Authors: Gwynne Forster
Byron was a block from his house when he remembered his promise to buy Andy a bicycle. A four-and-a-half year-old could handle one he reasoned. He turned the Cadillac onto Genstar Drive and headed for the Francis Scott Key Mall. Once inside the mall, Byron passed a bookstore window and saw a children’s book about Frederick, Maryland heroes. He went in and bought it. Andy loved stories that he could retell in his day school and was fast earning the title of class storyteller. Byron made a note to read the book first so that he could answer his son’s questions, and he knew there would be plenty of them.
Byron found the bicycle that he wanted, remembered to get a helmet and headed home. He pulled into his garage, left the bicycle and helmet in the car and entered the house through the kitchen. In his haste to greet Byron, Andy nearly fell out of the chair.
“I need a new story, Daddy. Kisha told one today, but nobody clapped.”
Byron lifted the boy into his arms and hugged him. “Why didn’t you clap?”
“I didn’t want her to be as good as me.”
“As good as I. You should have clapped. You’re good at it, and you can afford to be gracious to other children who try to tell stories.’
“Yes. But she wasn’t as good as I am.”
“Fine. Next time, I want you to lead the applause for her. Got it?”
“Yes, I will. But I don’t like the idea.”
Byron put Andy back in the chair and went up to his room. A search of the yellow pages in the telephone book gave him a choice of several gourmet restaurants, and he chose one. After ordering, he showered and dressed in black jeans, a T-shirt and black sneakers and went downstairs.
He handed his son the book he’d bought earlier. “Let’s read, Andy.”
“What’s the story about?”
“Important people who lived in Frederick long ago.”
“Good. I’m going to read slow, so I’ll remember it and I can tell it at school tomorrow.” The boy read the picture story in about fifteen minutes. “I love the story, Dad.”
Andy loved reading. Indeed, the boy had a sizeable library of books. It was becoming difficult to find new ones that challenged his skills.
I’m going to have to start writing stories for preschool children,
Byron said to himself. “If I get Andy’s imagination to working, it should be fun.”
At five-thirty, he rang Tyra’s doorbell, and, to his disappointment, Darlene opened the door. “Hello, Darlene. Are you the Cunninghams’ official doorman?”
“Hi, Byron. I think I detected a bit of sarcasm. Who do you want to see? Tyra or Clark? Clark’s in Baltimore.”
“Darlene, give me a little credit. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have a reason. Do you mind if I come in and wait for Tyra?”
“Sure. Something tells me that I get on the wrong side of you without trying.”
“Darlene, I told you I was expecting Byron at five-thirty.” Tyra walked in. “Hi. I’m sorry, Byron.”
He leaned over, kissed Tyra’s cheek. “It’s all right. We’ll make up for it.” Tyra cast a glance in Darlene’s direction, took Byron’s arm and ushered him out of the house.
“Do you realize I’ve never been to Gambrill Park?” she asked him as he opened the front passenger door for her. “And I’ve lived here all my life.”
“Something tells me that, when you were a teenager, you didn’t do much dating.”
“You’re right. I didn’t. I was seventeen when we lost our parents, and responsibility for my siblings and our home fell to me. I was scared to death of setting a bad example.”
He got in the car, eased his arm across her shoulder and turned to her. “I’ve waited all day for the greeting that Darlene deprived me of.”
She turned to him, snuggled closer and parted her lips. Heat plowed through him as she sucked his tongue into her mouth. He knew he should stop, but when he attempted to pull away, she clung to him. He braced his hands on her shoulders and eased her away from him. Her face bore a dazed expression.
He held her as close as he dared. “It’s still daylight, sweetheart. We could draw quite a crowd.” He’d meant it to be funny, but she didn’t smile. “What is it, Tyra? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I guess. I suppose I’m only now learning who I am. I surprise myself sometimes when I’m with you.”
Her words brought an inward smile and gave him a feeling she would never understand. If he was the man to teach her who she was, nothing would please him more. He knew she wasn’t an innocent. A woman without any sexual experience
wouldn’t relate to a man as she did. But she’d missed something, and he couldn’t wait to fill the void.
“Don’t think you haven’t shown me a different side of myself. The good thing is that I like who I am with you,” he said, as he headed out Yellow Springs Road to Gambrill Park. “I’ve already picked out a space for us. It’s close enough to the bandstand, but far enough to protect the eardrums.”
After parking the car and locking it, he took a wicker picnic basket and a shopping bag from the trunk, walked with her to a big boulder and put the basket on it. “This boulder will not only make a great table, it’s a good back rest.”
“What’s in that?” she asked, pointing to the shopping bag.
“A blanket to sit on, and two longs-sleeved shirts, one to protect your arms from the mosquitoes and the other to protect mine. I also brought along some repellant. Mosquitoes hate that.”
