Oregon Trails

by Olivia Gaines

  True to his word, two years later, as Connie Lancaster loaded up her shiny new red convertible to drive to Athens to start college at the University of Georgia. Mary Jane Marshall climbed aboard a Greyhound bound for Atlanta to study journalism. The Hurley Lancaster fund didn't cover everything, but with the help of three scholarships, the Sunday offering plate at the Greater Mt. Hebrew Baptist Church, and a small student loan, she was on her way.

  Her clothing was out of style. Her hair was unfashionable and her vernacular was not in vogue. If there was one thing that Annie Marshall had taught her only child was how to not let them see you sweat. A quick visit to the local secondhand store and Mary Jane Marshall located a sewing machine with a box of accessories. One weekend later, she emerged from her dorm room with a new attitude, a new wardrobe, and the attention of every strapping young man on campus. These men also had tiny minds with small visions and no real sense of understanding their place in the world. In her mind, the right man for her must have a burning desire to make the world a better place and leave something for the next generation. That’s what she wanted to do as well.

  On a quiet evening during a job interview her junior year of college, she met a woman who changed her life.

  "If you don't like who you are, change it," Roshanda Billings told her.

  "Just like that? I can change who I am?" Mary Jane asked.

  "Yes, do you really want to do the news as Mary Jane Marshall...it sounds like some country ass hick from some country ass town at the bottom of a country ass state in the south," Roshanda said to her.

  At her senior graduation, the bachelor's degree conferred read Kalinda Marsh. The name had a nice ring to it. It was the name she gave the people in the not so nice neighborhood she grew up in when she drove home in her new Audi to pick up her mother.

  "She thinks she's hot shit now that has gotten some good weave and changed her country ass name. It still doesn't make you anybody special," Connie Lancaster said to her on a cold Christmas Eve day. Connie, of course still three semesters short of graduating college, sat watching Mary Jane load the cute convertible she purchased in her own name as a graduation present to herself.

  Mary Jane Marshall despised Connie Lancaster but took her shit because her mother had needed the job at Lancaster House. Since Kalinda Marsh was now employed at CNN, Annie Marshall didn't need the job anymore cleaning up behind Connie or her mother, that is why Mary Jane had come home, to fetch her Mama and move her to Atlanta. The arthritis had slowed her down considerably, but new treatments were available in the big city. It would be a new life for Annie Marshall. A life of comfort. The last thing she wanted was to leave the town with the bitter words of Connie Lancaster in their ears.

  "Connie, I am hot shit. I have always been hot shit and you will never be anything more than hot. People are forced to take crap from you because of your last name. By the time you are done being ridden by half the football team, you will settle down to marry some red-faced salesman and spit out a few little red faced babies. You will never understand your full potential and you will never fulfill a destiny of building something of meaning in this world. Do you know why? Because you will always be a fuck toy for some fuck boy," Mary Jane said to her.

  The perky blonde's mouth hung wide as Mary Jane moved closer to her. Connie’s other bouffant bearing friends twisted in the wind, almost daring Mary Jane to say anything more to their life long Barbie Dollish friend, but Mary Jane had more to say. Whispering in her half-sister's ear, she said softly, "When you get a chance, let our Daddy know that I changed my name to Kalinda Marsh. I'm going to be on the news on CNN and I left his Christmas present in the house where it always is."

  She waved goodbye to her half-sister as Annie yelled out the window, “Take care of yourself, Connie!”

  Through a series of events based on careful planning, Kalinda Marsh transcended the news desk to become one of the primary bloggers in the world. Nearly twenty million followers logged in to her web page, paying primo subscription fees for national discounts, advice from gurus, and tips on how to live a better life. Girl Please was the primary social site to get information on everything from how to live rich on a $15 an hour budget to dating advice and becoming financially savvy. If Kalinda Marsh said it was so, then it was true.

