Angies Preserves Pt. 02

Part one generated a lot of activity. I haven't had that many emails regarding a story in quite a while. They ranged from one extreme to the other. A black lady thanked me for writing stories about educated successful black ladies who find a loving white man. The other extreme was someone who told me to, and I quote, 'Stick your romance stories up your ass because unless it's about black cocks fucking white pussy it doesn't belong in IR.' Which is apparently the thinking of others judging by the low score. Oh well, to each his own.

I have to wonder though. Why then are three of my IR stories rated as the most read in the last several months. Killing me Softly was number one in October, Beverly #2 was number one in December and Sienna was number one in March. All three were about black women with white men. So I think I'll ignore that email along with the low score and continue with what I'm doing. Writing IR stories about beautiful and talented black ladies finding love with a white man. Which is what part 2 is about and why I put it in the romance category.

Angies Preserves part two

Christmas morning was surreal. Our area hadn't seen snow in decades, it would reach temps low enough for frost a few times a year, but never more than a few hours overnight. When I woke I knew inside something was different. Peering around the edge of the curtain I couldn't contain the excitement as I squealed with delight. On the ground lay an inch of snow, it would all be gone by ten in the morning, but for the first time in a very long time I was seeing a white Christmas.

The snow was wet and easily packed. During my morning walk I got into a frolickingly good snowball fight with a group of kids playing in their front yard. We laughed and chased one another, they got me, I got them, no one was left without at least some snow down their neck. The cold drifting between my breasts as the snow melted on my warm skin brought me back to earth. With a laugh and a wave goodbye we went our separate ways.

Just before reaching home a little girl had what was obviously a new baby doll in a small wagon pulling her down the sidewalk from the front door. Ten minutes later I had all the details on her latest American Girl doll. I barely knew they existed. She was especially excited because the dolls name was Evette and her skin was brown like mine. Walking away I found myself wondering, if a little white girl can feel love for a brown skinned doll, why can't I get past the way Todd Struthers had treated me all those years ago?

By late morning it was time to go to the VFW Hall and have a Christmas dinner with past friends. I recalled how I had worn jeans and a simple blouse the year before but took stock in the fact that all the older people were dressed up, as if they had somewhere important to be. The ladies were in nice dresses, most of the guys had a coat and tie or dress slacks and a white shirt. I decided I was going to do the same this year. I had a pretty red dress with a pleated flowing skirt that ended just below mid-thigh. I hadn't worn it in over a year and was quite pleased that it still fit so well.

Looking at myself in the mirror I thought to myself, "It's red, that's a Christmas color, it'll do". The soft pleated material made it flow as I walked, my ornament earrings and holly design necklace were the final touches. I was walking through the buffet line when I sensed a person close behind me. Before I could turn I heard a soft, yet firm, familiar voice.

"Merry Christmas miss Skye."

It was Gus.

With a smile he asked, "Did you like the snow surprise? I loved it, we haven't had snow in twenty years or so. I made a sort of snowman with my nieces. It wasn't very big and was already melting by the time I left, but they sure had fun."

As I moved forward he spoke again. "Are you sittin with anyone? If not, mind if I join you?"

I thought, why not. "As a matter of fact I'm not, visiting with someone closer to my age would be nice."

As we ate I sensed he wanted to be more friendly. He became more animated, his voice inflections would change depending on what we talked about. It was like he wanted to let go, as if he wanted to show me who the real Gus was. Then he would stop, readjust his way body language, and revert back to being merely platonic. More than once I caught him watching me with a smile on his face as I ate. Just looking at me, smiling, nothing more. Oddly enough I found it pleasant, not discomforting as I thought it might be. After all, I hadn't sat with a guy and enjoyed a meal in ages. Considering he was a guy not my skin color I was really coloring outside the lines.

"May I get you a dessert miss Skye?" He asked.

"Yes, please. Some of the spice cake if there's any left. And maybe a glass of milk."

The longer we sat and talked the more relaxed I became. Our conversation was by no means about anything serious, mostly chit chat about weather, family, our businesses, basically something to fill the void. By one o'clock I was ready to go, him to. He walked outside at the same time I did following me to the car. I wondered what was going on until I clicked the key fob to unlock the door. Stepping in front of me he opened the door as I smiled.

