Read Breaking the Ties That Bind Online
Authors: Gwynne Forster
Breaking the Ties That Bind (19 page)
When Kendra entered Professor Hormel’s class the following morning, he called to her. “Ms. Richards, may I see you after class?”
“Yes, sir.” She took her seat and tried to focus on the lecture, but her mind insisted upon trying to guess what Professor Spam—the students’ nickname for him—wanted. At the end of class, she stopped at his desk.
“We’ve read the papers of our nine best students, and I don’t see anybody catching you. We’ve taken Egypt off the list of countries for the winner to visit and added Kenya and The Gambia. This is confidential.”
“Thank you, sir. I wouldn’t dare mention it. Is Florence, Italy, still on the list?”
“Italy is on the list. The winner can choose where to go in a particular country.”
“If I win, would you have a suggestion?”
“You’ll find plenty to write about in each of these countries, but no country compares to Italy for variety. I could write books on the experience of just eating in Italy. Do your research and choose well.”
She dashed into the ladies’ room and nearly knocked over an obviously pregnant student. “I’m sorry. Are you all right?” she asked the woman.
“Fine except that I keep tripping over my shoe strings.”
Kendra looked down at the untied shoes. “Can’t you tie them?”
“I’ve tried everything but a robot. Maybe I’d better take out the strings.”
“I’ll tie them for you,” Kendra said, put her bookbag and pocketbook on the floor, and tied the woman’s shoes. “Won’t the baby’s father do that for you?”
“He can’t stand responsibility, so I sent him packing. I’m in this by myself, and I’m dealing with it.”
“Good girl. If you’re right here tomorrow morning at nine, I’ll be glad to tie them for you.”
“You’re an angel. I’ll be here. Thanks.”
Kendra waved her on, but suddenly she remembered Natalie, her coworker at La Belle Époque who feared that she might be pregnant by a man who had lied to her about his marital status. During her lunch period, she telephoned Natalie at home, got no answer, and left a message. She had been so caught up in her rapidly changing world that she’d forgotten her former coworker who had encouraged her and been a friend to her on several occasions.
“It’s a lesson, and I won’t forget it,” she said to herself.
With about half an hour at her disposal, Kendra went up to Founders Library on the main campus, and began her search for information about the kind of caregiver who could help her mother. She didn’t expect to succeed overnight, but she had to begin, because each one of Ginny’s escapades seemed more desperate and more outrageous than the last.
She didn’t mention her search to her father when he picked her up from work that night, but she might have if he hadn’t brought up the matter of Thanksgiving Day dinner. “I got a phone call from Sam’s father. He said he and Sam always have Thanksgiving dinner together, but that he’s sure Sam intends to have dinner with you and that you’d want to have dinner with me, so we should all go to his house. He asked if I had allergies or if there was something I didn’t like, which was real thoughtful of him. I told him I hated brains, kidneys, liver, or anything from the inside of a pig. That drew a big laugh from him. He sounded like he wants you and Sam to make it permanent.”
“He’s a man who scrutinizes a thing until he practically singes it, makes up his mind, and doesn’t waver thereafter. I like him a lot.”
“That’s because he likes you.”
“Did you tell him you’d go?”
“Of course I did. That means you and I will entertain at Christmas.”
“He’s involved with a very nice lady. I’m anxious to see how it works out.”
“If the way you described him a minute ago is accurate, it will work out. Any more nonsense from Ginny?”
“No, sir, and when I don’t hear anything from her, I begin to get nervous.”
“If you like, I can take you to school mornings. If she sees me, she won’t tarry. Does she know what you’re studying?”
“Not unless she followed me to the communication school. If she doesn’t lay off, I’ll have to get a restraining order, Papa. But you and I both know she would ignore it. I don’t want to be the reason my mother goes to jail.”
“You wouldn’t be the reason; she’d be there because of her attitude and behavior.”
“I know you’re right, but all the same . . .” She reached over and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Papa, and thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. If you need me to take you to school, call.”
Ginny dragged herself out of bed, went to the kitchen, and checked her refrigerator. With what she had in her freezer and in the pantry, she could eat for the rest of the week. After that, she’d have to beg Phil to take appointments for her. She hated having to pamper women who weren’t as good as she was and accepting the measly tips they offered. With Angela’s husband’s car parked in front of her building every day for a miserable little five hundred dollars, what else could she do? She couldn’t leave the building as long as he sat there. But she’d find a way. If necessary, she’d leave by the back alley.
