Save the Best for Last

by Bettye Griffin

  Now she found herself rooting for Dexter to be able to enroll in the fall semester. “I do hope everything works out for you, Dexter.”

  “It will, sooner or later. I’m saving every cent from my second job. The most I’ll miss is a couple of semesters.”

  “A second job? What do you do?”

  “My full-time job is in the medical examiner’s office.”

  Genevieve made a face, realizing it too late. “You mean you work with dead people?” At least that would explain his rather unkempt-looking hair and unshaven face. Corpses wouldn’t object.

  “Yup.”

  “What do you do with them?”

  “Pretty much whatever I’m told. I assist the M.E.”

  “But...you’re a doctor yourself.”

  “Technically, I’m not. I’m not licensed to practice medicine. I didn’t even do a residency, just an internship.”

  “But the coroner’s office...it sounds so unpleasant. Couldn’t you treat patients or something? Surely you know as much as a nurse does.”

  “It’s not just a question of knowledge. Nurses, nurse practitioners, physician assistants, they all have to go through a certain education and training program in order to qualify for a license.” Dexter shrugged. “Besides, I like working in the M.E.’s office. My experience with my internship is that the best patient is a dead patient.”

  She burst into laughter. “Well, I guess you would know. What’s your second job?”

  “I work in the pathology lab of one of the hospitals.”

  Genevieve thought for a moment. “The medical examiner...the pathology lab.” She smiled. “I guess if the legal career doesn’t pan out you can make a living writing crime novels.”

  “I’d do it now if I had some extra time. Anything to bring in a few dollars,” he said good-naturedly.

  She felt for him even more than she had for the Smiths, whose financial difficulties seemed to have passed now that she’d moved into their vacant room. Dexter’s troubles, on the other hand, could go on for years. Law school was expensive…even the one semester he had to complete. “No wonder I’ve been here a week and haven’t seen you at all. When you’re not working or in class, you’re sleeping.”

  “Actually, I’m not taking classes during the summer. I’m concentrating on raising funds for the fall. But you got most of it right.” Dexter wolfed down the rest of his pop tart and glanced at his watch. “Time for me to get going. I promised my grandparents I’d be up to see them this weekend, and I’ve got a long train ride in front of me.”

  “Where do they live?”

  “Poughkeepsie. The last stop on the Hudson line.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and tossed the balled-up napkin in the trash bin, then removed a bottle of Sprite from the refrigerator. “Nice meeting you, Gen. I guess I’ll see you later.”

  “Same here.” She smiled. It hadn’t been as bad as she thought it would. Dexter seemed to be a nice fellow, once she’d recovered from the initial shock of her first glance at him. Not only did he have a nice personality and—she thought for the third time in five minutes —good looks, he was sexy in a roguish sort of way, and probably a lot of fun to be around. He certainly seemed plucky enough to succeed, and she hoped he would. She also hoped his grandparents would give him a good meal. His eating habits were atrocious. Imagine, pop tarts and a Sprite for breakfast. But of course they would. They loved him, as parents and grandparents loved children everywhere. Her parents might both be gone, but she still could feel the love they had for her, their only child. It would live in her forever. She hoped to have something like what they’d had one day.

  Again that feeling of dread washed over her. She felt like she was caught between the proverbial devil and the deep blue sea, facing either death or selling her soul...in this case, giving herself in marriage to a man she didn’t love. She admired Barry for being so upbeat about the prospect and trying to raise her spirits, but she couldn’t feel any zest for something she knew was wrong on more than one level, nor could she shake the feeling that a train wreck lay ahead for both of them.

  She stuffed the last of her bagel into her mouth. The taste that thrilled her just moments ago had suddenly gone bland.

  Genevieve knew she was hardly the only person in New York without legal status. An entire underground network existed that stretched all over the city, and many of them lived right here in Harlem, offering each other assistance and emotional support. But she couldn’t join them. They eked out a living, often with earnings below the poverty line as they resided in the shadows with their families. They didn’t own Upper East Side condominiums and have college degrees and successful businesses. She might be one of them, but yet she was very different.

