Swept Away, page 23
He’d meant to ask her outright what she’d learned from her father, but when she answered, he thought better of it. “The National Symphony’s playing in Druid Hill Park this evening, if you’d like to go, I’ll order us a picnic supper and a couple of folding chairs and pick you up at five-thirty. What do you say?”
“Great, and I’ll bring along a couple of umbrellas.”
He didn’t feel like bantering, but he tried to keep his tone light. “That means you’ll go?”
“Why, yes. I’d love to go.”
“See you at five-thirty.”
He hung up and stared at the phone. She hadn’t seemed a bit more sociable than he felt. He ought to call her back, but he wanted to be with her when they talked. He fidgeted with the papers on his desk, gave in to his hunch and called her.
“You didn’t seem quite yourself a minute ago. Are you all right?”
“I don’t feel like jumping for joy, and I gather you don’t either, so maybe we’d better not go to that concert. I’d enjoy being with you, but tonight I doubt I’d hear the music.”
“Just as I thought, and I probably wouldn’t either. You haven’t told me whether you’ll go home with me this weekend. It’s important to me, Veronica.”
He heard her sigh and knew that she, too, wrestled with her feelings and her demons. “I haven’t forgotten. Couldn’t we just…just be together somewhere where we can talk. If we go to your place or mine—”
“I know. That’s why I suggested the concert. Tell you what. Let’s drive out to Brackton Park and picnic beside that little lake. Darkness won’t fall before eight o’clock, so we’ll have plenty of time.”
His heartbeat returned to normal and he relaxed, relieved that she agreed. “I’m anxious to see you,” he told her, aware that his words lacked passion. But she had him worried, and he didn’t believe in faking his feelings.
“Me, too. See you this evening.”
Veronica leaned back against the trunk of an old oak that stood in the midst of a grassy knoll not far from the lake’s edge. The moon’s brightness gave shadows to the well-manicured foliage and to the big oak under which they lounged. She longed to enjoy the night’s beauty with Schyler but couldn’t because his almost solemn mood gave her a feeling of unease. She wondered if that night would be the time when he handed her his knockout blow, his now-or-never proposition. In her state of uncertainty, her nerves seemed to scatter when he pushed the picnic basket aside and took her hand.
“Have you spoken with your stepfather since you got back?”
She told him that she had and that his condition had improved, thanks to the doctor’s care, but she dreaded the topic she knew he intended to open and she didn’t offer more.
“Did you ask him why your mother would want you to find your birth father?” From his voice, one might have thought he faced despair, for he spoke with a reticence that belied his normal self-assurance.
She had to work hard at controlling her emotions and her voice. “Yes, I asked him. I said I would, and I did.”
“And you aren’t planning to tell me what he said?”
She removed her hand from his and rubbed her elbows, well aware that she did that only when her nerves got out of hand. “I’d as soon I hadn’t mentioned it to him, because I’ve got more questions now.” She summarized her stepfather’s reply. “And that’s not all of it. All these years, he worked at odd jobs as a laborer, doing anything he could to eke out a meager living, and I mean anything. Would you believe he hurt his back rebuilding the inside of the church apse—and as a volunteer? You should see what he did; a professional couldn’t have done it better. I still can hardly believe it.”
He remained silent for a while, obviously musing over what she’d told him. “So we won’t find out from him.”
“Depends. Maybe he’ll talk about it when he’s more comfortable with the fact that she asked me to do it, but he won’t talk until he’s ready, and when he’s ready I won’t have to ask.”
“Then it’s up to us to straighten out our lives, because nobody’s going to do it for us. Will you come with me this weekend? I’m not asking you to make any promises; I just want you to give a relationship between you and Dad a chance.”
Might as well be honest. “Can you accept the fact that I’m petrified of the idea. He and I have begun a…a friendship, I guess you’d call it, through the mail. Suppose it’s superficial and when I see him I find my feelings haven’t changed? I don’t want to risk hurting either of you.”
“But what you feel for him has changed. Maybe I’m not being realistic, but I want the two of you to care for each other.”
She wanted to go with him, but she got cold feet whenever she thought of her stepfather’s ominous advice. “All right. I want a healing too; I just don’t know how much I’m willing to invest to achieve it.”
“I told you I’d always be there for you, and I mean that. I’ll be by for you about noon Friday. Can you make that?”
“Sure.” Three hours had elapsed, and she hadn’t felt his arms around her. She leaned against his shoulder, closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
His arms immediately enclosed her. “What’s the matter? Has this whole business wrung you out? It’s heavy, no doubt about that, but we can’t let it beat us down.”
She kissed his cheek and stroked his chest, seeking evidence that he cared as deeply as she did, and his arms tightened about her. He tipped up her chin, and when she gazed into his face, what she saw in his eyes sent shivers coursing through her. She’d barely parted her lips when she felt the electric shock of his tongue probing and demanding. She gave herself over to his loving, relaxing as his kisses on her eyelids, ears, cheeks, nose and throat told her that he adored her, and she held him as tightly as her strength would allow.
“We’d better not go there, honey.”
“I know, but you didn’t even kiss me when I opened the door for you this evening.”
