Always, Now and Forever Love Hurts

by Shelia E. Bell

  “Bye, Clarye.”

  The next morning, Clarye’s mother called screaming and hollering in the phone. “I can’t wake your father up. Call the ambulance,” she screamed. Gary was just walking into the house appearing from only God knows where. She told him what had just happened and then ran out of the house, heading toward her parent’s home.

  When she arrived at the house, she raced into the bedroom. Her father looked so peaceful. He was gone. He had died in his sleep. Later it was determined that he died of heart failure.

  Clarye blamed herself for her father’s death. If only she had listened to everyone when they tried to tell her that Gary was no good for her. If only she had listened. She had involved everyone into her cycle of madness. Now, it was her father who paid the final price. Now, she had lost the one man who understood her, the one man who loved her, the one man who never condemned her no matter how many times she failed at life, the one man who tried to keep her safe.

  Clarye hated Gary. She prayed for his death. She prayed for God to destroy him. How could God take her daddy and leave a demon like Gary to walk around and terrorize, maim and destroy people’s lives? How, how, how? But she never got an answer.

  The divorce became final three months after Clarye filed. Gary eventually stopped his calling and stalking. The police rearrested him about six months later for vandalism of property. The charges had been filed by the electric company and telephone company against him because Gary had destroyed their property the night he terrorized Clarye and her sons.

  When she finally escaped this mad demon of a man, Pain took a most welcome vacation from her life.

  CHAPTER 9

  Clarye became a highly successful, well to do writer. After all the past years of pain and suffering in her life, she’d finally turned things around and turned to her secret passion of writing. She lived in the quiet, trouble free suburbs. Her home was serenely filled with live roses of all colors, no matter what season of the year. Her sanctuary, as she called it, was a seven bedroom house, located far and away from the street. The drive was lined with the most beautiful green, towering oak trees. There were no steps leading to the entrance of her house, nor were there any inside because she made sure everything was “handicapped accessible.”

  Throughout her life there had been so many barriers that barred her from going places and doing things in the outside world, so she was definitely not going to be shut away from her own house.

  The house had a huge kitchen with a seven feet island that stretched across the center of the glossy tile flooring. A glassed in sunroom was situated off the entrance of the kitchen. The sunroom was Clarye’s own private getaway. It was filled with greenery, a ceiling fan and, of course, built in wall speakers that piped in the relaxing melodies of her favorite artists both gospel and secular. There was no telephone in this room. Its only furnishing was a tangerine sofa with a matching recliner and a custom made kitty house for Elliston, her cat. There was also a state of the art, top of the line computer system that sat in one of the corners of the sunroom. She had a fourteen karat gold picture frame that held a picture of her loving, sweet husband, Gavin, who was the center of her life.

  Gavin was her knight in shining armor, her Mr. Right, her Mr. All of That and More. After three failed marriages, Clarye thought that never would she find true love. That is, until Gavin waltzed into her life and changed everything for the good.

  Gavin Elliston owned a chain of grocery stores throughout the Midsouth that had become quite successful throughout the city, thus making him an extremely wealthy man and a much sought after bachelor.

  Clarye recalled the first time she laid eyes on him. She was in a frenzy as she made the final preparations for her grandson, EJ’s eighth birthday party. In her haste, she had forgotten to get one of the most important items, ice cream. And, of course, a party was nothing without ice cream.

  It was a cool, welcoming fall afternoon. The trees breezily moved back and forth being swayed by the soft wind blowing. Clarye breathed in deeply allowing the fresh, clean air to fill her lungs. She still wore one brace on her pencil thin legs. She gently lifted her braced body into her customized Mercedes SUV and sailed off to the store. The last thing Clarye wanted to do was to make a trip to the store, but she had no choice since Eric and Jeremy had left earlier to take EJ to the amusement park.

