When You Dance With The Devil Page 21

  “Too bad, Sara Jolene. We have to play the hand dealt us. That’s life. Please try not to be so bitter.”

  She stared at him, reflecting on his lame advice. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish this before supper.”

  He seemed grateful for the opportunity to leave her. “I guess this isn’t the kind of work you can do while talking about serious things. I’ll see you at supper,” he said and rushed out of the lounge.

  I never thought Reverend Coles was a phony, and maybe he isn’t, but he certainly acted strange in here a minute ago. Wonder why he’s coming here so often. Lord, I sure hope Joe couldn’t be right. She whirled around at the sound of footsteps and saw the handsome preacher lean his big frame against the doorjamb.

  “I meant to ask you, Sara Jolene, if you’ve met a nice young man since you’ve been here.”

  Jolene laid her head to one side and looked hard at him. “I’ve met five men and messed up with every one of them. Anything else? Oh yes. My name is not Sara Jolene. It’s Jolene.”

  With his hands out and palms facing her, he said, “Look. I’m sorry. I didn’t ask out of curiosity. I’ll . . . uh . . . see you at supper.”

  She put a straw man and two pumpkins in a corner near the fireplace, surveyed her handiwork and swept up the sticks, leaves, and other refuse. Having finished the lounge, she arranged orange and yellow chrysanthemums in vases for the dining room tables, placed yellow candles in Fannie’s crystal candleholders and stood back to admire the effect. Ten months ago, Fannie wouldn’t have allowed me to decorate these two rooms, and I wouldn’t have had the nerve to attempt it. I may be moving slowly, but at least I’m not standing still.

  She headed for her room and met Judd on the stairs. “Did Fannie say Thanksgiving supper would be earlier than usual?” she asked him. “I’d like to visit a sick friend tomorrow afternoon.”

  As usual, Judd’s smile gave her a warm and comfortable feeling. “What a nice thing to do, visiting a sick friend on Thanksgiving Day. Why don’t you ask Marilyn for some goodies to take with you?”

  “Would she do that?”

  “Sure she will. Marilyn loves to show her authority.”

  Jolene whirled around, went into the kitchen and spoke with Marilyn. To her amazement, the woman said she would prepare a hot Thanksgiving dinner for Jolene’s sick friend.

  “Rodger can drive you to the hospital, and it’ll still be piping hot when you get there.”

  “Really? What will Fannie say?”

  Marilyn locked her hands to her hips and stared at Jolene. “You planning to tell her? Anyhow, she’s the biggest Christian in Pike Hill, so it shouldn’t freak her out to do good on Thanksgiving Day. Be in here at noon.” Jolene thanked her and raced up the stairs, happy and lighthearted.

  A few minutes after twelve on Thanksgiving Day, Jolene knocked on Harper’s room door.

  “Come on in.”

  “Hi. Gee! You’re not in the wheelchair. Wonderful!”

  “Hi. I don’t use it anymore. It’s been a while since you were here. I’m glad you came, Jolene.”

  “I brought you some Thanksgiving dinner. It’s what we’re having for supper at the boardinghouse, and it’s hot. I was afraid you might have been discharged. I mean, I was thinking . . . well, you know what I mean to say.”

  She wasn’t nervous around Harper, so why was she rattling like an empty wagon rolling over the potholes in Hagerstown’s back streets? She rolled the patient’s table to the chair in which Harper sat, spread two white napkins on it and set out the food that Marilyn had put in Fannie’s pretty porcelain dishes.

  “This is wonderful, Jolene. A real home-cooked Thanksgiving dinner. Look at this.” He pointed to the different dishes. “Corn chowder, roast turkey with cornbread dressing, gravy, wild rice, asparagus, turnips, relish, pumpkin pie, grapes and coffee.” He looked up at her. “My mother has the flu, and she couldn’t come today. You’re a godsend. He ate lustily and cleaned the plates. “My goodness. A thermos of real espresso coffee. Man, this is some treat. Lean over here and let me kiss you.”

  Then the scent of his spicy cologne wafted up to her nostrils, a command as it were. She nearly panicked, and her heart began to race like a thoroughbred horse out of control. She tried to catch her breath. “I don’t think you’d better do that, Harper.”

