The more he talked and the longer she shared his company, the more certain she was that she wanted him there. She felt more secure than ever in her life. “Marcus, you’re very big. How tall are you?”
He blinked, obviously surprised by the question. “I’m six feet, three and a half, and I weigh two hundred dripping.” She blanched as the image of a dripping Marcus filled her mind and, from his expression, she didn’t doubt that he knew her thoughts. “And I’m thirty-five years old,” he added gruffly.
“Nothing would frighten a person with you around.” She caught her breath when he threw her off balance with a genuine grin, his white teeth flashing and his enchanting, honey-brown eyes sparkling with deviltry.
“There’s not much to you, is there?” he teased.
“Well, I’m five-three, and it hasn’t hindered me so far.”
“You didn’t tell me what name you’ll put on the birth certificate as the father of your child, Amanda.” She was quiet for a long time before looking inquiringly at the man who sat before her, waiting patiently for this most important of answers. The answer that would determine her future. It was best to be honest.
“I want to put your name there, Marcus. Could you agree to that? It’s very important to me that my child be legitimate. When it’s old enough to understand, I’ll explain to her or him. But I won’t do it unless you agree.”
He studied her for a few seconds. She hadn’t made it a term of the contract, but had asked his permission. And instead of doing it surreptitiously, she had chosen to be open and honest about it. Marcus walked over to the window and stared out at the darkness. The eerie shapes of the big, stalwart pines barely moved in the gusty wind, but the little dogwoods—visible by their bright flowers—bowed low as though under a great burden. He couldn’t help likening the scene to his present dilemma. He had what he needed to withstand the rigors of life but, as small and vulnerable as she was, Amy could not protect herself. Only he could do that. What was one year of his life for the whole of Amy’s? He walked back to Amanda and extended his hand.
“All right, Amanda. If those are your terms, you’ve got a deal, and my name goes on the birth certificate. I don’t know how I’ll feel, though, knowing that there’s a child somewhere with my name and who thinks I’m its father, but to whom I give nothing. It’s never going to sit well with me, but I don’t suppose you’re crazy about the idea, either. Something for something, I suppose. But, honey, this is one tough bargain.” He’d have to tell her not to hope for more than a year; he didn’t see how he could push himself to accept it longer than that. Her face glowed with happiness, and he waved off her thanks. She had tried to make it as palatable as possible, he knew, but it still went against his grain and tied up his guts. Married! After all the promises he’d made to himself and God about tying himself to a woman. Still, it didn’t seem right to make her miserable just because he was. He tried to shake it off.
“Do I have the right to offer a little advice?” When she nodded, he continued. “For the sake of privacy, let’s see a lawyer in Elizabeth City. And I suggest that we get married there, too.” He looked at his watch. “Good Lord, I’ve got to go. I’m just about to miss the last train to Portsmouth.” Amanda glanced at her own watch.
“I don’t see how you can get to the station and on that train in eight minutes, not even if I drive you. So, suppose you stay over and try out your room tonight. Supper’s ready.”
“I hate to put you out, and I don’t want to eat up your meal.”
“Marcus, I’ve never eaten a whole chicken at one sitting in my life. There’s plenty. I made a fresh batch of buttermilk biscuits and there’s a pot of string beans.” It occurred to Marcus that he could stay with Jack and Myrna as he had done many times, but for reasons that he refused to examine, he dismissed the idea.
“What’s that over there?” He pointed to the pie.
“Apple pie.”
He loved home cooking, though he rarely got any. But just the thought of a home-baked apple pie could make him delirious. What was the point of polite pretense?
“You’re on. I love that stuff.”
He finished his third piece of pie and stretched lazily. “Happiness is having ‘a good bank account, a good cook and a good digestion.’ Two out of three’s not bad.” Amanda Ross turned sharply around and stared at the man who’d just eaten half of a roasting chicken, seven biscuits and more than half a pie. He leaned back, watching her. Had she thought he wouldn’t know anything except the way in which wires and hammers functioned on string instruments? From the look on her face, she hadn’t expected a housemate knowledgeable in literature, which he assumed was her specialty.
“I see you’ve been reading Rousseau.”
