by Mia Ford
"Don't worry, I'm sure my mom will love you," I told him, but I was trying to convince myself. My mom was an older woman and with this being said, she wasn’t that much older than Marquise. I would be graduating soon and I wanted both of them to be there supporting me so I needed this visit to go as well as it could.
As the time approached for my mom to arrive, butterflies filled my stomach and I just couldn't relax. Marquise and I tried to act normally but there was an air of apprehension hovering right above us. Marquise had made a home cooked meal to celebrate my mom’s arrival that had taken him all day to prepare. When she called to tell me that she was outside, my heart skipped a beat. I felt conflicting emotions. On the one hand, I had missed my mom and it had been difficult going through all this drama without being able to talk to her about any of it. On the other hand, I was afraid that she wouldn't approve of me and Marquise's relationship. I valued my mom’s opinion highly and it would be devastating if she told me that she didn't feel that Marquise was right for me.
I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans as I ran down the stairs to get her. When I opened the door, and saw her for the first time in months, a grin spread across my face and my eyes filled with joy.
"There's my pretty girl!" She greeted me with a grin just as big, her arms outstretched to embrace me. She hugged me long and tight. It felt good to be in my mom’s arms. I almost felt like a little girl again. I was a spitting image of my mom, just a younger version. I got my blonde hair and clear blue eyes from her, as well as my smile. My mom looked really good. She worked out and was really fit, so if she wanted to, she could probably beat Marquise up. She held me at arm’s length to get a good look at me, and then she noticed my promise ring. She pulled it up close to her face, staring at it.
"This is real!" She exclaimed. I blushed and smiled sheepishly.
"Yea," I said simply. She turned her intense stare on me.
"Who gave you this?" She asked me.
"My boyfriend," I answered. Her eyes widened and her brows rose.
"Boyfriend? You have a boyfriend and you didn't tell me? A boyfriend who can afford diamond rings at that! We have a lot of catching up to do! Where's your apartment?" She asked looking around.
"On the second floor," I told her as I led her upstairs. My stomach was doing flips as we approached my door. When I opened it, we were immediately confronted by the delicious aroma of dinner.
"Mmmm, it smells good in here," my mom said sounding pleasantly surprised as we walked in and I closed the door behind us. "Did you cook?" She asked me. Before I could answer, Marquise came walking out of the kitchen, removing an oven mitten from his hand.
"No, I did. I'm Marquise," he said with a smile as he held out his hand to my mom. My mom looked caught off guard as she stared at Marquise and shook his hand.
"Hello Marquise, I'm Monica, Dahlia's mom," she said politely. I had a smile plastered to my face as I watched helplessly from the side. "So, what did you cook?" She asked.
"Come find out, dinner is ready and will be served in the kitchen," Marquise announced as he turned around and walked back into the kitchen. My eyes were on my mother but she paid me no mind as she stood up and followed Marquise into the kitchen with me following her. My mom sat down at the table but I hesitated.
"I'll set the table," I said.
"No no no. Sit. This is my jurisdiction," Marquise said. I sat down beside my mom. I couldn't read her. I had no idea what she was thinking and that scared me. Marquise set the table and placed the food in the center. There was a carved turkey, baked macaroni and cheese, broccoli, and mashed potatoes. "Dig in!" Marquise declared. My mom began helping herself, then I made my plate and finally Marquise fixed himself a plate of food. For some reason, Marquise and I were waiting for my mom to eat before we started eating. She stabbed a piece of turkey, brought it to her lips, opened her mouth and closed it around the fork. She removed the fork and we watched her chew.
When she finished chewing, she swallowed and finally spoke.
"This is delicious!" She said. "I'm impressed! How did you make the turkey? I've never tasted a turkey this juicy!" Marquise looked pleased with himself.
"Thank you, thank you! I cooked it in a crock pot for twelve hours," he told her. At this, my mom looked genuinely impressed.
