After the Loving (21 page)

“What? Oh, well. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Who knows? I’ll bring it up at a convenient time.”

Alexis stopped walking. “Why do you need to pick a time? The two of you are very close. He’s your lover. If you keep secrets from him, you’ll make the same mistake I made with Telford. And the longer you keep it, the harder it is to reveal it, and the greater difficulty he will have accepting and understanding it.”

“My lover? It’s only happened once. Anyway, I haven’t deliberately withheld anything from him.”

Thoughts of those minutes in Russ’s arms weakened her, and she sank into a chair. “Alexis, he was so wonderful, so loving and tender. He made me realize that I didn’t know myself. I’ve never been so…so completely swept away, so overwhelmed. I can’t describe it.”

Alexis’s face bloomed into a smile, and she rushed over and hugged Velma. “I’m so happy for you. I knew he’d be like that, because he puts himself wholeheartedly into whatever he does, and I could see how much he wanted you.” She stood up, frowning. “Why has it happened only once?”

“Because I am not going to drift into an affair with him. He’s used to working for what he gets, and I don’t want to test that old adage—‘easy come, easy go.’”

It occurred to her that, although she had told Alexis she intended to find their father, she hadn’t confided to her sister that she had begun the search. Alexis had a stake in the result of that search, but she would nonetheless ask her to call it off.

“I can’t, and I won’t do it,” Velma said to herself.

She walked over to her sister and put an arm around her. “I have to tell
you
something. My lawyer has a man looking
for our father. When the man finds him, I’m going to him, no matter where he is, because he is the only person who can answer the question that looms over me like a black cloud.”

“You still don’t believe our parents loved us, do you?” Alexis asked, and Velma could feel the sadness that enveloped her. “For years, I’ve tried to convince you, but I guess you need to hear it from his lips. I wish you’d let sleeping dogs lie, because nothing good can come of it.”

She didn’t know how to make Alexis understand, and wasn’t sure she should burden her sister with facts that could devastate her. She had always shielded her from it, and she would continue to do it.

“Mummy?” Tara’s voice calling Alexis signaled an end to their tête-à-tête, for which Velma gave silent thanks. She unpacked and, unable to figure out why she felt lonely and ill at ease, she telephoned Russ.

“Russ Harrington. What may I do for you?”

“Hi. This is Velma.”

“Hi, sweetheart. Where are you?” She told him. “I think I detect something forlorn in your voice. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I mean, well I—”

“Anything wrong there?” His voice carried an urgency that let her know he was well attuned to her.

“No. There’re a couple of things I think I should tell you, and I missed some opportunities to do it.”

“And it’s bothering you? From my watch, you can’t have been in Eagle Park more than half an hour. What brought this on?”

“I realized I hadn’t told Alexis, and I should have, and then—”

“All right. I’ll knock off here early, and I’ll see you tonight. Tell Henry that if I’m not there by seven, save
dinner for me, and warn Alexis.” Almost immediately after mentioning Alexis’s name, she could hear his chuckle through the wire. He adored his sister-in-law to the extent that he didn’t let her house rules faze him, a feat on Alexis’s part, considering how Russ hated being regimented and usually didn’t allow it.

“I’ll be happy to see you,” she said, as if she hadn’t seen him for weeks. “Please be careful and don’t drive fast.”

“I’ll take care. And don’t worry about how you think I’ll react to what you have to tell me. You hear?”

“I won’t. Kisses.”

“Kisses.”

She put her clothes away, then went to give Henry the meat she brought for him.

“I thought you planned to ignore me,” Henry said. “Thanks for the sausage and bacon.”

“I brought you some good maple syrup, too.”

She thought she saw a smile cross his face. “You did? Now, that’s right nice of ya. Tara’s going to love her breakfast in the morning. The child loves pancakes as much as she loves to play that piano.”

“Russ said he’d be home for dinner, and if he can’t make it by seven, save him some.”

“Good thing you told me. I thought he wouldn’t be here till tomorrow evening. Least, that’s what he told Tel.”

“He just changed his mind.”

“Humph. Does that mean you’re getting a little sense?”

