The Promise
Anne Burnette
Copyright Anne Burnette 2012
Published by Black Rose Writing, Publishing at Smashwords
Black Rose Writing
* * * * *
© 2012 by Anne Burnette
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.
The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.
First digital version
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Print ISBN: 978-1-61296-080-7
PUBLISHED BY BLACK ROSE WRITING
Print edition produced in the United States of America
* * * * *
To Sonja and Shaun, Suzi and Ben, Ryan,
Cristal and Donnie, Tina and Jaime, all the grandchildren,
and Michael Garrett, teacher & editor.
* * * * *
Chapter One
Kendal peered through the open doorway. Whenever Roland was near, an accompanying, permeating peace filled her with stillness and satisfaction.
Just outside the door, in the corridor, Roland’s thick, blond hair glistened under the fluorescent lights. His face, filled with anxiety, was tense and drawn. He was her son, yet almost a replicating image of Jace, his father. Fallon’s hand rested on his shoulder.
The doctor, without any noticeable compassion, continued to spiel the bad news. Roland twitched uncomfortably. He turned and glanced into the room. Don’t fret, I can’t hear, Kendal thought.
Kendal had lived her life. As age had advanced, it had brought with it a degenerative heart disease. She had accepted its ultimate end. Though doleful about leaving the people she loved, she also knew it had become impossible to postpone. Fallon had reluctantly relented.
But Roland, in denial to this point, had stretched his natural optimism to its limit. She yearned for a way to buffer his grief. Love, however, though eternally rewarding, sometimes left heartaches in its wake. And comparable to a lush, velvety rose, theirs had blossomed. From the moment of his birth through the passing of each succeeding year, their love had flowered with intensified richness.
She was comforted in knowing that he was in good hands. His wife, career, and three active children would keep him focused on the future. The breach of losing someone close was always difficult, but she was confident that he’d find his way.
Kendal twisted in the narrow hospital bed as a sharp pain pierced her right shoulder. “Umm,” she groaned, and pushed a hand through her dry, gray hair. She turned toward the bare, beige wall, seeking a more comfortable position.
She wondered if it would happen. She had thought about it so many times over the years. Would it actually happen? Would he come? The very thought was exhilarating. Jace had promised the last time they talked, almost ten years ago now. When he passed away, he’d promised when her time came, he’d return for her. He’d never broken a promise. She’d never forgotten. Was it even possible?
The euphoric thought activated emotions she’d relived time and again through the years. Love, between a man and a woman, had never been that strong, not in her lifetime. He’d brought fulfillment to her life in every aspect, in every way. She could never forget. Would the love of her life come? Her upper teeth clinched her lower lip as her spirit mellowed to the electrifying possibility. Would he come?
Jace said it was destiny, meeting the way they did. He said it was impossible for something so life changing to occur simply by accident. She’d never been quite sure, except it was wonderful . . .
∫
Kendal tipped back the white, broad-brimmed hat and squinted as the blinding sun scintillated off the incoming waves. The top of her shoulders and legs were beginning to feel uncomfortable, and she reached for the tanning lotion next to the beach towel. She applied an adequate amount and noticed Fallon, her tall, younger sister, frolicking in the edge of the surf. She had attracted some guy. That girl was male madness.
Kendal placed the tanning lotion aside, laid back on the towel, and adjusted the large rimmed sunglasses.
Maybe she’d fallen asleep? She wasn’t sure, but suddenly someone was standing near, blocking the rays of the sun.
“Kendal, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
It was Fallon with two men, both deeply tanned and smiling. The younger one, tall and dark, was flipping a football in his hands. The other, just as tall but fair, and with friendliness effusing from every feature, had a full shock of strawberry blond hair, wind-blown and attractive. His smile grew radiant, giving Kendal his full attention. “I apologize if we’ve disturbed you. My name is Jace,” he said.
Kendal sat up, forced a compliant smile and removed her sunglasses, darted toward Fallon with an expression that suggested I’ll talk to you later.
Fallon’s raised eyebrows acknowledged she got the point. She grabbed the football, ran toward the water, and threw it toward the younger of the two. He laughed, ran in pursuit of the awkwardly thrown football and, at the last moment, leaped into the air, caught it, just before it succumbed to gravity.
Their acrobatics had been captivating. Jace turned and said, “Please, don’t blame her. I asked to meet you.”
“Oh no, it’s fine. You’d have to know her. She’s always trying to fix me up. Sometimes, it’s a little much.”
“Do you mind?” he asked, pointing toward the sand beside her.
“No, please, sit down. My name is Kendal Mercer.”
She pulled her knees up and crouched into a slight defensive posture.
They focused toward the bright, shimmering, incoming waves. Naturally extroverted, he’d glance over occasionally as he talked. His last name was Deyton. He had a real estate office in Fernandina Beach, a small coastal town just north of Jacksonville.
“That’s my nephew Garrett,” he said. “We’re riding bikes down the coast to Key West. We plan to ride back up the Gulf side toward home.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“You know, it is. Actually I’m fulfilling a promise. Garrett has been prodding me for weeks. I’d promise, put him off, promise, put him off again. Finally we just left the office and here we are.”
“The two of you must be close.”
“Yes, we are.” He paused in reflection. “When my father passed, that left only my sister, Janet, and me. Garrett is her son.” His voice flowed with fondness as he spoke about their relationship, then he said, “I’m sorry, this has been all about me.”
A soft, resonant rise preceded her reply. “I found it interesting.”
The conversation had reminded Kendal of her relationship with Fallon. There were differences of course but also striking similarities. And he spoke without expectations. She didn’t feel compelled to counter in kind, tell her own life story. When she met someone new, that was the usual first response, and she’d done it so many times that it had become dull and exhaustive.
More relaxed, she recoiled, turned her right leg to one side and brushed away some sand particles. Fallon’s and Garrett’s laughter transferred across the beach as they continued to toss the football.
A sudden breeze swept off the ocean and rearranged her shoulder length, auburn hair. She shook her head and with both hands tried to bring it back into place. She glanced at Jace and an automatic smile emerged and with it an innate raw stimulation, one she instinctively knew was mutual.
