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Keith kissed her good night the whole length of her parents' long private road. The moon was so full. He begged her to climb in the backseat of his Fairlane and she almost gave in, but it was so late already. The closer she got to home, the more nervous the teenager became. At her request, he stopped short of the driveway, so as not to alert anyone with shining headlights. She snuck in the front door, holding her key lightly to avoid jiggling it. The hinges were soundless, the wooden stairs mounted on rubber slats to cushion footfalls. She was home free! And she'd never felt more beautiful or womanly. Her skin tingled where Keith's eruption left a salty constellation, and her private lips were so swollen they squeezed between her thighs with every step. She was going to sleep well that night, but first she was going to jill off reliving every single second. Until she turned on the lamp and saw her parents sitting on her bed.
Robert Evans looked like he was going to explode. His face was vermillion and his breath came in short snorts, like a bull. Only her mother's firmly clenched grip on his arm kept him from raging into the night, a one-man lynch mob. But it was the look on her mother's face that broke Kendra's heart. Pure, utter, point-blank disappointment.
"Sit down, young lady," Maria said.
Kendra dropped cross-legged to the floor in front of her parents.
"Mommy, Daddy, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to get in this late. I was at the library—"
"The library closed hours ago."
"I know. I lost my phone, so I hung out at the gas station until Keith could come out and give me a ride."
Maria pressed the redial button on the handset by Kendra's bed. Her cellphone buzzed mercilessly in her back pocket. Maria did not hang up until Kendra's voicemail timed out. She stood and walked over, stopping a few inches short. For once, in this position, she towered over the teenager.
"Kendra, you're in trouble as it is," she leaned down so she was face-to-face, "So what were you really—good Lord, child, you smell like a brothel!"
"May as well been in one," her father muttered. "Dammit, Kenny, what the hell were you thinking? A hundred, no, thirty years, hell, now! What do you think that boy's doing? He's bragging to all his friends how he banged the black girl! I hope you used a rubber!"
Kendra flinched, which seemed to enrage him further. He propelled himself off the bed.
"Oh, was that indelicate? Did that offend you?" He gripped her jaw roughly, yanking her eyes up to duel with his eerily light ones. Off to the side, even Maria looked alarmed.
"Rob—"
"I'm talking to my daughter," he said with exaggerated enunciation. "His stink is all over you, like a wet dog. Did you suck his dick, too? How else did you debase yourself? Answer me!"
Kendra burst in tears, terrified. "No Daddy, I swear! We didn't even have sex!"
"I sincerely doubt that," Robert's cold tone sliced like a blade. "A liar isn't the worst thing you've proved yourself to be tonight. Don't add to the list."
"Rob, you're going too far," Maria interjected.
Kendra didn't even hear her mother. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks like they would never stop. What only minutes ago had been the most beautiful moment of her life now seemed treacherous, dirty and degrading. She reeled as he flung her head away from him, catching herself on her forearms before she hit the floor. Her father had never looked at her like this, never talked to her this way. He'd always been her champion. Oh God. What did I do? Daddy doesn't love me anymore. Dry heaves wracked her chest, but when she found her voice, it was clear—if a bit shaky.
"No, Daddy, I promise. I'm still a virgin. You can check if you don't believe me."
Maria gasped, then grabbed Kendra and hugged her, using her body to shield her child from her husband's glare. "Baby, I would never subject you to that. I believe you, honey. It's OK."
Robert couldn't wipe the look of disgust off his face, even as his daughter's sobs broke his heart. He tried to smooth her hair and echo his wife, that it would be all right, but he couldn't bring himself to touch her right then. His half-proffered gesture ended in an impotent wave.
"Clean up, then come to the kitchen. We have things to discuss."
That was the night he broke her.
Since then, she'd only dated guys like Niall, who were great on paper but didn't fill the emptiness inside, and she poured her heart into the monthly letters. Over the years, they morphed from updates about her life into the most private kind of writing. Half journal entry, half prayer, they held all her hopes for Keith and herself in their separate lives.
