Best Kept Secrets (30 page)

“You should open a business here in the States.”

“I can’t, M.J.”

“Why not?”

“Not until things change. Not until there are laws to protect the rights of Negroes to live, work and vote wherever and whenever they want, and not until someone takes up a sword to cut off the head of the most venomous reptile to ever slither across this land.”

“What’s that?”

Samuel gave his wife a long, penetrating look that made her shiver. “The Ku Klux Klan.”

He hadn’t set up a company in the States but had become an anonymous donor to the NAACP, and recently a Florida Agriculture and Mechanical University benefactor.

M.J. was grateful for who or what had prompted her husband to disclose things he’d concealed from her in the past. His willingness to talk about his business was most surprising.

“Tell me about Puerto Rico,” she crooned softly.

Samuel regarded her quizzically for a moment, his breathing catching in his throat. Had M.J. suspected something? Had she known that he’d slept with Teresa?

“What about it?” he asked calmly.

“Is it as beautiful as Cuba?”

He let out his breath in a long, silent sigh. “It’s beautiful, but in a different way.”

Samuel told her everything he remembered about the island from Old San Juan to the tiny villages in the mountains. It was some time before he realized she’d fallen asleep in his arms.

Guilt—raw and acrid—filled his throat like bile.

Oh, sweet heaven! What had he done?

Now he knew how Adam felt when he’d sinned against God. The verse from his Bible school instruction hit him full force:
The serpent beguiled me, and I ate
. However, Teresa Maldonado wasn’t the serpent.

He’d fallen prey to another one of the deadly sins:
lust
.

Teresa sat on the porch with her mother. She handed her the small box with the earrings. “Something for you,
Mami
.”

Silvia opened the box and gasped. “Teresa. Where did you get these?”

“Mr. Cole bought them for me to give to you.”

“You took these from him?”

“No,
Mami
. He told me to pick out something for you, and I thought you would like these earrings. You like them, no?”

Silvia’s brown eyes filled with tears. “
Sí
. I like them. But I can’t wear them.”

“Why not?”

“Because it would not be right.”

“What’s not right?” Ramon asked through the screen door.

Teresa stood up, staring at her father through the mesh. “Mr. Cole gave me the money to buy something for
Mami
, and she doesn’t want to accept it.”

Pushing open the door, Ramon stepped out onto the porch. “Show me.” Silvia handed her husband the box with the earrings. There was enough light coming from the lamp on a table near the door to catch the sparkle of the diamonds. “I would have to work a whole year to have enough money to buy these.” His green eyes shifted to his daughter. “We cannot accept these.”

“Why not, Papa?”

“Because it is not…it is not proper.”

“What’s not proper is refusing a gift given in the spirit of goodwill.”

“What is this goodwill?” Ramon continued. “Why would Mr. Cole want to give my wife a gift?”

“It’s in appreciation for what I did for him, Papa.”

Ramon and Silvia stared at Teresa as if she had two heads. “What did you do?” her mother asked in a hoarse whisper.

Pinpoints of heat seared Teresa’s face. Did it show? Could her parents discern that she’d slept with a man?

“What did you do, Teresa?” Ramon said, repeating his wife’s query.

Swallowing her panic, she straightened her spine. “I was Mr. Cole’s interpreter, and in doing so I saved him hundreds of thousands of dollars. He bought the earrings out of gratitude. And it would be insulting if I were to give them back to him.

“
Mami
, Papa, be reasonable,” she pleaded softly. “I could possibly lose my job. And you know we need the money.” Teresa saw the tension leave her father’s jaw. “Papa, you say that you want to buy your own house. You can save the extra money I’m bringing home to do that.” She pressed her palms together in a prayerful gesture. “Please, Papa. Don’t destroy your dream with pride.”

Ramon saw the tears glistening in his daughter’s eyes. He took a step and hugged her. “Okay. Your mother will wear your Mr. Cole’s gift, but only for special days. If she wears them to the factory, then people will think we are too prosperous.”

Rising on tiptoe, Teresa kissed her father’s cheek. “Thank you, Papa.”

“You really like working for Mr. Cole?”

“Yes, I do.”