Her skin felt hot. She removed the cap from the tanning lotion and resurfaced the areas that were beginning to show some marginal effects of the sun’s rays. As she pulled her hair to one side, Jace reached for the bottle.
“Please, allow me,” he said.
The lotion, beneath his fingers, felt cool on her slender shoulders. His hand across her back was soothing, arousing. After finishing, he placed the plastic dispenser on the towel, turned, lingered, communicating an appreciation that was provocative and mysterious.
Difficult to identify, he possessed an unobtrusive, soulful quality, revealed through his various expressions and engaging blue eyes, puzzling yet at the same time unmistakable. Intrigued, a desire flickered inside her to know more about him. No, she thought, deflecting a trace of disappointment. After all, I’ll be gone tomorrow. This can’t go anywhere.
They continued to talk, and she looked at her watch. Time was slipping away, and she waved at Fallon, who understood the cue.
Fallon and Garrett stood there talking, neither appeared to be in any hurry. Shortly, both came jogging across the sand. There was no doubt they had enjoyed each other’s company.
“You and I may be lonely tonight, but I don’t think those two will be,” Jace said as Fallon and Garrett slowed to a walk.
Kendal nodded, gathered the towel and lotion and, without speaking, turned toward the distant hotels.
“Kendal?” Fallon blurted. “Garrett has asked me to go for a bike ride. Do you think you and Jace can find something to do without us?”
Jace’s pleased reaction was crystal clear. “We could have dinner,” he said. “The sidewalk restaurants are great here in South Beach.”
Kendal looked back toward Fallon, who was nodding obsessively and expressing a muted, please, then to Garrett, who, behind Fallon, was animating another beckoning gesture. By the time she turned to Jace, a tiny grin had formed. “Okay, what time would you like to come by my room? Or would you like to meet somewhere?”
“Does six forty-five sound good? It’ll give us time to select the restaurant. No problem, I can come by your door.”
Kendal consented and they began the trek across the loose, soft sand.
Except for the colors, the pink and blue hotel was similar to several others in the Art Deco district. Kendal had made the reservations from her office in Atlanta, hoping for a relaxing diversion from the long days of her profession.
She’d consulted Fallon the day before. It hadn’t been necessary though. Fallon was ready to go anywhere on a free vacation, free to her anyway. She packed everything two weeks early and counted the days until they boarded the plane. She had turned twenty-one in February and would be a senior this fall at Tech.
“Our room number is 327,” Kendal said when they stopped on the sidewalk in front of the hotel.
“I’ll see you at six forty-five.”
His smile was infectious, Kendal automatically returned it. This is fun, she thought; unexpected fun.
“I’ll see you at five,” Garrett said.
“You best be on time,” Fallon shot back, pointing her finger.
Garrett laughed, and both men turned down the sidewalk.
“I’m reporting you to Mother,” Kendal teased.
Fallon’s eyes rolled. “You’re not that cruel.”
They entered the hotel bantering with one another.
Laughter filled the lobby as they crossed the floor to the elevator. The door opened and Kendal gave Fallon a gentle push inside.
“Did I do the right thing?” Fallon asked, pressing the third floor button the instant the door closed.
“What do you mean?”
“On the beach, nudging the two of you together.”
Kendal’s initial grin dissolved into sincerity and thoughtfulness. “He’s? I’m not sure, but I like him.”
“Pardon me, big sister, but,” she paused as though she considered it unnecessary to add, “he has it all.”
“Yeah, he looks good,” Kendal refrained in a high pitch acquiescing tone.
“Looks good? That’s an understatement.”
The elevator door opened, and Fallon rushed down the hallway toward the room. “I’ve got to hurry. It’s already after four.”
Kendal pressed to keep up and reached the door the moment Fallon walked inside.
The room was small. The bathroom was on the immediate left, and just beyond were the double beds with a dresser between them. To the right, a large photograph of two girls dallying on the beach hung on the wall above the television. From their bathing suits, Kendal had concluded when they first arrived that the picture must have been taken sometime in the forties. The sunlight, through the sliding glass door, brightened the room.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to shower first,” Fallon said.
Kendal brushed past her, turned the television on, and sat upright on one of the beds. The drumming of the shower drowned out the television volume. Uninterested in the program anyway, she had no inclination to turn it up. She glanced at the tan on her arms and legs. Over a week at the beach and it certainly did show.
She fell straight back on the soft bed and lay there staring at the ceiling. Jace’s image sitting beside her in the sand returned. What is it about him? “Oh, forget it,” she muttered. “You’ll be gone, he’ll be gone, just one more memory. Don’t make a big deal out of it. He won’t.”
The shower ceased and Kendal heard the swish of the curtain.
“You’re finished already?”
“All finished!”
She pulled up from the bed and started toward the bathroom. The television, suddenly loud, grabbed her attention. She reached over to turn down the volume, but instead switched it off.
That’s better, she thought, examining herself in the full length mirror, which was attached to the back of the door. The two-piece bathing suit, snug and tight, accentuated her curved body lines. At five-six, she was well proportioned and firm. Moments like these made her appreciate the gym schedule she’d kept religiously.
Fallon stepped out of the bathroom in scanty underclothes. “You look good. Your stomach is as flat as mine. Don’t worry. I could tell from the very first moment that he was taken with you.”
“I wasn’t thinking about him,” Kendal scolded.
“Oh, okay. You look great, though. No one would know you’re so much older than me.”
“You’re on thin ice, girl. Remember, I’m also thirteen years wiser. I hope.”
Fallon giggled, went to her luggage, and wiggled into a matching short, top outfit. “What do you think?” she asked.
“Perfect for a bike ride.”
With over a decade between them, they’d grown up with little in common. By the time Fallon entered high school, Kendal had started her career. But they had gravitated toward one another in the last few years. There was only the two of them, and the sister connection was special and endearing. “Garrett is going to be knocked off his feet.”
Fallon, assessing her appearance in the dresser mirror, leaned forward and finger-fluffed her hair, increasing the body. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“You look ready,” Kendal teased, walked across the room, and removed the sales tag from the back of her shorts.
“Oops, I forgot this is new.”
