Love Knows No Color Pt. 12

"You know," Althea chipped in, "We'd have welcomed you to the family had you not called Von out her name. We good people. You couldn't be bothered to see that. You let your hatred of what you didn't understand consume you. We are so much more than the color of our skin. Our parents and grandparents fled the south to get away from people like you. We work hard. We hold our head up and refuse to let your kind bring us down. Von's built a business up from nothing. What have YOU done, besides try to destroy things?"

Rose glared at Althea, who continued, "If you EVER do anything to one of my family again, I will make the rest of your life a living hell. Understand that. You came after my daughter. The ONLY reason you're still around is that Jason calmed us down. Next time, he won't be able to stop us. Choose your battles carefully. We will defend ours. And now, the kids, and Jason are ours. Your mother is ours too. And remember this. Von's pregnant. If she loses the baby due to any stress you put her through, we coming after you. So you best just let it be."

Barbara added, "And if I ever hear of you bothering them again, you'll be out on the street. Where are you gonna go? You're so far in the hole you can't afford to rent a place. Plus, you're going to Muncy sooner or later. It's over. It's done. I'm not tolerating this any longer. I didn't raise you to hate."

"But I was just trying to protect the kids," Rose protested.

"Protect them from what? A family who love them?" Althea was pissed now. "They much better off where they are now. They have two parents who love them, not two parents who can't get along."

Rose looked at her, speechless. Shavonda had held back, never saying a word when Rose had gone into her rants, yelling and screaming. Now, a much weaker Rose was up against Althea, who had our back. And Althea wasn't one to mince words. Even Barbara had our back. It had to hurt, bad.

"I'm gonna give you the kids for the weekend cause court says I have to," warned Althea, "but let one hair on their head be harmed and I'm coming after you. Bring them back Sunday night at the usual time. Jason should be home by then."

So, we had no idea when we rode up that Rose had been tipped off. We sat on the porch, Shavonda on my lap, when Rose pulled up.

"Daddy! Ms. Von!" the kids screamed, happy to see us. Rose followed them up on the porch. Shavonda stood, ready to fight if need be. I held onto her waist, ready to hold her back if necessary.

"You ARE pregnant," Rose said, noticing Shavonda's slightly bulging tummy.

"We probably conceived her in front of you," Shavonda said, rubbing salt in the wound. Rose looked defeated. I don't think I ever saw her this sad before.

"Von! Why would you say that?" I asked irritably. "Hasn't she been through enough?"

"After what she put us through? What SHE's been through doesn't even come close," Shavonda said angrily.

"I-i-I gotta go," Rose stuttered. She turned and walked down the steps, shoulders sagging. We watched her drive away, then loaded the kids in the Cruze. Althea had left the carseats in the front door, and we quickly strapped the kids in.

I made a quick walk through the house just to make sure everything was okay. What I saw amazed me. A lot of my stuff was gone, much of the rest was packed in boxes. The family had tried to move us while we were away.

As we drove away, I chastised my wife for her actions. "Von, that was uncalled for. Rose basically has no future. You're better than that. Why would you rub it in like that? She's hurting really bad. She poses no threat to us." It was our first argument as a married couple. Not that I was any fan of Rose's. But I didn't want to see her hurt just for spite. That wasn't the way we'd run our relationship.

"So you're okay with all the things she did to us? Is that why you're taking her side?" Shavonda accused me. "Do you want to go back to her?"

"No, boo. Not in a million years. I have the woman of my dreams right here beside me," I said in a soothing voice. "But being bitter towards her isn't helping you, or us. Or the baby. Hatred will eat you alive. Look what it did to Rose. It would break my heart if that happened to you."

We rode the rest of the way across town without saying a word to each other. Even the kids were silent. They'd never seen us argue before. I felt like an ass for yelling at her, but she was out of line. I only did it to protect her from herself. She had cooled down and forgiven me by the time we got where we were going. A stop for ice cream helped with that.

