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

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

Chapter Seven

Bright and early, Sylvia found herself at the kitchen sink filling a pot to start boiling water for grits. Darren was the first to awake; thank goodness Isaac was still asleep. Her preference was that they wake at separate times, as it made her task easier to deal with them and their morning needs. Content in his high chair, Darren sat making baby chatter mixed in with a few words as he followed his grandma around the kitchen with his eyes, patiently waiting for his instant oatmeal. Having placed the pot on the eye to start heating after adding salt and butter, Sylvie went to the fridge locating the bacon. Closing it to walk over to the stove, she stopped dead in her tracks. First caught with her peripheral vision, she turned to see an early morning visitor. The neighbor. He’d just stepped up to the door, following with his tap, tap, tapping.

Smiling in gladness before she realized it, she walked to the door, opening it and looked up into a bright smile with his silhouette blocking out the morning sunrays. Upon seeing her, his smile became even bigger, showing straight white teeth. With a sigh, Sylvie reached, unlatching the screen door. Turning away, leaving him to enter as she went to the stove opening the bacon to lay out in the pan.

“Good morning!” he started immediately upon entering, carefully closing the door behind him.

“Good morning to you, and please tell me, sir, why you’re up so early and over here? Isaac’s not up yet,” Sylvie asked, then informed him after finishing laying out the bacon, having automatically included enough to fry up for him.

“I’m hungry!” he shot simply, directly. Surprising Sylvie, who couldn’t help chuckling.

“Oh, are you now? And what, dear sir, has that to do with me?” She was grinning.

“Well, are you not about to prepare breakfast?” he asked as if it were a perfectly normal thing to be at her place in the morning for breakfast, and the discussion about it usual.

“Yes, I am preparing breakfast, but who invited you?”

“You did,” he answered, walking around her to take a seat at the kitchen table next to Darren. “Good morning, lil’ fella, you hungry, too?” he asked, turning away from Sylvie, who stood incredulous with arms crossed under her breasts.

“Excuse me, but when exactly did I do this?”

He looked at her with the most engaging smile. “I was sleeping, and as I slept, this subliminal message from you woke me. You said””this is what you said”¦” Standing with his hands on his hips, trying to gesture as she would, working his neck trying to imitate her with a high pitch to his voice. “”¦Everett Styles, get yo’ tail outta dat bed an’ get ova here so you can get yo’self some breakfast! An’ don’t lemme have’ta call you agin!” Resuming his normal voice, “That’s what you told me. So here I am.” He flexed his brows mannishly, grinning.

Sylvie was laughing, so stunned and distracted by him, she forgot the bacon.

“Woman, you gone burn my bacon! Would you pay attention!” he reprimanded, kidding.

Still laughing, Sylvie rushed to the stove, flipping the bacon. A couple of slices had to be removed after being scorched. She lowered the burner’s heat and wiped at the tears squeezing from her eyes. “You are one crazy white man, you done lost your min’. Come up in here, ’cause you done had a dream…and I do stress dream! Thinking I’m gone fix you breakfast and talkin’ smack about my bacon.” Still she was grinning, with one hand on hip.

“Now look here, you stop fighting this,” he directed.

“Fighting what?” This turned her away from the stove.

“This here set-up. This arrangement. You need to stop fighting it,” he furthered.

“And you need to wake up and smell the coffee,” she corrected him in her fashion.

“Well, you don’t have any on, so how can I? I, ah, like it black, by the way,” he informed her. Sylvie stood once again with her mouth open and speechless. “I’ll take instant or brewed. Whichever. I prefer brewed, but if instant is all you have, that’s fine,” he went on, just as bold as you please. “And while you’re standing there, where is Darren’s breakfast? I could be feeding him while you’re cooking my breakfast. And, are you gonna let Isaac sleep all morning?” Sylvie was still too stunned to respond. “Well, come on, woman, don’t just stand there.” That snapped her to as she went into action, getting Darren’s oatmeal out of the microwave. With a slice of buttered toast in hand, she gave him a piece or two of her mind.

“Now you listen here, Everett Styles…I don’t know what kind of game you playing, but it don’t wash with me,” she said, stirring the oatmeal, walking to the silverware drawer to remove Darren’s baby spoon. “You ain’t settin’ me up, and there sho’ ain’t no arrangement! Here”¦you know how to feed a baby?” she asked, handing him the bowl and laying the toast on the tray.

“I had four younger siblings, two brothers and two sisters to feed; just like riding a bike. You get back to that stove and get my coffee on.” He couldn’t keep the grin from his face.

