A Love of Her Own

by Bettye Griffin

  Hilton had gone too long without a woman, but he could wait, for he wanted no one but her. And he considered that by the time she relented—and he was sure she would relent—perhaps they’d both be in love. There was no denying that his feelings for her were strong and getting stronger each time he saw her.

  This time he would not be fooled. He wanted an open and honest relationship with a special woman. His days of being used were over.

  Chapter 11

  By five-thirty on New Year’s Day Ava’s home was teeming with guests. Officially her open house was in effect from four to seven, but it was usually after nine by the time the lasts guests departed.

  The men gathered in the living room, where they watched college football on television. The women stood in groups in the dining room and by the stairs, talking as they ate, often with one eye on their smaller children who played nearby. The older ones were upstairs in what Ava now thought of as Marcus’s room. She made it a point to go up every fifteen minutes or so to make sure they were behaving, but then Catherine arrived with her teenaged daughter, Erica, who volunteered to go up and supervise them.

  Ava relaxed a little after that. She focused her attention on the buffet that had been set up on the dining room table. By tradition the women brought an appetizer or side item and the men brought liquor. The fact that most of her circle of friends were couples, married or just dating, meant they showed up with one of each. Ava, as the hostess, had provided a six-foot submarine sandwich stuffed with turkey, ham, roast beef and Provolone cheese, with the fixings, like shredded lettuce, sliced tomato, sliced black olives, onion and various types of peppers, as well as mustard and mayonnaise, in chilled bowls, as well as a non-alcoholic punch and bourbon-laced eggnog.

  Ava had chosen to do her annual holiday entertaining on New Year’s Day because she knew it was the best possible choice for her emotionally. She enjoyed seeing how the children of her friends were maturing, and on this day she could without that wistful feeling getting hold of her. She knew that among today’s children were the leaders and great minds of tomorrow, and wouldn’t it be wonderful if somewhere among these youngsters was a future President or other person of accomplishment?

  Her spirits were up, as they always were on New Year’s Day, at both the hope and promise of a new year and the relief at having survived another difficult holiday season.

  Kendall and Spencer left at nine-thirty, leaving only Hilton and Marcus home with Ava. By then Marcus, with no more playmates, had come downstairs. An unusually affectionate Kendall, possibly buoyed by the several glasses of spiked eggnog she’d consumed, gave Marcus a crushing embrace. “So long, cutie pie. I hope I see you again.”

  “Oh, you will,” Ava assured her. She tried not to laugh at Marcus’s look of bewilderment at practically being smothered by a friend of his Aunt Ava’s who wasn’t nearly as friendly when he first met her just hours earlier.

  “She’s deep,” he remarked after the Barneses left.

  “You have to excuse her. She’s usually a little more refined,” Ava said.

  “Too much celebrating between last night and tonight,” Hilton observed. He put an arm around Marcus’s shoulder. “C’mon, Sport, let’s help with the clean-up.”

  “You were real good with the kids, Marcus,” Ava said as they cleared the table. “Erica said you had everything under control and she barely had to open her mouth when the younger kids started getting rambunctious.”

  “Oh, I’m used to it. I’m the oldest grandchild in my family, and I’m always in charge of my si—of my cousins. Hey, you want me to pick up glasses and stuff from the living room?”

  “Good idea. Bring them to us in the kitchen.”

  Ava sighed as she and Hilton moved into the kitchen with the leftovers. “I’m really going to miss that kid when he’s gone.”

  “It’s not like you’re never going to see him again, Ava. You two have formed too close a bond for that to happen.”

  “Yes, I know, but it won’t be the same.”

  “Sounds like you’ve gotten attached.”

  “I know I have.”

  She sensed he had moved behind her even before she felt his arms wrap around her waist.

