She pulled her overly painted lips into a pout, reminding him of an unhappy clown. “La, I simply refuse to give you a going-away party. Why, you’ve only been home from college a few weeks, and here you are, off again to hide yourself away in a stuffy old library filled with dust-laden law books. It just breaks my heart.”
Tripp leaned forward on his elbows. “It isn’t a going-away party, Mother.” He cut his eyes toward his father. “Remember the young woman I told you about, the one with the sweet name?”
He watched his mother’s shoulders stiffen. “Yes, I do. Garrett, and I recalled how the Garretts were sharecroppers from Tennessee.”
Tripp held her gaze as he reached out and removed the cup from a hand that reminded him of tissue paper, fragile. “Honey Belle and her parents live on Barrington Street, Mother. They’ve never lived in Tennessee.”
She seemed to brighten. “Well, in that case, is it her birthday, is that why you want me to host a party?”
“No, it’s—” He took a fortifying breath and started again. What did he know about Honey Belle, what could he tell his parents about her? He could pacify his mother; his father would have questions. “It’s to announce my engagement. I’ve asked Honey Belle to be my wife.”
In an instant, his father’s face reminded him of a puffed-up toad with a bad case of constipation. “The hell, you say. I won’t have you throwing away law school for some cheap skirt wanting to latch on to the Hartwell fortune.”
Tripp threw his father an irritated glance and enunciated clearly, “My plans haven’t changed, Dad. I’m merely adding a wife to the mix. And, so you know, Honey Belle isn’t cheap, nor is she after money.”
His father leaned back and gripped the chair’s arms. “This girl in the family way?”
It was like his father not to mince words—to get straight to the point. “No, sir.” At least Tripp hoped there wasn’t a baby in the oven from their first time making love, and the many times that had followed the same night. Thinking about how her blonde hair had shimmered in the moonlight, and the touch of her silken skin caused him to readjust his position in the chair.
His father’s face never got beet red unless his anger was near erupting. “If the girl isn’t in the family way, then why the rush to get married, and what do you know about this girl, and her family?”
“I’m not rushing, Dad. We haven’t discussed a date. Not yet.” Squaring his shoulders, Tripp added, “I think Honey Belle would make a beautiful Christmas bride.” He decided to shift the focus from his father. “What do you think, Mother—a Christmas wedding?”
His mother’s eyes took on a dreamy glow. Like a cloud blotted out by the sun, she shifted from a sensible, intelligent woman who ran an efficient home and chaired the local women’s historical society to an angelic child reaching out to catch imaginary butterflies. He hated the dementia stealing her away piece by piece like a thief.
His father bellowed, “Pearlie Mae, fetch Mrs. Hartwell’s tonic.” He cut a mean eye toward his son. “Your mother is in no condition to plan a party or a wedding. I’m afraid this announcement of yours might be the boulder that pushes her over the edge.”
“I’m sorry. I never meant to—” Tossing the linen napkin to the table, Tripp pushed from the chair. “Under the circumstances, perhaps we should cancel our golf game.”
Likewise, his father tossed his napkin to the table. “I’ll call the doctor.” As he left the room, he glanced over his shoulder. “We’ll save this discussion until later.”
“No we won’t, Dad. There’s nothing to discuss. I fully intend to marry Honey Belle Garrett.”
Neither one of them moved as they faced each other. Tripp’s muscles seemed frozen. Logic told him it wasn’t anything he’d said that had caused his mother to drift away. Nonetheless, guilt flooded over him. “I’ll help Mother to her room and sit with her until Dr. Weston arrives.”
For a long time all they could do was stare at each other, until his father relinquished. Tripp denied an inner stab of pain. “I didn’t create this situation, Dad. We have to both come to terms with the facts…we’re losing Mother.”
The Judge scrubbed a hand across his face. The deep furrowed frown on his brow suddenly ironed out. He drew a shuddering breath that seemed to come from hidden depths. “We’ll deal with all these issues next week, when you return home from Massachusetts. I’ll drive you to the airport.”
