“We get to the beach in North Carolina and there are these Black kids, first time I ever seen any up close,” he said. “They lived on the beach in a house that their parents owned. Even had a colored television in the house.”
“You guys didn’t own a television?”
“Yeah, we did, but Pa gutted it and made it into a fish tank,” he said.
“Well, that’s progressively artistic,” she said.
Beau shook his head no. “Pa ain’t nothing like that. He gutted the tv, lined it and put pond water in it to store his catch. In the mornings when he wanted fish and grits, he would walk by the tank and reach in and grab his breakfast.”
The corners of Khloe’s mouth begin to move as her lips tried to form a smile. She thought better of it, not wanting to laugh at her husband’s father. Instead, she pressed her lips together.
“Okay, back to Penny,” she said.
“Oh yeah, Penny,” he said, forking in a hearty helping of the chitterlings into his mouth. “These kids were watching Good Times and in entered little Penny. I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. Well, until dude, Rodney I think his name was, that’s who I was hanging with that day - his sister Shanté walked through the living room in a swimsuit. That was the first time in my whole existence I saw an ass that wasn’t flat.”
Khloe sputtered.
“It was round, had no jiggle when she walked and peeking out from under that swimsuit making my 12-year-old pecker poked up in my pants,” he said. “Shanté thought it was cute and asked me to follow her to the back room. She made a mistake that day.”
Khloe became concerned that her husband had done a bad thing. The expression of worry showed on her face. Beau only gave her a knowing look.
“Oh, weren’t nothing like that,” he said with a wink. “It was some of that, but a 12-year-old mountain boy ain’t nothing like a 15-year-old city boy. I showed her things her body could do that she would have learned in college from a Senior Biology major.”
“At 12? How old was she?”
“About 15 or so, but when I was done with her, she possessed the knowledge of a 21-year-old,” he said, laughing. “That damned gal followed me around all weekend. Thus, began my love of Black women.”
“And here we are,” she said.
“Here we be,” he replied, rising to collect the dishes. “I wash, you dry?”
“Sure,” she said, looking around the place as she stood beside him. “Are we sharing the bed tonight?”
“No, too soon. I’ll take the couch,” he said.
Khloe eyed the couch, which wasn’t long enough for him to sleep on comfortably. Swallowing hard, she touched his arm.
“I’ll take the couch, you keep your bed. You have to go to work in the morning,” she said.
“Hell, so do you,” he told her. “That garden needs to be weeded, the vegetables harvested then canned. You are in control of our books and the meat larders. I can go a few days without meat, but if you want eggs and honey, plus more of my Ma’s jam, those vegetables are important.”
“A mate, huh?” she asked with her lips twisted in distaste.
“Right now, it sounds as if I needed a farm hand, but when the time comes, you will see the value as well as importance,” he told her.
“Beau, what about the office, when do I start there?”
“Monday,” he said. “Jethro will have all the supplies in by then. Plus, I will have put in the new locks, and this weekend, we get to spend some time together.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said, starting the dishwater.
He was staring at her again. That hungry look was in his eyes like he wanted to pull a Shanté on her body and motorboat her butt cheeks. Khloe moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Tiptoeing just an inch or so, she initiated a real kiss.
Damn you, Shanté, she thought to herself. The man kissed like the only thing left to do was poke her with his finger and she would be sated and slobbering on a pillow. Her body reacted to him in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time as she pressed closer to him, trying to determine how long the pole was she would use to vault her to Happy Land.
Beau pulled away.
“We have time,” he said. “Let’s take it. I want to be more than just the man in your bed, Khloe.”
At this point, he could be any damned thing he wanted to be. She liked Beauregard Montgomery more and more each minute she spent in his company. The family gave her reservations, but in time, all things would balance out.
Chapter Nine – Pa, Sis, and a Jethro.
