by Gay N. Lewis
“Why? Because I was tongue-tied and barely remembered my name?”
“You made a joke about tripping over the appetizers to ensure meeting me—you weren’t at a loss for words.”
“I took one look at you and knew I wanted to marry you. That sudden decision caused me to stutter a bit, but it took me six months to convince you.”
“I’m fortunate you didn’t give up. Remember how afraid I was of commitment? I got over it and am totally dedicated to you now.”
“Come to think of it, I’ve never asked. Why were you so opposed to marriage?”
“You’ve met my father. He’s somewhat like Alan. I feared I’d be stuck in a relationship with a man like Daddy. One who thinks only of himself. When I spend an evening with Georgia and Alan, I’m reminded of how blessed I am. I doubt Georgia is going to bed as peaceful as I am right now.”
CHAPTER THREE
Georgia gazed at Alan as he removed his shirt. Such handsome features. Would her heart always surge when he walked into a room? After four years of college and three of marriage, her love for him grew daily. Sure, his words hurt her, but he never meant to.
“Thanks for accepting my apology. I didn’t plan to hurt your feelings when I made that silly remark about your six-pack earlier at dinner. Your abs are sexy, and I’m glad you keep in shape. You look super.”
“It takes a lot of work to get these.” He studied his abdomen in the mirror.
“I appreciate the fact you take care of yourself.”
He rubbed his stomach muscles “Thanks. You should do the same. It’s important to stay healthy and in shape.”
“I promise to work on my figure. I’m going with Jana next week to her yoga class.”
Alan sat on the bed, removed his shoes, and let them plop on the floor. “Running would be better for you.” He stood and strode to the walk-in closet.
“Probably. But I like Jana, and an exercise class with a partner will be a good incentive.” After Georgia folded back the quilts and coverlet, she opened a bureau drawer and slipped into shorty, green pajamas. She glanced around the bedroom and savored the subtle blues and lavenders she and Alan had chosen. Keeping their home free of clutter brought boundless satisfaction to her. Sure it would be great if he helped with that, but for some reason, that didn’t occur to him.
“Jana’s okay, and at least you’re doing something.” Alan yelled from inside the wardrobe. “I’ll wear my navy blue suit in the morning. I’m calling on L & Z Oil tomorrow, and I’ve been there before. As I recall, the receptionist quipped I look good in this one. If I kiss up to the gatekeeper, it’s easier to get in and visit with the buyer.” He brought out three neckties. “Which one do you like best?”
“The red-striped one.” Georgia picked up the dress she’d worn, placed it on a hanger, and joined Alan in the closet.
“I prefer that one too, but I’ll go with the blue paisley. The receptionist at L & Z told me it matches my eyes.” Alan draped the necktie across the jacket, hung the ensemble back on the rack, and returned to the bedroom.
Georgia followed him, picked up the discarded shirt on the floor and took it to the dirty clothes hamper. “True, and blue is a good color for you. If we have girls, I hope they’re born with your eyes. Women glue on thick, long lashes like yours, and here you are with real ones.”
“Yours appear longer when you put on mascara. Maybe our daughters will arrive with the same curly blond hair you were born with. Girls are okay, but I want a boy. A little guy who takes after me—one who is athletic. I know exactly how to go about coaching baseball and my team will win all the awards.”
Alan slipped into bed and waited for Georgia to turn off the lights.
Georgia laughed. “We’ll need additional display cases.”
“Right. The next house we buy, let’s create a trophy room. I hear a lot of professional athletes build them, and we need one too.”
“I’m sure the ligament injury was a major disappointment. It kept you from the pros.”
“Yeah, it did. I was an excellent shortstop until I damaged this elbow.” He rubbed the offending joint. “I’d have enjoyed playing in the majors. Fairly certain a spot was mine if I’d tried out. I was good enough.”
“I loved watching you play, and yes, I’m sure you’d made a pro team. You were very valuable as a player. Not many guys become all-American in their junior year, but you did. I remember how proud I was, and how sad I was when you slid into third and damaged your elbow. The injury kept you from your dream. You’d probably still be playing if it hadn’t happened.”
