Against All Odds (Arabesque)

by Gwynne Forster

  “You...you look good, too,” she told him. He stared at her, shaking his head, obviously denying something. As if transfixed, she didn’t move out of his way. Her gaze feasted on him. Chills twisted through her whole body as the gong of her grandmother’s clock announced seven o’clock, and she couldn’t shake the thought that it tolled for her and Adam. She knew he could tell that he’d disconcerted her and that he sensed her need for his reassurance, because she read his emotions in that fraction of a second before he blanketed his feelings. She looked up at him, waiting.

  His sigh and mild oath fell on her ears like music, but he disappointed her when he didn’t take her in his arms. His eyes mirrored his remorse, and she knew he intended to put their relationship on the shelf. She lowered her head to hide her reaction when his deep sigh of regret confirmed it. It wasn’t easy to stand casually before him while his eyes adored her and his thumb tenderly stroked her chin, even as his posture sent a different message.

  “It’s okay, Melissa. We’ll survive it.” She knew he meant that going their separate ways would hurt, but that it wouldn’t kill him. Her smile had never been so brilliant.

  Chapter 9

  Melissa read Magnus Cooper’s signed contract and decided she’d made a mistake. She had quoted the man a very high fee and had expected him to bargain or at least complain. But if her eyes served her properly, he would pay double that if she could find a manager who suited him within two weeks. She telephoned him to bargain for three weeks at one and a half times the fee she’d quoted.

  “Are you telling me the president of MTG is a woman? Well, a man I trust told me this was one of the best executive search firms in the country. Who’s your CEO?”

  “Mr. Cooper, I am the president and owner of MTG.” Melissa iced her voice to put the man in his place, but to her astonishment, he persisted.

  “Well, I don’t know, ma’am. I’m not used to doing business with a woman...but, well...they say you know your stuff. Still, I just don’t know.”

  Annoyed, she told him, “Mr. Cooper, I’m looking at a contract that says you do business with me. I hope legal action won’t be necessary.”

  “Of course not,” he cajoled. And she envisioned honey dripping from his tongue as he drawled, “Let’s have dinner and smooth over this little misunderstanding.” Unimpressed with the offer, she declined—Houston, Texas, wasn’t around the corner. Magnus Cooper gave her the three weeks and fee she demanded and told her he’d forward an amendment to the contract. Pleased, she thanked him and said a polite good bye. Later, dispirited over her unsatisfactory relationship with Adam, she accepted Banks’s suggestion that they browse in a few antique shops after work.

  * * *

  They walked through Bessie’s Yesteryear, looking at old coffee grinders, grandfather clocks, alabaster candlesticks, a Tiffany lamp, an early Shaker rocker. Melissa paused beside an ancient brass scale and lifted one of its weights, thinking that if she polished the scale it would add a nice touch to her kitchen’s bay window. She felt Banks jab her in the back and glanced up and into the unfriendly eyes of Mary Roundtree. She couldn’t treat Adam’s mother discourteously, but the woman didn’t invite warmth. Melissa didn’t know what kind of response she’d get, but she squared her shoulders and spoke.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Roundtree. How are you?” For that, she received a stingy “Fine, thank you” and a nod of the head. Perplexed that Adam’s mother behaved more coldly toward her than when they’d first met, she nevertheless introduced Banks, who retaliated on Melissa’s behalf by accepting the introduction with a frosty “Nice to meet you, Miss Mary.” Melissa watched in horror as Adam’s mother excused herself and turned away in such haste that she crashed into an 1890 gaslight post and knocked herself out. Alarmed, she knelt beside the woman to assist her while Banks telephoned Adam and called for an ambulance. She gave silent thanks that both were only a few blocks away.

