The Governor's Sons (31 page)

“And she got it to me.
 
I wasn’t married—because I was still in love with you.”

Mikki kissed him.
 
“And the next thing I knew—you were there—at that awful place, like a knight in shining armor.”

“I knew I’d be with you again—I just didn’t know how it would happen.”

“Heath--if you hadn’t been there—I think I would’ve died.
 
I was afraid my baby would die—I’d deliver stillborn babies almost every day working in that unsterile maternity unit.
 
They just wouldn’t get us all the medical supplies we needed.
 
But with everything you managed to smuggle in, at least I was able to survive.
 
And with you there—I wanted to live.
 
But even with the right medicine, Heath, if you hadn’t been there, I would have willed myself to die.”

Heath was quiet for a moment.
 
“No you wouldn’t have.”
 
He slid his hand from her waist to her hip, gently caressing her as he kissed her cheek. “Because you’re resilient.
 
Every inch of you is beautiful and tough.
 
Look at the way you’re at Ash’s throat all the time.”

Mikki laughed.
 
“Since I’m a woman—he won’t fight back.”

“And since you’re my wife—he’s being polite.”
 
They embraced silently for a while.
 
When Mikki squeezed him a little tighter, Heath asked, “So—do you feel better?”

“Yeah.”
 
She sighed in contentment, snuggled in his arms.
 
“I’m fine.”

“Do you want to talk any more—about…”

Mikki shook her head.
 
“Not right now.
 
I’ve gotten enough off my chest for one night.”

“Well then, in that case, I’ll be in the smoking room.”
 
Heath stood up and grabbed his robe from the closet.
 
“Ash and I are gonna do some catching up.”

As Heath started for the door Mikki said, “Just plan on making love to me when you come back.”
 
Heath stopped.
 
“That is—unless you want to now.”

He threw his robe on a chair, and in seconds was back on the bed next to her, removing her silken sheath.
 
“Ash’ll know I’m on my way,” he said kissing her.

“Oh, Heath,” Mikki pulled off his pajamas.
 
“I’m glad I didn’t have to twist your arm.”

“Twist my arm?
 
Never.”

****

Ash nursed a tall glass of grape juice.
 
It was just after 11:00 p.m. as he and Heath sat in large leather chairs in the Governor’s private smoking room.
 
Heath sipped a glass of white wine while they caught up on each other’s lives. With Heath living in California, their visits were limited.

“So, how are things going with your work?” Ash asked.

“Great,” Heath said. “We just celebrated the nineteenth year of the practice, and the two new doctors we hired last year are doing a fantastic job.
 
We get new patients every month, and a lot of them are Japanese.
 
Word of mouth spreads through the Japanese American community that there’s a woman OB they love—and bingo.”

“You two don’t get sick of working with each other?”

“Never.
 
There was a time I didn’t think I’d ever see Mikki again.
 
Now waking up with her, working with her, and sleeping with her next to me is more than I could ever ask for.”

Ash laughed to himself. Sometimes Heath sounded romantic as a woman.
 
But if Ash were married to Mikki, and had to work alongside with her, she’d be dead, and he’d be serving a life sentence.

Although Heath worshipped the woman, Ash wondered how he stood being married to her.
 
Just over five feet of dynamite, Mikki almost wore the pants in the family.
 
Mother would drop dead if she knew Heath was running around making crazy political statements like drinking out of Colored water fountains.

Heath leaned toward Ash.
 
“Tell me about everything that’s going on around here.
 
I know things haven’t been easy and you’re going through some tough times.
 
But since you’ve been home tonight, you’ve been acting like you’re in outer space or something.”

“Yeah,” Ash agreed.
 
“That’s about what it feels like.”

“I hope—Mikki and I didn’t—”

“No, it’s not that.
 
It’s just that I—I got some news today.
 
Part of me’s thrilled about it, but part of me’s...” Ash raked a hand through his hair.
 
“You ever miss having kids?”

Heath smiled a little.
 
“Sometimes—but—I guess delivering other people’s babies makes up for that.”

“There’s no greater joy—and sometimes—no greater pain when you have kids.”
 
Ash took a sip of grape juice but afterwards, didn’t say anything; instead he studied the deep purple color in his glass.

“So—what’s the news?” Heath asked.

“I got a phone call today,” Ash inhaled deeply, “from Betty Jean Hall.
 
Remember me telling you that Thomas died about a year ago?
 
A few months later Betty Jean moved back to Joy Hope to be close to her mother.
 
Mrs. Wilkes refuses to go to a nursing home but almost can’t care for herself.
 
Long story short--with all the violence that’s going on, and Joy Hope not so far away, Harland’s decided to move here from Atlanta.”
 
Ash hesitated.
 
“He wants to set up his office in Clarkstown so he can be close to his mother and grandmother, to make sure they’re safe.
 
And he thinks—he can be an asset to the local NAACP.”

Both men sat silently for a few moments.

“Betty Jean said that she’d told him I’d help—with his civil rights efforts.
 
She also let me know she’s never told him the truth.
 
He knows about Kitty being his mother, but he doesn’t know who his father is.

“Heath—I wanted him to know—but Betty Jean said she kept putting it off.
 
She claims there was never an appropriate time.
 
And then she was afraid, with me being married with my own family, that maybe I’d changed my mind.
 
She asked how I felt about it now, and if I wanted him to know.
 
