Echoes of a Distant Summer (23 page)

“Watch your tone!” she warned. “You didn’t act like the head of the company. You didn’t handle this problem. You kicked it up to me. So I will handle it. That’s that.”

“What did you expect me to do,” Franklin challenged, “agree to Jackson’s murder over the phone?” Franklin was really exasperated by the conversation with his grandmother. It seemed to typify their whole relationship.

Mrs. Marquez brought in the tea on a tray right at the end of Franklin’s outburst. Serena gave him a quick, disapproving look. Mrs. Marquez set the tea tray on the coffee table and excused herself.

Franklin wanted to say more, but he was no fool. He knew that Serena held the reins of control over the company as long as the stock was in her name. The only power he possessed was that which she delegated to him. He had hoped, given the circumstances, for her immediate support and that she would willingly share her information with him. However, once again, she had shown herself unpredictable. He decided that if she wasn’t going to tell him anything, he was wasting his time meeting with her. Why should I tell her that I’m having lunch with Braxton? he thought. Hell, I’ll probably cut my own deal and leave her totally out of the picture. He swallowed his drink and stood up. “Okay, you’ve got it handled. I’ll bow out,” he said.

Serena sipped her tea and watched him pick up his coat. How like a child he is, she thought. So impatient, so unable to just sit, listen, and analyze. Franklin didn’t give his mind a chance to catch up with his mouth. She watched him walk to the door and knew that this boy, this man, did not possess the essence of King’s seed. He was simply not built on the scale of King Tremain.

“Good-bye, Gran,” Franklin said and walked out the door without waiting for a response.

Serena thought about what she could have told Franklin that might have satisfied him. She knew she couldn’t tell him the truth. She didn’t think that he would bear up well under such a burden. He was not like the other one, his cousin, who was a direct descendant of King. The hot tea felt soothing as it flowed down her throat. She suppressed the thought of her other grandson. He was not her worry. His life had always flowed through wild country beyond the scope of her protection.

T
he sky was partly overcast with meandering gray clouds that the sun was gradually burning away. A cold mist sprayed across its bow as the Angel Island ferry made its way across the choppy surface of the bay. There was a steady breeze blowing off the Pacific as Jackson and Elizabeth stood on the upstairs pilot deck, watching the sailboats in the bay heel to the wind. The water was a deep, deep blue, and small whitecaps appeared as the wind hurried the waves to their destination. The green fingers of the Tiburon and San Quentin peninsulas stretched out into the bay and, despite being dotted with buildings, gave a sense of the pristine beauty the bay must have had at the turn of the century.

The wind was blowing in Elizabeth’s hair, which was braided into numerous thin strands that she wore shoulder length. Jackson wondered why he had not noticed that her hair was braided before.

Elizabeth saw that he was watching her. “I needed to get out and smell some fresh air.” She nodded her head at the Golden Gate Bridge. “This was a good idea. What a wonderful view.” The bridge’s two burnt-orange towers rose out of the whitecapped, blue-green waves of the bay and seemed to touch the sky as their tops were lost in mist. On the left, San Francisco’s neighborhoods climbed in tiers above its downtown skyline. On the right, the Marin peninsula looked green and inviting, promising pastoral relief from the urban pressures of life on the other side of the bridge.

“It’s a view that not many see,” Jackson replied, “looking straight out the Golden Gate.” He turned to her and said, “I was happily surprised that you agreed to come with me.”

“I was a little surprised myself, but if we didn’t do it today, we might have had to wait several weeks. I have a trial starting next week and you say you might be going away this weekend. This was our window.”

“Perhaps the one or two isolated incidences,” Jackson chuckled, “that we will be granted to see into each other’s interior. It’s like we’re two boats passing each other in a narrow canal. Even as we meet we draw farther apart, pulled by our individual life forces.”

“What is the most valuable thing to learn about you in the time I have?”

“That depends upon your interests,” Jackson said quietly, watching the trace of a smile play across the smooth, dark skin of her face.

