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Authors: Gwynne Forster

When You Dance With The Devil (Dafina Contemporary Romance) (24 page)

BOOK: When You Dance With The Devil (Dafina Contemporary Romance)
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“The person who gave you that tip is a worm. Is he or she in your department?”
“Absolutely. But not for long. I’d better get—”
“Please, Francine, don’t go back out there now. Call the police, but don’t go. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. I have to do my job, Richard.”
“Then take me with you. I’m as good a shot as you’ll find anywhere.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “That would be against the law, but thanks. How’d you learn to shoot so well and why?”
“Skeet shooting. I’m also an Olympian.”
“Hmm. Why doesn’t that surprise me? I’d better hurry. See you at supper.”
He held her arm, unwilling to countenance her going back to the beach alone. “Does that mean you are not going back to the beach tonight?”
“I’m not going back, but I have to alert my captain so that he can take the necessary measures. Thank you for caring.” She dashed up the stairs and left him standing there.
Now what? She was a professional, and he respected that, but knowing she could be in danger and unable to circumvent it went against his grain. He went back into the lounge and challenged Judd to a game of blackjack.
“So you aiming to take it out on me, are you?” Judd said. “You’d be better off throwing darts with Joe Tucker.”
“Aw, come on, Judd. It isn’t that bad.”
“It is so. It takes a tough man to love a woman like Francine. My wife was like her: soft and sweet, but strong and independent. She could change a tire quicker than I could, and she wasn’t afraid of anything. I never felt threatened by it. She loved me, and she was as soft as a ball of cotton in my arms. Francine will be like that; she’ll love you, but you’ll never be able to tell her what to do.”
He knew that, and he had to decide whether he could handle it. As things were going, the choice was being taken from him. He would support her in whatever she decided to do, but he was damned if he wanted a life in which fear drained the blood out of his body every time his woman left him. He picked up the hand of cards that Judd dealt him and looked at them.
“I should have been paying closer attention to you, Judd. I suspect you’re not above cheating me.”
“No, I’m not, but as long as there’s no money on the table, you can depend on m’honesty.”
Richard looked at his watch. “This hand’s useless. I’m going to wash up before dinner. I’ll bet you’ve got blackjack.”
Judd spread out his cards. “A joker and the ace of spades. See you later.”
 
 
Jolene walked into Harper’s hospital room that Friday evening with a bunch of pink roses and a pint of butter pecan ice cream. She didn’t know how to get his attention, for he sat in his wheelchair facing the window precisely as he had when she last visited him. She supposed he knew that she had a strong sense of guilt about him, and that she wanted him to know she was sorry and wished him well.
“Hi, Harper. I hope you don’t mind a little company for ten or fifteen minutes.”
He turned the wheelchair around to face the door. “Well, hi. I’d begun to think that after all you told me last time you were here, you weren’t coming back. Come on in. They took my neck brace off yesterday. See?”
She wanted to ask him if he had any visitors other than herself, but didn’t. Such a handsome man as Harper would have girlfriends. She sat in the one chair in his room, and he rolled his wheelchair to face her.
“Thanks for the flowers, and thanks for the others that you sent. They lasted a long time.” His gaze seemed to penetrate her, but she didn’t mind, for it bore no hostility. “You’re nice to come here to see me, Jolene. We didn’t part on good terms that night. I was hurt and angry and self-righteous and . . . I drove like a maniac. I also wasn’t nice the first time you came to see me, and I’m sorry about that.”
“I know, Harper, and it was all my fault.”
“How’s it your fault? I’m a grown man. Nobody made me drive like that on a road I’d never been on before. I knew better.”
But she didn’t feel absolved. “Like I said, I didn’t know how to treat people, but I’m learning. I’m still worried about . . . you know . . . I told you about the man who lives in the boarding house. His personality has changed. It’s as if he tries to shrivel up, as if he’d like to crawl into a hole and hide. He doesn’t talk to anyone, only eats his supper and goes to his room. I’d give anything if I could undo what I did, but I just couldn’t participate in that. He’s still mortified, and I don’t know how to help him.”