  She had become accustomed to her sons or her cook, Thelma doing all the grocery shopping. But somehow, ice cream did not make it on anyone’s shopping lists. Clarye breathed a somewhat heavy sigh and told herself that she’d better get on with it, and do what she had to do, especially if she was going to make EJ’s party a success.

  Clarye was determined to do everything herself rather than seeking help from, Ada. As she sped off down the winding, mile-long drive of her home, she began to smile to herself at the thought of how far she had come and what had led her to this point in her life.

  Here I am, forty-three years old, a successful, and wealthy author with a beautiful home and loving family and friends. God, how I thank you for this bit of sunshine in the midst of the storms of my life, she thought, with a somber smile on her face.

  Life for Clarye had not always been so grand. She felt that she had definitely paid her dues. Only seven years had passed since she was an office manager working long, tiring hours, for a small but fast paced doctor’s office. In addition to that, she was attending college studying to get her degree in journalism. On top of that, she was writing every spare minute she could. One of her life long dreams was to see her books in print. People had always told her that she could make it in the writing world. They would visit her then sparsely furnished three bedroom home and spot her framed poetry on almost every wall in the house.

  “Clarye, have you ever thought about getting your poems published?” Many of her friends and family asked time and time again.

  “Yes, I have thought about it but I just don’t know if it will ever happen,” Clarye would answer, unsure of herself. “But I hope and pray it does one day. I sure as heaven don’t want to be discovered after I’m dead and gone like some folks,” she said.

  Clarye had been writing ever since she was a child. She continually amazed even herself when she went back and read some of the things she wrote. With a look of astonishment and disbelief, she would often say, “Hey, this is good, this is really, really good, even if I must say so myself.”

  When she submitted a short story to a leading magazine for a much needed $5,000 monetary prize, she had no inkling of an idea that it would be the changing point in her life. But it was because she won the prize and almost instantly she started receiving phone calls from publishers all over the country who wanted her to write for them. After what seemed like hundreds of rejections of her past works from many of these same publishers, she was now the one being pursued, sought after and chased down. And she loved every moment of it.

  Her first novel became a bestseller mere weeks after it hit the bookstores. Her debut novel skyrocketed her to fame and wealth. Since that time, Clarye had written seven novels and each of them landed at the top of the New York Times bestsellers’ list.

  In spite of her wealth and fame, she continued to remain very low key, rather shy and a homebody. She didn’t particularly like appearing on the talk shows and doing interviews that came along with being a bestselling author. She could never become accustomed to traveling from city to city and town to town. She hated to see herself on TV or videos. All she could focus on was her heavy limp, little legs and the brace and crutches she used. She did not realize that people loved her because of the real life stories she wrote, and not the way she looked. She stood for realness, reality, instead of the fakery of Hollywood and the literary industry that was portrayed time and time again. Clarye represented “real folk” as one fan described her style of writing.

  Clarye, however, remained adamant about her decision to not be in the limelight. She refused to life out of a suitcase, neglecting her family while trying to
impress this person and that person. She finally convinced her publisher that she would no longer be in the forefront all the time. The public knew not only her novels but also they knew her name and face now so she didn’t see the need for people to physically see her all the time.

  “Look, if my books don’t sell on their own merit, then so be it,” she said. Of course, the publisher was willing to give Clarye whatever she wanted to keep her happy and to keep her writing bestseller after bestseller.

  Once again, Clarye’s thoughts flashed vividly as she said out loud, “Who would have imagined that I would be driving a luxury vehicle that I’ve always wanted and living in a fabulous home, complete with all the simple, yet finer things in life?” She was finally living her dream. Clarye didn’t have time to answer her own question because an angry driver behind her honked incessantly. She bolted back to reality and quickly remembered the mission she was on, to get ice cream.

