The Inheritance

by Rochelle Alers

  He loved being with her, loved making love with her, and he was in love with her. And it was time she knew just how important she’d become and why he wanted her in his life. But that would have to wait until he returned to New Orleans.

  It was Lorna who’d called to ask if he would come to Kenner to see her. Every imaginable scenario raced through his mind during the drive. When he maneuvered up to the house where she’d grown up, a chill raced over his body as he recalled what she’d told him about what had gone on behind the closed door.

  Lorna was waiting for him when he got out of his car. She’d gained weight. It was enough to fill out the body that had always been much too thin for an adult woman. The chemically straightened coiffed hair bore few traces of gray, and there were no visible lines in her nut-brown face. The beautiful young girl with whom he’d fallen in love on sight was now a beautiful mature woman.

  He took her hands and kissed her cheek. “You look well, Lorna.”

  She smiled. “And so do you. But you always did. I can’t invite you inside because I no longer live here.”

  “Why?”

  “My aunt died last year and my uncle passed away four months ago. That’s when I decided I could no longer live here and sold it.”

  St. John knew with the death of her abuser Lorna could finally move on. “Where are you staying?”

  “I have a position as a live-in nurse with a single father who has a child with special needs.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “He’s here in Kenner. I didn’t ask to see you to tell you that, but to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you enough to tell you what my uncle did to me. I’m sorry I didn’t go into therapy as you begged me to do. And I am truly sorry I denied you the family you always wanted.”

  St. John felt as if he’d been punched in the gut when he saw the tears streaming down her face. He reached into the pocket of his slacks and took out a handkerchief to dab her cheeks. “It’s all right, Lorna. What’s done is done.”

  She sniffled. “You forgive me?”

  “I forgave you a long time ago. I know I lost my temper when you first told me about what your uncle had done to you, because all I thought about was what we’d lost. We spent more than thirty years together, and in all that time I felt as if you didn’t or couldn’t love me enough to open up about the abuse.”

  Lorna closed her eyes. “I was afraid.”

  “Afraid of what? Whom?

  “I was afraid of what you’d do to him, St. John.”

  St. John stared at her, complete shock freezing his features. “Did you actually believe I would risk going to jail for that piece of shit!” He shook his head. “What hurts, Lorna, is you lived with me all those years and you never really took the time to know me. I would’ve confronted him, and if he ever touched you again, I’d make certain he’d spend the rest of his life in prison.”

  “He’s gone. And when they put dirt on the coffin, it was if I’d buried all my demons with him. I’m in therapy with a therapist who deals solely with sexually abused patients. I have individual and group sessions and hopefully one day I’ll be able to have a normal physical relationship with a man before I’m too old. If you check your bank balance, you’ll find a check for what I got when I sold our house.”

  “I gave you the house in the divorce.”

  “I didn’t need the house because I knew I was coming back here to take care of my aunt and uncle. The money I got for this house is more than enough for me to live on for a long time if I don’t squander it. I have my own quarters at my client’s home, so I’m able to bank most of my salary.”

  St. John smiled for the first time. “You sound as if you’re getting your life together.”

  “I’m trying. What about you, St. John? Have you met someone?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “I love her very much.”

  Lorna smiled. “Then marry her, so you can have with her what you didn’t have with me.”

  He winked at her. “That’s my intent.” Taking a step, St. John kissed Lorna’s cheek again. “Call me if you ever need anything or someone to talk to.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t do that. I don’t want to go back when I need to look ahead. Seeing you, talking to you will remind me of what we could’ve and should’ve had, and I don’t want to relive that again.”

  “Then I guess this is good-bye.”

  Taking his hand, Lorna gave it a gentle squeeze. “Good-bye.”

  St. John thought he’d been dreaming, and when he awoke he would be in his bed and not in his car driving back from Kenner. He probably would never see Lorna again, but knowing she was taking the steps to heal from the abuse she’d endured for years was comforting.

  He wanted her happy and she wanted him happy, and he knew his ultimate happiness would come from Hannah becoming his wife. He headed to the Garden District, knowing he and Hannah had reached the point at which their relationship had to be resolved. They weren’t teenagers or twenty-somethings who could have a lengthy engagement.

  * * *

  Hannah answered the door, slightly taken aback when she saw St. John standing there. She’d left his house earlier that morning, promising she would return in time for them to share dinner together. “Come in. I didn’t expect to see you until tonight.”

  Taking her hand, St. John led her into the parlor. “What I need to ask you can’t wait for tonight.”

  “Why do you sound so mysterious?”

  Sitting, he eased her down beside him on the loveseat. “Hannah, we’ve known each other a long time and I’ve probably been in denial for more years than I can remember. I’m saying all of this to say that I love you. I’m in love with you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Hannah stared, tongue-tied, as she attempted to process what she’d just heard. She loved St. John, had been in love with him for a very long time, yet she never could have conceived of being his wife. “You love me?” she asked in disbelief, recovering her voice.

  St. John cradled her face in his hands. “Of course I love you. I wouldn’t ask you to share my life if I didn’t love you.” He paused. “Do you love me?”

