The House on Persimmon Road (19 page)

“You’re right,” he said, breath shallow. He kissed her. When his mouth covered hers, he had to fight the giddiness that swept over him.

Justine forgot about being sane and sensible, forgot that she had vowed never to get involved again.

The waitress breezed past the dance floor holding up a tray. “Hey, Tucker, food’s up.”

—  •  —

On the ride home Justine felt apprehension rising in her once again, especially apprehension about the note on which their evening would end. Over the hamburgers and fries, which were the best she had ever eaten and had not done justice to, they had talked of everything under the sun: clothes and people and food, the new morality sweeping across the country, his job, her work, his dad, her parents, senior citizens, young people, street people, fishing, hunting and gardening. Words had seemed to just rush back and forth of their own accord. Yet beneath the conversation sexual vibes were zinging back and forth like a Ping-Pong ball. Justine felt the vibes and she knew Tucker did, too.

But the sensations had not stopped her from confiding in Tucker as if he were a long-lost best friend. He had sympathized and encouraged, and all the while her feelings for him deepened. She discovered he was compassionate, stubborn, arrogant, witty, and fun. Best of all he never seemed to take his eyes from her, as if he couldn’t get enough of looking at her, or of touching her. It had been easy to reciprocate, yet she couldn’t see how they might manage to end up a couple.

For her, simply keeping afloat from month to month was a major accomplishment. Looking down the long road, theirs would be an impossible household. No sane man would consider it. And the idea of having an affair scared her to death. Fantasizing was one thing, but actually getting undressed? Safe Sex? Discussing condoms? Stretch marks! It was out of the question.

She wanted someone to relax with, to laugh with, to love, and pleasantness, if that made sense. Or perhaps she was hungry for all the small courtesies of marriage. Tucker, she learned, was very good at small courtesies.

The lights from the dash cast an eerie glow upon his features. He was as deep in contemplation as she had just been. She touched his arm, felt her fingertip burn. “What are thoughts going for these days? Still a penny?”

“You’d have to pay through the nose for the ones I’m having right now.”

“Give me a hint.”

A smile played at the edge of his mouth. “I’m wondering how in hell I can give you a good-night kiss, deposit you on your front porch, and then walk away like the nice guy I am.” He glanced at her, his sexy smile widening before he turned to face the road again. “The animal in me is warring with my good intentions. The animal wants to drive up to my own front door, carry you upstairs, and have its way with you. Does that give you a penny’s worth?”

“I think,” Justine said carefully, “I’ve just bought more than I bargained for.”

He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “I like a woman who places a high premium on certain things.”

The sweep of his mustache on the palm of her hand sent a lovely tingle down Justine’s spine. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just warning you to save up your pennies. There’ll come a time when you’ll want to spend them. I promise to give value for value.”

“You’re driving on the wrong side of the road, Tucker.”

“Cripes!”

Euphoria got the best of Justine. She extended her arm across his shoulder then let her fingers trail up his strong corded neck. “I like you.”

He took a deep breath. Like! That was small change compared to what was going on inside of him. He felt slightly dizzy from her perfume; interior warmth squeezed through his chest and belly. He’d been too long without a woman, and the thought of yet another cold shower to dispel the heat made him say a bit too sharply, “Well, that’s a start.”

Piqued, Justine drew her arm back, ready to challenge his words, but realized she didn’t know which direction the challenge should take—start or finish. She had just wanted him to say that he liked her, too. But of course, he’d already made himself plain. He was beyond the beginning. It was she who was the laggard. But she had to be! One of them had to be practical.

He turned into her drive and the headlight beams illuminated a disconsolate trio sitting on the porch steps. Justine’s heart leaped into her throat.

“Something’s wrong!” she cried and exited the truck before Tucker could even bring it to a full stop.

Chapter Eleven

“Where’s Mother?” Justine asked. “What’s happened?”

“We thought you’d never get home, Mom.” Pip was no longer the swaggering preteen, only a very relieved youngster.

“Grandma Gates is crying,” said Judy Ann, sniffling herself. “She’s been crying almost since you left and hasn’t stopped.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” said Agnes, rising painfully to her feet. “Pauline locked herself in her room,” she explained. “We couldn’t coax her out.”

Justine sagged against a porch pillar. She looked from the three pinched faces to Tucker, as he took the steps two at a time.