"And what was the occasion?" She asked.
"Your arrival of course!" He exclaimed. My mom laughed. I was grinning from ear to hear. We were off to a great start. Marquise's dinner was a success. But if I knew my mother, and I did, this was just the beginning. My mom was not easily distracted or impressed and I was sure there would be an interrogation. My mom took another bite of her food. Then washed it down with a glass of white wine.
"So, Marquise, what is your relationship to my daughter?" She asked. And it began.
"I'm her boyfriend," he answered. My mom watched him over her wine glass as she took another sip,
"You're a little old to be a Boyfriend, don't you think? And how old are you?" She asked. My face went hot as I blushed. My mom didn't hold any punches.
"I'm thirty-five," he answered. My mom’s eyes widened.
"Thirty-five. So, you're thirteen years older than my daughter. And what are your intentions?" She asked.
"I intend to marry her."
"Did you give her this ring?" She asked motioning at my hand.
"Yes."
"So why not an engagement ring instead if you intend to marry her?" She asked. I felt like I was watching a tennis match, I kept looking back and forth from Marquise to my mother.
"I didn't want to propose to your daughter before meeting you. Especially since I am sure that she would like you to be there for such an important moment," Marquise answered. I felt like he was handling himself quite well in front of my mother.
"Do you have kids? Have you ever been married before?"
"I do not have kids and I am divorced." My mom nodded and took another bite of her food. Marquise and I did the same.
"Well, I'm sure that Dahlia has already told you that her father is no longer with us. Dahlia is all I have and I am very protective of her. I need to be sure that she is in good hands at all times. Are you living here?" She asked.
"Yes I am."
"Do you work? What do you do?"
"Yes, I am a professor here at the university."
"Ah," my mom smiled and nodded. "So, that's how you two met! Do you usually date your students?"
"No, this was the first time," he assured her. There was an awkward silence. I stole a glance at my mom. She was finishing up the last of her food. When Marquise clapped his hands together, it made me jump.
"So, who's ready for dessert?" He asked enthusiastically. My mom looked up in surprise. I guess she hadn't been expecting dessert.
"Did you make it?" She asked him.
"Yes, I did," he answered as he cleared the table. He served us each a plate of sweet potato pie with whip cream. "The whip cream is also homemade." He sat back down. Again, we waited for my mom too take the first bite. When she began chewing she closed her eyes and moaned.
"This is delicious! Where'd you learn how to cook like this?" She asked.
"I was also raised in a single parent household and my mom taught me everything she knew," he said.
"So, mom, are you spending the night?" I asked her. This was the first time I'd spoken since we sat down. She shook her head and finished chewing.
"No, I was. But now that I've met Marquise, I feel reassured that you are well taken care of," she said with a smile. I was so relieved that I started crying. The tone was much lighter after dinner. Our bellies were full and our spirits were high. I was feeling good about my mom’s visit when I walked her to her car.
"So, what do you think of Marquise?" I asked her once we were alone.
"I like him. He's a little old, but your father was fifteen years older than me when we got married," she said with a smile. I smiled back.
"I'm glad because he loves me mom and I love him," I told her.
"Well he better because I love you and if he hurts you, I'll kill him." We laughed, hugged and kissed goodbye and then my mom watched me go inside before driving off. When I got inside, Marquise was washing the dishes. I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head against his back.
"Thank you," I murmured.
Graduation
I was finally graduating! It had been a long four years and a lot had happened but now I was at the conclusion and it felt so damn good! When I got my diploma, my mom and Marquise were there cheering me on and taking pictures. Afterward, Marquise treated us to dinner at an upscale restaurant on the pier. I was wearing a beautiful gold dress that hugged my curves and my hair was curled into spirals. As graduation presents, my mom had got me a new car and Marquise had got me a puppy named Delilah. I couldn't have been happier. After dinner, the four of us, Marquise, my mom, Delilah and I, went for a walk along the pier. The night sky was clear and the stars winked down at us. We walked along happily looking at the water. Marquise held my hand while my mom walked Delilah. We let them walk ahead of us a bit so that we could have a moment to ourselves.
