contentment wash over him. In the seventeen years since he’d left his paternal home and the mother who’d nurtured him, he’d forgotten what it was like to have someone care about his comfort and well-being. Irene made a stab at it, but he didn’t cooperate because he didn’t want an office wife.

“I said I would, and when I tell you I’ll do something, I do it if it’s humanly possible. Remember that. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“Can I do anything for you while you’re away?”

“Thanks, but…” It occurred to him that she could, but he hesitated to involve her. He hadn’t heard from Ethan in over two weeks, and if the boy got into trouble again, he’d be a three-time loser, which meant he’d be an old man before he got out of jail.

“If you don’t mind, call this number, ask for Ethan, and find out how he is. Tell him where I am and that I want him to call me tomorrow night. Don’t give him your name, telephone number, or address. Just say I told you to call him. If he’s in trouble, call me back.”

To her credit, he thought, she didn’t question him about his relationship to Ethan, but promised to do as he asked.

He didn’t want to leave her with a cold good-bye, but their relationship didn’t warrant much more. So he merely said, “Talk to you again before I leave here,” and she seemed to understand.

“I’ll expect that,” she said. “Take care of yourself.”

He hung up and went inside. He didn’t feel like dancing, but he walked with livelier steps.

Two days later, Blake stood at his father’s final resting place, dealing with his emotions.

“If you had wound up in jail or as an addict,” his mother said, “maybe you’d have grounds to hate him. But look at you. He must have given you something that inspired you to reach so high and accomplish so much.”

What could he say? She looked at it with the eyes of a woman who loved both her husband and her children; she wouldn’t lay blame. He wished he were in the habit of praying, because he could use some unbiased guidance right then.

Gloria Hunter’s fingers gripped his arm. “Let it go, son. If you don’t forgive your father, you’ll never be able to love anybody, not the woman you marry, not even your own children.” His mother tightened her grip on him as she whispered, “Please let it die with him.”

Strange that he should think of Melinda at a time when he was finding his way out of the morass of pain and bewilderment that dogged him and had been a part of his life for as long as he remembered. What did she feel for her father? It was suddenly important for him to know if she loved Booker Jones, a man who few people in Ellicott City, other than his family and parishioners, seemed able to tolerate.

His mother’s words bruised his ears. “Son, you’ve got to let it go.”

In his mind’s eye, he saw again his father stand, tears streaking his cheeks, when Columbia University conferred the doctor of laws degree on his younger son. As pain seared his chest, he knelt and kissed the sealed metal casket. When he stood, his mother’s arms enfolded him, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen her smile so broadly or her eyes sparkle so brightly with happiness.

Melinda waited until late the next morning before she tried to locate Ethan. She supposed he might be a relative, since Blake didn’t have any children. She amended that. He didn’t have any that she knew of.

“Ethan ain’t here,” the voice of an older female said in answer to Melinda’s question. When asked where she could find him, the woman advised, “Look down at Doone’s poolroom over on Oela Avenue facing the railroad. If he ain’t there, I couldn’t say where he is.”

She couldn’t find a phone number for Doone’s, but though she was wary as to what she might discover there, she got in her car and drove to the place.

“Whatta ya want, miss?” a big bouncer type of a man asked her.

“I’m looking for a boy named Ethan.”

He pointed to one of the pool tables. “Right over there. Hey, Ethan, a lady’s here to see ya.”

Melinda watched the boy amble toward her. An attractive, neat kid whom she imagined was about sixteen years old, she wondered what he was doing in a poolroom so early in the day.

“Ethan, do you know Blake?”

Recognition blazed across his face, and since he showed interest and wasn’t hostile, she decided to smile to indicate her friendliness.

As quick as mercury, his look of recognition dissolved into a frown. “Yeah. I know him. What’s the matter with him?”

“He has a family emergency and had to go out of town. He wants you to call him tonight. And please do that, Ethan, because he’s worried about you.”

Ethan looked hard at Melinda and narrowed his eyes as though making up his mind about her. “You sure he’s all right?”

She nodded. “I’m sure. Will you call his cell-phone number?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked past her. “Uh…yeah. I shoulda called him, so he’d know I wasn’t in no trouble. But I got this job staking balls late nights to early morning, so…I shoulda called and told him. Tonight, you say?”

“Yes. Tonight.”

“Okay. See you.” He started toward the table, then turned back to her. “Oh, I forgot to thank you for coming by.”

She told him good-bye, but she couldn’t get him off her mind. He didn’t seem like a criminal, but she supposed that wasn’t something obvious to the eye.

