Love Said, "Hello." Pt. 02

Love Said, "Hello"

A.J. Roye

All Rights Reserved 2022

Continued from the first submission.

Chapter 7

The summer was blazing hot.

A record drought for the state.

The long days, pulling conductor, and nailing boxes. Outlets, switches, driving grounding rods, and mounting load centers. Stripping old conductor for the recycled copper. The work at the University dried up. For now.

I saw Lynn once, during the summer. At the grocery store. She seemed truly happy to see me. I know I was happy to see her. Blues eyes, and her sexy wide mouth. She looked healthy and her baby bump had grown. And... I could tell she was excited to be a mother.

She also told me, her lawyer was taking Aaron Hamilton to court for child support, but a DNA paternity test needed to be performed after the baby's birth. Aaron has already been notified by her attorney. And, she received an angry phone call afterward. She changed her phone number.

"I am so glad he is out of my life," she told me. "And, I hope the baby's life, too. I am a stupid woman for letting my emotions, and selfishness, take over my judgement."

I hugged her. And kissed her cheek.

Since last spring, my mother, father, and I resumed our front porch jams on Thursday nights. And, I played a set at the Lazy Z every three weeks. I really enjoy the locals coming to my sets, and greeting me afterward.

My mother retired at the end of the spring semester. Professor Emeritus conferred upon her by the University during commencement, and a private, faculty ceremony. My father was proud. I was, too. Laura, and her family present, was icing on the cake for my mother. She loved on her grandchildren. She certainly deserved it.

Spending her time writing books and poetry. Hopeful, she will be able to published someday, in retirement.

My father, originally intended to retire with Mom, but changed his mind two months into the fall semester, last year.

"I've got to much outstanding research to complete to retire. Maybe in two years."

When really, Mom, and myself, both know he loves his work, too much, to retire. He can't stay out of the forest, without his graduate students following him, like ants on an ant trail. Passing on the vast knowledge he has accumulated, to young and bright minds, for nearly 50 years.

And speaking of graduate students...

You never know what the next day will bring.

*****

I stepped out the back door of my home, heading to Mom and Dad's house.

Like I've done, since I moved into my home.

Mom and Dad began a tradition, after they married. Having a "meet and greet" party in their home for their graduate students. Particularly, for the grad students new to the University. One evening for English students... another evening for the Forestry students.

Since Mom has retired, only the Forestry grad students would be present this new academic year.

I have, since I was 10 years old, been helping my parents with their parties. I would wash the windows, sweep the floors, and clean the bathroom. When I got older, I helped Mom make the finger sandwiches, hors d'oeuvres, and deli plates. Lemonade and iced tea.

When I entered the house from the backyard, I could hear a few guests had arrived. Mom greeted me in the kitchen with a hug and kiss... and...

"Ice in the glasses. Lemonade and tea are in the refrigerator. And make sure there are napkins on the coffee table. Salted nuts for the dish, too."

I recognized a couple of grad students from last year's party, and a few unfamiliar faces. Mom passed me when I returned to the kitchen. In a whisper...

"The glasses on the table by the lounge chair. Fill them."

In the kitchen, I was pouring lemonade into glasses, when I heard soft footsteps from behind me.

"Hello?"

I don't know why, but a tingle went down my spine.

An attractive, feminine voice, and... Thick with Mississippi mud. I would recognize that accent anywhere.

"I'm almost done, then I'll bring out the drinks," I offered, as I continued pouring into the final glass.

I heard her step near, and to my left, but I couldn't see her.

"You're Professor Jackson's son, aren't you?"

"I am," I replied, as I finished the last glass of lemonade. Five lemonades and five iced teas on my serving tray. Ready to go.

I stood upright and turned to face my father's guest.

Damn!

Her wide smile, and brilliant teeth, nearly pushed me back to the wall, behind me.

"Umm... Mark Jackson, Miss," I offered, as I extended my right hand towards her, and...

Tipped over most of the drinks on the tray!!!

"Dang it!"

Embarrassed is an understatement.

Lemonade and iced tea went everywhere. On the floor. On the countertop. On the serving tray. On me, and my boots.

I could hear her giggle, as I fumbled for a drying towel to mop up my mess.

"Mark?" my mother said... annoyance in her tone.

"Mom, I'm clumsy, and I'm sorry. I'll get this cleaned up and the drinks out, right away." I briefly looked up from the floor... towards the pretty woman looking down on me with that amazing smile.

