Unc and the Girl Next Door

All of my writing is fiction, and the stories and characters are all products of my imagination. They were created for my fun and, hopefully, your enjoyment. Some of the events in the stories are not particularly condoned nor encouraged by the author but are there to create and enhance the story of the imaginary characters and their lives. Comments are always encouraged and carefully reviewed. All characters within the story that need to be are 18 years of age or older. I hope you enjoy! And take a second to vote and comment.

This is the third story in the Conestoga Court series, the first two being "Two Couples Suspicions" and "I Think It's the Wine." All of the stories are independent and meant to be read separately and in no particular order. Conestoga Court is a typical suburban neighborhood with eight homes located around the nearly circular court. Married couples occupy five of the houses. One has an unmarried couple living together; one a single woman and the last a single man.

"Lorenzo, you need to trim a little more carefully. You have grass growing over the edges of your sidewalk and the driveway."

"Good idea, Mom. I'll get to that as soon as I can. How are you, anyway?"

"I'm fine, not that you'd ever call to find out," she replied, a disgruntled look on her face.

"I call all the time, mom, but you're never there. And, if you'd ever relent and get an answering machine, I could at least leave a message.

"Humph," was her only reply as she began looking around the house. "I'm not interested in hearing your voice on some kind of a machine. It's bad enough to listen on the telephone instead of looking at you while we talk. Is the dishwasher empty? I'll put these things in for you."

"Thanks, Mom, but you don't need to bother. I'll get them later this evening ... like I always do," he added, to let her know that he had some kind of organization to his life.

Lorenzo watched his mother as she prowled around the house, checking to be sure he was doing things properly and in a timely manner. He was thirty-nine years old and had lived by himself since the divorce, seventeen years ago now. Three years of an ugly, fruitless, and unrewarding marriage had ended very predictably. The best part of it was that he and his former wife had not seen each other since the day the divorce was finalized.

"So, son, do you have a lady-friend now?" Usually, that was the first question she asked.

"Well, I've had a couple of dates with a lady, but nothing serious yet."

"At least some dates, for a change," she said, a disappointed tone to her voice.

He didn't mention that the two dates were separated by over two months and he was determined there wouldn't be a third. He just wasn't interested in women, even though he hadn't been totally abstinent during those seventeen years. One-night-stands were all he'd needed and had served him well.

Her inspection complete, Melanie seated herself very primly on Lorenzo's couch. Since she was clearly planning on visiting, Lorenzo had a question he'd been harboring for some time, unsure what his Mom's reaction to it might be.

"May I ask you a question, Mom?"

She cocked her head and looked at him quizzically. "If you have to ask that question, yours must be something very out of the ordinary."

"I guess it is. I've always been curious about ... why did you marry Dad?"

Melanie started slightly. "That's an odd question. Why do people usually get married?"

"That's why I asked the question. You're, well, very straightforward, a time and a place for everything and—"

"Victorian?" she interrupted.

"Would you describe yourself that way?"

"I suppose if I had to. I guess it seems to fit."

"Admitting that and what I said before, that's the reason I asked the question."

She settled back on the couch, adjusting a pillow. "I played the violin and he the trumpet. We saw each other at practice each night and began discussing the music, the conductor, and how things were done. He was very polite, intelligent ... and handsome, I guess. He began coming past my house, and we'd walk to practice together. He laughed so easily and made me laugh as well." She paused and looked at Lorenzo very intently. "Honestly, the color or his skin faded from view—it wasn't important any longer."

"That just seems amazing, Mom. It's just so ..."

"Different and out-of-character for me?" She nodded and smiled. "It was indeed, and your grandparents reminded me of that often. And in a very loud voice. But it didn't matter. When you fall in love, really in love, those little things don't matter. They become invisible holes in the path that you pass over without even seeing."

Lorenzo had never heard that detail from either his mother or father, and it shined a new light on her, a light that made her much easier to visualize.

"I think you know the rest," she continued, "that I wasn't able to have children and we were lucky enough to adopt you rather quickly. I guess you were so good," she laughed, "that we decided we didn't need any others."

Lorenzo moved to the couch and hugged her. She was what she was, and he loved her, even if she exasperated him no end sometimes.

"You need a good woman," she continued, standing and obviously ready to leave.

