Do You Love Me? Page 12

  “The Calcutta at the country club is a week from Saturday,” she said. “It’s the annual money-raising event for the Peaceable Girls and Boys Club. Single men allow themselves to be auctioned. The high bidder gets his or her slave for a day to do whatever tasks the bidder assigns.”

  “I do not want to be someone’s love slave.”

  “It’s not like that. It’s really very wholesome. Last year the president of our branch of the First National Bank washed windows all one Saturday at the Fletchers’. The local paper took pictures.

  “A new doctor in town hand-milked nine cows at Jessup’s dairy. One fellow played Bozo the clown at my little niece’s birthday party.

  “After the auction, the Calcutta ends with a huge party. There’s a band, inflatables for the children, lots of food.

  “We can continue our project until the Calcutta. You have until then to prepare. By that event, you will have made all the contacts you need to be properly launched. I’ll put in a good word for you with whatever employers you want. You will begin your new career and we will be free of each other. How does that sound?”

  The muscles knotted his jaws before he managed a strained smile. He nodded and his gaze moved to the doorway beyond Savanna.

  “How does what sound?” Carol stood looking from Savanna to Peter and back. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re negotiating.” Savanna slipped the jeweler’s box into the pocket of her cover-up.

  “A contract?”

  “Our separation.”

  Savanna replayed her plan for Carol, who regarded Peter skeptically and finally said, “Is that all right with you?”

  His mouth puckered. “It’s what she wants.”

  Carol looked at Savanna. “Susu?”

  “It’s the reason he came to me in the first place.”

  Carol gave a caustic laugh. “You don’t really believe that, do you? Didn’t last night’s antics in the pool tell you anything?”

  Savanna didn’t dignify the question with a response.

  Peter concentrated with renewed vigor that week, practicing table manners, reading every newspaper and news magazine he could lay his hands on, and every piece of literature Savanna mentioned.

  He stood straight and walked with the natural swagger she encouraged and which prompted a smile each time she watched him move. He took tennis and golf lessons, tried horseback riding, and learned the rules of polo.

  Late at night, he swam and occasionally played haunting melodies on the piano. He seemed relaxed and she assumed he was relieved that the end of his time with her was close. Savanna, privately, viewed the end with mixed emotions.

  She neglected her duties at the office, running in and out at odd hours, reluctant to see Darryl Hightower, and secretly wanting to be with Peter as much as possible during their final days together.

  Because she had failed to call Murphy back to tell him the course to pursue in dealing with Darryl, Eth came to the house on Wednesday.

  She took him out by the pool to be out of earshot.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Will you confront Darryl Hightower, Murphy?” Savanna held his eyes with her own.

  “If you want me to.”

  She huffed a sigh. “I’d give anything if this hadn’t happened. Darryl’s charming, the perfect example of a well-bred country gentleman. He’s hard not to like.”

  Murphy shifted in his chair. “Con men, the best ones anyway…well…charm is their meal ticket. That’s how they worm their way into people’s confidence. The man’s a snake, Ms. Cavendish. If you don’t go to the authorities, you’re just going to run this snake out of your garden and into someone else’s.”

  Savanna folded her arms over her midriff and shook her head. “Tell him we’ve got proof about his embezzling. The party’s over. He’s fired. Take his keys and escort him out of the building. Keep an eye on him for a while. See where he goes. What he does.” She gave him a rueful smile. “See whose garden he slithers into next. You probably can’t do it yourself, of course, after he knows what you look like, but maybe you know someone else you can hire. I’ll pay the freight for a couple of months until he lights someplace.”

  “He’s a criminal, ma’am, plain and simple.”

  “Did you check? Is he a habitual criminal?”

  “Not around here, and he’s lived here since he was a kid. I didn’t bother to check to see if he had a record anywhere else. He’s criminal enough for me. I’ve got him dead to rights, all the paper evidence we need along with some positive identification from the bank people and counter personnel at the post office..”

  She thought about Darryl for a long moment, remembering. He’d been a considerate lover in the beginning, persistently attentive. He’d made her feel attractive.

  “I guess my pride’s involved here, Murphy. He had me fooled. I thought he liked me.”

  Murphy’s thick eyebrows furrowed as his mouth smiled at the same time, obviously pondering. “You’re a fine looking woman, Ms. Cavendish. There’s probably a lot of men’d be glad to tickle your ears that way, if they knew sweet words was what you wanted. But you’ve got a reputation, ma’am, for being sharp, seeing things clear. They tell me you’re like a good bird dog on the scent. Nothing much gets by you.”

  “Thank you, Murphy.” She was amused and the man’s puzzled look deepened. “It’s kind of you to put it so graphically.”

  It was sarcasm but she didn’t know what she was getting haughty about. A good bird dog was a prime asset in their part of the country.

  “My talking to him is gonna’ make him mad as a hornet. He might come out hard against you.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  Murphy presented his same points from several different angles. Finally, reluctantly, he agreed to speak to Darryl, tell him they were onto him and that he could turn over his keys and walk away right then, or things could get ugly for him. Eth would hire people to watch him until the man resettled.

