Forbidden Son (4 page)

Five
miles down the road, Honey Belle guided the truck to a halt under the emergency
room’s portico. Her legs trembled as she jumped to the ground. She commanded
her mother, “Stay here. I’ll go get someone to help.”

As
soon as the ER had admitted her father, Honey Belle’s mother said, “You go on
to work. Tell the boss man about your daddy.”

Her
mother’s sallow complexion and dark circles under her eyes worried Honey Belle.
She chalked it up to stress and exhaustion. “You gonna stay with Daddy, Mama?”

“For
a while. Whatever this costs, heaped on top of what we already owe, sometimes I
don’t think we’ll ever have two nickels to rub together. I’ll call your cousin
Bubba to bring me to work.”

“I’ll
get you some coffee and sweet roll, Mama. Try to rest a little while you’re
waiting. Okay?”

Honey
Belle felt sick to her stomach. She wanted to reach out and hug her mother—to
give herself some comfort, too. She didn’t, fearing her mother would rebuff the
affectionate gesture.

She
hadn’t noticed how cold the waiting room was until her mother shivered. Honey
Belle walked to the nurse’s station and asked for a blanket.

“It’s
for my mama. We’re not used to air conditioning.” She didn’t know why she’d
felt it necessary to offer an excuse. Returning to where her mother sat huddled
in a chair, Honey Belle draped the blanket over the frail body. “I’ll come back
and sit with daddy as soon as my shift is over.”

“No,
you won’t. You’ll go home and get some proper rest. Can’t afford for neither
one of us to get sick.”

Honey
Belle turned with a reluctant shrug. She walked through the hospital’s
automatic doors and into the darkness.

Chapter
Six

“Honey
Belle.” Her mother’s voice was low and harsh.

Honey
Belle swiped at the mosquito buzzing around her ear as she opened the screened
door and stepped into the kitchen. She swore the temperature was hotter inside
the house than the out in the mid-July night, and by the tone of her mother’s
voice, the climate was about to get hotter.

Still
languishing in the memory of Tripp’s sensual caresses, she ran her tongue over
her lips, recalling the taste of his moist kisses. The sound of her mother’s
voice came again, this time like cold water being dumped on sizzling coals. She
sighed, wondering what she’d done this time to warrant her mother’s wrath.

“What
is it, Mama?”

“Brought
your daddy home from the hospital today. Where you been?”

“You
said for me not to worry because Bubba had volunteered to drive you home and
help get Daddy settled in bed.”

“That
ain’t what I asked you, girl. I asked...where you been?”

“It’s
Sunday, and my only day off. I went for a walk on the beach.”

Her
mother reached out and grabbed her arm. She tapped the watch on Honey Belle’s
wrist. “Apparently, you cain’t tell time.”

Oh,
here we go again.
The words sounded so clear inside her head that Honey
Belle feared she’d spoken them out loud. She jerked her arm away. “Why are you
so angry, Mama? I’m only ten minutes late.”

“You
think, just because I’ve been spending time at the hospital with your poor sick
daddy, that word about you and that rich boy wouldn’t get back to me?”

“Tripp
and I aren’t doing anything wrong, Mama. We’re friends. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh.
When mama mouse is away, her little one will get caught by the cat. I’m telling
you, cain’t no good come of it. He’s rich, and like most rich folks he’s used
to gettin’ anything he wants.”

“You’re
wrong, Mama. Tripp isn’t like that.”

“How
come you didn’t let me know where you were?”

“I’m
nineteen years old. I’m not a child that needs to report in twenty-four hours a
day.”

“As
long as you live under my roof and eat my food, you’ll do as I say.”

A
pause, then her mother continued. “Mark my words, daughter, he’ll use you up,
and when he’s finished gettin’ all the goody, he’ll throw you away like a piece
of cheap trash.”

