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Authors: Gwynne Forster

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BOOK: Whatever It Takes
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“Thanks. Oh, thanks!” She hung up and dashed to the florist shop to tell Douglas, and when she saw the “closed” sign on the door, her spirits fell. She went back to her booth, put it in order, and then called her father.
“I couldn't be happier for you,” he said. “Let me know if I can help you move.”
She needed to tell her mother but, for some reason, couldn't bring herself to do it. “Lord, I hope I'm not developing an attitude toward Mama,” she said to herself.
“I'll help you move Saturday, if you like,” Douglas said when she told him her good news.
Lacette didn't want to tell him she'd made other arrangements, because she hadn't and, furthermore, she had decided that she wanted to develop a relationship with him. The problem was Kellie. Remembering her aunt's remark, she said to Douglas, “I'd appreciate your help, but you might encounter Kellie. In fact, if she sees a man with me, you can bet he'll encounter her.”
“I don't doubt that. But it won't bother me. Let me know what time you'll be ready and whether you'll be moving any furniture.”
“No furniture. Just personal belongings. The minivan will do.”
 
 
“I wish you weren't going,” Cynthia said to Lacette, as they were about to take one of her suitcases down to the foyer. This is an awfully big house for two people. Kellie and I won't be able to find each other in here.” She stopped, leaned against the banister and tightened her lips. Anger flashed in her eyes, and she clenched her fists.
“I wonder if your father knows what he started. It's as if he pushed the first in a line of dominoes. Pretty soon, I'll be here all by myself.”
Lacette put an arm around Cynthia's shoulder. “You've got a job now, Mama, and next year you'll be working full time. Why don't you look for an apartment? Let the church have this place.”
Cynthia picked up the bag that previously she hadn't been able to lift and rushed down the stairs. She dropped the suitcase with what seemed like unnecessary force, barely missing her foot, and with her hands at her hips turned to Lacette, who had followed her.
“You would countenance such a thing? You would leave your sister here alone?” How could you think of such a thing?”
Would their mother never stop coddling Kellie and let her be a woman?
“Mama, Kellie earns thirty-eight thousand dollars a year, so she can afford an apartment. If you're scared for her to live alone, get an apartment big enough for the two of you, but it isn't right for any of us to live here when Daddy is staying somewhere else.”
“He left us. How can you—”
Lacette raised both hands, palms out. “My last words on the subject, Mama. I'll be living alone and liking it.”
“You mean you wouldn't let your sister live with you?”
No, Mama. I will not. I can't wait to get away from her domineering behavior.”
“Who is it that you can't wait to get away from?” Kellie asked as she came out of the dining room and walked toward the stairs.
The ringing of the doorbell saved Lacette a lie or an embarrassing truth, which were the options available to her unless she refused to answer.
“Hi, you're right on time,” Lacette said to Douglas.
“Hi. Is this all of your stuff?”
“There're three suitcases and a couple of boxes upstairs in my bedroom.”
They left the foyer and headed up the stairs. “Mama, this is Douglas Rawlins,” Lacette said, unsure of the advisability of introducing him to Kellie who she knew he disliked.
“Glad to meet you, Mr. Rawlins,” Cynthia said.
“What are you doing here?” Kellie nearly yelled the words at Douglas, her voice high and agitated.
He turned and took one step down. “Good morning, Miss Graham. As you can see, I am helping Lacette move into her new home.”
Kellie then turned to Lacette. “You . . . you. How do you know him?”
“For goodness sake, Kellie, don't make yourself look foolish. Where I met Douglas and how I know him are not reasons for possessiveness on your part. He is nothing to you.” She reached back and took Douglas's hand. “Come on.”
But he stood there staring at Kellie until Cynthia intervened. “I'm so glad you're helping Lacette, Mr. Rawlins. She could never move those things alone. They're awfully heavy. You'll see. I hope you'll drop by sometime, and we can get better acquainted.”
“Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate that,” Douglas said, turned and followed Lacette upstairs.
“I gather she made a few passes at you,” Lacette said to Douglas in her room, as they stacked the boxes, “and you dusted her off. She will never forgive you.”
He lifted the three stacked boxes, started for the stairs and stopped. “That's in the past.”
