She looked at him hoping that her unspoken plea would suffice, and that he would not have her dismissed. “I’m not going to hurt that child, Lucas.”
“I know. You love her too much to hurt her intentionally, but one day, you’ll lose her, and it will tear you apart. I’d hate to see that. Look, I’d better get back to work. Be in touch.”
“Thanks for meeting me.”
A grin formed around his lips, exposing his even white teeth. “Don’t mention it. It was my pleasure.”
What had come over him? He hadn’t been severe with her, yet she knew he didn’t approve of her giving gifts to Rudy. She went inside, called Cassie to let her know she was back home, sat down and wrote a note to Rudy’s foster mother.
Dear Madam,
I would like to take Rudy and Nathan—another of the children I tutor—to the museum on Wright Road next Saturday afternoon. If this meets with your approval, please write me a note giving your permission. You may write it on the back of this letter and let Rudy bring it to me Thursday.
Yours truly,
Susan Pettiford
She addressed the letter, sealed it, put it in her briefcase, and telephoned Ann Price. “Mrs. Price, this is Susan Pettiford. I’d like to take Nathan to the museum Saturday afternoon around one o’clock. I hope Rudy will join us.”
“That’s a wonderful idea, Ms. Pettiford. I don’t have time to give these children the care they need, much less expose them to art, music and things like that. Do you need a note or anything?”
“I need your written permission. You may send the note with Nathan on Thursday. Thanks so much.”
“What you’re doing for little Rudy is a blessing to her. She told my Nathan that, until she started your tutoring class, she was planning to run away. Poor thing gets nothing at home but scraps. Scraps of attention, scraps of clothing, and scraps of food. The State ought to supervise these foster homes more carefully.
“That’s why I’m raising my grandchildren. My youngest son and his wife are so messed up, and their two kids suffered so that I went to court and got legal custody of them. Sometimes I think people ought to be forced to go to a school for child rearing before they can have a baby. Bring these poor little things into the world, and don’t have the slightest idea how to raise them. No sense of responsibility. Well, I bent your ear enough. I may see you tomorrow when I come for the children. Thanks for calling.”
Susan hung up feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Was Ann Price saying that Rudy’s foster mother didn’t feed her as well as she fed her own children? A kind of heaviness settled in the region of her heart. If she had a child or the exclusive care of one, she would shower it with love and attention. Was this a sample of what Lucas insisted she would encounter for having become involved with Rudy?
She opened the shopping bags that contained the gifts she bought for the children, arrayed the items on her bed, and gazed at the colorful jeans, sweater, blazer and the two pleated dresses for Rudy, and the navy blue and beige book bag she bought for Nathan.
“I’m dumping my disappointment, my longing on this child,” she said aloud. “But what can I do? She needs me . . . and I suppose I need her. What if . . . if the State moves her from this foster mother to another one far from here?” I wish there was someone I could talk to, someone other than Lucas, who thinks I’m wrong because I didn’t abide by the rules, never mind the child’s needs.
Suddenly, feeling claustrophobic, as if the world were closing in on her, she donned an old tweed coat, went out the back door and down by the lake. In the still of the cold but windless air, she sat on the stump of a pine tree and gazed into the water. What if Rudy’s foster mother refused to allow the child to go with her on Saturday? Am I boxing myself in, guaranteeing misery for myself? She took a deep breath, blew it out and watched the vapor rise slowly upward and disappear. She got up and started home.
“Oh, Susan. I was calling you. You promised we’d have high tea when you returned. Remember?” Cassie said as she stepped off her front porch. “If you’re busy, we don’t have to drag it out.”
“All right, but let me stop home for a minute. I’ll be right over.” In the house, Susan got the little parcel that she bought for Cassie and hurried over to her neighbor’s house where Cassie had set out the tea in the den.
