––––––––
Sanibel Island, Florida
Warm, seventy degree wind wafted across Melody as she wiggled in the chaise, digging her toes into the shelly sand. She giggled as she read the last post on the Mister Wright's Delights group. Shutting the laptop, she placed it onto the little wooden table next to her.
She'd made it. She exhaled and allowed her lips to curl into a smile, the first time in weeks. Months. Perhaps years. The pink and lavender sunset danced out over the waves, splashing closer as the tide rushed in. The private stretch of beach was empty. She closed her eyes and leaned back, her mind spinning from her journey.
On Independence Day, she had walked into her used mobile home on blocks in an upscale trailer park in Las Vegas. Melody washed her hands in the kitchen sink. She was tired from a long day of changing diapers, wiping noses, and reading politically correct fairy tales. She gazed out the open window, at the children squealing on the playground across the street.
Melody poured iced tea into two tall tumblers. Carrying them, she trudged down the bowling alley-like hallway to her bedroom. Her husband, Zander, was sprawled on the bed. Blond hair, thick eyelashes, well equipped and lazy. He picked his toenails while watching a fishing show on television.
She said, "Hi, honey," and handed him an iced tea.
He gulped a big swig. "We need more beer. And hot pepper cheese. And another box of rubbers."
"Make me a list."
"I just told you."
Melody shuffled across to the end of the room, where a huge bay window admitted sunlight over the built-in laminate dresser. Her computer rested on top. She leaned down and switched on the surge protector. Her printer clunked, squeaked, and squealed. For the last couple of weeks, she'd been working on a collage of baby pictures of herself and her husband. They were all scanned in and arranged just so. Melody opened the picture and clicked print.
He said, "Turn that racket off."
"I made something special for you," she said, with hope in her voice.
"Are you gonna go down to the store or what? I feel like a nice thick steak tonight. And ice cream."
Zander flipped to an infomercial for psychics. He said, "It's amazing what some people are gifted with."
Melody proudly handed her devilishly handsome husband the collage.
He glanced at it. "Nice."
She cleared her throat. "Wouldn't we make a beautiful baby together, honey?"
"Oh, you're not on that again. You know I wanna retire in two years, before I'm thirty. As soon as I order those tapes about making easy money, buying foreclosed houses, we'll be rollin' in the vo dee dough dough, darlin'. We won't have time for raisin' no baby, what with goin' on world cruises and such."
"Fine." she choked out. Damn you, Zander!
"Darned right, fine. I don't know what gets into you. Prolly rockin' babies all day. You should go and get a job down at one of the hotels on the strip. They're always hirin' maids."
Melody dropped the collage in a blue plastic trashcan. She swallowed a long pull of her tea and walked toward the door.
Zander asked, "Have you changed the tire on the car yet?"
"No and I'm not going to. It's your car."
He grinned. "Where're ya goin'?"
Melody spun on her heels and glared at Zander. "I'm going out for Chinese."
"What? No steak? Fine. But make sure you get me the stuff with the pancakes and plum sauce. I didn't like the shrimp last time. The cashew nuts were rubbery."
Melody walked a few steps to the bed. With her gray-blue eyes wide open, she kissed her husband good-bye.
* * * *
Melody parked her car at the seedy strip mall. She trudged into the small store-front Chinese restaurant and ordered Vegetable Lo Mein and Moo Goo Gai Pan. Plopping down in one of the two chairs near the plate glass window, Melody smiled at the funny little jade Buddha statue on the cash register. She looked around at the glass front refrigerators holding cold drinks, at the bubble gum machine for charity and at the photo mural of the Great Wall of China. China. Wow.
She'd been from New York to Nevada and that was the end of her world travels. On a daycare worker's salary, with a construction worker husband, there would never be a world tour. World tour. She thought about Adam Wright. He'd been on two world tours. If only she'd been seven months older that summer. She might have been the one accompanying him.
A fragment of an old song played in her mind "...and tonight I climbed the wall..."
"Miss, your food ready. Pick two soda."
Melody walked over to the young woman and accepted the hot, white double-knotted plastic bag. "Thank you."
The woman nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Melody grabbed two cans of soda from the cooler, then turned and looked at the Great Wall of China. She winked at Buddha and strolled out the door. Melody glanced at her yellow Volkswagen Beetle and kept on walking.
