Now and Forever 5, Love's Journey

by Joachim, Jean C.

  “Wish I could have her cloned,” Peter joked.

  “I hope you find someone like her, too, shrimp…and settle down…it’d be good for you.” Mac put his hand on Peter’s shoulder and looked him right in the eye.

  “Maybe I will. I’d like to have what you have here.” Peter nodded once at Mac then turned to leave the kitchen.

  * * * *

  Mac took a bottle of wine and two glasses up to bed, when he and Callie retired at nine thirty. Sam took a book into the living room. Peter was restless. The darkness of the lake was broken by the light of a full moon. A cool breeze with a hint of fresh lilacs enticed him outside, so he went for a stroll. He walked down the deck to the lake and thought how romantic to be on the lake in the moonlight with a special woman.

  He turned away and went to the left of the house. Curiosity about what was behind the house sent him down a narrow path leading from the house to the water meter on the side and beyond. Past the house he stopped to look up at the moon and spied the small deck attached to the master bedroom on the second floor. He saw a tiny table, burning candles and a wine bottle. And Mac and Callie.

  They were drinking from wine glasses and undressing each other. Although he knew he should leave, Peter was transfixed. Mac pulled his T-shirt over his head. Then he took Callie’s shirt over her head and off. He reached around and unhooked her bra, freeing her breasts. Peter couldn’t see much of Callie except for a little in silhouette because the moon was behind her and Mac was in front of her. The shadows hiding her body from his eyes relieved Peter of guilt from spying on them.

  Callie unzipped Mac’s pants and pulled them down. He slid her shorts off and then her panties. She pulled his boxers down. They stood there facing each other naked in the moonlight. Callie reached up to touch his face. Mac stepped back a little to look at Callie, then he took her in his arms and kissed her and kissed her. Peter could see Callie’s hands disappear in Mac’s hair. Then Mac’s face moved down to Callie’s neck.

  They broke to finish their wine. After the wine was gone, Callie stepped toward Mac, running her hands up his chest. He couldn’t see Mac’s hands, but suddenly Callie was pulled in closer to Mac and they kissed again, Mac losing one hand in Callie’s flowing hair. Then Mac dropped down to his knees and put his arms around Callie, burying his face in the shadows where her breasts were. Callie threw her head back, her hair blowing slightly in the soft, warm breeze. She ran her hands over Mac’s shoulders and bent her head down to kiss the top of his head.

  Mac stood up, blew out the candles and picked up Callie. He carried her through the narrow door into the bedroom. Unease about spying on the lovers ate at Peter, but the scene was so loving, gentle and sweet he had a hard time pulling himself away. Their love touched his heart.

  He returned to the house.

  “Tea, Pete?” Sam asked, pouring from the kettle.

  “Sure.”

  Father and son sat down outside on the deck.

  “Callie is perfect for Mac, don’t you think?” Sam asked.

  “He was lucky to find her,” Peter said.

  “And those kids…they’re fantastic!” Sam said. “Give you any ideas, Pete?”

  “I’d like to have what Mac has,” Peter confided.

  “Sure you don’t want to continue tomcatting around?”

  “I’d settle down quickly if I found a girl like Callie.”

  “Not because you want to do what your older brother’s doing, but because you want a family?”

  “He has a good life. They’re not tired of each other, they don’t fight or bicker…they love each other.”

  “Their kind of devotion is a rare thing. Your mother and I were close too. I hope you find it, Pete, I’d like to see you happily settled.”

  “What are the chances of finding another Callie in a hick town like Willow Falls?”

  * * * *

  Back in Willow Falls, the nightlife was beginning to heat up as Alan drove Rex to The Wet Tee Shirt. It was six o’clock and the place was filling up. It was dark but Rex saw an empty table close to the stage.

  “Let’s get a drink here and then have dinner somewhere else. The food here probably sucks,” Rex suggested.

