Reye's Gold (18 page)

Dallas was different from Austin, more old school,
more inflexible. As much as he disliked Joe, he suspected
his parents’ reaction to Reye would be similar. He didn’t
think he’d have to worry with the consequences of that; the likelihood of them meeting Reye was slim to none.
She’d be long gone before that could potentially happen.
Thanksgiving break was approaching, three days off,
away from Reye. Maybe time spent at home would re
acquaint him with his old life and help to clear his head.

* * *

Claire hung up the phone, hearing Stephen Sr.’s car
pull into their drive. Her home office resided next to the
kitchen, strategically placed to keep an eye on the kitchen
staff and an eye on the landscapers. One had to trust, but
verify; that held true for staff and children. She’d just finished the final details of her latest charitable committee
assignment. It had taken up most of the morning.

Stephen Jr. would arrive home tomorrow. He’d finally
called her yesterday. Nothing like giving his mother
advance notice. He knew she’d wanted to entertain Beth
and her family, she’d told him so. How could anyone
make plans with only a day’s notice? Thankfully, she
knew her son well, and had already tentatively scheduled
coffee and dessert with Beth’s family for Thanksgiving
evening.

She had this sixth sense when it came to Stephen, and
had kept tabs on him by any means possible. That meant
the cleaning people, who’d reported his place clean, barely used for the last month or so. This bit of knowledge was
confirmed by Henri, via his mother. Unlike Stephen, Henri had always been close to his mother, dutifully
keeping in touch weekly. In contrast Stephen kept in touch
with his dad weekly; two peas in a pod those two were,
speaking in their own language. Stephen Sr. was always telling her about a conversation he’d had with her son.

Mothers weren’t always close to their children; more
than a few pushed their parents away. It was her job to
protect him, and she did it in her own way. Having
grown up with nothing, the baby of six children, she’d
had parents who worked tirelessly and never had enough.
She knew what it meant to rise to her current position in
society, something both father and son took for granted.

S
he figured out early that she needed to find her own
way in the world. She assumed the reins for her future in eighth grade. She’d talked her parents into applying for a
private high school scholarship, which she’d received. An
innate sense of style had helped her get the most out of
her limited wardrobe, and she picked up the essential social graces and skills by watching others. She made
friends with those who could help her. She would never
be on the outside again. After high school another schol
arship and a few small student loans helped to finance
college; she was the only one in her family to attend.

Some considered her cool to the touch and
unfriendly. Not so; she chose carefully who to befriend.
Friendships were not to be squandered on those with no future. She joined the right sorority and went to the right
parties, hosted and attended by the up and coming in
Dallas. She’d met Stephen’s father at just such a party.

She wanted the best for her son, only the best, and
Stephen needed to be reminded of what that was. She
was slightly worried. This staying with some girl was
highly unusual for him. She knew and understood men
and their needs, having grown up around her brothers.
She was sure that he just needed a reminder of their standards and all would be well. He’d see Beth again, and she
would be a big reminder.

“I am going to miss you,” Reye whispered into
Stephen’s ear. He was quiet, his breathing deep and even.
She lifted her head from his chest and turned to look at
him. He’d fallen asleep; they were both tired, both
looking forward to the Thanksgiving break and the three
days off from school. He would be in Dallas, she would
remain in Austin. She didn’t even want to contemplate how much she would miss him, so she turned, laid her head down, and snuggled into his chest.

It didn’t happen much, but from time to time she’d
persuade him to lie down. She’d switch off the lights,
turn on music, and light a few candles. They would lie
there, she on top, and discuss the events of their days.
Mostly she did the talking and he’d listen, occasionally
commenting. The center’s after school program and
coaching supplied her with more than enough stories and
anecdotes to tell him, and it helped her work through
issues. She felt really close to him on nights like these,
dodging the reality that he didn’t share much about himself. Sure, he talked of his days at school, but he never mentioned anything personal. He hadn’t shared anything
on the subject of his family or friends. Starting to feel anxious, she pushed those thoughts from her mind.

H
e would leave for Dallas tomorrow, so she’d just
enjoy now. She gave some thought to waking him but
decided against it. He needed the rest. So she took this time to admire him, pretending that he would be hers
forever. She didn’t really believe that’s how this would
end, but she was way past the point of no return in her
feelings for him.

* * *

“Mom, I’m home,” Stephen shouted as he entered the front door of his parents’ home. The drive down I-35 had
been uneventful, but tiring. Driving between Dallas and Austin offered little in the way of sights, just small cities
packed with fast food and outlet malls, sandwiched
between flat, wide-open spaces.

