Phoenix Fire (10 page)

“You see, Jason, I could just
not
leave him anything. He is my grandson, and I love him dearly. The house and the bonds are of no little value to be sure. The personal notes will convey to him, I hope and believe, my desperate wishes for his happiness. The notes may mean little to him, but, at least, I will know that I've tried to reach him. He will no doubt be disappointed in my last will and testament and his relatively small endowments. While I could not bring myself to totally exclude him from the estate, neither did I wish to reward him substantially for what can only be considered a selfish existence. After all, he has received during my lifetime some rather large stipends for what I thought at the times were honorable investments.

“There is no anger attached to my final wishes, but there is sadness and disappointment. My notes to Carlton will hopefully suffice to give him the rationale for the will's disbursements. Well, my goodness, it seems I'm beginning to repeat myself.”

Myrena paused, looked at Jason's downcast face, and she felt a surge of love and the desire to comfort him. But, then, simultaneous to the desire to comfort, there came a surge of pain. She turned from him and an involuntary gasp escaped her.

Jason heard the near inaudible gasp and lifted his head to look at her. Then he stood and rushed to her side.

“Grandma! Are you in pain?” He knelt on the carpet, touched her arm gently. He saw the pain etched in her eyes as she turned to face him.

She managed a weak smile. “Oh, Jay-boy, I'm fine. I've just talked so damned much on a dreadfully distressing, uncomfortable subject and I've given myself a frightful headache. That's all. I'll just have Wardley bring me an aspirin.” She pushed a button on a side table console.

Jason looked at her beseechingly, his eyes watery and soulful. “Can't I do something, Grandma? Please let me do something.” Anxiety spread through him, threatening to close off his breathing. She was protecting him by referring to her cancer as a headache.

Myrena looked into his eyes and saw the pain in his soul. She patted his hand. “No, no, Jay-boy. Wardley knows of my headaches. He will know what to do. Please, sit down and don't looked so stressed.

“We will have dinner shortly. Pot roast, I believe. That was always one of your favorite meals.”

Wardley appeared, left, returned with what Jason knew must be Grandma Myrena's cancer medication for pain. Jason could see the concern on Wardley's face, but he could say nothing. He would say nothing. An even deeper agony now possessed him as he watched his Grandma's face slowly and subtly return to some normalcy as the medicine's quick palliative action gave relief.

Myrena asked about dinner and was told it would be served within minutes.

“There is more that I wanted to speak about, Jay-boy, your lovely new friend, Jenny, to whom I was so immediately drawn, and, well, some other things. But they can wait. Please don't try to make too much of what's been said. You needed to be aware of Carlton's gambling problem, and I wanted to share with you my estate plans. Should have done that long before now. We will talk again soon. Now, let's get us some pot roast.” She smiled broadly and stood, offering her arm to Jason. “Thank you, dear son, for allowing me to ramble.”

Myrena had not caught her slip of tongue. Her use of 'son' had not gone unnoticed by Jason, and he gently hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. In so many ways and for so many years she was his mother and he her son.

So many thoughts came as he slowly walked Myrena to the dining room.

Chapter Fifteen

Jenny Mason was concerned, a bit confused. Perhaps the confusion was laced with some anger.

Dressed in faded cutoff jeans and yellow halter, her hair wrapped with a flaming red bandana, Jenny veritably attacked her chores of washing, drying clothes, and cleaning her apartment. Haydn's Symphony 101 was playing on her stereo system.

Why had Carlton intruded himself into her lunch and life? It was so awkward and unsettling. His words were totally brazen, out of the blue, and she actually had considered him a bit daft. How could he have possibly conjured up in his mind that she was interested in him? He certainly seemed to think that she was. He must. Otherwise, why would he come on to her so strongly?

She thought back to the lovely evening spent with Jason and Grandma Myrena, trying to isolate some moment or moments when she had interfaced with Carlton. She could remember no incident, no time, when she could have been misinterpreted as flirting with him or, to use the vernacular, 'coming on to him.'

There was a period later in the evening when she felt that Jason had become somewhat remote toward her. She was concerned that she had inadvertently done something to upset him. Perhaps Jason had misread her gaiety and good cheer as a flirtation with Carlton. Even worse, perhaps Carlton had misread her.

Then, the trip to 'Apple Brown Betty' with Jason was simply glorious, and the evening, purely divine. Surely Jason would have felt, as she so openly felt, the magic passing between them. He surely must have known that she was falling in love with him. The signals that she was receiving from him had indicated that he, too, was falling in love with her.

