Against All Odds (Arabesque) (34 page)

I’ve got my own problem with a nonreciprocating Roundtree, Melissa grumbled to herself. She got up and went over to straighten Eleanor Roosevelt’s picture that hung on the wall facing her desk, and the door burst open bringing a whiff of fine French perfume. And Emily Grant.

She gaped as her mother strutted forward, waving her left hand before here. “Mama. What on earth—? Mama?” Emily swung round and round, her head thrown back and laughter spilling from her lips.

“Look. Look at it. Look!” She held her left hand within inches of her daughter’s face. Melissa’s shrieks of joy filled the room, and she gripped her mother in a loving embrace.

“Oh, Mama, I’m so happy for you. When? You didn’t call or say a word, and yesterday morning you acted as if nothing had happened between you two. And I was scared to ask you. Tell me, when did—?”

“He gave it to me this morning, the same one I took off thirty-one years ago.”

“But when? I mean, how did you get together?”

“My divorce became final midnight last Friday, and nine o’clock the next morning, I knocked on Bill Henry’s door. I didn’t have to get on my knees and beg; he was waiting for me. I didn’t leave him until yesterday morning when I had to go to that hearing. And I left the courthouse, went home and put some clothes in a suitcase, and went right back to him. Are you really happy for me?”

“You know I am. I don’t think anything could make me happier.”

Melissa marveled at the swiftness with which her mother’s sparkling face sobered with concern. “Nothing?
Nothing?
Oh, honey, go after Adam. Now I know what you’re throwing away. At last I know what the fuss is about. Don’t lose the chance to love him in the bloom of your youth. ‘Of all sad words of tongue or pen—’”

“I know, Mama. ‘The saddest are these: “It might have been!”’ When is the wedding?”

“New Year’s Eve at five o’clock. I’ve already hired a caterer, and I’m going to get married in white satin. Don’t look so shocked. I don’t care about tradition. Bill Henry said he used to dream of seeing me coming up the aisle to him dressed in white satin and lace and carrying white calla lilies, and I’m going to make his dream come true.”

Melissa quickly wiped the frown from her face, though she doubted that anything she did or said could diminish her mother’s joy. Yet she couldn’t resist adding, “Won’t people think that you and B-H— I mean, so soon after the divorce?” Melissa stared, aghast, when her mother arched her eyebrows and shrugged with disdain.

“I know better. So do B-H, Rafer, and my children. I couldn’t care less what the gossipmongers of Frederick and Beaver Ridge think. What people might think circumscribed my life for over a quarter of a century, thanks to Rafer.” What’s come over this woman, Melissa wondered, when Emily suddenly beamed and told her. “Sorry I can’t have lunch with you—we’re going to see an architect. B-H wants us to start fresh, and he’s going to build us a home just off that grassy slope near his little house. Oh, honey, I’m so happy. Get a dusty rose gown made to match my wedding dress. You’re going to be my maid of honor.”

* * *

Melissa finished wrapping her Christmas gifts and held the one she’d bought for Adam, a silver business card case that bore his initials, and wondered what to do with it. At last, unable to decide, she placed it under her brightly decorated Christmas tree. She stared for a few minutes at the twinkling lights that reflected off red and gold bells, trying to summon a modicum of Christmas spirit. Finally she threw up her hands in frustration and ran up the stairs to shower and dress.

Around five o’clock, as dusk settled over the brightly lit town, she joined Banks and her sister, and the three went in search of carolers. With other singers, they stopped at homes decorated with a Christmas tree or wreath, sang a verse or two, and walked on. Melissa had thought that their tour of the hospital wards and at the seniors’ center would depress her, and she couldn’t understand how she could feel uplifted and unhappy at the same time. At home later she dressed and waited for her mother and B-H. She knew why she prowled from room to room, glanced frequently at the silent telephone, and in frustration shook her fist at the air. Her affidavit should have told him where her heart laid, but maybe he’d had enough of her. Enough of the Grants.

She opened the door to B-H and her mother, both radiant, and had to squash her jealousy of their happiness.

“You two could light up a dark night,” she told them, ashamed that she’d envied her mother the joy that had been denied her for so long.