The let-out bed was far more comfortable than she’d expected as she settled in, nestling her head into the pillows. What she did find uncomfortable was the amount of darkness that encircled the house like a well-fitted glove on a large hand. The blackness leaned against the glass sliding doors like a voyeur trying to see into a human habitat. It creeped her out to think that maybe, just outside taking a sip in the hot tub water, was a bobcat. She pulled the covers up under her chin, then over her head.
Stop being a wimp. You served tours in Bosnia and Iraq and two in Afghanistan. Hell, you lived in Chicago and worked in a hospital that seemed to feed the bank account of the County Mortician. It’s just darkness.
Sighing deeply, her mind went over her day. The drive. Meeting her husband in person. Getting married. Walking down the aisle over a paper towel white carpet and eating fried chicken and mustard greens for her wedding night meal. A wedding night where she slept on the couch and all that bear of a man slept alone in the next room in that big ol’ bed, all by his lonesome. Her body hummed from the thought of his kisses, reminding her that she and that idiot Joey hadn’t been intimate in a very long while, and the last time they did, it was rushed. She’d barely gotten there when he’d grunted, humped, and slumped over her like he’d done a 12-hour shift in a coal mine. It was doubtful that her husband would be so lackadaisical about taking care of her needs in bed.
Holding on to that thought, she drifted off to sleep.
IN THE NEXT ROOM, BEAU lay flat on his back staring at the ceiling, calling himself all sorts of morons and idiots for suggesting they take their time. In his heart, he knew it was the right thing to do. His private parts disagreed with him wholeheartedly by making a tent in the sheet, egging him to go in the other room, pick up her, and bring her into this bed.
She is pretty awesome. The whole not smiling thing is kind of creepy. Who doesn’t smile? It’s like she’d forgotten how and the muscles that activated the lips for the function had atrophied in place, leaving her stuck with resting bitch face. Dang gone she is a pretty little chocolate thing. Our kids are going to be gorgeous. Heads full of wavy or curly hair. Intense eyes.
Then, out a nowhere, a vision of a little girl with caramel colored skin, hazel eyes, and jet-black hair flashed before his eyes. The tent-maker subsided as a soft, squishy feeling hit him in the chest. A frilly pink dress with red bows and shiny white shoes with a little sunbonnet adorned the child’s head as she called out to him, her arms held high for him to lift her up and smother her adorable face with kisses. The vision stayed with him as he drifted off to sleep.
THE SOUND OF A RUMBLING truck coming up the pass caught Khloe’s attention. She’d been up since the sun broke through the canopy and flooded the room with bright light. Unable to sleep, she started the coffee and went to the patio with a bowl to harvest berries. Not wanting to wake her husband, brushing her teeth would have to wait, or she would need to bring her toothbrush into the water closet if she was spending more time on the couch.
Her back said she wasn’t and tonight she would sleep in that bed with him, whether he was comfortable with it or not. If push came to shove, they could line the middle of the bed with pillows, but she wasn’t spending another night on the couch. Gathering the bed coverings, she stuffed them under the credenza just in case his brother wanted to come inside.
Plucking an avocado from the tree, she made a quick butter from the fleshy conten
ts and spread it over toast with a poached egg. She poured a cup of coffee into a travel mug and had it ready for him when he walked out of the bedroom.
“Morning, Wife,” Beau said, carrying his boots.
“Good day to you, husband,” she said. “I made you a power breakfast; didn’t want to start the blender with you still sleeping.”
“Thank you very much,” he said, watching her put the saucer on the counter, seeing the egg seated center over green stuff. “What is it?”
“A poached egg on toast with an avocado butter,” she said proudly.
“That sounds nasty as hell,” he chided.
“Says the man who ate two servings of chopped up pig shitters,” she said, coming around to hand him his coffee. Khloe leaned down for a kiss with coffee breath laced with strawberries. He returned the kiss as his brother tapped on the glass like a child in a candy store window. Beau waved him inside.
“Let’s go make this money, Bro,” Lil Bo said. “Morning, Black Lady.”
“My name is Khloe,” she corrected.
