Sealed With a Kiss (10 page)

Rufus sat up in bed before sunrise and tried to reconcile himself to the emotional charge that had taken possession of them the night before. But no matter how he rationalized it, he faced a no-win situation; either capitulate and take it all the way, or let it go. What a choice! He was exactly where he’d been since the first time he’d laid eyes on her. He thought back to the smooth way in which she had used his nickname. If she knew it, she must also have known who he was. He hadn’t thought that her responses to him were calculated, but acting was an honored profession, and he had met many woman who excelled at it. Especially Etta Mae, whose deceit in pretending to have been taking the Pill had ordained their marriage. So, why not Naomi?

He got up and went downstairs to his state-of-the-art kitchen, looked around, and wondered why he needed all those gadgets. He had reluctantly given in to the boys’ tearful plea to spend the night with their cousins, so he didn’t have to cook breakfast. He squeezed a glass of orange juice, drank it, and glimpsed the fresh fruit bowl on the table as he was leaving. He loved apples and thought they were better snacks than nuts and candy. He selected the largest red apple, polished it, and prepared to relish the tart sweetness. Then he bit into it and frowned. Beautiful and crunchy on the outside. Spoiled on the inside. He threw it into the garbage disposal. Was there a message in that somewhere?

Several mornings later, Naomi skimmed the report of the community school board’s monthly meeting, slammed it down on her desk, got up, and paced the floor. Just a lot of loose talk. Unless they got better officers, there wouldn’t be any improvement. She walked over to her desk and telephoned Judd.

“Grandpa, I’m going to try for president of my community school board.”

“Now, you watch what you’re doing, gal. You don’t want to get in the public eye with this thing about the baby hanging over you. You could be asking for trouble. It’s all right to be on the board, but being its president is too public. ’Course, I know you’ll do whatever you want.”

His reaction surprised her. She had thought he would be pleased, that he would support anything that enhanced the Logan name. Well, her mind was made up.

“Don’t worry, Grandpa, it’s just a local board, and it seldom makes news,” she told him, vowing not to let it dampen her spirits. “There have to be some changes in those schools, and I’m going to see to it.”

A few hours later, as she walked down the steps of the Martin Luther King, Jr., Memorial Library on G Street, where she’d traced the school board’s record over the past decade and a half, she thought she heard her name. She heard it again, less faint than before, but it seemed to come from far away. She turned her back to the street to lessen the bite of the wind and saw Rufus and his boys ambling toward her. He restrained the children when they tried to run to her, preventing them from tumbling down the concrete steps. She opened her arms to them when they reached the sidewalk, and the little boys rushed to her, covered her face with kisses, and delighted in the love she returned.

Awed by their reception, she looked up into Rufus’s sultry gaze and drank deeply of the warmth and affection she saw there. “Hi.”

“Hi. They’re obviously glad to see you. I’m surprised they recognized you from that distance. They’ve been returning library books. I let them do it themselves, and they’ve made friends with some of the librarians. It’s a big adventure and one of their favorite outings. What brings you down here?” She told him about the school board and her decision to seek its presidency.

“Grandpa doesn’t think much of the idea, but I’m going ahead with it.” Still hunkered down, she continued holding the boys in her arms.

“I think it’s a great idea. I can introduce you to a good publicist who’ll get you free television interviews, guest shots on panel shows, newspaper coverage, the whole shebang. He’s been disgusted with your school board for years, so he might not charge you. I’ll do a story on you for the
Journal;
how about it?”

Her eyes widened in alarm, and she released the boys almost absentmindedly, rubbing her coat sleeves nervously. He reached down and helped her to her feet.

“What is it, Naomi? Don’t you want any help? You’ll certainly need it.” His eyes narrowed quizzically.

“Y-yes, thank you. I…I just hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.” She knew he’d think her wishy-washy, but she couldn’t help remembering her grandfather’s warning.

He looked closely at her. “If you feel you can make a difference, don’t let anybody discourage you.”

