| |
Gabriel washed the dishes while Cabrina dried, humming to herself as they went along. He frequently cut his eyes to the side, waiting for the boatload of questions to come about the women, but she didn’t say anything. The quietness was unnerving him. Instead of waiting to go on the defense to explain himself, he opted to tackle it head-on.
“If you are not comfortable with them coming into our home, you can say so,” Gabriel said.
“They seem like nice people, well aside from the whole prostitute thing,” she said. “I did wonder though, how you met them.”
He sighed, handing her the last plate as she dried it with the dish towel. Gabriel wanted, no needed to put it all in perspective so she could understand not only the why but the how.
“When I first took this assignment, I really mainly just wanted the house. It held fond memories for me, whereas the cabin was all about my dad’s memories with his father. Zeke always loved the cabin more, so we are okay with it being his. The house in Kentucky is my parents, and we grew up there until my Dad got transferred to DC. He is retiring this year and will probably move back there to be closer to us. This house was all about my memories with my Grandmother,” he told her. “I had been on this assignment for six months and was getting cabin fever and decided to go to church one Sunday.”
Cabrina placed the plate on the stack of the open shelf. Her hand straightened the four cups that matched the four plates and saucers. Abby had loaded up on the donuts and didn’t want much breakfast, which worked out well for her serving on a saucer. The plain white dishes were functional, but not fancy.
Gabriel continued, “In the parking lot were Abby and Benita, being shunned by the ladies of the church. The women were not nice and pretty much told them they weren’t welcome.”
“Yeah, they filled me in on the clientele they service,” she added with a brief smile.
“That was an understatement,” he responded raising his brows. “Across the street from the church was a coffee shop to which I asked the ladies to join me. Abby was bawling her eyes out because she needed her spiritual vitamin, so I offered her nourishment.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t explain how they ended up coming here to meet with you.”
“Initially, we met at the coffee shop for about three months,” he said. “One Sunday, I didn’t make it. Leslie, or rather Hayseed, was coming up for our quarterly intel session, and she stopped in the coffee shop. She overheard my name and Benita’s concerns, but they didn’t have a number for me.”
Cabrina said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
“I was sick. I had a terrible case of the flu and could barely get out of bed,” he said. “I was going to call my Mom, but it would have taken her too long to get to me, and Hayseed and the ladies showed up. Cabrina, they took care of me. Bathed me, fed me, called my doctor, picked up prescriptions...Abby and Benita took shifts caring for me for nearly a week until I got on my feet.”
“After that, they started to meet here on every other Sunday,” she said flatly.
“Yes, and after our review of the scriptures, we have individual counseling, then we break bread,” he told her.
“Okay, that portion I understand, but why are they half naked?”
Gabriel laughed. “I guess I am so used to them, it never crosses my mind what they are wearing.”
“Just tell me you never sampled the products or services,” she said. “You told me you are not prone to lying, so be honest.”
“I have never had physical contact in a manner other than holding Benita and Abby’s hands in prayer,” he said, with a knowing smile. As if he knew his omission of Leslie’s name wouldn’t be a red flag.
“You intentionally omitted Leslie’s name,” she said. “You had a sexual relationship with her, didn’t you?”
“Oh yeah,” he said shaking his head. “However, in my defense, we have known each other for many years. We studied at Langley together and she is also a pretty sharp cookie on secular programming and integration into a post-religious society.”
“Post-religious! That’s a laugh with all these Jesus freaks in Congress,” she said.
“Religion and faith are two different things, Cabrina,” he told her. “Faith guides you in a principal of being a good person and doing good things. Religion gives you an excuse to do nasty things in the name of God for profit. Therefore, we are in a post-religious society that has monetized religion and worship it as its own entity.”
Her hands went to the front of his shirt. Fingers grazed his sides as she pressed her body close to his. He’d told her he loved her this morning in the most casual of manners in front of the guest. She wanted to hear it again.
“I love it when you talk all smart, Mr. Neary, or rather Dr. Neary. It is so sexy.”
