“Those things make them happy, so we must respect that, even though I personally couldn’t give a shit about which fork goes with what, but Gabriel loves that kind of stuff,” Isiah said. “Zeke loves being a caretaker and your friend Tameka definitely needs somebody to take care of her.”
“I see you have made your clinical assessments of my friends, Dr. Neary. Please, tell me how you see me,” she said, turning in the seat to face him.
“I see you as my equal,” he said, his eyes on the road.
“Your equal?” The surprise was evident in her voice.
“Yes. You may want me in the co-captain chair and I’m cool with that, but at the end of the day, I need a life partner whom I can talk to. Even my most obscure references you get,” he told her. “Believe it or not, I hate talking to women that I feel I have to dumb myself down in order to have a conversation.”
DeShondra was at a loss for words. It was the exact same phrasing she’d used when her mother pressured her each week to find a husband and get married. Her argument had always been she didn’t want to marry a man with whom she had to dumb herself down to have a basic conversation.
“Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice,” she quoted from Hamlet. “I would tell my mother the same thing when she would try and pressure me to date or find a husband. Working in this field once dominated by men is tough. I listen to them but often wouldn’t say much for fear of them stealing my ideas.”
“You keep quoting Shakespeare and I’m going to pull this vehicle over and steal some kisses,” he told her.
“Ain’t no need to steal what I shall give you freely, my love,” she sniffled. “Please don’t think I’m silly for having so many doubts.”
“Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt," he said to her quoting Lucio from Measure to Measure.
“This is so scary to me,” she said shaking her head.
“Why is that?”
“Because I know that fucking quote is from Lucio. I never realized how much-damned Shakespeare I have stuck in the back of my head,” she said, laughing. “I don’t even like Shakespeare!”
“Trust me. This is scary for me as well,” he told her. “As I said earlier, I have wanted you from the first time I saw you. I knew who you were but didn’t think you would be interested in a man like me. Hell, I wasn’t even sure of who the man in me was, and now, I know.”
“What is it that you know?”
“I am the man you need,” he said.
“Amen, Dr. Neary,” she said. “I like the sound of that.”
She paused, looking at the hair-covered jawline, imagining a pipe in his mouth as he counseled broken men on understanding their relationships with their mothers. New ideas pinged in her head on possibilities for a different future for him that he might not have thought of himself. A future where he also could be happy doing what he loved.
“I haven’t been called that in years,” he said. “Sometimes, the guys would say it to fuck with me, especially when I had to interrogate a tough nut to crack. The joke would be ‘send in Dr. Neary to get inside of that fucker’s head.’ It bothered me that my teammates saw me as a weapon of breakdown versus one of healing.”
“May I ask which you did when you entered the room with a suspect?”
“I went for the approach of healing, which is much easier having the person in that chair understand and accept how their lives had come to that point and what had to happen next to move them forward,” he said to her.
“Have you thought about opening a practice?”
“Fuck no,” he said. “Broken people hurt my soul. It’s like a dark void that sucks the life out of you as you try to guide them to the place of healthy. There is no way to muck a stall without coming out with shit on your boots.”
“Isiah, who says you have to do it the traditional way? For the last two weeks, you have been telling me that our marriage, it’s structure, the health of it will be what we make of it. Why can’t you do the same with your experience?” she asked. “Think about a new course. One that you design for yourself with your own curriculum. Hell, start a Shakespearean approach to Psychology if you want, with therapy animals.”
His eyes drifted from the road to her, his lips tight, his eyes squinted. “Hmmpf,” he said, driving them home to Louisville. That’s a thought. A damned good one.
AT HOME, FRESHLY SHOWERED and joining him on the couch, she brought with her a small glass with two fingers of his favorite bourbon and a sip of red wine for herself.
“Thank you,” he said. “What are we drinking to?”
“Several years ago, I promised to meet you for a drink but got called away. I say better late than never,” she said, clinking her goblet to his glass.