"Who says chivalry is dead." I quipped.

We stood staring at each other not knowing what to do. My heart was pounding, I wanted him to at least hug me. At least I thought I did. He was nervous, shuffling his feet, looking down, then up at me, a smile crossing his face as he did. At one point I noticed his right hand begin to move as though he was going to reach out and touch me. As quickly as it had started he pulled his hand back and the moment was gone. It was he who broke the silence.

"I'd better let you go miss Skye, I'm sure you have more important things to do."

I wanted to scream, "No I don't." but I did what I'd been doing all along, I held back and said nothing as he continued.

"I should get over to my folks before the grandkids arrive. If Uncle Gus isn't there for presents, they'll be disappointed."

There was that awkwardness again. It was as though we wanted to reach out and hug one another, with neither of us initiating anything. We smiled, he nodded and walked to his truck. On the door it said, "GS Plumbing." I hadn't noticed the slogan below the name on the service van previously, when I read it on the pickup I burst out laughing. "We fix what your husband started."

Driving to my empty home I couldn't stop thinking about him. He was a man of strength and stature, probably a formidable force under dire circumstances. I found it interesting that a man such as him was so gentle and comforting when he was with me. He was actually tender, if men are allowed to be called that. I pondered about our inability to connect, was that he isn't comfortable around successful women, but then why did he ask me to sit with him if that were the case? Or was it my skin color? On second thought that went out the window. Again, why would he ask to sit with me in public if the differences in our skin color was an issue?

By the time I walked through my front door my mind was as clear as mud. It was obvious we liked each other. What was keeping us apart? Did he know of my distrust toward white guys? Would that cause him to hold back? Or was I somehow projecting my past feelings in a manner that told him a relationship with me was off bounds?

I watched some stupid Hallmark chick flick and decided an early night would do me wonders. Lying in bed I thought about the movie. Parts of it seemed much like Gus and me. It was so blatantly obvious on TV, why wasn't I seeing it in real life?

Angies Preserves always closed production from Christmas to New year, it was one of the perks provided for full time employees. They had the week off with pay, it was something I came up with one year when there wasn't enough cashflow to warrant a raise for everyone. They worked hard during the seasons when demand was the highest, it was the least I could do to say thanks. Through the course of the week that we were closed I seemed to see Gus somewhere every day. It might be the gas station, post office, grocery store. It didn't seem to matter, he was everywhere I was.

I had transformed from never noticing him before to seeing him everywhere. I wondered if he was stalking me until I realized he was going about his everyday business. I was sure he'd done it this way for ages, it was me who hadn't noticed him. He would smile and wave, at the gas station he was on the other side of my pump. We shared pleasantries and small talk but that was about it. When I saw him at the deli counter buying meat for what I assumed were lunch sandwiches I decided to be bold.

I took a deep breath and spoke while standing behind him, "Hi Gus. We meet again, people will begin to talk."

Turning to face me his left hand grasped my right hand, he gently squeezed it as he leaned toward my ear.

"Let um talk. Wouldn't bother me a bit."

Just then the deli girl slapped the package on the countertop, he let go of my hand, grabbed the package and looked at me.

"How about pizza tonight? Or maybe a salad somewhere. It doesn't need to be like a date or anything. Just someone to have a meal with. I'm not sure about you but I get tired of eating alone."

I grinned, "You eat rabbit food?"

His soft chuckle tickled my inner being, "Sure do. I don't do the fancy stuff, just a simple cobb with grilled chicken breast and no dressing."

People behind me were making noises, I scooted to the side and continued my conversation with Gus.

"Yes, I'd like that. Either one. I have to admit I feel the same way at times. Cooking for one can be boring."

He laughed, "Pizza it is. I'm so tired of turkey and ham and salads and potatoes and all the rest that goes with the holiday. I've been jonesing for a zza all week. I'll pick you up, say, six o'clock?"

I was going to give him my address, he put up his hand, "I know where you live. Six o'clock. Dress casual if you like. I'm gonna wear a pair of Dockers and a flannel shirt."

