Trouble Don’t Last Always (35 page)

“Until Adam’s blindness,” Eleanor answered. “Whatever they had wasn’t strong enough to withstand the strain. True love lasts through good and bad times.”

“Like you and Father.” Kristen sipped her wine. “You two had that special kind of love that I want to have. You found the one perfect man on earth for you.”

Her daughter’s words worried her. “Do you think you’ve found it?”

Kristen shrugged. “Perhaps. This is good salad. Maybe we should take Adam back some.”

Eleanor barely kept from sighing. Kristen should have gone into politics instead of art. “The honors thesis you did on how Europe embraced and influenced African-American artists was very good. I can see why the Museum of Modern Art in New York would want you to work for them.”

Kristen’s head came up. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Yes. I won’t lie to you, but I respect you as an adult. You have to make your own decisions.”

“New York would be wonderful.” Kristen almost sighed. “The best museums in the country are there. Not to mention the best theaters and restaurants. I read someplace that it would take five years to eat at every restaurant there.”

“Then you’ve made up your mind?”

Kristen braced her arms on the table. “Not yet. I’m waiting for the director of the museum to call, and then I have to go up for an interview.”

“A formality.” Eleanor added pepper to her salad. “He’ll hire you. He’d be crazy not to.”

Kristen smiled. “I’m glad you’re my mother.”

“You’ve made me proud since the day you were born,” Eleanor said.

“I’ve tried,” she said softly.

The shadows in her daughter’s eyes troubled Eleanor. “You succeeded. No parent was ever prouder. Now eat up so we can see the dessert menu.”

Eleanor stood in front of the unfinished canvas, her brush moving with a surety that she had not had in a long time. The reason heated her cheeks and the center of her body. She loved and she was loved. Problems remained, but she had someone to share those problems with.

The delineation of Jonathan’s muscled chest and legs needed to be perfect. The sudden squall had caught him unaware. His dark shirt flapped in the wind; his wet jeans were plastered to his legs as lightning flashed in the distance. He pitted his strength against the elements, determined to win, determined to return to
her.

Eleanor hadn’t known that part of the painting when she started, but it was there now. Off in a distance, a light in a cottage glowed. His lover waited.

She finished the last stroke as the doorbell rang. Her heart thumped with anticipation. Setting the brushes to soak, she closed the door to the second bedroom, where she had moved the painting when she returned from San Francisco.

Wiping her hand on a cloth dampened with turpentine, she went to open the door. “Hello.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, his hands and mouth greedy for her. “Hello.”

Eleanor melted against him. “You’ll get paint all over you.”

“I’ll also get you all over me.”

“Oh, Jonathan.”

He closed the door, his hand going to the buttons on her smock. “I need you, Eleanor.”

“Let me wash up,” she said, but she turned her neck to allow him greater access as he began trailing kisses from the curve of her jaw to her throat.

“Not a problem.” His hands lifted and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Shall we try the tub or the shower?”

No one had ever called Eleanor slow or stupid. “How about both?”

Only the pale glow of the computer screen shone in Kristen’s room. Wearing white silk pajamas, she sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed. She’d been on the computer for the past two hours, sending instant messages to Eric in New York. She needed the darkness.

That was the only way she’d be able to type the words on the computer. She had to. He’d changed, grown colder, but it was her fault. She should have understood she’d lose him if she didn’t do what he asked. The night of her graduation he had gotten drunk. Trying to help him up the steps to his apartment, he had fallen, dragging her with him. She’d scraped her back on the steps. Instead of spending the night in his arms, she had been a fifth wheel with her friends. She’d been too ashamed to go home before midnight.

She was ashamed now, but it was better than being alone. Unlike Adam and her mother, she didn’t draw people to her. Her friends were few.

She’d lain awake many, many nights contemplating what was in her makeup that eventually repelled people. They’d come, but they’d never stay. There were no kindergarten or high school friends who still kept in touch. She knew that Candace would drift from her as well.

People weren’t able to keep loving her. Her father would have, but he had been taken from her. She had to keep Eric. She couldn’t lose him, too.

Adam woke up the next morning and immediately waved his hand in front of his face. No change in either eye. Getting out of bed, he went to the balcony, hoping the bright light might pierce the gray in his right eye. Nothing.

Turning away, he went to take a shower. There was always tomorrow. In the bathroom, he squirted toothpaste into his mouth and brushed his teeth, then shaved. He no longer needed to feel the raised lettering. The shape of the bottle, the sprayer, told him if he held after-shave, cologne, or moisturizer.