His sheepish grin sent her pulse into a roll. “I wanted us to get away from that house, and anytime we get into a clinch…well, you know the rest.”
Feeling reassured, she let her head loll on his shoulder. “But that’s a good thing, isn’t it? A good relationship needs a lot of chemistry.”
He shook his head as though bemused. “You bet, and we’ve got enough of that for a dozen other couples. I’d better take you home. It’s late, and those clouds covering the moon are getting pretty dark.” He pinched her cheek playfully. “Up with you, brown-skinned beauty.”
She reached for the back of his head, held it and kissed him on the mouth. “Sweet man. You’ve got a hold on me, you know that?”
A grin played around his lips, and his wink suggested something she knew wouldn’t happen on that knoll that night. “I should hope so. I wouldn’t like to be suffering from this devilish little bug all alone. Come on.”
Veronica glanced at the clock on her kitchen wall and made up her mind. If her stepfather wouldn’t give her the answers she sought, she had to look elsewhere. She dialed the airline, made reservations for a seven-thirty flight to Durham, reserved a rental car there and phoned for a taxi to pick her up at six the next morning. She left a message on Schyler’s office phone, deliberately thwarting attempts he might make to question her about her mission. Time enough to face that when she got back. By the time he got to his office, she’d be within a few miles of Pickett.
She called her stepfather from Durham airport so as not to alarm him by walking into his house unannounced.
“You’re welcome to look,” he said, though she could see that he’d rather she didn’t. “All your mother’s personal belongings are still in those two drawers and that back closet. Keep an open mind, now, because things don’t have to be what they seem. I’ll fix you some breakfast.”
“I don’t think you should move around so much, I’ll do it.”
After they finished the meal, she straightened up the kitchen, went into what had once been her parents’ bedroom and began her search. She discovered old photos of her maternal grandparents, and found scraps and memorabilia from every stage of her mother’s life, but only a single snapshot of her life with Richard Henderson. She found old payroll and bank deposit slips dating back to her mother’s single days as a high school science teacher. Totally discombobulated, she sat on the edge of the bed, breathing heavily. A science teacher? Then why was she living in the backwoods of Pickett, North Carolina, house cleaning and taking in laundry? And why hadn’t she taught in the local high school? Another hour’s search produced nothing helpful.
“Did you find anything?”
She stopped herself as she was about to tell him about the payroll and bank deposit slips, certain that he wouldn’t want to answer her questions. “I went through all that before; I just wanted to satisfy myself that I hadn’t missed anything.”
His obvious relief was so immense that he didn’t detect her evasiveness. “Do you have to go back today?”
“I’d better. I’m developing a strategy for reorganizing the city’s foster care systems, and I need to finish it as soon as possible.”
“I’m glad to know you’re sticking with your profession. You’ve put so much into it. Come see me again soon as you get a chance.”
She hugged him to her, wanting him to know that despite her questions about her mother and birth father, she loved him and always would. “And next time, I’ll give you enough notice so you can fix my special.”
She said goodbye and left him, a lonely figure standing at the front door watching her leave. Once more, she’d come away empty-handed, this time with questions about her mother.
She walked into her house at seven-fifty that evening and put the documents she’d taken from her mother’s things in her desk drawer. She had a feeling she’d need them.
Schyler listened to Veronica’s voice tell him she’d decided to go back to her stepfather’s home to look through her mother’s belongings and that she’d be ready to go with him to Tilghman at noon on Friday. She could have called him on his cell phone or phoned him the night before, so he had to conclude that she hadn’t wanted to discuss her plan with him. He didn’t mind though, because she’d said she wanted a healing, and he believed she meant it. He phoned his father. No point in shocking him.
“Hi, Dad. Veronica agreed to spend the weekend with us, and we’ll be down there early tomorrow afternoon. She told me she hesitated because she didn’t want to hurt either of us, but that she wants a healing and that’s why she’s coming with me.”
His father’s uncustomary failure to respond where the issue of Veronica was concerned didn’t sit well with him. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want her to come?”
“Of course I do, but I don’t want either one of you to get the impression that Veronica or anyone else has the right or the power to bestow beneficence on me. We’ll have a proper relationship when she meets me as daughter to father, not as some baroness bestowing favors.”
“Wait a second. I didn’t intend to imply anything of the sort.”
“I know you didn’t. I want a normal loving relationship with my daughter, you know that. But I pray only to God, and I don’t want you to interfere. Veronica and I will come to terms. Good terms. And when we do, it will be in an atmosphere of mutual love and respect.”
He defended her. “I didn’t detect any arrogance in what she said. She confessed to being petrified at the possibility that she might offend us. Where’s the conceit in that? I had both my arms around her when she said it, and her voice as well as her demeanor conveyed nothing but softness. Go easy, will you, Dad?”
He hadn’t expected his father to laugh so soon after his testiness of minutes earlier, but laugh he did. “I’m not sure I see the humor in this,” he told Richard.
“I’m not surprised. You defended her, and staunchly, too. I laughed because it pleased me. You care deeply for her. Get it into her head, Son, that her relationship with you is independent of what goes on between her and me.”