As I watched him walk away my heart was beating so hard I thought it would pop out of my chest. I took a new number and went to the end of the line. I wasn't sure why, but for some reason I slipped that first deli number into my wallet. I was in a quandary concerning what to wear. Standing at my dresser I once again realized I had nothing tantalizing for underwear. Everything was simple and cotton, they were diverse in color, but none of it was what is generally referred to as 'sexy'. Oh well, he wouldn't be seeing them anyway. I slipped on a pair of light blue bikini panties and a matching bra. Slender jeans and a nice blouse followed suit.

The night air was chilly but certainly not cold. I sat on the front porch watching the world go by while I waited for Gus. Mrs. Whitmore from next door was out walking the dog and stopped at the end of the sidewalk.

"Good evening Skye. Are you taking in the fresh air?"

"Yes and no. I'm waiting for a gentleman to pick me up, we're going for pizza."

Turning to the house she marched up the sidewalk like a woman on a mission. "You have a date Skye? It's about time. You've been alone far too long. Who is it if I might ask?"

"Oh, it's Gus. The plumber."

Though it was nearly dark I could see the expression on her face change. "Gus? Really? He's a wonderful young man. I'm just surprised."

I was curious. "Surprised? Why?"

Looking at me Mrs. Whitmore responded, "He's a good man and all, it's just that I never saw him as the marrying type. At least not in his younger years, maybe now that he's older he realizes life is going by quickly."

I laughed, "Marrying type? It's pizza, not even a real date. Someone to talk with over supper."

Walking up the two steps to the porch deck she sat next to me. The dog whimpered, she told him to shush.

"Skye honey. There isn't any part way with Gus. He's committed, or he's not. His mother and I have known each since we were four, if he asked you out, even if it's not an official date, he's thinking long term. And sweetheart, if he chases you until you catch him, better hold on tight. He's one of those guys who when he decides to get hitched, he's gonna be a one-woman man. He'll expect her to be a one-man woman. If I was 40 years younger I'd gladly be on his arm."

As headlights came down the street she stood and made her way to the sidewalk, turning she waved. Gus had parked the truck and was standing was next to her by the time she'd reached the end of the sidewalk. She reached up, hugged his neck and told him to say hi to Edna. His mom.

"Will do Aunt Glenda."

He offered his arm which I gladly took as he escorted me to the truck, only this one wasn't a work truck. It looked like a truck on the outside and a luxury vehicle inside. He was about to close my door when I stopped him.

"Mrs. Whitmore is your aunt?" I asked.

"No, I just call her my aunt because I've known her all my life. She's a good lady, she helped raise me, I'm glad you're friends with her."

Big Al's was busy for a Thursday night, maybe it was because of the holidays. We talked and chatted. I finally asked Gus how he became a plumber.

"I worked for Vick's Plumbing during and after high school. I was restless and bored without realizing I had it made. I then did a two year stint in the Army as a grunt which basically gave me time to get my head outa my butt and return home. I finished my master plumbers license with Vick and bought him out when he retired three years ago. Now I'm just waitin."

"Waiting? Waiting for what?" I asked.

When he looked into my eyes it was as though he was peering into my soul.

"For the right girl to come along, put a ring on her finger and raise some kids."

I was caught off guard to the point I couldn't speak. As the fog cleared I heard myself utter, "I hope you find her."

I no more than had it out of my mouth when I began to internally chastise myself. "What the F is wrong with you Skye? Yell out, it's me, it's me. Boy you blew that moment all to hell. If he ever asks you out again Skye you'll be lucky. Gah."

He didn't frown or look upset. "He half smiled and said, "Yeah, me too."

As he walked me to the front door he stopped at the bottom step. I knew he was nervous and wanted to say something so I stayed quiet and waited.

"Saturday is New Years Eve. I'd like to ask you to go out with me on a date. I mean formally, but, you know."

I had no idea what he was referring to, "No, I don't know."

As he backed away he turned looking over his shoulder and said softly, "You don't date white guys."

To say I was dumbstruck is an understatement. By the time I'd regained composure I was watching the taillights of his truck fade into the night. Walking inside I felt numb, I'd hung my coat, shucked my shoes into the hall closet and was in my bedroom before I realized I'd done all that. It was as if I were in a permanent fog. Why would he say that? I never indicated to him that I wasn't interested. Sleep evaded me for most of the night, it was several hours before my mind stopped whirring enough for sleep to take over.

