"Forever in My Heart" Pt. 01

She looked up and smiled, always that same sweet smile, pretty pink lips, perfect white teeth, "You think so?"

"Yeah, right after my riding lessons."

Chelsea slid into bed and curled up in her pillow, "Maybe I'll get something pink."

Colt thought, 'Maybe Belk instead of Walmart.'

~~V~~

A little later that same Friday night Madeline was seated across from Bradley Thompson, a systems analyst for Lingtalevought, major manufacturer of highly classified components for America's nuclear submarine fleet; he was just thirty-five and already a millionaire, at least that's what he said. In a few more years he said he expected to be sitting in a thickly cushioned swivel armchair in one of the more plush offices at the Pentagon, and Ms. Madeline Westerbrook was just the kind of woman he needed to round out his portfolio.

He'd said she was his dreamboat, beautiful, smart, and personable; he'd fallen head over heels in love. He hadn't popped 'the big question' yet, but she figured it was imminent. The evening's meal at the Cornell Club was a prelude to that 'big moment'. He was a 'Platinum Member'; she figured it was the most appropriate place to take the 'greatest love of his life' for the 'warm up' before he and she flew out to Chicago for an after Easter dinner, maybe next week, where he'd introduce her to his parents. That's what she figured, and that's why she dropped the bomb.

"But Maddie I don't understand...I thought"

"I'm sorry Brad. I truly am. I hadn't meant to lead you on. I never wanted to..."

"Maddie what is it. Have I done something? Is there," he gulped, "somebody else, somebody I don't know about?"

"It's not you, it's me. Brad, oh I do love you, but well, I'm just not ready, not ready to commit."

"My parents next Sunday, I thought..."

"Brad it's no good. You've been great. You're a wonderful human being. You're a wonderful, kind, and sensitive lover. You've made me very happy. I've never been happier, it's just..."

Bradley coughed back his tears, "Jesus Maddie I don't know what to say. I mean. I thought. I thought you... and... well... me."

Madeline was having trouble herself. Brad Thompson was another good ole 'one and done'. Oh he was good, he was kind and considerate; he just wasn't what she was looking for. The truth? Madeline wasn't looking for anyone or anything in particular. Brad was smart. He was gifted. He was certainly interesting if talking about O rings and computer chips was what she was looking for; it was too bad, too bad for Brad, she wasn't ready to commit, probably never would be, and never with someone like Brad.

"Brad," she said, "It's getting late. Please take me home."

The drive back to Norland Avenue was somber, funereal. She sat silently listening to Brad as he quietly sniffed and sniveled out his life story for the umpteenth time. She checked her watch, past 2:00 a.m. The text message the 'clodhopper' left said he'd be by at 10:15 Sunday. He wanted to take her to church, and then on to his friend Brian's family party. He even apologized that he'd be bringing along his cousin, that cousin person, the cripple or whatever she was. She'd responded; she'd texted that she'd be ready. Imagine her at church. She'd texted back, "Can't make church, but the party's good."

Brad pulled in front of her house. She didn't wait, but got out immediately, "I'm sorry Brad. I really am, but you'll find someone, someone a lot better than me," without another backward glance, she knew the game too well to look back, she lithely, she knew that part of the game too, pulled open her front gate and walked out of his life.

She heard him pull away; smiling she thought, 'She would've liked to talk to her mother and father, but like she'd told Clem, or was it Colt, they'd gone off to Europe. As usual, a big holiday; they'd gone to see her sister, of course, never her.' Unlocking her front door she sighed, "Oh well. Time for Errol."

~~V~~

Saturday at Belk...

"Colton can you afford all this?"

"Damn it Chelsea don't worry about it. When was the last time you got a new dress anyway?"

"Well I..."

"Look I like it, and after church tomorrow you and I and another person are going to Brian's family dinner."

"Person? What other person? Do I know her?"

"No she's someone I met at the bar the other night."

"Oh."

"Oh no. Nothing like that. She's a lawyer; pretty smart too."

"A lawyer, a woman, and she's smart," she giggled, "a smart woman lawyer. That's an oxymoron. You must like her."

"You'll like her too. Now come on. Put on the dress and let me see it."

"What does she look like?"

"Anne Hathaway. Now go put on the dress. I want to see it on you."