She patted his shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

She met Alexis on the stairs. “Russ will be home for dinner, but he may not get here by seven.”

Alexis gazed at her older sister for what seemed to Velma like ages. Then, she said, “That’s not a problem. We’ll save his dinner. Did you call him?”

“Yes.”

“Good. When you need him, let him know it, and he’ll be there for you. I was a long time learning that, but once I knew it, I’ve been a happier woman.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. I wanted to see Tara, but I wouldn’t like to interfere with her practice.”

“You’ll see her at dinner. I’ll send up a few prayers for you and Russ.” They walked down the stairs arm in arm, and Velma wondered if finding and contacting her father would shatter the peace that had always seemed to envelop her younger sister.

Unable to conquer her restlessness, she dressed warmly, told Henry she was going for a walk and headed toward the Monacacy River. She walked at a swift pace along the road toward the river, and as no wind stirred to rustle the branches of the trees, she heard only the crunching of her footsteps upon the twigs and leaves. She reached the banks of the river and stopped, for only then did she remember Russ’s caution about being in the woods alone.

She retraced her steps at twice the speed, traveling just short of a trot until she reached the open road. It was then that she saw the man approaching with his German shepherd by his side and his steps slow and heavy. Harrington House loomed in the distance, but seeing it did not banish her fears.

Facing the man whose eyes seemed dim and reddened with age, she made herself smile when he stopped. “Good evening, miss. How far do you think I am from Beaver Ridge?” he asked in a voice strong, but gravelly.

Taken aback, she replied, “Good evening, sir. I’m afraid that’s a long way from here, around twelve miles. It’ll be dark hours before you get there.”

“That’s no problem.”

“I think you’re headed in the wrong direction, too. When
you get to that big house down there, walk to the end of John Brown Drive, turn left and continue in that direction. But it’s really too far for you to walk.”

“I’ll be just fine. Come on, boy.” He patted his dog and turned back toward the house. “You live there?” he asked, pointing toward Harrington House and settling into stride with her.

“No, sir. My sister lives there. I’m visiting her.”

“You look like you’d fit well in a place like that one. Good manners. Nice carriage and a lovely face. And you’re well spoken, too.”

“Thank you, sir.” As slowly as he’d been walking when she met him, he seemed to have no trouble matching her strides, but she gave that only passing thought.

“Oh, don’t thank me,” he said. “You have some fine traits. Give God the credit for that.”

“I certainly can’t credit my parents,” she heard herself say and with a bitterness that shocked her.

“They couldn’t have been all bad, considering how you turned out. A man would be proud to have you for a daughter, and let me tell you that the man who wins your hand will be fortunate indeed.”

“How do you know that?” she asked, aware that they were nearing Harrington House. “Would you…like to come in for a cup of coffee or tea? You’ve a long way to go.”

His faced creased into a smile. “How do I know? Only a gentle, loving woman would spend time with an old man, a stranger with nothing to offer her but his good will. Your young man is fortunate, and he knows it, but you don’t. Well, I’ll be on my way. Thank you for your company and for the offer of a hot drink.”

“Uh…I could drive you there, sir.”

He shook his head. “Thank you, but I’ll be just fine.”

She stood at the front door and watched him as he walked
on with the German shepherd, though unleashed, close by his side. In the twilight, the streetlamp lit up just as he should have reached the corner, but she didn’t see him.

“I guess he decided to walk faster,” she told herself. Bemused and unaccountably shaken, she opened the door and went inside.

Russ parked in front of Harrington House at seven-twenty that evening, thanks to his disregard of the speed limits. He figured he would have been there half an hour sooner if he hadn’t taken the time to search for a small gift. Somehow, it seemed an appropriate, if not the best way to reassure Velma. He hadn’t wasted time worrying about what she would tell him, because he wanted an open mind. And most of all, he wanted her to know that if she shared personal things with him, no matter how painful, she would only draw them closer together. If she had been at her home in Baltimore, he would have brought her flowers. He left the box in his Mercedes, deciding to get it when he was ready for it, and at dinner with his family was not the time.

For the first time in his memory, he didn’t use his key, but rang the doorbell. “Now, I’ve
really
left home,” he told himself when he realized what he’d done.

