Sealed With a Kiss (27 page)

Naomi touched his little league trophies and pennants and his first guitar and looked through his sketches and drawings, all neatly organized by subject matter and date. She gazed in wonder at his glee club photographs, dozens that chronicled his growth from about age six onward. Rosalie walked over to his desk and showed her a watercolor portrait under which was written, “Noomie.” She struggled to hold back the tears, and when they came, Rosalie comforted her.

“I hope we can be close friends, Naomi,” the older woman said hesitantly. “Aaron didn’t tell me much, but he seems content, and that’s about all I can ask, since you’ve been together only once. I do know that he hasn’t been restless.” Her smile was that of a mother having fond thoughts of a child, Naomi realized.

“He seemed more concerned about me and how I feel about his seeing you,” Rosalie continued. “I’ll be honest with you. I want his happiness, and I want him to grow to become a fine man, but no matter what, he’ll always be my son. And I’ll fight for that with my last breath.”

She took the woman’s hands into her own and reassured her as best she could. “You have nothing to fear from me, Rosalie; I’m only grateful that you are a compassionate person and that you seem to understand what I’m feeling. You’ve been more than gracious to me, and you’ve offered me your friendship; I won’t abuse it. Another woman might have refused to let Aaron meet me, and I would never have known him.”

Naomi looked with affection at the woman beside her whose name would never be included in Maude Frazier’s social register, but who possessed more honorable traits than most of the socialites she knew. Her glance fell upon a tank of tropical fish nestled in a recessed cove in the hallway.

“What an odd assortment of tropical fish.”

“My husband brought them to me from Honolulu. He always brought us something when he returned from his trips. Those Thai temple bells hanging from the ceiling along the hallway and down the stairs to the basement were his gifts to Aaron. My son likes to run his hand along them as he walks. He says he gets a different tune each time.”

This home has been filled with love, she thought. Love between a man and wife and between them and Aaron. There was just one more thing.

“Rosalie, does Aaron ever go to church?”

Rosalie shrugged. “He always has, but since none of his friends go, he’s become stubborn about it. I’ve decided not to make it an issue between us.” Naomi laughed. She had behaved in the same way, but a lot of good it had done her. Just wait until Judd lowers the boom on him, she thought. She was happy…or she would have been.

Suddenly she wanted to tell this stranger about Rufus and her fear that he would find her contemptible if she told him about Aaron. She sensed that this woman had suffered and would understand and not scorn her. I can’t dump on her, she thought; it would make sense. She handed her two packages; one containing a small bottle of perfume, and the other an artist’s palette and brushes for Aaron, wished her and Aaron merry Christmas, and continued her rounds.

Her next stop was Marva’s house, but she realized that though she loved Marva, she had no interest in visiting with her friend. She was sick of shielding her emotions from her closest friend, of living a double life. Judd and Aaron knew her secrets, and with them she was free. But she needed to be with Rufus, unfettered by fears of exposure. She needed to feel his arms around her. To bare her soul to him, confessing everything, and then to have him cherish her. But it wouldn’t happen, and she had made up her mind to accept that. The more involved she became with Aaron, the more willing she was to sacrifice everything—Rufus included—for her son.

Naomi drove downtown to North Capital and P Street and parked in front of Linda’s house. Walking slowly up the walk, she wondered whether she was doing the right thing, whether Linda would think her visit an invasion of privacy. The front door opened before she’d reached it, and Linda stood with it ajar, waiting. Naomi knew at once that the girl didn’t want her to go inside. She handed Linda a beautifully wrapped package containing a book of reproductions of the paintings of Matisee and William H. Johnson. Linda eagerly tore open the package, stared at its contents, and gasped. She looked up at Naomi with glistening eyes and grasped her in a joyous, enthusiastic hug, her first gesture of affection toward her mentor. Startled, Naomi recovered quickly and pulled the girl to her in a motherly embrace.

“I’m going to keep this forever,” Linda promised. Naomi wished her merry Christmas, swallowed the lump in her throat, turned, and left.

