Not Even if You Begged

by Francis Ray

  “I think we can do a surprise party. We’ll have all the guests meet at Nettie’s house since she lives the closest, and have a van to shuttle them over so the cars won’t give the party away,” she suggested. “So she won’t become suspicious, the Sisterhood will tell her we’re going antiquing after she returns from brunch with you.”

  He smiled at her. “You seem to have thought of everything. I guess you have to in your profession.”

  The smile slid from her face. “I guess.”

  “I meant that as a compliment, Traci,” he said, wanting to bring the laughter back in her face and eyes.

  “Don’t mind me.” She leaned back in her chair.

  “Long day?” he asked.

  “Try a long month.” She blew out a breath and reached for her glass of wine.

  “Owning your own business has its disadvantages,” he said. “Everything stops at your door. The good and the bad.”

  “Lately it’s been bad,” she said, and then was startled that she had admitted that to him. “But that’s to be expected in my profession.”

  He heard the tenseness underneath the blithe words. “Ever thought of changing professions?”

  “Nope. That would be committing financial suicide,” she told him, then put her glass down. She never talked about her business to anyone. It had to be the wine. “Could we leave? I have an early appointment.”

  He didn’t believe her. “Certainly.” He signaled to the waiter for the bill. “Will you be able to meet tomorrow night to go over the details of the party? The best caterers might already be taken for that date.”

  “I guess so,” she said slowly.

  “Great.” He paid the bill, then stood to hold her chair. “Will seven be all right? We can go to North on Broad.”

  “All right.”

  Ryan placed his hand on the small of her back, felt the slight tremble of her body. Oh, yes. She wasn’t immune to him, just fighting him. He felt there was more to it than just being cautious.

  Outside, they walked silently to his car. Opening the door, he helped her in, hating that he couldn’t keep on touching her. For some odd reason, he thought she needed touching. Not just sexual, but shared caring.

  In the car he started the motor, then backed out of the parking space and pulled onto the busy street, still thinking about the silent woman beside him. Traci was attractive, successful. She moved in the circles of some of the most successful people in the community. Yet, she was home most nights.

  Not once did he recall her mentioning her deceased husband. The Sisterhood often spoke fondly of their spouses. Perhaps he was off base, but he was beginning to think her marriage hadn’t been a happy one.

  He sped through a green light and glanced over at her. She was looking out the window so he couldn’t see her face. He wondered what she was thinking. He didn’t like to think of her being unhappy, but clearly something else was going on.

  If he thought she’d confide in him, he’d gently push. Her backpedaling at the table earlier told him that wouldn’t work. He’d just have to show her that she could come to him with any problem, any time.

  “You’re very quiet.” He glanced over at her as he turned onto her street.

  “Just thinking about my schedule tomorrow,” she told him.

  “I—” he broke off abruptly, slowing the car.

  “What is it?”

  “That’s Simon’s car.” He stopped behind a late-model Ford and cut his lights. By the time he was out of the car, Simon was, too. “Is Mother all right?” Ryan demanded.

  “She’s fine.” Simon’s gaze flickered behind Ryan. “I was in the area working a case and thought I’d drive by to see if your car was here. When I didn’t see it in the driveway I thought you might be at the hospital and decided to stay for a bit.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hello, Simon,” Traci greeted.

  “Hi,” he said, his quizzical gaze going from Ryan to Traci.

  Ryan saw the exchange. “Traci and I were out planning Mother’s surprise birthday party. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything.”

  “She won’t hear it from me.”

  “In that case, you’re invited,” Traci said. “If you’re in the neighborhood you can drop your address in my mailbox.”

  “I will and thanks. Good night.” Returning to his car, he got in and pulled off.

  “He’s a nice guy. He takes his job seriously,” Ryan commented. “I’m glad he’s here.”

  “You’re not the only one.”

  “What?” Ryan stared down at Traci.

