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Authors: Gwynne Forster

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BOOK: Whatever It Takes
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“I wouldn't think so. The houses aren't near each other, and the closest ones belong to members of other minority groups. Besides, if they don't like my being here, tough! One thing is certain: nobody can burn it.”
He unlocked the front door, and she stood transfixed by the sunlight that poured through what appeared to be twelve-foot-high, arched windows exposing a forest of tall green trees. In her mind's eye, she saw the sun rise above the trees and over the distant hills every morning for the rest of her life.
She grasped his arm. “Douglas, this is breathtaking,” she said of the vision before her. Echoes of their footsteps mocked them as they walked through the living room. “Everything in my house could sit in this room,” she said. “You'll go nuts in this place. It's so big.”
“If I'm lucky, I won't be here alone forever.”
They passed through the dining room to the kitchen, a large, relatively very modern one with a large laundry room and two pantries at one end. As they walked, she made notes on a writing pad.
“Well, what do you think?” he asked her while they strolled down the stairs hand-in-hand.
“As far as the appointments are concerned, I wouldn't hesitate to buy it, but I'd be lonely here alone. You need a new stove and refrigerator, new washer and dryer, a guest toilet downstairs and another bathroom upstairs. Of course, you can get along without that, but the house needs it.”
“What about closet space?”
“Plenty of that. With four bedrooms, you can use one for a closet.”
“What about my kids?”
She looked away from him. “Right. There's Nick, which means you can only have one more, or two of the same sex, and a guest room.”
They had reached the bottom of the stairs and she continued walking, unaware that he stood against the banister with his face furrowed in a deep frown. “Come back here,” he said. “I thought you liked children.”
She whirled around. “Who said I didn't?”
“But you just said—”
“I know what I said. We were talking about
your
children, if I remember.”
She had never seen him move so quickly. He grabbed both of her shoulders. “Don't play with me, Lacette. Do you or don't you want to have children?”
Watch it girl. If he wants assurances, he has to declare himself. “Sure I do, provided I find someone who's willing to give them to me on my terms.”
“What are your terms?” The words came out of him like a growl. “If you've got terms, I want to know what they are.”
She didn't plan to cater to him just because of his seriousness, so she put a smile on her face. “Douglas, lighten up, will you? You can find out when I know where I stand with you. Now, let's go. I want to look at the grounds.”
He didn't move. “Let's get this straight. I wouldn't knowingly allow a woman to bear an illegitimate child for me. Both I and my child deserve better. I'd expect and demand that my children be born within the framework of a legal marriage. Those are my terms.”
“Mine, too, but I have some terms before I'd get to that point.”
To her surprise, a grin spread over his face. He walked her backward until her back touched the wall and imprisoned her with his body. “What are they?” he whispered into her ear. “Tell me.”
She braced her hands against his chest, and he quickly enfolded her in his arms, then placed his hands against the wall above her head and stared down at her. When she thought her nerves would incinerate from his nearness and possessiveness, one of his hands cradled the back of her head and held it while his mouth seared her lips. She knew his kiss, but she hadn't known the consuming power of his masculine aura until he erased every thought except those of him and every feeling except those that he gave her. With his free hand, he stroked her left nipple, boldly and deliberately as if he had a right to do it. Hardly aware that her body trembled, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled his tongue deeper into her mouth, demanding as much as she gave.
Abruptly, he moved from her and let his gaze roam over the bare walls and windows. Then he stared down at the naked floor. “What I wouldn't give right now for more comfortable surroundings,” he said. “I want to make love with you in the worst way. Lacette, I ache for you, but—”
She didn't want him to finish it, so she kissed his cheek, took his hand and started for the door. “You're not one bit like I thought you were when I first met you. You're a tough man.”
His left eyebrow shot up. “Tough? I think you can find a better word than that.”
She could indeed, but she didn't feel like telling him that he was more man than she'd originally thought. If it had been more convenient, they would be making love at that minute, because he would have engineered it. The man was both bold and determined, and she didn't doubt that when he went after what he wanted, he got it. She wondered what other surprises he'd give her.
“So what do you think?” he asked her when they were back in the van.
“If it won't strain your finances, buy it.”
He started the engine and turned the van into the lane. “Would you live here?”
She nearly swallowed her tongue. “In the right circumstances, yes.”
Chapter Eleven
Kellie cast a furtive glance in all directions, jumped into the van and slammed the door. As careful as she was, her mother had nonetheless seen her with Hal. Maybe when Cynthia asked where she was going, she should have said she was going to dinner with a friend, but to her mind, she didn't owe her adulterous parent an explanation of her behavior.
“If you so fed up with your folks, we could get a place,” Hal said as he drove along South Street on the way to Route 70. “Seems like they always on your case. And I know what I'm talking about, cause your old man's been trying to save me ever since my dad started going to his church.”
She shifted in her seat unwilling to contemplate living with Hal. Running off to meet him was one thing, because she could always go back to her own domain, her own class and environment. But to live with him . . . The nerve endings in the recesses of her vagina twitched and quivered and liquid accumulated in her mouth. Desperate for relief, she crossed her knees and rubbed her thighs together hoping to dampen her rising passion.
