An Untitled Love Read online

  “Jacquetta....that was frickin’ awesome!” he huskily worded while still sprawled out in the chair, his right knee bent, his left leg extended. “I love you so much....” he said with a weak voice.

  “I love you too Orlando, now come on to bed,” she smiled at him.

  “Okay,” he said sheepishly. His legs felt like limp noodles as he rose, bringing the soiled washcloth to the hamper. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to sleep a whole lot better tonight.

  Chapter 11- Good Morning

  THE SMELL OF COFFEE brewing and the sound of sausages sizzling pulled Jacquetta out of a groggy sleep towards the kitchen. Orlando fully dressed, standing over the stove, with his face almost glowing as he turned over the sausage patties in the pan. He took a carton of eggs from the fridge, along with heavy cream, cheese, scallions and mushrooms. Jacquetta said nothing as she watched him break the eggs and beat them in a bowl with some of the heavy cream. He poured the concoction into a second pan on the stove burner while tossing in the other ingredients. The man was humming as he scrambled the eggs in the pan. A new found happiness emitted from him which was nearly tangible as he began to plate the breakfast. He looked up to find her standing there watching him.

  She asked him, “Is it possible to get a cup of whatever it is that you are feeling while you are cooking those eggs?”

  He winked at her. “You can have as much of this as you’d like. This morning, let’s just start with some coffee and breakfast.”

  The plates were brought to the table as she joined him. Furtive glances were shared between them until he finally broke the silence, “I don’t care where you learned how to do that thing you did last night, nor do I want to know, but promise me that when I am a good boy, you will do it for me again.”

  Jacquetta nearly choked on her coffee. “Funny, when you are a good boy...funny....”

  “I mean seriously, any time I come home with jewelry, flowers, or I cook dinner, works pretty damned well for me too. I tell you...I ...wow.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Thank you. I will cherish that gift you shared with me.”

  “And I got breakfast out of the deal as well,” she said over the mug of steamy hot coffee.

  “No, I feel guilty because I forgot to tell you I have to work today. I am off tomorrow and Monday, which are my normal free days,” he said as he forked eggs into his mouth.

  “I take it the hardware store is pretty close by?” she wanted to know.

  “Yes, out the front door, take a left, go down four blocks to Main, make a right, come up two blocks and you can’t miss it.”

  “Okay, it’s not a problem. I have a lot to unpack, wash and get put away today, so I will be fine. This is a lovely home. I am so happy all the furniture goes really well with the house,” she told him.

  “Yeah, everything seems to be falling into place.” Orlando looked down at his watch. “Ooh, I gotta run. Tomorrow, let’s talk honeymoon, your car, and details okay?”

  “Sure,” she said to him.

  He kissed her on the forehead again. “I will be home about sixish. The number to the store is on the wall calendar. I have my cell too.”

  “I will be fine. Go... make that money,” she told him as she swatted him on his bum.

  He made it to the front door before looking back at her. “I am so glad you are here.”

  Her response was honest, “I’m glad I am here too.”

  “See ya later,” he told her.

  “I’ll be here,” she responded.

  Alone.

  She sat at the table long after she finished her breakfast. A second cup of coffee was in order as she looked about the one level craftsman home. The rugs she laid last night really warmed up the space and if there were some color added to accent walls, the house would be a real showstopper.

  Our home.

  It didn’t take her long to wash up the few dishes left over from breakfast, shower, do a couple loads of laundry and remake the beds with her nice linens. Her grandmother’s eyelet sham was used in the guest room on her old bed along with a pretty mint green matelassé coverlet. She snapped a picture of the coverlet to get a quart of paint for the wall behind the bed.

  Next she moved to the master bedroom. The whole room smelled like dude. She checked the hamper and nothing much was in it. The bathroom held no sour towels or damp bath mats, but it had a funk to it that she didn’t care to live with. In the box labeled bedroom, she found some candles that she placed on the bureau and lit. Within minutes a warm aroma filled the room which also filled her with a new sensation.