  She quickly whirled into the vacant parking place with the blue and white sign that read, “Handicap Parking $100 Fine.” She carefully stepped down out of her truck, grabbed her crutches and rushed inside the grocery store. She was in such a hurry that she did not see the man standing in front of her very eyes. Boom she ran right into his chest.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I really am. Please forgive me. I was in such a hurry. My mind was going in a thousand different directions.” Clarye continued babbling, as her sons often said she did, not bothering to look up and not really noticing the gentleman she had almost plowed down. But when her eyes finally met his, she just knew her mouth must have fallen wide open, because she found herself looking into the most gorgeous, deep brown eyes she had ever seen.

  CHAPTER 10

  Clarye tried to keep from staring and acting like she was not used to seeing such a fine specimen of a man like the one who towered before her. He reminded her of the tall, strong oak trees that lined the driveway leading up to her home. She mumbled apologies while she fumbled with her crutch handle, trying not to show how overcome she was with emotion. His voice and the touch of his gentle hand, as he steadied her to keep her from falling, sent waves of passion rippling through her frail body.

  He simply asked, “Is this your usual way of meeting men?”

  At once Clarye’s defense mechanisms kicked in and she angrily said, “What do you mean by that? Do you think I’m some hopeless case out here on the prowl for a man? Just who do you think I am? I might appear that way to you, sir, but I’m here to tell you that you have definitely read me wrong.”

  “Hey, slow down, sista. I was only joking. I didn’t mean to send you off there, Shorty.”

  Clarye began to settle down but her stomach was in a tight knot. She was drawn to this man like a magnet and immediately began to think to herself, Is he the one? Girl, wake up from your fantasy, of course he’s not. But there was something different, something special already about this handsome, tall, lean, dark stranger. She wanted to find out more.

  Clarye quickly came back to reality, as she gathered her composure and lowered her voice. “I’m sorry. I was in a hurry to get inside the store. I forgot to get ice cream for my grandson’s birthday party. It’s starting in a couple of hours,” she said and glanced at the fancy timepiece on her left wrist. “My mind was totally on one track.”

  “No apology needed. Let me help you get the ice cream,” he said.

  Clarye looked up and immediately went off on a tantrum again. “Just because I’m on crutches I guess you think I’m an invalid or something. I’m very capable of doing it myself,” she retorted in that strong, independent voice she used when she was on the defense.

  He continued walking beside her as if she had not said a word while Clarye hurriedly limped toward the freezer section of the huge grocery store.

  “My name is, Gavin. Gavin Elliston,” he told her, without her asking.

  “Well, Gavin,” she said with much attitude, “thanks for your help, but no thanks.”

  Once again, Gavin acted as if she had said nothing and opened the door of the freezer that held the ice cream. “Shorty, do you have a name?” he asked.

  “Yes, I do, and it’s definitely not, Shorty. It’s Clarye,” she replied. She chose EJ’s favorite, chocolate chip ice cream. Gavin immediately took it from her hand and, Clarye, without hesitation, allowed him to do so. They turned around and headed toward the checkout counter. When Clarye reached inside her black Gucci handbag for the money to pay for the ice cream, Gavin told the cashier, with a wave of his hand, to let Clarye go on through.

  “Well, how did you pull that one off?” Clarye said arrogantly. “Are you supposed to be the owner or something, or is she one of your midnight rendezvous?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I am the owner,” Gavin kindly answered. “And that young lady is one of my employees.”

  Clarye’s cream colored face turned a bright red. She was so embarrassed. She was constantly making a fool of herself around this man, and she didn’t understand why.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “You’re welcome,” Gavin replied.

  Clarye hastily made her way to her vehicle. Gavin followed. She thanked him for his help and went on to tell him that she really had to go. She still had lots of loose ends to tie up before EJ’s party and the clock was swiftly ticking away. He opened the door for her, as his strong, gentle hands boosted Clarye up into the high seat of the vehicle. Clarye could feel heat rising from within her and hoped that Gavin didn’t notice that she was becoming rather taken with him, to put it mildly.

  He must have sensed it though, or he was feeling the same way too because he said to her with that rich, smooth as silk voice, “Can I call you later tonight, or is there a “Mr. Clarye” in your life?”