“Thanks, but I earn almost as much money in the oil services industry. And I stay active with sporting events. I run those marathons don’t I?”
“Yes, and you win. Don’t you miss baseball?”
“Sometimes, however, that’s over—at least until God gives us a son.”
“If we are blessed with a boy, I hope he inherits your athleticism, but our girls will require a coach for sports, too.”
“I can coach a winning team of girls, but I’d rather train the boys.” He waved his hand. “No matter, though. If I teach guys or gals, my teams will be the best in the league.”
“No doubt about it. You’ll be a good coach.”
“I know I will. My good communication skills cause my work quotas to go up, too. I can explain stuff easily. A manager must be articulate and analytical. Same thing goes for a class room, a ball field, or a sales force.”
“Who was your favorite coach when you played baseball?” Georgia picked up Ken’s shoes from where he’d left them and started to the closet.
“Easy. Coach Hardin. I learned a lot from him. After a game, he’d go over any infractions and then explain the rules. He never raised his voice, but we knew from his intensity we needed to do better. And we did.”
“He was a nice guy. I saw him often on campus. I’m guessing Jolly was your least favorite.”
“Yep. Jolly wasn’t a suitable batting coach.”
“I remember him too, and he was always polite to me. Why didn’t you care for him?”
“He seemed more interested in recounting stories about his college glory days rather than helping the team.”
“That turns some people off.”
“Yeah, it did. We maintained great hitters, and I was one of them. After a game, Jolly always took the credit for us getting on base as well as our successful times at bat.”
“He should have given the players kudos or explain how he respected the efforts—even if one of you struck out.” Georgia stood at the foot of the bed and surveyed her husband as she spoke. Could he appear any sexier? Her heart picked up speed. Even with drowsy eyes growing sleepier by the minute, he still was her dreamboat and she’d love him forever.
What was he saying? Something about Jolly. She focused again on the conversation.
“Every now and then he gave compliments, but mostly he criticized and told us we hit the ball like worthless first graders. He yelled a lot too—as if we were all deaf. I hated it. We recognized when we’d done something wrong, such as swing at a sucker pitch, and we didn’t need a showy, loud reminder. Encouragement works better.”
“Too bad. I recall him doing that a time or two. Your dad and I heard him from the stands. Did you know your father was proud of you, even if you made a mistake now and then?”
Alan nodded. “He came to most of my games, but you know Dad. He was a near clone of Jolly, or vice versa. The amazing thing is how he and Jolly got along so well.” Alan laughed. “They’d often shout at one another. Remember the day Dad called Jolly a kook who didn’t comprehend the sport? It’s a wonder Dad didn’t get me kicked off the team, or taken out of the batting rotation, but deep down, those two guys liked each other.” Alan shrugged. “Then when we arrived home, Dad roared at me—using the exact words as Jolly used at the game. A lefty with a curve ball always got to me. I struck out a few times, but my batting average continued to hover at .300. Babe Ruth was not only the homerun kin
g, but he was also the strikeout king. The Babe used to josh about it. Said every strikeout brought him closer to a homerun.”
“I’d prefer a coach more like Hardin.”
“When I become one, I’m not going to bellow at the team like Jolly did. Won’t criticize, either.”
“A good decision. Especially for little kids. They’re just out there to have fun. Most will never even play high school athletics, let alone in college.” Georgia stepped to the side of the bed and glanced again at the clock. “In two minutes, a new day arrives. Before the midnight hour strikes, did you forget something on the calendar?”
Ken frowned. “Not anything I can remember.”
“Today was my birthday.”
“Oh, no! How did I do that? I’m so sorry.”
“A birthday is just another day. No big deal.” Georgia bit her lip, sat down on the bed, and picked up the jar of night cream on the bedside table.
Alan jumped out of bed, sprinted to Georgia’s side and pulled her to a standing position. “I shouldn’t have forgotten. I promise to never forget again. I’ll plan something special for the weekend.”
He kissed and hugged her, moved to his side of the bed, and once more slipped under the cover. “It’s late and I’ve got a big day tomorrow. Hon, I’ll make this birthday up to you.”
