After the Loving (12 page)

“What can he do other than eat up all that food you brought me? You can tell him, but discourage his coming here. He’s got other things to do.”

She sat beside him at the head of his bed, and he managed to get his head into her lap and go to sleep. Her fingers stroked his hair, and when he breathed more deeply, she leaned against the headboard and slept.

Darkness had set in when she awoke, her dress damp from his perspiration. When she tried to ease up, he wrapped his arms around her, pressed his face to her belly and seemed to sleep more soundly. His forehead was still warmer than normal, and she wanted to give him juice and another aspirin, but he wouldn’t release her.

“He’s the same man asleep that he is when he’s awake,” she murmured. “Stubborn.”

He rolled over and looked up at her. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“You devil. You were awake.” She stroked his face. “Of course I’m not uncomfortable. I slept for several hours, but I wanted to get up and get you an aspirin and some juice, and you wouldn’t let me. You still have a fever.”

“Maybe.” She brought a cold towel, and he wiped his face and the back of his neck. “You can’t imagine how good that felt. Thanks.” After he took the aspirin and drank two glasses of orange juice, he remained propped up in bed.

“Did you call Eagle Park?”

“She shook her head. I decided to wait and find out how you reacted to the aspirin, but I went to sleep.”

He slid over and patted the space beside him. “You mind sitting here?”

She sat beside him with the headboard supporting her back. “I know I should have gone to Eagle Park this morning, but I didn’t want Alexis to have to take care of
me. I want her to spend her caring on Telford. Velma, you can’t know how important it is to me that they succeed.

“He needs Alexis, needs to know she’s there for him. I didn’t shed a tear when my mother died, because I had long since stopped caring about her. She abandoned us whenever it suited her and as often as she liked. She wasn’t there my first day in school and never saw me in a school play. When I got a cold, it was Henry who wiped my nose, because our father worked long hours. Even so, he tried to make up for our mother’s flightiness. I still miss him.”

As she listened to him, she understood that he attributed to Telford his own needs in a woman, thanks to his mother’s irresponsible behavior. “He’s tender inside,” she thought, understanding now why he placed such a high value on loyalty, even in little things.

“You should be unpacking and settling into your new home, and you have to get ready for your job in New Orleans, but you came when I needed you. You came, and you stayed.”

“I couldn’t have done differently, Russ.”

“Good grief, I wrinkled your dress, and I don’t have an iron. This is terrible.”

“The only person who’ll notice will be your doorman, and I won’t spend any time worrying about his opinion. I’d better fix your supper and head home.”

“Cook enough for both of us and we can eat together.”

She cooked rice, broiled the shish kabob that she bought ready to cook and sautéed fresh spinach in garlic and olive oil. She couldn’t find a tray, so she improvised, folding a white towel over an
Ebony
magazine.

“This is delicious, but it doesn’t excuse you from cooking me that gourmet meal when I make it convenient.”

“You’re beginning to sound like yourself, so I can leave you without feeling guilty. I’ll call you when I get home.”

She got home after ten o’clock that night, exhausted but happy. She made up her bed, took a shower and crawled between the sheets. But sleep eluded her. She imagined that if she made one false step with Russ, he’d tell her goodbye and stick to it.

One month had passed, and she dreaded going to see Lydia. She had followed the diet faithfully, but after four weeks, she had gained two pounds. She phoned Russ that morning, learned that he was up, had eaten breakfast and thought he no longer had a fever.

She didn’t tell him that she intended to see her nutritionist, only that she had an appointment and would call him later.

“Are you certain that you followed the diet correctly?” Lydia asked.

“I did, and I hope I never see poached chicken again.”

“This diet always works unless there’s a medical reason why it shouldn’t.”

Velma sat forward. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I want you to see this endocrinologist.”

“All right, but not till I come back from New Orleans. Whatever’s wrong with me has been wrong for years, and taking care of it can wait a couple of weeks.” She thanked Lydia and left. Pictures of heaping cones of rich, strawberry ice cream flitted through her mind, and she could almost taste the Cajun praline cheesecake that teased her in her mind’s eye. She stopped at the gourmet deli near Russ’s apartment house and bought a quart of vanilla ice cream and two pints of strawberries.

