Lilly

by Madelyn Bennett Edwards

  The next day Marianne came over for coffee before daylight. Lilly had slept at her house and she'd called to tell me so I wouldn't worry.

  "She'll be fine. It's time this secret came out. Can you tell me what prompted it?" Marianne took a long sip of her coffee and looked at me out the tops of her eyes. I pulled Rodney's letter from the pocket of my robe. I'd slept with it all night and had read it so many times the paper was wrinkled, the ink smudged, and the words memorized.

  I handed it to Marianne and she read it without looking up. "Well, now you have to tell Rodney."

  "He'll know as soon as he meets Lilly." I stirred my coffee for the umpteenth time. It was cold when I took the first sip.

  "Maybe you should write him, tell him in advance. Maybe you should tell the Thibaults."

  "I want to tell Rodney first. I think, deep inside, I've always wanted to tell him before I told anyone, even Lilly, or you, or Sissy. But it hasn't worked out that way. I think he deserves to know before anyone else finds out. I hope you and Sissy will honor that and not tell anyone until I can tell him."

  "Where is he?" She turned the letter over as though looking for an address.

  "I'm not sure. I didn't look at the return address." I got up and went into the living room and found the envelope on the coffee table, where I must have dropped it when I pulled the letter out. "Oh my God!" I shouted. Marianne came rushing to me. "He's in Brooklyn. Brooklyn, New York at Fort Hamilton."

  April 3, 1984

  Dear Rodney,

  I'm sorry it's taken me so long to respond to your letter. To begin with, it shocked me and took a while to digest. Now that I've had time to think about things, I realize there's too much to say in a letter. I will be in New York next week and wonder whether we could meet in person. I have an apartment in Manhattan, or we can meet at a restaurant, although I think our conversation should be private.

  Let me know if you are agreeable to seeing me and I'll send you all the details.

  Always,

  Susie

  April 6, 1984

  Dear Susie,

  I'll meet with you anywhere, anytime. Just tell me when and where and I'll be there.

  Can't wait.

  Yours forever,

  Rodney

  I didn't tell Lilly I was meeting with Rodney. I was afraid. What if he became angry and didn't want to meet her? If that happened she would think he didn't want her. What if he didn't want her? What ifs were crawling around my brain at warp speed and I knew I had to tell him first and let him get used to the idea before I introduced them. It was only fair.

  On Tuesday, Joe came to get Lilly to spend a few days with him and his family. Lilly and I had patched things up and had talked through things ad nauseam. I'd answered all her questions, explained race relations in the ‘60s, my dad's political position, and the dangers that Rodney and his family had been in. She had a difficult time understanding the kind of prejudice that controlled the South. She'd been raised in New York where there was no Ku Klux Klan or Jim Crow laws, where miscegenation never existed, where she lived a life of privilege. And although things had changed in Jean Ville—the schools were integrated, the “Whites Only” signs were gone, blacks could eat in restaurants, get rooms in hotels, and ride on any train car—they hadn't changed enough. Lilly and I didn't live there. We only visited on holidays and during the summers and spent most of our time with Tootsie’s family in the Quarters.

  Lilly wasn't angry anymore, but she still seemed eager to get away from me and be with Joe. When I asked her how long she planned to stay with his family she said, "I'll call you when I'm ready to come back. Maybe when it's time to start school."

  Wednesday morning I called the phone number Rodney had sent me. I had a meeting scheduled at Shilling, but I wasn't sure about Rodney's work schedule.

  "Hi. It's me," I said when he answered the phone. I took a deep breath and tried to prepare myself to hear his voice but still, when he spoke, it took the wind out of me and I had to sit down in the chair at the breakfast table.

  "Hi, yourself. It's so good to hear from you. How are you?" His voice was still low, raspy, sexy, and familiar, as if he'd spoken to me every day for the past ten years.

  "I'm fine." Something caught in my throat and I tried to swallow but couldn't. I tried to speak, but words were stuck somewhere in my chest. "Uhm…"

  "Are you in Manhattan? When can I see you?"