“Don't think I don't know what's going on over there,” he said. “Just hold on. We'll be there in a few minutes.”
She hated that he was so sure of himself, letting her know he could have her whenever he wanted to, ordering her around as if he owned the teeth she chewed with. Annoyed, she struck out at him in an attempt to remind him of the differences in their social status.
“A gentleman doesn't speak of such things, Hal. Try to be more gracious and have better manners.”
“Something tells me you wanna feel the back of my hand against your mouth. Don't get highfalutin' with me, babe. Water seeks its level, so you ain't a bit better'n me. At least, I never tried to steal anything, which is more than you can say. What were you looking for in you old man's house, some money your grandmother left there, I'll bet.”
She told him about the brooch, and he said, “Well, didn't she leave you anything?”
She showed him the ring. “Jeez. Is that stuff real? Babe, we can hock that and get us an apartment.”
She recoiled as if he'd shot at her. “You're joking. My daddy would come down on me like a wrecking ball on a building.”
“I'm just trying to get you out of that bad scene you got there at the parsonage. Maybe I'll get my job back, but right now I'm flat out broke.”
“Have you been looking for a job?” She didn't want to anger him, but by his own account, he'd been sleeping late and spending time at his favorite beer joints, so she said as gently as she could, “Benton's Construction Company just got permission from my department to build a terminal where the old bus station used to be. You could get a job there, couldn't you? And especially since right now, you're probably the only construction worker around here who knows they're going to be hiring.”
He stopped at a motel midway between Frederick and Baltimore. “Nobody's gonna recognize you here.”
She noticed that he didn't mention the job opportunity. As she walked with him around to the cabin he'd chosen, her head nearly burst as the memory of her father's words pounded her brain. But like lemmings headed for the sea, she seemed bound to self-destruct. Telling herself that nothing good would come of it hadn't made an iota of difference to her. She didn't love him; how could she when he wasn't loveable? Most of the time, she didn't like him, but when he was storming inside of her, that was all that mattered. And when he wasn't doing that, she could hardly think of anything else.
She hesitated when he opened the door, but she knew she'd go into that room; she lived for the times when he was on top of her. Maybe it was a kind of foreboding, but she felt as a prisoner must feel just before he steps into the jail and the door slams behind him.
He stopped, gripped her waist with one hand and stroked her left breast with the other one. “Come on, babe. You wasting good time. As it is, I can hardly wait to get you on the other side of this door.”
She pasted a smile on her face and stepped through the door, aware that for the first time in her life, she would stay out all night with a man. If only he were someone else!
 
 
“I don't know where she went,” Cynthia screamed into the phone. “I asked her, but all she said was ‘Out.'”
Marshall sat down and told himself not to let it stress him, that Kellie had been moving farther from her family ever since that morning when he caught his wife in the backseat of his Cadillac with her lover. Maybe it started earlier. He'd been shocked to learn that Kellie and Mama Carrie knew Cynthia was having an affair.
Again, she screamed, “Do something, Marshall,” and he wanted to weep. Do what? He'd never felt so helpless in all of his life.
“I expect she's with Hal Fayson, and I am not going to exacerbate the situation by informing the police authorities that she's missing. I'll try to reach Hal's father and ask him if Hal came home last night. Did you call Lacette?”
“No, because Kellie's too upset about that brooch to say anything to Lacette. Lord, I sure hope she's all right.”
He hung up and telephoned Hal's father. “My daughter Kellie's been seeing Hal, and she didn't come home last night. Could she have been with him?” he asked the man after greeting him.
“Hal didn't come home, if that's what you're asking, but I don't know where he is or who he's with. I sure hope your daughter's not involved with Hal, because he seems headed for rock bottom. He ain't got no job and ain't bothering about looking for one. It ain't right for a thirty-seven-year-old man to be living off his poor old father.”
Marshall heard the long sigh of resignation and pitied the man. “Did he give you anything when he was working?”
“When he felt like it.”
How many times had he heard that tune from parents of errant children. “Well, Brother Fayson, you're not helping him by supporting him. The thing for you to do is cut him loose.” He looked through the window at the young trees bent as if from the waist—like a washerwoman hovering over a tub—as the March wind belched its last breath, and he shook his head. What would he do if he got the same advice about Kellie?
“I don't know, Reverend. You know he was a problem back when I started going to Mount Airy-Hill. Long before that, he stayed in trouble. But he always would work, and he's honest. I can say that for him. I sure hope for your sake that your daughter leaves him alone. If you find out where he is, please let me know.”
“I expect I'd find them if I checked every motel within fifty miles of Fredrick,” he said to himself after hanging up, “but I'm not doing that.”
He phoned Cynthia. “Since Hal didn't stay home last night, I assume they're together. Nothing for you and me to do but pray that she comes to her senses. You can't police the behavior of a thirty-three-year-old woman, and you shouldn't try. When are you moving?”
