Written by Mercedes Keyes
Interracial drama series
[Overall Drama Rated - R]
Episode Five – Rated PG

To read further – http://amberswann.com/

Chapter 13

It was frightening.

Here she was pulling into her driveway, with no memory of having driven the seventy-five miles back home. No memory of her taking her exits, making speed changes or watching for road construction…nothing! She vaguely recalled walking back through the airport, the parking lot, getting into her vehicle, and then merging onto the highway. One minute she was watching him step through the gate at the airport, and the next thing she knew she was pulling into her driveway.

Parking her car, she sat there stunned and truly afraid. “Oh, my god! I could have killed myself, or someone else! Arrrgh! Shawn Everett Styles—McPherson, whatever your name is…you will not do this to me! You are not going to just invade my peace and turn my world upside down over you! No way! And I’m not going to be online at 8:30, either! This is crazy…I have just lost all sense and control!” she reprimanded herself, getting out of her sage-colored Ford Taurus and slamming the door. Her actions caused another exclamation of anger, as it dawned on her that she wasn’t going anywhere else that day. She turned back to the car and got in. Restarted it, clicked the garage door opener and sat shaking her head as the door opened to allow her entrance. She was scared, truly frightened.

“Oh my goodness, it’s already too late. I just know it is. Look at me…already! How can this be? You have to get a hold of yourself! He’s going to end up breaking your heart and you—stupid fool—you’re going to keep going until he does!” She pulled into the garage, killing her engine once she pulled in far enough for the doors to close.

Closing and locking her kitchen door, she stepped out of her boots before going further into the house. Twenty minutes after her arrival home, she was out of her clothes, having hung them up and was in her favorite casuals. Sad, scared, and for the first time, noticed the absolute emptiness of her beautiful home. The silence…the quiet growing pregnant as she stood in her bedroom door looking out at it; everything was as she left it, but nothing was the same. Her mind drawing a blank, she stood for minutes longer than made sense. It was 1:45 in the afternoon and she couldn’t for the life of her, think of what to do now that she was home. Alone…by herself, in the isolation and solitude that she had always wanted. Well here it was…there she stood in the center…in the very midst of it, and could not move. Could not think of what to do with herself next.

“This is crazy! I need to finish that query letter!” she scolded herself, and marched off to her office room to do just that. She went through the motions of turning on her computer; finding the remote to the TV that served as background noise, clicked it on and flipped to the Discovery Channel. With that done, she leaned over her keyboard, entering her password that brought up her Windows desktop. She walked out of the room to get her necessities for working on the computer; A tall tumbler of ice water, a can of cocktail peanuts—in case hunger struck, and her cordless phone. She enjoyed the luxury of having DSL connection; it kept her phone line free. And last, a trip to the bathroom.

With everything set within reach, she settled in and started opening all of her programs she’d be working with. She checked her website’s email, her personal email and the other one that collected her junk mail, emptying it before it was full.

Now, to that query letter.

Fifteen minutes later, nothing was happening. She wasn’t even interested in it. Her head fell back and she sighed. Turning it sideways, she looked out the crack in the blinds to see snow falling. Beyond that, to his house sitting there. The longer she gazed at it, the louder it beckoned her. Even though she decided against being online for him, just in case she changed her mind, she would load his ID into her instant messenger panel box. Pushing her chair back, back on her feet, entering the kitchen, she stood looking for her purse. Finding it, she searched to find the keys he gave her to his house and the paper with his contact information. Returning to her computer, she brought up Yahoo Instant Messenger and clicked on the file to add him to her contact list…mcharley60…

Smiling at his choice of ID, which was also his email for Yahoo, she typed it into the form that popped up and sent it out. It came back and added him with a message to her, awaiting his acceptance. Now to burn time until 8:30…If I change my mind to chat with you, that is. Looking to her right, there were the keys to his house. Inhaling with acceptance, she grabbed them and her jacket off the coat tree at the kitchen door. With keys in hand, she headed to his place. The air was crisp, damp and dreary, the snow picking up and layering deep on the ground. At his door, she hesitated only a moment, then entered his home. It was cool inside; he must have turned down the thermostat. She looked for it on the walls and found it in his dining room, turning it up to take the chill out of the air. That done, she turned, looking around. Reaching beside her, she switched on the lights, again noticing how clean his place was. She liked that about him. He was tidy and practical, with a perfunctory style in his décor, definitely masculine simplicity. “Hmm…where to begin?” she asked out loud. Walking from the dining room, she went into the kitchen to get herself something to drink and stopped, noticing a sheet of paper on the kitchen table. She walked up to it, then smiled. Picking it up, she read…

Hello Lady,

If I’m lucky, you’ll find this note because you came to my home in my absence, which is what I’m hoping you’ll do. First off, thank you for doing so and second…as you read this, I’m thinking of you. No matter when it is you come in to find and read it, I’m thinking of you. Well, go on, do whatever it is you came to do. Make yourself comfortable, get yourself something to drink, or eat for that matter. And, ummm…futz around, and miss me a lot—a whole lot. It’s only right that you should miss me. If I have to suffer with our separation, then so should you.

Shawn

Before her mind registered the act, Sylvia brought the note to her heart, laughing out girlishly as she spun in place as if floating above ground. Coming to a stop, she detected a scent in the air. It was his cologne. With her brows drawn in bafflement, she brought the note to her nose and took a sniff. He had dabbed it with his cologne. She smiled as a soothing calmness settled over her. Sighing, she folded the note in half and put it into her pocket. At the refrigerator, she opened the door to find something to drink. Another note was attached to a six pack of seltzer water. It said, Aren’t these your favorite? She stared at it, then pulled it out from between two of the attached bottles. “Yes, they are my favorite,” she answered as if he were there, then pulled one from the pack. Closing the door, she leaned against his counter and opened it, taking a satisfying drink. After bringing the bottle from her mouth, she looked at the second note. “Why are you doing this, Shawn McPherson? Why?”