“What’s this? Did you lose your key?” Telford asked while wrapping him in the familiar embrace with which the brothers always greeted each other.

He evaded the question. “If I had used it, nobody would have greeted me at the door. A little attention never hurt anybody.”

Telford’s eyebrows shot up. “For the last two months, I’ve been watching the metamorphosis of Russell Orwell Harrington. Let me know when it’s complete, brother.”

“Man, you’re getting fanciful.”

When they reached the breakfast room, his eyes searched
for Velma, but Tara claimed him. “Eeeeeow, Uncle Russ. I thought you weren’t coming.” He lifted her, swung her around, and knew again the exhilarating effect of the love that the child expressed in her own inimitable way.

“My dad said you were coming tomorrow. Then my mummy said you changed your mind and you were coming tonight, but Aunt Velma didn’t know what time.” She hugged him and kissed his cheek. “When is Uncle Drake coming?”

He set her down beside her chair. “Next week, I think.”

He straightened up to let his gaze find Velma and for a brief, poignant moment, as tension gathered in him, the expression in her eyes nearly unglued him. He didn’t care about the silence, and he knew that everyone at the table, including Tara, watched him. That didn’t bother him either. He walked around to her, stood behind her chair, placed his right hand on her right cheek, bent down and kissed the side of her mouth.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi. If you had turned around, I’d have done it right.”

Her right hand caressed the hand that rested on her left shoulder. “I’m kinda slow tonight. Did you speed?”

He knew that question was a reflection more of her nervousness than of anxiety about his driving.

“A little. It isn’t often I get to eat Henry’s cooking.” He patted Henry’s shoulder. “Don’t get up. I know where the stove is. Sorry I’m a little late,” he said to Alexis, after kissing her cheek, “but I got here as fast as I could.”

“Don’t apologize. We’re glad you’re here. Sit down. I’ll put some warm food on the table. Actually, we just started. Tara insisted that we wait for you.”

He looked over at Tara. “That’s my girl.”

“No. I’m Uncle Drake’s girl. I’m your best friend.”

“That’s right,” Telford said. “Let’s keep these relationships straight.”

He sat where he could look at Velma, and seeing her put a hefty slice of roast pork on her plate made him wonder if she had come to terms with herself. He hoped so.

“Henry, man, this is food for the Gods,” he said after tasting the stuffed roast pork, hash brown potatoes and red cabbage with chestnuts.

“Nothing better than potatoes and onions cooked right,” Henry said. “Alexis gave me the idea, and when I got to thinking about it, I just fried some bacon and onions, sliced some baked potatoes, put that in the pan and browned the whole thing. Salt and lots of black pepper. Tastes good if I do say so myself.”

He waited impatiently through the meal and the hour the family usually spent in the den, sipping coffee and after-dinner drinks and bonding with each other. Finally, Alexis announced that she had better put Tara to bed and, as if taking their cue from her, Telford and Henry said good-night and left them alone.

“Excuse me a minute,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

He dashed out to his car for the box he’d left on the front seat. “I hope you like it,” he said when he handed it to her. She looked at the box, then at him, put the box on the chair and opened her arms to him.

With her warm, soft body tight in his arms, he told himself that as much as he longed to give himself to her, letting go wouldn’t be wise. He wanted nothing to sidetrack her, to give her an excuse not to open up to him as she had wanted to do, had felt the need to do when she called him earlier in the day. He bent to her mouth and tasted her sweetness. Then he set her away from him.

“Don’t you want to know what’s in it?” he asked her,
pointing to the oblong box that was wrapped in shimmering mauve paper and secured with a large purple bow.

“It’s beautiful, Russ. I hate to unwrap it.”

Her gasp of excitement when she saw the Degas ballerina atop the round music box was all the thanks he needed. She sat down, apparently speechless, and looked at it, turning it around and over, examining it and shaking her head as if in wonder.

“I’ll cherish this for the rest of my life,” she said, speaking to herself, he realized, more than to him.

“Push that little button on the side.” She did and heard the strains of Irving Berlin’s “Always.”

“Do you know the words to that song?” he asked her.