Better Together

Tate was unsure what to say. He'd never dealt with a sick woman before. Chicken soup, whiskey and aspirin were his "go-to's" when it came to medicine, but it was late July and 88F (32 C) out. Despite countless food vending stalls, there was no chicken soup! In Iowa, soup was for bitter winters, not scorching summer days. The State Fair was only supposed to serve iced tea and soda, but a person could easily find stronger "medicinal" cures if they looked around...

"Well...uhmm..." Tate was wondering what to say as Ivy clutched her stomach. "Let's sit down?" he asked. Inside, Tate criticized himself for saying such a stupid thing and making Ivy go on that ride. Sure, it had been fun for him. Tate knew it was typical for him to think only of himself. He should have thought of Ivy. It was her big day!

Ivy had gone on the ride because she wanted to make him happy. They should have started on something safer, like the Carousel. Women liked the ornamental carousel. He'd like riding with Ivy on a decorated carousel horse, which she'd picked out. He'd like to be a medieval knight with Ivy, as a fair lady, by his side. It was a good dream, but now Ivy was sick! He had to do something. He was a man of honour, after all.

Tate and Ivy had found a bench on which to sit. "So hot!" said Ivy, fanning herself with her hands. "Take this!" said Tate as he passed Ivy his handkerchief. She patted her sweating forehead with it, but Tate could tell she was still recovering.

"I'm thirsty...now about I get us some ginger ale," he said, trying not to call attention to Ivy's nauseous state. His mom had used ginger ale for his stomach aches when he was a kid. It was one of the few medicinal "curses" that he knew. Hopefully, the Ginger Ale would work for Ivy. She nodded. Tate left her on the bench and headed off to get refreshments, crossing his fingers that Ivy would get better. He didn't want his friend to be sick.

Tate got Ivy her ginger ale, lemonade, and a pint of whiskey (which, despite being prohibited, had been relatively easy to find). He brought it back to the bench. Ivy still sat there but now fanned herself with a newspaper. Tate passed Ivy the ginger ale, and she took a gulp.

He sat down next to her and started eating deep-fried corn on the cob. It was coated in cheese and butter; with his other hand, Tate started eating a deep-fried chilli cheese dawg. (The Iowa State Fair is a center for American deep-fried epicurean delights...all Iowans know Julia Child would agree if she covered the Iowa State Fair instead of haute French cuisine.) Then he pulled out the pint of whiskey.

Ivy had finished her lemonade and ginger ale; now she was staring at Tate's ability to pack away enormous amounts of greasy food. He saw her staring, took a glup of whiskey and handed it to her.

Ivy was through throwing up, but her nerves were still rattled from the ride. Ivy took a gulp and handed it back to Tate. The two shared the ½ pint of whiskey.

"We should probably be heading over to the Home Goods competitions. They'll be announcing the winners of that soon," stated Tate. He got up and wiped his hands with the butter from corn-on-the-cob on his faded jeans. Tate held out his hand to Ivy. She took his rough hand in hers, and the two headed over to the Home Goods competitions.

There were 99 jars of pickles there. (One for every county in Iowa.) The judges walked back and forth, sampling pickles from each jar. They treated the pickles like a French sommelier treats fine wine. They looked at the colouring of the juice, the insides/outsides of the pickles and, of course, the taste. Gradually, only 3 of the pickles jars remained. June Baker, from Elkader, won first place, Kelly Bryanson from Protvin, Iowa, won second and Ivy...Ivy won third prize!

Some pessimistic people might think that winning third prize was coming in last. That she'd lost. But not Ivy! She gave out a HUGE scream of surprise, jumped up and down. She hugged and kissed Tate, on the cheek, out of excitement and kept screaming. She'd won! She'd won! She'd won! Ivy was so happy! Third place in all of Iowa!

Ivy walked up to the stage to accept her third-place yellow ribbon and get her picture taken with the judges. She couldn't stop smiling! This was one of the best moments of her life!

Ivy was excited! Her name would be in papers all across Iowa! She would have a visit from reporters from the Wapello County Register and a visit from the local TV news. Ivy had won! Everyone all across Iowa would know about her! She hadn't come in last. (As some would say.) Sure, it wasn't the Nobel Prize or anything. She'd won third in a pickle competition at the Iowa State Fair, and Ivy could always say that!

Ribbon in hand and pictures taken, Ivy and Tate, loaded up in the Coca-Cola truck and headed back to Mrs. Garrison's Boarding House.

"Congratulations!" said Tate as he helped her up into the cab.

