Thunder & Roses

"I'm waiting…for something different…something more. There's got to be more…there's just got to be," she reasoned to her friends. "I want thunder…and…I want roses…. That's all."

~~

It seemed to her like every mother's son in the metropolitan area had chosen to drive to work on that early August morning. The traffic pattern in the direction of Reagan National was absolutely horrendous. Now, that was a very common occurrence when you brought Virginians, Marylanders, and Washingtonians together on the roadways, but it seemed even worse on that morning.

'Helter-skelter' was her "pet" term for it. You could almost liken it to biblical time and the building of the Tower of Babel. The great tower had risen steadily toward the heavens, a monument to man's brilliance and his defiance of God's power, until a sudden heaven-imposed difference of tongues halted its architects and builders. Confusion, frustration and chaos prevailed. Nobody knew which way was up, or at least, none could express it. Likewise, those driving the metropolitan DC highways and thoroughfares appeared to hold opposing interpretation of driving instruction as well as driving etiquette. And, likewise, confusion, frustration and chaos reigned.

In the end, the builders of Babel had simply walked away, leaving their massive edifice to crumble under the harsh desert winds. Their contemporary counterparts weren't that bright, and no matter how you added that up, it amounted to a catastrophe just waiting to happen.

Michelle Paquin watched in silent dismay from the backseat of a taxi. Car horns blared in almost constant unison around her, punctuation to the annoyance felt at the crawl of the morning commute. A sudden edginess even crept into her. She hadn't the benefit of a car horn, so she settled on the offering of a silent wish of relief for those so much less fortunate than herself. That kind of benevolence came easily. She was headed out of the city for a time.

The thirty-four year old, non-profit professional was in dire need of time qway from the front lines of battle. Even though it wasn't the vacation she truly needed, the short business trip was certainly going to give her ample opportunity to clear her head and recharge her batteries. Everything in her life had been on hold for nearly a year and a half. Not that it mattered much. There was little else in her life aside from her work that brought such validation of self and satisfaction.

She worked her way through the crawling mass of humanity in the airport terminal mindlessly, as if it were second nature to her. Her pretty eyes careened from scene after scene of tender farewells and long anticipated greetings between lovers. Her mind filled on cue with thoughts of how unsuccessful she had been in that part of her life, at the pursuit of love.

The truth of the matter was that when it came to love, she clung steadfastly to the values and the traditional vision of family she had been raised with. She was well aware that most of those values and traditions had long ago fallen by the wayside for the rest of the world around her. Sometimes she wished that she could shed them too. Things…her life…would have been so much easier. It wasn't that she didn't know how to be bad, although her experience was limited. She just didn't know how to do it, and live in peace with herself at the same time.

The men she'd met only gave her greater cause to cling stubbornly to her ideals and hopes for something and someone much better. She wanted so badly to fulfill her deepest desires, but only with the right man. It was so very frustrating, but mostly, it saddened her. Especially, at times like this.

She walked through the heavy door at the head of the enclosed flight ramp, and let out a tiny sigh of relief. In a little less than two hours, she would arrive in San Antonio. She tried incredibly hard not to think about anything else as the line of passengers inched slowly down the ramp toward the plane.

~~

Constantine Mann settled into a plush, spacious leather seat in First Class, and quickly opened his morning newspaper. That was his usual routine on early morning business flights. He would browse the headlines for a time, have a quick cup of tea, and then, he would try to grab a few needed winks before he reached his destination.

Mann was striking, and often times, people were startled at first glance. He was black, and very tall at just a tad over six-foot-six. His head was shaven cleanly to a bald shine, and he was built like a marble god. Even though he sat fully clothed in suit and tie, it was easy to imagine, to visualize, the hard chiseled physique beneath. He was often mistaken for a professional athlete. It always surprised people to learn that he was in fact a corporate executive. It was a very frequent mistake that people made in their initial estimation of him. He had come to understand it, and he had grown accustomed to it.

