Lessons From a Younger Lover (7 page)

The house was eerily quiet and everywhere Gwen looked, she saw reminders of Lorraine. The oversized floral couch that had caused quite the ruckus when it replaced her father's perfectly worn plaid one. It was her mother's favorite place to sit and work on the
New York Times
crossword puzzle, which lay partially finished on the middle couch cushion. Her mother's eyeglasses rested on an end table cluttered with sale papers and an unfinished job of coupon clipping. Lorraine loved a bargain and in that respect, the apple hadn't fallen far from the tree. Gwen smiled wistfully as she ran her fingers along the back of the couch, taking in the fringed Tiffany lamps, the Queen Anne-styled tables, the vase of fresh flowers cut from Lorraine's own garden. She stopped and fingered the lavender-colored petals, thinking that the bouquet was so like her mother, beautiful, sweet, and fragile. A tear ran down her cheek, hovered underneath her chin, and finally plopped down on a perfectly formed sunflower. Gwen idly outlined the floral pattern on the doily beneath the vase, and glanced around the room to take in the other doilies, one on each of the identical, mint green-colored armchairs, and another on the back of the couch. Her mother had often encouraged Gwen to take up crocheting, but in the area of decorating and dress, she and her mother couldn't have been more different. Lorraine preferred cutesy, very feminine looking apparel and decor while Gwen had always liked simple elegance, bordering on minimalist designs.

More tears gathered at the corners of Gwen's eyes and began to fall. Until now, she'd been strong—on the drive to the hospital, while talking to the doctor, and when sitting next to her sleeping mom. But at this moment the sadness and fear threatened to overtake her. She placed a hand over her mouth as a sob erupted. More tears flowed as Gwen cried quietly, wanting to stop, but the spigot of heartache causing the flow refused to turn off. She realized that her crying was not simply that she was dealing with such a tenuous time with her mother…but that she was doing so alone.

She sank down into the soft cushions of the couch and hugged one of the pillows to her chest. Absently, she picked up the pen and the crossword puzzle lying beneath it and began finishing the work her mother had started. The act of thinking of each answer took her mind off her pain, momentarily. The puzzle was just about completed when the phone rang.

“Hey, baby brother,” Gwen said softly.

“Is Mama all right?” Robert asked without preamble. “We were at the movies, and I had my cell phone turned off. I just got your message.”

“We don't know,” Gwen answered. She told him what she did know, including that their mother would be in the hospital for the next several days for observation.

“I'm coming home,” Robert said simply.

“I'm glad,” Gwen responded. Any other time she would have encouraged him to stay with his family and on his job, that she could handle it, like she did most everything else. But her strong, take-charge persona had given way to a much more vulnerable one, and she wasn't ashamed to let her favorite brother know it. “I could really use your eternal optimism right now. The dementia's getting worse, Robert, and…” Gwen stopped, unwilling to voice her fears.

“Shh, it's okay. Everything is going to be fine. I'll go online as soon as we hang up and get the first flight I can into LA. Can you pick me up?”

“Yes.”

“What about Joe? Have you talked to him?”

“What in the world would I have to say to him?”

Robert paused, taken aback by Gwen's abrupt change of tone. “Well, I guess nothing since you asked it like that. I just thought he'd be concerned. Even though you two are separated, he was in this family for ten years, and always treated Mama well.”

Robert had a point, but the last person she needed to have a conversation with right now was her ex-husband.

“Forward your confirmation when you get it,” Gwen said, effectively changing the subject. “So I'll know what airline you're on and what time your flight gets in.”

“I'll do that. But I'm worried about you, sister, there all by yourself.” A slight pause and then, “Have you called Chantay?”

“I'll call her now.”

“Good. Maybe she can come down and keep you company tonight.”

“Yeah, maybe. See you tomorrow, okay?”

“I love you, big sis.”

“Love you back.”

Gwen's smile was bittersweet as she hung up the phone. She was a lucky girl to have a brother as special as Robert. She loved her older brother Gerald too, but theirs was not the close relationship that she and Robert shared. Gerald's personality was more like their late father Harold's, while her and Robert's understated demeanor resembled Lorraine's. Gerald's brash gregariousness was almost too much for Gwen sometimes. In many ways, Adam's verboseness was a lot like that, and what turned her off about him.

