The Hellion (34 page)

In November the realtor found a buyer for Rachel's house, and with that enormous obstacle overcome, she and Tommy Lee set the wedding date for the Saturday following Thanksgiving. But as the holiday approached, they still had not overcome the other obstacles that were casting shadows over their future together. And they both wanted very much to begin their married life without clouds hanging over their heads. They had done all they could to give the two time to accept the idea of their marriage, yet neither

had.
                              
409

And so, they agreed, it was time for an ultimatum.

The November wind was chilly, catching at Tommy Lee's trouser legs as he strode purposefully from his office, crossed Jackson Avenue, and covered the distance to the First State Bank of Russellville. He flung the door open, marched inside, and stopped before the receptionist, who looked up with a cheery smile.

"I want to see Everett Talmadge."

"If you'll have a seat over there, I'll ring him."

Tommy Lee was too agitated to have a seat. He stood, his feet widespread, before the receptionist's desk, eyes riveted on the glass cubicle that was clearly visible in the far corner of the bank. He saw Talmadge reach for his phone; then the receptionist spoke.

"There's someone here to see you." Talmadge appeared to be distractedly scanning something on his desk when the woman answered his unheard question. "It's Tommy Lee Gentry."

Talmadge's head came up with a jerk and his eyes met Gentry's across the width of the business

floor. His lips moved again and the receptionist asked Tommy Lee, "What is this in regard to?"

Still staring at the bank president, Gentry replied, "Tell him I want to make a deposit."

The woman pivoted the mouthpiece below her chin. "But depos--was

"Just tell him!" Tommy Lee interrupted.

Obediently she brought the phone to her lips. "He says he'd like to make a deposit, sir."

Even from this distance, Tommy Lee could see the belligerent expression overtake Talmadge's face before his mouth worked again.

"Deposits are made at the teller windows, Mr. Gentry," came the relayed message.

"I'll make this one personally with the president," Tommy Lee informed her, then added impatiently, "Never mind. I can see he's not busy. I'll just go right in."

"But, Mr. Gentry--was

Tommy Lee was halfway across the room before the woman could rise from her chair. He opened the door without knocking to find Talmadge already on

his feet, then slammed it with a resolute
  
411 thud that shook the glass walls. He dropped a portfolio in the middle of the desk with a slap, then confronted his foe head-on.

"It'll take more than a timid receptionist to keep me out this time, Talmadge."

"There's a whole row of tellers out there. Any one of them can open an account for you."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? But you're not getting off that easy, not this time! We're going to have this thing out once and for all--you and me." Tommy Lee planted his hands on his hips while his face took on a stubborn look to match any Everett Talmadge had ever exuded.

"I don't want or need your money in my bank, Gentry."

"This isn't about money and you know it--but my money's going to be here whether you like it or not. I'm sick and tired of driving up to Florence to do my banking, just because you had a burr on your ass twenty years ago and decided you'd show me who was boss. Well, I've proved myself, financially--without your help. I ran a quarter of a million through that damn Florence bank last year, and I've just closed my accounts there, so

get used to the fact that you'll have to face my success along with a few other things."

"Gentry, I can have you thrown out of here!"

Tommy Lee bent over the edge of the desk, demanding, "And exactly what would that settle? Throw me out--go ahead!" He straightened and flung a hand in the air. "But you can't throw me out of your daughter's life, so isn't it time we both tried to live with the fact and reach some kind of compromise ... for her sake?"

Talmadge only glared, standing stiffly with his brow beetled and his hands knotted into fists.

"I love your daughter and she loves me, and all the feuding in the world isn't going to change that fact."

Talmadge emitted a disdainful sniff and eyed Gentry askance while moving with calculated laziness around his desk chair. He stood behind it rolling a pencil up and down between his palms. "Been seein' any of the local trollops lately, Gentry?" he asked unctuously.

Tommy Lee resisted the urge to settle his fist in the middle of the old man's face as he went on resolutely, "I've asked her to marry me and she's agreed. Now, we'd like to do

it with your blessing, but if not--so be it.
      
413 We've been fighting the whole damn world, it seems--you, my daughter, even each other at times--but we're done waiting. We're going to be married next Saturday."

Talmadge's eyes remained cold. "For how long?"

Tommy Lee swallowed his pride and said stiffly, "I'll admit, my past is far from spotless, but I don't feel compelled to justify it to you as long as Rachel trusts me enough to marry me, and she does."

Talmadge flung the pencil onto the desktop. "Rachel's got a bad case of conscience because of this affair she's been carryin' on with you--it's badly colored her judgment."

Tommy Lee ground his back teeth together and met the insolent eyes directly, softening his tone slightly. "Can we quit butting heads for just five minutes and talk about what really matters?"

"And what matters more than Rachel's happiness?"

Tommy Lee braced his hands on his hips and studied the man before him, wondering how a person

came to be so pugnacious and bullheaded. "All right, I'll say it straight out. Rachel had our illegitimate baby, and we gave her away against our wishes. I'll admit I've carried a grudge over that for years, but Rachel and I have both learned to live with it, and we're willing to put it in the past if you are."

Talmadge's face took fire, and he turned away. It was the first time Tommy Lee had ever seen the man come up short of words, but still there remained that damnable stony pride.

The younger man gestured in appeal at the back that was turned against him. "Can't you see what you're doing to her? She doesn't want to have to choose between us, but if you keep fighting me, I can't guarantee she won't. And if she chooses, it'll be me--then what will you have gained?"

Talmadge said nothing, so Tommy Lee tried one last time. "What do you say we bury the hatchet and at least make an attempt to grin and bear each other?"

"And you'd have your revenge at last, wouldn't you?"