  Alan agreed. After they ordered drinks, the music started up again and the girls, who had been on break, came out and began to dance topless.

  Rex watched as a brunette and a redhead gyrated. He couldn’t decide which to approach, so he made eye contact with both. The redhead looked bored and spying Rex staring at her didn’t do much to change her attitude. But the brunette smiled back at him. He looked her over carefully and liked what he saw. She would be perfect, if she were cooperative. He’d come back after dinner, when he could ditch the stiff, Alan. Then he could move in on her.

  * * * *

  Across town in the hospital, Jay was restless.

  “We should’ve had children. Now you’re going to be completely alone.”

  “Hush. It’s fine, Jay.”

  Marcia tried to listen and be sympathetic to his feelings, but her emotional reserve was stretched to the breaking point. Her nerves were raw; she hung on to sanity by a thread sometimes, waiting for her beloved Jay to die.

  On this beautiful day in May, she got home to the frame house with brown shutters and cream shingles at about six in the evening. The front door was unlocked. She entered cautiously, ready to dial 911 on her cell phone when she saw him. A tall, strange man was in the kitchen, fixing the sink. She jumped, fear in her eyes.

  “No, no, so sorry, sorry,” he said in broken English, raising his hands, smiling and shaking his head. “I fix sink. Johnny’s father, Jakub.”

  Marcia exhaled a big sigh of relief. The sink had needed fixing for a week at least. Jakub looked to be about fifty years old. He was about six feet and broad-chested, wearing a blue work shirt and jeans. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to reveal large, firm forearms. His short hair was a warm brown, going to gray. His face, weathered by time and the elements, had even, handsome features including warm brown eyes. Marcia determined he was no threat.

  She poured herself a strong vodka and tonic, looked through the mail and switched the television on to the ballgame with barely a nod to Jakub.

  Jakub worked for another fifteen minutes, then put everything back together. On his way out, he looked at the television and asked, “Yankees?”

  “Mets,” she replied and managed a small smile.

  “Finish tomorrow. Goodnight.”

  Marcia made another strong drink, ate some cheese and crackers then climbed up the steep stairs to the bedroom, took her clothes off, fell into bed and passed out.

  * * * *

  At midnight The Wet Tee Shirt was still rocking. Rex walked in after dropping his cousin at home. The place was dark. There was canned music and two busty women were pole dancing topless. Men were drinking, talking, and ogling the dancers.

  Rex sat down near the stage and ordered a beer. Being in the mood for sex, he watched the women with interest. At The Hideaway in Harlem where he worked for eight years as a bouncer, he only dated waitresses and kitchen help. He rarely had time to connect with other women because he worked six nights a week. He managed to score enough sex to stay reasonably satisfied, but Rex had never been in love. He was thirty-five years old, lucky in blackmail, unlucky in love.

  “Wadda ya have?”

  Rex looked up to see a topless waitress there to take his order. His gaze slid down her body like a snake, openly evaluating her breasts and hips. She stifled a yawn.

  “Scotch neat. You dance too?”

  “Sometimes. Not my night tonight. Be right back.”

  Rex had a lonely childhood. He’d missed having a father and had gotten angry at being pushed around by his sisters. He put a stop to it when he was fifteen by knocking his oldest sister, Hazel, onto the kitchen floor once. They left him alone after that.

  The waitress returned and put his drink on top of a small, square paper napkin.

  “What’s your name
?”

  “Mary. I’m not available. Sorry.” She hustled away, her dark hair swinging, her breasts bouncing.

  Rex had gone into the army after high school and learned discipline. The army taught him how to take care of himself and build up his body. He’d matured, and acquired some self-confidence. When he got out, he was a new man on the outside, cunning, muscular, able to defend himself and take what he wanted, but on the inside he was still the frustrated, neglected child whose heart was growing callous.

  One of the dancers spied him and recognized him from earlier in the evening. She flashed him a smile and he smiled back. He evaluated her body and hair, liking what he saw.