The shower was spattering against Kendal’s face when Fallon announced she was leaving. “Lock the door!” Kendal shouted and faintly heard it close.
It had been almost two years since she’d seen the movie Psycho, but the shower scene replayed chillingly in her mind. Unable to relax, she pushed the curtain back, grabbed a towel, and rushed to the door dripping water with every step. It was locked. She tossed the towel into the floor and, with her feet, scooted it back into the bathroom mopping up the puddles.
She turned the shower off. The room was deathly quiet. She grabbed another towel, dried off and dressed, applied some makeup, then glanced at the clock beside the bed.
Enough time for some wine, she thought, reached for a glass and the half-empty bottle of Merlot and walked out on the small enclosed balcony. A gust of cool wind swayed the curtain inside the open sliding glass door.
The evening was serene, relaxing as waves gently rolled to shore. The tops of the palm trees rustled in the breeze, and people were scattered along the beach. Kendal eased into the white plastic chair, and Jace’s ardent smile flashed the moment the wine touched her lips. She could still feel his fingers rubbing the tanning lotion on her shoulders and back. Too bad he’s not from Atlanta, she mused.
She’d always attracted the same type of guys. They’d all been handsome enough, nice, but at the same time mundane and boring. She’d had enough boring to last a lifetime.
She couldn’t recall all the boyfriends over the years, the two marriage proposals stood out, however. She’d even said yes to one, only to back out when she’d had time to give it more thought. Her love, if that’s what it had been, just hadn’t been deep enough, and she knew it. So she’d waited.
She had waited all through her twenties, patiently, refusing to settle even though she’d felt pressured from practically everyone she knew. All of her girlfriends had married, the last one, last year. She’d been a bridesmaid, maid of honor, caught the bouquet, everything, except being a bride herself.
Somewhere, in a secret chamber of her heart this elusive dream had been born. From as early as she could remember, she’d dreamed of falling in love and being swept away into her own private world of passion and romance.
How many times had she literally envisioned racing toward this special mysterious man and leaping into his arms? And he twirling her around and around until she was dizzy with love.
Her heart had whispered that he was out there. Through one disappointing relationship after another, her heart had silently spoken, wait, he’s out there, don’t rush, he’s out there. Those were the words that had stood in the way of both proposals.
Kendal raised the glass and gazed over the low enclosure toward the sea. Could her heart be trusted? Had she been deceived? That was a possibility she had considered more and more lately. After all, time was slipping away.
She heard the knock, turned, and looked toward the door.
Chapter Two
Jace’s luminous smile greeted Kendal when she opened the door, eliciting a jittery tingle that traversed the length of her spine. She arched her back as though it needed an adjustment to pass. Have I had too much wine? she thought. A tuft of Jace’s hair had fallen onto his forehead, and the solid azure pullover highlighted his tanned complexion.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his smile shifting into a playful grin.
“Yes, let me get the key.”
She returned to the dresser, reached for the door key, and glanced into the mirror, everything looked in place.
Kendal resisted doing a double-take. He was the same person, but the wind-blown look had been transformed. A shower and change of clothing exposed a more refined, trendy side, if possible, even more sexy.
The wine, she thought, and focused on the glass. It was more than half full. She drew a deep breath, crossed the floor while consciously exhaling, stepped into the hallway, and pulled the door closed, trying desperately to appear calm and unaffected.
“Is everything okay?” he asked as they turned down the hallway.
Apparently it hadn’t worked.
She flitted toward him. “Yes, it is, everything.” Her upper teeth clinched her lower lip.
She hadn’t been anxious about a date in years, besides this wasn’t a date. They were only having dinner at Fallon’s request. She took another, though carefully masked, deep breath when the elevator door opened.
Inside the cramped space she could actually hear herself breathe, and the hint of cologne he was wearing awakened something she hadn’t felt in a while. Standing only inches apart revived the unaccustomed tingle she had experienced earlier. Out of nowhere goose bumps rose on the back of her neck. “I guess Garrett picked Fallon up already? I mean, Garrett has already picked Fallon up.” Kendal, what is wrong with you?
“Yes,” Jace said calmly. “I spoke with them when they came back to the hotel for the bike. Please, don’t be concerned for her. Garrett’s a good person. He’s cautious. She’s not in any danger.”
She hadn’t even thought of Fallon’s safety—the motorcycle. A resulting twinge of guilt tempered every other emotion.
The elevator door opened. Kendal paused. He’s waiting for me to step out, she concluded. She walked out, and he followed. They crossed the lobby, and he held the entrance door open. They exchanged a smile when she passed to the steps leading to the street. As though she needed the support, he reached for her hand. His grip was firm, warm, and transmitted an assurance of security. Her prevalent anxiety faded to relaxed contentment. He let go the moment her feet touched the sidewalk.
“Would you like to take a walk before we select a restaurant?” he asked.
“That would be nice,” she said, thinking she wasn’t hungry at all, which was odd. Except for the wine, she hadn’t eaten a thing since the pastry and coffee this morning.
Traffic had picked up. They hurried across the street where several coconut palms towered over a low, winding rock wall. The concrete sidewalk beneath Kendal’s feet curved snakelike through the sand, and patchy growths of grass flourished in sporadic spots.
The white, blistering beach from earlier in the day had turned into a cooler shade of gray, and the tide had retreated into an ocean just as blue, but was now almost placid.
Instead of stepping into the sand, they turned southward on the sidewalk. Very few people were on the beach side of the street, and the evening shade from the lengthy line of Palm trees was irresistibly inviting.
I don’t know anything substantive about this man, she thought. He could be married, have kids, cheating on his wife, maybe a felon. He doesn’t appear to be concealing a dark side, but who knows?
“You’re not married, are you?” the question popped out. The moment she asked, the same foolish feeling she’d experienced in the elevator showered her consciousness.
He chuckled. “Not hardly.”
Go ahead and get it all out of the way, Kendal. “No kids scattered around anywhere?”
“Not even one. You have any?” he asked, continuing a stretched grin.
“No, no, not me.”
“No criminal record? Anything like that?
“No, and I’m not a vampire, or an alien from outer space,” he said, visibly trying to restrain another chuckle.