“I love to sit in front of the fireplace,” Cassie explained. Susan handed her the small box wrapped in silver paper and tied with a gold bow. “This is . . . I wasn’t expecting you to . . .” She opened it with trembling fingers. “Good grief, you brought me some split-nib dip pens and . . . what’s this? India ink.” She jumped up and hugged Susan. “I haven’t seen any of these pens in years, not since the last time I went to an artist convention. Susan, I may cry. I’m so glad to have these. You can’t find them within miles and miles of Woodmore. How’d you know they’re a prize for anyone who does what I do?”
“I asked a friend who’s also an illustrator and design artist. How’s everything?” She asked because she knew Cassie had a reason for pursuing the idea of tea.
Immediately, Cassie’s demeanor darkened like a cloud over bright moonlight. “I don’t know. I love Kix, but he’s . . . He has always let me do whatever I wanted, and . . . and even when I messed up royally, he forgave me, or at least he says he did. I don’t see how he could have.”
“Was what you did so bad? I’m not asking out of curiosity—I want to understand, and I suspect you’re too hard on yourself.”
“It couldn’t have been any worse. Still, as awful as it was, things are better, entirely different with Kix and me because of it.” She reached out and took Susan’s hand. “I hurt him terribly. Susan, I had sex with another man, an electrician handyman at the company I work for. Imagine! On the floor in my office. I wanted him so badly that I would have swum Wade Lake to get to him. He was . . . exactly the kind of man I look down on, rough, ungentlemanly, coarse . . . and a walking ad for sex. Every time I saw him or thought about him, my mouth watered. He did it to show me I was no better than he.”
Flabbergasted, Susan stared at Cassie. Speechless.
She managed to close her mouth and ask, “All right, so you made a mistake, but you didn’t have to tell your husband and make him as miserable as you were, did you?”
“I didn’t tell him. We had never had a satisfactory sex life because, as I learned after my adulterous affair, I was too much of a prude to allow my husband the liberties to do what that guy automatically did without asking me. For five years, I had faked and pretended with Kix. I was ashamed of myself.
“After that, I wanted sex badly, and the first time Kix made an overture, I was ready, and he realized it.”
“And then, you told him?”
Cassie shook her head, and unshed tears glistened in her eyes. “No way. He told me. I’ll remember his words as long as I live. He was lying on top of me, staring down in my face, and I couldn’t look left or right. He said, ‘So someone beat me to it. All these years, I tried to teach you, but you wouldn’t let me. This is what I wanted for us, Cassie.’ Then, he rolled off me and turned his back.
“He’s such a good man, Susan, and he deserves so much better than he’s gotten from me.” Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I’m not going to get pregnant, all disfigured, throwing up every morning, waddling around like a duck with swollen feet and legs. I can’t. I just can’t.”
She felt sorry for Cassie, but only because the seemingly worldly woman was, in fact, juvenile in important ways. “You’re willing to give up the man you love because you’ll lose your figure for about five months? If he wants a child as badly as you say, he’ll be eating out of your hand from the minute you tell him you’re pregnant.”
“In the best of all possible worlds, sure. Have you looked at Kix? That man isn’t a number ten—he’s a number twenty. Gorgeous. I walk down the street with him and every woman we pass, no matter her age, does a double take. And when he turns on that smile, he lights up a room.”
&
nbsp; “Cassie, if he heard you say this, he would probably think you’re talking about another man. Maybe you should talk with a psychoanalyst or a spiritual advisor. If you let him slip through your fingers, you will never get over it.”
“It won’t help. I just don’t want it, and I’m going to lose him.”
An hour later, as Susan headed home, she stopped suddenly and looked up to the sky. Why me, God? I want a child so badly, and it’s impossible. She has a man who loves her and wants to father her children, and she’s too vain and too scared to spend nine months of her life giving him what he wants so badly. I’d give anything to have her problem.
Deciding to make herself as busy as possible, so as not to focus on herself, she sketched the interior of a cathedral ceiling living room, penciled in an arrangement of modern furnishings and, on an impulse, added a Louis XVI style, kidney-shaped love seat upholstered in avocado-green velvet. She sat back and stared at it. Every other item in the room was of contemporary design, and all other fabrics were of brown or an autumn color. She pictured the tan Tabriz carpet she ordered while in New York that would be the only pattern in the room, and clapped her hands. “I’m on to something here. If only Mrs. Burton likes this, I’m going to submit photos of the finished layout to Architectural Design. It could be the break I’ve waited for.”