  She stared up at him with a hint of puzzlement. “The class he taught. He helped a lot of us.”

  “Oh, right.” For a moment, he’d been afraid Traci was attracted to Simon. He supposed some women might be swayed by his good looks. Thank goodness Traci wasn’t one of them. He took her arm, enjoyed the zing. He was going to take every opportunity to touch her. “Let’s get you home.”

  She balked when he started to his car. “I can walk from here. You go on in and check on Maureen.”

  “Traci, if you want to walk, we’ll walk, but I’m seeing you to your door.” Still holding her arm, he guided her to the sidewalk, then continued down the quiet street.

  “I’m only agreeing because it would take more time to tell you off and, being a man, you’d have to think of a comeback … eventually,” she said, with just enough pique for him to believe. “I want you to check on Maureen.”

  They started down her walk. “I appreciate you being considerate of my manhood and thinking of Mother. She likes you, too.”

  She unlocked her door. “She’s great. I sometimes wonder …”

  “Wonder what?”

  “How did she end up with a son like you?” Stepping inside, she closed the door.

  He laughed, then headed for his car. Seems she was right. He hadn’t been able to offer a quick comeback, but perhaps that was because she had been smiling.

  C h a p t e r

  6

  A blast of furnace-hot air enveloped her.

  Maureen came awake in an instant, kicking the covers off. She sat up in bed. Her hand swept across her forehead, which was beaded with perspiration. Her silk nightgown stuck to her body, her scalp was damp. Her first thought was that the central air had gone out.

  Flicking on the lamp on the night chest, she went to the thermostat on the other side of the room. The gauge read 74 degrees. She frowned, then pushed the control button, checked the setting, and found everything in order. Even as she tried to figure out the problem, the unit came on and she felt the brush of cool air against her skin.

  It must have been a dream, she mused. She changed into another nightgown and went back to bed, snuggling under the down covers, intent on going back to sleep. Ryan had early surgery and she planned on getting up with him and cooking him breakfast. It felt good, safe having him under the same roof, if only for a few nights.

  Her eyes closed as sleep claimed her. It seemed like only seconds before she was jerked awake again by the hot breath of the furnace. She scrambled from under the covers, clicking on the light and sitting on the side of the bed.

  Her chin dropped to her chest as she tried to deny the truth. “No. This can’t be happening.”

  Slipping out of bed, she went to the small built-in refrigerator in the sitting area of the bedroom and grabbed a bottle of water. Twisting off the cap, she drained the bottle. This time the heat subsided more slowly.

  Leaving, she caught her reflection in the long swatch of mirrored glass over the triple dresser. Her cheeks were flushed, her short hair spiked and damp, her gown clinging to her moist body. She couldn’t deny it any longer.

  She was having hot flashes.

  Cautious was not being afraid.

  Just because Traci had waited to see Ryan’s car leave the next morning before she went over to Maureen’s house didn’t mean anything. Just as teasing him before she said good night hadn’t. The only reason she was seeing him was for
Maureen’s sake.

  Traci blew out a disgusted breath as she went around the side of the house to the kitchen entrance. She detested liars. So where did that leave her? She wished she knew.

  She passed the bay window and saw Maureen with her elbows propped on the table, her head resting in the open palms of her hands. Traci sprinted to the door, thankfully found it open, and rushed inside. “Maureen, what’s the matter?”

  Maureen lifted her head, her face miserable. “I’ve started having hot flashes.”

  Traci plopped down in a chair. “You scared me half to death over a hot flash?”

  Maureen was incredulous. “Don’t you understand what this means?” At Traci’s stare, she continued. “I’m old. I’m going through the change. I thought I was going to be spared them because my mother was.” Sadly, Maureen shook her head. “The hot flashes show me how foolish it is to think of dating a younger man.”

  “Maybe you’re mistaken,” Traci suggested.

