“Yep,” Isiah said, going to the shelf. “In honor of your nuptials and she still likin’ ya after riding across country with ya for the past week, we are going to have a drink or two from it.”
“None for me,” Gabriel said. “I don’t get along well with dark liquor.”
He lied. In Cabrina’s eyes, he lied twice. Not getting along with dark liquor was the first lie, the second one was saying he could handle a shot or three. Gabriel turned into a teenage girl giggling after thirty minutes of the first sip. His six-foot frame was slumped over on the couch blowing spit bubbles after the first shot, and the second shot put him to sleep. She, on the other hand, enjoyed a pleasant lunch with his brother and DeShondra, who also had a glow about her as she spoon-fed the man across the table, providing pet names and googly-eyes with each loving forkful of red meat.
The love fest between the two had begun to nauseate Cabrina, who understood that this was their weekend and she, along with her inebriated husband, needed to leave. After Cabrina asked for assistance to get the load of dead weight into the vehicle, Isiah carried him to the car, throwing his body onto the backseat. He gave her a nod and two pieces of advice.
“One, never walk on my grass,” he said, noticing the light indentations by small feet in the lawn. “Two, when you get to the house, do not go through the gate. Wake Gabe so he can disable the security. Got it?”
“Got it,” she said. “Thanks for lunch. Hope to see you soon.”
“Yeah, soon,” he said, handing her Gabriel’s address before rushing back into the house and securing the front door. She took the scrap of paper and plugged the address into her phone, setting the course for Elyria. Her sleeping husband sprawled out on the back seat looked adorable as he hugged a bottle of Bourbon his brother had given him. Cabrina pried the bottle from his hand, and she slowly backed out of the driveway, the nose of the rental pointed north.
She was ready to see her new home.
IT WAS ONLY TWO SHOTS of Bourbon, and Gabriel went down faster than a Baptist in prayer at a tent revival in the South on a hot Summers day. Against the insistence of Isiah for them to stay the night, Cabrina was armed with the GPS, a prayer, and a will to sleep in a bed that she could call her own. She dumped her inebriated husband onto the backseat of the car, gave two toots of the horn and a friendly wave. Cabrina picked up the I-75 into Florence, Kentucky, and drove until she hit I-71 rolling hard through Mansfield straight into Elyria. By her calculations, and with the blessing of moderate traffic, they were home in less than 6 hours.
Sharon’s words flashed across her mind. When you get home, the same security measures surround your house. There was a gate, and from what she’d seen of the one at Zeke’s cabin, the idea of it being electrified scared her. She reached over the seat, shaking her husband awake, pushing on his limp body, praying he was sober. “We are home.”
Gabriel, red-eyed, knew better than to drink a glass of anything other than wine with his brother Isiah. Only two glasses filled with two fingers each of the rich, old Bourbon rendered him unable to count the fingers on the hand in front of his face. He only planned to have a small sip and from there it all was blank. He didn’t even remember getting in the car, let alone his wife driving to his house. Our house. Why are we in the driveway?
“Mr. Neary, are there security measures to get onto the property?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, grinning at her sheepishly. “We have to change seats.”
Stumbling around the front end of the rented car, Gabriel, with some effort and double vision, flopped over and into the driver’s seat, and put the vehicle into gear. Upon driving up to an invisible line only he knew about, a red dot shone through the windshield. Gabriel leaned forward, flashing a card in the red light, which opened a small panel on the side of the gate. He stuck his head out of the window and the flashing light scanned his retina, releasing clamps which swung the gate slowly opened.
“Please place your hands on the dashboard and keep them still,” Gabriel told her as a white light scanned over the vehicle while his attention was drawn to the sniffles of his wife crying.
“Cabrina, my goodness, the house isn’t that ugly,” he said, trying to focus on the driveway. Her bottom lip quivered, turning down as the most inhuman wail escaped from her mouth.
“Bhaaaaaa, I don’t want to be married to an assassin,” Cabrina cried.
