Yes, I Do

by Gwynne Forster

  He rose above her and looked down into her face. “Will you take me in?”

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her hands guided his entrance as though they’d done it forever. The feeling of him inside her sent her passion to fever heights. He filled her, heated her, and rocked her. Driving. Stroking. Branding her until every muscle of her body seemed to pound, pump and squeeze as he wrung a scream from her and hurtled her into ecstasy. Seconds passed, and she heard his lover’s shout of triumph as he gave her the essence of himself.

  They lay locked together for a long while before he said, “I’ve never had such a feeling. I think you’re okay, too, but I want you to tell me.”

  She kissed his neck. “Jason, if there’s any more I don’t think I could bear it. If I had to die ten minutes from now, I don’t believe I’d complain.”

  That grin again. The man had a magic smile. “You mean you’ve had enough of me? You wouldn’t be kicking and screaming to live, so you could make love with me night and day? Good Lord, I’m a flop.”

  She pinched his buttock. “Don’t get cocky. I may get mean and see what you’re made of.”

  Both of his eyebrows elevated as he braced himself on his elbows and looked at her. “Honey, as hungry as I was when you walked in there with that wine, you may have just talked yourself into trouble.”

  She hadn’t been exactly overstuffed. “I can always holler uncle.”

  His white teeth flashed a grin. “Yeah, you’ll holler, all right. Maybe we both will.” He tucked both arms beneath her shoulders and began to move.

  An hour later, still locked together, he looked into her face, kissed her eyelids, and whispered, “I meant what I said, Ginger. I love you. From now on, it’s you and me together. Do you understand?”

  She didn’t need the urging, and she didn’t want any misunderstandings. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  He touched her lips lightly with his own. “It means you marry me. Okay?”

  She let her nose rub the tip of his nose. “We don’t ask, these days?”

  His grin sent a pulsating spasm to the spot in her where he’d most likely feel it. “You already agreed that there’ll be no turning back, but I’ll get on my knees if it’ll make you happy.”

  “I don’t need that formality, Jason. You love me. That’s all I want.”

  Her heart sang as he wrapped her in a lovers’ euphoria, spinning dreams of the joys to come. “I love you, baby, he whispered, his voice hoarse and unsteady. “You’re my life.”

  She thought of the pain that had gripped her when she’d walked away from him in Zimbabwe because it was the right thing to do, said a silent prayer of thanks that, after she’d despaired of ever seeing him again, Providence had given them another chance.

  “I love you, too, Jason. I think I have from the moment I met you.”

  He pulled the cover over them. “Let’s go to sleep.”

  “What about the wine?”

  “Wine? Baby, I’m drunk as it is.”

  As the week went by, Jason didn’t think he’d ever known such happiness. They spoke by phone several times during each day, and saw each other every evening—dinner, movies, concerts, or walks along the river on Roosevelt Island. He had even pulled weeds in her garden and enjoyed it. He made up his mind to ask her for a wedding date, because he hated leaving her every night.

  Sunday night, a week after their engagement, he asked her to meet him the next day at Tiffany’s to choose their rings. It seemed to him that so simple a thing as discussing the date and the rings had brought them even closer together. He chose a two-carat round diamond flanked by single baguettes, and watched her eyes sparkle with approval. They left the store hand in hand, and he didn’t think he could contain his joy. He kissed her at the corner of Broadway and Houston, and took a taxi back to his office.

  Ginger read and reread the papers in front of her. Peppard and Lowe were her first and best corporate clients, and she valued them, but she didn’t much like the idea of representing a landlord against a tenant, especially not in an eviction suit. She knew landlords used all kinds of trumped-up reasons to get rid of tenants in rent-controlled buildings. The eviction would allow her client to raise the rent on the next tenant, or to get the apartment decontrolled. It was the slickest real estate game in New York. She got to work polishing her brief for Thursday’s court appearance, though the job made her uncomfortable.

