“She’s a black gal, ain’t she?” Honey asked.
“Ma, how do you figure that?”
“Our women ain’t never interested you. No matter how many bees flitter around you son, them plain Janes have all bored you to death,” Honey said. “I remember that summer at the beach, you found those little Black kids and we didn’t see you until suppertime if then. I know you dated one in college. That one we met.”
“Would it be so terrible if I did, Ma?” he questioned her, but his eyes were on his father.
“Don’t know how well she’ll be received in these parts. It will be a challenge,” Albus said.
“She will be a Montgomery,” Beau said. “It’s a name you can trust.”
“A medical professional, eh?”
“That what I asked for in my ad,” he told his father.
“But why you do have to get a mail order one? Can’t you just go to the city and find one in a bar or one of them churches where they do all that fancy singing?” Honey asked. “I saw it them one Sunday morning on the telly.”
“I’m not that simple, Ma. I need a woman who gets me and our way of life. She will have to know how to garden and be in good shape, and she may have to help me out from time to time with the business,” he said. “I’m not going to find that in some random bar. This way is smarter.”
“You are many things, Beau, smart being at the top of the list,” Honey said. “But what if she’s ugly? No Grandma wants ugly grandbabies.”
“I’m not marrying anyone for her looks,” he told his parents. “What I want is to find a woman that will not make me want to drive her to the nearest bus station and leave her there. Call me silly, but I want what you two have.”
“They broke the mold when they made my Honey,” Albus bragged, reaching for his wife of 45 years. “I hear ya, boy, just hope it works out.”
“Beau, you know your heart, do what you think is best,” she said. “She gone’ be from New York?”
“Don’t know, Ma. The way this company works she can be from anywhere,” he said.
“This sure is exciting,” Honey said. “I am going to be the talk of Holler and this side of the mountain. Me with an African American daughter-in-law, or do they like to be called Black? I know the term Negro is no longer used.”
“Black is fine, Ma,” he said, giving a small smile.
“Hmmpff,” Albus said, changing the subject to his rumbling belly. “I’m hungry, them vittles ready, woman?”
“Don’t you woman me, Albus Montgomery, or you will be eating your supper out of that dog bowl there,” Honey said to her husband.
“And don’t you sass me, woman, in front of the boy. You make me look weak,” Albus said.
“Weak is the last thing your children will ever think of you,” she said with a flirty smile.
Beauregard watched the interaction between them and his heart skipped a beat. After 45 years they still liked each other, which said a lot. There were very few women he liked after sharing a meal with them, let alone a bed. His dating luck had given way under the pressure of establishing his business, and now that the company ran smoothly, he wanted his home life to as well.
“How long before you know, boy?” Albus asked.
“Know what, Pa?”
“If you have a fish on the line?”
This he wasn’t sure about at all. It could be a month, a year, or in the next 15 minutes, but he didn’t want to tell them that. As if the gods had heard the unspoken pleas in his heart, his phone buzzed. Looking at the screen, the green notification showed he’d received a new email in the account he set up for the mail-order bride. His brow furrowed as he opened the message and read the words.
He smiled.
Honey smiled, too.
Albus waited for an answer, but seeing the smile on his son’s face, he knew the fish were biting. The idea made the old man give a gapped tooth grin as well.
“Can’t wait to meet her,” Albus said.
“Ooh, this is so exciting. Do you have a photo?” Honey asked.
Beau scrolled through the message, coming to the bottom and clicking on the attachment. A face popped up, covering the screen of the phone. He froze. His hand went to his chest as he looked at the ebony beauty staring back at him. Slowly he turned the phone around to show his parents.
“Is that the first choice or do ya get to pick from the litter?” Albus asked. “She’s kind of scrawny. Seems like you wouldn’t want the last Christmas tree on the lot Charlie Brown.”
To Beauregard Montgomery, the little lady was absolutely lovely. He envisioned himself coming home in the evening from work with her waiting for him to discuss the busy day she’d had or the people she helped as they dined over a hearty bowl of stew before settling in for the night. This Khloe may have been the first response, but in his heart, she needed to be the only one.
A sadness in her eyes spoke to the weary soul inside of him that begged to teach the little woman what real love felt like and to give her reason to smile again. He would give her a million reasons each day to curve those sensual lips. Beau took it as a personal challenge. One he planned to make good on.
Supper with his parents became a lesson in active listening since his mind wandered back and forth to the lady. The dark-skinned, thin woman with sad eyes who wanted to smile. Scenario after scenario played out as he mentally rearranged the house to accommodate her nice dishes, delicately trimmed hand towels, and book collections of Stephen King and Octavia Butler. He really wanted her to have an Octavia Butler collection. That would be so cool.
“Go home, Beau, you are no company to us,” Honey said. “We might as well have your sister here taking shelfies of herself.”
“Selfies, Ma,” he gently corrected.