“That's what you think,” Lacette said. “Kellie has a memory like an elephant, and revenge is her middle name. If I were you, I would stay out of her way.”
“You bet. As soon as I get your stuff in that van, I'm out of her way for good. At least, I won't be looking for her.”
“I'm sorry,” Lacette said, and she was. “Kellie is my sister and I love her, but my tolerance for her is decreasing like ice on a hot metal stove.”
He put the last of Lacette's belongings in the van, made a U-turn and parked in front of Nan's house. “Aunt Nan,” Lacette said when her aunt opened the door. “This is Douglas Rawlins. Douglas, this is my auntie.”
Their warm greeting did not surprise Lacette. After the chill he received when he entered the parsonage, he probably couldn't help relaxing in the loving environment that her aunt created.
“Y'all must be hungry after pulling all that stuff around. I bet you could eat some good old home cooking,” Nan said to Douglas.
“If it's what I smell, you bet I could,” he said. “I don't get that often.”
Nan served them country sausage, grits, scrambled eggs, sliced avocado, buttermilk biscuits and coffee. “Aunt Nan eats avocado at every meal,” Lacette told Douglas.
“This was wonderful, Miss Nan,” he said later, rising to leave.
“Wasn't much, but at least you know now that some of us Grahams know how to treat people.”
He stared at her. “Can you see beyond walls?”
“No, indeedy, but I know Kellie, and I know she's home this morning.” His right eyebrow shot up. “That's right,” she said. These twins is different from each other as barley is from corn. Both is grain, but the similarity stops right there.”
“You trying to tell me something?” he asked her.
“I done told you, and I hope you smart enough to figure it out.”
Chapter Seven
“Your aunt's a down-to-earth lady,” Douglas said to Lacette as he drove them to Lacette's new home at 390 Hilton Street not far from the city line.
“She
is
that. Aunt Nan's had a pretty tough life. My grandparents made her work so that my father could get an education, and they didn't think her schooling was important. After Daddy graduated from college, Aunt Nan went to high school at night and got a General Education Diploma—GED. She's as proud of that as Daddy is of his degree from divinity school.”
“I hope he appreciates what she did for him.”
“Does he ever! Daddy practically worships Aunt Nan. They're very close.”
“What was she telling me just before we left? Sounded like a warning.”
“It was.”
“If your sister is going to live with you, I don't think you'll see much of me.”
“My sister is one of the reasons why I'm glad I can move into my own house. I love Kellie, but I won't want to tolerate her ways, day in and day out, any longer.”
His whole body seemed to relax. “Will your next job be at the Belle Époque?”
“I thought I told you that I'm starting my own business. I'm going to try to open in three weeks. Between now and then, I'll be getting my house and my office into shape. I'm setting up shop in the Catoctin Building across the street from the Belle Époque.”
“That's a good address for your kind of business. I'll miss seeing you in the hotel.”
“That may be a good thing,” she said to herself, but to him, she said, “I'll be right across the street. If you get bored, it's a short walk across West Patrick. And if you're too busy to drop by during working hours . . . well, in a minute, you'll see where I live.”
He drove up to Lacette's house, parked and turned to her. “Do I get it right that you've just told me you wouldn't mind if I visited you?”
She looked toward the sky and told herself to take care in what she said. “I remember your saying that you are a careful man, Douglas, but you don't need to be
this
careful. Do you think I pass out my address and phone number to every man I meet?”
“Hey!” His hands went to his chest. “I try not to make mistakes with women.”
“There's more than one way to make a mistake with women . . . at least with this woman.” His eyes narrowed, but she plodded on. “If a guy likes me, I want him to let me in on it and to keep it in character so I'll know who and what I'm dealing with. I don't like being surprised after I've invested my emotions in a man.”
He gazed at her, his face unreadable. “Have you invested emotion in me?”
Play it safe, would he? Well, not with her. She'd been taught by masters, Jefferson Smith among others. “Tell you what. If you ever deserve to know that, I'll tell you.”
“Touché. Let's get this stuff inside. I'm working today, and we have tickets to the Weinberg Center tonight, but if you can be patient until tomorrow morning, I'll help you unpack. However, it's been my experience that telling a woman to have patience is a waste of words.” He opened the back of the van, put a suitcase under his right arm and took one in each hand. “You want to go ahead of me and open the door?”