"If I can find one as good as you are, I might consider it."

"You just need to fall in love, like your father and I did. That's what I pray for nightly."

"Thanks, Mom," he said, following her out the door and waving as she climbed into her car. She tooted and very slowly exited his driveway.

"Was that your Mom, Uncle Lorenzo?" he heard a voice call and, turning, saw Alison Donellan running toward him. She jumped into his arms, and they hugged.

"What are you doing around here?" he asked, holding her at arm's length and checking her from top to bottom.

"Sis and I are here to spend a couple of weeks with Mom and Dad. It's soooo good to see you too." Her deep blue eyes bored into his. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, Ali and Jen as well."

"I'm ready for a little B-ball any time you are, too. I can whip your butt now."

"Is that because you think I'm old?"

"You'll never be old, Unc. You look just like you did when I went away to college," she added with a warm smile.

Of course, Lorenzo wasn't really her uncle, but the two girls had always called him that. Both girls were basketball players and had been outstanding in high school and done well for their Division III colleges as well. The three of them had many intense one-on-one duels at the Donellan's court, and the girls credited Lorenzo for much of their athletic success. He had been an excellent high school basketball player, so he had enjoyed helping the girls and missed only a very few of their high school games. When they'd gone away to college, it was a little more complicated, but he still managed to get to some of the important ones.

"How are you enjoying being a nurse?"

She laughed. "I love it. I meet so many interesting people, and I get to help them too, and that makes me feel really good." The look on her face left no doubt about the sincerity of what she'd said.

"I knew you'd love it, and I knew you'd be good at it. And, by the way, you look good."

Alison gazed at him for long seconds before she replied. "Thanks, Unc," she said softly, those blue eyes meeting his once more.

He felt something inside his body stir, a feeling he didn't recognize. Alison had undoubtedly grown up. He laughed at himself. What normal male wouldn't respond that way to a girl like Alison? She wasn't beautiful by any means, but she was trim, athletic, bubbly, and definitely very cute at five-foot-eight. He was sure she'd have a guy if she didn't already.

"You still at the Shelter?"

"Yep, and, like you, I love it. Wouldn't want to do anything else."

"What's the name again, and I won't forget it this time?"

"It's Mac's Shelter. The MacAlisters, who gave the big chunk of change to get the place going, didn't want their name on it. They were just good folks. They agreed to Mac's, though, since they thought that was kind of cute."

"I'll never forget the times I volunteered there. It was a whole new experience for me, the fact that lots of those people didn't have a hint about any kind of life but the one they were living—no money and a tent under a railroad bridge."

"That's what makes a lot of it so hard. You can't appeal to their desire to improve or better things because they don't have it. They're ... content, in a dismal sort of way."

"Still," she said, smiling at him again, "it was pretty clear how much they loved you."

"Thanks. In their own sort of way, I guess they do. I try."

"You running the place yet," she said, giggling.

"Not quite. I'm the Assistant Director, but Bill Whitaker, the Director, is retiring in a few months. He has cancer and just can't handle it anymore, so I'll be the Director."

"Oh my gosh, that's too bad. But, are you excited?"

"Sure. It'll be a new challenge, but ..." His mind drifted off as he considered the new issues he'd be facing.

"How's your mom doing?" she asked, changing the subject. "I always enjoyed talking with her. She's, well, so different than we are, so prim and proper and kind of stiff-upper-lip."

"That's her for sure." He was thinking. "You knew I was adopted, didn't you?"

"I remember you telling me that once. Why?"

"Here's what you don't know and could never believe. My stepfather was black."

Now those blue eyes had a look of disbelief. "No shit," she finally said. "Wow, I'd have never guessed that."

"That's how I got the name, Lorenzo, from him. I'd never really talked with her about that, despite how strange it seems. You just told me what she's like, and you'd never expect that from her, but she said that when you fall in love, none of that other stuff matters."

"I think she's right." Ali looked away from Lorenzo. She looked back quickly. "So, when do we go one-on-one?"

"I haven't played for a long time. Are you playing at all?"

"Hell, yes," she said, giggling. "I play in two women's leagues that fit in with my weird schedule at the hospital. I'm ready for ya, buddy," she said, a hand to his chest.

Lorenzo grabbed her wrist. "No way do I let a girl beat me."

