Finding Mr. Right

by Gwynne Forster

  Byron stepped forward and shook Clark’s hand. “Good to see you, Clark. How are you?”

  Tyra fastened her hands to her hips and stared at her brother. “You should be in your room by now with the door closed. Considering your age, I’d expect you to know that.”

  “Why? What do you mean?” Clark asked her, his face the picture of innocence.

  Seemingly exasperated, she replied, “I wasn’t planning to invite Byron to my room, but if that’s the only way I’ll have privacy to tell him good night, I’ll do it.”

  Clark’s eyes widened. “Well, ’scuse me. See you later, Byron.” He ambled up the stairs, whistling as he went.

  “That did the trick, but wasn’t it a little heavy-handed?”

  “Clark forgets that I practically raised him. From time to time I have to remind him.”

  But the encounter had dampened his fire, and when she moved into his arms, the tenderness that welled up in him nearly overwhelmed him. He needed to take care of her, to protect and shelter her, and the feeling hit him with such force that he knew he’d never felt it before.

  He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her nose and the corners of her lips. “You’re so precious to me. I don’t remember what I was like before you came into my life.” He squeezed her to him. “I’ll call you. Good night, love.”

  Tyra turned out the downstairs lights, climbed the stairs and knocked on Clark’s room door. “Hi,” she said. “I didn’t know you were coming home tonight. Did you get some dinner?”

  “Maggie didn’t tell you? I called her this morning. She left me crepes filled with crab meat in a fantastic sauce, and a salad. I ate until I thought I’d pop. She and Darlene went to a movie. Say, what’s with you and Byron? Is this thing serious?”

  She sat on the edge of his bed and rested her forearms on her knees. “More serious than I’ve ever been.”

  “That’s pretty fast, don’t you think?”

  “No, I don’t. It began the minute I opened the door the night you brought him here.”

  “Get outta here! I didn’t notice a thing. You’d better be careful. He’s a good looking guy, and I imagine he’s popular with women.”

  “That doesn’t bother me, Clark. I’m popular with men. He and I had dinner tonight at his father’s home. Wait ’til you see his dad.” She doubted that her brother heard the last part of the sentence. With his lower lip hanging, he was probably still focused on her dinner with his father.

  “You ate at his father’s house? I’ve heard that the old man is a big shot surgeon.”

  “He certainly lives like it. He’s only seventy-two. I know for a fact that he’s every bit as good looking as Byron. They look like brothers. Byron’s parents divorced when he was seven, and his father raised Byron and his younger sister as a single parent. Byron is doing the same thing.”

  “Wait a minute, Sis. You lost me. You talking about Byron or his father?”

  “Both. Byron is a widower, and he has a four-year-old son who I’m meeting Saturday.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, Sis. Maybe he’s looking for a woman who’ll take care of his child.”

  “If that were the case, I doubt he’d have waited four and a half years to start looking. He’s never introduced a girlfriend to his son, and he wasn’t anxious to take me home with him. So don’t rush to any faulty conclusions. Byron Whitley is an honorable, straightforward man.”

  “So they all say. He’s got a helluva reputation.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. At first I thought you and Darlene were trying to set me up with him, and I nearly did something stupid.”

  A sheepish expression flashed across Clark’s face. “I’m ashamed that I didn’t think of it. Not once did it cross my mind that the two of you would hit it off. You have to confess that you’re a little more glamorous than you used to be.”

  “Not really. My hair’s longer. I wear earrings and, sometimes, high heels.”

  “Yeah, and your clothes are more fashionable. Whatever!”

  She may as well tell him and get over with it. “Clark, sometime during the first part of next month, I’m going away for a weekend with Byron.”

  “What? You can’t do that!”

  “Why not? You wouldn’t hesitate to do that if you wanted to.”

  He jumped up and towered over her. “But I’m a man.”

  “Really! So’s Byron. And I’m a thirty-one-year-old woman. I’m not asking your permission. I want you to know how things are with Byron and me.”