“No, Dad, you’re the standing judge in the Ferrell murder case. The trial starts the same day I leave.”
The Judge’s eyes grew shadowed. “Then we’ll agree to disagree.”
Obviously unaware of the tension between father and son, the maid said, “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Tripp, but I need help with your mama.”
The Judge waved Tripp toward the landing. “Go. I’ll call the doctor.”
And Tripp took the stairs.
Two by two.
Chapter Nine
Over the next few days, Honey Belle managed to tuck away the doubts her mother had heaped on her. She decided not to tell Tripp about her mother’s nasty accusations. Doing so might prompt questions she wasn’t ready to answer.
On Sunday, she dressed with care. Without a word to her mother, she left the house and drove to the gas station. She pulled behind the station’s garage and parked in the usual place. She’d allowed herself enough time to walk the two miles without working up a sweat.
In front of the Barrington Street house, she stood under the elm tree and waited.
****
Tripp had misgivings as he pointed the car down Barrington Street. He wanted to hope and believe in happy endings. Since meeting Honey Belle, his life had become a series of emotional highs and lows. His entire life had been shaped and molded by family tradition. In college, he’d played the field, never allowing any one woman to get close to him. Now he’d fallen in love. Sure, he’d been intimate, more than once, but he knew the difference between infatuation and the real thing.
Now he needed to steer a straight course in between foolish passion and love, reminding himself that a little distance for a short period of time would do them both good.
He pulled alongside the curb and, leaving the engine running, he shifted the gear stick into park. He opened the door and stepped out. “I believe I owe you dinner.”
“I’d like that,” Honey Belle said. And then there was his mouth searching for hers.
At last he drew a breath. “Shall we go?” he said, burning her with a hot glance.
His eyes promised more than dinner.
****
“Will you excuse me, Tripp? I need to powder my nose.”
“Shall I order you a glass of wine?”
Honey Belle sent him a dazzling smile. “Yes.”
Moments later, he was lifting the glass of chardonnay to his mouth when his eyes caught a movement. He lowered the glass slowly. He’d never seen Honey Belle look so out-and-out sexy. The word exquisite came to mind.
She smiled as she made her way across the crowded restaurant. He could see the avid expression on the other men’s faces—which she ignored. No doubt about it, Honey Belle was a knockout. She had no conceit, no concept of her own perfection. Perhaps that’s what drew him to her. She was beyond the perfect alignment of facial features, the graceful lines and generous curves of her body. She was Honey Belle.
Their eyes met and held in the reflection of the glass, and she blushed—her composure obviously shaken by the warmth of his gaze.
She slid into the chair across the table from him.
Tripp leaned close and murmured, “You know, it’s occurred to me I want to feed you and then take you to bed.”
Her answer nearly knocked him off the chair. “I want you to.”
He laughed. “You are most unique, Honey Belle Garrett.”
There was live entertainment—a bluesy singer at a piano. A warm breeze and the cadence of the waves kissing the shoreline seemed to match the rhythm of the music. It was an intimate setting for lovers.
They ordered dinner, a cup of New England clam chowder, almond fried grouper, parsley potatoes, and sautéed mushrooms. A dish of chocolate ice cream completed the delicious meal, washed down by a fine vintage wine.
The orchestra was playing a slow piece. “Do you think we can dance to this?” Tripp asked, impatient to hold Honey Belle in his arms.
“We can try.” She wore heels, which brought her almost up to his height. When they danced, she couldn’t avoid his eyes. Eyes that seemed to drink her up, swallowing her whole. Their bodies fit, moving slowly to the music, a prelude to another dance. When his hand slipped to the small of her back and drew her closer, a small gasp escaped her. She couldn’t contain a shudder of pleasure.