“O—kay,” Kendal said in a quick reply as they continued down the sidewalk.
Why isn’t he married? He’s at least a couple of years older than I.
“Ever been married?”
“Not even once, and you?”
“No, no.”
From her peripheral vision, she could see the grin on his face. All at once it disappeared, and she felt his hand tug at hers. They stopped, turned toward one another. Completely serious he said, “I’m just a simple, ordinary guy from Fernandina Beach who’s pleased to be with you right now.”
With those last words, an unidentifiable sensation spread throughout her body, warm and palpitating. Her breath grew short again, and she disguised a deep inhalation and let it escape in slow increments. Not quite ordinary, she thought.
“You’re safe with me,” he said, tightening his clasp on her hand, “completely safe.”
With his firmer touch, a shiver ran up her arm increasing the foreign sentience. “No, I’m sorry, please,” she said, concealing her unexpected reaction and responding with an assuring grasp of her own. “It’s not that at all. It’s just, it seems you ought to be married by now.”
“I came close once. I think it was providence. Do you believe in providence?”
“Maybe.” The whispers of her heart drifted through her ears. “Yes, I think I do.”
Their hands fell away, and they turned again down the sidewalk. Over toward the ocean, a large merchant ship was on the horizon.
There were at least a dozen more questions she wanted to ask. And she had to bite her tongue to keep from inquiring about the woman he’d almost married. Equally important was discovering the issue that had broken them apart. Let it go, Kendal. Tomorrow afternoon you’ll be gone, he’ll be gone.
“Over there,” he said, pointing to a spot mid-way across the beach.
Kendal looked at the location. Nothing was there. Confused, she asked, “What?”
“There. I was sitting there this morning at sunrise. I watched the sun come up. It was amazing.”
Instantly her smile utilized every facial muscle. “Really? I’ve always wanted to do that!”
He turned, deadpanned. “Let’s do it,” he said, “together, in the morning.”
“I’d love to.”
His eyes were piercing, as if fascinated by some mystery or contemplating a previously unknown yet now revealed truth. An abrupt impulse to reach for him, touch him again, was almost overpowering. Instead, she directed her attention toward the adjacent sand, then the water, lessening the intensity.
“It’s getting late,” he said softly.
Kendal turned. At some point, the lights from the line of hotels had grown brighter.
“Yes, I guess we should find a restaurant,” she said, and without allowing her eyes to find his, stepped back in the direction they had come. They had walked much further than she’d realized.
Bewildered, the early evening’s emotional whirlwind had already charted susceptible depths she didn’t know existed. What is it about this man? she thought. He wasn’t threatening by any stretch of the term, yet somewhat alarming, and exciting. Perhaps that was it—exciting.
The traffic on the strip was slower, much heavier. Jace held a hand up, and they passed between the cars to the other side.
The hotels by day had turned into a smorgasbord of sidewalk eateries by night. The transformation was amazing. One hotel after another had temporary barriers, lighting, and various colored fabric awnings erected out of nowhere. Hawkers held plates offering samples of exquisitely prepared entrees.
Kendal felt Jace’s hand on her forearm as he steered her through the dense crowd. People were everywhere.
“How about this one?” he asked.
Kendal nodded, and he followed her past metal fencing, up two steps where a slim, swarthy host was standing behind a podium. The warm air, Latin music, and streams of dim lighting that outlined the interior created an appealing, romantic setting.
Kendal looked at Jace for the first time since they’d returned from across the street. His quiet, aplomb acknowledgment conveyed that he appreciated the old-world charm as much as she did.
“This way,” the host said.
He led past several patron-filled tables to a small vacant one next to the bordering metal fence. Only the fence and a narrow dirt walkway separated the table from the adjoining restaurant next door. While a waiter stood attentively, Jace waited for Kendal to choose her seating preference, then took the remaining chair.
The waiter smiled continuously, placed menus in front of them, gave his full attention to Kendal and, with both hands, displayed a bottle of South American wine.
“I guess,” Kendal said, unfamiliar with the variety and directing her uncertain response toward Jace.
“They’ll pour you a sample. If you’re not happy, you can select another.”
Kendal nodded toward the waiter, and he turned and disappeared beyond the crowded tables.
Their proximity, or maybe the whole atmosphere, evoked a contagious felicity that at some point had enveloped the two of them. The dim lighting cast a mood of cozy intimacy. Though milder, the same wish to reach out and touch him, which she had deferred earlier on the beach, returned. Her tongue caressed her parched lips. She knew the desire was reciprocal. He didn’t have to say anything. As a woman, she knew. It was biological and primal.
“Thank you for today,” he said. “You’re unusual. There’s something stirring and satisfying about you.”
That last statement undoubtedly described to some extent the emotional upheaval inside her, but exciting was the word she would have attributed to him.
“Yes, I’ve enjoyed today also.”
The waiter returned with two glasses, placed one on the table, and pulled the cork from the bottle. He poured a small amount, swirled it around several times before handing the glass to Kendal.
The off-dry liquid moistened her lips and passed across her tongue, depositing an oak flavor with no aftertaste. “Good,” she said.
The waiter’s congenial expression grew more pronounced, and he filled the glass, turned to Jace, filled his, and set the bottle on the table. “Are you ready to order?” he asked in broken English.
Neither had thought of the menus.
Jace quickly grabbed the tri-folded list and selected the lobster and salad.
“Sounds good,” Kendal said, skimming the options.
The waiter reached for both menus and disappeared again through the crowd.
Kendal brought the wine to her lips as she heard the deep rumble of a Harley. Jace pointed toward the street behind her. Kendal turned to see Fallon leaning against the backrest with her hands attached to Garrett’s waist. The congested traffic was moving at a snail’s pace. The sea breeze blew Fallon’s hair to one side and she noticed Kendal, and waved. Kendal responded with a quick gesture and laughter. “That girl’s having fun.”
“She’s not alone,” Jace replied. “So am I.”
“Me, too. This is nice.” She took another sip of wine. “Tell me more about Garrett.”