Back in his room, he pulled on a pair of khaki pants and a Polo shirt. On his dresser was his belt. His tasseled loafers were by the bed. Through necessity, blindness had taught him to be organized. It was either that or spend frustrating moments trying to find where you had carelessly tossed something.

Dressed, he checked the time. Seven-thirteen. There was a stack of medical journals on his desk that he needed to “read.” He wanted to be up on everything when he returned to medicine. Picking up his cane, he left his room and went downstairs wondering if he could make a cup of coffee.

Since he didn’t know where the ground coffee was kept, it wasn’t likely. But there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he could. He continued to his desk and flipped on the computer and waited for it to warm up.

He’d come a long way. He didn’t have to be ashamed of his blindness or of his poor behavior. Life had thrown him a hard curve, but life had also prepared him to meet the challenge and survive. He just had to remember. Lilly had helped.

Leaning back in his chair, he tried to picture her in his mind. He knew she was slim and delicate-boned from holding her in his arms. Her head fit just beneath his chin, so she had to be around five-foot-six. He couldn’t imagine her wearing heels, as many times as she went up and down the stairs. Her breasts were nicely rounded and would fill the cupping of his hand. All together a very nice combination.

But her face was a blank. He didn’t want to ask anyone. He’d wait and see her for himself. After all, it was only a matter of time. Maybe tomorrow.

Later that morning when Lilly came down Adam asked her where the coffee was kept. Immediately she had shown him and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, then told him he might as well make the coffee. To his satisfaction he did just that.

Eleanor studied her face in the mirror, trying to see if there was anything that might indicate she had spent a good portion of the night in a man’s arms making love. Beside the sparkle in her eyes, she thought there was no change.

Leaving the cottage, she went to the main house to prepare breakfast and help with the housework. With Kristen here, Lilly’s workload would increase. Odette wasn’t due back for a couple of weeks or longer. She and Cameron were having a ball together. Eleanor had never thought of grandchildren before, but seeing Cameron’s sturdy body, the one-toothed grin he bestowed on his grandmother, Eleanor decided she wouldn’t mind being a grandmother and spoiling her grandchild.

Adam certainly hadn’t been bothered by the possibility of Odette not returning soon. He’d told her to take all the time she needed.

Following the winding path, Eleanor wondered if Kristen might be on to something regarding Adam and Lilly. Eleanor wasn’t sure how she felt about a relationship developing between them. As she had told Jonathan, both of their lives were unsettled. They had enough problems on their own. Knocking briefly, she opened the door. “Good morning.”

Lilly, standing in front of the griddle on top of the stove, tossed a greeting over her shoulder: “Morning.”

“Good morning, Mother.” Adam took a plate from the cabinet and held it out for Lilly. She slid four perfectly browned pancakes onto it. “You’re just in time.”

“I came over to help,” Eleanor said.

“Lilly and I have it under control.” His cane in one hand, the plate in the other, Adam crossed the room and placed the plate on the table. “Have a seat.”

Eleanor did as he requested, noticing the tender way Lilly kept looking at Adam, the way she allowed him to be the man he was. She and Jonathan might not be the only ones with a secret.

Kristen slowly trudged down the stairs. She had a nagging pain at the base of her neck, a reminder of the hours she’d spent on the laptop. She didn’t want to think about what she had typed on it, so she pushed it from her mind. She’d missed breakfast and probably lunch. She didn’t feel like eating much anyway.

“Good afternoon, sleepyhead.” Her mother’s smile was natural and welcoming.

The sight made Kristen feel worse. She plopped on the cushion beside her mother and placed her head on her shoulder, wishing she could crawl into her lap and let her make all the bad stuff go away as she had done so many times when Kristen was a child.

Frowning, Eleanor laid aside the book she had been reading and stared down into her daughter’s face. “Everything all right?”

“Why is life so complicated?” Kristen asked.

“To keep it interesting, I suppose.” Eleanor’s hand swept back strands of hair from her daughter’s forehead. “Thinking about your plans for the future?”

She nodded.

“How about a third alternate? Get your master’s.”

Kristen straightened. “I’m schooled out. I don’t know how Adam stood sixteen years of school after college, or Father, either.”

“They were doing what they loved.”

“I love art with all of its different mediums. I love the way the viewer is just as important to the piece as the artist, but I’m ready to put what I learned into practice.”