“So are you, Mrs. Neary,” he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, remembering fondly that she was a morning person. A morning person that had not been able to get in her normal morning exercise. “Do we have time for morning exercise, my love?”
“About that...,” she said, tilting her head to the side as he nibbled on her neck, sending the starting signal that the race was about to commence to her pants.
“Hmm?” he asked, gripping a handful of her butt cheek.
“You said...ooh, that feels good,” she mumbled, holding him tightly. “...in front of the company that you loved me.”
“I do love you,” he said, lifting her off the floor and sitting her on the granite countertop.
“You do?”
“Yes, Mrs. Neary,” he said. “This man is in love with his wife.”
“Well okay then,” she replied, giving in to the wicked movements of his mouth across her skin. “That doesn’t change how I feel about Leslie, though.”
Gabriel stopped his passionate movements to look at her face. “You don’t want her to come back here, do you?”
“Not really,” she said flatly. “However, you have a job to do that I can’t interfere with, but you will change the locks on this house so that she doesn’t have a key to my home.”
“I may not be able to do that Mrs. Neary,” he said, going back to unfasten her blouse. “She has to have access to my workspace when I am away. I don’t want to dwell on it at this moment. Right now, my primary focus is to make this happen between us.”
She loved his touch. The tenderness with which he made love to her was never rushed, hurried, or fueled by a desire to make her scream like she was being eaten alive by ants. Gabriel’s lovemaking was slow and thought out, like almost everything the man did.
Cabrina knew she had fallen in love with him as well. One week. One week, two thousand six hundred and fifteen miles or so later, she was home and in love. More importantly, as a woman, she found that she had grown a great deal. She still had a few things left to do though.
In her head she made a list of items which needed to occur before dinner: See the out building, which could be a good spot for Sunday prayer meetings, move her things, and take Gabriel to dinner tonight with her parents, none of which she was looking forward to, least of all dinner. But first things were first.
****
IN THE DAYLIGHT, THE house didn’t look as creepy as it had last night. The light of day gave the old one-story Colonial stone house a fresh look and a better feel. Cabrina considered adding a few planters to the front of the two windows and maybe having a painter trim out the white wood frame in a different color.
“I will add you to the retinal scanner at the front gate, but the front of the store is on the outside of the gate,” he told her as they walked down the driveway.
Last night she had been too busy bawling to notice the small house which sat in front of the property. Gabriel used a key to open the back door to a space which was, in essence, small bare-bones home. Flipping on a light switch revealed that the concrete floors and masonry walls were drab, but the space in itself was wonderful.
“Gabe, this has to be at least 1,000 square feet!” She exclaimed, ecstatic at what she was seeing. It had a bathroom with an old-fashioned toilet with the tank on the wall and a small two faucet wash bowl. A separate space that could easily function as a kitchenette included a farmhouse sink that still held residue of onion skins in the bowl. The rest of the space was wide open, with a few old shelves to showcase produce.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it,” she said, taking out her phone and opening the shuttered windows for more light.
“It needs some work, sheetrock, insulation, and solar panels as a separate power source,” he said but was silenced by her mouth on his. She kissed him long and deep to show her joy. “Well, that works, too.”
“I need to send Tameka her other computer, along with these photos so she can get started on designing the space for my new shop and store,” she told him. “Ooh, we need to get moving. We have to swing by my place to get my car and then take back the rental.”
“Okay, but do you think I need to bring my truck so we can bring back a load of your stuff?”
“No,” she said. “I’m only going to bring back the basics and then hire a moving company tomorrow to do the rest.”
“Sounds good,” he said as they locked up the building and loaded into the rental heading to Cleveland.
****
CABRINA LIVED IN THE brownstones of Derbyshire in Cleveland Heights in an upscale neighborhood. Her home, which sat on the end of the row, had a two-car garage. Two cars resided in the space, a black Audi SUV, and a Ford Edge hybrid. She grabbed her keys to the Audi. The other car he assumed belonged to Tameka.