  Rex looked good. He got his nose fixed, paid for a good haircut and bought the most popular clothing styles. He wanted to create an image, become a babe magnet. Although he was only five foot nine, he was powerful. His light brown hair and washed-out eyes were nondescript, but he made a decent first impression, especially with women. Though he wasn’t the smartest guy in school, he became wise in the ways of the world working at The Hideaway. Rex learned how to pick up girls. Underneath his impressive pecs was a stone-cold heart hardening a little more with every disappointment, every year of crushing loneliness.

  He looked around, hoping to see a “help wanted” sign at The Wet Tee Shirt but there was none. He didn’t notice any bouncer on the premises and wondered why. He figured to use one of the dancers to get the information he needed. He could probably get a job at the topless bar through her too. The redhead danced with more confidence than the brunette. He picked the dark-haired dancer, figuring she’d be easier to manipulate as she had already smiled at him.

  At break time Rex caught her eye.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” he offered, smiling as he pulled out a chair for her.

  He looked good enough, clean and trim, but it was pulling out the chair for her that seemed to catch her eye.

  “I’ll be back,” she said, then reappeared in a top so skimpy as to be almost non-existent.

  She sat down at Rex’s table.

  “What are you drinking?” he asked, trying not to stare at her chest like other men.

  “Raj knows,” she said, nodding to the bartender.

  “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Deena. What’s yours?”

  “I’m Rex. Nice to meet you, Deena.”

  Deena smiled at him and picked up her drink. Rex wore a sleeveless shirt to show off his impressive arm muscles. He knew he looked good. After a glance around the room, he knew he looked better than the other patrons and he wasn’t a fat slob, rude or staring at her chest.

  Rex covered her hand with his and kept it there. He wanted to show her he was different. He wasn’t interested in gawking at her breasts or trying to get her into bed, he was interested in a business partnership. If they happened to fall into the sack together…well, that was an added benefit.

  “When do you get off?” Rex asked, putting his empty glass down on the table.

  “Why?” Deena asked, downing the last of her drink.

  “I’d like to take you to dinner. Is there a nice place here open late?”

  “You new here?”

  “I rolled into town a few days ago.” Rex rested his elbows on the small round table.

  “How long you planning to stay?” Deena narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Depends upon how my business goes. If it goes as I planned, indefinitely,” he said, sitting back in his chair.

  “What business are you in?” Deena lit a cigarette.

  “Why don’t we discuss it over dinner tonight? Do you have plans?”

  “The only plans I have are to go home and fall into bed…alone.”

  “Good. Then tonight you can do something different.”

  “You mean fall into bed with you?”

  “Maybe just dinner?” Rex asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “Okay. Dinner it is. Where are you from?”

  “New York City. What time should I pick you up?”

  “This joint closes at one a.m. Go home, take a nap.”

  “Naw. I’m fine. I’ll be here at one.”

  “No nap?”

  “Not unless it’s with you, Deena.”

  “Yeah, Mr. Smooth. Okay. Pick me up at one,” she said, stubbing out her cigarette and standing up.

  Rex got up when she got up. She noticed. It was eleven-thirty, that meant he had an hour and a half to kill. He ordered another drink and watched Deena dance. He liked looking at her body while he plotted his strategy. It’d work better if she got him hired here. Rex sat back and smiled to himself. Perhaps this podunk little town wasn’t so bad after all.

  * * * *

  In the neat house on James Street, Peter worked on his lecture then took a break to work on a Beethoven sonata, a new piece he’d been practicing. He began and after a minute, stopped. Then he started again. Then stopped.

  He was having trouble with the beginning, when he heard a female voice scream, “Keep playing! Why are you stopping?”

  Peter ignored it, figuring the woman wasn’t talking to him. He started again. Again he heard the voice coming through the window.

  “Hey, you with the piano! I’m talking to you. Keep playing!”

