The Unicorn

"There's no need to get your wife out of the bed at this time at night. I'll take you home; it's kind of on my way."

He sat quietly for most of the ride. His drive was a long winding one that led through trees before it stopped in what could only be called a mansion. "You live here?"

"Yeah, I bought it for my wife last year. Care to come in?"

"I don't think so. I'm dirty and I smell like livers, worms and catfish. Probably not an aroma your wife would appreciate at this time of night. Call Wilbur in the morning. He's A.S.E. certified and most of his business is Mercedes and Audis. He could probably fix anything wrong with your car."

I waited until he got on his porch before he left.

*****

Wilbur checked his car over, and the only damage he could find was a bent tie-rod. Steve had him fix it and pumped him for information about me when he picked it up. Wilbur told me what he said.

"Jaime's a good guy, Mr. Rodham. And he's probably the best fisherman I've ever seen. He can be on the bank with twenty anglers and be the only one catching anything. When the local fire department needs fish for a fry, they call him. He's usually good for fifty pounds or more."

Steve was sitting in my driveway when I got home from work three days later. He got out, looking embarrassed. "Can I talk to you for a minute? I have a business proposition."

Curious, I brought him in, gave him a glass of tea. After a few minutes of spitting and sputtering, it came out. "I've always wanted to learn how to fish. I'm more than willing to pay if you'll teach me. I can make it worth your while."

I thought about it for a few minutes. I could tell he was sincere. "All right, be here at seven Friday night and we'll spend a few hours catfishing. You get the hang of that and we'll branch out to bass and crappie. I won't charge you anything past the price of the bait and a few beers, so don't insult me with offers to pay. Every man needs to know how to fish."

He was so excited he could barely talk.

*****

It took about a month before he wanted me to follow him home so he could introduce me to his wife. I had no idea what his wife looked like, but I figured with the kind of money he had, she'd be hot.

For once in my life I got something right. I didn't follow fashion magazines so I had no idea who she was. I just knew she was probably the most attractive woman I'd even seen. She smiled and tried to shake my hand, but I snatched it back.

"Sorry, ma'am, but I got fish bait on my hands and it is not a feel or smell I'd recommend to a lady."

She just stared for a minute before she grinned. "Well then, I insist you come in and wash up, so I can greet a new friend properly."

I did everything but take a bath in that sink, my urge to not offend her almost paralyzing. I surprised her again when I wouldn't sit on her couch, so she moved us to the kitchen table. I felt a little more relaxed. Where I grew up, friends never went to the front door, hardly ever made it out of the kitchen because there was always a pot on and something fresh out of the oven just begging for an opinion, and never overstayed their welcome.

After we got to know each other and I told her about the way I was raised, she grinned. After that, the first thing she did when she knew I was coming was get the coffee ready, turning it on when I came in the door.

They kind of adopted me, but I remembered my upbringing and never abused their friendship or stayed overlong. Jen was a hell of a woman, but when we met she had no idea what to do in a kitchen. They had a maid who did most of their cooking when they were home. They ate out a lot, mostly business dinners with the people Steve dealt with. I brought them a pecan pound cake, and they raved about it. Steve ate three pieces and Jen ate two.

Shocked didn't even begin to describe the look on their faces when I told them I baked it. "My mother taught me. It's a family secret going back to my great-grandmother, so don't ask for the recipe."

I did end up teaching her how to bake, starting with simple things like banana nut-bread and pineapple upside-down cake. She got hooked on Pinterest and YouTube websites and practiced a lot. It got so bad that Steve gained five pounds before he begged her to stop. I diverted her by saying there was always a church or civic organization around that was having a bake sale and they would appreciate anything she was willing to share.

That turned out to be a case of exchanging demons, because if she left with two cakes she'd come home with three. She also made a lot of friends in the community, and joined one or two civic organizations she thought had merit. Oddly enough, many of their meetings ended up held at her house. Jen was happy, saying it gave her something to do while Steve traveled or worked.