  She rested her forehead against his. “You silly, silly man. Don’t you remember me telling you about going to my mother to say I was in love with you and we were planning to marry? When I said that, I knew then I was in love with you.”

  “Does this mean you will marry me?”

  She closed her eyes. “Yes, but on one condition.” Hannah felt him stiffen.

  “What’s that?”

  “You have to promise not to cheat on me.”

  “Why ask me that?”

  “Because my husband cheated on me throughout our marriage. I finally found out when he had his first heart attack. He believed he was dying and he needed to unburden himself. I was forty-eight and I’d been married for twenty-seven years, and in all that time I never knew my husband was sleeping with other women. I need to know one thing before I give you my answer. Did you ever cheat on Lorna?” Hannah eased back when St. John hesitated. “You did, didn’t you?”

  He exhaled an audible sigh. “Yes. I didn’t want to, but she didn’t give me a choice.”

  Hannah jumped up, her heart pumping wildly. “You didn’t have a choice?”

  St. John stood. “Please, Hannah. Let me explain.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.” She combed her fingers through her hair. “I can’t believe it’s happening to me again. How stupid can I be to fall in love not once but twice with a cheater.” Hannah averted her head so he wouldn’t see her tears. There’s no way she was going to let him see her cry over him. “Please go. Now!” She turned back just in time to see him walk out of the parlor.

  Her knees were shaking uncontrollably, forcing her to sit before she fell. Burying her face against the cushion, she cried until she had dry heaves. Just when she thought her li
fe had righted itself, she had to duck a vicious curve.

  Better you find out now rather than later. The silent voice gave her little solace. And despite his revelation that he’d been an adulterer, she still loved him.

  Chapter 22

  Hannah sat on the floor of her nearly empty apartment with Nydia, Jasmine, and Tonya drinking mimosas.

  She’d returned to New York to donate all the furniture to her favorite charity. Boxes stacked against the wall contained her clothes and personal items that would be picked up by a moving company and shipped to New Orleans.

  She hoisted her plastic cup. “Well, motley crew, this is it.” They all touched cups.

  Tonya shook her head. “We are a motley bunch. Drinking champagne from plastic cups.”

  “How’s St. John?” Jasmine asked.

  Hannah took a long swallow from her cup. “I don’t know.”

  “What!”

  “You don’t know?”

  Nydia and Tonya had spoken in unison.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Tonya asked.

  Hannah was forthcoming when she told them about St. John proposing marriage and then his revelation that he’d cheated on his wife. “I lived with a cheating sonofabitch for twenty-nine years, and I swore that I’d never live with another cheater.” She told them about Robert and how he’d admitted to sleeping with so many women he’d forgotten their names. “When he had his first heart attack, he was living with a woman in D.C., while he worked at the Pentagon. By that time his heart was too weak for him to fuck around. I wanted to leave him, but I couldn’t because I’d married him for in sickness and in health. Believe me, if I’d found out he was cheating before he had that attack, I would’ve divorced his cheating ass.”

  Jasmine dropped the hand she’d put over her mouth during Hannah’s passionate monologue. “Did St. John tell you why he cheated on his wife?”

  Hannah shook her head. “He wanted to explain, but I didn’t want to listen to his lies.”

  Tonya slapped Hannah on the back of her head. “For a supposedly bright woman you’re stupid as hell! The man could’ve lied and said no and you wouldn’t have been the wiser. The fact that he was willing to explain says everything about who he is. Now if you don’t get your skinny ass back to New Orleans and listen to what that man has to say, I’m going to go to the Big Easy and fuck your man!”

  Hannah’s mouth dropped. “No, you didn’t say that.”

  “Hell yeah, I did.”

  Jasmine rolled her head on her neck. “And when she’s done, I’m going to have a go at him. I’m willing to bet he’s never had some Filipino pussy.”

  It was Hannah’s turn to cover her mouth. “I don’t believe you women,” she said through her fingers.

  Nydia snapped her fingers. “And please don’t forget that when I put this Boricua pussy on him, I’ll have him speaking Spanish and French at the same time.”

  Hannah didn’t know if they were joking or if they were serious. And she knew that, as a single man, St. John could sleep with whomever he wanted. “You would really sleep with my man?”

  Tonya nodded. “Why not? He’s no longer your man.”

  “But he is because I love him and do want to marry him . . .”

  “Estúpida!” Nydia interrupted. “If that’s the case, why aren’t you in New Orleans listening to what he has to say? Damn,” she whispered, “I hope I’m smarter than you when I get to your age.”

  Hannah threw up both hands. “Stop it! You’ve insulted and disrespected me, and enough is enough! One more word about fucking St. John and I’m going to lose it.”

  Tonya clapped. “That’s the fire I want to see.” She hugged Hannah. “Go back home and fight for your man, and once you set a date, the motley crew will be there to witness your wedding to the finest man in Nawlins.”

  Hannah blinked back tears. “That’s only going to happen if he still wants to marry me.”