Could she have misread the signals so badly?

What about Carlton's intrusion at lunch? How was she to handle it? Should she call Jason and tell him about the odd encounter? Should she simply forget that the incident had taken place?

She heard the loud steady buzzing of her clothes dryer and went to empty its contents in exchange for more damp towels and bed sheets.

From the utility room she went to the kitchen to empty her dishwasher of the clean dishes and silverware. Oddly, it was a tedious task that she did not like. She smiled at herself when she was finished, thinking how silly it was to dislike such a simple chore.

Next she attacked the carpet with her vacuum cleaner. The carpet, she noted in her mind, did not really need vacuuming. She was making 'busy work' for herself, she decided. She pushed the stop button on the cleaner, wrapped the long cord in a neat round pile around the hooks on the long handle and stowed it in the entry closet.

She dusted furniture for a while. She became restless with this chore and quit. Then she sat with some ad copy strewn about the coffee table and floor. Haydn became monotonous and she exchanged the CD disc for another. She decided on a John Williams classical guitar disc.

The thoughts kept intruding while she did her chores. Why did Jason not call her? She expected him to call. Perhaps he knew that she expected him to call and simply wished to tantalize her. But, no, he would not do that. Some other men she had dated might do that but not Jason. And, she must not begin to think that way. Those kind of thoughts could harm a relationship. She hoped that it was not already damaged.

She could call Jason, of course. However, she was from that old school where it was not really proper for a woman to call a man. Oh, sure, the women liberation groups made it acceptable. But she was not given to the 'woman's lib' philosophy. She had never climbed aboard that 'feminist' wagon. Yes, there were some tenets about the feminist movement that just made good sense, like, equal pay for equal work, better job opportunities, recognition for women who made significant achievements in the work place. It was too often than men took credit for work actually done by women.

All in all, though, she still enjoyed very much being a woman catered to and made over: the car door opened for her; the chair pulled out for her at dinner; sincere flattery. Jenny felt that the 'feminist movement' had taken things too far, had not truly recognized or accepted the simple truth about men and women. They were not equal, not in a whole lot of ways --- biologically, emotionally, physically. Some activities on the far side of the 'movement' were in Jenny's mind ludicrous: women boxing, playing football, fighting front line wars. The times, she thought, could change too drastically, too much, too fast. Sanity and sensible thinking should not be subverted, should not be free-thought into serious inconsistencies and moral nit-picking.

Jenny smiled at herself, at her philosophical rectitude, at her silent 'holier than thou,' perhaps, pompous thoughts. What? All of these aberrant side trips just because she could not bring herself to call Jason Prince? Then, dammit, just why the devil did a great big part of her want to call him?

The dryer buzzer went off again, announcing an end of a cycle. Yes, indeed, good timing. Her thoughts, her brain, needed to be equipped with a cycle ending buzzer. Oh, well, for now, she would just use the dryer's buzzer.

When she had emptied the last load from the dryer, she decided to run her bath and have a glass of wine. With the hot and cold valves adjusted on the bathtub for the desired water temperature, Jenny went to pour her wine. She had just recapped the Gallo bottle when the telephone rang. She almost spilled the contents of her wine glass by her reactive jerk. The loudness control was turned to its highest point. She hurried to answer the shrill ring. She glanced quickly at the microwave's digital clock. The time was 9:45 PM.

“Hello, this is Jenny.” She spoke cheerily.

“Hello, Jenny, I'm glad I caught you in.” The voice was glib and over confident, not the voice she had hoped to hear. “I've been thinking of you all day and all evening. I want very much to see you. Have you thought about what I said?” Carlton Prince paused. He knew that she would recognize his voice.

Jenny indeed knew who the caller was and she was not sure just how to handle him. But, then, in a moment of clarity, she understood that there was but one way to handle this call. When she started to speak, their voices collided. “ Carlton …”

“Are ...” he had started to ask her if she was still on the line. “Go ahead, Jenny.”

Jenny could almost see his smug face through the telephone line. “Carlton, I had hoped it was clear at lunch that I did not want you to call me. It must be difficult for you to ...”

“But, Jenny, surely I can't be that mistaken by my instincts. You were hesitant at lunch but you were simply uttering a woman's automatic responses. That was to be expected. Somewhere inside, you very much wanted me to call you. And I do believe you have been thinking about what I said to you.”