  “O, yes, I had better do it, and I’ll be glad to take the consequences.”

  Trembling, as fear of she didn’t know what streaked through her, she leaned down to brush his lips with hers. But he grasped her head, and for a brief, poignant moment, she stared into his eyes, and the expression in them nearly unglued her. She wanted to back away, but he held on, flicking his tongue back and forth over the seam of her lips until, without due thought to what she did, she opened her mouth for him, as hungry for loving, any loving, as he. He plunged into her, gently at first and then like a starving man testing every centimeter, every crevice of her warm, giving mouth and nourishing himself with the sweetness of her loving.

  She savored his masculine taste and sucked him deeper into her mouth, needing all of him. With a groan, he plunged in and out of her, simulating the act of love. When heat settled between her legs, she fought against the rhythmic pulsations that pummeled her vagina and gripped his shoulder to steady herself.

  Shocked at the force of his need and at her own response to him, she backed away. “What have I done? You’re going to accuse me of encouraging you, of leading you on. I didn’t, Harper. I swear it.”

  “No, baby. I needed that. Maybe we both needed it.”

  She glanced at the bed less than three feet away and closed her eyes. She had to get out of there. “I’d . . . uh . . . better go . . . as soon as I can gather up this stuff.”

  “It’s all right, Jolene. Sit down over there and get yourself together. I know you didn’t plan this, and neither did I. Please don’t let what happened keep us from being friends. Your visits while I’ve been in this hospital have meant a lot to me.”

  She packed the basket. “To me, too. I hope your mother is better soon. Uh . . . good-bye, and happy Thanksgiving.” She fled from his room, slipped into the elevator seconds before the door closed and let its wall take her weight. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she panted for breath.

  What have I done? I know he thinks I’m using him again, but I’m not. I meant to give him a friendly peck on the lips, and then he put his tongue in my mouth and . . . Oh, Lord, am I one of those women who never says no to a man? If he hadn’t been in that chair, would I have . . . ? No, I don’t do that any more.

  She dragged herself out of the hospital and dawdled along Ocean Road, unmindful of the bracing and frigid wind, trying to come to terms with what she had experienced with Harper. “But I enjoyed kissing him,” she told herself. Then, remembering the explosions in her vagina, she said, “His tongue sure worked its magic. But what should I expect? The only times I’ve ever had an orgasm, he was inside of me. So it’s nothing to worry about.”

  As she reached the boardinghouse, one thought pounded in her head: How could she feel as she did about Gregory and respond that way to Harper?” She inserted her key into the lock, pushed open the door and inhaled the odor of the great feast that teased and taunted her nostrils.

  “Oh, I’m just human,” she said aloud. “Like Pavlov and his dog, I’ve learned to respond to Harper.” She skipped up the stairs. “It’s no big deal. I can unlearn it.” She consoled herself with that.

  Richard folded a red and gray paisley ascot into his open-collared shirt, slipped on a navy blazer that complimented his light-gray slacks, and bounded down the stairs to the dining room. It was Thanksgiving Day, so he dressed for dinner. If no one else did, he didn’t care. Sitting alone at the table he always shared with Fannie, his fingers strummed the yellow tablecloth and he shifted in his chair, crossing and uncrossing his knees as he watched the door, waiting for Francine to walk through it.

  After a few minutes, she entered the dining room along with Ph
ilip Coles, and something akin to an iron fist clutched at his heart. He had never been jealous of a woman, not even of Estelle, who he hadn’t realized he loved until she married someone else. What he felt then was not jealousy, but pain. A laugh that in no way represented his feelings eased out of him, and he raised a hand of greeting to Judd who watched him from a nearby table. Fannie rushed in precisely at five o’clock, joined him at their table and asked everyone to stand for Philip’s prayer of Thanksgiving.

  “I want y’all to know that our Jolene did the Thanksgiving decorations,” Fannie said when Philip finished, “and Judd built the fire in the lounge. Percy brought the maple leaves and branches day before yesterday when he got back from his trip to New England, and Richard bought the horns of plenty that you see in the lounge. Y’all make this house a home, and I thank you. Marilyn is giving us a great meal, thank the Lord, so let’s eat.”

