Until (23 page)

The smell of
the April showers was still fresh in the air and the sun beamed hot as kids played up and down the streets of Royalton Oaks. Trees spread their branches and were decorated with moss, green ivy, and an occasional bird as Betty sat on her veranda reviewing the résumé she and Jacqui had put together earlier that day. She had also gone through the names of the attorneys in her directory and decided upon three that she would like to work with, although Jacqui protested, saying she should start her own firm. But thoughts of starting a firm on the same day she had resigned from the only home she knew were a million miles away. With everything in her world moving so fast, she needed the security that an established firm could offer.

As she stirred a cup of half-eaten yogurt, she heard her neighbors across the street drive up. She noticed the father get out of the station wagon first and skip around to his wife's door. She watched as the kids spilled out the back doors clutching bottles and toys. And then Betty observed the mother carefully get out of the car and gently hold the newborn close after pulling the pink wrap over its head. As always, when she stood, she looked over at Betty and gave a courteous wave. Their yard, unlike most in the neighborhood, was adorned with hula hoops, a mini trampoline, and jump ropes instead of dogwood trees and azaleas. But the
family seemed content with being atypical. They played hide-and-seek and the fox and the hound with their kids on the front lawn, gave an occasional pool party for the other neighborhood children, and each Sunday, like clockwork, they dressed in shades of brown and blue and headed off to mass together. As the last of the children made their way into the blue house, Betty picked up her cordless to call Evander.

The first time they spoke she was entranced by his voice as she talked to him while gazing at the flowers he sent She thought of the lonely nights he would visit and the afternoon he raced to the firm to hold her hand. Now the romance was replaced with complacency after only a couple of months.

“Hey.”

“Hey, what's wrong? You sound depressed.”

“Nothing. Well . . .” And then Betty decided that she did not wish to revisit the pain and said, “I don't want to go into it. How was your day?”

“Busy, as always.” As Evander spoke she could tell he was distracted with work. “But at least I get to sleep in tomorrow. Ferguson is working for me since he took a couple of extra vacation days.”

“That's nice,” Betty said dryly.

“Beep, are you sure you don't want to talk about whatever it is on your mind?”

“Positive.”

“Well, when you're ready, you know I'm here. Okay?”

“What're you doing tonight?”

After a pause Evander said, “I need to make a delivery for Kevin in Jacksonville. Why? You wanna do something?”

“No. I was just curious.”

“Are you sure? I'm just doing him a favor because he wanted to go out tonight.”

With a sudden brainstorm, Betty's voice gained strength as she said, “No, honey, seriously, that's fine.”

“Well, I should be back in town no later than eleven. Will you be up?”

“No, I think I'm going to crash tonight. I got a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Oh well. I'll call you tomorrow morning . . . okay?”

“Sounds good. Good night.” As Betty clicked off the phone with her thumb and hit speed dial with her pinky to call Jacqui, she knew exactly what her next move would be regarding Evander. “So what are you up to tonight? Going out?”

“Hey, girl,” Jacqui said to Betty. “Yeah, Stefan called last night and wanted to know if I would like to go to a movie or something. What's up with you and
Vander
?”

“Just spoke to him. He's making a delivery for a friend in Jax.”

“Umm. The old
delivery
lie, huh?”

“Here we go again,” Betty sighed.

“Damn straight. Because he's doing something he ain't got no business doing, and I know it and you know it and you won't admit it.”

“Okay, Jac. You're right, and yes, I know something may be wrong. I know he may be doing something or someone, but I need more proof before I can convict him.”

“You still got that key to his house on your key ring? While he's out making
deliveries,
why don't you just make a visit? I bet you'll find something to convict him.”

“Jac, not tonight, okay?” Betty said, feeling drained, weary, and lifeless. “Tonight, after the day I had, I need some attention. Tonight I don't feel like being Sherlock Holmes or Robert Stack. I just want . . . Never mind.”

“Never mind what? And wait a minute. What do you mean by
more
evidence?”

“It's not important.”

“Betty? You know I love you. And I know it's been a long day. But you are not telling me everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“What have you found? Has he mentioned somebody's name? Have you found a receipt? What the hell is
more
evidence?”

“Well, I didn't think too much of it when he first did it, but about one o'clock one night when we were in Orlando, I suddenly woke up. He was sitting on the side of the bed, just sorta mumbling to himself. So I asked him what the problem was and he said nothing and apologized for waking me up. Well, a week or so later when we were at my place, he does
the same thing. This time I was really curious and I kept pressing him as to what was wrong. Still, he said nothing, just that he had a lot on his mind, right? So then last week, same thing. So I got out the bed, turned on the light, and told him I needed him to come clean with me. Well, after badgering him for about thirty minutes, he finally told me—”

“He needed money, right?”

Betty sighed and said, “Yeah. Yeah, he needed some money, but first of all, it wasn't that much, and secondly, no, I did not offer to give it to him. But when he went there I sorta started questioning everything. I started thinking the only reason he wanted me was because of money. That all the flowers and special dinners were because he was setting me up for the kill. But he did not come out and ask me for it, he just said that he needed it and was trying to think of a way to get it so he could invest in the bakery. That has always been his dream. And I will admit, if he had said it a few months ago, I would have offered it.”

“And you would have been a damn fool.”

“Not give, Jacqui,
loaned
it to him.”

