Love Knows No Color Pt. 21

Later, Brian and I made plans to get together Sunday to finish the treehouse that had languished in our backyard for the past month. He had a list of materials needed, and I already had most of it on hand. If we put our backs into it, we could get most of it done in one day.

At dusk, they set off the fireworks. Miracle's eyes grew wide with fear, and she started to cry as I gently rocked her to soothe her. I guess the loud noises and the bright light scared her. We had to take her in the house to calm her down. Eventually, we got her to sleep, and returned to the yard but the fireworks were over. After saying goodbye, we headed home where we made fireworks of our own.

After a good night's sleep, the first I'd had in days, we greeted Shavonda's parents and Kenny and Edie as they showed up for our cookout.

As we all sat out in the backyard around the table, I brought out the timetable and track chart Scott had sent me. "I wanted to ask you two your opinion. Kenny, you know this railroad pretty well. James, you maintain railroad signals for a living. If you look here in the timetable, it shows Norcross as an automatic interlocking." An interlocking is the railroad term for a network of track switches and signals that are controlled by a train dispatcher. The various components are interlocked in such a way that the dispatcher can't line a switch or set a signal that would cause a train to interfere with a route that has already been established through that area. This has prevented untold collisions over time by preventing two trains from occupying the same track at the same time.

"Yes," James replied. "An automatic interlocking is used in a case like this where two railroads cross each other. Basically, the dispatcher doesn't control the signals. They are controlled by circuits several miles back on the approaching tracks. Whichever train trips the circuits first gets the right of way."

"That's what I thought," I replied. "But both the timetable and the track charts show our railroad going from two tracks into three just after crossing Norfolk Southern. So, there are switches involved that the dispatcher would have to set. He has to have some sort of control over Norcross. Kenny, have you ever been there?"

"No," he replied. "You can't get to it without walking in. That's where the line crosses the New River do there should be a pretty substantial bridge there."

"So what's the center track used for?" I asked. "That seems to be the key to understanding this place."

Kenny replied," That's easy. Look at Dolomite, the next interlocking to the west. Notice the line goes back to two tracks there, but there is also an island track between the two mains. They add helpers to the eastbound trains at Dolomite. These trains pull into the center track between Dolomite and Norcross to get out of the way while the helper engines are added to the train. The island track is where the helpers sit when they aren't in use."

Things were becoming clearer now. At Norcross, a lot of the trains would be coming off the center track to either of the two mains, after getting helpers on the rear.

James had to solution to the mystery. "Looking through the footnotes, it says here 'eastbound trains using the controlled siding at Dolomite must notify the dispatcher upon leaving Dolomite.' If I read this correctly, the dispatcher has control of the switches but not the signals at Norcross. When a train calls him to let him know they are leaving Dolomite, he can line the switch to let them onto the main track. From there, the automatic circuits will set the signals. In all my years on the railroad I've never heard of anything like this. It's a really ingenious solution to the problem. The way we would have handled it would have been to have two sets of signals at Norcross. One would be tied into the switches and controlled by the Dispatcher, the other would control the crossing and be automatic. They did it with just one set of signals."

"This I gotta see," I said. "When we go down for Grandma's birthday, Von and I were planning to walk a lot of the line so I could get pictures of the rocks and model them on the train layout downstairs. It sounds like we're going to have to go to Norcross. Anybody else up for a hike?"

Kenny, I already knew, would be up for it. Edie would tag along wherever Kenny went. But James surprised me by expressing interest as well. "I'd love to tag along. I'd like to see this place in action. Actually, I'd really love to talk to the maintainer down there. Looking at all the stuff your friend sent, they do things a lot differently there than we do."

Shavonda had been silently watching the whole time. I had thought she was bored with our conversation, but I was wrong. "So what would happen if a westbound train needed to cut off his helper at Dolomite? Would the Dispatcher line him into the center track at Norcross, or would they just use one of the mains?" I was impressed, once again, by my queen's ability to pick up and understand esoteric topics.

