Eagle's Destiny

by C. J. Corbin

  Grandmother Helen patted my hand, “You would make a good Greek girl.”

  I guess I passed the coffee test. Everyone started eating and conversation started to flow more naturally.

  “Tell us about the books that you write.” Grandmother Helen asked.

  I looked at Michael.

  “I already told them that you’re a writer.” He answered my unspoken question.

  I nodded. “I write mystery romance novels. I’ve been writing them for the past seven years.”

  “You mean the books with the big handsome men on the cover?” Grandmother Helen asked her eyes sparkled like Michaels. I knew where Michael had gotten his eye color, and hers were the same sky blue.

  I laughed, “Yes, those types of books.”

  “Tammy brought some of your books to the house so that I can read them, but it’s hard for me to read such little words. My grandchildren come by and read to me but they get bored. Maybe you could come with Tammy and we could read them together?” Grandmother Helen suggested.

  I squeezed her hand lightly, it was not frail, as I had expected. “Yes, I would like to do that if you would like me to come.” I looked around the table, and I was surprised to see everyone very intent on our conversation. I felt like I was passing a series of tests.

  It appeared Michael felt the same way, and he straightened up in his chair. “Mom and Dad were high school teachers before they retired. They live in Oakland.”

  “Oh! So was my sister Lisa. What did you teach?” I asked.

  We spent the next half hour sharing information about both of our families. On his mother’s side, Michael had two aunts and a multitude of cousins living in Calistoga. His father had two brothers and a sister living in Oakland. Michael had a huge family.

  The mood was suddenly broken because the third test walked through the front door.

  “Hello?” called several voices.

  Before I could turn around there were Michael’s two aunts, his uncles, and assorted nieces and nephews standing in the family room. I suddenly felt very claustrophobic. At that moment, if the earth swallowed me I would not have minded. We stood as everyone shook my hand. Michael had slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me close to him. His body had tensed as mine had. He was not enjoying this encounter either. The worst was yet to come.

  Michael was trying to herd me toward the door after the introductions were completed. Grandmother Helen walked over to me and took my hand in hers. She looked me straight in the eyes. I didn’t quite know what to expect. Her hand pulled me down toward her and I knew she wanted to whisper something to me.

  “You don’t have any babies at home do you?” she asked very quietly. The whole room stopped jabbering, their attention focused on the two of us.

  I shook my head softly, “No, Grandmother Helen, I don’t.”

  “I see two babies for you.” She said it solemnly as she squeezed my hand tightly and then let go.

  I blinked and looked at her, “Okay.” I said in a very small voice.

  There was a collective sigh around me and it was if everyone started breathing again. I swear I could almost hear bouzouki music playing. I shook my head in disbelief because this was too surreal even for me.

  Michael had a look on his face; and he knew he had to get me out quickly. He pulled me forward. “Mom, Grandma, thanks for breakfast. It was good seeing everyone. We really have to go.” Michael kissed both of them. He continued to lead me to the door.

  One of Michael’s aunts spoke up. “What? You’re not staying for lunch? We just got here. We want to get to know Elizabeth more.”

  Michael looked firm and we walked outside, “Sorry Aunt Tia, we have to go.”

  She called to Michael as everyone stood on the front porch. “Then come back for dinner. We’ll barbeque some lamb.”

  Michael opened the door for me. While I put on my scarf, he called to them, “Some other time. I’ll see you soon!” He waved and quickly backed the car out of the driveway.

  Everyone stayed on the porch and waved madly at us. As we drove down the street, Michael started apologizing to me. “I am so sorry Elizabeth. I didn’t expect this to happen.”

  When we were a couple of blocks down the road, I turned to him, “Pull over Michael.”

  Michael slowed the Mustang down, “What?”

  “Just pull over now.” He did as I asked. I unbuckled the seat belt and got out of the car.

