Love Me Tonight (8 page)

He stood and held out his hand to her. “Thank you. That means more than you can imagine.” She tried to read the fierce expression in his eyes. It wasn't passion. Could it be determination?

“When we take the next step, there will be no turning back, at least not for me. You're not that certain yet. So walk with me to the door.”

He read her reaction, put his arms around her and said, “We shouldn't make love because one of us decides that it's time, but because we both decide. I believe we're closer right now than we've ever been, and if we treat with care the growing feelings, you'll be happy that we did. Do you understand?”

She nodded. “I think I do.” She wanted so badly to ask him if he loved her. But if she did that, she'd be admitting that she cared for him.

“I'm beginning to realize that you are wiser in matters of the heart than I am.”

A grin spread over his face. “‘Matters of the heart?' Sweetheart, don't candy-coat this. It's okay to call it what it is.”

“And what is that?” she asked, looking at him with lowered lashes.

“Intimacy between a man and a woman. Lovemaking. Anything but matters of the heart. That sounds too vague.” He grinned at her, and lights danced in his eyes. “Sometimes I wonder if you're a natural flirt.”

“Me? A flirt? Me?”

“Yeah. And a damned good one at that. Walk with me to the door.”

“What time do we leave for Hagerstown?”

“You'll find me parked in front of your office building at four-fifteen.”

“Great. We'll be there before dark.”

He tipped up her chin with his index finger. “Are you disappointed?”

“In a way, but I learned more tonight that I've learned before.”

“Our day will come, sweetheart, and it will be magical.” He gathered her close to him and spread gentle kisses over her face before running his tongue over her lips. She opened, pulled his tongue into her mouth and caught fire. He broke the kiss, gazed down at her for a long moment and left.

“Our day will come,” she said aloud, “and brother, you'd better be ready.” But she knew he was right. An hour earlier as they sat in his car in front of the building, he'd given her tenderness, showing her the difference between love and passion.

He'd told her earlier that he wanted her badly, and she would have made love to him then and there. Now she suspected that it was her emotions ruling her, and she needed sexual fulfillment. So why not? After thinking for a while, it hit her that he could get sex anywhere and at anytime. But he saw her as a potential mate and intended to move with great care. One more reason why she admired him.

 

When Judson left Heather, questions danced across his mind. He told himself that he was not a masochist. So why had he walked away from what he wanted so badly? With the snap of a finger, he could have been
ready to exhaust himself inside of her. But he didn't want it as a result of a tease or any ploy. He realized for the first time that he was playing for the highest stakes, that if they found that they loved each other and were sexually compatible, he'd want her for life.

 

He parked in front of the State Department building at precisely four-fifteen and saw Heather walk out of the revolving door carrying a red leather overnight case. He got out, met her, put the case in the trunk of his car. He got in the car, leaned over and kissed her.

“I like a lot of things about you,” he told her, “and they include your punctuality. You never keep me waiting, and you're the only woman I've dated that I can say that about. You're considerate, and I appreciate that.”

He hadn't said it to please her, but he could see that it did. “Thank you. My father demanded that. When I was a teenager, I considered punctuality an inconvenience, to put it mildly. Nowadays, I thank him for it. He wanted to know why you aren't staying with us, and I told him you wanted to stay with your aunt.”

“What was his reaction to that?” They hadn't talked much about her family, though she'd told him that she grew up without her mother.

“A grunt would best describe it.”

“You never told me what kind of work your father did.”

“He taught history at Morgan State. He deluged me with so much history that I won't read anything that remotely resembles a history book.”

“You certainly studied legal history.”

“In those days, Daddy was still drilling me about historical facts.” She patted his knee. “It took me a little while last night to understand how you could leave the way you did. At first I was prepared to be annoyed, then hurt. You were right. One day, I'll tell you why I'm so sure you were right.”