  "Yes. I'm here. Uhm. I have a meeting with my publisher. Uhm. When are you, uhm, free?"

  "Lunch?"

  "Can we make it closer to dinner?" I was thinking that if we met for lunch and he had to get back to work that wouldn't give us much time. "Maybe you could come over and we can get take out?"

  "Sure. Five? Is that too early?"

  "No. I mean yes. I mean no, it's not too early. Yes, five is fine." I had to hang up before I threw up. I felt frightened in a way I couldn't remember feeling since I'd waited for Rodney to show up in Washington, DC. I put the receiver back on the hook and stared at the phone as if Rodney might come flying out of it into my apartment.

  I took a long shower, washed and dried my hair, dressed in a business suit, low-heeled pumps, pearls, and a smart handbag. I went to Mr. Mobley's office at Shilling and met with the marketing team and learned that The Catfish Stories had exceeded expectations and there was a plan for another print run and distribution to all the bookstore chains in the country. We talked about the book signings that Billy and Cynthia had scheduled for me throughout New York and New Jersey over the next month.

  "We might look at international sales at the end of the year if the book does well on the retail shelves," Mobley said. "I sure wish you'd come back to work here and find more of these types of books for us. Surely there are other nonfiction authors writing new and different narratives that appeal to the general reader."

  "I'm honored that you would want me back, but my life is too full right now. I'm raising a teenager, spending a quarter of the year in Louisiana, and writing another book." I smiled at Mobley and he nodded as if he knew what my answer would be.

  He asked if I'd like to have lunch with him at his club but I declined. I needed the afternoon to prepare myself, to go over what I would say to Rodney, to think, to obsess, to drive myself crazy.

  I went shopping and bought Lilly some new school clothes, although she didn't like it when I chose things for her. I needed something to do to fill the time, and I reasoned with myself that we would have fun exchanging them if they didn't suit her.

  I stopped at the bakery and got a freshly baked loaf of French bread and two individual cheesecakes in small pie tins. I went to the local deli near my building and bought cheese and a couple of bottles of wine. Then I dropped in at the Brasserie and asked for a menu. I told the hostess I would be calling to order dinner and someone would come down to pick it up. She knew me from the many times I'd been in there and said "No problem." I went up to my apartment, put everything away, and had nothing to do for an hour.

  I changed into jeans and a silk blouse that buttoned up the front. It was a blush color, and I knew it looked good on me and hung from my shoulders to the top of the zipper on my jeans in just the right way. I brushed my hair 100 strokes until it was shiny and almost red. I brushed my teeth, reapplied lip gloss, twice, sprayed perfume on my cleavage and behind my ears, and then I paced.

  Finally, the doorman buzzed from downstairs and said I had a guest, "A Major Thibault, Ma'am."

  "Please send him up, Joseph." I opened the door to the hallway, then closed it. I waited in the foyer inside my apartment, then went into the living room so I wouldn't open the door too quickly when he rang the doorbell. I was so nervous that I went back into the foyer and opened the door to peek into the hall. The elevator door opened and Rodney stepped off wearing his dress blues, his hat under his arm, looking more handsome than I remembered.

  Beyond my memories and even dreams of how handsome Rodney was, this creature standi
ng in the hall staring at me was the most majestic, elegant, beautiful man I'd ever seen.

  He walked up to me and our toes almost touched. Neither of us spoke. We simply drank in each other's presence and tasted the other's aura. I couldn't move. He reached his hand out and touched the side of my arm and I quivered all over. I felt goose bumps crawl up my back and onto my neck. My mouth went dry and I could

  ago at the airport in Baton Rouge when I left him behind, thinking we would meet in DC the following week to marry me.

  I'm not sure how long we stood there with his hand on my arm and my feet glued to the travertine floor. What happened next seemed automatic, unplanned but natural. Both of my arms lifted as though they belonged to another body and they landed on Rodney's shoulders and my hands folded around his neck. He bent his head and when his lips pressed against mine my knees gave way and I slid, but he caught me and lifted me off the floor like a bride, carried me into the foyer, and shut the door with his foot. I heard his hat hit the floor and wasn't aware of anything else as he carried me to the sofa and gently lay me down.

