Love Me or Leave Me

by Gwynne Forster

  “No,” Drake said, his facial expression stern and harsh, “but you can blame him for not having any integrity.” He turned to Pamela. “We’d better be going. If you have any more difficulties with this fellow, report him to the police. After you,” he said to Lawrence, effectively ordering him out of the office.

  “When did Lawrence tell you that?” she asked Drake after they seated themselves in the restaurant and gave the waiter their orders.

  “When I saw him last evening at an alumni meeting. Both of us attended graduate school at the University of Maryland. He worked on the campus paper. How did he know you were having dinner with me?”

  “He asked me for a date, as he frequently does though I’ve yet to say yes, and I said I had a dinner engagement. I suppose he’s seen us together and assumed I was meeting you.”

  He leaned back. “Right. What happened to you, and why didn’t you call me?”

  “I stopped at that filling station just before you turn into Milford, got an oil change, my front and rearview windows washed, and my tires checked. A few minutes after I turned off the highway, both of my front tires blew out. Fortunately, I was on that ramp, so I wasn’t driving fast. I walked the two miles back to the station, and—”

  “Why didn’t you use your cell phone and call me? I would have gone there and helped you.”

  Her right shoulder flexed in an automatic shrug. “I forgot it and left it on the desk in my office. When I got to the restaurant, you’d left, and the maître d’ implied that I had bad manners for having stood you up. I called your home from a pay phone in the restaurant, but you weren’t there. Henry took the message.”

  “I haven’t been home since then, so he hasn’t seen me.”

  When both of her eyebrows shot up, he explained. “I stayed in Baltimore that night with Russ and left for Ghana the next morning. I got back Tuesday night. Incidentally, did you ask the station attendant to check your tires to see what happened?”

  She nodded. “He said someone slashed them, probably while he and I were inside the station straightening out my bill. He said a yellow Cadillac drove up, but when he went back outside, it had left, and the driver didn’t make a purchase.”

  His fingers moved back and forth across his chin in the manner of one deep in thought. “Sooner or later, you’ll know who did it. A yellow Caddy is hard to hide.”

  She fidgeted beneath his direct gaze, uncomfortable because of her reaction to him, but also because she couldn’t fathom his demeanor.

  “What is it, Drake?”

  “You’re so beautiful. I watched you on television last night and, well…all that polish and intelligence in such a beautiful package.”

  She could say the same about him, but she didn’t because she knew he wouldn’t like it. He had made it clear on a number of occasions and in several situations that he wanted to be accepted for himself. “I can’t take credit for the way I look. That’s a genetic accident,” he once told a matronly hostess, “but I gladly take responsibility for the man I am.”

  “Last night, you said you weren’t satisfied with the way things are. I want you to clarify that.”

  “We were estranged, out of touch.” He leaned forward, reached across the table and took her hand, sending shivers of apprehension through her system. “Last Friday night, I had planned to ask you to allow us to step back from where we seemed to be headed.” She lowered her gaze so that he wouldn’t be able to discern her feelings. “I dream of becoming nationally recognized in my profession, and I’m so far from that goal. Oh, I know Harrington, Inc. is well thought of in this part of the country, but I want more than that. I want to take chances, do original work, set the pace the way the engineers who worked with Frank Lloyd Wright did, and I can’t do that unless I’m traveling alone. When I was away from here, in Ghana, I couldn’t remember why I wanted some breathing space between us. I’m not even sure now if that’s what I want.

  “When I was watching you on TV last night, it certainly wasn’t what I wanted, and it isn’t what I want right now. But I’m thirty-one years old, and I’m not ready to settle down.”

  “I don’t remember having asked you to settle down with me.”

  “This is true, but I’ve thought about it. A lot, in fact. I don’t mislead women, and I don’t play relationship games with them.”

  “Is there another woman you’d like to get to know or that you prefer?”

  “Of course not. If there was, I would have told you. I am also not having this conversation with any other woman.”

