Baby Brother's Blues (12 page)

“Aasaw?”

“African American Students Against the War.”

“Right, right,” he said as they stepped out into the fall sunshine. It was warm enough in the daytime. The
hawk
only seemed to come out at night. “Slipped my mind for a minute.”

“There’s my friend,” Zora said, pointing to a young woman waving wildly in their direction. Homeland security in the nation’s capital required cars around the station to keep moving and a frowning D.C. police officer was heading in her direction. They hurried over and Zora’s friend popped the trunk so Baby Brother could toss the bag in.

“Hey, my sister!” said her friend, giving Zora a quick hug and eyeballing the young soldier who was accompanying her.

“Hey, Rita,” Zora said. “This is my friend Wes.”

“The more the merrier,” Rita said. “Hop in.”

“He’s not coming with us,” Zora said quickly. “We just had coffee.”

“Maybe I’ll see you later,” Baby Brother said, wondering if it would be acceptable for him to kiss her in a friendly sort of promissory way.

“I’d like that,” Zora said, leaning up to brush her lips lightly across his cheek before she jumped in the car beside Rita. “Take care of yourself.”

Baby Brother grinned, and ran his fingers across his face where her lips had touched him. “Count on it.”

19

A
bbie was a fast walker. In excellent shape, she liked to move quickly enough to get her heart pumping merrily along like it belonged to a woman twenty years younger, although she didn’t care anything about
looking
like she was twenty years younger. She wanted to look like who she was—a healthy, vigorous, sexually vibrant woman of almost sixty who was on the verge of taking a lover. Well, she thought, maybe a little further along than
on the verge. In the midst of
was probably a better description.

Being a man, Peachy had assumed that when Abbie suggested it might be time for them to have sex, she meant sometime within the next few hours. Over dinner, she had explained to him that she thought it would be better if they waited until she came back in two months for the harvest moon. The disappointment on his face at this suggestion was so comically tragic that for a moment, she almost reconsidered and led him upstairs to bed for a night of spontaneity and improvisation. But that would have been careless. It was trusting spontaneity that had gotten her into trouble the last time she had sex.

At this point in her life, Abbie knew miscommunication was a recipe for sexual disaster, but only if she didn’t speak to Peachy honestly. Only if she didn’t introduce him to her body with the loving care it deserved and then meet his with the same tenderness and willingness to laugh at the changes age always brings. After fifty, she knew, a sense of humor was as vital to good sex as privacy and a good mattress.

One of the things Abbie liked most of Peachy was his laugh. It was big and loud and rowdy enough to draw the startled gaze of those who heard it break out in restaurants where most people contented themselves with a discreet chuckle or two. She wanted to hear Peachy laugh
naked.
Just the thought made her smile. She was glad she had invited him back for breakfast.

The sun had broken through the morning clouds as she walked and the sky had gone from gray to brilliant blue. Abbie stopped to watch a tardy shrimp boat chugging up from the Savannah River channel and out to where the early risers were already hauling in the first catch of the day. The swoop and cry of the gulls over the gentle breaking of the waves made her heart almost ache at the beauty of the scene. She considered days like this gifts from a universe so bountiful with blessings that it could create these moments without requiring anything at all in return.

“Thank you,” Abbie was saying out loud to whatever spirits might be listening. “Thank you.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” Peachy’s voice said behind her, “but I haven’t done anything yet.”

Turning to find him standing there with a smile on his face and a piece of driftwood in his hand like a walking stick, she laughed. “Good morning! I didn’t hear you come up.”

“I’m surprised you couldn’t hear me huffing and puffing for the last half mile.”

“Your knee again?”

He grimaced slightly. “I guess I can cancel the NBA as a second career option.”

She smiled. “Were they under consideration?”

“The only thing under consideration is you, sweet thing,” he said, smiling back. “Why else would I be walking my half-crippled ass this far down the beach?”

“You ready to head back?”

“I’m not sure I can keep up with your pace.”

“I’ll slow down for you,” she said, linking her arm through his.

“Sure you don’t mind?”

“Not a bit.”

They fell into an unhurried stroll that didn’t tax Peachy’s knee. The sun on Abbie’s face felt wonderful and she squeezed his arm a little tighter.

His elbow pressed gently against her breast. “You smell good.”

“Patchouli.”

He nodded. “I know. The other day, I stopped into a candle shop in town and they were burning some patchouli incense. The place was full of the smell of it and I had to leave or risk having a physical reaction that a gentleman tries to control in public so as not to frighten women and children.”

“You mean you—?”

He nodded, grinning at her blush.

How long had it been,
Abbie wondered,
that just the memory of her smell had given a man an inappropriate erection?

“You better be careful.” She laughed. “You’ll be banned from the island for lewd behavior.”

“I’ve got a head full of lewd behavior,” he said, “but don’t worry. I’m saving it all for you!”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“When we…” She suddenly felt shy as a schoolgirl. “When we
make love,
don’t do anything that doesn’t feel good. If your knee hurts, just tell me and we’ll work around it.”

He was so happy that she had said “make love” he forgot the throbbing in his knee for a second. “It’s a deal.”

