by Francis Ray
Hope flittered through her. “Then…then you do believe me?”
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have taken your case. Are you in New Orleans?”
“I never made it,” she said. “My car broke down, but I got a job outside Shreveport.”
“Good. Give me the phone number. I’ll keep you posted on how things progress. Since there’s no community property, we’re probably looking at forty-five to sixty days.”
“I only want my freedom,” Lilly said, then gave him the phone number.
“I’ll be in touch.”
Lilly hung up the phone, trembling not with fear this time but with fury. Myron had destroyed her dreams; now he wanted to destroy the reputation she’d tried so hard to build. This time she’d fight. He’d taken the last thing from her.
Picking up the folder, she started reading through it again. She could do this for one simple reason. She had no choice.
Pick your battles.
Mother Crawford had always maintained that people who were smart chose when to walk and when and if they took a stand. Lilly could only hope that she had chosen the right time because, before another day came, she was going to clean Dr. Wakefield’s room.
“Where do you want your dining table?”
“What?” Adam asked, guarding the entrance to his room Tuesday afternoon.
“Your dining table,” Lilly explained. If they were going to normalize his routine as Mrs. Parker had suggested, he needed to eat at a table, and not on the bed or floor. “It’s about the height and width of a card table, except this one is inlaid and has scalloped sides. By the balcony would be nice so you can catch the breeze and hear the birds singing.”
Adam’s face turned mutinous. “I don’t want any more furniture in here.”
Lilly wasn’t surprised by his answer. She hadn’t expected him to like anything else getting in his way, but she had also thought of a way of getting around any objections. “Your mother sent it. I’m sure she’s going to ask about it when she calls tonight or tomorrow.”
“She’s going to call?”
“Wouldn’t you in her place? Where should I put it?”
Adam started to step back, then paused. Furrows raced across his forehead. “How heavy is the thing? Do you need to get Samuel?”
Surprised by his concern, Lilly blinked. “No. It’s not very heavy.”
“How heavy is not very?” he pressed.
“I’ve lifted grocery sacks that were heavier,” she told him truthfully. “Now where would you like for me to put it?”
“There’s an upholstered side chair by the door leading to the balcony.”
“Good choice.”
Placing the table in front of the chair, she left his room to get his tray. She set it on the table. “Roast turkey sandwich at twelve. Potato salad at six. Green salad at nine. Iced tea. I put your stereo control on the tray to your far left. The stereo is about forty-five degrees to the left of your table. Enjoy your lunch. Oh, yes, Odette said to leave room for dinner tonight. Chicken breasts stuffed with cornbread dressing.”
Adam closed the door. Carefully he made his way to the table, circled it, then sat down. Using his hands, he ran them across the sides of the table, then moved inward to find his napkin and flatware. He picked up his sandwich, bit, and chewed.
He was halfway through his meal before realizing his neck and back weren’t stiff from hunching over his plate and his butt didn’t hurt. He took another bite and leaned back in his chair without worrying about balancing the tray or spilling food. Maybe he’d call his mother tonight to tell her he appreciated her trusting him enough to go home and thank her for the table.
“I saw ants this morning in your room,” Lilly informed Dr. Wakefield the moment she picked up his dinner tray. She’d briefly spoken with Harriet by phone that morning, and the social worker had been very specific on being firm and consistent with Dr. Wakefield.
Folding his arms, Adam leisurely crossed his long legs at the ankles. He leaned back in his leather chair, more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. Stuffed probably. For the first time he hadn’t stood guard over the door. He was probably too full to move after eating two huge stuffed chicken breasts, a tossed green salad, four corn-bread muffins, and a huge chunk of German chocolate cake.
“There are no ants in here.”
His smug assurance, sitting there all clean in clothes she had washed and ironed, his belly full, irritated her no end. She and Odette worked hard to fix his meals. Men!
Dishes rattled as she plopped the tray back on the table. Grabbing his hand, she drew it toward the floor.
