Echoes of a Distant Summer (53 page)

Although she felt as if she had been stabbed and choked, on the surface she was unfazed. Serena’s backbone was made of steel. It would not let her crumple, or let her surrender to her desire to scream. She put one foot in front of the other. And kept walking. Her heart and mind had been sent through the fan blades of a wind tunnel. Her feelings and thoughts were shredded and in confusion like swirling confetti caught in a dust devil. She felt strangely unstable, as if Della had somehow knocked down a vital pillar in the structure of her life. Serena had never realized the level of animosity her siblings harbored against her. The
mere knowledge of it caused pains to go shooting across her forehead and chest. She was starting to have difficulty getting a deep breath.

“Aunt Serena! Aunt Serena! Wait up, Aunt Serena!”

Serena turned and saw one of Della’s daughters hurrying toward her. Immediately, Serena began to straighten her clothes and compose her expression. She wouldn’t let anyone see her broken.

“Aunt Serena, I’m so glad I caught up with you.” A plump, light-brown-skinned face smiled and a white-gloved hand shot out. “I’m Tini, the younger sister. Rebecca and I are so sorry about what happened. All we can say is that Mother has been under some considerable strain lately, Father having died last year and all. It’s been a tough time for her, but I’ve never seen her react like that. She just wasn’t herself today. I hope you’ll forgive her.”

“I was mortified by her outburst!” Serena said sadly as she started walking again. Tini fell in step with her as Serena continued, “We haven’t talked for so many years. I thought this would be a good opportunity to patch things up.”

“Maybe it’s still not too late,” Tini replied. “If you’re going to be in town for a few days maybe Rebecca and I can work something out with Mama for some private time. Where are you staying?”

“The Hilton downtown.”

“Do you have a car? May I give you a ride back to the hotel?”

“That would be very kind of you, if you would, please. I took a cab out here from town.”

“It would be my pleasure. I’d be happy to help. Uncle King has been so good to us, we’re in debt to you, Aunt Serena. All you have to do is ask.”

“I beg your pardon? You know King? King Tremain?”

“Oh, yes, he used to come and visit Uncle Amos a lot. He was the one who donated the money to start Uncle Amos’s music school. Back when Rebecca and I were little, we’d see him a couple of times a year, always bringing gifts and treats for us kids. And you know, of course, that he paid the total freight for Rebecca and my board and education at Spelman.”

More astonishing news. Serena was speechless. She concentrated on keeping her balance and moving her feet. So, King had kept up the communication with her family and never told her. Irony of ironies: Della’s daughters knew him, but not their blood aunt. Regret washed
over her; nearly fifty years of silence and all she had to show for it was that she was a stranger in her own family. How had it happened? How had Della come to hate her? Serena mused out loud, “I don’t know why Della said such things to me. She has two beautiful daughters and you look so much like your mother and grandmother too. I just don’t understand.”

Tini explained, “I’m sure it all had to do with the terrible miscarriages that she had before we came along which prevented her from having children of her own. She always gets very emotional about that. I remember once—”

“What did you say?” Serena demanded. Her face paled. She was reeling on the edge of an abyss. “What did you say?”

“About Mama’s miscarriages?” Tini asked, her face filled with innocent concern. Had she been looking, Tini might have seen the terrible, intense look of Serena’s face and halted herself, but she didn’t so she continued on blithely, “The miscarriages were horrible. From what I understand they nearly drove Mama mad. She used to say that the only thing that kept her sane was me and Rebecca entering her life. I guess that’s why she and Papa adopted us.”

“You’re—you’re adopted? But-but-but you loo-look like …” Serena did not finish. She saw clearly now, there was no escape. Sister Bornais had not made a mistake. She now had no doubts that King was also right. He would be her escort as she descended into hell. For the first time, Serena shouldered the full weight of her actions and it was almost too much to bear. Her vision began to grow dark. She stumbled. All she remembered was that she had slipped over the edge and was falling into the abyss. She saw the sky and realized that she was actually falling over backward, then blackness.