“All right, don’t make me go off on you up in here. Ordering me around, you must be crazy,” this said as she started the water running to fill the coffee pot. “And I’m not fixing this coffee because you told me to. I’m a nice person and I know how to be a gracious host when I invite someone for a meal”””

“See, I told you you invited me!”

“Look! I did not invite you!”

“That’s what you just said!”

That stopped her, she glared at him, fighting not to smile. “Everett Styles, you want this pot upside your head?”

He feigned a look of fear. “No, ma’am.”

Sylvie headed for the coffee maker to fill it with the water. “You best leave me alone then and not push it.” Everett grinned, turning to Darren winking at him, then began feeding him. “Ummm, ma’am”¦by the way, the bacon’s burning again.” Sylvie quickly put the pot down and dashed across the kitchen to the smoking pan. “Doggone you, Everett Styles, you made me burn my bacon!”

He acted stunned. “How’d I make you burn the bacon? I think you just one of these new millennium women with no domestic skills.” Taking the pan to the sink, she dropped it in and turned, cocking her hip with hands on them to do battle.

“Oh no””you did not””say that to me!”

He turned, spooning another mouthful to an observing Darren and then lifted his toast to his mouth so he could take a bite out of it. “Well, I’m just going by what I see. Bacon burned. No coffee on. I gotta feed the baby or else he’d be starving. Lucky for him, man invented microwaves and instant oatmeal…can I have a bowl? I’m hungry!”

Finger up and pointed dead aim at him. “You listen here, Mr. Styles, you about to get tossed out of here on your ear!” she warned. He leaned up to look towards the stove again. “What you got boiling in that pot over there?” he continued in his teasing antagonism.

“Don’t you worry about it! I was making some grits!” she growled, going to the counter grabbing the container which held grits and spooned in the proper amount. “I don’t know if you oughta attempt that. Not just anybody can make good grits,” he stated, shaking his head, spooning in more oatmeal for Darren.

She turned, looking down her nose at him. “Like you know anything about grits!” she accused.

“I know plenty about grits. My mama made the best grits anywhere, and I followed in her footsteps. Having to feed four younger brothers and sisters,” he reminded her once again.

“You eat grits and know how to cook ’em?”

“Black folks aren’t the only ones who eat grits, you know. There’s many white folks that eat grits! Collard greens, turnip greens, mustard greens”””

“Get outta here!” she blasted, stunned.

“Wash ’em, cut ’em up, fry up that salt pork, get that fat to moving”””

“Get outta here!” she repeated, dumbfounded.

“Peel up a couple of big white turnips, chop’em up and put’em in with the greens, pour in the fat and salt pork, some chopped onions and garlic””I like a little crushed red pepper myself””and pour in the water…not too much! Man, lemme tell ya…some corn bread, that’s all you need! That’s all we could afford, but it was good.”

“Oh, my goodness!”

“Um-hm. You be a good girl”¦be nice to me, I might cook you some. If you can’t fry no bacon and cook no grits…which are about to boil over,” he inserted to warn her, “I know you can’t handle no greens,” he finished, punctuating his litany with the last spoon of oatmeal to Darren’s open and waiting mouth. Then winked at him for finishing to the last drop. Sylvie was running to the sink to get a towel for all the water and grits that boiled over. “Listen here, white man, you done push me too far, early this morning! Talkin’ about my cookin’. This all your fault, distracting me!”

“Um-hm,” he mumbled.

“Don’t be ‘um-hmming’ me! I was doing just fine before you come up in here, trying to run something. That’s what I get for being nice and lettin’ yo’ butt in!” she fussed, turning from the sink to say something further to him, but saw Isaac coming from the hallway rubbing his eyes.

“Oh, great!”

Following the direction of her stare, Everett turned in his chair to see Isaac trying to wake up, shaky and stumbling in his early morning toddler steps. “Good Morning, baby,” Sylvia called to him. Isaac stopped halfway to them and looked at Everett, then bugged eyed, looked up at his approaching grandmother. “I’m gon’ ride the moto’cycle, grandma!” Sylvia stopped in her tracks, looked back at a grinning Everett, then back at her grandson. “Good morning, grandma.” Her tone and look gave him a clear hint of what should first be his greeting.

“Mornin’, grandma,” he repeated, then, “Am I gone ride a moto’cycle?” Everett and Sylvia chuckled at his persistence and excitement.

“Yes, you can ride the motorcycle today…but I think you should say good morning to Mr. Styles.” Without hesitation, Isaac was right there at his lap, looking up into his blue-gray eyes.