  She looked at him, wondering if he knew he’d just told her that of all the women he knew and associated with, she was the one to whom he was closest. He may want breathing space, but she didn’t. Still, a relationship with a man who didn’t want to settle down was not in her best interest. “Drake, I’m thirty years old, and if I’m ever going to have any children I have to get started soon. Thirty is already old to have a first child.”

  “I’m aware of that, and it may account for my need to be direct with you.” His fingers plowed through his hair. “But I’m not saying I’ll be happy to break this off. I definitely won’t, but I have to be straight with you.”

  She patted his hand and forced a smile. “Come on. I have to get back to work. If I need an escort that will knock ’em dead, I’ll phone you.”

  With cobralike swiftness, he grabbed her left wrist. “That wasn’t called for. I don’t squire women around. If you needed to strike out at me, that was as good a way as any.” He stood and walked around to her side of the table to move her chair. She took her time getting up because he was standing there and she’d be inches from him. As she expected, he didn’t move when she stood, but stared down into her face, his own ablaze with passion. Lost in the moment, she rimmed her lips with her tongue, knowing that she’d fastened her gaze on his mouth, on that firm masculine mouth that with the barest touch could singe her with desire. She closed her eyes, but quickly opened them when his fingers encircled her arm.

  “Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”

  They walked back to the TV station without speaking, each deep in thought. Half a block from the building, his hand captured hers and squeezed her fingers.

  “A man doesn’t ask if he can have his cake and eat it, too. He makes a choice, and I thought I’d done that.” At the entrance to the building, he leaned forward, kissed her briefly on the mouth and gazed down at her for a full minute before saying, “I’ll be in touch.”

  She tripped to the elevator with a spring in her steps. Oh, she wanted to fly through the air like a prima ballerina, free and unfettered. He could say what he liked and tell himself all the tales he wanted to, but he wasn’t ready to break off their relationship, and she wasn’t going to do anything that would encourage him to. She meant a lot more to him than he was willing to admit. But he’d better hurry up. I want him, but not badly enough to sacrifice motherhood.

  Before she could sit down and begin work, Rhoda knocked and walked into her office. “I know you’re busy, but I’m not leaving here till you tell me who that hunk was who kissed you right in front of the door here. Talk about moving from the ridiculous to the sublime. Whew!”

  Rhoda’s raving over Drake annoyed her, and she wasn’t sure why. She liked Rhoda and found her work more than satisfactory, but the remark and the question were out of place. Better not leave any doubt in the woman’s mind. She leaned back in the swivel desk chair and looked Rhoda in the eye. “Since you’re aware that he kissed me on the mouth, you don’t need to know who he is.”

  “Whoa. Like that, is it? Well ’scuse me. Girl, you know how to pick ’em.”

  “If I recall correctly,” she said, intent on imprinting in the woman’s mind the fact that Drake sought her and not vice versa, “I was working a building industry conference at the convention center on Camden Street, and he walked up to me, introduced himself and asked if I’d have lunch with him. Looks like he picked me, doesn’t it.”

  “Oop
s! Touchy subject. I’d better get back to work. See you later.”

  Pamela got busy writing her evening report. She had fought hard and long for the privilege of writing her own copy, and she spared no effort to make it complete, informative and interesting. The messenger knocked, walked in and handed her a press release entitled “Breaking News.” She thanked him, looked it over and wrote a quick summary that she would read at the beginning of her report, provided she didn’t get any more breaking-news releases.

  “May I see you a minute, Langford?”

  “Be right there,” she said to Raynor, her managing editor, and made a note of what she’d been thinking when the intercom barked at her. She headed down the hall to what she assumed was a conference call. Instead, she learned that Lawrence Parker had been transferred to the seven-to-nine morning news show.

  “There’ll be no reason for him to contact you in the line of work. I apologize for his crude behavior, and I hope he’s learned a lesson.”

  She thanked the man, but didn’t expect that Lawrence Parker had undergone a metamorphosis; he was lacking in too many important respects. By five o’clock, she had her report in order.