“Yeah, and my name is Sherman Beauregard Montgomery,” Lil Bo said.
“What?” Khloe responded, not understanding how two men had the same name in reverse order.
“We’re twins,” Beau said. “Ma and Pa had prepared to have only one, so they only had one name on the ready. Ten minutes after he was born, I surprised them and popped out. Hence the names.”
“You said you were born ten minutes later, but he is called Lil Beau,” she said.
“I’m bigger, he’s smaller,” Beau said. “And he is L.I.L. B.O., Lil Bo. I am B.E.A.U.”
“Well, that clears up that,” she said, passing a second container of coffee to his brother.
Lil Bo gave her a crooked, missing stained teeth grin, “He must not have done too much damage last night. You are up and able to move your arms and legs.”
Beau was on his feet and in his brother’s face. He had him by the front of his shirt lifting him off the floor. No words were spoken as he stared his brother in the eye then set him back on the floor on his feet.
“Sorry, Ms. Khloe, for disrespecting you in that way,” Lil Bo said. “Won’t happen again.”
“Enjoy your day, gentleman,” she said, not knowing how to react to her husband taking such a strong hand with his brother. She could count the number of times men who served beside her or under her leadership in the Army had stepped up and come to her defense. Usually, it was up to her alone to check them where they stood.
“Wife, come kiss me like you miss me,” Beau ordered, but in front of his brother, she wouldn’t give him a hard time for being high handed with her again.
She walked to him, yanking on his belt buckle. The twinkle in her eye brought a curve to his lips as her arms came around his neck, the long fingers entwining is his hair, also pulling playfully as she kissed him, full, hard, and with loads of tongue play. Letting him go, she moved to the kitchen to begin her own breakfast, leaving her husband to stand next to his brother, both with their mouths wide open as if to catch flies.
“Lil’ Bo, I’m calling in sick today,” Beau said, running his finger across his lips.
“Me too,” Lil Bo replied, “I going to stay here with you and watch.”
“Out, both of you. I have loads to get done today,” she said, shooing them with her hands. “Hubby, you coming home for lunch, or do you want me to meet you at the office?”
“No, piddle around the house today, figure out what touches you want to add, work the garden, and get acclimated,” he told her. “The air’s not too thin up here, but coming from Chicago, you gone need a few days.”
She gave him a mock salute as Lil Bo physically pulled him out the door. Beau didn’t want to leave her alone, but he had work to get done. The school needed wiring. He also needed the check to pay for the honeymoon his wife deserved.
Beau saluted back, ever more reluctant to leave.
KHLOE STOOD ALONE IN the hexa-house, with loads to get done. Taking out her planner, she flipped open to the dates ahead, taking a gander at the month of September. All the little white boxes were blank with the exception of one sticker for Labor Day. She sat at the table, sipping on a mint, avocado, and strawberry smoothie and making a list of all the things she needed to get done.
Weed garden
Clean and sort the vegetables
Check the jars for canning
Put away the china
Make dinner
“Shit, that’s enough for one day,” she said aloud, looking up at the sound of birds taking flight. Thinking they had been spooked, she got to her feet, moving to the kitchen window. Half-hidden behind the indoor edible garden, she spotted the top of what looked like a hat attached to a human head. It was moving. Coming down the hill through the wood line, entering the open patch of land just before the house. A man.
“Shit. Shit, Shit,” she said, dropping to her knees and crawling to the cabinet which held the weapons. Taking out the rifle, she loaded in the clip, along with grabbing the 9mm and a Bowie knife, just in case things got close up and sticky. Dragging the items back to the kitchen in a modified low crawl, she rose slowly, peering through the hanging greenery to see if the man was still there.
“Where did he go?” she wondered, leaning over the counter. The rush of blood into her ears drowned out any thoughts other than stand and fight. Holding the 9mm low to her side, she moved to the sliding door to get a better look and spotted him standing below the steps. He just stood there as if he were waiting for her to see him.
