A Time To Love

by Lynn Emery

  “Night, Miss Neva.” Tariq stuck out his hand to her. “You fish better than any girl I know,” he said. His expression indicated this was a high compliment.

  “Thank you. And you can out fish a lot of men around here.” Neva shook his small hand.

  Tariq wore a bashful, yet pleased smile. “Thanks.”

  Looking into his big brown eyes, she sensed they’d crossed the first threshold. They had found common ground, their love for the outdoors and Chandler. With one last nod to her, Tariq walked away to the elevators. There was a bit of swagger in his walk.

  “You impressed my son, not an easy thing to do,” Alise said.

  Neva looked at her. Was there resentment hidden beneath that simple statement? “I’m just glad he wasn’t bored down here. Solitude can’t compare with the excitement of a big city like Detroit.”

  Alise let out a musical laugh that attracted more than one admiring glance from males nearby. “Not at all. He loves fishing and roughing it. Always has.” She shrugged as though it were a mystery to her.

  “I enjoyed getting to know him.” Neva decided she was being too sensitive.

  “I’m really glad you both got to come, Alise. I really appreciate it,” Chandler said. “Every time I see that little guy, I realize how great he is and how much I miss him.”

  “Then come to Detroit more often.” Alise smiled. “Both of you,” she added.

  “Not a bad idea.” Chandler grabbed Neva’s hand. “As soon as we finish this big project at work–”

  “And things slow down at the store,” Neva put in.

  “Maybe by late spring, early summer?” He looked at Neva with boyish enthusiasm Tariq had obviously inherited.

  “Sounds like it could happen.” Neva laughed at the happy gleam in his eyes.

  “How nice.” Alise looked from Chandler to Neva. “Well, I’m going to turn in. It was nice meeting you, Neva. See you in the morning,” she said to Chandler.

  “Yes, I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  Neva watch the graceful sway of her hips as Alise strolled off. She wondered again how Chandler could see his ex-wife and not feel some trace of the attraction he’d once had to her. Those nasty doubts began to nibble away at her confidence. He did most of the talking on the ride home.

  “Oh look, there’s big foot,” Chandler said in a casual voice. He pointed at a spot of dark woods to his right.

  “Hmm, I see,” Neva answered. She looked straight ahead.

  “I think his wife and three kids are with him. He’s got a pet monkey on his shoulder, too.”

  “Monkey? What are you talking about?” Neva looked at him sharply.

  Chandler placed a hand on her knee. “Where have you been? Not here with me, that’s for sure.”

  “No, really I was listening.” Neva noticed his skeptical glance. “Okay, I was a little distracted.”

  “Let me take a wild guess, you’re wondering if there is some tiny spark left between Alise and I,” Chandler said.

  “No I...” Neva blushed. He must think that she was behaving like the typical jealous female.

  “Yeah, we get along just fine since the divorce,” Chandler quipped.

  “I’m serious.” Neva stared off into the dark.

  “Sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to come off as dismissing you.” Chandler let the car slow as he turned onto the road to her house. He parked in the yard. “Let’s talk.”

  “I don’t cause you any problems.” Neva rubbed her temple with the tips of her fingers.

  Her heart pounded and an old dread formed in her stomach. There was a nebulous feeling that she’d done something wrong. But what? Once again she wondered at the wisdom of trying a new relationship. Look what she’d done to Nathan.

  “Now I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Chandler used a gentle touch to move her hands away from her face.

  The sensation of his strong fingers entwined with hers eased her tension immediately. Still there was fear. “Maybe you two can work it out, maybe you should.”

  “Neva–”

  “No listen.” She tried to gather together the loose thread of thoughts and feelings. “Sometimes I get a sense that things should to go a certain way in our lives but we make the wrong choices. So we become unhappy.”

  “As though we lose our way. We have a big purpose in life but we don’t follow the path we’re supposed to.” Chandler wrapped his arms around her and rested his face against hers.

  “Yes.” Neva began to relax in his embrace. “That’s it exactly.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I am?” Neva said. She grew still.