He smiled wickedly, enjoying her surprise. “And I see you’ve mixed up your metaphors.”
She got up and began to clear the table. “You’ve got many sides; we’ll get along.” Nodding in agreement, Marcus rose and took the plates from her.
“The one who cooks shouldn’t wash dishes. And we’ll do the housework and other chores together. You should have put that in the contract.” And he should have put it in a contract with Helena. She hadn’t done much more than sleep at home, not even after Amy’s birth. Oh, but she had punished him!
“It’s been my experience that one ought to look ahead and start the way one can finish. And that’s from Ross. Amanda Ross.”
“Yeah? Well ‘the only thing that experience teaches us is that experience teaches us nothing.’” He waited for her to identify the quote.
“Maurois, right?” He nodded. She showed him the washer and dryer so that he could wash his underwear, socks and shirt, gave him a large beach towel and bade him good-night.
For the first time since she had learned of her pregnancy, she didn’t dread going to bed. She would sleep. All still wasn’t right with the world, but the outlook was certainly improving.
Several days later, Amanda sat in Jacob Graham’s waiting room. The same painting hung facing her on the wall, and the simple red and gray furnishings hadn’t changed but, to her eyes, the old looked new and what had seemed dull now glowed. She stood when the doctor walked toward her.
“I hope you’ve got something good to tell me,” he said, draping an arm around her shoulder. “Come on in the examining room.” She told him about her agreement with Marcus.
“That’s the best solution for you two; I’m glad you worked it out by yourselves.” She explained about the health certificate she needed.
“All right, and while I’m at it, we’ll see how the baby is coming along. You’re in good shape,” he told her later and advised her to choose a gynecologist in Caution Point. As she left, he assured her, “You will never meet a finer man than Marcus Hickson. I hate to see him down on his luck this way, but I don’t doubt for a minute that he’ll snap back. If you need me, you know where I am.”
She skipped down the walkway to her car, picked up a green crab apple from the lawn and sent it sailing through the air. Turning, she waved to the doctor who stood in the doorway smiling, got in her car and drove off. She stopped at Caution’s Coffee Bean and ordered a chocolate shake from the lone waiter who nodded and asked whether she’d hit the lottery.
“Haven’t seen you this bright in a while now,” he said.
“Haven’t felt this bright,” she answered, smiling to herself. She walked out into the sunlight and looked up and down State Street for her friend Sam, the rag man, who’d been sweeping that street for as long as she could remember, but he was nowhere to be seen. She stopped by the Albemarle Kiddies Roost and bought a book on pregnancy and two on child care. At last, she could have the pleasure of planning for her baby.
Chapter 2
Four days later, in the presence of Jack and Myrna Culpepper, Lorrianne and Jacob Graham and Luke Hickson, Amanda married Marcus in the parsonage of the Mt. Pisgah Baptist Church in Elizabeth City. She had stamped her foot belligerently and made Marcus understand that, even if theirs wasn’t a real marriage, she would not repeat her vows before a Justice of the Peace. When he realized that she was not going to relent, he had conceded defeat and agreed, flashing his charismatic smile and shrugging as if to say, you win some and you lose some. He had also been elegant in an oxford-gray pinstriped suit, pale gray on gray shirt and yellow tie, and his lingering, appreciative look made her glad that she had splurged on a flattering Dior blue silk suit and matching hat. Her eyes misted when Marcus handed her a bouquet of six calla lilies just before the ceremony began; the flowers made it seem like a real, lovers’ wedding. But she noticed the glances that passed between the two brothers when she showed her pleasure and wondered which of them had thought of the flowers.
Two days after the ceremony, on the morning of Amy’s scheduled operation, Marcus stumbled into the kitchen. The rain pouring down in sheets, and a visibility of barely three feet failed to daunt him. He’d be soaked when he got to the hospital, but he wouldn’t think of complaining; Amy meant everything to him, and she would finally have a chance to be well again. He stopped abruptly at the kitchen door, hands on his hips and the surprise on his face unmasked. He hadn’t thought he’d find Amanda there, the table set for one and the odor of food permeating the room at six o’clock in the morning. And when she asked him to sit down and eat a meal of scrambled eggs, country sausage patties, home fries, hot buttermilk biscuits, orange juice and coffee, a feeling of discomfort pervaded him.