Harper shook his head as if perplexed. “That’s a tough one. One of the worst things that can happen to a man is to get that kind of proof that a woman doesn’t want him. You’re probably the first woman to tell him that he didn’t have any technique. Sounds to me as if he’s been seeing ladies of the evening.”
“The change in him is becoming obvious to all the boarders. I wish I could do something.”
“Well, if you can get him alone, tell him you hope he hasn’t told anybody about that incident, that you’re still embarrassed, and that you appreciate the fact that he was such a gentleman about it, or something like that. He was, you know. Some men would have forced you.”
She nearly laughed when she remembered what actually outraged Percy. “Maybe it was wasting his money that got to him at first. I offered to pay for the room, and he accepted that, but when he parked to let me out about a block from the boardinghouse, he seemed near tears and ordered me not to tell anyone about it. I assured him that I didn’t want anyone to know, either. I’ll do as you suggest.”
Her gaze fell on the bag in her hand. “Good grief, I forgot to give you this butter pecan ice cream.”
He reached for it. “I’ll take it. The last thing I’ll get in here will be ice cream.” She handed him the ice cream, a paper napkin and a plastic spoon. “I’d better be going. My landlady gets bent out of shape if any of us comes to supper late. She’s got more rules than a third grade teacher, but they make the boardinghouse a really nice place to live.” As she stood to leave, a tall, stately woman who she figured to be about sixty or sixty-five walked into the room.
“Hi, Mom. This is Jolene Tilman. Jolene, this is my mom, Louise Masterson.”
“How are you, Mrs. Masterson? I would have known you were Harper’s mother, if no one had told me. What a striking resemblance! I’m glad to meet you.”
“I’m glad to meet you, and I’m really happy to see that Harper has company. I live in Hyattsville, and I can’t get here every day.”
Jolene edged toward the door. “I’ll see you again, Harper. Good-bye, Mrs. Masterson.”
“Thanks for the flowers, and especially for this great ice cream. Bye.”
I can’t visit him too often
, she told herself.
I remember how he said he felt about me, and I don’t want to cause any more problems than I already have
. She hurried to the bus stop, and when she boarded, she dropped her money in the slot, said “Good afternoon,” to the driver, and made her way to the back of the bus.
I’m not getting friendly with any more men. If you say “Hi” to a man, he thinks you want to go out with him, and if you’re not friendly, he thinks you’re stuck up. I guess I would have learned all that if I had ever been a teenager
. She looked skyward. “Mama, you did a real job on me. You took away my youth, and I’m just learning what I should have known when I was sixteen. You got a lot to answer for.”
Jolene rushed into the boardinghouse at twenty minutes to seven and headed to her room to freshen up. She met Percy Lucas on the stairs and stopped, prepared to speak to him in the way Harper suggested, but when Percy saw her, he turned and went back up the stairs and on to his room.
Shaking her head, perplexed, Jolene said aloud, “I’ve got to do something about that man, but what?”
She looked up to see Francine walking toward her. “What’s wrong? Is something bothering you?” Francine asked her.
“Something is, but I have to work it out myself.” The warmth of Francine’s hand on her shoulder consoled Jolene, and she wanted to ask her help, but the thought of sharing that woeful experience with a woman as worldly as Francine embarrassed her.
“If you need a friend, I’m here. See you at supper.”
If she needed a friend? She’d never had a female friend, and after trying to make one of Vida, she wasn’t sure that having one was a good thing. Yet, it didn’t take a genius to know that gender was the only thing Vida and Francine had in common.
“Maybe we can have some coffee together after supper, Francine,” she said and continued to her room.
 
 
After supper, Jolene joined Francine in the lounge, and they sat at a small table beneath a painting of Mary McLeod Bethune. “I always admired this woman,” Francine said, pointing to the portrait. “She founded Bethune-Cookman College in Daytona Beach over a hundred years ago, and it exists and thrives today. Gender and race didn’t prevent her from making a contribution to her people and from earning a name for herself.”
