Authors: Mercedes Keyes
"I want you to stop this now! Do you understand? You're not alone in this. I won't let you be, somehow, we'll fight this together."
"No! Not this time Lena. You're dead and that's how you are to stay." Lena looked her in the eye, and said. "The dead feel no pain!"
"No Lena! I mean it, not this time. It has been long overdue that I stand and fight my own battles, that I take charge of my life and stop being a coward! I already owe you my life, you've suffered far too much for me, no more. Better things are coming for you Lena. God as my witness, I will not be standing in the way."
"Sandra, listen to me. Any happiness I had, died long ago. There are times however, that I wish, that I dream - but - only for a moment. I always come back to the here and now to deal with my lot in life."
Sandra looked at Lena long and hard, her expression curious, full of wonder about the man who had left Lena in the way her sister and brother in law had found her.
"Lena...why won't you tell me about him…Rory's father? At first I thought he was the result of a rape-..." Lena cringed at the word, Sandra sighed, hating to mention such a thing but couldn't help bringing it up. "...-but I've caught you now and then looking off as if far away, I've heard you now and then when unaware of my presence. You said once or twice...
"Oh Manny, where are you, I need you, your son needs you."
Lena's eyes widened in shock.
"So it's true…Manny…that is his name? You were in love with him, and he was in love ... with you?" She asked hesitantly.
Lena closed her eyes envisioning him. She could still see his face just as clear as the day he’d left, his smile and sparkling white teeth, his booming deep laughter that joined in with hers.
Oh the times they’d played together, with him chasing her to their favorite pond when she played hard to catch. She'd dodge left, then right around a tree and take off again laughing as he ran behind her, scooping her high into the air where she'd scream in mock fear, knowing he would never harm her as he caught her in his arms. Her arms would go around his neck and she would kiss him with all the joy and love she felt. He'd stop at the edge of the pond and toss her in, then leap in after her.
"Lena ... he loved you too?"
Lena opened her eyes and smiled, slowly she nodded. "He loved me too but that was then Sandra. Because of the differences between us, our kind of love can never be. There was a time ... I honestly believed we had a chance, that we could be happy together. It was absurd, I know better now. This world isn't ready for our kind of love and I fear it never will be." She sighed as she glanced at Sandra, who was staring at her closely, trying to picture in her mind what he might have looked like.
"What did he look like Lena?"
"He was..." Lena thought about it a moment, and smiled. "He was a gentle giant, a tall Knight." She swallowed a lump in her throat and made an attempt at shaking off the old familiar feelings. "It's been way too many years since we've seen each other, and besides ... he's married and now... that I'm out of the way, maybe, he and his wife are finally happy."
"I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have asked. Is that why you won't tell Rory about him?" Lena nodded. "Partly so, mostly because I don't want him to wish and dream as I have, only to be horribly disappointed because of it. He's better off not knowing. So please, don't ever tell him what I've admitted to you. I never want him to suffer as I and-…" Lena stopped, having almost mentioned her other two children. Just the thought of them made her heart hammer. Hope was almost nineteen now and Mike running close to twenty-nine.
'Both of them are grown and I pray alive and happy.'
"Lena-a-a."
"I'm sorry."
"You were about to say and - something or someone else - who, or what?"
"It doesn't matter Sandra, things are, I suppose as they should be. I don't expect them to change…they never do for people like me. I had a chance to change things you know. I could have married someone I still believe is one of the most wonderful, handsome black men I have ever been blessed to meet. I didn't because I couldn't let go of a man I had no business loving in the first place. I thought, it didn't matter, our difference. It does matter, because what's meant to be will be, will it not?”
"I look at you and you know what I see?" Sandra asked.
"What?"
"A woman still very much in love and clinging to at least a little hope, despite what you say."
Lena smiled. "Yes, perhaps… silly aren't I? And after all this time, he's probably forgotten me."
"You don't believe that, do you? I don't even know him and I can't believe it. You are too special to forget. Even George fought against his craving for you."
"Sandra please!"
"I'm sorry, forgive me?"
Lena shook her head. She stood and walked to the door, turned back to Sandra and ordered. "Well come on, our bills await us, you'll do anything to get out of finishing them." Sandra smiled and leapt up from her seat.
"Yes ma'am Miss Lena, right away." Lena shook her head, chuckled, and led the way back to their chore.
Late Monday night:
Rory wandered around as he did most other nights, after telling Lena he was going to work. Truth was, he couldn't get himself to return to the ship knowing what he did but pretending not to. He'd been watching the Webster's come and go, staying hidden as he spied on them. He noticed that there was a young woman and another man going to the ship, staying a time and then leaving. He wondered if she was Manny's daughter. His young mind was grasping to understand while fighting with resentments. To think that all of this time he had been worrying about Manny discovering the truth about him, when he himself had kept a black woman, a mistress and his son and daughter were by this mistress.
'Princess Ces alena.'
He wondered "Where is she?" He murmured aloud as he found himself on the cold slippery docks before the Princess. There was little activity on nights like this. The fog was thick and darkness still came up in the day during the early spring months. He shivered standing out in the cold evening mist, but was in no hurry to head home.
'He's no better than I am! Him and all his big talk and advice. No doubt he's got her hidden away scared somebody'll find out, just like me.'
Rory's back slid down the dock lamp pole. He sat resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his palms. He had no answers for why he was feeling so angry towards Manny.
He felt that maybe he
should consider himself lucky that he could confide and be honest for once with someone who would not cut him down about his mother. Instead, he felt resentment. It was men like him that made women like his mother the way they were. The white women were good enough to marry and set up on high but those like his mother were kept in the back rooms, quiet, like some dark hidden secret of their perverse desires.