  Funny. Most people’s troubles were related to money or health, but she didn’t lack either. Her problem was something most of those other people took for granted.

  Chapter 5

  Genevieve felt her throat constrict, closing in on her like nightfall in a forest. “Delayed? But how?” she managed to sputter.

  Barry’s shoulders slumped. “Candy’s fighting our proposed property settlement. The judge granted a four-month continuance. He wants our attorneys to work out something harmonious.”

  “I see.”

  “I’m so sorry, Gen. We were that close—” he snapped his fingers—“to getting it settled. But now she’s being difficult.”

  Better to be difficult than to be deported. Genevieve struggled to force the fear from her mind. She smiled weakly. “You know what they say about the best laid plans.”

  “She just wants money,” he said, his voice low with suppressed rage. “That’s all she ever wanted. I don’t think she ever cared for me at all; I think it was all an act.”

  “You don’t suppose her change of heart has anything to do with...Does she know about us?” Not that there was much to know. Not only had she and Barry not slept together, but since she learned of his divorce in progress they barely touched except for brief hello and goodbye hugs, but sex was usually the first conclusion reached by suspicious wives.

  “She hasn’t said anything, but then again she’s in no position to. She’s the one who committed adultery, and if it comes down to that I can prove it.” Barry looked at her pleadingly. “Gen, I hope you don’t think I’m a faithless husband. I swear to you, I never approached other women until I found out Candy was cheating on me. I gave her everything she ever wanted, and she repaid me by sleeping with another man. She’s nothing but a gold digger.” His voice softened as he took her hand. “But I don’t want to talk about Candy when I’m with you. Our time together means too much to me.” He smiled at her as he squeezed her hand, then removed it. “I must say, you’re taking this pretty calmly.”

  “What else can I do?” she said with a shrug. But underneath Genevieve’s calm exterior raged a myriad of thoughts. It was true that this wasn’t good news at all. Presuming the INS believed the contents of the postcard she’d sent to the super, they would resume looking for her in September, when she indicated she’d be back in town. If they didn’t believe she was on the West Coast, they were looking for her right now. How long would she really be safe from detection in Harlem?

  But more than even that, she saw this latest development as an omen that she shouldn’t become Barry’s wife. All her misgivings about marrying him rushed back as quickly as the time it took to flip off a television set.

  The big question, and one she had no answer for, was that if she didn’t go through with the marriage, what other option did she have to keep from being deported?

  “You’re right about that,” Barry agreed. “It’s just a few more months, Gen. I know you hadn’t planned on staying in Harlem that long, but it’ll go quickly.” He chuckled. “Stan and Brenda will probably be thrilled to have you stay on so long. And once the divorce comes through we’ll go ahead with the plan.”

  Genevieve was suddenly overcome with gratitude. Her principles continued to tell it would be wrong to marry him, but
his efforts to help her warmed her heart. “Barry, you’ve been just wonderful through this whole thing. I can’t tell you how good it feels to know you’re on my side and willing to make such a huge sacrifice for my well-being.” She met his gaze earnestly. “I’ll never forget that, not ever.” In spite of all her qualms about marrying him for legal residency, she understood that this was a sacrifice for Barry as well. His willingness to help her would ultimately save her from a life of misery, and possibly save her life, period. But the romantic in her still longed for a traditional marriage with true love and all it entailed...like her mother had described all those years ago.

  She decided this was the perfect moment to ask about what had been nagging at her, the question she had been too reluctant to bring up when they dined together last night. She needed him to confirm that their marriage would last for a limited time, not forever.

  Genevieve was trying to form the phrasing she would use for the rather delicate question when once more he placed his hand over hers on top of the table. “I debated over whether or not to tell you this, Genevieve. The truth is that it’s not a sacrifice at all. You see, I lied when I said I wasn’t in love with you. I am, and I have been from almost the very beginning.”