“What? Huh?” Gabriel said, trying to gather the coordination between his eyes and hands and figure out the rationale behind his wife’s thinking. “Mrs. Neary, I took a drink in Kentucky and woke up, still inebriated I might add, at my gate in Ohio. It is doubtful, at this point in the evening, that if I tried to carry you across the threshold of our home, you wouldn’t get dropped.”
“You are an assassin,” she said. “The government has trained you to kill people! I’m married to a killer.”
Her wails grew louder as they drew closer to the front door. The sound of her cries thumped against his eardrums, reverberating all the way through to his brain like tom-toms beating, warning of impending death. “Please, bring the screech down a few decibels,” he begged of her.
“What was I thinking! I don’t know you. I am no less than a mail order bride myself, marrying some man I don’t know, to live off the grid in...a house made of rocks, and you’re a hit man for the CIA!” She howled loudly.
“Cabrina, please stop crying,” he said. “My head is throbbing, and I have never taken the life of any creature. I don’t even hunt. You can’t even consider me sitting on the side of the pond adding bait to a hook to be fishing. I usually throwback everything I catch.”
The car stopped in front of the house as he looked for his keys. His hands felt numb from the powerful drink, but he had every intention of carrying his wife over the threshold into their home. Too bad his legs disagreed with him as he held her crying body, stumbling, trying to find his balance to trip, fall and land, his face in her crotch, and she in the middle of the living room floor.
“Welcome home, Baby,” he said, as the room went black. Gabriel was passed out on the floor. She didn’t know what prompted him to have the second drink with Isiah, but he did. However, it was the way he disarmed his brother which scared her. Even now, she was shaking, sitting in the one level, stonemason house that looked like it was made from loose rocks.
“Dear Lord, what have I done?”
Chapter 20 – Home Sweet...Who the hell is that?
Cabrina put forth a Herculean effort to get the dead weight of Gabriel off the floor onto the couch which seemed to have been in the home since his Grandfather built it in 1878. The living room chairs were threadbare, sitting in opposition to a coffee table that may have been built by the first Amish to settle the area. The living room throw rug appeared to be hand woven and older than the rocks that had been used to build the house. She flipped back a corner of the large rug to reveal hardwood floors.
That’s a plus.
Since her husband wouldn’t be of any help, she made several trips to the car to unload all their belongings. The laundry desperately needed to be washed because everything reeked of wood smoke from either the fireplace or the pot-bellied stove. Securing the front door, she was uncertain of how to arm the security system. Waking Gabe was not an option, leaving her no choice but to trust the locks on the door and the retinal scanner at the gate.
“Okay, let’s explore my new home sweet home,” she said, flipping a light switch. The living room sat across from a formal dining room with a table that looked like a slab of wood glued to four sturdy tree limbs. The dining room wall held a built-in china cabinet, which held a few old plates, colored glasses, and a handful of white serving dishes. Many were cracked from years of use while others were ready to be permanently retired. Before she got rid of any of the items, she would check with Mary to see if any held sentimental value.
The kitchen took her by surprise. It was full of modern appliances, including a double door oversized fridge that, to her amazement, was f
illed with food, fruits, and vegetables along with several bottles of table wine. That part didn’t surprise her in the least. The cute corner table set up in the breakfast nook faced a large window, which would be perfect to have morning coffee as she went over her planner for the week. She moved about, running her fingers across the granite countertops and coming to a gasping halt at the sink.
“Oh, my goodness! An actual apron front sink!” She found herself gushing over the deep ceramic white basin. Not that she planned to pluck chickens in it or pick peas, but it was a nice feature that Cabrina planned to make effective use of in the future.
