She gaped at him. “Well…well, yes. Thanks.”
She followed him back to the kitchen, a large airy masterpiece in design and equipment that would no doubt have Martha Stewart’s approval.
“I’m by myself on Sundays,” he confided. “Cook’s off.”
She sat at the kitchen bar with him and sipped coffee. Six weeks earlier, she would have been overjoyed to be with him, but on that morning, she felt only sympathy for him in his loneliness. “Those boys have lived alone since their mother flew the coop a year and a half ago, Father. Duncan says they’re seventeen and fifteen years old, they go to school regularly, and the older one looks after himself and his younger half-brother.”
He leaned forward. “How do they live?”
“Mitch, the older one, found a way to cash their mother’s monthly welfare check, but Duncan supplies most of their needs.”
“I see. This Mitch must be quite resourceful.”
“I suppose so.” It occurred to her that this was the longest conversation of substance that she’d ever had with him. “I don’t live with Duncan Banks, Father,” she said, offering an olive branch. “I take care of his child. After Kenneth’s death, I had a hard time, and I decided to change my life. Why didn’t you take my calls once in the last six years?”
“I didn’t know you’d been calling me. I’ll have to speak to Lerlaine if she hasn’t been putting my calls through.”
“Would you have talked to me if you’d known?”
“I don’t know. Probably I would have, because I always wondered why you went against me and married him.”
She sighed. Why beat a dead horse? “Because you told me that you forbade it, and I didn’t think you had that right.”
“I see. Well, maybe we can do this again sometime.” He looked around him, waving his hand in a sweeping gesture. “This is a big house.”
“Yes. I know. It always was.”
Duncan slowly replaced the receiver and stood at his desk staring into space. He refused to believe it. Tonya had Myelogenous Leukemia? He wanted to believe that the radiologist had made an error, but the doctor had assured him that they’d done the test three times to make sure. Her chance for complete recovery rested on finding a match for a bone marrow transplant. If he told Justine, she’d be frantic. He called the hospital and was informed that Maryland law forbade the unsealing of adoption papers, so how would he find the parents? He called his mother and sister. There was time enough till he had to face Justine with it.
“No need to despair,” his mother told him. “We’ll pray. It’ll work out.”
He reeled in his rising impatience. She didn’t understand. “Mama, this thing is serious. Tonya could die if I don’t find a donor.”
“I know, son, but have faith. That’s what I’m going to do. We’ll all get tested. Maybe by some miracle…” She let it drift.
He telephoned Wayne, and they rounded up mutual friends. Mitch and Rags were among the first to volunteer, though they weren’t allowed to test because of their ages. Workers in the hospital took the test, but none matched, and the doctor warned him that the chances of finding one were nearly nonexistent. He hated keeping the seriousness of it from Justine, because he knew how deeply she loved Tonya, but finally, he had to tell her.
“I didn’t want to alarm you, because I know how you love her, but it doesn’t look good for her. She hasn’t improved since she’s been there. You could see that.” He threw up his hands. “I’d give everything that I have, but I can’t help her.”
Justine opened her arms to him, and he went into them, a ship sailing into safe harbor in the midst of a violent, life-threatening storm. “Hold on to me,” he said, when the tremors shook her and tears cascaded from her eyes. “Sweetheart, if we ever needed each other, it’s now.”
His arms hadn’t been around her since they’d begun to suffer in their individual hells over Tonya’s illness, not since they’d taken her to the hospital. It seemed as though, in that one week, she had doubled her age. Her thoughts as he held her were not of her love for him, but of thanksgiving that she had at last reached a rapport—however tentative—with her father, for they could be the only ones alive who had a chance of giving her child the bone marrow that she needed. No thoughts of the future, of the consequences of what she must do, occurred to her.
She moved away from Duncan and looked straight at him. If he guessed, so be it; what happened to her was no longer of any import. “Do you mind if I take the test?”