"Miss Morton," Mom said... a little short in her tone. "Professor Jackson is asking for you."

I watched this tall, slender beauty, slightly turn and begin walking backwards towards the living room.

"Yes Ma'am." She flicked her gaze upon me. I'm squatting... mopping up spilled drink, as fast as I can.

Placing her slender hand, upon her chest, below her throat, and looking right at me... she said...

"I'm Naomi Morton, by the way."

A beautiful, feminine voice. Again, thick with Mississippian. She paused as she turned to exit the kitchen for the living room. She looked over her shoulder, and threw her smile at me again. Those black eyes... Damn! Then, she left the kitchen.

Damn... Again.

"Mark."

I looked up from the floor. The look on my Mom's face told me...

"The drinks."

*****

In the past, I usually hung out in my parents' kitchen, as they socialized with their grad students. Waiting, if needed, to get, or make anything my mother thought needed attention.

But, not this time...

I stood in the threshold between kitchen and living room. Leaning against the door jamb with my arms crossed in front of me. Enamored with the pretty woman sitting on the end of my parents' couch. Occasionally, she would sip iced tea.

Naomi Morton.

Her long legs crossed. A button up front, plaid shirt, with a white tank top underneath. Sleeves rolled up to just below her elbows. Baggy, work blue jeans with a belt cinched tight to hold them up. Low cut basketball shoes. She has to be wearing those, instead of heels, because she's so tall. Her hair, tied up into a messy bun on the back of her head. Uncooperative strands of hair falling on her neck, and the sides of her face.

It was clear to me, this pretty woman has a recent ancestor who is African American. Her dark hair, the most obvious indicator. Light brown skin, thick eyebrows, deep, dark, nearly black eyes, beautiful lips, slender face, and a cute nose, perhaps inherited from her white ancestors. So pretty in fact, I thought she might be able to pull off a fashion model career with her great looks and slender build. Just a tiny hint of facial makeup. Unfortunately, because I like a woman's tits, hers were well-hidden inside her two shirts.

Naomi... Listening intently to my father's words of encouragement and research opportunities he has for them. Occasionally, flicking her gaze toward me with a sly, sexy, and little smile. I smiled in return.

"I see what's going on, Mark," my mother whispered, as she made for the kitchen. She paused and grinned a sly grin to me. "Pretty, isn't she?" She didn't wait for my reply, entering the kitchen, and returning with a tray of finger sandwiches. "Will you get the hors d'oeuvres and deli tray?"

My mother and I set the trays on the buffet table in my parents' living room.

"If everyone will, we'll eat on the front porch. There's tables and chairs for everyone," my father offered, after his remarks.

This was my father's and mother's party. I ate in the kitchen, to allow them to interact with their students. About thirty minutes later...

I had my lips on a glass of iced tea, when... I caught a glimpse in the corner of my eye.

"Hello, again."

She stood in the threshold of the kitchen and smiled that mind blowing smile. Slight squint of her eyes while smiling. Sexy.

That same tingle went down my spine.

I focused... Determined not to toss the kitchen table across the room as I stood, and make another jackass out of myself. Carefully... with a smile of welcome, I stood from my chair and faced this very, pretty woman.

"I... Um, let's do this again, shall we?" I took three steps toward her and stopped an arm's length away. She followed me with her eyes and a welcoming smile. I extended my hand...

"My name is Mark Jackson. I apologize for our first meeting. I promise, it's not like me to toss lemonade at my parents' guests."

She giggled and quickly looked down. Her slender fingers pushed an unruly strand of hair behind her ear... she refocused on me with that soul melting smile. And, took my hand.

"OK... and, I'm Naomi Morton."

Five-nine. Her height.

Nearly eye to eye with me. And at close range... absolutely gorgeous. The most exotic looks. Her narrow eyelids had very dark brown eyes behind them. Almost black eyes. High cheek bones. Her skin color, exotic. A light brown. Nearly white. Her hair... dark brown... nearly black. Slender neck and feminine shoulders. Long arms and legs. And her voice... very, very attractive. Pleasant to the ears. Thick Mississippian accent. Cute, how she draws out her words. Just like Dad.

"A genuine pleasure, Naomi Morton," I replied, as I released her hand. I noticed her hand and fingers are long. I stood there drinking in the amazing looks of this very pretty woman.