E
lizabeth hung her work suit in the closet and then checked the fit of her jeans over her behind in the mirror. They weren’t too tight … yet. Despite all her recent trial work and long hours spent developing
her case strategy, she was still holding shape. She turned to face the mirror and checked the tightness of the waistband. Not so good. She had to get out and run some miles pretty soon or she would begin to have midriff bulge. Sit-ups alone weren’t enough. It was hard enough being a consistent shark in the courtroom while maintaining a caseload of serious felonies, including murder one, but it became a superhuman effort when she tried to keep all the elements of her feminine guile up as well. She adjusted the barrette that held her thin braids on top of her head. She thought if white women had hair like black women, the Western world would be different. On humid and rainy days concerts and theater activities would be canceled and restaurants wouldn’t be open. She looked at her watch: Jackson was due in ten minutes, at six o’clock. She went into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of Chardonnay.

The thought of Jackson coming over made her heart flutter. Elizabeth took a quick look around her apartment to ensure everything was in order. She stood still for a moment and composed herself. She was not one to rush into things. She was thirty-four and had never been married. She had been waiting for the right man to come along and she would not be hurried. Many an impatient man had walked away because she would not be intimate before she was ready. There were no such obstacles with Jackson. He was the right man and every fiber of her being confirmed that decision. She had never enjoyed herself so much with anyone. Just thinking about the way he cocked his right eyebrow when he looked quizzical made her smile. There was a harmony between them that preempted conversation.

The right man had finally appeared, but not without grave complications. She was by law an officer of the court and a representative of law enforcement. She had signed an oath that she would uphold the laws and the Constitution of the United States and the state of California and she took the oath seriously. There had been occasions when she had crossed the line, but they had all been minor infractions. Jackson had admitted to her that he had killed, and that posed a real problem for her. She had spent a good part of her adult life apprehending and prosecuting people charged with attempting and committing violent crimes. What was she going to do? Murder was not something that could be overlooked. Was she just going to say good-bye to this man? A man to whom she was ready to give her heart? Should she risk everything?
And what if it didn’t work out between them? Would she still be able to go back to being a DA? Her heart told her one thing, but her mind said another.

The truth was that she was becoming pretty disenchanted with prosecution work. Her caseload was unending and required that she consistently put in long hours to stay current, but that wasn’t the principal problem. The most troubling reality about her job was that the vast majority of the people she was sending to jail were men of color, men who had not had the same advantages in their youth as she and her white colleagues. Other than the drug dealers and the pimps, most of the men were poor, uneducated, and possessed no means of joining the mainstream. It wasn’t that these men didn’t deserve jail time for their crimes, but jail taught them nothing except how to become lower animals. What to do? Should she give up being a district attorney? Eight years of work in the wrong career direction? She was in line for the next chief position in the DA’s office. There were no easy answers.

The doorbell rang. Elizabeth made final adjustments to her appearance in front of the hallway mirror before opening the door. Jackson stood there with a bottle of wine and a bunch of calla lilies. “Are those for me?” she asked, indicating the flowers with a nod of her head as she opened the door wider.

Jackson pressed past her and replied, “Of course. There’s no one else I’d rather give them to.”

He took a seat at the kitchen counter while she went behind it and squatted down to find a vase under the sink. Jackson leaned over the counter and said, “I thought about what you said last night after I left and I want you to know that if I could turn my back on this conflict, if I could walk away, I would do that to be with you. Even if it meant losing my grandfather’s fortune.”

Elizabeth looked up at him and there was a smile on her face as she said, “Well, I like that. I like that a lot.” Her smile slowly vanished and was replaced by a serious expression. She continued, “You’ve come along at a very confusing time. I don’t have a road map here like I’ve had in the earlier years of my life. But I am sure of some things. I don’t want any part of a gang war and I don’t want to be involved with anyone who commits violent felonies.” She pulled out a vase and stood to arrange the lilies in it.

Jackson reached out and touched her, his hand caressing her cheek.
“I want to be a law-abiding citizen. Tell me how to escape this situation. Help me find a solution that doesn’t have me looking over my shoulder.”