  Her lower lip dropped. This was the last thing she expected to hear. “Barry. I...I don’t know what to say.”

  “That’s why I held it back. You only would have been embarrassed, since you told me you don’t love me. It’s not my intent to embarrass you now, but I believe you need to know.” He paused. “I also believe that in time—and probably not all that much time— you’ll grow to love me. I’ll be a good husband to you, Genevieve. I’ll love you and honor you and treat you like a queen.”

  She nodded with a forced smile. She’d gleaned from details he shared with her about his work that Barry could be hardnosed in the business world, but she believed him to be a good man at heart. She’d always found him charming in spite of the years he had on her; that was why she’d agreed to go out with him in the first place. That, and the sense of loneliness that had become unbearable. Learning that he loved her explained his enthusiasm for their upcoming marriage, and no doubt he’d do everything he could to help her develop the same deep feelings for him. After being all alone in the world, she could take comfort knowing she belonged to someone and that she could feel safe. Even if it wasn’t real.

  But it wasn’t real, and that’s what worried her. Two people trying to make the most of a situation when neither felt love was do-able. A one-sided marriage, on the other hand, was an awful fate for the party who loved but wasn’t loved in return. How could she in good conscience do Barry such a disservice? The disdain he expressed toward Candy, his soon-to-be-ex-wife, didn’t conceal that he’d been deeply wounded by her duplicity. After everything he’d been through, he deserved a wife whose love for him was both powerful and unwavering.

  Barry went on about what they’d do when he received his decree. Genevieve only half listened and tried not to recoil when he mentioned them getting room service at the Four Seasons. She’d never really shrank away from his advances, even if they had never gotten her pulse racing. Plus, she’d accepted his proposal and agreed that their marriage would entail all elements, including intimacy. She’d had doubts about it ever since, but that was different from the way she felt now. Why did she suddenly feel trapped, like an attic mouse?

  The answer was simple. Now that Barry had unveiled his true feelings, everything had changed. Just last night at dinner he’d hinted about what they’d do after his divorce became final in the same way he just did, and while she felt the familiar discomfort at not sharing his anticipation, she hadn’t experienced this awful feeling of being caught in a web she couldn’t get out of.

  That had to be it. What else could have changed in the last twenty-four hours?

  “Tell me, Dexter, have you made any new friends?”

  He laughed. This was his grandmother’s sly way of asking if he was dating anyone. Subtlety wasn’t Edna Gray’s strong point. “No, Grandma. I’m just trying to concentrate on getting my degree. I can’t afford women right now.”

  “That’s right, Dexter. You concentrate on your education,” his grandfather said. “Edna, stop trying to marry him off.”

  She cleared her throat indignantly. “Are you forgetting, Sears, that by the time you were Dexter’s age you were married and had a seven-year-old son?”

  “No, I’m not forgetting. But things are different for young people now. They move slower than we did.”

  She grunted. “Is that why Lexi’s married and having her second baby?”

  “Lexi was finished with college after four years. She didn’t go to law school and then medical school.”

  “She’s still the same age he is.”

  Dexter found it amusing the way his grandparents talked about him as if he weren’t there. “Twins usually are the same age, Grandma,” he pointed out.

  “Very funny. Hush up and eat your dinner.”

  “I’m afraid I’m full. I can’t eat another bite.”

  “It must have been the cake you had before,” his grandfather said.

  “Dexter! Did you have your dessert first again?”

  “I’m sorry, Grandma. You know what a weakness I have for your chocolate cake. It was just sitting there, looking all luscious...”

  She shook her head at him. “All I can say is, I can’t imagine where you picked up your eating habits. Certainly not under my roof. Whoever heard of eating dessert first?”

  “Why save the best—”

  “Yes, yes, I know. ‘Why save the best for last?’”