Then he thought,
'Why should I care?'
Did it really matter to him if his mother was like their’s, Mike’s and Hope’s? Hidden away and warned to keep all a secret? Was that why she couldn't tell him anything about her past, or his own father? Had she been warned by her lover not to mention who he was in fear that Rory might go to his father’s wife, if he had one, and reveal the fact that he kept a mistress, a Negro mistress at that, with him, the bastard result of it?
'Could that be why you've disliked me for so long Lena? Because I remind you of the lowly state you've been forced to live, hidden so as not to cause of a scandal, because you'd had an affair with a white man who hid you shamefully?'
Rory felt his jaw tighten in anger, as he spoke aloud. "You're no better than the others, Mr. Maynard Webster. Just like them you hid your princess away so nobody would know." With his chest aching Rory's head fell to his hands again as tears welled in his eyes. "And yet… you claimed your bastards. You took them on and have been a father to them. God why…?" Rory felt his tears flow. "…why not me? Why can't he be my father?!" He sobbed in anguish. He rocked himself there on the dark wharf and feeling ashamed wiped his hand across his face in a childish gesture, sniffing back as he stood from his spot before the pole. He took one last look at the Princess, turned and walked away with his hands tucked beneath his arms.
* * *
Lena was in the kitchen helping Betsy clean after dinner and preparing Rory's plate for when he returned home, when a caller came knocking at the front door. Finishing up, she let Sheldon see to it. Once Rory’s food was covered, she untied her apron, hung it on the kitchen peg and walked to the foyer. Stopping at the end of the corridor, she heard a man asking for Sandra Sinclair. He introduced himself as Clarence Winston, stating that his visit was concerning a most urgent matter.
Sheldon took his hat, gloves and coat then invited him to be seated in the drawing room until he could bring Mrs. Sinclair down from the upstairs library.
Winston stood in place gazing up the grand wide staircase, choosing
to wait until she came down before entering the drawing room. Glancing about, he was in appreciation of the rich décor throughout the mansion foyer.
He admired what he saw in the very tastefully paneled entryway; the wood was rich and intricately carved and stained a walnut color. It glowed from the light of the chandelier and strategically placed candelabras. The banisters, the lower part of the walls, and the ceiling gleamed with polished luster, boasting the wealth and prestige. Within the separated panels on the wall was sage velvet wallpaper; breathtaking portraits of 16th century art were centered in each. The floor was black and white patterned marble covered with well placed Persian rugs leading from the foyer down the hall.
As Clarence's eyes followed the path of the hall, they stopped and widened to see standing framed in the entry way a woman quietly observing him.
Lena was glad for the few moments she was able to study their guest with him unaware. She wondered what business he would have with Sandra. She was well acquainted with all and any of her friends and business associates, but this man was neither.
Clarence was astounded, unable to believe his eyes. No one needed to tell him that before him stood, Princess Ces alena, daughter of King LuMaden.
'My God, so it is true, the legendary Princess Ces alena. Yes, you are all and more than many have said you to be. Not even age has stolen your glory from you.’
He felt shivers race upon his skin to be there, seeing her with his own eyes, staring as he was
at her, speechless. Never had he laid eyes on such a Negro. Such an air of royalty hovered about her, her head held naturally high above a slim delicate neck. Her shoulders were proudly square, her back straight in posture. Her slender figure, graceful and decked out in a gown of satin gold, with a black velvet print bodice, sleeves and hem, the waist of it high, in keeping with the current fashion. A low scoop bodice showed the swell of her firm rounded cleavage. He couldn't help but stare while wondering what her body would reveal unclothed. He'd never given much attention to the nude form of a Negro woman and yet this one ignited his interest; the skin that he could see, her face, neck and bosom was flawless, rich, luxurious and gleaming, full of luster like the costly woods accenting the very hall where they stood.
'I see now, Maynard Webster…now I see why.'
He looked up from her bodies charms and couldn't help stare at her wary eyes. Eyes so amazing and gold they were intensely hypnotic, at the same time, soft and unusual.
Her hair was
a tawny bronze and twisted loosely on top of her head, making an appealing streak of white twirl upwards within the bun. The back fell past her shoulders in magnificent thick waves. A twisting lock was lying over one shoulder as if a temptation to anyone to touch. He wondered if it would curl softly around his finger should he tease it while caressing her full breasts, which he noticed were now rising and falling with deep breaths,
'Fear Princess? No need to fear me.'
Clarence Winston felt his loin's heat up to a lust like no other time he could remember. Before she was returned to her father, he decided he would find out what it was about her that made a man like Maynard Webster desperate to recapture her. He could only imagine the pleasures he had found with her in his bed. Suddenly a wry sinister smile crossed his features. As Maynard had tasted the sweet cocoa she had to offer, he would not deny himself such pleasures.
Lena tried to control the fear coursing through her body but there was something in this man's eyes that made her sure, his presence was about her. The way his eyes thoroughly scrutinized her from head to toe, left little doubt what was on his mind.
It was not the first time that a man had displayed such obvious lust for her, nothing new, but this man frightened her. She could do nothing more than swallow the lump of fear in her throat. His presence seemed to immobilize her, making her unable to greet him or offer refreshment as she had become accustomed to doing when visitors waited for Sandra. Seeing him there, made her wish to go back to hiding out at the back of the house once more, as when she’d first arrived; for fear of those who took her long ago. So much time had gone by that she’d let her guard down. Now she wondered, had she made a mistake in standing before him a she had. A sigh of relief was expelled when Sandra came down the stairs.