  “Seven years ago I knew something was wrong. I tried to ignore it, tried to convince myself that I was being foolish. But the life I had with Alise was not for me.” Chandler pulled away to gaze into her eyes. “After taking a real hard look at myself, I knew I’d made a lot of bad choices.”

  “Can you be sure you’ve chosen right this time?” Neva wanted to believe it. She wanted to defeat the old cloud of anxiety, to banish it forever.

  “When I’m with you, holding you close, I’m more sure than ever.” Chandler kissed her long and hard with a searching hunger.

  Neva held on tight and let the rest of the world go away. He understood her! He did not laugh or shrink from her as they others had when she spoke of “knowing”. There was a deep connection between them that was psychic and physical. She wanted him so much.

  “You’ve have to get up early... But could we–”

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  The short drive to his house was sweet pain. There was a crackle of sexual energy between them that they barely contained. They touched and caressed each other without speaking. Chandler parked in front of his door. Neva pressed her mouth to his before he turned off the engine.

  “If you keep this up, we won’t make it inside,” he mumbled. “Come on.” With great effort, he untangled himself from her.

  Once inside, Chandler moved quickly around the living room to set the mood. He turned on the compact disc player. In record time, he started a fire. With one lamp on, the soft glow of light lulled Neva into a daze of anticipation.

  “How’s that?” Chandler brought out a soft, brushed flannel blanket. He sat next to her on the sofa and covered them both.

  Neva traced the outline of his full, warm lips with the tip of her finger. “Absolutely perfect,” she whispered.

  With slow, loving deliberation they undressed each other. They were in tune, both wanting to relish the journey to satisfying their desire. Yet soon the fever of desire pushed ahead full speed. In a reversal of the pace, their lovemaking took on a frenzy. He stretched his tall frame on top of her. Neva dug her fingers into the thick flesh of his muscular arms as he entered her. They moved together fast hand hard, the fire inside now a roaring inferno. The only sound that came through to her as she felt an explosion that went through to her core was the sound of Chandler murmured her name. Another voice, one she barely recognized as her own, called back pleading for more. There was one last flash of light inside her mind, colors raining over her. The wonderful rhythm of him moving inside her slowed until he lay still, his soft moans mixed with heavy breathing.

  “Did I mention I love you?” he whispered after a few moments. He slid sideways and tucked her to him spoon-fashion.

  “Yes, but keep saying it.” Neva wriggled against the delicious feel of his smooth skin, enjoying his body heat. “Over and over again.”

  ***

  Neva sailed through the next few days on a fluffy cloud of joy. Mama Jo kept up a running joke with Tranice and Stacy about her new granddaughter. She’d wink at them until Neva would stammer and leave the room. Neva had never felt this light, this free. The past held no power. Even thoughts of Nathan did not cause such sharp pangs of guilt or regret. Was this the right path for her? Only a few short months before, she would have said being alone was right. Neva had convinced herself that her “gift” precluded a normal life of husband and c
hildren. How splendid it to be wrong!

  It seemed all the pieces were falling in place. Business at the Fish Shack was increasing. The new idea to add a soft drink fountain and sell sandwiches was paying off. On the Wednesday after what Neva now thought of as a truly special Thanksgiving week, she and Lainie sat in the store office closing out the books on another good day.

  “So all’s well that ends well, eh?” Lainie sat at the large desk tapping the keyboard of the computer. “Uh-hum.”

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing, not one thing.” Lainie tried not to laugh.

  “I knew it was too good to be true.” Neva sat back from her task of reviewing invoices. She dropped her pencil on the desktop.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Lainie gave her an innocent look.

  “Go on.” Neva folded her arms and waited. “You’ve been holding it in for days. You must be about the burst.”

  “Just commenting on how nice the holiday turned out is all.”

  “That’s it?” Neva narrowed her eyes in a suspicious look.

  “I’m through with it.” Lainie turned back to the figures on the screen.