  Michael tried reaching for me, but I was already out and standing under a nearby tree. I paced back and forth hugging myself with my arms. He got out of the car and walked over to me. I pulled my scarf off my head and bunched it up in my hand. Michael stood next to me with his arms by his side.

  With tears in my eyes I blurted out, “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

  Michael again reached out but I backed away from him. “Elizabeth, I’m sorry. We were only going to drive by my grandmother’s house. She suggested breakfast, and I didn’t see any harm in it. I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

  I kept pacing. “Here I am meeting your parents, dressed like this.” I spread my arms out pointing to my clothes.

  “I don’t see anything wrong with what you’re wearing. You look cute and sexy.”

  “That’s just it Michael. Sexy is not an outfit to wear to meet parents, especially your mother.”

  He touched my shoulder. “My mother doesn’t care about what you wear.”

  “Then you don’t have a clue about mothers.” Even though I stood outside, the feeling of claustrophobia was still overwhelming. How to explain to Michael how trapped I had felt? One of my biggest fears was the scrutiny I had just experienced and top it all off Michael’s grandmother had to express it aloud to everyone.

  “Something else is bothering you. You wouldn’t get so upset about what you’re wearing.” He put his hands on my upper arms, his eyes searching my face, “What is it Elizabeth? Is it what my grandmother said to you?”

  I looked down and nodded. He pulled me closer. “My grandmother is an old woman, and she likes to play the role of the psychic, besides she’s actually accurate sometimes.”

  I looked up at Michael. I couldn’t hold the tears and they started streaming down my face. “Well she isn’t very accurate about me.”

  Michael put his arms around me completely. “What is it Elizabeth?” he repeated.

  Pushing my face into his neck, I started sobbing. He held me tightly and let me cry.

  “Tell me.” He said softly.

  I pulled back slightly and tilted my head up at him. His eyes were worried. “I can’t have babies.” As soon as the words were out, I pressed my face into his neck again and my shoulders were shaking with the sobs.

  Rubbing my back, he tried to comfort me. “It’s okay. Maybe she just meant your dogs. You have two of those and you treat them like babies.”

  I sniffed and said slowly into his neck, “Do you think so?”

  “It’s got to be that. Remember if my grandmother was right all the time, she’d be living in a much bigger house.” He reasoned logically.

  I giggled and nodded my head.

  Michael tilted my head up. His eyes still showed concern. “Do you want me to take you home?”

  I thought for a moment and then shook my head. “No. I want to spend the day with you.”

  He smiled. “I want that too. Can we put this behind us?”

  “Promise never to spring a surprise like this on me?”

  Michael chuckled, “Yes, I promise where my family is involved never, ever to do that again. They even scared me. Believe me?”

  I nodded. “Okay.” He helped me back to the car. “So you’re Greek?” I asked.

  Michael laughed as he got into the driver’s seat. “Yes, but only half. I’m half-German too. If you thought the Greek’s were crazy, wait until you meet the Germans!”

  We were quiet as we headed toward Napa. The sun was bright but with the wind hitting us, it wasn’t too hot yet. I turned in my seat to face
him. I did not speak but watched him drive. His intentions had to be innocent with this morning’s breakfast fiasco. I was completely familiar with the realm of crazy families. My family was crazy in its own way. As Nancy had told me after my divorce, “Normal is only a setting on the washer.”

  I studied Michael’s profile while he drove. His hair was getting a little longer than when I had first met him. He had wisps of curls barely over his ears and down around his collar. I wondered aloud what his family thought of the earring.

  Michael looked over at me. “What did you say?”

  “What does your family think of your earring?”

  “Oh that,” he said, “I’ve worn it so long I don’t think they even notice it any more. I had my ear pierced in college. There was some discussion when I first came home with the earring, but my grandmother Helen loved it. My grandfather thought it meant I was gay. My parents are liberal. We lived in Berkeley when we were young, so it blew over. What didn’t blow over was my divorce.”

  “Catholic.” I stated.