Immediately he stiffened and tried to pull away. “What are you doing?”
“Proving I’m no liar.”
He snatched his hand away. “Are you crazy or just sadistic?”
“You may want to live in an ant-infested room and I might consider letting you if I didn’t have to come in here.”
“That’s what you’re paid to do,” he snapped. She aggravated him no end.
“I’m also paid to clean this room and it’s not getting done.” She tried a new tact. “First ants, then roaches. I remember when I was in elementary school and one crawled into Deloris’ ear when she was in bed sleep—”
“There are no roaches in here!” he shouted.
More accustomed to his loud outbursts, she didn’t move a muscle. “Yet.”
“Well, clean the damn room.” He waited for her to say something to aggravate him again, but nothing came. Neither had she gone out the door. He always knew when she came and went. The scent of roses trailed in her wake.
His head twisted to one side. “Say something. You’re still there. I hear you breathing.”
“You cursed me. I won’t have that anymore.”
“What?” She could easily give him a headache.
“You cursed me,” she repeated, her voice trembling.
The hurt tone got to him if nothing else did. “I did not curse you.”
The silence that came this time was longer; then he heard her footsteps and the opening of the door. “I haven’t dismissed you yet.”
The door banged shut. He was out of the chair before he knew it. He reached the door in seven steps instead of ten and jerked it open. “Come back here, Lilly.” Faintly he heard the thump of feet running down the stairs.
He took another step toward the sound, then caught himself. He became disoriented too easily to leave the room. What if he fell down the stairs and injured himself worse?
Frantically he turned, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. The rhythm only abated when he was inside his room again with the door closed. She could go to the moon for all he cared. Save him the trouble of firing her.
Taking his seat, he leaned back in his chair, found the controls, and switched on the stereo, listening to an aria from the opera Madame Butterfly. Unconsciously he also listened for the sound of his door opening.
Lilly got as far as the garden on the north side of the house. Adam’s room was on the south side. Her temper spent, she sat on a stone bench amid blooming azaleas and daffodils. She’d never been able to stay angry at people for long. That’s how Myron had gotten by with so much. He didn’t have to make excuses for his behavior; she made them for him.
She should have washed his favorite shirt. Should have fried the chicken crispier. Should have kept the house cleaner. She should have been better, smarter, prettier. Her best was never good enough. She’d bowed down without a word. She’d tried so hard not to be her mother’s daughter that she’d let him take her self-respect and grind it beneath his feet.
Holding her head up, she closed her eyes and let her face meet the sun. Taking a deep breath, she let the clean air clear her head. She’d started out trying to persuade Dr. Wakefield to let her clean his room and ended up doing what she had always wanted and never had the courage to do, stand up to Myron.
Her head hung between her shoulders. She’d snuck off like a thief from Myron. The words she wanted to hurl
at him burned her throat like acid. She detested him for what he had done to her and herself for letting him do it. He’d stolen her dreams and she had silently let him. She’d stayed for Rafe and Mother Crawford, but she’d never had the courage to stand up to Myron. Instead, she had let him make her life a living hell.
But she had a chance now, and she wasn’t going to let anyone stand in her way…and that included Dr. Wakefield.
The knock caught Adam by surprise. He knew it was Lilly. He recognized the tentative two taps, pause, two taps. He thought if she returned, she’d storm back in the same way she’d stormed out. Too bad he couldn’t tell her to storm right back out. “Come in.”
“I’ve come for your tray.” The door closed quietly. “What do you want for breakfast?”
“I detest women who sulk.”
“How about oatmeal?”
He hated oatmeal, and since Lilly had never mentioned the ghastly cereal or cooked it for him before, she probably knew it. Reminding himself that the devil he knew was better, he said, “All right. I apologize if I offended your sensibilities.”
“Now you’re making fun of me.”
From her affronted tone he could well imagine her frowning at him. For the first time he wondered what she looked like. “I wasn’t making fun of you. I was thinking of what I’ve come to, discussing so trivial a subject as ants.”