  “Good Lord! You haven’t gone and…” He ran his fingers through his hair. “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I haven’t. Not yet. Are you suggesting that I should wait and see if it works after I get married? Is that what you’d do? If I could, I’d push you back into the eighteenth century where you belong.”

  “Tyra, you’re my sister.”

  “Yes, I know. Congratulate me on remaining uninvolved until you got grown.”

  She never knew what to expect when Clark began pacing the floor, running his fingers through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, Clark, if you’re trying to turn me into a puzzle that has to be solved, don’t bother. I am going to spend a weekend with Byron. If you can’t resist behaving as if you’re my father, next time, I won’t tell you.”

  He stopped pacing the floor. “You planning to make a habit of this?”

  Laughter poured out of her until she began to hiccup. “That’s too personal. I’m going to bed. Good night.”

  “Don’t you care that Maggie and our sister aren’t home yet?”

  “No, I don’t. Maggie’s sensible even if I’d be reluctant to say that about Darlene. Good night.”

  She got ready for bed and crawled in. Somehow, she had expected Byron to call and tell her good night. Why did he have to call all the time? She dialed his cellular phone.

  “Hi, sweetheart. I wanted to call you, but I was afraid I might awaken someone.”

  “Same here, but I remembered your cell phone number, and I figured that it would probably be closer to you than the house phone is. I needed to know that you got home safely.”

  “And I needed to hear you say that you care for me. I…I’m in deep, Tyra…. I’ve never cared this way. Never.”

  “Neither have I, Byron, and I’ve never been this happy before.”

  “Now you tell me when I’m here and you’re there.”

  “Not to worry. We’ll be together again soon. Good night, love.” She hung up before he could question her having called him her love, and she knew he wouldn’t call her for fear of awakening her family. Good, she thought. Now, he owes me one.

  Picnic or not, she wasn’t leaving her house in jeans, because she’d never found any that fit both her hips and her waist. She put on a pair of white slacks, a pale blue collared T-shirt, a double-breasted-linen navy jacket and a pair of navy-blue and white Keds.

  “Little boys love the scent of a nice perfume,” Maggie said, “just like men do. And don’t kiss him first. A lot of children don’t like that, and I don’t blame them. Grown folks hugging and kissing children who don’t know them is an invasion of children’s privacy. I never let ’em kiss mine.”

  “Maggie, if this doesn’t work out, what will I do?”

  “You teach children to love you, and you do it mainly by loving them and showing them what love is. But if your feelings aren’t genuine, a child gets it right away. If that boy’s as intelligent as you say, he’ll get the difference between what you offer him and what his father gives him. Small children love to cuddle up to a warm loving woman in a way that they don’t cuddle up to their fathers. Now quit worrying. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  Maggie answered the doorbell before Tyra reached the bottom of the stairs. “Come in, Mr. Whitley. Tyra’ll be down in a minute. How y’all doing today?”

  “Wonderful. What about you?” Over Maggie’s shoulder, he saw her and a smile shone on his face so brightly that Maggie whirled around and lo
oked in Tyra’s direction.

  “I’m just fine, Mr. Whitley. Y’all have a good time.”

  But Tyra doubted that he heard Maggie’s words. He picked her up, twirled her around, kissed her and set her on her feet. “You beautiful woman! Kiss me, but just a little bit.”

  She grinned, opened her arms and held him close to her body. “I’ll kiss you when we come back.”

  “What’s that?” he asked of the package she carried.

  “Something for the children. I figured on four including Andy. Was I right?”

  “Right. And they are all boys. Andy thinks he should excel among girls. A real show-off, and I’m trying to rid him of that, but I suspect he gets that at his school.”

  “What kind of mood was he in when you left him? Does he know you’re bringing me?”

  “Yes. He’s been looking forward to seeing you all week. He has sensed that you’re special, although I didn’t make a point of it.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you didn’t, because he could have decided to be obstinate. In any case, he has to make up his own mind. I only hope he thinks I’m special after I leave today.”

  “Not to worry, sweetheart. Given a little time, he’ll be besotted with you just as his old man is.”

