Painted Passion

by Latisha Brandon

  “It means I need you to show a little class. My mother is very refined.”

  “Your mother is full of crap,” Kevin told her. “And since when do I not act appropriately? You weren’t asking me to leave South Philly at the door last night. Especially when I…”

  “Kevin,” she pleaded, also remembering last night. Before she could explain herself, her mother summoned her forward. Ashlyn bent at the waist, kissing both of her mother’s cheeks.

  “Ashlyn, what is this nonsense? Please tell me this is a very crass joke.” She added the last part while looking at Kevin over Ashlyn’s shoulder.

  “Mother, a lot has changed since I was last home. This isn’t a joke, I married Kevin. Stop worrying, I’m very happy. We went to Vegas, just like you and Daddy.” At the mention of her father, Ashlyn threw herself into his outstretched arms. “Dad, why do I cry every time I see you?” The warmth and comfort offered by her father calmed Ashlyn’s jittery nerves. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to come home. But Dad, I had to find my way.”

  Liam placed his arms at the sides of her face. “Sassafras,” he said, a childhood name he hadn’t called her in years. Her father had tears in his eyes. “Are you truly happy?”

  “Yes, Daddy, I am.” Ashlyn pulled Kevin to her, forgetting about their earlier disagreement, but not him. “Kevin Zahir Dunmore, my parents, Liam and Kathryn Farrell.” It was true that Kevin had already introduced himself, but she wanted to do it; it gave them a fresh start.

  Kathryn quickly sat up straight, spilling her drink. “Zahir…is that a Muslim name?”

  His outer expression never changed, but Ashlyn knew his defenses engaged, and who could blame him? He knew from that moment forward his relationship with Ashlyn would have to survive testing. Her mother was going to be the sticking point. Kathryn wanted to see Kevin sweat. That was the reason for the barbed question. He bit down on his jaw, hiding his anger over her disrespectful question.

  “We’re Catholic,” Kathryn said.

  “Mother, please, show some tact,” Ashlyn said.

  “That’s okay, Ashlyn. I’m pretty sure your mother meant no harm,” he said, though clearly she did. In the end, he was still Adara’s son. “Yes ma’am, it is a Muslim name. I was named in honor of my mother, a proud Muslim woman.” The room fell into silence. “If I could be shown to my room, I would like to freshen up before dinner.”

  Ashlyn watched him. He had every right to flay her mother, but he didn’t. “Dad, Kevin and I are going up to rest. We’ll see you at dinner.” She wanted to reassure Kevin of her love and devotion.

  Kevin had motioned her past him when her mother said to their retreating backs, “Ashlyn, dear, until this situation is cleared up, please have Smith place Kevin on the third floor.” Smith was the butler, and the third floor was reserved for guests, namely business associates of her father.

  “Mother, is this really necessary?” Ashlyn asked, stunned by her mother’s audacity. “Kevin and I will be sharing my suite, like a normal married couple.”

  Kathryn stood. “Give your father time to make some inquiries.” She made the statement as if it put an end to the decision.

  “Mother, don’t be so naïve. Of course Dad has already made inquiries.” Ashlyn exited the room, holding Kevin’s hand, leaving the argument for her parents to hash out. They bumped into Smith while climbing the stairs. He’d come to work for the Farrell family when Ashlyn was in the single digits. He was very proper and reserved, but he cracked the slightest smile when Ashlyn grabbed him in a tight hug. “My silver fox, still as sharp as ever.”

  Mr. Ulysses P. Smith was her mother’s right hand. He’d never told Ashlyn what the P stood for, but Ashlyn had narrowed it down to Perseus and Poochie. When Ashlyn was a child, she dreamed of him sailing on a riverboat singing “Moon River.” He stirred such feeling in every woman he came across, no matter the age. His hair was silver by the time he was thirty. He was now in his late forties.

  Smith held both of her hands, smiling with his eyes. “Mrs. Dunmore…it’s good to have you home.”

  “You heard. Nothing gets past you. Mother is going to need you as a sounding board.”

  “I know, I saw her when I sent a maid to clean up the spill.”

