“I’ve got it under control. Thanks. And, Jeannetta... They say Rome wasn’t built in a day, but I hear it’s one of the world’s great beauties.”
She put a smile on her face and walked back into the living room, and a strong sensation flowed through her when she looked into Mason’s face. Expectant. Hopeful. But he quickly covered his feelings with a broad grin.
“Well,” Mason said, “don’t tell me you’re a closet gourmet cook like Steve.”
She didn’t feel like meaningless banter, but now was not the time for seriousness.
“I’m not much of any kind of a cook, if you take my recipe books away from me.”
That remark evidently didn’t please Skip.
“You can’t cook either? Yuck. You oughta taste Uncle Steve’s lasagna, and Viv says she can cook, too. I’m gonna stay over here a lot and let Uncle Steve teach me; one of us is gonna have to know how to cook.”
Mason glanced down at him. “Who told you that I can’t cook?”
“Well, you said you’re going to do your best by me, and about all we eat is pizza, so I figured...” Mason interrupted him, laughing.
“When I asked what you like to eat, you said pizza.”
Skip fidgeted uncomfortably. “That’s right, but my mouth has been watering for some pork chops and some of that roast beef ojo that Uncle Steve makes.”
They all stared at him for a second, until Mason corrected him. “You mean roast beef au jus.”
Jeannetta chuckled at the boy’s look of incredulity.
“Whatever,” he said with disdain. He sat on the sofa beside Mason with his legs stretched out, his feet wide apart and his hands in his pants pockets, his pose and gestures identical to his father’s. She wanted to hug him.
* * *
Steve served a memorable lunch and, as the conversation flowed, Jeannetta thought she might find a new friend in Viv. She marvelled at Skip’s easy acceptance of his new relationship with Mason; a stranger wouldn’t know that they hadn’t been father and son since the boy’s birth. Somewhere in their loving connection lay a message for her, and for Mason. Mason asked Steve whether he and Viv would ride out to Long Island.
“Thanks, but there’re only so many hours in the day, Mason, and I aim to spend as many of them as I can making my case with Viv. Wouldn’t hurt you to think along those lines.”
Jeannetta’s gaze caught Mason’s unflinching stare, and the silent movement of his lips told her that she might well do the same.
* * *
Two weeks later, Jeannetta mailed her manuscript to her editor and decided to take a vacation from work, to loll on the beach and enjoy the environment. She hadn’t figured out how to approach Mason to tell him that she needed him and the terms didn’t matter, and she knew that was because, in her heart, they did matter. At the least, she had to hear it from his lips that he loved and needed her. She dressed in woolen slacks and a bulky wool sweater for a walk on the beach and started out, just as the phone rang. Her hello was greeted by a distraught Skip.
“What is it? What’s the matter?”
“My adoption and christening ceremonies are next Sunday, and my dad said he hasn’t asked you to come. Can’t you come, Jeanny?”
Cold chills streaked through her; Mason was moving on without her. “Honey,” she began, as she struggled to control her voice, “I can’t be there if your father doesn’t invite me.”
“But the only people I want there are you and Uncle Steve. I’m inviting you, so you have to be there.”
She hurt for him and for herself, but she couldn’t crash Mason’s party. “Skip, I’m sorry, but I...I’ll have to wait until I hear from your dad.”
“If you won’t come, I’m not having any christening.”
“Skip!” He hung up. She checked the telephone directory, got Steve’s number, and begged him to speak with Skip, not to let the boy hurt Mason.
“Mason didn’t say you weren’t invited; he said he hadn’t done it, because you two had a breakdown in communications and he didn’t know how to approach you.”
“You won’t speak with Skip?”
“What for? Skip wants a family. He’s decided he wants you for his mother, and he refuses to have such an important experience without both of his parents.”
“But I’m not his parent, and I may never be.” She heard the deep breath that signaled his shortage of patience.
“Skip started out with nothing, not even parents, and he got where he is by setting goals and going hard after them. I refuse to interfere with his strategy.”
