Another Homecoming (21 page)

“I had . . . I had to speak with you,” Kyle puffed.

“Wait and catch your breath.” The smile broke out again. “Maybe it really was you I spoke with this morning.”

She took one step inside his office, impatient to speak, to get out what was pushing up from deep inside. “I wanted to say thank you, Kenneth. For everything.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, the smile still tracing through his voice and eyes.

But she was not done. “All my life, I’ve hidden myself away. I’ve never even realized how much time and effort I’ve spent holding myself apart from everything and everybody.”

The smile faded as he searched her face. “You have had as much reason to do it as anybody I’ve ever known.”

“But not now,” she said, rushing on. Fearful that if she stopped her courage would drain away and she would not be able to start anew. “Not with you.”

“No,” he said quietly. “You don’t need barriers with me. Not ever.”

“I know that now. It’s just that, after all this time, it’s so hard—”

“Kyle! How wonderful it is to see you again.” Randolf Crawley pressed his elegantly dressed form through the doorway. “Could you join me in my office, please?”

“No I cannot,” she replied. She pushed down her irritation and said evenly, “I have no intention whatsoever of going anywhere with you.”

The firmness of her tone and manner shocked them both. Randolf tried to dredge up a pasty smile. “Kyle, you don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do. And right now Kenneth and I are having a conversation,” she responded. “A private one.”

Randolf gave Kenneth a very hard look, then turned back and pulled his face into more polite lines. “Don’t tell me you are intending to continue with your silly pursuit.”

“Searching for my parents is silliness?”

“Your
mother
is very concerned about your welfare. As I am.” Randolf strained to hold to his smile. “I really must urge you. Don’t take this dangerous course.”

She inspected him carefully. “How is it dangerous?” she asked finally. “Are you afraid to find out who I really am? If so—why? What could it possibly mean to you?”

The false smile slipped away, revealing a coldness in his eyes. He retreated, pausing at the door long enough to shoot Kenneth a venemous look.

Kyle stared at the space Randolf had vacated for a long moment. Part of her mind wondered where she had found the strength to stand up to him. Perhaps it was the knowledge that her back was to the wall, that she could retreat no further.

She turned back to Kenneth and found him watching her with that same patient regard she had seen so often before. “Oh,” she said dispiritedly. “That special moment, it’s gone now.”

“No it’s not,” he said quietly. “It won’t ever be, not if you want it back.”

“Help me,” she pleaded. “Show me what to do.”

“You don’t know,” he softly replied, “how often I’ve dreamed of hearing those words.”

She placed both hands on his arm, feeling the softness of his overcoat and the strength of his shoulders. Her heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings, she raised up on tiptoes. He stood stock still as she drew nearer and gave him the softest of kisses. “Hurry back,” she whispered.

His breath a lingering sigh against her cheek, he put his arms around her and held her for a long moment.

19
 

Kyle was frightened,
yes, but she was also determined. She felt as though she had been forced to shed one skin, only to discover something utterly different underneath.

She prepared as best she could. Leaving the office, she went straight to Woodie’s, Washington’s oldest and most popular department store. It was the first time she had been shopping since all this had begun.

Her mother had always taken her to Garfinkel’s, a woman’s shop that catered to Washington’s upper crust. Kyle had always sought out dark-colored clothes, feeling that they helped her escape attention. A two-piece suit of navy blue or dark forest green would allow her to drift more easily along the edge of things, observing but remaining as isolated and unnoticed as possible.

But not today. She found herself choosing a two-piece outfit in dark gray, with an ivory blouse and simple gray pumps. Things were changing. It was time she changed with them.

As she studied her reflection in the mirror, she wondered if perhaps she ought to smile more. Smiles had always seemed part of the falseness that she had hated so. But she had always loved Kenneth’s smile. It warmed her, even the memory of it when he was so far away. Yes, she decided, an honest smile would be a nice gift to share.

“Turn signal, Miss Kyle. There on your left.”

“I know where the signal is.”

“Then use it, please.” Bertrand’s tone was sharp, and she turned her head to stare at him in surprise. “That car up ahead is going to stop,” he said, tension raising his voice from its usual somber tones. “Please watch the road, not me.”

