I Know Who Holds Tomorrow (23 page)

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Authors: Francis Ray

BOOK: I Know Who Holds Tomorrow
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“How old is he?” Madison asked, in awe of the grinning baby. He reminded her of a tiny sumo wrestler.
“Ten months, twelve days. And before you ask, he weighed ten pounds at birth.” She sighed dramatically. “Thank God for C-sections.”
“Beatrice, I was just telling Mrs. Reed about teething. You know what a tough time you had a couple of weeks back with Little Thomas.”
“Don't remind me,” Beatrice said, then leaned over to turn her baby around until they were face-to-face. “If my arms hadn't been so tired from walking the floor with him, I would have pitched him out the door.” He squealed in delight as she rubbed her nose to his.
“He certainly seems happy.” Madison said.
“Now, this afternoon it was a different story,” Beatrice said, letting her son pull up and stand. On his thigh was a Band-Aid.
“Was he hurt?” Madison asked, unconsciously pulling Manda protectively closer to her.
Beatrice shook his head. “Got his shots today. Screamed the office down. I told Thomas, the next time he's taking him.”
“He won't do it or either he'll look so pitiful you'll end up taking Little Thomas. James promises every time and not once has he been there to hold one of them down or to see them look at you like you were the one who stuck them with that needle.” Eloise shook her head. “Darrin's appointment is coming up next month and I just know I'll have to take him again.”
Beatrice gathered Little Thomas closer, then leaned over and whispered to the other women, “I know one sure way to get Thomas to agree to anything, threaten to put him on short ration.”
“How long you planning on?” Eloise asked, her voice hushed, her eyes bright with interest.
Beatrice considered, swallowed. “I think I could last two weeks, otherwise I'd tear his clothes off.”
Kelli whooped, then slapped the table. “No wonder Thomas comes to work with a grin on his face every day.”
“Mother always said take care of your business or someone else will,” Beatrice said emphatically.
“Ain't that the truth.” Eloise nodded her head. “Women who turn their back on their husband's needs always act surprised when they cheat. If James strays, it won't be because he's not getting it at home.”
“Amen to that,” Beatrice said.
The conversation quickly changed from keeping a baby happy to keeping your man happy. It was all Madison could do to remain seated and calm the upheaval in her stomach and keep her hands from shaking.
But as the other women at the cookout drifted over and added their opinions, it became increasingly clear to Madison that if they knew she hadn't shared a bed or been intimate with her husband in over a year, they'd have little or no sympathy for her.
“
Y
OU WANT TO TALK about it?”
Madison didn't look up at Zachary when he asked the question. They had already tucked Manda in and were in the foyer on the way to the front door. With anybody else she would have tried to evade the question. She'd learned, with Zachary that didn't work. Still it was worth a try.
Wrapping her slim arms around herself, she stared at the wall decorated with the African art Wes had collected over the years. “I should have packed those.”
“Did someone say something tonight at the cookout?”
She didn't have to look at him to know that he watched her closely, that his face was filled with concern. He, a man she barely knew until three weeks ago, would do everything in his power to shield her from the slightest hurt. But he couldn't shield her from herself or life. She studied
Warrior
, the painting of a Zulu chieftain-warrior in full regalia, his nobility stamped in every nuance of his strong features. “You would have made a great warrior.”
He glanced at the oil painting, then placed his hands on her shoulders. “Probably, but can you imagine me in a loincloth?”
The words were said playfully, but a picture quickly formed in her mind. Zachary, broad shoulders, his chest hard and gleaming with sleek, conditioned muscles, lean-hipped, eves fierce. Finally she looked at him, approval and certainty in her eves. “Yes.
The half smile on Zachary's face froze. Black eves narrowed. His hands flexed.
Madison felt the change in his body, the ever-so-slight stirring of her own, then his hands were gone. He stepped back.
“What's going on, Madison?”
She almost voiced the thought that had plagued her since the women's conversation at the cookout:
Help me feel less like a failure as a woman. Help me
feel.
The taut way he held his body stopped her. Her arms wrapped tighter around her body as if to keep them from doing the foolish things that kept running through her head. “Nothing.”
“I know differently,” he said, studying her intently. “I'm not leaving you until I find out what's going on.”
“Sometimes the answers aren't what we want to hear.”
“You wanted me to kiss you,” he said, his voice tense and tightly controlled. “Why?”
“I …” She couldn't deny his words, couldn't evade his hard stare. “To see if I could feel anything.” He'd feel disgust or pity for her and leave now and it would be her fault.
“Go on.”