“For the sake of time, I’ll tell you what I know about you. Wayman’s mother said some very good things about the work you’ve done with her son. And you did all this without ever once hitting on her. That sounded to me like the actions of a decent man. So I wanted to meet you. Decency is important. It serves as the basis for a constructive relationship. I’m at a point in my life where that is the only type of relationship that I want. Is that clear?”

Jackson cocked his eyebrow and said, “Crystal. You’re checking me out to determine whether I’m worth an emotional investment.” He smiled and continued, “If you discover that I am, I proceed to the greatest hurdle of all: whether you can love me.”

“I’m so happy that you’ve thought our relationship out and have it summarized. I did notice that in true masculine style, you did not mention your feelings once.”

The ferry horn blared as the vessel neared the island’s pier. Passengers began making their way below to the exit. Jackson shouldered a knapsack and turned to follow the crowd, but Elizabeth grabbed his arm and demanded, “No response?”

Jackson replied as he guided her in front of him on the way down the stairs, “Who was it that said, ‘The measure of a man is what he feels about what he thinks and the measure of a woman is what she thinks about what she feels’?”

Elizabeth waited until they had descended the stairs before she turned to him and scoffed, “That is such absolute bullshit! Only a man could have thought up such a weak oversimplification. The measure of a woman is greater than the man’s, for she has to have courage, resolve, willpower, discipline, intelligence the same as a man, as well as love, nurturing, compassion, understanding—”

“All right! All right! I’ll concede that the measures are equal, with some small differences. Now, let’s get off this boat.”

Elizabeth allowed herself to be ushered down to the ramp, but she said, “I still want to continue this conversation.”

“What’s the issue?” Jackson asked as their forward movement was halted by the crush of people moving onto the docks. He was standing directly behind Elizabeth. He could smell the fresh, lightly scented shampoo in her hair. He looked down and saw the voluptuous curve of her buttocks. She turned and caught him staring down at her butt and immediately he had an embarrassed look on his face.

“Drop something?” she asked sarcastically.

“I wouldn’t say that it has dropped yet,” he said, looking down at her behind again.

“And it won’t in your lifetime,” she snapped as they walked down the gangplank.

“Good,” Jackson answered with a smile. “Because I’m an admirer of the African American behind. Yours is a particularly spectacular representation.”

“I know, it has quite a following,” Elizabeth replied with a toss of her head. “Let’s get back to our original line of discussion.”

“What was the outstanding question?”

“The question is you didn’t mention anything about your feelings in your synopsis of our potential relationship.”

Jackson answered in a bantering tone as he stepped off the gangplank, “You’re a district attorney. You know that wasn’t a question. It was an observation on your part which in no way solicited a response from me. Plus, how can I talk about feelings that have yet to evolve?”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “I had no idea I had a hostile witness. I’ll be clearer in my phrasing from now on.”

“I am not hostile,” Jackson protested.

“Recalcitrant, then.”

“Those are the only two choices I have?”

“Until you respond clearly as to why you didn’t mention your likely emotional investment while you were outlining mine.”

“Ahh, another nonquestion.” Jackson touched her arm. “Let’s head to the other side of the island.”

The path that they followed lay between the small sandy cove facing the Tiburon peninsula and the rolling green sward of lawn and picnic benches that fronted the two-story Victorian ranger station. Behind the ranger station the island rose to a peak four hundred feet above sea level. The path soon left the grassy valley and passed under some weathered oak, bay, eucalyptus, pine, and madrona trees as it ascended the island’s steep incline. Then the path turned to gravel and flattened out as it curved around the side of the island. They walked in silence. But it was not a hostile silence. The view required no words and the air was filled with the twittering songs of different birds, the buzzing sounds of flying insects, and the erratic rustling of leaves as gusting winds rushed through the trees. Their pace had been fast but not hurried
when they reached the rough wooden stairs which led up to the paved road that circled the upper part of the island.

After they climbed the stairs, Jackson directed Elizabeth to a bench that provided a view that looked straight out onto the turbulent blue of the Sausalito Straits. Jackson took off his pack and sat down next to her. He began to speak. “The reason I didn’t mention my feelings is because I’m better at suppressing my emotions than recognizing them.”

