Against All Odds (Arabesque) (12 page)

Mary Roundtree grimaced. “Why did she come here tonight? Were you expecting her?”

He smiled. “I think to show me what she went through with her father because I insisted on ringing her bell and going inside her house for her, as I would any other woman with whom I had a date.”

“Well, she paid you back, and I have to admire her strength. Looks as if she has grit.”

“Oh, she has plenty of that.” He sighed, deep in thought, private thought. “And she has something else, too. A quiet dignity that hides a deep-seated vulnerability, a softness...” He rubbed his brow with his long, tapered brown fingers. “A sweetness that I haven’t—” Suddenly reminded of his mother’s presence, he was himself again. Quiet. Uncommunicative.

“You think a lot of her.” He’d opened the door, and now she’d have her say. Alright, he’d listen.

“Do I? I’m not so sure.”

“Well, you
feel
a lot for her—that’s clear. What I can’t understand is how you let it happen, knowing what you know.” Her tone held deep bitterness. Adam shuttered his eyes, shielding his emotions.

“I care about your feelings, Mother, and I know what you think of Melissa’s family. But if I conducted my personal life according to your wishes, nobody would be more surprised or disappointed than you. And you know there isn’t an iota of a chance that I’d do that, so please save us both some heartache; don’t get into this. I chart my own course.” He walked over and kissed her cheek. “Good night, Mother. I’ll see you in the morning.” He mounted the stairs slowly. Where the Morris/Grant family was concerned, his mother was matched for intolerance and hatred only by Rafer Grant’s attitude toward the Hayeses and Roundtrees. He wished he could see the end of it.

* * *

Adam stretched out in bed, wanting to clear his mind and go to sleep. The chirping crickets had as their backup a loud chorus of croaking frogs, familiar notes that had lulled him into many of his most precocious childhood dreams. As though back in time, he responded to the night music, and his mind drifted to Melissa, cataloging her lush feminine assets. What did she have that caused his pores to absorb her the way mushrooms drink water? Why did her woman’s scent stay with him always? And why couldn’t he stop feeling her lips? He wiped his mouth with his naked arm and turned over on his belly. In every way that counted, she was the kind of woman he liked, that was why.

His gut instinct told him she was honest, and he’d learned to go with his instincts. But he wouldn’t swear that he hadn’t let his emotions fog up his reasoning about Melissa. He had to have some proof. Sleep. He’d be willing to pay for it.

* * *

Melissa showered, got ready for bed, slipped on a robe, and knocked on her mother’s door. What kind of marriage was it, she wondered, when the couple didn’t share a room, not to speak of a bed?

Emily Grant opened the door, still dressed as though expecting guests for afternoon tea.

“I hate to disturb you, Mother, but I need to tell you what’s going on with me these days.” She looked around her mother’s
sanctuary. That’s what it was, she saw, a hideaway, her mother’s own place with her own decorative taste, own things, and, especially, her own books. Unlike the foyer, living, dining, and family rooms that had been decorated in dull, muted, and socially correct tones by the most expensive interior decorator Rafer could find, her mother’s room shouted with joy in hues of green, yellow, and sand with an occasional red or orange accent. Melissa sat on a brilliantly patterned Moroccan leather footstool and watched in surprise as her mother kicked off her shoes, sat on her red chaise lounge, leaned back with both hands behind her head, and waited. Had she been missing something about her mother all these years?

“You know I came back home to be with you, to see you through this terrible illness that Daddy described to me, don’t you?” Her mother sat up as if waiting for the ax to fall, but she remained silent.

“Mother, I can’t stay in the same house as Daddy. I’ve bought a place on Teal Street, and I’m going to move as soon as possible.” She watched Emily walk over to a small antique cabinet and return with two brandy snifters and a bottle of cognac. I don’t know my mother, she mused, accepting the drink.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking since you’ve come back,” her mother began, “and I’m ashamed. I made unforgivable mistakes with my children, and if I got what I deserved, you’d still be in New York. Rafer doted on Schyler, and I did whatever pleased Rafer, even when I knew it was wrong. I parroted him until I had no self left, until I couldn’t stand him or myself.

