Read Breaking the Ties That Bind Online
Authors: Gwynne Forster
Breaking the Ties That Bind (15 page)
Feeling defeated, she telephoned Asa. “Hi. Stop by here on your way to work.”
“For how long?”
“Long enough,” she said, not caring how he took it.
“What’s the matter? You can’t wait till tonight?”
His arrogance irritated her, and she wished she hadn’t called him. But when he got into her, he made her feel that she was the only person in his world. “When are you going to learn to be a gentleman,” she said, striking where she knew he was vulnerable.
“What does being a gentleman have to do with you wanting me to come over there and fan your hot coals.”
“You’re hopeless,” she replied, avoiding answering him and, at the same time, taking care not to rankle him.
“I’ll see you at twelve o’clock.” He hung up without saying good-bye.
She stared at the receiver in her hand and with the quick movement of her right shoulder, she dismissed her problems and any affect that they could have on her life.
“You’re what I call a loyal employee,” Clifton Howell said to Kendra when she arrived at work. “Tab called in saying he couldn’t get here, and June has a cold. It’s a damned good thing I know how to operate these controls and play these CDs. How’d you get here?” She told him. “You get double pay today, and give your father my thanks. A radio station can’t go off the air, but I don’t think I could have carried this thing for twenty-four hours. So, I’ll sleep in my office until eleven, and if Arnold doesn’t come in, I can keep things going until two, when we sign off. See you later.”
With the program director freaking out at home because of the snow, Kendra had to select the music. So she decided to make life easy for herself and make it a night of jazz and blues. She loved Frank Sinatra and Luther Vandross, but with two straight hours of Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald interspersed, she could get a lot of studying done. To her astonishment, callers loved the program, proving that the greatest mix of performers didn’t always meet with viewer approval.
When her direct phone rang at nine, her heart raced. “This is WAMA on a cold, snowy night. Feeling the blues? Some coming right up. What can I play for you?”
“Hi, K. This is Sam. Your show is wonderful. I’d like to hear a golden oldie, ‘Everything I Have Is Yours’ by Billy Eckstine, and I should appreciate your dedicating it to my special girl, who loves to walk through the woods in the snow.”
“Th . . . Uh . . . coming right up. I’m sure that special girl is listening with both her ears and her heart. Have a good night, Sam.”
“Thanks. The same to you.”
She found a re-mastered CD of the old recording and listened carefully as the great voice sang the intimate love song of a man who wanted to give everything to his beloved.
“I guess he just likes Billy Eckstine,” she said to herself,
“because I don’t believe he feels that way about me.” She put on some blues interspersed with Louis Armstrong, and her automatic answering machine recorded numerous calls applauding her selection. At ten-thirty, Howell walked in and sat beside her in the other chair.
“We’ve had a good response tonight. Here are some tickets to the Kennedy Center for a performance by Clarissa Holmes and The New Jazz Trio. They’re great. I catch them whenever I can.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll let you know how it went.”
“You’re welcome. I’m going to tell Josie to pep up our programs with more jazz. Thank you again for coming in tonight. Arnold can’t get here from Silver Spring, so it’s good that I could get some rest.” She told him good night and got outside just as the big red tow truck pulled up.
“I was listening when Sam called you. He’s a brave man,” Bert said. “Never would I play that song for a woman. You’re my daughter, but the chance that you’re different from the rest of your gender is nil. Be sure you don’t disappoint that man.”
“It surprised me, too, Papa. We haven’t gotten anywhere near that far, but I’m not saying we can’t get there. Anyway, he made me feel good. Mr. Howell told me to thank you and Mr. Grayson for bringing me to work and coming back for me.”
“Tell him I’ll look after my daughter for as long as she needs me.” The truck stopped at the building in which Kendra lived. “I see they cleaned off your sidewalk. See you tomorrow. Let me know if you need help getting to school.”