She changed from the heavy sweater to a cotton shirt and tried to think. Her manuscript. Maybe if she sent it to Mason, he’d understand her misgivings, her needs. She put a copy in an envelope and called Federal Express.
* * *
Mason closed the door behind the last of his patients for the day. Noona Shepherd always made sure she had the last appointment, and her complaints always centered near her chest or her pelvis. He’d told her that he wasn’t an internist or gynecologist, but she still pestered him. All five of his office rooms reeked with her perfume. She’d had her very last appointment; let her chase some other doctor. He opened the window wide, sat down at his desk, and glimpsed the red, white, and blue envelope. He slit it open and stared at the first page: The Naked Soul of a Man in Love, by Jeannetta Rollins. He read three pages and leaned back in his chair, perplexed as to where the story would lead. Then he put the manuscript in his briefcase, took that and his medical bag, and went home. Tension marked his dinner with Skip, as it had for the last three days, so he went to his room early, switched on the light beside his lounge chair and began to read. Sometime after midnight, he finished the story and laid the manuscript aside.
Is that what she wanted from him? He couldn’t get the scene out of his mind. The hero, strong, competent, and seemingly invincible, had wept in his woman’s arms when the man he’d defended was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison. He’d wet her body with his tears, but she had given herself to him with a passion that might have suggested their last opportunity to make love before an approaching Armageddon. He found the lines, reread them, and mused over their relevance. The woman had never loved the man so much as when he came to her stripped bare of his public persona. Vulnerable. Jeannetta had said she wanted him. Is this what she meant? And would she share his doubts, misgivings, and pain, his disappointments and uncertainties, and still love him, as her heroine had loved her man? He remembered her having told him that she had left him in Zimbabwe because of his nightmare, and because she hadn’t wanted to be the source of his guilt. And he remembered the times right after that horrible accident when pain had nearly ripped him apart, and he hadn’t been able to share it with anyone, not even his brother.
Sunrise found him reading the manuscript for a second time. At seven o’clock, he showered, dressed, and went to the kitchen, where he found Skip setting the breakfast table.
“Good morning.”
“Hi, Dad. You gonna call her? Huh? If you ask her, she’ll come. I know she will; she said so.”
Mason rested the egg on the counter and turned to Skip. “You called her?”
“Yes, sir. I invited her, but she said you have to ask her. Something like she didn’t want to go against your wishes. Will you ask her?”
“Yes. I’m going to call her.” He’d known that Jeannetta’s presence at the ceremonies was important to Skip, but he hadn’t realized how much. The boy showed almost no emotion, but sat down, propped his elbows on his knees, and held his face in his hands.
“I just couldn’t do it, Dad. I mean, it’s a big thing, a preacher holding an adoption service for us and me getting christened and all that...I couldn’t do that without Jeanny. Next to you, I love Jeanny the best.” Mason laid a gentle hand on Skip’s shoulder.
“I didn
’t want to do it without her either, son. Now, hurry and get ready for school. Breakfast will be ready in five minutes.”
The door closed behind Skip, and he dialed her number. If only he could be sure that she was asking him to let her stand with him through every adversity, to dance the slow pieces as well as the fast ones, to sail with him and crash with him. To go to the wall with him. Was there such a woman anywhere? He had to find out if that was what she wanted to offer. But not now.
“Mason. I...I’m glad to hear from you. Did you get a chance to read my manuscript?”
“Yes, I did; you’re a fine writer, but that isn’t why I called. If you don’t mind, we’ll talk about that later. I’m calling about the adoption service for Skip and me and his christening. It’s this coming Sunday, and we want you to stand up with us.” She had to grab a chair and sit down. It hadn’t occurred to her that he would give her an important role in their service.
“Jeannetta?”
She pulled herself out of her mild shock. “I’m honored, and I’ll be happy to attend. You caught me by surprise. I hoped you would ask me to be there, but to stand up with you...well, I didn’t dream of it. Of course, I will.”