The fire department was her favorite, and she worked tirelessly to better the station. She donated money of course, but more valuable was the time she gave. Her local department ended up being one of the best equipped and trained in the state. The only time she flaunted her money was when she read an article saying that cancer was on a meteoric rise in firemen because of fumes and residue from the new materials builders were using. Jen consulted experts and had a modified Hazmat shower built and paid for a truck to haul it. She organized the volunteers who trained to set it up and balance the soaps and chemicals needed to decontaminate suits and equipment. Many walked through the shower in full gear before stripping it off and going through it again. Departments from all over the country came to observe the procedure.

They were horribly expensive and beyond the means of most volunteer departments, so Jen founded a charity to fund them and served as the face and first chairman. She often made personal appearances across the country to drum up support. She won awards that she accepted with thanks but rarely talked about, preferring for the focus stay on the mission.

I escorted her to a couple of functions when Steve was traveling, and most thought I was her husband. She rarely corrected them and giggled about it later. "You and Steve look so much alike that it's a common mistake, especially if they've been drinking. Just go with it."

When it was time for the annual Christmas parade, our small town insisted she serve as Grand Marshall, to honor her for her efforts. She ended up riding on top of an antique fire engine, a 1921 American LaFrance. As a tribute, forty-one stations sent a truck. It was the biggest Christmas parade ever held in the town.

Jen wanted me to ride with her, but I refused. "This is your moment, Jen. They want to honor you, so accept it in the spirit it was given." The applause rippled through the town as she passed and she had tears in her eyes by the time it was over. She told me later of all the acclaim she'd gotten while she modeled, all of it together meant less than what she was given that cold December afternoon.

*****

She had been gone for five months. She briefly returned to modeling, did a couple of guest appearances on fashion shows, even sat in as a substitute judge for three weeks. Then she just disappeared off the face of the earth. I tried calling her a couple of times, but the number had been changed. I called Sandy and she was in the same boat. "She's processing, honey. She thought her life was set. Did you know she was going to have two bedrooms decorated for the children she hoped to have? One for a little boy, the other for a girl. Unless she remarries pretty soon that dream will fade. She's done this before. When her aunt, a woman who practically raised her, passed suddenly, she went off the grid then. She was gone for six weeks and then she just showed up and carried on like she hadn't been gone and refused to talk about where she had been.

"Don't worry, Jaime. She'll show back up sooner or later. Remember, her dream house is here."

I doubted the validity of that when I saw the house featured on the cover of a real estate magazine. It was priced at 2.2 million. I heard it sold in a week for 2.6, the object of a bidding war between three couples.

After nine months I had reconciled myself to the fact that she was now just a pleasant memory.

*****

It was Saturday, and I was in my shop, doing what I loved best. Besides Construction Management, I held a degree in furniture design. I bought my house partially because it had a large workshop out back, a 24x36 metal building. I had a lot of tools, and now that I had room I bought equipment I hadn't been able to use until then. I had a huge lathe, a steam vat designed to soften wood for bending, a planer capable of working a thirty inch board; in short, I had almost everything a professional furniture maker needed to produce a quality product.

I had another shed that held lumber that stayed packed. I had a lot of oak, some pecan, a few black walnut logs, some cedar, even a bit of holly.

At that particular moment I was making a rocking chair for a friend. She was 'vertically challenged' as she liked to put it. Her adult height was 4' 6'', and she was the tallest of her siblings. This chair was designed for optimal comfort for her size, somewhere between a child's chair and a full size. I was drum-sanding the edges of the seat when I felt the door open. I didn't look up. Most of my friends and neighbors knew what I did most Saturdays, so if they wanted something or stopped by to say hi, they knew to come to the shop first.

I finished sanding the bottom and looked up, almost dropping it when I saw who it was.

Jen.

She looked older. She was fifteen pounds thinner and she didn't need to lose weight. Her eyes were sad, but they changed when I looked up. The eyes matched her smile. Instead of hello, her first words surprised me.

"How come I never knew you made furniture?"

"It never came up in conversation. Besides, it's just a hobby. I'd love to do it full-time, but I'm not sure I could support myself. I'd have to charge some pretty high prices, and I don't think most people could afford it."