  Longing.

  Her body wanted...needed...craved....my husband?

  That’s a weird feeling.

  Even stranger, she had a need to see him.

  Her bicycle leaned against the back porch from where Christopher had perched it last night. It had a nice sized basket on the handlebars and rack above the back tire. She would use it to go for a ride down to Flynn’s Hardware. Jacquetta blew out the candles in the bedroom. Quickly she ran down the hall and checked the fridge to get a bottle of water where she found his lunch bag. Her set of house keys hung on the hook by the back door, which she grabbed along with Orlando’s lunch that she tossed into the basket, and off she pedaled. She rode past two-level craftsman homes. She rode by ranch styled homes. The yards were meticulously groomed with colored rocks, colored mulch and vibrant colorful flowers. Four blocks down the sidewalk she pedaled, waving at neighbors on porches who waved back to her. Several even stopped her to ask who she was and where she was headed. They were pleasant people who were kind and welcoming to her as she bid them farewell and continued towards the store. At the corner of Sycamore and Main, she made a right and bicycled up the road until she spotted the building.

  It looked exactly like a Norman Rockwell painting of any hardware store in small town Americana. The building even had a cigar Indian out front along with colorful flags, flowers, and piles of fertilizer for sale. Busy people were coming and going from the building with smiling faces and little brown bags of goodies to do home repairs and projects. Jacquetta needed a padlock for her studio, paint for the master bath, and that mint green paint for the accent wall in the guest bedroom.

  That can be done on Tuesday.

  I can paint the bathroom on Wednesday.

  Maybe paint an accent wall in the master bedroom on Thursday.

  I am thinking of tiling the backsplash in the kitchen.

  Oh dear God, I am nesting.

  A grin covered her face as she pushed open the door of Flynn Hardware and stepped inside with her husband’s lunch in her hand. Jacquetta was greeted by a really tall, well built, good-looking black man.

  “Hey there. I’m Rodney, what can I help you find today?”

  Jacquetta shared with him the list of items she needed. As they walked and talked, it occurred to her that Rodney was trying to ask her out. Her ring finger was shielded by Orlando’s lunch bag.

  “There isn’t much to do in Venture, but there are some nice jazz clubs and restaurants in Valdosta," he said as he showed her padlocks for the shed.

  “Thank you, I will keep that in mind,” she told him.

  Rodney had a 100-watt smile. That body of his had muscles on top of muscles and a nice tapered waist, if a girl was into that kind of thing. He moved a step closer as Jacquetta moved a step back. “I am trying to ask you out Ms....”

  She didn’t smile at him. “I understand. However, I am taken and it is Mrs...” She held up her ring finger.

  He was not giving up. “Mrs...can I get your name?”

  This is where she did give him a small smile as Harlan came around the corner. “I am Jacquetta,” she told him as she offered a handshake. “Jacquetta Flynn.”

  The look of surprise on his face only multiplied exponentially as she called out to Harlan, “Hey Dad! How are you doing today?”

  Harlan reacted as if he had been hit in the ass with a cattle prod. His back went rigid as beet red color crept up his neck. The sound of her voice brought Orlando around the corner as well, grinning as he embraced his wife, planting a sloppy wet kiss on her cheek.

  “Stop teasing my dad ‘Quetta,” he told her.

  “Well, at some point he will have to get used to having a Negro daughter-in-law,” she said with a chuckle.

  Orlando wasn’t as amused as he focused in on Rodney, who was still standing there staring. “Rodney, were you hitting on my wife?” The man started stuttering. “I have told you more than once, stop hitting on the female customers. If they are interested in you let them make the first move. You are going to get me sued!”

  He turned his attention to Jacquetta. “What do I owe the honor of this visit from my beautiful wife?”

  She held up the lunch bag. “You forgot your lunch.”

  “You rode your bike all the way down here to bring me my lunch?”