He slowed down to allow a speeding driver to safely pass. “I'll look forward to that. I want to share anything that will help me know and understand you. That was not an easy thing for me to do. I felt like a cross between a saint and a masochist walking out of that door. If we treat our feelings for each other casually, we'll lose something precious. So let's be honest with each other, and that includes in bed.”

She turned on the radio, and Billie Holiday's sultry voice crooned with a hot rendition of “Them There Eyes.”

“That's what got me,” he said. “Your elegance hit me before I got to you, but those big brown eyes of yours made marbles dance in my stomach.”

Her mind's eye gave her a good picture of that scene, and laughter poured out of her. “Judson, your eyes put the stars to shame, so let's not talk about the power of eyes.”

“Woman, you're crazy. I never heard of such a thing.” He had to laugh. “When it comes to metaphors, that one was hard to top.”

Some time later, he passed the sign that read Welcome to Hagerstown and slowed down to conform with the speed limit. “I'll take you to your father's house, and
then I'll check in with Aunt Cissy.” At her direction, he drove into a broad, tree-lined street and parked in front of a yellow, two-story Cape Cod house.

Immediately, a woman of about fifty or so opened the front door and rushed out to the car. Heather jumped out of the car as he opened his own door, embraced the woman in a tight hug and turned to him. “Annie, this is Judson Philips. Judson, this is Annie Archer, my dear friend and surrogate mother.”

He liked how Annie treated Heather, and her penetrating perusal did not escape him. Deciding to throw her off balance and destroy what he believed was her conclusion that he was a handsome stud, he put an arm around her and hugged her in a tender and gentle manner.

“Heather has told me of your role in her life, and I'm glad to meet you.”

Annie brushed her hands down the front of her dress as if pressing out some wrinkles and looked hard at him. He resisted grinning, for that would be impolite. “I'm glad to meet you, Judson. Heather hasn't said one word to me about you, and I'm going to take her to task for it.”

She locked her hands to her hips and continued to look at him. He could see that she'd already given up her ill-considered assessment of him. “I didn't know such men existed,” she said cryptically. “Come on in. Heather, your father is very excited that you're coming, and he's in a really good mood today.”

“Thank the Lord for that,” she said, her face alight with happiness. With her fingers on his arm, she urged
him to go with her to see her father. He doubted the wisdom of it, but the choice was hers.

Franklin Tatum sat in a big, comfortable leather chair facing a window that overlooked beautiful flower and vegetable gardens “Hello, Daddy. How are you?” Heather said to him, then hugged him and kissed his cheek. His hands stroked her back in a feeble gesture of affection. “I brought a friend to meet you,” she said. “Come in, Judson.

“Daddy, this is Judson Philips. He's an attorney.”

Franklin Tatum braced himself on the arms of the chair and, with great effort, stood and extended a hand. “It's good of you to come. I'm happy to meet you.”

He looked at the man, tall and gaunt and probably a mere shadow of his former self, but his dignity was fully intact. “I'm honored to meet you, sir. Please sit.”

“Thank you, Mr. Philips. Standing for any length of time has become a chore. I hope you'll join us for supper. Annie tells me that you have an aunt here with whom you plan to stay, but you're welcome to stay here. We have plenty of room.”

“I appreciate your offer, sir, but I haven't been to see my aunt yet, and I don't know what she's planned. When I get there, I'll phone Heather and compare notes.”

“You're an orderly man, and that's an admirable trait.”

“Thank you, sir. I'd better leave now.” He walked over to Heather. “I'll be in touch shortly.”

He reached Cissy's house ten minutes later, got out of his car and rang the doorbell. The full moon flooded
the earth with light, but Cissy turned on the porch light nonetheless.

“Judson. Son, I've been scared to death that something happened to you.”

He bent down and hugged her. “Why? I didn't say what time I'd be here.”

“That's right, you didn't. Supper's ready. Where's your bag?”

Just as he'd suspected, and not for anything would he have disappointed her. He got his bag from the trunk of his car and went inside. Except for the wallpaper of yellow and red roses, which he preferred not to see, his room couldn't have been more comfortable or more pleasant.