Tommy Lee bit back a sharp retort, sighed, and dropped his chin to stare absently at a

granite pen holder on top of
        
415 Talmadge's desk. It was just like the stubborn old fool who owned it--cold, unfeeling granite.

He looked up at Talmadge's back. "I'm going to make your daughter happy, in spite of what you think. She wanted me to tell you she's found a buyer for her house. We'll be living out at my place on the lake, and Callie Mae has agreed to come to work for us, just as she has for Rachel. When and if you finally decide to--was Tommy Lee shook his head, realizing the man would probably never soften. "Well ... you're welcome there any time." Tommy Lee sighed, slowly picked up his portfolio from the desk, and added quietly, "I'll see one of the tellers on my way out."

Crossing the main floor of the bank to a teller's window, Tommy Lee did not see Talmadge draw the draperies, sealing himself into his cocoon of loneliness. Nor did he see Talmadge fall wearily into his desk chair, prop his elbows on the desk, and drop his face into shaking hands while guilt besieged him and he wondered how he could ever face Rachel and

Tommy Lee as husband and wife after the years and years--not to mention the child--he'd stolen from them.

  
Rachel drew her car up before the Russellville High School only minutes before the bell signaled the end of the day. She slipped on a pair of warm gloves, stepped into the windy afternoon, and after slamming the car door behind her, crossed the street to the row of school buses waiting with their engines running.

Three times she asked, "Does this bus go out old Belgreen Road?" before she found the right one.

When the students came pouring out of the building she studied their faces, waiting beside the door of the bus with her coat collar turned up, holding it together at the neck until she finally caught sight of Beth approaching with one of the girls who'd come into the store with her. The girl spied Rachel first, came up short, and poked Beth in the ribs.

"Hey, Beth ... somebody waiting for ya."

Beth glanced up at her friend, then followed the direction of her eyes, and planted her feet.

Her companion immediately swerved away from her. "Listen, Beth, I'll see ya around, okay?"

she said, and disappeared into the stream of
      
417 moving bodies. Beth dropped her eyes to the ground and moved toward the door of the bus as if to pass Rachel without a word.

Rachel calmly stepped in her way. "You won't be riding the bus today."

Defiant brown eyes snapped up. "Oh, yeah?"

Rachel raised one sardonic eyebrow and replied coolly, "Oh, yeah. Unless you want me to make a scene in front of all your new friends by attempting to drag you off bodily to my car. I imagine they'd find it quite amusing, don't you?"

Beth considered a moment, gave a one-shouldered shrug and trudged around the hood of the bus, leaving Rachel to follow. They crossed the street, climbed into the car, and drove off with Beth slumped down in the seat in a typical pose of adolescent rebellion.

Rachel's opening question straightened Beth's spine perceptibly and brought her halfway out of her slouch.

"Have you ever been in love, Beth?" There came no answer, but Rachel didn't need one to see

she had captured Beth's attention fully. Nor did Rachel forget for one moment that she was speaking to a girl whose mother had been outraged by an innocent teenage kiss. "What's the matter?" She gave Beth a half-glance, then returned her eyes to the windshield. "Somebody give you the idea that you couldn't possibly feel such an adult emotion at fourteen?" Rachel let a ghost of a smile tip up one corner of her mouth, knowing her passenger eyed her keenly. "Don't let 'em fool you. I fell in love at fourteen--well, let's be conservative and make it fifteen. After all, it was a long time ago and I could be off by a year or so."

Rachel flicked on the left-turn signal, looked over her shoulder, and changed lanes, then kept her eyes on her driving. "I fell in love with your daddy, and--wonder of wonders--he fell right back. It came as something of a surprise after all the years we'd known each other. Of course, we've told you a little about those years, but I wanted to show you something. You don't mind going for a little ride before I take you home, do you?"

Rachel glanced at Beth to find herself being

covertly studied, but immediately the dark
     
419 eyes darted toward the front--obviously the girl was trying to decide what to make of all this. The car turned onto Cotako Street, and Rachel drew up at the curb in front of the two familiar houses. She let the engine idle, rested an arm along the back of the seat, and pointed. "This is the house where your daddy grew up, and where your grandpa and grandma Gentry still live. And that ... is where I grew up, and where my daddy still lives. See that window up there?" Beth's head swerved. "That was my bedroom window, and this one was your daddy's. Remember when we told you the story about the tin-can telephone we tried to rig up between our rooms? Well, I just wanted you to see how close we really lived.

"We were just children when our daddies planted this row of boxwoods here, but about halfway down they left one bush out, and that's where we all used to cut through between the two houses. If you look really close you can still see the spot."

Rachel put the car in gear, pulled away, and headed up the hill while Beth craned her neck for a last glimpse of the houses. "I remember the day we started first grade. Your daddy and I

walked bravely up this hill to school, holding hands. I don't know who was more scared--him or me." She chuckled softly, remembering. They arrived at the top of the hill and she glanced across to the red-brick building and the adjacent playground, noting that Beth did the same. "Once he got himself into big trouble and ended up in the principal's office for punching Dorsey Atwater during recess because Dorsey said something nasty about me--funny, I don't even remember now what it was."

The reminiscing went on as Rachel drove to City Park and circled the small lake surrounded by pole fences, scattered hardwoods, and yuccas. A trio of geese drifted on the water, but otherwise the area was deserted. She passed a small building housing a snack bar and canoe rental, and a swimming pool, closed for the season. "Ah, the hours we spent out here. There was no pool, in those days, but we lived in the lake. Whole summers, with all the friends we'd grown up with."

As she drove on down Waterloo Road, which led through the park, Rachel recalled the many nights she and Tommy Lee had parked out here, and had a