  He sat beside me, his butt near my waist, his hands on either side of my head. My arms were still around his neck and he kissed me again, with a passion and intensity I had forgotten existed. His tongue lightly touched the back of my teeth and I sucked in as if I could drink him, all of him, and swallow him so I'd never have to let him go again.

  It all happened so fast and was so intense that later, as we lay naked in my huge bed and he stroked my hair and blew his warm breath in my ear, I marveled at the peace I felt. There was no guilt or remorse. I wasn't embarrassed or ashamed. I was happy and content as though I was exactly where I was always meant to be.

  No words had been spoken. Not one.

  As we lay there blissfully happy, I was no longer afraid to tell him the truth. I knew, in my knowing, that he loved me beyond measure and would forgive my mistakes in judgment.

  So I told him about Lilly.

  I told him about being pregnant and afraid. I told him about Josh and how he was with me during my pregnancy but left because he realized I could never love him like I loved Rodney.

  I explained everything—about how, after Rodney decided not to come to New York to marry me I was so devastated I didn't know where to turn, and that somehow I felt God took me to the home of Joe and Emalene Franklin where I met and fell in love with Lilly.

  I explained it all. I left nothing out because I knew now was the time for honesty and that I could never go back and say, “Oh, I forgot this part.”

  Every now and then, Rodney would touch my shoulder or kiss my forehead or blow his warm breath on the side of my face or push his fingers through my hair as he lay on his side resting on his elbow, his chin in his palm and his leg across mine. I was on my back and often stared at the ceiling as I talked. From time to time, he'd put his fingers under my chin and turn my head so I would look at him and he would mouth "I love you," kiss me lightly, and I would go on explaining.

  "And she's wonderful, Rod. You will love her. She looks like you and she has your disposition. She's kind and sweet and beautiful. No, she's gorgeous. And she's smart. Do I sound like a doting mother?"

  "Yes, and I love it. I love that you love our daughter. I love that you think she's special."

  "She is special. You'll see. Everyone thinks so, not just me." I looked at him and felt like a little girl trying to convince my daddy I was telling the truth. Rodney laughed at me and kissed me, and pulled me to him and we made love slowly and passionately, and honestly.

  And I felt like a whole person for the first time in a very long time.

  *

  I called Joe at work the next day, after Rodney went back to the base. I told him that I’d met with Rodney and told him everything and that he wanted to meet Lilly. I asked Joe if he could prepare Lilly for me.

  "I'd like to meet him first, Susie. I mean, she's my daughter, and I should know him, right?"

  "Absolutely, Joe." When we hung up I called Rodney and asked whether he could have lunch with Joe that day. Joe didn't want me there and I felt I needed to respect his wishes so it would be just the two of them, men talk.

  I was nervous as I watched the clock from noon until two o'clock when the phone finally rang. It was Joe asking if he could come over. Now I was really nervous about what had happened. I tried to call Rodney but he wasn't in, so I paced until I met Joe in the hall as he got off the elevator. At first glance, I could tell that everything was okay.

  Joe sat on the sofa and I stood, wringing my hands.

  "He's great, Susie. I mean, I'm really impressed with Rodney and, to be honest, I didn't want to like him. Competition, I guess." Joe told me he was totally taken by Rodney's honesty, sensitivity, and his desire to know Lilly.

  "He told me that I would always be Lilly's daddy; that he could not replace those fifteen years. He said he would accept any relationship that worked for Lilly—uncle, big brother, cousin. He said that Lilly was the most important person in this equation and we should all be sensitive to her feelings. He's quite a special man, Susie. I guess I should have known he would be exceptional if you loved him enough to have his child and protect him and his family the way you did."

  "Is that how you see it, Joe? That I protected him? I feel like I've been dishonest with everyone." I could feel tears start to sting my eyes and I tried to hold them back. It meant a lot that Joe didn't think I was some awful liar who did what I did for selfish reasons.