He's my brother.
Amid all the thoughts of worry, Gwen had forgotten the bomb Ransom had dropped just as they reached the hospital. Calling Chantay was a good idea.

Gwen got up from the couch and walked over to where she'd thrown her purse on the Queen Anne chair by the six-paned picture window when she'd come home from the hospital. As soon as she pulled the phone out, it rang. The number was unfamiliar.
The hospital
, Gwen thought.

“Hey, Butterfly.” Ransom's voice was soothing, thoughtful. “I'm calling to check on you.”

Gwen closed her eyes and tried to block out the rush of longing that seized her heartstrings. While the thought of talking to Joe had made her nauseous, the thought of being wrapped in this man's arms made her weak with wanting. And she loved the nickname he'd given her—the one that her mother's impromptu suggestion on the day of the interview had evoked. Once again, tears threatened.

“Gwen? Baby, are you all right?”

I've got to keep it together!
“Look, don't baby me,” Gwen said, in a gruff voice meant to generate anger and with it, control. “Have you forgotten I'm not interested in you?”

“Have you forgotten you're separated?” Ransom waited a moment, to let what he said sink in. “Miss Mary told me,” he continued softly. “When I took her home.”

Gwen remained silent. The only sounds in the house were the ticking of the grandfather clock in the dining room and Gwen's rapid heartbeat. She couldn't fault Miss Mary for divulging this information any more than she could fault her mother for sharing what had happened between Gwen and Joe with her close friend. After all, it wasn't a secret. She'd told Adam during their first conversation after twenty-plus years of not speaking. But for some reason, the fact that Ransom now knew unnerved her—took away a shield that she'd hoisted against him. “I'm still legally married,” she finally offered, but the statement sounded lame, even to her ears.

Ransom chose not to comment on what Gwen just said. He knew he'd scored a victory and put a chink in her armor. “Your mother is doing better.”

“How do you know?”

“I called Miss Mary after I got home, to make sure she's still doing okay. I don't have to tell you how close those two ladies are, and I know she's upset. She'd just hung up with the hospital.”

Ransom's obvious kindness, both toward her and Miss Mary, made Gwen feel small. He and Adam couldn't be more different. “It was very kind of you to call,” she said softly. “I'm sorry for snapping at you.”

“You're tired and scared and probably feeling as if things are way beyond your control. It's understandable that you're on edge.”

More silence filled the room. Gwen was afraid to speak, afraid that if she opened her mouth it would be to beg him to come over and make love to her until all of the pain and the hurt and the fear disappeared. Why did Joe have to abandon her? Why did she have to go through this alone? Anger at Joe began to replace the vulnerable way she felt regarding all things Ransom.

“I have to—”

“If you need—”

They both began talking at once, and then again fell silent.

“If you need anything, anything at all, you have my cell number. Save it in your phone, and don't let your independent streak make you hesitate to use it. Matter of fact, I want to give you my home number too. Put it in your phone.”

“I don't know how to do that while talking on it.”

“Then get a pen.”

“Really, Ransom…”

“A pen, Gwen. Do you have one?”

Gwen frowned at the authoritative way in which Ransom spoke to her, and yet felt strangely protected and cared for at the same time. His concern was touching. In that moment she realized she didn't know much about this man who affected her so. Her next thought was that she wanted to.

After writing down his home number, Gwen thanked him again for calling. There were questions she wanted to ask, personal questions regarding him and Adam, but she didn't have the nerve.

“Butterfly,” Ransom said, his voice low and soft against her ear.

“Yes?”

“You're not in this alone. I'm hugging you, can you feel it?”

It was strange but Gwen did feel something, a warmth that seemed to come out of her heart and settle around her shoulders. “Yes.”

“Good. And just so you know, I'll be hugging you all night long.”

A good night's sleep and a few sips of the large double-Dutch chocolate she'd just purchased from Kristy's had Gwen feeling much better than she had the previous night. She attached her Bluetooth, started her car, and was soon heading toward the freeway. She punched a number on her speed dial and waited. Chantay's groggy voice confirmed what Gwen suspected. She'd woken her up.

“Hey, girl.”

“What's the nine-one-one?” Chantay whispered in a hoarse voice.

“I woke you up.”

Gwen's asking the obvious didn't sit well with her hungover friend. “You know good and damn well you woke me up. And it better be important.”

“Mama's in the hospital.”

That was all Chantay needed to hear. She sat up immediately, and her voice mirrored her concern. “But she's okay, right?”