  She laughed at his attempt to lighten the conversation. Better not put too much weight on that. Crossing the city of Frederick on Court Street, he slowed down at First Street and pointed to a building at number 104 N. Court.

  “Roger Brook Taney and Francis Scott Key shared an office in that building. With due respect to Francis Scott Key, I can’t resist thumbing my nose at the building whenever I pass it. When Taney was a Supreme Court Justice, he wrote the Dred Scott decision, which ruled that no slave or descendant of a slave could be a US citizen and, as a non-citizen, Dred Scott did not have the right to sue in a court of law.”

  “I know. Here’s Taney’s house,” Tyra said, “and I can’t count the number of times I’ve spat at it. But Frederick isn’t what you’d call the real South.”

  “Definitely not. You get southern hospitality and Yankee pride. That’s why I like it.”

  When Byron parked in front of his house, Tyra closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. She looked up at the big, red brick corner row house that sat a stone’s throw from Druid Hill and wondered what awaited her inside. A high iron fence, on the inside of which grew thick evergreen hedges that guaranteed privacy for it occupants.

  Byron opened the gate, took her hand and walked up the steps. The door opened almost as soon as he pushed the buzzer, and she looked into the faces of Jonie and Andy. Her first impression of the child was that he didn’t look at his father but at her.

  “Hi, Miss Tyra,” he said and they walked in.

  “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Andy,” she said, put the shopping bag on the floor, bent down and offered to shake Andy’s hand. To her amazement, he shook hands.

  “Me, too. Hi, Dad. Can we check my arithmetic before the kids come? I want to show Miss Tyra what I did.”

  “In a minute, Andy. Aunt Jonie, this is Tyra Cunningham. Tyra, this is Jonie Hinds, my aunt.”

  “And my aunt too, Miss Tyra.”

  After they exchanged greetings, Tyra said to Jonie, “May I help you with things for the picnic while they’re doing arithmetic.”

  Andy looked up at her. “Daddy said you were coming to see me. Don’t you want to see me do my arithmetic?”

  “Yes, I do, but I didn’t realize you would like me to be there. You and your dad always do your arithmetic together, and I didn’t want to interfere.”

  “Oh, it’s okay. Maybe next time, you can check my arithmetic. Dad says I’m messy, but I always get it right.”

  Tyra looked at Jonie. “Next time. Okay?”

  “Of course. First things first.”

  She went with Byron and Andy to the boy’s room and sat on the big red wooden elephant in the middle of it. “Don’t try to lift my elephant, Miss Tyra. Only my dad can move it. Come look out the window, and you can see my tent.”

  Looking out the window, she decided that Byron’s plot was extremely large for one in the middle of a big city, and she made a note to ask Byron how he’d managed to acquire it. She listened to the arithmetic exercise and decided that she was double glad she’d finished her formal education.

  “How’d I do, Miss Tyra?”

  “Your father told me that you’re smart, so I’m not surprised. Congratulations on getting all of it right. You’re a very good student.”

  He gazed up at her, his expression intense and his eyes—large with dark brown irises rimmed in light brown—so like his father’s and grandfather’s. “Do you have any little boys?”

  “No, I don’t. I wish I did.”

  “Gee, I’m sorry. You can come to see me sometime. That’s the doorbell. I have to go downstairs.” He ran out of the room and plowed down the stairs like an engine out of control.

  She turned to Byron, who sat on the edge of Andy’s bed. “He’s a lovely child, and he is awfully good looking. What are you going to do when he gets to be a teenager and the girls find out about him?”

  His grin suggested that she shouldn’t be too concerned about that. “Not to worry, sweetheart. Cute little boys often grow up to be frightful looking teenagers.”

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Who’re you fooling? You never had a day looking frightful in your life, and he’s the image of you.” She treated him to a long, slow wink. “I’m going downstairs and see what the kids are doing.”

  “Oh, no you don’t.” He jumped up and grabbed at her. “Flirt with me and leave me here to deal with it, huh?”