The return of the rental car went smoothly, and they arrived back at Cabrina’s just after two o’clock.
“We have time to take a good-sized load, shower, change and get to my parent’s house by six. Dinner is always on time and we can’t be late,” she said, backing into the garage.
Gabriel didn’t know what to expect when he walked into the home because he’d only seen her in leggings and tee shirts for the past week. He had no idea of her style, but the Audi should have been a clue. The home was pretty posh by any standard.
The Persian rugs that covered the floor were so thick and lush that he removed his shoes to walk through the house. Sheraton Colonial furniture pieces accented the modern cloth couch, but his eyes were drawn to all the plants, decorative knick-knacks, and the wall art. He stood still in front of the couch, drawn in by a painting that looked like a child splattered acrylic all over it and painted two orange streaks in the middle.
“This reminds me of a Jackson Pollock,” he said.
“It is,” she told him, gathering her luggage out of the closet. “I am taking that one and the Johnathan Green with me today. I am also taking linens. Yours are rough.”
“I like the furniture. It is Sheraton if my memory serves me correctly,” he stated.
“Yes, it is, but if you don’t like it, I can sell this stuff and we’ll go shopping for pieces to fit both our styles,” she said.
“No, this is perfect,” he said. “It goes well with the old Colonial stone house.”
“Good,” she told him. “Come lend me a hand.”
He followed her down the hall to her bedroom, peering into a second room which was a direct juxtaposition of everything in the house. The furniture, modern and sleek, did not jibe with anything else in the house. This must have been Tameka’s room. Not a single painting hung on the wall. The room held a bed and a dresser, with one work table that looked as if it had been purchased at Ikea.
In Cabrina’s room, the walls held art. The nightstands housed lamps, with photos of Cabrina and her parents, books, and more expensive collectibles.
“Gabe, if you would, load that suitcase up with the linens in the hallway,” she said.
Not questioning, he opened the suitcase, placing it on the bed. Going to the hallway he opened the cabinet to see all beige bath towels, washcloths, and hand towels. The six bedding sets were all encased inside of the coordinating pillowcase of each set. There was even a Christmas set of bedding.
“I think this bed will be great in the guest room,” she told him. “If it is okay with you, I am going to move the dining room table you have into the small front bedroom and make that my office.”
“Hmmm,” he mumbled, loading up the suitcase.
“The dining room set downstairs extends to seat 12, which will be great if everyone comes to our house for a holiday dinner,” she said, loading up her valise with hair and makeup products.
Cabrina took the paintings off her bedroom wall, sliding them in between the linens in the suitcase. Lugging the case down the hall, he watched her grab another piece of luggage and go back to the bedroom to pack up clothing. He, on the other hand, went to the dining room. Yep. Her table is much nicer. His fingers ran across the detailed china cabinet loaded with Wedgewood china. To verify, he opened the cabinet and checked the bottom of a serving dish. Yep. Wedgewood.
In the kitchen, all the dishes matched in a black and orange pattern with service for twelve. Curiosity made him open the drawer to see black handled bistro silverware with black dishcloths and towels. To him, it was all too orderly, as if she had something to hide.
“Before I forget, Mr. Neary,” she told him, opening a safe hidden behind a painting and taking out five crisp bills. “We went over budget by $200, so here is my half of the trip.”
“Cabrina, you don’t have to do this,” he told her.
“Yes, I do,” she said. “It is important that I keep my word to you. I said I would pay half, and I did.”
He accepted the money, but now he had questions. Loads of questions about his wife, the way she and Tameka had lived and the home that did not hold a speck of dust. Over the years, Gabriel Neary had learned when a room appeared too orderly, there was always a hidden door that held ugly secrets.
A bit of doubt crept into him at the thought of what she could be hiding behind her closed door of matching orderliness. His questions were answered when he met her parents. He also understood within fifteen minutes of conversation with Cabrina’s father why Aisha Miller wanted to escape to a simpler life.