He spread the blanket and sat down beside her. “Would you put your head on my shoulder for a few minutes?” he asked her. “I’m not rushing you, but I’d like you to be a little closer.” He was still hot from her kiss in the front seat of his car.
She did as he asked and put one arm around his back and the other across his chest. “I could go to sleep right here,” she said, her voice low and inviting.
“Tyra, you don’t want me to rush, so don’t feed my imagination with statements like that.”
“It was an innocent remark. What time does the music start?”
“It started when you appeared at your foyer.”
When the sound of musicians tuning their instruments reached their ears, Byron handed Tyra a copy of the evening program and opened his own. “You read it to me,” she said. “I’m too comfortable to move, and I’d have to let go of your waist.”
He read it to her and added, “We’re in luck, or at least I am. I love Italian baroque chamber music.”
“Me, too. The problem is that it puts me right to sleep.”
“We’ll have our picnic in a few minutes. I don’t suppose you can eat and sleep at the same time.”
She kissed his neck, and he wished she’d warned him. “I guess not. I don’t remember ever dreaming about food. And that’s weird, because I love to eat.”
He covered the boulder with a blue tablecloth, set the table with the matching plates and utensils the caterer supplied and placed their food on it.
“This is wonderful, Byron. A feast beneath the stars in a fairy-tale environment, listening to beautiful music in the company of a man who is literally a heartthrob. If I act a little giddy, who could blame me?”
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Don’t expect me to behave when you talk like this.” He held a glass of white wine to her lips. “I’ve been drunk on you since the minute I first saw you. If you keep talking like that, I’ll start staggering.” It was all right to joke and tease, but he was serious. “Tyra, I asked you if there was a man in your life, and you said that there wasn’t. Will you give me a chance to be the man in your life?”
She seemed taken aback. “Isn’t that what you’re doing now?”
“No, not yet.”
“If I know up front what your motive is I might cooperate.”
“Fair enough.” He swatted the side of his neck to discourage an offending mosquito. Then he opened the shopping bag and took out the shirts he’d brought.
“Thanks. You’re a very thoughtful man.”
“If you give me a chance, Tyra, I’ll always take good care of you. Always.”
O
n the way home from the concert, Tyra mulled over Byron’s words, and especially her memories of his gentleness throughout the evening. He’d done everything but feed her by hand. Now, he wanted her to confine her male companions to him.
Tyra didn’t want any man but Byron. Yet, she wasn’t sure that not seeing other men made sense. She could count on one hand the men she’d dated and still have fingers left.
“You’re very quiet,” Byron said. “Is there a something bothering you?”
“I’m not sure. There isn’t another man in my life, but I’m not certain that I want to promise you that there won’t be. There are times when my attraction to you frightens me. I love being with you. and I’m happy when I’m with you But suppose I’m making a mistake? Don’t you ever doubt your feelings, Byron?”
“I appreciate what you’re saying, even though I don’t like it. I especially appreciate your honesty. I’m forty years old, and I
know who I am. I don’t doubt my feelings for you one bit. Are you telling me that you don’t trust a relationship with me?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m wondering if I’ve had enough experience to know…I mean to judge what I’m feeling. It happened so suddenly, and it…seems like we’re moving too fast.”
“No relationship stands still, Tyra. It either grows, or it begins to die. Are you afraid?”
“Believe me, it’s definitely not dying.”
“If you want to stop seeing me, tell me right now.”
When she turned to look at him, she saw that the firm set of his jaw did not match the softness with which he spoke. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so candid. “No, I don’t want to stop seeing you. I love being with you.”
“But you don’t trust the relationship.”
“That’s too harsh. I trust you, and I… Oh, why did I start this.”
He parked in front of her house, cut the motor and turned to her. “Will you or won’t you stop seeing other men and give us a chance?” He looked into her eyes, unsmiling, and she knew what would come next if she said no. If the truth were known, he had no cause for concern.
Don’t make the biggest mistake of your life, girl. He’s asking for the truth.
“I will, Byron,” she said at last and breathed deeply in relief, “but you promised not to rush me.”
He slid an arm around her. “I know I did, but I had to know, because we need to talk. Instead of going to the concert tomorrow night, will you have dinner with me?”
She hid her surprise at his change of plans. “What time?”
“I’ll be here at six-thirty. Okay?”
“That’s fine,” she said and stroked the back of his hand almost absentmindedly. “It’ll be a long day.”
“Does that mean you’ll be eager to see me?”
“That’s what it means.” His eyes seemed to devour her. Then a half smile played around his lips.
“If we weren’t right under this streetlight. I’d kiss you
silly.” He got out, went around and opened her door and headed up the walk to her house.
Unwilling to let him leave so soon, she said, “Why did Clark invite you to spend the night here? I don’t get the sense that you two are really close friends.”