"Most likely, they'd pull the train west of Dolomite, and let the helper pull back into the island," Kenny said. "It takes a lot longer to add a helper than to cut one off. You can actually cut off the helper without even stopping the train. When they add a helper, they have to pump up the airbrakes and do an air test before leaving. But if they did need to use the center track, the dispatcher would probably line the switch and let the train know when they got close that they'd be using the center track. They'd have to slow down to take the curved side of the switch."

"He wouldn't have to do that," James said. "You buffs think of the signals in terms of where the train is going when it gets to the interlocking. But the rules pertaining to the signals do not mention route. They indicate the max speed at which the train can operate. For example, yellow means 30mph past the signal, prepared to stop at the next one. You will notice the interlocking signals have two or three heads each. The lower the green or yellow is on the signal, the slower the permitted speed. Green over Red is max permitted speed. Red over Green is a medium speed signal, 30 mph or so. Red-Red-Green would be a slow clear, good for 15mph. So, the signal at Norcross would probably be red over green, and the signal previous to that yellow over green to provide some advance warning to slow down."

"They'd need that extra warning," I said. "The grade coming into Norcross is about 1.5%. But it's compensated so the actual grade varies with the curves."

"What's compensated mean?" Shavonda asked.

"It's an engineering term. They figure the rolling resistance of the train on the grade, and calculate how much increased drag the curves will cause. The grade is lessened in the curves to compensate for that drag. If done properly, the rolling resistance the will remain the same whether on curves or straight track." As the thwarted civil engineer, I was in the best position to explain the term. "But you don't get something for nothing, and the flatter spots coming down the mountain make it harder to maintain control. They can't apply and release the brakes like you can with a car. So, they apply the airbrakes a little bit and use the dynamic brakes to control the speed."

"Dynamics are similar to downshifting like I do in my truck. It uses the electric motors on the locomotives wheels to help slow the train. That generates electricity which is used up in resistor grids that act like a giant toaster. The whining sound you hear when they come down the mountain is the fans trying to cool those resistor grids."

Shavonda turned to me. "I want to see this place too. This sounds like fun to me. A group hike with the family. How far of a walk do you think it is?"

"From what I could see on the topo map, there's no easy way to get to the tracks west of Norcross for several miles. But we could park the car at the lower horseshoe and hike down to the river bridge. That's a little over a mile. We could see the signals from the bridge, but we can't walk on the bridge itself.".

I was looking forward to the adventure. Especially since James would be coming along. I had a lot of respect for Shavonda's father. While we may have had disagreements about certain things pertaining to Shavonda's past, we had grown close over the past two years.

"Jason," he said. "Your wife's worried sick about you. I know you just lost your Grandma, and she'll help you anyway she can. We all will. But you have to let go of the grief. Nobody can do that for you. But you have the perfect resource to do just that."

What's that?" I asked.

"Have you ever heard Maggot Brain?" he simply said. I nodded. It was a great song, with a soul wrenching guitar solo that lasted most of a song that ran well over 10 minutes.

"Yeah," I said. "That song tears my heart out every time I hear it."

"You are one of those people who feels the music. There is a back story behind that song. George Clinton told his guitar player to play like his mother just died. You see the result. You should do the same. Just pick up your bass and play. Let what you're feeling come out in the music you make. Turn your pain into something beautiful."

I looked at Shavonda, who nodded in agreement.

"You don't have to do it right now, but give it a try. Let your Nana live on through the music. Keep her close to your heart that way. Nobody's asking you to forget her. But you can't let it get in the way of your life either. You have a family who needs you. Never forget that."

After we had all eaten, Shaunice showed up. As usual, she had her hair done up in an elaborate style. Edie eyed her warily. She still hadn't forgiven Shaunice for the comments she'd made about Kenny a couple months back, comments that had almost broken them up. Shavonda quickly stepped in to defuse the situation before it got out of hand. I wasn't in the mood for drama so I cut out.

Making my way down the stairs to the game room, I found myself picking up my bass guitar. James had me thinking. Play like your mother just died. Or, your grandmother. I started playing the bassline from Maggot Brain, a simple bluesy riff that in the song repeated over and over while the lead guitarist made his instrument weep. I could hear the guitar solo in my head, soaring above the notes I was playing. Funny thing, when I was playing I felt a little better. Maybe music was my therapy. Maybe, through music, I was beginning to let go.