“She's doing better,” Gwen answered. She shared what the hospital had told her. “They're transferring her to Good Samaritan later today. We'll get more definitive answers after they've conducted all the tests.”

Chantay reached for her robe as she got out of bed, then headed for the bathroom. “Why didn't you call me last night?”

“I fell asleep.”

“When did this happen to her?”

“Last night. This is the news that greeted me when I returned home from our good time in LA yesterday. I shouldn't have left her alone for so long, Tay. But Ransom was at my house and—”

“Ransom?”

“Yeah. He was fixing Miss Mary's steps when Mama passed out. Miss Mary got all excited, couldn't remember my cell phone number. She went to the hospital with Mama while he waited for me.”

“Hmm.”

“Don't start, Chantay. It means nothing.”

“Did I say anything?”

“You don't have to. I hear you thinking.”

“What is up with you and this dude?”

Gwen immediately became rigid, her usual response to all things Ransom. “Nothing's up!”

“Are you sure? I know our town is small but it seems as if every time you turn around, there he is—like you can't get away from him. Maybe you aren't supposed to.”

Gwen took her frustration out on the wheel she gripped as if it were her third and final lifeline. She spat the next sentence out between gripped teeth. “I have nothing to do with our coincidental meetings. He was at Miss Mary's house. She couldn't find my number. He offered to stay and let me know about Mama. End of story, Chantay.”

The last sentence was issued as a threat, not a statement. To further switch the topic, she played her trump card. “Anyway, I'm on my way to pick up Robert at the airport.”

“And you didn't swing through and get me? Girl, you're slipping on our friendship.”

“No, you're
tripping
on our friendship. You're my best friend and I love you like a sister. But if you think I'm going to do anything to create dissention in Robert's
happy
marriage, you've got another think coming!”

“Why, Gwendolyn Marie Andrews Smith,” Chantay said in mock indignation. “What exactly are you thinking? I'm appalled at your assumptions.”

“And I'm appalled at your ass…. Trying to tip in on marked territory. And just so you know…Denise is pregnant. Robert just told me. So give it up, Chantay. You had your chance a long time ago, and you blew it.” Gwen heard how hard she sounded and tried to clean it up. “There's someone out there for you, girl. And me, too.”

Gwen's phone beeped and she looked at her phone screen. “Great, just what I need right now.”

“What?”

“This is Joe. Let me call you back.” She didn't wait for an answer, but hit her Bluetooth flash button and clicked over—before a myriad of negative thoughts could form.

“Joe,” she said in a voice she hoped sounded civil, “I was going to call you.”

“Why?”

Gwen almost copped an attitude at the way he framed the word, but being determined to stay on the high road, she took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “It's Mama. She's in the hospital.”

A slight pause and then, “Is she going to live?”

Gwen looked down at the phone that was nestled in her cup holder.
No, he didn't ask what I just heard in the way that I heard it!
And then she thought that maybe she was a bit sensitive; she was less than twenty-four hours from the trauma herself.

“Yes,” she said simply.

“So why were you going to call me?”

Gwen got pissed off all over again. “Oh, my bad, Joe. I just thought you cared about the woman who called you
son
for ten years.”

“I, well, uh, I do care, Gwen,” Joe sputtered. “It's just that I didn't know what you…I mean…I've got things going on right now and can't fly out there.”

If Gwen could have, she would have driven her car nonstop to Chicago and slapped the sorry out of her soon-to-be ex's ass. “Did I ask you to come out here?” she yelled. “Have I ever asked your sorry, selfish ass for anything? I can't talk to you now, Joe. Whatever you wanted to tell me? Put it in an e-mail. And don't call me again!”

Gwen ended the call and pulled over to the side of the highway. She was shaking uncontrollably; Joe had pushed every wrong button that she possessed. Granted, after her conversation with Ransom, about how he'd hug her all night, she'd slept soundly. She hadn't even dared think what that meant. She'd awakened feeling refreshed, calm. Yet it had only taken Joe five minutes to unglue her. Obviously, she was still as tightly wound as a nap on
Good Times
J.J.'s head.

Call Ransom.
The thought rose unbidden in her mind. “No!” she said aloud to herself. She took several deep breaths, and after signaling and looking in her rearview and side mirrors, pulled back onto the highway and made it to LAX Airport in time to see her brother walk through the airport's exit doors.