She liked working for Samuel, and sleeping with him. He was generous—in and out of bed. Before he’d put her in a taxi to take her home, he’d given her a hundred dollars. He’d cautioned her not to put it in the bank. Samuel also told her he would give her a little something each time they got together because he enjoyed her company.

It wasn’t until she walked into her bedroom and hid the money in a box where she kept her menstrual pads that shame assailed her. Samuel Cole had given her money as if she were a
puta
.

She vowed not to accept money from him again, other than her salary, unless she was Mrs. Samuel Cole.

C
oleDiz was almost fully staffed. The only exception was Nora Harris. She was still in Arkansas with her son, whose jail sentence was commuted because the bullet lodged in his skull could not be surgically removed. The result was that he would spend the rest of his life confined to a wheelchair.

Teresa sat in the alcove manning the switchboard in Mrs. Harris’s absence, but sitting closer to Samuel hadn’t eased her apprehension. She’d gone back to school, which meant she saw him three days each week instead of five. Her fear was that what she’d shared with him in Puerto Rico was over because they hadn’t been alone together since their return. Samuel had changed his hours, arriving late and
leaving early, instructing her to see Everett if she encountered a problem.

Problema!

Samuel Cole had become a problem—her problem. But if what she suspected was true, then all of her restless nights would soon come to an end.

She checked the watch pinned to her blouse over her breast. She was told to call after five. Picking up the headset, she inserted the trunk line for outgoing calls into the switchboard. She dialed the number, listening through her earpiece for a break in the connection.

“This is Mrs. Maldonado,” she whispered when the doctor answered the call.

“Yes, Mrs. Maldonado,” came a drawling masculine voice. The crackling of turning papers came through the wire. “The results of your test reveal that you are pregnant. I’d like to see you in my office some time next week for a more thorough examination.”

Teresa swallowed hard, fighting tears, and unaware that a low, tortured sob had escaped her constricted throat. What she’d wanted, had planned and prayed for, had manifested. She was pregnant with Samuel Cole’s baby. One time, and the only time he hadn’t used a condom, he’d gotten her pregnant. That was the night she’d lost her virginity.

Tears blurred her vision. “I…I will call you and set up an appointment.”

“Make certain you do, Mrs. Maldonado.”

“Thank you, Dr. Baker.”

She hung up before the doctor could say anything else. The import of her condition hit her full force. She was nineteen, a part-time nursing student, unmarried and pregnant with a married man’s child. She’d boasted to Liliana that she could take Samuel away from his wife, but now she wasn’t so certain.

“Are you all right, Teresa?” Everett’s drawling voice penetrated her fog of despair.

Swiping at the tears streaming down her face, she shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Resting his hands on her desk, he leaned closer, gold eyes moving slowly over her face. “You’re a terrible liar, Miss Maldonado.”

Reaching into a pocket of her skirt, she withdrew a handkerchief and blotted her cheeks. “Please, go away, Mr. Kirkland.”

Everett sat down on the edge of the desk. “I can’t do that, Teresa.”

She stared at him, seeing genuine concern in the slanting eyes the color of tortoiseshell. “I’ve received some news—not so good news—and it upset me.”

“Would you like to go home?”

Her gaze lingered on the jet-black mustache covering a firm upper lip. Everett Kirkland was elegant—from his neatly barbered hair to the cuffs of his sharply creased slacks.

“No. I’ll be all right.”

He stood up. “I’m going to be working late tonight. I’m going out to pick up supper. Would you like me to bring something back for you?”

Teresa forced a smile. “No, thank you.”

Everett headed for his office, stopped, then turned and retraced his steps. “Let’s go, Teresa.”

Surprise siphoned the blood from her face. “What?”

“Lock up everything.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I can’t. It’s not quitting time.”

“Lock up the office, Miss Maldonado. That’s an order.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he interrupted, grinning. “We’ll have dinner, and then I’ll drive you home. If your folks are expecting you, then I suggest you call and let them know you’ll be a little late.”

“I don’t have to call them,” she mumbled angrily. She couldn’t call them because the Maldonados didn’t have a telephone.

“Suit yourself,” he countered.

Teresa was certain he could hear her slamming drawers as she locked the desk and closed and locked drawers to the file cabinets. Who did he think he was anyway—the boss?