  He took her hand across the table and brought it to his lips. “I love you, Grandma.”

  “Oh, save the sweet talk for the ladies,” she said dismissively, yanking her hand away.

  Dexter removed a toothpick from the stand in the center of the table. It felt undeniably good to be in the familiar setting of his grandparents’ home, into which he and his sister had moved after the sudden death of their parents. His grandmother had fixed a wonderful supper, roast chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, homemade biscuits and her famous chocolate cake with chocolate icing. They sat at the brown cherrywood dining table, his grandmother’s prized matching china cabinet standing proudly against the wall. The ancient, peeling yellow-and-brown wallpaper of the room had recently been replaced by a more modern textured design the color of a pink-tinged pearl, hung by his still-active grandfather, who regularly attended the free do-it-yourself classes at the home improvement store. The seams showed, and the wainscoting that completed the project was a tad crooked in spots, but to Dexter those imperfections only added to the house’s charm.

  His grandmother was pretending to be annoyed at him, but he knew just how to make her get over it. “I did meet a young lady today,” he remarked casually.

  Her fork fell onto her plate with a loud clank. “You did? Tell me all about her.”

  “Take it easy, Edna,” Sears said with a chuckle.

  “Never you mind. Tell me, Dexter.”

  “Well, she rents the other room of the brownstone where I live. She’s tall...slim...has beautiful brown eyes...nice full lips...” he trailed off, his mind occupied by a mental picture of the lovely Gen.

  She was a looker, all right, and appeared every bit as succulent as the roast chicken slices on his plate. But something about her seemed a bit out of place for a person renting a room, and his forehead wrinkled as he tried to figure out what it was. He mentally went over everything he remembered about her. There hadn’t been anything special about her clothing. Then he remembered the gold chain ankle bracelet that cloaked her left ankle, and it came to him.

  Around her neck she’d worn a teardrop shaped necklace in a dark blue stone. Dexter didn’t know much about jewelry, but he’d guess it was a sapphire, and he knew those didn’t come cheap. And he did know that those tiny stones surrounding it were diamonds.

  Maybe she was new to the city and was renting a
room while she looked for a more permanent living situation. Anyone who wore a necklace like that could surely afford to rent an apartment…

  “You can forget it, Edna,” Sears said. “You’re not going to get anything else out of him.

  “So I see.”

  Dexter had a vague awareness that his grandparents were speaking. “I’m sorry, Grandpa. Did you say something?”

  When they laughed heartily, he had no idea why.

  He just knew that he was going to enjoy living in such close proximity to Genevieve, or as she pronounced it, Zhuhn-vyehv.

  Most of Dexter’s dreams consisted of meaningless vignettes or even nonsensical episodes that he easily dismissed as so much nonsense, probably borne of sheer fatigue from his breakneck schedule. But for months now he’d had a single recurring dream of his future graduation ceremony. He didn’t know why. He’d already had more graduations than most people. He’d attended the ceremonies to receive both his Bachelor’s and medical school diplomas from NYU. But getting his law degree would mean he was finished with school forever, and he could finally begin his law career. He lived for that day. It was as if his life had been on hold all this time. His friends were traveling all the time, dating different women, even getting married.

  Sleeping in his old room at his grandparents’ house, he had the dream again. The sequence was always fuzzy, but he could tell it was graduation day at long last. He saw the outside of Madison Square Garden, where the NYU law school ceremonies were usually held. He could make out his grandparents applauding wildly, and his sister and her husband. But he could never make out the face of the stranger who sat between his grandmother and his sister.

  Wait a minute...he was able to focus a little better this time than he had in the past. It was a woman—she wore a skirt. Long, shapely, silky legs suggested she was taller than average. Her face was partially obscured by raised applauding hands. For just a second he got a peek at her face. Could that be...it looked like...No, it couldn’t be. That made no sense at all. In fact, it was just plain crazy.