"I thought I would introduce myself. Earlier, I mean. I saw you when you placed napkins and nuts on the table, and I didn't know you were going to be here tonight." She paused to look at my hair, and my unruly lock of hair on my eyebrows. "I've seen you perform at the Lazy Z. Three times. My roommate and I love your music."

"Thank you. I'm regretting, not having the opportunity to meet you, before tonight. So, how long have you been in Nacogdoches? I mean, classes start in just a few days. You've seen me three times, you said."

"Yes. I moved here in June. I went to summer school and took some photography and art classes. You know. To help with documenting my research."

"Of course. Say I would..."

"Miss Morton."

My mother. Looking past Naomi, and at me. With a half smirk, and a half, "I'm serious," look.

Naomi spun and faced my mother. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Professor Jackson is thanking his guests and saying goodbye."

Naomi made to slip past my mother, and to leave the kitchen, but I took her right hand to stop her.

"Don't go. Please. Please stay for bit after the others have gone." My urgent plea.

The smile I received. Amazing. I released her hand, and she left for the front door of the house.

"Well," my mother whispered, as she slipped past me. "I don't blame you. She's very pretty."

*****

I was cleaning the kitchen, when my father stuck his head through the door.

"Mark? You asked my star graduate student to stay?"

"Yes, Sir," I replied, as I placed a serving tray into the under cabinet. I stood to face my father. Drying towel in hand. "She introduced herself to me earlier. She's seen me perform at the Lazy Z. I... I want to get to know her, Dad. Considering she'll be here for at least two years."

My Dad replied with a curious look to my mother. And my mother laughed.

"Mark. Look at him," she said, as she turned to me with a smile. "Our son seems to be taken with your student. Go on Mark, I'll finish up."

I kissed and hugged my mother. Passing my father for the living room...

"Miss Morton in on the front porch, Mark."

I gently opened the screen door and was greeted with the smile that has me going crazy by now. The automatic porch lights are on. It's getting dark. The two porch ceiling fans offered a limited breeze, to make the oppressive heat, barely tolerable.

"Blazing hot this evening, isn't it?" I offered.

"It is. Reminds of home. Hot and humid."

I got as close as I dared, without her thinking I may be creepy.

"Home has to be Mississippi. I would recognize that accent anywhere." I did my very best to offer her my best, welcoming smile.

"It is. A small town near Jackson, Mississippi." She looked at my hair again. She seemed fascinated.

"Can we sit down for a few moments? I... think you're very pretty and I would love to get to know you better. OK?"

"OK, and thank you," she replied. She turned and took a few steps for one of the metal porch chairs. "Now, I have a compliment, too, Mark." She waited for me to take a chair. I pulled it closer to her and in front of her. "I think you're very good looking, too. And..." She paused and took a breath. "I think you're one of the best singers I've ever heard. Are you a hidden treasure here? I mean, has no one found you to take your music to another level?"

Dang. She really knows how to get a conversation going.

"I have. A couple of times. But... Well... I don't think I'm ready for the demands a music career requires. I may change my mind someday, but I'm too invested here. I love the people. I have done some local recording, with another band. The Ned Young Band. Ned is from Lufkin. And, I sit in with his band, on occasion. I sang backup on some of his recordings." I took a breath, because Naomi was taking it away. RIGHT NOW!

I offered my thumb and forefinger in front of me. Just an inch apart, as I continued... "Ned is about this far from becoming the next Charlie Daniels. He's a musical savant. Name it, and he can play it. Guitar, banjo, fiddle, keyboards, mandolin. Way far out in front of me. I may sing better than Ned, but I assure you. He isn't far behind. Right on my tail, you might say."

Her happy gaze to me, again, was taking my breath away. After a short, and very, awkward pause...

"I swear, Naomi. I don't seem to be able to form a rational thought right now. I can't stop admiring you. I'm not creepy, I promise, but fear you may think I am this very moment."

She leaned forward and took my left hand into her right. Then, looked up to me. With her amazing smile. A whisper...

"I don't think you're creepy. Your local reputation tells me so." She paused and took my other hand. "Relax. Be yourself. I want to know Mark Jackson. Not someone else."

Damn.

I felt my muscles relax. Her touch... comforting. I was receiving an energy from her. A pleasant energy. My rational brain formed a thought.

"Naomi. There's a festival at the University on Saturday. To welcome new, and returning students to campus. Mom, Dad, and me will be the opening act at the music pavilion. 11:00 that morning. I would love to spend the day with you. Will you come with me? Stand on the front row when my family plays for the students? I take you home at, say about 4, when the festival ends. Please?" I was begging her to accept, in my tone.

