The Governor's Sons (2 page)

Kitty laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Just why do you think you can win?
  
‘Cause you’re young and good looking?”

“No.” Ash grinned. “But I can make a better budget and improve the schools.
 
Schoolhouses need modernizing and physical education programs need to be instituted.
 
And I also want—”

Kitty interrupted him. “You’re mighty confident.
  
Why not just run for governor to begin with?”

Ash smiled.
 
“Because I gotta start small and prove myself.
 
Later I’ll run for state senator—
then
the
governor.”

Kitty raised one eyebrow.
 
“And then the White House.”
 

Ash sensed her sarcasm. “Hey, the sky’s the limit.
 
Think big and you can do anything!”

“Especially if you’re a Kroth.”
 
Kitty walked to the sink and pulled out a damp dish cloth. Wiping crumbs from the counter, she said, “Your grandfather was a governor, and your daddy worked for that other governor everybody called ‘The Torch.’”

“But, Kitty, if you work hard and apply yourself, you can do anything.
 
Anybody can.”

Kitty didn’t say anything as she finished wiping the counter and then rinsed the cloth.

Ash hesitated as he tried to read her thoughts.
 
Times were hard; anyone who wasn’t rich was struggling.
 
And he knew all about the other problems Negroes faced every day.

Maybe Kitty realized his plan for modernized schools didn’t include the colored ones.
 
But he’d make sure all colored children in the state received a decent education.
 
Separate but equal; that’s how things were supposed to be in the South.
 
But they weren’t.
 
However, Ash rationalized, life for Negroes was a far cry from days gone by.

“Kitty, times aren’t like what they used to be.
 
Everybody can get an education--and education is the key to success.”

She took a deep breath.
 
“Now you know--” she began, but stopped abruptly.
 
Her brown eyes flickered.
 
They just missed sparking when she remembered her place.

But Ash wanted to hear what this Negro girl had to say, and see just how far she’d go. “I’m listening,” he prodded.

Kitty only smiled.
 
“It doesn’t really matter what I’m thinking.” She glimpsed up at the clock over the stove and gasped, “Oh, no!”

“What’s wrong?”
 
Ash asked.
 
He watched Kitty quickly turn on the heat under a large cast iron skillet.

“It’s almost 8:00.
 
Aunt Izolla said that’s when your daddy likes to eat.” Kitty frantically pulled open the silverware drawer and grabbed a knife.
 
She used it scoop a large glob of butter from a soft hunk on a saucer near the stove.
 
After shaking the butter into the skillet, she looked at Ash, worried.
 
“And she said to scramble the eggs as soon as the biscuits finished baking.”

Kitty rushed to the icebox and pulled out a bowl.
 
She stood looking at it for a moment as though unsure of what to do next.
 
“These are the eggs.
 
They’re already beaten and ready to scramble.
 
But I—I was hoping Aunt Izolla’d be back by now ‘cause—I can’t cook!”

Ash laughed.
 
“You can’t cook?
 
Does she know that?”

“Yeah,” Kitty said, moving to the stove.
 
“But she said anybody can scramble eggs.”

When she started to dump them into the skillet, Ash stopped her. “Wait a minute!”
 
He reached for the bowl.
 
His body touched hers as he took it from her hands, and he lingered near her a moment longer than necessary.
 
“The pan’s not hot enough yet.
 
See, the butter hasn’t even finished melting.
 
Just wait a little while.
 
And then,” he set the eggs on the counter, “I’ll cook ‘em.”

“But—”

“I don’t mind.
 
I was a Boy Scout.
 
I’ve scrambled eggs over an open camp fire many a time.”

Kitty exhaled, relieved.
 
“Thank you, Mr. Ash.”
 
She walked back to the icebox and pulled out a pitcher of orange juice, then filled three small glasses on a tray.
 
“I better put this juice on the table and start setting out the food.
 
Aunt Izolla’s gonna kill me when she comes back.”

“I doubt that,” Ash smiled, “but she might kill me.”
 
He poured the eggs into the skillet and they began to sizzle.
 
Maneuvering them with a metal spatula, he asked, “Where is Izolla, anyway?”

“She wanted to show Betty Jean a few things around the house. She showed me everything when I first got here, but Betty Jean was late.
 
She was feeling sick and almost didn’t come at all.”

Heavy footsteps plodded down the back stairs, then stopped abruptly at the rear kitchen entry way.
 
Kitty quickly grabbed the tray of juice glasses and headed for the dining room, but before she reached the swinging door, her great aunt’s commanding voice bellowed.

“Hold it right there!” Izolla yelled.
 
Kitty froze but didn’t turn around.
 
Izolla eyed Ash at the stove.
 
“Just what’s going on in here?
 
Mr. Ash, your mama’s payin’ good money for my great nieces to work here this summer.
 
She ain’t payin’ them to watch you cook!”

“Izolla,” Ash smiled, “I’m just helping out.
 
Besides, Kitty said she can’t cook.”

Kitty still hadn’t turned around.
 
But when Ash saw her shoulders hunch and her head drop, he almost laughed.

“ ‘Kitty’?” Izolla frowned.
 

“She said I could call her that,” Ash explained, scraping scrambled eggs onto the platter with the ham.
 

“Humph,” Izolla snorted.
 
“Turn around, Miss Cat.”
 
Kitty slowly turned to face her aunt.
 
“Cookin’ ain’t medicine and you don’t need no law degree to scramble eggs!”