Chapter 15

N
aomi opened the windows, turned up the radio, and let the crisp winter air flow in while the music swirled around her. She loved the English Christmas carols and hummed along as they filled her living room. How long had it been since she had welcomed Christmas morning? Years. This one wasn’t perfect, not by a mile. She didn’t have Rufus, and her son didn’t belong to her, but Aaron was a part of her life and she knew that if she needed Rufus, he’d be there for her. Right now, she wasn’t asking for more. She snipped the needle ends from the holly leaves and made a bouquet of holly and Santa Claus with his reindeers that she tied on her gifts to Preston and Sheldon. Then she wrapped her grandfather’s gift—Klopshc’s 1901
Red Letter New Testament
that she’d found in a used bookstore, added Rufus’s gift to the pile, and quickly dressed.

She looked in the mirror. Why hadn’t she been born in a culture where men wore their hair long and women wore theirs short? She got her long, thick tresses into an attractive twist just as she heard a playful jingle of the doorbell. Who could that be? Her heart pounded furiously when she saw Aaron standing there, smiling shyly. She stepped aside, took his hand, and pulled him into the foyer. That seemed to amuse him; his sheepish grin tugged at her heart as he awkwardly handed her two attractively wrapped packages.

“We thought we’d give you these.” He handed her the gifts. “My mom and me, I mean.” She thanked him, risked putting an arm loosely around his shoulders, and walked with him into the living room.

“How come you only got this little tree? Couldn’t you find a bigger one? It’s nice, but…” His voice drifted off.

“There’s only me, so I don’t put myself out much when it comes to celebrations.” He clearly didn’t think much of it and didn’t try to hide his disdain. He was blunt, too, she remembered, and figured he hadn’t learned to misrepresent himself; she hoped he never would. He walked around the tree, pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and shrugged.

“It’s too little. Next year, I’ll get you a big one. Well, maybe I oughta go. My mom’s relatives are coming for dinner, and I have to help her. Uh…Noomie, my…er…your grandfather called me. He said I have to go out there and see him. Are you going to his house today?” She nodded, unable to believe her ears. He was planning on being a part of her life, and he wanted to meet Judd.

“If you’re going this morning, can I bum a ride? I can’t stay but a few minutes; my mom needs help with the dinner and stuff. But I promised him I’d go. What time you gonna leave?”

“I’ll phone Grandpa, and we’ll go right away.” His quick glance and nonchalant shrug might have amused her, if she hadn’t understood adolescent insecurity. He was nervous about meeting the old man. She drove past Bethesda’s beautiful residential neighborhood, wishing that it was night and she could share with her son the elegant colorful Christmas decorations for which the area was so famous.

Aaron looked at Naomi, apparently surprised, when she parked in front of Judd’s house, cradled her head in her arms, and leaned on the steering wheel.

“Uh, what’s the matter, Noomie? You’re not scared to go in with me, are you? I mean, you’re not sorry you brought me, are you?” Her head snapped up sharply at his words, his misinterpretation of her action.

She patted his knee affectionately. “Aaron, I never dreamed I’d have the pleasure of bringing you to my grandpa. Do you know what it means to be so happy that you’re a nervous wreck? I hardly realized I was driving, and that’s dangerous. Sorry I brought you here? Honey, you’re smarter than that—I’m sure of it.”

His grin, brilliant and sincere, warmed her from head to the soles of her feet. “Just checking. Mom said I shouldn’t do anything to upset you.” Naomi looked at her child, a cocky, lovable boy, and understood the implication of his questions: he was insecure about her. He had really been asking her whether she was ashamed of him. She reached in the back seat for her handbag, squeezed his shoulder, placed her hand on the door, and paused.

“Aaron, I’m proud of you. You’re a wonderful boy, and I know Grandpa will be proud of you, too.” The astonishment and pleasure in his young face told her that her words had been precisely what he needed.

Judd opened the door before she rang the bell. “Well, well. Come in. Come in. Let me look at you. Come here. Come here.” Judd feasted his eyes on the boy as he moved closer.

