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Cheryl and Samuel at 323 Harper's Cove

Page 7

by Deanndra Hall


  There’s silence in the room, and finally Daniel says, “Samuel and I would like to also.”

  “So how about we have a ceremony? I can officiate at yours, and Samuel, you could officiate at ours.”

  Samuel shrugs. “But it won’t be real.”

  I find myself teary eyed and fighting to keep my composure when I say, “It would be real to me.”

  Megan takes my chin in her hand and turns my face to her, then kisses me and says, “It would be real to me too. I’d love that.”

  “Oh, it sounds too, too good. I’d love to do that!” Daniel calls out, bouncing up and down on the sofa.

  Samuel shrugs again. “Well, I suppose we could. When? Do you want to do it here? Or somewhere else?”

  “Let’s do it at the church. We can do it sometime when there’s no one else around. We can write our own vows. And we can just go into the chapel. We don’t have to use the sanctuary. We can dress up a little, just have a good time with it, and then go celebrate―maybe at Beedee’s!” When I mention the club, three pairs of eyes light up. “Yeah, that was fun! I think it sounds like a great idea, don’t you?”

  “Let’s do it.” Now Samuel’s on board. “Next Saturday afternoon. Let’s just do it and enjoy ourselves. It’ll make us all feel better, I’m sure.”

  I think he’s right. I think it absolutely will.

  18

  Gloria

  Uh-oh.

  “So, would you like to tell me what the hell that was about?” Russell is cranked up.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

  “You felt up the pastor right there in Sunday service and you didn’t do anything wrong?”

  “I did NOT feel up the pastor! He made that up!” My heart is racing a million beats a minute. Why did Reverend Samuel do that? That was terrible! He made me sound like a pervert! And I didn’t do anything wrong.

  “Gloria, why would he say something like that if it wasn’t true?”

  “Maybe he’s trying to get back at me.”

  “What would he be trying to get back at you for?”

  Uh-oh. Now I’ve painted myself into a corner. “Um, you know, for that little misunderstanding that evening―”

  “Oh, that was no misunderstanding. You were spying on the minister and his wife and you got caught. And I don’t believe he’s the type who would be out to get revenge on anyone. He’s just not that way.”

  “Oh? How do you know? You didn’t think he was gay, but he is!” Now I’m just getting ticked off. He’s my husband. He’s supposed to be supportive. And he never is.

  “Gloria, he’s not gay. And even if he was, it wouldn’t be any of your business.”

  “But he’s the pastor of our church, Russell! Gay people aren’t supposed to do that!”

  “Do what?”

  “Be ministers.”

  “Who says?”

  “Everybody.” Well, hullo. Everyone knows that.

  “Gloria, everybody doesn’t know what they’re talking about.”

  I’m trying to figure out how to get through to him. “Look. If you were about to have surgery and your surgeon was blind, wouldn’t you want someone to tell you?”

  “Of course!”

  “So, if you were going to church and your pastor was gay, wouldn’t you want someone to tell you?”

  He wrinkles his nose and his brows spike down in the middle. “That doesn’t even make any sense. What does one have to do with the other?”

  “If someone were about to try to do a job for you and couldn’t, wouldn’t you want to know?”

  “And in what way has Reverend Samuel or Reverend Cheryl been unable to be a pastor?”

  Wait. I don’t know the answer to that. What do I say now? “Um, Russell, I―”

  He throws up a hand. “Gloria, just stop. There’s nothing else for you to say. I think you’ve said enough. Now go and try to behave yourself for the afternoon. I’m tired and I don’t want to hear another word.”

  Great. This is what I get for telling the truth.

  The only thing for me to do is to go to the bedroom for the rest of the afternoon and take a nap. But before I do that, I really need to settle my nerves. My cocktail shaker is freshly washed and in the kitchen drain rack, and I start shaking up a dirty martini. “What’s going on in there?” Russell yells out.

  “I’m in the kitchen mixing a martini. Would you like something to drink?”

  He snarls back, “I think you’ve had a few too many.”

  I just call back, “What do you care?” and wander off back down the hallway with my glass. At least I’ve got something I can enjoy.

  19

  Cheryl

  It’s Saturday afternoon. I have an armload of books, and Samuel has his briefcase. To anyone on the outside, it would look like we were going in to work for a little while and our friends were going to keep us company.

  Once inside, we make sure the doors are locked and go into the chapel. I turn on the lights, then hit the dimmer, and Samuel lights the candles. We flip a coin to see who goes first, and it’s Samuel and Daniel.

  I don’t think any of us are prepared for how profound the experience is. The vows Samuel wrote are beautiful, but Daniel’s are even more so. They look into each other’s eyes and repeat the traditional promises, then read their vows to each other, and both of them are weeping by the time they’re done. I get the joy of pronouncing them a married couple. Then Megan and I switch places with them.

