She decided on what was polite and welcomed him.
He nodded and subsided in his seat. She could swear for the full one hour and fifty minutes of her class that he stared at her without blinking. It was disconcerting and she found herself becoming flustered; she didn't do flustered. She had been an attorney for ten years. In some of those years, especially when she practiced criminal law, she had faced down a few scary men and kept her composure.
Plus, she was captain of her law school debate team and here she was pushing her hands through her hair nervously, biting her lips more often than she had done in years--they were even feeling a little raw from her long nervous minutes of teeth torture--and all because deep-set dark amber eyes were trained on her.
She needed to remember that this guy couldn't read. He was her student. For the time being she was supposed to be the one with the upper hand.
The class finished with her not remembering much of what she taught. As usual, Keith offered to walk her outside after he donned his cap.
"No, thank you." She smiled at him. "Tonight I am going to have a talk with our newest student."
Slater was still sitting in the back while the other students filed out.
He only got up when Keith left.
Amoy picked up her briefcase and raised an eyebrow. "So, Mr. Slater, you wanted to tell me your story?"
He grimaced. "No, miss...please. You sound like my landlady."
She grinned. She was going for the efficient teacher effect and came off sounding like a strict schoolmistress. "How was the class?"
"I am not sure. I may have come by a bit late. I think quite a few things went right over my head."
"How is it that you can't read?" Amoy asked and then shook her head. "Sorry to be so abrupt but it's crazy. You know when somebody looks the way you do...they kind of expect...forget it."
Slater grimaced. "Can we get out of here?"
"Sure." Amoy led the way. They walked in silence all the way to her vehicle. She unarmed it, put in her briefcase and stood facing him. He watched her silently and the tiny raindrops, which were imperceptible until now, got a bit bigger.
"Want to come inside?" Amoy indicated her vehicle. She was getting wet.
"Sure." Slater wiped a raindrop away from his cheek.
She got into the vehicle and turned on the AC and the radio. She watched Slater from the corner of her eyes; he looked around her vehicle briefly and then twisted to face her.
"This is a nice car."
"Thanks." Amoy shrugged. What else was she to say? Oh, I buy a new one every year. My Dad has shares in a dealership and he ensures that his family changes their vehicles regularly. That would probably sound pretentious and snobbish.
There was a wide divide where she and Slater were concerned. She was a privileged lawyer. Her problems these days were partnerships and a lack of children. For him it was delivering packages to her office. Who knew what his issues were apart from not being able to read?
Wake Up Everybody came on the radio and he smiled. "Love that song."
"Me too." Amoy grinned. "I love the oldies."
"I don't discriminate." Slater murmured. "Equal listening opportunity for all songs for me."
"And you also play them! Which is pretty good in my estimation."
"Yes, I play the piano and the organ and the saxophone and guitar and the accordion." Slater smiled. "Music is a language I understand really easily. Much easier than words."
"Which brings us to why you can't read," Amoy said. "Why?"
Slater rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "My formal education ended when I was nine."
"Nine?" Amoy shook her head disbelievingly. "You speak so well though."
Slater smiled. "I spent the latter part of my teens and early twenties with Edwin, who is very into proper speaking. He is a retiree who lived in England for a long time. He was a butler there."
"Ah." Amoy crossed her arms.
His eyes followed the movement of her hands and she found herself getting hot from his stare.
"So back to when you were nine," she said hurriedly, breathing out quietly when Slater dragged his eyes away from her and looked through the window.
He had a nice profile. Amoy concentrated on what he was saying instead of cataloguing his features, but she couldn't help thinking that he had some good genes. No, she wasn't contemplating having a baby with him; that had been a rogue thought that had no business intruding itself on her subconscious.
He glanced at her and she shifted her eyes away from him.
"Where do you go when you look at me like that?" His voice was husky and filled with tension.
Amoy cleared her throat. "Sorry, you were going to tell about when you were nine."
Slater moved his head and watched for a few tense seconds. When he started talking she almost sighed with relief; this guy might not be able to read but he had an uncanny way of reading people.
"I was the only child for my mother. She got mixed up with a bad guy who was pursued by the police…she got caught in the crossfire. She died. He died. Nobody knew I was still alive because I ran away. I heard horrible things about the boys’ homes so I thought it would be better to take my chances on the street."
Amoy gasped. "What?"
"Yes," Slater said grimly, "so I lived with some guys on the street for a while and then Edwin, the guy I was telling you about—I met him at the traffic light and he told me to go to the Good Samaritan Inn; he volunteered there. And when I went there, he said the Lord told him to rescue me.
"I had no idea who this Lord was but he also told Edwin that I was to live with the Wilsons—a couple from his church who were as charitable as he was. I was formally fostered by them until they left Jamaica three years later.
"In my time with them I did go to high school for a while. That is, I went to the classes that interested me, like mathematics, music and art.
"I never really understood words. They confused me. I played football though, and was a star player, so my illiteracy was not much of an issue in the none-figure classes. I moved from class to class with the blessing of my teachers."
"Words fail me." Amoy's lips trembled in indignation. "That school should be sued."