“Thanks. I’ll send a car for you.”
“Mason, it isn’t...”
“I want to do it. The driver should be there at eight next Sunday morning.”
She stopped short of protesting. If she wanted the whole man, she’d have to accept all that he offered.
“Alright. I’ll be ready.”
“Jeannetta, your novel impressed me, but I don’t want to discuss it right now, because I have to go to work. We’ll talk about it when we’re together.”
“Okay. I’ll see you Sunday.” She waited for an endless minute and, finally, he said, “I miss you. See you.” She listened to the dial tone, bemused. He seemed to have been at a crossroads, and her hammering heart prayed that he was.
* * *
Jeannetta didn’t own a hat, so she substituted an elegant bow of green satin that matched her wool crepe suit. Only Laura would complain that the skirt stopped too far above her knees, she surmised, and Laura wouldn’t be there. But she was, and so was Clayton.
Jeannetta had to hold back the tears when, at the end of the adoption service, Skip squeezed her hand and looked at her with joy blazing on his face.
“I put your name down to be my godmother. Okay? Uncle Steve will be my godfather.”
She nodded and glanced at Mason beside whom Steve stood with glowing pride, and she thought her heart would burst with joy when Mason smiled and winked. The minister beckoned to Viv, Clayton, and Laura to come forward for Skip’s christening and, after the ceremony, Mason took them to lunch at the Plaza.
“Laura and I are getting married in a couple of weeks,” Clayton announced. “She wants me to know that marrying me isn’t contingent on whether I clear my name.”
“Of course, it isn’t,” Laura put in, “though I’m just tickled to death about your getting a retrial and that those seven women have agreed to witness for you. Betty helped a lot, so I guess she isn’t such a bad egg.”
“Who said she was?”
“Now, Clayton.”
Jeannetta marveled at her sister’s fashionable haircut, short-skirted designer suit, and the bloom that loving Clayton had put on her face. The old Laura had ceased to exist.
* * *
It amused Mason that Skip always managed to sit beside him, but had stopped sitting or standing between Jeannetta and him. The twelve-year-old was a master matchmaker, and an interesting study, too. He didn’t believe he had ever seen such joy on a human face as on Skip’s when Steve stood and welcomed him into the Fenwick family. His hand went of its own will to find and enfold Jeannetta’s, and his heart bounded into a gallop when she squeezed his fingers, looked up at him, and smiled with love in her eyes.
“I’ve got something to tell, too,” Steve announced. “I’ve asked Viv to be my wife, and this beautiful woman has done me the honor of accepting me.” He touched her hand, and she stood up and brushed his mouth with her lips. Mason blinked rapidly in astonishment. He’d known that they had become close, but their engagement came as a surprise. He walked over to Steve and hugged him, then leaned down and brushed a kiss on Viv’s cheek.
“I never dreamed that I’d be your sister-in-law,” she said. “I hope you’re happy for us.”
“I am. If I had tried to stage this, you can bet it would have flopped. I’ve always wanted a sister, Viv, and I couldn’t be more satisfied.”
Steve beamed at her. “I’ve also decided to accept Mason’s offer of a partnership in Fenwick Travel Agency, so now, Viv and I will be partners in every respect.”
Ever business-minded, Skip sat forward. “What about your office-machine repair business, Uncle Steve? You’re not gonna trash that, are you?”
“Thank goodness I don’t have to. I’ve got a new man who can manage it. Mason, you remember Ralph Harper. That guy’s the best thing to come along since air conditioning. He’s one fast study, but of course, he should be; he’s an engineer.”
“That’s the homeless man, Dad.”
“Not anymore,” Steve informed them. “In six weeks, he’s acquired an apartment and a whole new life. He’s going to train a couple of his old buddies, and I think they’ll work out okay. He knew an opportunity when he saw it, grabbed it, and took off.”
Skip smiled up at him and then frowned. Mason steeled himself against what he knew would follow, and Skip mumbled, “Everybody’s got it together but us, Dad.”
