Equal Access (15 page)

“Dark and mushy avocados.”

Dulsie smirked as she took the bag and
returned to the counter.

Shad immediately followed her, removing the
case from his shoulder and hanging it on the back of one of the
kitchen chairs at the table as they walked by. “So how was your
day?”

“Busy.” Dulsie tossed a glance back at him.
“I didn’t get to nap either.”

Her attention returned to the avocados. As
Dulsie removed them from the bag and began rinsing them at the
sink, Shad studied the supple curves of her exposed limbs. Dulsie
moved about gracefully and confidently. Her skin was tanned a light
brown from all of Dulsie’s summer activities, but Shad’ interest
quickly diverted to the parts of her that didn’t get tanned. He
stepped closer to Dulsie when she returned to the cutting
board.

It was a technique he had perfected during
his courtship of her. Shad stood directly behind Dulsie, very
closely to her yet not touching. He placed his hands on the counter
edge on either side of her, effectively impeding any escape she
might try to attempt. As Shad lowered his head closer to Dulsie’s
upswept hair he drew a long, slow inhale that filled his sense of
smell with the softly sweet aroma he associated with her, like the
scent of a large patch of blooming clover on a warm spring day. And
Shad began to detect warmth from her agile body radiating through
his shirt to intermingle with the heat from his own skin.

As subtle as he was, Dulsie had known Shad
long enough to know exactly what he was up to. “Do I detect a side
effect from your handling my avocados?”

The light tone of her voice was pleasing to
him, and Shad also appreciated how her words were so often
well-seasoned with humor. He lowered his mouth to the same level as
Dulsie’s ear.

“I like it when you talk dirty to me.” His
own voice was slightly hoarse from the now welcomed sensation that
was increasing within him.

“How’s this for dirty: If you don’t clean up
your act I’m gonna use you to mop the floor.” Dulsie finished
slicing open the avocado. “Ooh, nice. I do have to admit you seem
to really know your fruit.”

Shad’s mouth lowered to her shoulder. His
lips lightly settled on the base of her neck and the tip of his
tongue pressed just enough against her skin for him to experience
the subtle saltiness of it. Shad almost had to catch his breath as
he contemplated tasting more of her.

“Speaking of fruit –” Dulsie shoved her back
into his chest and stomach. She was trying to push him away, but
Shad wrapped his arms around her torso and he could feel the
roundness of the lower part of her breasts pressed into his right
forearm. The pressure of Dulsie’s body arched against him made Shad
ache to move his hands under her shirt, but Dulsie was meant to be
savored.

“Don’t make me slap your hand,” Dulsie
growled.

Shad responded by nibbling on her
earlobe.

“This is not the time or place!” Dulsie’s
voice betrayed both amusement and annoyance. “I don’t know about
you, but I’m hungry. Let me finish getting supper ready and satisfy
my own appetite first. As for your appetite, you just go rip off
your clothes someplace else.”

Shad rested his mouth beside her ear and
softly murmured, “Then do I get to rip off your clothes?”

“Sustenance first, debauchery later! Now
scat!”

“It’s a deal.” He kissed Dulsie on the jaw
and released her.

She turned around and pushed on Shad’s chest
to insure he would actually leave. Shad stepped back and for a few
seconds watched Dulsie return to her work.

He remembered in his youth that Pap sometimes
referred to Shad’s future as “when you have a family of your own,”
as though it were a given that he would marry someday. For years
Shad doubted such an event would ever occur for him since he just
wasn’t interested in adult women. Then his relationship with Dulsie
went through a couple of transformations, and she completed his
understanding of the concept of “oneness.” As Shad reluctantly
turned away and picked up the computer case he offered thanks again
for this unanticipated blessing. For someone who once thought he’d
never get married, Shad now couldn’t imagine life without
Dulsie.

There is blunt talk like sword thrusts, but the
speech of the wise is healing.