“Aren’t you eating?” he asked. He didn’t want to be treated like a husband. He wasn’t a husband; he was a man caught without options and paying a harsh penalty for it. He knew that she sensed his suddenly dark mood and that she even understood the reason for it. Though he tried to hide what he felt, her forced smile was evidence that he hadn’t succeeded. But what was he to do? He didn’t want to hurt her, but neither did he want this cozy husband-wife relationship with her. He didn’t even know her.
“I’d love to be able to eat that,” she said, apparently deciding that it would be she and not he who would set the tone of their relationship. “It’s what I usually have but, these mornings, crackers and club soda are as much as I can manage.”
In spite of himself a feeling of protectiveness toward her sprouted within him. “Bear with me, Amanda. My nerves are raw this morning, what with the operation and all.” Her refusal to take offense at his cool manner was as much punishment as he needed. He told himself he’d make it up to her.
“It’s pouring outside. I’ll drive you.” But as they reached the attached garage, she handed him the keys, and he took them without hesitation, all his battered ego needed right then was for her to drive while he sat beside her like an underaged kid. They drove to Caution Point General in silence, and he wondered whether he’d be able to endure the year ahead. Amanda parked, while he rushed in to comfort and reassure Amy before the doctors anesthetized her. A few minutes later, Amanda walked into the waiting room and sat down, giving him another surprise.
“I thought you’d gone home.”
“I couldn’t leave you here alone for hours, maybe all day, waiting for the outcome of the operation. I’m human, Marcus.” He looked at her through long, slightly lowered lashes. She was human, all right, and she had an old-fashioned mother instinct. Amy would fall in love with her and, when they separated, his child would be motherless again. But this time, she’d be old enough to feel the pain of separation. A sense of foreboding engulfed him. He didn’t want his child hurt because of the bargain he’d made with Amanda. But what choices did he have? He dropped his head into his hands; helplessness was foreign to him.
He had always prided himself in having the intelligence and the mother wit to anticipate and circumvent problems, and the mental stamina and physical strength to handle whatever caught him unaware. He had never shirked a responsibility nor dodged an obligation. And he knew how to be a friend. But it was quid pro quo with him and Amanda, and he didn’t want to be more obligated to her than he was. Like that breakfast this morning. He hadn’t had such a wonderful breakfast since he’d left his parents’ home more than a dozen years earlier. He didn’t know how he could stop Amanda from behaving like a wife without crushing her spirit, and he’d be less than a man if he added to the emotional battering under which she was struggling. But he couldn’t let Amy form an attachment to her. He knew Amy would need and love Amanda, because Amanda was lovable, and then they’d go their separate ways. Not on your life, he swore silently, as he tried to banish a persistent thought: You’re already going to miss her. Give her a year and see how you’ll feel. He stiffened. If his hunch was correct; keeping her own child out of old man Lamont’s clutches would be a full-time job, and that problem was bound to surface as soon as Amanda had her baby. He’d better be prepared for it.
In spite of her lack of experience with men, Amanda wasn’t so naive that she thought she could change Marcus or that he would look upon her as his salvation. He hated and resented that he had been forced to relinquish his personal freedom. She knew that, and she hardly blamed him. What she didn’t understand was why he wouldn’t try harder to make the best of it for both their sakes. Why wouldn’t he acknowledge that she was also a victim and that she might find their situation just as repulsive as he did?
She looked at the big clock hanging on the wall near the nurses’ station in clear view of the waiting room and shuddered. What a thoughtless reminder of passing time for anxious relatives and friends! One o’clock. They had been waiting for five hours, and barely a word had passed between them. Did he know she was there? She left the room just as Marcus buried his head in his arms.
“Marcus.” He looked up in response to her gentle touch. “I’ve brought us a little something to eat.”
“What time is it?” She told him, and watched helplessly as the color drained from his face.
“She’s so little. What could they be doing to her all this time?” Amanda risked draping an arm over his shoulder as she sat beside him and handed him a paper container of coffee.
He glanced up at her. “Thanks.” Encouraged, she passed him a ham sandwich. He bit into it.