"Girl ... girl? I'm twenty-four years old. I'm no girl anymore."

"You're a girl till you beat me," he teased, still holding her wrist.

She grabbed hold of his hand with her other hand and swung around, her face inches from his.

"Get ready to lose, Unc. You're going down." She curled her lip in a snarl.

Lorenzo laughed. "Same Ali," he said. "I'm ready when you are."

"Thirty minutes."

Alison headed for her house, and Lorenzo went into his, hopeful his old shoes were still usable. It had been a while, and he wondered how many of his basketball skills had survived the long layoff. When the girls were in high school, he'd had to restrain himself to keep from overwhelming them. Now he was a few years older, and so were they—and a whole lot more skilled, he was sure.

Lorenzo changed into some old gym shorts he had, surprised the elastic was still good. He added double sweat socks and the shoes. He found an old jersey in a drawer, took a deep breath, and was ready for battle.

"Where have you been?" Jenny asked as Alison came through the door. "You just disappeared."

"Been over next-door, talking to Unc," Ali said. She smiled at her sister. "It's good to see him again. He looks just the same, you know?"

Seeing the smile on Ali's face, Jen couldn't resist teasing. "Does he look like he's still going to the gym?"

"Jen..."

"You always liked those muscles."

Ali's face had begun to redden a bit.

"Uncle Lorenzo always had nice muscles, and you liked them too, little girl."

"Not like you did."

"Whatever. I have to change because we're playing basketball. If I beat him, I change from a girl to a woman."

Jen burst out laughing.

"I know. I hope I can surprise him a little. He hasn't played in a few years."

"Good luck, sis. Oh, and good luck."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ali squinted at her sister.

Jen shook her head. "You're easy to read," she replied with a knowing smile.

"You're crazy," Ali called over her shoulder as she ran up the stairs to change her clothes. She still had things from high school stashed in what had been her room and was her room again for this visit. In a bottom drawer, she found an old basketball uniform. She hadn't grown much after high school but had "filled out," and she was sure it wouldn't fit.

She had a pair of mid-thigh lycra shorts and a T-shirt. Sports bra and shoes, and she was ready. She glanced out her window at Lorenzo's house, wondering if he was ready yet, and anxious for what lay ahead. She took a few minutes to stretch before heading downstairs and out the side door.

"Idiot," she snapped, slapping her head. "Probably need a ball." She found it in the garage along with the pump needed to refresh its inflation. Back outside, she dribbled and shot, loosening up and getting ready. In a few minutes, Lorenzo joined her, his own ball in hand.

"Found it, pumped it up, and it's good. Fifteen minutes? "

"Yep."

They dribbled, tried a variety of shots, rebounded, and made all the moves they'd need later. They'd played so many games here there was no need to review rules.

"One or two?" he said, hands behind his back.

"One," she guessed.

"Yup," he said, showing her the single finger.

The side door swung open, and Jenny charged out, racing to Lorenzo and hugging him almost fiercely.

"Ali was right; you look just the same as you always have."

"You sure don't. My gosh, you girls have grown up." Both girls were about five-foot-eight, blond hair and blue eyes, with an athletic build. Both good-looking, Jen was probably the prettier of the two, but not by much.

"Only gonna be a girl till I hit twenty-one points here," Ali snipped, feigning a glare at Lorenzo. "Not sure what Jen's gonna have to do to be one."

"If she hasn't killed me, you can have a go too," Lorenzo said, then stopped. "What's this?" he said, grabbing her left hand, a gorgeous diamond sparkling on the ring finger.

"Some dorky guy thinks he wants to marry her," Ali quipped. "I warned him, but he's not too bright, I guess."

"Well, congratulations. And I'm guessing you think Ali is full of something that looks like peanut butter."

"Perfect description of my sister." Jen looked at her ring for long seconds. "He's a great guy, and I love him to pieces." She laughed. "Later, I'll tell you how he proposed."

"Oh my gosh, you have to hear that. It was the best ever," Ali said.

She tossed the ball to Lorenzo. "Ready," she said, very decisively.

Jen ran off the court and sat down in the grass.

"Go," Lorenzo called, tossing the ball to Ali.

She dribbled three times, feinted toward the basket, and stepped back, sending a beautiful, long three-pointer toward the basket. Nothing but net.