She wanted to hide, to run away from the words. Then she realized that it was her fear of facing her problems that had helped get her into her present situation. Taking a deep breath, she told him what Beatrice and the other women had said about a wife's duty. Finished, she continued by saying, “You already know it … it wasn't like that between Wes and me after I lost our baby. It seems naive now, but I never thought of Wes seeking intimacy elsewhere.”
“Because you were faithful, you expected him to be.”
She could have let it go at that, but he deserved the truth. She glanced away. “I was faithful because I didn't want intimacy with … anyone. It hurt to feel, so I shut my emotions off. I should have seen that he wouldn't feel the same way.”
“So you agree with the stereotype that a black man has no loyalty toward one woman? If she can't or won't be intimate with him, he'll go out and get it from another woman?”
The snap in his voice jerked her gaze toward him. She saw anger in his black eyes and instinctively reacted to soothe him. “I didn't mean you.”
If anything his expression hardened. “So, I'm the only virtuous black man in the universe.”
Madison's own temper was beginning to heat. “You know that's not what I meant.”
“No, Madison, I don't.”
He'd make her say it. “It's
me
, Zachary. There must be a flaw in me. That's why Wes went to another woman.”
“And to test your theory, you thought you'd come on to me,” he accused. “Use me in a little experiment?”
Out loud the words sounded ugly and pitiful.
“I could kiss you until you forgot to breathe, but it wouldn't prove a damn thing about why Wes strayed or make you feel like more of a woman,” he said, all but snarling. “If it's right, it's not just the man or just the woman. The passion and desire have to come from both.” He stepped closer, bringing with him the heat and hardness of his powerful body. “When I kiss a woman, it won't be for an experiment or on a whim. It will be because I feel something for her and I hope she feels something for me. If I'm lucky we'll both forget to breathe.”
For a tension-filled moment as she lost herself in the intimacy of his hot gaze, Madison did forget to breathe, a wonderful, frightening first for her. She sucked in air and tried to calm her racing heart. “She'll be a lucky woman.”
His expression didn't change. “You think you'll get off that easily?”
“I'm hoping cinnamon biscuits for breakfast in the morning will help?” She smiled cautiously. “That is, if I haven't sent you running for the hills with my poor behavior.”
The anger growing inside him faded. He pulled her into his arms without counting the cost to either of them. They both needed this. “Madison, I told you I'm not going anyplace. I blow off steam, then it's over.”
Her arms curved around him, holding him almost desperately. “You wouldn't have strayed.”
After a long moment, he pushed her from him and answered the only way he could. “I'd like to think I wouldn't have, but I've learned in thirty-five years of living that you never know how you'll react until you're in that position.”
Clear eyes stared up at him. “I've never known a man like you.”
“That's makes us even. I've never known a woman like you.” He brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. “And in case you don't know it, that's a compliment,” he said with a smile.
Madison answering smile was tremulous. She hesitated, then: “The morning of Wes's accident he said he wanted to start over. My feelings for him had changed, but I was afraid of what a divorce might do to our image.”
“Don't you think Wes was thinking the same thing?” Zachary asked.
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation.
“You both had your reasons for wanting the marriage to go on.”
Her voice chilled. “He wouldn't have told me about Manda and her mother, would he?”
His expression didn't change. “I'd like to think he would have.”
“I don't.” Her hands trembled on Zachary's wide chest, then firmed. She stepped back. “Thank you. I couldn't have gotten through this without you.”
“Then I expect a double helping of cinnamon biscuits, but I'll have to take a rain check for tomorrow. I have to be at a site by seven.” He started for the door.
“You have to eat breakfast. Is six early enough?” she asked, following him. She had to make up for her inexcusable behavior. He went out of his way for her. It was time she did the same thing for him.
“You don't have to do that.” Grasping the doorknob, he glanced over his shoulder. “You get up early enough with Manda.”
“And for the last couple of days, I've taken a nap when she has,” she told him, not willing to take no for an answer. “I'll expect you at six.”
“All right, but toast will be fine.”
She shook her head and opened the front door. “You let me worry about the breakfast menu. Good night, and thanks for understanding about the other.”
“No problem. Good night.” Zachary kept the friendly expression on his face until the door closed and he heard the locks clicks. Then his head fell forward. He felt like howling at the moon. How was he supposed to keep sane when she wanted to experiment and he wanted to lay her down and make endless love to her?
He wanted Madison, wanted to love her as she deserved to be loved. And she had wanted to use him to see if she were desirable when she was
all
that he desired. What irony.
Finally his head came up and he strode to his truck, jerked open the door and got inside. “Wes, I should have kicked your butt when I had
the chance.” Starting the motor, he pulled out of the circular driveway and headed home. There was no hurry. What he wanted wasn't there. Worse, he knew it never would be.
 