“Have you been here all this time? Wouldn’t you think they’d have enough feeling to come out and tell me something? It’s my child in there.”
“Have faith, Marcus. You hired a team of the best physicians in the country. Isn’t it good that they’re taking their time and doing it right so she won’t have to go through this again? I know it’s tough, but it can’t be much longer.” As she spoke, she let her left hand move gently over his broad shoulders, circling and patting him, in an offering of support. He seemed barely aware of it. She talked on, keeping her voice very low and soft, trying to soothe him. It wasn’t difficult. He seemed to be hurting too badly to rebuff her tenderness and caring.
An hour and a half later, huddled together with Amanda’s left arm around Marcus and her right hand grasping his right forearm, they didn’t see Luke as he approached. “How’s it going? Any word, yet?”
Marcus shook his head. “They’re still with her.” He knew that Luke loved the child and was as glad as he that she would have the chance to be like other children again. He felt the comforting arm around him and settled into it, neither caring nor wondering why it was there. He needed it. No words passed between them until finally the doctor appeared, still wearing his surgical greens.
“We’ve done all that we can. The rest is up to God, the therapists and Amy.” Marcus didn’t want to hear that and, at his profane outburst, the doctor assured them that she would be as good as new if instructions were followed to the letter.
“May I see her? I just have to see that she’s all right.” The doctor’s assurance that she was all right, but asleep and in intensive care, didn’t satisfy him.
Marcus turned to Amanda. “I’m going to stay here until I see her. You go on home. And drive carefully. Ocean Avenue was very slippery this morning.”
Amanda didn’t want to leave Marcus, but she did as he asked when Luke promised her that he would remain with his brother. She shopped at the supermarket and had just turned into her lane when she saw a stray kitten, the worst for having been in the heavy morning downpour. Amanda didn’t like pets, because she thought that animals should be free. But she couldn’t bear to see a being suffer, so she took the kitten and her groceries in the house, dried the weak little animal, fed it and put it in a padded basket. She changed her clothes and started dinner, but the kitten cried until she gave it her attention. Marcus arrived several hours later with Luke to find her lounging in an oversized living room chair with her bare feet tucked under her trying to calm the little creature.
Luke paused in the doorway, as though fearing to intrude further; the sight of this adult woman lovingly stroking a kitten while singing it a lullaby, albeit out of tune had dumbfounded Marcus. Luke turned to his brother, intending to remark on the drollery of that bizarre little scene but, one look at him, and the words died unspoken in his throat. With her head bowed and her voice low and sultry, Amanda sang softly, slowly stroking the little cat. Marcus’ eyes sparkled rustic fire, his lips were slightly parted, his face open and filled with emotion. Luke knew that he had never before seen this Marcus, this man smoldering with desire. And he didn’t doubt that Marcus wanted to exchange places with that kitten. What a pity that Amanda didn’t see her husband’s face!
As if she sensed their presence, Amanda looked up, her eyes locking with Marcus’ heated gaze. Luke watched as she caught her breath and lowered her gaze, flustered; surely his brother must see that Amanda was vulnerable to him, aware of him as a man. He shook his head sadly; she was a tender, gentle woman, but would Marcus give up his cynicism and allow himself to see that? He didn’t hold out much hope for it.
Marcus stood rooted to the spot, speechless, remembering how she had held him, caressed and soothed him while he had waited in agony for news about Amy’s surgery. And ingrate that he was, he told himself, he had repaid all of her caring with rudeness. He hadn’t even wanted Luke to come home with him, hating to dignify his circumstances by sharing his temporary home with his brother.
“How is she?” Amanda’s obvious embarrassment as she managed to break the silence aroused his compassion.
“She recognized both of us.” Marcus banked the desire raging in him and tried to smile, but he was so shocked at his unexpected reaction to Amanda that he managed little more than a grimace. “She’s bandaged from her hips to her toes, and she’s heavily sedated, but the worst is over.” He walked slowly over to her. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For being there when I needed someone.”
She smiled. “You would have done the same for me.” She turned to his brother. “Luke, you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner. I cooked with you in mind.”