“Our offices are in the same building and, occasionally, we eat lunch together. At the time, he was an expert witness on a case I had here in Frederick. The judge wanted the trial at nine o’clock, and that didn’t suit me, but it suited Clark, so he suggested that I spend the night here. As an added incentive, he raved about Maggie’s cooking, because he knew how much I love good food. He didn’t mention you, and it’s a good thing that he didn’t, because I don’t like being set up.”
“He told me he was bringing a houseguest, but he certainly didn’t describe you. I thought he was bringing a girlfriend.”
Byron stepped closer. “It happened when you opened the door. Why don’t you stop fighting it?” He brought her into his arms. “Kiss me. I’m starved for you.”
She reached up to kiss him playfully on the cheek, but he moved to capture her lips. She tasted his hunger and his driving need. She pulled his tongue deeper into her, answering him with her own rising passion. He grabbed her buttocks and fastened her body to his. She could feel him then, and heat began to simmer in her loins as she pressed herself to him until, nearly frantic with the need to explode, she undulated wildly.
Out of her mind with desire she grabbed his hand and rubbed her left breast with it until he began to pinch and squeeze it. “Do something,” she moaned. “I’m aching.”
She thought she would die from the feeling of his long fingers on her skin as he released her breast from her scooped-neck dress. Lifting her, he sucked her left nipple into his mouth while he teased and pinched the other one. She’d never felt anything in her life like the throbbing between her legs. And still he suckled her.
“Oh, my lord. I can’t stand this,” she moaned, shaking from the onslaught of his passion.
He released her breast and wrapped her in his arms. “We’re going to have to do something about this, sweetheart. Do you feel anything for me other than passion? I know you feel that. Do you? Do you care for me?”
“Yes. Oh, yes, I do. What…what happened a minute ago?” When he stepped back in order to see her face, she wondered if she’d said the wrong thing, if he’d think her immature.
“If we had privacy, we probably would be making love this minute. At least, that’s what we both need right now. Have you ever had a truly satisfying sexual experience?” She shook her head. “It’s something for us both to look forward to.”
She wanted to ask him why the thought brought a smile to his face, but she figured she’d revealed enough for one evening. “I don’t think we’d better consider that right now.”
“I agree. I’ll see you tomorrow at six-thirty. Kiss me, and this time, please don’t turn up the heat.”
“I didn’t turn it up. You turned it up.”
“Did not.”
“Did so, and I can prove it.” When he raised an eyebrow, she reached up and touched his lips with hers until, frustrated, he brushed the tip of his tongue over the seam of her lips until she opened to him. He plunged into her demanding, asking, begging for what he needed until she capitulated and loved him as sweetly and as tenderly as she could, stroking his face, nibbling on his tongue and moaning softly.
“You’re…you’re precious to me,” he said when he could get his breath. “Don’t forget that.”
Long after Byron left her, Tyra stood in the darkened foyer coming to terms with her feelings for Byron. There was no point in fooling herself. Byron Whitley was the man for her, no matter how he happened to come into her life. When she was in her teens and twenties, she didn’t have an opportunity
to play the field. Now, she was thirty-one and too old for it. She wanted a family of her own.
She turned on the hall light and started up the stairs, rubbing her hands along the banister that she’d slid down so many times in happier days before her parents died.
I’ve been so busy trying to relive the youth I missed, that I almost missed out on the prime of my life. I’m through with that. Byron asked for a chance, and I’m going to give him one
.
Byron’s problem at the moment did not involve questions about his feelings for Tyra. He knew he loved her. The questions that gnawed at him were how she would react when he told her about Andy, and how would she and his son get along. Maybe having had to nurture her siblings when she herself still needed nurturing had turned her against children. Maybe she’d find it difficult to love another woman’s child.
I should have told her before it got this far, before we began to need each other. But what the heck! The die was cast when we met, and I didn’t have a reason to tell her anything personal. Besides, it happened so fast.
He tiptoed into Andy’s room and stood beside the child’s bed marveling at his son as Andy stretched, hugged his teddy bear and sank into a deeper sleep. He knew that, in spite of his feelings for Tyra, he’d close his heart and his mind to her and get on with his life if she couldn’t accept his child as her own. He leaned down, kissed the boy’s forehead, turned out the light and closed the door. Life could play cruel tricks, but if he were fortunate this time, he’d have a real home and family. But he wasn’t going to rush it. He’d introduce her to Andy when the time was right and not before.
With his mind at ease, he turned his thoughts to one of his clients. He didn’t like the man, because of his alcoholism. The man swore that he could stop drinking, if he wanted to and probably believed it. He agreed to take the man’s case because
his teenage daughter needed help. Yet, he had a nagging feeling that his client was basically selfish, that he didn’t really have his daughter’s interest at heart. After reading two similar cases, he shrugged. What would be would be. A peaceful sleep awaited him the minute he put his head on the pillow.
