Finding Mr. Right. Gwynne Forster
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you date her without his permission?”
“No. I went to her house practically every evening, took her out or stayed there and did my homework with her. Sometimes he was at home, and sometime he wasn’t.”
“I don’t think the courts can give you permission to marry this girl so long as she’s under eighteen, but you do have some rights, and we’ll see that those rights are honored.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I sure hope so.”
She talked with him for half an hour and realized that they might be forced to go to court. “Where does your family stand in this, Jonathan?”
“They’re angry. She could stay with us and my folks would help me pay for everything, but her dad won’t allow it.”
“What is he demanding? He must want something.”
“Oh, he does. He’s asking for money.”
Tyra bit back her anger. “I’ll see what we have here and collect the resources that we need, Jonathan. Meanwhile, try not to worry. She’ll be eighteen in about six months, and her father will have no legal jurisdiction. Of course, we want marriage for the two of you before the child is born, if possible. You’re my number one priority.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I know you’ll do what you can.”
She said goodbye to Jonathan. She’d lost track of time and realized that it was past time to go home. She quickly packed up her things.
“How about a drink?” She looked up and saw Christopher Fuller holding the lobby door for her.
“No thanks. I’m in a hurry to get home.”
“If you’re in a hurry, why’d you stay so late? What were you doing? Making out with Cowan?”
“What I was doing is none of your business. I don’t have a damn thing to do when I get home. I just can’t stand you.” She whirled around and bumped into Matt. “Matt, this idiot says I’ve been making out with you. I’d appreciate it if you’d straighten him out.”
As she rushed off, she heard Matt say, “Come off it, Fuller. You wouldn’t know a lady from the pigs you lie around with. You’ve had one warning. If you don’t want a second one, you’d better change your tone.”
When she got home, she went to her bedroom, closed the door and kicked off her shoes. She’d decided it would be foolish to jeopardize her relationship with Byron merely to put her siblings in their place.
Byron was a block from his house when he remembered his promise to buy Andy a bicycle. A four-and-a-half year-old could handle one he reasoned. He turned the Cadillac onto Genstar Drive and headed for the Francis Scott Key Mall. Once inside the mall, Byron passed a bookstore window and saw a children’s book about Frederick, Maryland heroes. He went in and bought it. Andy loved stories that he could retell in his day school and was fast earning the title of class storyteller. Byron made a note to read the book first so that he could answer his son’s questions, and he knew there would be plenty of them.
Byron found the bicycle that he wanted, remembered to get a helmet and headed home. He pulled into his garage, left the bicycle and helmet in the car and entered the house through the kitchen. In his haste to greet Byron, Andy nearly fell out of the chair.
“I need a new story, Daddy. Kisha told one today, but nobody clapped.”
Byron lifted the boy into his arms and hugged him. “Why didn’t you clap?”
“I didn’t want her to be as good as me.”
“As good as I. You should have clapped. You’re good at it, and you can afford to be gracious to other children who try to tell stories.’
“Yes. But she wasn’t as good as I am.”
“Fine. Next time, I want you to lead the applause for her. Got it?”
“Yes, I will. But I don’t like the idea.”
Byron put Andy back in the chair and went up to his room. A search of the yellow pages in the telephone book gave him a choice of several gourmet restaurants, and he chose one. After ordering, he showered and dressed in black jeans, a T-shirt and black sneakers and went downstairs.
He handed his son the book he’d bought earlier. “Let’s read, Andy.”
“What’s the story about?”
“Important people who lived in Frederick long ago.”
“Good. I’m going to read slow, so I’ll remember it and I can tell it at school tomorrow.” The boy read the picture story in about fifteen minutes. “I love the story, Dad.”
Andy loved reading. Indeed, the boy had a sizeable library of books. It was becoming difficult to find new ones that challenged his skills. I’m going to have to start writing stories for preschool children, Byron said to himself. “If I get Andy’s imagination to working, it should be fun.”
At five-thirty, he rang Tyra’s doorbell, and, to his disappointment, Darlene opened the door. “Hello, Darlene. Are you the Cunninghams’ official doorman?”
“Hi, Byron. I think I detected a bit of sarcasm. Who do you want to see? Tyra or Clark? Clark’s in Baltimore.”
“Darlene, give me a little credit. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have a reason. Do you mind if I come in and wait for Tyra?”
“Sure. Something tells me that I get on the wrong side of you without trying.”
“Darlene, I told you I was expecting Byron at five-thirty.” Tyra walked in. “Hi. I’m sorry, Byron.”
He leaned over, kissed Tyra’s cheek. “It’s all right. We’ll make up for it.” Tyra cast a glance in Darlene’s direction, took Byron’s arm and ushered him out of the house.
“Do you realize I’ve never been to Gambrill Park?” she asked him as he opened the front passenger door for her. “And I’ve lived here all my life.”
“Something tells me that, when you were a teenager, you didn’t do much dating.”
“You’re right. I didn’t. I was seventeen when we lost our parents, and responsibility for my siblings and our home fell to me. I was scared to death of setting a bad example.”
He got in the car, eased his arm across her shoulder and turned to her. “I’ve waited all day for the greeting that Darlene deprived me of.”
She turned to him, snuggled closer and parted her lips. Heat plowed through him as she sucked his tongue into her mouth. He knew he should stop, but when he attempted to pull away, she clung to him. He braced his hands on her shoulders and eased her away from him. Her face bore a dazed expression.
He held her as close as he dared. “It’s still daylight, sweetheart. We could draw quite a crowd.” He’d meant it to be funny, but she didn’t smile. “What is it, Tyra? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I guess. I suppose I’m only now learning who I am. I surprise myself sometimes when I’m with you.”
Her words brought an inward smile and gave him a feeling she would never understand. If he was the man to teach her who she was, nothing would please him more. He knew she wasn’t an innocent. A woman without any sexual experience wouldn’t relate to a man as she did. But she’d missed something, and he couldn’t wait to fill the void.
“Don’t think you haven’t shown me a different side of myself. The good thing is that I like who I am with you,” he said, as he headed out Yellow Springs Road to Gambrill Park. “I’ve already picked out a space for us. It’s close enough to the bandstand, but far enough to protect the eardrums.”
After parking the car and locking it, he took a wicker picnic basket and a shopping bag from the trunk, walked with her to a big boulder and put the basket on it. “This boulder will not only