  “Greek Orthodox.” He answered.

  “The same. I left Kevin shortly before my mom became sick, and even though they didn’t like him, my parents weren’t happy.”

  “Catholic?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Of course it didn’t help that my sister had the perfect marriage.”

  “That’s where I had it easier. Christina took the brunt of the criticism because her divorce was first. She didn’t have children though. Man, did I hear that one over and over again.” He shook his head.

  Michael reached for my left hand almost as if he was testing the waters. I smiled as he squeezed my hand and pulled it over to his leg. He was watching the road ahead and absently playing with my fingers, interlacing his fingers with mine. This act alone started my heart pumping faster and with my hand placed on his thigh, I thought maybe I would pass out. I have a thing for male thighs. I don’t know, maybe it all started with the baseball uniforms. If I moved my hand, Michael might take it as a rejection but I didn’t want to leave my hand where it was just there on his thigh. I sighed silently. I was such a coward and it didn’t help either because my hand wanted to go wandering too.

  I finally moved my hand up to the curls around his ear. I tucked the curls behind his ear and then left my hand resting on his shoulder. This was better and far less dangerous for my hand, because if I left my hand on his thigh, I knew for sure it would have a mind of its own. The game though did not end there. He moved his right hand down and rested it on my bended knees. My eyes did not leave his profile and Michael only concentrated on the road ahead.

  He eventually turned and asked, “A penny for your thoughts.”

  I laughed, “Oh, I don’t think I’m going to share what I was thinking with you.”

  He smiled, “This has to be good. What were you thinking?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Not gonna tell.”

  Michael rubbed my knee then moved his hand up my thigh. “Come on. I’m thinking it’s really bad if you won’t tell me.”

  I laughed again and squirmed away. “That’s right. It is really bad.” I blushed knowing that there was no way I was going to verbalize the scene that was happening in my mind involving him and no clothes. “Hey isn’t this our exit?”

  “Don’t change the subject.” He flipped on the signal light and exited from the freeway.

  The first winery we visited was very close to the freeway. He pulled into the parking lot. Michael helped me out of the car and pressed me gently against the car. His arms wrapped around me and he leaned in to kiss me.

  “You know, you and I were probably thinking the same thing.” His mouth lingered at my lips.

  I smiled and gazed into his sparkling eyes. “Mine was probably better.” I giggled.

  He kissed me again quickly. “If you won’t tell, I guess we’ll never know.” Michael let me go, and took my hand to lead me to the door of the winery.

  Something between us had been changing. I noticed it for the first time today. He held my hand when we walked, and he pulled me closer. There were times when we would simply look at each other in silence. I felt a comfort level with him and knew he shared it with me. Most importantly, I had stopped blushing every time he spoke or looked at me.

  After the third winery, I was beginning to feel the effects of the wine. Michael had tasted the wine and spitted out the samples, which was the proper way to taste wine. I thought that method was a waste of good wine. He knew far more about wine that I did. He showed me how to taste the wine by rolling it in my mouth, observing the color, and sniffing the wine in the glass. Still, he could not get me to spit it out into the bucket. We had several cases in the trunk and on the back seat, all his purchases.

  Michael helped me into the car at the fifth winery. I was giggling and finding everything quite amusing. He sat in the driver’s seat and looked at me. I simply sat there with a big grin on my face.

  “I think I need to get you home,” he declared.

  I giggled again, “Okay.”

  I leaned back against the seat and waved my red scarf around. Michael rolled his eyes.

  “Hopefully the drive home will sober you up.” He laughed.

  I giggled and wrapped my scarf around my head as he started the car. Putting my head back, I was fast asleep before we were on the freeway. I awoke shortly before we arrived home.

  “I must have fallen asleep. Sorry.”

  Michael laughed, “You snore.”

  I protested, “I don’t!” Then I blushed, “Do I?”

  Michael kept laughing, “Buzz-saw city.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how tired I was.” I said.