“You kids and your fancy new language,” his mother replied. “In my day, we had a can with a string through it. My brother would hide behind a tree and we would squirrel hunt via our walkies.”
“I’m certain that was a lot of fun,” he mumbled as he considered adding a larger mirror to the bathroom. The one he had served for shaving, not clearing your pores of impurities and yanking tiny hairs out of a woman’s chin. “Rugs, I need to get some rugs.”
“Go home, Beau, and let us know how this turns out,” Albus said. “I want some time alone with your Ma.”
“You have been alone with her all day,” Beau argued.
“No, she was doing her woman’s work about the house. I was doing my man’s work, you know, hunting, gathering, being strong,” Albus said. “The day is done. Time for a man and a woman to settle in for the night. Go home, boy.”
“Yes sir,” Beau said, writing a response letter in his head to the lovely Khloe woman. He waved farewell to his father, hugged his mother and climbed into the truck. On the drive down the mountain, he rode in silence, going over sweet words in his head to respond to her letter of interest.
By the time he reached the hunting high house, Beau had found the words. Moving quickly, he sat down at the computer, booted up the system, and opened the e-mail to compose his first response to the lady.
July 29, 2018
“Dear Khloe Burgess,
It is a pleasure to meethear from you.
WRITING HER BACK BECAME tougher than writing the ad, but he wasn’t going to call Jethro over to fill in the spaces for him. All he needed...this simply required...say what’s in your heart, Beau. Establish a friendship, paint a picture of her life with you. Think of the million ways you want to make her smile. Try it again.
It took two days, loads of scrap paper until he finally found the right words. He sat and composed the response, hoping the lady wouldn’t think he was playing games with the delayed reply time.
July 31, 2018
“Dearest Khloe,
From my front porch, the sun crests over the Great Smoky Mountains, breaking that famous layer of white haze which lingers in the trees. A hot cup of black coffee and a good biscuit with a smattering of my Ma’s home-made jam will make a
soul wonder how the rest of the world lives.
My life is simple. My home is as well.
Optimism is a good friend as I hope you and I will become as well. It is the simpler things in life which make me smile. Hopefully, I can share them with you.
The Tennessee Mountain Man
IT WASN’T MUCH, BUT it would serve as a start. Beau double checked the content, ran the spell checker, and hit reply. He needed to be off to work. The installation in the new schoolhouse started today and half his team would be on the other side of the mountain setting up a new satellite dish. Jethro was right. As clumsy as his team was, the County did need a medical professional.
In his next correspondence with Khloe Burgess, he would find out her medical background. Meanwhile, he had computers to install, a network to create, and a school with loads of technology for the kids in the region opening in a little over a month. He set to work.
KHLOE SAT IN THE OLD house looking about at all the materials, collections, and items Erica had gathered over the years. Their entire lives were in this home. She would be happy to leave it all to the drug dealers and crows; however, small details required her delicate handling, beginning with the farewell to her mother.
Dr. Squibb, the Coroner, left a message for her that Erica’s body had been accepted into the program for scientific study at the University. She should have felt alone, but instead, she felt relief coupled with a tinge of excitement. Beauregard Montgomery started the dialogue with a painted picture in words of the home that, if she accepted, they would share. Her heart danced a bit at the offer to become her friend first before sending a dick pic and him with a ‘hey girl’ smile.
The optimism ran high as she responded back to him.
August 2, 2018
“Dear Beau,
That’s a description of a sunrise I’d love to see. The sheer idea of sitting on that front porch at sunset with a nice cup of tea as I read the next chapter in Masello’s Einstein Prophecy sounds amazing. As a lover of science fiction, I am anxious to learn what you are reading as well.
In the interest of honesty, I am not broken or running from a life which let me down. The past few months have been intense and I’m seeking a change, one that involves a family and a man who desires to be in a relationship wholeheartedly.
Not sure what all I need to say, but I’m interested in being your life mate.
Chillin’ in Chi-Town
BEAU SAT BEHIND HIS desk staring at the monitor. He wanted to say so much, yet writing his feelings wasn’t his way. The conversations that should come next required a person-to-person interaction not carefully crafted hidden sentences that said nothing.
Jethro walked into his office with two of Jolene’s banana nut muffins and two cups of coffee. The last thing he wanted or needed to hear this morning was his crazy cousin’s convoluted conclusions. Not that it mattered. Jethro was going to give it anyway.
“Hey, Beau, any bites on your bear meat?”
“My what?”
“You know, the ad, a lady bear to hibernate with you during the cold winter,” he asked. “I think my ad said it all.”
Against his better judgment, Beau took out his phone and showed the photo of one Khloe Burgess. Jethro stared at the photo, his head cocked to the side like the RCA dog trying to hear the low-frequency whistle of his master’s call. Beau knew that look. The man was going to either make a prolific statement or say something incredibly stupid. He placed his bets on the latter.