  The happiness that fills me as we stand there together, looking into each other’s eyes, is overwhelming. Our vows are simple but elegant, and we both cry too. When I get deep into my vows, I’m almost rendered unable to go on. Megan weeps when I say, “For all my life, in every way, there has never been another whom I’ve so cherished or adored, and there never will be. You are my life.” And I mean every word.

  When we leave the church, we take everything we brought in as our props, get into the car, and drive straight to Beedee’s. Being Saturday night, it’s crazy busy, and we laugh and dance and talk to the people around us. It’s great fun. We’re thinking about leaving when I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to find Lance Parker standing there. Samuel greets him with a handshake. “Have a seat, both of you! Join us!”

  His friend stares at Megan and Daniel. “Andrew, have a seat!” Daniel says with a grin. “Imagine seeing you here!”

  Lance stares at the three of them in disbelief. “You guys know each other?”

  “Oh, yeah, from work!” Megan laughs. When she does, I can see Andrew start to relax. “Want something to drink? We’re celebrating!”

  Andrew smiles. “Celebrating what?”

  “We all got married this afternoon!” Samuel has had a little too much to drink, and he’s being a little goofy. “At the church. It was amazing.” Andrew’s eyes swivel to meet mine.

  “Commitment ceremonies. There are already two legal marriages here. Nothing else possible, but it was still special to use. Right, babe?” I ask in Megan’s direction.

  “Right,” she answers and kisses me. Andrew’s relaxation is now genuine.

  Lance surprises me when he says, “So, thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “For what you said to me that Sunday morning. I’m actively trying to find a way to tell my wife and get out of that situation. It may take me a while, but you were right―I need to do that.”

  Samuel slaps his shoulder. “Well, good. I think that’s best. You think that’s best, don’t you honey? I think that’s best.”

  “And I think you need to slow down with the rum and coke,” I tell him good-naturedly. “And yes, I agree―I think that’s best.”

  “You gave me the courage to do it, and I thank you for that.” He stops for just a minute, then says, “By the way, what was up with that sermon last week?”

  We all start to laugh and Samuel finally says, “Got a few minutes? You won’t believe it when we tell you!”

  I really didn’t want to get up this morning
. Yes, the sun is shining and yes, it’s a beautiful day and yes, it’s Sunday, but I really wanted to stay in bed with Megan. But Samuel calls in, “Get your butts out of bed. Time to get moving.” So I do. He’s good for me; he keeps me on track.

  The service starts. I look up to see the sanctuary doors open and in walks Gloria, her husband right behind her. They find seats on the pew second from the back and settle in. I look over at Samuel, but it doesn’t seem as though he saw them.

  I see Ryan Donovan rise to come up and talk for just a minute about a mission opportunity here in town, and then the choir sings their special. There’s the scripture reading, and then Cindy Warren sings the most beautiful song about love. I can’t help but steal a glance at Megan, and she’s crying. It’s work, but I manage to keep my composure. Following Cindy’s song, we come to the time for the sermon.

  It’s entitled “The Power of Acceptance.” I hope Gloria hears my message. If we could all just love and accept each other, things would be perfect, but that’s never going to happen. The best we can hope for is one instance at a time.

  When the service is over, we stand on the front steps and tell everyone goodbye. The Livingstons approach us, and when Samuel reaches to shake Gloria’s hand, she steps back about eight inches and reaches her hand far, far out, followed by dashing down the steps and out toward the parking lot. I have to work to keep from laughing right out loud. When he shakes Mr. Livingston’s hand, the poor man says, “I’m so sorry for her behavior. I apologize.”

  Samuel, ever gracious, plays it right. “No need. It’s not yours to apologize for, nor can I hold you responsible. She is who she is. Peace be with you.”

  “And also with you, reverend,” he says in sadness and turns to go down the steps.

  I lean in and whisper, “Bless his heart. I’m almost sorry for what we did.”

  “You said almost.” Samuel is fighting a grin.

  “Why, yes I did!” And I can’t help it―I chuckle.

  We spend the afternoon in bed―our version of a honeymoon, I suppose. Our frottage is sweet and slow, the kind of lovemaking we’ll remember until the next time we’re together, and we manage to reach out and fondle each other’s nipples from time to time as our passion escalates. I let go first, and she follows me in less than thirty seconds, our bodies bucking together as we embrace our climaxes together.

  Lying there in the quiet, I can occasionally hear the guys make a little noise, but not very much. I suspect they’re doing exactly what we were doing, trying hard to knit ourselves so closely together that we won’t forget how it felt when we’re apart. The air around us is filled with the sound of our deep, silent kisses, as we stroke each and every part of the other’s body that we can reach. Megan’s long, dark hair is a tangled mess, and I comb through it with my fingers as she moans and signs.

  The kiss is broken when she asks, “Will we ever be together? For good, I mean.”

  “I have to hope.”