He telephoned Heather. “Sweetheart, as I suspected, Aunt Cissy waited supper for me. She's given me a very nice room and private bath, and she's as proprietary as my mom would be in the circumstances. I'll call you after dinner, and please tell your father that I'll see him tomorrow. Consider yourself kissed.”

“And you do the same. Bye.”

He looked at the table and the food arrayed on it. “Aunt Cissy, who else is eating?”

“Nobody. Why?”

“Well,” he began, sitting down, “you're not fat, and I don't plan to get fat, so what do we do with the leftovers?” She didn't see the problem, so he primed himself to eat as much as he could and not think about what was left.

“Now, tell me, son, what have you found out about your parents?”

“As I told you, I discovered that Mom had a safe deposit box. I opened it and found her letters to Fentriss Sparkman, my adoption papers, the death certificate of a child who died a few months before I was adopted, some other papers and some fine jewelry that was obviously a gift from Fentriss Sparkman. You were right. They were serious lovers, and I think Mom's mother intercepted Sparkman's letters after he left Hagerstown. I suppose you knew that her mother confined her to the house after she got pregnant, and she had no way of contacting Sparkman. She didn't answer his letters and I suppose he eventually stopped writing. Unless I find him, we'll never know.”

“Did you say you plan to find him?”

“Absolutely. I suspect she was my mother and that he's my father.” He told her how the rattling window was responsible for his finding the key to the safe deposit box.

“You go 'way from here. She wanted you to find it. That's as clear as the nose on your face.”

“Where do you think I should start my search for Fentriss Sparkman?”

“Well, that hotel's as old as you are, so it's not likely they'll be able to help you.”

“I know. Tomorrow, I'll see if he's listed as a member of the Society of American Registered Architects. They would have a contact for him. I also want to know whether he was a member of a local church or social organization, where he went to college and if he was a member of a fraternity. Since this is the only place I know of that he lived, I have to start here.”

“You're a smart man, Judson. Oh, and don't forget the local library. Hagerstown is proud of that hotel, so the library will probably have information on Fentriss.”

“Thanks for your help, Aunt Cissy. Let's get this kitchen cleaned.” He took the dishes and utensils to the kitchen, rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher. “Where do we put this food?”

“I'll do that. Some woman is going to get a sweetheart of a man. You told me you'd met someone. How is that coming along?”

“Nicely, I think. She's here. You'll meet her tomorrow.”

“She's here. In Hagerstown? You're not telling me she lives here. There's nobody here for you.”

“No, ma'am. She came with me. Remember, she's a lawyer and an ambassador. She's helping me with this search.” He put an arm around her shoulder and hugged her. “I brought her with me. She's my girl, and she's staying at her father's house, but I wanted to stay with you.”

“Of course you did. Who's her father?”

“Franklin Tatum.”

“Really? He's been a respected citizen in this town. He taught my daughter over in Baltimore. I hear he's not too well these days.”

“No, he isn't. If you'll excuse me, Aunt Cissy, I have to phone Heather.”

“That's right, son. Let her know she can depend on you. I don't remember her, but everybody in town knows her father.”

 

The next day, he and Heather had breakfast at her father's house, then left to buy a copy of the
Herald-Mail
. They perused it for possible leads but found none. At the library, they checked newspaper articles online but couldn't find the name Fentriss Sparkman.

“Maybe he's moved,” she said.

“Yes, or deceased. We need to find a listing of local architects for, say, five years ago.

“Let's take alternating years,” he suggested. “You check one year earlier and I'll check two years earlier until we find him.”

“Eureka,” she said a few minutes later. “Here he is in Frederick, Maryland. That's five years ago. What do you think?”

“He's probably retired, or worse. Any leads?”

“He built several buildings there. The last one was dedicated a little more than three years ago. We should be able to learn something there. I think we can stop looking,” she said.