“Hi, I brought you something,” she said when he opened the door, and handed him the ice cream. “How do you feel?”

“Surprisingly normal.”

“I brought us some ice cream and strawberries.”

He gazed down at her. “What happened to the diet?”

“I’m off that for the time being, but who knows—”

“Are you telling everything?”

She shook her head. “No, but when I know
everything,
I’ll share it.” She hulled the berries, sliced and sweetened them and served them over the ice cream.

“I don’t know why you did this,” he said, “but it hits the spot. Thanks.”

After a half hour visit, she said, “You’re no longer my patient,” pronounced him well, kissed his cheek and left him gaping at her as she dashed out of his apartment. She didn’t plan on making such visits a habit.

For the remainder of the week, she worked at getting her house in order and contracted for future catering jobs. She knew that Russ had gone back to Philadelphia—probably earlier than he should have—to work on his plans for a building that complemented the Griffith-Joyner house that the Harrington brothers had built the previous year. Sometime earlier, he suggested that they cool off their relationship, but he then laughed at the idea. He hadn’t called, and she didn’t intend to call him.

She had felt closer to him than ever when he lay sick with his head on her lap and when he told her about his mother, but none of it translated into a commitment. At least she understood one of the reasons why he found trusting his emotions to a woman so difficult. She suspected that she could blame herself, too. Hadn’t he asked her to open up and let him love her? But how could she face all that pain and hurt? She blinked back a tear and telephoned Alexis.

“Hi. Got anyplace for me to sleep this weekend? I thought I’d drop by Saturday afternoon and leave early Sunday.”

“Wonderful. We’ve turned my old rooms into guest quarters, and Tara sleeps in the room you always used.”

“Where’s her piano?”

“In her room. Please bring Henry some of those sausages you got for him last time. They’re great. Are you driving or what?”

“I’ll rent a car and drive, but I’m thinking of buying one. We’ll talk about that when I see you. Bye.”

“See you Saturday.”

Velma thought that over for a few seconds after she hung up. Already, her sister had settled into the role of wife and mistress of Harrington House. Russ needn’t worry about that marriage; Alexis loved Telford and couldn’t help appreciating how different her life was from what it had been with Jack.

With every muscle screaming for help after she pulled and pushed boxes and furniture most of the day, she crawled into bed, moaning relief as she did so. Sleep, precious sleep, was all she wanted. But as she began to doze off, the telephone rang.

“Hello,” she murmured, only half asleep.

“Hi. This is Russ. It seems as if I awakened you. It’s early. Are you all right?”

“Me? All right? I guess so. Have a seat.”

“Hey. Are you asleep, or…?”

“Who is this?”

“Russ.”

“Hmmm. Hi, love.”

He nearly skidded off the elbow of the highway. Hearing that low, sultry voice sent a message straight to his loins. “I’ll hang up and let you get back to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna sleep, I wanna be with you.”

He saw a rest stop for trucks up ahead, slowed down, pulled in and parked. He didn’t want to miss such
conversation as she could muster in her present state, but he couldn’t risk hearing it while driving.

“You want to be with me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“When? What did you have in mind?”

“Stop teasing me. You’re so sweet. Hmmm.” Silence.

“Velma, are you asleep?”

“Why don’t you ever kiss me? I love the way you kiss… Hmmm.”

It wasn’t fair to invade her privacy, asking intimate questions that she didn’t know she was answering, but as tight-lipped as she was, he refused to feel guilty.

“What do you like about it?”

“You taste good and you make me feel so good, but I’m too big and you can’t hold me close like I want you to. I’m so…”

He listened for the rest of her sentence, realized she’d fallen into deep sleep and hung up. He eased back onto the highway and headed for Baltimore.

Even half asleep and in a sensuous mood, what she looked like was paramount in her thoughts. A capable, successful woman who let herself be a captive to the size dress she wore. He sucked air through his front teeth in dismay. If she was hell-bent on suffering about it, too bad. As much as he cared for her, he wasn’t prepared to deal with her feelings of personal inadequacy. He’d been around enough self-denigrating men and women to know he didn’t want an intimate relationship with a woman who didn’t love herself as she was. He glanced over his left shoulder and moved into the center lane.
If she would only let herself accept what a wonderful person she is, beautiful, intelligent, accomplished and witty. And loyal. Precisely what I like in a woman.