Other surprises included a very modern washer and dryer pair on pedestals in a mudroom that included a laundry folding table, racks for coats, and storage for muddy boots. It was too dark to see the backyard or the porch, so for now, she continued to explore the house. The floor plan hosted three bedrooms and a front bathroom with a tub, but again she nearly cried tears of joy when she reached the master bedroom. It had everything. Cabrina loved the his and her closets with a chest of drawers in each, which left open floor space in the bedroom that held just a king-sized bed, two-night stands and chair by the window with a small table. On the table rested three journals, a Quran, a King James Bible, and Palmer’s Healing the Heart of Democracy sat on the table next to a pair of eyeglasses and one of his special pens. She picked up the pen and sniffed it. Biting her bottom lip, she felt like a goofball for wanting a hint of his scent.
The master bath was a woman’s dream. Not only did the bath hold a free-standing tub with detachable shower heads, the water closet also held a toilet and a bidet. The large glass shower could easily hold four people and had a seat she simply knew had warmers for a cool butt on a freezing day.
“Okay, the house made from rocks is not so bad after all,” she said, moving down the hall, peering into the two bedrooms and coming across a door that seemed out of place. “This one must be his office.”
She had made a promise not to go into his office, and she would keep her word.
When and if he chose to share that portion of his job with her, then he would. Right now, she had laundry to do and was far too wired to even try that shower or to sleep
alone in that really big bed. Instead, she loaded up the washer with dirty clothing,
then pulled out her printer. Connecting her phone, she spit out images of the trip, which she lined along the dining room table. Tomorrow, she would head home to get the first load of her items, her vehicle and to decide which pieces she would bring to her new home and what needed to be sold. Her townhouse, fully furnished, held many special pieces she’d hunted down and collected like Isiah did with his Bourbon.
A moment of doubt flashed through her. Maybe I should not bring them, and Gabe and I should shop for pieces we both like to fill this home. A quiet voice spoke to her, telling her to show him the furniture in her home and gauge his response. If he liked the things she’d purchased, she would move them into the rock house. If her husband scowled at the furniture, they would buy new pieces.
“See, I am growing,” she said, smiling at the hoard of photos on the table. She organized them by date from her wedding to their arrival at Isiah’s. Now all she needed now were templates for her scrapbook, and she had plenty at her place. A loud yawn overtook her, making her eyelids droop.
In the background, the buzzer hummed for the dryer. Time was up. She needed to shower and head to bed after she folded the laundry. Smiling, she added the items to the drawers in her empty closet. I’m home.
CABRINA WAS AWAKE AND dressed by the time a stiff-backed Gabe made his way to the bedroom. He groaned at the pain of his pounding head and soreness from sleeping on the old couch. Coffee. I need a pot of black coffee.
“Good morning,” she said, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “I started you some bath water to soak away some of that soreness.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Neary,” he mumbled. “Are you going to bathe me today as well?”
“No, you need to soak so that liquor can get out of your pores,” she said, patting him on the tummy. “Seriously, you are a lightweight. You had two glasses, not even two fingers each of Bourbon, and you went down like a lightweight in a heavyweight bout.”
“Well, it felt like a fist,” he mumbled, looking at the tub. The disappointment was on his face at learning she wouldn’t be bathing him, and the opportunity for a moment of intimacy would be overlooked.
“Strip down,” she told him. “I will bring you some coffee while you soak.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled, trying to undo his pants.
Cabrina found herself singing as she looked out the back window to all the land on the property. She spotted an ideal location for an outdoor kitchen. The large tree would be great for a swing for the kids when she had them, and a great spot for an Adirondack chair to read while they played. The coffee didn’t take long to brew as she poured her husband a cup, taking it to him in the bath.
“I’ll be out soon, and we can take the rental back and go get your car and the first load of your things,” he said. “What time is dinner with your parents?”
“Dinner is at six,” she told him.
“Good enough,” he said, leaning back in the tub. He watched her walk away, experiencing a new form of peace in his weary soul. Today was Sunday.
Oh crap! Today was Sunday! He sat up in the tub, spilling coffee on himself. Jumping out of the water, he pushed the towel back on the rack to reveal a monitor. Turning it on, so he could keep an eye on the property and everything happening while he soaked. Maybe I should shower and go out to meet...then he stopped. Cabrina is my wife. Today, he would observe how she handled his frequent guests. It was more curiosity than anything, but to him, it would be a testament to her character.
