Regret Not a Moment (55 page)

“But money’s not all there is to it, right?”

“No,” Jeremiah said quietly. “I guess I just never got around to doing anything. I hope Jesse will be different. So far, though, I haven’t seen any sign of that. Maybe we’re too protected at Willowbrook. If I read a book, I can talk to you or Irma about it. Exchange opinions. You’re not surprised I know how to read. Or by what I read. You treat me with respect. It’s only every once in a while that I have to leave our world. And at the track, everyone’s pretty nasty to everyone else, regardless of color.”

Devon laughed. “That’s true.”

“So I’ve got a real conflict. Let Jesse stay at Willowbrook, where he’ll be protected, or make him get out in the real world, where he could get hurt. In the real world, maybe there’s a chance he can make more of a difference than I have.”

“Jeremiah, you sell yourself short!” Devon exclaimed. “You made history as a jockey and you’re doing it again as a trainer.”

“Hasn’t changed anything,” he argued.

“You don’t really know that. Change might be slow in coming. That doesn’t mean it will never come.”

“Naw.” He turned his mouth down in an expression of firm disbelief. “I’m always going to be just Devon’s boy.”

FRANCESCA looked flirtatiously at Kelly Majors. “My mother would kill me if she knew I was here with you.”

Kelly looked around the ice-cream shop decorated in bright pink and white candy stripes. They were sitting at a white wrought-iron table with matching chairs. Nothing could have appeared more innocent and wholesome. “What’s wrong with going for an ice cream?” asked the jockey with a grin. “We’re together every day at the track anyway.”

“I know, but it’s not the same. My mother wouldn’t approve of my going out in the evening with a man in his twenties. I’m supposed to date boys in high school—no older.”

Kelly shifted uncomfortably, wondering if this excursion was worth the risk to his job. He hadn’t quite realized the import of what he was doing when he suggested that he take Francesca for an ice cream soda. It was just that ever since the night he had seen her at the ball he had grown increasingly aware of her allure. He couldn’t help himself. He was around her every day. Every time she passed by he noticed the blossoming figure underneath her tight-fitting blue jeans and thin cotton shirts. She looked like a woman, not a child. And she acted older than her years in some regards. She was reliable and responsible about her job. Yet she had an innocence about her that he found adorable. The back side of a racetrack was a rough place, and most of the women available to him were the hangers-on that flocked to professional athletes. They were often sexy, good-looking women, but they were anything but innocent.

Kelly studied Francesca now. She stared back in a frankly inviting way. The only thing was, Kelly wasn’t sure if she knew what she was inviting. Suddenly, the precariousness of his position struck him. He took his elbows off the table and sat back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. “Listen…” he said. “I think you’re a great kid, but I don’t want trouble with your mother.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Francesca said breezily. “She went out to dinner with Mason, and anyway, I told her I was going over to a friend’s house to spend the night.”

“Doesn’t she check on you?”

“Of course, but I’ll be home before she is. I’ll just say I didn’t feel well and came home early. It’ll be fine.” Francesca inserted a spoonful of ice-cream soda into her mouth. A bit of the foam stuck to her lip and she flicked it off with her tongue, Kelly following every action intently.

What made it worse for him was that she wasn’t dressed in her work clothes. No, just as on the night of the ball, she wore a dress that highlighted her young beauty. The pink linen frock was deceptively simple, but what it did for Francesca’s figure could only have been accomplished by a very expensive garment. It gave her an air of both sophistication and extreme femininity. The full calf-length skirt was supported by fluffy petticoats of a darker pink so that every motion of Francesca’s made that peculiarly feminine sound that hinted at frilly things underneath. The bodice of the dress hugged her bosom, pushing her breasts together and upward, where a sweetheart neckline emphasized their soft curves. Wide straps of the same material went around Francesca’s neck, halter style, so that her curls tumbled onto the bare skin of her tanned shoulders. Francesca, who had just begun to wear makeup—her mother only allowed her natural-colored lipstick and mascara—had snuck into Devon’s bedroom and applied eyeliner, rouge, and smoky gray eye shadow as well. Having studied Devon for years, she had achieved the same subtle enhancements as her mother did with such skill. To top it off, she had dabbed on her mother’s prized Joy perfume—a heady essence of gardenias that floated on the summer evening. She felt very grown-up, and a bit dangerous.