“Good mornin’, Minner ’tiles.” Followed by the biggest smile his grandma had ever seen. Everett chuckled and stroked his hand over Isaac’s head fondly. “Good morning, Isaac…you sleep good?” Isaac bobbed his head in agreement with only one obvious thing on his mind.

“I’mo ride yo’ moto’cycle?”

Everett picked him up on his lap, holding him there he said, “As soon as I cook us breakfast. ‘Cause your grandma…well, let’s just say, I need a little something more than instant microwave oatmeal.”

“You know what? Have at it! Let’s see what you can do!” Sylvia challenged, having enough of his criticism.

“You’re on, baby! Take a seat right here, and I’m gonna give you a little schooling on how to fix breakfast and conduct a conversation at the same time. Have a seat…”

Chapter Eight

Sitting on Everett’s small front porch with Darren perched between her thighs, they sat waiting and watching for him and Isaac to return. He jabbered away as she thought over the morning so far. Everett had indeed whipped up a delicious breakfast for them, and kept her laughing as well Isaac and Darren in the process. To her amazement, he was totally unaffected by his macho, handsome male image. He was silly, funny…animated with the boys, free and easy, teasing and torturing her. With absolutely no fear of her, their racial difference, or what he might inadvertently say to offend her. She was surprised as well to discover that he was not Italian as she first thought, but Irish. He was a talker, and enjoyed speaking about his life as a young man growing up on a farm with watchful, disciplining parents””who were not rich, but loving, kind and supportive. He spoke as if he missed having someone listen to this side of him, about the life that he obviously missed, longed for, and she was just as delighted with the fact that he felt comfortable enough with her to show this side of himself.

“Ohhh, Darren. What’s happening here, baby? Hm? Now you know grandma don’t need this kinda pressure startin’ up in her life. That’s right. I’m comfortable, got a nice house. I have you guys over every now and then…and by the way…where is your mama and daddy?” Darren looked up at her, smiling and laughing as usual. He was a happy, easy baby to care for. She hugged him to her, running her fingers through his silky, blond hair, sighing deeply. Just then, they could hear the motorcycle’s rumbling exhaust as it came roaring up the road towards the driveway. Isaac sitting in front with a harness strapping him to Everett. His little head swallowed up in the helmet. Everett wore his shades and no helmet. He was as handsome as any woman’s dream. Sylvia sensed that he just may be dangerous to her heart…to her peace. Darren’s little pudgy hands shot up into the air waving his hands in circle, his dexterity in waving the correct way still undeveloped. Sylvia smiled hearing Isaac cry out in his happy excitement. “Grandma! Grandma! I ride the moto’cycle! I ridin’ the moto’cycle!” he announced as Everett guided the bike into his short driveway to stop next to the porch where she and Darren sat waiting. Looking up from Isaac, her smile and gaze was drawn to the man who sat silent and still…the bike still running, his one hand resting on the handle bar, the other on his thigh…through the dark shades, she knew he stared at her. In her mind’s eye, she saw beyond the darkness of the glasses to blue-gray eyes, sensing what they would relay were he to remove his eye protection. As if to confirm it, he reached up and slowly removed them. Sylvia felt her heart skip a beat, with the fluttering in her stomach following suit.

God almighty, look at her. I want you, lady…I want you, and come what may, you’re going to be mine, Everett thought as he pulled up to his porch, having his pulse race to see Sylvia and her grandson sitting there waiting on him and Isaac. The picture was one that gave him a feeling of contentment, a feeling of rightness. She was what he wanted…and he wasn’t a stupid man. His nearness, his presence, did things to her as well. Things she tried to hide, but it was too late. He’d laid up last night thinking long and hard…and seriously. He was willing to take another chance on a serious relationship, because he knew with her it would have to be that…or nothing. Isaac was talking to him. He had to tear his eyes away from her to give him his attention. “Can we go again?” Isaac pleaded.

“That’s enough, Isaac,” Sylvia announced, having gotten up from the porch, overhearing as she approached the bike. Everett reached past Isaac and turned off the engine. “One more time,” he begged. Sylvia looked him straight in the eyes, shaking her head with an expression that said loud and clear, No! And don’t ask again! He knew the expression; he’d received it enough from his mother, grandma’s daughter. Isaac sighed but then looked at his little brother and immediately brightened. “You see me, Darren? You too little to ride, you just a baby…when you get big like me, you can ride then,” he announced as Everett removed his helmet from his head. Darren gave a perplexed look and laughed, then said his one dependable word, “no”, unsure of what Isaac was saying. They all looked towards the road upon hearing a car horn blow.