He was breathtakingly handsome. His milk chocolate skin was unblemished. His face was lined just enough to indicate maturity. He had recently celebrated his forty-sixth birthday, but he did not look a day older than thirty-five. Dark sober eyes could cut to the heart of any matter, and a broad easy smile exuded confidence and excitement at the same time. He was very bright, and very articulate. He was easy-going and nurturing in manner, but he could also be steadfast, single-minded, or tenacious when he was required to be.

His greatest assets were his infectious sense of humor, and his calm, consistent manner. Both had served him well in his meteoric rise to the top rung of his corporation's ladder. He had served at the helm of the communications conglomerate for more than ten years, and he had enjoyed every single moment--the successes, and the failures.

He had been married once, but it had ended disastrously. He let the corporate world take over from there, and in time, he'd forgotten her. He had dated frequently since his divorce, but he wasn't certain that he wanted to venture down the path of love a second time. An ex-wife becomes ancient history with enough time and enough practice, but the pain associated with losing love lingers on for a very long time.

Mann had just drifted off into restful sleep, when the pretty flight attendant tapped his shoulder gently. His eyes snapped open, and he raised his head lazily until he stared into the pretty, sympathetic face. The woman apologized politely for awakening him, informed him that the flight would arrive in the city of San Antonio shortly, and instructed him to fasten his seat belt for the landing.

The black executive nodded slightly, and complied. He took a deep breath, stretched, and stared out the small window into the stark white sunlight of morning. Somewhere below him was San Antonio, the River Walk City. He had always enjoyed his visits, and he was looking forward to this one.

*****

The limousine ride to the hotel was a short one, but it was long enough for Mann to check in with his office, get a sense of how things were going without his presence, and leave a few important instructions with his secretary. He got the sense that all was going well. That meant that he could focus solely on the business at hand. It also meant that he could consider the possibility of taking a little R&R once his business was completed. That was his intent.

The River Walk Hyatt was a mammoth stone and glass building, with cascading fountains and flowing streams running throughout its entire lobby, and smelled heavily of chlorine. It was always crowded with tourists or conference participants, or both, but Mann liked it because of its locale. It was right on the Walk where shops and restaurants were in abundance. It was also a very short distance from one of his most favorite historical sites, The Alamo. The primary reason that Texas was Texas at all.

Mann was quite a history buff, and a firm believer that knowledge of the past was key to understanding the future. He also held a profound appreciation for those throughout American history that had displayed heroism, and he greatly admired the courage, the conviction, and the daring deeds of the old mission's defenders in the face of certain death.

He stopped at the hotel desk, but was quickly en route to his room, with his own bags in tow. It wasn't that he was cheap, but he really didn't believe in asking others to do the things that he was perfectly capable of doing himself, even if it was their job. He handed a folded five-dollar bill to the bell cap that approached him pleasantly.

"I've got it, thanks," he winked, and moved on the elevators.

"Thank you, sir," the young bell cap smiled, and tucked the money in his pocket.

Mann entered the glass elevator after a short wait. He pressed the button for the tenth floor just moments before he heard the soft, but urgent call.

"Hold the elevator, please!"

He slung his garment bag into the path of the closing door, and it slid open again. He nodded politely at the tall slender woman who stepped into view. The woman responded with a very clear look of uneasiness, and a long moment of indecision. The black man pulled the bag back to his side calmly, and found a sober smile to offer.

"It's certainly big enough for the two of us," he said pleasantly after a few moments.

The woman flashed a sudden look of embarrassment. She stepped into the elevator almost immediately, dropping her eyes to the carpeted floor beneath her feet. Mann smiled ironically as the elevator door slid shut, and the car ascended smoothly.

He studied the woman silently. Her facial features were soft and delicate and dark. Expressive crystal-blue eyes stood out prominently on an appealing face. Shoulder-length brown hair framed that face perfectly. She stood nearly five feet-ten inches. Her bare legs were both slender and shapely, and very long. Her outward manner was very close to shy. Mann's eyes darted to the lighted panel above the elevator door and the floor numbers that flashed as the car rose, but inevitably, they were drawn back to her.

When the door opened on the tenth floor, the woman forced herself to move calmly for the exit. It took everything she had. Mann waited patiently, not wanting to upset the fragile balance of coexistence between them. It surprised him when she turned back to him.