* * * *
Brooklyn, New York
Scribbling down the teacher's name and room number that she'd be substituting for this week, Susan thanked the elementary school principal and hung up. She crawled back under the covers, then gazed over at the clock. Shoot. No time for lying in.
Susan made the left half of her bed, her old side, then walked around to smooth out her new side. She'd started sleeping on Brandon's side after he became an angel. Somehow, she felt safer. Tossing the penguin pillow, she smiled as it landed in the center of the mattress.
After a quick shower, Susan blow-dried her hair. The front and top anyway, it was much too thick for her to bother standing half an hour with the heat gun. She slipped her pink underclothes on, then stepped into the walk-in closet.
Susan chose a mid-calf length yellow skirt and a buttercream sweater. Low brown pumps would have to do. She switched the contents from her black purse into a brown one. Quickly brushing out her damp hair, Susan applied mascara, blush, and lipstick. She carried a tissue with her, blotting her lips as she trotted downstairs to let Bob out.
Susan dashed off a thank-you note to Johnny, grateful for the work he was doing on the basement and also for the fun time last night...and a quick apology. Her stomach sank. She'd hurt his feelings.
Smacking the sticky yellow page on the basement door, she inhaled. Trying to conjure up his scent. Really great cologne, with a smoky undertone. A shudder ran through her. Johnny was getting under her skin. Into her heart. Invading her senses. Her sensibility. She should have known better. He couldn't have any romantic feelings for her. She was imagining a whole love affair. Maybe it was better if she didn't see him again. For awhile.
After Susan filled the dog's food and water bowls, she let Bob in. She fastened him in his playpen and made sure the sliding glass door locked.
Struggling into a blue wool dress coat, Susan buttoned it to the top. She trotted back into the kitchen for a banana and her purse. "Bye, Bob, you be good. I love you." She leaned down and gave him a kiss on his soft floppy ear. She left through the front door and locked it behind her.
As she hustled down the block, she detected the jeep droning behind her between mail deliveries. As the throttle edged closer, she quickened her pace.
She heard the motor cut off and the door open. The letter carrier trotted up to her. "Good morning, Susan. How're you on this fine winter's mornin'? Off to work are ya? Where to today?"
She kept walking. Susan peeled her banana and took a big bite. He walked backwards in front of her. She shook her head incredulously. Here she was, wearing her thick wool coat buttoned to her neck. And Oliver was leering at her breasts. His round Harry Potter-like eyeglasses must be equipped with x-ray vision.
"Where're you workin' today, Susan?"
She sighed, swallowing the last bite of fruit. "Down at our old elementary alma matter."
"Too bad I can't meet ya for lunch."
Thank goodness the bus was already at her stop, so she made a run for it.
* * * *
As the second graders meandered into Mrs. De Giovannetti's classroom, they all ran up and hugged Susan. She was nearly crushed in a tangle of little multi-colored arms. They all enthusiastically vied for her attention and affection.
Emmie said, "Miss Cervini! I love it when you're our teacher. You never raise your voice."
Susan hugged her and said, "I love teaching all of you." She genuinely did.
Tabitha asked, "Miss Cervini, you want a piece of candy?" She handed Susan a pack of Smarties.
Susan smiled and thanked her. She had a weakness for Smarties.
Jorge said, "I love you, Miss Cervini."
"I love you, too, Jorge." She hugged him and tussled his silky black hair.
Ralphie asked, "Will you read to us, please? You have such a nice voice. I brought a book..."
"Of course." This was the nicest class Susan had ever subbed for. The children were so affectionate. Mobbed her with hugs, every time she came to their classroom to fill-in. And they always listened intently as she instructed them.
The classroom paraprofessional, Miss Espinoza, had intimated to Susan that Mrs. De Giovannetti didn't intend to return from maternity leave. Susan would love to work every day with this special ménage of children. Maybe it was time to put her teaching degree to use and commit to a real job.
* * * *
In the dark, Susan hurried home from the bus stop. Two street lights were burnt out. With the exception of the electric candles in the front windows on Hank and Gavin's house, nobody had decorated for Christmas or Kwanza or Hanukkah or even just the Winter Solstice.
