Chocolate Kisses Ch. 01

"John, he's five, Mary Lizbeth, she's four and Glory, she's the baby and just one." And the cutest little girl she'd ever seen but, of course, she was prejudiced, she was her loving aunt.

It was getting dark outside and a late fall chill began to seep into the house as the coastal fog came ashore. So much, she thought, for a nice day outside.

"Would you please close the windows here and upstairs and I'll get the furnace going." He stood up and flicked on the lights as if the miracle of electricity was no amazing feat.

Bethany Rose went around the house, using the opportunity to explore each room as she went around the house. Everything downstairs was as he described it and her curiosity satisfied, she went upstairs and started closing the bedroom windows there.

One room seemed to be locked and no matter how hard she rattled the knob, it wouldn't open. It was like those scary rooms in the murder mysteries she saved up to buy. It was the one vice she could afford.

"It stays locked. Please leave it alone."

She almost jumped out of her shoes. How was he able to walk up behind her and not make a sound? And they called colored people 'spooks.' He was a ghost, himself.

His demeanor had changed. There seemed to be a scowl on his face, now and then he said, "It's been a long day, why don't we turn in? Good night, Bethany Rose."

He left her standing in the hallway, went into his own bedroom and closed the door. Whatever she had thought would happen, she ashamedly admitted to herself, was wrong.

There was something in that room, something so dark he wanted nothing to do with it. She knew that much and swore to stay away from it.

Her bed, naturally, had not been made and she found clean sheets in the closet along with enough blankets to keep ten people warm. Not expecting to stay overnight, she had no clothes other than what she had worn during the day and was going to sleep without when there was a quiet knock on the door.

Damn it! She knew she had been right! What to do? What to do? Open the door and invite him in or open the door and run?

"Yes?" She walked over to the door, putting one hand against it.

"I realized you didn't have any night clothes so I brought these."

She opened the door and he gave her an evening robe and a filmy, pink negligee.

"Good night, I'm sorry I snapped at you. Someday, maybe, I'll explain." He turned and went back to his room, closing the door with a finality she heard all the way down the hallway.

She looked at the unfolded negligee in shock. Putting it on would be more erotic than if she just slept in the nude. Oh, my God, she wondered, just where did this come from?

Wednesday morning, December 9th, 1931

He awoke with a sore head. What time was it, anyway? And, what's that smell? Pancakes? He groggily slipped on his robe and slowly headed downstairs to the kitchen. He was greeted by a table set for breakfast, hot coffee on the stove and a glass of orange juice. Orange juice? He didn't remember having any orange juice in the house.

She smiled at him, wearing the robe tightly wrapped over her borrowed negligee. "I hope it was all right, I picked some from the trees outside. Are you ready to eat now, James?"

"Uh, yes, Miss uhh... Bethany, thank you."

He sat down and while he drank the orange juice, she poured him an incredible, hot cup of coffee, much better than any he had burnt himself and then she took the pan of pancakes out of the oven, put the cakes onto a serving plate and brought it to the table.

Breakfast was eaten nervously, it seemed, more for him than her. He knew what she was wearing under that robe, or more to the point, what she wasn't wearing under that robe.

What was worse, that knowledge caused his arousal to be quite obvious to himself. He knew what he was looking at and did his best to scoot under the table to hide an almost painful erection, he was so hard. The robe, while not tight like a pair of pants, did nothing to control his erection seeking to find its way out.

Since his loss, he hadn't even tried to have another woman, as easy as they were to get due to the collapsed economy. There was that Susan at the store, always dropping hints, wanting to get laid, probably wanting to get married.

Bethany Rose seemed amused he was so cautious with whatever he said.

It was almost as if he is trying to please her while her job was to please him. Well, she thought, that could be interpreted in so many different ways. What would Eliza think if she could only see her now?

They cleared the table together. As she washed and he dried, there were memories of what had been for him and might have been for her; it made her feel like she was the man's wife more than his housekeeper, a dangerous thought for her. What an impossible domestic scene that was, white man, colored girl...

She shook her head clear of those thoughts. He was her employer, that's all. Dreaming will just lead to heartbreak and a life of misery... for both of them, but especially for her. It would come to no good.