  “No. I thought the same thing at first. After the second one I stayed awake and waited for the next one. The insidious flash of heat swept over me in one instant; the next time it crept from my face to my feet.” Her hands clenched. “I’m not mistaken.”

  “What did Ryan say?”

  Maureen jerked upright. “I’m not discussing these with my son.”

  Traci, used to handling volatile situations, was failing badly. Ryan might be a doctor, but he was also Maureen’s son. “What about the Sisterhood? Or your gynecologist? An herbalist?”

  “They all had them to varying degrees. Nettie suffered through hers. Donna and Betsy took prescribed medication. Ophelia took herbs.” Maureen put her head in her hands again. “None of them could remember how long they had them. Like childbirth, they said, they’d blocked it out of their minds.”

  “Since they’re older, the medical profession must have advanced,” Traci encouraged. She’d never seen Maureen this down.

  “After I couldn’t sleep I went to my home office and looked on the Internet. There’s risk with prescribed medicine as well as over-the-counter medicine.” Maureen’s hands lifted to curve around her coffee mug. “I haven’t decided which course to take.”

  “Then you’re being premature in giving up on you and Simon.” Traci brightened. “Medicine could take care of them.”

  Maureen got up from the table with her cup and poured the coffee down the drain. “It’s not that simple. Whether they’re controlled or not, I have them. They prove I’m too old for Simon.”

  “Bull crap.” Traci went to her. “They don’t prove anything of the sort. You’re vibrant and fabulous. Until last night you would have pitted yourself against any woman, no matter her age.”

  “Maybe you’re just too young to understand.”

  Nothing sent Traci over the edge faster than telling her she didn’t understand. It was too close to Dante always calling her stupid. “I understand you’re miserable. Don’t let something you can’t control ruin your life.”

  “You mean like you’ve done,” Maureen tossed back. “You couldn’t control the way your mother pushed you aside or that Dante cheated on you. Yet, because of them you don’t trust love and won’t let another man in, and only a few people get close to you.”

  Traci jerked as if she’d been sucker-punched. She had. She never thought Maureen, her closest friend, would use a confidence against her.

  “At least I’m not panting after a man.”

  Maureen gasped. “At least I have desires. You’re cold.”

  You’re cold. The words slapped Traci down hard and left her reeling. How many times had Dante called her a cold, heartless bitch? Making love to her was like lying on top of an ice cube.

  Hurt, angry, oddly embarrassed, Traci swung around for the door. She had to get out of there.

  “Traci, please don’t go,” Maureen called. She grabbed Traci’s arm when she didn’t stop. “Please. I’m so sorry. You’re kind and loving.”

  “Just let me go.” Her voice was hoarse, thick with tears she refused to shed.

  Maureen hugged Traci’s stiff body. “Please forgive me. I don’t know what I would do if I lost your friendship.”

  Traci heard the hitch in Maureen’s voice, felt the tears seeping through her blouse. Only her grandfather had cried for her. She’d told Maureen things she’d never confided to another human. “Let go of me.”

  “No. If I do, this will be the end of our friendship and I don’t want that,” Maureen cried.

  True. Traci didn’t give second chances. But hadn’t she been just as harsh? Traci tried to hold on to her anger. Couldn’t. “You’re right.”

  “No,” Maureen protested.

  “I don’t trust love. I never want to be vulnerable again. Not even if a man begged,” she said. “James showed you how love, how marriage is supposed to be.”

  “I loved James with all my heart, but I want that again.” Maureen lifted her head, tears shimmered in her eyes. “Will you forgive me?”

  “If you’ll forgive me. I wanted to hurt you.”

  “Because I hurt you first.” Maureen sniffed and rubbed the heels of her hands across both eyes. “Men. They can complicate a woman’s life.”

  “If you let them,” Traci said. “I have no intention of letting that happen.”

  “I want to love and be loved again by a man,” Maureen said quietly. “Perhaps there is a man out there closer to my own age.”