As soon as she got inside her house, she hurried straight to the kitchen and let Bob out. Susan checked her telephone answering machine. Two hang ups. Telemarketers, for sure. She couldn't wait to see how far Johnny had gotten on running the conduit wiring in the basement. Her note was still stuck to the door. She pulled it off, opened the door and flicked on the light. Susan folded the paper up as she walked down the pine stairs.
Hmm...nothing new. He hadn't done anything. Oh, Johnny must've had to work today. She thought she had his schedule down, but apparently she'd goofed. Or else he's really mad at her. Yes, that was it. She'd blown it. They were having a special celebratory dinner, that she had invited him to, then forgot about and she snuck off to roost at the computer. How stupid could she be?
Susan ran back upstairs, shut the basement light off, then climbed the other staircase to her bedroom, where she changed into jeans and a pull over shirt. She started a load of laundry, then trotted down to the main living level and let the dog in. Bob ran around her in circles, wagging, jumping and licking. Susan loved him up, then gave him another cup of kibbles and a fresh bowl of water.
She prepared a turkey sandwich with lettuce and mustard on seven grain bread and heated up some green beans. Susan poured a glass of skim milk. She ate at the desk, while reading her e-mail.
FROM: PENELOPE UNGER
TO: Mrwrightsdelights@gobbledygroups.com
SUBJECT: New Member
Welcome Steffie! I'm Penelope in Austin and I have the astute privilege of visiting with Mister Wright in person. Should you have any message you'd like to send him, I'll be Wrightfully delightfully glad to deliver it to him and I'll use my top of the line digital camera to capture the moment for you.
Penelope
Austin...Texas? Was she saying Mister Wright lived in Texas now? Susan hit delete.
FROM: Freddie Peters
TO: Mrwrightsdelights@gobbledygroups.com
SUBJECT: RE: New Member
Hi Steffie,
I'm Freddie. Welcome to our zany zoo. Will we be meeting face to face at the concert? I've got a VIP seat, A13. I'll be the dashing gentleman in the tuxedo, with a red bow tie.
Hugs,
Freddie
Susan finished eating her green beans and deleted the post as she licked her plate. The Mister Wright's Delights folder was empty now. Her inbox was empty, too. Not even any spam. Darn it. Susan clicked on the compose button.
FROM: Susan Cervini
TO: Mrwrightsdelights@gobbledygroups.com
SUBJECT: Concert Schedule?
Hi,
I'm a new Mister Wright fan. My cousin sent me his latest CD. I've lost touch with her and am hoping that I might find her at a concert. Can someone please tell me when and where the next concert is and where I might find a listing of his tour dates?
Thank you,
Susan
Susan read it over and hit send.
* * * *
Worn out from vomiting, Johnny slumped zombie-like in front of his fifty-two inch high definition digital television. Watching New Zealand tennis, back and forth, back and forth, became unbearable on his throbbing head. He closed his eyes. Johnny didn't hear the doorbell, but the incessant pounding propelled him through the house. He yanked his red front door open. "Go away!"
"Well, Happy Hanukkah to you too, Newman." Lieutenant Rainbeaux Van Dyke's bright white teeth sparkled in the night.
"I'm not Jewish."
"I'm very sorry to hear that. Me, neither, but I do have the spirit of joy and sisterhood and thankfulness." She shoved her way in and closed the door.
Johnny snorted at his supervisor's invasion of his domicile.
Rainbeaux sauntered into his family room and removed her pink, orange and red striped scarf, matching hat, and mittens. She laid them on the black leather media sectional, a soft V-shaped reclining snack couch. "So, you like tennis?"
"So." Johnny rubbed his temples as he watched her slim dark fingers unbuttoning the black buttons embossed with anchors, on her red pea coat. She dropped it on top of her accessories and peered in the mirror over the fireplace, adjusting her golden dyed braids.
Rainbeaux bent down and picked up a bottle of sloe gin. It had been lying on its side, dribbling out onto the builders' standard off-white carpeting. "So, what's this all about?"
He plopped down on the couch, half on top of her coat.
