Whatever It Takes (17 page)

Read Whatever It Takes Online

Authors: Gwynne Forster

“I go there occasionally to remind myself how far we've come and how far I have yet to go. The first time I went there, maybe six or seven years ago, the guide told us that the slaves quartered there fared better than most, and all that did—in light of what I saw—was unsettle my stomach for days. The idea of anybody
owning
another human being makes my skin pucker.”
He parked on Franklin Street half a block from Frederick Fairgrounds, which was home to Cabin Fever for each of its annual occurrences. They wound their way through the crowd to the artists' stalls where one could purchase objects ranging from chocolate windmills to hammered silver belt buckles.
“Who carved those birds that were hanging in your booth?” Douglas asked her, while he idly fingered a wooden replica of a mallard that seemed suitable for use as a decoy.
“I did.” She supposed that he detected the note of proudness in her voice, but she took pride in the birds she carved and painted and didn't care if she appeared to boast.
When she told him that the birds were her handiwork, he said, “They're as perfect as any I've seen, and I have several hundred in my collection.”
Her bottom lip dropped. “And you want to buy two of
mine
? I'm flattered.”
“You shouldn't be,” he assured her as they reached a booth in which everything, including the walls, was made of natural seashells. They looked at each other, shook their heads and walked on.
“Let's go that way,” she said, diverting him from what she sensed might be a fortune teller. She knew that the fortune teller would recognize a person who had premonitions, and she wasn't ready to share that information about herself with Douglas.
“I want to look at some Native American crafts,” she said and hoped that he wouldn't question why she knew where those crafts would be located. He followed her, and immediately she regretted taking that route, for her extrasensory perception warned her that they would encounter a seer or a medium. She bought a Native American doll and a pair of moccasins and turned to Douglas, who took her hand and directed her attention to his left.
“That one's beautiful,” he said, referring to the doll. “Say! These reproductions of Remington cowboys are so real, and since I could never afford an original even if one was for sale, I think I'll take a couple of these.” He pointed to a bronze rider and to the famous statue of a rider on a horse that stood on its hind legs, spooked by a rattlesnake. When he searched in his pocket for money to pay for the statues, Lacette's gaze caught that of an old woman who sat alone in a stall rocking rhythmically in a rocking chair. She beckoned and Lacette walked over to her.
“Good evening, ma'am,” Lacette said, her heart in her throat.
“Don't be afraid,” the woman said, “I only help people. There's something for you in a bank.”
“Yes, ma'am. My grandmother willed me a portion of a bank account.”
The old woman nodded. “I know that, but there is something else. You're a good person, but you must learn the difference between being fair and letting people walk over you.” She paused, closed her eyes and rocked. Then she said, “The man over there is looking for you. Be straight with him. That's all.”
Lacette took a twenty dollar bill from her purse, but the old woman shook her head. “I accept money from those who seek me out and ask my advice. You didn't look for me; I called you here.”
Lacette thanked the woman and looked around for Douglas. “Who's the woman you were talking to?”
“I don't know her. She's a seer.”
His face wrinkled into a frown, and he looked at her inquiringly. “Did you come around here in order to speak with her?”
She lifted her right shoulder in a quick shrug. “I didn't know she existed.”
“Hmmm. Interesting.” He pushed back his sleeve and looked at his watch. “Six-thirty. By the time we find a restaurant and get seated, it will be suppertime. Ready to go? We can come back tomorrow if you'd like.”
“I'd better call my aunt and let her know I won't eat at home.”
“You live with your aunt? I thought you had family here.”
“Yes and yes. I'll explain it at dinner.” She called her aunt on her cell phone and told her that she wouldn't be there for dinner.
They settled on Country Kitchen about half a mile from the Stone House, the site where Elizabeth Ann Seton, the first American-born saint, established her religious community in 1809. The waiter gave them a choice of pork chops or fried catfish, along with stewed collards, candied sweet potatoes, hushpuppies, and apple pie à la mode.
“You take the catfish, I'll take the pork chop, and we'll share,” Douglas said. He waited until they finished the meal, and then she learned something about him. With a solemn face, he leaned back in the booth and looked directly at her. “Will you tell me about your family?” He said it as if he had a right to ask and projected a demeanor that commanded her to tell him what he wanted to know.
She began with her father's announcement that he was leaving her mother and the parsonage and ended with her move that morning to her aunt's home, omitting only her liaison with Jefferson Smith.
His silence caused her no discomfort, for his eyes didn't waver from her face, and she knew he intended to consider his next words carefully. “It must have been traumatic to have what seemed to be the ideal family one day and the next, to witness it's instability and then to see it crumble. Why can't you get the nerve to ask your mother about her part in it?”
“I guess I'm scared to know.”
“You mean you don't want to confront her. Well, I understand that. She's your mother. Why do you think your father left it to your mother to disclose the reason for their breakup?'