  * * *

  Adam rushed into Bessie’s Yesteryear and stopped short at the unbelievable scene. Melissa held his mother’s head in her lap and placed a cold compress to her forehead. He knelt beside them and tried to gain his mother’s attention, but she didn’t respond. The wail of the ambulance seemed miles away and, anxious, he felt for his mother’s pulse. Satisfied, he looked again at Melissa and marveled as she continued her careful ministrations. Shaking his head, he sat up on his haunches and fixed his gaze on her face. How could she treat his mother with such tenderness after she had accorded Melissa the barest civility and all but dismissed her when she’d visited her home? He studied the woman who, without realizing it, had made him rethink his priorities and knew an unaccustomed softness in himself. She combined gentleness and tenderness with strength, determination, and efficiency. He remembered Wayne’s assessment of her and reached out to touch her face.

  “The ambulance is here now. I won’t forget your kindness, Melissa.”

  “Please don’t thank me. I’d like to go to the hospital with you. Do you mind?”

  His gaze roamed over her face before resting on her eyes. He wished he could read her reasons, because he knew she’d be affronted if he asked her why. He agreed, though he suspected that she detected his reluctance, and it bothered him that he didn’t welcome her company.

  * * *

  They waited three hours before a doctor advised them that Mary may have suffered a severe concussion, but that she had regained a fair amount of lucidity. Adam expressed his relief and went to the cafeteria to get coffee for Melissa and himself.

  Melissa stepped closer when she heard Mary’s weak voice. “What happened? Why are you here?” It struck her that a lack of strength didn’t camouflage the hostility in Mary Roundtree’s voice. Melissa told her what had happened, her tone devoid of feeling. More alert now, the woman attempted without success to sit up, and Melissa pulled up a chair beside her bed.

  “Where is Adam? Are you here because you’re after him?”

  Melissa couldn’t believe the displeasure in the woman’s eyes as she turned her face away. “I’m sure you know your son well enough to realize that if he didn’t want me here, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “If you care about him, you’ll leave him alone,” the woman told her with trembling lips.

  Melissa tried to push back her annoyance. Being Adam’s mother gave Mary Roundtree the upper hand. Melissa told her, “I can’t be with him if he doesn’t want to be with me, so use your influence with Adam. Your words are wasted on me.”

  Adam returned to find his mother dropping silent tears, her lips pursed in disapproval. “What did you say to her?” he asked Melissa. She looked the man she loved fully in the face, stared him down for several seconds, and told him, “I just answered her questions. Seems I overstayed my welcome here. I’ll be seeing you.”

  “Melissa!”

  She kept walking. Her world seemed filled with men who, like Gilbert Lewis, exacted a pound of flesh for every smile they’d given you. She didn’t want to believe Adam would think her capable of doing or saying anything to hurt his mother. Deep in thought, she nearly passed Bill Henry without speaking.

  “What’s wrong, Melissa? You look as though you’ve just witnessed an execution.”

  “Maybe I have. Mine.” That tired voice couldn’t be hers.

  “What happened?” He stepped closer and touched her arm. She told him, beginning with her encounter with Mary in the antique store. B-H nodded in apparent understanding.

  “Didn’t Adam tell you that Mary Roundtree is a consummate actress? For years my sister belonged to the Frederick Players—she can switch from saint to siren in seconds. I can’t believe Adam would let her antics rattle him.”

  “No. He let her rattle me, and with impunity. I’ve had it with the Roundtrees.”

  Bill Henry shook his head. “For now, maybe. Well, it’s a good thing I’m a Hayes.” She felt his soothing pat on her forearm and sensed that he felt a special kinship with her. He walked on, turned, and called her. “Melissa, how is Em— How is Em
ily?” She walked back to him.

  “She’s fine, B-H. Lately something about her reminds me of early spring. I don’t understand it, but I’m certainly happy about it.”

  He nodded, and she thought his face reflected a wistful longing. “Are the two of you close?”

  “We never were until I came back home, but we are now.”

  “She needs someone. I’m glad she has you.”

  “Me, too,” she said, as much to herself as to him. She walked back to the phone booth and called Towne car service for a taxi home. She’d gone shopping to escape her thoughts and look what she got as a result. More to think about. She went home and began undressing almost from the front door, not bothering to wonder why a bath seemed the answer to her problem. You can’t wash it away, an inner voice nagged.