“You are brazen and arrogant, Carlton, and I have no intention of continuing this conversation. You are dead wrong about which you speak. It is none of your business, but my only interest is in your brother.
Your brother
, Carlton! What has he done to make you so rudely disrespect him? Now, I don't wish to be rude myself but I do hope I've made it abundantly clear to you. I don't like hanging up on people. I prefer civility, so I will just ...”

“Jenny, Jenny! You're in denial. It happens all the time. I'll give you a bit more time. You need to get in touch with your true feelings. You will see ...”

“You pompous creep! Get yourself some much needed help. Goodnight and
goodbye!
” She started to slam the phone down but stopped herself. She could hear his voice as she quietly put the phone in its cradle.

Her heart was beating at a rapid rate and her anger threatened to explode. The overbearing jerk! The audacity. The gall. Who did he think he was? Calling and interrupting her life with his insane talk? This was harassment. Stalking, even. Jason's brother, for God's sake. How could he do this to his own brother? It was stupid and beyond the realm of her comprehension. She sat and seethed.

The telephone rang again.

“Darn it!” She said out loud, shocked again by the shrill ring, “forgot to turn the darn volume down.” Before answering she readjusted the loudness. Then, she cautiously picked up the receiver.

“Hello,” she said tentatively.

“Jenny, you must not hang up on me. I do have feelings, you know. I have a suggestion which might ...”

“Carlton!” she broke in, forcing herself to control her breathing, fighting back the ire, keeping her voice modulated with some semblance of sanity. “Really, please do not call me again. I do not wish to hear from you. Again, I am saying goodbye and hanging up. Please, please, do not call again.” She put the phone in its resting place.

She clinched her tiny fists and began to walk away, hoping that he would not call ever again.

The telephone rang yet again.

It was Carlton. “Why must you deny me ...” he began.

After hanging up this time Jenny lifted a sofa cushion, and placed the phone under it. She decided to pull the receiver from its cradle. The cushion would prevent her hearing that annoying and steady tone.

Her anger sublimated she began to feel the incipient presence of fear. She had heard and read about women who were harassed on the telephone, who were stalked in cars and on foot. She was now totally convinced that it was no coincidence that Carlton had shown up at lunch.

There was something demented in all of this. Carlton was a responsible member of the business community. He was supposedly sophisticated, raised in an upper class environment by a dignified and stately lady who would have taught him good manners and social grace. How could he behave like this?

She could only conclude that he had a serious mental problem. She could not, would not, accept his contention or implication that she had 'come on to him.' That was absurd. She had never in her life 'come on' to any man. Jason was really the only man she had ever met who could relax her enough in his company that she could become spontaneous and open. But, surely, she had not given off any suggestive aura to Carlton when she had first met him or when he had interrupted her lunch. It was absurd. How could two brothers be so different? Absurd!

Suddenly there came an incessant liquid thumping from the area of the bathroom. It got her attention.

Her bath water. Oops! She had forgotten to turn off the faucets.

She rushed to the bathroom and was glad to see that there was no serious overflow onto the floor, just a very full bath. She lifted the drain and released some water, not too much because she like her body fully submerged. Then, she added bubble bath.

There was still a disquietude within her, and she did something she could not remember ever having done. She checked the two locks on the door, the handle and deadbolt, and she made sure all windows were securely fastened down. Paranoia was setting in, she thought, as she stood briefly in front of the entry door, a contemplative wrinkle on her brow.

After some seconds had passed she felt better. She chided herself at her sudden cautious nature. Carlton was just a passing aberration, a man who thought he might try to best his brother at romance. Carlton could not be dangerous. He was too well bred for that. Chances were he had simply been drinking and feeling his oats. Jenny likely would not hear from him again. Someday, when she and Jason had … well, perhaps she should not get carried away with her thinking. Someday, perhaps they could all laugh at this buffoonery.

She retrieved her wine. She shed her halter, her faded jeans, her flaming red bandana, and placed herself into the hot bubbly water. As she settled into the already overfull tub, the displacement of water from her weight caused a few drops to spill over onto the bathroom floor. She reached for the small drain knob and released some more of the water. Then she settled back and tried to relax.

She stretched full length in the tub, her head resting on the rim, eyes closed, and felt the knots in her body loosen. She sighed, sipped her wine, and began to feel much better.

She opened her eyes with a start when she remembered that she would not be able to hear the phone ring. It couldn't ring. It was not connected. She had put the phone under a sofa cushion to prevent her hearing those steady repetitious tones.

What if Jason called?