  The little girl who invented stories to be one of the special people had recreated herself into an internet sensation. A book deal was on the horizon and two networks had approached her about doing a movie on her life and an unscripted television series. The problematic issue was that none of it was real. The million-dollar home, the fancy cars, as well as the superstar quarterback boyfriend were all bullshit. She even said as much one night to friend.

  A not so nice friend who recorded every word she spoke and posted it on the internet as it sat there, waiting to read, alongside a myriad of stories just the rest of Kalinda’s unreal life. The same internet that made Kalinda magnanimous was the same internet that made her miserable. The carefully stacked house of cards and perfectly placed dominoes had toppled over. The most loved lifestyle guru in the world was now the most hated woman on the planet. Everyone wanted a piece of her downfall.

  It started with the hacking of her website.

  Next came the threatening emails, followed by the late-night harassing phone calls.

  In less than a month, she began to find dead animals around her front porch. The final straw came when she returned home one night to find her bed disheveled. Someone had been in her home and left his DNA on her sheets. It wasn't her fiancé since he'd stopped speaking to her weeks prior when the privately recorded video commented on the lack of length in his manhood, coupled with his inability to make a decent stroke in the shallow end of a kiddie pool.

  Miserable wasn't the word for Kalinda's life.

  A cup of cocoa in the middle of night with her Mama always helped.

  "Mary Jane," Annie still called her. "You have always tried to be too big for your britches. You need to understand who you are and that happiness isn't something you manufacture, but something you build with someone you love."

  "And you, Mama? Did you find happiness building something with someone you love?"

  "I did. Hurley and I have been in love since we were kids, but most things being unequal, we made it work the only way we knew how," Annie said.

  "Working as the maid in his house... is that how you built something with Mr. Lancaster?" Kalinda asked her Mama.

  "Yes, we did build a great deal in Bainbridge and surrounding counties, Mary Jane. We built three daycares in poor black neighborhoods. We built a new wing on the church. Hurley and I created The Cincon School," she said. "We created that school for you and your private lessons in speech and music because you could never get in any other way. I left it all to come here to be with you, for better medical care, and to make sure my only child was okay. Love is complicated and simple at the same time."

  "I didn't know you and Mr. Lancaster did all that, Mama," Kalinda said. “I am sure it was hard to leave the man you love so much.”

  "I left because my daughter needed me. I am also here to help you transition to what is coming next in your life. You have always been so fixated on creating what you think life should be, versus what life actually can be," Annie told her. "What are you planning to do about all this negative news surrounding you?"

  "I am going to do what I do best, Mama. I am going to write me a new story with a happier ending," Kalinda said.

  Chapter 4

  M ay 2016

  "Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman. The Captain has turned on the seatbelt signs as we begin our initial descent into Portland," the voice said over the intercom. "Your baggage will be located in the claims area on conveyor A3. We hope you enjoy your stay in Portland."

  Kalinda stomach lurched at the sound of the landing gear coming down. As many times as she flew, the landings were a sore spot with her. All of those tons of metal, fabricated parts, and human bodies coming to a complete stop from the
air traveling at 35,000 miles an hour to land on little rubber wheels, freaked her out. The sheer notion of the number of pounds of jet fuel still in the gullet of the plane was like giving a match to an arsonist– it would only be a matter of time before some shit ignited.

  It also didn't help her situation that she hadn't eaten in three days. A month is not a great deal of time to close out a life to begin another one. Fortunately, her home was in one of the more progressive communities in Atlanta and it sold as soon as she put it on the market. Her mother, God bless her soul, was all too happy to move out of the house into a golden living retirement community where they sponsored quarterly trips for fixed income people. She’d overheard her mother on the phone with Hurley Lancaster plotting a getaway to Atlantic City. It was a nice facility that held bingo twice a week with worthless prizes and a shuttle bus to take Annie to doctor’s appointments. The IV infused treatments had made a world in Annie’s life and the woman was a spry as a Spring chicken with a bunch of old roosters, scratching around her door. Her mother still only loved and made time for Hurley Lancaster. She didn’t understand it, but it wasn’t her place to do so. She was moving forward once more, leaving her mother to set off to start a new life.