“I never thought I’d live to see my great-grandchild. Merry Christmas, son.” Naomi stood with her back to the door, transfixed, as Judd put an arm around the boy, and the two went into Judd’s study. Her grandpa hadn’t said a word to her. Just then, he looked back at her.

“Merry Christmas, gal. Thanks for bringing him to me.”

“Merry Christmas, Grandpa.” She could barely get the words out.

The strange peace, the sense of right, of once more being a part of a family, was almost more than she could bear. If she had ever doubted that she had done the right thing, the tears that she saw in her grandfather’s eyes erased that uncertainty. She wanted to remind Judd that they had no claim on the boy, that he shouldn’t become too attached to him. But she said nothing. Christmas was a day of joy, and she hadn’t the heart to cast a shadow over her grandfather’s happiness. She didn’t want to remember it herself, but experience had made her a realist.

Remembering how important it had been for her and Aaron to have privacy when they met, Naomi remained in the foyer and watched from there as the old man showed Aaron a picture of his maternal great-grandmother, his maternal grandparents, and his own mother as a child. The boy’s questions indicated a keen interest in his roots, causing Naomi to wonder if anything other than identity had motivated him to locate her. A glance at her watch told her it was safe to assume that the twins had become uncontrollable and Rufus close to furious. Judd released them after getting Aaron’s promise of another visit soon.

When Aaron got out of Naomi’s car at his home in Silver Spring, she thought he looked at her as if there was something he wanted to say. So she smiled and waited, and when he only shrugged, thanked her for taking him to visit Judd, and ran into the house, she felt let down. What had she expected of him? She turned the Taurus toward the East West Highway, Chevy Chase, and Rufus. Rufus. She’d see him soon. Soon she’d be with him. Nothing would happen; he wouldn’t even kiss her, but she’d see him. She’d be able to touch him. She eased off the accelerator; not point in getting a ticket. And no point in getting herself wound up over Rufus, because nothing had changed.

To leave her own child and spend Christmas day loving children who were not her own, even though she did love them, wasn’t a thought that made her feel like dancing. And if she let her mind dwell on spending Christmas with the man she loved while not sharing it with him as lovers would, she might scream like a banshee. She laughed: that would be so far out of character that she’d voluntarily commit herself for mental observation. She slowed down as snowflakes dusted her windshield. Thank God for Judd. She could finally appreciate his favorite sermon: if you concentrated on your blessings, what you didn’t have would seem less important. Well, old girl, she told herself, when you lay an egg, you challenge an ostrich, don’t you.

Her heart soared as she glanced up at Rufus’s sprawling house; in minutes she would see the man and his wonderful little boys. Common sense told her to calm herself, to walk carefully over the slick stones, but her feet seemed to take wing. The door opened before she reached it and the boys bounded out, almost knocking her down in their excitement and adulation. Tears of joy brimmed her eyes, but she refused to shed them. The children jumped into her arms, ignoring the beautifully wrapped packages, covering her face with kisses.

“Merry Christmas, Noomie,” they cried in unison. “Merry, merry Christmas. We love you to pieces,” they told her. She had told them that when she’d kept them while Rufus was in Nigeria. She put the packages on the floor just inside the door and hugged them feverishly, delighted that they remembered.

“I love you to pieces, too. Merry Christmas.” She didn’t want to release them; their love and warmth filled a void, an aching emptiness. They laughed excitedly, but only she knew what their love meant to her.

When she could no longer postpone it, she straightened slowly, letting her gaze travel upward as she did so, past his powerful jean clad thighs and his flat belly and up to the tight curls visible from his open-collared T-shirt. The familiar pangs of desire gripped her, and she forced herself to shift her glance to a neutral object. But it landed instead on his hard, masculine biceps, and shivers rocked her as the vivid memory of them strong around her, holding her, seemed almost real.

Like a caged animal who’d just lost its battle for freedom, she looked unwillingly into his face, then quickly freed herself from his fierce, knowing look. But his strong, irresistible pull would not release her, and she admitted surrender and allowed her gaze to settle on his fiery eyes. She couldn’t remember the torment of the past few days nor the pleasure of that morning with Judd and Aaron. Her five senses were focused on Rufus. The rumble of the passing car could have been the beat of his heart; the rising wind, his breath; even the odor of pine and bayberry that wafted toward her became his own scent. She took a deep, labored breath and rimmed her full lips with the tip of her tongue, mesmerized.