"I know lots of people who would love to have custom-made furniture and wouldn't bat an eye at the price if it was of good quality. You should have let me help you."

I struggled for a moment trying to frame my answer in a way she could understand it. "Yeah. No. You were my friends, Jen, not some business opportunity. If I'd have come to you I'd have been just like all the rest of the assholes you and Steve had to deal with. You would have always wondered if I was truly your friend or just someone I needed to use. So I didn't bring it up. Steve never knew. If I had told him, he would have hounded me with suggestions like the one you just gave. You were worth more to me as friends, do you understand?"

Tears started. "And that's why we loved you."

I couldn't keep a little bitterness out of my voice. "Yeah, I could tell that from all the calls and visits I got from you."

"I knew you wouldn't understand. I had to leave. After a few days, rattling around in that big old house was just too much. Plus, every time I saw you it reminded me of Steve. I tried going back to my old life, but that got stale pretty quick. I'd forgotten how shallow and calculating most of those people were."

"I can understand that. But you didn't call Sandy or any of your oldest friends. Think they liked being shut out of your life? If you're going to be back for more than a few days you need to give them a call and try to mend fences."

What she'd done hit her, and she cried harder. I shut down my machinery knowing there would be no more work that day and took her into the house, making coffee and getting out the pecan pound cake I'd made the day before. She ate two pieces before she started making phone calls.

Sandy and the rest of the girls showed up ninety minutes later, kissed me on the cheek, and threw me out of the house. I piddled around before deciding to light my grill. I'd marinated a bunch of leg quarters the night before, so I grilled them, a few steaks, some potatoes and ears of corn, and honey glazed carrots with toasted pecans. The smells started getting to them and they drifted out to my deck.

My house was manufactured, because it was the most house I could get for the money, but I had modified it quite a bit and was inordinately proud of my multi-level deck with the built-in table that wrapped in a semi-circle around a big oak. It was the first time any of them had been there so they wandered around, checking out my koi pond, complete with a little island that held a large Japanese lantern, and admiring a vegetable garden that looked laid out with military precision. They were surprised one whole section was nothing but flowers. I had sunflowers of all sizes and colors, zinnias, African daisies, different colors of cosmos, and marigolds.

When I called them to eat, I was amazed. They ate like construction workers, not fashion models or professional women. They laughed about the whole roll of paper towels they had to use.

Sandy sat back and let loose a very unladylike belch, which broke the whole group up. "I'm thinking, Jaime, that I need to review my relationship expectations. You cook, you build furniture and you ain't hard to look at. "

Everyone laughed but Jen, and she looked a little irritated. The girls caught it and grinned harder, teasing her by giving me their numbers. I looked at Melody. "Aren't you married?"

"I am, and I love him dearly. I wanted you to have my number so we could set up some training sessions for hubby. He could use a few pointers."

They relaxed as twilight gathered, oohing when I switched on my party lights, especially enjoying the Japanese lantern on the little island. All the lights were designed to draw insects away from the deck. I brought out a carafe of coffee and the Pecan pound cake. They groaned but managed to eat every bite of it.

They all demanded the recipe. Jen grinned. "Sorry girls, but it's a family secret. He won't even give it to me, and I begged for almost two years. He says it will stay in the family."

Sandy looked at Jen and smirked. "Well then, we'll have to get him married off to one of us to insure a steady supply. Any volunteers?"

To a woman they all turned to Jen. She was glowing but promised to do a little research. There were a lot of hugs and kisses as they left. Sandy got me off to the side.

"I know men are thick most of the time, so let me lay it out for you. She didn't come back for us. She came back for you. If you're not interested, let her down gently. If you are, go slow. She's still a little fragile."

I was taken completely by surprise. I guess men are dense. "Her? Me? She's miles above me, Sandy. She's rich, beautiful, and I'm just an average guy trying to make ends meet. It would never work."

She slapped me lightly. "God! You're even dumber than most. She couldn't give a shit about what you have. She doesn't need possessions or riches. She already has those. She needs a man who loves her in spite of all that. One thing I can be assured of, if you get together, it won't be because of her money or your perceived lack of it. You can give her what she desires most in this world and it won't cost either of you a dime. She wants the love of a good man and a family. She's talked about children ever since we were in college. Man up, Jaime. Be the one."

