When the Sun Goes Down

by Gwynne Forster

  “I love them. Oh, and these beads. Seminole women are famous for their beads. I’m not going to wear these; I could break them. I’m going to display all this in a shadow box where they can’t be damaged.”

  He took her home around three o’clock. “I’ll be back for you at four-thirty. A dressy street dress should be suitable for the evening, and if you have a shawl or sweater, you might bring that along.”

  She raised both arms to him. “Don’t I get a kiss?”

  “A little one. I can’t handle that heavy stuff this time of day.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s a signal to me to complete it, and you’re not ready for that.”

  “Are you?”

  “Shirley, don’t ever ask me a question unless you want the unvarnished truth. Yes, I’m ready for it, and I have been since the second day we searched your father’s place together. I’ve wanted it more and more urgently whenever I’ve seen you since then and whenever I’ve thought of you. I’ll see you at four-thirty.” He pressed his lips to hers and set her away from him. She watched him stride down the walk past the sign that read FOR SALE and watched the car until it was out of sight.

  “Well, I guess he twirled my switch.”

  They spent the evening on the Jungle Queen, cruising along the New River and dining on barbecued baby back ribs and shrimp, among other delights. They danced to jazz music of questionable quality, but neither cared. With his arm tight around her, they stood on deck and watched as the boat plied past Millionaire’s Row.

  “Who needs so much wealth?” she asked, mostly to herself.

  “You don’t?” he asked, letting her know that he heard her.

  “I doubt they’re happier than I am. Observing my father taught me that money and things can make you comfortable, but they do not bring happiness. Father never did or said anything that made me think he was happy.”

  “That’s a pity.”

  When at last he took her home, he stood in her foyer, looking at her as if he hadn’t seen her before. “I leave early in the morning, but I’ll call your cell phone the minute I get to Baltimore.”

  “If I don’t answer, call my landline. I don’t cruise again until Tuesday.”

  “This weekend has been wonderful, Shirley. Did you agree to be my girl?”

  “Actually, I did. I just didn’t tell you.”

  His laughter wrapped around her like a blanket of warmth in the dead of winter. “I care a lot for you. I want you to remember that.”

  “I will if you remember that you’re not seeing any woman but me.”

  “Don’t think for a minute that I’ll forget that. Kiss me.” He folded her to the warmth of his body and held her there. Then he brushed his lips across hers again and again until she parted them, and he possessed her until she slumped in his arms. He gripped her in a fierce hug, stared down at her for a minute, and left. She turned out the light and made her way up the dark stairs to her bedroom.

  “If I had known I’d feel this badly when he left me, I don’t think I would have let him come.”

  A few minutes before the crew closed the cabin doors for the takeoff of flight 780, Carson phoned his younger, and only, brother. “What’s up, Ogden? You called me? Sorry I didn’t catch your ring. I must have been on the river. In parts, it looks more like a lake than a river. How are you?”

  “Me? I’m fine. What river are you talking about?”

  “The New River in Fort Lauderdale. It’s something for the eyes.”

  “Never heard of it. Where in the name of kings are you?”

  “I said Fort Lauderdale. I’m on the plane headed home, and I’ll have to cut this short any minute. What’s up?”

  “I just got promoted to managing engineer, and in this company, brother, that stands for something.”

  “Fantastic. Way to go. I’m going to buy a bottle of Dom Pérignon. Only the best for my kid brother. Call you when the plane lands. Bye for now.”

  He fastened his seat belt, turned toward the window, and went to sleep. He had to testify in court Monday morning, something he hated doing in divorce cases, and he had to find that will. His instincts and his common sense told him that the will was somewhere in Leon Farrell’s private quarters, but he’d combed the place with a toothpick. Nothing had exasperated him as much as his search for that will. He told himself to go to sleep. With a lack of sleep, his memory wouldn’t be reliable, and he didn’t want to ruin his own reputation. Enough people were willing to do that for him.