"We need to replace that old net," she said, laughing as she grabbed the ball. "A few more of those threes, and it will disintegrate."

Lorenzo was ready.

"Go," she said, tossing him the ball.

No three-pointers from him as he dribbled, backed in as he had always done, only to be bodies away from the key by Ali, her hand low on his back. He started in again with the same result. Ali had learned to play full-contact basketball. This might even be more of a challenge than he had first anticipated. He went left, stopped, and launched a quick jump-shot that angled off the backboard and through the old net. One of the loops snapped and hung down.

"Looks like the big banger is gonna bring that net down, not the three-point girl."

"You'll be sorry," Ali teased as Lorenzo tossed her the ball again.

The game progressed in much that manner, nip, and tuck on the score, but an eye-opener for Lorenzo. When Ali had the ball, backing toward the basket, her butt was into him over and over, her hands sweeping his away, her jumps taking her directly into him. On defense, she bumped and bodied him endlessly, breaking his rhythm and taking advantage of his rustiness. He was holding his own ... but barely.

With the score eighteen-all, he drove toward the basket, stopped quickly, and hit the mid-range jumper. It was twenty to eighteen, and all he needed was a stop. He tossed the ball to a very sweaty Ali, who smiled.

She dribbled, took three hard steps toward the basket, forcing Lorenzo to cross one foot over the other to keep up. The tiniest stumble and Ali took one step back and sent one more three-pointer toward the basket. Lorenzo didn't even turn to watch it. He heard the "swish" as it took out one more cord of the net, and he hated to look at Ali.

She took a couple of steps until she was right in front of him, and stood, feet apart and hands on hips.

"Am I a woman now?"

The feelings that shot through Lorenzo as she asked that, just a few inches from him, were some he'd never expected to experience with Ali. She was more woman than he had imagined and, looking at her from head to foot, was more woman than he'd ever expected her to be. Her blue eyes bored into his as she chewed her lower lip, waiting for an answer.

"You are one hell of a woman," he heard himself saying to a changing look from Ali. A beautiful smile, but still biting the lower lip.

"Thanks," she said softly.

Lorenzo felt Ali's arm go around his waist and squeeze.

"I was hoping I had improved enough to win one finally."

"You pounded me half-to-death."

"I discovered in college that some of the girls didn't like getting banged around. Gave me a nice advantage.

"You play a whole different game," he said admiringly.

"I'm a whole different person," she said, giving him another squeeze.

No way could Lorenzo argue with that, even if he'd wanted to.

"You ready to give me my shot," Jen said from the grass. "I'd like to be a woman before I get married."

"Why don't you two play a game and let me rest?" Lorenzo suggested, sitting down and laying back in the grass.

"You didn't see the one time we played against each other, did you?" Jen seemed a little enthusiastic about that subject.

"No, and it made me mad that I couldn't get away. Could have seen both of you at once."

"It was a great game. Right, Ali?"

"You might as well tell him," Ali said.

"The only time we played against each other was in that NCAA Division III tournament. It was a close game the whole way and, I think you'll agree, Ali, we both played pretty well."

Ali nodded.

With eight seconds left, Ali hit a rebound that put them ahead by two."

Ali spoke up. "I hit that shot, and I knew what was going to happen. I searched the floor for Jen, but she was already up the court, and I couldn't get to her in time."

"Guess what?" Jen said, grinning.

"Oh no, you hit a three." Lorenzo ventured.

"All net," Jen replied.

"I had thirty-one points, and little sophomore Jenny had twenty-nine." She's just cool like that, and I knew it would happen." Ali was shaking her head.

"My career-high, that twenty-nine points."

Lorenzo grunted as he stood up. "Somehow, the workouts at the gym haven't gotten me ready for what just happened."

"So, if we play again, do you want me to back off a little?"

Lorenzo rolled his eyes. "That'll be the day,"

"Just a suggestion," she teased. "Jen. Tell him about the proposal."

"Oh my gosh, okay. Wally—that's my fiance—wanted to go to a bird sanctuary place, which I thought was kind of weird, but he wanted to go. They had a grandstand and a little show they did with a couple of the birds. A girl had a cockatoo perched on her arm, and she asked for a volunteer to have it fly to them and perch on their arm.