“What’s the problem?”

“Histrionics, I think.” Justine knew that she had to shelve all thoughts of continuing the evening. Tucker might as well know her priorities now. Her hand fluttered toward him. “I’m afraid we’ll have to say good-night.” She tried to sound casual, but disappointment overrode her tone. “I had a wonderful time.”

His expression exuded a disappointment as strong as her own. “Can I help?” he asked, adding hopefully, “I don’t mind waiting.”

“I don’t think you’d better.”

Tucker shrugged. Outside of pleading with her, the only option she gave him was to bow out. “If you need me…”

Her heart and soul were in her smile. “I know where you live.” She touched his arm. “You’re good company, Tucker. More—” She stopped, mindful of her audience.

He cleared his throat, turned, and clamped a hand on Pip’s shoulder. “Listen, sport, you want to drive with me to pick up my dad in the morning?”

“Sure! Can I, Mom?”

“He won’t be in your way?”

“Not a bit.” Tucker’s gaze lingered on her hungrily for a moment, then he spun off the porch while murmuring goodnight.

Justine suddenly felt empty of all emotion. She ushered her clan into the house. “Okay,” she asked wearily, “What started it?”

“I made meat loaf for dinner like you said,” Agnes replied. “The lid to the pepper shaker came off in Pauline’s hand. She put it down calm as you please. Then she burst into tears, got up from the table, and ran into her room. She’s been there ever since. Nobody
said
anything.”

“I told her I’d be her best girl, but she wouldn’t talk to me,” said Judy Ann. “She said for me to get away from her door.”

“It’s been a terrible evening,” added Agnes. “Pauline isn’t stable. She scared the children.”

A myriad of feelings swept through Justine—anger, remorse, love, hate. She wanted to sidestep a confrontation, curl up in her bed, and let her imagination run wild with thoughts of Tucker. But it would seem that even dreams were to be denied her. The unfairness of it all swamped her and it took her a moment to harness the flood.

“All of you go to bed, quietly now,” she said finally. “I’ll deal with your grandmother. Shoo. You, too, Agnes. Tuck Judy Ann in for me, why don’t you?”

Once alone in the hall, Justine pressed her ear to Pauline’s door. She could hear her mother’s sniffling. Tea, she thought, and went to make it. When she had it brewed and the tray ready, she tapped on Pauline’s door.

“Mother? It’s me. I’m home and I’ve made us a pot of tea.”

“I don’t want tea. Go away.”

“Don’t you want to hear how my date with Tucker went?” She waited. Nothing. “Mother, I’m not budging.” She used the no-nonsense voice she bestowed on the children when they were being stubborn. “I’ll stand out here and bang on your door all night if I have to.”

A moment later there came the sound of scuffling, a chair being moved away from the door. Pauline tugged the door open. Her eyes were puffed and watery; her bed was a sea of used tissues.

Without meeting her daughter’s eyes she turned back and sat in the center of the bed.

Justine set the tray on the Pembroke table that served as a nightstand. She poured the tea, took a cup for herself, and curled up leaning back against the carved bedpost, gathering strength for what lay ahead.

“I had a wonderful time with Tucker,” she said and her mother’s head jerked in Justine’s direction. “Now, what are you so distressed about?”

Pauline buried her face in her hands and began to sob again. “It was the pepper…”

“So the lid came off,” Justine said gently. “Mother, that’s not anything to cry about.”

Pauline wiped her nose. “You don’t understand. The last meal I shared with your father was steak au poivre. When he made that noise in his throat, I thought, ‘Cook’s used too much pepper’… and then…and then—” She took a deep breath “—Evan just…slumped.”

Justine set aside the tea and moved to put her arms around her mother. “Oh, Mom, I know it’s been hard on you. I miss Dad, too.”’

Pauline hiccupped. “I’m so angry with him, Justine. The same way you’re angry at Philip for leaving you. I feel abandoned and so
helpless
! First your father, then the house, the furnishings—I’ve misplaced my gray silk dress and now my last pair of silk stockings—all lost! Everything! I have nothing.”

“You have yourself, me, your grandchildren. We’re here for you. Even Agnes is here for you.” Justine realized the assurances were almost word for word those she had urged upon Mother Hale weeks earlier. “Things will work out. And you probably forgot your dress at the cleaners. Send them a note.”