His eyes darkened to a glistening mahogany, his breathing quickened, and she didn’t have to be told that under different circumstances, he’d have had her in his bed within minutes. The warmth of his hand when he touched her shoulder reached her through her clothing, and she leaned into him as he steadied her and quickly but tenderly pulled her into his arms. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” She struggled to speak, but emotion muffled her words, and she could only cling to him.

In his strong arms, where she needed to be, peace and contentment flowed over her, chasing away the tension and the desire. The twins pranced around her like little magpies. Rufus squeezed her to him and released her—reluctantly, she realized—and she wrapped her arms around herself. She tingled from his warm smile, from the sweetness that she felt coming from him. She could almost dance for joy. The boys had become still and were silently gazing up at them. Then, as if on cue, they each took one of her hands and led her into the living room.

“Look at our tree, Noomie,” Preston urged, as Rufus placed her gifts beneath it. She did look at it. Hundreds of little twinkling reindeer shaped lights danced on the nine-foot spruce; red and white candy canes, mistletoe, angels, and cherubs hung from its dark green branches; icicles, gilded pine cones, and red holly berries decorated its needles. “We did it with our daddy,” Sheldon volunteered. Her gaze moved from the tree to the three of them, and beyond them to the crackling fire that warmed the great stone hearth. Carols filled the air. She had to struggle hard to contain her feelings. Opting for the safety of wit, she made herself smile and ask Rufus, “Is it all right if I bawl? Bawling is kind of like house-cleaning; you have to do it once in a while.”

Rufus watched her fight the tears, and understood what she hadn’t wanted him to see: as a youth, she hadn’t had a family Christmas with all the frills. He draped an arm casually around her shoulders, wanting to share whatever she felt. She was made of stern stuff, he discovered, when she brightened up, swung around, and kissed him on the cheek. Before he could react, she gave the boys similar treatment.

“There,” she announced cheerfully. “Thanks for letting me see your beautiful decorations. I love the tree. Now, I’d better get going; I don’t want to interfere with your plans for the day.”

“You can’t go!” Sheldon screamed, and began to cry. Startled at his son’s unusual outburst, Rufus snapped his head around. But Preston’s quiet fury, with tears rolling silently down his little cheeks, was the real shocker. Rufus looked down at his son. He was going to have to cool down Preston’s temper. He’d had enough personal experience with a quick temper to know how much trouble one could cause. He smiled inwardly. If he didn’t have a quick temper, he’d never have met Naomi, and look what he’d have missed.

“She isn’t leaving, boys. I’ll make us a hot drink, and we can read some Christmas stories.” His boys trusted him, but both looked at Naomi for confirmation. She smiled agreement, and he suspected that she didn’t want to go, that she’d been polite when she’d said she had to leave. They sat by the fire and drank hot mulled cranberry juice while he read them classic Christmas stories.

“Now
you
read one,” he suggested to Naomi.

“I’d rather tell one, if you don’t mind.” He nodded, and she told the story of three kings and the first Christmas. “And that’s why we give gifts at Christmas,” she told the boys. Rufus watched them nod to her as if in complete understanding. She began to fidget uncomfortably, and he figured he’d better make a move.

“Stay and have dinner with us, Naomi, unless you already have an invitation.” Her deeply drawn breath warned him that she was about to decline.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, a genuine grin creasing his face. “I’m having it catered, so it’ll be edible. Might even taste good.” He winked. “Well, what do you say?” She looked longingly at the children, and he could see that she wanted to share their day, and the fleeting flicker of pain in her eyes told him that she might not want to leave him, either. If she loved him, as she’d said, surely she would want to spend Christmas with him.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asked her provocatively, deliberately reminding her of sweet moments they’d shared weeks earlier. He got the impression from her quickly raised brows that he’d surprised her. But he knew well that she could give as good as she got.