Because of his absence, there was no answer to her question. Now that she was there, time to get busy. Another drink and then onward, continuing by heading towards the hallway and one of the back bedrooms. She stopped in the last room, where she found it filled with boxes set against the walls. She clicked on the light and counted 24 boxes, small, medium and large. Laying on the floor behind a few boxes were the pieces of a bookshelf that needed assembling. “Oookaaay, I guess I’ll start there,” she muttered out loud. First, a little music to work by. Turning back to the living room, ten minutes or more were spent turning on his stereo system and going through his music. Sylvie was stunned to find in his collection Stevie Wonder, Anita Baker, Sade, Frankie Beverly and Maze, B.B. King, Al Greene and Vanessa Williams – amazing dusties of classic R&B – funk, soulful sounds mostly found in black homes. What the heck? Oh my goodness, this white man got some taste in music. As she continued to inspect the stack, the more impressed she became. Aretha Franklin—all the old stuff. Marvin Gaye, Miles Davis, Herbie Hancock…Sara Vaughn; many others of old jazz greats. She spent fifteen minutes more there realizing what an exceptional music collection he had, and the majority of it, was what she enjoyed as well. She also loved Barbara Streisand; he had all of her music. Rod Stewart, Rolling Stones, Steve Miller Band, Bad Company and Phil Collins; Kiss, the Beatles, the Eagles, Bob Seger and so many more that she was in music heaven. Opening his 25-disc CD player, she inserted a selection of jazz, blues and soft rock, placed it on shuffle and let the music begin, turning it to a volume she could hear in the back bedroom and went to tackle the boxes.

“Hmph.” First song, Anita Baker…You bring me-e-e jo-o-oy, when I’m down… shaking her head she sang along, opening every box first to inspect the contents, transferring them to where she thought they might go. The small, and many of the medium boxes, contained books. She set them to the side. Two she opened to more music. She carried them to the living room to unpack and put away in there. The next few medium boxes contained VHS tapes of movies. Some self-recorded, others he purchased. Quite a few Walt Disney movies, animated and otherwise. Those also went to the living room. A couple of his larger boxes contained old art and art supplies, all of that she took to his painting room. She found a couple of boxes with bathroom items and medicine cabinet goods. That, she carried to the bathroom. Back again to look through more boxes, she found shoes, old decorative bottles of cologne, socks, shirts, and gift trinkets that were made by his daughter. Those boxes, she carried into his bedroom. Setting them down before his dresser, she turned to leave and saw another note. This one lay on the pillows of his made bed. She smiled and slowly approached the bed. Sitting down, she picked up the note, it read…

Phew, tired yet? If so, feel free to lay your head here and rest a spell. With the chill in the air, by all means, snuggle in under the covers. I’d love to return and find the scent of you here in my bed. If not your scent, then you…maybe?

She threw her head back and laughed. “Not this time, Shawn McPherson, not this time.” She grinned, then on impulse she sniffed the note and there his scent lingered. She smiled; rose from his bed and added that note to the others in her pocket. Back in the room she put the bookshelf together, which took up the entire wall it was laying before. With that done, she began unpacking his books. He had old books with tattered bindings as well as new. His reading material was mostly of authors like Larry McMurtry, Tom Clancy, Ed McBain, Ken Follett, Sidney Sheldon, Andrew M. Greeley. A lot of Sports Illustrated—hardback additions. Self-help books on fitness, weight lifting and equipment catalogs. Tons of hardback books on various artwork. A collection of old encyclopedia editions. A library of children’s literature and reading. Books filled with fairytales of old, from famous authors. To her surprise, there was even a collection of very good cookbooks. This made her smile as she set those aside to put in the kitchen. She ran across two ancient volumes of Shakespeare; these two books were huge. She set them aside for later inspection. Following the discovery of them, there were books upon books of poetry. Books on history and biographies. Time volumes on historical events in America up to the present. And last, in a small box of books, she opened to find a collection of romance novels. “No way!” she exclaimed, laughing out loud. But then stopped, noticing something familiar about them. Then it occurred to her, the pictures were familiar. These were books that he’d painted the covers for. “Wow,” she breathed, following that discovery. With a gentle gesture, she stroked her fingers across the covers. Placing them back in their boxes and closing them over, she placed the whole box on the bottom shelf. By the time she emptied all of the boxes of books, the shelf was full, leaving very little space for any more.

After breaking down the boxes from that, she carried the cookbooks to the kitchen and decided to take a break. She’d worked up a bit of a sweat, and prepared herself a sandwich and emptied another bottle of water. Wasting no more time, she continued on until she emptied every box and put things away in whichever place she felt it made sense to put them. Arranging all of the cute, little self-made gifts his daughter did for him, putting them out on display. Some in his room, the living room, the kitchen and his art room, depending on the purpose the gift was intended, or the personal application of it. Among his personal boxed items, she found several photo albums. Those she laid on the bed to also go through. Now the mess from unpacking…balled-up newspaper and other packing material lay littered about with the boxes.

She found garbage bags, pulled one out and started stuffing it with the littered paper and foam wrapping. Next, she collected all of the boxes that she flattened and cut to break down, piling them up at his back door. Putting her jacket back on, she carried them all out to his garage. Leaning them against the wall, she placed two buckets in front of them to keep them standing. Before leaving, she gazed at his dark-blue SUV, a Lincoln Navigator. His Ford truck, the same color blue, and his two Harley Davidsons. One maroon, black, and chrome; the other blue, silver, and chrome. Shaking her head at herself, she left closing the door, wondering how someone could be so absorbed in another person—as she obviously was. Why else would she be standing admiring his things, things that were a part of him? Taking her jacket off, she was surprised to see that it was already 6:00pm.

It was on her mind, that in another two and half hours, it would be 8:30. She was already fighting with her earlier decision not to be online when he would be expecting her to. She wondered, where had the day gone so quickly? Back in his room, she lounged across his bed and started looking through his photo albums, choosing the oldest first. Opening it, within the cover she found pencil art sketching of various shields, action heroes, high school symbols, a drawing of its mascot—a wolf—and other signatures that were drawn around. This was obviously a photo album of his high school days. The first picture, an 8×10 of himself in cap and gown, his graduation picture from the ’70s. “Look at all that hair,” she muttered aloud, smiling and feeling silly. Sylvia studied every feature of his young face. Though he was quite a striking young man, the way he looked today was much more to her liking. Time flew with Sylvia looking through his albums. Finding pictures that she figured were his parents. Pictures of him with a black man, there were quite a few of them, she figured he must be a good friend to be in so many, she also noticed, they were all of him at a much younger age, nothing current with the man. Moving on from them, baby pictures of his daughter and her mother. A very elegant blonde with amber-gold eyes…she was beautiful. “Wow,” Sylvia breathed softly.