After the last dish was put away, she said, "I have to go and get my clothes from my sister; I wasn't expecting to live here. Do you go to church?" Why on earth did she ask him that?

That caught him off guard.

She couldn't know.

For the last four years, Sunday was just another day and his anger toward God refused to leave his heart no matter what stupid platitudes the minister had tried to tell him... God wanted them in heaven. What stupidity! If God was eternal, he couldn't wait an extra eighty years or so? What about him, left behind? And why with such violence?

"Not since... no, not in a while. We can go when you're ready. Do you... never mind."

The almost unknown luxury of a full stomach, how she felt when she was with him and now a hot shower were too much and Bethany Rose began to cry, her tears mixing with the water splashing on her body as she leaned back against the wet light-blue tiles, trying not to slip down onto the bottom of the tub but finally sinking down into the water.

What a chance God had given her.

Several hours later, James and Bethany Rose arrived at her sister's weather-beaten house near the Venice oil fields. Across the way were the last canals still filled with stinking, oily water. He doubted the house had ever seen better days and imagined it springing to life already falling apart.

He saw the colored boys staring at him as he got out of his car. There were only a few of them, but...

Bethany Rose didn't wait for him and walked right in. He slowly followed her, keeping an eye on his car and admittedly was both unsettled and embarrassed. Even the poorest white people he knew had a better home and yet, this impossibly humble house was as neat and clean as possible.

He was Scrooge before the first ghost's visit and only now beginning to understand what living on the other side of the tracks actually meant. The chasm between white and colored was never greater than what lay before him.

As the two sisters were packing Bethany Rose's clothes into his car, he began looking in the kitchen to see what had been delivered the night before. All he found were a few dented cans and a patched bag of flour.

He felt his anger rising. The grocery manager had sent unsellable food to the woman and not very much of it, either. 'God damn it,' he thought. What good he tried to do was ruined and left a sour taste in his mouth.

Just in case he was wrong, he searched every cupboard seeking the food that should have been there. "Where was the goddamn food?" he said to himself.

"Miss Eliza, would you mind showing me the groceries that were sent over yesterday?"

The bewilderment on her face told him the unacceptable truth. No food had arrived at all. No food at all. Son of a bitch!

"Mr. Ewart, sir, there was no food sent here." He had to hear it to make it real.

"Excuse me, ma'am. I would speak with Miss Bethany, alone."

Bethany Rose is right, Eliza felt, this was one strange white man, acting like she was some kind of a lady.

James took his new housekeeper outside to the meager shade of a few eucalyptus trees. He saw more and more colored boys gathering across the way; there must have been at fifteen, now. "Ah, shit, what do they want?'"

He leaned against a tree to subtly make sure his automatic was in his belt where he thought it was. He only had the one clip.

"Miss Bethany, that was the correct address, last night? Please, say you made a mistake..."

She looked around and decided to take no chances; calling him anything but 'sir' would be a disaster.

"Yes, sir, it is. Maybe..." She was desperate for a reason. She, too, noticed the ever growing crowd and became nervous. Not for herself but for him. If something did happen, it wouldn't be good. It was time for a prayer and yet she couldn't find the words.

"Maybe, what, Bethany Rose? Maybe, they delivered it to the wrong house? Or, maybe, they didn't deliver it at all?" He watched the restless crowd just fifty feet away. It was time to go.

"It's not my place, sir. Please, sir, keep your voice down. I don't like what I see across the way. Those aren't boys that live around here, I don't know who they are."

"Don't tell me that, Bethany Rose. You're an intelligent woman. Let's not pretend, shall we?" He kept one eye on her and one on the crowd. It was time to go.

"Keep your voice, down, James. There's going to be trouble." She looked him in the face but then looked down onto the ground.

"I thought so. Listen, Bethany Rose, I expect you to speak your mind when I ask you something. Well, you know what I mean..."

Now, it was his turn to embarrassedly look downward. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me. I honestly don't know why I'm speaking to you like this."

His eyes begged her forgiveness.