  “No calls, please,” she said to her secretary. “I’m testing my copy, and I don’t want to be disturbed.”

  “All right, Ms. Langford. I’ll take your messages.”

  After her newscast, she headed for her office and looked through her messages. Well, what can I expect? she thought, crestfallen when she didn’t find one from Drake. She packed the briefcase, made a note as to what she had to do when she arrived at work Monday morning and headed home. Her cell phone rang as she drove out of the garage. She turned the corner, stopped and answered it. She didn’t talk on the phone while driving.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello, Pamela, this is Drake. Feel like a movie tomorrow evening? Or if not that, dinner?”

  Oh, my Lord, she said to herself. Am I going to fold up every time I hear his voice unexpectedly?

  “I’d love dinner, but I haven’t seen a movie in ages. What do you want to see?”

  “You may think this is foolish, but there’s an old movie that I’m nuts about, ’cause it’s funny. It’s The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming. It was made during the Cold War, and it’s hilarious. We could have dinner and make the nine-o’clock show. Interested?”

  “Yes, indeed. Where’s the movie?”

  “In Baltimore. I’ll pick you up around five-thirty. All right?”

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  “So will I. Bye.”

  She hung up, put the car in Drive and went home. For a man who needed breathing space, he seemed bent on suffocating himself.

  Pamela couldn’t have been further from the truth. Drake accorded himself the right to be certain of his moves, and if that meant exposing himself to his mounting passion, so be it. If he could have his dreams and her as well, he wanted to know it. But if he had to choose, not only did he need to know that, but he also had to be certain of his choice.

  “How about a game of darts?” his brother Telford asked, joining him in the den. “I could use some activity that will take my mind off those Florence Griffith Joyner Houses.”

  “Yeah. One of these days, we ought to work at getting a mobile crew. As long as we have to hire construction crews in whatever city or country we’re building in, we’ll have problems. Speaking of problems, how’d you like to take on a real one?”

  He knew Telford, the builder for Harrington, Inc., loved a challenge, but he wasn’t certain that even Telford could overcome the problems he envisaged in building a shopping mall in Accra. He told his brother about the project he discussed while in Accra attending his friend’s wedding.

  “But if you think Barbados posed a problem, you ought to see what you’d be up against in Ghana. The weather saps all of your energy. I don’t see how a man can work day after day in that heat and humidity.”

  “What about a split shift…early mornings and late evenings?” Telford asked him.

  “Yeah. Right. Just in time for sandflies and mosquitoes. Besides, you have the heat till the sun goes down, and then it’s immediately dark.”

  “Let’s see what Russ has to say about it. He might enjoy designing a shopping mall for a tropical country.”

  Drake heaved himself from the comfort of the deep, overstuffed leather chair and allowed himself a restorative yawn. “Maybe, but I’m not sure I’d enjoy engineering it. See you later.”

  “Wait a minute,” Telford said, rising to face his youngest brother. “Russ said something had gone awry with you and Pamela. This probably won’t impress you one bit, but I like her a lot—all of us do. Not even Henry has anything negative to say about her.”

  “’Course not. She sang his favorite song to him. Look, brother, I’m feeling my way, here. She wants a family and she’s already thirty. I’m thirty-one, and I haven’t proved anything to myself. I’m not sure I’d be happy giving her up, but what about my goals?”

  “You’ll reach those. No doubt about it in my mind. But if you get to the top, and you’re there all alone, who will you enjoy it with? Who will you share it with? Alexander the Great conquered the world and wept because there was nothing left to conquer.”

  “Point taken. But you waited until you were thirty-six, and Russ is getting married at thirty-four. What does anybody want from me? I’m behaving in true Harrington fashion.” Laughter bubbled up in his throat. “It may not be up to me. Every man can see what I can see.”

  Telford’s right eyebrow shot up. “If you thought she’d drop you, you wouldn’t be so sanguine about it.”

