Her father’s call awakened her the next morning. “What do you know?” he asked her after they greeted each other. “I hope you’ve had your coffee.”
She hadn’t. “I just opened my eyes. Tell me.”
“Jethro invited me to go fishing on his boat with him sometime at the end of March or the first week in April, weather permitting.”
“No kidding! I’m getting the feeling that he wants to make sure I marry Sam.”
“Probably. That’s the main reason why I’ll leave Gates in charge of my shop for an entire weekend. I expect you and Sam will join us.”
“Don’t bet on it. No one’s mentioned it to me.” But Jethro did mention it. He also told her that she’d no doubt prefer to enjoy the boat with Sam rather than with the parents.
By the first week in April, she and Sam were once more constantly together. One evening as he sheltered her from a torrent of rain, she said to him, “Sam, you’re spoiling me. What would you do if I began expecting you to guarantee that it wouldn’t rain or snow on me? And that I wouldn’t get cold?”
“I’d do my best to keep you dry and warm in winter, and cool and dry during vicious summer heat and humidity. You see something wrong with that?”
She hadn’t had much nurturing in her life, and she wasn’t going to thumb her nose at it. “Not one thing, honey. Not a single thing.”
And so it went. Both of them kept a tight rein on the fierce passion that had characterized their relationship in the days before she went to Italy. And although she told herself that she preferred it that way, she knew that their eventual coming together would be explosive.
Over two months after Ginny was confined to the facility for treatment, she indicated that she recognized her daughter’s presence. “Why do you come here? Do you get some satisfaction from knowing that I have to be here unless I want to go to jail?”
Kendra questioned the effect of lying, decided that she wouldn’t, and said, “In a way, yes. It comforts me to know that you won’t badger me for money or embarrass me at my job, but I hate to know that you have a condition that requires psychiatric treatment. I come here to make sure that these people are giving you the treatment you need. That’s my duty.”
“I’m glad to know you’re not doing it to show how much you love me,” Ginny said, and sucked her teeth in apparent disgust.
But she didn’t fool Kendra, who had never before heard her mother use the word
love
. “Absolutely not,” Kendra replied. “I wouldn’t embarrass you or myself by getting into such emotional mush. See you in a few weeks.”
Before leaving, she reported the conversation to the therapist. “She’s coming along,” the woman said, “but she’s got a long, hard road ahead. Don’t expect miracles.”
Who knew whether Ginny would stay there long enough to make genuine progress? She still possessed a hefty share of arrogance and of egotism, and neither bode well for the cure her mother needed. Kendra took comfort in the knowledge that, in less than three months, Ginny had made a small step toward good mental health.
On a Friday morning in mid-April, during spring break, Sam headed his Buick Enclave out of Washington, D.C., full of hope and not a little anxiety. He glanced at the woman beside him, her head resting against the back of the seat and her eyes closed, as she hummed softly. As a singer, she had no skill, but he managed to detect snatches of Stevie Wonder’s “I Just Called To Say I Love You.” He patted her thigh to let her know, without the benefit of words, that he shared her mood.
Around eleven o’clock, they reached St. Leonard, Maryland, a tiny settlement on the Chesapeake Bay where he moored the boat, a thirty-eight foot schooner that he and his father owned jointly.
“We’re lucky that Dad and Bert were down here last weekend,” he said, “and we don’t have to put her in shape for sailing.”
“I know. I don’t think my papa has ever raved about anything as much as he did about that boat, the fishing, and the joy of being out on the Chesapeake Bay.”
“Dad enjoyed it, too. I hope you enjoy it as much as your father did.”
At the boat, he lowered the gangplank by remote control, took her hand, and walked on. “You stay here,” he said, pointing to the lounge, “while I get our things.”
He was back in fifteen minutes, telling himself that he didn’t want to give her head time to start controlling her emotions. “I’ll put your bag in the captain’s quarters.” He turned to go, but she stopped him.