“That’s my mama and daddy! I ride the moto’cycle! I ride the moto’cycle!” he began yelling as he worked to get down from the bike. Everett chuckled, handing him down to the ground, and he took off towards the road to his parents.

“Isaac!” Sylvia, Everett, and Victor, Sylvia’s son in law, yelled at the same time to stop him. He skidded to a halt.

“What did I tell you about that road and running into it?” Sylvia scolded as she marched up to him, reaching down, grabbing his hand. “I wanna tell my daddy about the moto’cycle,” Isaac whined. Sylvia sighed deep, shaking her head as Victor sat partly in her driveway glaring at his son. Shaking his head as well, he pulled the rest of the way in and around the inner curve as Sylvia walked into the yard, one grandson on her hip, the other in hand. As soon as she stepped out of the car, Crystal, her daughter, started in on him. “Little boy, you are going to get the worse spanking you ever had about running into that road. I’ve told you over and over about that!”

“I ride the moto’cycle!” Isaac whined, the scolding stealing his joy from the telling of his great adventure on a machine he’d admired since the first time they rumbled by him, sitting in his parent’s car, strapped snugly in his car seat. “Chile, get yo’ kids. I’m done. They stuff is waitin’ at the door,” Sylvia announced, turning Isaac loose and handing Darren over to his mother. His arms outstretched, his little fingers pumping eagerly for his mother to take him. “That’s right, baby…go to yo’ mama. Grandma love ya…but grandma done had enough.”

“Mamaaa!” Crystal whined, laughing.

“I’m just telling you the truth! I raised my babies! These yours, have at it!” Crystal laughed, shaking her head. “You don’t have to be so excited about us coming to get ’em.” She grinned.

“Who don’t have to be excited? I can’t help but be excited! My baby days are over! And I ain’t missin’ a thing! I’m in heaven,” she finished, entering her kitchen with her daughter behind her. They could hear Isaac talking to his father excitedly as they followed, in addition to another voice mixing in with Victor’s and Isaac’s. As her daughter entered the house passing her, Sylvia stood at the screen surprised to see Everett bringing up the rear as he introduced himself to Victor. Amid Isaac’s happy chatter about his ride, Victor was also excited, asking questions about the bike’s style, speed, power, and motor size. The usual male exchange when they engaged in conversations where a souped-up car or motorcycle was the topic of discussion. She was surprised. She hadn’t expected him to follow her back across to her house with her daughter present.

“Who is that?” Crystal asked as the three males stopped outside at the bottom of Sylvia’s porch to continue their discussion. Sylvia looked back at her daughter, unsure how to answer. “Um-hm…now I see why you in a hurry for me to get my kids,” Crystal accused, her tone with a knowing Black gesture of now I know what’s going on.

“All right now…mind yo’ business,” Sylvia warned good-naturedly.

“Um-hm…let me get they stuff. I’on wanna stand in your way.” She grinned.

“Now see, it ain’t even like that! He just being nice, gave your child a ride and made his weekend. Ain’t nothing else happening…so get that look off yo’ face.” Sylvia couldn’t keep a straight face as she explained, the grin was more powerful than her words.

“I ain’t saying nothing. I just come to get my kids and I’m off.”

Sylvia nodded in agreement. “Good idea. So get yo’ babies and get to gettin’. And while you at it, get yo’ mind out the gutter and outta my business.”

Crystal was biting the inside of her mouth not to laugh at her mother. “Come on, now, mama…don’t make it no mystery. Ain’t no big secret, you still young. You look good, and you single…and””he””is””foine!”

“Would you hush! I ain’t thinkin’ about you! And I ain’t thinkin’ about that man!” she denied.

“Um-hm…can’t”¦think about me…got that man on yo’ mind,” Crystal continued to tease.

“Look…it’s time for you to go. Let me help you. Grab that bag, and I’ll grab this one. Then you can be on your way! And stop that grinning””looking at me like that!” Sylvia shushed her daughter again, who was laughing out loud, flexing her brows and winking.

“Okay, mama, anything you say. Just the neighbor being nice. I’ll have to thank him.” Out the door she went before her mother could say another thing to her. Stepping onto the porch, Crystal gave him a quick, thorough inspection as he looked up at her.

“Thank you so much for giving my son a ride, hope he didn’t drive you crazy,” she opened.

Smiling, Everett shook his head answering, “No problem…any time.”

Crystal again grinned. “Oh, and by the way, my name is Crystal,” she introduced herself.