“I will.” She kissed his cheek. “Thanks a lot. Thanks, Mr. Grayson. Good night.”
As soon as she closed the door of her apartment, she dropped her bag on a table in the foyer, turned on the light, and opened the envelope that contained the tickets. Four tickets for second row center at eight o’clock Saturday night. And at the Kennedy Center, yet! What would she do with them? Her papa couldn’t go, because he closed at nine on Saturday nights. She told herself that Sam would have a suggestion. Another thought floated through her mind. She could invite her friends, The Pace Setters, but there wouldn’t be a ticket for Sam, and she wanted to be there with him. She put the tickets on her night table, got ready for bed, crawled in, and quoted Scarlett O’Hara,
Tomorrow is another day.
She didn’t have to decide about those tickets right then. Humming “Everything I Have Is Yours,” she soon fell asleep.
Tomorrow is another day.
She didn’t have to decide about those tickets right then. Humming “Everything I Have Is Yours,” she soon fell asleep.
Sam telephoned her at eight the following morning, as he usually did and, after they spoke for a while, she told him about the tickets and asked if he wanted to go.
“Absolutely, I do. I love that velvet voice of Clarissa Holmes, and her trio is one of the best. Did you ever hear her?”
“No, I haven’t, but if I like her, I’ll try to get an interview for my show.”
“If you manage that, Howell will stand on his head.”
“Would you believe I hadn’t thought of that? And I’m hoping to be a reporter. I’d better start thinking of myself as one. The recorder you gave me has multiple uses, I see. Sam, what am I going to do with the other two tickets?”
“If you don’t want them, my dad would walk all the way from Alexandria to your house to get them.”
“Okay. It’s all set. Tell him to meet us there at a quarter of eight next Saturday.”
Hmm,
she thought, after hanging up.
This is going to be interesting. I can’t wait to see who Mr. Hayes brings with him.
she thought, after hanging up.
This is going to be interesting. I can’t wait to see who Mr. Hayes brings with him.
As soon as he hung up, Sam telephoned his father.
“Hi, son. What’s up?”
“Hi, Dad. Everything’s great. Would you like to see Clarissa Holmes and The New Jazz Trio Saturday night?”
“Would I
what?
Of course I would, but those tickets have been sold out for weeks.”
what?
Of course I would, but those tickets have been sold out for weeks.”
“Maybe, but Kendra has four tickets, and she said you can come and bring whoever you like. She and I will meet you in the lobby at a quarter of eight.”
“She’s got four tickets? Are you sure?”
“So far, I’ve found her to be very reliable.”
“You bet I’ll be there. I’d like to know how she got them. I’ve tried every way I knew for the last few weeks.”
“She was the only one of the staff of WAMA who managed to get to work yesterday, so her boss, Clifton Howell, gave her the tickets, plus a bonus.”
“If she went to work last night, she deserved them. Give her my thanks. Aren’t you going to ask me who I’m bringing?”
Sam smothered the laugh that seemed bent on pushing itself out of him. “I figured that if you didn’t tell me now, I’d certainly find out Saturday night. Are you bringing Edwina?”
“Things are going well with us, son. We picked up right where we left off all those years ago. I never touched her that day, except to shake hands with her, but you can say a lot without opening your mouth.”
“I suppose that answers my question. I’m happy for you. See you Saturday.”
“I’ll be there, and thanks.”
Sam hung up and mused over his father’s admission that he’d fallen hard for Edwina when they met earlier, and had done absolutely nothing about it. He wondered if he’d have the strength to live up to his own guidelines for integrity and honor as his father had done. He couldn’t imagine never making love with Kendra, never holding her and feeling her warmth and feminine softness. “I hope I’ve got half as much strength as he has,” he said to himself. “I never want to do anything that I’m ashamed of.”
Chapter Eight
On her way to work, two days after the big snowfall, Kendra stopped at Suzy’s dress shop. “I need something to wear to a jazz concert at the Kennedy Center,” she told Suzy, aware that she’d probably have to tell her friend more than she had planned.