Isiah sat blinking. His chest tight. The blood pumped furiously through his veins as he watched her face as she sipped the wine that was only enough to wet her tongue.
“I didn’t think you remembered me,” he said softly.
“This version of you, no, I didn’t recognize. A clean-shaven blonde man with piercing blue eyes I remember well. His quick wit, the off the chain chemistry between us as you sat next to me, talking up your game,” she said. “That man I remembered. I just never in a million years thought...and here we are.”
“Here we are,” he said, watching her closely.
“Did you dye your hair back then?” she asked, looking at the dark hair on his head and chin.
“The Kentucky field offices also cover West Virginia. I was working undercover on a group of college students at a tiny campus in the backwoods who were making moonshine and making a large profit,” he said. “I posed as a buyer who owned a nightclub to get into the group.”
It was her turn to watch him closely. “It’s your intense eyes. The way you look at me with such hunger, how you touch me, that makes me feel so powerful and alive. Plus, you are so damn sexy to me,” she said, unbuttoning the first three buttons on his plaid shirt. “I don’t even like Shakespeare, plaid or plastic shoes, but you...Isiah Neary, criminal psychologist, felon whisperer, and bourbon drinking babymaker, turn me the hell on.”
“Shut up,” he said, mimicking the tone she often used when she said the phrase. Removing the glass from her hand, he pulled her astride his lap. The taste of the bourbon on his tongue mixed with the wine notes on her lips, fueling them to couple like two rabbits set free in the woods. Frantically, she pulled at her pants to get them off while he struggled with his belt buckle. Soon, they were both exposed just enough to make the parts fit together. “I love you so much.”
“Same here,” she said, throwing her head back, languishing in the connection. Riding him hard to find her pleasure, the sound he loved to hear eked up from of the back of her throat, powering his thrusts as he brought her to a lusty finish.
They sat on the couch, still connected, unable to let go of each other, as her head rested on his shoulder. Isiah’s hands firmly pressed into her back and inhaled her sweet scent, not wanting to ever let go.
“You are going to be my wife and the mother of my child,” he whispered in her ear. “Each day I wake up filled with gratitude for my life with you in it.”
“Good to know,” she whispered back. “Baby, you are going to need a bigger set of oars though. We’re also going to need a bigger boat to get where I’m thinking of going.”
“Screw that,” he said chuckling. “I am getting us an outboard motor.”
ISIAH LEFT IN THE WEE hours of the morning, headed to London to oversee the moving of Jacob’s trailer and to load up the livestock. By three in the afternoon, he was angry enough to snap someone’s neck. The frustration continued to mount as the trailer arrived in Louisville, but the septic tank for the structure wasn’t completely installed and the water lines to Jacob’s home were not completed to run to the mobile home.
He called DeShondra, the anger in his voice evident.
“Baby, slow down and breathe. Tell me what’s wrong,” she sai
d into the line.
“Everything. The septic tank isn’t ready. The water lines are incomplete, and the horses have diarrhea,” he growled.
“I can’t do anything about the horses, but if you want, put Jacob in the guest room at my house until everything is connected,” she said, not believing the words had come from her own mouth. “That way he can be with you while the mobile is finished.”
“Are you sure? I mean, it will only be for a week, tops,” Isiah said.
“As long as he is not walking around naked and making a mess. It’s only for a week,” she said.
“I love you,” he said softly into the phone.
“Right back at you,” she replied, hanging up the phone. DeShondra wasn’t sure what she’d signed up for bringing the young man into their home, but it felt like the right thing to do. She, like Isiah, could either help break him down some more or be instrumental in his healing. At six o’clock, she left the office and headed home, almost dreading having another body in her house, but she was pleasantly surprised when she walked through her front door.
Jacob was in the kitchen making dinner.
“Good evening,” he said, giving her a smile. “I appreciate you taking me in. I know a lot of people wouldn’t have been willing to do it.”