“Daddy’s going to buy us hot chocolate, Noomie. You want some?” She looked at Sheldon, who regarded her expectantly, and hesitated. Finally, she told him she had to get back to her studio. Then she hugged the children, straightened up, and looked into Rufus’s cool gaze. Shaken, she told them goodbye and went on her way, aware that her behavior baffled Rufus. She hadn’t considered the necessity of a publicity campaign; cold fear clutched her heart at the thought of it. But she’d find a way, she promised herself. After all, she had nearly six months in which to make a move.

Rufus watched her until she was out of sight. The more he saw of her, the more of a puzzle she seemed. Was she reluctant to accept his help, or was it something else? As soon as he’d offered it, her enthusiasm for the idea had seemed to wane. What was behind it? He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but she hadn’t made it easy.

With the date of the gala rapidly approaching Rufus began laying out plans for a media blitz publicizing it. He would represent the Alliance, but they’d get more mileage, he decided, if Naomi spoke for OLC, and other organizations also had their own spokespersons. He hadn’t seen her in over a week, not since that morning at the library. He had wanted to see her, and not calling her had tested his resolve, but he had desisted. She was far enough inside him as it was. He didn’t want to think about her right then; if he did, the morning would be shot, as far as his work was concerned.

He worked on his manuscript until ten o’clock, gave his boys a mid-morning snack, and then telephoned Naomi to ask whether she’d be willing to make a few appearances on local television shows to promote the gala. There was a spot available that evening at seven-thirty.

Naomi agreed to his suggestion, but after hanging up, she began to worry that whoever was looking for her would be able to put a face with her name and would easily find her through her connection with One Last Chance. She wasn’t sure she was ready for that yet and fretted about it for hours. She knew that she intended to see her child, to explain why she had given it up for adoption; it would take the United States Marines to prevent it, but she hadn’t thought beyond that. The shock of having to face it after trying for so many years to forget it was only now beginning to wear off. Finally, she called Rufus, forced herself to be pleasant, even a little jocular, and gave him a weak excuse. Then she redesigned the gala program to make it impossible for anyone to trace her through it.

Thirteen years. Nearly half her life had been fraught with fear. For over thirteen years, she had let fear of being exposed about something over which she had had almost no control circumscribe her life. And because of that fear, she lived without love, without a family, without real intimacy with anyone. But she hadn’t had an idea of what she’d missed. Now she could imagine how it could be with Rufus if there were no barriers between them. Walking away from him might prove to be the most difficult thing she’d ever done, as hard as learning that she could at last see her child, a child who called someone else “Mother” and who would surely judge her harshly. But she could deal with it. She would. She
had
to! She wasn’t so naive that she didn’t know how uniquely suited she and Rufus were, but she knew that it couldn’t happen. One day soon, she was going to sit down and deal with it, all of it, and fear wouldn’t figure in her decisions. Lost in her thoughts, conjuring up her future, Naomi answered the phone, but the sound of his voice sent her heart racing.

“Hi.” It was low and suggestive, though she was sure that after their last encounter, he hadn’t meant it to be. “Look. I’ve got a problem, Naomi. Jewel isn’t home, and I don’t know whether she’ll be able to keep my boys for me. Could you tell me where you’ll be around three o’clock? If I haven’t been able to make an arrangement for them by then, I’m afraid you’ll have to go to the station.”

“I’ll be here,” she promised grudgingly. She telephoned Marva. “I can’t make rehearsals tonight. Can you reschedule it? Rufus said I may have to appear on WMAL this evening to publicize the gala, and I probably won’t get out of there until after nine. I’m sorry, Marva.” Marva changed the dates and advised Naomi that after leaving the station she should spend the evening with Rufus.

Rufus called Jewel, and she used the occasion to tell him that it was time he got a live-in nanny for the boys. “You can well afford it, and you won’t have to sacrifice your career and your social life while you baby-sit.”

