No One But You (11 page)

She walked through the country club, wondering how she could have wanted to be a part of all of this. No matter how hard she worked to earn a living, and tried to be positive, she wouldn’t fit neatly into this life. And to attempt to fit in was too high a sacrifice.

She saw Jackson, his father and two men walking and laughing as they returned from their golf game. Jackson’s father had his arm around his son’s shoulders. The four men looked comfortable in their friendship. The camaraderie among the men was quite different than what she’d encountered with the women.

Sara hoped Jackson didn’t look up as she made her retreat. She knew that once word from his mother got out, he’d be there trying to explain away his mother’s actions. But she wanted to hear no more excuses. The innuendos had managed to work under the surface of self-doubts she harbored.

“May I help you, ma’am.” The valet stepped into her view.

“I need a taxi.”

“Sure. Not a problem.” The young boy, eager to please, headed to his station.

Sara looked over her shoulder, making sure that she was still undetected. Through the glass double doors, she saw Eleanor talking to Jackson. Her hand went repeatedly to her throat, as she told her story. She wore a bewildered expression that brought attention from her husband. Jackson, however, looked agitated.

Jackson turned to look toward the door. Sara quickly stepped out of view. “Will the taxi be here, soon?” She hated to sound pushy, but circumstances required it.

“Here it comes, ma’am.”

“Not a moment too soon.” She gave him a tip and hurriedly entered the car. “Belmont Hotel, please.”

The taxi had to make a U-turn around the country club’s driveway to enter the major road in the direction she needed. As it passed the entrance, she saw Jackson talking to the valet, who pointed at her taxi.

“Sir, if it’s not a bother, could you take me to the Scioto River waterfront. I think I’d like to walk around a bit.” She expected Jackson to head for her hotel.

“Sure, miss.”

Sara settled back, ready to enjoy a bit of calm. If she had things her way, Jackson would have stayed in Chicago a bit longer, at least long enough that the precious daughters—Winifred and Barbara—would be distant memories. In this world, there was more to their lives than falling in love. And in her world, falling in love was all she knew how to do.

Earlier that day, Jackson’s morning had started too early. He met his father at the country club with all the other golfers who didn’t mind losing a few hours of sleep to play. Most days Jackson could share that mindset, but this morning he wanted to be with Sara. These few hours on the weekend that they had to be with each other weren’t enough.

Despite the thaw in her attitude to him, he didn’t entertain the belief that she wouldn’t run at the first sign of trouble. He’d broken her trust in the worst way. And for all he knew, he may never gain her complete openness again with him.

“Jackson, come over here and meet Edgar Feldman and Tony Barnes. Gentlemen, this is my son.” His father thumped him on the back with an overabundance of pride.

“Cecil, here, has been raving about you. Good to see a father and son so close and working together.” Edgar Feldman shook Jackson’s hand, flashing a gold Rolex. His overall slim body was offset by a slight paunch. Although his clothes weren’t necessarily stylish, he had the extra accessories—his golf clubs, shoes and jewelry—that reflected his taste for extravagance.

Tony Barnes had a smile that featured a super white set of capped teeth. His tan, healthy physique and good looks could make him a most-wanted man in a senior living facility where the women outnumbered the men.

Jackson was paired with Edgar, while his father played with Tony. He and his father were excellent golfers. But this wasn’t just a round of golf. This game had purpose beyond the eighteen holes. Strategically they split their talent between the two guests.

Since there was no conversation while each golfer set up and took his swing, the networking occurred as they drove from one hole to the next. At the end, in front of the clubhouse, his father would close the deal. The atmosphere at drinks and dinner indicated the level of success from the day’s round of golf.

Between the first and second hole, Jackson hopped into the golf cart. He deferred to Edgar, who wanted to drive. From what he surmised, this man was old school. He’d made his money at an early age working with large, reputable firms. In the industry he’d earned the reputation for working hard and always being fair.

“I can feel your mind churning.” Edgar looked at Jackson.

“Wondering what a man in your position puts down as his goals. Looks like you’re at the pinnacle of success.”

“Son, there is always something out of reach. I was the type of man who would do anything to get to the next level. Not illegal, but probably not ethical—yet, I’m successful.”