The
words caused heat to grow under Honey Belle’s scalp. She balled her hands into
fists and clenched them until her fingernails dug into the palms of her hands.
“You have a dirty mind, Mama. Tripp respects me. Why, he’s never even tried to—”

The
anger in her mother’s watery gray eyes startled Honey Belle. “Ever since you’ve
been going out with that boy, you’ve picked up some high-toney ways. How come
you never invited him to supper? I’ll tell you why. ’Cause you’re ashamed of
where you live, ’fraid your daddy and me will embarrass you.”

Honey
Belle opened her mouth to defend herself. Her mother’s words cut her off. “Let
me tell you, Miss High-and-Mighty, in less time than it takes to snap your
fingers that boy will sweet talk you into letting him pluck your ripe little
blossom. Soon as he’s deflowered you, he’ll drop you like a hot spud.”

At
this moment, Honey Belle longed for a best friend, a safe haven to run to, a
shoulder to cry on. Although they had no friendship outside of work, there was
Carla. One problem: she had no idea where the girl lived.

It
crossed her mind to hop into the truck and drive to the nearest pay phone, look
up Tripp’s address in the phone book, and show up on his doorstep. No, that
wouldn’t do. How would she explain herself? Besides, what would his parents
think?

She
pushed around her mother and took a single step toward the bathroom. She
squared her shoulders and jutted out her chin as she turned to face her
mother’s scowling frown. “Like I said, Mama, you have a filthy mind. You’re
wrong about Tripp. Very wrong.”

Heat
and anger boiled inside Honey Belle as she locked the bathroom door. She
reached down and jammed the rubber plug into the bathtub’s drain hole, then
turned the cold water faucet to full force. With trembling fingers, she
stripped out of her clothes, allowing them to drop to the floor, where she
kicked them into a heap.

Settling
into the tub, she lay back and closed her eyes, allowing the rising water to
cool her body and her temper.

Two
loud raps sounded against the closed door. “You get yourself in trouble with
that boy, don’t expect me to get you out of it. You hear me, Honey Belle?”

Sliding
beneath the water, Honey Belle held her breath until she ran out of air. She
came up gasping. As much as she tried to be a good daughter, it seemed
everything she did angered her mother.

She’d
given up her education and gone to work, she helped with all the expenses,
cleaned the house, cooked meals, did the laundry, and tended to her father. She
did it all without begrudging either parent. Tears dripping from her chin
mingled with the bath water.

Reaching
forward, she pulled the plug and watched the water swirling down the drain. At
nineteen she saw her future slipping away with it.

That
night as she lay in bed, voices kept her from going to sleep. She lay still,
concentrating, trying to hear the muffled words coming from her parents’
bedroom.

She
eased from the bed and pressed her ear against the wall. She sensed the tension
in her father’s voice. “Why are you so hard on Honey Belle?”

“Because
she reminds me of me.”

“That’s
a helluva reason, Delilah.”

“Yeah,
well, it’s true.”

“Then
I guess you’ve resented all these years we’ve been married.”

“Listen
here, Jack Garrett. I spread my legs for you, didn’t I? I can see her travelin’
down the same road.”

“You
keep pushing, and you’ll push her right out the door.”

“She
don’t make enough money to strike out on her own. Where’d she go?”

“Use
your noggin, woman. It’s not where she’d go, it’s who she’d run to. You say
you’re afraid she’ll end up like you? Well, keep pushing, and she’ll end up in
that rich boy’s bed.”

Her
father’s spasmodic coughing caused Honey Belle to cringe. There was no debating
the fact his illness was the reason she stayed. He’d sheltered her from her
mother’s attacks. Now diagnosed with congestive heart failure, it was only a
matter of time before the sickness took him away. Sadness stabbed her heart at
the thought of losing him. She’d stay until that time came. Then, come hell or
high water, her mother was on her own.

Honey
Belle’s fingers knew exactly where the penlight lay tucked in the nightstand’s
drawer. Flicking it on, the small beam shone on the booklet she pulled from its
hiding place. Holding the light in one hand, she used the other to flip through
the pages of the vocational school’s glossy cover.