 
Computers were wonderful things, Louis Forbes had thought so many times in the past, and he hadn't changed his mind. In the study of his penthouse apartment on Turtle Creek with the commanding view in three directions, he sat in his executive chair, his eyes glued to the twenty-one-inch monitor as he meticulously strolled through Wes's charges on his credit card.
The information had been ridiculously easy to access. All you needed was the right answers for the file to pop open. Stupid, Louis thought, but that wasn't the computer's fault. That was the programmer's fault. Any close associate probably knew the person's address and mother's maiden name. And how many people innocently put their social-security number down without a moment's worry over who might see the information? All the contracts that came across his desk had the social-security numbers of his clients.
Stupid. Louis reached for the aged scotch on the inlaid blotter of his custom desk and sipped as he continued to scroll. The answer was here. He could feel it. “Wait a minute. Wait a friggin' minute.”
He sat the glass down without taking his eyes from the screen and leaned closer, studying the date of the airline ticket to Amarillo, then the others that followed. Oprah had kicked the Texas Cattlemen's Association's collective butts in that city when they had tried to sue her for the drop in their beef sales, but Wes hadn't covered the story. He'd been deep into an inside story on the corruption of politics in New Orleans.
A slow, satisfied smile curved his mouth upward. Bridget Taylor, the woman killed while Wes was trying to change her tire, had been from Amarillo. It might be a coincidence, but Louis had a hunch it wasn't. He'd have to dig deeper, but he was certain of what he'd find and when he did, Madison would dance to his tune.
“Didn't know you had it in you, Wes.” Picking up the glass, Louis turned in his chair to the photo of himself, Wes, and Madison in a sterling frame and saluted. “Always thought she was cold.” His eyes went hard in
an instant. “But if she thinks she's cutting me out of this, she'll find out just how tough I can be.”
 
 
“I haven't eaten at a table with flowers on it in a long time,” Zachary, commented as he stared at the table in Madison's kitchen, then at her. “It looks nice. Thank you for going to the trouble.”
“Sit down,” she gestured, glad she'd decided at the last minute to do the arrangement of ivy and roses. It was nice to be appreciated. “I'll bring everything to the table.”
Zachary pulled out a chair and watched as she set the food on the table, then took her seat next to him. He said grace, then served them.
She wrinkled her nose at the large portions of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and grits on her plate. “You're going to leave me no choice but to start my exercise regime if you keep pushing food in my path.”
His gaze roamed appreciatively over her in an abstract gold print dress. “Not from where I'm looking.”
Her heart thumped. She hadn't imagined it last night. Apparently her emotions weren't as shut off as she thought. Deciding not to worry about it, she smiled and picked up her fork. “Are you going to the house Clarence spoke of last night?”
“Yes. It's a beauty. A two-story Tudor. We were able to preserve most of the mature trees on the wooden lot. The peer-and-beam foundation is finished and we start framing today. It's the second house I've built in the area,” he explained.

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