“Speaking of viewing. How about coming to the cottage and seeing the picture I painted for Jonathan’s office? I planned to take it into town today and find a frame.”

“That’s wonderful.” Kristen smiled naturally at her mother. “Why didn’t you show it to me yesterday?”

She tweaked her daughter’s nose. “Because I just finished last night.”

“Has he seen it yet?”

Eleanor’s smile wavered. “No.”

Kristen bounded up and reached for her mother’s hand to pull her up. “Come on. I can’t wait to see it.”

“It’s just a painting. Don’t expect too much.”

“You’re a great artist.” Kristin looped her arm with her mother’s. “I got my love of art from you.”

Pleased, Eleanor’s smile broadened as they walked from the room. “Lilly has left for class and Adam is in his study. We’ll see if he wants to walk with us.”

Kristen paused. “Won’t—won’t it make him feel bad?”

“I think not telling him would be worse.”

They found Adam in his study “reading” the newspaper. “Adam, I finished Jonathan’s painting. I’m going to show Kristen; then we’re going to go into town to look for a frame. You want to come with us for all or part of the above?”

He waved his left hand. “You two go ahead. I’ll see it later.”

Eleanor tensed, but all she said was, “I’ll take my cell phone with me. Call if you need me.”

“I’ll be fine.” He picked up the talking clock beside his keyboard and activated it.

“Twelve-thirteen.”

He set the clock aside. “Lilly should be home in an hour. Take your time.”

“You don’t like it?”

Eleanor had begun to get nervous. Kristen had been staring at the picture for a good two minutes.

Kristen glanced at the painting, then back at her mother. “It’s ...”

“What?” Eleanor asked, her nervousness increasing.

“Passionate.” Her slim hand lifted toward the canvas. “The brush stokes are a subtle mixture of restraint and boldness. There’s a fierceness about his face, but the eyes, even in the storm, show tenderness.”

Eleanor held her breath, hoping Kristen hadn’t seen the white cottage in the distance. Why hadn’t she foreseen this? “It’s just a painting. Come on; let’s go find a frame.”

Kristen didn’t say anything, but on the drive to Shreveport Eleanor caught her daughter several times watching her with silent speculation.

What had she done? She had to call Jonathan.

Jonathan answered Eleanor’s frantic summons for help that very night.

After dinner he just happened to drop by Adam’s house around seven. He made sure he didn’t let his eyes linger on Eleanor any longer than usual or admire the way her pale blue dress curved over her hips. He ordered two pies from Lilly for his office potluck luncheon the next week and wished her well on her finals coming up the same week. Kristen beat him at chess. He discussed the upcoming political elections with Adam.

Shortly after nine, Jonathan said good night. Adam walked him out. Jonathan went home and went to bed. His eyes had popped open two hours later.

His ability to drop off to sleep at will and wake at will had served him well during his career. Babies were notoriously unpredictable. Stretching, he took a shower, dressed, and drove to Eleanor’s cottage.

“Jonathan, I don’t think you should be here.”

She looked absolutely beautiful in a lavender gown with thin straps that showed off her smooth, bare shoulders and the swell of her breasts. “There’s no lights on at the house.”

“Well, in that case ...”

He closed the door behind him, taking her in his arms and to bed. Life was good.

A week after they returned, Kristen received the call that Eleanor had dreaded. The director of the Museum of Modern Art in New York wanted her to come for an interview. He was very impressed with her honors thesis and the praise from her Stanford professor.

Kristen, usually reserved, had hung up the phone and danced with Eleanor, then Adam. If they were a bit subdued, she didn’t appear to notice. Releasing her brother, she’d gone upstairs to call Eric.

“I don’t like it,” Eleanor said as soon as Kristen was out of hearing range.

“Me neither, but like Jonathan said, showing our disapproval will alienate her.”

Kristen came rushing back into the room, her purse strap over her shoulder, her eyes glowing. “I’ve decided to buy a new suit and get my hair done. If Mother comes with me, will you be all right, Adam?”

“Go ahead.”

Adam had walked with them to the door, listening to Kristen’s excited voice as they went down the front steps. Minutes later, he heard the car pass and waved. When the sound faded he walked down the steps and into the yard, then turned until he felt the heat of the sun and waved his hand.

No change.

A week had passed and there was no difference in his acuity. He had expected a gradual increase of his vision. It hadn’t happened. The question now was, would it improve or was there damage to the macula, the area needed for fine details? If there was, it would make returning to neurosurgery impossible.

