Her Secret Life. Gwynne Forster

her, my sister and her three children. I always enjoy being with my family. How is your father?”

      “Surprisingly energetic. We ate in the dining room, although I pushed him there in a wheelchair. That was the first time I’d seen him out of that bed in months. If only he would agree to the operation, he’d get well.”

      “I’m glad he’s better. How old is he?”

      “Sixty-four.”

      “Hmm. That’s young these days. If you’d like me to talk with him, let me know. I’m told that I can be persuasive when I put myself to it.”

      She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Warren Holcomb couldn’t know that if she took him to meet her father, her dad would assume that the two of them had a commitment. “Thank you. I’ve had this burden practically alone for so long that I forget to ask for help. Besides, I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong impression.”

      “Like what?” In her mind’s eye, she could see both of his eyebrows shoot up.

      “Like thinking there’s more to our relationship than actually exists.”

      “Not to worry, I can fence with the best of them, although I admit I’ve never crossed swords with a woman’s father. I’d like to help if you think I can, Jackie.”

      “I have a feeling I’m going to admire you,” she said, and wished she hadn’t. “I wonder when I became loose-tongued,” she went on, before he could respond.

      “I wouldn’t call it that. You spoke truthfully, because you don’t know me well enough to admire me. In fact, we don’t know each other, and I intend to change that if you’ll let me.”

      “Come now, Warren. You wouldn’t normally look to a cocktail waitress for a meaningful relationship.”

      “That wasn’t well put, Jackie. I am not prejudiced against any group, and it’s a good thing, or I’d have missed what I think is going on with us. Would you have turned your nose up at me twenty or so years ago when I waited tables at Seafood Forever, in Boston? Or would you have tried to find out who I really was?”

      She heard what he didn’t say, and her heart nearly exploded with the joy that she felt. “Thank you for the vote of confidence. You won’t regret it.”

      He was silent for a few seconds. Then he said, “I don’t think I will. You agreed to go out with me tomorrow. Remember?”

      “I remember, and I’ll be downstairs at twelve-thirty.” Fortunately, her office had closed for the holiday weekend, or she’d have been hard pressed to give him a reason why she wasn’t free at midday, when he thought she only worked nights.

      “Why downstairs?”

      She didn’t intend for them to create a spontaneous combustion every time they were together, and he might as well know it. “It’s easier to prevent a fire than it is to put it out once it gets started.”

      “Good Lord, you’re frank. It’s refreshing, though. I’d better let you get to bed, but I don’t want to. I could talk with you indefinitely.”

      “I enjoy talking with you, too, but you’re right…I’d better get to sleep or I’ll be yawning all through lunch. Good night, Warren. Sleep well.”

      “Not even a tiny kiss?”

      She made the sound of a kiss and said, “That was a tiny one.”

      She heard his kiss just before he said, “Good night, sweetheart.”

      She hung up, but she couldn’t move. Her life was changing with the speed of a down-hill roller coaster, and it could be her ruin, but she didn’t want to change course. Every one of her senses told her that Warren Holcomb would introduce her to a whole new way of feeling and a new appreciation of life. And then what? Would he leave her adrift, to become another walking, breathing tragedy?

      She mused over it as she prepared for bed. “Heaven help me, but I have to take the chance.”

      He saw her at once, seated in the lobby facing the front door with her knees crossed and her left foot swinging, as comfortable as if she had been in her own domain. She rose with the grace of Aphrodite emerging from the Aegean Sea and walked to meet him.

      He took both of her hands. “You’re the essence of grace,” were the words he said, but his mind was engaged with one question. Should he kiss her there in the lobby of the building in which she lived? She settled the matter by reaching up and kissing him on his right cheek.

      “I appreciate punctuality,” she said, “because I hate to wait. Where are we going?”

      “There’re lots of nice restaurants up in Harlem, but I thought we’d eat before we got there. I’m in the mood for Italian. What would you prefer?”

      “I love Italian food, and I hope one of these days to go to Italy and eat my fill of it.”

      “Then Italian it will be.” If I ever get the opportunity and we’re still together, I’ll show her Florence, Italy.

      As they entered the restaurant, he noticed that two women leaving it wore shoes with heels three or four inches high and sharp pointed toes. He glanced at Jackie’s boots and relaxed when he saw that their heels didn’t exceed an inch and a half in height and that the toes of her boots were rounded.

      “You’re not a slave to fashion, are you?” he said after they ordered.

      She raised both eyebrows. “Me? Not! I wear what suits my lifestyle. Half the things in my closet are six or seven years old. I hate shopping, and I don’t make bills that I can’t pay at the end of the month.”

      He leaned back, eager to hear more. “Girl after my own heart. Carrying charges have bankrupted many an honest person.” He decided to take a chance. “Something tells me you don’t like your waitress uniform.”

      Her change in demeanor told him that he might have pushed the wrong button, and she seemed defensive when she said, “Do I look like the type of woman who would choose to wear that skimpy outfit?”

      “No. That’s why I asked the question.”

      The waiter brought their food—spaghetti with white clam sauce and tiny clams for her with a chef’s green salad, and veal marsala with an arugula and mushroom salad for him.

      She could tell that he didn’t want to linger over the meal, that he wanted to move on to their destination. “I hope we’ll have more leisurely meals together, but right now, I can’t wait to show you my baby,” he said.

      “This is your building.” It was less a question than a statement expressed in awe. “This is a community center. I had no idea I was coming to a place like this,” she said as they walked through the building. “It’s huge and ultramodern.”

      “I try not to do anything halfway, Jackie. We use this facility for daily tutoring, sports, theatre, dance and music education, and each activity is carried on in a room built for that purpose. We have programs for children ages five to nine and ten to eighteen.”

      “This is…wonderful.”

      “My aim is to keep as many of our children as possible off the street and out of crime. This is home for a lot of them. I’ve been blessed to have the money, and I’m glad I found something useful to do with it.”

      “You must be proud of this,” she said, but her thoughts were on the similarities of their interests and the things they had in common. If she could only share with him the part of her life of which he knew nothing. She longed to write a human interest story on the man and Harlem Clubs, Inc. for African American Woman, but she couldn’t do that without exposing herself. She made up her mind right then to find another night job that would enable her to care properly for her father.

      “Have I lost you?” he asked her

      She didn’t answer directly. “In my mind’s eye, I can see