“If you were going by yourself, you’d wear something that you already have,” Suzy said, “so let’s go for a soft suit that’s appealing to a man, but won’t overdress you. Okay?” Kendra tried on several, and liked each of them.
“I see you’re keeping this guy a secret. When are you going to let us meet him?”
Getting around Suzy was no mean feat. “You think I’m buying this for a date?”
“Sure as my name is Suzy Monroe. No point in hiding him. These days, if a guy has all of his teeth, stands up straight, and isn’t hung up on weed, he’s a catch.”
“He’s a university professor, and I fell for him as he was walking toward me.”
“You go, girl. He must be
something
.”
something
.”
“He is, Suzy. He’s wonderful.”
Suzy reached up and put her arms around Kendra. “You’ve got my blessing, friend.”
She left the store with a burnt-orange wool crepe suit that had a rounded collar on the short, fitted jacket and a straight skirt that flared slightly at the bottom.
On Saturday night, with her hair curled around her shoulders and gold hoops in her ears, Kendra looked at herself in the mirror and said aloud, “Who is this woman? When I get my next paycheck, I’m going to splurge and buy a nice perfume.” She didn’t think she’d ever looked that good before. Even her eyes seemed larger. The intercom buzzed.
“Mr. Hayes to see you, Ms. Richards.”
“Thanks. Please ask him to come up.”
Minutes later, the doorbell rang, and she tingled all over as she rushed to the door and opened it.
Sam stared down at her for a second. “Wow! If it wasn’t bad manners, I’d whistle.”
Happiness suffused her. “And if I knew how to whistle, I would, too,” she said. “Come in.”
He handed her a long-stemmed American Beauty rose wrapped in cellophane and tied with a red ribbon. “Thank you. It’s beautiful,” Kendra said.
“But not as beautiful as you are.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. No one had ever said she was beautiful. She gazed up at him with a question in her eyes that asked if he was serious, not about her being beautiful, but about
her
. And, as if he understood her, he enclosed her in his embrace.
her
. And, as if he understood her, he enclosed her in his embrace.
“You are precious to me, Kendra. Don’t forget that.”
When she tightened her arms around him, he pressed his lips to hers, and the electriclike sparks that united them when they first met shocked them both. He gripped her to him, ran his tongue over the seam of her lips until she opened to him, and loved her until she trembled in his arms.
“I think we’d b . . . better g . . . go,” she stammered, got her coat from the closet and handed it to him.
He helped her into it, locked her door, and walked arm in arm with her to his car. As he drove out Woodley Road to Sixteenth Street, she noticed the still-glistening snow on the lawns of many homes and the icicles that had formed on trees. “Sam, can you see how beautiful this is? It’s breathtaking in the moonlight.”
He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Yes, and I just said to myself, damned if I’ll let it get to me. Kendra, as soon as you felt the tension growing between us back there in your apartment, you cut it off and pushed me away. Don’t you think we’ll eventually make love?”
“Not when we’re on our way to meet your dad.”
“I know that, and it is not the answer to my question. You can be candid when it suits you. What about being candid right now?”
“I know how I feel about you, Sam, but you haven’t told me whether you want us to be more than friends. I mean—”
“You definitely do not mean that. At your age, you know when a man cares for you, and you definitely know when he wants to make love with you. Be straight with me, Kendra. It isn’t like you to be coy.”
“Sitting here in the front seat of this Town Car with you and telling you bluntly that I want to make love with you is not something I’m going to do. If you want the answer, there are other ways you can get it, and
you’re
old enough to know
that
.”
you’re
old enough to know
that
.”
She had not expected his chuckle. “You certainly know how to say what’s on your mind. If I could park somewhere right now, I’d get the answer. You’re the most provocative woman I’ve ever known.”
