BOMAW 1-3 (14 page)

After breaking down the boxes from that, she carried the cookbooks to the kitchen and decided to take a break. She’d worked up a bit of a sweat, and prepared herself a sandwich and emptied another bottle of water. Wasting no more time, she continued on until she emptied every box and put things away in whichever place she felt it made sense to put them. Arranging all of the cute, little self-made gifts his daughter did for him, putting them out on display. Some in his room, the living room, the kitchen and his art room, depending on the purpose the gift was intended, or the personal application of it. Among his personal boxed items, she found several photo albums. Those she laid on the bed to also go through. Now the mess from unpacking…balled-up newspaper and other packing material lay littered about with the boxes.

She found garbage bags, pulled one out and started stuffing it with the littered paper and foam wrapping. Next, she collected all of the boxes that she flattened and cut to break down, piling them up at his back door. Putting her jacket back on, she carried them all out to his garage. Leaning them against the wall, she placed two buckets in front of them to keep them standing. Before leaving, she gazed at his dark-blue SUV, a Lincoln Navigator. His Ford truck, the same color blue, and his two Harley Davidsons. One maroon, black, and chrome; the other blue, silver, and chrome. Shaking her head at herself, she left closing the door, wondering how someone could be so absorbed in another person—as she obviously was. Why else would she be standing admiring his things, things that were a part of him? Taking her jacket off, she was surprised to see that it was already 6:00pm.

It was on her mind, that in another two and half hours, it would be 8:30. She was already fighting with her earlier decision not to be online when he would be expecting her to. She wondered
, where had the day gone so quickly?
Back in his room, she lounged across his bed and started looking through his photo albums, choosing the oldest first. Opening it, within the cover she found pencil art sketching of various shields, action heroes, high school symbols, a drawing of its mascot—a wolf—and other signatures that were drawn around. This was obviously a photo album of his high school days. The first picture, an 8x10 of himself in cap and gown, his graduation picture from the '70s. “Look at all that hair,” she muttered aloud, smiling and feeling silly. Sylvia studied every feature of his young face. Though he was quite a striking young man, the way he looked today was much more to her liking. Time flew with Sylvia looking through his albums. Finding pictures that she figured were his parents. Pictures of him with a black man, there were quite a few of them, she figured he must be a good friend to be in so many, she also noticed, they were all of him at a much younger age, nothing current with the man. Moving on from them, baby pictures of his daughter and her mother. A very elegant blonde with amber-gold eyes…she was beautiful. “Wow,” Sylvia breathed softly.

Her eyes were burning. She’d gone to sleep late last night, and rose early to get ready to take him to the airport. She looked at her watch, it was 7:15; she would lay her head down for just an hour and then run home. Who was she fooling? She knew she would be on that computer at 8:30…hey, no matter what.

Shawn hated flying! It never failed…a queasy feeling would settle in his gut halfway through the flight. Take-off didn’t bother him much and he’d grown accustomed to the turbulence, but as landing drew close, his stomach reacted. He felt a headache coming on. He brought his laptop along, but couldn’t focus on doing anything on it. His mind was trapped with thoughts of Sylvia and the flight. Thoughts of Sylvia, if he survived the flight. He’d never seriously dated a black woman before, nothing like this and wondered if this attraction for her was out of bordom? Was he truly going through a board/curiosity phase? At 42 years old, maybe he was feeling midlife and was seeking her out as a stimulus. Erica had been so patient with him, giving him the time he needed to free himself completely from Deidre. He felt pressured and smothered by her at times and had expressed this feeling to her. Not happy with what she was hearing, she accepted it and backed off. They’d made the long drive on his bike to St. Paul, Minnesota after he’d moved into his new home. He’d stayed most of the night with her and pulled out at four in the morning, returning home in time to catch Sylvia Payne on the last leg of her morning jog.

