Love Me or Leave Me. Gwynne Forster

and I don’t want to be disturbed.”

      “All right, Ms. Langford. I’ll take your messages.”

      After her newscast, she headed for her office and looked through her messages. Well, what can I expect? she thought, crestfallen when she didn’t find one from Drake. She packed the briefcase, made a note as to what she had to do when she arrived at work Monday morning and headed home. Her cell phone rang as she drove out of the garage. She turned the corner, stopped and answered it. She didn’t talk on the phone while driving.

      “Hello.”

      “Hello, Pamela, this is Drake. Feel like a movie tomorrow evening? Or if not that, dinner?”

      Oh, my Lord, she said to herself. Am I going to fold up every time I hear his voice unexpectedly?

      “I’d love dinner, but I haven’t seen a movie in ages. What do you want to see?”

      “You may think this is foolish, but there’s an old movie that I’m nuts about, ’cause it’s funny. It’s The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming. It was made during the Cold War, and it’s hilarious. We could have dinner and make the nine-o’clock show. Interested?”

      “Yes, indeed. Where’s the movie?”

      “In Baltimore. I’ll pick you up around five-thirty. All right?”

      “I’ll look forward to it.”

      “So will I. Bye.”

      She hung up, put the car in Drive and went home. For a man who needed breathing space, he seemed bent on suffocating himself.

      Pamela couldn’t have been further from the truth. Drake accorded himself the right to be certain of his moves, and if that meant exposing himself to his mounting passion, so be it. If he could have his dreams and her as well, he wanted to know it. But if he had to choose, not only did he need to know that, but he also had to be certain of his choice.

      “How about a game of darts?” his brother Telford asked, joining him in the den. “I could use some activity that will take my mind off those Florence Griffith Joyner Houses.”

      “Yeah. One of these days, we ought to work at getting a mobile crew. As long as we have to hire construction crews in whatever city or country we’re building in, we’ll have problems. Speaking of problems, how’d you like to take on a real one?”

      He knew Telford, the builder for Harrington, Inc., loved a challenge, but he wasn’t certain that even Telford could overcome the problems he envisaged in building a shopping mall in Accra. He told his brother about the project he discussed while in Accra attending his friend’s wedding.

      “But if you think Barbados posed a problem, you ought to see what you’d be up against in Ghana. The weather saps all of your energy. I don’t see how a man can work day after day in that heat and humidity.”

      “What about a split shift…early mornings and late evenings?” Telford asked him.

      “Yeah. Right. Just in time for sandflies and mosquitoes. Besides, you have the heat till the sun goes down, and then it’s immediately dark.”

      “Let’s see what Russ has to say about it. He might enjoy designing a shopping mall for a tropical country.”

      Drake heaved himself from the comfort of the deep, overstuffed leather chair and allowed himself a restorative yawn. “Maybe, but I’m not sure I’d enjoy engineering it. See you later.”

      “Wait a minute,” Telford said, rising to face his youngest brother. “Russ said something had gone awry with you and Pamela. This probably won’t impress you one bit, but I like her a lot—all of us do. Not even Henry has anything negative to say about her.”

      “’Course not. She sang his favorite song to him. Look, brother, I’m feeling my way, here. She wants a family and she’s already thirty. I’m thirty-one, and I haven’t proved anything to myself. I’m not sure I’d be happy giving her up, but what about my goals?”

      “You’ll reach those. No doubt about it in my mind. But if you get to the top, and you’re there all alone, who will you enjoy it with? Who will you share it with? Alexander the Great conquered the world and wept because there was nothing left to conquer.”

      “Point taken. But you waited until you were thirty-six, and Russ is getting married at thirty-four. What does anybody want from me? I’m behaving in true Harrington fashion.” Laughter bubbled up in his throat. “It may not be up to me. Every man can see what I can see.”

      Telford’s right eyebrow shot up. “If you thought she’d drop you, you wouldn’t be so sanguine about it.”

      “Well, I’m not that sure of her either, which is why I’m seeing her tomorrow night.”

      “Yeah? Way to go. See you later. Say, what about the darts?” Telford called after him.

      “Give me a few minutes. I’ll meet you in the game room.”

      Telford and Russ had found women who were perfect for them and who loved them. Would he be as fortunate? He met Alexis, his sister-in-law, on the stairs, and her hand on his arm detained him.

      “What’s the matter? You seem perplexed. What can I do to help?”

      “I don’t know if you can. I don’t like being caught up in the tide and being swept along as if I have no control over my life.”

      Her smile, at once motherly and wistful, reassured him, as it always did. “You only have to do what you want to do. Other people’s dreams for you are their dreams and plans, not yours. You can love the adviser and still ignore the advice. Get the message?”

      “You bet I do. Will Russ be here for dinner?”

      “No. He and Velma are coming in tomorrow afternoon.”

      “Too bad. I wanted the three of us to discuss that Ghana project. Maybe we can do that Sunday morning.”

      “Good idea. Bring Pamela with you.”

      He continued up the stairs. “I can ask her.”

      “Eoow! Uncle Drake!” Tara ran to him with open arms. “I missed you, and when my dad said you’d be back today, I was so happy.”

      He picked her up and swung her around while she giggled in delight. “How’s my best girl?”

      “I have a lot to tell you. My dad said it’s time for me to get another music teacher, and Mr. Henry wants to buy me a grand piano. The trouble is we would have to put it in the living room, and I would get on everybody’s nerves practicing.”

      “We could put it downstairs in the game room.”

      “I dunno. Maybe you can tell my mommy you want to play darts in the game room, you and Uncle Russ, and she won’t put it there.”

      “Well, sometimes it’s damp downstairs, and I imagine that’s bad for a piano.”

      She clapped her hands. “Really? Think up some more bad things about downstairs. I want to put the piano in my room.”

      He put her down. A six-year-old con artist, and as frank about it as a fashion model on a runway.

      He went to his room, closed the door and walked over to the window. “I’ve been looking at this scene for all of my life. Maybe if I did as Russ did, if I left and went on my own, I’d see my life more clearly. I don’t think I’m reaching too high by wanting career recognition, but when I get it, I want to share it with someone extra special.” He thrust his hands in his trouser pockets and slouched against the window frame. As he watched, birds flittered among the several feeders Alexis kept laden with bird food, took their fill and then flew away.

      He planned to learn to fly, and he didn’t like keeping secrets from his family. But he knew that, out of concern for his safety, they would discourage him, so he decided to tell them when it was a fait accompli. He stretched