Holiday Kisses. Gwynne Forster

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СКАЧАТЬ poured the coffee into mugs, put the mugs along with the figs, biscuits, jam and margarine on a tray and went out on the deck. Kisha followed her with plates, spoons and knives.

      “It’s not as simple as you put it, Kisha. If you care enough for a man to marry him and take those vows, and he cares the same for you, it should work. I say should, but here’s the caveat. Both of you have to be fully, I mean totally committed to your spouse and to the marriage. The hot stuff doesn’t last, but love should deepen. If you can’t be friends with a man, don’t marry him. A lot of women and men follow where that itch leads them, but a smart person will realize that an itch is just an itch and feels the same no matter who scratches it.

      “Good sex is essential, but alone, it’s not a good basis for marriage. Some men and some women are ready to cut and run at the first sign of a problem. They’re not committed to the marriage. When bills make you choose between paying the mortgage and having the drainage system overhauled, or when one of you wants to save for a down payment on a house and the other wants a European vacation or a mink coat, that’s when the rubber hits the road. One of you is going to decide to be sensible and see the light or both of you are going to be miserable. Then, when you look at each other, you don’t see a lover but an adversary.”

      Kisha sipped her coffee. She wouldn’t have guessed that Noreen King had such depth. “Would you marry again?”

      “I’d be more careful, and my feelings about what I want and need in a man have changed, but yes. Given the right conditions, I would. Were you talking with a prospect a few minutes ago?”

      “I don’t know. I met him recently, and I don’t know anything about him except where he works and what he’s told me.”

      “What’s his name?” Kisha told her. “Sounds famil…Not that handsome stud who serves up the news at five o’clock on Channel 6.”

      Kisha cleared her throat, half-afraid of Noreen’s reaction to her answer. “I don’t know whether he’s a stud, but he was the five o’clock anchor for Channel 6. Now, he’s on at six o’clock.”

      “Then that’s him. Honey, I’d run from a man who looks like that brother. How could he be single, or if he is still single, is he straight?”

      She had wondered the same, but she didn’t articulate it then. “I went to dinner with him, and he was the epitome of a gentleman.”

      “Yeah? Cool as he is, I’m not sure his being a perfect gentleman would’ve cut any ice with me. That guy’s a honey. I hear tell he sponsors a program that gives kids free guitar and piano lessons, and he helped build a playground in South Baltimore right where a hideous trash and garbage dump used to be. He does his civic duty, but…he sure lays it out there on his newscast. Girl, he’s big-time.”

      “Where did you see him? In person, I mean.”

      “He’s been the emcee at a bunch of galas, fund-raisers, awards ceremonies and heaven knows what else. That guy’s a big name around here. You say Craig Jackson, and even the kids know who you’re talking about. You new in town, but you’ll learn.”

      “Interesting. We’ll see.” She went home later with plenty to think about. She hadn’t learned anything uncomplimentary about Craig, but she wasn’t sure that she could keep up with a man who had such a public life. On the other hand, she had decided that she wanted him, and that was that. He’d said she was reckless. Maybe, but in his case, she didn’t think she was taking too big a chance. She knew a man when she saw one, and Craig Jackson defined the gender.

      That evening, as she sat with Noreen at a table in Red Maple enjoying the floor show, memories of Craig flashed through her mind while she looked at couples dancing and playing the age-old male-female games.

      “Would you like to dance?”

      She looked up at the neatly dressed man, extended her hand to him and stood. “You looked about as lonely as I feel,” he said. “Otherwise I would never have gotten the nerve to ask you to dance. My name is Josh.”

      “Mine’s Kisha. How are you, Josh?”

      “Pretty good. I just moved here from Lake Charles, New York, and somebody told me that nice folks come to the Red Maple. Meeting people in this place is easy, but getting to know them is practically impossible. I won’t ask if you have a guy, because that would be silly. Where is he tonight?”

      “I’m helping my neighbor celebrate her new job after a year out of work,” she said, hoping to steer the conversation away from personal issues.

      “I’m glad for her. That’s why I’m in Baltimore. My company moved down here, and I had a choice of moving or looking for another job.”

      The music ended, and he walked with her to her table. “Thanks, Kisha, for a real nice dance.”

      “Thank you, Josh. I hope you find your niche here.”

      “I told you you’d get a guy,” Noreen said. “The place is full of men.”

      “Yeah, and one of them finally asked me to dance,” Kisha said drily. “How’s it going with the guy you’ve been dancing with?”

      “He’s pleasant, but the poor guy’s looking for a fast one, and that is not my style. Ready to go when you are.”

      “That was fun, Noreen,” Kisha said when they got home. “Good night.”

      “And thank you for being my friend, Kisha. That’s the first time I’ve been out in a year. It was wonderful. Good night.”

      Kisha went inside and plodded up the stairs to her bedroom. Being alone was getting to her, but until she met Craig Jackson, she had enjoyed it. She should either go after what she wanted or forget about him and get on with her life. But how did one go after the hottest, most eligible man in town?

      When Craig woke the next morning, he was not having misgivings about Kisha, his problem was himself. He had asked her to dinner on an impulse. But he suspected that he’d wanted subconsciously to do that from the day she mended his tooth.

      He went to the bathroom, splashed some cold water on his face, donned a robe and headed downstairs for a cup of coffee. “I shouldn’t make phone calls before noon,” he said to himself with a derisive jab at his own ego. After pouring a little milk into the coffee, he took a few swallows and dumped the remainder into the sink. Leaning against the kitchen table, he happened to look at his hands, turned them over and examined his palms. He’d once played the violin, carved beautiful images and been fairly good at sketching. What had he done with his artistic talents? He’d let all of them fall by the way while he raced to be the next Walter Cronkite.

      He’d gotten so used to ignoring his feelings and needs that he failed to appreciate the attractiveness of a woman who had precisely the traits he admired in the opposite sex. And he gave his subconscious a flogging when it led him to do what was reasonable and perhaps in his interest. Instead of being annoyed at himself for having invited Kisha to the River Restaurant, he decided to look forward to it and see if he enjoyed her company as much as he had during their evening at Roy’s. It was time to lead a fuller life, but that didn’t mean he’d put anything ahead of his goal to have a network-level job within a year. For him, change would not be a simple matter, and he knew it.

      Women of all ages had pursued him ever since his voice changed when he was thirteen years old. СКАЧАТЬ