"Then I won't tell you who they were, Lawyer Gardener." Slater grinned at her in the half dark. His teeth were even and white.
The rain was coming down in rivulets, and Amoy could see the church lights like little bubbles in the distance.
"So what happened after high school?" Amoy asked.
"I never finished. The Wilsons left Jamaica; I went back on the streets. It wasn't hard to find my old gang. Most of them had died; unfortunately, being a street boy does not come with a long life guarantee. Some of them had picked up crime. I thought I'd have to do the same when Edwin found me.
"He brought me to his place. He hounded me to finish school but I refused. School wasn't my thing."
Amoy shuddered. "But why?"
"Because some people work differently I guess." Slater looked at her, his eyes limpid. "Like you—you are obviously very into education and books; you express yourself through words and letters, but I prefer to express myself through music."
"Why did you write me that letter?" Amoy asked. "It didn't make any sense."
Slater sighed. "I don't know what came over me. I've been watching you a while. The first time I got the uptown business route, your office was one of my first stops. You were greeting somebody in the lobby. Some guy in a suit. And you were smiling at him. And I thought, I'd like her to smile at me like that."
Amoy swallowed. "Slater..."
"I know it was foolish," Slater interrupted, "but I saw you again and again and then I realized that you worked there and it got to the point where I started thinking about you. And then I found out your name."
His voice was low and husky. "And I realized that in all my growing up I never really felt like this before. I was going through my very first crush at twenty-four. And then a couple of weeks ago I p
layed at this wedding and the couple requested Dennis Brown's For You—know it?"
"Yes." Amoy inhaled raggedly. "Of course."
"I kept thinking of you when I played it. And I know it was ridiculous but I tried to write the lyrics."
Amoy smiled. "What did you want to say?"
For you there is no mountain I would not climb, No treasure I would not find; I'll turn the hands of time, for you...
He recited it and Amoy found herself curiously on the verge of tears. "I don't know what to say, Slater. I mean...you and I are..."
"I know we can never work." Slater grimaced. "Please don't say it out loud. I get it. I am trying to work through this crush thing, believe me. It will probably die now that you and I have talked. I hear that's how it works."
Amoy watched as he turned toward the door. "I should get going. I have to visit Edwin and make sure he is okay; he has pneumonia, you know."
"Wait!" Amoy touched his arm. It bunched beneath her fingers in tension. "Do you want a lift there?"
"No." Slater looked at where her fingers were on his upper arm and then at her. "I like riding in this kind of weather--clears up the cobwebs in the head."
She released his arm. "About the classes—maybe I can help you privately..."
"No," Slater shook his head. "I am getting help. My landlady already offered. I'll still come to your classes though, maybe on a Thursday. Maybe just to see you."
"Slater, I don't know what to say about all this."
"Listen Amoy, it's cool. I am a big boy; I can deal with rejection. I never expected anything would happen between us. We are worlds apart."
"And you are younger than me," Amoy reminded him, "by quite a bit and apart from the whole age thing, there is the ..."
"Dumb thing," Slater inserted before she could finish.
"You are not dumb!" Amoy looked at him reprovingly. "You just need to learn to read. Slater, all I am trying to say is I am not looking for a relationship right now. I am attracted to you, that's obvious. You are quite a good-looking guy; you must know that."
"We are attracted to each other," Slater corrected. "My mother used to say my looks were the only thing I got from my worthless dad."
"Your dad? Who is he?" Amoy frowned.
"I don't know. Never met him." Slater shrugged. "And that was probably a good thing. My mother didn't know much about him."
"How do you feel about babies?" Amoy asked quickly.
Slater looked at her sharply. "Babies? Why?"
"Because I want children." Amoy was saying it and she couldn't believe she was saying it aloud. "That's what I want in my life right now. And I am going to have them, with or without a relationship."
Slater froze, his hand flexed on the door handle. "Amoy, that's..."
"Crazy...Foolish...I should wait for the right man…See, the thing is, I did all of that already. I am thirty-five and I am ready. The thing is, your name keeps coming up in my head. You wouldn't need to be in my life. I don't know how to put this so it doesn't sound crass, but I just want your sperm."
He subsided in the seat.
The rain had eased somewhat. Amoy waited for him to say something. He was sitting there and looking into space.
When he roused himself, he looked at her grimly. "I have to go."
Amoy nodded. "I understand. This was out of left field and..."
"Bye Amoy." He exited the vehicle in the pouring rain.
Amoy closed her eyes and exhaled. "Bye Slater." She had blown it. She had really put her foot into it this time.
Chapter Six
The rain had eased up by the time Slater reached Edwin's house at twenty minutes to ten. Edwin had the television on; he could see the flashing lights through the thin curtains. He parked the bicycle and let himself inside with his key.
Edwin was sitting in the living room a blanket over his lap, his reading glasses on and a cup of steaming tea beside him.
"You're wet." He glanced at Slater.
Slater grinned. "You sound much better. I was fretting about you."
Edwin coughed. "I know you were worried. Edmond's housekeeper kept checking up on me regularly. I know it couldn't be of her own accord."
"Be grateful."
"Even Edmond came over to check on me," Edwin grunted.