  Kalinda felt guilty.

  Guilt was an odd companion that sat next to her on the plane ride to Portland.

  "Stop worrying, Mary Jane. I will come out for a visit next month," Annie assured her daughter.

  “I know, but I feel horrible moving you into one of these places," Kalinda said as she hugged her mother close.

  "Girl please," he mother said facetiously. "There are some nice-looking men in this center. They have a bus that takes you shopping, we have bingo twice a week, and there is no one breaking in and taking a poop in the middle of the kitchen floor."

  Annie was right. The past month had been a nightmare. Kalinda hoped and prayed she wasn't leaving one bad dream to live in horror story. Over the past month, she spoke to Paul every day, some days, two even three times. Not once had any words in his dialogue changed. A genuineness came from his conversation that she found refreshing. Overall, she considered herself to be a good judge of character, and she prayed silently that she had not misjudged this man.

  Annie asked her, "Mary Jane, what makes you want to marry this Paul? I mean what was wrong with the football player? You kept putting it off and putting it off..."

  "Mama, his vision was tiny. He saw himself only going as far as a shoe deal and rights to his image in a video game," Kalinda said softly.

  "And this Paul guy?" Annie wanted to know.

  "Paul has a vision to build a legacy for not only us, but for our children and our children's children," she told her mother.

  "I can only trust your judgment, child. You seem to have made good decisions with the exception of shooting off your mouth to that damned Latrice, who can't seem to hold water. I was wondering if you did it on purpose so you could make a change," Annie said to her only child.

  "Life is funny, Mama," Kalinda said as she climbed into the back seat of the taxi. "It does have a way of working itself out. I love you."

  "I love you too, baby. Call me when you land. Call me tonight. Call me every day until I can get there to see your face and where you have landed," Annie said.

  "I will, Mama," Kalinda said. She kissed her fingertips and pressed them against the window, just as she had when she was 18 after climbing aboard a Greyhound on her way to start a new life in the big bad city of Atlanta. Hopefully tonight she wouldn't have to climb aboard a big bad Paul.

  Paul.

  My husband-to-be.

  My lover-to-be.

  My man .

  Paul waited on the curbside, checking his phone for the arrival times of flights. Her plane had landed. He would give her 15 minutes before going into the baggage claim area to fetch his bride-to-be. He wiped his sweaty palms against the legs of his khakis for the fourth time.

  My bride-to-be.

  Shit. I am getting married in the morning .

  "Excuse me," he said to the terminal agent. "That carousel will have the baggage from flight number 2868 out of Atlanta?"

  "It will be that carousel, A3," the agent said, pointing to the conveyor that came to life with a loud whistle and the flashing of a red light.

  The travel weary owners of luggage, boxes, bags, and other items descended the escalator searching for the conveyor that would deliver the goods for vacations, visits to relatives, and in Kalinda's case, a new life. Paul spotted her on the escalator. The spit congealed in his mouth as he tried to swallow what had magically formed into a large cotton ball texture, nearly choking him. He sputtered as he tried to catch some breath.

  She actually came. I sent her the ticket and she’s here. She came to marry me and start a life with me . His eyes followed her slim form as she stood in front of the conveyor god waiting for her goodies to drop from the black hole in the plane's belly.

  Move Paul. Go to her .

  Kalinda bent down to grab the large black suitcase giving her new hubby a bird’s eye view of her firm backside. Clever packing was required to determine that items were relevant to her new life and that items represented everything that was wrong with the old one. Only six pairs of shoes made the cut. The box held items that were germane to getting a new business in motion. The second suitcase held items that were important to becoming a good wife for Paul. It arrived on the belt as she leaned forward to grab it, a warm hand landed in the middle of her back.

  The faint scent of pine filled her nostrils as the solid body leaned close enough to experience the exhalation of freshly minted breath. "Let me help you with that," the familiar voice said to her. It was a voice she'd heard every evening at 7:15 her time for the past month as she learned more about the man she that would be her husband tomorrow.