Lowering his hand, he went inside and shut the door. Vision change came with age. There were a number of neurosurgeons who had decreased vision. At their national conference last year, there had been an elderly doctor who had vision in only one eye. If the condition was just a refractory problem, glasses and microscopic goggles would allow vision good enough to operate successfully. If the macula or retina was involved, all bets were off. There was no way Adam could incise into the brain, especially if it was a very eloquent area, if he had blind spots caused by retina or macula injury. Partial loss of vision for fine detail would exclude him from the operating room.

Then what?

You could always go into psychiatry!
The unsettling thought was enough to make Adam cringe and stiffen his spine. He wasn’t giving up.

Eric was going to be surprised.

Kristen was unable to contain her excitement as the cab maneuvered through Manhattan toward his apartment on Park Avenue. She’d purposely led Eric to believe that she was coming the next day. Her mother and Adam had taken her to the airport, and Jonathan had met them there for a hot minute. To her continued relief, Jonathan and her mother had acted no different than they had last week or during the hundreds of times they had been together. There had been no longing looks, no unnecessary touching. It had been foolish to think something was going on between them. Neither would betray her father’s memory by sneaking around and having an affair. Her father had been a wonderful man. Although she loved Jonathan, he couldn’t take her father’s place. No man could.

The cabdriver made one of New York’s infamous dives in front of a car. Brakes squeaked. Horns blasted. Hand gestures were made by both parties. Kristen decided she’d rather not watch and looked out the window at the crowded streets and gigantic lighted billboards on the skyscrapers. It was a little after eight, but just as many people would be out at two in the morning. New York teemed with life and excitement, and soon she would be a part of it.

Her interview was tomorrow at ten-fifteen, and when she left she planned to have the job. Just as tonight she planned to show Eric she loved him all the more for waiting until she was ready for intimacy. Her father had wised her up to the hormonal urges of boys while she was still in elementary school. Intimacy should be a commitment, not a stress reliever or a scorecard.

Instead of staying at the Ritz-Carlton, she planned to spend the night with Eric. To keep her family from worrying, she’d called Adam and her mother from JFK Airport to let them know she had made it all right.

As soon as the cab stopped, she paid the driver, collected her bag, and went inside. Eric had given her the access code last night. Stopping briefly at the security checkpoint, she headed for the elevator. The old building might look rather dull on the outside, but on the inside the lobby was spacious and filled with plants and antique furniture. The words
refined
and
stately
came to mind. If she had more time, she’d love to study the paintings on the wall, but now she wanted to see Eric.

The gleaming brass door of the elevator opened, and she stepped into the mirrored enclosure and punched five, then checked her makeup and hair. She smiled to herself. The single-breasted melon-colored suit might appear conservative, but the lacy black underwear beneath was anything but. Eric was going to drool!

Grinning, she stepped off the elevator. Locating his apartment, she set her suitcase on the gently worn carpeted floor and rang the doorbell, her smile ready, her arms open. When he didn’t answer, she rang again.

“Eric, please be there. Plea—”

She heard the click of a lock, a deadbolt being slid back. The door opened.

The arms that Kristen had been about to raise stayed at her sides, her jaw slackened as she saw a statuesque woman in a revealing leather bodysuit with cutouts for her rouged nipples. Black stiletto heels and a whip in her hand accessorized the bizarre outfit.

“You’re not Star,” the woman said.

“I–I ...” Kristen’s gaze went to the door. It was 583-A, but obviously she had made a mistake. “I—”

“Diamond, get your butt back in here and bring Star. I’m not finished.”

Kristen’s head whipped around. She tried to look beyond the woman in the blond wig and little else. “Eric?”

The frown on the blonde’s pretty face cleared. “You’re here to take Star’s place.” She gestured with the handle of the whip. “Your costume in your suitcase? I prefer a backpack myself.” Her frown returned when Kristen didn’t move. “I don’t have all night. I have another appointment at ten. He wants his money’s worth. He can’t get it up unless you’re in leather and talk dirty.”

Kristen stared at the handle as if it were a snake.

“What’s taking—” Eric stopped when he saw Kristen. He quickly closed his paisley silk robe, but not before she had seen that he was naked beneath. Welts marked his legs.

Kristen felt physically sick. Her hand clutched her stomach.

“What the hell?” he growled. “You aren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” she said, still unable to believe what she was seeing.

The smile that curved his thin mouth was cruel and taunting. His arm curved around the other woman’s narrow waist. “I’d say you were the one who was surprised. No matter. Star’s late, so you can take her place.”