"Thank you!" stated Ivy beaming. "I can't believe I won; nothing like this has ever happened to me! I didn't even think they were that good; I should have used more red pepper!" In her head, Ivy thought about the process of making the pickles and how she could have made them better...if only she'd only lots of doubts, insecurities, and uncertainties exited in Ivy's head.

"Come on now; you won third prize! That's something to celebrate! How about I take you to Top's Steak House to celebrate?" Tate smiled at Ivy's excitement. He was thrilled that his friend was so happy. Ivy was beaming!

"Tate, I've never been to a big city steakhouse before, just the Red Silo over in Ottumwa for my birthday...I don't know what to say...I'd love to?" questioned Ivy. She was briefly worried about the expense. Ivy had heard that dinners in big city steakhouses could cost eight dollars or more.

"The Red Silo in Ottumwa SUCKS! I mean a real steakhouse; I've always wanted to go to Tops. They have dancing, and I've never had anyone to dance with." said Tate. He winked at Ivy. She blushed.

"Well...uhmm...okay then," said Ivy, blushing an even deeper red.

Now she was going on a date with her best friend. In her head, the schoolyard ditty "Ivy and Tate sittin' in a tree k-i-ss-i-n-g played. Ivy was a bit surprised to find she'd like to do a lot more than just kiss Tate. She hadn't thought of a man like that in a while.

"Best be heading out--to Tops Steakhouse to celebrate," stated Tate as he started up the truck. The couple drove over to Tops Steakhouse. It was packed since the Iowa State Fair was in town, but it also meant they had a swinging band. Ivy sat with Tate and had dinner. She treated herself to a full steak dinner. She'd just won third! Ivy made her own money and deserved to splurge it on small pleasures once in a while.

It was still hot out. After her second Pink Squirrel, a lovely 1950s alcoholic drink made from creme de noyaux, vanilla ice cream and sprinkled with maraschino cherries, To her great surprise, Ivy found herself being led out to the dance floor by Tate.

The band played, and they danced to "What A Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong. Ivy thought about how wonderful the world really was. She'd just won third prize at the State Fair, she had her daughter, and she was dancing with Tate. Sure, Ivy had seen a lot of hard times, but the majority of her life had been blessed.

Ivy hadn't had a date since five years ago; It had been with Archie, a local farmer. Archie was an all-talk, love you and leave you sort of man. He'd gone on a few dates with Ivy, then left her. There was no malice in it. Archie treated all women that way. He played around.

After Archie, Ivy had set her standards higher. Ivy knew she deserved better and was determined to have it. She wanted someone who would cherish and respect her. Even if she had "womanly desires," men who wanted one-night stands were not good enough. She deserved a man of quality. Ivy deserved to be appreciated and loved for the woman she was.

As Tate danced with her, Ivy could hear her heart beat faster. As Tate dipped Ivy back, causing her long hair to spill free. Tate smiled as he watched her long chocolate-coloured hair cascade down. He pulled Ivy closer, wanting to be with her. He loved to see her looking so glamorous and carefree.

In his arms, she was a young girl again. As the song came to an end, Tate bent down and kissed her. Ivy kissed him back wholeheartedly. The lovers danced until closing time. The staff had to force them out. Tate and Ivy were oblivious to the entire world, devoted only to each other. After leaving the restaurant, it was late...or early. Tate took Ivy back to the boarding house. Despite wanting to spend the night together, they parted in the hall.

The next morning Ivy woke at her usual five thirty am. She found Mrs. Garrison dead in the kitchen. Ivy went up to touch her. She was cold to the touch and clearly had been dead for hours. Still, Ivy ran to get Tate.

"Mrs. Garrison...dead...downstairs...I think." she told Tate, who ran downstairs.

"I'll call an ambulance," said Ivy. Ivy was trying to get Mrs. Garrison up, but it was in vain.

"Doctor Floyd lives down the street; I'll fetch him," stated Tate. He ran down the street to get the doctor, who soon arrived.

Doctor Floyd took a look at Mrs. Garrison's body. "Dead, probably a heart attack. But I won't know for sure until we get her down to the morgue. I warned her not to smoke...you know I'm retired now, so I don't really keep up with the literature any longer, but there's more and more research that says smoking is bad for you." He shook his head sympathetically. By then, the ambulance had arrived; as Doctor Floyd had said, Mrs. Garrison was dead from a heart attack.