Her eyes were burning. She’d gone to sleep late last night, and rose early to get ready to take him to the airport. She looked at her watch, it was 7:15; she would lay her head down for just an hour and then run home. Who was she fooling? She knew she would be on that computer at 8:30…hey, no matter what.

Shawn hated flying! It never failed…a queasy feeling would settle in his gut halfway through the flight. Take-off didn’t bother him much and he’d grown accustomed to the turbulence, but as landing drew close, his stomach reacted. He felt a headache coming on. He brought his laptop along, but couldn’t focus on doing anything on it. His mind was trapped with thoughts of Sylvia and the flight. Thoughts of Sylvia, if he survived the flight. He’d never seriously dated a black woman before, nothing like this and wondered if this attraction for her was out of bordom? Was he truly going through a board/curiosity phase? At 42 years old, maybe he was feeling midlife and was seeking her out as a stimulus. Erica had been so patient with him, giving him the time he needed to free himself completely from Deidre. He felt pressured and smothered by her at times and had expressed this feeling to her. Not happy with what she was hearing, she accepted it and backed off. They’d made the long drive on his bike to St. Paul, Minnesota after he’d moved into his new home. He’d stayed most of the night with her and pulled out at four in the morning, returning home in time to catch Sylvia Payne on the last leg of her morning jog.

What was it about her? Maybe it was the townfolk’s fault that he was intrigued by her? He’d moved into the house after having purchased it years before. He and Deidre had planned to move there and raise a family. It never happened. She didn’t want to leave the security of her family, nor California and all it had to offer. Her life was there, not in a small farming community where he thought they could grow closer in a marriage that was doomed from the start. Growing up on a farm himself in Hillsboro, Wisconsin, left little room for him to adjust to the life he tried in Palm Springs. While he’d gotten into everything available to him there, he just couldn’t quite find his niche. I wasn’t long before it was abundantly clear that after so many excuses…and reason, after reason, after reason why she couldn’t yet make the move – that she wasn’t going to, one fight following on the tail of another, it all soon got old. He remembered vividly her leaving to go on a so-called vacation with her mother. On the day of her return, instead of her coming through the door, he’d answered—to find papers handed to him. He’d been served his divorce papers. Standing with them in hand, stunned, he knew right then that when it was final; he was out of there. Earlier that same year on a flight to New York, he’d met Erica. Noticing his nervous agitation with the upcoming landing, she made it a point to check on him for the remaining time of the flight.

Coming to talk to him on and off, attempting to take his mind off of his fears with landing.

Experiencing feelings of failure within his marriage sent him off on trips like the one he was taking, which led him to having the one affair he was indeed guilty of. When that was disclosed in court at his divorce hearing, he was convinced that her parents must have truly hated him, and had been waiting for him to make a false move to use against him. Well he delivered it right to them. Believing at the time that Erica had been a part of it, finding out that she hadn’t been, left him with her on the rebound. Now here he was trying to think of a way to dump her. He’d been with her on and off for two years, and unlike Deidre, she was willing to do whatever it took to make their relationship work. Problem was, of course, he didn’t want it to work. He was ready to move on.

Fiery, sultry, and independent. Sleek, caramel-toned and stunning. A writer…an artist of literature. Mother of two, grandmother of two, yet young and very much alive. Sylvia Payne…owner of the home he wished he’d purchased when he first sought property and land. His father had selected the house he owned now because it came with a larger lot of land; ten acres, whereas the home which Sylvia now owned had only a 2 acre lot of land. Having moved in upon her absence, he’d inquired about it at the title and lands office in town.

“You’re late asking on that one. It was sold a little over a year ago. Shoulda scooped it up when you bought that one across from it.”

“Doesn’t seem to be anyone living there now. You think they’d be interested in selling it?”

“Oooh, she’s just out of town, is all. She be back.”

“She?” he’d asked.

“Ms. Sylvia Payne. She’s a widow. Moved here more than a year ago, ‘bout your age. She lives there alone. Spunky, audacious, lil’ thing. You’da thought she’d been fearful of moving to a little town like this. But not a ounce a fear in her.”

“Well, why would she be afraid?”

“She’s Black…or…African American. We don’t have many of them here, and she’s one that’s here all by herself.” The older male clerk had filled him in on that fact. Shawn didn’t know where the comment came from, or why he asked, but had blurted it before he thought about it. “Does she have reason to fear?” The clerk looked up from the file cabinet.

“Where, here? Naaaw…I don’t much see too many here that would care. Long as they come with peace and decency in mind. Leave that drug sellin’ and gangin’ to the city. That’s all we don’t want here.”

At the hardware store where he purchased tools and various other odds and ends, he asked the girl at the counter while checking out and had received comment from all the men standing around shooting the breeze. “You know anything about my neighbor across the way from me?” She looked up at him and smiled, about to answer, when from one of the men came the question, “You the one buy the ole Fay Clark property a while back?”

“My father bought it for me in my absence. I’m just now getting around to moving into it,” he offered. The one inquiring nodded as the others remained silent in thought. Then another fellow spoke up saying, “That house across from you was a much nicer place. Ain’t got as much land as you, though.”

“I know. My father opted for the land, versus the home.”

“That’s ’cause you can always build on. You gone be farming on it? Got anything in mind?”

Shawn smiled patiently. “Not at the moment, but I have time to decide.”

“True, true,” another responded.

“So I take it none of you have met my neighbor?”

“She comes in a lot when she’s doing stuff on her house. I like her, she’s real nice,” the young woman behind the counter finally responded.

Then one of the men added, “’Cept she don’t care for men much. For a black woman, she’s pretty easy on the eyes. So Dick Haire—”

“Dick Haire?” Shawn repeated, with a grin of disbelief.

“Yep.” Everyone chuckled. “His name’s Richard, but we all call him Dick; his last name is Haire.”