In her joy at what she had created, she had no appetite and, for dinner, ate a toasted bagel and drank a glass of milk. When she went upstairs to her room, she pushed the gifts for Rudy and Nathan into the shopping bags, hardly looking at them for fear that what they represented would precipitate a rush of melancholia. “I refuse to think about it,” she said to herself in a fit of bravery, but throughout the night, sleep eluded her.
Half an hour after they finished work for the day, Lucas sat with Willis in Sam’s Gourmet Burger Castle enjoying cappuccino and a cinnamon donut. “Okay, so what was it I waited all afternoon to hear?”
“You won’t believe this. I’m CEO of Jackson Enterprises.”
“Get outta here, man. It’s me you’re talking to.”
“Right.” He told him the story beginning with the call from Calvin Jackson’s lawyer and ending with his second meeting with Jackson’s unit chiefs. “They tried to screw me this morning, but you know how I enjoy a fight. Miriam, my father’s secretary, is an ally, fortunately, and considering the antics those guys are capable of pulling, I’m glad she’s there.”
Willis scratched his head, hailed the waiter, and ordered two vodka comets. “Man, this calls for something stronger, but I have to drive.”
Lucas accepted the drink with a raised eyebrow. “How much stronger do you need it?”
“Here’s to a solid year,” Willis said, and frowned. “Say, you didn’t mention an accountant.”
“That’s because he uses consultant accountants. I intend to hire an accountant and use consultants to verify his work. I’ll bet I find half a million dollars that ought to be in the bank.”
“Your old man will be happy. How’s he doing?”
“He’s having surgery tomorrow morning. I hope to get there before they anesthetize him.”
“Yeah. What does Aunt Noreen say about this?”
“I haven’t told her.” He held up both hands, palms out. “I dread dealing with her attitude.”
“You gotta tell her, and you ought to do it before he has that operation.”
“I hadn’t planned to see her tonight.”
Willis seemed skeptical. “Suppose he doesn’t make it through the operation? You ought to tell her. Call her and tell her I’m pestering you to ask her to invite us to supper.”
“She won’t buy that. You drop by there whenever it pleases you and head straight to the kitchen. I’ll tell her we’re coming over, and if she doesn’t feel like cooking, I’ll order take-out from Sam’s.” He took out his cell phone and dialed his mother’s number.
“Hi, Mom. Feel like putting up with Willis and me for a couple of hours this evening?”
“How are you, Son? Come around six-thirty or seven, and I’ll feed you.”
“That’s what we were hoping you’d say.”
They walked into his mother’s house at a quarter of seven. She hugged both men and then looked at Lucas. “I sure hope you don’t have any bad news. My left eyelid’s been jumping all day.”
Chapter Eight
After dinner, Lucas stood before the fireplace in his mother’s living room, stirring the fire and watching the sparks bump into each other. Why was it so difficult to tell her? Maybe she’d be happy that the two of them finally met and found common ground. Well, he’d soon know.
“What are you doing, Lucas?” He turned around and took a seat near the fireplace. He had never been able to fool her; indeed, he hardly ever managed to surprise her. “Something is going on. I just know it,” she said.
Willis cleared his throat. “Lucas saw his father, and he’s afraid you won’t like it.”
She gasped. “He what?”
“I’m not afraid you won’t like it,” Lucas said. “Having access to his father is any child’s right, but I’ve been reluctant to upset you. Yes, I saw him. He sent me a message that he wanted to see me, and I went. I spent two hours with him a little over a week ago.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I’m telling you now, Mama. He turned over Jackson Enterprises to me, and made me its Chief Executive Officer until he’s able to return to work, but for not less than one year. I have contractual rights to run the company as I please.”