  “That...and you forgot to properly kiss me before you left this morning,” she said as she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.

  “Oh, I can fix that quick, fast and in a hurry,” he said as he lowered his head. His lips touched hers and a spark ran down her right leg making it twitch. Orlando pulled her closer to him to where she could feel all the maleness of him against her body. A body that was heating up and responding.

  She opened her mouth a little as his tongue slipped inside, toying playfully with her own, and then he stopped. In her ear he whispered, “It would seem as if somebody is getting thirsty; but I’m not judging.” He said this with a twinkle in his eye.

  Her throat was dry as she pulled away from him, swallowing hard. She whispered back, “We are getting there. A few more kisses like that, and girl is gonna whip out a 10-gallon pitcher to drink her fill.”

  All eyes were still on them as he looked at his employees in the store. “I am certain we have customers who need some help.” He turned to his wife. “You, I will assist personally.”

  Jacquetta fanned herself with her paper note before she handed him her list on the index card. The pride which her husband exhibited in his family’s store was a wonder to her as she cooed and fawned over everything that he was excited to show her. In her mind, she was already repainting several of the walls with a fresh coat of white paint, adding a few murals of people using the products they bought in the store. As his wife, she also felt pride that her man was happy with his job and his life. She wanted to keep it that way, not only for him, but for herself as well.

  We both deserve some happiness.

  Chapter 12- Unrecognizable

  THE EARLY RAYS OF THE morning sun peeped through the curtains of the bedroom as Orlando rolled over to find himself alone in bed. He could smell the coffee brewing in the kitchen but didn’t hear any meat being cooked. Initially when he had awakened, he was uncertain where he was because everything smelled so different. Even the odd smell in the bathroom was gone.

  He arrived home from work last night to find a lot of small touches added to the house. The beds had been made-over with new linens and he could feel the difference in the sheeting. The master bath had new rugs and shower curtains and touches to it that weren’t too girly or too masculine, but a shared space of two people. He liked sharing space with Jacquetta.

  My wife.

  Last night, she only woke once. She was in a cold sweat again, but he only laid his hand across her abdomen to calm her, and soon she fell back to sleep. He understood the night terrors. Those he understood all too well. What bothered him about hers was that she still had not spoken about what happened to her on day 3 of her captivity.

  She will tell me when she is ready.

  Wearing his pajamas, he strolled down the hall to the kitchen to find her out back with a cup of coffee, potting a plant. Instead of bothering her, he went out the front door, morning cup of coffee in hand to get the Sunday paper. Mrs. Marvin was on her way to church as she threw up her hand to wave to him.

  “Morning Orlando. Nice to see you in some clothes! Say howdy to ‘Quetta for me and let her know to get those bulbs I gave her in the ground as soon as possible,” she said loudly.

  The neighbor who lived to the left of them was Guy Pearson. He was an all-around asshole that rode on Orlando’s last nerve. If there was ever a living example of a Grinch, that man was the personification of Grinchdom. He raised his hand and waved to Orlando.

  Orlando looked over his shoulder to see if Guy was waving at someone else. Then Guy waved again. This time beckoning Orlando to come over.

  Again, Orlando looked over his shoulder to make sure the crotchety bastard was talking to him. “I’m talking to you Dingleberry! Get over here!” Guy yelled at him.

  He had not put on any slippers when he came out to get the paper, his feet were bare as he made his way across the thick Bermuda grass to the property line where Guy’s brown grass started. “Hey, those lamb chops ‘Quetta cooked last night were fantastic. You are luckier than you need to be you little butt smear, but that wife of yours...hubba hubba! And she can cook too!” He handed Orlando a ten dollar bill.

  Orlando was too stunned to even respond to the man.

  Guy waved him off. “Give that to my ‘Quetta and tell her I said thank you. I am feeling much better,” Guy said as he made his way back to his porch. “Don’t think that this makes me like you any more since you married up, dickhead! I do like that wife of yours, though. Maybe she can talk your weird ass into keeping on some clothes or hanging some curtains. I get sick of seeing your naked buttocks every time I go to look out my window....”