“You look worried,” Francesca teased Kelly, feeling a little superior in spite of his advantage in years.

“I am,” he acknowledged.

Francesca just smiled and took another spoonful of her soda.

It was still light when the young couple emerged from the shop some thirty minutes later.

“I guess we’d better be getting you home,” said Kelly, looking around nervously to ensure that no one they knew was in the vicinity. He wondered why in the world he had ever thought inviting Francesca out would he a good idea. And how could he walk her home without someone seeing them?

As though reading his mind, Francesca suggested, “Let’s cut through the park instead of taking the road.”

“But that’s not the way to your house.”

“No, it’s the way to yours. But mine is only a few blocks farther. If anyone sees me coming from the track, they won’t think twice.”

Kelly grew more comfortable as dusk fell, and as they entered the park, the canopy of trees made it darker still. The summertime music of crickets was the only sound that broke the quiet of the twilight.

Francesca and Kelly walked side by side in silence. “Look!” whispered Francesca. “The bridle trail. If we go back this way, we’ll be certain not to be seen.”

“Hey, that’s a good idea!” said Kelly. His natural exuberance returning, he reached for Francesca’s hand and led her onto the narrow path.

As they walked along the path, Francesca studied Kelly’s animated face. It was not exactly handsome; rather, it had a somewhat rakish appearance. Dimples on either side of his mobile mouth flashed when he spoke. His blue eyes, fringed with long black lashes, bespoke arrogance, mischief, and daring. His thick dark hair, fashionably combed back from his forehead, was a silky helmet. He looked every bit the brash young athlete. Francesca wondered if she was truly attracted to him or simply thrilled with the idea that a twenty-one-year-old man was attracted to her.

“This was nice tonight,” Kelly said softly, “but I don’t think we’d better do it again.”

Francesca was hurt. Suddenly she felt like the same gawky child of a year before. She wondered if Kelly thought her ugly.

“Hey!” he said softly. “Don’t look so down. If you weren’t sixteen, I’d go for you in a minute!”

“I… I wonder if anyone will ever like me enough to want to go steady with me,” Francesca confessed.

“Sure they will,” Kelly reassured her, squeezing her hand. “You’re a gorgeous-looking girl.”

Francesca stopped and turned toward him, her eyes filled with doubt. “You really think so?” she breathed.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

Francesca blushed and turned back to the path, her eyes cast down at the mossy forest floor. A few moments later, they emerged near the white fence that marked the backside of the racetrack, then progressed to the stables.

When they were in the darkness of the barn, Kelly faced Francesca and took both her hands in his. “Stay out of trouble, kid,” he whispered, giving her a light kiss on the mouth.

Francesca felt a spark go through her at the touch of his lips. She had never kissed a boy this old before! She tingled at the adventure of it. She put her smooth bare arms around his neck and returned his kiss the way she had seen people do in movies.

“Hold on a minute!” said Kelly breathlessly, pulling her arms from around his neck. He pushed her against the side of a stall and held her there, his arms stronger than they looked. “You shouldn’t do things like that unless you really do want trouble,” he chided her gently.

Francesca smiled wickedly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, not releasing her arms, “you shouldn’t kiss a guy like that unless you want more than a kiss.”

“What makes you think I don’t?” she asked suggestively.

Kelly laughed, white teeth flashing in the dark. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about, kid. And that’s the most dangerous thing of all.”

Francesca felt the perverse desire to exercise her new feminine power, and she leaned toward him, struggling against his arms.

“You stay where you are!” Kelly warned in mock anger.

Then, suddenly, there was a flurry in the shadows and an explosion of noise. A yell in the dark, and the little man was wrenched away from her. A confusion of motion, dark and light bodies intermingled, then the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

Moving instinctively, Francesca picked up a nearby bucket. It was empty and she drew back her arm, prepared to slam the metal object into the interloper. Just then, she saw that the intruder was Jesse.

“Jesse!” she yelled.

“Run, Frankie! Run!” he gasped as he wrestled the smaller man to the floor.

“What’re you doing, you asshole!” yelled Kelly, wriggling to set himself free from the muscular teenager. He wasn’t about to risk hurting his hands—his livelihood—by punching Jesse.