  “What would have to change?”

  “The climate would have to change. Gay marriage would have to be legalized in all fifty states. The old guard would have to die off. That kind of thing. That’s all I can imagine that would change it. And then we’d still have the individual entities like the church and the school to deal with. They can be slow to change. So I don’t know, precious, how long it might be.”

  She looks away for just a second, and I can see that something’s brewing in her mind before she finally says, “Do you think there’ll ever be a day when you get tired of waiting and just say, ‘Fuck it, I’m going for it?’ Because I think I’m pretty much there.”

  All I can do is shrug. “Not unless I found something else that I really wanted to do as my vocation. And Samuel would have to have a change of heart too; otherwise, a divorced minister would have a difficult go of it, and I wouldn’t do that to him. He doesn’t deserve that.”

  Even though she makes no sound, I feel her sigh against me. That wasn’t the answer she wanted. It’s not the answer I want to give. My mind wanders to us, hand in hand, walking down a city street, pulling a little grocery cart. Us, at the winery, enjoying a glass of something delectable and sharing some oyster crackers. Us, going to a school function with everyone aware of who and what we are. “Cheryl?” Her voice startles me back to the present.

  “Yeah, babe?”

  “What about the kids thing? What do you think about that?” The look on her face doesn’t give me any idea why she’s asking or what she wants.

  “I haven’t thought about it a lot, but I probably should. How do you feel about it?”

  Her cheeks go peppermint pink. “I think I want to do it.”

  Suddenly, I wonder to myself, Well, why not? Rosie O’Donnell did it. Melissa Etheridge did it. Why can’t we do it? And it all makes sense, the love, the commitment, the family.

  Family. I’d have a family. It’s solid in my mind now. “Then let’s plan on it. We’ll talk to the guys, find out how they want to proceed, and then we’ll do it. But no matter what happens, I love you. I’ll always love you. You’re not my better half; you’re my much, much better half.” I drop a little kiss on the tip of her nose, and she returns one to mine.

  “So what are you thinking?”

  “Next summer? So if you’re pregnant, you’ll have a chance to have the baby, stay home for awhile, and then go back to school.”

  She nods. “Sounds like a plan, and plenty of time to prepare. I like it. Talk to Samuel, I’ll talk to Daniel, and we’ll figure out the next step.”

  I hope my smile conveys all the love I feel for her as I pull her tighter against me. “Yes, we will. It’ll all work out―all of it.”

  “We’ll see you next weekend,” Megan says as they leave later that afternoon. “I love you, beautiful.”

  “Love you too.” Our kiss is sweet and warm, and I’m so glad we made that commitment to each other the day before. It’ll just have to do until we can be together all the time and forever.

  Thank you for reading Cheryl and Samuel, I hope you enjoyed their story. Follow along as Gloria does her best to find out what all of the neighbors are up to.

  Tasha and Davis at 333 Harper’s Cove (Harper’s Cove Series, Book Six)

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  About the Author

  Deanndra Hall lives in far western Kentucky with her three silly little dogs and her long-suffering husband. When she’s not writing, she’s working out, eating and cooking healthy, and looking for chocolate she’s hidden away and forgotten about. More than anything else, she loves creating multi-dimensional characters who take over her brain and argue amongst themselves at traffic lights; thank goodness for Bluetooth headsets or she probably wouldn’t be walking the streets a free woman.

  On the Web: www.deanndrahall.com

  Email: Deanndra@deanndrahall.com

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  Mailing address:

  P.O. Box 3722,

  Paducah, KY 42002-3722

  Also by Deanndra Hall

  The Love Under Construction Series

  Laying a Foundation with prequel, The Groundbreaking

  Tearing Down Walls

  Renovating a Heart

  Planning an Addition

  The Citadel Series

  One Simple Mistake

  One Broken Promise

  One Poor Choice

  One Wrong Glance

  The Legacy Series

  Atonement

  Legacy of Freedom

  Legacy of Faithfulness

  The Witch of Endor Series

  Laid Bare

  Ripped Open

  Torn Apart

  The Harper’s Cove Series

  Karen and Brett at 326 Harper’s
Cove

  Becca and Greg at 314 Harper’s Cove

  Donna and Connor at 228 Harper’s Cove

  Savannah and Martin at 219 Harper’s Cove

  Cheryl and Samuel at 323 Harper’s Cove

  Tasha and Davis at 333 Harper’s Cove

  Lily and Brock at 343 Harper’s Cove

  Siobhán and Gabhain at 241 Harper's Cove

  The Me, You, and Us Series

  Adventurous Me

  Unforgettable You

  Incredible Us

  The Celtic Fan (independent novel)

  Rough Stock (part of the Bad Girls of Romance Series)

  The Silent Cove Series

  Awakening

  Retribution, by Anne L. Parks

  Banishing, by Jax Jillian

 

 

 


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