"It's big enough for the two of us, don't you think?" she asked, practically imitating his calm demeanor.

Instead of duplicating her display of embarrassment, Mann laughed heartily. It was deep and it was genuine. It startled the woman, but she quickly decided that it was becoming.

"Indeed," he agreed with a hard nod.

He pushed away from the wall at the back of the elevator, and stepped out onto the floor. There was silence between them until the elevator doors closed, leaving them alone in the hallway. The pretty woman finally nodded a silent farewell.

"Likewise," Mann said softly.

She scolded herself briefly for the blunder she'd made on the ground floor, but she couldn't help being a little pleased with the recovery she'd made. It brought a tiny smile to her thin lips.

The attractive black man watched her for a moment. Finally, he nodded approval, and walked off in the opposite direction. He thought of first impressions. Most often, they were everything, but, then, there were those times when they didn't mean a damn thing at all. Their awkward encounter had been one of those times.

*****

The following morning brought the year's first heat wave, and it was nothing short of stifling. Mann didn't have a lot of time to think about it. A day of lengthy meetings kept him completely occupied. At the end of the day though, he was extremely pleased at how well business had gone. It was looking as if he would be able to wrap things up ahead of schedule, and have a little time to himself. That brought on thoughts of the pretty woman in the elevator.

The temperature didn't drop a single degree when the sun fell from the sky. The air was thick, hard to swallow, and no matter how very still you were, sweat trickled freely. It was one of those evenings when relief just wouldn't come. Mann took his meal alone on the patio of a River Walk cafe. The horrid weather had taken his appetite, so he settled for a simple salad and beer.

The patio was crowded. That was a usual occurrence on the River Walk. Mann had selected a small table at the back edge of the patio, one that availed him a clean view of the entire dining area. He was a real "people watcher" when he was alone. Tourists offered such interesting entertainment when they weren't aware that they were actually the center of attention.

He noticed the tall pretty woman almost immediately when she stepped onto the patio, and waited to be seated. She was dressed smartly in baggy khaki cargo shorts, a crisp white cotton shirt, and tan sandals. The handsome black man smiled at his good fortune, and watched her closely, taking in all that she so grudgingly revealed in those moments.

It was again clear to him that she felt self-conscious and uncomfortable, but perhaps that was caused by the unfamiliar surroundings. That wasn't so unusual, he thought. He studied deeper and discovered little things that he had missed during their first encounter. For instance, he recognized the subtle innocence in her demeanor. He also noticed that she worked at being inconspicuous. Even in casual dress, she had gone to great lengths to conceal herself from eyes that might be watching, and she had picked colors that no one would really notice. Most men missed those kinds of things about her. Mann looked deeper still, and quickly put his finger on the essence of her being. There was a certain splendor in woman who is built for, meant for motherhood. Therefore, marriage would be central in her thinking. The two most definitely went hand in hand, and he guessed with certainty that she was not the type to accept one without the other.

When she finally noticed him, he offered a cordial nod. The woman blinked hard, and finally smiled shyly. Mann beckoned her to join him. She was slow to accept his invitation, but, upon making her final decision, she snaked her way across the patio, and stopped before his table.

"Immersed in the vastness of uncertainty and unfamiliarity, and your first degree of comfort comes at the sight of a total stranger," Mann smiled easily. "…Will you join me?"

"Thank you," the pretty woman said, but remained where she stood. "I…I want to apologize for…the elevator…yesterday."

"Personally, I think you recovered quite well," the black man said with a slight chuckle that was friendly.

"Don't make fun of me," she pleaded quickly. "I'm being serious here."

"I can tell," Mann said in earnest, and let his smile dull away. "Look, it was just a moment. I wouldn't beat myself up over it."

"But, …it wasn't your mistake," she said flatly.

"All right, if it's that important to you, why don't we just begin again?" he offered.

The woman nodded slowly, and forced a tentative little smile. Still, she did not move from where she stood.

"Good," Mann grinned. "Now, we can begin as soon as you sit down."