“Well, of course,” she told him, turning back to the task at hand. “I can see the stop sign.”

“Then you must prepare now. Take your foot off the gas and begin pressing the brake.”

“I’ve already done that.” After turning the corner, she said, “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.”

“I am quite happy to give you driving lessons,” Bertrand said stiffly.

“No, you’re not. You’re scared silly I’m going to scratch your precious Rolls.”

“Don’t even speak of such a thing.” Nervously Bertrand pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. “Besides which, it is your car.”

“No, it’s Mother’s. I wouldn’t dream of owning such a thing.”

“Stoplight, Miss Kyle.”

“It’s half a block away,” she complained. “Give me a chance to see these things for myself. And stop calling me ‘Miss.’ Please.”

“But . . .” Bertrand struggled a moment, then gave a little smile. “I suppose it would be all right, wouldn’t it?”

“Of course it would. And calm down. You’re making me more nervous than I already am.”

“All right, I’ll try.” He settled back and crossed his arms determinedly. But at every intersection, she could see his foot pressing on the floorboards, reaching for pedals that were not there.

To take his mind off her driving, she asked, “When did you and Maggie start working for Daddy? It was after I was . . . after I was born, wasn’t it?”

“You had just celebrated your first birthday.” Bertrand smiled at the memory. “You looked like such a little angel. You stole our hearts the first time we saw you.” He hesitated, then said quietly, “I was so distressed to hear of, well, everything. And shocked. It came as a complete surprise to both of us. But it changes nothing as far as we are concerned.”

“Thank you.”

“The house is so quiet without you. So empty.” He glanced over. “Is there any chance you might reconsider and move back?”

“If Mother agrees to leave things as Daddy wanted,” Kyle said, but in her heart she wondered if that was still true. After all that had happened, she was no longer sure she could ever have any place there again. The thought left her empty.

“Yes. I understand,” he said, as though he could read her thoughts. He turned to watch the Riverdale city limits sign sweep by, then asked, “What exactly are we looking for?”

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Kenneth will try to find out something more when he returns. But that could take months. I just thought . . .” She sighed. Now that she was here, the task seemed impossible. “I don’t know what I thought.”

“You’re driving very well, Miss . . .” Bertrand stopped himself and smiled. “That will be one difficult habit to break.”

Kyle turned long enough to give him a fleeting smile, then resumed her search of the Riverdale streets. The town did not look old, yet already the houses seemed tired and defeated. There was a weary sameness to the little white clapboard houses, many in dire need of paint and repairs. She drove down street after street, unable to find an area that felt like a center, some place from which to begin her search.

Kyle sighed, pushing at her growing tension and frustration. Her stomach felt tied in knots. She stopped at a traffic light and found herself repeating the brief prayer,
Help me
.

On impulse Kyle pulled into the parking lot of a Hot Shoppe restaurant. She cut the motor, then sat looking at the entrance until Bertrand asked, “Are you hungry?”

“Not at all.” She’d had nothing to eat all day and it was now past the noon hour, but she did not feel like eating. Steeling herself, she opened her door. “Would you wait here for me, please?”

“Of course,” Bertrand said, giving the restaurant a doubtful glance.

She walked in and seated herself at the counter. To give herself something to do, she picked up the menu but could not concentrate on the words. What was she doing here?

The waitress walked over, a sturdy woman with an expression that said she’d seen it all and heard even more. “Ready to order?”

“Just coffee.” Kyle waited until the cup was filled and placed in front of her, then asked, “Do you know everyone in this town?”

“Know more than I’d ever want to, honey.” The waitress turned away. “But that don’t make me a talker.”

“Wait. Please. I’m looking for someone.”

“Sorry. Can’t help you.”

“They’re my parents.” Just like that. Blurted out.

The waitress turned back, took a step toward Kyle, inspected her with eyes the color of gray marbles. “You don’t say.”

“No, really. I was put up for adoption. I just learned about it.” A quick breath. “I don’t even know their names. Just that some document has placed them here in this town. At least, they used to live here.” She looked down at the cup, feeling the desolate futility swamp her.