“He works in my office, about six months now. He just completed a stint in the army, a Ranger no less. His father abandoned my sister when Garrett was five or six, went to the West Coast or somewhere. She didn’t remarry. I’ve stepped in as much as I could. He feels like my own.”
As he continued the conversation, his words dripped with affection. The bond between them was undeniably strong.
The waiter returned and placed the platters of overflowing food on the table. The salad and lobster were delicious. They ate and talked, glued to one another, smiles attached to every word.
All at once Jace’s hand went up, signaling someone. An elderly lady, carrying a bundle of roses, hurried through the narrow space between the restaurants. The host appeared instantly. Jace nodded his approval, and the host turned away.
The lady approached, speaking Spanish. Jace responded as though he understood every word, reached into his pocket, and handed her several bills. She pulled two long stemmed roses from the large cluster.
“Gracias,” Jace said.
She gave Kendal a quick wink and hurried back to the sidewalk.
“I hope you like roses,” Jace said, removing the label from the wine bottle. “Not much choice here, but, anyway, roses have always been my favorite.”
He took the label and wrapped it around the stems, binding them together, placed the pair in front of her. “To you, from me,” he said. “Thank you for the best evening I’ve had in a long time.”
His impromptu gesture was startling. The pedals were soft and crimson. The stems were crossed where the label was attached and a few thorns remained.
“Beware of the thorns,” he said. “It’s nature’s reminder that beauty must be handled with care.”
Her fingertips grasped the label, and she brought the roses near her face. The strong fragrance witnessed they had been freshly cut. She gazed over the top and smiled. “Thank you.”
Somehow time had evaporated. Perhaps it was the friendliness of the waiter, the wine, the food, or the ambiance and frivolity of the evening. Where did it go? she thought.
“There’s a club at my hotel,” Jace said. “Would you like to dance?”
“I’d love to.” The last time she’d danced had been at Sue Ann Lacey’s wedding reception. A night out on the town had been a while.
They left the restaurant and maneuvered the packed sidewalk to the hotel. Through the door, across the lobby, Kendal heard the loud vibrations of dance music.
“Come on,” he said, reached for her hand and led her around the corner to a dimly-lit, smoke-filled room. They found an open space on the crowded hardwood surface and began to move to the beat that pulsated through the floor. His moves were smooth and fluid, witnessing to the fact that he enjoyed dancing as much as she did. “You’re beautiful tonight,” he said.
She squinted, wrinkled her nose and smiled—she felt it.
∫
The phone rang like an alarming fire bell. Kendal, half asleep, reached and knocked the receiver to the floor. Her hand, groping beside the bed, found it, only to place it to her ear and hear the disconnected tone.
“Sunrise,” she muttered in the room’s sheer darkness, shook her head to dislodge the drowsiness, pulled back the sheet and stumbled to the floor.
“What was that?” Fallon asked.
“Oh, nothing. I’m meeting Jace to watch the sun come up.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope.”
Kendal giggled, turned the bathroom light on, wet and pressed a washcloth to her face and stared into the mirror. It’s early, she thought. I’m not sure I’m up to this.
The light over the basin mirror pricked her vision. She diverted her eyes, blinked a couple of times and applied a thin layer of make-up. It wasn’t great, but the best she could do for four A.M. Four A.M.? It was two forty-five when she got in bed this morning.
She pulled on the gray shorts and navy blue top and searched around the room for her sandals, trying not to disturb Fallon, who appeared asleep. The roses, still tied together, were on the dresser.
Five minutes should be enough time to reach the lobby. She took one last glance in the mirror, grabbed a beach towel, and closed the door behind her.
When the elevator door opened to the lobby, Jace was waiting, holding a thermos and two Styrofoam cups. “Hope you like coffee?”
“I’d be tempted to drink anything to keep me awake.”
He held the exit door open and said, “You’re going to love it.”
The two streetlights weren’t enough to offset the shadowy darkness that encroached upon the steps and vacant street below. No moving vehicles, not a person anywhere—the sidewalk restaurants had been rolled up, and the prior evening’s convivial atmosphere had dissipated into the crisp morning air. It felt weird. They descended the steps and crossed the street.
Kendal looked up into the sky. There were no clouds, and out toward the east on the Atlantic’s horizon was a faint glimmer of light, just enough to suggest that the sun would be rising in that direction.
She swayed when her feet touched the sand.
“Let me help,” Jace said and reached for her hand.
They walked across the wide, deserted beach, and Kendal laid out the towel. As if purposely cleansing the beach, waves washed in with a thin frothy foam that disappeared when the water returned to the sea.
This morning was so different from yesterday. Last night, on the dance floor, she’d discovered her comfort zone with this man. It felt right, just being with him. A deep contentment flowed through her while watching him open the thermos.
“Allow me,” he said, “compliments of the hotel.” He poured the steaming coffee, reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved a small, sealed vial of cream and packet of sugar. “Cream and sugar?”
“A little of both. You’ve thought of everything.”
“Everything except the towel. I appreciate you bringing that.”
They sipped coffee and focused on the horizon. Kendal’s drowsiness was gone. With only an hour and fifteen minutes of sleep, that was strange. She felt alert, rested. The indication of daybreak was becoming brighter.
“There’s something,” Jace said, hesitating. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about.”
“Yes?”
“You and me,” he said. “I don’t want it to end today.”
Her contentment swelled into consuming tenderness. Unable to refrain, she turned and placed her hand on his forearm. “There’s such a distance between Jacksonville and Atlanta,” she said softly.
“I know,” he said, hovering near her. “But I don’t want to look back on this experience twenty years from now and question what I should have done. I don’t think I can forget you.”
“Something about you has touched me also.”
“When Garrett and I finish this trip, I’ll call you. Agreed?”
“Okay. When we get back to the hotel, I’ll give you my number.”
“Look,” he whispered.
She turned toward the ocean. The sun was just beginning to glare from the watery depth. Riveted, she sat motionless. A new day with endless possibilities was dawning.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“You were right,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. “I love it.”
Chapter Three
Through the doorway, the stream of filtered light illuminated the neatly stacked files on her desk. Kendal knew without question Charisse Hardeman had placed them there.