I was vaguely aware of James standing in the doorway, smiling. And the others, who came downstairs one by one to hear me play. "I'm going to get my guitar," Kenny said, pushing into the room. Shavonda grabbed his arm.

"No," she said. "This is for him alone. Let him play. He'll invite you when he's ready."

I continued playing, eyes closed, moving to the rhythm I felt come from deep inside me. I let the bass cry for me, releasing the pent-up emotions I had tried to power through. I felt the pain and turmoil leaving my body through my fingertips as I caressed the strings. And still, they stood there, watching.

Finally, I put the guitar down, smiling at our family gathered in the room. "You were right, James," I said. "It did help."

"You may have to do that every day," he said. "It takes time to heal. But you have all the support you need right here. And you have Von to join you when you need her. Thank god we made her take piano lessons as a little girl." Shavonda looked embarrassed.

That night, after everybody had gone home, we read the children a bedtime story. I hadn't done that in a while. But it felt good to put them to bed just like I used to do when I dropped them off at Rose's house so long ago. Back before Shavonda had come into my life and everything changed.

Lying in bed naked with my ebony queen, our miracle baby fast asleep in her crib, we had a heart to heart talk. "Von, baby," I said, "I've been so preoccupied lately. I never asked you how Juneteenth went."

"We did well," she replied. "But I am going to put off opening another store for a while. I think we could do well, but before we do that I want your head right. I don't want to be worrying about you all the time. Besides, I have to figure out where I want the new store to be. I've got a name for it, Shavonda's African Marketplace. Homewood would be an obvious choice, but after what happened to Edie's dad I can't be there for long. The place scares the hell out of me." I understood. Having your best friend's Dad murdered in cold blood in broad daylight would scare me too. Even if it was 20 years ago.

"Don't worry, boo," I said. "We'll find a place when it's time. Here in Penn Hills, maybe? Or Homestead near the Waterfront?"

"Both are good ideas. We need a place where a lot of people pass through, but somewhere I feel safe." Shavonda abruptly changed the subject. "Jason, did you mean it about taking me to see the wild horses?"

"Of course," I smiled, "As long as you're up for a ten-mile hike. "We'll probably have a pretty rough climb to get up there from the valley below. And we definitely have to get you a pair of hiking boots. But yeah, I'd love to take you there. I looked at online trail guides from the area, and it looks like a beautiful place." The look on Shavonda's face said it all. She gave me that ear to ear smile that both melted my heart and made me horny at the same time.

Shavonda got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a clean towel that she laid on the bed. "Skootch over onto the towel, Jason," she said. I did as she asked, and she leaned in for a kiss. "It's things like this that make me want you" Our hands started to roam, but I kept mine above the waistline. After all, it was that time of the month. She'd started that morning. But Shavonda had other ideas.

"Don't you want me? Cause I sure as hell want you." Shavonda purred as she straddled me in the dimly lit room. "Don't you want to watch that Indian dick disappear into my tight black pussy?"

I was even more turned on by her dirty talk, and the sensual look in her eyes. "I thought we weren't going to make love on your cycle?" I feebly protested. I didn't understand what was happening. For over two years, we'd avoided doing this during her period. It was hard for me to abstain during this time, but I did it for her, knowing she was embarrassed by her body's function during this time.

"Dammit, boy!" Shavonda snapped. "Do you want this pussy or not?" I nodded my head in assent, watching in awe as she guided my swollen member to her entrance then slowly lowered herself onto my lap. I watched, transfixed as inch after inch disappeared inside her folds. I could feel her clenching around me, tight and wet, as she bottomed out then slowly rose. Her slow movements were torture, especially since we'd abstained for several days before this. I could take no more, and as she began her slow descent my hips rose to meet hers as I thrust deep inside her.

Shavonda gasped as I thrust into her, again and again. "that's it. Make this pussy yours," she panted breathlessly. Her beautiful breasts bounced invitingly in my face, areolas like bullseyes, thumb sized nipples begging me to suck out the sweet nectar contained within their dark brown buds. Hands on her hips, I pounded into her. We both knew at the pace we were going neither of us would last, yet neither of us wanted to slow down.