“Oh, what the hell!”

When he arrived at Harrington House Saturday afternoon and saw the gray Pontiac parked in the circle, he wondered whether Dolphe had come back to test his luck with Velma, and took pleasure in thinking how disappointed his friend must be. He streaked up the steps and pushed the door open as quickly as he could, escaping the biting cold.

“Eeeowww!” Tara squealed when she saw him. “Mr. Russ! Mr. Russ, come see my new room. My dad put my piano in it.” She lifted her arms, and he picked her up and folded her little body to his chest. Only two weeks, and he’d missed her more that he would have imagined.

“Where’s everybody else?” he asked, walking up the stairs with her in his arms.

“Dad went to meet Mr. Drake, and my mummy and Aunt Velma are in the guest room talking low so I won’t know what they’re saying. Mr. Henry said I should call you Uncle Russ. Can I call you Uncle Russ?”

“You certainly can. I’d like that a lot.”

She kissed his cheek several times. “I like it, too.”

“Whose gray car is that in front of the house?”

“Aunt Velma’s. She had to bring Mr. Henry some sausages.”

He couldn’t help grinning. He knew of nothing so refreshing as a child’s innocence, and Tara coupled hers with the charming way she had of telling everything she knew.

So Velma and he were destined to meet whether or not they planned it. To discourage Tara’s free talk, he changed the subject. “What are you planning to call Drake?”

“Uncle Drake, like Mr. Henry said.”

“I like your room,” he told her of the sunny yellow-and-white color scheme, and attractive child’s furniture. “Play something.”

She played Kreisler’s “Caprice Venoise,” then folded her hands in her lap and looked at him. “Did you like it, Uncle Russ?”

“It was beautiful. I’m proud of you.”

“I better practice,” she said and was soon lost in the sounds she made.

He gave himself a good talking-to and convinced himself that he shouldn’t look for Velma. He went instead to the kitchen and greeted Henry.

“How do you like picking up after yerself?” Henry asked him.

He allowed himself a laugh and patted Henry’s shoulder. “Haven’t had any experience with that yet.”

“Then yer place must look like a pig pen.”

“Not really. I limit my kitchen activities to making coffee and putting a few waffles in the toaster. The dishwasher takes care of clean-up.”

“What about the bath and the bedroom? That gets dirty, too.”

“It’s a big apartment, Henry. When it piles up, I’ll get a cleaning service.”

“Don’t wait till you get a dispossess notice.”

He draped an arm around Henry’s shoulder. “I’m not that bad. I may create clutter, but I can’t stand filth. Where’s Velma?”

“Down the hall there with Alexis. She come in here looking good. What’s with you two? That fella Andrews called here two or three times asking for you. I finally told him you and Velma had moved, and he acted like I shot him. Did my soul good. A man that won’t take no for an answer is either silly or dangerous.”

“Think I’ll mosey down the hall and break up that sisterly confab.”

He felt less sanguine about it than his words suggested.
He could hardly wait to see her, but then what? He knocked on the door and waited.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Russ. Oh, dear. I didn’t know you’d be here this weekend. Come on in. Alexis and I are just catching up.”

She turned to leave, and he detained her with a slight grip on her hand. “I won’t come in, but I’ll be in the den for a while, if you’d like to talk. How are you, Alexis?” he called out.

As he expected, she came to the door. “Fine. No trace of the flu? I hate the thought of your being sick alone in that apartment.”

He couldn’t resist planting a few questions in Alexis’s mind. It would serve Velma right for not telling him she’d be in Eagle Park for the weekend. “Thanks, but I wasn’t alone. Velma took care of me.” He looked at Velma. “Don’t forget to give me the bill for that dress I ruined. I liked that dress. You think the cleaners can straighten it out?”

At first, she seemed surprised, then she narrowed her right eye and poked out her chin. “You didn’t ruin the dress. I had it cleaned and wore it here today. Perspiration won’t harm first-quality silk.”