Shawn had chuckled as well. “I see, and anyway…you were saying?” One of the other men picked up the story. “

Well, Dick decides to welcome her to our humble town. He’s got a bit of a reputation, you see, wants everyone to know where he’s been and who he’s been with. When she move in and he gets a look at her, we could all see what was coming next. Oh, he was offering to cut her grass for her. Gave her a tour of her own property. Give her a history on that house. Tell her about everyone that live there before her. What she should fix, how she should fix it…you name it. He found a excuse to be on her doorstep,” this offered with a chuckle.

“Didn’t do him no good. She come in here and had it up to here with ’im!” the woman supplied, gesturing with her hand over her head. “Plum flustered to the end, she asked me, ‘Jean, how in the world do I get rid of this man? He’s drivin’ me nuts! I don’t wanna hurt his feelings, but enough is enough already! I am not the least bit interested in him, nor any other for that matter! They all hang out in here enough, can you let them know—I am not looking for a man! Not anytime soon!’. Whooooeee was she hot! Dick Haire got the message loud and clear, seein’ as how he was on the other side of that aisle and heard every word she said.” They all broke into laughter then.

Next informant was the owner of Maggie’s Market. He learned that she enjoyed Sylvia’s company as well. She filled him in on the other information, including the fact that she was a writer. Maggie felt she should be an actress, model, or maybe a comedian, because she always made her laugh whenever she paid her store a visit. They always talked past fifteen minutes of her shopping and bill pay. “She’s different, that one is,” she finished as he left the store.

He sighed deep. Yes, indeed she was. So back to his dilemma…what was the attraction? He didn’t know, but he knew it was a sure thing. He still remembered the day she returned from her little vacation or time away. His friends were all throwing him a party in celebration of landing a contract with a top novelist. Her novels were always number one on the bestseller’s list, and she chose him and his work to be her regular illustrator from now on. The contract meant big money for him and nonstop work. They would be re-releasing five of her biggest sellers from years back, with his artwork to illustrate the characters. Recycling her top sellers as they prepared the release of a new trilogy. He’d just finished the covers for the recycled works and now he was on his way to see and hear the ideas for the trilogy, but his mind was on Sylvia.

He’d wanted to invite her to his party as a neighborly gesture, but changed his mind. After all, she was single, and Erica was present. Plus, at the time, they hadn’t exactly known each other. Even so, his curiosity had been sparked by the townsfolk and he was itching to catch a glimpse of her. On and off during the party, he’d glance across the road, hoping to catch her going in or coming out of her house. All he managed to catch was her silhouette in her living room picture window and the glowing illumination from her TV. He chuckled to himself suddenly…and then, of course, that night he’d gotten the bite of her ire when the police showed up about the volume of his music. He knew he did that on purpose, hoping to flush her out. Thinking that maybe she would show up on his doorstep and complain, or join the party. Well neither had been the case. She’d sent the police. That next morning, he needed to send off his signed agreement on the contracts, and so happened to luck out and run right into her leaving the post office. Having gone from stirred curiosity, to looking for her—or an opportunity to meet her—to stepping right before her, was forever branded into his memory.

Even now, he remembered her fresh, clean fragrance assailing his senses as he abruptly stopped not to run her over. To look up into eyes so bright, vivid, and dark…obsidian, coal black eyes. Large and captivating. Delicate, full classical brows arching above them. Skin the color of smooth, caramel candy. A slight, perfectly ridged nose above very full, sumptuous lips. Framed with shoulder-length, dark brown—almost black, swirled, waved, and loosely curled glossy hair. Their eyes had locked. She had taken in all there was to see about him, just as he did with her. In his anticipation to see and meet her, he had not been disappointed. Right then, right there…he knew he would do whatever it took to know her. Now that he was slowly getting to know her, he knew that he wanted more. Much more. He didn’t feel a need to stop coming anywhere to mind, except in his relationship with Erica. Shawn sighed.

His flight was about over, they would be landing real soon. Strange as it was, he felt a calm within. A calm that somehow told him there was more to come for him, more to come with Sylvia Payne, and this flight would be successful. As he hoped, it was, landing without a hitch. Now to get through the airport and rent a car. Following that, he needed to contact his daughter first, and Gerald second. He always made it a point to make it to town a day before his business to give his daughter his first day when visiting.

The tropical-like airport was teaming with tourists. Family and friends, greeting family members who had just arrived, lining the corridors. Almost every public phone bay was occupied. Departure/Arrival monitors were in open display every ten feet, yet all that was on his mind was collecting his luggage, calling his daughter, and hoping Deidre was feeling considerate. He wondered whether Sylvia would be online tonight when he went online? His stride through the airport was familiar and business-like. He’d traveled through this airport enough to know the routine, the route, the best restaurant/bar. The bookstore/gift shop of his preference and the car rental agency that offered him his preference in a car with a price that was not as extravagant as he could go. His manner wasn’t one that showed a man who had just traveled six and a half hours from a climate of 38°F, to an incredibly warm one of 74°F.

His leather hung over one arm and his suit jacket open as he made his foot-flight through. After waiting twenty minutes for his luggage to roll around and then the golf cart ride over to a car rental, another ten minutes passed before he was in the car of his choice, an Oldsmobile Alero. He owned trucks and SUV’s; no sense in renting one. When he made these trips, they were primarily all business, except for Angela. He preferred to jump in and fly. Flying through curves to the onramp to merge onto Interstate-10 is what he did. In no time at all, he was at his condo. Tossing his leather on the sofa, he made quick steps to the dining room and placed his laptop on the table and carried his luggage upstairs, to his room. He would unpack in a moment; taking off his suit jacket and kicking off his shoes, he started unbuttoning his shirt as he made his way to the bathroom. After emptying his bladder and quickly washing his hands, he pulled his shirt free and off to land on the chair in his room. He went straight back downstairs to the table and began unpacking his laptop. The convenience of having his computer mobile was counter-balanced by the pain of having to unpack it and reset it everywhere he worked for the period of time he was there. Having done it so many times, he made quick work of it. First thing he did after it powered up was to sign-on to his instant messenger. After closing the ad, a message for him to authorize the addition of his name to the friend list of Quiet_Storm. Upon seeing the name, he began chuckling. “Ooooh, my god, Quiet_Storm…you’re anything but, lady…anything but.” To make sure it was her, he checked the profile of Quiet_Storm; sure enough, it was Sylvia. A good sign that brought a smile to his face. He gave his authorization and accepted her to his list. It was a little after 6pm, his time, after 4pm her time, he had plenty of time before they met online. He couldn’t believe how eager he was to do so, but in the meantime, he’d change and call his daughter.