He patted Skip’s knee. “I’ll drop by home so you can get your books and pack an overnight bag. You’re staying with Steve tonight.”
“Okay, but where’re you...?”
Mason didn’t think he’d ever seen such a rapid change in anybody’s facial expression. He would have laughed, but he couldn’t afford to encourage him.
“Good. You’re learning that some things aren’t your business.”
“Yeah.” The boy’s grin was downright beatific. “If she doesn’t say yes, call me and I’ll talk to her for you.” He regained his composure and glanced down at the woman beside him, relaxed and serene, and wondered how much of that was real. They hadn’t resolved their differences, and everybody around them appeared to have done that, so she shouldn’t exude so damn much bliss. He told himself he’d soon know once and for all where they stood.
* * *
Mason parked in front of the house and hoped Casper remembered him, as he got out of the car and walked around it to open the door for Jeannetta, who fumbled with her seat belt. He unhooked it for her and suggested, “Why don’t you put on some comfortable shoes and let’s walk along the shore.”
“I’ll just take these off,” she replied. “You aren’t the only one who likes the feel of sand. Turn around so I can take off my stockings.”
He repeated the order in his mind and wished he understood the female psyche; he’d seen every inch of the woman, but she wouldn’t let him watch her remove her stockings. With his shoes and socks in his hand and his pants legs rolled up, they strolled hand-in-hand along the water’s edge with the cool waves lapping at their bare feet. She stooped down and got a handful of sand, opened her fingers and let the wind take it away. He watched, mesmerized, at the smile that claimed her face. Previously, when he’d seen her do that, her expression had been that of a deeply troubled person.
“What pleases you so much?”
“The sand. This time, when I watched it falling, sifting through my fingers, I didn’t think that every minute that passed brought me closer to blindness. That’s over, thanks to you.”
So that was it. “Come over here,” he said, leading her to a nest of large rocks. He dusted the boulders with his handkerchief, and they sat quietly for a long time, looking out at the ocean.
“You’re asking my forgiveness. Does this mean that you can accept me as I am?” She rose and held out her hand to him, and they walked back to the house. He had to be aware, as she was, that this might be their last chance. As she stood with her hand on the doorknob, his piercing gaze unnerved her.
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“I accept what I know of you; I admire what I know of you.”
When he reached past her to push the door open, his forearm brushed the tips of her breasts, stunning them both and bringing a blaze to his eyes. He stared down at her.
“I don’t want you to compromise; I need you to love me for who I am, as I am.”
Her head jerked back, and she looked at him, breathless with anticipation. He’d never said that before. She grasped his hand, hopeful now for their future, and led him to the living room.
“I won’t settle for less than I need; don’t let that worry you. I’m after what’s inside you that you never let me see. That’s all. I want you to open up to me and let me love you without reservations. I want to know you as no other human being does and, until you let me, you won’t want to know who I am.”
“Oh, yes; I read your novel, and it riveted me. I thought about my own life, the hard knocks, raw bruises, disappointments and uncertainties. I never had many friends, because I was too busy making my way; Steve was the closest person to me. But I couldn’t tell Steve when I had a setback or missed out on something I wanted badly, because he sacrificed his youth, his education, everything, for me, and I wanted him to know that his trust was well placed. So I locked everything in, kept my problems to myself.”
She gave silent thanks; the tide had begun, and she hoped it would bring a flood.
“I’ll never forget the day I walked away from medicine,” he went on, as though oblivious to her presence. “I tried to tell Betty, whom I was seeing at the time, what I was going through, and I had never before attempted to reach a woman at that level. She threw a tantrum about my foolishness and reinforced what I’d suspected: she didn’t care about me or my feelings; she wanted the doctor, the socialite, not Mason Fenwick. I remember the hollow, sickening feeling I had as I turned away from her. I still dislike the smell of lilac perfume, because she was wearing it, and the scent hung in my nostrils.
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