Every moment she was with him, Bethany Rose was more and more confused. Was this man... why was this man... if only she knew what was really going on. 'If I were a white woman,' she thought, 'it would be obvious what his intentions are, but I'm... not.'

"Look, James," she whispered, "we have to leave before something starts. I'm getting afraid for you."

That made him scared. Not for himself, he had been in the Escadrille but for her because if his gun came out, it was coming out shooting, no questions asked.

"Your sister own this..." 'Piece of shit,' he almost said.

"No, sir. She rents it for a dollar a week."

Why were they still talking? It was time to leave... maybe the time to leave had already passed and now it was too late. He couldn't seem to hurry up, trapped by the poverty before him.

Staring at the building, he was thinking it was a huge waste of a dollar. The surrounding houses weren't much better. Ever since the 'Crash,' as everyone was now calling it, the coloreds had become more and more marginalized into less and less desirable neighborhoods and gangs of desperate boys preyed on both white and colored alike.

"Do you... would you consider... I mean, would you allow them to come live with me? I'll share my room and the children will be quiet, I promise, and she could help me... whatever you decide, I'll accept but we've got to leave, James."

Her voice disappeared and she wondered if she had crossed the line with him. As nice a man as he seemed to be, taking in another four people, four people not related to him, four colored people...

He never told her what her wages would be. She had been happy just to have some good food and a decent place to live. She was now worried he must think that she was a pushy colored girl; there were enough of them around to make anyone prejudiced. It was time to go.

He wasn't going to tell her he was going to ask her the same thing. He had to draw the line with her somewhere before she would control his life just by looking at him, so strongly she affected him with just a look. He wasn't a wimp; he was besotted with her.

He dug his polished shoe into the sandy soil. It was time to go.

"Well, Miss Bethany, I don't..." He kept looking at the boys across the dirt road and inched his gun out of his belt. It was time to go.

Bethany Rose gave him the saddest look she could make while she was trying to get him to hurry up, whatever they were going to do. The time was probably long past. "We've got to get out of here."

"Oh, all right, but I do need a quiet evening." As soon as he said it, he knew he was lying. He missed the sound of children in the house. It was time to go.

"Yes, oh, thank you, thank you." She ran into the house. "Eliza, Eliza!"

He moved closer to the car and slowly brought his gun around against his leg and chambered a round. It really was time to go.

On the crowded ride home, he knew the two had conspired while they were gathering Bethany Rose's clothes. And, for once, he didn't care at all that two women thought they got the best of him. He knew he had to get them all out of there as soon as he saw what squalor the house was surrounded with. He knew he was getting the better of the deal, even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone, least of all, himself.

Watching Bethany Rose sit next to him on the front seat, that was thanks enough. He knew who really was better off.

After dropping them off at the house, he drove over to the El Segundo supermarket.

Secretly, he was glad they left when they finally did. He didn't stomach the idea of killing anyone again; enough of that had been done in the skies over Northern France. Sixteen men he had personally sent to a fiery death miles below the gray clouds.

Even though he was scheduled to work, Bill was nowhere to be found.

"Susan, where's Bill?" If he found that guy in the mood he was in, there was going to be hell to pay. He already was flying high, back among the clouds, looking for someone to kill. He could taste blood.

The assistant manager nodded her head toward the upstairs office. There was a bit of fear and a lot of disgust in her eyes. She followed just to watch the coming confrontation between the young war hero and the pompous old store manager. This would finally make the entire day worthwhile.

James took the stairs two at a time, he was so angry. He was still high on adrenalin from the confrontation that did occur in Venice. Fortunately, two shots close to their heads was enough to set them off running. He knew they were never going back.

The office door was locked. He could hear a man's voice grunting and a girl's voice moaning and the thud of furniture pushing against the floor. He was so dead!

He kicked the door open to find the Bill, his pants around his ankles and his sorry ass hanging out, pounding into a girl bent over his desk. He was so caught up he continued even while James walked in.

"Wait a minute, you have no..."

Neither man saw Susan standing in the hallway, her hand over her mouth. A satisfied smile was forming on her face as the young owner grabbed Bill.