Tripp nuzzled her ear and felt the heat in her face as she flushed deliciously. “This feels nice,” he said, his voice husky, not making any effort to hide the effect she had on him. It was too late for pretence now, far too late. “How about a walk on the beach—I brought the blanket.”
“Mmm.” Honey Belle pulled him close. “Then I think we should leave, now.”
When he raised his head to look into her eyes, he saw naked hunger there and knew his eyes must betray the same dazed expression.
****
Honey Belle and Tripp walked hand in hand down the long stretch of beach, far away from the restaurant, until reaching their special place. Lightning cut across the sky, promising an August storm.
An ominous feeling loomed over Honey Belle when Tripp said, “It’s too bad you can’t get off work tomorrow. I’d like for you to see me off at the airport.”
“I wish you didn’t have to go, Tripp.”
“Don’t worry,” he chided. “I’ll be back before you have time to miss me.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“A week. Maybe longer, if I can’t find an apartment right away.”
A painful lump formed in her throat. “A week seems like forever, Tripp.”
He hugged her close. “I told my parents about us—our engagement. When I get home, we’ll shop for the perfect ring to place on your long slender finger.”
A little gasp slipped out. She whispered, “What did your parents say?”
“The usual concerns. Mostly afraid I won’t finish law school.”
“What did you say?”
“I assured them there is nothing to worry about.”
“Tripp, what if your parents don’t like me? I mean, it isn’t as if we’re both from the same social circles.” Honey Belle knew truer words had never been spoken. His parents would never accept a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. How would Tripp react when he found out?
Humor laced his face as he lifted her hands to his lips. “I love you, and that’s all that matters.”
She wanted to latch onto him and never let go. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake her mother’s words. He’ll never marry you.
“Hold me, Tripp.”
She didn’t realize she was crying until he thumbed a tear from her cheek. “Hey, why the tears? Meeting my parents is no big deal.”
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t conjure up a smile. Yet the feeling went on, despite herself. “I’m being silly.” She patted his chest. “I hope you find a nice apartment with a yard. I’d love to have a puppy to keep me company while you’re attending class.”
“You won’t have time for a dog, Honey Belle.”
“Oh, why’s that?”
“You’re going to school, too, remember? Studying doesn’t leave much time for a pet.”
Without another word they came together. Entwining his muscular legs around her body, he held her captive. “Besides, I plan to keep you plenty busy.”
She surrendered peacefully, and snuggled close to him. She teased, “Keep me busy doing what?”
“Doing—this.”
His mouth sought hers as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and he put his arms around her, drawing her close. She leaned against him, allowing all her tension to ebb away. She needed his reassurances.
He slowly undid the buttons on her blouse, ran his fingers across her bare shoulders. “Every time I touch you my world lights up.”
“Mama always said I should save myself for the right man. You are perfect for me.” Old doubts crept in. A marriage built on a lie was a sham. She needed to tell him she wasn’t who he thought she was—that she was an imposter.
Not tonight. Tonight was special.
He leaned over and kissed the tender place where her throat curved into her shoulder. She didn’t want their love to be an empty wasteland of sex.
The moon broke through the clouds and cast its light over Tripp’s face, outlining the chiseled features of his cheekbones.
“Hmm,” he hummed, sending vibrations streaming through her. “You feel incredible.” His voice was muffled by the fact that his mouth pressed against her neck.
A sense of euphoria swept over her, and all thoughts of a confession flew from her mind. “You do, too.” She tried to gather her wits while at the same time feeling like a feline in heat.
“Tripp, will you have tons of homework at law school?”
He moved away an inch, his face close to hers. “I suppose so. There’ll be cases to research and long nights at the law library.”
“It sounds like after we’re married you’ll not have time for—”
He pressed her back against the blanket and slid inside her. “For this?”
Shivering, her heartbeat quickened and her breath grew heavy. His lips were like moist drops of dew caressing her skin. Her body flamed and her flesh ached. “Yes, Tripp, for this.”