She’d lied to Asa and told him that she had a viral flu, but she’d noticed that the bastard hadn’t been there to check. He hadn’t sent her any flowers, either. She used her cell phone to call Phil.
“This is Ginny. I’m just getting over that awful flu. Damned thing nearly took me out of here, but I’m fine now. Haven’t had a fever in four days. Could you put me down for some appointments?”
“You’re good at what you do, Ginny, that is, when anybody can get you to work. I’m putting you down for Tuesday to Saturday every week. The holidays are coming up, and that’s when we make the money. The first day you don’t show up here, that’s the day I’m putting an ad in the paper for your replacement. You could make over a thousand a week if you’d get off your lazy ass and work. I’ll see you Tuesday or not at all.”
“I’ll see you Tuesday, Phil.” A thousand a week! He thought that was money? She kicked the ladder-back kitchen chair halfway across the dining room. “I’m not standing on my feet forty hours every week for nobody.” She made a pot of quick grits, steamed a hotdog, put some butter on the grits, poured boiling water over instant coffee, and ate her breakfast. As she was putting the dishes in the dishwasher, she remembered. And recoiled. Her postponed hearing had been rescheduled for the day before, and she had forgotten it.
She phoned the court clerk. “I’ve been in bed sick, and I just remembered it.”
“If you’re smart, you’ll get here before the cops go to your house to get you, and they could be on their way.”
She looked out the window, didn’t see Angela’s husband’s car, brushed her teeth, dashed into her clothes, powdered her face, put on some lipstick, and headed for the elevator. She put on her dark glasses, took the elevator to the basement, and left by the back alley.
“You’re a lucky woman, Mrs. Hunter. In another minute, I would have signed this warrant for your arrest,” a court officer said when she walked in.
Chapter Ten
Sam walked out of his classroom that afternoon feeling out of sorts. He’d made it to the university in spite of the second late-autumn blizzard of the year, a weather pattern with which Washington was unfamiliar and for which it was unprepared. His normal trip to work took him from fifteen to twenty minutes by car, but after more than an hour of trudging through the wind and snow, and standing on corners trying to thumb a ride, he’d entered his classroom practically frozen. His hands were so cold that he was unable to write. But with eleven of his twenty-three students present, he was glad he’d made the trip.
“Do you have an hour to spare, Professor Hayes?” a colleague, James Enders, called to him.
He stopped and waited until the man was walking along with him. “What’s up, Jim? If it’s important, I can take the time.”
“You live in my direction. What do you say we stop at Rooter’s or someplace like that, get a cup of coffee, or a beer and a sandwich or something? I’ve got a problem with one of my students, and I think she has a class under you. I’d suggest the faculty lounge, but, considering this weather, I want to get as close to home as possible before the rush hour begins.”
“If it’s convenient for you. I didn’t drive.”
“I drove my four-wheel-drive jeep,” Enders said, “so this snow won’t be a problem.”
Sam had a feeling of satisfaction. An hour of his time in exchange for a comfortable trip home didn’t require a second thought. “Sure. Do you live near Rooter’s?”
A sheepish expression settled on James Enders’s face. “Six or so blocks. I confess to being addicted to those little hors d’oeuvres they serve during happy hour.”
Sam laughed. “You could be addicted to worse.”
“Yeah. That’s what I tell myself. Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it—my observations of the effects of alcoholism as a child were sufficient to ensure my devotion to sobriety. One drink of anything is as much as I’m comfortable with.”
“You’re a wise man. You may be genetically predisposed to alcoholism. These are things we can’t predict, though it seems to me that if you were, you’d know it by now.”
It was Sam’s first ride in a jeep, and to his way of thinking, it wasn’t bad. They walked into Rooter’s, where four or five men, two women, a bartender, and a uniformed messenger conversed as a group. Jim ordered gin and tonic in order to get a tray of free hors d’oeuvres and, since he wasn’t driving, Sam ordered a vodka comet.
“I’ve passed here plenty of times,” Sam said to Jim, “but never been in this place before. It’s rather pleasant.”
“That’s because the snow has kept most of the regulars at home. It can be very noisy.” Sam glanced at the mirror behind the bar and frowned. A woman was gazing at him as if she wanted to get to know him. She was decent-looking, but near the age his mother would have been if she were still alive. She smiled at him, and a strange sensation shot through him. When the woman smiled, she reminded him of Kendra. He motioned for the bartender.
“What’s the name of the woman who’s wearing the gray tweed coat?” he asked the bartender.