What was it about her? Maybe it was the townfolk's fault that he was intrigued by her? He’d moved into the house after having purchased it years before. He and Deidre had planned to move there and raise a family. It never happened. She didn’t want to leave the security of her family, nor California and all it had to offer. Her life was there, not in a small farming community where he thought they could grow closer in a marriage that was doomed from the start. Growing up on a farm himself in Hillsboro, Wisconsin, left little room for him to adjust to the life he tried in Palm Springs. While he'd gotten into everything available to him there, he just couldn’t quite find his niche. I wasn't long before it was abundantly clear that after so many excuses…and reason, after reason, after reason why she couldn’t yet make the move - that she wasn't going to, one fight following on the tail of another, it all soon got old. He remembered vividly her leaving to go on a so-called vacation with her mother. On the day of her return, instead of her coming through the door, he’d answered—to find papers handed to him. He’d been served his divorce papers. Standing with them in hand, stunned, he knew right then that when it was final; he was out of there. Earlier that same year on a flight to New York, he’d met Erica. Noticing his nervous agitation with the upcoming landing, she made it a point to check on him for the remaining time of the flight.

Coming to talk to him on and off, attempting to take his mind off of his fears with landing.

Experiencing feelings of failure within his marriage sent him off on trips like the one he was taking, which led him to having the one affair he was indeed guilty of. When that was disclosed in court at his divorce hearing, he was convinced that her parents must have truly hated him, and had been waiting for him to make a false move to use against him. Well he delivered it right to them. Believing at the time that Erica had been a part of it, finding out that she hadn’t been, left him with her on the rebound. Now here he was trying to think of a way to dump her. He’d been with her on and off for two years, and unlike Deidre, she was willing to do whatever it took to make their relationship work. Problem was, of course, he didn’t want it to work. He was ready to move on.

Fiery, sultry, and independent. Sleek, caramel-toned and stunning. A writer…an artist of literature. Mother of two, grandmother of two, yet young and very much alive. Sylvia Payne…owner of the home he wished he’d purchased when he first sought property and land. His father had selected the house he owned now because it came with a larger lot of land; ten acres, whereas the home which Sylvia now owned had only a 2 acre lot of land. Having moved in upon her absence, he’d inquired about it at the title and lands office in town.

“You’re late asking on that one. It was sold a little over a year ago. Shoulda scooped it up when you bought that one across from it.”

“Doesn’t seem to be anyone living there now. You think they’d be interested in selling it?”

“Oooh, she’s just out of town, is all. She be back."

“She?” he’d asked.

“Ms. Sylvia Payne. She’s a widow. Moved here more than a year ago, ‘bout your age. She lives there alone. Spunky, audacious, lil’ thing. You’da thought she’d been fearful of moving to a little town like this. But not a ounce a fear in her.”

“Well, why would she be afraid?”

“She's Black…or…African American. We don’t have many of them here, and she’s one that’s here all by herself.” The older male clerk had filled him in on that fact. Shawn didn’t know where the comment came from, or why he asked, but had blurted it before he thought about it. “Does she have reason to fear?” The clerk looked up from the file cabinet.

“Where, here? Naaaw…I don’t much see too many here that would care. Long as they come with peace and decency in mind. Leave that drug sellin’ and gangin’ to the city. That’s all we don’t want here."

At the hardware store where he purchased tools and various other odds and ends, he asked the girl at the counter while checking out and had received comment from all the men standing around shooting the breeze. “You know anything about my neighbor across the way from me?” She looked up at him and smiled, about to answer, when from one of the men came the question, “You the one buy the ole Fay Clark property a while back?”

“My father bought it for me in my absence. I’m just now getting around to moving into it,” he offered. The one inquiring nodded as the others remained silent in thought. Then another fellow spoke up saying, “That house across from you was a much nicer place. Ain’t got as much land as you, though.”

“I know. My father opted for the land, versus the home."

“That’s 'cause you can always build on. You gone be farming on it? Got anything in mind?”

Shawn smiled patiently. “Not at the moment, but I have time to decide.”

“True, true,” another responded.

“So I take it none of you have met my neighbor?”

“She comes in a lot when she’s doing stuff on her house. I like her, she’s real nice,” the young woman behind the counter finally responded.

Then one of the men added, “’Cept she don’t care for men much. For a black woman, she’s pretty easy on the eyes. So Dick Haire—”

“Dick Haire?” Shawn repeated, with a grin of disbelief.

