Montaro Caine A Novel - By Sidney Poitier Page 0,49

was love at first sight? Just like in the movies?”

“Pretty close to that.”

“And you had this big wedding and you didn’t invite me or Anna or the doctor?”

“Well, we didn’t invite anybody; we eloped.”

“Eloped? Oh, how romantic!” The two women giggled like schoolgirls. “But why?” Cordiss asked. “Were there problems?”

“No, just a spur of the moment impulse.” Whitney spoke at length about how refreshingly honest, direct, and unpretentious her husband was. She described how they felt destined to be together, almost as if some otherworldly force had drawn them to each other. She spoke of how desperately she wished her mother could be with her now, in this time of her greatest happiness, that without her mother to see her through the wedding, eloping had seemed like the right idea.

“Jesus,” Whitney said when she was done, “I haven’t seen Dr. Mozelle and Anna in over a year. I’m so disappointed they aren’t here.” As she stood and slowly ambled toward the door, she added, “Give them my love. Tell them I stopped by and that I’ll be in touch soon.”

“I will,” said Cordiss.

“Also, tell them that my uncle Frederick sends them his best regards. And”—she paused for a moment—“If Dr. Chambers doesn’t mention it to them, tell them I’m pregnant.”

Cordiss tried to hide the complex emotions that were hurtling through her brain all at once. “What?” she asked, desperate for Whitney not to leave just yet, at least not until she had learned all she could. “You saved the best for last! Pregnant! Oh, Whitney, you’re gonna make me cry. When’re you due?”

“About six months or so, give or take.”

“Did Dr. Chambers just tell you?”

“No. He just confirmed what I already knew. That’s what I dropped by to tell Dr. Mozelle and Anna.”

“Ooooh,” Cordiss cooed, opening her arms. “It’s so wonderful. Really wonderful.”

“Thank you, I think so too. But we haven’t had a chance to talk about what’s going on in your life.”

“Oh, no, forget it,” said Cordiss. “With Victor and me it’s always the same. Nothing new. Next time I’ll bring you up to speed with all the glorious details. Meanwhile Victor is Victor, my saving grace. But I haven’t woken up to find a little gold ring on my finger yet.”

“You will, honey, I know. It’s written somewhere.”

“From your lips to God’s ears,” Cordiss said, adding, “I just can’t help myself; I love that rascal.”

As she turned to the door, Whitney did not notice the glazed look that had come over the receptionist’s face as Cordiss Krinkle’s thoughts switched to a private track.

“By the way, where did you say you’re living now?” Cordiss asked nonchalantly. She reached for a notepad and a pencil.

“Atlanta.”

“Atlanta?” Cordiss frowned.

“I gave up my apartment here. Packed and shipped everything yesterday. Franklyn comes from Georgia, so we thought we’d try it down there for a while, see if we have any better luck finding work.”

“So we won’t be seeing you?” asked Cordiss, her pencil poised.

“Not for a bit. But I’ll stay in touch, I promise.” She then dictated her new address and phone number to Cordiss.

“Was your husband born right in Atlanta?” Cordiss asked, affecting the casual disinterest of a medical interviewer as she jotted down the information.

“No, about a hundred and fifty miles away, in Augusta.”

“Is he a Pisces like you?” Cordiss maintained the same monotone voice.

“Aries.”

“Aries? My dad’s an Aries,” Cordiss lied. “What date?”

“April eighteenth.”

“No, my dad’s the eighth.” Cordiss smiled before returning her attention to the notepad. “Let’s see, Franklyn Walker, born April eigtheenth, 19 …?” she looked up questioningly at Whitney.

“1984,” Whitney responded. “I even know the time—10:56 in the morning.”

“I bet you even know which hospital,” Cordiss said, teasing.

“Yep, I do. County. With a midwife,” Whitney said with a laugh.

“You are hopelessly in love, honey,” said Cordiss.

“You got that right,” Whitney said. “Nice seeing you, Cordiss, take care.”

Cordiss told Whitney that she hoped to see her soon—she added that Victor frequently traveled to Atlanta on business and that perhaps the four of them could get together sometime.

“I’d love it,” Whitney said. “I don’t have too many friends down there yet. I’d even cook you dinner.”

“You’ve got a date,” said Cordiss.

Then Cordiss said good-bye with a wave of a hand and Whitney Carson Walker was gone. But long after Whitney had left, Cordiss continued to think about her. She thought back to her second year on the job to one evening when she was working after hours, and she had overheard Dr. Mozelle and Anna Hilburn discussing the circumstances of