Beyond Desire. Gwynne Forster

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СКАЧАТЬ metaphors.”

      She got up and began to clear the table. “You’ve got many sides; we’ll get along.” Nodding in agreement, Marcus rose and took the plates from her.

      “The one who cooks shouldn’t wash dishes. And we’ll do the housework and other chores together. You should have put that in the contract.” And he should have put it in a contract with Helena. She hadn’t done much more than sleep at home, not even after Amy’s birth. Oh, but she had punished him!

      “It’s been my experience that one ought to look ahead and start the way one can finish. And that’s from Ross. Amanda Ross.”

      “Yeah? Well ‘the only thing that experience teaches us is that experience teaches us nothing.’” He waited for her to identify the quote.

      “Maurois, right?” He nodded. She showed him the washer and dryer so that he could wash his underwear, socks and shirt, gave him a large beach towel and bade him good-night.

      For the first time since she had learned of her pregnancy, she didn’t dread going to bed. She would sleep. All still wasn’t right with the world, but the outlook was certainly improving.

      Several days later, Amanda sat in Jacob Graham’s waiting room. The same painting hung facing her on the wall, and the simple red and gray furnishings hadn’t changed but, to her eyes, the old looked new and what had seemed dull now glowed. She stood when the doctor walked toward her.

      “I hope you’ve got something good to tell me,” he said, draping an arm around her shoulder. “Come on in the examining room.” She told him about her agreement with Marcus.

      “That’s the best solution for you two; I’m glad you worked it out by yourselves.” She explained about the health certificate she needed.

      “All right, and while I’m at it, we’ll see how the baby is coming along. You’re in good shape,” he told her later and advised her to choose a gynecologist in Caution Point. As she left, he assured her, “You will never meet a finer man than Marcus Hickson. I hate to see him down on his luck this way, but I don’t doubt for a minute that he’ll snap back. If you need me, you know where I am.”

      She skipped down the walkway to her car, picked up a green crab apple from the lawn and sent it sailing through the air. Turning, she waved to the doctor who stood in the doorway smiling, got in her car and drove off. She stopped at Caution’s Coffee Bean and ordered a chocolate shake from the lone waiter who nodded and asked whether she’d hit the lottery.

      “Haven’t seen you this bright in a while now,” he said.

      “Haven’t felt this bright,” she answered, smiling to herself. She walked out into the sunlight and looked up and down State Street for her friend Sam, the rag man, who’d been sweeping that street for as long as she could remember, but he was nowhere to be seen. She stopped by the Albemarle Kiddies Roost and bought a book on pregnancy and two on child care. At last, she could have the pleasure of planning for her baby.

      Chapter 2

      Four days later, in the presence of Jack and Myrna Culpepper, Lorrianne and Jacob Graham and Luke Hickson, Amanda married Marcus in the parsonage of the Mt. Pisgah Baptist Church in Elizabeth City. She had stamped her foot belligerently and made Marcus understand that, even if theirs wasn’t a real marriage, she would not repeat her vows before a Justice of the Peace. When he realized that she was not going to relent, he had conceded defeat and agreed, flashing his charismatic smile and shrugging as if to say, you win some and you lose some. He had also been elegant in an oxford-gray pinstriped suit, pale gray on gray shirt and yellow tie, and his lingering, appreciative look made her glad that she had splurged on a flattering Dior blue silk suit and matching hat. Her eyes misted when Marcus handed her a bouquet of six calla lilies just before the ceremony began; the flowers made it seem like a real, lovers’ wedding. But she noticed the glances that passed between the two brothers when she showed her pleasure and wondered which of them had thought of the flowers.

      Two days after the ceremony, on the morning of Amy’s scheduled operation, Marcus stumbled into the kitchen. The rain pouring down in sheets, and a visibility of barely three feet failed to daunt him. He’d be soaked when he got to the hospital, but he wouldn’t think of complaining; Amy meant everything to him, and she would finally have a chance to be well again. He stopped abruptly at the kitchen door, hands on his hips and the surprise on his face unmasked. He hadn’t thought he’d find Amanda there, the table set for one and the odor of food permeating the room at six o’clock in the morning. And when she asked him to sit down and eat a meal of scrambled eggs, country sausage patties, home fries, hot buttermilk biscuits, orange juice and coffee, a feeling of discomfort pervaded him.

      “Aren’t you eating?” he asked. He didn’t want to be treated like a husband. He wasn’t a husband; he was a man caught without options and paying a harsh penalty for it. He knew that she sensed his suddenly dark mood and that she even understood the reason for it. Though he tried to hide what he felt, her forced smile was evidence that he hadn’t succeeded. But what was he to do? He didn’t want to hurt her, but neither did he want this cozy husband-wife relationship with her. He didn’t even know her.

      “I’d love to be able to eat that,” she said, apparently deciding that it would be she and not he who would set the tone of their relationship. “It’s what I usually have but, these mornings, crackers and club soda are as much as I can manage.”

      In spite of himself a feeling of protectiveness toward her sprouted within him. “Bear with me, Amanda. My nerves are raw this morning, what with the operation and all.” Her refusal to take offense at his cool manner was as much punishment as he needed. He told himself he’d make it up to her.

      “It’s pouring outside. I’ll drive you.” But as they reached the attached garage, she handed him the keys, and he took them without hesitation, all his battered ego needed right then was for her to drive while he sat beside her like an underaged kid. They drove to Caution Point General in silence, and he wondered whether he’d be able to endure the year ahead. Amanda parked, while he rushed in to comfort and reassure Amy before the doctors anesthetized her. A few minutes later, Amanda walked into the waiting room and sat down, giving him another surprise.

      “I thought you’d gone home.”

      “I couldn’t leave you here alone for hours, maybe all day, waiting for the outcome of the operation. I’m human, Marcus.” He looked at her through long, slightly lowered lashes. She was human, all right, and she had an old-fashioned mother instinct. Amy would fall in love with her and, when they separated, his child would be motherless again. But this time, she’d be old enough to feel the pain of separation. A sense of foreboding engulfed him. He didn’t want his child hurt because of the bargain he’d made with Amanda. But what choices did he have? He dropped his head into his hands; helplessness was foreign to him.

      He had always prided himself in having the intelligence and the mother wit to anticipate and circumvent problems, and the mental stamina and physical strength to handle whatever caught him unaware. He had never shirked a responsibility nor dodged an obligation. And he knew how to be a friend. But it was quid pro quo with him and Amanda, and he didn’t want to be more obligated to her than he was. Like that breakfast this morning. He hadn’t had such a wonderful breakfast since he’d left his parents’ home more than a dozen years earlier. He didn’t know how he could stop Amanda from behaving like a wife without crushing her spirit, and he’d be less than a man if he added to the emotional battering under which she was struggling. But he couldn’t let Amy form an attachment to her. He knew Amy would need and love Amanda, because Amanda was lovable, and then they’d go their СКАЧАТЬ