Chelsea slipped back in the dressing room thinking, 'A new woman, and she looks like Anna Hathaway.' Slipping out of her Tee shirt and stepping out of her jeans Chelsea looked in the big mirror. Mumbling disconsolately, "Anne Hathaway," she covered her breasts with her hands, "and who do I look like?" She remembered the boys in high school, 'Chelsea the titless wonder,' she could still hear them, 'where did she come from?' Oh yeah, 'the lumberyard; flat as a board'. Couldn't get a date, not for anything. Colton had to take her to her senior prom. No diploma though, just a blank sheet of paper, missed too many days, missed too many exams. What did the guidance counselors call her? An isolate. Well they didn't have to be her.

She stood face on and looked at herself, "Why? It isn't fair. Anne Hathaway." She put the palm of her hand to the glass of the mirror, "Why can't you see? Look at me! See me Colton."

From outside she heard his masculine baritone, "Jesus Chelsea; it's only a dress. How long does it take?"

"Be right out," She pulled up on the top, she did everything she could but nothing worked, she still looked like she was a ten year old. She whispered to the mirror, "He has to see," she stepped into the aisle. Hopeful until she saw his look. She knew; to him she was still just 'his little Chelsea'. Just the same she spun about, pretending she was a ballerina, "You like?"

Colton smiled, "I like," his mind went through the usual hoops, 'She's so pretty. I wonder if she knows how pretty,' then the other, 'I wonder how long. I'll miss her. I know I will. It's just not fair.'

Chelsea stepped up as far as she could. On tip toes she stretched up and kissed his lower lip, "I love you, but you know that."

He leaned down and pressed his lips on her left cheek, "And I love you too."

She held up the white patent leather two inch heels that matched the pink chiffon dress, "These along with the white panty hose and white lace panties you got me will make me..." she was thinking of saying she'd look more grown up, but held that in, "look more mature."

He turned serious, "You get a brassiere?"

She blushed, "Not exactly."

He frowned.

"I picked up a beige chemise. It'll do the same thing."

He nodded his satisfaction, "Let's get you a white purse and some white gloves, and maybe a little white kerchief for your hair."

"Why a kerchief," she asked?

Staying with the serious motif he responded, "With your blond hair, light blue eyes, and almost transparent eye brows I think if we can bobby pin a kerchief in your hair instead of a real hat. I think if you added your pearl necklace and pearl earrings you'll look like my..."

Chelsea stopped him, "I know your fairy princess..."

"No," He interrupted, "my adorable Aphrodite floating in on a half shell."

'That was a new one,' she thought. "OK, I like that...Aphrodite." She reconsidered, 'Did he think I was a goddess or an oyster?'

"Well don't get carried away. Go back and change out of those duds. I think I like you better as my ragamuffin."

Chelsea did a little skip and retreated back to the changing room. A couple minutes later, and she was out again. From there they bought her some gloves, a kerchief, a new wristwatch, and a gold bracelet.

She held up the thin chain in her fingers. "What's this my slave chain?"

Colton laughed, "Yes, and don't forget it."

From there they went to Denny's; she for a simple omelet and one piece of toast with one pat of butter, Colton got the 'Grand Slam'. Later they went home. Colton laid around and watched an early season baseball game, Chelsea played on the Internet. Every now and then Colton glanced over wondering, 'What was she doing? She's on it all the time.'

~~V~~

Easter Sunday!

As Colton handed Chelsea down from his pick-up he had to admit; he really was kind of proud. Chelsea in her new pale pink chiffon dress; lusciously underscored with copious thin pleats, a tight but not restrictive sashed silken waist. It was almost a mini, hemmed as it was just above her knees. The blousy top had a gentle frontal plunge that gave just a hint of décolleté. Enhanced by translucent slightly capped shoulders and long sleeves that only barely revealed dainty hands at the ends of thin delicate arms, nails aglow with clear polish. He thought, 'She looked, and was, delightfully innocent. He was happy with her choices, and glad he'd had enough money.'

Yet the dress was flagrantly diminished by her adorably perfect heart shaped face, tiny partly puckered cherry lips, high cheek bones, vivid, no luminous big blue eyes surrounded by long thick lashes. The thin string of pearls, though not real, stood out joyously on her naturally elegant swan-like neck. Colton imagined, 'Someday someone will have to buy her real pearls.'

And her hair! Oh that soft frothy almost white hair. Cut short, brilliantly blond, delicate tendrils danced around her ears and cheeks, long bangs swept cross a perfect forehead.

With a lump in his throat, he gulped; she annoyed him. She wasn't a child anymore; no Chelsea, though in every way diminutive, was a woman grown. He realized, and it daunted him, like the fairytale; the 'ugly duckling' had indeed grown into a beautiful swan. If she wasn't his cousin, if she weren't so sick, if only...