  “Well, I’m not that sure of her either, which is why I’m seeing her tomorrow night.”

  “Yeah? Way to go. See you later. Say, what about the darts?” Telford called after him.

  “Give me a few minutes. I’ll meet you in the game room.”

  Telford and Russ had found women who were perfect for them and who loved them. Would he be as fortunate? He met Alexis, his sister-in-law, on the stairs, and her hand on his arm detained him.

  “What’s the matter? You seem perplexed. What can I do to help?”

  “I don’t know if you can. I don’t like being caught up in the tide and being swept along as if I have no control over my life.”

  Her smile, at once motherly and wistful, reassured him, as it always did. “You only have to do what you want to do. Other people’s dreams for you are their dreams and plans, not yours. You can love the adviser and still ignore the advice. Get the message?”

  “You bet I do. Will Russ be here for dinner?”

  “No. He and Velma are coming in tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Too bad. I wanted the three of us to discuss that Ghana project. Maybe we can do that Sunday morning.”

  “Good idea. Bring Pamela with you.”

  He continued up the stairs. “I can ask her.”

  “Eoow! Uncle Drake!” Tara ran to him with open arms. “I missed you, and when my dad said you’d be back today, I was so happy.”

  He picked her up and swung her around while she giggled in delight. “How’s my best girl?”

  “I have a lot to tell you. My dad said it’s time for me to get another music teacher, and Mr. Henry wants to buy me a grand piano. The trouble is we would have to put it in the living room, and I would get on everybody’s nerves practicing.”

  “We could put it downstairs in the game room.”

  “I dunno. Maybe you can tell my mommy you want to play darts in the game room, you and Uncle Russ, and she won’t put it there.”

  “Well, sometimes it’s damp downstairs, and I imagine that’s bad for a piano.”

  She clapped her hands. “Really? Think up some more bad things about downstairs. I want to put the piano in my room.”

  He put her down. A six-year-old con artist, and as frank about it as a fashion model on a runway.

  He went to his room, closed the door and walked over to the window. “I’ve bee
n looking at this scene for all of my life. Maybe if I did as Russ did, if I left and went on my own, I’d see my life more clearly. I don’t think I’m reaching too high by wanting career recognition, but when I get it, I want to share it with someone extra special.” He thrust his hands in his trouser pockets and slouched against the window frame. As he watched, birds flittered among the several feeders Alexis kept laden with bird food, took their fill and then flew away.

  He planned to learn to fly, and he didn’t like keeping secrets from his family. But he knew that, out of concern for his safety, they would discourage him, so he decided to tell them when it was a fait accompli. He stretched out on the bed and let his mind travel over his life since Alexis and Tara entered it, recalling the many ways in which the little girl brightened his life, and accepting that having Alexis among them enriched their lives. He got up, put on a pair of sneakers and went down to the game room where Telford and Tara awaited him.

  “Dad, Uncle Drake said it’s damp down here and that’s not good for a piano.”

  Telford hunkered in front of the child. “Getting your troops together, eh? Well, your mother and I have decided that it’s going into the den, and Henry said that’s fine. I want you to stop trying to snow people to get your way. Use your charm sparingly.”

  Tara looked up at Drake. “Do you know what that means, Uncle Drake?”

  “Yeah, but don’t worry. Just be yourself.”

  Having gotten assurance that the piano would not be in the basement, Tara raced up the stairs to tell Henry. Telford looked at Drake with a narrowed right eye. “The chance that she’ll have your personality is nearly one hundred percent. Let’s hope she’s lucky enough to have your common sense to go along with her alluring ways.”

  He could feel the grin forming around his lips and spreading all over his face. “Thanks for the compliment. It may surprise you to know that it came at a good time.”

  Telford selected a dart, aimed it and missed the bull’s-eye. “Why did you need your ego massaged?”

  “I didn’t, but you wouldn’t tell me I have common sense if you didn’t mean it, and I’m questioning that these days.”