“I wish I had challenged him, for you, if not for myself. Instead I tried to comfort you with little presents, when what you needed was the solid support of knowing that your mother loved you. You needed my absolute defiance. I should have battled him over his treatment of you. I admired you for your strength in getting out and making a life for yourself. I missed you, but I was glad you left, and I prayed you’d find the love you’d been robbed of at home.”

Melissa leaned forward, hoping that her mother couldn’t see how astonished she was. She didn’t want to appear censorial, but she had to ask. “Why didn’t you leave him, Mother?”

“No woman in my family had ever been divorced, and I didn’t want to be the first.”

“Was there a chance of that?”

Emily sipped the brandy. “Oh, yes. There was more than a chance. If I had chosen to behave differently, we would have separated. And I’ve often thought I should have let it happen. I should have forced it myself. We would all have been happier.”

Melissa knew from her mother’s strained expression that she found the conversation painful. She emptied her glass, indicated that she didn’t want more and told herself to relax, to listen even if the words she heard hit her like sharp darts shot into her chest.

“Don’t let him bully you.”

Melissa gasped. She hadn’t known that her mother knew how her father treated her since she’d come home.

“And don’t let him interfere in your life. I spoiled your brother, because it was what his father wanted, and I didn’t stand up for you against Rafer when I should have. I don’t ask you to forgive me, because I can’t forgive myself.” She stood and turned her back. “Would you unzip me, please? I love this dress, but I hate back zippers—they’re too much for my short arms. Be glad you’re tall.” Melissa did as she asked, then waited for her mother to face her.

“Why did Father have so little tolerance for me when I was a child? I used to think he couldn’t stand me.” She fought back the tears. “I tried so hard to make him love me, to make him think I was special...like Schyler was special.”

Cold fear gripped her as she waited for Emily’s answer, but her mother’s deep sigh of resignation told her she’d have to wait.

“And you’re still trying. But we’ve said enough for tonight. Someday, you’ll know everything, Melissa. A lot of this furor about Adam and his family is my fault. I’ll say this much: Mary Roundtree must be proud of Adam. I would be, if he were my son. It’s time we got some sleep. Good night, dear.”

* * *

Her mother’s words had pained her, but they had also given her comfort. She wasn’t sorry that she had made the move from New York. Her financial position had improved, and she had as many clients as she could serve. But most important, she had just shared genuine intimacies with her mother, a first. Her mother didn’t disapprove of her relationship with Adam as her father did and as Schyler might, and that could set them against Emily. If she didn’t stop seeing the man who was coming to mean more to her than any other had, she could destroy her family.

Timothy’s presence in her secretary’s office when she arrived at work the next morning astonished her. He hadn’t sent his curriculum vitae as she’d directed, but he expected nevertheless that she’d find work for him.

“Complete this and send it to me, and I’ll see what I can do.” As he strolled out of her office, it occurred to her that she could be years finding her cousin a job.

* * *

Two weeks passed and Melissa’s house wasn’t ready, but after her meeting with the roofer that afternoon, she figured that she’d be able to move in within a few days. The cool October nights came early now as the days grew shorter. She didn’t have much confidence driving the secondhand car she had just bought, so she worked swiftly to finish her chores and get to her parents’ home before nightfall. She noted the low-lying, dark clouds as she left the house and had no sooner begun the short drive than a torrent of rain pummeled the car’s roof.

She drove by a middle-aged man who struggled against the downpour, his shopping bags nearly useless, remembered small-town neighborliness, backed up, and offered him a ride. When he opened the door, she recognized Bill Henry Hayes, though they hadn’t been formally introduced, and held her breath fearing that he’d rather drown than ride in a Grant’s automobile. He got in, and she introduced herself.

“I know who you are, Melissa, and I’m sure glad you came along. I didn’t like the idea of my groceries littering this street.” She wondered at his remarkable resemblance to Adam, most evident in his smile.

“I’m glad I happened along.” She’d never been good at making talk, and for once she wished she was more adept at it, because she didn’t want to appear unfriendly to Adam’s uncle.