She flipped the lights on, closed the tall, oak door, and glanced around the room. Except for the cool, deserted impression, everything in the spacious office was the same. A wall of multiple windows covered with closed venetian blinds was behind her large desk. Two cream-colored filing cabinets were in the right corner. Directly across the room, her personal lavatory door had been left open, and against the back wall were the matching French decorative chairs she’d purchased a few weeks ago. A clock and several pictures of landmarks around Atlanta hung on the walls.
Kendal crossed the room, opened the venetian blinds and exhaled. “Whew,” she muttered, “here we go.” Ten days vacation, and the work had piled up.
Jace came to mind. The truth was he’d never left it. A warm maudlin sensation saturated every cell of her epidermis as she descended into the high-backed, black leather chair. She didn’t tell him she was a lawyer, not until just before leaving, when he was pressing her to stay another day, and she explained that a scheduled deposition required her presence. Otherwise, without question, she would have stayed.
The clock hands rested straight down on six-thirty, an hour and a half before any other office personnel would arrive. She came early to get a head start on some of the backlog of work she knew would be waiting.
A long day was anticipated. Most of her days were long, however, and today, Monday, was gym day, along with two others in each week.
She held the top file, thumbed through, then reached for another. One by one, she was reminded or got a quick preview of what was coming. Most of the continued insurance cases had been on the burner a while.
Suddenly inattentive, she relaxed her grip on the folder and gazed across the desk. After watching the sun come up, she and Jace had spent all morning and afternoon together, a bike ride down the coast, and lunch at a large seaside tiki bar. She had to rush to pack.
Jace and Garrett had accompanied her and Fallon to the airport. She’d never forget his last wave from the terminal window and the loneliness that traveled with her all the way back to Atlanta, even though Fallon was her usual self, talking a mile a minute.
What’s this? she thought, focusing on a new file on the left side of the desk. George Sauter. It was Charisse’s handwriting.
Inside, the preliminary data sheet revealed his personal information. He was fifty-five years old, married, four kids. His last place of employment was Central Chemical. The information had been dated three days ago. “Hmm,” she responded and laid the folder aside.
Was Jace the guy her heart had spoken about? She had asked that question all the way back from Miami, before going to bed last night, and again the first thing this morning.
All the indicators were there. She’d never felt so flighty around anyone in her whole life, not even close. She got weak just thinking about him.
Even though they’d been together less than two days, they seemed to complete each other. It reminded her of finding a long lost glove, putting it on to discover that it fit perfectly, felt perfectly, and matched perfectly with the other.
The possibility of any enduring relationship didn’t seem likely, though. He was from Fernandina Beach. She had calculated the distance last night. That was somewhere around three hundred and forty miles, four and a half hours driving time, or an hour and fifteen minutes flying time out of Jacksonville.
Her heart hadn’t said anything about complications. It had never said, yes, he’s out there, but he’s from another state, and the whole thing is going to be impossible. All her heart ever whispered was, wait, he’s out there.
On the plane, Fallon, the party girl, during a brief interlude between one of her digressions, had said, “If it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen.”
Kendal grinned, thinking of her response. Marginally upset, she’d turned to Fallon and said, “Thanks, Yogi Berra, for those words of wisdom.”
Did she believe things were meant to be? “Do you believe in providence?” Jace had asked.
She just wasn’t sure. It didn’t seem to coincide with everything she’d learned about life. After all, she’d worked hard, planned everything. She’d picked which college to attend, which law school, the type of law to practice, which firms to apply to, even getting up this morning and being here early.
She had to admit there were some things out of her control—no, a lot of things. She hadn’t chosen her parents, inherited traits, Fallon, American citizenship, the weather this morning, and a thousand other things all the way down to firm doyen, Thomas Crippen. She’d gotten downright lucky with most things, or something.
She didn’t plan on meeting anyone on vacation. The truth was, she hadn’t given it a second thought. All she wanted was a week and a half of complete rest. That had happened, well, except for the last two days.
What was the probability of meeting a guy from Fernandina Beach who gave her a fresh new excitement about life? Not very likely. Okay, there may be something to this providence thing.
Another glance at the clock told her an hour had passed and she hadn’t gotten anything done. A quiet knock directed her attention toward the door. It opened.
“I thought I’d come in early this morning, Miss Mercer. I knew you’d be here.”
A short, plump, middle-aged woman with wire-rimmed glasses entered the room. Pleased to see her, Kendal smiled. The three most important things in Charisse Hardeman’s life were her job, family, and the A.M.E. church where she hadn’t missed a worship service in the last twenty-five years. She was just a few years younger than Kendal’s mother, but had always insisted on calling her Miss Mercer. It felt odd. Kendal had mentioned that several times, but it hadn’t made any difference. Each time Charisse had replied by saying it was appropriate professional etiquette.
“Thank you, Charisse, but you didn’t have to do that.”
“You had an enjoyable vacation, I hope.”
“Yes, it was great.”
“I want to remind you of the ten-thirty Harris deposition.”
Somehow she always stayed two steps ahead.
“Thank you.”
“Did you notice the Sauter folder?
“Here?” Kendal asked, holding it up.
“Uh-huh, he came in Friday. I scheduled him again for Thursday at two. Is that a good time for you?”
Kendal squinted, trying to put the week into focus. “It should be. Right now, for some reason, I’m in a daze. It should be fine, though.”
“I felt for him, Miss Mercer,” Charisse said, shaking her head.
Kendal paused, glanced at the folder, then back at Charisse. “What do you mean?”
“It’s about chemicals. I didn’t understand it. It was troubling.”
Charisse didn’t elaborate but moved about the office in her usual check everything to be right mode.
“Is it physical? Or?”
“Oh, yes, definitely physical,” Charisse said, in and out of the bathroom.
Kendal waited. Charisse went to the set of filing cabinets and mumbled something about ordering typing paper.
“Well, okay, I’ll find out Thursday.”
“Need anything?” Charisse asked, turning and holding her hands up. “Anything at all?”
“No, I think I have enough to keep me going most of the morning.”
“I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s nice to have you back.” Charisse smiled and stepped toward the door.