  But neither Murphy nor Savanna anticipated the level of Darryl Hightower’s wrath.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Savanna knew she was being difficult but she couldn’t seem to get a handle on her erratic mood swings as the weekend loomed. She snapped at everyone, including Peter, whose only crime was his prompt response to her every whim.

  She convinced herself she was only trying to put on the finishing touches to make him perfect. The more perfect he became, however, the greater her frustration. He spoke as she wanted him to speak. His manners and clothes were impeccable. Yet, the more she admired him, the more restless she felt.

  Peter seemed to understand, even to approve her roller-coaster moods.

  The more volatile Savanna became, the more Angus, Merriam, and Carol avoided her.

  “Stop snapping my head off.” Carol was not one to take any kind of abuse, physical, verbal, or mental, quietly.

  Merriam, and Angus became quiet and noticeably absent.

  Standing in front of her mirror fogged from the heat of her bath Thursday evening, Savanna stared at her reflection. “What is the matter with you?”

  Was it because Darryl’s embezzling had made a fool of her in her own eyes, even if not many others knew? She silently asked the image in the mirror. Was she turning into one of those pathetic, self-indulgent, useless women with money?

  So, what if she was? She didn’t need Darryl or any lap dog of his ilk. She had Peter, a fine specimen of manhood eager to do anything to please her.

  “Anything?” She grimaced at her flushed face and shrugged as a lump formed in her throat. “Why not? You’ve bought and paid for it.”

  Peter was leaving. Her chest ached from swallowing the grief that made her breathless with sorrow every time she thought about it.

  “He’s leaving because you want him to go.” She slumped. “Don’t fret about it, rich bitch. You can always buy yourself another man, maybe an illegal next time, someone who’ll be more humble, a man without that devilish smirk…and those all-seein
g green eyes.”

  The tears were not dainty as they dribbled from her eyes to her chin where they gathered and plummeted, some to the floor, some landing on her bare breasts, continuing their downward course.

  Carol said Peter was attached to her, to Savanna. Merriam hinted at the same thing, finally saying Peter wore his heart on his sleeve and she, Savanna, should treat him more gently.

  All well and good, everyone watching out for Peter’s feelings. What about her? She had feelings, too. Did they not know she was more miserable than anyone else as they anticipated the impending separation?

  Peter symbolized the introduction of genuine joy to her life, of meaning and laughter. During the time he’d been there, she’d felt strong and important and valuable to someone, not just for what she could buy him, but for what she could give of herself.

  He took genuine pleasure in her praise and encouragement. He strove for her approval, asked for her guidance. He had blossomed here in her home. He picked her brain, challenged her to research answers to his many questions. In order to teach him, she had dusted off her party manners, practiced dance steps from a waltz to a boot scoot and every step in between.

  His attending confession and mass every Saturday evening prompted her to reexamine her self-defined moral values, to establish limits and guidelines for their personal relationship, living so closely, spending as much time together as they did. It would have been easy, many times, to let herself relax, to let him hold her, to absorb his strength, accommodate his physical need, and relieve her own.

  She shook her head, trying to get back to her initial premise in this thought process. Need seemed to be the operative word. No one had needed Savanna herself for a long, long time. Maybe never. She loved the way his desire to be with her made her feel.

  She pursed her lips and glowered at her image, which was clearing as the steam in the bathroom dissipated.

  She’d been convinced Darryl genuinely liked her while all the time they dated, he was embezzling, and finally had abused her physically. How had she been so blind to his duplicity, the lies, the false regard, the pretended passion?

  Peter accused her of suppressing her passion. She had tried to release it with Darryl. What had come of that? He’d probably ridiculed her to his friends, their friends, bragged about how lonely she was, how hungry, how eagerly she’d responded to his attention when only she knew that her reactions to his lovemaking were contrived. In that way, at least, she’d probably fooled him as ably as he had fooled her. Somehow, that didn’t make her feel any better.

  So what did that make Savanna and Darryl? A couple of fools fooling each other. Where was sincerity? Where was compassion, genuine human caring? Had it all been bred out of them, dissolved, like the vapor in this bathroom? How could a person be expected to capture and hold onto those elusive qualities, if she couldn’t recognize them in the first place?

  That had been Peter’s contribution.

  She was startled at the thought.

  Of course, sincerity and compassion had been among the things missing from her busy, moneymaking life, along with truth, unvarnished honesty. Missing, that is, before Peter arrived, brimming with all of that, unafraid to show his regard, his admiration.

  Do you love me? He had asked candidly.

  “Do you love me?” She asked her reflection, repeating the question. It had embarrassed her when he asked it. He asked it guilelessly, before God and everybody.

  What if she’d said yes, she did love him? Would that have been the truth? Her expression in the mirror twisted.

  Disregarding his physical appearance, considering only the man beneath, did she love him?

  “Yes.” She gave herself a gentle smile. “Not love as in love, but the kind of love that comes from trust, respect, mutual enjoyment, sharing, admiration…and friendship.” If those were criteria for determining love, yes, she loved him. Could she say so, out loud, now, after all this time together? No.

  How was it that the word love rolled so easily from his lips?