  Peter stopped and started again. Again the voice.

  “You’re driving me crazy playing the same thing over and over! Finish it!”

  Peter got up and went to the window. About twelve feet away was the window of the house next door. The shade was drawn, but Peter knew the screaming woman was on the other side.

  “I’m practicing! This isn’t a concert, lady,” Peter hollered back.

  He sat down again and purposely played the beginning over and over until he heard the window next door shut with a bang. That will shut her up. He went back to practicing until Sam came in and told him lunch was ready.

  * * * *

  Sharing a house with Peter and listening to his music, reminded Sam of Ellen. He still missed her and when he heard Peter playing her favorite tunes, his heart lifted for a moment as if she were there with him. Their friends envied them their strong, loving relationship. Sam and Ellen had been married over thirty years; she was his best friend and his lover. They had a peaceful, warm, sexy relationship. When she died, his world collapsed.

  He had not been at Vaal University long when he lost Ellen to a virulent strain of pneumonia that swept through her body quickly. Ellen was a talented pianist and the inspiration for Peter. When his son played Ellen’s favorite pieces, if Sam closed his eyes, he could imagine she was still here.

  Sam had become a pretty good cook after Ellen died. He cooked, and Peter taught. They each had their own bedroom. The set-up seemed fine, but Sam wondered what would happen when Peter revved up his social life. He didn’t look forward to strange women at breakfast every Sunday morning, maybe every Saturday morning too. Sam hoped Peter would fall in love and get married.

  The more women Peter had, the more restless he became, and hence the more women. Sam didn’t approve of Peter’s womanizing but he didn’t say anything…his son had to find his own way.

  After lunch, Peter went back to the piano and noticed the window across the way was open again. Maybe the woman had gone out. He started in again on his sonata. This time he got halfway through, stopped and started again. He played halfway through and stopped. Then he concentrated on one section, playing it over and over.

  “You’re driving me bonkers! If Beethoven is too hard for you, try Brahms!”

  “Shut up!” Peter yelled and continued to play the one section over and over again until he heard the window slam shut. Good.

  He played for another hour. Then he got up to get a glass of water.

  Peter came back to the piano, barely glancing out the window. He saw a young woman from the back. So that’s the bitch. He noticed she wore a leotard and footless tights. The grace of her shoulders, the curve of her hips and the roundness of her small bottom piqued his curiosity. He started to play the
same sonata noting the sound of the shade coming down rapidly, then all was quiet. He played it all the way through. When he finished, he heard applause.

  “Not bad for an amateur,” she called out.

  Peter was furious and slammed his window shut. Sam chuckled but left the room quickly when Peter glared at him.

  * * * *

  The next day Sam received a call from Mac.

  “Dad, I need your help.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Jim Caterson, the head of our English department, is taking care of his niece. She was attacked in New York City a couple of weeks ago and beaten up pretty badly and has come to stay with him. She’s suffering from temporary blindness and can’t live on her own. She can’t be alone all day and Jim can be only be home part-time. I need someone to read to her or keep her company for a few hours every day so he can work. Could you help us out, until she can fend for herself?”

  “Sure, Mac.”

  “The best part is…she lives right next door to you.”

  Sam ran his hand through his hair. “Which side?”

  “To the left of your house.”

  Sam thought a minute. Was she the girl Peter had a running feud with? Uh-oh.

  “I’m glad to help. What’s her name?”

  “Her name is Lara Stewart. She’s twenty-six and nice looking from what I’ve been told, so please keep Pete away from her, okay?”

  “If she can’t see him, that’s half the battle. When do I meet her?”

  * * * *

  The window next door was closed when Peter started to practice. As he stumbled on an arpeggio and paused, he heard it slide open. He shifted his focus to the part giving him trouble, playing it over and over again. He waited for the nasty comments from next door, but they never came, so he continued to play the same part over and over again.