The Governor's Sons (30 page)

Heath glanced at Ash and tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t.
 
He then proceeded to tell his brother that a Yankee news reporter took a picture of Mikki drinking from a Colored water fountain when they’d visited at a rest stop on the way from the airport.

“What town were ya’ll in?” Ash asked.

“Rabbit’s Tail, or something,” Mikki said.

“Rabbit’s Trail,” Heath corrected her.

Mikki smiled. “All these cute little southern towns have such cute little southern names.”

“Well, we’re—uh—in the process of removing all those signs,” Ash said, embarrassed.
 
“It’s just gonna take some time.
 
Rome wasn’t built in a day.
 
So--just why were you—drinking from a Colored water fountain?”

“Because I’m not white.
 
This whole institutional segregation thing is absurd!
 
I’ve had to face my share of discrimination, but to spend so much money on it just to demoralize a race of people seems ludicrous!
 
Heath drinks out of the Colored water fountains, too, just to make a statement.”

“So do I, Aunt Mikki.” Leigh Ann beamed. “When Mom and Dad aren’t around, anyway.”

Mikki winked at her neice.

“Leigh Ann,” Charlene admonished, “you can’t be doing that.
 
If someone recognizes you, how’s that gonna make your father look?”

Charlene noticed Ash shift uncomfortably in his seat. To keep from arguing with Mikki, she knew he was probably biting his tongue.

“Heath told me,” Mikki said, “that the state built a law school for black students back in 1930, just to keep them out of Simpson Leggett’s program.”

“That would be Maretta University’s law school,” Ash said.
 
“And it’s a fine institution.”

“Heath said only one student attended the first year.
 
Wouldn’t it have been cheaper just to let him in Simpson Leggett?” Mikki asked.

“Since the uh—segregation policies have been lifted,” Ash said, “more than half the student population there’s white now.”

“Too bad the institution was founded because of race hatred.”

Charlene cringed as she watched Ash take in a deep controlled breath.
 
Mikki loved ruffling his feathers over the race issue.
 
But because Ash didn’t want to cause a rift between himself and Heath, he had to almost roll over and play dead when Mikki was around.

“So, Mikki.” Ash hesitated. “Just what happened after that Yankee took your picture?”

“He interviewed me.”

“You were interviewed?” Ash asked.

“Yes.”

“And—what did you say?”

“Nothing I haven’t already told you.
 
Just that what I was doing made a statement.
 
Oh, and I almost forgot,” she grinned, “I told him I’m your sister-in-law.”

As the blood drained from Ash’s face, a hushed silence fell over the room.

“Gotcha!” Mikki said.
 
She leaned toward Heath and they both laughed.

Leigh Ann laughed too.
 
Charlene and JoBeth only smiled politely.
 
Gavin showed no emotion.
 
But Ash, still pale, appeared visibly unnerved.

“Ash, hon,” Mikki smiled, “it was just a joke.”

Heath leaned over and whispered something in his wife’s ear.
 
Probably to take it easy on his brother, Charlene assumed, and while Heath whispered he gently stroked Mikki’s arm.

They were always touching and loving on each other.
 
There was a time like that in her own marriage, Charlene thought.
 
It was called the honeymoon phase, and that had ended a long time ago.

Maybe if she were more secure in herself, Charlene mused, she wouldn’t feel so insecure about her marriage. Mikki was confident and not afraid to laugh at herself.
 
After hearing Mother Kroth’s snide comments, Mikki had only laughed.
 
And by now, she’d probably forgotten the whole incident.
 
But Charlene hadn’t.
 
At times she still found herself dwelling on Miss Joan’s words.

****

After Charlene had showered that evening, she took a hard look at herself.
 
In her bedroom, she peered into the round mirror over her mahogany vanity.
 
At 49, she was closer to 50 than 20.
 
On her freshly scrubbed face, she looked at the crow’s feet, age lines and sunspots.
 
Ash often told her that she was just as beautiful as the day he first saw her in the Miss Magnolia Pageant, but she didn’t believe him.

In her lace bathrobe, with her thick blond hair wet, and falling past her shoulders, she supposed that, for her age, she was still
kind
of pretty.
 
Ash would never cheat on her—at least that’s what he’d said, but he wasn’t blind.
 
So she’d insisted that any secretary he hire be old and unattractive.
 
His current secretary, Doris, was gray haired, frumpy, and in Charlene’s opinion, perfect.

Young girls still found Ash physically attractive, and his power, extraordinarily appealing.
 
It didn’t seem fair that a man aged like a fine wine, but a woman, like a moldy hunk of cheese.

Ash had just stepped from the shower.
 
She glanced in the mirror at his naked reflection while he slipped on a pair of pajamas.
 
Ash’s looks had only become more appealing over time.
 
His auburn hair was sparsely streaked with gray, but still thick and full.
 
The lines in his face appeared to add character, rather than years, and now in addition to running and swimming, he’d added weight lifting to his workout regimen.

Ash approached her as he put on a cotton bathrobe.
 
“I’m gonna go talk to Heath for a while.
 
You wait up for me, okay?”
 
He gave her a hasty kiss on the cheek and then left the room.

She watched him go, then gazed at her reflection again.
 
Her beauty queen glamour had faded, and some days she didn’t feel beautiful at all.
 
Had Ash been more in love with her looks, than with her? Charlene wondered, studying the dark circles under her eyes.

What was the girl like that he’d loved before?
 
Perhaps she’d been exceptionally beautiful—more beautiful than Charlene had ever been.
 