  “Good.” Neva picked up her pencil again.

  “It’s enough that we both know I was right all along,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  “Here we go.” Neva let out a dramatic sigh.

  Lainie no longer restrained her glee. She let out a deep chuckle. “You charmed the kid with one hand and held off the ex-wife with the other. Go ahead, girl!”

  “It wasn’t as easy as you seem to think.” Neva shook her head. “And my relationship with Tariq isn’t solid by a long shot.”

  “But you’ve gotten off to a good start, that’s important.”

  “I hope we can build on it. But....” Neva did not look so certain. In truth, her emotions had bounced up and down like a rubber ball. Doubts always crept in somehow.

  “No, you’re wrong. It’s not too good to be true,” Lainie said. She punched a key to save her work then turned her full attention to Neva.

  “Now who’s psychic?” Neva retorted.

  “I don’t need special powers to read you, sugar. You always see the cloud in any silver lining.”

  “I’m being realistic. It won’t be smooth sailing at all.” Neva wore a slight frown.

  “You have the love of a giving, thoughtful man. Any problems you face, you’ll face together. It doesn’t make them go away, but it sure helps you deal with it.”

  Neva’s expression softened as the frown melted away at the thought of Chandler’s strong arms. “Yes, he’s the first man I feel will be there for me when I need him. Except Papa Dub, of course.”

  “Daddy’s and granddaddy’s don’t count in what we’re talking about.” Lainie winked at her. “We’re talking about a lover and a friend. Somebody we can lean on and be strong for when he needs us.”

  “Yes.” Neva gave herself over to the delightful memory of his solid body pressed to hers. “Together. So right,” was all she could say.

  “You can be happy, Neva. Forget the past.” Lainie spoke with a seriousness she rarely showed. “You deserve it.”

  “I want him so much.” Neva looked at her cousin with eyes gleaming at the wonder of it. “But what if–”

  “No. We’re going to start practicing right now,” Lainie cut her off with a firm, no nonsense tone. “You’re going to stop ending sentences with ‘but’ when you talk about Chandler. Say how he makes you feel.”

  Neva thought for a moment. “He makes me feel whole, like happy endings are possible.”

  “Good, that’s a start.” Lainie grinned at her.

  “Lainie, you’re pure gold with diamonds thrown in.” Neva got up to hug her.

  “Hey, you’re my girl. Can’t do less than the best for you.” Lainie gave her chin a playful pinch. “Now what’s next for you two love-crazy kids?”

  “Research, genealogy.” Neva went back to her seat.

  “How romantic,” Lainie wisecracked.

  “It is in a way. Chandler’s ancestor fought in the Battle of Port Hudson. Seems he was a true hero. And I’ve gotten interested in my family tree, too.”

  “Careful you don’t shake out some nuts, honey.” Lainie giggled.

  “Those old family stories are intriguing.” Neva smiled. “Wouldn’t it be great to track them all down, even back to when they got here from Africa? Let’s see, there was Lilly. I think she might have been bought on the dock in St. Francisville.”

  “Have fun searching through moldy records. Of course spending long hours with Chandler is the price you’ll have to pay, right?”

  “Sigh, I’ll just have to make that sacrifice,” Neva said with a wide smile.

  ***

  “Thank you all once again for your generous support.” Albert Davenport peered around the long, polished oak conference table with a gratified look. “Without you, the Feliciana Historical Society would most certainly flounder.

  The Board of Trustees, ten members of old southern gentry families, sat around the table. Six of them were in their seventies. They met to review the final plans for their part in the upcoming St. Francisville Christmas Festival.

  “We all agree that preserving the integrity of our heritage is vital.” Marian Bellows inclined her head slightly. She looked like a queen graciously accepting homage due her from a faithful subject.

  “Indeed,” came a mumbled reply from old Jonathan Hale. His family still owned the plantation his great-grandfather built. “All this political correctness hogwash. I’ll fly my Confederate flag anytime I please.” The loose skin on his neck shook with defiance.