When she got back home, Ruby accosted her right at the door. “Miz Melinda, how come all these mens calling you? I left the messages on your desk, but it don’t look good to have all these mens calling here when you just been a widow. Six months from now when you needs one, that’d be a different matter. Oh yes,” she called, as Melinda walked up the stairs, “Miss Rachel said for you to call her. That woman sure is nosy. I told her I ain’t seen Mr. Blake in this house since poor Mr. Rodgers passed. God rest his dear soul.”

She looked at the names of her callers: Leroy Wilson, Frank Jackson, Roosevelt Hayes, Macon Long. She didn’t know any of them, but she knew what they wanted: a chance to help her spend her late husband’s money. She tore up the messages and telephoned Rachel.

“Hey, girl. What’s going on?” Rachel asked.

“Good question, Rachel. Any time you want to know what’s going on here, who’s been here and what I’m doing, ask me. That’ll save Ruby the trouble of telling me what you asked her.”

“Tight-lipped as you are? I wanted to know, so I asked. Really sorry, Melinda. I—”

“Now that we’ve got that settled, Blake hasn’t been inside this house since Prescott passed. Should I tell him you asked?”

“Of course n…Well, if you want to.”

She didn’t intend to play games with Rachel. They would either remain good friends or they wouldn’t, but she was a grown, unattached woman and she didn’t have to answer to a soul.

“Rachel, I’m meeting Blake at the airport in Baltimore tomorrow, and I can’t swear he won’t come into my house or that I won’t go into his and stay awhile.”

Silence hung between them. “Then you have got something going with him,” Rachel said after some minutes, her voice arid and hollow. “I thought so.” Suddenly, she appeared to brighten. “Well, if he makes your top twirl, honey, go for it.”

She didn’t believe her, but neither did she blame the woman for a gracious stab at face-saving. “Say, have you ever been to that Great Blacks in Wax Museum in Baltimore?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

“No. Want to go tomorrow?”

Melinda couldn’t help laughing at Rachel’s transparent effort to go with her to the airport to meet Blake. “Sorry, I can’t go tomorrow. I’m meeting Blake. Remember?”

After making small talk for a few minutes, they hung up. But before she could pull off her shoes, the phone rang again.

“Melinda, honey, this is Ray. I’m just confirming our date for July Fourth.”

She gripped the receiver and considered slamming it back into its cradle. The nerve of him trying to force her to let him display her at that fair for the benefit of local citizenry. “We don’t have a date, Ray. I told you I’d think about it. I’ve done that, and I’ve decided not to go with you. Thanks for being in touch after all these years. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to do.” She hung up. Five of them in one day, and Lord knows how many more such overtures she could expect. She didn’t wait long for the next one.

Minutes later, a man identifying himself as Salvatore Luca claimed to have seen her on Main Street, inquired as to who she was, and was anxious to meet her. At least he hadn’t come right out and applied for the job of husband.

“There must be some mistake, Mr. Luca,” she said in her sweetest voice. “I haven’t walked along Main Street in I don’t know when. Hope you find her.”

She settled down to study the list of twelve people whom, with Blake’s help, she’d chosen for the board, but she couldn’t get interested in the task of selecting the board’s officers. Why had Prescott saddled her with something for which she had no taste and worse, with the stipulation that she marry within the year or lose the inheritance, a modern-day coup de grâce?

Cold tendrils of fear shot through her. She got up from the richly inlaid walnut desk, walked to the window, and looked down at the goldfish pond in the back garden, but the colorful creatures didn’t amuse her. Not even the gentle breeze that brushed her face when she stepped out on the porch off her bedroom gave her pleasure. Maybe nothing ever would again. She turned away from the blackbirds that perched on the porch swing waiting for the crumbs she usually enjoyed feeding to them and walked slowly back into the house. It couldn’t be true; she wouldn’t let it be true. Blake couldn’t be like all the others, maneuvering for the money her husband had earned despite a handicap that would have bested most women and men. She didn’t want to think that of him, but he was certainly making the road rough for any other man.

She picked up the tablet containing the names of the board members they’d selected, and her gaze fell on Salvatore Luca’s name. She’d written it there, idly, as she spoke with him. She pitched the tablet away from her, lifted the receiver of the ringing phone, and slammed it back in its cradle without answering it. Fed up. With no school until September, she didn’t have to stay in Ellicott City. Not once in her life had she had a vacation, and she was due one. When the phone rang again, she ignored it.