He slowed to a stop for the red light, and she slid a little closer to him and rested her hand on his knee. “I’m sorry you can’t park anyplace.”
“Are you messing with me?”
“Of course not. Why would you think that I don’t want you to kiss me till I’m practically out of my mind?”
The light changed and he turned onto New Hampshire Avenue and headed for their destination. “Sweetheart, I think that big snowstorm must have fogged up my mind. Thanks for clarifying this thing. I consider myself welladvised.”
“Now you’re pulling my leg.”
“Am not. Just don’t want you to get a big shock.”
“I forgot to tell you that I received by messenger this afternoon a note from Clarissa Holmes granting me an interview after the show. She included with the note a pass to her dressing room. I want you to come with me.” She showed him the recorder that he had given her. “This is all I need.”
“How’d you contact her? Did Howell make the connection?”
“He won’t know a thing about it till I broadcast it. I wrote her a letter, telling her that I knew her story from a novella I read several years back, and asked her for an interview, so that my listeners would know how far she’s come. I’d thought she wouldn’t answer. I wonder if she’ll let me introduce her to your dad.”
“When we get there, you can ask her. Tell her he doesn’t want to come in, only to meet her and shake her hand. If she says no, it’s not a big loss.”
“How am I supposed to introduce you, other than by your title, I mean?”
“Tell her I’m your lover.”
“But you aren’t.”
“But I will be soon,” he said, not bothering to control the laughter.
“Okay. Miss Holmes, this is Professor Samuel Hayes, my soon-to-be lover. How’s that?”
“Your sense of humor is going to cause me to wreck this car. Switch to another topic.”
“Who’s your dad bringing to the concert?”
“You’ll find out in about eight minutes when I get my suspicion confirmed.”
“Sam, I’m excited.”
He didn’t need to know that this was her first really big date. She had had lots of dates, some of them at interesting places, but not with a man like Sam Hayes. Their being with his father, a prominent attorney, made it even more special. Or maybe it was special because of the way she felt about Sam. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and began to hum “Everything I have Is Yours.”
When the car stopped, Sam got out, gave the car keys to a parking attendant, walked around, and took her arm. It did not surprise her that he didn’t need directions. She stepped into the red-carpeted grand foyer—illuminated by at least a hundred hanging chandeliers and dominated by Robert Berks’s three-thousand-pound bust of John F. Kennedy—and reached for Sam’s hand. The pace at which her life had changed since the day she found Clifton Howell’s iPhone suddenly made her dizzy. They went down to the A level where Sam checked their coats.
“We’re meeting here,” he told her, and immediately she saw Jethro Hayes coming to meet them with Edwina Prill close to his side.
To her amazement, Jethro stepped forward and hugged her before embracing Sam. She said, “I’m so glad you could come, Mr. Hayes and that you brought Edwina with you. I was hoping to see her.” She and Edwina embraced, and she knew that she was seeing a different Edwina.
This woman was not with a stranger she’d seen once twenty years earlier. She was with her lover and proud of it.
This woman was not with a stranger she’d seen once twenty years earlier. She was with her lover and proud of it.
Sam explained the evening program, including Kendra’s interview with Clarissa Holmes. “If you can wait for us in one of the lounges, we’ll get together for a drink or something later,” Sam said.
“I’m glad to hear this, Kendra. Of course, we’ll wait. This is a day in which you can do no wrong,” Jethro said. “You won’t believe how much I love to hear Clarissa Holmes sing. And that trio is a great one.”
“We’re in the KC Jazz Club tonight, Dad, so we can get a sandwich or something there, but I suspect we have to finish eating before eight-thirty when she comes on. Fortunately, clubs have to serve food if they sell drinks.”
“I’m too excited to be hungry,” Edwina said, “but I don’t know how long that will last.”
They took their seats at table three, second row on the center aisle. “A ham and Swiss cheese sandwich on whole wheat for me,” Jethro said to the waiter, and looked at Edwina. “What do you want?”