“She’s cute, but kind of scrawny,” Jethro said. “How many others can you chose from or are you going to go with the runt of the litter?”
“Jethro, I am not at the pound choosing a new pet,” Beau said, getting to his feet. “This is a human being with dreams, desires, and hopes for a future and a family.”
“Okay, so what’s the holdup?”
“Whaddya mean?”
“If you think she’s the one when is she moving here, because I need to set the wedding date on my calendar to marry you,” he said, peering over the rim of the coffee cup. “Remember, you said if it worked out based on my ad, I was going to marry you.”
“I hate you often and frequently have throughout the course of our lives,” Beau told him.
“Yeah. Yeah. Get her on the phone, set a date, and get her down here before it starts to get cold. You gotta harvest and can the rest of them veggies, and the school’s gotta get finished before it opens after Labor Day. Ain’t no time for flowery words. You placed the ad, she responded, get her here so we can get ready for winter,” Jethro told him.
“You’re an ass,” Beau said. “But even an ass smells good every now and then.”
“I’m just right and you just hate it,” he told his cousin. “Get on the phone, get her moved in, and start making some babies.”
That wasn’t what he wanted. Beauregard Montgomery knew he could get that any local woman in the area. He had asked for a mate. A partner in life. Maybe it was time he explained it better to his Khloe. My Khloe. I like that.
August 5, 2018
“My Dear Khloe,
To an extent, we are all broken, drifting aimlessly through the cosmos seeking out another soul to connect and make us whole. In that regard, I guess I too am broken.
This man was broken enough to place an ad and pay money so the cosmos could align for me to find you, or rather, we find each other. At this point, I want to make perfectly clear my intentions and what is expected of the woman who agrees to be my life partner. I have carefully chosen the word life mate because I do not need a wife.
A wife I could acquire locally. To me, there is a distinction between a wife and a life mate. A wife, in my head, cooks, cleans and is pliable when I am on the ready. I am perfectly capable of washing my own clothes, matching my own socks and cooking my meals. What I seek is a woman who is a nurse, a former EMT, or a doctor. Assuming you are one of the three, our County has been without a medical professional for nearly two years. Although the local people here aren’t very trusting, I am confident the woman who is my wife will be allowed to tend to them. She will be a Montgomery – that is a name you can trust.
In the Town of Harbuck, there is a small office which will serve as your workspace. Set your own hours, two or three days a week, and the remaining time is yours. We can spend it together when I am not working. I enjoy hiking, exploring, or traveling as my schedule permits. It would be an honor to share these simple life pleasures with you.
On a different note, Einstein Prophecy’s is full of historical inaccuracies. I am reading Mind's Eye, a Nick Hall Book by Douglas E. Richards. Halfway through. Somewhat amused especially with the Russian mafia aspect which could have been left out, but we can discuss both over coffee and my Ma’s biscuits.
I am saying that to say this: If you are in and ready to be my life mate, let’s stop the correspondence and begin planning to get you here before the first rains in September and the kids go back to school. Plus, them little boogers need shots.
Here is my number – (423-555-4666).
I look forward to hearing your voice.
Your Tennessee Mountain Man
Chapter Six – Tennessee Here I Come...Wait, What?
Chicago, Illinois
The message glared on the screen at Khloe like a fairy tale coming to life. He wants me to come now. Marry him and start a life. What in the hell?
Yet the thought of getting the hell out of Chicago and going to a place where she was needed sounded even better. Hesitation coursed through her at the thought of marrying a stranger and sharing his bed as the woman in his world. She looked at the screen again. He wanted to talk. She wanted to talk to him as well but there was one other person she needed to speak to first.
Picking up her phone she punched in the number. She listened to the sounds of the rings on the other end then heard the click of connection. A breathy voice answered.
“Good morning, Coraline, I hope it’s not too early. This is Khloe Burgess,” she said into the phone.
“A fine morning it is Khloe, how’s it going?”
“I’ve been corresponding with the Tennessee Mountain Man and he is ready for me to come on down and get this life together started,” she said. “It is just so fast. I’m not sure.”
“What are you uncertain about, Khloe? You have a 23 out of the 25-point match in personality, a 24 out of 25 matches in ideals, and on paper, sexually you are highly compatible,” Coraline said.
“Yeah, but I don’t know that man,” she said honestly.
“That is what makes it wonderful,” Coraline said. “I have seen people who have known each other for years marry and it all fall apart. My matches and marriages all stay together. We have only had two divorces in five generations.”
“Are you saying that this is for real and that I should pack my shit and head to Tennessee and start a life with this man?”
“Why the hell not! You have nothing left for you in Chicago. Your job sucks and they don’t respect the work you do,” Coraline offered. “The one anchor you had is gone, and even your dog ran away. Get the hell out of town, go to him, and find your smile.”
“Coraline, but what if I get there and he kisses like a baboon and his touch makes my skin crawl?”
The Tennessee Mountain Man Page 5