  The light on her intercom blinked, and she flicked the button. “What is it, Edna?”

  “Mr. Calhoun on line two, Ms. Hinds.”

  Her pulse plunged into a wild gallop as she anticipated the sound of his voice. “Hello, Jason.”

  “Ginger, what the hell do you mean by arguing for Peppard and Lowe to get my brother kicked out of his loft?”

  “Your brother?”

  “Don’t tell me you couldn’t have guessed it. How many E.E. Calhouns who make a living as a sculptor do you think there are?”

  “Hold on there, Jason. You’re assuming a lot. I didn’t know you had a brother. And even if I had known it, you don’t have the right to speak to me this way. I can argue for anybody I please.”

  He didn’t relent. “We’re talking about my brother, my flesh and blood. Don’t you understand that? Eric’s been in that loft for nine years, and he has some rights.”

  “He doesn’t have the right to cast those molds and drive all the other tenants mad with that hammering. If you can’t apologize, I want you to hang up.”

  “All right. Goodbye, Ginger.”

  She sat there stunned as the dial tone irritated her eardrum. When at last she was able to manage it, she buzzed her secretary. “Edna, who is E.E. Calhoun’s lawyer?”

  “Asa McKenzie.”

  She thought of calling Jason and asking why he hadn’t taken the case for his brother, thought better of it, leaned back in her chair, and asked herself whether going on with that case was worth losing Jason. But she realized that he hadn’t given her a choice.

  She read the relevant statutes for the third time and decided that she could represent her client and maintain her integrity without implicating Eric unduly, but the weight in her heart nearly robbed her of her breath. Her private phone rang.

  “If you go through with this, Ginger, you’ll destroy any chance we may have of a future together.”

  “You’re a lawyer, too, Jason, and you know this case is registered for day after tomorrow. If I back out now, my client will sue me. I wouldn’t ask you to do what you’re requesting of me—please kick your career right down the drain, Ginger.”

  “So you won’t do it? I’m sorry. Goodbye.”

  Jason hung up, walked to the window, and looked down at the people who rushed along Madison Avenue like ants busily collecting sugar. He didn’t want a life without Ginger, but if she could put his own brother out in the street for a client who meant nothing to her but money, could he go ahead with their marriage? He loved his younger brother, and he refused to take sides against him. If that’s the way she planned to play it, too bad. At least he’d found out before he said those fateful words.

  If she’d made it through the past two days, she could do anything, Ginger told herself as she walked into Civil Court at 60 Center Street in lower Manhattan. She hadn’t argued before that judge, and didn’t know what to expect. And the jury for which she’d had to settle wasn’t what she wanted, but she could work with it. She kept her glance on the door until she saw Jason enter with Asa McKenzie and another man who was obviously Jason’s brother.

  Without looking in the direction of the man she loved, she outlined her client’s complaint and his demands, adding that as a tenant she sympathized with renters, but that landlords had rights that the courts were bound to uphold. Asa McKenzie followed with a rebuttal that seemed to sway the jury, but in the end it found in favor of Peppard and Lowe. No one would ever know the measure of her relief when McKenzie failed to put Eric on the stand, relieving her of the responsibility of cross-examining him. It was on
ly upon hearing the verdict that she realized how badly she had wanted to lose.

  Wooden legs propelled her into her apartment that evening. She’d sat in her office until after seven o’clock, mulling over the events of her life. Jason had to have known that he’d sandwiched her between a rock and a hard place when he’d suggested she drop the case. If there was a profession in which reputation was one’s only passport, it was that of a lawyer, and you didn’t desert your client at the last minute unless you’d just won the lottery and had planned to retire, anyway. She changed into a peasant skirt and blouse and went to Andy’s Place. She had no appetite, but being among familiar faces beat the emptiness of her apartment.

  She stopped short at the sight of Amos Logan and her friend, Clarice, in what appeared to be an intimate huddle. She’d hoped to find at least one of them there alone and anxious for company. Amos saw her and waved her over to the table.