“But Aunt Izolla,” a small voice said from behind the large woman’s frame.
 
Ash was caught off guard by this seemingly invisible presence.
 
He looked hard at Izolla, waiting for something to appear.
 
Moments later, a young girl emerged from behind her.

The girl’s skin was fair like Izolla’s, a light honey brown, but she was thin and petite, shorter than Kitty.
 
Her wavy black hair was shoulder length and she wore it tied back in a ponytail with a pink ribbon.
 

“Cooking’s like chemistry,” the girl said quietly.
 
“And Catherine hates any kind of science.

Ash eyed this girl a little longer than necessary because she wore the thickest glasses he’d ever seen.
 
When she looked down, he realized he’d been staring.
 
Ash averted his eyes, then moved toward her politely.
 
“How do you do, miss?”

“This here’s Mr. Ash,” Izolla said as they shook hands.
 
“This is my other niece, Betty Jean.
 
And she
can
cook.”

Ash noticed Kitty bristle.
 
“Aunt Izolla,” Kitty said, “Mr. Ash just offered to help, that’s all.”

Ash flashed a charming smile.
 
“That’s right, Izolla.
 
No harm in that, is there?”

“Don’t you need to shower and dress before breakfast?” Izolla snapped.

Ash jumped to attention.
 
“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well get on outta here so we can get to work!”
 
Izolla grabbed the wooden spoon from the stovetop.
 
Dried grits were plastered to it.
 
Shaking the utensil in Ash’s direction, the fat on her upper arms jiggled furiously.
 
“And look here, Mr. Ash!
 
You behave yourself around my great nieces.”

“Now, Izolla,” Ash said smoothly, “I’m always a gentleman.”

“Even though you’re grown,” she moved toward him a few paces, still wielding the spoon, “I’ll use force if I have to, to control you, incorrigible as you are!”

Kitty laughed.
 
“Aunt Izolla, Mr. Ash seems perfectly harmless.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” Izolla smirked.

“Now I resent that, Izolla, I’m harmless as a fly.”

“Then get on outta here ‘fore I swat you!”

Ash left the kitchen still remembering the slight touch of Kitty’s body next to his.

Three Weeks Later

As Ash began to climb the back porch steps, Kitty opened the back door.
 
He stopped.
 
Her presence never failed to send a surge of electricity through him.
 
It was still early morning and Ash had just driven home from swimming laps at the country club.
 
He hadn’t seen Kitty at all today.
 
As she descended the stairs, he moved aside to let her pass.

She held a basket in one hand and smiled.
 
“Hey, Ash,” several days ago she’d stopped calling him Mr. Ash when no one else was around.
 
“I’m off to pick peaches for a cobbler Aunt Izolla’s gonna bake later.”
 
She stopped inches from him at the bottom step.
 
“But I think she and Betty Jean just want me out of the kitchen since I can’t cook.”

Ash didn’t say anything.
 
In his mind, he was too busy peeling off her clothes.

Smiling, Kitty cocked her head to the side.
 
“Cat got your tongue?”

“No—course not.
 
I’m never at a loss for words.”

Kitty laughed.
 
“I know.”
 
She turned on the ball of her foot and strode away.

Ash watched her go.
 
He continued watching as he backed up the steps.
 
He dropped his gym bag on the porch, still gazing in Kitty’s direction.
 
She walked slowly as a gentle breeze blew the skirt of her dress gracefully around her legs.
 
It would take Kitty about five minutes to reach the peach orchard.
 
It was behind the mansion, hidden beyond a large cluster of oak trees.

The Kroth’s white clapboard house, freshly painted with shiny black shutters, sat on a low sloping hill.
 
The mansion was surrounded by three acres of land scattered with white magnolias and pink crape myrtle.
 
Ash’s father owned about a thousand more acres up in the northern part of the county worked by sharecroppers.

Ash could still see Kitty off in the distance.
 
He jumped down the six steps by threes and began following her.
 
The air was fragrant with honeysuckle and magnolia, and except for a slight rustling of leaves, all was quiet.
 
When he called to her, she appeared not to hear him.
 
But he wondered if she really could.

Kitty--Cat—both names suited her because she liked to toy with him as a cat plays with a mouse—before killing it.
 
But being near her wouldn’t be dangerous, Ash reflected, if he could keep his feelings out of it.
 
He knew the emotions that stirred inside him weren’t right.

A dalliance with a Negro girl should be kept at that—a dalliance, with no emotional attachment.
 
However, it was already too late for Ash.
 
He told himself he shouldn’t be out here looking at her—following her.
 
But he couldn’t help it.

“Kitty,” he called again.
 
This time, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled, but then looked ahead and kept walking.

Ash gazed at her, thinking how sensual she was.
 
Her walk, her smile, her voice all jarred his senses to oblivion.
 
From behind, he watched the simple blue dress sway alluringly about her hips.
 
She strode with a straight back and head held high.
 
Her strides were queenly, yet seductive.

Ash, wearing khaki pants and a mint green sport shirt, began jogging.
 
When he finally caught up to her, Kitty said, “What are you doing all the way out here?”

He smiled.
 
“I thought you needed help.”

“You certainly like helping me.”

“You got a problem with that?”

They held each other’s gaze for a few seconds.
 
“I don’t,” Kitty said, “but what about your daddy?
 
He doesn’t mind you not working five days a week in his law office this summer?”