  As soon as the plane taxied to the gate, he dialed Shirley’s number. “Hi. We just landed. I slept all the way. I’ll be busy for the remainder of the day, but I’ll phone you tonight. How are you? By now, you should be missing me.”

  “Give me a few more minutes.”

  “What? Am I not worth even a little misery?”

  “Good heavens, a real ham. Actually, I started missing you last night before you got back to the hotel.”

  “That’s a lot more like it. If I’m going to be unhappy missing you, by damn, I want company. They’re disembarking. Talk later. Kisses.”

  “Bye for now, and kisses to you.”

  He got home at a quarter past one, and a check of his answering machine revealed seven calls from Edgar Farrell, the last three of which were abusive and profane. He was getting sick of Edgar, but he felt almost obligated to finish what he’d started. He’d never walked away from a job, leaving it unfinished, but Edgar’s behavior threatened to make this a first. He erased the calls and put Edgar out of his mind.

  The following Wednesday afternoon, which was her afternoon off, Frieda rushed up the stairs to her apartment at 2911 Franklin Street in Baltimore, threw her bag onto the sofa, kicked off her shoes, and sat down to read the letter. Her fingers shook so badly that she couldn’t open the envelope. After struggling with it for a full minute, she went to her tiny kitchen, got a knife, and slit it open.

  Seeing her birth mother’s return address on the letter had sent her heartbeat into a tailspin, and she could barely keep her balance. She and Coreen Holmes Treadwell were on speaking terms, but that about described their relationship. Not that she blamed Coreen for it as she once did, because she’d hunted the woman, and when she finally confronted her, she showered upon Coreen a barrage of vituperous vengeance. But the meeting, the first time she’d laid eyes on her birth mother, proved just as painful for her. Coreen didn’t spare her but poured out the horrifying experience of Frieda’s conception—brought on by rape—and the extraordinary misery to which she was subjected while pregnant with Frieda.

  After half a year of searching for Coreen and planning ways in which to humiliate her, those moments of confrontation and revenge had left Frieda not triumphant, but empty and sad. Frieda had accepted as balm for her wounds the letter she received from Coreen some three weeks later offering friendship and promising to be there for Frieda if she needed her. She had put the letter in her safe-deposit box along with the government bonds she bought weekly to buy a house. She had written Coreen a letter thanking her for the gesture of friendship, and sent her cards at Christmas, but that was the extent of their exchange.

  She opened the letter, began to read, and put it aside. The letter was not from Coreen, but from Eric, Coreen’s elder stepson. She went to the kitchen, made a pot of coffee, poured a cup, and went back to the living room. After sipping for a while, she picked up the letter and began to read.

  Dear Frieda,

  You and I haven’t met, but I hope we will very soon. My stepmother, your mother, is very ill and needs a transfusion of bone marrow, but we have been unable to find a match. My stepmother told us to ask you to help. She said you wrote her and said that if she ever needed you, you would do whatever you could. Please say you’ll come. I hope this letter reaches you. I’ve called you many times to no avail. If you’ll call 555-1676, I’ll come for you and bring you here by car. Sincerely yours, Eric Treadwell

  She wondered why Glen hadn’t written the letter. After f
inishing the second cup of coffee, she telephoned Mirna, related the matter, and added, “I’m her daughter, so I may be able to help. At least I should test for it. But who’s going to look after Mr. G? Tell you what. I’ll be back there in about an hour.”

  “You’re not going to try and help your mother?” Mirna asked, her tone incredulous.

  “Mirna, I’m a Christian. I’ll do the right thing, but I’m gon’ take care of my patient, too.”

  She called Eric Treadwell. “Mr. Treadwell, this is Frieda Davis.”

  “Thank God. We’d almost given up hope of finding you.”

  “I’m a nurse, and I’m on a case. I came home this afternoon and found your letter. I have to go back to my job now, but I can take the test tomorrow morning.”

  “Where will you be tomorrow morning? I’ll go there for you.”

  She gave him the address. “I’ll see you in the morning, then, Mr. Treadwell. Do you know what her prognosis is?”