He smiled, indulgently she thought. “It’s an unpleasant business, and we know it’s not going to work. I don’t want you to put yourself through it when we know it will be useless.”
When she didn’t answer, he tugged her close to him. “Half of the people we know in Frederick have taken the test, but none of them match. It’s driving me up the wall.”
She hugged him, instinctively offering him solace, but her heart and thoughts were elsewhere. Just be calm, she cautioned herself. She had a lot to think about; if she or her father weren’t a match, she’d trace every one of her relatives and Kenneth’s, no matter what it cost her.
“I have to call Big Al and tell him to use some of my early columns for the next few days. I don’t feel like dealing with the frivolous concerns some of those women think are so important.”
He squeezed her to him and released her. “I’d better go downstairs and talk to Mattie. I hadn’t told her earlier, because she’d have spilled all of it to you no matter what I said. Chin up, now.”
She closed her bedroom door, called the hospital, and made an appointment for Justine Montgomery to take the test. Not a camouflage, for none made sense any longer; her charade was at an end. But what if she wasn’t a match? She dialed her father’s office and, to her amazement, a different voice answered.
“I’m Justine Taylor, and I’d like to speak with my father, Assemblyman Taylor.”
When he answered, his voice reflected astonishment. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise. Did you notice I have a new secretary?”
She had indeed. Where to start? “I hope you’re sitting down, Father,” she said, and over the next twenty minutes told him what her life had been for the past six years.
His long silence thundered his shock at what he’d learned. Finally, he told her, “I think I can just make that age limit for a bone marrow donor. I just turned fifty-nine. Let me know if you need me.”
An avenue of her life, once strewn with rubble and long closed, was opening at last, and though she knew debris would remain until she could bring herself to forgive, she rejoiced that they had at last made a beginning.
“Your previous secretary once asked if I had a message for you. I told her to tell you that I loved you.”
“She didn’t mention it; I wish she had. I hope things will work out so I can see my grandchild.”
He hadn’t told her he loved her, she mused, but that would take time. At least he was willing to help.
One week later, Duncan slammed down his office phone and shrieked for joy. In his state of near delirium, he shoved open Justine’s bedroom door, but the room was empty. He had forgotten what it was to slide down a banister, but he did exactly that as he went looking for Justine or any human he could find with whom he could rejoice.
“Mattie, where’s Justine? We’ve got a donor.” He picked her up and swung her around, set her on her feet, and hugged her. “Did you hear me? Tonya has a donor!”
A grin bloomed on her face. “Didn’t I tell you to quit worrying. I knowed you’d find one. Well, I tell you, Mr. B, this is a happy day.”
“Where’d she go? Where’s Justine?”
“She left in her car this morning while you was out. Said she be back in a few hours.”
He telephoned his sister at her office. “Can you believe it, Leah? We’ve found a donor.”
“Thank goodness. I know how relieved you must be. Mama’s been on a continuous prayer vigil, and…Duncan, I’m…I’m so happy.”
Why w
ere they all taking the news so casually? First Mattie and now Leah. He hung up and called his mother.
“Thank God, my prayers have been answered,” she said. Another calm one. He called Wayne, and got the drum-rolling kind of excited response he’d expected from the others. But Justine. He couldn’t wait to tell her. When he heard the front door open, he raced down the stairs and dashed into the foyer. As he rushed to her, she gazed up at him as though in anticipation.
“Duncan, what is it? What’s happened?”
He pulled her into his arms and rocked her. “She’s going to make it, Justine. She has a donor. Imagine. She’s going to be all right. She’s…Justine!”
She slumped in his arms. He carried her to the living room sofa, lay her there, and went for some water. “Justine fainted when I told her. What can I get for her?” he asked Mattie.
She poured some spirits of ammonia in a cup. “Let her breathe that in. Poor thing, she been under a load. They tell you who this donor is?”
“Why, no. I forgot to ask.”