“Daddy?”

“Hey, pum’kin. I’m in town; how about dinner with your ole man tonight?”

“Yes! Wait, I mean…well, I better check with mom first. Hold on, okay?” With a sigh, he nodded then answered, “Sure, darlin’, go on.” He listened as the phone was laid down and his daughter took off through the house. A few moments later, “Shawn?” Resigned at having to speak with his ex-wife, he answered, “Hello, Deidre.”

“Why do you always do this? We had no idea you were going to be in town tonight, and you expect me to just up and get her things ready to come with you. As if all I have to do is wait for you to show up to collect your daughter for a day or two.”

“Don’t get anything ready, Deidre. I can pick her up as is, and whatever she needs, I’ll get for her.” The tension between them was almost instant.

“What if I have something already planned?” she returned stiffly, irritated.

“Do you?” he shot back, having no time for this. It was a waste of the time he could be spending on the way to get her.

“Fortunate for you, I don’t. Why do you continue to do this? You’ve yet to follow a plan, you just pop up! We never know—” Deidre gasped, hearing the phone on the other end click. He’d hung up on her. Hanging the phone up with a harsh bang, she turned to her hopeful daughter. “I should not let you go anywhere with him. He’s unreliable and irresponsible, and if he thinks he’s going to just pop up when he wants to, be rude and brisk with me—”

“It’s because you always start a fight with him! Why do you always have to be mean to him?”

“Angela, the judge gave him every other weekend! Is he here every other weekend? Or does he come for you when he’s in town?”

“I don’t care! Maybe he would come more often if you would stop being so mean! After all, you divorced him, he didn’t want it!” Angela fired back at her mother angrily. Deidre stood steaming, with her arms crossed over her ribs. It never failed, every time he showed up, she and Angela couldn’t get along. She was all her father and nothing of her mother. Her hair, dark like her father’s. Her eyes, the same changing hazel-blue. A moment in the sun tanned her darker than her mother’s entire time spent in tanning booths and the summer sun. Angela was Shawn Everett’s feminine duplication, who would one day grow into a stunning, blue-eyed dark beauty. “Angela, have you forgotten that it was your father who cheated on me? That it was your father, who chose to move away? Instead of staying here and near you, so that he could see you every—other—weekend!”

“It’s your fault he cheated!”

“How so?”

“Because he wanted to move away from here to the country, but you wouldn’t go!” Angela fired out, upset. She loved her father with a hero worship, with a “daddy’s little girl” strength and bond that could not be broken. Deidre knew it and didn’t understand it. After all, look at all her family had done for them. Angela wanted for nothing. She tried to be a good mother to her. In the absence of Shawn, they got along just fine. Yet consistent to the rule, the very mention of his name changed everything. Exasperated, Deidre stood shaking her head. Tired of the argument, she turned away from her daughter. “I don’t understand you, Angela. He shows up once a month or less, and you can’t wait to defend him. I’m here for you everyday, and you act as if you hate me.” The clicking of her heels followed her down the hall from the phone table in the foyer. At the end of the hall she turned, framing herself dramatically in the doorway to the dining room.

“Go! Get ready for your father.” She turned away again and disappeared into the room. Angela swallowed the heavy feeling in her chest. Her stomach hurt. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her mother, it’s just that she couldn’t forgive her for chasing her father away. For breaking up their family. She finally moved, making a mad dash for the stairway, eating them up quickly, with her waist-length tresses bouncing as she climbed.

Fifteen minutes later, she sat in the window seat of her bedroom waiting. The front gates started swinging up; she sat straighter with her full attention on them until she spied the silver sports car coming down the curving driveway. It had to be her father. She leapt up from the window seat, grabbed her bag, and flew through the house to meet him at the driveway. Down the stairs and past her grandfather, who was on his way up.

“Hey, what’s the hurry?” he grumped.

“My dad’s here to get me!” was all she spared him, taking the corner around the bottom railing, no brakes needed, and straight for the door, leaving Oscar T. Wherrington standing on the stairs with a look of dread on his face. His daughter was marching down the hall towards the door.

“When are you going to put a stop to that? He might as well not come at all!”

Deidre carried on as if she hadn’t heard him. She wasn’t in the mood for another argument. Out the door, she gracefully floated down the front steps, around the back of the car where her daughter was already inside, kissing her father on the cheek and hugging him. Stopping at his window, she leaned down. “What time will you have her back here?”

Shawn straightened up behind the wheel. “In a couple of weeks.”

“A couple of weeks! What about school?” she demanded.

“I know the way there. I’ll be there to pick her up.”

“This is not right, Shawn Everett McPherson! And you know it!”

“You have her all the time now, Deidre. She’s my daughter, too!”

“Then act like it, and be here when you’re suppose to!”

“Considering I live in Wisconsin, Deidre—that makes it a little hard!”

“Oh, well, and whose fault is that?” she countered.

“Can we just go?” Angela entreated softly to her father. Shawn gazed at her, and then back up at Deidre.

“You know where to find me, and her. We have to go.” He closed the discussion, hand on the stick. Sighing, Deidre stood, then leaned sideways to look at her daughter. “Call me if you need anything, Angela.” Her daughter nodded, but wouldn’t look at her. She stood and backed away. The gears shifted, the trans kicked in, and they were off. The day was starting to close, the sun was setting. Deidre felt heavy at heart. No matter how she battled it, she still had desires for him she could not explain. All while they were married, she was discontent and realized that it was because of her parents and the seeds they had planted in her head. Were she to be completely honest, they were not entirely to blame. Why hadn’t she trusted him and just followed him to his little farmhouse and land? Why hadn’t she just given it a chance, instead of making excuses? Her mother had always been in the background, planting the seeds of doubt. Convincing her that he could not offer her the life she was accustomed to. Always focusing on the differences between them. Where he’d come from. Where she’d come from. Him, the son of a farmer; a starving artist, and now, an artist of romance novels. Her mother had shuddered at the thought. Shawn Everett McPherson was nothing more to them than country white trash. Now that he was making money, and quite a bit of it…it made no difference. It was new money. They had been overjoyed to hear that he’d sold the house and finally moved back to where he belonged.