“Next week. It's a two-bedroom apartment, and I thought she'd move in with me.”
“The two of you will kill each other. But if she has no place else to stay . . .” Realizing that it was probably a moot point, he let it hang. Where Kellie stayed would probably have more to do with Hal Fayson than with any member of her family. Shudders plowed through his body at the thought of what that implied.
“Let me know when you hear from her,” he said, “and try not to worry.”
He hung up and tried to work on his sermon for the coming Sunday, but couldn't drag his mind from Kellie and the problem she had created for herself. And all because of the greed and self-ishiness that had festered in her from early childhood and finally erupted into ugliness and divisiveness. Mama Carrie would shed tears if she knew that her gift had led to Kellie's downfall.
The sooner I move into that house, the better. Cynthia and Kellie need to get out of that parsonage and live separate lives. Maybe if Kellie is on her own, she'll be more responsible.
He had to content himself with that thought; it was the only straw he could hold on to.
 
 
Douglas put the chicken and dumplings that his mother gave him on his last visit home on the stove to warm, sat down at the table in his tiny kitchen and phoned his son. He wanted Nick to like Lacette, and he wanted it badly. Both he and the boy were fortunate in having the support of his parents. His wife Emily's long and difficult illness drained him and his son, and the boy needed the love and support of his grandparents. But he wanted his son with him. Their weekly visits and nightly telephone talks didn't satisfy him, but until he made a home for the boy, he couldn't offer him more. For as long as he worked two and three jobs a day with uncertain schedules, he couldn't supervise a growing and inquisitive boy.
“Dress to go fishing Sunday,” he told Nick nearing the end of their conversation. “I'm bringing Lacette with me, and we should be there around eight.”
He listened for the expected enthusiasm because Nick loved to fish, but he only heard silence, and it distressed him. Finally, he said, “Don't tell me you don't want to go fishing.”
“Why does she have to come?”
He jerked forward. “What's this? I thought you liked her.”
“Uh . . . I was being nice like Grandpa told me. Don't bring her. Let's just you and me fish like we always do.”
Douglas slumped in his chair. It was a complication that he hadn't considered. “Why don't you like her?”
“I just don't. I told her I already have a mother. Nana's my mother.”
He got up, stirred the chicken and dumplings and lowered the flame, giving himself time to consider his reply. “How did that topic come up?”
“It didn't. I just told her, and she said Nana isn't my mother, that she's your mother. Maybe I don't want to fish.”
Dumbfounded, he ran his fingers back and forth through his short hair, punishing his scalp in his frustration. “You'd get this same attitude no matter what woman I brought home, wouldn't you? Oscar Edwin, aren't you ashamed? She's important to me, son, and I want you to promise me that you'll be fair, that you'll give Lacette a chance. Would you like her to decide, for no reason, that she doesn't like you?”
“No, sir.”
“All right. Remember the golden rule.”
“Yes, sir.”
He hung up and prepared to eat his supper, but Nick's attitude continued to disturb him. The boy had his father and his grandparents all to himself. He was the center of their world, and he didn't have to share him. He finished eating, cleaned the kitchen and telephoned Nick.
“I've been thinking about our conversation, and—”
Nick broke in. “She's not coming?”
“Of course, she's coming. I called to ask you a question. You will grow up, and you will find a girl you like. How will you feel if I say to you I don't like her? Don't bring her here again? Huh? How would that make you feel?”
“I'm sorry, sir.”
He wasn't going to let Nick off lightly, because he knew the boy's negative attitude could lead to intransigence. “I asked you how you would feel.” He'd raised his voice in a way that was unusual for him, and he wished he hadn't done it, but he had a sudden sense of urgency. He had begun to realize how badly he wanted Nick to like Lacette and to accept her. “Well?” he persisted.
“I don't think I'd feel good. Uh . . . say, do you like her?”
“Isn't that obvious? I like her very much. Very much. Now, I want you to work on your attitude. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
After hanging up, Douglas cautioned himself that he shouldn't be dispirited by Nick's stance, but that he should not be complacent about it either. Along with a temper, the boy had stubbornness down to a fine art. He pondered telephoning Lacette and decided against it. His exchanges with Nick had left him raw and vulnerable. Maybe when the boy got to know her . . . He was getting ahead of himself; what if she didn't like Nick?
Up to the time he spoke with Nick, Sunday couldn't come fast enough. Now, although he dreaded it, he wouldn't change his plans. He loved Nick with every atom of his being, but his son did not run his life.
 
 
“Oh, my goodness,” Lacette said as she awakened. “I hope this doesn't mean I'm going to have a rotten day.” She tumbled out of bed and tried to shake off the premonition. “Get with it, girl,” she told herself. Douglas would be at her house at six-thirty to take her with him to Hagerstown, and he was as punctual as the sunrise. She showered, dressed, and had started down the stairs when the telephone rang. “Don't let that be bad news,” she said to herself.
“Did Kellie spend the night with you last night?” her mother asked without preliminaries and in a voice that bordered on hysteria.
BOOK: Whatever It Takes
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