He rolled to his side and immediately began to snore.
No one went to sleep faster than her husband. Georgia turned off the bedside lamp and crawled into bed feeling as though her heart had just cracked into a thousand pieces of Waterford crystal.
Would he really remember to do something special?
CHAPTER FOUR
Georgia wrapped a towel around wet hair, stepped from the shower, and slipped into a white terrycloth robe. “Whew! Stretches make my muscles cry out, but I’m enjoying these yoga classes.”
Jana nodded. “I’m amazed at how you’ve taken to it. You’re getting the hang of all the poses after a mere two weeks of class. When I started, it took me a while to do a few of them.”
“I practice at home.” Georgia laughed and ducked her growing pink face into her chest. “If Ken catches me in front of the mirror, he roars like a hyena. He thinks the positions are hilarious, especially as I rehearse the ‘Happy Baby Pose.’”
“Some positions are designed to relax. Are you sleeping all night now?”
“Yes, I am but no weight loss yet. I kept hoping these classes might help. Alan was too. He’s disappointed.”
“Hey, lady. Have you really looked at yourself? Many women would hand over their eyeteeth to be five foot nine and weigh one hundred and twenty-seven pounds. You could win that beauty pageant title again today just like you did five years ago. Give yourself a few weeks, and for your information, you don’t need to lose. You’re gorgeous.”
“I wish Alan thought so. He brings it up at the oddest moment and makes me feel a bit guilty. I’ve gained three since our marriage, and he wants them gone.”
Jana waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Men!”
“And speaking of our guys, where do you suppose they’ll take us tonight for dinner?”
“I suggested Chou Ling’s to Ken. Sound okay?”
“Good. Chinese is perfect for me. Their dishes contain lower carb vegetables—they’ll be healthier for the regimen I’m on. Guess where Alan took me to dinner for last weekend? He felt badly because he forgot my birthday so we marked the date this past Saturday. Oh! By the way, thanks for the card. It was kind of you to remember.”
Jana shrugged. “I wish I’d known about your birthday sooner, I’d have planned a party. Where did you go to dinner? Was the evening fun?”
“We ignored my diet and went to our favorite Italian bistro, and yes we had a marvelous time. That’s the place we ate during our college days on the nights Alan didn’t work. He considered me the perfect size back then—never complained about garlic bread and pasta orders on our dates. In fact, my honey proposed there.” Georgia smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she applied makeup.
“Really? How did he do it?”
“When we finished eating, Lugio bought out three violinists, and they played one of Whitney Houston’s love ballads. The melody was blissfully haunting. Alan held my hand while they performed.” Georgia laughed. “He doesn’t sing, but he quoted a few phrases to me.”
Jana nodded. “Seems a romantic thing to do before a marriage proposal.”
“Oh, it was. And then, after they finished the music, Lugio came up to me, got down on one knee, and opened a box with this engagement ring.” She glanced at her one carat solitaire diamond and fingered the matching gold band. “I love these two symbolic circles.”
“Hey! Yeah, they’re beautiful, but don’t hang me in suspense. What happened next?”
Georgia laughed. “Lugio is an older guy, and it’s a mystery how his knee survived with him propped on it, but he pushed the ring out to me and then spoke with his Italian accent. ‘This guy here, he love you. Wants to marry up. He think he not deserve you, an’ I agree, but he say he no live without you. When look at you, he no say much.’”
“My eyes must have been wide with disbelief. Lugio laughed but continued, ‘Hard to believe, sí? He talk all time when here, but he find it difficult to express deep feeling for you. You on mind entire day. He certain you be perfect mate. I say for him. I’m romantic. Are you gonna give him honor of being his wife?’”
“Wow. That’s different.” Jana combed through her hair as she gazed at Georgia in the mirror.
“I thought so, too. I turned to Alan and he was nodding. He kissed my ring finger, and then said, ‘I’m usually not without words, except for where you’re concerned. I feared I wouldn’t get it out, so I asked Lugio to do it. Will you? Marry me?”
“I nodded but failed to shout yes because I choked up. Lugio handed the ring to Alan, and he slipped it on my hand. I’ve never taken it off.”