She took the bottle into the kitchen, rinsed it out and left it on the polished black, granite counter top. She brought the yellow kitchen towel in and tried blotting up the stain. Rainbeaux glowered over at Johnny as she pressed the palms of her hands harder into the towel. "I ain't goin' nowhere with no mangy old drunkard. You go on up and shower and shave and put on some decent clothes."
Johnny stared at the tall, slender African-American woman kneeling on his rug. She had a great ass. Did they have a date? No, couldn't be. She never dated any of the guys from work.
"You haven't got a clue what we're doing, do ya?"
He sat there, looking mean and dumb.
"I've got an eight-foot Norway spruce strapped to the top of my Explorer. We're taking it to Cervini's widow, you imbecile."
He wondered how in the hell could he get out of this disaster.
"Come on, will you? My babysitter can only stay until ten. Now I went and chopped the darn conifer down, don't you dare wussy out on me in the ho-ho-ho delivery. Cervini was your best friend. What's wrong wit' 'chu, boy?"
He missed Brandon. None of this would have happened if Brandon hadn't died. His eyes welled up.
"Come along now." Rainbeaux yanked Johnny to his feet and started shoving him up the carpeted stairs. "I'll take you by your red head and scrub you down myself."
"Stop it! I'm goin', all right? You wait downstairs."
Rainbeaux turned him loose and smiled. Her cellular phone rang. "Rainbeaux here. Oh, hi, Peaches—hold on a minute." She placed her hand over the mouthpiece and hollered, "And use some soap!"
* * * *
Johnny begrudgingly showered. How could he have been so stupid? So stupid to think Susan was in love with him. The evening wasn't supposed to end like—end at all. If only she'd been in the living room when that song began. He visualized the scene. He'd ask her to dance. The moment their eyes met, their spirits would sear into a molten force. Long after the percussion faded, they would sway. He'd lean down and kiss her. She'd gasp and press her she-god body against his hard on. She'd whisper, "Make love to me, Johnny." He'd caress her clothes off and taste the first lick of Susan's smoldering fire...
Honking interrupted his fantasy. Johnny toweled off and snarled as he pushed his erection down into teal briefs. He peeked out the inexpensive almond mini blinds in his bedroom. In the glow of his post light, Johnny could see the vapors from the exhaust pipe of the Lieutenant's SUV. He pulled on a pair of jeans, socks, and his New York University sweatshirt, then ran downstairs. After slipping into his black boots, he stuffed his wallet, keys, and pocket change into his bomber jacket pockets. He made sure the front door was locked. Johnny could smell the fresh cut spruce as he climbed into the passenger seat of her custom painted pink urban assault vehicle.
As he strapped in, she shoved her hand to his mouth. He grabbed her arm and held it back.
"Take the aspirins. Wash 'em down with the caffeine. My momma's a nurse. She says it's the fastest way to cure a poundin' head."
He spotted a can of diet soda in the cup holder. Shoving the two bitter white pills into his mouth, he popped the top on the can. He washed them down with a big gulp of soda. Johnny felt a warm sensation in his loins.
Lt. Van Dyke said, "That button on the door adjusts the temp of the seat warmer. I've got it on high for ya."
* * * *
The doorbell rang. Bob zoomed through the house, sliding on his uncoordinated long puppy legs.
Susan checked the clock at bottom of her computer screen. It was eight fifty-two. She tip-toed down the hall in her penguin snuggle socks and then squinted into the peephole. She couldn't see a thing but blackness. Bob jumped up, scratching at the door.
"Stop it! Down boy, don't scratch the glass." Susan wrestled him to the oak floor. Uh-oh. Shoot. Why'd she have to speak? Now they knew she was home. She switched the porch light on and peeked out the curtain on the foyer window. She observed a Christmas tree and sighed. The do-gooders were at it again. She glared at a striped mitten pushing on the button as it ding-donged, ding-donged, ding-donged. Susan opened the door.
"Merry Christmas, Miz Cervini!" Lt. Van Dyke leaned her head around the side of the tree and smiled. She tried reaching for the storm door, but the Norway spruce was in the way. "Newman, you get outta that vehicle and get your seat-warmed butt up here and help."
Susan said, "Let me lock my puppy up and I'll give you a hand."