  “That’s perfectly understandable,” he said softly, his lips mere inches from her ear. “But you don’t want to let it get out of hand. He does have family taking care of him, even if it’s the most dismal and crowded surroundings.” Ava had told him there had been a fire and that the Hudson family was living in much smaller quarters temporarily but, keeping her promise to Marcus, had not disclosed that it was a single room at The Avalon. “His relationship with you is the icing on the cake. No child can have too many people love him.” He nuzzled her neck for a delicious moment, then said, “I’ve watched you with him. You are going to be one fabulous mother when your time comes. And that’s who you’ll want to get attached to, your own.”

  Swallowing hard, she took his hands and removed them from her waist. “We’d better not let Marcus catch us in a clinch.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with him seeing us show affection for each other, Ava. He probably hasn’t seen much fondness between men and women in his life. His grandparents are probably like most older folks and aren’t very demonstrative, and I know he’s never seen his parents together. He told me he doesn’t even know who his father is.”

  “He told you that?”

  “While we were working. We’ve gotten pretty tight, too.”

  His words came out clipped and impersonal; he might as well have been talking to a stranger. Ava knew he was hurt by her abrupt termination of their embrace, and probably from what he perceived as a rebuff of his advances last night, but given the circumstances, what else could she do? She simply couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth, but it was tearing her apart.

  She made an excuse. “I think I’m just a little tired, Hilton. It was a late night last night, and then the party today.”

  He followed her lead and continued to work in silence, but he asked himself if he could have imagined her being fond of him. Was he again involved in a one-sided attachment?

  No, he told himself. Ava’s interest in him was real. He hadn’t imagined the way she came alive in his arms, her eager response to his kisses. Her detachment had come in the last few days. Maybe she’d been put off by his own withdrawal after his dismal trip to Augusta. Or maybe she simply felt sad that her time with Marcus was coming to a close. He didn’t know how to handle the situation, other than to follow her lead and keep a little distance between them.

  It didn’t take long for the three of them to get the house in reasonable order. Hilton left immediately afterward, and his good nights to both Ava and Marcus sounded strained and unnatural, even to his own ears. In turn, Ava’s response seemed forced and stilted. He had the uncomfortable feeling that she couldn’t wait for him to leave.

  *****

  Ava told Marcus she was tired. She half expected not to be able to fool him, astute as he was, but she nonetheless wasn’t prepared for him to ask, “Are you and Mr. Hilton mad at each other?” with the same worried frown he had worn the night he asked if she was sending him back to his grandparents at The Avalon after Goodyear was arrested.

  “No, Marcus. We just had a…” her voice trailed off as she realized there was no way to accurately describe what had just occurred. She couldn’t describe it as a disagreement or even a difference of opinion, because Hilton had no idea what her opinion was. She had reacted by putting a wall around herself when he unwittingly made a comment she found unbearable, shutting him out and leaving him bewildered. There was no way she could explain that to Marcus…any more than she could explain it to Hilton.

  Alone in her room, for the first time she considered the feelings of the men she had dated since venturing back into the social scene a few years after her divorce. How must they have felt when she withdrew without warning or explanation? Each man—and there had only been a few—had tried to get her to open up and talk
about what was on her mind, but she had refused. Now she felt ashamed of her behavior. Those men had cared about her, and they deserved to know the truth. In a way her behavior was just as bad as Linda’s. Well, maybe not. She hadn’t fabricated a tale about being pregnant, couldn’t even imagine acting out such a scheme. Still, she was deliberately withholding information because she hated the mere thought of being rejected, pitied or being stared at like a sideshow freak.

  By the time she went to sleep, Ava had worked herself up into a very righteous mode of thinking. She was going to put an end to all of this foolishness and tell Hilton the truth about herself, and while she was at it she would also apologize for turning so cold on him.

  While she slept she had a familiar dream. She was queen to Hilton’s king—she was always the queen character, while whatever man she was seeing was the male monarch—in some remote, unidentified land where the people, blurry and faceless, wore plumes and powdered wigs. The subjects, angered at her inability to produce an heir, had gathered in the courtyard of the palace and were shouting, “Off with her head!” over and over. The mob overpowered the palace guards burst inside, tied Hilton up and captured her, carrying her to a dungeon and tying her to a flat surface. She woke up just before the blade of the guillotine slammed into her neck, her heart beating twice as fast as usual and her body damp with perspiration.