“Yep.” Everyone chuckled. “His name's Richard, but we all call him Dick; his last name is Haire.”

Shawn had chuckled as well. “I see, and anyway…you were saying?” One of the other men picked up the story. “

Well, Dick decides to welcome her to our humble town. He’s got a bit of a reputation, you see, wants everyone to know where he’s been and who he’s been with. When she move in and he gets a look at her, we could all see what was coming next. Oh, he was offering to cut her grass for her. Gave her a tour of her own property. Give her a history on that house. Tell her about everyone that live there before her. What she should fix, how she should fix it…you name it. He found a excuse to be on her doorstep,” this offered with a chuckle.

“Didn’t do him no good. She come in here and had it up to here with ’im!” the woman supplied, gesturing with her hand over her head. “Plum flustered to the end, she asked me,
'Jean, how in the world do I get rid of this man? He’s drivin’ me nuts! I don’t wanna hurt his feelings, but enough is enough already! I am not the least bit interested in him, nor any other for that matter! They all hang out in here enough, can you let them know—I am not looking for a man! Not anytime soon!'
. Whooooeee was she hot! Dick Haire got the message loud and clear, seein’ as how he was on the other side of that aisle and heard every word she said.” They all broke into laughter then.

Next informant was the owner of Maggie’s Market. He learned that she enjoyed Sylvia's company as well. She filled him in on the other information, including the fact that she was a writer. Maggie felt she should be an actress, model, or maybe a comedian, because she always made her laugh whenever she paid her store a visit. They always talked past fifteen minutes of her shopping and bill pay. “She’s different, that one is,” she finished as he left the store.

He sighed deep. Yes, indeed she was. So back to his dilemma…what was the attraction? He didn’t know, but he knew it was a sure thing. He still remembered the day she returned from her little vacation or time away. His friends were all throwing him a party in celebration of landing a contract with a top novelist. Her novels were always number one on the bestseller's list, and she chose him and his work to be her regular illustrator from now on. The contract meant big money for him and nonstop work. They would be re-releasing five of her biggest sellers from years back, with his artwork to illustrate the characters. Recycling her top sellers as they prepared the release of a new trilogy. He’d just finished the covers for the recycled works and now he was on his way to see and hear the ideas for the trilogy, but his mind was on Sylvia.

He’d wanted to invite her to his party as a neighborly gesture, but changed his mind. After all, she was single, and Erica was present. Plus, at the time, they hadn’t exactly known each other. Even so, his curiosity had been sparked by the townsfolk and he was itching to catch a glimpse of her. On and off during the party, he’d glance across the road, hoping to catch her going in or coming out of her house. All he managed to catch was her silhouette in her living room picture window and the glowing illumination from her TV. He chuckled to himself suddenly…and then, of course, that night he’d gotten the bite of her ire when the police showed up about the volume of his music. He knew he did that on purpose, hoping to flush her out. Thinking that maybe she would show up on his doorstep and complain, or join the party. Well neither had been the case. She’d sent the police. That next morning, he needed to send off his signed agreement on the contracts, and so happened to luck out and run right into her leaving the post office. Having gone from stirred curiosity, to looking for her—or an opportunity to meet her—to stepping right before her, was forever branded into his memory.

Even now, he remembered her fresh, clean fragrance assailing his senses as he abruptly stopped not to run her over. To look up into eyes so bright, vivid, and dark…obsidian, coal black eyes. Large and captivating. Delicate, full classical brows arching above them. Skin the color of smooth, caramel candy. A slight, perfectly ridged nose above very full, sumptuous lips. Framed with shoulder-length, dark brown—almost black, swirled, waved, and loosely curled glossy hair. Their eyes had locked. She had taken in all there was to see about him, just as he did with her. In his anticipation to see and meet her, he had not been disappointed. Right then, right there…he knew he would do whatever it took to know her. Now that he was slowly getting to know her, he knew that he wanted more. Much more. He didn’t feel a need to stop coming anywhere to mind, except in his relationship with Erica. Shawn sighed.