“That’s one marriage proposal for the books. Does Alan tell you he loves you now?”
Georgia shook her head. “Not often. If I ask him to, he simply answers, ‘You should know already.’”
“Men don’t realize how gentle words can impress us or how we miss them when unspoken.”
Georgia removed her comb from her gym bag, stood at the mirror and combed through her tangled mass. “Right. Lugio can’t be around every day to articulate it for him. Plain old affection is important too. Alan doesn’t like me to snuggle with him—he feels suffocated when I get close.”
Jana stood at an adjacent mirror. “Forgive me for saying so, but I find such behavior sad. I love to cuddle with Ken—one of my favorite things to do.”
“I don’t mean to imply we aren’t intimate. We are, but what’s wrong with romance after marriage? Physical passion is super important, and what leads up to it certainly makes a relationship ultra-enjoyable.”
“Most men lose their starry eyes after the wedding. I guess we must train them to give us what we want and need. They reason flowers and candy are the answer, but loving touches, genuine interest in our discussion, massaging our tired muscles, even doing the dishes—those are tender and devoted gestures and they bring passion to the marriage. When Ken does things for me, or issues a sweet comment, my heart turns over.”
“I agree, but it’s hard to explain to a husband what romance is all about.” Georgia applied lipstick and then closed her bag.
“I’m blessed. Ken is as tender now as he was before marriage and I hope he never changes. He always waits for me to finish the meal—I eat slower than he does—and he listens while I gab and munch.” She laughed. “He probably wishes I’d hurry up so we could do something else, but he keeps it under wraps. He heeds every word as if I were the most important person in the world.”
“How considerate. I usually finish a meal before Alan and wait for him. He chats more than me—mostly about what interests him, but I like listening. I love my guy completely. He’s brilliant. To this day, his IQ amazes me. He’s so quick an
d remembers everything he’s ever read. He must have a photographic memory. That hubby of mine figures out how to tackle any project, and stays focused until he gets one done. There’s nothing he can’t do and he’s an excellent provider. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the most handsome man on the planet. In many ways, he’s perfect, but deep down I wish he expressed affection toward me.” Georgia shrugged and sighed deeply. “Oh well. It’s not his style to flatter me, and I’m learning to accept what is.”
Georgia donned black jeans and a matching t-shirt with a banded, beaded silver collar. “Do you think a dark shade makes me look thinner?”
“Yes.” Jana blew out a breath. “You’d be trim in any color. I admire you. Acknowledging and accepting what you can’t change regarding your husband is probably the kindest, most loving thing you can do for him and your marriage.”
“Thanks. I’m thankful you’re a friend who gives me feedback, but I don’t feel right to complain. I shouldn’t speak about him in a disparaging way. Alan loves me and I believe he’d do whatever he can for me.”
“Many of my friends nag, whine, or badger their husbands, and such stuff gets them nowhere. Your approach is far nicer. How did you grow to be so kind?”
Georgia laughed. “The first Bible verse my dad taught me when I was three years old was ‘be ye kind one to another.’ At a young age, I didn’t learn the rest of the verse, just the first part, but it stuck with me.”
“How does the rest of it go?”
“Something like ‘Be tenderhearted, and forgiving, as God for Christ’s sake forgave you.’ It’s from Ephesians.”
“Good one. I’ll look it up. I find it easy to be kind to people who deserve it and difficult to be nice to someone who doesn’t. But you? Well, you extend compliments to Alan after he’s made unpleasant comments to you.”
“Mom and Dad provided me with good role models. They were the epitome of gentleness and selflessness to each other. They probably weathered angry moments, but never in front of me. Mother’s rule was that none of us go to bed out of sorts. As children, we were expected to hug and make up, and we did. I saw my parents kiss often, and they always held hands. I can remember them sitting in their side by side chairs, watching television with their fingers clasped together. Would you believe Dad still opens car doors for Mom? If he’s home when she comes in from grocery shopping, he unloads the bags and puts the food away. He cooks with her and hangs on to every word she utters. She is the most important person in the world to him. One glimpse at his face and you easily witness his love for her.”