The End of the Line (28 page)

“Ready?”
Peter asked.

“Ready
as I’ll ever be,” Latesha stammered, taking a deep breath. “But I haven’t seen
one black person here yet.”

“Now
you know how I felt in Beechwood.”

“True,”
she said, looking at him with a new understanding. “I never thought of that.”

Latesha
put her head down like someone facing a blizzard and walked with purpose toward
the door. Peter held it open for her and she stepped in. The second they
entered, Latesha saw a tall white woman stare at her in shocked disbelief. The
look of horror on her face suggested the sighting of an alien space ship
landing on her lawn.

“Peter!”
the woman said in a high-pitched voice, walking right past Latesha. “So glad
you could come.”

“Thank
you, Mom,” he said with a grimace, literally resisting her efforts to separate
him from Latesha. “I’d like you to meet Latesha Thomas. She’s a special friend
of mine from Beechwood.”

Mrs.
Elsworth looked on the verge of fainting. “The girl in the picture,” she said
without looking at Latesha. Her voice became more high-pitched. “And you
brought her here? How charming.”

Peter
took her by the arm and spun her around so that she would be looking at Latesha
face-to-face. “Mom, I’d like you to meet Latesha Thomas. Latesha, this is my
mother.”

“Pleasure
to meet you, Mrs. Elsworth,” Latesha said with a hopeful look.

“Yes,
indeed,” the woman answered as stiffly as a corpse, the color completely
drained from her face. Mrs. Elsworth stared at Latesha and lifted her right
hand in front of her face, as if someone was threatening her with a deadly
weapon. The look of shocked disbelief, bordering on sheer terror, was
unmistakable. She searched for an escape route. “Oh, there’s Marlene,” she
said, waving at someone who didn’t notice her. “I think she wants to speak with
me.”

Mrs.
Elsworth departed with the most ghostly countenance ever beheld by man, then
waded into the crowd like a woman rushing from a fire.

“She
doesn’t like me,” Latesha said with a hurt look. “Maybe we should leave,
Peter.”

He
didn’t have a chance to respond before a tall, dignified man in a suit came up
to them. “Hello, Peter!” he exclaimed, shaking his hand. “So glad you could
come.”

“Hi,
Jack,” Peter returned with a smile.

“Could
you introduce me to your friend?” Jack said, gazing at Latesha with great
warmth.

“Latesha
Thomas,” Peter said, “this is Jack Pearson, our club president.”

Jack
immediately shook her hand. “I do believe this is a first.”

“Oh?”
asked Latesha.

“I
don’t think I’ve ever seen Peter come here with a woman,” Jack noted. He leaned
forward and lowered his voice. “It’s not like the girls haven’t noticed him,
mind you. But he’s apparently very picky.” Jack stepped back and admired
Latesha. “But then again, some things are worth waiting for, aren’t they,
Peter?”

Peter
looked at Latesha in a way no man had ever done before. “Some things are
definitely worth waiting for,” he said. “Latesha and I are playing the leads in
Romeo and Juliet
this Saturday at the
Beechwood Community Center.”

“Any
tickets left?” Jack asked Latesha with interest.

“Yes,”
she said, feeling shy but immediately liking the gentleman. “If you’re
interested, you can call the center and ask for Mary. The number is in the
book.”

“I’ll
do that. By the way, Ms. Thomas, did you know Romeo is our club champion?”

Latesha
looked at Peter with surprise. “Really?”

“He
is!” Jack asserted with a jovial laugh. “Four years in a row now. Even when he
was a boy, he showed potential, but now he has a lethal serve and a fine
all-round game.” He clapped Peter on the shoulder. “We couldn’t ask for a
better champion to represent our club.”

Peter
blushed. “Thank you, Jack, but this night is all about you. You’ve done a
wonderful job here over the years and I would personally like to take this
opportunity to thank you on behalf of everyone for all your fine
contributions.”

“Thank
you,” Jack said, obviously touched. “Thank you very much, Peter. You remind me
more of your father every day.” He patted Peter on the shoulder one more time,
then bowed to Latesha with his most charming smile. “And it was certainly a
pleasure to meet you, Ms. Thomas. You should come to the club and let Peter
teach you the game. I’ll let it be known that you can come anytime as his guest
without charge.”