  Kevin interrupted their conversation. “Excuse me, Smith, but could you please show me to my room on the third floor?” His statement, while polite, brokered no argument.

  “Kevin, I thought it was settled where you would stay.”

  “Settled by whom, Ashlyn?”

  Smith was kind enough to walk away, but Ashlyn knew he overheard every word. “I don’t understand why you’re mad.”

  “Let me explain it to you. You love me being assertive, a little rough around the edges in the bedroom. However, the same confidence and self-assurance that attracted you scares and intimidates your mother. Did she expect me to bow and scrape in front of her? It will never happen, so you might as well get used to her fainting in my presence.”

  Ashlyn couldn’t believe he was behaving this way. “This is neither the time nor place for this discussion.”

  “This is the perfect time and place. This cold, sterile mausoleum you call home is the perfect backdrop for such a serious discussion.” He couldn’t deny the sheer elegance and utter decadence of the mansion, but it was too formal for the title “home.”

  Tired and irritated due to Kevin and the pregnancy, she said, “Fine, Kevin, hold on to your stubbornness.” She didn’t give him a second look, but she did hear him.

  “Let’s see how you feel sleeping alone. If you want to spend the rest of your life with me, then that means a marriage beyond the bedroom. I didn’t marry your mom or dad. See you at dinner.”

  They went their separate ways, wondering how in less than twenty-four hours the sphere of the world seemed to reside in the space between them.

  * * *

  Christmas dinner turned into a nightmare, and Kevin knew breakfast was going to be worse. He turned off his cell phone. He didn’t need to explain the events to his father. Aaron or Vlad or Zona would be in the background offering advice and telling him to ignore the advice from his father.

  Reluctantly he admitted the accommodations on the third floor were plush. His room consisted of an elevated king-size bed with thick columns holding up a canopy. The overhang should have seemed feminine, but the size added a masculine element. There was a spacious full bath with separate tub and shower. The bathroom was the same size as a studio apartment in New York. The corner room had a wrought iron balcony.

  The sun was just rising but Kevin was already awake, rising with the roosters. At dinner the night before he’d sat across from Ashlyn, but hardly recognized her. Her hair was pulled tightly away from her face, and pearls were in her ears and around her neck. She’d worn a pastel sweater twin set, a tweed skirt, and beige kitten heels on her feet. Kevin could just imagine her granny stockings pulled above her navel, meeting the bottom edge of her full-coverage white bra. He remembered a bike ride in the rain when she’d gone without a bra.

  Did her mother keep those clothes in the closet for when she returned?

  Kevin guzzled the strong black coffee that was in his room when he woke. A handwritten note lay on the tray, informing him that a late breakfast would be served in one hour. The family normally dined late the morning after the jollity of Christmas. Kevin had decided the night before that he wouldn’t spend one more night in this place. He said his piece last night to her father in his study, which seemed well lived-in and comfortable. He had smelled fine cigars in the air. The leather wing chairs conformed to the body.

  Liam had asked Kevin about his childhood. The two men had much in common, both being from very humble origins. Her father was a quiet, solid presence. He was steady, but he had to be in order to deal with Kathryn. Kevin reassured him that his intentions had been honorable from the very beginning, that he cherished and loved his daughter. Nothing Kevin said surprised Liam. He already knew about every major event in Kevin’s
life. Kevin didn’t mind being put on the spot, but he would have preferred revealing things about his past and his family on his own time.

  Ashlyn’s father treated him like a man, but her mother belittled him every chance she got, taking pot-shots at him behind everyone’s back. Kevin could tell she was beginning to get frustrated because she couldn’t get a reaction out of him. He knew she was about to up the ante, challenge him head-on. If he lashed out he would come across as the aggressor, but that’s what she wanted, to appear the helpless female attacked by the rough uncouth guy from South Philly.

  The night before, after Christmas dinner and the discussion with Liam, Kevin had sought out Ashlyn in her suite. She seemed shocked to see him when she answered her door. She wordlessly motioned him into the room, and Kevin was taken aback by the grandness of her space. What was it like for her as a child, rambling around alone in a room fit for royalty? The ceiling, painted with harp-playing cherubs, soared above them. Gilded gold and wood with rolled scroll arms and legs surrounding them. “Was this room the same way when you were a kid?” he asked, avoiding the real reason he sought her out.