“No need for that; we’ll go out,” Marcus said, still unwilling to accept the place as his home and unable to hide his concern for his status there. He saw that Luke’s sympathies were with Amanda when his brother shook his head, and he could almost read Luke’s mind, could almost hear him saying for the nth time: “It’s time you let go of the past and stopped nursing the hatred and bitterness that you’ve wrapped yourself in ever since Helena betrayed you.” Well, I’m the one wearing these shoes, not Luke, he told himself.
Luke scowled fiercely at Marcus, then smiled at Amanda. “I’d love to stay for dinner, Amanda. I get enough of restaurants.” Marcus knew that Luke didn’t care how much he fumed; Luke took the commandment about justice and mercy seriously, even when it wasn’t in question.
“I want to find out what kind of cook my sister-in-law is.” Marcus wasn’t fooled by the remark; it had been intended to please Amanda and to put her at ease. If it made him furious, Luke didn’t mind. He watched Amanda put the kitten in the basket and start toward the kitchen. But when it was deprived of her body warmth, the little animal cried, and Amanda stooped to take it into her arms.
“When did you get a cat?” Marcus asked. He wasn’t fond of cats. More accurately, he disliked them. Amanda explained how she got it and that she planned to take it to a shelter on Monday. A picture of Amanda nursing her baby, coddling it and loving it flashed through his mind’s eye; that child was a lucky one. His Amy hadn’t had that kind of loving from her mother. Could he deny her the sweetness, the loving acceptance that Amanda would shower on her? He glanced at the woman he’d married and couldn’t believe that he hadn’t previously noticed her café au lait complexion and large wistful black eyes. Heart-stopping eyes. Cut it out, man, he admonished himself.
Amanda went on to the kitchen, through the long hallway and past the dining room, wondering why not having a cat around had pleased him so much. He didn’t want them to get too close; she was sure of that. But when he had needed her, she’d had a glimpse of the man without the veneer, without the antiwoman armor that he wore either naturally or for her benefit, she wasn’t sure which. A minute earlier, he’d silently told her that she was in some way special. He confused her. She sensed that Luke was different, more open. When she met him at her wedding, she knew at once that he was an easier, gentler man than his brother. A man with Marcus’ aura of danger but without his anger.
Luke looked around the living room, attempting to glean something of Amanda’s personality, while his brother paced the floor. Her taste in art appealed to him, because he, too, loved the paintings of John Biggers, Elizabeth Catlett and Jacob Lawrence, artists who dug deep into the black soul. Realizing that Marcus hadn’t placed anything of his own in the room because he’d probably decided that the arrangement was temporary and didn’t want to forget that, Luke faced him.
“I’ve got to talk to you.” He could see that Marcus wasn’t ready to give up the pain he felt because of his circumstances, that he found that pain enjoyable, like a balm for his wounded pride or a nice safe place to put his worries.
“It’s a free country,” Marcus told his brother.
“Lighten up, will you, Marcus? Don’t you realize that she’s doing everything she can to make life as pleasant as possible for the two of you? What do you think having to ask you to marry her in these circumstances and paying you to do it has done to her pride? You’re too old for this stubbornness. Can’t you see that you’ve gotten so used to having problems—pretty awful ones, I grant you—that you’ve closed your eyes to the truth. You have struck gold, man, but you don’t even recognize relief when you have it.” He moved to put an arm around his brother’s shoulder, but Marcus stepped away.
“You’re annoyed, but you’ll think about what I’ve said, because you’re a man of conscience and honor. You’ve been reliving Helena’s treachery and betrayal long enough.”
Luke didn’t wait for a reaction. He had already decided that he wanted to talk with Amanda, see what she was like. Even before meeting her, he’d been impressed with her refusal to let Marcus treat their marriage as though it was an incident of no special significance and with her request that they have a dignified ceremony. And after what he’d seen of her today, first with Marcus at the hospital and then with that kitten, he felt that he pretty much understood her, and he had a hunch that she could light up Marcus’ life.
Amanda flipped on the oven light and bent to check her pork roast. When she straightened, a wave of dizziness almost sent her sprawling, but Luke must have stepped into the kitchen just in time to see it. She felt his steadying hand.