“If you and my nephew ever come to your senses, you’ll outshine us, believe me,” B-H said. Melissa waved a hand, gainsaying the thought.

“Don’t worry, dear, they’ll get together as soon as one of them hurts badly enough,” Emily said, gazing at him in adoration.

“When did you get a car, B-H?” Melissa asked as they reached the Lincoln. “What about the air pollution?” she needled.

“It was a trade-off. I figured I’d looked after the environment for thirty years. Now I’m going to take care of Emily, and I need a car for that. I’ve got a list of places I want to take her right around here. Then we’ll take one of those African-American heritage tours, go down to New Orleans for some real jazz, see the Metropolitan Opera, and the museums in New York City. Ah, Melissa, there’s so much.” He put an arm around Emily, love shining in his eyes. “I’ve got to make up for lost time. And after I’ve showed her the United States, I’m going to take her around the world.” Melissa wiped her tears with the back of her index finger.

“Adam’s in town,” Bill Henry said as they neared the church.

“I figured he would be.” But I won’t let him get me down, she swore to herself. They entered the little church from a side door, and her heartbeat escalated as soon as she glimpsed Adam sitting with Wayne opposite the entrance. She had to pass close by him and wondered if Bill Henry knew he’d be in that pew and had taken that route to force them to notice each other. She managed a smile when he looked her way and nodded, but he didn’t touch the hand she’d left dangling at her side, and she kept walking. Emily and Bill Henry could follow her or not—she was doggoned if she’d be manipulated into such a convenient arrangement. Her companions joined her, and she soon felt her mother’s elbow.

“I think I’m disappointed in you.”

“You’ll get over it,” Melissa told her and turned her attention to the program. Her mood soon changed into one of well-being. The little church glowed with hundreds of candles nestled among beautifully arranged red poinsettias, and carols sung by the local community choir filled the sanctuary. At the end of the service, she left the building by the front door and waited alone beside Bill Henry’s car for him and her mother.

“I didn’t see Mrs. Roundtree,” she remarked to Bill Henry as he drove away from the church. “I would have thought she’d go to church with Adam and Wayne.”

“Mary can’t even tolerate the House of God if Emily and I are in it together. But that’s her problem. I enjoyed the service, but she’s so full of bitterness that she had to miss it.”

* * *

The next morning, Christmas, Melissa started out of her front door and rushed back to answer the phone, hoping to hear Adam’s voice.

“Schyler! Where are you?”

“I’m home. I got in here late last night. Would you believe I found a note from Mama telling me she’s in Beaver Ridge and I should go out there. Now I don’t have a car, don’t know the address, and there’s no phone where she is. I take it Hayes is some kind of a recluse.”

“You can borrow my car after I run by to see Daddy. I was on my way there.”

“Drop by here, and I’ll go with you.”

Melissa couldn’t help being nervous while they waited for her father to answer the door.

“I’m glad you’re with me, Schyler. I was not looking forward to this meeting.”

“His bark is louder than his bite.”

Rafer Grant opened the door, dressed as though he was going to his office, and stared at his offspring. Melissa clutched her chest as she waited for his words. To her surprise, his smile didn’t dim when his gaze moved from Schyler to her.

“Well, this is a nice Christmas present. Come on in.”

Anything is possible, Melissa mused, when her father made coffee and served it along with Oreos. She’d forgotten his passion for those cookies. He questioned Schyler about his activities in Nairobi and his trip home, and she began to wonder when he’d get around to his favorite subject. Schyler hinted that they had to leave, and Melissa handed her father his gift—a pair of initialed cuff links. She knew he’d have to say something to her then and braced herself for the worst.

“I didn’t expect to see you. I thought you’d be with your mother—” his head dropped “—and with Adam.”

“Daddy, I told you almost three weeks ago that Adam and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

“Yes, you did, but I didn’t believe it. What happened?”

She shrugged. “We had a misunderstanding. I don’t know what it was exactly, but we can’t breech it.”

“That’s strange,” her father said, his expression one of amazement. “He doesn’t strike me as foolish. After what you did for him, he must know how you feel about him. Well, I thank you for coming and for my present.” He handed each of them an envelope and looked at Schyler. “I hope I’ll see you again before you go back.”