The pretty woman managed a soft chuckle as she took the chair across from him. It was laced heavily with embarrassment or maybe frustration. Mann wasn't certain of which, but it came honestly, so he didn't mind. He guessed that she was a cautious woman, but she had not truly mastered the art of controlling her emotions. That meant that there would always be a level of honesty at the core of her actions and words.

The waiter came to the table right away. She ordered a small salad and beer indecisively. Mann intervened, asking for the café's best bottle of wine, cheese or fruit, and bread instead. The young waiter jotted it down and hurried off. He and the woman made small talk of sorts until the waiter returned with the platter of bread, cheese, wine and glasses. Mann watched her silently through the ritual of the wine sampling and pouring. When the young man walked away, he raised his glass in a silent toast, and took a sip from his glass. The woman did the same.

"I'm Michelle Paquin," she said, once she had placed her glass on the table again.

"Constantine Mann," the tall black man said with a grin.

"…Ok," she chuckled in a much more relaxed manner. "So, what do friends call you?"

"Conn," he replied quickly.

"Conn…?" she half-questioned, the hint of irony in her tone. "Conn Mann…? Now, that's a red flag for any god-fearing woman."

"It requires a little faith and a little trust, perhaps," Mann chuckled.

"Hmmmm," Michelle Paquin chimed, and focused in on him for the first time. "…I need you to understand about yesterday."

Mann nodded and looked down to his wineglass.

"I understand that I made you very nervous, very uneasy," he replied softly.

"Men in general make me nervous and uneasy," she said seriously. "It's not just you. …I will admit that you caught me by surprise, though."

"I see," he said, without looking up from the glass before him.

"You're impressive, imposing, and attractive, all at the same time," she continued. "It kind of takes your breath away."

Mann only nodded.

"Anyway, I'm really sorry," she said.

"I believe you," he smiled. "Tell me why men make you nervous."

Her blue eyes went dull and hollow as she searched for her response, and the way in which to explain it all to him. Finally, she just gave up, and pulled herself away from the thoughts that raced in her head.

"Maybe it's just the differences between us," she said softly. "I've just never had a lot of luck with men, that's all."

"Why is that do you think?" Mann questioned calmly.

"Maybe I just want what no one man can offer," she said quickly, dropping her eyes to the table.

"And, that is?" he coaxed gently."

His eyes were there on hers when she looked up suddenly. They were alert, and they were attentive. His gaze triggered a deep and sudden connection between them. It was almost magnetic. Nothing could disrupt or break the flow of that current. Michelle Paquin's honesty poured forth freely.

"I want thunder… and… I want roses," she said calmly, decisively. "One man who understands the importance of each. Know what I mean?"

Mann nodded slightly, his dark eyes locked on hers, and he waited for her to go on.

"Something to be trusted, depended on, and yet, uncontrollable and unpredictable," she continued. "That's what I want. Is that too much to ask?"

"I don't think so," the black man chimed seriously. "And, you shall have it, I'm sure."

"Are you always so certain of things, Mr. Mann?" she asked slowly as if tiring slightly.

"I don't know that I believe in certainty, but I do try to keep a positive outlook on things," Mann winked playfully.

"I really think I like that," she said with a confidence that energized her smile. "Tell me about you…."

For the next hour and a half, they sat in mesmerized conversation, discussing life, personal philosophies, work, and love over the bread and cheese and two bottles of wine. It all came easy, and it was pleasurable. Michelle Paquin learned that Mann was bright, witty, serious, and yet sensitive, truly no different from any other of her lifelong friends. Mann learned that she was as bright, funny, passionate, and thoughtful, and most certainly not as ill at ease as she had initially appeared. They could have talked for hours, but the faint beat of Caribbean rhythms from the River Walk caught the woman's attention. Her eyes brightened excitably.

"Ohhhh, I love Reggae music," she said quickly, before looking in the direction of the sound. "Do you dance, Mr. Mann?"

Mann hunched his shoulders slightly when she looked over at him again. He first thought was of the horrid weather and the possibility of sweating even more than he already had. There was nothing to be done about the weather. He could let it stop them, or he could ignore it. He flashed a bright smile.