“Everett”¦Everett Styles,” he returned, looking past her to her mother. Sylvia had a peculiar look about her face. He grinned and winked at her. She thought she would faint on the spot. Crystal looked back at her, simpering. “Well, we gotta get going. Love you, mama, we’ll talk to you later.” She leaned back and kissed her mother’s cheek. Sylvia returned it, then leaned forward and kissed Darren’s brow. “I love you, too. Bye, bye, baby…grandma love you.” Darren scrunched up his face and grinned. “Isaac! Come give grandma a kiss and hug before you leave here,” Sylvia called down to him. He tromped up the porch and obeyed. “I love you, baby.” She ended the tight hug and kiss.

“Me too, grandma…love you…bye!”

“Your daughter is beautiful.”

“Thank you, and you know what…her inside matches the outside. That’s what I’m proud of.” Everett looked down at Sylvia as she sat on her side porch steps. He stood leaning against the outside corner of her garage, his ankles crossed as were his arms across his chest. “I get a feeling she’s the direct result of her mother. You’re a beautiful woman, Sylvia Payne. Even if you are ornery as all get out,” he finished, grinning.

“Well, excuse me! And seeing as how Isaac’s gone, with the ride over…you can head on back across the street so I can go in my house!” she shrilled out, standing.

“Now do you see what I mean? Here we were getting along just fine, and you had to go and take exception at what I said,” he returned, standing from his spot, approaching the steps where she stood. “I know what you’re up to, Sylvia Payne. It’s not going to work. You think you can run me off by inciting a fight. Well you’re wrong,” he informed her, standing at the bottom step, closer to her than she felt comfortable with. His overpowering presence was unsettling as her heart testified to, especially with both of his hands grasping either sides of the rail post.

“How long are you going to fight this between us?” he asked boldly.

“Ex-excuse me…there”¦there’s nothing between us. You’re crazy. I’m not the least bit”¦” She swallowed the lump in her throat.””¦interested in you. You don’t…move me…one bit, Mr. Everett Styles. Now if you will excuse me…I have things to do.” She turned away from him, going up the three steps to the porch landing.

“Sylvia Payne…of all the things I’ve thought of you…I never pegged you being a coward.”

That stopped her dead in her tracks. “Excuse me?” She turned back with hands on hips.

“You heard me. I never thought you were a coward, but obviously you are.” Well that got her dander up and the head moving.

“You listen to me, Everett Styles! I am not a coward! There are very few men I am afraid of, and you certainly aren’t one of them.” His grin was knowing, challenging. A dare was in the making… she could feel it, but her pride would not let her tuck tail and run as she knew she should.

“You may not be afraid of me, but you are definitely afraid of the way I make you feel. I’m beginning to think that your anger and shortness with me is a defense mechanism. You’re trying to scare me off. Turn me off, but it ain’t working. And that”¦dear lady, is what scares you,” he finished, very confident.

Her heart was pounding. “Look! I’m not afraid of you. I’m just not looking for someone in my life right now. I like things just the way they are,” she informed him.

“So, not only are you a coward, but you’re also a liar,” he boldly stated.

“A liar! I beg your pardon, I am not a liar!” she defended hotly.

“Okay, then, maybe that was a little strong, but you are in denial. You see, I remember. In my house. In that room with all the paintings. Before you knew I was there, watching you…it was written all over your face. The loneliness. The longing, and the need. To have someone cherish you, treasure you as it was captured in that painting. You see, not only do you need that, you want it, but you’re afraid to trust anyone with your heart. Especially me, because I’m making you feel the need and want even stronger.”

Sylvia felt total exposure. Completely vulnerable as if her chest lay wide open to him, with her heart exposed to his whim. “Leave me alone! You understand? I don’t have time for the games. Nor to help you over your moments of boredom and restlessness. Have a nice day, sir.” As if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heals, she turned and fled within her sanctuary.

Everett stood in the position she left him in. Inhaling deep he declared, “You can run, lady, but you sure as hell can’t hide. I’m after you and I can wait it out, just as long as you can hold out and deny it.”

 

Chapter Nine

From that day forward, Sylvia struggled with the seeds Everett Styles planted, desperately avoiding him and his sudden need to disrupt her life. Until he came along, she had been focused and determined. Methodical and precise. Her writing had been flowing smoothly and unstoppable, bridging the gaps from one scene to the other with ease, and now she found it hard to focus. Her mind kept wandering across the road. Her senses picking up the distinct rumbling of his motorcycle as it roared in and out of his yard. Before him, her solitude and isolation had been instrumental in the healing of her inner being. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. Alone she had been able to do some serious soul-searching. Alone she’d been able to focus on being consistent with the entries of her journal. Scribbling her deepest thoughts. Writing through one spectrum of a painful event, to the unraveling of how it eventually manifested. Ending with what she had determined was the cause, and the prevention. The understanding, insight and wisdom that she’d gained, and how would it best be applied to her and her future life, and the decisions she would make. She was trying to grow. She was trying to become this person she’d held up in her mind’s eye that was a worthy inspiration and role model. Then smack dab in the middle of all these discoveries and awakenings…he showed up. To this point, the past year of her life had taken on the smooth simplicity of a well-orchestrated concert…the music calming and soothing the unrest within as a hypnotic potion to lull one into blissful peace.