“You’re talking past tense.” Jackson got out of the cart, hating the fact that they were at the second hole. He looked over at his father, who was talking intently to Tony. Someone who walked up on the scene may think his father was passing on tips to a fellow partner. Jackson knew better. His father didn’t share. He believed in every man for himself.

Jackson had been the exception to his father’s rule. Maybe he learned too late that he couldn’t bring that mentality to his children. Two siblings later, his father showered him with more attention than he really wanted. His attention was similar to a vise grip. The way Tony leaned into his father’s words was a sure sign that his father’s mastery had worked again.

“Do you have a son?” Jackson asked.

“No. I have four daughters. Then my wife said ‘no more.’” Edgar shook his head ruefully.

“Any of them want to be in the business.”

Edgar shrugged. “I never thought about raising them in the business. Maybe it’s sexist of me, but I made this business work to give them the best in life. Then they can go out and do whatever they want to do. If it happens to be the business, that’s fine.” Edgar turned a sharp glance on him. “How about you? Is this what you want to do?”

The perceptive question nailed him. The tables had been deftly turned on him. He wasn’t sure how to answer. Maybe he read too much into Edgar’s question.

“I know this business.”

“Diplomatic, but no closer to the truth.” Edgar stopped the cart. He looked over to where Jackson’s father and Tony waited.

Jackson shrugged. He didn’t want to be in the position to betray his father.

They continued the game of polite conversation that had no hidden meanings. Jackson sensed that his retreat had disappointed Edgar. He didn’t know why that bothered him.

“What’s happening with you and Edgar?” His father had managed to get to him before he could get into the cart. Jackson examined his golf club, as if they were discussing it.

“It’s going fine. We’re chatting about his family.”

“Family? What the heck! Jackson, these men are part of the study committee on the state’s revitalization plan. We need to know what the state has planned. That’s why we’re out here, not to know if he’s married, or whether he has kids. Who cares?”

“He has four daughters.” Jackson turned to head to the cart. His father’s bulldog attitude grated on his nerves. People were no better than pawns for his manipulation. He tried hard to seek a softer side to his father. An equal number of times he found no signs of his father’s humility.

“Get it together.” His father squinted at him. “You’re worrying me. Let’s have dinner, tonight. I want to hear about Chicago.”

Jackson nodded.

To any non-golf enthusiast, the game’s length seemed arduous. Eighteen holes could take up the better half of the morning. Most times, Jackson could get in to the game and not notice the time.

This morning, his mind drifted in many directions, all leading to Sara. He wondered if she was laughing it up with the women. Hopefully his mother wouldn’t muck up the day with her old-fashioned ideas.

“You know, I had to marry my wife twice before I got it right.”

Jackson was momentarily stunned by the switch to the personal nature of the conversation. “What does that mean?”

Edgar grinned at him. “We married early, probably too early, but we were in love and hardheaded. She got pregnant back-to-back, right after we married. I’d just landed a job on the bottom rung of the ladder. My wife couldn’t work because of the babies. Plus I didn’t want her to work. Told you I was old-fashioned.”

They arrived at the fifteenth hole, again behind his father, who was none too pleased. His frustration showed in his game, which seemed to have deteriorated from the twelfth hole. Jackson kept his correcting tips to himself.

“Cecil, I’m having a wonderful chat with your son.” Edgar waved his club and stepped up to tee the ball.

Jackson didn’t bother to look his father’s way. Instead he focused on the ball, which had been soundly hit at least 200 yards down the fairway.

Once they were back in the cart, Jackson resumed the conversation with Edgar. “When did you start working for yourself?”

“It was a while ago. I was divorced before all that happened. Lack of money, long hours, immaturity ate away at our marriage. We stopped talking and stopped loving. She left with the girls and went back to her family. I could just hear them tell her ‘I told you so.’” He shook his head, as if to rid himself of the memory. “After I stopped feeling sorry for myself, I decided that not only would I be a success in my profession, I would get my wife and family back.”

Jackson listened, loving Edgar’s style of storytelling, with his boisterous laughter and animated hand gestures.