When we arrived at Shavonda's, now our, house, we saw boxes in the hall. They had even tried to unpack and put away things like dishes and silverware. We'd have to figure out where to put the rest of the stuff. Now that the celebration was over, we had the task of melding our lives together. This meant consolidating our things, deciding what to keep and what to let go. We would offer Tamika and Brian the things that we didn't want or need anymore, to help them get set up in the house. We'd already promised them the furniture.

Shavonda would have a harder time than me. In the coming weeks, she'd have to get all her accounts and ID changed over to her new name, Shavonda Waite. She was not going to be one of those women who keep things in their maiden name, or hyphenate their last name. No, she'd proudly adopt my surname as her own. To her, it took on a symbolism far beyond the name change. To her it meant we were now one, inseparable. She'd waited so long for the right person to come along and love her unconditionally, the way she deserved to be loved. And I was that person. Her instincts about me turned out to be true. And so, her dreams came true too.

They'd carefully placed all the wedding gifts in the living room along the wall, and after we put the kids to bed, we sat together and opened them. There were several towel sets, a new set of fine dinnerware, a microwave oven, a new set of pots and pans, and too many other things to mention. We made a note of who had given what, and began the task of sending thank you notes to everybody.

I noticed a box sitting on the stereo, low and wide like it held paper. Opening it, we found our official wedding photos, including the one of me slipping the ring on Shavonda's finger. The red rose looked beautiful in her hair, contrasting with both her dark skin and her white gown. They'd framed that photo, and I took down one of Shavonda's pictures from the wall and hung the wedding photo in its place. In a padded envelope was a copy of our marriage license. They'd framed it for us. I placed it on the wall next to our wedding photo.

I remembered the day we'd gone to get the license. How we'd filled out the paperwork. Shavonda Marie Jenkins. Race: African American. Jefferson Scott Waite. Race: Caucasian. It felt good to see it all on paper. Now, it felt even better to see the marriage certificate on our wall, framed, a reminder to all who visited we were now officially a family. Right next to the photo of our special day.

Later that evening, I took the second series of photos of Shavonda. She enjoyed posing for these ones even more than normal. Never camera shy, Shavonda had taken nude photos for me before, and even allowed me to take them on occasion. She'd even taken some of me. But these were different. They were documenting the rapid changes her body was undergoing as the baby developed. Our intention was to put them in a slideshow, and make a scrapbook. We already had the first sonogram photo, the first photographic evidence of the new baby's existence.

The next day we went to the traditional Memorial Day cookout at Shavonda's parents' house. We, and especially Shavonda, were the center of attention. Everybody wanted to run their hands over her belly. The older women soon kidnapped her, and they retreated to a back room where they gave Shavonda child rearing advice and swapped stories.

Later, we danced on the patio like we always did at family functions. I heard somebody say, "I wish I could find somebody to love me like that." I have no idea who it was, but it made me feel good. I was where I belonged, dancing with the woman who'd become my world, during her family who'd taken me in as one of their own. Me, a kid from so far up in the mountains our small village didn't even appear on highway maps.

The kids were running around playing with all the other kids in the extended family, and having a blast. When we took them home just before sunset, they were both asleep before we got home, even though the drive was less than ten minutes. I carried them both in the house and put them to bed. Shavonda wanted to help like she usually did, but I didn't want her doing any heavy lifting.

Kids in bed, we settled in the tub for a bubble bath before turning in. Shavonda had the soft r&b playing, and the pine candles filled the room with their heavenly scent. As I washed her front, I said, "I guess we can call this baby making music now."

"I guess." Shavonda replied. There was no shadow across her face like before. The doctors had been wrong. She COULD have a baby. There was no reason for sadness now.

"You know I wanted to call it that all along," I said softly, "But I knew how much it hurt you that you couldn't have one." She slid forward and embraced me, our soapy bodies held tight against each other.

"Thank you for caring," she whispered.

Work the next day went smooth. My coworkers all asked how the honeymoon went, and I told them it was great.

That evening when I got home, I took Shavonda and the kids out shopping for maternity clothing. We got her a few dresses, because hers were getting tighter by the day. I also bought her some new bras, 36D, a cup size larger than she normally wore. I had no idea how long it would be before she was too big to fit her current bras, but at least she'd have something to wear when she did.