The suddenness of his presence had brought the concert abruptly to silence, making her stand, stare and wonder…who would dare disrupt what she had carefully laid for her pleasure? No matter how she tried to resume the harmonious balance that she’d created, it could not be recaptured. Because as she already knew…a person of her nature and being could not sit forever in a concert playing just for herself. She needed someone in her life, problem was…she was scared to death to trust someone with all that she had so carefully fixed and put together in her heart and mind. She’d established a good foundation in which to move onward from, but it was still fragile. To build on it would mean careful construction, because she couldn’t bring herself to take on a relationship that might possibly prove to collapse later on down the road”¦when the frame was up, walls were in, windows and doors installed. It would crush her, and she couldn’t chance it, but there he was. The feelings had already taken root as her mind kept cultivating the possibilities.

Bringing her down also was the fact that three weeks had passed since he’d tried to contact her or approach her again after the weekend the boys were up. She tried to carry on as if it didn’t matter, but it did. It bothered her to the point that too much thought of it already brought tears to her eyes. Because here she was dwelling on him, and he probably hadn’t thought another thing of her since she charged into her house and slammed the door. Sin or not, her pride was paramount. It bothered her that he had in such a short time, already possibly broken through her carefully-laid defenses. The stress she was starting to feel now was the very thing she was trying to avoid in her life. Now she felt anger that he had so carelessly disrupted her peace. Yet the anger was short-lived as time went by with still no attempt to contact her. She tried to go on and ignore the things he said. She tried to block out the image of him. She tried to kill the longings he’d rekindled, but her trying was not good enough. Nothing she thought, conjured up in her mind, seemed to work to dispel what she was feeling.

It was growing colder, fall was quickly switching over to winter. The wind blew sharper. The temperature was dropping at night, leaving a chill in her open house that meant…soon, she’d have to start stacking firewood within. Something she realized she should have started a while ago. Walking through the house with her black knit stretch pants on and an oversized black sweater, she was gearing up to go out to the woods. She would start marking dead and falling trees that were dry or drying, for burning. A young man in town already posted that he would come on anyone’s property, cut up their wood and stack it for them for a fee. She started looking for where she put the flyer to call him. As she searched, finally reaching her clouded mind and it’s preoccupation, was the distinct sound of a chainsaw. It had been going for some time, but because she’d ventured to a part of the house closer to her woods, the sound was even clearer. She stood in attention a moment, her brows drawn.

“What the heck?” she questioned out loud. She walked back through the house to the kitchen, then out the door. Immediately the cold fall wind hit her stepping out on her porch. She wrapped her arms around herself, taking quick strides down her steps and through the backyard to the wooded area framing her land. The noise from the chainsaw was louder and definitely coming from her woods. The wind was cold, she now realized she should have grabbed her coat. Ignoring it, she quickened her steps to trotting, entering the woods, following the trail made from other people and deer.

The chainsaw was all she heard now, and then she saw the sawdust flying. Coming around a slight curve, she stopped dead in her tracks, stunned. With protective eye gear, a scull cap on his head, a heavy winter snow suit and thick suede work gloves, she stared as Everett cut into another fallen tree. Already there was a tall stack of cut wood that just needed splitting. He saw her out of his peripheral, then stood and turned the chainsaw off, turning to her. “What are you doing?” she asked immediately, starting to shake from the cold, her teeth were about to start chattering. “What do you think I’m doing? It’s cold as hell and getting colder, and I don’t see any wood stacked around your place. Just like a women to wait to the last minute! And get your behind in the house before you catch pneumonia! Are you crazy? Get!” he scolded, pointing to the house.

Tears came to Sylvia’s eyes. Speechless, she nodded and spun. So much sudden joy filling her heart, she thought it would burst. She flew back through the yard as if her feet had wings. Not from speed, but from a sudden lifting in joy. Immediately she ran and put some coffee on, then raced through the house, looking for warm outer garments. She was so excited, her insides trembled and she refused to think or feel anything””but elation. The coffee was done and she fixed him an insulated tumbler of it. When she made it back outside and through the yard, she noticed a pickup had backed up to the trail where he was working. There was a young man out there with him. It was the one from the flyer. He was there with his truck and a log splitter. When she walked up to the scene, they were hard at work, filling the pickup with the split blocks. Seeing her approach, Everett stood, giving his back a rest. Silent and humble, Sylvie walked up to him with the warm tumbler.