"... you're fired. Get the hell out now, you thieving, miserable son of a ..."

"You can't fire me! I'm in the..."

He never finished as James's right fist smashed into his nose, crushing it and then another blow to the face broke his jaw.

James grabbed his hand. "Damn it!" He knew better than to hit someone in the face with his fist and yet, he did it anyway. It felt so good and so painful all at the same time. Son of a bitch!

The moaning man fell to the floor in the middle of the room, it was shriveled and hanging pathetically from his crotch, his pants wrapped around his shoes.

James turned his attention to the woman still face down on the desk, her uniform and slip on the floor between her legs.

"Make it quick, what's your excuse?"

"He told me he'd fire me. I'm sorry, but I need this job. Who are you?" She refused to look at him, ashamed at what she had done.

"Never mind about that. Are you willing to testify to that?"

"Will I have to? What about my husband? Oh, Jesus..."

"Only if you want to keep working here... well?" He knew things weren't that simple, though. Nothing ever is.

She wiped her face with her sleeve. "Yeah, I'll testify against the bastard... I told him it was the wrong time of the month. He's probably knocked me up. My husband is going to kill me."

James thought it over. There was nothing to be gained by having her testify about the rape. Bill would just say it was consensual. "Sit down, then. Don't touch anything. I'll see what I can do." He picked up the phone and called the police, telling them that there had been theft at the store and that Bill had done it.

The police easily arrested Bill who was still crying on the floor, holding the shattered bones of his jaw together with his hand. They were so disgusted they dragged him out of the store, his pants still hanging from his shoes.

"Susan, talk to her, calm her down. We've got to figure something out for her. She's right, her husband will probably leave her."

What had started out as such a simple Sunday morning had quickly turned into a series of maddening incidents, one after another. All this because he wanted to go see the oil fields... James shook his head, wondering how things got so out of hand in such a short time.

At least he found Bethany Rose.

"Mr. Ewart, I know a doctor that..." What would she tell him, that she knew an abortionist? It was better left unsaid.

"All right, talk to her and make sure that's really what she wants to do or maybe pass it off as her husband's. I guess, in this case, what he doesn't know won't kill him. If she wants, you go with her.

"Susan, you're the new manager. We'll talk about it later and if that girl comes back from the doctor, keep her up front where you can keep an eye on her, just in case.

"I'm going to take a couple of guys from the back to make a delivery. They'll be back in about two hours, I think." It was time to get out of there before something else happened, crazy damn day.

He walked back into the warehouse and soon had everything he could think of packed up to send to the house.

"I'll be by in the morning... I want to talk with everyone at once so there are no misunderstandings. If necessary, keep the store closed until we're done, put up a sign saying we won't open until nine o'clock.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Susan could see his agitation as he almost seemed to bounce on his feet without moving an inch. She noticed his hand was swelling.

"Mr. Ewart, wait, your hand needs some help. Joey, get some ice from the meat department. Hurry up!"

As she wrapped his hand with a clean towel and ice, he could feel the sting.

"Ah, Jesus, that hurts!" 'Why expect anything else? All that training forgotten in a moment of frustration.'

"I think you broke a knuckle or two, maybe, on his thick skull. I'll have Sam drive you home."

They were almost out the door when he remembered they needed baby stuff.

"Susan! I need some help, here, please."

Susan wondered why he needed baby diapers and clothes. What had happened when she wasn't looking? Did some other woman snare him? Now what was she going to do? She had almost laid down and invited him in but he never seemed to grasp her intimations.

"Take the truck around the back and you'll find the kitchen there. Put everything where the housekeeper tells you... and be polite." 'Damn well better be...'

The three men unloaded the truck quickly and were surprised when he gave each of them five dollars. It was an unexpected, simple gesture that seemed to calm him down. He needed to calm down before he did something stupid in front of the two girls...

"Do you want me to pick you up, tomorrow morning, Mr. Ewart?" asked Sam. Driving the man's light gray car was suddenly the highlight of his life. He never thought he'd be behind the wheel of such a magnificent machine.

"Thanks, Sam, but I think I'll be all right. If not, I'll let you know."