  She dodged him. “You’d rather have a promise than nothing, wouldn’t you?” she threw over her shoulder as she headed down the stairs.

  “Witch! My day will come,” she heard him grumble, and couldn’t help smiling. He didn’t know it, but she could hardly wait for their weekend together.

  She removed a box from the shopping bag and went outside to the children’s tent. “Andy, I have something here for you and your friends. Shall we give it to them?”

  He ran over to her and looked at the box. “Colored bubbles? We’re going to blow bubbles?”

  “If you’d like. We can. I brought enough for all of you.”

  “Are you going to show us how?” Tyra said she would. “We’d better blow them out here or in the tent. Aunt Jonie will have a melt down if we mess up the kitchen floor.”

  “It’s kind of windy. What about the back porch? If we mess that up, I’ll mop it.”

  He stared at her. “You will? Okay.” He called the children, and they gathered around her on the porch. She gave each of them a pipe, kept one for herself, and soon the boys were dancing, shouting and laughing as they tried to see who could blow the biggest bubble.

  “Look, Daddy. I just blew a blue one, and I already blew two big red ones.”

  “Seems like a lot of fun,” Byron said. She glanced up at him and asked if he wanted to try one. He blew several, but she could see that his mind wasn’t on it. “I’ve got to make the fire in the pit so we can roast these hotdogs and marshmallows. They’ll be starved in a few minutes.”

  “No, we won’t,” a chorus of voices disagreed. “We have to see how big a bubble we can blow.”

  However, by the time the hotdogs were done, the boys had bounced around until they exhausted themselves. Byron gave them each a long stick with marshmallows on the end and let them roast their own. After filling up on hotdogs, marshmallows, lemonade and strawberry ice cream, the boys wound down like tops.

  “I’m going to take the boys home. I’ll be gone about twenty minutes.” He leaned over and kissed her lips. “Andy will keep you company.”

  She saw that Andy watched the two of them closely, but she couldn’t figure out his reaction to seeing his father kiss her. But after Byron left, the boy confronted her.

  “Why did my daddy kiss you?”

  “We’re friends, and we like each other
.” He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. “What’s the matter?” she asked him. “Are you sleepy?”

  “He didn’t have a nap,” Jonie said. “I’m surprised he can stand up. They loved those bubbles so much they didn’t even want to eat, and they used up a lot of energy. Don’t you think you should go upstairs and lie down, Andy?”

  “No, because Miss Tyra came to see me.”

  Tyra took Andy’s hand. “I’ll go up with you, and I’ll sing you to sleep.”

  “But I don’t want to sleep while you’re here.”

  “Then we’ll both sleep. Come on.”

  She sat in the big leather reclining chair in Andy’s room. “Andy, do you think I could have a hug?”

  He rubbed his eyes. “I guess.”

  She held out her arms, and he reached up to her, but her ruse didn’t work, so she said, “If you crawl into my lap, we can both go to sleep.” She pulled him into her lap, and he rested his head on her breast and snuggled up to her so quickly that it stunned her.

  “Gee, Miss Tyra, you smell so good,” he said, and before she could reply he was fast asleep.

  After delivering Andy’s playmates to their parents, Byron headed home, deep in thought. He hadn’t expected that Tyra would get on so well with four rambunctious four-year-old boys, but she interacted with them as easily as if it were her life’s calling. Andy hadn’t misbehaved, but he knew that could happen at any time and he was eager to get back home.

  “Aunt Jonie, this house is too quiet. Where are Andy and Tyra?”

  “She took Andy up to his room to get a nap. When she insisted, I thought he was going to kick up a storm, but they went up there, and I haven’t heard a sound since.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  He bounded up the stairs and went to Andy’s room, tiptoeing on the chance that the child might actually be asleep. He got no further that the door. A gasp escaped him and his heart constricted to such an extent that he leaned against the door jamb. Winded. He’d never seen a woman holding his child that way, almost as if he were a baby. It was a picture that would remain in his memory and in his heart forever. Tyra asleep with Andy in her arms.