“I made you some coffee,” she offered, in hopes that he would accept her gesture of appreciation and peace. He smiled. His nose was red from the cold, but his eyes were warm and inviting. He took her breath away. “And, ummm, thank you…for this. I was about to call him this morning,” she informed him. He shook his head at her. “What? Why are you shaking your head at me?” she asked.

“Because you should have seen to this weeks ago,” he informed her.

She sighed. “I know.” Then looked up at him sheepishly. “I’m here to help.” A brow kicked up with that statement. “Are you now?” he returned, amused. She gave an eager nod. “I tell you what, you wanna help? I’m starving, and I’m sure he’s hungry, too. How about you go fix us something to eat? And don’t burn it…can you do that?” He chuckled.

“I won’t burn it. I’m a good cook,” she whined.

“Um-hm,” he mumbled doubtfully.

“I am, you’ll see. Give me a few minutes and I’ll have a lunch prepared fit for a king and his apprentice.” She turned and dashed off, her mind diving into her refrigerator and cabinets for an idea of what to prepare. Inside, after five minutes searching for something worthy to feed them for their hard work, she realized she didn’t have anything for the appetites they would have. She groaned, but hey, she had to do what she had to do”¦

“Would you stop laughing at me! I could have cooked something, but you guys were hungry! Weren’t you hungry?” this she asked to the young man in attendance who was biting into the deliciously made and delivered pizza. He nodded his agreement. He was hungry. The pizza was good, and he was warming up and grateful for the hospitality. Everett had paid him in advance and now he was getting fed. Plus, he didn’t have to work out there alone. What more could a guy ask for? “At least I made a good salad and garlic bread to go along with it,” she pointed out as Everett sat chuckling, as he, too, bit into the hot, cheesy pizza. “I haven’t gone grocery shopping yet. When you live alone, food is not a big deal,” she continued.

“And when you bring it home, it helps to know how to cook it, too,” he inserted, then took another bite.

“Everett Styles…I””can””too””cook! Oh, that’s it! I’m going grocery shopping today. I’m gonna get ready right now. When I get back here, I’m going to cook the most awesome meal you have ever experienced in your life!” she declared. He nodded with a look of yeah sure, then winked his eye at Tom, the young man, who grinned and shrugged.

“You’ll see! You’re probably gonna want seconds, too, and you’ll beg to take some home!” she declared, marching off to get her purse, coat and gloves.

“Hey, before you go”¦where do you want all that wood stacked we’re splitting?” he asked in between chewing the pizza.

She stopped with her things in hand. “Stack it against that long wall beside the basement door.” He nodded and continued eating, looking comfortable and right at home in her kitchen. She stood a moment, transfixed by him. He asked Tom if he wanted more soda. The answer was “yes” and he continued devouring pizza. As if he’d always lived there, Everett rose and got more Pepsi out of the refrigerator, one for himself and Tom. Handing it over, he sat back down and continued to eat.

Realizing she stared at him, he looked up with a gesture of what? “You need some money?” he asked. That snapped her to.

“Nooo!”

He suddenly rose and was walking without hesitation to her. “Oh, I get it! You want a little smooch before you head off to the store!” Grinning and winking, he approached her as if to deliver. Shocked and shaken, Sylvie ducked out of his reach, squealing in disbelief. “Man! You better get on’way from me! I don’t know where your mouth’s been!” she exclaimed, embarrassed with Tom sitting in the kitchen in full hearing and sight.

“I can tell you where it hasn’t been””on you.” It was said, so low and sultry, Sylvia felt heat suffuse her entire being. Her face was on fire. Her heart started slamming and a long-forgotten sensation uncoiled in her lower being. She gulped and made a sudden face, then warned him in a whisper with a finger pointed up at him. “Everett Styles…you watch your””” she didn’t get to finish because his large hands grabbed her upper arms, pulling her against him. She squealed out an “eek!” and jumped away from him, her heart slamming even more.