“Why did you call me? Was it simply the way I look?”

“That sounds like the type of segue used in lie detector tests.”

“Answer! Don’t avoid.”

Jackson looked into her eyes for a moment then shrugged. “Okay, I felt something when I looked into your eyes and heard your voice. It was internal. It made me think that I had a connection with you and that it might be mutual.”

“That’s good. Is there more?”

“The fact you’re beautiful didn’t make the decision harder either. Now you have a totally honest answer. What are you fishing for?”

Elizabeth smiled impishly. “Total honesty can be refreshing in a crude sort of way. Please continue.”

Jackson shook his head. “I said what I had to say. Did you expect a speech?”

“Have you ever been in love?” Jackson started to protest, but Elizabeth pressed the fingers of her right hand gently against his lips and requested, “Just answer, please. Pretty please with cherries and whipped cream on top.”

Jackson relented and said, “I think so, but that was a long time ago. Infatuation is the closest I’ve come since then.”

With an expression of mock-seriousness Elizabeth observed, “That’s a very sad commentary on your life. To have only loved once. To what do you attribute this?”

“I owe it all to my grandmother, who you met. She has the warmth of a frozen trout and she taught me all that she knew.”

A trace of a frown hovered over Elizabeth’s eyebrows. “Aren’t you a little old to still be blaming things on the people who raised you?”

“Some scars are too deep for one ever to obtain the full range of emotion. But you’re right, who I am today is my responsibility, not my grandmother’s. Maybe it’s because I have never found the right person.”

“What can you offer me?”

Now it was Jackson’s turn to frown as he retorted, “I had no idea that we needed to establish the type of emotional buffet I can offer on our first date. What about companionship and friendship? Are those meaningless? And, Counselor, this interrogation is getting old.”

Elizabeth moved closer to him and whispered, “Don’t get indignant.” She traced the line of his jaw lightly with a finger. “I want to get to know you and I don’t want to waste time.”

Her words and actions took all the heat out of Jackson’s response. He exhaled and said, “I thought that the protocol was to establish whether we had sufficient things in common and then determine whether we’ll proceed.”

“There’s no protocol except what we agree upon.” Elizabeth took a barrette out of her purse and gathered her thin braids into a ponytail. “I want us to know each other better by the end of this day, and as long as we both agree, we don’t have to follow any preordained route to achieve that. I knew when we first met that we had something in common. I felt it. It surprised me. It made me feel at home with you, like I’d known you a long time. I feel the same thing now, or I wouldn’t even be talking to you like this. Thus, I want to know all I can before your boat passes out of sight.” Elizabeth stood up. “Let’s continue walking.”

“Look!” Jackson pointed beyond the shoals of the island to a flock of low-flying pelicans that were skimming the waves through a school of fish. They watched the birds complete their pass and then beat their way back into the sky to repeat the cycle once more.

Elizabeth nodded. “That’s great. Let’s go.”

Jackson grabbed her arm and asked, “Will you sit down for minute?”

“Why? I’m ready to go. Let’s walk and talk.”

“Please, sit down,” Jackson said a bit more forcefully.

Elizabeth gave him a long look then sat down with obvious reluctance. “What’s going on?” she asked.

Jackson paused and said in a sober tone, “I don’t want to make a big thing out of this, but I feel it’s necessary to sit here for a few minutes longer.”

“Why?”

Jackson sighed and said, “It may be nothing, but it seems like this big, beefy guy in the brown shirt coming up the stairs has been following us. I noticed him on the ferry.”

“So did I. I didn’t like the way he was staring at me.”

“Let’s just sit here,” Jackson advised. “And see which way he goes now.”

The man was big-shouldered, with skin the color of wet cardboard. There was a bandage across his nose, bruises on his left cheek and chin, and gashes over both eyes. He looked like he’d been in a hell of a fight. His black, kinky hair was cut short and he had a sizable gut, but it was evident that he was still physically quite strong.

“Do you have a reason that someone should be following you?” Elizabeth asked before she turned sideways on the bench so that she too could watch the man.