He wanted a shower and a bed, in that order. He
walked in through the garage, toward the kitchen located
in the back of the house. His parents had lived here for
ever. The décor had changed frequently during his child
hood, every five years or so, making it feel new.
Decorating, along with volunteer work and gardening, was a hobby of his mother’s. He was her single most
important hobby, making sure his life marched according
to plan; his or hers, he hadn’t decided yet.

“Mom,” he called out again, walking into the
kitchen. Finding her sitting at the table, casually but
faultlessly dressed, supervising the cooking staff. As far
back as he could remember, there had always been staff
in their home. It was too large for one person to manage,
and, even if it had not been, his mother was not up to
such a task.

He’d tried to be lenient in his regard for his mother;
he knew she had grown up poor, a fact that she reminded
him of frequently—especially when she’d thought he
wasn’t living up to his potential.

“Hello, Stephen,” she said, lifting her face to him for
his kiss. “I am glad you made it home safely. Did you stay
within the speed limit?”

“Yes, of course I did,” he said, smiling at her.

“Are you hungry? Sonia made some soup and fresh bread for dinner tonight, but you can have some now if
you like.” Sonia, an older African-American woman,
looked up and smiled. He returned her greeting.

“No, I’m okay. I ate something before I left.”

“Then we will have dinner when your dad gets home.
He said he would be here earlier than usual. Oh, and I
invited Beth and her parents over later for drinks and
dessert. I’m sure you’ll want to see her.”

“I’m going to go up and catch up on some sleep. I’m
exhausted,” he said. “Wake me for dinner if you don’t
hear me moving around.”

“Of course.”

* * *

Stephen sat down on the bed in his old room and
answered his cell. It was Reye. “Hey,” he said.

“Are you there? I was just checking to make sure you’d
made it.”

“
I’m here. I was just about to get in some sleep. My
mother has dinner plans for this evening.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you. You do sound tired,
so I’ll let you go.”

“It’s okay.” He paused. “Look, Reye, I might not have
a chance to call you much. I’m sure my mother has a
thousand things planned, she usually does.”

“No worries. I’ll see you when you get back, then. I’ll be busy with my family, too. Take care.”

“I will. You, too,” he said, hanging up.

* * *

Thanksgiving at the Jackson family’s home was big,
loud, and loving. “What else do you need help with,
Mom?” Reye asked. So far they had prepared enough
dessert and food to feed the Fifth Army, which was a
close description of her family when all were present. Her
three oldest brothers were married, with three children
each. There seemed to be a competition to see who could
reproduce the fastest, and each and every one of them
was coming for dinner.

“Let’s see, we’ve got two potato pies, one pecan pie,
chocolate cake, your father’s favorite, peach cobbler, and
a coconut cake that I’ve not prepared yet. That should be
enough, don’t you think? We still need to make the corn
bread dressing, and you need to wash and cook the
greens,” her mother said.

“Okay,” she said, smiling at her mom. She was the only girl, so during the holidays, kitchen duty primarily f
ell on her shoulders. She became the head sous chef, dish
washer, and errand runner. The boys had been recruited
when they lived at home, but they learned how to get out
of the kitchen fast, sometimes sending their girlfriends in
to serve as replacements; the ones they didn’t mind
losing, that is. Working with her mother was demanding
stuff. She had very rigorous standards and she didn’t put
up with foolishness, as she was known to say. Her
brothers had lost many a girlfriend in the mines of her
mother’s kitchen. Only the strong survived.

Reye placed the stopper in the sink and allowed water
to fill to begin washing the greens, her least favorite
chore.

“So,” her mom asked. “How is school?” Did she men
tion that this was also the time her mother grilled her
about her life, school, and love? Anything and everything
was open for discussion.

“It’s going great. My professor asked me to volunteer
at the community center in their after-school program.”

“Is that so? Which center?”

“You know the one, the East River Community
Center over off of First Street?”

“I know the one,” she said, stopping in her stirring of
the cake batter and looking at Reye. “Is that a safe place
for you to be?”

“Is there really any unsafe place in this town?”

“No, but some are safer than others.”

“I’m no longer a volunteer,” Reye continued. “I’m
getting paid for working there. I’m also working every
day instead of three days of the week. The best part is that
we’ve started a soccer team for the kids, and yours truly
is the coach.”

“Hmmm,” her mother said.

“What hmmm?”

“Do you have time to work, teach soccer, and study?
I don’t want you to forget why you are in school.”

“That’s not likely, as this is my last year. I wouldn’t
jeopardize graduation.”

“With all that going on, do you have any time to
meet any young men? You realize it gets harder to meet
nice men after you leave college. I bet you’ve not given
that any thought.”

“Hey, Mom,” Sam said from the doorway. Thank the
Lord, Reye thought, a reprieve.

“Hey, baby girl,” he said to Reye, winking at her. He
walked over to gather their mom into a hug.