He turned to her. “You and Adam have just about lit up this town. Anytime you see two African Americans stop each other in the street and start a long conversation, you can bet they’re back on the Hayes-Morris saga. If the Ringling Brothers came to town tomorrow, they’d probably just break even. Our own show is better.”

A sense of dread overcame her, and she wondered if she’d been foolish in stopping for him. She let her silence tell him what she thought of the town gossips.

When he spoke again, his voice had lost its merriment and warmth. “Answer me this. Do you mean to do Adam harm?”

She couldn’t control the sharp intake of breath that betrayed her astonishment at his question. “Of course not.” If her tone sounded bitter, she didn’t care. “Is that what he thinks?”

The conciliatory timbre of his voice did nothing to soothe her. “Nobody knows what Adam thinks but Adam.” At least he shoots straight, she admitted to herself.

“Yes, I know,” she answered.

Bill Henry’s deep sigh warned her that she could expect more. “I could ask you what he means to you, but I don’t expect you’re foolish enough to tell me. I don’t know a finer man. Never have. If you’re after him, you’d better be one hundred percent straight. As far as I know, Adam’s never learned how to forgive deceit nor forget a wrong deed. He’s hard, but he’s a solid rock of a man. And he’s never been known to use his power against a helpless person. I watch him sometime. There’s a fountain of goodness deep in that man.”

She wondered if he realized how nervous she had become. “Why are you telling me this, Mr. Hayes? Adam hasn’t indicated that I’m special to him in any way. Furthermore, we haven’t made a commitment to each other, and there’s little chance that we will.” She glanced quickly at him as they neared his house.

“Well, he’s indicated his interest to me and to the rest of the family.”

He must have noticed her astonishment, because he patted her arm when she asked him what he meant.

“Adam wouldn’t flaunt his defiance of Mary’s wishes unless the situation was extremely important to him, and he did that when he walked out of her house with you on his arm.”

She parked, rested her right hand on the back of her bucket seat, and turned to face him. “What will everybody think about my driving you home? How much fallout should I expect?”

“I couldn’t say, Melissa. It’s been decades since I gave a hoot about what anybody said. My guess is that Adam will appreciate it. Mary won’t. Rafer will behave as only he can. And Emily, well...” His voice softened perceptibly. “How is Emily?”

Alerted by the strangely melancholy tenor that his voice took on, she told him in greater detail than she otherwise would have that her mother hadn’t been well and that it was because of Emily’s health that she’d returned to Frederick. His long silence caused her to wonder about his reason for asking. Then his words and tone mystified her.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “I’m so very, very sorry. Thank you for the ride and for the chance to meet you. And please call me B-H.” She hadn’t realized that the rain had stopped until he got out, retrieved his shopping bags, and started toward his front door, trudging very slowly, she thought, for a man as young as he. She backed up, turned the car around, and started home. Something in addition to the fight over entitlement to that gas field had mired their families in hatred. She was sure of it.

* * *

“Are you declaring yourself as my competition?” Adam enjoyed putting Bill Henry on the defensive. It wasn’t often the man gave anyone the opportunity to do that. His uncle had wasted no time telling him that “the lovely Melissa” had been his savior during the late afternoon downpour. He had the impression that B-H wanted his relationship with Melissa to become permanent, but he didn’t want that encouraged. He hung up the phone, stretched out on his bed, and answered his beeper. A foreman at Leather and Hides had discovered more skullduggery. In the pretanning process, someone had failed to add the correct amount of lime to the sodium sulfide solution that gave the company’s shoe leathers their distinctive quality.

Frustrated and angry, he beeped Calvin Nelson. “Meet me at my office in an hour. I need to talk with you.” He sprang up from the bed, tucking his T-shirt into his jeans as he did so. He listened.

“Don’t interrupt your wife’s plans. I can drive by your house. Yeah. Twenty minutes.”

* * *

They sat in Adam’s office sipping coffee from one of the building’s automatic coffee machines. “Cal, this is the fourth such incident at the plant since you took over as manager, and nothing like this had happened before. Do you know of a worker who might dislike or resent you, or who has a gripe of any kind?”

“I’ve been on the lookout for that, but...no, I don’t think so. I circulate as much as I can, but it’s impossible for me to be everywhere in that plant at once.”