“You won’t think that if they bite you.”
“I guess not.”
“I’ll just get the tray and say good night if there is nothing else you need.” The door opened again.
His head lifted from the back of the chair. “You’re going to leave me alone again, with ants crawling everywhere? What if I’m allergic to them?”
“Are you?”
“I haven’t been bitten since I was a child, but I could have developed toxins.”
“Speak English.”
“Become allergic to the bites. So…please clean up this room.”
“All right,” she said, trying to sound put out but silently overjoyed. She’d done it! “I don’t want you swelling up like Herbert after his bee sting. His face was so tight and red he looked like a baked sweet potato before you stick a fork into it and let the air out.”
“Lilly, you do have a way with words.”
Adam’s words lingering in her thoughts, Lilly left to get the cleaning supplies. She had no idea if he had complimented her or insulted her. Probably insulted her. She did talk more around him, but it was so he wouldn’t feel so disconnected with his surroundings and could “picture” what was going on around him. She was still developing that steel in her backbone.
An hour later, Lilly surveyed Adam’s clean room with pleasure. The air smelled faintly of lemon furniture polish and pine cleaner. Every surface, including the hardwood oak floor, gleamed. Not a particle of food remained on the area rugs.
“I hope you’re finished,” Adam said from his chair, scratching his beard-covered face. “The racket from the vacuum cleaner is aggravating.”
“So are ant bites.” Lilly picked up the bucket containing her supplies with one hand and the vacuum cleaner with the other. “Is your beard itching?”
Adam immediately stopped scratching. “No.”
“Rafe tried to grow one once but gave it up because he said it itched like a bear. You’re sure you don’t want to shave it off?”
It briefly ran through Adam’s mind to ask who Rafe was; then he decided against it. “Positive. Now, how about an omelet for breakfast?”
The UPS truck and Samuel and Odette arrived the same time Wednesday morning. UPS had tried Monday and Tuesday but hadn’t been able to find the house. They probably would have still been looking if Eleanor hadn’t called Tuesday afternoon to see why the delivery hadn’t been made. Now that it was here Lilly could only shake her head at the three large cardboard boxes on the porch. “His sister must have sent all of his clothes.”
Samuel picked up a box before answering. “Doubt it. Dr. Wakefield had a lot of clothes.”
Odette grinned, showing an overbite. “He’s a good-looking man and he knows how to dress. Caused a stir wherever he went. The time he took me to the emergency room, I had so many nurses in my room you couldn’t move.” She picked up a box and ignored Samuel’s narrowed eyes. “Whenever he was here, I didn’t have any trouble getting extra help cleaning up the place.”
Intrigued and remembering the muscles delineating his back, Lilly flushed and picked up the third box. “You don’t say.”
“You women put those back down. I can take these up myself,” Samuel told them.
“Women aren’t helpless,” Odette said and entered the house.
“Stubborn woman,” Samuel mumbled and followed.
Slowly Lilly trailed behind them. There had been annoyance in Samuel’s voice, but concern and love as well. Two things Lilly had never known from a man and no longer particularly cared if she ever did.
Her current concern was more pressing: how to get Dr. Wakefield to accept the clothes without becoming angry. Lilly might have sounded confident to his mother, but she wasn’t so sure as she climbed the stairs.
As she expected, Odette and Samuel set their boxes down across from the doorway, leaving room for her box…and for her to knock. Despite her trepidation, Lilly placed her box in front of Dr. Wakefield’s door and did just that.
“Dr. Wakefield. Dr. Wakefield.” Trying not to show her concern when there was no answer, she knocked again. “Dr. Wakefield. Dr. Wakefield.”
The door jerked open. “I’m not deaf, although you could make a man wish he were. My breakfast won’t get that cold.”
Lilly’s eyes widened. He stood in the doorway, his jeans unsnapped, a white towel around his neck. Moisture beaded on his muscular chest. Obviously he had been in the shower.