No one had to tell him that he’d asked that man the wrong question. “What’s it to you, buddy? No pick-ups allowed in here. If that’s what you’re looking for, you can leave right now.”
“No offense meant,” he said. “She looks so much like my girlfriend that I’m curious about her.”
“Looks like your girlfriend, huh?”
Sam looked the man in the eye. “Yeah. She does. They could be mother and daughter.”
He could see that he’d piqued the man’s interest. “Her name’s Hunter, Ginny Hunter, but if you try to pick her up, buddy, you’re gonna be in big trouble.” Sam’s lower jaw dropped. The woman looked at him, lowered her lashes and winked.
“What’s your problem?” the bartender asked.
“That’s my girlfriend’s mother. That’s her name.”
The bartender narrowed his eyes. “I gave you information, so you give me some. How old is your girlfriend?”
Aware now as to the reason for the bartender’s interest and behavior, Sam looked him in the eye. “She’s thirty-two years old. I hope I haven’t created any problems for anybody.”
The bartender brought him another drink. “No, you haven’t, but you’ve answered some questions. The drinks for you and your friend are on me.”
Sam stirred the drink, looked at Jim, and said, “Were you following my conversation with that guy?”
“Only snatches of it. As soon as we sat down, I figured he had something going with that woman who’s wearing the gray coat. He looked at her as if . . . as if she dances to his tune, but she’s looking for an opportunity to meet you.”
“In that case, I just screwed things up for her.”
“That, too. I’m waiting to see what his reaction is.”
Sam didn’t look at the woman, but gazed at her reflection in the mirror as the bartender spoke to her in what appeared to be a less than friendly manner.
“That’s a lie.”
“No, it isn’t,” the bartender said. “You’re over fifty, if you’re a day, and you’ve got a daughter who’s only four years younger than I am. You’re almost old enough to be my mother, and you were lying when you said you were forty. I knew I’d catch you. And another thing. That lie you told me about being independently wealthy. I’d like to know how you manage your lifestyle.”
She jumped up from the bar stool and glared at him. “No two-bit gigolo of a bartender is going to look down his nose at me.” As if she didn’t need to make another point at the man’s expense, she shoved the drink toward him. “Here. Dump it out. It didn’t cost you a penny. Old man Dunner puts you in the shade.”
“If saying that makes you feel good, fine with me,” the bartender said, “but if you’re smart, you’ll shut up. I’ve had it up to here with you.” He sliced the air above his head.
She tightened her coat, headed toward the door, and stopped when she reached Sam.
“You don’t believe what that ridiculous man was saying, do you? Why don’t you and your friend come by my place for a drink? It’s not far, and it’s very warm there.”
Sam stared at Ginny Hunter, feeling his lips curl into a snarl. “You’re not my type.” He turned his back to her as raw pain seared his insides. What kind of life had Kendra suffered during the years that she lived with her mother?
“I’m sorry, man,” James said. “I wish I’d suggested some other place.”
“Actually, you’ve done me a favor. I can’t imagine how I would have gotten home if you weren’t taking me there in your jeep.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” James said. “Anyway the problem concerns a student who’s got two-year-old twins. She’s an A student, left her husband because he’s nonsupportive, abusive, and cheats. I suspect she doesn’t even get enough to eat and that she gives what she has to her children. But her concern doesn’t seem to be with her health, only with getting her degree.”
Sam put the glass down, dragged his attention from Kendra’s mother, and frowned. “You mean Melody Jenkins? Yeah. I’ve been concerned about her, and I’ve been wondering if I should ask the Dean of Women to check whether she’s getting adequate food and health care.”
“That’s an idea. The university has money for helping needy students.”
“Yeah, but they have to ask for it. I’ll speak with the dean tomorrow. You do the same.” He drained his glass. “It’s getting dark.”
“So it is. I don’t suppose they give doggie bags full of these goodies,” James said.
Sam couldn’t help grinning. “Next time, bring a big plastic Ziplock bag.”
“Right,” James said. “Wonder why I never thought of that.”
The bartender walked over to Sam. “I’m called Asa. You helped me out of a hole I’ve been telling myself I had to get out of. It made no sense, and I was taking advantage of her. I hope your girlfriend is not a chip off the old block.”
“No, she isn’t, and as you may imagine, her life has not been an easy one.”
“I wish you luck, man,” Asa said.
“Thanks. I suspect I’ll need it.”