“Where will you put yours?”
“Not to worry. That’s a bed.” He pointed to the sofa on which she sat. She gave him a long, unfathomable look, picked up her bag, and strolled into the captain’s quarters. He stood there for a couple of minutes, reflected that she seemed neither angry nor annoyed, and got busy putting away their supplies. By the time she reappeared in white jeans, blue sneakers, and a blue, collared T-shirt, he thought he’d burst out of his skin.
“You all right?” he asked her.
“Oh, yes. This is one snappy machine. I can’t wait to get started.”
“You mean the boat?” She nodded. “As soon as we eat a sandwich, we’ll take off. I’d like some fresh fish for supper.”
They sailed down to Trappe, on Maryland’s Eastern Shore and docked upstream. “Dad said the fish here practically competed for a chance to get hooked. We’ll see how they treat us.”
He baited their hooks, and they sat in deck chairs and waited. “These are more than we need,” he said of their fish a couple of hours later.
“I wish life was like this,” she said, more to herself than to him, but she knew he heard her.
“Give it a chance, Kendra. Give
me
a chance.”
With a look that was level and direct, she said, “That’s why I’m here.”
“Do you still love me?” he asked, leaning toward her while grasping the tail of a good-size pike.
She stood and faced him. “Yes, I love you. If I tried to stop, I don’t know where I’d begin.” She didn’t want a piecemeal discussion of their relationship, she wanted it all aired out, and when they stopped talking, she’d know whether they would be together forever or would say good-bye forever when they got back to Washington. “We’re going to talk, Sam, but let’s wait till you dock for the night.”
He put the fish into an ice box, closed it, and said, “If I hadn’t been handling that fish, I’d try to drown myself in you.”
“Everything I’m wearing is washable, including my shoes.”
He stepped closer, enclosed her in the warmth of his arms, and held her there. “I’ve needed you so badly, down deep where the pain stayed. I love you so much. Have you forgiven me, and do you truly trust me?”
“I’ve forgiven you. It took awhile, but I tried to put myself in your place, and I had to acknowledge that if it had been your father instead of my mother, I probably would have broken ties with you and wouldn’t have renewed them. I never stopped trusting you.”
He held her tight without speaking for so long that she stroked the side of his face and asked him, “What’s the matter?”
“I haven’t prayed much in my life, but I prayed about this, day and night. Will you marry me?”
It was D-Day. If he stood his ground about Ginny, would she do the same and walk away from him? She moved out of his arms and leaned against the door that led to the lower level.
“Do you love me?”
“As I love my life.” He walked over and knelt before her.
“I will love and care for you and our children and do everything I can to ensure your happiness and well-being.”
“What about my mother? I won’t allow her ever to abuse me again, and I won’t tolerate any of her tricks, but I won’t watch her destroy herself, either. I won’t bring her to live with me, and if she doesn’t change her outlook on life, she won’t have access to my children.” She eased down until they were face to face. “But Sam, I couldn’t ignore her if she were truly in need. I’d lose my self-respect.”
“You’re offering more than I’m asking. I want you on any terms and without conditions. Will you be my wife?”
“Oh, yes! Yes!”
“Did you really think I was going to let you sleep in the lounge?” she asked him that night as he lay above her, slowly climbing down from the heights of ecstasy.
“After what I’d been through the past three months, I wasn’t counting the chicks before they were hatched. I’ve learned never to do that with you. Wait a minute.” He looked at his watch, saw that it was only a quarter of ten, and dialed Bert Richards’s phone number.
“Hello, Bert. This is Sam. Kendra just promised to marry me, and I remembered only now that I forgot to ask your permission.”
“I figured months ago that it was time. I’m glad to hear it, Sam. You two have my blessings.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll take good care of her.”
“I have no doubt of that.”
“I’ll call my dad tomorrow,” he said to Kendra. “Right now, I want to enjoy my bride-to-be.”