  * * *

  Adam walked out of his mother’s hospital room, displeased with himself for having asked Melissa such a thoughtless question after her kindness to his mother. She hadn’t deserved it. But his mother never cried, and he’d thought that... It didn’t matter—he had mistreated Melissa. His uncle’s voice interrupted his mental meanderings.

  “What’s going on around here? First Melissa walks past me without speaking, and now you nearly knock me down. How’s Mary?”

  Adam looked into the distance, preoccupied. “She’s improving. She’ll be home tomorrow.”

  “Be careful with Melissa, Adam. That girl’s very tender.”

  It struck Adam that his uncle regarded Melissa with a deep affection for which he could see no apparent basis, and he meant to ask him about it. “I know what she’s like, B-H, and it isn’t my intention to hurt her.”

  “But you did.”

  “I know.” Adam hastened on without saying goodbye. He had to get to her.

  He parked in front of her home and sat in the car considering the charm of her little house nestled among the four swaying pines, cloaked in brilliant moonlight. How much like her it seemed: simple, elegant, uncluttered, and lovely. Frustrated when she didn’t answer her bell after five minutes, he went back to the car and called her on his cellular phone.

  “I don’t want to see you, Adam.”

  He exhaled deeply. “My question wasn’t called for, and you didn’t deserve it. My only excuse is the anxiety I felt for my mother.”

  It would serve him right if I hung up, she told herself. Instead she said, showing more irritation than she felt, “I’ve had better apologies from strangers. My father is good for a better one than that.” She braced herself against her bathroom wall and forced out the words. “It’s best we go our separate ways, Adam.”

  Annoyed with himself for needing her, for caring, he snapped in anger, “You can’t see the forest for the trees, Melissa. If that’s what you want, I bow to your wish.” He remained there, silent, collecting his wits, pensive. The shock of regret pierced his system when he heard the click as she replaced the receiver. He had to accept that she meant more to him than anyone else. More than Leather and Hides. More than finding out who wanted to destroy it. More than any woman he’d ever known. More than he would have believed possible. He laughed derisively—for the first time since his misadventure of over a decade and a half earlier, he couldn’t call the shots. He didn’t like it, but there it was.

  Melissa heard Adam’s car as he drove away and lectured herself: no tears, even as she brushed them from her cheeks. She loved Adam, but at the moment she could dislike him. Not for long, she admitted. She had wanted so badly to see him, to hear him say that he cared for her, that he hadn’t meant those words, but his apology had been stingy, halfhearted. She called Banks for company, but had a sense of relief when she heard the answering machine. She searched for Ilona’s phone number, thinking she’d call her in New York, but before she located it, the phone rang. She raced to it, hoping to hear Adam’s voice.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, dear,” Bill Henry said. “I called to find out how you are, since Adam’s at home. Don’t think too harshly of Mary. She’s troubled about the sabotage at Leather and Hides, and she isn’t certain who’s responsible.” He told her as much as he could about the incidents at the plant, and she knew he detected her shock and her hurt that Adam hadn’t told her how serious the problem had become.

  “How do you know I can be trusted? Adam obviously doesn’t think so, because he hasn’t told me much about it.”

  He ignored the latter comment. “Because I know you love Adam.”

  “What? How?”

  “Melissa, I saw you and spoke with you as you left the hospital. A man couldn’t hurt a woman that deeply unless she loved him. Make her furious? Yes. But he wouldn’t have the power to break her heart.”

  She wrapped herself in a bath towel and sat on the edge of the tub. “Oh, B-H, I’ve done a foolish thing, loving him, and I know I’ll pay for it.”

  “Only if you refuse to accept the truth.”

  “B-H, I know Adam didn’t shoot Timmy. He was with me.”

  “Would you have been so certain if you didn’t have that proof? The hatred between our families runs deep, Melissa. Adam is tough, but he’s fair, and he’s honest. Money doesn’t protect you from everything, and he’s had some hard knocks. If you look carefully, you can see that. Don’t think you can wait until this clears up and your family is absolved and then let him know where you stand. He’d lose all interest, no matter how much he loves you. My nephew demands loyalty from everybody, and he gives it unstintingly.”