  “At the risk of going at each other again, are you sure?”

  “I’ve had all night to think about it.” She wiped her eyes one last time. “I might as well call Simon now and cancel tonight.”

  “I have an engagement, but I can cancel and we can have a girl’s night,” Traci offered.

  “No. I have paperwork to do. I’ll be fine.” Maureen’s smile wobbled. “Who knows? I might meet a man today at work.”

  “He’ll be distinguished and completely taken by you,” Traci said, trying to help. “I’ll check with you later today. Take care.” Letting herself out, she followed the curved walk to the front of the house. There was no way she was putting herself in a position to feel all the pain and heartache Maureen was feeling.

  No man was worth that risk.

  Maureen picked up the kitchen phone and dialed Simon’s cell number before she lost her nerve. She’d never acted as bitchy as she had today with Traci. She honestly didn’t know if it was her hormonal imbalance, anger at her body, her lust for Simon, or a little bit of all three.

  “Hello. Simon Dunlap.”

  Just hearing his voice increased her heart rate, her yearning for something that would never be. Perhaps it was better that the hot flashes started before they went out.

  “Hello?” he repeated.

  “Simon, it’s Maureen.”

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Her grip on the receiver tightened. “Something has come up and I need to cancel tonight.”

  There was a slight pause. “Are you sure you’re all right? Your voice sounds strange.”

  Trying to break a date with a policeman, at least a discerning and caring one like Simon, wasn’t easy. “I’m fine. Well, I’d better get going. Good-bye.”

  “Wait,” he said. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

  Briefly she closed her eyes and leaned back against the counter. If she just told him she didn’t want to see him again, he’d ask why. She’d never tell him the true reason so she just had to keep saying no until he got the message. “I’m afraid not.”

  There was another pause. “Then when?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll call. Good-bye, Simon.” She disconnected the cordless phone before he had a chance to ask her any more questions. Almost immediately the phone rang again.

  She knew who it was before she glanced at the caller ID. Simon. She was sure he wouldn’t call Ryan, but she didn’t put it past him not to come by. And, if she saw him, she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to keep saying no. The phone stopped after the eight
h ring.

  Pushing away from the counter, she grabbed her keys and purse. She was on the steps before she remembered she hadn’t set the alarm. Quickly retracing her steps, she pushed the “on” button and hoped that, unlike now, she wouldn’t think of Simon each time she activated the alarm.

  Maureen’s bad day continued once she arrived at the shop.

  She put the blame squarely where it belonged: her hot flashes. They kept her from thinking and appeared at the most inopportune time. A browsing male customer thought she was coming on to him when she removed her jacket and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse.

  A shipment from Florence for a customer was being held up in customs and nothing she could say or do would get the officials to move faster. Mrs. Miller had come in to look at “her secretary” only to learn that it had been sold, and she created such a scene that a customer about to purchase a bedroom set left. Henrietta had become so annoyed with Mrs. Miller for acting irrationally and with Maureen for not calling the police, she’d left for the day.

  Alone in the shop, an eighteenth-century fan dangling from her wrist, she felt miserable and alone. All the members of the Sisterhood had dropped by with sympathy and encouragement. Traci’s doing. She’d forgiven her and was trying to help. There wasn’t any.

  Trying not to mope, tired of trying to anticipate the next hot flash, she moved around the shop touching, straightening, rearranging. The door opened and a distinguished gray-haired gentleman came in. She smiled despite the inward sigh. The man appeared to be in his late sixties. He was well dressed with a straight back and a warm smile. He was just what Traci had ordered, but Maureen didn’t even feel a flutter.

  “Hello.” She moved to greet him just as the door opened again and the taciturn teenager came in. She greeted the silent young man, who ducked his head and moved toward the painting he favored. She gave her attention to the older gentleman, then inwardly winced at her description. He might not be that much older than she was. “Was there anything in particular that you were interested in?”