Colton grunted, "Don't stray too far," pointing in the direction of a pack of wide-eyed hungry looking men who were openly ogling her, "I don't want any of that bunch getting too close."

Chelsea grinned furiously as she looped her arm in through his, "Don't worry. I know where I belong and who needs me."

He wondered at that, 'Needs me? I need her?' "Come on," he grumbled as he pushed through the scattered groups outside the front of the church. He shortened his stride so side by side they could march their way in.

Inside they found their usual pew; it was already half filled, mostly C&E types. To his surprise at the very last moment Chelsea did a one-eighty. Turning up she took her two hands, "Your tie...here." She went to work fixing it.

He felt her fingers as they brushed his chin, neck, and cheeks. He smelled her perfume, 'Chanel Chance', something he'd bought her for Christmas. Looking down, those lips, she needed to be kissed, oh did she need a good kissing! He felt himself blushing. His brain told his dick, 'Shut up stupid. She's your cousin. It wasn't listening.'

He involuntarily reached out, but she stepped back, she used her fingers to pick at some invisible piece of jacket lint, "There, that's better," she smiled.

'Did she know?' he wondered, 'Could she feel...the tension?' He muttered, "Thanks, now sit down."

Her swift swivel to the left, the manner she sat, more curtsy than seating. She patted the place beside her, "Right here. You get the aisle seat."

All throughout the service he felt uncomfortable. How could one man make such a simple thing as a resurrection take so long? So many hymns, too many prayers, the up and downs, communion, passing the peace, blocking the oglers, keeping his hands off...

Damn it, he was only human. When had Chelsea? Last week she'd been a kid. And now! Crap! He'd worn a pair of loose fitting cotton slacks and a pair of boxers. If he'd worn tighty whities things would have been different, no room for friction. He was afraid to move, to get up. People would notice, they'd see! He didn't know what to do with his hands. OK, his right hand could sit comfortably on the aisle arm rest, but his left hand? His left hand kept betraying him. Unconsciously his treasonous left hand and arm kept circling around behind the back of Chelsea's head. He kept willing his fingers to stop caressing the back of her neck.

She kept singing. Every time his fingers glanced the nape of her neck she felt a tingling.

He wished she would stop smiling! Why did she keep looking up at him like that? When had she gotten so pretty?

At last church was over. They could go home. No such luck. Every old maid and widow in their small town must have been outside waiting for them. Talk about a gauntlet! They'd no sooner gotten out the front doors than all the old biddies closed in.

"My, my," squealed old Mrs. Bidwell.

Mrs. Rooney was right behind her; she closed in on Chelsea, "Well look at you," she reached down and took both Chelsea's hands and pulling them up and out and gabbled her away from Colton toward a nearby gaggle of old geese, "You're just as pretty as a picture," she said as she tugged Chelsea away toward another old widow, "Martha, just look at our little girl, right out of a storybook, I swear."

Martha Tipton, rotund as a beach ball, affable as a grandmother should be, and Colt's favorite since he could remember, pounced, "This is little Chelsea? My goodness."

She turned to Colt, "Such a shame you're cousins. You make such a beautiful couple."

He was speechless, dumbfounded, "I... I... "

Just at that moment a light breeze blew up; the feathery fabric of Chelsea's dress was caught in its flow. Up and around her waist the dress did swirl. He made a move to shield her, but was too late, all eyes were on her. Everyone bore witness to two freshly minted and very shapely calves and their companions; two muscular perfectly shaped thighs. She was delicious, absolutely scrumptious.

Worse, the translucent character of the material plus the soft sheer aspects of her chemise left nothing to the imagination. Even worse, the cool breeze had the exact effect one would expect on her delightful little breasts. As the breeze hit her chest, her dark nipples responded as nature willed, drawing everyone's eyes to two delectable little mounds, their dark brown aureole, simply mouthwatering, like two rosebuds.

Colt had been uncomfortable in church. Inwardly he cringed, his mind was all at sea, 'God, no one look at me!' How could I have known? I'd been sleeping with this visage just the other night.'

He knew they had to get away from there. He had to get away from there! He took Chelsea's arm; he looked down, "Come on Chelsea, we've got to get to Brian's."

He wished he hadn't looked down. The wind was pressing the blouse of her dress against her chest. Nothing, absolutely nothing was left to the imagination! He was a young man, just twenty-three. He'd not been with a woman, any woman in weeks. He was a disciplined man. He didn't abuse his body! Oh traitor that it was, his manhood was offering a pitiless display.