When she came back, Johnny was holding the storm door open as Lt. Van Dyke tugged the tree inside. The lieutenant positioned herself in front of it and carried it on her back, into the living room. "Where would you like it, sweetness?"
"Um...we...just in front of the bay window will be fine."
She was facing another Christmas without Brandon. She wished the sadness would go away. Susan put on her company face. "I didn't know you were coming, you shouldn't have, really."
"Miz Cervini, this is from all of us at Engine Ten—Ladder Ten. Please accept it in the spirit of love for our fallen brother."
"Thank you."
The Lieutenant propped the tree against the unlit fireplace. She walked back down the hall and stuck her head out the door. "Newman, get in here."
Susan called out, "Would you like some hot chocolate or coffee? I have orange and spice tea."
Lt. Van Dyke said, "Hot chocolate, please. Where's your tree stand?"
"It's in the basement, under the stairs. I'll put the kettle on and—"
Johnny stomped in and said, "I'll get it."
The Lieutenant marched into the kitchen and immediately climbed into Bob's playpen. He leapt up and licked her and tugged at her scarf.
Susan said, "Bob! No jump! No jump!"
"Oh, don't you worry none, I've got one of these at home. A Chocolate Lab. Keisha."
"How old is she?"
"Old 'nuff to know how to behave. She's such a little so and so."
"Will you watch the kettle while I put on some Christmas music?"
The Lieutenant nodded and giggled as Bob pulled her down.
"Thanks so much, Lieutenant Van Dyke."
"Rainbeaux—call me Rainbeaux, sweetness."
* * * *
Susan was rifling through her CD tower when Johnny burst into the living room. He dumped the red and green metal stand out of the ripped cardboard box. It made a metallic thud on the hardwood floor.
Susan's shoulders involuntarily cringed. She hoped he didn't scratch the floor and the paint didn't chip off the pretty stand. She popped in a traditional Christmas CD and it began playing automatically. "Want some help?"
"No." He didn't look at her.
Something was up with Johnny. Susan had never seen him acting so nasty. Was he really that livid because he'd caught her reading e-mail? It didn't make sense. A friend would be irritated and tell her so and then get over it. Why couldn't Johnny get past her one mistake? Maybe he didn't get along with the lieutenant?
Hearing the whistling kettle, Susan trotted back into the kitchen. Lt. Van Dyke had emptied three packets of instant hot chocolate with little hard marshmallows into mugs: cerulean blue, clover green, and clay orange. She was pouring the steaming water.
Susan pulled a spoon out of the cutlery drawer and stirred each beverage. "Thanks—Rainbeaux."
"Hey, who's that on your 'puter?"
"Oh, it's Mister Wright."
The girls carried their cups over to the desk.
"It's a screensaver one of his fans e-mailed me."
Rainbeaux sat in the desk chair. "Mister Wright is Right. Hey, you got his latest CD?"
"Yes, my cousin sent it to me."
Rainbeaux said, "Track three, track three! They should've released that one for a single, don't ya think?"
"Oh, it's so beautiful and catchy! I just love the guitar riff," Susan said.
Rainbeaux purred, "Oh, my goodness! Look what he's got in his pocket! Now that is one white man hung like a brother!"
Johnny barged in and started flinging open cabinets.
Susan asked, "What do you need?"
"A pitcher or somethin' to water the tree with."
"Under the island, on the left."
He yanked a green pitcher out. His foot helped the cabinet door slam shut.
Susan cringed again. Something was really bothering him.
Johnny filled the container with water. He shook his head at the two women drooling over the computer and left the room.
Rainbeaux said, "Oh, look at the time! I've gotta get home to my 'lil girl."
"How old is she?"
"Six, goin' on forty."
"Oh, my. She sounds like a handful."
"Oh, my Momma say she wished her on me. Quiana is 'zactly the headache I was."
Susan grinned. "Thanks so much for the tree."
"My honor, sweetness." A book on the island caught Rainbeaux's eye. "Hey! This is out already? I read the first three chapters online."
"Me, too! Isn't that a great website?"
"Say, what's your e-mail addy, Miz Cervini? I think we got some note comparin' and sharin' to do."
Susan wrote it down on an index card and handed it to Rainbeaux, then followed her to the door.
Johnny was already in the vehicle.