"Yes, I will go with you. I'll be manning the booth for the Forestry Department, though. My thirty minute shift. I'm taking over from your father."

"Perfect!"

Two minutes later, I had her phone number, and I escorted her to her brand new Ford F-150, parked in front of my parents' home. A beautiful truck. Crew cab. Candy apple red.

"Wow. Nice truck."

"My Daddy bought it for me. Said I couldn't move to Texas without a pickup. I wouldn't blend in and they'd think I was from a foreign land, he said."

I laughed. "I'm gonna want to know everything about your family, Naomi. It will tell me a lot about you, knowing them."

"On Saturday, I'll tell you about them." She smiled wide as she opened the door to her truck. She briefly paused before getting in. I was aching for a kiss, but it didn't seem she felt the same. She seemed to examine my face and hair. Pausing her gaze on my forehead. An unruly lock of hair resides there, often. Then, Naomi hopped into her truck, started it, waved, smiled, and she slowly drove to the end of the block and made a left turn.

My chest felt tight. Like I had a swollen heart.

My mother came out of the kitchen, when I entered the house from the porch.

"Well?"

From across the living room...

"Is it too early to say I'm in love?"

Chapter 8

I met Naomi's roommate.

Karen. From Port Arthur. A junior at Stephen F., who lost her roommate to graduation last spring, and Naomi answered her Facebook ad to share the rent. Her father, a shift supervisor for a huge refinery there.

She was squealing when she opened the door.

"Mark Jackson! I can't believe you're in my house!" She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek.

"Dang, Karen. Not once did you come greet me after my set. Naomi ratted you out. You're busted, now, and the next time I see you at the Lazy Z, I'm gonna want another hug."

Another squeal and, she was hanging on Naomi's arm, jumping up and down.

"I can't believe you're going out with Mark Jackson!"

"Come with us, Karen. Please," I offered.

"Oh, no... I can't. I have a date. Sorry."

"Then join us. You and your date. Naomi and I are going to listen to the music. Please?"

"OK... Maybe."

I could tell she wanted to come along.

"I'll ask Steve. He likes your singing, too."

In my truck, driving to campus. I...

"My lucky day. You, living just a block from my house. For sure, I'll be coming over, often, to borrow a cup of sugar."

I heard her giggle. She took my right hand into hers. I love her touch.

"What kind of sugar?"

She caught me off guard. I arched both eyebrows.

"Well, I don't use brown sugar. I don't bake much. But I do use refined sugar. You know, the white kind?"

"Not the other kind? The one that isn't brown, or white?"

She really caught me off guard with that one. I briefly looked at her, from the street in front of me. Good God, that smile.

"I'm not familiar with the, 'other kind.' What is it, and what do you use it for?"

She leaned over the center console of my truck and whispered...

"The sweet kind you receive when another kisses you."

I blinked. Twice. And she started giggling at me.

"I... I didn't think of that line, Pretty Girl. I just wanted a lame excuse to see you more often. But, now that you mention it. If you're agreeable, I would like to borrow some of that sugar, on occasion."

Again, in my ear, as I'm driving...

"We'll see. After the day is over. Behave yourself, now."

Damn.

*****

The crowd at the pavilion was screaming out my name, as I stepped up to the mic. My parents on my right. Mom between me and Dad.

I looked down from the stage to the sweet angel I met this week... smiling to me. Appearing to be fascinated, with our local popularity.

Naomi was wearing a more than hot, white spaghetti strap half tank top with a shelf bra. Tight against her body. Her slender feminine shoulders and neck on full display. Tight, figure revealing mid-calf leggings. Black. And black slipper-like shoes. Her hair, again tied up into a messy bun on the back of her head. The sides, front, and back, pulled tight against her scalp.

Slender... not skinny. Slightly flaring hips and sexy waist. A hint of tummy flesh between her leggings and tight tank top. Her erotic light brown skin. Sexy. And, her tits...

Not small, but not big, either. Somewhere in between.

Yum.

My Dad steps up to the mic...

"Welcome to Stephen F. Austin University! Go Lumberjacks, and Lumberjills!"

That did it... the crowd was beside themselves. Screams, hollers, and yelps.

"My name is Doctor Mark Jackson, Professor of Forestry!"

A deafening uproar.