“I ...” her voice croaked. She swallowed. Except in magazines, she’d never seen a more perfectly sculpted body. And even scowling with his shades on, he was a strikingly handsome man.
“Well, bring it in,” he ordered, standing back.
Lilly bent to pick up the box, then straightened. “It’s not your breakfast. There was a UPS delivery. Three boxes. Odette and Samuel helped me bring them up.”
“Odette’s here?” he said, quickly shoving the door partially closed.
Lilly frowned. What had gotten into him?
Behind her, Odette laughed. “I’ve seen a man’s naked chest before, Dr. Wakefield.”
“You should have said you weren’t alone sooner. Let me get a shirt.” The door snapped shut.
Lilly barely repressed a sigh. Would there ever be a day when Dr. Wakefield didn’t reprimand her about something?
The door opened again. Dr. Wakefield had on a shirt, unevenly buttoned. “What’s in them?”
“Let us put them down and get them opened first,” Lilly answered. Samuel already had his pocketknife out slicing through the mailing tape. Lilly went behind him, pulling back the top and inspecting the contents. “Clothes.”
“Clothes,” Dr. Wakefield repeated slowly.
“Enough so that I won’t have to wash for a long time. I’ll come back later to put everything up,” she told him.
“I’ll help,” Odette quickly offered.
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather you cook me a peach cobbler instead,” Adam said, slowly turning toward the direction the housekeeper’s voice had come from.
Odette’s flagging smile brightened. “Loaded with peaches and lots of crust, just the way you like it.”
“As I recall, Samuel likes his cobbler the same way.”
Pleased that Adam remembered, the older man nodded his gray head. “You have a good memory, Dr. Wakefield.”
“I won’t keep you then,” Adam said mildly.
Realizing they had been dismissed even if the older couple didn’t, Lilly said, “All right. The boxes are directly in front of your five-drawer dresser. The first box is short-sleeved knit shirts; the second box is jeans and slacks; the third box is sui
ts with shirts and ties. The clothes in the first two boxes are pretty much mix-and-match in earth tones. The closet is about fifteen feet away to the left of the dresser. Your omelet will be served in thirty minutes.”
Long after the door closed, Adam remained where he was. He knew who was responsible for the clothes. Making his way to the phone at his bedside, he picked up the receiver and punched in 0 for operator assistance. For the first time, he didn’t feel as much animosity in explaining why he needed her to dial the number for him.
The answer came on the third ring. “Hello.”
“Hello, Mother.”
“Adam? What is it? Are you all right?”
The flurry of questions and love behind them caused him to tighten his hand briefly on the receiver, then briefly tuck his head in shame. He certainly hadn’t acted like a loving son in the past weeks. “I’m fine. I just wanted to thank you for the table and the clothes. They arrived this morning.”
“You aren’t upset with me?” she asked, surprise obvious in her voice.
Adam felt worse. “I should be the one asking that question.”
“I love you, Adam.”
To his mother love meant everything. “I know leaving me here wasn’t easy. Thank you for giving me the time and space.”
“Oh, Adam,” her voice wavered, hitched.
Adam fought the sudden lump in his own throat. “Don’t cry. I’m going to come through this. It’ll be all right.”
“Of course you are.”
He knew one certain thing that would cheer her up. “Kristen’s graduation is coming up, and we have to be there, don’t we?”
“Yes, we do,” Eleanor agreed, her voice stronger.
“Good-bye, and thanks again.”
“Good-bye, Adam.” Eleanor hung up the phone, guilt battling with happiness in her heart. Not once since the accident had Adam called her. Now, the first time he had, it was because of her subterfuge.
Folding her arms, Eleanor leaned her back against the cabinet in the kitchen where she had been preparing a cup of coffee. She believed in honesty. She hadn’t been honest with Adam, certainly not with Jonathan. Both incidents troubled her. With Adam, she had made the only decision possible. With Jonathan, she wasn’t so sure.