As for Deidre, she was feeling those tingles of regret again. Remembering back, she’d discussed with her mother the possibility of maybe going with him to Wisconsin. She’d thought about it long and hard. The next thing she knew, her father was sharing her husband’s indiscretion with her. Humiliated, she’d stopped all thought of giving in and did what her parents told her to do. Now three years later, she knew…her biggest mistake in their marriage had been in not leaving her parents and following her husband’s dream. She’d failed to stand behind him, she’d failed to stand up for him. Now it was over. A cool chill blew past, making Deidre shiver. Crossing her arms over her breast, she gripped her upper arms and wished she could go back.

“Why are you standing in the driveway? Come in now, it’s getting cool out,” her father called from the door. For just a moment more, Deidre stood staring down the empty driveway where her daughter and ex-husband had disappeared. Finally she turned, obeying her father once again, slowly climbing up the steps.

The large solid oak doors closing her within.

“Precious cargo onboard…buckle up,” Shawn sounded out as his daughter giggled doing so, with them turning out of the driveway. “You hungry, pum’kin?” he asked, his whole driving manner changed with his daughter in the car.

“Well, actually, no. I had just eaten right before you called.”

He glanced from the side of his right eye, raising the eyebrow as he did. “Aye, an’ wud’tha lass be wantin’ dessert?” he asked with a thick Irish brogue. Angela smiled. “Nooo…but you should get yourself some dinner. I have to watch my weight,” she simpered.

“Hey! Don’t wanna be hearing nothing about my nine year old daughter watching her weight. Cut that out! You’re beautiful and not even remotely close to having a weight problem, understand?” Angela, still grinning, nodded. “Good. Now, since this is Thursday evening and you still have school tomorrow, you bring clothes for school?”

“I did – kind’ah, sorta.”

“You – did kind’ah sorta?” He returned.

Smiling, giving her dad that look that would get her anything, she confessed, “I brought something to wear just incase you didn’t feel like picking Tia up, to take us to the mall so we could pick up a matching outfit for a part in a play we’re doing?” She flashed him a hopeful adorable smile.

“And your mother didn’t know about this?”

“I hadn’t figured out how to ask her, she’s always so busy, and then you called – and I thought, yeah – my dad’s here, he’ll take us.”

Shawn sighed, of course he would take them, it’s what you did when you had to make up for lost time. “You know me so well, okay, give Tia a call, tell her we’re on our way.”

“Yaaay! Oh thank you daddy, I knew you would, you never let me down.”

Shawn smiled, scratched her scalp within the dark silk of her head, rerouting them towards her friends house, watching the time. He still had loads of it on his hands and figured what the heck, it was his first night back with his daughter, her wish was his command. After she clicked the phone off with her friend, he informed her, “I’m going to get myself something to eat while you two shop, how about desert for the two of you? A strawberry parfait with nuts and lots of whip cream perhaps?”

“Okay daddy, sure.” They picked up her friend Tia – and headed for the mall. While there, he sat in the food court eating so they could shop in the area, full sight of him. Once he was done, the rest of the time was spent escorting a high strung, giggling, chirpy, nine and ten year old from shop to shop. He was caught up himself in looking at things that he might get as a gift for Sylvia. Besides his daughter, she was heavy on his mind; for one, hoping she was there to meet him on the chat. Time flew as he patiently trailed them carrying packages and of course getting distracted with bits and bobs on the way – the minutes, hours spent were getting away from him. He had to spoil her, indulge her, it was one of the ways he grappled with his guilt over leaving her here while he’d returned to Wisconsin. Besides, she was happy, laughing, full of joy, skipping about, her face full of light and animation, he needed that, needed to see her that way. Next thing he knew, it was mall closing time, 9:30. Realizing how quickly things had gone on, made him panick a bit. He had one hour to be online for Sylvia; he still had to take Tia home.

Hustling the girls on, he got them back to his car, stuffing their purchases inside, explaining, “I have to get back to the condo by 10:15…”

“Why? What’s the hurry?” Angela asked seated, seatbelt back on, her friend in the backseat listening.

“I have a meeting online with someone, that’s all.”

“Who?”

“Nosey.” He called her.

“Sounds like it’s private, you know what that means?” Her friend Tia suggested with the flexing of her brows.

Shawn made a face in the mirror, even more anxious to drop her off, she’d set Angela’s wheels to turning now.

“Is it business daddy?” Angela asked.

“I bet it’s pleasure.” Tia added, nodding her head as if a sure thing.

By the look on Angela’s face, Shawn could see, that wasn’t something she cared to hear. “Never you two mind that, it’s well past your bedtimes, I’ve kept you out too late as it is.” He said trying to steer the topic away from his affairs. After droping Tia off, they were quiet a moment until he asked, “You two get everything you needed?”

“Yep, we did, thank you daddy.”

“No problem, you enjoy your desert?” It was inane idle chit chat, but it needed it as a distraction, he could still see her wheels turning.

“Mmm yeah, mom would never let me eat anything like that this late at night. She says it’s not good to get into the habit of eating food after 6pm; going to bed on it can make you fat.”

“Well your mom is not here. Every now and then can’t hurt. Anyway, how are things otherwise?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Okay? You guess?”

She shrugged, having no reply. He let it pass, moving on to other topics, “How are you doing in school?” That made her smile.

She giggled, they had a game, a little something between them on how to discuss school, “Fine,” she answered.

Shawn smiled. “Fine, how? Fine as innn… Absolutely the best? Fine as in, Building Bridges to the best? Fine as in, Contemplating being the best?”

She giggled more. “Em-hm,” was her response.

“Em-hm, what? Absolutely? Building Bridges? Contemplating? Or Distant observations? Surely no Fierce dislikes for any subjects?” She started laughing then. “Daddy…no, there’s no subjects I ‘Fiercely dislike’”. She laughed out. “There’s one I’m ‘Absolutely the best’ at. Social studies—”

“Really? That was one I ‘Contemplated’ a lot with,” he admitted.

“Well, I’m ‘Absolutely’ the best at it. ‘Building Bridges’ to reading, math, and music. And I’m ‘Contemplating’ science,” she informed him.