  “We do have a responsibility to our forefathers,” another septuagenarian quavered. There were nods of assent as the sons and daughters of the old south launched into their favorite topic.

  “Marian, can we have a moment?” Mr. Davenport spoke in a discreet tone. He signaled to the thin black man who hovered in the doorway.

  Sheldon, Mr. Davenport’s long-time employee, responded to his cue.

  “Evenin’ everybody. Y’all gonna like this lemon pound cake my daughter made,” Sheldon said.

  First he served Marian and Mr. Davenport. Marian took a cup of black coffee while Mr. Davenport accepted lemon cake with glee. Then Sheldon worked the room like a seasoned host. With ease, he deftly led the others away so that Mr. Davenport could speak privately with Marian.

  “I’m pleased the festival is coming together so well.” Marian favored Mr. Davenport with a curt nod of approval. “Just a few last minute details and we should have our best year yet.”

  Mr. Davenport wore an ingratiating smile. “Yes, the festival committee says we should have a record crowd this year.”

  Marian’s mouth turned down. “I hope we don’t allow this to get out of hand. Tourism is all well and good, but we have to protect our quality of life also.”

  “Not to worry.” Mr. Davenport rushed to ease her concern. “It will mostly be retirees and people with roots in the parish. I mean, our historic homes tour and period costumes aren’t exactly most folks cup of tea,” he said with a sigh. His expression implied he wished for a livelier celebration.

  “A live band playing rowdy music is not the image we want for this town.” Marian fixed him with a fierce look. “You of all people should know that.”

  “We would have interspersed music from the period with it.” Albert repeated his argument of a year ago. “The entertainment committee just thought–”

  “Fortunately a better decision was made after discussion,” Marian cut him off. “Everyone was quite pleased, Albert.”

  Mr. Davenport gave up. “It went very well, Marian.”

  “Even you must admit that the lecture by that noted historian from the university was popular.” Marian did not need to add that it was her idea or that he was her nephew.

  “Indeed,” Mr. Davenport admitted. “A large crowd filled the library. You know, he sparked a great interest in local history by young p
eople. A class from Halston Academy comes regularly.” The all white private school was just outside the St. Francisville city limits.

  “You see.” Marian lifted her nose and smiled at him. “That’s what they need. Not more loud music and wild gyrations laughingly called dancing. Culture and learning is important along with an appreciation of our heritage.”

  “A few are even doing genealogical research.” Mr. Davenport nibbled a corner of a small cake square.

  “No doubt the extensive records the Historical Society has will help some them,” Marian said.

  “To some extent. Of course the records on slaves only go so far. Many either don’t list names, only age and sex.” Mr. Davenport took dabbed at his mouth with a paper napkin.

  “Why would the children from Halston Academy care about that?” Marian wore a mild frown. “Is it that young teacher from New York stirring up trouble again?”

  “No, no. Miss Van De Keer has only done research on the Tunica Indians. Really you’re too hard on her,” Mr. Davenport said.

  “I’m not so impressed by blondes who have a habit of wearing skin tight biking shorts.” Marian raised an arched eyebrow at him.

  Mr. Davenport’s face flushed a bright pink above his navy blue bow tie. He sought to change the subject. “I meant several of our local black residents are trying to trace their roots as it were. That nice Sterling girl, well Ross now. She married one of the Ross boys from across the bayou. He–”

  “Neva Ross?” Marian spoke in a low, intense tone. The color had drained from her face.

  “Yes, Miss Jo’s granddaughter. So competent the way she’s rescued that store of theirs. She’s coming back in a day or so. Naturally the records we’ve compiled will help. And we have you to thank for that. Your generous donation–”

  Marian pulled him further away from the others into a corner of the room. “What has she found out?” She clutched his thin arm.

  “Pardon?” Mr. Davenport blinked at her. He seemed baffled by her response.

  “The Ross girl. Has she said anything to you about her family or what she’s learned? How far back has she gone?” Marian shot the questions at him fast and hard.