And when Ash thought about her, she remained forever young.
 
Or maybe she’d been plain—and Ash had truly loved the fiber of her being, rather than her aesthetics.

Charlene wanted to know everything about this girl, but she wouldn’t dare ask Ash.
 
He didn’t want to talk about it.
 
And besides, Charlene didn’t want him wrapped up in her memory if he did.
 
Though Ash had claimed to have put the deceased girl friend behind him years ago, Charlene feared he’d loved that girl more than he’d ever loved her.

Who was she?
 
What was she like?
 
Did a part of his heart still belong to her?
 
Who could she ask?
 
Not Heath.
 
Brother, rival, best friend.
 
He’d tell Ash she was prying.
 
And she wouldn’t dream of asking Mother Kroth.
 
Charlene didn’t want to know her mother-in-law’s opinion of Ash’s dead paramour.
 
“No white trash blood in her veins,” she might say.
 
“Her blood was pure—and blue as the Mediterranean Sea.”
 
Charlene couldn’t bear to hear that.
 
But sooner or later, she’d figure out someone to ask—someone who’d know every detail.

****

After showering with Mikki, Heath stood at the dresser buttoning his pajamas.
 
“Maybe you could ease up some on my little brother,” he said, as Mikki came out of the bathroom. She was now clad only in a short turquoise robe.

She reclined on the bed and flipped open a copy of
Vogue
.
 
The shiny silk fabric seductively veiled her small curves. “I’m sorry, honey.
 
But it irks me how he’s been such a hypocrite.
 
I mean, he’s making strides in desegregation now, only because he has to, but before that he was a head strong supporter of the separate but equal standard.”

“You‘ve got to give him credit for the changes he’s making.”

“Oh, sure--but lurking in the past,” Mikki said dramatically, “Mr. Segregationist had a love affair with a black woman—and a child by her. Sometimes I’m tempted to tell Leigh Ann.”

“C’mon, Mikki, I love you, but I love my brother, too.
 
I can’t have you—”

“Oh, Heath, you know I’m not serious.
 
I wouldn’t do that.
 
But do you think he’s ever told Charlene?”

“I don’t know if he has or not.
 
I don’t bring it up.
 
And it’s not my place to.”

“Well, I betcha he hasn’t.
 
You told me that Ash was head over heels in love with that girl; willing to give up everything for her—move overseas—the whole bit.”

“Yeah.”
 
Heath nodded. “He didn’t want to live without her.
 
But once he met Charlene, he fell pretty hard.
 
That’s when he said he could finally put Kitty’s memory behind him and move on.”

“Well, I doubt he’d want Charlene to know that he was madly in love with a
Negro
woman.
 
And, on the other hand, he wouldn’t want her thinking that he’d just knocked up the hired help.
 
I wager he’s probably never said a thing.
 
That’s the safe approach.”

“You could be wrong.
 
If he’s told Charlene anything, I think he’s told her the whole truth.
 
She knows how much Ash loves her.
 
She wouldn’t be jealous of a woman from his past—who’s dead.
 
I wasn’t jealous of your first husband.”

“But Heath—I didn’t
love
Walter, I told you that at the very beginning.
 
You didn’t have a reason to be jealous.
 
I loved Walter like a good friend.
 
I didn’t love him like I loved you—I never got over you.”
 
Mikki’s eyes began welling.
 
“I was married to Walter for five years—and I never stopped thinking about you.”
 
She grabbed a Kleenex from the nightstand.

“I guess I haven’t thought about that part of my life for a long time.”
 
She sniffed, dabbing at her eyes.
 
“I think I’ll blame Ash for
making
me think about it.”
 
Mikki laughed a little. “That’ll make me feel better.
 
But it serves me right.
 
I shouldn’t be tearing into your brother one way or the other.
 
I’ve got my own guilt to deal with.”
 
Heath reclined next to her on the bed and embraced her.
 
She snuggled closely against his chest.
 
“And I haven’t cried about it for a long time, either.”

“Then don’t, Mikki, it’s all behind you.”

“But I want to.
 
A good cry and a good talk—might help a little.”

Heath hesitated for a few seconds.
 
“Then if you want to,” he said softly, “go ahead.
 
I’m here to listen, I’m here to hold you—and I’m here to love you—always.”

“Oh, Heath.”
 
Mikki melted in his arms as he kissed her.
 
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
 
She sighed.
 
“Sometimes I don’t think I deserve you at all--because of Walter.”
 
Mikki said,
 
wiping her eyes.
 
“I think I made him happy—I tried, anyway.
 
He was a good man, and he loved me.
 
When he died, I was devastated--devastated that I’d cheated him out of real love. He deserved a wife that loved him—not me.”
 
Heath only listened quietly and stroked her hair.

“But despite my lack of passion—when Walter and I got married, we had a perfect life.
 
I was married to a nice Japanese boy my parents loved.
 
He designed and built us a beautiful house, and we had all kinds of pretty things.
 
It’s not that the things were that important, but when the evacuation came, we had to leave practically all of them behind.

“When I was pregnant, our perfect life began unraveling.
 
I guess you could say it started to unravel the year before, after my dad was killed in that streetcar accident.
 
Mom was never the same after that, and once at the camp—that stress killed her.
 
And then Walter died.

“I wasn’t in my right mind when I wrote to you.
 
I didn’t know if you were married with children, I didn’t even know if you still lived in Joy Hope.
 
I just took a chance by sending that pitiful sounding, tear stained letter to your mother’s address and—”