The waitress set the coffeepot back on the burner. “I’ve traveled about a million miles since the last time somebody caught me flat-footed.” Another careful inspection. “You eaten today?”

Kyle shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“You look hungry. All wore out to boot. I’ll have Jimmy fix you a plate.”

“Really, I couldn’t eat a thing.”

“Wait ’til it’s sitting there in front of you and tell me that.” She pointed behind them. “Go have a seat in that booth by the window. And lay off the coffee. Your nerves are already so tight I can hear them humming.”

Kyle did as she was told, then motioned through the window for Bertrand to join her. Her offer was declined with a shake of his head.

The woman brought over a steaming plate. Kyle started again to protest, but as soon as she smelled the food, she felt faint with hunger. The woman watched her eat with satisfaction. “There, what did I tell you?”

“This is delicious.”

“Slow down, honey. It ain’t going nowhere.” She glanced out the window, then stared harder. “That battleship on wheels out there belong to you?”

Kyle glanced over, saw her staring at the Rolls. “My mother—yes, yes it does.”

“Well, if this don’t beat all.” The waitress observed her a moment longer. “You say you don’t even know what your last name was?”

“No.”

“That’s tough.” She mulled it over, then pulled out her order book and scribbled a moment. She tore out the sheet and laid it beside the plate. “You could try talking to this fellow. He might be able to help.”

Kyle turned the slip of paper around and read aloud, “Dr. Howard Austin.”

“Been here even longer than me, knows almost every secret there is. His office is halfway down the next block. Might as well leave the barge here, keep from holding up traffic.”

Kyle read the woman’s name tag. “Thank you, Stella. From the bottom of my heart.”

The waitress offered her first smile, and the years dropped away. “What’s your name, honey?”

Kyle hesitated, then gave the only name she knew. “Kyle. Kyle Rothmore.”

“Well, I sure hope you like what you find. Think maybe you could stop by, let me know what happens?”

Kyle set down her napkin, slid from the booth, and offered Stella her hand. “I promise.”

Kyle sat in the corner of the doctor’s office for hours. She leafed nervously through magazines whose pages had been wrinkled and torn by countless hands before her. People of every sort and description came and went. Most seemed to know one another, especially the mothers with infants. They sat and dangled the children, or let them play with the blocks scattered across the floor, and gossiped. Kyle, isolated by her nerves and her purpose, wondered what it would be like to feel as though she belonged so clearly to a place and a group of people that she did not even need to think about it.

“Miss, ah, Rothmore?” The nurse was a heavyset woman with strands of graying hair falling out of her starched white cap. “Did I get that right?”

“Yes.” Kyle had to use both arms to push herself up, she had been seated so long. “Yes, you did.”

“The doctor can see you now,” the nurse said doubtfully. Her expression said volumes about what she thought of strange young women who appeared and asked for an appointment, then refused to give any reason. “But he’s extremely busy and can only give you a minute.”

Kyle tried to ignore the questioning glances from the other people filling the waiting room. “I understand.”

“This way, please.”

Kyle followed her down the hall and into the office, where a man with a tired face and heavy paunch sat writing in a file. The nurse pointed her toward the examining table, but Kyle stood nervously in the center of the room. She was positive they could both hear her wildly beating heart.

Finally the doctor folded the file shut, put it on the counter beside him, and said, “Yes?”

Kyle glanced to where the nurse stood. In response, she crossed her arms and set her jaw. Clearly the woman was going nowhere.

The doctor looked Kyle over. His eyes were rimmed with great dark circles, yet his gaze was as kind as his tone. “Are you pregnant, young lady?”

“What?” Kyle took an involuntary step back. “N-no, that’s not it at all.”

“Well, you’re obviously not here representing a drug company.” He motioned toward the table. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable over here?”

“No . . . no thank you.” She swallowed, then stammered, “M-my name, it’s . . .”

When she could not continue, the doctor reached a hand to where the nurse was standing. She passed over the single sheet of paper and said irritably, “Like I told you, she just gave her name and address. Refused to fill in the history.”

“I see,” the doctor said doubtfully. He looked at the page, said, “Well, Miss Rothmore . . .”

He stopped, looked up, and stared at Kyle. “Rothmore,” he said softly.