Wednesday night, we had one final train night at my old house. Everything went smoothly. We were Joined by Brian, and James, Shavonda's father. While the regulars ran trains, including Shavonda, the two visitors were under the tables figuring out how to cut everything apart into manageable pieces. I let Shavonda work a dual role as train dispatcher, and run her beloved Allen Turn, while I consulted with James and Brian. I knew that once we got the pieces out the cellar door and into the alley, the rest of the move would be easy. We'd have to block the alley with the moving van, so we had to have everything ready to load in one shot. Once at Shavonda's. we could walk everything in off the street through the garage and into her, our, basement. There was ample room there for everything, and I could take my time with reassembly. We planned the move for Sunday while Shavonda and the kids were at church. I told her to give my apologies to Reverend Frazier.

I was also able to talk with Danny about a solution to Shavonda's breathing of lead fumes. He custom painted models on the side. As such, he had installed a paint booth which vented the toxic paint and solvent fumes outside. I figured it could also be used to vent solder fumes as well. Danny told me the make and model he used and I ended up ordering three of them. We'd install one at each store, and the third in the garage where Shavonda had moved her home workshop. I still didn't want her doing solder work, but at least she would now be able to be in the same room while others worked. The two stores had once been bars or restaurants, and had once had ventilation fans. The openings were both there but walled over with metal plate on the outside and drywall on the inside. Adding a vent pipe from the paint booths would be as simple as adding a vent pipe for a clothes dryer. The garage posed a slightly different problem, as the garage walls were cinder block. But the main floor of the house itself sat on wooden joists above the block walls, and the space between the joists proved to be the perfect place to route the vent pipe. We punched through the aluminum siding just above ground level toward the rear of the garage with a hole just large enough for the pipe.

Saturday would be spent cutting the railroad into six sections for the move, disconnecting the wiring, and removing the table legs. But first we had to box up the cars, locomotives and buildings. While we were doing that, Brian and Tamika would be moving the rest of my stuff out to Shavonda's and start moving their stuff in. By weekend's end they'd be living in my house, and I'd be permanently transplanted into Shavonda's. Phase one of married life would be complete.

Saturday also happened to be Brittany's sixth birthday party, and Shavonda threw her a birthday party in the backyard. Most of the kids from the family who they'd played with on Memorial Day, plus Patty's kids, came over. I put in time in the morning boxing up my trains, spent the midday with the kids, then headed back to my old house in the afternoon to disassemble the railroad. It took less time than expected, mainly thanks to Brian. While we knew him as the kid who sold turkey legs, his permanent job was as a carpenter who specialized in building demolition. As such, he was used to figuring out how to cut things apart in ways where they could be salvaged with minimal damage.

The move went well. There was some damage to the mountains during the move, but the bridges were undamaged. That was my biggest concern. Mountains could be rebuilt more easily than the bridges. By Sunday evening, I was able to get the legs back on the tables with the help of the others, and we assembled the railroad back together. The hard part was done. It would be a couple of weeks before I got the track and wiring reconnected and trains running again. It would be months before I had the time to repair the damage to the mountains. But the hard work was over.

That night, I'd taken the week 14 series of photos of Shavonda's pregnancy. She was getting a little larger every day. In another week or two, her pregnancy would be noticeable even to those not looking for signs. Her nausea seemed to be less, and she seemed to have a bit more energy.

My training on the soldered aspects of jewelry making was under Velma, who was a good teacher. Within a couple of days, I had the knack of it. The fact that I'd done extensive work with a soldering iron on my railroad and locomotives certainly didn't hurt. I was used to doing close tolerance work. Once my training was complete, I'd spend an hour or two a day working on whatever was needed by the stores, and my work was then shipped to the stores where the other employees would finish my work. Some pieces were assembled but needed a touch of solder to hold the finished piece together. These were carefully boxed up and sent to me for work. Not all solder work was done by me, but I did pick up the work Shavonda used to do.