A little voice inside her head chided her that she shouldn’t be here like this, with him. A proper young lady waited until her wedding night to surrender her virginity. But she had already surrendered that sacred part of her. She hoped she wouldn’t live to regret giving in to her impetuous desire.
Tripp’s passion stole the breath from her throat. Loving him and wanting him, she clung to his shoulders, matching his thrusts and yielding to the desire that flamed inside her.
His lips grew more demanding, his kisses more intense. She nipped the column of his neck. “You taste good.”
He groaned deep inside his throat. “So do you.”
She shivered as a warm sea breeze wafted over her sweat-drenched body, and allowed desire to pool within her.
Their loving slowed to a gentler pace, laced with unfurling desire, then grew and grew, then turned to pleasure—more intense than ever before.
They made love, giving and taking, expressing what they felt while the words remained unspoken, locked in their hearts.
She wasn’t worthy enough to be his wife, yet she loved Tripp Hartwell the Third with all her heart and soul.
Her mother had a saying, Out of sight, out of mind. What if Tripp decided to stay in Massachusetts and never return to South Carolina?
Honey Belle’s head spun. Her mind went blank. She was lost in a crescendo of confusion.
Chapter Ten
The day after Tripp left for Harvard, Honey Belle received an unexpected visit from the most unlikely person. A visit that made her feel as if she’d died and gone to Hell.
The morning was insufferably hot. Honey Belle was sure if there was a thermometer inside the house the temperature would register at a hundred degrees. The ceiling fan circulated dust, and the floor fans circulated hot air.
“Honey Belle, the heat has got to me. Go next door and use the phone. Tell the boss man I’m too sick to come in today.”
The sickly yellow tinge to her mother’s skin worried Honey Belle. “Let me take you to the health department, Mama. When was the last time you had a physical examination?”
“There’s nothing wrong with me, except this blasted heat. Come November, when it cools down, I’ll be right as rain.” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “Besides we ain’t made of money.”
Honey Belle’s morning shower had left her feeling sti
cky and uncomfortable. “The heat is taking a toll on both you and Daddy. We’re not behind on the rent. If we ask, maybe Mr. Ellerby will put in an air conditioner for us.”
Her mother harrumphed. “That old skinflint isn’t interested in fixin’ up anything for the likes of us. All he’s concerned with is if he’s gonna get the next month’s rent.”
The words “slum lord” came to mind as Honey Belle ran two clean dishrags under the faucet. She wrung out the excess water, filled both cloths with ice cubes from the freezer, and handed them to her mother. “Maybe this will help cool you and Daddy off.”
“It’s too hot to cook, Honey Belle. Run to town and pick up some chicken tenders and fries. Your daddy might like some ice cream, too.”
“Cherry vanilla for Daddy, chocolate for you and me.”
Her mother offered a haggard smile and trod toward the bedroom, an ice pack in each hand.
A wave of heat shimmered toward the road when Honey Belle stepped out the front door. At first she thought she was seeing a mirage. She blinked to clear her eyes. The mirage didn’t go away. A sleek black limousine sat parked at the edge of the dirt road in front of the house.
She became painfully aware of the front yard—a sandy, sandspur-filled weed patch in dire need of mowing. Plastic flowerpots, cracked and faded from the sun, the plants long dead and gone, bordered the edges of the house. The mailbox, rusted and battered from multiple hits from baseball bats, sat askew on its post.
The contrast between the expensive vehicle and her surroundings made her uncomfortable. Who in their right mind, she wondered, would risk a car-jacking to drive through Shanty Groves in broad daylight?
She lifted her hand to shade her eyes from the sun. Hesitant, she walked toward the vehicle. Raising her voice, she called toward the dark-tinted windows. “Are you lost…can I help you?”
A man dressed in a black uniform opened the limo’s door and stepped toward her. “Is this the residence of Miss Honey Belle Garrett?”
Forbidden Son Page 6