  “How do you manage to keep Marilyn?” Richard asked Fannie, as he savored the best turkey he’d ever tasted.

  “I pay her what head chefs in Ocean City get, and I cater to her as much as I can without letting her boss me. I tolerate her foolishness, because everybody here is grown up and can take care of themselves. If she gets too far out of hand, one of you puts her in her place.”

  “What about Percy Lucas?”

  “Oh, Marilyn flirts with Percy because he’s a man, but she doesn’t hit on him. I think she’s afraid he’ll take her up on it. Now you. She wants you more than she wants money.”

  He hoped his problems with Marilyn were in the past. “Marilyn and I have reached an understanding. She makes passes and issues invitations, and I ignore them. She expects that.”

  Fannie rang the bell for Rodger, who appeared at once. “Would you please pass some more dressing and gravy?” To Richard, she said, “How is Marilyn responding to your feelings for Francine?”

  His eyes widened, he swallowed too quickly and had to cough several times before he could answer. “I don’t know. I also don’t know precisely what my feelings for Francine are.”

  Fannie placed her fork on the side of her plate and pointed her right index finger at him. “Philip used to be a ladies’ man. I hope he hasn’t decided to go after Francine.”

  He hadn’t considered that. “Why? Is he something of a rake?”

  “Let’s just say he always seemed to have enough ego and charm to get whatever and whomever he wanted.”

  A frown gathered on Richard’s face, and he moved his head slowly from side to side. “Then why is he a bachelor?”

  Fannie stared at Richard. “I won’t bother to ask you the same question, but I’ll tell you like it is: You’re as crazy about Francine as she is about you, so get off your high horse and straighten things out with her. She’s a woman who isn’t going to accept second best no matter how much she loves you.”

  Months earlier, he would have resented such an intrusion into his personal affairs, but she ate supper with him every night, and he supposed that gave her a special license.

  “It’s a long story, Fannie. I’ve had bridges to cross, but I’m getting there.”

  “Good. You don’t want to end up like Philip: sixty, single, and sorry.”

  A few chuckles escaped him. “Philip has begun to visit you regularly. What’s happened? He hasn’t retired from his church, has he?”

  Richard thought she seemed pensive for a moment before snapping out of it. “He’ll preach as long as he can breathe. Maybe he’s lonely, though I don’t see how with all those church sisters dying to comfort him. I don’t know, but whenever he comes, I’m happy to see him.”

  No help there. A man had a reason for making such drastic changes in his behavior, and he’d like to know what motivated Philip Coles. It was not Francine. He’d bet anything that it centered on Jolene.

  After supper, Richard sat with Judd in the lounge before the fire that crackled and popped out tiny sparks, giving the room the atmosphere of a real home. Presently, Francine walked over to them, and Richard stood, pulled over a chair and waited for her to sit down.

  “Welcome back,” Judd said to her. “I missed you these past few days when you were sulking at m’friend here.

  Francine’s bottom lip dropped. “What? I wasn’t . . . We had a misunderstanding is all. What a delightful Thanksgiving,” she said, changing the subject and looking straight into Richard’s eyes. “I’m so glad I found this place.”

  His heart skipped a beat. Francine hadn’t previously flirted with him. Heat flushed the back of his neck and, without thinking, he pushed back from the table. Her gaze didn’t waver, and he realized that she was going for the jugular, that she’d played it his way, and now she would call the shots.

  “Would you two like some privacy?” Judd asked with a note of merriment in his voice.

  Richard’s laughter simultaneously with Francine’s relieved the tension. “You stay right here,” he said to Judd. “I wouldn’t like this situation to get out of hand. I think Francine has just declared war.”

  Judd relaxed in the Shaker rocker and rocked back and forth, his eyes closed and his face angelic. “And a good thing, too. It’s high time, ’cause you’ll shilly-shally till you’re old as I am.”

  Unmoved by Judd’s meddling, Richard went to the cooler for a drink of water, and Francine walked over to him. “How’s Judd doing?”

  “Fine, as far as I know. Why? Is he ill?”

  “No, but his only sister is ailing, and he seemed depressed about it yesterday. She lives in Raleigh, North Carolina, and that’s a good distance from here.”