“You best get on your way to that store, woman. Else I’m gonna have to treat Tom to the sight of me kissing the hell outta you,” the way he said it was very convincing. Sylvia, again, took off to open a big distance between them. Speechless, she stood by the kitchen door putting her coat and gloves on. Unable to take her eyes off of him as he stood where she left him…desire to do as he threatened strong in his expression. “Hurry up back here. I’ll be hungry again before you know it,” he informed her. Sylvia still couldn’t find her voice. She wasn’t use to anyone like him.
On the way to the store and as she shopped, she was still shaken by him. It seemed that he had, for some reason, turned on the total seduction and charm towards her. He had completely unnerved her. Her mind was buzzing with his actions. His outright boldness. His jumping in to see about her heat and warmth, despite the inconvenience and discomfort it brought him. It was obvious he had paid Tom for his services, as well. She would have to reimburse him for that. She wasn’t about to have him spending any money on her. She could take care of herself. She didn’t want to be obligated to him. Funny, where was the strong sense of anger and resentment that use to come with those thoughts? She sighed; he was wearing her down. Picking up all the necessities she was running low on or out of, she decided to prepare barbecue pork. That wouldn’t take long to cook. Corn on the cob, coleslaw, collard greens and corn bread. That ought to fill his gut. After picking up more items, she paid her $220.00 grocery bill. Her car was loaded and off she went for home, planning how she would prepare the meal in the most efficient manner.
Hoping that they were still in the back, she tooted her horn. They were, and helped her bring in the groceries. With the last bag in, Tom went back out to finish bringing in more wood to the basement. “Holy cow, woman! You think you bought enough groceries?” Everett exclaimed at the bags everywhere. “I don’t shop every week, sir, just once a month.” He was looking through the bags as she was unloading them. “You bring anything to snack on?” Sylvia turned around looking at him with one hand on her hip. “You cannot be hungry again so soon!” He looked up as if offended. “I beg your pardon…and why not? You see this body? You see these muscles?” He raised his left arm, flexing his bicep for her. Slapping the large, rock hard muscle.
“A man’s gotta eat to grow muscles like that.” Sylvie rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Everett Styles, you’re an arrogant ham,” she declared.

“Um-hm, and everybody wants a slice. Including you…but you can have more than a slice,” he flirted and winked at her. Sighing and shaking her head, Sylvia walked over to where he stood, leaned down into one of the bags and came up with a bag of California trail mix, then slapped it against his chest. “Here…now get back to work. I have groceries to put away and a dinner to prepare.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted, taking the trail mix and opening it as he went into the living room to suit up again. “So, what’s for dinner?” he called from the living room, stepping into his suit. “Barbecue pork ribs, collard greens, coleslaw, corn on the cob, and corn bread. How’s that?” Fully suited up, he stepped into sight, looking at her unsure. “I guess I’ll see when it’s on the plate.” That statement snapped her around to him. “Look, you, just get out of here; and when it’s all done, you best be hungry and ready to eat!”

At the dinner table”¦

“Now what do you have to say, Mr. Styles?”
He was leaning back in his seat, gut full, a satisfied look on his face and a toothpick sticking out the corner of his mouth. His head drew back, stretching his neck so he could give a good hollow belch. Sylvia laughed out loud. “You pig…at least say excuse me.” He shook his head and winked. “That’s a compliment to the chef…by the way…Shawn Everett McPherson at ye service, madam,” he said in a thick Irish brogue. Sylvia melted. “Shawn? Everett? McPherson?” she repeated each as a question. “Aye, madam. At ye service. I am a man content and satisfied.” But his piercing eyes sent out a message otherwise. Exhaling the effects of that bold stare, Sylvia asked, “And where did Styles come from?”

“I was advised, so I changed it. They thought Everett Styles was more romantic. It’s what I use on all of my paintings for book covers. My personal work bears my real name””McPherson.”

Sylvia smiled wistfully. “I see,” she whispered softly.

He sat leaning back comfortably, staring at her. She was just as quiet, returning his gaze. After a few minutes with the silence stretching between them, Everett finally spoke up. “I think I will capture you on canvas after the first time we’ve made love. You will be as satisfied then as I am now. I’ll want you sitting back against my headboard. Your legs drawn up beside you, your naked calve, thigh and hip bare. A satin maroon sheet barely covering your waist, held fetchingly at your breast, baring just enough to drive me to distraction. Your hair mussed, your skin dewy from sweat, your lips swollen from my kisses. Your eyes dreamy with enchantment.”

Sylvia stared, then sighed deep. This man was casting a spell on her. He was carefully binding up her heart, to which one day…he would steal. In preparation of that day, she hadn’t a clue as to how she might stop him. If she were completely honest with herself, she knew…she wanted to remain…completely clueless.

 

End of Episode 3

 

 

 

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Otherwise, see you in two weeks

Bomaw – Episode 4