  *****

  Ava’s mood turned somber when, on Sunday evening after dinner, drove Marcus back to the hotel that was his home. She had her own car back by now, and he seemed mostly fascinated by the features of the dashboard than anything else, but she forcibly removed his hand from the instrument panel and placed it on the seat. “I hope you realize you’ve been given a second chance, Marcus. Everyone doesn’t get to have that. I hope you’ll stay out of trouble, because you probably won’t get a third chance. That thug you worked for may be dead, but there’ll be someone waiting to take his place. Just stay away from all of them, and you should be fine.”

  He nodded knowingly. “I know. You’re going to tell me to do good in school and stay away from downtown. Just like Mr. Hilton.”

  “Hilton spoke to you?”

  “Yeah. He wants me to keep working with him after school. He’s still gonna pay me twenty-five dollars a week, too, even though it’ll only be for a few hours. Hey! I forgot my lunch bag!”

  “Why don’t you stop by in the morning and get it on your way to school? I know it’s a few blocks out of your way, but I’ll pack you a really good lunch to make it worth your while.”

  “Deal! ‘Bye, Aunt Ava.” He kissed her cheek before getting out of the car. Having him leave her with a smile on his face somehow made it easier.

  After she watched him disappear inside the doors of the hotel she immediately drove to the supermarket to get the fixings for his lunch. When she returned home she saw Hilton’s Pathfinder parked in front of her house, and she could see his large outline as he sat on the porch railing.

  She slowly moved up the front walk. This was the first she’d heard of him since their little tiff the other night. She hoped he hadn’t come with the intent of having a showdown; frankly, she wasn’t up to it. “Hi!”

  He stood with his feet slightly wider than his hips, his hands in his pockets. “Hi. I thought I’d come by and make sure you were all right. I had a hunch you might need some cheering up after bringing Marcus home.”

  “That was sweet, but I’m all right, really. Marcus is going to come by tomorrow before school and pick up his lunchbox. He left it here, so I told him I’ll make his lunch.” An idea occurred to her. “Actually, I don’t see why I can’t do that for him every day.”

  “Sounds like a good idea. It’ll make him feel special.”

  “It’ll also give him at least one good meal a day.” She climbed the porch steps and fished in her purse for her house keys. “He told me he’s going to keep working with you. That was really sweet of you to make that offer, Hilton. It’ll keep him busy and out of trouble…but I’m sure that was your intent, wasn’t it?”

  Hilton chuckled. “Why don’t you come for a ride with me?” It won’t take long.”

  She nodded. “All right. I just need a minute to put this food away.”

  *****

  Hilton had driven less than a mile when he pulled over in front of a gold Queen Anne with a brown trim. “Is this your place?” she asked.

  “This is it. I think it’s high time I brought you here. Come on in.”

  Ava walked inside, and her eyes widened. The luminous walnut woodwork of the staircase really wasn’t a surprise; given his carpentry skills she would expect no less. What did come as a surprise was the appearance of what was meant to be the living room, which instead of actual furniture was full of wood planks of various shapes and sizes leaning against the wall, plus a work table equipped with a saw, drill, other tools and large cans of polyurethane and wood staining fluid.

  “You can see why I didn’t invite you over sooner,” Hilton said, a tad sheepishly. “My plan is to move all this stuff into the garage, but I need to do some work out there first. Marcus will help me with that. But this is actually what I wanted to show you.” He walked over to the wall and picked up an oak-stained strip leaning against it, about two feet long and eighteen inches deep. One side had the original sharp edges intact, the other side had been gently rounded.

  Ava was confused. “It’s a piece of wood,” she observed. “It would make wonderful shelving…” her voice trailed off as something clicked in her brain. Her eyes met his for confirmation of what she was thinking. “Oh, Hilton, it’s lovely. But we never got around to discussing it officially.”