“Jacob, you are important to Isiah which makes you important to me, plus, you are cooking dinner,” she said. “It smells delicious. What are you making?’
“Chicken Marsala, easy on the wine, with roasted fingerling potatoes and asparagus,” he said with a crooked grin.
“Well, damn,” she said, walking around the island to sniff in the pots.
“No ma’am, no samples before dinner,” he said, going to the fridge and pulling out a modified cheese board with fruit. “You can nibble on this until Bleu gets back. He had to find a vet to see about Hamlet and Lady McBeth.”
“Okay. How did the chickens and Weird Sisters do in the transport?”
“The girls went straight for the pond. The chickens are well but may take a few days before they start laying again, so everything is going pretty good,” he said, stirring the sauce for the chicken.
“Sounds good. I’m going to get out of this suit so I can get comfortable,” she told him. “I would say make yourself at home, but you already have.”
“Again, thank you,” he said. “This means the world to me. You don’t even know.”
“I know, sweetheart,” she said, patting his arm. “Family is everything. I’m sure you miss yours.”
“Mrs. Neary, I promise, I won’t be no trouble,” he said.
“That is the least of my concerns, but just so you know, I don’t do dishes or clean up behind grown folks. Don’t plan to start either,” she said, giving him a Maya Leman look.
“Gotcha!” he said with a head nod as he watched her walk away. “Ms. Deshondra?”
“Yes, Jacob?”
“Can I be a part of your family? I mean, since I don’t have mine here,” he asked, lowering his head.
“You already are,” she told him.
THE HOUR APPROACHED three a.m. as a restless DeShondra rose to go to the kitchen to find a little something to nibble on to settle the greedy human incubating in her lower extremities. A familiar sound drew her attention as the dryer buzzed signaling the end of a drying cycle. Who is washing clothes at three in the damned morning?
Making her way to the laundry room, she opened the dryer door to find male clothing unfamiliar to her. Reaching inside, she pulled out holey socks, dingy underwear and articles of clothing which had seen better days. One shirt she recognized from seeing Jacob wearing it the other day. This will never do.
DeShondra made a mental note to take care of a few things for the young man in the upcoming week. She nibbled on a wedge of cheese as she closed the dryer door and made her way back to the bedroom. Those clothes were on their last legs and needed to be put out to pasture.
Her mother had called and would be dropping by in the morning before DeShondra headed to the office. That, she would deal with in the morning. In the meantime, she required rest. Isiah’s soft snores were a soothing balm when she climbed in the bed, snuggled close and drifted back to sleep.
MAYA LEMAN SAT AT THE table in DeShondra’s kitchen watching Jacob make omelets with spinach and mushrooms. She pointed at Jacob as DeShondra walked into the kitchen, asking quietly with her mom face, Who the hell is this? Jacob added more coffee to the cup Maya half held as he gave a warm smile to DeShondra, making her morning tea.
“Morning, Mom. I see you have met Jacob,” DeShondra said.
“Met, not really. He answered the door, stuck a cup of coffee in my hand and asked if I wanted an omelet, which, by the way, is pretty dang delicious,” Maya said. “Who is this young man, and is he Isiah’s love child that you failed to tell me about?”
Jacob chuckled. “No, I’m not related to Doc Neary. I guess I’m kind of his ward,” he told her.
Maya’s eyebrows shot up. “Doc Neary?”
“Yes Mom, Isiah is a criminal psychologist. He has a Ph.D.,” DeShondra said to her mother.
“Just flippin’ great! And when were you going to tell me? I’m having the invitations and programs printed tomorrow. I need to go back and change his pedigree on the everything. I swear girl, sometimes I wonder if they switched babies on me at the hospital,” Maya said in exasperation.
“No one switched any babies. I’m all yours,” DeShondra said, not wanting to admit she’d only recently learned about his degrees herself. “His name should read, Isiah Samuel Neary, Ph.D. Does that help, Mom?”