“Dad, you don’t—”
“I know I’m talking to the clouds. Tell her I’m looking forward to seeing her again, and that I hope she’s planning to stay here this time.”
Schyler allowed himself a laugh. “I didn’t ask her where she’s staying, because she’s our guest. That means she stays here.”
Richard’s words were tinged with merriment. “In the fifty-eight years of my eventful life, I’ve never once been that certain of any woman. Right on, is all I’ve got to say to that.”
Veronica had a premonition that she would be tested, and though she tried to imagine ways in which that could happen, she hadn’t thought she’d face it as soon as she entered Richard Henderson’s home. Her father opened the door for them and stood speechless while they gazed at each other. She was conscious of Schyler standing behind her not making a sound. But as she looked at her father, all she saw was her resemblance to him, and the smile that spread over her face was in recognition of that likeness. However, he accepted it as a gesture of warmth and friendliness and once again opened his arms to her. She could feel Schyler’s tension radiating all around her, but in her father’s eyes she saw not a challenge but an invitation. She didn’t know how she did it but, with her own arms open, she stepped into his embrace.
Her father didn’t prolong the embrace, but hugged her tightly, stepped back and said, “Welcome home, Daughter.” She wanted to move but couldn’t and stood looking up at him. There hadn’t been anything phony about the way he’d held her; she felt his sincerity in every atom of her being.
“Thanks,” she finally managed. “Thank you.”
Schyler’s hand gripped her waist as he moved to stand beside her, and in spite of her promise to herself that she’d stay cool and laid-back, she turned to him, rested her head on his shoulder and held on to him.
“All this is a bit much for her,” she heard Schyler say.
“I can see that. I also see that she knows how to handle herself. Come, Veronica, and I’ll show you your room.”
She moved out of Schyler’s arms, thankful that she hadn’t cried, and followed her father. He placed her bag on a luggage rack and turned to her. “I want you to consider this as your room and you’re welcome to use it anytime you like. You don’t have to wait for my son to bring you.”
“Thanks. It’s a lovely room, and the colors are some of my favorites.”
For a minute, she thought him lost in the past. “These were your mother’s favorite colors, at least when I knew her.”
Before she could recover from that, he spun around and left the room. Lavender, rose and pale green. Those colors remained in the bedroom that her mother had shared with her stepfather. If she didn’t get to the bottom of that increasingly befuddling request, she’d lose it. She unpacked and changed into white cotton slacks, a pale green cotton T-shirt and white espadrilles. Remembering that her father relaxed in his solarium, she started toward the back of the house.
“You okay?” Schyler asked her.
“I’m fine.”
“You weren’t prepared for that, but you handled it well.”
She didn’t want him to misunderstand. “I didn’t handle it. I obeyed my feelings. I turned to you because it…he’d shaken me up. I’m not going to play games; that wouldn’t be fair.”
“No, it wouldn’t. Where were you headed?”
“Back there to his office.”
“I think he’s got a meal ready. It’s a little late for lunch, but our supper this evening will be light.”
They sat down to the table, and Veronica could hardly believe her eyes. After Richard said grace, she asked him, “How did you know I love fried catfish, hush puppies and collards?”
He nodded toward Schyler. “He told me. I also like it.”
She wouldn’t tell her stepfather, but she was eating the best hush puppies she’d ever tasted. “These are wonderful,” she told him. “I’d love to have the recipe.”
After the luncheon, which ended with chocolate cheesecake, Schyler went out back, returned with Caesar, and introduced Veronica to his dog, adding, “This woman is important to me, boy, so you take care of her.” To her amazement, Caesar walked over to her, stood beside her and received a pat on the head from Schyler.
“Want to go for a walk on the beach? Caesar needs a good run.”
She looked toward her father. “You don’t mind staying alone?”
His smile told her she’d made him happy. “I doubt Schyler wants me to tag along with the two of you. Go ahead and enjoy yourselves.”
As they walked along the narrow strip of beach, she prayed that they’d be spared a repetition of their previous parting after their first walk along the bay. He seemed content to stroll along silently, holding her hand. But she wanted to know his feelings about the way she and her father had greeted each other and the camaraderie they’d enjoyed throughout the meal. Yet, if she asked him, she might get more than she wanted to hear. After all, what was so extraordinary about a father and daughter expressing affection?
“Do you have a boat?” she asked him.
“We have one, but it’s docked some miles from here. This water’s too shallow for a boat. If you’re here on a good day, we’ll take you out. Dad sails much more often than I do, and he’s a better sailor than I am. Let’s start back.”
When they got back to the house, Richard joined them in the living room. “Would you like to know where you got your vocal talent?” Schyler asked her.
She raised both eyebrows. “Do you sing, Father?”
He nodded, left the room and returned with a guitar. “I don’t play this thing very well, but I like to strum it. Learned what little I know from my college roommate.” She stared at him openmouthed when the first words of Gershwin’s “I Got Plenty of Nothin’” pealed from his throat. His rich baritone flowed around them until they were caught up in the music. When at last he ended it, their silence told him how he’d awed them.
“I never dreamed…Didn’t you ever consider a career as a singer?” she asked him.