"I am so proud of you Dahlia. You deserve all of this and then some," Marquise said, holding my hands in his. "A while ago, I made you a promise and I've been waiting for the right moment to fulfill that promise. So, I figured, what better time than the present? Your mom’s here, this band is here," he said and out of nowhere, a small band started making music behind us. It caught me off guard and made me laugh. My mom was standing near the band, holding Delilah and smiling at us. "I know that we haven't known each other that long and in the short time that we have been together, it's been a rollercoaster, but you make me feel alive! Your love sets me free and I want to grow older with you," we all laughed at that. "I want to be there when you accomplish all of your goals and when you become the woman that you envision yourself being. I want to make you my wife, build a home with you and fill it with kids that look like you. I want to be your last." Marquise dropped down on one knee and my jaw dropped. I had to remind myself to keep breathing. Marquise held my left hand as he reached inside his suit jacket with his other hand. Out came a little black ring box. Involuntarily, tears filled my eyes. I had to blink them back to keep them from ruining my makeup.
Marquise opened the box revealing a diamond ring that looked like a twinkling star in the moonlight. There were diamonds arranged like a rose with diamond petals. Around the platinum band were smaller diamonds. Marquise removed the ring from its box. He held my left hand as he slid the ring onto my ring finger. The diamonds sparkled in the light.
"Dahlia Winters," he began. "Will you do me the honor of being my wife?"
I nodded causing the tears to sprinkle out my eyes.
"Yes. Yes!" I said as cameras flashed. There was a photographer too! The band started playing another song as Marquise and I kissed and embraced. A part of our journey had recently ended but we were ready to embark on the next chapter together, for better or for worse. Till death do us part.
BOOK 5: MERMAID SIGHTED
It was supposed to be an innocuous evening but, just like life on the waves, presuming that calm and peaceful seas lay ahead was a mistake you might only be able to make the once.
Kurt was often looking to live by such seafaring philosophies. He was in love with the ocean and tried to interpret all of his life’s lessons in the way that he envisioned an experienced old sailor from voyages of yore might. Something that was true whether or not he happened to be at sea or, indeed, 50 kilometres inland as he then was.
The occasion was pretty casual in appearance, at the same time as being pretty essential for the future of their livelihoods in that it was a dinner invite from his father’s business partner. Clive Furse’s family home was in Portland and represented one of two households that benefitted from the profit margins of Aqua Yachts: a luxury yacht hire business co-owned by Furse and Kurt’s father Earl Wyden.
Some twenty years ago the two of them had collaborated, investing their fortunes into setting up the business which was still going strong. Since then they had both raised families that would one day inherit and, because of the love he developed for the sea, getting involved in the family business was not a difficult decision for Kurt to make. Sure, the profits and the lifestyle would have made that choice fairly easier anyway, compared to hunting around on the jobs market, but Kurt honestly felt that it was in his blood to live on the coast.
His father had been the more hands-on of the two as far as maintaining the fleet was concerned, meaning that Kurt had grown up being able to learn about how to prepare a vessel for seafaring. Furse, on the other hand, had focused on the financial side of the business, as well as the marketing, which he was able to keep afloat farther inland at his Portland offices.
Socialising between the two families had been fairly normal when growing up and they were all on a first name basis. This meet up was the first-time Kurt had seen any of the Furses for nine months, however, because he had been on an extended break with friends traveling around Europe. That was part of a pledge to see the world someday, which Kurt had enjoyed although what he learned most of all from the experience was that the best thing about travel was coming home. He was pleased to be back with his father’s yachts and, as far as he was concerned, there was enough to see upon Oregon’s coastline and its Pacific waters to last him the rest of his lifetime.