“You mean you won’t be home for dinner tonight, Sis?” Clark said to Tyra.
“Right. I’m going out to dinner.” She almost never left the house when Clark was at home because they had so little time together. “If I’d known you’d be here, I wouldn’t have made plans, but—”
He raised his hand to assure her that she didn’t have to explain. “I should have let you know. But I’m so used to your being here all the time that I didn’t think to do it.”
“That’s my life in a nutshell,” she said to herself. “I probably won’t be out late,” she said aloud.
“A guy or a girl?”
She gave him a withering look. “If I had a date with a girl, Clark, I’d cancel.”
She dashed up the stairs to dress, and he called after her, “You mean you aren’t going to tell me his name?”
She ignored the question. “I have to get dressed. Answer the door before Darlene gets to it, will you?”
As she hurried to the bathroom, she heard Clark say, “What? If Darlene’s been flirting, I’ll have a talk with her.” She closed the bathroom door and stepped into the shower. She and Clark had spent hours lecturing to Darlene about her flirtatiousness. Wasted hours. Flirting was Darlene’s way of communicating with the opposite sex.
Deciding to dress conservatively, Tyra put on a silk-chiffon, flared lavender dress that had a criss-cross waist-defining middle and fell below the knee, a string of cultured pearls and pearl earrings. Looking in the mirror, she was pleased with
herself for choosing a dress that wasn’t an advertisement for sex. Not a bit of cleavage was showing. But suppose he wanted to…
Cut it out, girl. You don’t want a duplication of last night
.
When the doorbell rang, she could feel her blood race. Her fingers shook when she tried without success to zip up her pocketbook. She walked on wobbly legs to the head of the stairs and looked down.
“Well, I’ll be damned! How’s it going, man? My sister didn’t tell me that she was expecting you. Come in. She’ll be down in a minute.”
She started down the stairs and stopped. Both men stood at the bottom of the stairs looking up at her. She grabbed the banister and continued down the stairs. Suddenly, Byron’s face lit up in a wide grin, as he moved to meet her.
“You seem a little shaky,” he said. He put an arm around her waist and kissed her. He turned and started down the stairs using his arm to support her. Clark stood at the bottom of the stairs, an expression of shock plastered across his face.
When they reached the bottom of the staircase, Byron patted Clark on the shoulder. “Get used to it, man.” What she would have given to record the expression on Clark’s wide-eyed face.
“Well, hell! Have fun.” He walked away, turned and gave his sister a stern look. “Curfew’s at eleven o’clock.”
“Is he serious?” Byron said to Tyra.
“He’d better not be. But if he is, I’ll advise him not to bring a woman here unless he wants a dose of his own medicine.” She took Byron’s hand and yelled to Clark who she knew was in the family room sitting in front of the television. “I’ll be back home tonight, but don’t count on my doing that all the time. Good night.”
“You think you should have said that to Clark?” Byron asked as they settled into the car.
“He knows I said it to put him in his place. He could
have been teasing, but how do I know? Let’s forget about him for now.”
“You never ask me where I’m taking you. How do you know I’m not driving you to some secret lair?”
She settled into the soft leather seat and turned on the radio to a classical music station. “Being spirited away to your secret lair? I’d be so excited I’d probably pass out. Just thinking about almost takes my breath away.”
“Are you saying you like to live dangerously? I wouldn’t have thought so.”
She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. A delicious feeling coursed through her body as her mind recalled the previous evening and imagined his hands and mouth doing all kinds of things to her in preparation for the pleasure to come.
“Where’s the danger in going off to a cave or some other isolated spot with you? I bet I’d have the time of my life.”
The car skidded to a stop. “You’d better not talk like that if you don’t mean it.”
“Why are you so sure I don’t mean it? If you took me off some place, wouldn’t I have a great time?”
He started the engine, looked over his left shoulder and drove away from the curb. “To answer your question, I’d do my best to make it an occasion you would remember for the rest of your life.”
“I can’t wait.”
He brought the car to a stop in front of a building that looked like a private home in a block of row houses. “Here we are,” he said.
“Huh? I thought you said we were going to a restaurant.”
“I said dinner.” Her stare brought a torrent of laughter from him.
“What’s so funny?” she asked. “Please let me in on the joke.”
When he began laughing again, she tried to shake his
shoulder. At last, controlled and evidently sober, he said, “This is a restaurant, and you’ve just proved that you’re all bark and no bite. After bragging about the excitement of being intimate with me, you were scared to death that I was taking you to a room and you’d have to pay up. Be glad I didn’t take you at your words.”
She pretended to pout. “It’s not nice to laugh at me. You’re not as sweet as I thought you were.”