  “You told me what kind of wood you wanted. I took the measurements last week while you were fixing dinner. The only thing we didn’t do was discuss price, and that’s now a moot point, because it’s a gift.”

  “A gift?”

  “Yes. Pick one. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year…when’s your birthday, anyway?”

  “Not until September. Hilton…I don’t know what to say. Well, other than thank you.”

  He put the shelf down and approached her slowly. “Tell me I’m wonderful. That’ll do for starters.”

  She was only too happy to step into his arms. She loved how she had to stand on tiptoe to kiss him. “You’re wonderful,” she said breathlessly, accenting her words by planting a quick kiss on his lips.

  “That’s nice, too,” he murmured against her hair. His palms were firm against her back.

  “Seriously, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in a long time.”

  “People should be doing nice things for you all the time. It’s only fair that you get back what you give. You’re a very unselfish person, Ava. You deserve the best.”

  “Hmph. Tell that to my mother,” she said without thinking.

  He pulled back from her slightly so he could look at her. She could see the slight frown on his face. “Why, your mother doesn’t agree that you deserve the best?”

  “I didn’t really mean anything by that, other than my mother can be a very difficult woman, Hilton. That’s all.”

  The shrill ringing of the telephone spared her from having to make any further explanation of what was a sensitive topic for her. Hilton gently released her, then went to pick up the receiver of the phone on the corner of his work table. Almost immediately his tone began to sound guarded, giving Ava the uncomfortable feeling that she was eavesdropping. She retreated toward the front door and sat on the lower landing of the stairs to give him some privacy.

  He didn’t talk long. “I’m sorry about that,” he said after he had walked over to where she sat. He held out his hand. “Come on. I do have a chair for you to sit in. The dining room is actually serving as my living room, at least until I get the real one cleaned out.”

  “I’d like to see your house,” she remarked as he helped her up. It looks like it’s a lot bigger than mine. How many rooms do you have?”

  “Actually, I’ve never counted. T
hese old houses all have so many rooms. There are three bedrooms and a bath on the second floor and another room and bath on the third, plus a storage attic I can hardly get in to. It only has a four-foot ceiling.”

  “Wow. That’s a lot of space.”

  “One room is for my son, the other is for the other kids I’d like to have one day.” He grunted. “The traditional way, with a wife, not for a girlfriend to hold for ransom. Then there will be the room for mom and dad.” With a smile loaded with affection, he said, “I’m awfully glad you like kids, Ava.”

  His smile, so obviously meant just for her, coming right on the heels of his declaring how he wanted a wife and more children made Ava suddenly feel terribly guilty, like she was deliberately misleading him to think that she might be his Ms. Right. Tell him. It’s simple. Just say, ‘I’ve always loved kids. I consider myself having been cheated because I’m not able to have my own.

  “I’ve always loved kids,” she began, following the instructions of her conscience. She had her lips parted to say the last, difficult sentence when he spoke.

  “My son will be here the week after next.”

  “He will!”

  “That was his mother on the phone. She and her husband are taking a vacation down this way, and apparently he insists on seeing me instead of staying with her sister.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know his mother was married.”

  “She got married sometime last fall. I believe that’s part of the reason she didn’t let me see Max while I was there.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “For starters, she changed her telephone number after her wedding and didn’t tell me what it was. I had to literally show up on her doorstep when I got up there.”

  “You’re lucky she didn’t move.”

  “If she had, I really would have been in trouble. I’d probably still be looking for them. Her attitude seems to be that Max doesn’t need me, since he has a new daddy.”

  “A new daddy? That sounds like same line the public is fed on a television commercial. You know, ‘new and improved.’” Ava frowned. “But this isn’t Madison Avenue, it’s parenting. A stepparent just isn’t the same as a birth parent, unless maybe the birth parent is dead or otherwise permanently out of the picture. But if they’re around and actively involved, they’re not supposed to get dumped if parents re-marry. How would she feel if you did that to her?”