“It doesn’t,” she said pausing, her eyes still on Jacob. “You still haven’t told me about this handsome young man in your kitchen cooking breakfast.”
“You think I’m handsome?” Jacob said, blushing. DeShondra bypassed the young man gushing over her mother’s compliments.
“Nothing to tell really. He takes care of the livestock for Isiah and the septic tank and water lines aren’t finished for his mobile home, so Jacob is here with us until they are,” DeShondra said.
“Omission of information is still a lie DeShondra,” Maya said.
“I’m not omitting anything, Mom.”
“Yes, you are. This young man has more of a story than you are telling me. I will find out,” Maya said.
“There is nothing to find out,” DeShondra said. “Isiah needed help with the horses, and Jacob’s dad thought his son could use a change from Virginia and sent him to help. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Jacob watched Deshondra’s face as she provided her mother information, leaving out the critical portions which he felt were important. Since she didn’t volunteer the facts to her mother, he held his tongue.
“Mom, why are you here?” DeShondra asked, suddenly wondering why her mother was so frantic in her kitchen at seven in the morning.
“Oh, I brought your wedding dress for a fitting,” Maya said, jumping up.
“My dress? We didn’t decide on a dress yet. You said you would bring me two choices,” DeShondra protested.
“Well, when you see it, you will realize this is the only choice,” Maya said, heading for the couch to lift the dress. “This was my wedding dress that I modified to fit you, with of course a few changes.”
She held up the dress and DeShondra’s mouth dropped. It had to be the loveliest wedding gown she’d ever seen in her life. Tears pooled in her eyes as she ran her fingers across the delicate blue lace around the neckline which matched the lacy blue train of the dress.
“Do you like?” Maya asked.
“Mom, I love it,” DeShondra said, giving her mother a warm tear-filled embrace. “You have outdone yourself.”
“Well come on, let’s try it on,” Maya encouraged, as she headed towards the upstairs room. “We don’t want Isiah to see you in this.”
DeShondra shoveled more omelet into her mouth as she followed along behind her mother. Isiah wasn’t awake yet, and she held the same sentiment as her mother. He didn
’t need to see her in the dress.
“Jacob, keep Isiah down here so he doesn’t get a peek of me in the dress,” DeShondra told the young man.
“Yes, Ma’am. I’m on the job,” Jacob said. He would stand guard over whatever she needed, whenever she needed. The lady was nice to him, and thus far, he liked her a great deal. The wedding was less than two weeks away, and he was excited to see all the Neary’s dressed up and looking fancy. He wasn’t sure if he would attend since he didn’t have any personal transportation or a fancy suit. Most of his clothing, he’d outgrown. A good deal of his salary he’d saved, hoping that Bleu would take him shopping soon.
“Make a note Jacob, to ask,” he said aloud, prepping the sauté pan for another omelet for himself and for Bleu.
Chapter 20 – New Job. I hate it.
The week whizzed by with Buster announcing the farmhouse was ready for its residents to move in. DeShondra, on the other hand, was not ready to move anything, let alone have her routine completely disrupted, as well as her fiancé’s last free weekend spent going through boxes hunting for socks. On top of all of that, there was Jacob. The boy’s life had completely been uprooted. He wasn’t fully capable of living on his own and needed guidance. It wasn’t her place nor her desire to take on the responsibility of the role of his ad hoc Mother or anything else for that matter, but he required a bit more than he was getting from Isiah.
He also required structure, a routine, and some form of hope for a future as a functioning member of society that didn’t include cleaning up horse shit and mowing grass until he was 30 years old. Over dinner on Thursday night, DeShondra announced her plans for the boy’s future. He could take it or leave it, but this was the only olive branch the dove could bring back.
“Jacob, could I trouble you to get the shopping bags I left in my trunk?” she asked once they completed their meal.
Bleu, Grass, Bourbon Page 19