  “It’s ... it’s all or nothing.”

  “I’m not surprised. See you in the morning.”

  She’d planned to do her laundry and then put up her feet while watching Judge Judy, but she wouldn’t have time for that. She changed clothes, repacked her bag, locked the apartment door, and walked up Franklin to Juno, where she caught the bus. Forty minutes later, she walked into Gunther’s apartment.

  “I thought you were off this afternoon,” he said when she walked into his room, where he sat by the window reading.

  She told him enough about her background to enable him to understand why she needed to take the next day off. “As far as I know, I’m her only living blood relative. I can’t say no.”

  She couldn’t decipher his facial expression, but it seemed warm and friendly. “You have to go,” he said. “I’ll miss you, but I’ll manage. I’m not so sick that I need a nurse anyway. The doctor’s being overly cautious.”

  So he did care for her. When she got back, she’d definitely do something about that, but now was not the time.

  She wrote out instructions for Mirna and told Gunther, “I know Mirna loves to fill you full of soul food, but if you eat that stuff, it will definitely set you back. I’m leaving menus for her, and I want you to see that she follows them.”

  “Of course I will. Why would I ignore my nurse’s advice?”

  She smiled inwardly. This would be a bad time to leave him. She should be there working at cementing a relationship with him, but she had a feeling that her birth mother was going to need her. She always tried to keep her promises, even when she didn’t want to or when doing so proved inconvenient, like now.

  She took the instructions downstairs to Mirna. “Mirna, I know he loves biscuits, pork chops, spareribs, and all the good stuff that you cook so tastefully, but please remember that he can’t have it. He has to eat like someone on a diet. I hope my mother will be all right, and I won’t need to be gone long. If it ain’t one thing, it’s another. I was just thinking of taking music lessons. You know, I always wanted to play the piano, and I couldn’t afford lessons till now. But I may have to put that on hold, like a lot of other things.”

  “Everybody has to do that sometime,” Mirna said.

  “I know, and I’m not complaining. I’ve got a lot more than a lot of people. It’s time he had his massage. See you later.”

  At ten o’clock the next morning, she answered the door to Eric Treadwell. “Come right in, Mr. Treadwell. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

  As Frieda had expected, Mirna found a reason to appear for an introduction. In her role as housekeeper, Mirna made certain that she knew what went on in that house and that no one tampered with Gunther Farrell’s property or violated his rights.

  “Mrs. Jordan, this is Eric Treadwell, my birth mother’s stepson. He’s taking me to the hospital for the test. Mr. Treadwell, Mrs. Jordan is my patient’s housekeeper.”

  “I’m glad to meet you, Mrs. Jordan,” Eric said, extending his hand for a handshake. “I hope we won’t have to keep Miss Davis too long.”

  “Likewise, Mr. Treadwell. I’ll send up a few prayers for your mother. That usually takes care of things.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate your concern and your prayers.”

  “We’d better be going,” Frieda said.

  It didn’t please her that Edgar’s motorcycle roared up just as she got into Eric Treadwell’s Lexus. Edgar was a devil if she’d ever met one, and he’d be certain to tell Gunther that he saw her going off with a good-looking man.

  “Thank you for not changing your mind,” Eric said.

  “That never crossed my mind. Besides, you said it was all or nothing, depending on whether she got the bone marrow, so what did you expect, Eric? Things will probably never be perfect with your mother and me, but I still have that nice letter she wrote me, telling me she forgave me for trying to ruin her life.”

  “Did you answer?” he asked, glancing sideways at her.

  “Of course I did, and I promised to be there for her if she ever needed me. Strange, but from then on, I had the feeling that I was not alone. I have two wonderful adoptive sisters, but that’s not like blood relatives. Like your own mother.”

  “I guess not. Will it bother you to be around Glen?”