“Why’d he do it? To get even with me?”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was what he had most dreaded telling her. “He’s having surgery tomorrow morning, and he expects a long period of convalescence.”
She jumped to her feet, her face ashen and her lips trembling. “What’s wrong with him?”
“It’s a spinal operation for two dislocated vertebrae.”
“But that’s dangerous! Suppose something . . . I mean . . . just a little slip of the surgeon’s hand could make him an invalid for life or . . . God forbid, even kill him.”
Willis walked over to Noreen, draped an arm across her shoulder, and held her close. “Don’t worry about that, Aunt Noreen. That man can afford the best doctors, and you bet that’s what he has. Come on. Sit down.”
“Where is he?”
When Lucas didn’t respond, Willis glanced at him and, as if Noreen meant the same to him as she did to Lucas, Willis said, “He’s in Danville’s General Hospital. If you want to see him, I’ll take you.”
She patted Willis’s hand. “Thanks. I knew I was going to get news I didn’t want to hear.” She looked at Lucas. “Is he still married?”
“Evidently. He didn’t say he wasn’t, and you can bet I didn’t ask him.” He leaned forward and braced his forearms on his thighs. “I’m not dancing on the ceiling because I’m doing what, by my birthright, I should be doing. Furthermore, I did not absolve him, although he sought it, and in those short two hours, I saw what I missed as a child and as a youth growing into manhood. But in spite of everything, I am just like him. I don’t intend to be sandwiched between the two of you. You’ve been a wonderful mother, and I don’t doubt that he would have been a wonderful father if he’d had the chance. You didn’t allow him access to me, but he didn’t demand it or circumvent the fences you erected, either. You were both wrong. Those are my last words on the subject.”
For a while, the silence shouted at the three of them. Then, Lucas went to the fireplace, stirred the fire and the sparks crackled again, the only sound in the room. At last, Willis said, “Aunt Noreen, do you want to see him before he goes under?”
After a minute, she shook her head. “No, Son.” She had called Willis “Son” since he was eighteen and Lucas’s college roommate. “I don’t dare do that, but . . .” She looked at Lucas. “When you see him, tell him that I’ll keep him in my prayers.”
He looked her in the eye. “Ask Willis to do that, Mam
a. I am not going to carry messages between the two of you. I’d do anything for you, but not that. I don’t want to hurt you, so please don’t ask me.”
He watched in amazement as his mother drew herself up, squared her shoulders and asked him, “Have you met your half sisters?”
His lower lip dropped. “You knew Calvin Jackson had children, and that I had two sisters, but you never told me? I haven’t met them, but I expect to soon.”
“They’re both older than you are, so why didn’t he turn his business over to one of them?”
He didn’t like mind-wrestling with his mother, though she was good at it, but he was going to enjoy his answer. “Because he’s a male chauvinist, and admitted as much. He thinks women are incapable of running a big company, and I enjoyed letting him know I thought he was a century off.” He walked over to where she remained standing with Willis’s arm supporting her and kissed her cheek. “I’m going now. Thanks for that great supper.”
“I think I’ll stay here with Aunt Noreen for a while,” Willis said. “In a few minutes, I’ll be able to eat some more apple pie.”
Lucas told them good-bye, got into his car and headed home. It wasn’t the apple pie that kept Willis there; his friend didn’t want to leave Noreen alone for fear that she would worry or become depressed. Willis loved her as much as he loved his own mother, and Noreen reciprocated the feeling.
Lucas hoped Willis would discourage his mother if she indicated she wanted to contact Calvin Jackson. “If he wants to help her pile one stupidity on another one, I’m having nothing to do with it. The man’s still married, and she still loves him.”
At five o’clock the next morning, Lucas dragged himself out of bed, exhausted from a night of wrestling with the sheets and blanket and praying for the sleep that never came. He opened the blinds and stared out at the bleak darkness. He didn’t have to go to that hospital, and he doubted that anyone—including his father—would blame him if he didn’t. Yet, he couldn’t justify staying away.
Getting Some Of Her Own Page 15