She
sighed. Getting her general education diploma seemed like an impossible dream.
She ran down the list of vocations—secretary, licensed practical nurse, food
technician—nothing interested her. Didn’t matter. With giving almost every
penny of her paycheck to help with bills, her plans for saving money might as
well be like trying to reach for the moon.

Then
an idea struck.

She’d
work two jobs. One to support herself and one to pay for an education.

She
drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly. A smile tugged at the corners of her
lips. She had a plan. It was her secret. For the first time in her life, she
felt a sense of hope.

****

Tripp
whistled as he set the glass of milk aside and concentrated on cutting a generous
wedge of pound cake.

“You
missed supper, son.”

Clad
in a gold-striped silk robe, Tripp’s father leaned against the kitchen door,
his arms crossed over his barrel chest.

Startled,
Tripp knocked over the glass, spilling milk across the counter. “Geez, Dad, you
scared the piss out of me.” He grabbed a dishtowel to mop up the spreading
white liquid.

“From
the tune you were whistling and the grin on your face, I’d say you have more on
your mind than cake. I hope it’s about starting law school in September.”

Tripp
stood over the sink and wrung out the towel. Wetting it, he wiped up the
remaining milk from the counter and the splatters on the floor. He ran the
cloth under the faucet, wrung out the water, and neatly draped it over the
sink.

Back
to his fork, he picked it up, shoveled a piece of cake into his mouth, and
spoke between mouthfuls. “Well, not exactly about school.”

“Then
perhaps about a certain young lady you’re keeping company with?”

“Yes,
sir. Honey Belle is as sweet as her name.”

“You
like this girl?”

“I
do. A lot.”

The
way the elder Hartwell cleared his throat caused Tripp to set the plate aside.
“I can tell by the look on your face, Dad, you have something on your mind.”

“About
this young woman...what do you know about her?”

“Mm,
not much. Her father is sick. Instead of going to college, she works to help
with medical expenses.” Tripp braced his hands against the counter and leaned
forward. “Honey Belle is a good girl. She’s funny and honest. She lives on
Barrington Street, and I like her.”

“How
much do you like her?”

Tripp
rubbed his face and tried to think where this conversation was going. He
laughed without humor. “If it’s law school you’re worried about, don’t. Wild
horses couldn’t keep me from Harvard, and I haven’t given up my dream of
pursuing a seat in the Senate.”

He’d
said the right words. The words his father needed to hear. Visible relief
replaced Judge Hartwell’s furrowed brow.

“It’s
late, and high time I put these old bones of mine to bed. ’Night, son.”

“Rest
well, Dad.”

The
Hartwells were one of the most powerful and influential families in South
Carolina. Tobacco, cotton, politics. Tripp knew his father had an eye for the
governor’s seat. It was a given fact that any girl he chose to marry would need
a pedigree to match that of his mother. He was a little surprised by his
father’s concerns over Honey Belle. It wasn’t like him to pass judgment on
someone he hadn’t met.

Honey
Belle was his friend. Yet, he had to admit, there was something special about
her, something that made him want her as more than a girl to hold hands with
while walking barefoot on the beach. When she smiled up at him, he wanted to
drown in her eyes—eyes the color of the lilacs in his mother’s garden.

Honey
Belle stirred emotions in him that no other woman had. He could smell her as if
she stood next to him—clean, familiar, distinctive.

Thoughts
of her caused his groin to swell to a throbbing ache. What was it his
grandfather used to say when he told of stories about sleeping in foxholes
during the war—something about using Minnie and her four daughters to relieve
himself when a woman wasn’t around?

Tripp
held up his right hand and flexed the fingers.
Well, Minnie, it’s just you
and me and the girls, tonight.

Chapter
Seven

The
sultry Sunday afternoon weather was perfect for the yellow sundress Honey Belle
wore. One of the straps slipped down over her shoulder and she adjusted it.

While
she waited for Tripp in her usual place under the elm tree, an old saying
popped into her head. T
ime flies when you’re having fun.
And she was
having fun. More than she’d ever had in her life.

