After the Loving

“Aren’t you? You wanted to touch my hand, maybe even hold it to show the sympathetic understanding that you felt, but you weren’t certain how I’d react and you withdrew.”

“What would you have done, Russ, if I’d held your hand?”

“How many times tonight did I take your hand? Did I ask permission?”

Her eyes sparkled like a dozen night stars, and her face bloomed into a smile. “Russ, what you’re saying is like dangling money and jewels in front of a thief.”

He glanced at his watch, poured the remainder of the ginger ale into their glasses and took a sip. “Not quite. It means take a chance. Show me who you are, and I’ll reciprocate.”

“But not necessarily in a way that I’d like.”

He drained the glass. “True. But you have one thing going for you. We Harrington men respect women. Now, if we don’t get out of here, that busboy will know you handed him a line.”

“Right.”

When they stood to leave, the busboy appeared with a tray, cleared the table and let a grin take over his face. “Congratulations again, sir. This made my day.”

“You’ve been very kind,” Russ said. He wanted to get out of there before he folded up in another laughing fit. As they walked toward the door, the other diners applauded, and he could feel his lower lip drop when Velma waved and blew kisses to the people.

Deciding to play along, he slipped an arm around Velma’s waist, and while he didn’t succeed in keeping the grin off his face, he was able to resist howling with laugher until they got into the car.

“I never had so much fun in my life,” she said. “My sister wouldn’t dream of doing anything like that.” She shifted her position until she sat with her back partly against the door. “Wasn’t that fun?”

“Probably. I’ve never been tempted to do anything like that. I don’t know which cracked me up more, your arriving at the table with the busboy or blowing kisses at your fans.” He ignited the engine and headed for the highway. “Velma, you’re full of surprises. I had a very different picture of you, and I’m glad you agreed to come with me.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Neither Henry, my brothers, nor Alexis would believe I’d participate in any harebrained thing like that.”

“Are you ashamed that we did it?”

“Who, me? No, indeed. I don’t know when I’ve had so much fun.”

“I’m glad, Russ. I’d like us to be friends.”

He came within a breath of asking her what kind of friends, and he was glad he corrected himself before the words slipped out. He finessed a response. “Why shouldn’t we be?”

When she didn’t answer his question, he considered it another point in her favor; she wouldn’t gainsay something was important to her. She stifled a yawn.

“Sleepy?” he asked her.

“Terribly. I was so keyed up when I went to bed that I was still awake at four-thirty this morning.”

“I won’t feel badly if you sleep.”

“But I will. If you talk, I’ll stay awake. What was it like being the middle of three boys when you were growing up?”

“Now that’s a topic for a cold night. Growing up and being an adult…it’s all the same. Telford and Drake are closest, because Telford was protective of Drake. So was I, for that matter. That left me to my own devices, and I used it to my advantage. Strange thing is that Drake isn’t spoiled—he’s one hundred percent man.”

“What did you do on your own?” she asked with such sincerity that he knew her questions sprang from a genuine interest in him.

“I read the great philosophers, the leading writers of the Harlem Renaissance, Shakespeare, Richard Wright, newspapers, the funnies, whatever I got my hands on. And one day, I read about Frank Lloyd Wright. After that, I read everything about him that I could find.”

“So he was your idol and the reason you became an architect?”

“Partly. Telford’s the other reason. He had this dream of vindicating our father, and he talked about it so much that… Well, it fit with my passion for Wright’s work. Drake’s a born engineer. From childhood, he was always interested in how to make things work, and it is he and not Telford or I who fixes things around our home.”

“The three of you work well together. I assume Telford is the project manager.”

“Right. He negotiates contracts, purchases supplies, hires the workers and oversees them. He’s responsible for bringing the project in on time. He’s the boss, but we take a vote on everything important. If there’s disagreement, I always lose.”

He heard himself say it, and knew it was true, but it didn’t much bother him and never had. When he wanted to get his way, he knew how to do it.

Her reaction didn’t surprise him. “You don’t seem resentful. How’s that? I’d be after their heads all the time.”

He slowed down to take a curve on a poorly lighted section of the highway. “Sure I’ve resented it, but only at the moment and only about the issue in question. When I seriously want to have my way, both Telford and Drake yield. We care about each other, Velma, and neither of us is ever knowingly going to hurt the other.”

“All of you have strong, dominant personalities, what we call the alpha males. It’s a wonder you’re so close.”

“Henry’s the best leavening agent three young Turks ever had. Even before our father died, Henry was the adult we looked to, because Papa was rarely at home, always off working himself to death.”

He swallowed and ran the tip of his tongue over his lips, surprised at his dry mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked this much. We’re practically home, and I haven’t learned very much about you. What I got, though, was special.” He pulled into the circular driveway of Number Ten, John Brown Drive, stopped and cut the motor.

“Here we are, and I didn’t speed.” He wondered at her nonresponse. They entered the foyer, and after locking the door, he hung up their coats. “I’m going into the kitchen to get some juice. Want some?” he asked her.

She shook her head.

“Thanks for making these last few hours so pleasant. You and your brothers have been fortunate, Russ. You didn’t have your parents, but you had peace and love. Alexis and I had our parents, but I think I’d be a happier person today if they had separated or put us in foster care.”

He could feel both of his eyebrows shoot up, and his eyes seemed twice their size. “Does Alexis feel this way, too?”

“Alexis is a Quaker. She thinks in terms of a peaceful, serene present and doesn’t worry about the past. Furthermore, I’m older than she is, and I understood better what I heard and saw. But let’s not end this lovely day talking about my parents.”

“Then we won’t.” He took her hand and walked with her into the kitchen. They drank the orange juice, and he remembered that they would ascend the stairs together to go to their separate rooms. From the expression on her face, he knew she had already thought of it, and that her nerves were on edge.

“Come on,” he said, deciding to make light of what was becoming an embarrassing situation. “We can be trusted to walk up those stairs together.”

“Speak for yourself.” When she glanced up at him, heat roared through his body. Blatant vulnerability spread across her face. He wanted her. He’d wanted her all evening, from the minute she reached the altar. He reached out to gather her into his arms.

“I… Sorry. I shouldn’t have come with you. Good night.”

“Wait a minute. You can’t. Look here, Velma. You’re beautiful, intelligent and you’ve got a wonderful, outrageous sense of humor. Why are you—”

“Thanks for trying to prop up my ego. What happened to all that honesty everybody says you have?”

He stepped back. “Thanks for the reality check. From time to time I need those. Good night.”

He went into the den and dropped himself into the big overstuffed leather chair. In another second, he would have kissed her senseless. He didn’t remember ever enjoying a woman’s company so thoroughly. In the space of two hours, she taught him a lot about himself, and he liked all of it. But he wasn’t going to tie himself to a woman who didn’t know and appreciate her own assets.

Chapter 2

Velma strolled up the stairs as casually as if the pain she felt wasn’t eating a hole in her. He’d opened his arms and taken her into them, but he couldn’t lock her to him the way she wanted him to, needed him to. No matter what he said, he had to notice her size and the way her dress fitted. Alexis’s gown covered a work of art, but hers covered rolls of flesh, and he didn’t need 20/20 vision to see it.