We waved as they left and went back into the house. "Where are you staying? I know you sold the house."

She seemed surprised. "I'm staying with you, at least for a while. You don't mind, do you? I can get an extended-stay suite somewhere if you do, but I'd really like to stay here. I want to surround myself with real, not the illusion I've been living with lately. Please?"

I thought about it for a minute, looking at her anxious face. Then I sighed. "Yeah, you can stay. I guess I'll have to get used to one of the most beautiful women in the world hogging my bathroom. The sacrifices one makes for friendship."

She slowly started grinning. "I promise not to leave my panties hanging on the shower rod too often. I find myself very tired now, honey. Where do I sleep? Your bed, I hope?"

She was only semi-joking. I led her to the guest room. I had forgotten I'd made every piece of furniture in the room, from the dressers to the large canopy bed, all in light pecan. I'd learned to carve, and the posts of the bed were done in intricate patterns, vines and little flowers, mostly. There was even a vanity, the mirror in the shape of a heart. I'd made it with a little girl in mind.

She wandered around, touching everything. Finally she turned and smiled. "What's her name?"

"Huh?"

"What's her name? You obviously designed this room for a daughter. I assume you had a name picked out."

"Uh, no. I always thought when I married, we would pick the name out together, something that appealed to both of us. It wouldn't be fair, otherwise."

Tears welled up once again. She came over, grabbed me, and gave me a very, very nice kiss. "I have the feeling you'll be an excellent father. Goodnight, Jaime."

I stood and watched her for a second before telling her good night.

*****

Movement woke me. I looked at the clock. Four in the morning! I wondered what I had heard until I saw her at the foot of the bed. I freaked for a minute before I remembered she was still in the house. "Jen? Are you all right?"

In answer she dove on the bed, soaking my shoulder with tears. "No, I'm not all right. Can I stay here for a bit? I need to feel loving arms around me, at least for a little while. I'll go back to my room when I calm down."

I pushed the covers back and she snuggled in, her head on my shoulder. She smelled great, and she felt wonderful. I went to sleep with my arm wrapped around her.

I woke at eight and she was still there, still snuggled tightly. She was still on my shoulder, and my other arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her to me tightly. I lay and looked at her, thinking how beautiful she was without makeup, her hair spread out in a messy fashion. Fifteen minutes later, one eye popped open. "How long have you been staring at me?"

"A little while. And I wasn't staring, more like admiring."

Jen grinned and stretched, sliding that sensuous body along my length. I popped hard instantly, and she felt it. She pushed me away, giggling. "Up. I'm ready for breakfast."

We showered, separately, although the thought of that naked body just on the other side of that door did nothing to make my erection go down. I had to stand under the cold water while I had my shower, just to gain control.

Jen had been busy. Pots and pans were everywhere. She wouldn't let me help, so I sipped coffee and admired her as she flitted from task to task.

Jen had made crepes and they were excellent. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Paris. I spent three months in a compressed cooking course. We prepared dishes for ten hours a day, six days a week. One of the many reasons I was incommunicado."

She cooked, so I cleaned up while she sipped coffee. I hand washed the large items and prepped the rest for the dishwasher. "Are you always this neat?"

"Yeah. Uncle Sam taught me, and since I live alone it's pretty easy to keep the place clean if you don't let things pile up."

She changed subjects quickly. "Why aren't you married, Jaime? You might as well wear a t-shirt that says "Prime Husband Material"."

"Honestly, I haven't found anyone I loved enough to consider marriage. I'm like a lot of animals. I intend to mate for life, so I have to be damn sure. I was in love with a woman once, but nothing came of it."

"Why not?"

"Because she was married to someone else. If I had pursued her, talked her into betraying her husband, it would have never worked. How could I trust someone who would do that to another who was supposed to be the love of her life? If she had, could I respect her? It's a shame because she was just about as perfect as a wife could be."