I realized my queen had just opened up to me a little more, that she trusted me enough to put aside her inhibitions. As comfortable as we were with each other, this was something she'd always withheld from me. Now, she was letting it go in raw animalistic passion. I knew when we were done we'd be a bloody mess, but that didn't matter. In fact, it had never mattered to me. It had only been out of respect for her feelings that I'd never pushed the issue. Truth be told, Shavonda was my goddess, and no matter what I would worship at her temple.

Her moans had become insistent, rising in pitch as she neared her peak. We were both close to coming. Normally we'd have slowed our roll, prolonging the pleasure. But tonight, neither of us wanted to wait. Shavonda's inner walls tightened around me as she arched her back in orgasm with a primal scream I'd never heard from her before. Her walls clenched and released around me as I drove deeper into her. She collapsed on top of me, spent, eyes glassy. Still, I pounded into her>I was right there, but frustratingly, my own release was just out of reach. Shavonda whimpered weakly as I continued my assault on her most sacred spot. Finally, with a loud groan, I went over the edge, filling her with shot after shot of my potent seed.

We lay there, panting in post orgasmic rapture, gazing into each other's eyes. Her pussy contracted rhythmically around me, gently massaging my rapidly deflating penis, instinctively milking every last drop of sperm it could. As our heartbeats slowed, I whispered, "Thank you."

As my now spent member slipped out of her soggy hole, Shavonda arose from the bed. "Damn," she laughed breathlessly, "Looks like somebody killed a cat up in here." Grabbing my hand, she gently led me on rubbery legs to the shower. We gently washed each other, enjoying the slick sensation of our soapy hands on each other's body.

"I don't suppose I ever told you how horny I get on my period," Shavonda smiled. "It's been really hard keeping things under control these past two years when all I wanted to do was jump you bones."

I stared at her in disbelief. I'd endured the torture of abstinence for two years because I didn't think she was in the mood during her cycle. The whole time she'd been holding back on me. "Why?" I asked. "Why would you deny yourself when you had a willing partner right here?"

"I was embarrassed. It wasn't clean. It embarrassed me It's messy. And it's ugly."

"Don't you understand you're the most beautiful woman in the world. Nothing about you is ugly. I'd gladly have done whatever you wanted if you'd only asked. Anything. I'd gladly have eaten you if you wanted. There is nothing ugly about you, and nothing I wouldn't do for you."

Shavonda looked at me, tears in her eyes. "Is that how you see me? The most beautiful woman in the world?"

"Yes," I replied. "Ever since our first date, when you walked up to me in that diner, I've been in awe of you. You never had to worry about grossing me out. Your cycle is a natural part of you, and I have always accepted it as a part of you. I never pushed for sex because I thought you didn't want it during that time. You've never embarrassed me or grossed me out. Ever. I don't think you could even if you tried."

We'd stepped out of the shower, and dried each other off. Now I was seated on the toilet lid, lotioning my queen with cocoa butter. I'd come to love her smooth silky skin, and even though I didn't have to, I rubbed her down almost every time we bathed together. With my beauty oiled we went back to bed and were soon asleep, nestled like spoons.

The next morning, we went out for breakfast as a family. The kids had pancakes while Shavonda and I had steak and eggs. Even Miracle got into the act, as I fed her a pancake soaked with Maple syrup until it turned to mush. She loved the sweet taste. Afterward, we went to the store where I bought Shavonda a nice sturdy pair of boots. "You might want to wear these for a few days to break them in," I told her.

At home, Brian and Kenny helped me finish the tree house for the kids, while Tamika and Edie played cards in the yard with Shavonda. By evening, we had done all the major work on the treehouse, with the roof on and the walls put in place. We'd even made a sturdy ladder to climb. Now all that was needed was a coat of paint.

The rest of the month went by in a haze. I was still hurting bad, and every evening after work I'd take about an hour or so to play music. Sometimes Shavonda joined me and we played whatever came to mind, taking turns choosing the songs. The kids had taken to greeting me at the door with hugs, and after I was done playing music I made time for them. We often ran trains on the layout, with the Thomas themed engines ruling the line.