“Let me tell you something girl. Three things you never do. Never ask a single woman if she has batteries, 'cause you know she ain't giving up the stash. Never ask a single man if he has any petroleum jelly . . . for the exact same reason. And never, and I mean absolutely never, ask anyone if they need to borrow money, because when it's time to pay you back, they give you the same old line. I didn't ask you for it . . . and you know the rest. What I'm trying to say is that it's deeper than just a few dollars. Be careful. I know you have feelings for the brother. But just keep your eyes open.”

“Do you know how tired I am of keeping my eyes open? Of looking both ways? Of waiting,” and then she paused before she whispered, “Until . . .”

“Betty, what you need to do—”

“Let me finish. I was sitting here on the porch and it occurred to me for the first time why I took that malpractice case so personally. Trust. It all boils down to pure and simple, unmitigated trust. What happened to those ladies was unforgivable. No dollar amount could replace what they've already lost. But I'm trusting this man with so much more.
Hell, I could replace money. A friend told me that some wounds are never meant to heal and if Evander were to let me down . . . Lets just say I can't live my life trying not to be like my momma. Trying not to make the same mistakes with men. She made some bad decisions but she also lived life to the fullest And to do that, sometimes you have to follow your heart. Sometimes you have to let go . . . and trust.”

“You done?”

“See I tell you a lot. Maybe too much sometimes. But it's the small things. Yeah, he hinted that he wanted to borrow some money, but this is the same man who also gave me the keys to his heart.”

After a moment of silence Jacqui repeated, “You done?”

“I still remember when it was raining one night and this man started crying in my arms after we made love. He said he started crying because after this girl named Yolanda, he never knew he could fall . . . well, I remember things like that. I remember him rushing to the office after Murphy died just to be with me. When I was having serious doubts, he held my hands and whispered, ‘Betty, I love you, for you . . . and not for what you do.' And he repeated it over and over and over again. You're right. This is not about a few dollars Jacqui. I've lived my entire life playing it safe. Not taking chances. Not allowing men to get too close. Why?” Betty relaxed in her plastic chaise longue as she closed her eyes to finish her thought. “It's an oxymoron, but I've come to the conclusion that I've been alone, because I was so afraid of being left alone. And it's absurd and I'm tired of living that way.”

“Are you done?”

“Jacqui . . . yeah. Yes, I'm done.”

“Trust is important. It just seems there are so few men out there nowadays who deserve to be trusted. But . . . well if you feel in your heart that he is the one, then maybe I'm overreacting. In case you haven't noticed I can do that from time to time. Hell, I know I got baggage and the oldest rule in the book is never ask a woman without a man for advice on how to keep one. All I can say is just . . .”

“I know. Just be careful.”

“No Ms. Ann, and stop finishing my damn sentences. All I can say is . . . girl, I love you.”

“Thank you. I needed to hear that.” Clearing the lump from her throat Betty sat up in her chair and said, “New subject. I forgot to tell you I had the nicest letter last week waiting for me when I got home.”

“Aww shit here we go again. Mr. Modem. Right?”

“Yeah. Drew's nice.” Betty said, and smiled. “He sends me these wonderful poems, but he never makes advances. It's just sweet. That's all. He's romantic, like the men in the old black-and-white movies. The ones who would light two cigarettes in their mouth and hand one to the lady who was sitting at the bar crying. Sorta like Billy D in
Lady Sings the Blues.
I like that,” Betty said, watching the father in the house next to hers walk out to adjust a sprinkler.

“I'm
touched,
” Jacqui said sarcastically. “I've told you about meeting people on those computers. If he were worth a damn, he wouldn't be sitting in front of the computer typing poems to women he's never seen before. Besides, he probably married or got some disease or something and just doing this as a way to get off.”

“Maybe, but I sit in front of the computer and type letters to him, so what does that make me?”

“You're different. I'm telling you something is wrong with this guy,” Jacqui replied.

“But if he was trying to be more than a friend, why would he tell me about this woman whom he seemed to be getting closer to and his dead girlfriend?”

“Because he's sneaky. Does he tell you anything intimate?”

“Of course not.”

“He hasn't gotten that far yet, but it's coming. Baby, let Momma explain this game to you. It's known by many experts in the field as—” Jacqui paused for effect “—as the oldest fuckin' game in the book!”

Betty laughed aloud, startling Tickey, who scampered through the glass door into the house.

“First of all,” Jacqui said, “he ain't got nobody. Okay? He's hard up and just wants you to sweat him. Has he asked you what you do for a living?”

“No, he hasn't. And even if he had, I'm not that stupid. Besides, Jac,” she continued as another two-income-household van passed. “Don't you sometimes feel like life is just passing you by? Like the whole world's been invited to a party you never got an invitation to? I know I do. Seems I am—” And then Betty corrected herself and said quietly, “It
seemed
I was the only one in the firm my age unmarried and unattached. I watch my neighbors over here, and she is in her late twenties with a house full of kids, and I've never seen the lady unhappy. Not that that's the life I want, it just seems I'm missing out on something.”

“Honey, I understand that. But the answer is not on a computer.”

“I'm not looking for it on a computer, and besides, you've never signed onto the Net. So how you know so much about it?”

“That's true, that's true. You have a point. But you know something? I've never had an autopsy; however, you won't see me standing in line for one of them either. I'm telling you he ain't got nobody. He most likely some pervert or something. Men lie like I don't know what sometimes. Just remember AMAD and it'll make life simipler: All Men Are Dogs. They just have different tail lengths.”