This he wanted to see. His wife was about to get a crash course on the ins and outs of his life, starting this morning. A wry smile crept across his lips as his eyes focused on the monitor. Right on time, the red convertible pulled up.
THE MONITOR IN THE kitchen popped on as a small convertible pulled up to the gate. Cabrina wanted to call for Gabe, but she watched the woman use the retinal scan to gain access to the property. Who the hell is that? Instinctually, she went on the defensive as she watched the car pull through the gate into the driveway and park as if this her arrival was to be expected. The woman got out, walked around the house as Cabrina’s eyes went from the monitor to the window while she watched the woman use her keys and let herself in the back door.
She didn’t know what to say. The lady had two things she didn’t, access via the retinal scan to get on the property and keys to the house. The back door opened, and the woman’s large artificial breasts came through the door first.
“Oh, good morning,” she said to Cabrina.
“Good morning,” she replied, squeezing the mug of coffee.
“I’m going to get the eggs, and I’ll be right back for a cup of that Joe,” she said, flashing a smile.
“I made a whole pot,” Cabrina responded, watching the woman take the egg collecting basket from the counter. She went to what evidently was a henhouse, and clucks and pecking commenced as she gathered the basket full of eggs.
The monitor came to life again as another car rolled up carrying two women, one black, and one white. Cabrina’s forehead crinkled at the realization that these three visitors were her husband’s diversions. Anger seared through her, but she stopped herself. They didn’t know about her. She and Gabe had only been married for a week. Be cool, Cabrina. Don’t judge. Take off your resting bitch face. Let your husband handle his concubines.
The gate unlocked, and the two ladies parked and walked around the side of the rock house and through the back door. One held a box of donuts. She tapped on the door frame.
“Coming in, Pastor Gabe,” the redhead called out. The black woman gave her a once over look up and down, with a mumbled greeting as she took a seat at the table. The redhead poured them both coffee as she watched the ladies a
t the table.
“Morning,” the redhead said. “We brought donuts.”
“I’ll have one of those,” Cabrina said as she took a seat at the table with them. She wanted to see her husband’s face when he came out of the bathroom to spot her having coffee and donuts with his harem. The egg collecting hottie returned with fresh eggs just as her husband made an appearance in the kitchen.
“Good Sunday to you ladies,” he said, refreshing his coffee.
“Morning, Pastor Gabe,” they said in unison.
“Today, I wanted to start a new chapter,” he began. “Cabrina, this is Abby, Leslie, and Benita.”
“Who is she?” Benita, the black lady asked, eying Cabrina with distrust.
“Cabrina is my wife,” Gabriel responded.
To Cabrina’s amazement, all the ladies began to congratulate them on their nuptials. Benita said she would bring a gift. Abby, the redhead, wanted to bake them a cake and Leslie only offered a smile.
“My wife and I have a busy day today, plus dinner with her parents, so let’s get started. After being on the road for a week, I am reminded of the Apostle Paul’s challenges as he made his way on his travels to speak to the Thessalonians, so please turn in your Bibles...,” he said. The women, all reached into their bags removing their Bibles. Gabriel passed his to Cabrina as he spoke on the struggles of the early Christians and the persecutions they faced.
It is a Bible study.
What in the world?
Her husband didn’t speak long as he covered the word, reviewed the lesson from two weeks prior, and offered prayer at the table. Leslie bounded to her feet, donut in hand just as the prayer ended.
“I didn’t get my turn last time,” she announced. “I’m going first.”
Cabrina gripped the cup tightly, wondering what the hell Leslie meant by “I’m going first.” Her face remained calm, with no expression but, on the inside, Cabrina wanted to slap a chick for one, having a key to her house, and also announcing she was going first.
Buckeye and the Babe Page 18