As James drove the jeep through snow and ice, the two men hardly spoke. Sam had locked his mind on Ginny Hunter and her brazen invitation to bring his friend to her home for a threesome sexual romp with her, a complete stranger. He had refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she had propositioned her daughter’s boyfriend. And he did not doubt that she would have rejoiced in having done it, that she would delight in any pain she could inflict on Kendra.
He thanked James for getting him home in comfort. “Don’t forget to contact Dean Watkins tomorrow.”
“I’ll get it done before noon. Thanks for your support in this.”
“I’m glad you brought it to my attention. The woman needs help, and it’s our duty to see that she gets it. You can’t let a straight-A student fall through the cracks. See you tomorrow.”
He wanted to talk with Kendra; indeed, he had a driving, gnawing need to protect her, but something was eating at him that he suspected wouldn’t let him have a normal conversation with her. He wished he hadn’t gone to Rooter’s Bar and Grill and that he hadn’t encountered Ginny Hunter. His estimation of her had not been high, and now, he didn’t feel that he could comfortably be in her company for even five minutes. Any man with the tiniest of brains would know that if he continued the relationship with Kendra, both of them could be miserable as a consequence.
Because of the weather, Lettie hadn’t been able to get to work. He prowled around the kitchen looking for something to eat. Exasperated after half an hour of searching, he telephoned his housekeeper.
“Lettie, this is Sam Hayes. I’m starving. What can I find to eat?”
“I called you a couple ’a times, Mr. Hayes. Who’d ’a thought you went out in this weather. Look in the freezer. You’ll find quiches, pizzas, beef pot pies, and chicken pot pies. All you have to do is select one, turn the oven on to four hundred, shove it in, and wait twenty minutes. I made all of ’em and froze them for just such times as this. There’s cold beer on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator in the back. And you can have apple pie à la mode for dessert—but warm the pie. It’s on the top refrigerator shelf. I’ll be in tomorrow, ’cause my son said he’ll bring me. He couldn’t get his car out of the garage this morning.”
“I didn’t expect you here today, Lettie, and with all that food in the freezer, stay home tomorrow if your son can’t bring you.”
“Thanks, Mr. Hayes, but he’s good as his word.”
This was one thing that Sam did not want to discuss with his father. On the other hand, Bert Richards would understand, but what man wanted to be reminded that he’d made such a gargantuan mistake with a woman? “Suck it up, fellow,” he said to himself.
He finished a delightful meal of beef pot pie, Pilsner beer, warm apple pie, and vanilla ice cream, made a cup of coffee, turned on the television, and sat down to watch the news and sip coffee. “This won’t due,” he said to himself. “What if she needs me?” He dialed Kendra’s home phone number, got no answer, and dialed her number at the studio.
“WAMA, KT speaking.”
“Hello. How’d you get in?”
“The show must go on, as they say on Broadway. All lines are open tonight, because only three of us were able to get through this weather. How are you, friend? We’re doing everything tonight, manning the phones, reading the news, even reading the commercials. I’ll get to you as soon as I can.”
“Nice going, KT,” he said. “You’re absolutely number one. If you get a chance, please play ‘Everything I Have Is Yours.’”
“You bet I will. Any way you cut it, you’re the greatest, friend.”
He thanked her and hung up. He felt a little better after talking with her, but now he worried about how she’d get home. Why the devil had he given her the impression that he wanted to cool down their relationship? Granted, it had been moving too fast, but what had he solved? Nothing. In fact, he’d interjected unnecessary complications. He looked at his watch. Bert should be home, if indeed he’d left in that blizzard. He dialed Kendra’s father’s telephone number.
“Richards speaking.”
“Mr. Richards, this is Sam Hayes. Kendra is at work tonight, but all of her lines are open, and I couldn’t ask her how she’ll get home. Do you know?”
“Good to hear from you, Sam. One of my customers has a towing service. He took her in this afternoon, and he’ll take her home tonight.”
“I take it you trust this guy.”
“If I didn’t, you bet I wouldn’t have called him. I’ve known him for fifteen years. He’s as straight as they come. Thank you for your interest. And it’s all right if you call me Bert.”
“Thanks. Kendra is important to me, and I care about everything that concerns her.”
“I know that, Sam, and I hope she does, too.”
Immediately after he hung up, his cell phone rang.
“Hello, Kendra. Thanks for calling me back. I wanted to know how you’ll get home, but I called your dad, and he told me. I’m impressed that you’re practically running the station tonight.”
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