Kendal reached for the Harris file as she heard the door close. The folder was thick, filled with documentation, but the case itself was open and shut. Raynock Harris, a fork-lift driver, had permanent left leg impairment from an accident on the job. Kendal didn’t expect any surprises. She’d worked the case for months and during the vacation brushed up on the finer points. I’m ready, she thought.
This was so unusual. She couldn’t curb the smile. And of all places, here, at work, with the desk full of files, there was nothing to smile about. She had to force herself to concentrate, and every momentary lull was filled with something about Jace. Something he’d said or done, or something they’d done together. Just the thought of him brought back the smell of the ocean or the wind blowing through her hair as they raced down the coast on the bike.
This wasn’t like her. There had been a steady flow of boyfriends over the years, some good times, but nothing heart-stopping. Heart-stopping? Was she going to conclude that after only a couple of days?
After all, he may not even call. What if he doesn’t? she thought with sudden apprehension. After watching the sun come up, they’d returned to the hotel and she’d jotted her office and apartment phone numbers on a piece of stationary. As though his billfold was a safe deposit box, she’d watched him fold and place the paper inside. He’d call.
She looked again at the clock. He and Garrett should be on their way to Key West by now. A couple of days there, a couple more up the coast, that’s what he’d said. He said he’d call when they finished the trip. That should be Friday, Saturday at the latest.
Okay Kendal, control your emotions and put this into some reasonable perspective. So what if he calls? It’s still impossible. He’ll be three hundred and forty miles away, for heaven’s sake. That’s not a quick drive across town for dinner and a movie. His roots and livelihood are there. Your roots and livelihood are here. Yes, something happened, something unique, something even heart-stopping, but he’s going to be there and you’re going to be here. How can it work?
If he’s the guy my heart spoke about, how can it not work? It has to work if he’s that person, providence, remember? Get back to work, Kendal. You’ve got a deposition. She glanced again at the clock. Time was getting away.
Thankfully she’d prepared well. The questions were complete and concise. She knew the answers, all leading to only one conclusion. She turned each page, refreshing the details while scribbling additional notations on the margins. A review of the work done in Miami brought everything into focus.
The door opened. “Miss Mercer, Mr. Harris and everyone is in the conference room. They’re waiting.”
“Thank you, Charisse. Tell them I’ll be right there.”
Kendal got up, gathered the documents, and walked out of the room.
∫
The traffic on Peachtree was bumper to bumper and stretched into a solid line from one traffic light to the next.
Fallon had called and wanted to meet at Fast Jack’s for lunch. Once every six months she got the urge for frog legs and, according to her, Jack Mason had the best in Atlanta. Kendal remembered sampling them once; not bad, she’d thought at the time, but the idea of eating any part of a frog wasn’t appetizing.
In addition to the traffic, moderate rain was falling. The street was crowded and wet, and when the lights changed, cars passed in the opposite direction, swishing water beneath their tires.
She was late, but that wasn’t unusual. There was usually a last minute phone call, a visit from Tom Crippen or some type of interruption. Whenever they met for lunch, it was understood she’d be the last one to show up.
While glaring into the windshield, Kendal gripped the steering wheel and waited for the traffic light to change. The rhythmic sight and sound of the wipers got her attention. The light turned green, and she pressed the accelerator.
Three days had passed. Jace should call tomorrow or Saturday. He’ll call, she assured herself again. Strangely, an unfamiliar agitation was following her around everywhere.
The anxiety didn’t have anything to do with the job. Everything was going well there. Raynock Harris’ settlement was iron clad. All parties had agreed. Charisse was preparing the paperwork to be processed through the appropriate legal channels.
Jace would have to call, because she couldn’t. She didn’t have his number. He didn’t offer it. The truth was, she didn’t even think about getting his number at the time. After all, she’d never asked for a man’s phone number. It hadn’t been necessary. They’d always asked for hers.
She could track down his real estate office in Fernandina Beach. That would be simple enough. Now, don’t go there, Kendal, she scolded herself. If he doesn’t call, he doesn’t. It’s over. Even if he does, the distance—remember the distance?
She shook her head and exhaled. It had been this way for the past three days, everywhere she went. Will he call, won’t he? So what if he does? It remains impossible.
She’d held it in. Charisse had suspected something, asking several times if everything was all right. One thing was sure, she needed to talk, and when Fallon called for lunch, she was more than ready.
This is a pleasant surprise, she thought, eyeing the vacant parking spot directly in front of the bar and restaurant. She pulled in and shut off the engine.
The old building had been constructed sometime in the late nineteenth century. The red brick was tarnished brown with a large Fast Jack’s sign above the green canvas awning. The awning sheltered the double entrance doors that set between two matching picture windows. This was one day Kendal was glad the awning was there. She dashed from the car, took refuge under its covering, and reached for the door.
Inside, the worn bare path in the original hardwood flooring led all the way up to the bar. Kendal allowed the spring-loaded door to close and noticed Fallon’s long, blonde hair on the other side of a man who was seated on one of the bar stools. She could tell that Fallon was being pleasantly entertained as she flipped her hair back and brought a drink to her lips. The man was in full animated motion.
Fallon turned and noticed Kendal, leaned around him, waved and said, “Hey, over here.”
When Kendal walked up, the man, close to Fallon’s age, said a cheerful, “Hi.”
“I need to talk,” Kendal said to Fallon, dismissing the man outright.
“Sure,” her lone, terse reply blurted as she sprang from the stool.
They turned back toward the door and walked behind a partition on the left, passed several customer-laden tables, and chose an empty booth against the wall.
Kendal’s eyes darted from side to side, then toward Fallon who sat submissive, stunned, and speechless. “I,” she said, inhaled, shook her head, flitted away again, this time to the ceiling, to the table, then back to Fallon. “I can’t get him off my mind! This is impossible! I’ve never felt this way before!”
With her mouth agape, Fallon’s initial astonished stare tendered into silent compassion.
Kendal waited, but no response. “I mean, he’s over three hundred miles away. It can’t go anywhere.”
“You’re right about one thing. I don’t think you’ve ever felt this way before. Not about anyone I’ve seen you with anyway.”