“Hmm? Sounds good to me. I think that’s pretty fair,” he finished in their special discussion on grades.

They sat in silence now as they grew closer to home, Angela noticed him watching the time on the dashboard, fighting with the speed limit and keeping himself from hurrying; which made her ask, “Why don’t you want to see me more, daddy?”

Shawn sighed deep, swallowing as he did. Keeping his eyes on the road, he reached his right hand over and cupped the silky back of her head. “Angela…I love you. There’s never a time, ever…that I don’t want to see you. You should be with me always, and I’m sorry for neglecting you. It’s just hard, pum’kin…” This part of the visit always hurt. Growing up as he did, it was the last thing he had wanted or planned for his life to be like, or that of his children…child, he amended in thought. He’d always wanted more, but after adjusting to the accident that was Angela, Deidre had wanted to wait until things were more steady with them to have more.

“I wish you didn’t move away. Now I hardly ever get to see you,” this came out as almost a whisper. He could hear the tears in her words.

Shawn swallowed the growing moisture in his mouth, his eyes watering against his will. They were almost at the condo. “I know, pum’kin, but California and I don’t mix. I’m in the house now and this summer, I want you to come and spend it with me, okay?” That brightened her up.

“Okay! I’d really like that!” she exclaimed.

“You sure you’d really like that?” he teased, trying to bring them back up. She nodded enthusiastically. “Uh, well, I would…if mom will let me.” She sank back in realization.

“Don’t you worry about that, she’ll let you. I won’t have it any other way.”

Trying not to fret it, he was going to be late signing on, but it couldn’t be avoided. He prayed she waited for him. Maybe she had work to do on her computer and was online anyway. He sure hoped so, but he wasn’t going to cut things short with Angela. His daughter was the very depth of him. God, I have to get my life in order! he instantly thought and immediately following the thought, Sylvia came to mind. He wanted her. He wanted her here, right now. He wanted to see her with his daughter.

He couldn’t help but wonder as he got comfortable and she got ready for bed, how Angela would receive her. He needed to test the waters a bit. He waited for an opening in her young chatter as she brought him up to date on the events of her life in school, and with her grandparents, which he just as soon not think about right now. Angela was leaping into bed with him following her there. Under the covers she went as he sat on the edge beside her hip. “Comfortable?” he asked. She nodded, grinning. Her hazel-blues shining brightly. Shawn couldn’t help it, he laid over her and hugged her to him, lifting her up in his arms as he did, pulling her from beneath the covers onto his lap.

“I love you and I miss you so much! Please believe me—I’m trying. I want to make things better for you, so that you can be with me as much as possible…do you believe me?” he asked at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Her head nodded and he felt tears on his neck. “Oh, pumpkin’…don’t cry now…papa’s gonna work things out. I promise,” he soothed, stroking her long hair as she clung tightly to him, his arms wrapped securely around her. She pulled back to settle on his lap. “I don’t like it when we’re not together. Gran’pa Oscar says such mean things about you. He gets on my nerve. I don’t like him, I don’t like living there.”

“Don’t you mind the things he says. You know that I love you. You know that I would do anything in the world I could for you—”

“Can’t you move back here…to be with me?” she pleaded gently, knowing already how much he disliked living where money dictated so much in one’s life. He sighed, looking down at her fallen expression. Her eyes were huge and sad. Her skin dewy, young, and fresh. Her small mouth pouty and full…rosy pink and soft. Jesus Christ…look at my daughter…look what I did, he thought proudly. It sucked being a father, divorced and away from your child. There was no fair end in that arrangement and he knew he hadn’t made it any easier by not sacrificing to stay near her, but he just couldn’t, he had needed to break all ties to California…for several reasons.

“I promise you…this summer, okay? You’ll love it where I am, and you get to visit my mom and dad…you love it at the farm, you always have. We’ll spend a good deal of time there, okay? Don’t forget your Uncle Derrick and Tia Meribel.” She gave in, quickly nodding, then leaned away from him and off of his lap back into bed under the covers. He changed his mind about bringing Sylvia up. Maybe later…at a better time, but not tonight. Looking over at the clock on the table, it was 11:25pm – time in Wisconsin, 9:25pm. He sighed, wondering how would he make this up to her when it was he who pushed for them to meet online at 8:30…God, why’d I do that? He knew he’d be going to get Angela, why hadn’t he just agreed with her for the following night?

“School in the morning…get to sleep now.” He leaned down and kissed her brow. “Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

She grinned. “Goodnight, see you in the morning when the sun’s up bright,” she returned. He stood, smiling down. She yawned contentedly and turned on her side away from him.

Quietly he walked to the door clicking off the light, pulling her door to. From there, back downstairs to the table, there sat his laptop—in standby mode. He reached pulling his chair back, hitting the enter key as he sat and thought about the dinner he had with Sylvia just the night before. Imagining what it would have been like to have gone to bed with her and stayed the night. He had been hoping that would be how the night would end, but Sylvia was different. She was firm in her belief about sex and its place. Nor was she casual about who she went to bed with. It meant something serious to her. He knew from the beginning, he would have to be serious to get anywhere with her. Sitting there right then and entering his password to his desktop…he knew that he was. He wanted her now more than he ever did. He wanted a family setting. He wanted someone he could trust with his daughter. Someone with strong values and principles…and from what he’d observed so far…Sylvia Payne was that someone.

But she was black…and that’s where the difficulties may lie, or not. He double clicked on the yellow smiley face with the big red Y! behind it on his bottom tool bar. The ID/password entry form popped up. He signed in and a moment later, his friends list opened up. Quiet_Storm was in the list, but not darkened in. She wasn’t online and she hadn’t left an offline message, or it would have popped up. He sat back in the chair. His long, hairy legs stretched out beneath the small table, wearing only his sleeping shorts and tank t-shirt. His toes wiggling and flexing as he chewed on the inside of his lip. “Now what?” he thought out loud. “You could have left me a quick message, even a mean one. ‘Oh no you did not— white man!‘,” he mimicked what he thought she would say in a high pitch, then chuckled at himself. “I must be crazy,” followed that chuckle. “About you, Sylvie,” he continued seriously. “I couldn’t help it, Sylvia, I was with my daughter,” he spoke as if she were there to explain this to. “Ach, woman, you and your darn stubborn pride!” Sighing, he brought up his email…just as he thought, no email to him. Sitting forward, he began an email to her.