“What?”

Eric’s expression hardened. “Grow up, Kris. You think I didn’t try to get in your pants because I valued you. Be for real. I like sex and I like it rough. My old man hired a private investigator to keep an eye on me after a little trouble at Cornell the fall semester. That’s why I transferred to Stanford. Took a lot of pull on my old man’s part to make sure I graduated.

“Since he holds the purse strings until he croaks, I had to toe the line, including finishing college. You were perfect to keep him off my back.”

Slowly his words sank in. “You never cared,” Kristen whispered.

“You didn’t receive honors and distinction for nothing. Me, I barely squeaked by.” He bit the woman on the arm, leaving teeth marks. His eyes remained on Kristen.

“You’ll pay for that later,” Diamond said, rubbing the handle of the whip down his arm.

Despite the revulsion she felt, there was one last question Kristen had to ask: “Why did you invite me?”

“There was always the possibility that I could turn you to the dark side, so to speak.” His upper lip curled. “But, on second thought, I don’t think you would be worth the effort.”

The words were meant to inflict pain. They did, mercilessly so. Yet somehow Kristen found the strength to keep her face expressionless. “For the first time, you’re right about me. Now I need to take a bath and forget you ever existed.”

Picking up her suitcase, she went downstairs and hailed a cab. At the Ritz-Carlton she registered, went to her suite, stripped, stepped under the spray of hot water, and let the tears fall.

Lilly’s life was hectic and getting more so by the day. She couldn’t have been more pleased.

Taking care of the house and Adam was no problem, but with going to class and now studying for final exams, running her growing business was beginning to put more pressure on her. Thank goodness her final exams were tomorrow. The only bad thing about it was, five days later she was to appear in court.

She glanced up from the business management textbook in her hand. Adam stood in front of the window in the living room, his face turned toward the darkened night, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Over the past days he had grown quieter and quieter.

Laying the book aside, Lily went to him. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s not getting any better.”

Her heart clenched. “There’s always tomorrow.”

“Perhaps not for me.”

“Adam, you can’t give up.” She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Please.”

His hand came out of his pocket to glide lightly over her cheek. “Don’t mind me. Go back to studying.”

Her body trembled. “My head is full. I’d rather take a break and go sit in the swing.”

“Mind if I come with you?”

“I insist.” Lightly looping her arm through his, she allowed him to lead them outside to the swing. As they sat side by side, hands clasped, Adam set the swing in motion. Neither spoke for a long time.

Lilly broke the silence. “Miracles happen, Adam. It was a miracle that my car stopped near here, but I didn’t know it at the time. Don’t give up, no matter what.”

He squeezed her hand. “I realize how important faith is, Lilly. People think the doctor heals. We don’t. We prescribe, incise, but it’s a higher power who decides the outcome. I forgot that, and started to depend on myself.”

“I used to wonder why God let Myron abuse me. I gave up on Myron, but not on God. You can’t, either.”

“I used to wonder why me. Why not some other creep? Then I’d wonder what if I had given them the keys? What if the light had been green instead of red? What if some other neurologist had been on call instead of me? You know what I finally decided?”

“What?”

“Even if I knew the reason, I’d still be blind,” he said quietly. “It’s up to me how I handle it from here.”

Jonathan woke up first that morning, then immediately turned to gaze at the woman in the bed beside him. His love for Eleanor still had the power to make him weak. She was all that he had ever wished for. He’d come by late last night and stayed. Noticeably upset about Kristen’s trip to New York, she’d gone to sleep in his arms. They hadn’t made love, but he had cherished being with her just as much. Love meant caring and sharing in good and bad times.

His mother had been wrong to deny herself love all these years. Even after his father had died, after the woman he’d run off with had deserted him when the judge awarded the restaurant to Jonathan’s mother, she had remained bitter. She treated her customers with the Southern hospitality they expected at a four-star restaurant in New Orleans, but she did it out of greed, not graciousness. Nothing he had done or said made the slightest difference in the way she thought. To her, love meant being vulnerable. She’d missed out on so much.

Eleanor stirred in her sleep. The sheet slipped down over her breasts. Desire stirred. He enjoyed watching her, touching her, and he’d finally gotten her out of reaching for her nightgown when they finished making love. He enjoyed their bare skin touching while they were asleep. Last night he had solved the problem by undressing her himself, then holding her until she went to sleep. But there was another enjoyable advantage. At moments like this he didn’t have to worry about a nightgown.