  "Of course. And it's how I've explained things to Lilly. I told her that you could have had an abortion and that would have made your life a lot easier. I told her you couldn't tell anyone about being pregnant, much less pregnant by a Negro, because the Klan had almost succeeded in killing Rodney's dad and brother and almost got Rodney, just because they knew the two of you had been together. So had they found out you were pregnant with Rodney’s child… well, it's hard for her to understand that kind of hatred and bigotry, but she's a smart girl, and I think she's coming around."

  "How should they meet? I mean, what do I do?"

  "It's not up to you anymore. It's up to Rodney and Lilly. Just invite him to your apartment after Lilly gets back. Make sure they both know the other will be there. No surprises. They deserve honesty from you; that's all you owe them now."

  Joe finished his coffee and got up to leave. He hugged me and told me to stop worrying, because everything would work out. I tried to heed his advice but I was a wreck by the time Rodney came over after work. I fell into his arms and shook and cried and he held me and kissed my hair and rubbed my back and said all the right things.

  We had dinner downstairs at the Four Seasons and I told him Lilly would be home the next day. I asked if he was ready to meet her.

  "I can't wait to meet her. Joe says she's exceptional. That makes two of you, so far. He's a good man, and I feel lucky you found him to be Lilly's dad."

  "I haven't talked to Lilly about meeting you, yet. Joe is going to pave the way, so I'm not sure whether she's ready. Will your feelings be hurt if she wants to wait?"

  "Of course not. We need to take this at her pace. But just so you know, I've taken the rest of the week off, and I'm at your disposal." He picked up my hand that he'd been holding on top of the table and kissed the tips of my fingers. I felt chills run down my spine and between my legs. I was still amazed by the visceral reaction I had to Rodney's touch.

  We talked about other things besides Lilly and how much we still loved each other, but we didn't talk about the future of our relationship. I guess we both felt a lot depended on Lilly's reaction to Rodney.

  I told him about my meeting with Mr. Mobley and that the book’s sales were going well. I also told him about a phone call I'd had from my attorney, Mr. Milton, who said there was oil on the property in Texas that Josh left me and the royalties were being deposited in my bank account every month.

  "When he told me my bank balance I almost fainted." I didn't look a
t Rodney because I was afraid he would be turned off by all of my news of book sales and oil wells.

  "I'm thinking about building a wing on the hospital in Jean Ville in Josh's name, a center for cleft lip and pallet surgery for underprivileged kids. Mr. Milton thinks we should call it The Ryan Center."

  "Wow. That's a phenomenal idea, and a good use of the income from the oil." Rodney was still holding my hand and I finally looked at him. He was smiling, not turned off in the least.

  I told him that Mr. Milton said it was essential to find a corporate lawyer in Louisiana to handle my affairs since the Ryan Center would be in there.

  "'Louisiana’s laws are unusual,' Milton told me. 'They still adhere to Napoleonic laws, so you need an attorney who is versed in legal matters in that state.' You know anyone who fits that bill?" I smiled at Rodney, and he nodded, then kissed my hand.

  Rodney said he had passed the Louisiana bar exam after he graduated from law school. He agreed to meet with Mr. Milton to discuss the legalities of building the center.

  Rodney's brain turned me on as much as his body did, and by the time we made love that night I surrendered completely to him. No secrets. He even loved me after he discovered I was wealthy.

  The only thing standing in our way now was Lilly.

  *

  She came home about midday Thursday and threw herself in my arms as though we hadn't seen each other in years. She told me how much she missed me and loved me, and how she hated being away from me.

  "Susie, I'm sorry I've been so obstinate about Rodney and you not telling me. Daddy explained and, really, I don't understand how people could be the way they were, but I get it. I mean I do see why you couldn't tell me. I guess I still don't understand why you couldn't tell Rodney."

  "I sometimes don't understand what that eighteen-year-old girl was thinking when she believed he shouldn't know. I was so afraid the Klan would kill him or a member of his family and it would be my fault. All I can say is, if it was a mistake, I am really sorry. I'm not eighteen anymore. Maybe today I would make a different decision."