By now, various tenants, roused by the ruckus, had come down from their rooms. Several looked at Ivy expectantly and mentioned to her that they were hungry. Ivy glared at them. She was a woman, SO she was supposed to make the food? She was on vacation. These were adult men with their own money and own cars. They weren't toddlers who couldn't be trusted with a stove or even teenagers.

Ivy's glares were enough to stop the men in their tracks. They got the gist. She wasn't their landlady! She wasn't their mother! She wasn't taking care of them!

"Coffee Time down the road should be opening soon...they're always good for breakfast even if they have miserable coffee, not following their name," said George as he corralled the other men out the door and down the street to CoffeeTime. The hungry men left, miffed that a woman hadn't made them breakfast. Still, Ivy remained steadfast, refusing to give in.

The police told Tate it would be okay to clean now, so Tate finished washing the dishes. He'd lived with Mrs. Garrison for ten years. He knew it would be upsetting for her to have dirty dishes in the house. Then he went to find his Ivy. She'd been sitting in the living room listening to the radio. Radio station disc jockeys in Des Moines were different than the ones in Ottumwa. Ivy had been thinking.

"I have work in two days," she told Tate, a matter of factly. She didn't know how else to say it. Ivy supposed the "polite" thing to do would be to stay for the funeral. She didn't know Mrs. Garrison, though, and Ivy had to make a living. She also had her daughter to get back to.

Tate nodded. "The cops are done with their questions. We'll get you home." Ivy nodded and packed her bag. She'd had a thrilling time in the big city, she'd won third prize in the state fair, but she was eager to get home. Her big adventure had been exhausting!

Tate was true to his word. He drove Ivy back to Kirkville. The couple said goodbye. "Till Wednesday then," said Ivy. Tate nodded and drove off. Now that Mrs. Garrison was dead, he wondered what he'd do next when it came to housing. Tate was on the road and didn't know how to cook nor was he eager to learn.

Back in Kirkville, at the Corner Cafe, Ivy leaned on the sink and started peeling potatoes for tomorrow. She was having some difficulty organizing her thoughts. The last couple of days had been a rollercoaster ride! She'd seen a lot of the world, won third prize in the Iowa state fair, sampled haute Italian cuisine and then there'd been a death. Ivy didn't know Mrs. Garrison, but Mrs. Garrison had been a second mother to Tate.

Ivy was feeling a little lost. She felt she had no control over what was happening to her. It was a feeling she got during massive summer thunderstorms when the tornado sirens went off, and she had to hide in the cellar.

Des Moines had been fun, but it also was big and scary! There were nearly two hundred thousand people! She couldn't imagine living there by herself. Still, she didn't want to be far away from her daughter. Ivy looked at her reflection in the window and tried to look at herself impartially. She looked at her brown hair that fell about her shoulders. Ivy could see a few gray strands forming. She scanned her face, not seeing anything special. Ivy was just an average Iowan woman and knew it.

She looked into her eyes and only saw her uncertainty and doubt about her future. Ivy shook her head; she wasn't anything special. Ivy let her thoughts drift toward Tate. They were great together. They had so much fun. She could see herself with him...they would do more than dance. Ivy blushed at that thought. She'd never wanted to be intimate with a man again...yet Tate was... well, the potential was there.

Driving back to Des Moines, Tate had stopped to let a turtle cross the road in the scorching summer sun. He admired the turtle for its grit as it slowly plodded along the hot highway to its unknown destination. The turtle's journey caused Tate to have an epiphany.

Tate felt that he had been going along without any particular destination. It was time for him to open a new chapter in his life. Now that Mrs. Garrison had died, Tate would buy the boarding house and move in with Ivy if she'd have him. They'd be 50/50 partners, equal in everything. Despite being five blocks away from Drake University, Mrs. Garrison never took in "young" boarders. (They were unreliable in their ability to pay rent, and they had scandalous habits like sleeping together despite being unwed!.)

The next week stocking the machines in Kirkville over German chocolate cake and grilled cheese, Tate convinced Ivy to buy the boarding house with him. She was cautious at first. It would mean leaving everything she knew. Her whole world was in Kirkville!

Ivy wasn't much of a gambler. Still, Tate called to her. Des Moines was close to her daughter's college, and if the boarding house didn't work out, Ivy knew she could get a job at the university's cafeteria. Perhaps, it was her win at the Iowa State Fair, but Ivy threw caution to the wind. Ivy and Tate bought the house and remodelled it.