"Good." Slater headed for the guest bathroom. "For two old men who live in the same house, you two sure keep to yourselves."
"I told you why," Edwin said loudly. "We got married to the same woman. And even though she and Edmond were only married for two years and he was the one who divorced her, he has never forgiven me. We met after they divorced and we were married for over thirty years. She loved me more."
"Yes, I hear you." Slater pulled off his shirt and jeans and hung them up on the shower rail. He always left clothes at Edwin's. He went into the room and found a fresh pair of jeans and t-shirt.
He returned to the living room.
"I have lots and lots of soup," Edwin said, turning down the television. "Go have some."
"Nah." Slater sank down in the leather settee across from Edwin and sighed. "I can't eat now. I had a large lunch and one of the guys had a birthday party. His wife baked him a giant cake. I had a slice."
"Ah," Edwin raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"
"Everything." Slater clenched and unclenched his fist. "I finally spoke to Amoy Gardener."
Edwin coughed. "Say what?"
"Yes." Slater pushed the chair back and relaxed. "We spoke. She is even prettier close up."
Edwin gave a gurgling chuckle. "So what did you talk about?"
“I told her the sketchy details of my beginnings. I told her what my letter was meant to say and she told me she doesn't want a relationship. Apparently she's been there and done that; what she wants is a baby."
"Sounds enjoyable," Edwin murmured. "Making babies was designed by God to be fun."
"Sounds crazy," Slater muttered. "When I was riding from Hope Road, I had one thought. She's bright, she's pretty and she's crazy."
"And you are mulling over her proposition," Edwin guessed correctly, "and you hate that you are thinking about it, knowing you."
"I don't want children, ever," Slater mumbled. "But I hate the thought of her having a child with anyone else. I feel possessive of this woman and I don't even know her that well."
"Why don't you want children?" Edwin turned the television off altogether, apparently finding his story more fascinating than whatever was on.
"You forget how I grew up?" Slater growled at a grinning Edwin. "I don't even have a family history. I don't know who my father is. I would never wish that on a child. Bringing a young life into this world is the last thing that I would want. Besides, I don't know if I could have a child with her and not care. And don't you think what she said is slightly insulting? I would be nothing more than a prize stud! She said as much."
Slater imitated Amoy's perfectly accented English. "I only want your sperm, Slater, not you. That's why you are perfect, Slater. You can't read well; you are poor. I can find another patsy to do this but you, you are perfect.
"You are uneducated, unconnected, undesirable...except that you look good, which is nothing to do with you really, just that you have good genes. I want my child to have good genes. Of course, I don't want any more input from you because you are really not in my class!"
Edwin hid his laugh in a well-timed cough.
Slater ignored him. "I expected you to be more sympathetic to me, Edwin. At least if not to me, to all mankind."
"I am, I am." Edwin wiped his eyes. "Forgive me, it's just that I could picture her saying that."
"She didn't say it quite like that," Slater sighed, "but on my way riding down here, that's pretty much how my mind played it back."
Edwin nodded.
"As I see it, you have one of two options: you can ignore her from now on and get on with your life…ask Carl King for another delivery route, stop going to her business place and don't go to her classes. Get her out of your s
ystem."
Slater cracked his fingers one by one. "That would be the wisest thing to do, yes."
"Or you can court her properly and let her get to know you. To know you is to love you. She won't be able to help herself; she will want you as well as your baby."
Slater grunted. "The second option is not possible. What do I have to offer a woman like Amoy Gardener? She was an impossible dream. I never expected anything to come of it!"
"And now your 'impossible dream' wants a baby."
"But not me..." Slater frowned. "Why am I so upset?"
"Because you are human," Edwin murmured. "You can upgrade yourself, you know. Learn to read, get another job. Go back to school... I have always wanted you to do those things."
"I know." Slater ran his hand over his face and then his neck in contemplation. "But here is the thing: to become the type of man that Amoy Gardener would be interested in could take years. And I haven't even started the foundation yet. So I can kiss that thought goodbye."
"So you think you can do it?" Edwin asked his voice husky.
"Yes," Slater said. "If I don't do it, I would be setting myself up for heartbreak."
"You have been harping on and on about this woman for close to two years now." Edwin grinned. "At one point, I had to admit I was a little happy about it, because I was beginning to worry about your sexuality."
"My sexuality is just fine." Slater growled. "I have had girlfriends."
"I know, I know," Edwin said hastily. It's either you aim very low or too high--who can forget that hideous tattooed creature that I found in your bed a couple of years ago?"
Slater grinned. "She was just crashing for the night. Marva was never my girlfriend, nor did we sleep together. I was doing that good Samaritan thing that you always do."
Edwin shuddered. "I was so happy when she left."
"So was I." Slater shrugged. "She thought that after being so nice to her, I deserved to be paid with a BJ."
"What's a BJ?" Edwin asked;his eyes were alight and watery.
Slater shook his head. "Nothing. Let's forget about that."
Edwin grinned. "I know what it is."
"Well, good for you," Slater said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Can we not talk about sex or sex acts or that sort of thing?"
Scarlett Love (The Scarletts Page 5