--Proverbs 12:18

Monica Simms lived in the same vicinity just
south of Jefferson City as her brother and sister-in-law. Actually
Monica’s home was within the town of Wardsville while Eliot lived
outside the city limits. If Shad could have simply crossed the
Osage River where it bordered Pap’s farm, it would have been
possible for him to make it to Monica’s in a matter of minutes. But
since the highway north of home that provided a direct link between
Linn and Jefferson City also provided the only bridge, albeit over
the Missouri River, Shad had to take the “longer” route over that
river and then drive on a back road that snaked into town.

Monica’s house was a newer model with a brick
foundation and vinyl siding and a small concrete porch, but it
seemed to be only a little larger than the place Shad and Dulsie
rented. Demetri Simms had been a high school basketball coach so
his income was modest, and it was at his insistence that Monica
stopped working outside the home shortly after they married. At
first that seemed just as well since Monica became pregnant five
months after the wedding. But in retrospect she now realized it was
part of Demetri’s efforts to keep Monica isolated from family and
friends.

When Demetri decided to start seeking
employment elsewhere, he didn’t tell Monica until the end of May,
after he was already hired at a school in St. Louis for the next
academic year. This was the same time Demetri informed her he would
take Charissa with him but leave Monica behind so their daughter
wouldn’t have to go through the trauma of watching her mother die.
Immediately afterward he loaded Charissa into the car with the rest
of the belongings Demetri would need over the summer, and drove to
the apartment he had arranged to rent in St. Louis.

Monica’s days left living in this home were
numbered by how long she could get by before needing hospice care.
She agreed with Shad that Charissa should be able to come home to
the room she knew, and then gradually the two would move into
Eliot’s house. That way Charissa would already be settled into her
new home when she became the official dependent of her uncle and
aunt.

As Shad walked along the driveway toward the
front porch, he couldn’t miss the dark red, late model pickup he
had parked his own truck behind. Shad rarely made assumptions, but
he presumed it must belong to Vic. The truck, unlike his own, was
immaculate and shiny and dent free. Vic worked as phlebotomist in
the hospital, so Shad presumed Tess’s brother was one of those
people Pap once complained about who would steal into his room at
wee hours of the morning and draw blood. When Pap griped about the
procedure to Karl, Jill’s husband leaned toward the bed and asked
if Pap wanted him to bring a braid of garlic and his old rosary
with its crucifix to hang around Pap’s neck.

At least Vic’s night hours freed him up
during part of the day to assist Monica. That also allowed Charissa
to become better acquainted with the man she had formerly met only
a few times at large family gatherings. Shad wanted to remove as
much trauma as he could from Charissa’s transition.

Shad left his suit coat in the pickup, and
the afternoon heat made him not only roll up his sleeves but also
loosen his tie more than usual and undo the top two buttons of the
light purple shirt. As Shad strode up the two steps of the
shadeless porch it crossed his mind that a century ago, in days
without air conditioning, people wore full-length underwear to
protect the clothes they wore from their own sweaty and oily
bodies. No wonder people had shorter life spans back then.

He rang the doorbell, and only a few seconds
passed before none other than Vic opened the door.

“Oh yes, Mr. Delaney.” Vic smiled broadly.
“It’s good to see you here.”

“Good afternoon.” Shad nodded. “I hope I
haven’t missed out on the opportunity to speak with Charissa.”

“I don’t think so.” Vic stepped aside and
motioned into the house. “I asked her about it earlier today and
all she would say was you were the only one she could tell.”

“Doesn’t sound like much has changed.” Shad
stepped into the carpeted living room and immediately felt a little
crowded. There seemed to be plenty of matching furniture in the
room accompanied by more accoutrements than he was accustomed to.
Tables grouped around the chairs were generally filled with doilies
and cloths spread underneath the lamps and knick-knacks. The walls
were also bedecked with pictures and photographs, and shelves
displayed even more items that probably reflected memories or
interests. “Where’s Monica?”

“She went to lie down in the bedroom right
after you called.” Vic closed the door. “Her energy level is
starting to drop. Usually takes a nap around this time of day or at
least has to get some rest.” Vic shook his head. “I’ll go see if
she’s fallen asleep or not. She told me if she did to go ahead and
send you to Charissa’s room, and she’d talk with you when you’re
done and she has more time to wake up.”