Justine lay across her bed, a myriad of emotions swirling within her. Her child would live. The procedure hadn’t caused much discomfort, and she had only a little soreness as a reminder, but through it all, she’d had a feeling of incomparable joy—an exhilaration that defied description. Once more, she’d given her child life. She’d been told to be quiet and relaxed, but she could have danced all night with relief. She telephoned her father and godfather and rejoiced with them. Barely able to endure the happiness that suffused her, she stretched out her arms and shouted with laughter. Minutes elapsed and her laughter became hysterics and her hysterics turned into sobs.
When she tried to calm herself, she only cried louder. Her world lay in shambles, for he was certain to send her away. Behind closed eyelids she looked at pieces of her soul, scrambled like the disintegrated scraps of her naiveté, and scattered around her feet. She cried out as pain seared her, and she didn’t hear Duncan burst into her room, but when his arms eased around her body, it knew him, and relaxed against him, drinking in the solace that he offered. She turned over on her back and looked into his eyes. He didn’t know, and she didn’t know how to tell him.
For the first time since she’d known him, he seemed unable to communicate his thoughts and feelings. “Would you…like to go with me to the hospital to see her?”
She doubted she’d be able to stand. Her earlier ebullience had deserted her, and when he’d touched her, she could think of nothing but the dark mourning that was sure to follow her triumph. Fate had exacted a price, for she had been forced to purchase her child’s life at the cost of nurturing her and of loving Duncan.
Better begin now to separate herself from them. “I’m not sure I can keep back the tears when I’m with her, and I don’t want to alarm her. You go, and tell her I love her.”
He stood there, obviously reluctant to leave her. “Go on, now,” she prodded. “She needs to see at least one of us.”
His kiss reminded her of what she was about to lose, and she gave herself to it, parting her lips in quest of his tongue and feasting upon his generous offering. His gaze became strangely questioning when he licked from his top lip what she knew was the brine of her tears.
“We’re over the worst of it, so let’s be thankful.” His voice softened. “Please don’t cry any more, sweetheart. There’s no need.”
Duncan couldn’t banish his anxiety about Justine—her unusual behavior—sadness when she should have been rejoicing, and her refusal to share with him her feelings. And she’d kissed him as though it were the last time, something he couldn’t understand. With everything else going on in his life, his testosterone had taken a nap and he hadn’t wanted a desire-ladened kiss.
He answered his phone on the first ring. “Duncan, this is Leah, How’s—?”
He gulped. “This is who? Leah? Who is this?”
“It’s your sister. My future husband wrote down Banks Banks when we went to order the wedding invitations, and the clerk at Weller’s Engravers—you know, Miss Avery—laughed until somebody had to give her some water. He did it for a point, and Mama says her name can’t go on the invitation unless I’m Leah Banks, so I’m giving in until after I get married.”
“You mean you’re going to sign your married name Banks Roundtree? Leah, you’re crazy.”
“I’m changing the subject. Has Tonya had the transplant yet?”
“Yeah. Today.”
“How’s Justine?”
“She’s fine.” He reconsidered. “Actually, she’s behaving strangely. You’d think she’d be deliriously happy, and in a way she does seem happy, but she’s also sad.”
“She loves Tonya, you know.”
“Yes. She couldn’t love her more if she’d given birth to her. Look, I’ve got to get over to the hospital. Give Mama our love.”
The head nurse greeted Duncan as he stepped off the elevator on his way to Tonya’s room. “She’s looking brighter, and in a few days she’ll be able to go home. We’d just about given up hope that you’d find a donor.”
They walked along the corridor toward Tonya’s room. “How do I get the donor’s name? I have to write and thank her. By the way, was it a man or a woman?”
“A woman. I didn’t meet her, but give her my thanks, too.”
He bade the woman good-bye and opened Tonya’s room door. Her color had improved but, apart from that, he saw no change. She seemed more alert when he played the Mozart tape, and he stayed with her for about an hour, playing it repeatedly. On his way out of the hospital, he noticed the administrative office, knocked, and went in.