“I worked at the job during the day. Then in the evening, I worked on my business. I had to work hard to convince my wife to go out with me again. It meant courting her all over, doing the things I should’ve done the first time, saying the things that I thought men shouldn’t say. And yet, she didn’t marry me right away. She didn’t trust me not to take her for granted and change. One of the major lessons I learned was that I needed her at my side, not behind me.”

Jackson looked over at his father who had a very different story from Edgar’s. Yet, he seemed happy. His mother didn’t complain.

“Then she remarried you.” Jackson was glad that Edgar had a happy ending.

“Yes, we remarried and immediately had two more girls.” Edgar laughed. “The last were twins. Guess they figured they’d better come in a package before we regained our senses.”

They went off to play the last hole. Jackson enjoyed his chat with Edgar. His father didn’t realize what a gift he’d provided him by partnering him with Edgar. He didn’t know what he’d say over dinner to show that he’d achieved the success his father wanted.

“Well, gentlemen, I think I can speak for my son in saying that we had a great time. I hope we can do this again soon.” Cecil shook hands and again placed his arm around Jackson’s shoulders. “Tony, definitely keep me in the loop if you’re looking for input on the study committee. Edgar, next time, we’ll play together.”

Tony nodded.

Edgar looked at Jackson. “Actually I enjoyed Jackson’s game. We’re not done getting to know each other.” Edgar shook Cecil’s hand, but pulled Jackson away from his father’s side. “Look, son, I didn’t launch into my story for the heck of it. There’s a lesson to be learned. I’ve got a successful business and connections. I have a wonderful, loving family.”

“Yes.” Jackson didn’t know what else to say.

“And I have prostate cancer.”

“Oh, sorry to hear.” Jackson couldn’t believe what he heard, considering how exuberant Edgar appeared to be.

“I’m fighting it. But I also have no regrets and that’s my reason for sharing.” He pointed at Jackson’s chest. “The key to life is no regrets.”

Their group disintegrated as Edgar and Tony headed off to their cars. Jackson and his father entered the club house. They both walked in the direction of the room where his mother’s book club met.

Jackson didn’t think he was late, but the room seemed fairly empty. He scanned the room for Sara, but didn’t see her. His mother was in a huddle with that darn Portia Rosewell and a few others. He wondered what half-baked plan they were cooking up for him and their daughters.

His mother looked up, startled. “Jackson, I’m so glad you’re here.”

“What’s the matter?” While he asked the question, he knew that her expression had to be connected to Sara.

“It’s Sara.” His mother fanned her neck and pulled her hair. She grabbed his father’s shirt and leaned into him with more drama than an opera diva. “She left in a huff. Her manners are atrocious. I’ll have to apologize to the group for her tantrum. How embarrassing.”

Gladys stepped up from behind his mother. “Your friend Sara was treated to a heavy dose of country club snobbery. If she hadn’t left, I would have told her to leave.”

“Gladys, mind your own business. You caused this scene with your low—”

“Mind what you say, Eleanor,” Phoebe warned.

Jackson turned to Gladys, trusting her to tell him the truth. “What happened?”

“We had a lively discussion on picking the right mates for our children.”

“Jackson, when can I tell Winifred about your lunch date?” Portia asked.

Jackson had no patience for his mother’s friends. “Gladys, where did Sara go?”

“She walked out to the front.” Gladys grabbed him by the sleeve. “Go after her.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he said.

“But we have dinner plans.” His father’s voice boomed across the open area.

Jackson hesitated, but didn’t slow down. “We’ll have to reschedule.”

“Oh, Cecil, take me home. I’m not feeling well.” His mother leaned heavily against his father.

Jackson looked at his mother, who was still swooning in her husband’s arms. He’d have to apologize to his parents, but he couldn’t let Sara go off with any notions, perceived or real, that he didn’t want her.

He hurried outside, hoping that she was still there. Thankfully the valet filled him in, with the additional luck that Sara was in the backseat of a taxi that had just pulled away.

Jackson followed the taxi cab, wondering where Sara headed. They’d already passed the hotel. The green signs dotting the highway stated that the airport was ten miles away. His heart sank with the possibility.