“Jesse, get off of him! Let him go!” Francesca reached into the melee and grabbed the back of the black man’s shirt.

Jesse whirled and shook her off. “I’ll teach him!”

Francesca lunged for Jesse’s arm, pulling him off Kelly. “He didn’t do anything, Jesse, leave him alone!”

Kelly used the brief pause to wrench himself from Jesse’s grasp. He staggered to his feet and began to brush off his clothes.

“You crazy jackass! What’d you think you were doing?” Kelly angrily demanded.

Jesse looked from Francesca to Kelly, suddenly realizing that his rescue had been anything but welcome. “I… I thought you were hurting her,” he explained.

“Of course not!” Francesca said, as if the idea were the most ridiculous in the world.

“Well,” grumbled Jesse, “it looked like you were forcing her.”

“On the contrary!” said Kelly, with a tongue-in-cheek grin. His natural good humor was ebbing back and he began to chuckle at the situation.

Jesse, furiously embarrassed, looked appealingly at Francesca, who also began to smile. “I’m sorry. It looked like he was holding you down.”

“She’s bigger than me!” cried Kelly, at which the three of them began to laugh.

“And probably stronger, too,” said Jesse. As the laughter faded, he looked down at the dirt floor and shuffled his feet. “I’m sorry if I… interrupted.”

“No more need to apologize; you rescued me just in time,” Kelly remarked with another grin.

Jesse turned to Francesca. “Does your mother know you’re out with him?”

Francesca blushed, but she lifted her chin defiantly. “No. I’m sixteen. I’m old enough to do what I like.”

Jesse gave her a look of exasperation. “No, you’re not. And your mother would kill you if she knew you were out with a guy five years older!”

Francesca was annoyed that his words so closely replicated her own words to Kelly earlier in the evening. She put her hands on her hips. “That’s none of your business!” she cried.

“I’ve known you all your life! I know your mother’s rules,” he countered.

The two glared at each other for a few seconds before Kelly broke in. “Calm down, you two. Francesca, you already said pretty much the same thing earlier and you know it’s true.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “Jesse, Miss Devon will probably think nothing of it if she sees you walking Francesca home. Why don’t you two get a move on. I’d feel better knowing Francesca wasn’t walking around by herself.”

Without a glance at Francesca, Jesse began to march brusquely in the direction of the path. When he had gone about twenty feet, he turned to see Francesca still glaring at him. “Coming?” he asked.

“Go on,” whispered Kelly, at which Francesca began to move reluctantly forward.

Jesse turned again and continued walking.

Annoyed, Francesca called out to him, “I am not going to run to keep up with you.”

Jesse stopped, but did not turn. He stayed where he was until Francesca caught up to him. “You want to cut across the track or go around?” He looked pointedly at her high-heeled white sandals.

Following his glance, Francesca tightened her lips. She bent down and removed her sandals. “We’ll cut across,” she said stiffly. “No use taking the long way.”

They walked along in silence a few moments; then, unable to contain himself any longer, Jesse burst out, “What the heck were you thinking about, going out with a guy his age!”

“What difference does it make to you who I go out with?” Francesca snapped. She didn’t like being chided.

Jesse stuffed his hands into the pockets of his chinos and curled them into tight balls. He remained silent. How could he answer Francesca? He would never admit that it made him sick with jealousy to see another man kiss her.

“Answer me!” cried Francesca, pinching his upper arm to get his attention.

“Ouch!” Jesse yanked his arm away from her. “Don’t do that!”

“Well, answer then! Why do you care who I go out with?”

“Because we’ve been friends a long time. Because I know your mom wouldn’t like you going out with a guy so much older. Because Majors is a playboy. He’s got women—grown women, not little girls like you—all over him.”

Francesca stopped in her tracks and faced him. “Take a good look at me!” she demanded. “I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m as pretty as anyone!”

Jesse stared at Francesca. The night breeze ruffled her hair and caused her long skirt to waft about her legs. Her young, full breasts pushed against the thin cloth of her dress. She was a bewitching sight. And she looked every inch a woman. Jesse’s eyes filled with longing, and as Francesca’s eyes met his she recognized for the first time the emotion he felt for her.