His girl, huh?
She hugged him, because she couldn’t resist it. “Great. You’ve been listening to James Brown’s recording.”
“Not me,” he said. “His music never got to me. Let’s get some breakfast and get started. I’ve planned the whole day.”
She’d known that he’d do that, because she’d noticed that he didn’t leave much to chance. “If you can digest cantaloupe, waffles, bacon, and coffee, we can have breakfast here in ten minutes.”
“I’d love it. Where do I wash my hands?”
“Right over there.” She pointed to the guest lavatory.
“Let’s see. If I remember right, you take two spoonfuls of sugar. That’s too much sugar.” She saw his eyebrows shoot up, but he’d have to get used to drinking coffee with less in it. She strolled to the kitchen as if what she’d said wasn’t unusual, though she figured he wasn’t used to being crossed, lectured to, or confronted in any way.
“Yes, ma’am,” she heard him say in a tone of wonder.
They finished breakfast. He insisted on cleaning the kitchen, and later she discovered that he didn’t plan on riding around in her car. He seated her in the Buick LeSabre, and she concentrated on dealing with the excitement she felt being with Carson Montgomery on a new and different basis. During the day, he took her to places she hadn’t been, such as the African-American Research Library and Cultural Center, where they enjoyed the huge collection of books, documents, and artifacts that reflected experiences of people of African descent.
He took her to the Buehler Planetarium and she hadn’t thought she’d enjoy it so much, but after seeing its introduction to space and the horizons, she vowed to get to New York to visit the great Hayden Planetarium. As they emerged into the bright sunlight, she tugged at his arm.
“Being with you is wonderful. You can’t imagine how much I enjoyed that.”
He gazed at her for a few seconds. “If I’ve done something that makes you happy, it’s more than worth the trip down here.” With her hand in his, he went back to the car, and they were soon headed to Seminole Paradise, where they explored the history and culture of the famous Native American tribe.
He took her next to River Walk, the social center of the city. “Weren’t you going to tell me that you’re hungry?” he asked her. “You must be, because I’m about starved.”
She smiled, because peace and contentment pervaded her. “Now that you mention it, my tummy is pinching me.”
His laughter was something she could enjoy hearing forever. “You make a guy feel like a giant.”
They sat at a table beside the river, and he handed her a bag. She stared at its contents. “When did you buy these? I didn’t see them. They’re so precious.”
“In the crafts shop, while you were examining baskets, I bought those Seminole dolls. I couldn’t decide between the boy and the girl, so I got both. I’m glad you like them.”
“I love them. Oh, and these beads. Seminole women are famous for their beads. I’m not going to wear these; I could break them. I’m going to display all this in a shadow box where they can’t be damaged.”
He took her home around three o’clock. “I’ll be back for you at four-thirty. A dressy street dress should be suitable for the evening, and if you have a shawl or sweater, you might bring that along.”
She raised both arms to him. “Don’t I get a kiss?”
“A little one. I can’t handle that heavy stuff this time of day.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a signal to me to complete it, and you’re not ready for that.”
“Are you?”
“Shirley, don’t ever ask me a question unless you want the unvarnished truth. Yes, I’m ready for it, and I have been since the second day we searched your father’s place together. I’ve wanted it more and more urgently whenever I’ve seen you since then and whenever I’ve thought of you. I’ll see you at four-thirty.” He pressed his lips to hers and set her away from him. She watched him stride down the walk past the sign that read
FOR SALE
and watched the car until it was out of sight.
“Well, I guess he twirled my switch.”
They spent the evening on the
Jungle Queen,
cruising along the New River and dining on barbecued baby back ribs and shrimp, among other delights. They danced to jazz music of questionable quality, but neither cared. With his arm tight around her, they stood on deck and watched as the boat plied past Millionaire’s Row.
“Who needs so much wealth?” she asked, mostly to herself.
“You don’t?” he asked, letting her know that he heard her.
“I doubt they’re happier than I am. Observing my father taught me that money and things can make you comfortable, but they do not bring happiness. Father never did or said anything that made me think he was happy.”
“That’s a pity.”
When at last he took her home, he stood in her foyer, looking at her as if he hadn’t seen her before. “I leave early in the morning, but I’ll call your cell phone the minute I get to Baltimore.”
“If I don’t answer, call my landline. I don’t cruise again until Tuesday.”
“This weekend has been wonderful, Shirley. Did you agree to be my girl?”
“Actually, I did. I just didn’t tell you.”
His laughter wrapped around her like a blanket of warmth in the dead of winter. “I care a lot for you. I want you to remember that.”
“I will if you remember that you’re not seeing any woman but me.”
“Don’t think for a minute that I’ll forget that. Kiss me.” He folded her to the warmth of his body and held her there. Then he brushed his lips across hers again and again until she parted them, and he possessed her until she slumped in his arms. He gripped her in a fierce hug, stared down at her for a minute, and left. She turned out the light and made her way up the dark stairs to her bedroom.
“If I had known I’d feel this badly when he left me, I don’t think I would have let him come.”
A few minutes before the crew closed the cabin doors for the takeoff of flight 780, Carson phoned his younger, and only, brother. “What’s up, Ogden? You called me? Sorry I didn’t catch your ring. I must have been on the river. In parts, it looks more like a lake than a river. How are you?”
“Me? I’m fine. What river are you talking about?”
“The New River in Fort Lauderdale. It’s something for the eyes.”
“Never heard of it. Where in the name of kings
are
you?”
“I said Fort Lauderdale. I’m on the plane headed home, and I’ll have to cut this short any minute. What’s up?”
“I just got promoted to managing engineer, and in this company, brother, that stands for something.”