“It’s more than that. I know it wasn’t your father’s fault the market collapsed, or that a blood vessel burst in his brain before he could recoup all of his losses, but what am I going to do? What are we going to do? We’ve both been forsaken.”

Justine opened her mother’s hand and pressed the teacup into it. “Philip’s gone and Dad’s gone. Dad had no choice. Philip did. They were our anchors and we’ve been cut loose. We feel adrift. Let’s accept that. We can’t undo what’s done. We have to learn to anchor ourselves to life, not depend entirely on anyone else. We’re going to keep on doing the best we can. You’re doing fine, Mother. Learning to drive and cook, helping with Pip and Judy Ann. I’m proud of you.”

Pauline’s eyes widened. “You are? You don’t think I’m just a silly old twit?”

“Of course I don’t. You’re just a little rusty on how to use your smarts. You’re adjusting fast.”

Pauline took a long draught of tea. “Your father was proud of me, too, but now I think it was for the wrong reasons. He appreciated that I was an extension of him. I see that now. But I liked it, I went along with it. He provided so much.”

“And he would’ve kept on providing. He wouldn’t have copped out like Philip.”

“No, I’m sure he wouldn’t. I guess life just conspired against him. You really think I’m learning to be my own person?”

“I believe it with all my heart.”

Pauline glowed. “I feel so much better. You’re a good daughter, Justine.”

“Why don’t you get some sleep?”

Her mother hesitated. “From all I’ve read, appearances are so important. I do so want to look nice when I go for interviews, dear. I don’t suppose you’d consider ordering me some stockings from Harrods?”

Justine gave a small laugh. “You supposed right. But I do have an extra pair or two of panty hose you can have. But, this is the South. It’s too hot for hose.”

“Oh, but what shall I do with all of my garter belts?”

“Burn them! You’re going to be a modern Millie now.” Pauline’s face fell. “So much left behind…”

“We’re on our own, Mother. Financially, emotionally. Garter belts are the least of our worries. We’ll do fine. I know we will.”

Justine looked about the room. It was a hodge-podge of expensive bibelots, curios that Pauline could not bear to part with. “You know, I bet you could raise some cash if you’d put some of this stuff up for sale— that Tiffany lamp, for instance, and those ivory whatnots.” Pauline looked stricken. Justine retreated. “Well, there’s no harm in considering it.”

Justine took a last sip of tea and replaced the delicate china cup on the tray. Pauline grabbed her hand.

“You’re not going off to bed now?”

“I am. I’m tired.”

“Your evening with Tucker went well, you say?”

“It was magnificent.”

Pauline cleared her throat, a sure sign an unwarranted curiosity was on the rise. “Did the two of you…you know—”

“We ate, we danced, we talked,” Justine said firmly, but Pauline’s emotions were splintered and she didn’t catch the warning.

“You will discuss safe sex with him, won’t you, dear, before—“

Justine’s face flamed. “Mother, for heaven’s sake. Don’t put me in bed with a man I hardly know.”

“Well, I was remiss in my parental duties once. And I distinctly recall that you said you’d known Philip only hours when you… You do have a tendency to make up your mind on the instant, Justine. I don’t want you to make the same mistake twice.”

“Neither do I!”

“I don’t think you will. Not with Tucker. There’s more to that man than meets the eye.”

Suddenly animated, Pauline shook the bedspread. Tissues went flying. Then she turned back the linen, crawled between the sheets, and smiled beatifically at her daughter.

“Mother, do you know something about him that I don’t?”

Pauline ignored the probe, fearing she might have overstepped boundaries, if not her daughter’s, then Tucker’s. “I have great faith in you, Justine. Great faith. You’re right, misplacing a dress or a pair of stockings is mere bagatelle compared to what I can do, if only I try. Now I almost have as much faith in myself as you do.” From beneath her pillows she drew out a jar of astringent-soaked eye pads. “Get the lights, will you, dear? I think I can sleep now.”

In her own room, in the soft glow of the night-light, Justine’s bed loomed like a hole full of infinite nothingness. She threw herself across it and moaned.

Why was it, she wondered, that she couldn’t be blessed with a single day without problems? Why couldn’t she find the easy happiness others had? All she had ever wanted in life was to find her soul mate, someone to share her life with.