 
And that if I did, should she tell him--or should I?”

“Well,” Heath said, “you still want him to know, right?”
 
Ash nodded.
 
“So—who’s gonna tell him?”

“I—uh--told her I’d do it.”

Heath didn’t say anything for several seconds.
 
“And—how do you feel about that?”

“Terrified.”

“You’re a decorated war hero—captured and held prisoner by the Germans.
 
If you can survive Nazis—you can survive this.
  
You fought on the battlefield to defend your country.
 
You’ve never been terrified of anything.”

Ash hesitated.
 
“Well, I am now.”

“You’ve never told Charlene—have you?”
 
Heath asked.

“No.”

“But you will now?”

“I don’t have a choice.
 
I want Harland to know I’m—we’re--his family.
 
But—how’s it gonna make me look—besides like a hypocrite.
 
I can hear Leigh Ann now.
 
‘Segregationist Governor Ash Kroth reveals Negro child.’”
 
Ash shook his head and muttered, “She’s a pain in the butt sometimes.
 
I’ve told my kids to always tell the truth—and here I’ve lived with a secret all these years.

“And I’m always telling Gavin not to get some girl in trouble—and look what I did.
 
And—what’s Charlene gonna think of me?
 
I’m not ashamed of loving Kitty.
 
But I’m ashamed and embarrassed that I didn’t fight for a relationship with Harland.
 
I mean, what kind of man does that make me look like?
 
What’s Harland gonna think?”

“You did what you thought you needed to do.”

Ash sighed.
 
“Yeah, I guess so.
 
It felt right at the time.
 
I achieved my dream.
 
No scandal followed my political career, but I paid a price for it.
 
I wanted to pursue politics to help Harland.
 
But I became known as a segregationist. My goal was to make things equal, truly equal, but keep the races separate.
 
I knew trying to achieve complete equality, along with integration, would lead to violence.
  
I didn’t want that to happen here—but now it’s turning into a hotbed—and Harland wants to throw himself right into the thick of it.
 
And I’m afraid for him.”

“Ash, you’ve got to give it up to God.
 
It’s all under His control.”

“Yeah.
 
And not a day goes by that I don’t pray for Harland’s safety and protection.”
 
Ash was quiet for a moment.
 
“I should have told Charlene a long time ago.
 
Does Mikki know?”

“I don’t keep anything from her.
 
Ash, the truth is always the easiest option.”

“Yeah,” Ash agreed.
 
“And you have to live with the consequences of your actions.”

From his mother’s living room, Ash glanced toward the grandfather clock that stood in the corner of the entrance foyer.
 
The chimes rang loudly announcing the time as 8:00 P.M.
 
Mother Kroth, now widowed five years, was still in the kitchen overseeing a few last minute details with the hired help. So far, only Ash and his family had arrived for the party.
 
In the living room, they chatted with Mikki and Heath who were staying with Miss Joan for the last week of their visit.

Both brothers wore dark suits with thin black ties.
 
Ash pulled Heath aside and walked with him to the dining room to talk privately near a large potted palm.

“I’ve been in touch with Harland,” Ash said quietly.
 
“I wrote that I’m at his disposal and to call me if he needs anything.
 
I let him know that I want to meet with him as soon as he gets in town—not to tell him the truth yet, just to meet him.”

“What’d you hear back?”

“He called me.”
 
Ash hesitated a moment.
 
“Heath—everything’s moving too fast.
 
Things are happening sooner than I expected.
 
He’ll be in town next week to look for an apartment and some office space.
 
He wants to meet then.”

Heath’s eyes dropped for a moment, then his gaze met Ash’s.
 
 
“Do you want me to stay in town for another week—for moral support?
 
Mikki can go home without me.”

Ash smiled.
 
“No, you go on back to California.
 
I can handle this alone.”

Heath reached over and squeezed his brother’s shoulder.
 
“Remember, you’re not alone.
 
God can give you the right words and show you how to handle things.”

“Guess He’ll—uh—show me how to find my way out of the hole I’ve dug myself into.”

“Yeah.” Heath nodded.

“And—next time you’re in town—I suppose,” Ash said awkwardly, “I’ll have another son for you to meet.”

“I already met him once, remember?” Heath smiled.
 
“When I helped bring him into the world.”

****

When Miss Joan strolled slowly from the kitchen, guests began dribbling in. Miss Trina Thompson was among the first.
 
Heath and Ash moved toward the entrance foyer to hug her as she hobbled in on a cane.
 
After their families greeted her, Miss Trina saw Joan moving at a snail’s pace, wearing a dark red gown and very flat gold evening slippers.

“Why, Joan,” Trina exclaimed, “how striking you look!” Miss Joan’s high cheekbones had helped her to age gracefully.
 
But her brown hair was completely gray now and she refused to dye it.
 
Still long, though much thinner, she wore it in the same style she’d worn for decades: a bun swirled at the nape of her neck.

Miss Joan embraced her good friend.
 
“Thank you, Trina, darling, and I’m so glad you could make it this evening.
 
Why, that lavender dress looks lovely on you.”

“Thank you, dear.
 
It’s one of the few things that does.”
 
Trina chuckled.
 
“My figure is quite the challenge to dress these days.”
 
In her youth, Trina was short with a pretty face and shapely figure.
 
Though still pretty with glistening white hair, she now resembled a beach ball, as her well-rounded curves had become completely round.