  Ashlyn tightened her robe and adjusted the towel around her wet hair. After the disastrous Christmas dinner she had needed to relax, but the solitary shower only highlighted the fact that she was alone and her husband looked at her as if he didn’t know her. Seeing him standing in her childhood room sneering hurt Ashlyn greatly. “Why are you really here, Kevin?” She sat down before the fire in a single chair. If he sat next to her she would crumble, and she needed to be strong because she had no idea what he was about to say to her.

  Kevin sat across from her with his elbows on his knees and let his hands dangle toward the floor. He was so tired; tired of fighting, tired of defending himself, and tired of not knowing if he fully had his wife’s love and support. He couldn’t look at her; he felt broken. “When were you going to tell me?”

  She crossed her legs biding time. “Tell you what?”

  “Do you really want to play with me?” His eyes still focused on the tips of his shoes.

  “Does intimidation usually work for you?” Ashlyn knew she was pushing him, but why wouldn’t he look her in the eyes?

  Kevin pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing anger would get him nowhere. He raised his head, watching her foot bounce nervously. This was his wife and the future mother of his child. She didn’t deserve his anger, no matter how far in a corner her mother painted him. “Tell me about the baby…please, Ashlyn?”

  She inhaled sharply, “How did you know?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No, not really, but humor me.”

  “The morning sickness. You’ve given up alcohol, you tire easily, and I know women hate to hear it, but you’ve gained weight.”

  At times it was heady being with a person who knew her so well, but at other times it made it hard to keep a secret. Ashlyn touched her stomach. “You’re going to be a father.”

  Kevin watched her hand caress her torso. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I wasn’t ready.”

  “And you think that’s a good enough answer? I had a right to know as soon as you found out. You accuse me of making decisions without consulting you, but what about you hiding the biggest decision of our short marriage?”

  “My body, my decision.” Was he suggesting what she thought he was?

  Kevin raised his arms as if warding off an attack. “Once again you’re coming to the worst conclusion about me.”

  Ashlyn reached for his hands, “I’m sorry, Kevin, I didn’t…”

  He stood and moved out of reach. Kevin shook his head sadly. “You’re never going to trust me. Why did you marry me, Ashlyn? Were you slumming? Did you want to see what it was like to sleep with a brother before you returned to your white-washed world?”

  “So now we’ve resorted to slinging mud? I know this isn’t the ideal way to find out you’re going to be a father, but I wanted to wait until the new year and we were past this insanity and back home.” Ashlyn walked to his side. “I love you. Let’s get through the holiday—”

  “And then what, Ashlyn?”

  “We go home,” she said, as if it were the simplest of tasks.

  “Do you honestly think your mother is going to accept our marriage?” At that moment Ashlyn seemed so naïve to Kevin.

  Ashlyn tried to ignore the fact he didn’t return her words of love. “It doesn’t matter if she accepts it.”

  “If that were true, why are we still here? Why did I have to once again come to you? I feel like a hamster on a wheel…going nowhere.” Kevin bent down and kissed the tip of her nose. “Goodnight, Ashlyn.”

  She grabbed and held his hand tightly. “Stay with me.”

  Kevin shook his head and said, “I need time to think.” Their marriage was up in the air, and now an innocent baby was thrown into the equation. They were supposed to be happy, not snapping at each other. He didn’t like the sense of helplessness filling him.

  Ashlyn dropped his hand and backed away from him. “Goodnight, Kevin.”

  * * *

  Kevin didn’t know how much longer he could hold his tongue. He put away his his slacks and button-down shirts. He packed his cashmere sweaters and silk ties. He put away his hand-stitched leather Prada shoes. He hung the suede blazers in a garment bag, and retrieved his well-worn dark denim jeans. He whipped on a green long-sleeved tee, thick socks, and golden Tims. Kevin decided not to shave. His jaw and chin were covered in a light beard.

