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SIX A.M. COULD NOT arrive fast enough for either Paul or Kalinda. At five minutes after five, the 4 x4 was loaded, fueled, and ready to hit the open road. Kalinda showered quickly, donning a light weight beige top with tiny pink flowers that matched perfectly the pink Capri pants and cute pink sneakers. The socks she wore were beige with little pink roses etched in the cotton.
Paul looked her up and down. “I get it,” he said.
She shrugged her shoulders, pulling her hair back and banding it at the nape of her neck. “I like things to coordinate,” she said to him.
Based on what he’d seen of her wardrobe, he did in fact, get it. Each piece of clothing she wore was made of well-chosen fabrics, in hues that complimented her skin tone and were perfect for the occasion. ‘Carefully selected’ were the exact two words Paul used when he observed his wife over the next few days.
Getting out of the hotel and on the road was not as easy as he’d hoped. His mother wanted to give advice, his grandmother had too many questions, Hurley, well, half of what he said to Paul, confused him, and Connie woke up full of piss and vinegar. He nearly carried Kalinda outside, slammed the vehicle door, and gunned the engine. Two toots of the horn and they were off to start their lives. It took fifteen minutes to drive out of the Portland city limits, connecting to I-84 and pushing the engine to almost 85 miles per hour. They were nearly in Mosier before Paul physically stopped holding his breath.
“Good Lord,” he said aloud.
“Say it twice,” Kalinda chuckled.
“How insane was that?”
“Which part, the crazy goodbye continental breakfast or the entirety of yesterday?” Kalinda asked.
“I’m not sure. Having drinks with your father is still blowing my mind. Your Daddy is different,” Paul said.
“So was that group of botoxed barracudas your mom sat me down with for tea. The good news is that I think I may have secured a supply of artesian soaps from Bitsy Stewart. Helen Morady has a great connection for organic teas that is going to be awesome in our little store,” she said with a grin.
“Yeah, but did Helen happen to mention most of her teas are filled with marijuana?”
Kalinda’s eyes were wide. “No way, she is what, every bit of 70?”
“Yes. She and my grandmother sit around drinking tea and getting high as hell while they reminisce about the heartbroken men they left in their wake,” Paul said.
“That’s just wrong,” Kalinda said shaking her head.
“No, hearing my grandmother talk about the soldier who did sexual things to her in a night club bathroom is wrong. Watching her grin as she tells the story is wrong. It is doubly wrong when she is high and gets herself off retelling the story,” he said, glancing at her sideways. He shuddered, trying to shake off the visually disturbing memory.
“Does she do that often?”
“What do you mean often? Hell, seeing your Grandma orgasm sitting in chair by her damned self is bad enough the first time. The second time is not as shocking, but now she tells the story every Christmas brunch,” Paul said with his face contorted. “She is sitting there waiting for that moment that she likes to describe as her nasty little soldier man taking her with force against the dirty bathroom stall door. Her little wrinkled legs sticking out, her eyes rolling up in her head. It’s nasty, Kalinda. Just damned nasty! My grandmother is a nasty little woman.”
Kalinda’s head was pressed against the driver’s side window glass as she held her stomach in laughter.
“I’m glad you find my pain amusing,” he mumbled.
The laughter continued as they spoke of the gala and Luke’s award, a prize which Paul’s brother pretty much presented to himself as a reward for his own hard work.
“I did find your father amusing,” Kalinda whispered. “Especially his views on women.”
The road spread wide, opening to the most picturesque scenic areas she had ever seen in her life. Momentarily, her mind drifted into the rolling mountains and hills of the Oregonian countryside. They entered the Columbia River Gorge National Scenic area, her mouth hung wide as wild flowers painted the landscape in colors so vibrant it seemed as if God has used his finger to create a watercolor mural.
“My father’s views on women is nothing in comparison to yours. I am still unclear on you and Connie. You are the same age and you grew up together?”
It was best to get it out of the way now so they could never speak of it again. The four hour drive to La Grande would have to be filled with conversation, but this one was a bit early for her liking. Sighing deeply, her eyes venturing out of the window, hoping the beauty outside would shield her from the ugliness she held inside. An ugliness he was about to learn.
“My father is pretty much just like yours – his last name carries weight in the small town of Bainbridge. Right and wrong depends on the amount of money you have to make good church folk look the other way. My Daddy was so brazen that he wanted the woman he loved close to him, so in order to have her in his house, he made her his maid. He made Connie in the front bedroom of the house in January and on Valentine’s night, he made me in the back of the house with his housekeeping Mammy,” Kalinda said. “The sad part is my mother believed them to be in love and ended up raising both Connie and me.”
Paul drove, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Her pain was obvious in the way she held her stomach. She gripped her waistline as if the ugly truths coiled inside her were about to burst free.