“That was a chauvinist remark,” she said, walking ahead of him and letting the wind carry her words.
“I heard that.”
She stopped at the front steps and gazed up at the beige stucco colonial-style house. When he stopped beside her, she glanced at him and, with the back of her hand, brushed away her tears. He dropped the bags and in the next second, she felt his arms around her, gentle and comforting. Shaking her head as if to deny the depth of her emotion, she smiled as best she could. “I can't believe this is mine. It's not as big as some of the houses around here, but it's mine.” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the tears falling from her eyes.
“I'm happy for you. If you'll give me your door key, I'll put these bags inside.” She handed him the key. “Why don't you go sit in the van while I unload? Won't take but a few minutes. Or you can sit inside the house. I put a folding chair in my van in case you hadn't bought any furniture.”
She turned and faced him, seeing him as if for the first time. He cared enough to think of her comfort and to plan for it. “My bedroom is furnished, and I have two stools in the kitchen.” She was about to add thanks, but no thanks, when it occurred to her that she ought to encourage him. “But a chair will be more comfortable than a stool. Thank you.”
“Then go on inside, and I'll bring the chair in a minute. Where's your car?” he asked after putting the last of her things into the house. “I can take you back to your aunt's place to get it.”
She thanked him and didn't attempt to stave off the words that had been pushing to get out for the last half hour. “Are you always so . . . so thoughtful and so . . . ?” She didn't finish the thought for fear he'd consider that she presumed too much.
He put his hands in the back pockets of his trousers, pinned her with a hard stare, and rocked back on his heels, seemingly older than his thirty-nine years and taller than his six feet three inches. “So caring? Is that what you couldn't bring yourself to say?”
Perhaps it was the empty house, a place that did not yet seem hers, or maybe it was the man himself, big, powerful, never obvious, and always unreadable. Was it because she didn't know him that she was unwilling to divulge her true feelings? She didn't answer his question directly. “I try not to be presumptuous.”
“I don't play games with women, Lacette. I care about you now and have for some time. Let's get going. I want to be at work by ten-thirty.”
She didn't know what to make of him and said as much. “You say that as if you don't care whether you get a response.”
His right shoulder moved in a quick, reflexive shrug. “I certainly didn't intend to give that impression. I don't beg, and I won't try to influence your feelings; you offer what you have to give, and if it's what I need, I accept it. If it isn't, I go on my way. Life has given me a lot of lessons, some of them pretty harsh, and if I've learned anything, it's that feelings can't be mined, milked, or forced. I've also learned patience, but I have to hurry.” He took her hand. “Let's go.”
 
 
“Now, that is
some
man,” Nan said to Lacette when she returned to Nan's house for her car. “Sure he ain't married?”
Lacette sipped coffee and grimaced. It was not only cold but too strong. She said no when Nan asked if she would like it heated, because she didn't want to add to Nan's workload. “He said he wasn't.”
Nan wiped her hands on her apron and sealed a jar of the peach preserves that brought in a part of her livelihood. “Maybe he ain't now, but I bet he has been. Not that it's terribly important, but I'd sure ask him if he's ever been married.”
“I missed my chance. He's not married now, and that's what matters.”
“Unless he got a bunch of kids somewhere.”
She rose from the table, glad to leave the unpleasant coffee behind. “I'll bear that in mind, Auntie. Come see me soon as you can.”
The doorbell rang, and Nan rushed to answer it. “”Well, hi, Kellie. It isn't often that I get a visit from you. Come on in, child. Lacette's just leaving.”
“Hi, Auntie,” Kellie said, brushing past Nan. “Oh, there you are,” she said to Lacette. “What have you got to say for yourself
this
time?”
Lacette resisted the temptation to aggravate Kellie, which would be easy enough, considering her sister's weakness where men were concerned. “I suppose you want to ask me about Douglas, but I can't help you, Kellie. I didn't know you knew him.”
“You didn't have to know. I wish you'd stop tailing after every man who pays attention to me.”
Lacette rubbed her chin as if to appear thoughtful. “I don't know what you're talking about. I got the impression that Douglas dislikes you, and rather intensely, too.”