“Thank
you,” she said.

Jack
waved to some other friends. “You two go get something to eat before the army
ants sweep through.”

Jack
moved to the next group and began talking to them in his warm, relaxed manner.
Peter and Latesha moved away several feet, but they could hear every word.

“Who’s
the girl with Peter?” some man whispered.

“Latesha
Thomas from Beechwood,” Jack responded. “What a lovely woman.”

“She’s
beautiful,” a woman beside him muttered. “I think they’re the most handsome
couple I’ve ever seen.”

“But
how will Judith feel about it?” asked another woman.

“About
what?” Jack asked. “So, did you try the strawberry cheesecake?”

Peter
lightly clasped Latesha’s hand and led her through the bustling crowd. His hand
felt strong and safe, and she loved the feel of him holding her, the warmth of
his skin, the statement he was making.

“Let’s
get some pastries before they’re gone,” he said, leaning back to whisper in her
ear. “These people look like they haven’t eaten in a week.”

Latesha
laughed as they moved around the rooms, Peter leading her and slicing through
the crowd. Everyone looked at Peter and stared at Latesha. In The Old English
Club, where everyone had known everyone else for decades, a new face was always
a matter of importance, but this was unique. Latesha was painfully aware of the
situation but Peter either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He led Latesha to the
table and they stood in line with their paper plates.

As
they waited, all those closest to him greeted Peter and introduced themselves
to Latesha. Some were pleasant, some reserved, but only one—an attractive blonde
with strawberry red highlights in her hair—gave Latesha an uneasy feeling.

“Hello,
Peter,” the blonde suddenly said, smiling like Miss Congeniality. She wore what
seemed to be sparkling diamond earrings. “How are you?”

“I’m
well, Bridget.”

“I’ve
missed you at photography class lately. Is there a problem?”

Peter
passed Latesha a napkin. “I just don’t have the time right now.”

Bridget
looked at Latesha with a sour expression. “I don’t believe I’ve met your
friend.”

“Latesha
Thomas, this is Bridget Armstrong.”

“Nice
to meet you,” Latesha said with a smile.

“Latesha,”
Bridget repeated slowly. “What a unique name. It’s so, um, ethnic.”

“Yes,
she has the prettiest name I’ve ever heard,” Peter said warmly. “I really like
it.”

“Is
she a relative of yours, Peter?” Bridget asked in her fake dumb blonde voice.

“Yes,”
Peter said. “Latesha is my sister.”

Latesha
frowned.

Bridget
laughed lowly. “Your sister?”

“Yes,”
Peter said, picking a brownie off a silver plate. “We’re twins. Mother gave
birth to us in Bostralia, but a hurricane blew down the hospital and we were
separated. I’ve only been reunited with her recently.”

Bridget
sneered and shook her head. “Ha, ha.” She slid between Latesha and Peter, her
prominent chest looming. “I was thinking about the club tournament. Maybe you
and I could do mixed.”

He
stepped away from her and stood next to Latesha. “I’m only playing singles this
year, but I heard Sam Lancaster is looking for a partner.”

“He’s
skinny,” Bridget said with a pout.

“Sam’s
a good player.”

“Yes,
I suppose he is a good player, but you’re a whole lot better. Besides, you know
I like a stud of a man.”

“It
was nice seeing you again, too,” Peter said. He turned to Latesha. “Would you
like some chili?”

“Sure,
brother,” Latesha said so that only Peter could hear her.

Peter
laughed, said goodbye to Bridget, then retired to the back of the room with
Latesha where they sat on a large couch and ate their chili. Several people
walked up to him and Peter carried on animated conversations, making sure
Latesha was included. Most made her feel welcome, except for Bridget, who
sulked like a child. Mrs. Elsworth was conspicuous in her absence.

After
the meal, Charles called everyone to order. He gave an emotional speech about
Jack, his decades of loyal service, and an assurance that no one could ever
fill his shoes. The preliminaries finished, he called Jack to the stage.

“I’d
like to thank everyone so much,” Jack said, “and although this marks the end of
my tenure as president of our club, I have to warn you all that I will still
haunt these grounds on a regular basis. You haven’t seen the last of me.”