  He was still mumbling as he walked away.

  Confused and uncertain of what just happened, he looked down the street. Neighbors who saw him every day but never spoke, were waving to him as they headed off to church or to start their Sunday morning.

  What in the hell?

  “How does everybody on this street seem to know you?” he asked his wife as he came around the backside of the house.

  “A black lady riding a bike through the neighborhood catches people’s attention. I stopped, introduced myself, and everybody wanted to know the same thing,” she said. He waited for her to continue. “They wanted to know if I would be successful at getting you to put on some clothes.”

  He watched her with interest as she opened the back door to let herself in the house and pour herself a second cup of coffee. Jacquetta removed the smock she wore to pot the plants and hung it in the laundry room. She scrubbed her hands and under her nails in the utility sink as he stood there staring at her.

  “Let’s try this again. Good morning,” she said as she walked over to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m not really a breakfast person. Coffee, peanut butter toast and a banana can carry me for the morning, but I made some oatmeal. Here have a bowl. I cut up an apple, added some raisins, walnuts and brown sugar.”

  The plant she had potted outside now sat in the middle of the kitchen table. He noticed the other plants in the house as well. There was even one by his Big Daddy chair that also had a new cushion in it. “What’s with the cushion?”

  “That’s for your naked butt. If we have company and someone else has to sit in the chair, I can remove the cushion and no one will be subjected to your ass spores,” she said with a grin.

  “Funny...really funny,” he said as he looked at the healthy bowl of mush.

  I don’t want this crap.

  I want some meat and eggs....

  As if she read his mind. “Your body will appreciate not having greasy fried meats and cheese-loaded eggs every day. Besides, you don’t want to have a coronary and leave all of this sexy to be cared for by Rodney.”

  He wasn’t smiling. “Yeah, I knew he was hitting on you! I am going to fire him.”

  “Oh stop it. He didn’t know who I was until I told him,” she said as she encouraged him to eat his breakfast. “What is the plan for today?”

  He spooned in a mouthful of oatmeal and swallowed, frowning as the slimy, mushy grains slid down his throat. “I normally go over to my parents for Sunday dinner. Me, my brothers and Dad watch a game, or work on a project or something like that...I cut the grass in the afternoon before going over. That’s it.”

  “Okay, and the normal plan for Monday’s...”

  “I sleep in, then meet my buddies for afternoon golf. I have a tee time at 2 pm,” he told her.

  “Okay, so that leaves me Sunday’s... anything before grass cutting and your parents, and the time slot on Monday before 1:30...” she said aloud as she made a note in her Happy Planner.

  “When you say it like that...” he mumbled.

  “Like what Orlando? I can’t show up and change everything in your life. You need downtime as well. If Sunday dinner at your folks is always on the schedule, then I need to call Mrs. Maggie Mae and find out what to bring. I was planning to bake a cake today anyway...,” she told him.

  “A cake would be great. My Ma makes great pies but she can’t cook a cake worth shit,” he said.

  That was all Jacquetta needed to hear. She turned on the stove and started pulling out the sugar, flour, eggs, butter, milk, baking soda and her fancy red mixer. He already had eggs and sugar since he seemed to live on the two items. The rest of the stuff his wife was pulling out to make the cake, he wasn’t sure where it came from.

  “When I left the hardware store I went over to Smollet’s Market to pick up a couple of things. I didn’t like their meats though, which is why I went to the butcher shop. Mr. Baldwin says ‘hello’. He gave me a great deal on those lamb chops we had last night,” she told him.

  Orlando watched with interest as she measured, poured, and set aside the flour. She began to cream the eggs and sugar, adding a bit of vanilla, and some other flavor into the mix.

  “You are making a cake from scratch?”

  “Well, not from scratch because I have everything I need to go in it,” she told him as she cracked the eggs allowing them to slide into the mixer.