Chelsea saw; she understood his discomfort. Blessed saint, she stepped in front of him. No one would see.

'Thank God,' he thought. They turned, Oh shit!

Closing in fast were the two Brady brothers, Harry and Steve, and their infamous cohorts John and Ralph Girty; some of the nastiest cruds in the county.

Colton's thought on the matter, 'Had all the county's skid row chosen their church this Easter Sunday?'

John Girty was in the forefront, just a year or so older than Chelsea he was sure he remembered her. Had she remembered him? He was followed by brother Ralph and the only slightly less reprehensible Harry and Steve Brady.

Girty tried to sidle up and get between her and Colt. She wouldn't let him. He gave her his usual salacious grin, "Chelsea, how've you been?"

She smiled woodenly, "Just fine, you?"

"Nowhere until now. Got a steady?" was his reply and question.

Chelsea squeezed her cousin's arm, "You see who I'm with."

Girty chortled maliciously, "No, I mean a real boyfriend. You know, a fella."

She tersely responded, "I know what you mean," she started pulling Colt toward the truck. As they moved away she whispered, "Ever notice when some people smile it isn't really a smile at all?"

Just as the scum started to step away the younger Brady hung back. He shyly muttered, "Hi Chelsea."

Chelsea gave him a weak smile, "Hi Steve," then she pulled Colton's arm, "Come on cowboy," she said that but not without still giving the much too skinny Steve on last backward glance, a glance the boy worshipfully acknowledged. They weren't all bad.

Oblivious of his cousin's discreet exchange Colton thought, 'Why did she always make him feel this good?' Her smooth hand as it wrapped around his thickly muscled forearm made him feel... proud. He promised himself that today he wasn't going to think about anything but having a good time. No macabre thoughts today, he said, "We'll probably be a little early for Brian's, but I bet once they see you I don't think they'll care."

Then cold water! Chelsea said, "Weren't we taking someone from Chambersburg?"

Shit he'd completely forgotten about the lawyer woman. Why had he invited her? He replied, "Yeah, we better get her first."

~~V~~

Madeline scanned her closet. What should she wear? She reflected aloud, "These were 'his' friends'; shouldn't be too provocative, but..."

Standing at her vanity she applied the necessary war paint, her usual; a touch of pink lipstick, a dash of rouge for each cheek, black lash liner, a hint of blue eye shadow. She sprayed on a little perfume, 'Chanel' something. Yes, looking in the mirror she thought, 'Just right, 'less is always more'.

Next the clothes. After slipping into a white lace demi-bra and coordinating panties she reached in the closet and pulled out a slack outfit. Yes, loosely fitting dark blue slacks, matching blazer, and a slightly iridescent snow white blouse. She fitted herself into the jacket. Examined what she looked like in the mirror, she undid the top three buttons.

Jewelry, yes, something with reflective qualities. She passed on the Miki Moto pearls she'd gotten from her one time law school lover Jason and the rubies the fool Brad had bought her. What was it? Diamonds are a girl's best friend. The diamonds from her 'sugar daddy'. Not her real dad, no, her 'special daddy', Mr. Hanlon, partner in the firm, nearly sixty with daughters her age, but a man with more money than Croesus and a libido to match. Well he thought so.

She giggled to herself, "It was fun, playing with John Hanlon in his office, trying to get that aged usually limp dick up, He wanted her on her knees under his desk while clients discussed business. Not her! Too degrading. Then there'd been Brad, the empty headed wonder, he'd kiss her, and then drop down so he could lick up and down her neatly trimmed slit. That was her style; men knelt for her.

Yes, diamonds for today. On each lobe she fastened a half karat stud. She wrapped an expensive choker round her neck. Diamond tennis bracelet, and diamond studded watch finished things off.

On went the short flesh toned hose, followed at last by a pair of three inch dark blue closed toe heels. She twisted and turned; even with the loose pants the heels highlighted her shapely legs. Ready, she went in, sat down, and turned on the TV to wait. She didn't have to wait very long.

~~V~~

Colt pulled his truck to the front of the mailbox marked Westerbrook. He could see she'd already started her spring spruce up. Well not her he imagined, probably a bunch of Mexicans, illegals likely. There was mulch in her driveway, looked good too. Somebody'd already cut her grass at least once. He parked his truck and started to get out. Turning to Chelsea he said, "Wait here, if she's not ready we'll go on without her."