“What do you expect him to say, for Pete's sake? We're sisters. Are you going to be living with him?”
“Heavens, no. Besides, he hasn't asked me. I'm moving into my own house, and the beauty of it is that I will be
by myself
.”
“How many bedrooms do you have?”
“Just enough for myself. I am not going to have a roommate. Never!”
“Are you seeing Douglas Rawlins? Don't lie, now.”
Anger furled up in her, and she struggled to control its manifestations. “Kellie,” she said between clenched teeth, “since I don't fear you or anything you could do or say to me, why would I lie to you? Beginning now, be a little more careful about the way you speak to me. Got that?” She put an arm around Nan, kissed her and walked out.
“What got into her?” she heard Kellie ask their aunt as if she hadn't been provocative. “Just because she's got a house—”
 
 
“Can it, Kellie. That man is nothing to you, never has been and never will be, but you can't stand to see Lacette have a thing. Whatever she's got, you have to have it, and you ruin it and throw it away as soon as you get it. You've been like that since before you could walk. That is one man your tricks won't work with.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Enough. He had breakfast over here this morning. I paid careful attention to him, and I know a man when I see one.” Nan went back to the kitchen and her preserves and began to heat paraffin to coat the tops of the jars. She put lids on the ones sold in stores, but she'd learned that people who shopped at country markets preferred jars of preserves topped with wax. “Assures them that it's homemade,” one greengrocer told her.
Kellie followed her to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, took out a plastic bag filled with biscuits and sat down. “Mind if I heat some of these in the toaster?”
“Course not.”
Lacette has never opened my refrigerator,
Nan thought, reflecting on the difference between the sisters.
Kellie savored a biscuit. “How come you never remarried, Aunt Nan? You're still cute, and men love short women better than tall ones like Lacette and me. I heard Daddy tell Mama that you got thoroughly loused up when you married Lim Parks. Is that right?”
“Lim was a wonderful man, but he had a fault I couldn't stand. If I had stayed with him, I'd probably be panhandling out there in Courthouse Square by now. I'd been married to him nearly two years before I realized he was addicted to gambling. We were supposed to be living on his salary and saving mine to buy a house.”
Years had passed, but the pain of it still brought tears to her eyes. “I stumbled on our tax returns—he handled all our finances—and saw where he reported no income from interest, stocks, or bonds. I got suspicious, called the bank and asked for the balance in our savings account. Fifty measly little dollars. Just enough to keep the account open. No stocks and no bonds. The stockbroker said we didn't have no account. I looked in the checkbook and saw payments to people I didn't know and called one of them. The man hurled all kinds of nastiness at me. I'd never had anybody talk to me that way. He cursed me and said we owed him almost fifty thousand dollars. When I asked him why, he said he paid off Lim's gambling debt, and he wanted his money.
“Well, honey, I never said a word to Lim about it that night, but the next day, he come home to an empty house. I packed my things, wrote him a note, and shook the Raleigh, North Carolina, dust off my feet. Marshall sent me the money, and I stayed with him and Cynthia till I got a job. That's it. I been wary of men ever since. They been around, but I like things just the way they is. Me, myself, and I in my house that
I
worked for.”
“You could have found a guy you wanted and lived with him long enough to know what he was like, couldn't you?”
“That ain't my style. I ain't shifting from man to man like a honeybee doing his thing in a garden full of clover. No, thank you. I'm happy with things like they are.”
She noticed Kellie's discomfort, didn't wonder at it, because she knew. She'd seen Kellie get out of Hal Fayson's pickup truck and his van, too. What a girl with Kellie's background was doing with Hal Fayson would probably make a good story for the local papers. If she didn't have to get her preserves ready for Tuesday sales, she'd ask her. She had a good mind to do it anyway.
“I'd better be going, Auntie. Mama wants me to get some things from the country market. Thanks for the biscuits.”
Nan put half a dozen biscuits in a bag. “Here, take these with you.”
Kellie thanked her and headed home, but Nan noticed her niece's contemplative, almost depressed mood, so unlike her.
Wonder when her bubble will burst. When it does, there's gonna be one great big stink.
BOOK: Whatever It Takes
7.18Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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