“And I’ll do the same,” she said. “If it doesn’t feel good, I’ll let you know.”

“I do have some experience with that,” he said, a look she couldn’t identify flickering across his face. “When Lillie was sick, sometimes she still wanted us to be…
close.
”

Peachy was searching for the right words.

“Tell me,” Abbie said softly. “It’s okay.”

“I wanted her so much, but I was afraid I might hurt her,” Peachy said, looking out at the whitecapped waves sparkling in the sunshine. “So I didn’t want to, but she told me she’d let me know if it didn’t feel good, so I didn’t need to worry about it.” He turned back to Abbie. “Is that what you mean?”

She nodded. “Yes, that’s what I mean, but you know what?”

“What?”

She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “I’m not sick. I’m just sixty, and that’s another thing all together.”

As if to prove it, she stepped away from him, gave herself a running start, and did a perfectly executed cartwheel right there at the edge of the ocean. She ended with a big grin and outstretched arms like she was captain of the cheerleading squad and her team had just scored the winning touchdown. He was so surprised and delighted, all he could do was throw back his head and laugh in that loud, rowdy way that always made her laugh, too.

On the upper balcony of his beach house, Blue Hamilton lowered his binoculars and looked at his wife, who was staring in the same direction. “Did Miss Abbie just do a cartwheel?”

“Yes, I think she did,” Regina said, amazed. They had just arrived from Atlanta to surprise Abbie and Peachy with their baby news. Finding the house empty, they had gone outside to scan the beach.

“You don’t think she read our minds, do you?”

It was an ability Abbie shared with Blue, but Regina shook her head and grinned at her husband. “No, sweetie,” she said, waving as Abbie and Peachy headed in their direction, walking arm in arm. “I don’t think that cartwheel had a thing to do with us.”

20

P
recious Hargrove and Lee Kilgore were two of a kind. Smart and ambitious, they radiated the kind of confidence that comes with being at the top of your game and having enough sense to know it. Sitting in her large, light-filled office at Mandeville Maids, where she had served for the last two years as president and CEO, Precious was listening closely to Captain Kilgore. The two women knew each other only slightly, and this was the longest conversation they’d ever had.

Precious Hargrove’s political ambitions were no secret to Lee or to anyone else in Atlanta who had been paying any attention at all. Precious had entered the arena as a young single mother, passionately indignant about the deterioration of her West End neighborhood. With no political experience but an abundance of energy, sincerity, and intelligence, she was able to handily defeat the incumbent and take a seat in the state legislature the day before her twenty-fifth birthday. At the swearing in, her son, Kwame, only seven years old, was proudly wearing his first dark suit and a tie he had learned to knot all by himself in honor of the occasion.

Since that first victory, Precious had worked tirelessly on behalf of her constituents. She had spearheaded efforts around the state on behalf of women and children and cosponsored a statewide voter registration drive with SonShine Enterprises that had signed up and energized over one hundred thousand new voters. Just two years earlier, speculation was high that when the popular Democratic governor finished his second term, Precious would run with his blessings and the full support of the party and its formidable statewide machine.

But then the national political winds changed and blew through Georgia with enough force to blow the Democrats out of control at the statehouse for the first time since Reconstruction and Precious had to be realistic. Her statewide plans were definitely over. She knew she was standing at a crossroads.
Was being a state senator from West End as far as she could go politically?
It was time to regroup and weigh her options. The opportunity to step in and run Mandeville Maids after its founder was sent to jail for her involvement in a multistate prostitution ring came at the perfect time. When Blue Hamilton joined the chorus of voices asking her to take the job for two years until the company could find a new chief operating officer, she agreed to do it.

Although his complicated position in the community often required that Blue play a less than public role in her political life, she considered him not only a friend but an adviser who had never steered her wrong. Of course, she knew the stories about Blue Hamilton having inhabited previous lives before he showed up this time around in Atlanta. One tale made him the leader of a far-flung empire who’d ruled with a just but unwavering hand. Another made him a Roaring Twenties gangster who’d been shot dead in the streets of Harlem. Another said he’d been a pirate, and the stories went on and on.

Even after almost twenty years of friendship, she still didn’t know whether she believed any of the stories about Blue, and she still didn’t have the nerve to ask him to explain. All she knew was that his political instincts were impeccable. She trusted him absolutely. Based on his advice, she’d stopped worrying about being the governor, and thrown herself into the daunting task of rebuilding Mandeville Maids.

She carefully reassured the company’s regular customers that their high level of service wouldn’t change and expanded employee benefits to include free, on-site day care. She instituted a package deal for busy young professionals that included cooking and cleaning at one low price and organized her workers into teams that allowed them more independence and greater productivity. It was an ambitious plan of attack, but Precious knew she had to make immediate changes that everyone could see if the business was going to survive. If it didn’t, a thousand women would be out of work.

Precious had never worked harder. In fact, she barely had time to respond to the barrage of calls she got when Councilman Buford Long, the ambitious front-runner in the upcoming mayor’s race, was named in a federal indictment for influence peddling and money laundering. The news did not take her by surprise. She had received a call from Blue the night before it hit the papers. He already knew about the indictment, although he didn’t say how and she didn’t ask him. When he inquired about her plans in the face of this latest development, she didn’t hesitate.