  When he first arrived, a maid had unpacked his bags, but he wanted to repack for himself. He needed nothing to hinder his exit. As soon as he could he’d pull Ashlyn aside and tell her of his plans to leave. There was no way in hell Kevin could stay through the new year. He felt stifled in every way there, all his energy and patience geared toward fending off Kathryn. Last night he’d asked Smith to give him a lift to the airport after he left Ashlyn’s suite. It was up to her whether she would accompany him home.

  Kevin placed his suitcases on the service elevator, taking it down to the basement, where there was an exit into the garage. He stood outdoors in freezing temperatures without a coat, the brisk wind ringing in his ears. His thoughts were clear outside, unburdened by guilt.

  He couldn’t believe he was going to be a father. The baby was the only bright spot in his life. He imagined Ashlyn with a baby suckling at her breast sitting in a nursery with Fancy at her feet and him standing in the doorway watching. It was a dream he never realized he wanted. But what did she want? Kevin loved Ashlyn, but loving her hurt.

  When Kevin stood before Ashlyn’s mother he felt like he was teenager again, standing before his judgmental grandfather. Both pairs of eyes spoke their distaste for him.

  He made his way back through the catacombs of the house, searching for the breakfast room. He found everyone on the first floor in a sunny room close to the library. “Good morning. ” It was a general greeting to the entire room. His eyes skimmed over Ashlyn, numb to the hurt he saw in her eyes.

  “Kevin, were you not told that we dress for all meals?” The old dragon was already breathing fire.

  “Mother, don’t start.” Ashlyn knew Kevin was gazing at her absurd attire—wool camel skirt, plain white blouse, and hunter green sweater, the pre-requisite pearls at her ears and throat. Her morning sickness had returned, and the smell of eggs was making her queasy. She didn’t have the strength to fight her husband or her mother.

  When he whispered, “Classic Catholic guilt,” Ashlyn pretended not to hear. She continued to push her food around her plate. She wished she’d never come home, but that was a fantasy. She had to deal with the situation, beginning with her past. Her mother pretended that all was fine, but her father watched her with his all-seeing eyes, waiting for her to bolt, or at least shed the image of the woman her mother thought she should be. She was not an A-line skirt and sweater set type of woman.

  Kevin sat directly across from her, but he couldn’t be more distant
. She watched him eat from a plate piled obscenely high, silently smirking. How would he react if she stood, grabbed his hand, and ran for the nearest exit? She understood his anger and resentment. He looked at her as if she were a stranger who had disappointed him. He believed she should have said more to her mother. Ashlyn knew if she opened that door, all the skeletons would come falling out.

  “How much do painters make in this market?” Kathryn directed the question to Kevin. She saw all artistic endeavors as a hobby. “Ashlyn has her trust fund to rely on. And while it’s enough to support her and a family, why should she have to?”

  “Kathryn, you’re not going to be happy until you have completely chased away our daughter. She married Kevin, and he’s a fine young man.” Liam never raised his voice, but his point was a direct shot. “Have you forgotten all we taught her? How every individual is worth value, regardless of race, income, education, or upbringing?” He didn’t recognize this bitter woman.

  “Dad, I’m not going anywhere,” Ashlyn said, trying to reassure her father.

  “Well, I am,” Kevin told her.

  “What more could you possibly offer my daughter than what’s between your legs?” Kathryn questioned him as if he were beneath her, a misguided child, or a peon. “Have you even signed a pre-nup?”

  Kevin finally looked up from his plate, locking eyes with Kathryn. He couldn’t decide if she looked crazy or terrified. He was busy trying to decide what she had to fear as he answered her question. “What I have is a quarter of a billion dollars in assets. And I’ll gladly sign a pre-nup if she is willing to sign one as well.”

  The entire room fell into silence. “This is the quietest I’ve seen you since I arrived. What did you think, that I was just some moron off the streets? Ashlyn could stop working today, we could raise ten babies, and we’d be fine. Hell, we’d be more than fine. So go ahead.” Kevin’s arms flared. “Make as many crass comments as you’d like.

  “My art is still going to sell, my businesses will still thrive, and I will still be married to your daughter. I’ll still be the father of your grandbabies. So continue to bash me if you like, but you’re going to look even more old and bitter if I forbid you from seeing them.”