Before
she’d realized it, June had sped forward to the dog days of August. She tried
to shake the strange melancholy that had persisted for several days. September
was a few short weeks away, and soon Tripp would leave for Harvard.

She
knew when the time came to say goodbye, he would promise to write, to
telephone, to come home on the holidays. At least that’s what the guys in soap
operas always did. And like those actors, eventually the phone calls would
stop, the letters would grow less and less, and when holidays came, Tripp would
come up with excuses as to why it was important for him to remain on campus.

She
had tried to guard her heart, but it seemed her heart had a mind of its own.
Against her will, she’d fallen in love—a forbidden love. It was common
knowledge that the rich didn’t associate with the poor—at least not knowingly.

She
vowed to savor each precious hour they spent together, and when the time came
for him to leave, she’d bite back the tears and with a smile on her face would
let him go.

The
neighborhood was quiet now, with little outdoor activity, and it was apparently
too hot for even the songbirds to muster a warble.

She
pulled a clean hankie from her purse and dabbed at the perspiration collecting
on her top lip. The high-heeled sandals she wore hurt her feet. She glanced at
her watch.

A
few minutes later she recognized the familiar sound of the BMW’s engine. The
car came into view with Tripp behind the wheel, easing down the street toward
her.

She
gave a little wave as he expertly maneuvered the sports car against the curb.
In these few short weeks they’d been together, she’d learned he had a voice
that teased, and hands that held hers tight when they walked on the beach.
There was a scar on his chin from a childhood accident on the monkey bars. She
wanted him to be the person she could confide in and share her secrets with.

She
smiled as he climbed out of the car and slammed the door.

“Hello,
good-looking. Going my way?” Tripp laughed as he placed his hands around her
waist and pulled her against his chest.

“I’m
waiting for my boyfriend.”

Tripp
glanced over his shoulder as if searching for someone. “I think he’s stood you
up.”

She
turned a little and they were face to face, practically nose to nose. He
smelled of soap and aftershave. Her voice was a breathy whisper. “I could use a
ride to the beach, if you’re going that way.”

She
liked this flirtatious game they were playing.

Tripp
sprinted to the car’s passenger side, opened the door, and bowed deeply from
the waist. “My chariot awaits, madam.”

She
laughed, but deep inside she wondered what she was to him. What would he say if
she asked? She shoved the thought aside and stepped into the car. “You are very
gallant, kind sir. I accept your offer.”

****

Tripp
watched the changing expressions on Honey Belle’s face. He wondered if she was
thinking of the summer evenings they’d spent together. There was so much he
wanted to say to her, but everything that came into his head seemed inappropriate,
somehow lacking. He felt something twitch inside him, something deep and old.
He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

Like
a blazing ball of fire, the sun hung just above the horizon as Tripp pulled
into a parking space and shut off the car’s engine.

The
gentle sounds of waves lapping the shore, then receding into the ocean, greeted
them. A sea breeze caused Honey Belle to shiver. She ran her hands up and down
her arms. “The sun looks as if it’s sliding between earth and sea.”

Tripp
felt her closeness, her warmth as he spoke. “I know. Take your shoes off and
let’s go. I have a surprise for you.”

He
grabbed a blanket from the back seat and handed it to Honey Belle. Walking to
the rear of the car, he opened the trunk and pulled out a cooler.

At
their favorite spot, she spread the blanket over the sand while he opened the
ice chest. He handed Honey Belle two chilled, long-stemmed, fluted glasses.
Usually they drank beer, but not tonight. Tonight he’d brought champagne.

He
paused a moment before filling their glasses.

****

Honey
Belle enjoyed the way the bubbles tickled her nose. Holding the glass out for a
refill, she wondered why he’d brought champagne.

“Are
we celebrating something special, Tripp?” Her eyes were on a level with strong
masculine thighs clad in denim. A tapered waist flared to a broad chest, every
muscle and sinew clearly delineated by a simple white T-shirt.