“Of course, Daddy. I’m staying until January third.” Rafer walked with them to the door and opened it with apparent reluctance.

“Merry Christmas, and thanks for coming to see me.”

Melissa clutched her brother’s arm as they left. “Was I seeing a ghost in there, Schyler?”

“Don’t ask me. I was wondering the same thing, but ghost or not, it sure was refreshing. I can enjoy being with him if he stays like that.”

She nodded, rushing along to match his long strides. “Me, too.”

* * *

Adam savored his lemon custard pie, the finale of a flawless Christmas dinner, and reflected on the emptiness he felt. For the first time in his memory, Bill Henry hadn’t joined the family for the holiday meal, and throughout it his mother hadn’t mentioned his uncle’s name. Worse, he’d been within inches of Melissa last night, but she’d been miles away from him. He couldn’t pretend to enjoy himself.

“Do you need your car for the next hour?” he asked Wayne.

“I’ll be here for the next hour and a half.” Wayne reached in his pocket for the keys and handed them to Adam.

“Dinner was delicious, Mother. I’m going to Frederick.” He didn’t pause at the clatter of her demitasse spoon against the saucer. He’d upset her, but he couldn’t help that. He wouldn’t allow her or anybody else to control his life. Twenty minutes later he knocked on Melissa’s door.

“I couldn’t leave without telling you Merry Christmas.” His breath caught in his throat when she squinted at him, parted her lips, and then seemed at a loss for words. “Are you inviting me in? Or should I leave?” She opened the door wider.

“I’m kind of surprised. Merry Christmas.” He stepped through the door, and she turned and walked into the living room.

“I took a chance coming here without calling. You might have had a date.” She seemed disconcerted, and his gaze swiftly searched the room. “Are you alone, Melissa?” He nearly laughed. Her chin jutted out, and she surveyed him with the cool detachment that he had always admired and which he knew she’d forced. He handed her a small package, asked her to open it after he left, and accepted the lone one under the tree when she handed it to him.

“I’m glad I decided to come—at least I know you’ve been thinking of me.” He watched her eyes widen in obvious amazement before she frowned and gave him a mild rebuke.

“My father said this morning that you’d never struck him as a foolish man. Wonder what he’d say to that remark.” In what he’d come to recognize as an unconscious gesture, she moistened her lips and dropped her head slightly to one side. Stunned, he realized that he was learning her all over again. The peculiar little habits that he’d gotten used to seeing...
hitting him now. Fresh. And the smell of her perfume that had been in his nostrils since the night before when she’d drifted by him, and that brought saliva to his mouth right then. And her eyes. Sparkling and sad at the same time. Why couldn’t she tell him she believed in him?

He heard the guttural sigh that filled the soundless room and knew it came from his soul. He reached out and felt her warmth in his arms. He’d meant to vent his frustration and to torture her as she tormented him. But she parted her lips for his kiss, and current after current zinged through him. He lifted her until her mouth was an easier target, and his fire pressed against her fire. He tried to banish the loneliness he’d felt without her, to ease the pain of her rejection, and to cushion himself against her failure to understand what he needed from her. Her whimpers were the sounds she made when she needed him inside of her, her love call, and he felt himself answering her. She moved against him, her demand becoming more insistent. Why am I holding out, he asked himself as he felt his ardor begin to cool. Memory flooded his thoughts. He had vowed that until she told him she’d been wrong, that she didn’t believe he’d had an affair with her aunt, that she believed him and believed in him, there could be nothing between them. He needed her trust and her faith in him, and he couldn’t accept less. She must have sensed his withdrawal, because she released him at once. But her eyes clouded with unhappiness. He couldn’t leave her that way.

“I shouldn’t have let things get out of hand, Melissa, but you know what happens when the two of us are together.” He tried to manage a smile and knew he failed.

“Yes, I know,” she said, and with her eyes she begged him for an answer to their predicament. If you’d only say it with words, he wanted to tell her, we could at least work toward a solution. But she said nothing. The next move was his, and he walked to the door and stood there for a minute. Then he clasped her within his arms—more roughly than he’d intended—and kissed her on the mouth.

“Merry Christmas.” He heard her close the door, and he walked faster. He had to put some distance between them and to do it quickly. Even a shift in the wind could send him back to her.