Shad nodded. “I’ll wait right here.”

As he watched Vic stroll into a hallway to
the right side of the room, Shad felt a tremor of apprehension.
After what happened to him yesterday, he only now realized that his
discussion with Charissa would probably be conducted in private.
Before yesterday evening that event wouldn’t have caused him any
concern, but now dread crept upon him as Shad wondered if the old
adversary would surface again.

Vic returned in less than half a minute.
“She’s asleep. I’ll take you to Charissa.”

“Thank you,” Shad muttered.

He followed Vic down a hallway to the left
side of the room. More pictures and shelves adorned the walls.
Three doors broke up the pattern of the decorations, and all were
ajar. Vic stopped at the last one and softly rapped on the painted
trim.

“Charissa? Sweetheart? Mr. Delaney is here to
talk to you.”

Shad didn’t hear Charissa’s response but Vic
nudged the door wider and stepped into the room. When Shad followed
him in he saw the girl curled in a sitting position on the floor at
the foot of her twin-sized bed. She wore green jersey shorts and a
light green tee shirt with a print of a kitten on the front.
Charissa had a picture book opened on her lap, and other books as
well as toys were scattered around her on the bed and on the floor.
She watched them with a somber expression that didn’t change.

“Hello, Charissa.” Shad smiled although he
still felt crowded. Charissa’s room was disheveled as kids’ rooms
often were, but the sheer volume of toys and furniture and
decorations on the walls seemed to close in on him. It was as
though that mild agoraphobia of his was now reacting to
objects.

The most toys Shad ever had as a child was
when Wally lived with them, and even then he never had this many.
After Wally left, all of Shad’s toys were thrown away, or those
that could bring money were sold by one of the boyfriends so he
could buy more cigarettes. When Shad moved in with the Delaneys he
mostly “inherited” the same few classic toys that had been kept
around the house for generations.

Charissa looked from him to Vic and back
again. “I wondered if you’d really come,” she said in a voice that
matched her expression.

Shad almost felt that knife-to-the-heart
sensation. “I said I’d be here. And I really do wish we could’ve
talked yesterday.”

Charissa stared at him but didn’t answer.

“I’ll let you two get down to business.” Vic
shrugged and slipped behind Shad to step out of the room. “Should I
close the door?”

“No,” Shad immediately replied as a flash of
panic shot through him.

“I don’t want it left open,” Charissa stated
bluntly as she continued to gaze at Shad.

“Why not?” His question was genuine.

“I don’t want them to listen.” Charissa
looked down at the book in her lap. “Especially not Mom.”

Shad blew out a long exhale and glanced at
Vic. “Leave it ajar.”

“You’re the boss.” Vic shrugged and pulled
the door until only a crack of light was left between it and the
frame.

As Shad’s attention returned to Charissa he
fervently hoped the brewing terror inside him would overcome any
other physiological response he might have. When the malady had
haunted him years ago, an opportunity like this had never presented
itself before either naturally or through Shad’s orchestration.
Although he didn’t question his ability to control his conduct,
Shad also didn’t want to encourage this disorder to continue
reestablishing itself.

A few seconds of silence passed before
Charissa spoke. “You’re not really fired, are you?”

A twang of guilt added to his discomfort.
“Not legally, no.” Shad wasn’t comforted with the thought that the
more he practiced law the better he got at dodging around the
truth. “I was ... sort of playing a game. I wanted you to feel
better. So I let you dismiss me even though ... your mom is the one
with the ultimate authority to do that. Legally.”

Charissa looked down at the book again. “I
would hear Mom talking with Uncle Eliot and Aunt Tess. They talk
about you a lot, about things you’re gonna do.”

Shad wondered if the adults were discussing
this openly in front of Charissa or if she was eavesdropping on
what they believed was a private conversation. “I’m sorry. I
thought it would help you to feel better. I know things are hard
for you right now, and I’m just trying to make some of it a little
easier.”

Charissa’s gaze returned to his face. “Did
you mean it when you said you’re my lawyer?”