“I intend to run,” she said immediately.

“I hoped you’d say that,” Blue said. “If you need my help, let me know.”

“I always need your help. This doesn’t change that.”

“Just remember that when you get to city hall.”

“Do you really think I can win?”

“If I didn’t, I’d be talking to whoever I thought could beat you.”

She laughed, but she knew he wasn’t kidding. “Then I count myself lucky.”

“Me, too,” Blue said. “We’ve been working together a long time.”

“Ever since I asked you to contribute to the uniforms for Kwame’s baseball team.”

“Is that how you remember it?” Blue’s voice was amused. “I remember you strong-arming me out of a sizable chunk of real estate for the field, and an equally sizable chunk of money for the uniforms and equipment they needed.”

She laughed. “Well, I’m in your debt for always being there when I need you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “You just keep doing what you’re doing, and so will I.”

That wasn’t hard. Precious had enjoyed the challenge of Mandeville Maids, but politics was where her heart was. She didn’t know for sure yet, but she thought that was probably where Captain Lee Kilgore’s heart was, too. The idea Lee wanted to discuss was a good one. She was trying to find funds for a pilot program to staff a police precinct entirely with female officers, specifically trained in domestic violence prevention and counseling. The idea was that a woman already victimized by male violence might be further traumatized by having to call on other men she didn’t even know for protection. An all-female precinct would eliminate the problem. Lee was hoping to open discussions with Precious about the possibility that Mandeville Maids could partner with the police department to create the first-ever
peace precinct.

“It’s a totally different approach,” Lee was saying, “but I think that’s the strength of it. We’ve tried everything else we can think of and the rate and severity of domestic violence are still rising.”

Precious nodded. “We’re getting more and more women showing up for work with black eyes or split lips. Things seemed to have calmed down last year, but now it’s worse than it was before.”

“Any of their guys veterans?”

Precious frowned, trying to recall the details about the men the victimized women were still going home to at the end of every working day. “I don’t know. Why?”

“We’re seeing a lot more problems with returning vets,” Lee said. “There’s not enough reentry counseling for them, almost nothing for their families, and they really need it.”

Picking up a pen, Precious wrote the words
reentry counseling
on her yellow legal pad.

Lee smiled and reached into her slim, brown leather briefcase and pulled out a large envelope with
Peace Precinct: Confidential
printed discreetly on its left-hand corner. “You don’t need to do that. I’ve pulled together some material for you to take a look at. It’s all here.”

Precious smiled and reached for the packet, recognizing someone who was as careful as she herself was about preparation.

“It would mean a lot to the success of the project if we could get you on board early,” Lee said.

“It’s an exciting idea,” Precious said. “We have over a thousand female employees, as you know, and domestic violence is always an area where we’re looking to do more. I’ll take a look at your proposal and let you know if I see a place for our involvement.”

“Thank you,” Lee said, but she hesitated slightly.

“Was there something else?”

“There is one more thing,” Lee said, choosing her words carefully. “I appreciate your time and I don’t want to overstay my welcome, but may I have your permission to speak frankly on another issue that we haven’t discussed?”

“Of course,” Precious said.

“Senator Hargrove, I’m sure you know there is a great deal of speculation that you’re going to run for the top spot. I’m not asking you to confirm or deny it. I know that kind of announcement has to be made carefully and in its own time.”

Precious smiled.

“I just want you to know that if you do decide to run, I’d be honored to assist you in matters of public safety as well as personal security.”

“I appreciate your offer,” Precious said, and she meant it. If she was going to run for mayor, the police department was going to be a major challenge. Captain Kilgore would be a valuable addition to her team, and they both knew it. “And I’ll be making a decision real soon.”

“Well, I hope you decide in the affirmative,” Lee said, standing up as she gathered her things to go. “I was really disappointed for you that the governor’s race didn’t work out, but it’s like the old folks used to say.”

Precious stood up, too, waiting for the punch line. According to how often we quoted them, she thought, the old folks spent so much time spouting wisdom, it was amazing they ever got any work done.

“The Lord never closes a door without opening a window,” Lee said, holding out a hand to shake the one Precious offered.

“Amen to that,” Precious said. “I’ll be in touch.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Precious closed the door behind Lee and went over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that allowed her to look down from her sixth-floor suite into the building’s airy, plant-filled atrium. The colorful stained-glass dome above her was a constantly changing light show against the white walls. When she first started working here, she had been amazed that so many people hurried through the space every day without ever stopping long enough to notice the rainbows all around them.

As Precious stood there, admiring the building’s beautifully restored architecture, Captain Kilgore emerged from the elevators and started across the atrium’s marble floor toward the front door. Unaware that she was being observed, she stopped suddenly and gazed slowly up to where the sunshine was working its daily show. From where Precious stood in her office window, she could see Lee tilt her head back to enjoy the full view and then, with a brief private smile of appreciation, continue on her way.

Maybe there was something to that open-window thing, Precious thought. She couldn’t wait to tell Kwame what had just blown in.