  Kalinda stood upright, turning to stare into the most perfect set of brown eyes she'd ever seen in her life.

  "Welcome to Portland, Kalinda," Paul said to her.

  "Thank you," she said, swallowing hard.

  "I am double parked so we need to roll," he said. "Is there anything more than these two bags and your carry on?"

  "That box over there," she said, pointing.

  "I got the box and this big case. Thank goodness for wheels, eh?"

  Kalinda smiled at him.

  Paul Darton smiled back and she was certain her ovaries released three eggs for the man to fertilize to make their children.

  "Damn," she whispered.

  "Everything okay?"

  "Mhmmhmmm," she said with pressed lips.

  As if he read her mind, his smile got larger, showcasing a perfect set of large, well- maintained teeth that matched his large, well-maintained body. Muscles strained against the soft blue cotton shirt as he hefted the box onto one shoulder, while dragging the large suitcase behind him out the double doors. Kalinda squeezed her thighs together urging parts of her body to be quiet so the nice man didn't hear it begging for attention as she followed him outside to the four by four vehicle.

  Strong hands lifted the luggage into the SUV securing the cargo. Paul walked around the vehicle to open the door for his blushing bride to be. His arm, accidentally grazing her breast as he pulled the door wide for her to climb in.

  "Buckle up," he said leaning entirely too close to her.

  "Shut up," she mumbled to her tingling breast. The second he slid into the driver seat, her boobs ignored her, signaling they were ready for some attention by turning on her high beams, pointing at her husband-to-be.

  "Okay, Kalinda Marsh," he said as he started the engine. "We are heading over to the hotel to get checked in, store the luggage and then grab some dinner. After a five-hour flight, I know you are ready to eat something alive."

  “Mhmmhmmm," she said with pressed lips. The butterflies in her stomach had donned tutus and were doing a command performance of The Nutcracker.

  "Not until we are married," he said with a coy smile.

  "I'm sorry. What?" she said
to him snapping out of the story she was writing in her head.

  "I said, tonight we will have separate hotel rooms. In the morning, we will have our nuptials, then you move into my suite as we prepare for the afternoon activities, and then the gala," Paul said as he maneuvered the vehicle through traffic.

  "Afternoon activities?" she asked, proud that her voice had finally found its way out from between her pressed together lips.

  "Yes. My mother, the socialite, has to introduce you to a collection of people you probably care nothing about, don't care to meet, and may only see once maybe twice a year in forced, awkward social settings as my wife," he said to her.

  "Or they could be people who will be instrumental in helping to build Wide Open Spaces," she said with a side glance.

  A warming sensation crawled up Paul's pant leg and nestled itself in his crotch. "Damn," he muttered.

  "Are you okay?" she asked him.

  “Mhmmhmmm," he said with pressed lips.

  Kalinda laughed aloud, joined by him.

  Paul wrinkled his brow, "The sparks are flying between us like crazy, or is it my imagination?"

  "You are not imagining it," Kalinda said, her cheeks warm.

  "I was planning to save the consummation of our wedding for when we get home to the cabin," he said to her.

  "That's fine," she said. "I just didn't expect our attraction to be so..."

  "Strong," he finished the sentence. "I like it. It is a plus."

  They drove in silence until they reached the hotel. Three bellhops came outside to greet the vehicle, one to park the 4 x4, the others to unload it. The leader of the threesome opened her door. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Darton, welcome to The Darton Inn & Suites," he said to her.

  She looked over at Paul who was coming around the vehicle with a purpose. He held out his hand, asking for hers, but she read more into it. Kalinda saw him using the extended hand to ask for her trust. Shaking fingers slid into a damp hand and warm fingers enclosed hers.

  "This way, Mrs. Darton," Paul said to her. His gorgeous brown eyes stared into hers as hand in hand, they walked through the double glass doors. Paul leaned down. "Are you ready to start our life together?"