In truth, he would have rather been there than in the backseat of his dad’s 4 x 4 Honda heading to Portland, but the meetup was also important for another reason.
Last week had seen Clive’s daughter, Darlene, return from college. She had been over in Boston for her higher education but was now home for good. The two families had realized that it had been the first time any of the Wyden’s had seen Darlene for three years and what better reason for a big family meetup to mark the occasion?
It was this addition that would live up to Kurt’s philosophy about peaceful seas, in that an evening at the Furse household seemed the most unlikely candidate for a life-changing event. Other than staying at home in front of the television, he would not have imagined a better way of avoiding anything out of the ordinary.
The Furses were fairly orthodox people. Kurt couldn’t imagine them doing any bad deeds in the world whatsoever and, if any man served as an example that money does not always corrupt, it was surely Clive Furse. The business he co-owned had earned them big bucks, but Clive continued to live simply. Other than the benefit of having a fleet of luxury yachts for his holidays, he believed in good traditional living, shopping locally and attending church on a Sunday. Simple pleasures like walking and bird spotting were his personal hobbies; certainly no one would ever catch him squandering away hard earned money buying rounds of drinks in some fancy bar or behind the wheel of a flash motor. Money and success provided Clive’s family with a blanket of financial security and he had no hang ups about the type of person he was.
Kurt respected the Furses for sure; in fact, the two families would probably always be friends even as the new generations grew up differently. If he was honest, however, he would have to admit that he expected the meet up to be a bit tedious. So, he was a full nautical voyage away from being able to predict that the evening would indeed result in a detour into stormy waters.
None of that was obvious as they arrived. Clive and his wife Beatrice greeted Kurt’s parents, Earl and Brenda, and the three of them were welcomed inside where they sat down at the dining table. A glass of wine each was poured as they awaited the roast and the Furse’s two young boys, Michael and Dennis (13 and 9 years old) joined them at the table also.
After a few remarks on how big the boys were getting (unfortunately in width as well as height, Kurt couldn’t help noticing), the two co-owners kicked off a typically safe and dry conversation about business. Clive was always obsessed with discussing how everything had changed now that the Internet was everybody’s port of call. That was hardly new at all, though Cl
ive still talked as if the online world was wild and adventurous. Fortunately, he had an able team of skilled office staff who were able to ensure that business kept up with the ways of the world, otherwise he would have had trouble treading water.
As all this went on, Kurt sat like a good guest, having painted a polite smile on his face that he intended to keep intact for the rest of the evening, regardless of how bad the jokes were. But fifteen minutes in and something arrived that would see him sit up and start to pay proper attention: and that something was Darlene.
With not having seen the girl for three years, when she had been eighteen, Kurt was aware that she was going to have changed a little. All the same, he would not have believed anyone had they told him that an image of pure lust was about to walk into their leaden evening meal.
She entered without introduction, Clive not even seeing her approach as he rabbited on about algorithms. Kurt saw her before anyone else and genuinely could not believe the transformation. His memories were of a stick-thin girl with a nice smile but relatively little else going for her in terms of appearance. Either a student’s life had done well for her or else she was just a late developer, however, because the young lady he beheld was quite the opposite.
Darlene had the kind of curves that a twenty-five-year-old male notices whether he wants to or not (unless he’s another way inclined). It was not even that she was dressed to put on a show, wearing only a casual V-neck sweater and jeans, but both of which fit her so perfectly that the fabric hugged her curves from her shoulders to her ankles. If her waist was out of shape in any way, like the two young boys, then Kurt’s eyes would have seen. Instead he saw nothing but loveliness, alluring and desirable.
Seeing her approach, Kurt had to be grateful that people had always judged him as laid back. If he was not good at keeping his reactions inside, then he might have completely lost his cool and made a fool of himself. Countless horny students must have succumbed to such instincts over the last few years and so he was thankful to be able to collect his wits and look casual.