Rufus didn’t want to be vexed with his sister. She had made the point numerous times over the past three years, but in this instance it really annoyed him. It was one of her more subtle hints that Naomi would be a welcome sister-in-law, and they hadn’t even met.

“Jewel, I’m not going over this with you again. If you have to go to a PTA meeting, keeping my boys is out of the question. I’ll work it out.”

“You could get married, you know,” she shot at him. “It’s time you forgave Etta Mae; you’ve been divorced for more than three years, and she’s still ruining your life because you insist on seeing something of her in every woman you meet. Give it up, Rufus; you’re hurting yourself.”

His long, deep sigh was that of a man whose patience had been exceeded. He knew that his sister was right; forgiving and letting go had always been difficult for him. He chose to reply to only part of her comment.

“I want a companion for myself, Jewel, and if I ever remarry, it will be to a woman who can be a mother for my sons. Find me that woman, and maybe I’ll take your advice. Well-informed, brainy career women make great companions, but in my book, they’re not the best wives and mothers because they’re never home; nor should anybody expect them to be. And the woman who’s likely to stay home all the time, keep house, and live for her family alone might be good for the boys and is probably what today’s family needs, but she’d bore the hell out of me. Believe me, single is better.”

“I’ve got a career, and I’m a good wife and mother.”

“Yes, you are. You’re committed to your children and your husband, and he’s committed to you. The two of you are a team, and that’s what a marriage should be. But your kind of marriage is not common.”

“Thanks for the confidence; you should be eager to get what Jeff and I have. If you don’t know a good woman when you see one, talk to my husband and get a few pointers,” she admonished him. He hung up thinking about what she’d said and about what he wanted. He wanted Naomi, and no amount of advice from Jewel’s husband or anyone else would change that.

She answered after the first ring. “I’m afraid you’ll have to go on tonight,” he informed her without a trace of regret. “I’ve already told the station’s program director that one of us would be there. So how about it?”

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t. Bring the boys over here, and I’ll keep them for you.” Why was she stammering, and what had happened to her normal poise? He jerked the telephone cord impatiently, alert to a possibly hidden reason for her refusal.

“I thought you said you’d be busy. If you’re busy, how can you take care of my boys?”

“I’m expecting a business call,” she told him, digging a deeper hole for herself.

“At night? At home? Are you leveling with me?” He was openly suspicious of her motives now.

“Okay, I’m a poor liar. I just hate speaking in public without notes and without enough time to prepare myself. I’m uncomfortable with it.” She was talking rapidly in a high-pitched voice that told him she had lost her composure.

He couldn’t buy it. “As fast as you are with the repartee? You want me to believe that? Look, if you don’t want to do it, just say so. I’ll go if you’re still willing to take care of my boys for a couple of hours. I’m due at the station at seven o’clock, so we’ll be over at six.”

He sat for a long time, pondering her strange behavior. Not for one second would he believe that she’d be nervous speaking about anything so dear to her as One Last Chance. She was a high school teacher, for Pete’s sake, trained for impromptu speaking. She was lying. Period. He thought of the way he felt about her, how that feeling was growing with each day, and experienced a tinge of apprehension. His coach had once said that one could excuse a blind man for getting into a hole, but not a man with sight. “I can see,” he reminded himself.

Naomi watched Rufus take the greatest of care unstrapping the boys and removing their coats. He hugged them so many times before leaving that she thought she might cry, and to her surprise, the twins waved him off without a tear. She had fortified herself with plastic building blocks, an electrical musical keyboard, and a pair of walkie-talkies that worked. Once they discovered the walkie-talkies, she had no problem with discipline, because Preston sat in the foyer and talked to Sheldon, who remained in the kitchen. Rufus called just before air time and asked to speak with them, but she vetoed the idea.

“I’ve got a good system going here, and it’s working perfectly. The sound of your voice will definitely disturb the peace, so no, you can’t speak with them.”