“I’m an attorney, remember? I’m good at keeping my emotions in check. In my area, it’s a job requirement.” Kendal exhaled and felt some of the inner angst siphoning from her body. “At least, I thought I was good at it. He intrudes into my thoughts even when I’m talking to someone. And this morning, I woke up at three a.m. and lay wide awake reliving the last two days of our vacation. Look at this puffiness. I’ve been dead all morning.”
“You’ve found him.”
“Who?”
“The guy you’ve been waiting for.”
Kendal paused, and the ensuing silence between them amplified the surrounding noise of the restaurant.
“Why is it so impossible?”
“Because love is always shrouded in challenges. I read that once, somewhere,” Fallon said, appearing to be in deep thought, trying to recall. “That’s the secret. Remove the challenges and marvel in its wonderful essence.”
“You’ve done that?”
“Not exactly, but it sounds good.”
Kendal grinned. “He may not even call.”
Fallon listened while Kendal restated everything, along with every possible objection and drawback. This was a change, Fallon listening while Kendal talked. Usually it was the other way around. Fallon, in silence, ate frog legs while Kendal rambled on, nibbling at a chicken salad.
“Oops,” Kendal said, glancing at her watch. “I’ve got an appointment.” She placed her fork on the plate and reached inside her purse, pulled out enough money to cover the meal, and tossed it on the table. “I’ve got to go,” she said, and out of the frenzy stopped, breathlessly looked at Fallon. “Are you all right? You’ve hardly said a word.”
Fallon lifted her eyebrows in silent stoned amazement, her garrulous personality subdued.
“I’ve got to go.”
Without saying a word, Fallon lifted her hand to wave goodbye, but by the time it came up, Kendal was almost out the door.
Being late for a scheduled appointment wasn’t the same as being late for lunch. It happened from time to time, but not because she was preoccupied with personal issues.
The rain hadn’t let up, and the streets remained congested. The drive back across town had the same halting traffic lights and bumper to bumper vehicles. There should be enough time if I hurry, she thought.
At last the executive building came into view. She pulled into one of the several empty parking spaces and cracked the door open, held out the umbrella, and grappled for the release button. Finally it popped. She exited the car and crouched under the umbrella, crossed the pavement.
The large multilevel building housed several office spaces. Kendal entered the first floor and made her way down the thick carpeted hallway to a door that read Afman and Crippen. She quickly opened the door and walked inside.
Charisse, seated at her desk and speaking into the phone, looked around cheery faced and smiling.
“Is Mr. Sauter waiting?”
“Yes, but only a few minutes,” Charisse replied, holding her hand over the receiver. “You’ve got a phone call.”
“Take the number and I’ll return the call later.”
“This is the second call since you’ve been out,” she said, her cheerful smile altering into a teasing grin. “He says the two of you met in Miami. Do you know someone named Jace Deyton? He’s really friendly.”
Kendal felt her breath escape. Pointing her finger toward the phone, “That’s Jace Deyton?” she whispered.
“Uh-huh, you know him?”
“Charisse!”
Chapter Four
She took the call in her private office, anxious at first, then she and Jace settled into a blissful conversation that continued for thirty-five minutes. It would have lasted longer, except Charisse, through the fissured office door, reminded her George Sauter was waiting.
Kendal raised a restraining hand toward Charisse and spoke into the phone, “I’m sorry, but I have an overdue appointment.” When the words passed her lips, she motioned for Charisse to send him in. “I’ll meet you there,” she said.
Mr. Sauter entered the room, as Kendal returned the receiver to the multi-line receptacle. She scanned the preliminary information Charisse had recorded several days earlier.
He looked older than fifty-five, perhaps, due to his unkempt, gray hair, and the stooped, slow walk across the floor. His frame was disturbingly thin, and the bleak morose that surrounded his every movement magnified the wrinkles on his flaccid face. Kendal’s fresh, euphoric conversation with Jace took an immediate back seat.
He sat in the chair in front of her desk with a faint, tepid, intimidated smile. His eyes summoning help equal to any words he could have expressed.
“I’m sorry for your wait, Mr. Sauter,” Kendal said, at the moment feeling the sincerity of her statement.
“Oh, no, that’s fine. I know people like you have important business. You’re busy all the time.”
The conversation with Jace was important, but she wondered what Mr. Sauter would think of a romantic phone interlude that had kept him waiting. She was certain he would consider it beyond frivolous.
“How can I help?”
“I’m not sure you can, Miss Mercer.”
“Please, call me Kendal.”
He nodded. “Just call me George.”
“How did you know to come to me, George? I always ask my prospective clients that question.”
“You represented a friend of mine, Harvey Howell, some years back. He recommended you, said you were good.”
Kendal strained to remember. There had been so many clients, so many different cases, yet his name echoed a vague recollection. “Excuse me a minute,” she said and pressed the phone intercom button. “Charisse, would you bring Harvey Howell’s file in, please?”
Within minutes, Charisse walked into the room and placed two thick folders on Kendal’s desk. Kendal opened to the cover page. “Yes, we were able to help him.” She targeted his place of employment. “He worked for the same company you do.”
“Where I did work. Yes, he worked there. He’s retired now.”
Kendal placed the folders aside. “Okay, what’s the problem?”
“I’m out of work,” he began and went into a prolonged discourse of being employed for twenty-five years at Central Chemical, experiencing a puzzling heath issue that forced him into a desk job, then termination. “They knew I couldn’t do that job. I tried. I just couldn’t do it. It was over my head. After several months of trying, I just couldn’t keep up. I’m not as young as I used to be. My baby girl is still at the university. The biggest thing that bothers me is the loss of retirement. I needed five more years at the company. There’s no retirement there until you get thirty.”
The strain on his face magnified his projected senescence.
Kendal jotted the information on a legal pad while repressing an urge to offer some type of assurance. Experience had taught her to be cautious. “Let me make sure I heard you. You worked in shipping and began experiencing stamina problems.”
“I tired out sooner than I should. I’d get short of breath, have to sit down and rest. That put a heavier load on the other fellas. One day the boss offered me this desk job. Everybody encouraged me. I wasn’t holding my own in distribution, so I took it.”