  “I’ve told both my parents that he was with me,” she replied with a sense of virtue. “I won’t let him down.”

  His next remark gave her pause. “If you won’t listen to what he has to say, you’re letting me down.”

  She rose to her feet. Surely Adam didn’t discuss his personal life with his uncle. “How do you know? Did he tell you that?”

  “Adam isn’t a man to unload on another one. I doubt he’d tell anyone what’s in his heart except the person involved. I know you didn’t listen to him, because he’s in his home and you’re in yours, and it isn’t even nine o’clock. Nothing would convince me that he hasn’t tried to apologize.”

  A heaviness centered in her chest, a sense of dread, as she made herself ask him a question, seeking from him reassurance she had long needed—evidence of a man’s great love for a woman. “B-H, I have to know this. Did you love my mother?” His long pause unnerved her.

  “How do you know about this?”

  “Recently my mother told me that you are the only man she ever loved.”

  She didn’t let him know she’d heard him sniffle, but waited during the ensuing silence while he struggled to collect his composure.

  “Yes, I love her. I will always love her, and I thank you for telling me, Melissa. Knowing how she feels means everything to me. Make certain it doesn’t happen to you. The feuding, lying, and meanness has to stop. We are all victims of it. Hatred ruins people...destroys them. And it will break you and Adam if you don’t learn to trust each other. You have only to look at Emily and me to know the consequences.” She thanked him, hung up and dialed Adam’s number.

  “Adam Roundtree.”

  “Do you still want to see me?” Her pulse raced when she heard his words.

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  * * *

  Melissa slipped into her red velour wrap robe, combed her hair, and dabbed a bit of Opium perfume where it counted. She put on her white fluffy bunny bedroom slippers, started downstairs, and stopped. Might as well go for broke she decided, turned, went into her bedroom and lit the four candles on her dresser, switched off the lamp, and got downstairs just as the doorbell rang. She opened the door, and he walked into her open arms, kicked the door closed and clutched her to him.

  “Melissa, Melissa, I need you!” She parted her lips and let her senses succumb to his loving. Her heart raced as his tongue danced against hers and his large hand slipped beneath her robe and captured her naked breast. Her breathing accelerated, and her hips moved volu
ntarily against him. He put her away from him, his face harsh with desire, and a charge shot through her at his heated gaze and wordless question.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes. Yes.” He didn’t need any urging, just tucked her to his side and climbed the stairs to what he knew would be heaven in her arms. Her eyes adored him as he threw back the coverlet and laid her on the lavender satin sheets. With her gaze still locked to his, she slowly loosened the tie on her robe and threw it open. Quickly he took it from her, removed his clothes, and leaned over her as her outstretched arms welcomed him in a gesture as old as womanhood. He bent to her and caressed her lovingly, his hands claiming her body. Her moans of delight must have excited him more, for he rushed her preparation for his entry.

  This time, her innocence behind her, she made demands of her own. Her senses sharpened, and his salty flesh and musky scent heightened her desire. She grasped him and stroked him, and his every move, every gesture, told her she’d found the right torch.

  “Melissa, sweetheart.”

  “Yes,” she answered, eager for what she knew awaited her. This time they flew swiftly and unerringly to the sun.

  He wiped the perspiration from their faces with the corner of the sheet, and remained within her body, his gaze on her face.

  “Melissa, please look at me.” His throat tightened when she smiled, and the trust he saw in her eyes sent his heart into a gallop. He hated that he’d held back again, but he couldn’t let her know how deeply she moved him. Not yet.

  “You said ‘please.’ We’re making progress.” Her finger traced his bottom lip, and he felt as if she’d touched his soul. His arms drew her tightly to him, and his mouth sought her soft, pliable lips. He felt himself stirring within her and raised his head. With so many imponderables in their lives, he had to be careful what he said to her, but he couldn’t let her think that he would use her.