“Fantastic. Way to go. I’m going to buy a bottle of Dom Pérignon. Only the best for my kid brother. Call you when the plane lands. Bye for now.”
He fastened his seat belt, turned toward the window, and went to sleep. He had to testify in court Monday morning, something he hated doing in divorce cases, and he had to find that will. His instincts and his common sense told him that the will was somewhere in Leon Farrell’s private quarters, but he’d combed the place with a toothpick. Nothing had exasperated him as much as his search for that will. He told himself to go to sleep. With a lack of sleep, his memory wouldn’t be reliable, and he didn’t want to ruin his own reputation. Enough people were willing to do that for him.
As soon as the plane taxied to the gate, he dialed Shirley’s number. “Hi. We just landed. I slept all the way. I’ll be busy for the remainder of the day, but I’ll phone you tonight. How are you? By now, you should be missing me.”
“Give me a few more minutes.”
“What? Am I not worth even a little misery?”
“Good heavens, a real ham. Actually, I started missing you last night before you got back to the hotel.”
“That’s a lot more like it. If I’m going to be unhappy missing you, by damn, I want company. They’re disembarking. Talk later. Kisses.”
“Bye for now, and kisses to you.”
He got home at a quarter past one, and a check of his answering machine revealed seven calls from Edgar Farrell, the last three of which were abusive and profane. He was getting sick of Edgar, but he felt almost obligated to finish what he’d started. He’d never walked away from a job, leaving it unfinished, but Edgar’s behavior threatened to make this a first. He erased the calls and put Edgar out of his mind.
The following Wednesday afternoon, which was her afternoon off, Frieda rushed up the stairs to her apartment at 2911 Franklin Street in Baltimore, threw her bag onto the sofa, kicked off her shoes, and sat down to read the letter. Her fingers shook so badly that she couldn’t open the envelope. After struggling with it for a full minute, she went to her tiny kitchen, got a knife, and slit it open.
Seeing her birth mother’s return address on the letter had sent her heartbeat into a tailspin, and she could barely keep her balance. She and Coreen Holmes Treadwell were on speaking terms, but that about described their relationship. Not that she blamed Coreen for it as she once did, because she’d hunted the woman, and when she finally confronted her, she showered upon Coreen a barrage of vituperous vengeance. But the meeting, the first time she’d laid eyes on her birth mother, proved just as painful for her. Coreen didn’t spare her but poured out the horrifying experience of Frieda’s conception—brought on by rape—and the extraordinary misery to which she was subjected while pregnant with Frieda.
After half a year of searching for Coreen and planning ways in which to humiliate her, those moments of confrontation and revenge had left Frieda not triumphant, but empty and sad. Frieda had accepted as balm for her wounds the letter she received from Coreen some three weeks later offering friendship and promising to be there for Frieda if she needed her. She had put the letter in her safe-deposit box along with the government bonds she bought weekly to buy a house. She had written Coreen a letter thanking her for the gesture of friendship, and sent her cards at Christmas, but that was the extent of their exchange.
She opened the letter, began to read, and put it aside. The letter was not from Coreen, but from Eric, Coreen’s elder stepson. She went to the kitchen, made a pot of coffee, poured a cup, and went back to the living room. After sipping for a while, she picked up the letter and began to read.
Dear Frieda,
You and I haven’t met, but I hope we will very soon. My stepmother, your mother, is very ill and needs a transfusion of bone marrow, but we have been unable to find a match. My stepmother told us to ask you to help. She said you wrote her and said that if she ever needed you, you would do whatever you could. Please say you’ll come. I hope this letter reaches you. I’ve called you many times to no avail. If you’ll call 555-1676, I’ll come for you and bring you here by car. Sincerely yours, Eric Treadwell
She wondered why Glen hadn’t written the letter. After finishing the second cup of coffee, she telephoned Mirna, related the matter, and added, “I’m her daughter, so I may be able to help. At least I should test for it. But who’s going to look after Mr. G? Tell you what. I’ll be back there in about an hour.”
“You’re not going to try and help your mother?” Mirna asked, her tone incredulous.
“Mirna, I’m a Christian. I’ll do the right thing, but I’m gon’ take care of my patient, too.”
She called Eric Treadwell. “Mr. Treadwell, this is Frieda Davis.”
“Thank God. We’d almost given up hope of finding you.”
“I’m a nurse, and I’m on a case. I came home this afternoon and found your letter. I have to go back to my job now, but I can take the test tomorrow morning.”
“Where will you be tomorrow morning? I’ll go there for you.”
She gave him the address. “I’ll see you in the morning, then, Mr. Treadwell. Do you know what her prognosis is?”
“It’s ... it’s all or nothing.”
“I’m not surprised. See you in the morning.”
She’d planned to do her laundry and then put up her feet while watching
Judge Judy,
but she wouldn’t have time for that. She changed clothes, repacked her bag, locked the apartment door, and walked up Franklin to Juno, where she caught the bus. Forty minutes later, she walked into Gunther’s apartment.
“I thought you were off this afternoon,” he said when she walked into his room, where he sat by the window reading.
She told him enough about her background to enable him to understand why she needed to take the next day off. “As far as I know, I’m her only living blood relative. I can’t say no.”
She couldn’t decipher his facial expression, but it seemed warm and friendly. “You have to go,” he said. “I’ll miss you, but I’ll manage. I’m not so sick that I need a nurse anyway. The doctor’s being overly cautious.”
So he did care for her. When she got back, she’d definitely do something about that, but now was not the time.
She wrote out instructions for Mirna and told Gunther, “I know Mirna loves to fill you full of soul food, but if you eat that stuff, it will definitely set you back. I’m leaving menus for her, and I want you to see that she follows them.”