  “Don’t think of lips.” She taunted, laughing at her reflection. “Lips make you think of…”

  “What the heck are you doing in here?” Carol flung the bathroom door open. “Who are you talking to?”

  Savanna grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her. When it was secure, she grabbed a second and wound it around her hair creating an improvised turban.

  Carol studied her closely. “What are you grinning about? You haven’t smiled all week.”

  Savanna laughed lightly. “I was just giving myself a serious talking to.”

  “Oh, yeah. Did you pick up any pearls of wisdom?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  Savanna laughed softly. “Have I ever told you I love you?”

  It was Carol’s turn to laugh, self-consciously. “No, I can’t say you ever have.” Her giggles effervesced before she sobered and regarded Savanna seriously. “Do you?”

  Savanna smiled at her friend’s reflection in the mirror. “Yes, actually, I do.”

  “Why?”

  It was Savanna’s turn to laugh. “Because you are so darn blunt. You think a thing, you say it. You don’t bother with finesse, have no concern for what sensitive little flower’s feelings you trample.”

  “And you, I suppose you’re one of those sensitive little flowers, you find that lovable?”

  “Only because it is so reliably you.”

  “That serious little talk you were having with yourself…?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did this come up? Loving me, I mean?”

  “Indirectly, yes.”

  “The bottom line was, you love me?”

  Savanna surrendered a little, rolling laugh. “Yep.”

  “Indirectly?”

  “No. I mean I got there indirectly.”

  “So, who else do you love?”

  Savanna’s throaty little laugh rippled around them as she pushed by Carol to get to the closet. “Everyone. This whole, entire household. My family. Others.”

  “This is a little sudden, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe it’s long overdue.”

  “Do you love Darryl, too?” Carol arched her eyebrows.

  Savanna grimaced. “No.”

  “Did you ever love him?”

  “I don’t think so. I’m new at this. Let’s just say, there are many other people higher on my love-em list than Darryl.”

  Carol eyed her friend suspiciously. “What about Peter?”

  “He’s the one who mentioned it and made me start all this soul searching in the first place.”

  “He told you he loved you? When? Has he been sneaking into your room at night to whisper sweet nothings?”

  Savanna’s pained expression had the desired effect as her friend withered and took a step back. “Carol, I told you,” Savanna said, advancing. “Our friendship, Peter’s and mine, is too perfect to sully with physical intimacy.”

  “You can make declarations of love, but you can’t muddle up this idyllic relationship with any cheap physical stuff?”

  Savanna nodded at her friend’s accurate summary.

  “I don’t get it.”

  Patting Carol’s arm, Savanna smiled. “Honestly? Neither do I. Exactly.”

  The gloom disappeared from the household under Savanna’s smile as fog gives way to the dawning warmth of the sun.

  Merriam sang as she prepared roll dough destined for the Fletchers’ home. There was a spring in Angus’s step as he worked tight grassy areas with the hand mower. Carol wore a silly grin.

  “What’s happened?” Peter caught Savanna near the staircase, obviously puzzled.

  She bestowed her warmest smile. “You.”

  “Oh.” He paused, nodded uncertainly, and looked bewildered. “What do you mean?”

  “You outed love. It’s made everyone around here feel good.”

  A knowing grin spread across his face. “You, too?”

  “Certainly, m
e, too.”

  “I’ve given you something?”

  “Yes.”

  “Am I to be rewarded?”

  Her happy smile dimmed a little. “Well, sure, I guess. How much do you want?”

  He looked disgusted.

  “Sorry. I should have said what kind of reward would you like?”

  The two words popped out of his mouth as if they had been poised at the tip of his tongue awaiting the invitation. “Hug me.” He waited for a response. When he got none, he added, “I want you to touch me voluntarily, by your own choice.”

  She shot glances toward the den, up and down the hallway, and behind to the kitchen. No one else was in sight. “Okay.” She opened her arms.

  He stepped quickly into her embrace, not allowing her time to reconsider. He wrapped one arm over her shoulder, the other around her waist. She, too, put her arms around his opposite shoulder and waist and tilted her face, pressing her cheek to his. His hold on her tightened.

  When she signaled she was ready to end the embrace, he delayed a moment before releasing her.

  They stood smiling pleasantly into one another’s eyes in what might have appeared a covert communication. He was first to break the silence with a whisper. “Thank you.”

  She laughed. “Anytime.”

  They were still smiling at each other when Merriam bustled into the dining room to set the table for dinner. She appeared startled to see them and looked anxiously from one to the other before she spewed a little giggle and scurried off.

  Peter swam his laps early on Friday evening, right after supper, and retreated from the others’ company.

  Settled at her desk in the great room, Savanna idly wondered what the old storage room looked like by now, after several weeks of Peter’s residency.

  Of course, as the owner of the property, she supposed she had a right, maybe even a duty, to check the premises from time to time. He had even said so. However, each time she thought about it, she held off. She wanted him to feel he had a haven of his own, which he probably appreciated as much as she appreciated his not violating the upstairs of her house. Besides, he would be gone soon enough and she could inspect it then, if she were still interested.