After Ivy agreed to move in with him and buy Mrs. Garrison's Boarding House, Ivy and Tate renovated Mrs. Garrion's Boarding House in 1950s fashion. Beautiful oranges and browns--with yellow plaid wallpaper---straight out of Better Homes and Gardens. It was the very highest in Hollywood Regency style. They even dug deep and sprang for a TV which the tenants would watch in the common room in the evenings.

To both of their surprise, the boarding house, which now accepted students and women, was a success. Sure, Ivy and Tate wouldn't be Rockerfellers anytime soon, but it was enough to get by. Ivy couldn't stay home and knit all day, so she got a job at Drake University's cafeteria. She used the money to pay for her daughter's college. (In the United States, public college was MUCH cheaper than a private college like Drake. Ivy thought her daughter had horse sense by going to a public college.)

Tate also knew he could do better, so he stopped working for Coca-Cola and got a job working at MidWest Wayz. It was an Iowan trucking company with a pension plan. Tate was happy with his new job. He was glad to have someone to come home to in the evenings. Ivy and his relationship had developed.

Tate recalled the first time he and Ivy had made love. It had been on the day they bought the boarding house together. He had been uncertain of what Ivy wanted, yet Tate felt now was the time to take chances, even if he was "forward." Tate leaned down and gently pressed his mouth against hers. He moved slowly, afraid that she might pull away at any moment. Instead, he felt her lift her head further towards his and her lips parted slightly.

At her silent invitation, he traced her lips with his tongue. As the kiss deepened, he began to slowly explore her mouth, revelling in the sensation of her kissing him back. Ivy could feel the now familiar wave of lust begin to sweep through her body. She began to tingle. This time she didn't fight it; she simply let it cascade over her. She began to run her hand over Tate's chest, wanting to feel his bare skin. Ivy was also hesitant in exploring Tate.

Yet, as Ivy peeled Tate's clothes off, she recalled how the past few months had turned out. A week after Tate asked her to boarding house with him, Ivy came to Des Moines to sign all the bank deeds and documents a person needs to sign when buying real estate. After the bank, the couple returned to the house. Ivy was overcome by her accomplishments and a sense of longing.

Passionately, Ivy pulled Tate inside and unbuttoned her own blouse. Ivy practically dragged the uncertain Tate up to the bedroom. She brought him to her unmade bed and pushed him down. Tate gasped as her beautiful, full breasts came into sight. Within moments he had one breast in his right hand, squeezing and massaging the fullness of her chest, running his fingers around her nipple the gently flicking his thumb over the bud. His left was braced on her lower back, pulling her closer to him.

Meanwhile, his mouth was worshiping her other breast. He laid kisses around it before homing in on her nipple, his tongue lashing over it and his hot wet mouth sucking. Ivy was squirming on his lap from the sensations he was giving her. She felt her hips moving in response to his actions.

When he released her breasts momentarily to swap his attention, she shifted to try and prevent the loss of the feeling he'd been giving her. In doing so, she shifted on his lap, causing her pussy to rub against his hardness.

It felt so good, and she'd been so long without a man that she did it again; she soon had them both moaning as she ground herself upon him.

Tate rolled them over so that Ivy was on her back on the bed. He stood by the bed and drank in the sight in front of him. Ivy lay there just in a skirt, her chocolate hair in disarray, her chest flushed and heaving with her passion, and the glitter of lust and longing for more in her eyes.

Tate planned on giving Ivy what she wanted. He quickly kicked off his shoes and pulled his pants off, giving Ivy her first glimpse of his erection.

She glanced up at Tate, fascinated at the same time. She sat up and tentatively reached her hand towards his cock.

"Can I?" Ivy questioned. She was nervous and hesitant. It had been so long, and she wasn't sure she remembered how to do this.

Tate nodded yes. Tate was no saint. He'd been with a woman or two, but no one he'd loved or deeply cared for. Ivy was different. He loved Ivy and knew she loved him.

Ivy reached out and ran her hand along its length. She jerked her hand back when his cock twitched in response. She glanced up at Tate, and seeing nothing but encouragement in his eyes, she tried again. She gently wrapped her hand around him. Ivy softly ran her hand up from the base of his cock to the head; as her hand reached the head of his cock, she ran her thumb over the tip feeling his precum.

Tate had closed his eyes to try and keep control while he let her explore his cock. Her curious exploration was sorely testing him. Still, he wanted Ivy to "be in charge" for now when the nature of their relationship was so uncertain. It was so fragile. Tate was worried the wrong word or gesture could destroy it. When he suddenly felt her tongue run over the head of his cock he nearly came right then and there.