  “It’ll happen,” Jasmine said confidently. “If he proposed once, he’ll propose again.” She raised her cup. “I raise my cup to the future Mrs. St. John McNair.”

  “Mrs. McNair,” they all chorused.

  * * *

  Hannah returned to New Orleans. She waited two days before gathering the nerve to call St. John. She knew he’d returned to his position at the college, so she waited until nightfall to contact him. He answered his phone on the second ring, and she told him she needed to talk to him about something. His voice was laced in neutral tones when he told her he was available.

  The first thing she noticed when he opened the door was his face. It was thinner, and she wondered if he’d been eating. “Thank you for seeing me.”

  “Please come in. We’ll talk in the sunroom.”

  Everything about him came back like the rushing waters of fast-moving rapids. His smell, his softly modulated voice, and the way he looked at her. Could she hope beyond hope that he still loved her as much as she loved him?

  She sat on the lounger she’d claimed when staying with him, while he elected to stand. She hadn’t rehearsed what she wanted to say because she didn’t want it to sound practiced. “I want to apologize.”

  His eyebrows lifted slightly. “For what?”

  “For not listening to you. I judged you unfairly, and that’s something I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”

  “Why?”

  Hannah wanted to scream at him to show some emotion. That he cared about her and what she was struggling to say. “Because I love you, St. John. I’ve loved you forever, even when I told myself I was in love with another man, and even when you were in love with another woman. I don’t care why you cheated on Lorna, because the past is the past. Ask me again.”

  St. John crossed his arms over his chest. “Ask you what?”

  “Please ask me again to marry you.”

  “I asked you once, and I’m not going to beg, if that’s what you want, Hannah. I told you before, I’m too old to play games, and if that’s what you’re into, then I’m not the man for you.”

  Hannah didn’t want to believe he was rejecting her. She had laid aside her pride and come to him, and his rejection had stripped her bare. “I’m not playing a game.” Her hands tightened into fists. “I came here because I want to know why you cheated on Lorna.”

  * * *

  St. John wanted to hate Hannah, but he couldn’t. Not when she was everything he’d always wanted in a woman. He knew what it had taken for her to contact him again, and she was right. He did owe it to her to let her know why he’d cheated on Lorna.

  “Lorna wouldn’t let me make love to her because she’d been sexually abused as child by the uncle who raised her.” He told Hannah everything Lorna had disclosed to him about her horrendous childhood, his heart turning over when he saw Hannah cry, knowing she was crying for an innocent child who hadn’t had anyone to protect her from a monster.

  St. John felt her pain as surely as it was his own when she buried her face against the cushion and sobbed. Closing the space between them, he took her in his arms and comforted her as he would a small child.

  “It’s okay, baby,” he said over and over, rocking her gently. “She’s better now. She’s getting the help she needs.”

  “Oh, St. John. What she had to endure from that monster is unimaginable.”

  He kissed her hair. “I didn’t want to sleep with other women—”

  Hannah stopped his words when she placed her fingers over his mouth. “You don’t have to explain. You did what most men would have done if they were denied their wife’s body. I understand why you didn’t leave her.”

  “I wanted to, Hannah, but there was something in her eyes that wouldn’t let me, so I stayed in a cold, loveless marriage until she had enough. If I marry you, I’ll never cheat on you even if you deny me your body. I love making love with you, but sex isn’t at the top of my list for wanting to marry you.”

  She blinked slowly. “What is?”

  “You, Hannah. It’s your inner st
rength, your passion for life, in and out of bed. I watched the way you interacted with your friends and my family, and everything about you is so real that there’re times when I don’t believe how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

  “That goes double for me.”

  “I think it’s time I make you an honest woman. I’m not going to sleep with you again until you’re Mrs. St. John Baptiste McNair.”

  She stared up at him through her lashes. “Are you proposing to me?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I am. And this is the last time I’m going to ask you. Will you marry me?”

  Hannah threw her arms around his neck. “Yes! Yes, I will marry you.”

  St. John kissed her with all of the passion he could summon within himself. “When and where?”

  She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “Next month and in the garden at DuPont House.”

  “Okay. That should give us enough time to send out invitations and tell our families that the Baptistes and Toussaints can add the DuPonts to their family tree.” He stood, pulling her up with him. “Come into the office so we can decide on a date, then I’ll call my parents and sister to let them know the news.”

  “I have to call my son.”

  “Don’t forget we have to shop for rings.”

  Hannah clung to his arm. “I want something simple.”

  “That’s not happening, because nothing about you is simple.”

  St. John never would have suspected that when he walked up behind Hannah at the reunion, months later she would agree to become his wife. Both had been given second chances, and this time they were going to get it right.

  * * *

  Hannah held her arms out at her sides. “How do I look?”

  She had selected a simple platinum gown with a squared neckline that barely skimmed her body. It was her second wedding, and tiny orange blossoms were pinned into the elegant chignon on the nape of her long neck. Her son had flown in with his wife and children several days earlier, and he’d offered to give her away. She’d opened DuPont House for out-of-town guests who’d been invited to witness the nuptials of Hannah Claire DuPont-Lowell to St. John McNair.