  “Sure,” she said. “You can call me. But I’m telling you now, I’m not looking for a relationship or a roll in the sack, and I don’t need your pity either.” She scribbled her number down hurriedly, started the engine, and said, matter of factly, “Oh, by the way, there is no “Mr. Clarye” or anyone else in my life for your information.” As she began to back up out of the parking space, she could have sworn she saw Gavin smiling. She also felt something that she didn’t quite know how to define. What Clarye didn’t know was, the definition of what she was feeling was, Love.

  Clarye entered the spiraling entrance leading to the house. Ever since she had left the store, butterflies jiggled and fluttered inside her stomach. She could still see Gavin’s long, slender body and coal black, wavy hair. She began to fantasize about how it would be to have his luscious looking lips pressed against hers. She could still feel the touch of his hand and the strength in his body when he lifted her into her truck. She rested momentarily in the feeling of tenderness he displayed. She was in awe of all the emotions going on inside of her.

  Clarye came back to herself, swerving to keep from running down a squirrel that had crossed her path. These happy go lucky creatures inhabited her yard and she loved it. Her dog, Roc, even loved to chase them.

  The weather was agreeing with her plans and she knew that EJ’s party was going to be nice. She always went out of her way to provide him with the finer things of life without spoiling him.

  After EJ’s mother was murdered, Clarye assumed the role of mother as well as grandmother in EJ’s life. EJ understood she was his grandmother, but he had always called her, Momma, even when Sandy was alive. EJ was a special little boy, with an exceptional gift of wisdom. He had a way of bringing constant joy to Clarye’s life.

  She grabbed the ice cream and hurried down the brick path to the side door leading into the sunroom. She began to prepare the food. The menu included grilled hotdogs and hamburgers, riblets, chicken tenders, potato chips, party bags and gifts galore. EJ had invited ten of his closest friends. While she was making the last minute preparations, Eric, Jeremy and EJ pulled into the drive. She looked out the bay window of the kitchen. A smile of pure pleasure and happiness rushed over her when she saw the three of them getting out o
f Eric’s blue, drop top BMW.

  She was elated that she could now provide her sons and grandson with the finer material pleasures of this life. They’d always been good sons and they stuck by their mother. Clarye had vowed to herself long ago that if she ever became successful with her writing or in anything for that matter that they would no longer be deprived of the things she wanted so much to do for them when they were growing up. Clarye’s mother called them, “Momma’s Boys.” And Clarye had to admit that her mother was right in her own way. They were her boys, even though they were men. They were her strong towers, and her strength. And though it was never said, it had been because of her love for them that she kept on pressing on the journey called life, during the many times she felt like giving up.

  EJ hurried into the kitchen hollering, “Momma, are you through fixing the stuff for my party?”

  “Well, EJ, you certainly weren’t here to help me, so what do you think?” Clarye asked.

  “I think you’re finished,” EJ said, confidently. “We have to hurry up though, Momma, because my friends will be here soon.”

  Eric walked in and rushed EJ off at that moment. “Go to your room and get your clothes ready. Then I want you to take your bath and get cleaned up for your party,” he told him in that firm, fatherly tone.

  Eric was also Clarye’s agent. He had done a fantastic job of managing her writing career. Jeremy was a successful comedian, but he also helped out in Clarye’s writing career and dabbled in writing himself. They all played an important part in each other’s lives.

  Jeremy was engaged to a nice young lady named, Trisha. Even though Clarye liked Trisha, she still considered her to be a whiner and spoiled. But because Jeremy loved her with all of his heart, it was enough for Clarye; so she loved her too.

  Eric had not been in a long lasting, serious relationship since EJ’s mother died. He constantly drifted in and out of relationships. Clarye was thankful for her writing because it provided some emotional and financial stability in Eric’s life. She believed that one day the right woman would come along and Eric could learn how to love again.