She had asked herself that question many times during the months since they separated, but had never settled on an answer. She thought for a minute before forcing herself to know the truth.
“Because she's culpable, and he's too much of a gentleman to expose her.”
“Wow! That's rather heavy, but chances are you're right.”
Don't make the same mistake twice, girl,
she cautioned herself when she realized she found him easy to talk with and a sympathetic listener. She toyed with her napkin for a minute, and it impressed her that he didn't feel the need to speak.
I'm going to ask him. Better to learn now than later.
“Are you married, Douglas? It's been my experience that some men don't tell unless asked.”
“I'm not married, and I was wondering when you'd get around to asking that.”
“You haven't impressed me as a man who would cheat on his wife, but I've been wrong before.”
“Thanks,” he said, “but you can't look at a man and know whether he'll cheat. Most cheaters probably wouldn't have believed they would do it.”
“I'm thirty-three,” she said. “How old are you?”
He blinked rapidly, giving her the impression that her question shocked him. “I'm thirty-nine, and I'll be forty next December the twenty-eighth. If you'd like to go to the Weinberg Center with me this coming weekend, let's drop by there so I can get the tickets.”
“What's scheduled?”
“They're doing
Porgy and Bess,
and I love that opera.”
“So do I. Porgy represents to me the black man's triumph over adversity. I'd love to go.”
At the Weinberg Center box office, he bought tickets for Saturday evening. “What do you say I pick you up at six and we get some supper first?”
“That'll suit me fine. Do you go to the Weinberg Center in jeans or jacket? I just want to know how I should dress.”
“Jacket. Does that suit you?”
She might as well let him know how she felt about dates. “I always prefer that, unless I'm going on a picnic, to a sporting event or something similar.”
“Woman after my own heart.”
She told him good night at Nan's front door, and it disappointed her that he didn't even squeeze her hand or make any gesture that implied intimacy.
Lacette had separated from Kellie, but she remained her sister's preoccupation. At that moment, her aunt Nan sat in the dining room looking at the fire in the fireplace and wishing Kellie would cut the conversation and hang up. “Lacette is old enough to do whatever she thinks is best for
her
,” Nan told Kellie. “She's been under your feet so long, it's a wonder she had the grit to move. You can't control everybody and everything, Kellie, and you may as well get used to not always having your way. If you'd been my child, your behind woulda stayed sore, and you'da spent half of your life standing up. Cynthia and Marshall didn't discipline you enough, and you sure didn't get punished as often as you deserved it.”
“Oh, pooh. Aunt Nan, don't be such a fuddy-duddy. Make Lacette come back home. She had no right to leave me with all this work. Mama's practically resigned from housekeeping and cooking, and Lacette and I have been doing everything. Now—”
“You mean Lacette's been doing everything. I have to hang up and finish cooking.”
“I could go over there and eat with you . . . and Lacette.”
“A moron could see through that, Kellie. You can eat over here all you want soon as Lacette moves into her own house. Give my regards to Cynthia.”
She hung up and went to check on her tomato sauce. “I declare, that girl is so devious. I don't see how anybody could live around her,” she said aloud.
The doorbell rang before she reached the kitchen. She rushed to open the door. “Come on in, child,” she said to Lacette. “I just got off the phone with Kellie. She's all steamed up because you moved over here, but don't let her get to you. You hear?”
“I love my sister, Aunt Nan, but she'll have to find another doormat.” She changed the subject. “I went to Cabin Fever with a friend. We didn't stay long, but it was pleasant enough. By the way, I won't be home for dinner Saturday evening.”
“Yeah? Well, go 'way from here. I got a sneaking suspicion you got a boyfriend, though I ain't seen one acceptable man in this town since I don't know how long. Either they pants too baggy or they jeans too tight, and If they ain't too old, they still wet behind the ears.”
“He's very likeable, and I'm glad I'm not at the parsonage, or Kellie would give me trouble over him. She tries to get any man who shows an interest in me, and she's been doing that since high school.”
“Maybe she's been a blessing to you. If a man who claims to want you will fool around with your sister, he ain't worth having, and you need to know that. Where'd you find this fellow?”
“He's the hotel's landscape architect. If you're here Saturday around six, you'll meet him.”
“I'll make it my business to be here.”
 
 
Lacette went up to her room, unpacked her suitcases and put away her things. Sitting on the edge of the bed looking out at the darkness, she saw a star shoot across the horizon. She'd heard that to see a shooting star was a good omen. “Wait a minute,” she said. “What was it that that old woman told me?” She thought and thought until her head began to ache. “It was important. How could I forget it?” She took two aspirin, showered and went to bed, but she couldn't sleep. Toward morning, she dozed off, only to awaken a few minutes later after dreaming that the old woman pointed a finger at her and shook her head.
“I wonder what she told me,” Lacette said as she dragged herself out of bed.
As soon as she got to the hotel, she dialed Lawrence Bradley's phone number. “This is Lacette Graham. I've moved out of the parsonage, and I'm staying with my aunt.” She gave him Nan's address. How are negotiations going for my house?”
“I hope to attend the closing today,” he said. “Since it's a new house, you should be able to move in this weekend.”

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