Elizabeth took his hand in hers and studied him with her large brown eyes. “You could leave and go somewhere else. Use a different name.”

Jackson kept eye contact and asked, “Where? How? Would you go with me? Even if we did, could we raise our children with confidence? Would you feel secure?”

A big smile spread across Elizabeth’s face. She asked, “Children?”

Jackson nodded and pressed his point. “Would you feel secure?”

She thought a moment then shrugged. “Probably not.”

“What good is your advice if you won’t take it yourself?”

Elizabeth removed her hand from Jackson’s. “Did you really just mention ‘children’?”

“A normal concept for a heterosexual couple to discuss. Is there a problem?”

“Yes! You’re just this side of being a gangster!”

“Bullshit! I’m looking for a way out! Perhaps I can arrange something.”

“What kind of arrangement?” Elizabeth asked as she moved away to run water into the vase.

“I want to avoid a conflict if I can.”

Elizabeth began arranging the lilies in the vase, concentrating on the position of each stalk. She spoke as if musing aloud to herself. “I’ve attempted to think things through in terms of various what-if scenarios, but no matter what decision I reach the only thing that seems to matter is what I feel. I have never had this happen before.”

“I know what you mean,” Jackson confirmed. “I felt it immediately when I met you. I was drawn to you. I couldn’t help myself.”

Elizabeth gave him a long look then said with a trace of a smile, “Don’t cut it too thick, Tremain. You’ve shown amazing restraint for someone who couldn’t help himself.”

“I had to work my way through what was happening myself. Plus, if I had moved any faster, you would’ve run and you know it.”

Elizabeth brought the lilies over to the counter and stared at Jackson. “Do you have any idea what I feel? How much I’m conflicted about you? What big changes this would mean in my life? How did you know I like calla lilies so much? This is the second time you’ve brought them.”

“Which question do you want me to answer?”

“The lilies.”

“You mentioned it when we were on Angel Island, then I saw you had two calla lily lamps and one of your upholstered chairs has a lily design on it.”

“That’s what makes you dangerous, you’re observant. Are you this way with all your women?”

Jackson replied, “There’s never been another woman that interests and intrigues me the way you do. Anyway, I would have to be blind to have missed all those cues.”

“In your whole life? There’s not been another woman of equal interest? Not one?”

“Maybe one, but it was young love. I was eighteen, but still a child. I have more control over my life direction now. I have a better understanding of what I really need.”

She put a hand on her hip and a smile crept across her face. “How do you know I’m what you really need?”

“A trick question,” Jackson replied with a chuckle. A serious look came into his eyes as he continued, “How about this: I have memorized the form of your lips when you smile, the liquid, creamy sound of your laughter, the shape and color of your eyes, the way your hips move when you walk, the soft darkness of your skin.”

Jackson stood up and walked around the counter. He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face to his and then when they were looking into each other’s eyes, he said, “More important than any physical attraction I feel for you is the sensation that I have when we’re together. I feel connected when I am with you. I’ve never had this feeling before, and believe me, I don’t want to lose it now.”

“Don’t be glib. Don’t say things you don’t mean,” Elizabeth said as a serious look entered her eyes.

Jackson reached down and took both her hands in his. “My heart is behind everything I’ve said. And I never want to hurt you. I want to be your partner and protector. I want us to see and enjoy the sun and the stars as few have.”

Elizabeth stood quietly trying to memorize the angles and color of his hands, the calluses on his knuckles, the veins beneath the skin, the lines which crisscrossed the joints. Were these the hands that would be holding her in her declining years? She felt emotion welling up within her. She realized that there was only a thin line of restraint holding her
from rushing into his arms. She looked into his eyes and their gazes locked. They stood for several seconds in silence then Jackson cocked his right eyebrow and gave her that quizzical look. She could not help herself. She smiled. He had something nobody else had. He could touch her inside and make her laugh. She wanted to hug him, feel his arms around her, have his chest press against her. There was a roar in her inner ear, like the sound of a powerful current rushing through a confined space. She was on the verge of being swept away.