“I’ll have the same.”
Sam looked at Kendra. “What would you like, sweetheart?”
He’d called her sweetheart within earshot of his father. “I’d like ham on focaccia bread.”
“Great idea,” Sam said. “I’ll have the same with Swiss cheese and a Vodka Collins.” He looked at her.
“Me too.”
Jethro ordered bourbon and water for himself and a dry martini for Edwina.
“Thank you,” the waiter said, tearing his gaze from Sam with great difficulty.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Kendra said to herself. “Poor fellow!”
“Have you written out your questions for the interview?” Jethro asked her.
“No, sir. I memorized them, and I’ll use the recorder Sam gave me. It’s really a gem.”
They finished their sandwiches minutes before the band walked out on the stage to resounding applause. A man standing at the center mike smiled broadly and said, “That’s Oscar at the piano, Konny with the bass, and I’m Raymond, the old man among these young Turks. I play the guitar and the dobro. We’re gonna warm things up for Clarissa Holmes.”
For the next thirty minutes, The New Jazz Trio drew from the audience sounds of whistling, applause, and stomping to tune after tune of classical and modern jazz. Then, Raymond stepped to the mike, bowed, and said, “You’ve been a great audience. Let’s give some love to the first lady of jazz, Clarissa Holmes.”
The audience stood and applauded the tall, elegant woman. When they finally sat down, Clarissa said, “Thank you so much. I always begin with this love song that I first sang to the man who is now my beloved husband, Brock Stanton.” The spotlight shifted to table three on the first row, and the man half stood and waved at his wife. When Clarissa finished singing Duke Ellington’s “Solitude,” Sam took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the tears from Kendra’s eyes.
She looked at him and whispered, “I didn’t know I was crying. She sang it so movingly.” His arm eased around her waist, and she let herself settle into the comfort that he offered.
“You’re such a tender person,” he whispered, “yet you’re so strong. I’d like to have you all to myself for a few days. In fact, I think that’s what I need with you.”
“Be careful over there,” Jethro said. “Her face is reflecting every word you say.”
“Yeah? In that case, it’s a good thing her face can’t reflect what . . . Oh, never mind.”
Clarissa finished a fast, rocking number and announced, “This next song was written by my super-talented bass player, Konny Patterson. It’s a song for new lovers, ‘Another Kind of Blues’” She sang it with soul-rending intensity. After three encores, she begged the audience to release her. “I have an appointment for forty minutes ago, and the band and I have to catch an early flight. See you next time.”
Sam got the attention of an usher, and told him of Kendra’s appointment with Clarissa Holmes. He asked to see Kendra’s backstage pass and ushered the four of them to Clarissa’s dressing room.
“I’m Brock Stanton, come in,” the tall, handsome man who opened the door said. But Jethro remained at the door with Edwina. “Come on in,” Stanton insisted. “Have a seat. Clarissa will be here in a second.”
Kendra stepped forward and extended her hand to the man. She hadn’t expected such a cordial greeting. “I’m Kendra Richards, Mr. Stanton. This is Professor Hayes, my uh—”
“Significant other?” Stanton finished for her.
“And these friends are Jethro Hayes, an attorney, and Dr. Prill, who only want to shake hands with Ms. Holmes.”
“Who only wants to shake hands with me?” Clarissa Holmes breezed into the room wearing a silk caftan splattered with a dusty rose and lavender abstraction, that flattered her flawless skin and elegant features. “Y’all have a seat. Which one is Kendra?”
“I am. This is Professor Hayes; his father, Attorney Jethro Hayes; and Dr. Edwina Prill.”
“I’m glad to meet y’all. Kendra, honey, that was just about the nicest letter I ever received, so warm and down-to-earth.” She looked at her husband. “Honey, can’t we offer them something? I think some guy sent some champagne that’s in here. I don’t drink, but I can toast these friends. What do you teach, Professor Hayes?”
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