  He drank the water and dropped the paper cup into the receptacle put there for that purpose. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  When he returned to the table, he said to Judd, “What do you say I drive you to Raleigh tomorrow to see your sister?”

  Judd stopped rocking. “You’d do that? I’d love to see Thelma. She’s m’closest living relative, and she’s not a bit well.”

  “I’ll rent a car then, and we’ll start first thing in the morning. Can you call and say we’re coming?”

  Judd nodded. “I sure will, and I want you to know that God’s gonna bless you, friend.”

  The next morning, Francine drove them to a car rental agency in Ocean Pines. The gray, snow-capped clouds hung low, and Richard did what he hadn’t done since his boyhood days: He gazed up and silently prayed for dry weather.

  “Thanks for the lift,” he said to Francine and unbuckled his seat belt. But as he reached for the door handle, one of Francine’s hands clasped his cheek and the other one touched the back of his head. Surprised, he turned fully to face her and felt the shock of her lips moving over his. “Judd is in the back seat,” he warned himself, but her lips parted, and he capitulated and thrust into the sweet warmth of her mouth. She took him, pulling him deeply into her in the rhythmic motions of a woman approaching orgasm, and as hard as he tried to stave it off, he nonetheless rose in a full erection. He broke the kiss.

  “Francine! My Lord, Judd is in the back seat.”

  “He is not,” she said as sweetly and as refined as if she hadn’t seconds earlier rocked him out of his senses. “He got out of the car as soon as I started to kiss you. Are you angry?”

  His head fell back against the seat. “Hell, I don’t know what I am. You’re asking for trouble.”

  “Not me. I’m asking for what I want, and what I’ll get.” Her hand stroked his chest.

  “You little imp. I hope you have time to wait here till I get straightened out. Woman, you came up on my blind side, and you’re going to pay. Nobody corners me.”

  Her face shone with the brilliance of her smile. “Pay? Me? Gladly. How much, where and when?” Her satisfied facial expression and its wordless promise sent tremors through him. Francine Spaldwood was beating him at his own game.

  He opened the door, glancing back at her as he got out of the car. “Drive carefully; that’s what I’m going to do.”

  He went inside the car rental agency, where Ju
dd sat reading a copy of The Maryland Journal. “I was wondering if you two had gotten into a fight,” Judd said without shifting his gaze from the paper.

  Richard stared down at him. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope,” Judd replied, still looking at the paper. “From the surprise you got, I figured you had either boxed her ears or made love to her, and if you’re half the man I think you are, you wouldn’t have done that in that car. Anyway, you didn’t have time.”

  Richard leaned against the counter, musing over Judd’s words until laughter burst out of him, and he laughed until he had to support his belly with both hands.

  “’Twasn’t that funny,” Judd said.

  The drive to Raleigh took nearly four hours, and they reached the home of Judd’s sister around one o’clock in the afternoon. Judd bounded up the steps to the front door as if he had shed thirty years, his face aglow with smiles. The happiness Richard felt knowing that he was able to give his friend such a priceless gift filled him with the sense that, somehow, he was being redeemed. But Richard couldn’t know that before he left Raleigh, North Carolina, he would be a different man, a changed man.

  Chapter Ten

  Richard watched Judd rush up the stairs, sprightly as a far younger man and seemingly unmindful of his eighty-five years. He sensed that Judd loved his sister, but did love—any kind of love—do that for a person? Alone in the living room, Richard walked over to a window near the fireplace and looked out. Pecans covered the earth beneath two enormous pecan trees. He shook his head in wonder. If the family members didn’t want the nuts or didn’t need income from them, they could at least give them to a needy person. Musing over the idea, it occurred to him that, as recently as two months earlier, no such thought would have crossed his mind. He marveled at the changes in himself.

  “Hi.”

  At the sound of that soft, feminine purr, he whirled around and stared into the face of temptation. Five feet, eight inches tall; big, almond-shaped brown eyes; a honey complexion; youthful breasts nearly popping out of a tight sweater; and rounded hips in jeans slung so low that he could see the beginning of her pubic hair. He caught himself a second before he would have released a sharp whistle.