“You
and me, Honey Belle, we’re celebrating—us.” A breeze lifted Tripp’s hair off
his forehead, and suddenly he spread his arms wide. “Honey Belle Garrett, I’ve
fallen hopelessly and madly in love with you.”

He’d
spoken the words she’d imagined in her head since the first time they had
kissed. But—had he really said
I love you?
Perhaps along with the third
glass of bubbly, she had only imagined hearing the words.

“Tripp,
if you just said what I think I just heard...oh, my gosh.” Skepticism kicked
her in the chest. “You’re not trash talking, are you?”

He
lowered to his knees, lifted the glass from her hands and set it in the sand,
then brought both of her hands to his lips. His gaze was commanding enough that
it sent little chills skittering through the pit of her stomach. “I mean it,
Honey Belle. I’d never joke about loving you.”

Her
heart skipped a beat when he opened his arms and invited her in. For the first
time in her life, she felt a measure of security. She pressed her body to his,
yearning to garner all his strength, his body warmth, his love—in the event she
woke up and found it was all a dream.

He
drew back a little, and with his thumb under her chin he lifted her face. Her
lips met his. On a scale of one to ten, in the kissing department, tonight
Honey Belle scored him a twenty.

At
first the kiss was a soft touching of lips—a nuzzling. Then it deepened, became
demanding, and left Honey Belle breathless. Tripp was the first to pull away.

The
champagne made her feel bold. She took his hands in hers. She felt the warmth
in his hands. Although they’d never had sex, they had participated in some
serious foreplay. When he unbuttoned her blouse, she didn’t resist. He kissed
the tip of her nose, her chin, her cheeks, and went back to linger over her
mouth.

Between
the champagne and the kissing, Honey Belle’s body hummed with desire. Just
thinking about the way he touched her took her breath away. She felt her
nipples begin to tingle, and warmth spread between her legs.

“I
want you.” His impatient hands caressed every inch of her body. He made the
words sound almost like an oath as he bent his head and kissed her breasts.

All
Honey Belle’s fantasies rose up to haunt her as her mother’s warnings buzzed
around in her head like an annoying mosquito.
He’ll pluck your blossom, and
when he’s deflowered you, he’ll toss you away like cheap trash.

“Tripp,”
Honey Belle’s voice was a cracked whisper. “I-I’m not ready. Please, we should
cool off.” She pulled her blouse together and fumbled with the buttons.

His
blue eyes bored into hers as if guessing the reason for her hesitation.
Piercing her with a molten smile, he lifted her hand to his chest. Feeling the
heat of his flesh through his shirt, she was conscious of his virile physique
and knew she was a prisoner of her own desire.

In
a husky drawl, he said, “Yeah. Let’s go for a swim. We both need to cool off.”
He stood and offered his hand to pull her to her feet.

“Not
here.”

“Why
not? Just look at that full moon beckoning us.”

“Sharks.
I guess, being away at college for four years, you’ve forgotten this place
isn’t called Shark Alley for nothing. When the fishermen clean their fish, they
toss the heads and entrails off the pier and into the water. This section of
the beach draws sharks, even at night. Believe me, it isn’t safe to swim
anywhere near this stretch of shoreline.”

Tripp
chuckled and tweaked her nose. “Okay, so we won’t swim. What if we settle for
holding hands and wading in the surf?”

How
could she resist his lopsided grin? She couldn’t. Like warm tongues, the waves
lapped their ankles as they walked in the opposite direction from the fishing
pier.

Without
warning, the atmosphere seemed to fill with heavy tension. Aware of his arm
around her waist, Honey Belle felt his fingers flex against her midriff. He
turned her in his arms. She lifted her lips. To her surprise the kiss didn’t
come.

“Are
you disappointed in me, Tripp?”

He
stepped back. “Honey Belle Garrett, marry me.” It was a simple statement—not a
question.