“I’m G. Duncan Banks. My daughter received a bone marrow transplant this morning, and I’d like the name of the donor so I can thank her.”
The clerk flipped through the record folders until she found Tonya’s, studied it, and wrote something on a slip of paper. He looked at it and read: Justine Montgomery, age 30, (202) 811-1188.
Through a fog of unreality, he heard the clerk say, “We had all despaired of helping Tonya, but this woman was a perfect match.”
He didn’t know whether he thanked the woman. He stumbled out of the office and propped himself against the wall. Perspiration soaked his under clothing and his breath hung in his throat, nearly choking him. Somewhere in the dark labyrinth that was his mind, he’d known from the start. Why she seemed so familiar, why he’d felt as though he knew her. How could he have missed the resemblance? Those eyes were absolute replicas. He pulled himself away from the wall and made his way to the car. At last, he understood Justine’s sadness.
He drove into his garage and sat there. She’d had no choice but to do the noble thing; she loved her child. But she had lived a lie, more than one, in fact, and he wanted some answers. If his mother hadn’t called him away from his lodge at Curtis Bay, he would probably have asked her to marry him. What was he to think? She knew what he felt for her, because he’d told her and he’d demonstrated it repeatedly. She had discouraged him, had warned him that there was no future for them, and then, she’d blown his mind with the gut-level loving he’d always longed for and never had. He got out of the car, locked it, and entered the house through the breakfast room.
“How’s Tonya doing, Mr. B?”
He couldn’t infuse his voice with any enthusiasm. “She’ll be all right now.” He’d thought Mattie a keen observer, so he asked her, “Any idea who the donor was?”
She directed her gaze away from him, and that meant she knew. “I don’t look no gift horse in the mouth, Mr. B. I prayed, and I got answered. That’s enough for me.”
He stood there, in effect daring her to dismiss him. “So you do know. You’ve known all along.”
“It don’t make no difference now,” she said, letting her impatience show. “I don’t meddle in what ain’t none of my business.” She turned her back, bent to the oven door, and started humming.
He had no right to pressure her and, he supposed, no right to be angry. If Justine hadn’t taken th
e job, he could have lost his child. But on the other hand, if Tonya hadn’t needed that transplant, Justine’s charade would have continued indefinitely. And he would have been in an indefinite dilemma about her. No wonder she’d maintained that nothing could come of their relationship.
When he reached the top of the stairs, he didn’t look toward her door, but went into his room, threw himself across his bed, and tried to come to terms with his feelings for Justine. Who was she? He reached over and dialed his mother’s number.
“I just left Tonya,” he told her after they’d greeted each other. “She’ll be fine now.”
“You seem down. What’s the matter?”
He sat up. “I’ve just been clobbered with a two-by-four. Do you have any idea who donated that transplant?”
Her long silence was pregnant with significance. “Do you?” he repeated.
“Well, I can imagine.”
His eyes widened, and he jumped out of bed and walked as far as the length of the phone cord would allow. “What do you mean, ‘you can imagine’? Mama, talk to me in plain English.”
“Duncan, I cannot tell you what you must discover for yourself.”
“So you knew. How long have you known that Justine is Tonya’s birth mother?”
“Since the first time I saw them together. From what Leah had told me, I had suspected it, but once I saw her, I was positive. She loves Tonya, and she loves you.”
He looked toward the ceiling. “I’m not dealing with that right now. Does Leah know?”
“Son, she knew before I did. But we both love Justine, and we hope you move with care. You understand?”
“Uh…I’m not a foolish man, Mama.”
Chapter 15
She’d heard him come home from the hospital and go into his room without stopping to tell her about Tonya’s progress. So he’d found out already. She looked at her watch. At any minute, Mattie would call to announce dinner, so she freshened up, put on a Dior blue silk jumpsuit, gold hoops, let her hair fly around her shoulders, and made her way downstairs.
Fools Rush In Page 31