Everyone
laughed and people lined up to congratulate him, including Peter. Jack shook
his hand and winked at Latesha before being drawn away by others. They then
made their way to the pastry table and beheld a spread of the first order.
Peter picked one, and then Latesha, unable to make up her mind at first, chose
a dessert that looked more like a work of art than an item of food.

“It
seems almost like a shame to eat this,” Peter said of his square, looking it
over like a chemist studying an unknown compound. “I want to take it home and
frame it.”

They
laughed, but ate like pirates.

“Want
to go now or stay?” Peter asked her once they finished.

“What
do you want to do?”

“I’d
like to have some alone time with you.”

“All
right,” she said like a perfect lady, bowing her head slightly and starting to
walk through the crowd. When they reached the foyer, she stopped. “I have to
use the washroom first.”

Latesha
started opening the washroom door when she saw Peter’s mother, who seemed to
have materialized out of nowhere. She had a distraught look on her face.
Latesha stopped, stepping back a bit but leaving the door open enough to see
and hear them. Neither Peter nor his mother were aware of Latesha’s presence.

“Why
did you embarrass me like that?” Mrs. Elsworth whispered loud enough for her to
hear.

“Like
what?” Peter asked.

“Of
all the girls who would have loved to come here with you tonight, you had to
bring her. All my friends saw you. Don’t you love your mother?”

“Of
course I love you,” he said.

“You
should have come here with Bridget. I told you she wanted to be your date.”

“Why
would I come here with Bridget?”

“You
were in that photography club with her.”

“We
were both in the club, but we had nothing to do with each other.”

“She
likes you,” Mrs. Elsworth said. “What’s wrong with her?”

“I’m
not interested in Bridget.”

“But
you are interested in that girl?”

Peter
just looked at her.

“She’s
bewitched you with her jungle voodoo!”

His
eyes flared. “Don’t be small, Mom. I’m tired of it. Latesha is a really nice
person and I’m proud that she came here with me tonight. That took a lot of
courage and I respect her for it.”

“But
you don’t respect me, do you? You don’t respect my wishes! The woman who gave
you life, who carried you for nine months, the woman who nearly died giving
birth to you.”

“I
have to go,” he said.

Mrs.
Elsworth stormed away in a huff and Latesha opened the door. Peter instantly
realized she had overheard the conversation.

“Well,
that didn’t work out too well,” Latesha said.

“I’m
sorry.”

“Listen,
Peter, maybe we should just forget about this crazy friendship of ours. It’s
obviously not working.” She looked like a hurt little girl. “Can you take me
home now? I’m tired.”

“Yes,
of course,” he said with obvious disappointment.

“Peter!”
Charles suddenly called, emerging from the crowd. “Can I speak with you for a
moment, please?”

Peter
turned to Latesha. She nodded, then looked down and away. Charles came up to
them and made a point of looking at Latesha’s face. She seemed embarrassed by
it, but smiled shyly. The old gentleman smiled back in a warm and kindly way.

Then
he turned to Peter. “I spoke to Georgina,” he said, “and she thinks you should
show Miss Thomas the dance studio. You can give me back the keys the next time
we see each other.”

“Thank
you, Charles.”

Latesha
was surprised and confused by the exchange, especially when Peter took the
keys. Charles again smiled warmly at her and gave Peter a meaningful look. He
then left and Peter led Latesha out of the clubhouse and toward the dance
studio.

“Where
are you taking me?”

“I
have something to show you.”

They
reached the dance studio and Peter opened the door. Just inside he switched on
the lights and illuminated the large, one-story building. There was a long hall
with a gleaming hardwood floor and one room on either side of it. Peter led
Latesha to the ballet studio on the left and stopped in front of the door.

“What
do you want to show me?”

He
pointed at the door.

“What
do you mean?”

“Look,”
he said, gesturing at the door.

Latesha,
befuddled by her friend, humored him by looking at the door. On the top panel
she saw an artistic rendition of a middle-aged black couple and a young man.

“That
woman looks an awful lot like me,” Latesha said with a laugh. “Doesn’t she?”

“It’s
uncanny how much she looks like you.”

Latesha
looked harder and saw that the young man’s right ear was missing. Then Latesha
noticed the lower panel and immediately recognized Beechwood and the
Underground Railroad Station. “That’s the end of the line!” she exclaimed,
turning to Peter with unbridled wonderment.