“I coped by making up stories in my head that my mother stayed all of those years to give me an opportunity for a better life. I saw it as nothing different than the plantation owner making sure his child didn’t work the fields,” Kalinda said. “I did have standards, though. I refused to ever wear any of Connie’s hand me downs.”
“You two have an odd relationship. She doesn’t really like you,” Paul said.
“Connie hates my guts,” she said.
“Is she part of the reason you were anxious to get away?”
“I got away from Bainbridge when I was 18. I went to college at Georgia State in Atlanta. I graduated GSU and got hired by CNN to do puff pieces on the news which led to me starting my blog, “Girl Please!”
“Cool name for a blog. Will you start one for us?”
“Yes, it will go with our website if I can get George to come out to shoot some video and images of the trails,” she said. “If not, I will shoot them myself.”
“Oh, will you?”
“I am a trained journalist. I can shoot, edit, write, document and all,” she said with a wink of her eye.
“Is there anything you can’t do, Kalinda Darton?”
Her voice dropped low, “Find my place in the world...”
Paul’s hand reached out to touch her thigh. “Maybe the perfect place in this world for you is becoming the center of my universe.”
“Aww, you just saying that because you want meat and potatoes on Wednesdays,” she said.
“I also want hot sex twice a week,” he said with a grin.
“We have to have sex first,” she said to him.
“Oh, we will!” He said as he squeezed her thigh. He looked at the chunky watch on his wrist that was loaded with moving parts and little dials. “We are about two and a half hours out. If we swing through a drive-through for a bite to eat, home and that bed will be ready for us by noon.”
“Paul, can I ask why we didn’t yesterday...you know?”
They were making great time. At the three-hour mark, he entered the Irrigon City limit still doing about 70 miles per hour.
“That hotel has sucked the joy out of my life. I didn’t want my memory of making love to my wife for the first time to be associated with that place. Our first time together will be in our home, in our bed.”
The smile she gave him was enough for right now.
“Can I ask why Connie hates you so much?”
“She blames me as the reason her parents could never work it out. Her mother is a social lush who uses special events as a reason to drink. Yet, that woman is a skilled fundraiser,” Kalinda said.
“That woman?”
“Yes. In my head if I never spoke her name, she would not be real to me. Connie is not real to me. She and her mother are villains in the story of my life. Those two are my Darton Inn & Suites,” Kalinda said.
“Talk to me, Kalinda. Tell me or try to say what you have never been able to tell another soul,” Paul said.
The dark place inside of her belly that had held years of self-doubt and recrimination of never being good enough to eat in the dining room in Lancaster House began to bubble. The years of coming through the back door instead of being able to use the front like a person who had value to the Lancasters stirred in her gut. Eating their leftovers each day for dinner. Connie’s mother referring to her as ‘that child of Annie’s.’ All of it, ate away at her self-worth.
“I hate them with a passion few could ever understand. It makes me sick to my stomach that woman would pretend that she didn’t know about her husband and my mother. When my mother began showing in her pregnancy with me is when she made my Mama move into that little two-bedroom house with the holes in the walls. Daddy had them fixed after he slipped in one winter night for some loving and nearly froze to death. That’s when he fixed it up, because he couldn’t get to his woman in the cold. He fixed it because it inconvenienced him to be cold. He didn’t fix it because his child nearly had pneumonia, but because it was too cold for him to get it up. Nothing is worth correcting unless it inconveniences them – anything else it is irrelevant in their everyday lives. I hate those kinds of people. That is why I want to stick it to all of the naysayers who think you are nuts. I did the preliminary research, I know what we have,” she said firmly.
Paul was quiet.
“I’m sorry. I went off on a tangent,” Kalinda whispered. His profile was strong as he stared ahead at the road. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking if I do 90 miles an hour, we can be home and in that bed making love in about 45 minutes,” he said.
“Is that all you can think about? I just shared with you something I have never told anyone and you want to make love?”
“Yes. You are so vulnerably beautiful right now. Your skin is flushed, your pupils are dilated, and I am turned the hell on. I don’t know whether to pull over to hold and to comfort you or find a secluded spot to take you right there.”
“Dear Lord,” she said, pressing her hand to her chest.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come across as a rutting bull in heat.”
“It’s okay. It turned me on,” she said gnawing on her bottom lip. “Paul Darton, you turn me on a whole lot.”
“Good because I’m going to turn it up a notch soon as we hit that front door. I hope you are ready, Mrs. Darton,” Paul said with a wink.
Kalinda suddenly felt more at ease than she had with any man ever before in her life. The attraction she felt for him was real. The sexual tension was real. The ache between her thighs for the feel of him pressing into her was genuinely real.
For the first time in her life, the life she was living felt real.
“I’m ready to handle anything you think you can dish out,” she said as a challenge. He cut his eyes over at her as if he accepted her cheeky call to action.
“I just bet you can,” he said with a smile.