  “Haven’t seen you in here lately, Ginger. Pull up a chair.”

  She leaned over and kissed Clarice on the cheek. “You’re looking good, girl. Want to let me in on the secret?” When Clarice blushed, Ginger found Amos from the corner of her eye and caught a grin on his usually straight face. Her head snapped around, and she stared at him until he laughed aloud and told her. “Don’t look so shocked, Ginger. After all, it’s June—Lovers’ Month. That case been to trial yet?”

  She nodded. “This morning.”

  “What’s the matter? You lose it?”

  She shook her head and looked away from them as she gathered her composure.

  “Well, if you won it, why’re you in the dumps?”

  “Oh. Oh,” Clarice said. “You’re not even warm, Amos. Ginger, why aren’t you celebrating with Jason?”

  Amos sipped his brandy. “Good question. Where is he?”

  Ginger got up, “You two stay here and enjoy yourselves. I…I’m going to turn in. Call you tomorrow, Clarice.”

  She left hurriedly, bumping into the Reverend Arm strong. “’Scuse me, Reverend,” she said, and hurried on with out waiting to hear his reply. She loved the neighborliness on Roosevelt Island, but that same warmth and friendliness sometimes deprived you of your privacy. Inside her apartment, she turned the radio on and raised the volume high, as though loud music could banish her thoughts and drown out her pain.

  Jason sat on the edge of a desk in his brother’s loft. “The engagement’s off, Eric. I can’t marry a woman who’d take this kind of case against my brother when I begged her not to do it.”

  Eric got up from the lotus position he’d taken on the floor and walked over to Jason. “What are you talking about? What’s this got to do with Ginger?”

  “I didn’t tell you? Ginger is G.A. Hinds, Peppard and Lowe’s attorney.”

  Eric sat down. “Well, I’ll be. She’s a good lawyer and a beauty, too. She took the case for one of my friends against his landlord, and won. Don’t you think you should have introduced us?”

  “No, I don’t. I was too mad. Anyway, it’s too late now. The water’s under the bridge.”

  The heat of Eric’s stare gave him an uneasy feeling. “You mean that after what you went through before you found that woman, you’d give her up for something this stupid? Look here, Jason, she was easy on me, and you know it. There’s a clause in my lease that’s written in bold, capital letters specifying that the property cannot be used for commercial purposes. I’ve been getting away with it for nine years. If I stay here it means the rent will be doubled, but I can easily afford that now, because my pieces are selling well.”

  Jason jumped from the desk. “You’re telling me that landlord wasn’t out to get you?”

  Eric shrugged. “No. In fact, he’d warned me several times. You didn’t ask to see the lease, and I didn’t think to show it to you. McKenzie knew I was wrong, and he said he doubted I’d win. Man, you’d better go mend your fences.”

  Jason’s breath was slow coming. “Yeah. You can say that again.”

  He didn’t think calling her would help, but he phoned, anyway. No answer, so he left a message. “Ginger, I need to talk with you. Please call me.”

  Repeated calls with the same message on her answering machine brought no response. He took a taxi home, showered, changed his clothes, and left. If she was in New York, he’d find her.

  Hadn’t she told Clarice she’d call her tomorrow? Annoyed, she jerked open the door without looking through the peephole and released an audible gasp. “Jason!”

  “Do you mind if I come in?” He held a calla lily loosely wrapped in clear plastic that was tied with a white satin ribbon.

  She moved aside to let him enter, but left the door open and leaned against the wall, her arms folded in front of her.

  “Can we talk, Ginger?”

  She closed the door and followed him to her living room. “About what, Jason? Do you want me to find your brother a place to stay? Or maybe rent a studio for him? Why are you here? Just say it, and I’ll listen. I don’t have the energy to hassle with you.”

  “Is that why you didn’t take my calls?”

  “You could say that.”