“I wish I could do something like that, Francine. I had so much fun helping Richard and Gregory with the children in the computer class at the library tonight. If I had a college degree, I could do things.”
“In four years or less, you can have one. Why not go for it?”
“I was just going to take some courses, but I think I’ll register for a degree. There’s so much I don’t know, and I keep learning by making mistakes, hurting people, and myself.”
Francine accepted the cappuccino that Rodger offered, sprinkled it with cinnamon and sugar and took a sip. “Ahh, this is great. Thanks, Rodger.” To Jolene, she said, “No matter how many books you read or how many lectures you attend, the only way you’re going to learn about life is by living. Oh, the books and lectures help you to reason and to chart your course, but the loyalty of a friend or the kiss of a man who truly loves you are lessons you never forget.” Jolene toyed absent-mindedly with the lemon meringue pie, one of her favorite desserts, thinking of Percy and the unpleasant lesson that flirting with him and trying to use him had taught her.
“What’s troubling you, Jolene? Can I help?”
“I don’t know. What I did was so awful that I’m embarrassed to tell you about it, but I have to find a way to make amends.”
“Is there a man involved?”
“Yes. It . . . uh happened about three months after I moved here.” With effort, she forced herself to tell Francine about instigating a tryst with Percy Lucas and about the outcome. “I feel as if I’ve damaged him irreparably. He almost met me on the stairs tonight, and turned and went back to his room. I’m so sorry about the mess I made. He’d never said a word to me or done anything to deserve it.”
“You act as if what you did is equivalent to murder; well, it isn’t. You had just learned that you have some power over men and you decided to test it. That happens to most girls when they’re teenagers. You’re a late bloomer. Write him a nice letter telling him how you feel about it, how much you appreciate his gentlemanly behavior, and send him some flowers. He’ll be delighted, and he will probably bounce out of his depression, or whatever it is that ails him.”
Jolene rubbed her hands together, smiling as she did so. “A letter. Why didn’t I think of that? Thanks so much, Francine. Lord, I hope it works, and I hope he likes roses.”
“While we’re at it, Jolene, there’re two sides to this man-woman business. You mustn’t flirt if you’re not going to follow through and keep your promise, and you never make love with a man on his terms. You do that if and when
you
want to. For me, I have to know that the man loves me. I know that’s old-fashioned, but I won’t give myself to the care of a man who doesn’t think I’m precious to him.”
“But suppose you want to and he doesn’t love you. Then what?”
Laughter rippled out of Francine. “I deny myself, and I suffer.”
Jolene followed Francine’s gaze to Richard Peterson.
Ah, so Richard and Francine were at a standoff, because Richard wasn’t in love. If I’d had that much sense, I never would have gone to bed with Harper, and he probably wouldn’t be in that wheelchair.
“What if you’re in love with him?” she asked Francine, sensing the answer.
“I am, but I’m a disciplined person, and I don’t let my vagina make important decisions for me. If the guy doesn’t love me, we can be friends, but we definitely won’t be in the same bed simultaneously. Period.”
“But—”
Francine interrupted her. “It isn’t difficult, Jolene. Stand your ground. If you give in, you won’t be happy. Men will take what comes easily, but most of them won’t value it.” She threw up her hands. “My Lord, Jolene, to have a man who loves you and will worship every centimeter of skin on your body and every inch of the inside of you he can reach . . . I get practically unconscious thinking about it. I mean, if that’s not heaven on earth, what is?”
Jolene wouldn’t have believed that Francine would discuss anything so personal. Both simple and sophisticated, the woman fascinated her. “If you loved him, too,” she said. “I’m sure it would be heaven. Thanks for talking with me, Francine. You’ve taught me more than you can guess. I’m going to write that letter to Percy before I go to bed. Good-night.” Her cellular phone rang as she reached the top of the stairs.
BOOK: When You Dance With The Devil (Dafina Contemporary Romance)
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