She thought her father choosing to deliver them was like the commissary check: an apology or form of penance both to her and Keith. it certainly helped her get past all the horrible things he'd said that night. But since learning of his deception, her love for her father collided with hate, brewing a hell of a storm.
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Kendra glared as her father approached, oblivious to the rage welling up inside her.
Robert threw his arms around his daughter and hugged tight, her lack of response and the stiffness of her arms not registering.
"I got back as soon as I could," he said. "I don't know why your mom didn't call me immediately, but Niall here told me all about what happened. Goddamn peckerwoods. So you're taking a few days off? That's good. That's the best thing you could do."
Only when she remained impassive did he acknowledge the man next to her.
"Keith. When did you get out?"
"Not a year ago." Keith rubbed Kendra's arm. She was breathing funny, and hadn't taken her eyes off her father. "You OK, babe?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well Keith, this is Kendra's boyfriend Niall," Mr. Evans said. "Keith is a childhood friend," he directed to Niall.
Keith grinned, a fleeting, wolf-like baring of the teeth that his Native ancestors would have called a Pillager Smile. He ignored Niall's offered handshake.
"That's where you're wrong, Mr. Evans."
"Keith and I are together."
"What?" Niall yelled.
"Not this mess again," Robert spat.
"Niall and I have been broken up for months," Kendra's voice started out calm, but gradually rose. "And this mess, as you call it, is finally being with the one who loved me all along. No thanks to you."
Robert jerked, the way a dog does when someone throws a stone at it.
"Why lie, Dad? Let me think he hated me? This burden of guilt and self-loathing was like a wound I carried for years." She bumped into his chest, surprised. She had been slowly advancing on her father without realizing it, but Keith's big hands tethered her to safety. He gently pulled her back and squeezed her shoulder in support, giving her courage to continue. "What did you do with them?"
"What did I do with what?"
"The letters. And if you say what letters, so help me God."
"So help you God, what? You are still my daughter, and you're standing in my damn house. If you're talking about those lovesick letters to an incarcerated white boy, I did what any self-respecting Black man would do. I threw them out!"
"No, you didn't." Maria's cool frame leaned in the doorway. No one knew how long she'd been there.
"I saved all your letters, sweetheart. As bad as I felt about not delivering them, I knew it would compound the sin to destroy them."
Maria crossed the floor to the living room's library wall, all eyes on her. She had wrapped up a videoconference, and her skirt suit showed off her small waist and flared hips. She took a few steps up the sliding ladder and pulled a row of books from a particular shelf. It was a façade, a hinged box cleverly made to look like a series of leather-bound books.
"Keith, these are yours. I wanted to make them a wedding present, but it's not right to keep them a moment longer." She placed the box in Keith's hands and the whole world fell away.
Keith took the box to the coffee table and sat on one of the white leather settees for the first time in his life. He tracked mud on the rug, but didn't notice. Something very near fear floated in his stomach as he reached for the lid. When he opened it, warm tears filled his eyes. Envelopes. Dozens and dozens of them, missives from the brightest beacon of light he'd had in his life. He ran his hand through the stack. Some were bundled with rubber bands, some were loose. They were all out of order, but Mrs. Evans had just given him seven years of his life back. Among all the white envelopes was one bright red one. He reached for that one first. The conversation in the room sounded far away, as though his ears were stuffed with cotton. He was too busy with his gift, his heart overflowing.
"Are you serious?" It was Niall, making his case to Kendra. "I know you're mad with me. But an ex-con? Really?" He jerked his thumb at Keith.
"I'm not ashamed, Niall. Yes, he's an ex-con. But he's a lot more than that, and we've been in love since high school." She sat down next to Keith, noticing his reddening eyes and clumpy lashes. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He pulled her wrist to his lips and kissed it desperately; his nostrils quivered like a stallion. Then suddenly, a mask whisked into place. He sniffed hard twice, and the surface of the lake was still again.
"I'm sorry, Niall," Maria said. "Robert should have told me he'd invited you over; I could've saved you an unnecessary trip."
Ever the charmer, Niall folded her hands in one of his. "No apologies needed, Mrs. Evans. I just wanted to check on Kendra and give you all an update on the case."
Those words pierced Keith's fog. "What's happening?"