Khloe moved forward, opening the glass door, flashing the metal of the weapon in the sunlight. The large gentleman removed his mountain man hat, looking up at her with hazel eyes, the top of his hair gray, graduating into the same strawberry blond hair of her husband. He also had the same nose.
The man pointed at the steps. Khloe nodded her head, going back inside to get two cups of coffee. She poured a little for herself and a whole cup for the man. On top of his cup, she set a saucer with one of Honey’s biscuits, a smattering of jam and butter, and short handled butter knife. Stopping at her list on the table, she made a note to pick up a set of spreader knives. Holding both cups of coffee, she waited to see where he would choose to sit and make his introductions.
Walking across the open deck, he opened the door of the screened-in porch, found himself a seat and removed his hat. He sat there watching Khloe with bored interest waiting for her to join him. Opening the glass door first, then picking up the coffees, she handed the one with the biscuit and jam to him, the other she kept for herself as she took a seat across from the burly man.
As he drank the coffee and ate the biscuit, he didn’t register as a threat to her, after she’d realized the mistake of leaving the weapon laying on the kitchen counter. They drank in silence, and she noticed the bandage on his hand. The cup empty and biscuit gone, he stared at her.
“Let me get my nursing bag, Mr. Montgomery,” she said. “There’s more coffee if you want it. Help yourself.”
Erica’s old nursing school bag still came in handy in her Mother’s neighborhood back home. The modern term they used for the new graduates was a community nurse bag which her mother always kept fully stocked in case of emergencies for gunshots, cuts, and bruises. Before leaving Chicago, she’d restocked it with fresh supplies and brought it outside to care for her new patient.
“Hold your hand out for me, sir,” she said, putting on a pair of gloves and peeling off the dirty bandage. The man had nearly severed his index finger off with a long ugly cut across the flesh, which she pulled back to see the exposed bone. “This could turn ugly, but I think you got here in time.”
Khloe worked, explaining what she was doing as she went along. “First I need to assess how deep this cut is and whether or not it will require stitches,” she said, even though she already knew it did.
“This is a deep cut,” she said to the wound. “Let’s get this cleaned out, so I can take a better look.”
&nbs
p; A small bowl was removed from the blue bag along with a small bottle of sterile water. Holding his hand over the bowl, she rinsed, inspected, and rinsed again. From the bag, she removed what looked like a baby diaper and lay his cleaned hand upon it, face up.
“Next, we are going to apply an antibiotic ointment, then I will need to sew it up,” she said. “Let me know if you want me to give you a couple of pokes with the needle to numb the area.”
For the first time, he spoke. “Can’t hurt no worse than it already do,” he said. “Just sew it up.”
Khloe worked quickly and efficiently stitching the broken skin together and applying a bandage first around the finger then the hand. She provided him with a breathable safety glove to cover the bandaging. “Keeping your hand dry will be important to the healing of the wound and to avoid infection,” she said to Mr. Montgomery.
He opened and closed his fist a few times, but the movement was limited.
“If it’s too tight, let me know and I can loosen it up a bit,” she said.
“Naw, it’s okay,” he said, watching her again with old eyes that had seen a great deal. Khloe put her things away as he sat looking about. “Don’t keep no money on me, but in payment, I can help you weed that garden. Two of us can get it done in no time.”
“You sure you want to do that with a sore hand?”
“It only takes one hand to pull weeds,” he said.
“Thanks, I would appreciate the help,” she replied, getting to her feet.
“You need on boots. Got any?”
“Yessir,” she said.
“Long sleeves, too,” he said, putting the hat back on his head and walking through the screened door. “Get changed. Meet you there.”
Now she understood where her husband got his high-handed manners. However, she wasn’t one to argue with a gift horse who offered to haul the load of firewood. Making quick work of her clothing change, she exited the sliding glass bedroom doors, walking at a clip to meet him in the garden. An hour later, they were done. He even killed a snake while they were working and to her joy, he took the dead carcass with him.
The Tennessee Mountain Man Page 9