Previously, my helping out around the store had been limited to polishing the semi-precious stones we used in the pendants, and running them through the saw so that we had blank slices of uniform thickness. I'd also saw and polish the geodes we sold. As a former geology student, the geodes fascinated me. Volcanic in origin, they looked like a normal rock on the outside. But when you sliced them open, there were beautiful crystals inside. The crystals came in different colors, depending on the geode. We had several around the house, with clear, red and purple crystals, and I'd always admired them.

This freed Shavonda up to take over the lighter duty tasks in the stores. With her pregnancy, everybody knew they'd have to make adjustments, and their individual duties would change. It was a perfect time for cross training.

One thing we could do together was visit Penndot to get our drivers licenses changed. I needed to change my address to hers, and she needed to change her last name to mine. One Saturday morning when Rose had the kids, we sat in the plastic chairs of the waiting area, among the teenagers waiting for their driver's tests, awaiting our turn to speak to a clerk. We found out too late that Penndot didn't take credit cards or cash, and lost our place in line while we went to the supermarket for money orders to pay the fees. It was after noon when we got out, and we decided to get some lunch.

Shavonda had craved pizza that day, so we went to a shop I knew in Turtle Creek. They didn't have a seating area, so we got some paper plates from them, and some plastic silverware, and drove over to Pitcairn yard to sit and see some trains while we ate. I had my scanner with me so we listened to the train dispatcher talking to the trains.

"Pittsburgh East Dispatcher to Signalman Jenkins, over," crackled the radio.

"Isn't that your dad?" I asked Shavonda. "I wonder where he's at today?"

James answered the dispatcher, who told him he needed control of Traff, as there were several trains coming. Traff was the east end of the yard, and not far from where we were sitting. Evidently James was working on the signal circuits, and had local control of the switches and signals. The dispatcher needed control back so he could line up the trains. I knew exactly where the control box was. "Von, wanna go surprise your dad?"

We drove through the abandoned part of the yard just east of the intermodal terminal, and pulled up next to a railroad maintenance truck. I helped Shavonda out of the car and we walked over to the rusty relay building. James was inside looking at something when we peeked in the doorway.

"Hi, Daddy," Shavonda startled the poor man and he nearly cracked his head as he straightened up.

"Von, what are you doing here?" he asked. "Y'all know you're trespassing, right?

"We heard you on the radio and figured since you had to give back control you'd have a little time," I explained. "We have some pizza in the car if you're hungry."

We sat in the folding chairs I kept in the Jeep, and had lunch while we talked. He seemed glad to see us, and after awhile he showed us the inside of the building, where all the control circuitry for the signals was. Shavonda was a little lost at his explanations, but I knew enough about railroad signals that I was able to follow what he was explaining. He was in the middle of a routine test of the circuitry, which required that he throw the switches in different routings and check the circuitry to make sure the proper signals were being displayed. Since that required local control of the facility, he could do nothing until the trains passed by. He had the time to chat.

After four trains had passed, he called the dispatcher and received control back. He could continue his tests, so break was over. We said our goodbyes, and left him to his work. All in all, it was a nice day.

The month of June passed quickly. During this time, Shavonda's nausea went away almost completely, but her back and legs hurt. I spent a lot of time in the evenings before bed just massaging her wherever she hurt. Sometimes this led to sex, but most times she wanted to be rubbed and held. I watched in fascination as her womanly curves became more pronounced, and her belly filled out. By the end of June, she was beautifully showing, and her glow lit up whatever room she was in. She was having a baby! One she never thought she'd have. But there was also an underlying sadness and trepidation as well. It was right around his time that she'd lost the first baby, or rather had its life taken from her at week 20. Shavonda was now at week 19.

Rose was still picking up the kids at Tamika's house, formerly mine. She seemed more and more depressed as the weeks went by. Brittany and Ethan told us she was still fun to be around, and took them to the park with Barbara when they were over. I was glad Barbara was there. I still didn't trust Rose, and Barbara was like having a guardian for the kids while in Rose's custody.