  “Don’t apologize. You’re cute when you sleep.”

  I straightened myself out and sat up. “We’re almost home?”

  Michael nodded. “The Giants and Dodgers are playing tonight. Do you want to watch it together?”

  “Real cross state rivalry. You know I bleed Dodger Blue.”

  Michael chuckled, “Somehow I am not surprised. We’ll watch it at your place.”

  “Okay. Want to invite the girls?” I asked.

  “No.” Michael answered with firmness in his voice. “They are not invited. Besides its Saturday night, they’re probably going out.” He pulled up in front of my house. “I’ll take my car home and I’ll be back shortly.”

  I got out of the car. “Don’t you need help carrying the wine in?”

  “No. I got it. I want to put the Mustang away.”

  I went into the house, greeted the dogs, and quickly went into my bathroom to take a quick shower. I didn’t wash my hair but wanted to get the road dirt off me. I pulled on a pair of shorts and a tank top. When I came out of my bedroom, Michael was already in the kitchen. He had changed clothes too, wearing a loose pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt. He was bending over with his head in the refrigerator, and even with a loose pair of jeans, he still had the best-looking butt. I saw his shoes by the back door, and that meant he was barefooted.

  I leaned over him. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  Michael straightened up, pulling a few containers out of the refrigerator.

  “I’m trying to put some dinner together for us. Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I’m starved. There should be some left-over’s from the bonfire.”

  “I think I have everything we need.” He had brought over several ingredients from his house. He handed me a brick of cheese. “Here, cut this up in small chunks please.”

  I pulled a knife and cutting board out from the drawer. “How big do you want the chunks?”

  “Dice sized.” Michael answered. “Tammy told me she fed the dogs about an hour ago.”

  “Yeah, I figured. They weren’t dancing around me for food. Was she home?”

  He started washing small grape tomatoes in the sink and put them in a bowl.

  “Yeah. She wanted to come over and I said no.”

  “Oh Michael, you didn’t?”

&
nbsp; “Yes, I told her we wanted to be alone.” He put the cheese chunks in the bowl with the tomatoes.

  “What did she say?” I was blushing again, so much for my theories.

  He laughed as he sprinkled balsamic vinegar and olive oil over the tomatoes and cheese. “I told her we were going to make out and that she would probably get bored watching us.”

  “Oh great.” I rolled my eyes. Now my blush was in full force. “I told her last week nothing was going on between us.”

  Wrapping his arm around my waist, he kissed me. “So far nothing has.”

  He opened the container of pasta salad from the dinner last night. After a quick bite of the salad, he added the salad to the tomatoes and cheese mixture. Then, he threw black and green olives, cut up mushrooms, and a jar of artichoke hearts into the mix. Next, he added some garlic, onions, and ground some pepper over the top. Michael took a big spoon and offered me a taste. The combination of flavors was delicious.

  “Yum.” I murmured.

  Michael opened one of the bottles of wine he had purchased today. I pulled two glasses out of the cupboard, and he sliced up a loaf of French bread.

  “Can we eat on the couch?” He asked.

  “Absolutely.” I answered already carrying the food over to the couch table and turning the television on. The baseball game had not started yet.

  Michael sat on middle section of the couch and I sat in the corner. He poured us both a glass of wine and handed me mine.

  He held his glass up and looked at me, “To us.”

  “To us.” I said, as we touched our glasses.

  The wine was one we had tasted earlier in the afternoon. It tasted of wild berries with a hint of orange. After our tours, I appreciated the flavors even more.

  When we had finished eating, I leaned back into the corner of the couch. Michael had lifted my legs and laid them across his lap. The game was boring, and the Dodgers were losing. Far more interesting were Michael’s hands moving up my legs. He had started very nonchalantly tracing circles softly on my knees and then moving slowly up my thighs until he reached the bottom hem of my shorts.

  He leaned over me to turn off the lamp next to me. The room was dark with just the glow of the television. His face was over mine.