Her annoyance fled when she realized Everett Kirkland was her boss whenever Samuel was out of the office. She usually found him even-tempered, soft-spoken and undemanding. However, today was the exception.

“Where are you going?” Teresa asked Everett when he drove past Amelia’s.

“To a little place not far from here.”

“Where?”

Everett gave her a quick glance before returning his attention to the road. “Relax, Teresa. I’m not abducting you,” he said in Spanish.

She stared at his profile, shadowed by the brim of his hat. “I thought we were going to Amelia’s.”

“It’s too crowded on Friday nights.”

“What’s different about Friday nights?”

“Music.”

“They have bands?”

Everett nodded, downshifting as he maneuvered around a slow-moving farm truck. “Every month they have a different band.”

“Why aren’t you there with your lady?” Teresa asked him in Spanish. He flashed a rare smile. “You think I’m funny?”

Everett sobered. “No, Teresa, I don’t think you’re funny. If you want to know if I have a special lady, you can ask me.”

Lifting her chin in a haughty gesture, she stared out the windshield. “You do not interest me like that.”

“Why? Is it because I’m not Samuel Cole?”

Her body stiffened in shock, the shock causing words to wedge in her throat, and if the car hadn’t been moving so fast, or she didn’t fear for the tiny life in her womb, Teresa would’ve opened the door and jumped out. How did he know? Had she
been that obvious in her silent adoration, or had Samuel told Everett that he’d slept with her? She took a deep breath, forcing herself to relax. There was no way she could let Everett know how much his query had upset her.

“Why are you talking about Mr. Cole?”

“I just want to warn you that he will never leave his wife—not for you, not for any woman.”

Her jaw dropped. “Why are you saying this to me?”

“Because I’ve seen the way you look at him, Teresa.”

“You’re crazy!”

“No, Teresa, you’re the crazy one, because what you want is never going to happen. You’re young, smart and pretty. You should be going out with boys your age during your free time instead of hanging out at the office mooning over Samuel.”

“I don’t moon over him!”

“Stop lying, Teresa!” The three words were cold and lashing.

Tears filled her eyes for the second time within an hour. “Why are you saying these horrible things to me?”

Everett’s expression was one of pained tolerance. He liked Teresa, not the way she liked Samuel, and he didn’t want her to ruin her life wishing for something she would never have. There was something about her that reminded him of himself when he’d waited in Puerto Limon for Eladia. A waiting that had become infinite. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, a small part of him was still waiting for her.

“I don’t want to see you ruin your life.” His voice was low, softer.

She flushed, but remained silent.
It’s too late for that
, she mused.

“You can let me out here,” Teresa told Everett.

He’d slowed his car along the dusty road where her parents’ house was one among a dozen rickety structures owned by a heartless, unscrupulous man who thought nothing of evicting
entire families if they were three days late paying their monthly rent. It wasn’t unusual to find people standing beside their prized possessions to keep others from stealing them after the owner’s goons emptied the house in preparation for a new tenant.

Everett’s fingers tightened on the gearshift. “No, Teresa. I’ll drive you directly to your door.”

With a barely perceptible nod of her head, Teresa stared straight ahead. She’d spent the past two hours with the accountant, and for that brief time she’d forgotten about her predicament. Much to her surprise, she’d found herself more comfortable with Everett than she did with Samuel. He exhibited a wry sense of humor she hadn’t thought possible because he had always appeared so serious; he spoke to her in Spanish, claiming he needed the practice to keep himself fluent.

He told her about the two months he’d spent in Costa Rica interviewing countless candidates for the managerial position. He’d almost given up when an ex-foreman for the United Fruit Company applied for the position. He hadn’t brought up the subject of Samuel Cole, and for that she was grateful. She’d masked her inner turmoil with a deceptive calmness she hadn’t known she possessed.

“I live there,” she said softly, pointing at the one-story house with peeling yellow paint. Silvia nagged Ramon constantly to buy some paint to touch up the siding, but he refused because he didn’t own the property. Everett got out and pulled her gently to her feet. She thanked him for dinner, then made her way to the rear of the house.

Teresa opened the door leading into the kitchen where her family had gathered for the evening meal. “I had to work late,” she announced softly, explaining her absence.

Silvia pushed back her chair. “I’ll get you a plate.”