Sylvia stretched long and deep, so hard she shook a bit. She laid on her back trying to bring herself awake and turned, looking to see what time it was; she felt something poking her in the side. Looking down, it was a photo album…then she remembered and became alert, jerking her head up to look at the bedside digital clock. “11:45! Holy cow…nooo!” She lunged up from the bed. “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh noooo!” she cried, rushing to put her shoes on beside the bed. Her heart was pumping madly, actually feeling tears form in her eyes, not stopping for a moment to try and figure out why. She ran and grabbed her coat off of the kitchen chair, clicking off lights and stopping at the still playing stereo to shut it off. “I’m so sorry…I’m so sorry,” she breathed out loud, sniffing as she snatched on her coat. Opening his door and stepping outside, she shivered. It was freezing, the snow had stopped but there was enough of it on his steps and on the ground to layer up to four inches. She carefully trudged through it across the road and to her yard, yawning and shivering from the sudden wake from sleep and out into the cold. Her house was lit up and warm. She welcomed the feeling, though remorseful at having missed being online for him.

“Oh, Shawn…I didn’t do it on purpose, but I know you think I did,” she cried, going straight to her office room where she grabbed her chair and sat in it right up to her computer. Hitting the enter key and going through the steps to bring her instant messenger up. His name was on her list, but not bold. The smiley face was dull gray and sleeping. He wasn’t online.

“Well of course he’s not, idiot! You were supposed to be here for 8:30 your time …Uggggh!” She sank back dejected, noting that he hadn’t left an offline message to her. “You could have at least left me a message that you were here,” she whined, then sat up to check her email. When the list of sender’s names came up, his was number four…mcharley60

“Yes! Uh-oh…oh, oh, oh!” Nervously she shivered, excited. The subject line read…Stubborn, Proud, Sylvia Payne…I’m Sorry!

“Hm? Now why are you sorry?” she asked aloud, clicking on the blue-lit message. The email opened to read…

Sylvie,

I know you’re upset, but please let me explain. As soon as I arrived, I went to my condo and then called my daughter. I went to pick her up, got something to eat and had to settle her in. She was upset, and with good reason. I needed to spend that time with her. That’s why I was late. By the time I signed on, you had already gone, I’m assuming. Please forgive me, I didn’t stand you up. I would never do that. The least you could have done, lady, was leave me a message of some kind. But I know you already…you probably got all bent out of shape and for no reason. I promise you, I will be here on time tomorrow night, but let’s please make it at 9pm. That is, 9pm my time. Another thing I neglected to confirm with you, the time difference, I’m two hours behind you, so 9pm my time will mean 11pm your time. If that’s too late, let me know; I’ll move it up earlier for you if you need me to. I just need time to get my daughter in bed and free time to chat with you…I hope that’s okay. And, um, I miss you. I’ve had nothing on my mind, but you. Our first kiss, our next kiss, and all the little kisses after that. Please tell me there will be more…

Shawn

After reading the short email for the fifteenth time, Sylvia finally sat back. “Oh god, do you know that I am in sooo much trouble? He’s getting to me. Ha! He’s gotten to me.” She sighed. She grabbed her mouse to click on reply, but then changed her mind.

“Tomorrow is soon enough,” she said out loud then shut down her computer, rose and clicked off the light, going to her room. She unsnapped her jeans and stepped out of them, laying them on the chair there, walked to her bathroom and readied herself for bed. It took a while for her to fall asleep. The nap at his place, in his bed, made it hard for her to get back to sleep. Though in her own bed, she could smell him. His scent was heavy in her head. Suddenly her nice big comfortable bed felt cold and empty. Closing her eyes, she imagined what it would be like to have him laying behind her now. Talking low and sultry in her ear. His strong arms around her waist, pulling her back against him. His body large, warm, and firm against her.

“Girlfriend! You best get yo’ min’ on somethin’ else!” she exclaimed, popping her eyes open. “Oh god, what have I done to deserve this? This is gonna be so hard! I just know it. I—don’t—need—the drama! And with this man, I know it ain’t gonna be nothing but! I should have moved to Siberia,” she finished at last, laying on her back, looking up at the dark ceiling.

“This sucks!”

* * * * * *

Shawn lay in bed, his eyes wide open. He’d fixed himself up good. fifty push-ups. fifty chin-ups. A hundred sit-ups. Three sets with the free weights of bicep curls, military presses and lunges. Then twenty minutes on the Elliptical. A cool shower following that, and one would think it would have worn him out to sleep. But at one in the morning, he was wide awake. He would have been alright, had he steered clear of any thoughts of her. But damned if finding her naked, save for the towel on his deck, didn’t come back to mind full and strong. He couldn’t get that smooth, tapered, defined back and spine of out his mind. Her skin was caramel brown and flawless. That towel stopped just before the round of her rear, where a small glimpse and tease of the line crack of her butt was about to show. He fantasized about pushing the towel further back to expose her rounded bottom. His fair hand, caressing her soft darker skin. He swallowed. In his fantasy, she lay there trapped, at his mercy…or no mercy. Because he wanted to take advantage of her disadvantage, grabbing a handful of her hair at the top of her head and forcing her head back. Her eyes wide, expectant, fearful…yet aroused as he sat beside her. Lowering his mouth to hers, filling it with his tongue. She’d whimper. He groaned.

“Oh—my—god! She turns me on,” he growled out loud. Stretching his large aroused body on his back, he looked down at himself, wondering had he ever been harder than he was right then. “Dude…we gotta get some sleep…as you may have noticed, we got nothing to work with here.” Sighing deep and shaky, he admitted this too, aloud, “Yeah, I know. It’s not your fault. You’re doing what you’re suppose to. So don’t stop, just…chill right now…I’ll stop thinking about her. Somehow, I’ll get those round, sweet breasts off my mind. Man! She is such a freakin’ fox!” Shawn tried to turn over. He blew, exasperated.

“Two weeks. That’s fourteen days. 24 hours each…gonna have to stay super busy. Real busy.”

End of Episode 5

ISBN-13: 978-1450551625

For paperback, click thumbnail
For ebook this link
Otherwise, see you in two weeks
Bomaw – Episode 5