I was taking the trash bins out early the next morning when Mrs. Whitaker saw me. With our bins in place she asked if I'd like to have coffee with her. Somebody else making the coffee and not having to drink it alone appealed to my inner senses. Small talk lasted through the first cup, by the second she reached out and patted my hand.

"What's the matter honey? You look lost."

"I'm not sure. Last night was fun, I was comfortable and we seemed to get along okay."

She looked in my eyes and said, "But."

"BUT. It's confusing. He told me he wanted to take me out New Years Eve for what he called a 'formal' date. Then he backed away and said he couldn't because I don't date white guys. I'm at a loss."

Holding my hand firmly she scooted closer to me, "Honey, you do know what Gus's last name is don't you?" I shook my head. "His last name is Struthers. He's Todd's first cousin. His mom and Todd's dad are siblings. That's why he doesn't feel like he should ask you out or risk getting closer. He's afraid you'll think he's like his asshole cousin."

Staring at her in complete bewilderment she put a finger under my chin, "Close your mouth sweetheart, the flies will get in."

I began to cry. "Mrs. Whitaker, I think I should go home. I have so much to think about."

At the door she took my elbow, "Listen Skye. Gus is not Todd, don't rule him out because of his last name. He's a good man, he'd protect you with every fiber of his being. Including his asshole cousin, who by the way now lives in Vermont of all places. Hopefully freezing his stupid ass off. When you get home I want you to honestly do one thing for me. Weigh the pros and cons. He's a little back woodsy and guarded, but that goes away after he gets to know and trust you. Call if you need me."

I'm not a drinker so with three glasses of wine in my system I had enough dutch courage to dial Gus's number. The moment he answered I hung up. What the hell was I doing? Telling myself I had no intention of chasing a guy, much less a white guy, I turned the phone off, plugged it into the charger and went to bed. I tossed and turned, then kicked the covers off only to pull them back up when I got cold. Sleep was nowhere to be found, I couldn't stop thinking about his statement, "but you don't date white guys".

Tossing back the blankets I sat on the edge of the mattress and said out loud, "Dammit. Why is this so hard?"

Walking around in the darkness trying to get rid of my restlessness I remembered Aunt Angies words of many years ago as she talked about her white boyfriend. She called him polite and understanding but was afraid to commit. I had someone wanting to court me who was polite, tender, caring, and from his talk I determined he would easily be committed to a woman who loved him as much as he loved her. A love so deep it would be like a well that never ran dry. Why was I making this so hard to accept? Mrs. Whitakers words came back and were like a slap in the face, "He's not Todd, don't rule him out because of his last name."

I spent the next days agonizing over my situation, wanting to call Gus and ask him to take me out New Years, at the same time chickening out each and every time I picked up the phone. On New Year's Eve I was on the porch watching the fireworks neighbors were shooting off. There would be no sleep until they were over, may as well watch. The night was chilly enough that I was scrunched up in a quilt on the porch swing, Mrs. Whitaker coming up the sidewalk startled me at first. Walking up the steps she grabbed the blanket off the chair and sat.

"How you doing honey? I haven't seen you leave the house in two days. Anything I can do to help?"

Her heart was right, but I had nothing to say, "Not really. I've been thinking about my situation and don't know what to do. I'll figure it out. Please don't think I'm being rude, I'm chilly, the fireworks are done, I'm going to bed."

Monday morning was like any other morning as I lay on my side watching the clock, 4:57, 4:58, 4:59. I was sitting up and touched the alarm as it reached 5:00 AM. I stood pulling the nightie over my head, tossed it on the pillow and headed to the bathroom. Sliding my bright red cotton panties off I dropped them in the laundry basket, plunked my tiny hiney on the toilet to pee, and then took a shower. Pulling out a pair of dark orange panties and a flesh colored bra I thought nothing about Gus or anything else romantic.

In my mind I had ruined what may possibly have been a great relationship. I agreed that Mrs. Whitaker had been right, judging Gus by his cousins' actions was wrong, it was time to look past the color of his skin. Would I have a second chance, that was the question. I was absorbed in paperwork when Chantell floated into my office with a cup of coffee. She was a breath of fresh air for me, a smiling face that always welcomed me into her world.