“No,
Mami
. I ate at the office,” she lied smoothly. “I’m going to take a bath, and then I’m going to study before going
to bed.” She kissed her mother, father, and then her youngest brother. “Where’s Pedro?”

Ramon tore a piece off the loaf of homemade bread and dabbed the residue of gravy on his plate. “He’s doing some work for Mr. Winters.”

Teresa frowned at her father. “Is he going to pay him in cash, or will he take it off the rent?”

Ramon returned her frown. “Stay out of it. It’s between your brother and Mr. Winters.”

“But he’s a thief, Papa.”

“Bastante!”

Her temper flared. “How can it be enough when he treats us like we’re dirt, Papa? Whenever he has to repair something he adds it to the rent. This is his house, not ours, so why do we have to pay for repairs?”

Ramon’s eyes paled. “Go to your room!”

“I am not a child to be sent to my room!”

Ramon half rose to his feet, but Silvia’s work-worn hand stopped him. “No, Ramon.” She turned her dark gaze on her daughter. The two women acknowledged what would’ve only ended in a stalemate, resentment and hostility.

Turning on her heel, Teresa walked out of the kitchen. She had enough on her mind without arguing with her father about their unscrupulous landlord.

She had to let Samuel Cole know that she was carrying his child.

Teresa unlocked the door and went completely still. Samuel sat at the desk in the reception area. It was apparent he was waiting for her. He rose slowly to his feet, his gaze fusing with hers.

It had been more than six weeks since their last physical encounter, and seeing him this close made her body ache. She loved him, even more now that the result of their time together
grew inside her. Everything that was so magical about the enchanting island, mountains, waterfalls, the primordial beauty of El Yunque with its ageless trees, the rare flora and fauna indigenous only to Puerto Rico, would remain with her forever.

“You were waiting for me.” Her question came out like a statement.

“Yes. I want to talk to you.”

“And I
need
to talk to you,” she countered.

Samuel, pushing his hands into the pockets of his trousers, rocked back on his heels. “We’ll talk in my office.”

She stored her pocketbook in the desk drawer before following Samuel. He waited for her to walk into his office, then closed the door behind them. He cupped her elbow, steering her to the small table in the corner. Pulling out a chair, he seated her.

“Thank you,” she whispered as he rounded the table and sat down. “What do you want to talk about?”

Lacing his fingers together, Samuel stared at Teresa’s bowed head. The summer sun had bleached her hair white gold.

“I didn’t want you to think that I’ve been avoiding you, but I’ve been involved with a family crisis.”

Her head came up slowly. She hoped his family crisis was marital discord. It would make what she had to tell him a lot easier if he were fighting with his wife.

“I don’t know what to think, Samuel, because I’ve had my own personal family crisis.”

“Is it something I can help you with?”

Nervously, Teresa moistened her dry lips. “Yes, you can.”

He leaned closer. “What do you want?”

“You,” she whispered, even though there was no one in the office except the two of them. “I want you, Samuel Cole.”

“Teresa, we have to talk.”

“We are talking,” she chided. “I want to talk about us, Samuel.”

A muscle flicked angrily at his jaw. “There can’t be an us. At least not right now.”

“And why not?”

“Because my wife—”

“Your wife?” Teresa asked, cutting him off. “What does your wife have to do with us?”

“She’s pregnant.”

Teresa stared across the small distance separating her from the man with whom she’d fallen in love, tongue-tied.

Clamping a hand over her mouth, she cut off a strangled cry.
No
, her silent voice screamed.

Samuel was hypnotized by the fear in the green eyes trained on him. He wanted to look away, but couldn’t. “I’m sorry, Teresa.”

She lowered her hand. “You’re sorry, Samuel? Are you sorry you got your wife pregnant?”

He shook his head. “Of course not. We planned for this baby.”

Shock yielded to fury with his cocky explanation. “You planned to have a baby with your wife, but what about your mistress?”

Samuel could not believe what he was hearing. What mistress? Did Teresa believe she was his mistress? “What are you talking about?”

“I’m pregnant, Samuel. I’m going to have your baby.”

His face became a glowering mask of rage. “What is it you want? You want money? How much do you want?”

Teresa half rose, her right hand arcing toward his face, but Samuel was quicker. He held her wrist in a punishing grip.