  “I don’t know. He and I used each other, but fate being what it is, I fell hard for him and he for me, and there was nothing we could do about it. I started it, singling him out because I’d learned that your stepmother had a special love for him. I thought I was seducing him, but I was really no match for his sophistication and experience. I hope he’s doing well.”

  “He is, or so I think. I hope you’re both over it.”

  “We’ll see. Nothing would please me more.”

  “Here we are,” Eric said as he parked in the hospital’s parking lot.

  “Will they let me see her?”

  “Of course.” He took her arm as they walked toward the front door. “Don’t be nervous or anxious, Frieda. What will be, will be.”

  “Yeah, but I feel like a pan of quivering Jell-O. Is your father here, too? I mean, are things all right between them?”

  “Yes, and that was a lesson for all of us. Once her secret was out, she was happier, less secretive, and they’ve seemed to love each other more than ever. Dad’s at work now, but he’ll be here later.”

  “I’m glad. After what she went through ... It just shows that you shouldn’t judge a person unless you have all the facts.” She looked up at the darkening sky, and shivers raced through her. “I sure hope this dreary weather isn’t a bad omen.”

  “Be like me,” Eric said, opening the door. “I don’t believe in omens, so those clouds don’t matter to me.”

  He took her to the diagnostic center and introduced her to the physician in charge. “I’ll wait out here for you,” he told her. “It will take a while.” She looked back at Eric and walked on with the doctor to the examining and testing room. The doctor started to tell her what to expect, but she interrupted him.

  “I’m an LPN, Doctor, and I’ve worked in hospitals and clinics for years. I know what to expect.”

  She finished the tests, stepped out of the area, and saw Eric sitting where she had left him.

  “You must be starved. It’s after one o’clock,” Frieda said to him.

  A half smile played around his lips. “I couldn’t eat if my life depended on it.”

  She realized that he was experiencing all the fear, dread, and concern that she should have been feeling for her mother. Not that she wasn’t concerned, but no bond existed between her and Coreen Treadwell, at least not a true mother-daughter bond.

  She sat beside Eric and took his hand. “Try to be positive, and when you’re near her, think positive thoughts. Attitude has a lot to do with patients surviving.”

  “Thanks. If you’re hungry, I’ll get you something to eat downstairs in the cafeteria. We may be here for another three hours.”

  “You stay here. I’ll go. I know the way. I used to work here.
” She bought sandwiches, coffee for herself, and a container of milk and a Snickers bar for him.

  “Nobody feels too bad to eat Snickers,” she told him later, and watched while he ate the candy and drank the milk.

  “Could I ask you something, Frieda?”

  “Go ahead. I don’t have to answer.”

  “Did you feel badly because you were given up for adoption? I mean, did you personally feel unwanted?”

  “No. What I felt was hatred for what I went through, but I realize now how wrong I was. Did she treat you and Glen the same? From what I saw at a distance, I thought he was her little pet.”

  “She loved him more, because he was five when she married Dad. I was seven, and she thought I didn’t need her.”

  “But you did.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yeah. But I got over that. We were lucky that Dad found a woman who tried to be a good mother to his children.”

  “You bet you were.”

  The doctor came out, and both of them jumped to their feet. “You’re a perfect match, Ms. Davis. If you haven’t taken any painkillers for the last two weeks and there’s no alcohol in your blood, we could do this tomorrow morning. I’d rather you didn’t eat breakfast. You could stay here tonight, and we could do the transfusion at seven in the morning.”

  “I think I’d prefer that. Are you using intravenous lines or a needle in the hip bone?”

  “Two intravenous lines will give you much less discomfort. Mr. Treadwell, please check her in before dinnertime. I’ll make the arrangements.”

  Frieda phoned Gunther. “I’m a match, sir, so they want me to stay overnight and give the bone marrow tomorrow morning. I gave Mirna instructions as to what she should do.”

  “Thanks for letting me know. Mirna’s managing fine.”

  What else could she say? She signed off as graciously as she could and then asked Eric if she could say hello to her birth mother.

  “Of course. She doesn’t yet know that you can donate. She’ll be very happy.”