Standing
in the warm surf and bathed in moonlight, she searched his eyes, afraid this
entire night was a figment of her imagination. Had she heard him correctly? Had
Tripp Hartwell the Third really asked her to marry him?

“Honey
Belle?”

She
placed her arms around his neck and squealed as she rained kisses all over his
face. “Yes...yes...yes.” Without warning the practical side of her brain kicked
in. “What will your parents say, where will we live, and what about law
school?”

He
met her concerns with a chuckle. “My parents will adore you. Besides don’t
worry about them. I’ll enter law school as planned. In a few years, I’ll pass
the bar and work at the family law firm.

“School
starts in three weeks. Next Friday, I’m flying to Massachusetts to take care of
a registration glitch. While I’m there, I’ll check out of the dorm and look for
an apartment near campus. Does that answer all your questions?”

She
cupped her hands on either side of his face. “Then I’ll enroll in college, too.
I’ll learn how to walk and talk and dress properly. Oh, Tripp, I never want you
to be ashamed of me.”

In
all these many weeks, she’d never told Tripp she hadn’t finished high school.
Unsure of their future together, she’d thought it unimportant—until now. She
had to admit there was a secret part of her that was afraid of losing him if he
thought she wasn’t smart.

He
pulled her against his chest. “I’ve never been ashamed of you, Honey Belle. Not
now—not ever.”

The
scent of ocean salt filled the air, and while the night seemed to stretch on
forever, the sky was littered with thousands of winking stars. Without quite
realizing it, Honey Belle and Tripp had waded hip-deep into the water.

Her
breath felt lodged in her throat as his dark eyes travelled from her hair, to
her face, and lower to linger on her cleavage.

“You
are as enticing as a moon goddess. I need you, Honey Belle. I need you in the
worst way.”

Perhaps
it was the way he looked at her with those electric-blue eyes of his, or
perhaps it was the way the warm waves caressed her thighs, or maybe it was how
the rise and fall of the surf matched the beating of her heart. Whatever it
was, she knew neither Tripp nor herself were able to resist the tidal wave of
desire washing over them.

No
longer rigid in his encircling arms, she leaned against his broad chest, her
body gently trembling, allowing him to bear her weight.

Her
breasts seemed to blossom and flower at his touch, the nipples ready and eager
for his fluttering fingers against their hardening peaks. All thoughts of
resistance ebbed away.

“Don’t
be afraid, Honey Belle.”

“I’m
not afraid. I need you, too, Tripp.”

His
one hand supported her back while he used his other hand to move slowly down,
smoothing its way over the curve of her hip, leaving her on the knife-edge of
need. Her body felt hot and fluid in anticipation of his exploring touch.

Her
nipples ached, on fire with pleasure. She wanted him to kiss them, to
experience the balm of his tongue.

Parting
her thighs for his exploration, she whispered his name as he lifted her skirt
and slid her cotton undies down her hips and tossed them toward the shore.
“Tripp?”

“Shh.
Trust me.” He let her go long enough to yank at his denims and briefs as if
desperate to be rid of them. She drew her dress over her head, standing bathed
in moonlight and passion.

“Put
your legs around my waist, Honey Belle.”

“Our
clothes. They’ll wash away.”

She
didn’t know if he chuckled or snorted in aggravation when he gathered their floating
garments into a dripping ball and sailed them to the wet sand. “Now, put your
legs around me.”

Buoyed
by the water, unbelievable sensations arrowed through her body as Tripp suckled
one breast before he turned his attention to the other dusky peak.

He
didn’t hurry. He suckled and licked and at the same time his searching fingers
found the hot wet center of her feminine cortex.

She
gripped his broad shoulders with both hands, loving the feel of the corded
muscles in his neck. She heard the sharp intake of his breath as she moved her
hand down between them. She trailed her fingers down the hard length of his
erection, curling her slender fingers around him.

“No.”
His hoarsely spoken command and his hand capturing hers stopped the
investigation.

“Did
I do something wrong?” She tried to keep the worry from her voice. More than
anything, she wanted to please him.