  “I realize you’re angry with me, and—”

  She stood toe-to-toe with him. “Angry? You think I’m angry? Jason, don’t use the word angry to me. I hurt!”

  He reached for her and slowly withdrew his hand. “I know, and I’m hurting, too. I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life when I asked you to drop that case. I don’t exonerate myself, either—I’d probably still be fuming if Eric hadn’t told me he’d been warned about breaking his lease, which specifically said the loft couldn’t be used for commercial purposes, and he’d broken it every day for nine years. His landlord had a right to redress.”

  She placed her hands on her hips, laid her head to the side, and studied him. “I didn’t think that was the problem. You said I was working against your brother, and asked me to drop the case.”

  “I know I did, but looking back, I know that didn’t make sense. I’ve always been too protective of Eric, and he’s never needed that. I came here to ask you to forgive me. I just don’t see how I’m going to be happy apart from you, Ginger. I can’t begin to envisage life without you.”

  The heaviness eased away from her chest, and her mind seemed to swirl as she gazed into the warmth of his eyes, saw the love there, and felt the scraps of her soul begin to fit themselves together again.

  “How do I know it won’t happen again, that you won’t expect me to give up what is so dear to me if it suits you to do that?”

  He held out his arms to her. “If we work together, it won’t be necessary.”

  She looked at those arms, open and full of the love and sweetness that she adored, but she didn’t move. “Work together, how?”

  “Calhoun and Hinds, Attorneys at Law. What do you say?”

  She tried not to show her reaction, but she knew the smile on her face had never been wider. “You’d better be glad C comes before H or it would be—”

  He offered her the calla lily, and when she took it, he swooped her into his arms. Joy suffused her as his scent, strength, and whole being wrapped her in his love, and his taste once more filled her mouth and heated her blood. She took his hand and led him to that place where love abounded, where they loosed their bodies into each other, swept away in a vortex of unearthly rapture.

  Friends and relatives filled the chairs in the rose garden of Brooklyn’s Botanical Garden. Wearing a yellow organdy dress and matching wide-brimmed hat and carrying yellow roses, Linda Jenkins walked up the aisle to the altar, faced the minister, and glanced back at her sister. In a white organdy dress and hat identical in style to her sister’s and carrying Jason’s calla lilies, Ginger glided on satin-slippered feet over the tiny yellow roses that Jason had given the flower girls to spread in his bride’s path. She inhaled the many-hued roses that perfumed the garden with their June freshness, and thought how fortunate she was. She knew that a bride didn’t wear white for a second marriage, but it was h
er wedding, and she wanted Jason to know that her life began anew with him. She tried to hold back the tears of joy when she saw him standing there beside Eric, so unorthodox, with his back to the altar looking at her. She grinned, because she knew that if he thought her unhappy he would chuck tradition and come to meet her.

  When she reached him, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze and whispered, “I love you. Love you. I think I’ll take wings and fly.”

  “Don’t forget to carry me with you,” she whispered back.

  The minister cleared his throat, “Dearly beloved…”

  Ginger heard no more as Jason turned fully to her, love shining in his eyes, and pledged his being to her. She heard herself repeat the words that made her his wife, felt the arms she loved so dearly wrap around her and the sweetness of his mouth skim over hers. She looked up at him and saw that special grin that always mesmerized her, and her pounding heart sent the blood speeding through her body.

  “Love me?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “Till the end of time.

  A PERFECT MATCH

  Susan Andrews curled up in a burnt orange barrel chair that dominated her ultramodern living room and sipped tomato juice as she watched the New Year’s Eve revelers in Times Square. How could human beings be so frivolous and so foolish as to crowd into that small space in freezing temperatures, sleet, and wind just to watch a ball drop a few feet when they could see the same thing in the comfort of their warm living rooms? She thanked God that she had better sense. That she wasn’t scatterbrained. She sipped more juice. At least those people weren’t alone, a niggling thought intruded; they had each other, if only for those few moments.