Oregon Trails

by Olivia Gaines

  He knew where she was in the room. Slowly his head raised, his eyes traveling to the corner of the room where she stood looking like an angel in the white floor length gown. His eyes said what he was verbally unable to speak in front of his brother. He mentally asked her to come and stand beside him.

  Kalinda had heard enough of the putdowns of her husband. After the fourth relative who seemed confused why he would not choose money over conserving the planet, she felt sick to her stomach. Such flagrant mocking for a man's very doable vision pissed her off. It was becoming a personal challenge to stick it to them all. A cosmic string, unseen by her or her husband, tugged at her, signaling Kalinda like a small bug caught in an invisible webbing. She looked over her shoulder to locate him. Paul stood next to his brother, the expression on his face shielded, but Kalinda knew something was off. He looked up, knowing exactly where she was in the room, his eyes asking. Her legs responded as she touched an arm of a windbag Uncle, excusing herself from the conversation.

  The fabric of the gown flowed as she walked toward Paul, giving an appearance of her gliding across the floor. As she passed George, she tapped his arm, ending his conversation with a woman with a hat on her head that resembled a dead cat. George followed behind Kalinda as she approached Paul, slipping her arms around his waist. She raised her face, her lips puckered as he lowered his head to kiss her softly. Both turned their heads to face Luke. Four eyes bored into the man, challenging him to say anything further.

  "Well, I guess that answers that," Luke said sarcastically.

  "Luke, I do hope once we get everything settled, you will come up for dinner," Kalinda said sweetly.

  "That is highly unlikely," he said.

  "I offered," she said with a forced smile. "The door shall be open should you change your mind." She really didn't care if he ever came for a visit, but George was on standby as she reached for Luke, pulling him quickly to her side. No time was available for him to pull away as George snapped a photo of the three of them.

  "One more please, George," Kalinda said as she faced forward, slipping her hand into Luke's and Paul's, raising the three-way connection in the air as the sound of the camera clicking recorded the moment. "Thank you,” she said as she guided Paul over to his parents, George following along like a little puppy.

  "Mr. Darton," Kalinda called to him before they reached him catching him unaware. Again she stood next to this Darton, slipping her hand into his, raising all three in the air as George snapped away. Kalinda lowered their hands, turning quickly at a 45-degree angle, pulling both men with her, as George captured the moment.

  "Hold up, no one is leaving me out the family photos," Beverly said as she jumped into the shot.

  Mr. Darton watched Kalinda as she made her way about the room with George in tow, snapping pictures of her and Paul with family, friends, and political officials. He even noticed the careful photos she took with her father as well as Connie.

  "Smart girl," Jeremiah said to Beverly.

  "Yes, I think she is going to outsmart us all," Beverly said. "She knows and understands what he is saying. The problem is we are always convinced that we are right, that we haven't listened to him. She has. She knows something, Jeremiah. We will be stupid to not get on the train with them at the start of this visionary journey of his."

  "I still think he is full of horseshit," Jeremiah said to Beverly.

  "You may think your son is full of whatever you like, but that woman he married is a force. Didn’t you just see that interaction...between him a and Luke? She just came to his side without him even asking her to. She understands him," Beverly said.

  "How? Didn't he order her online from some ghetto in the South?" Jeremiah said.

  "Does she comport herself like a woman from a ghetto? Take a gander at her father. That man has had money all of his life. Look at the Southern Belle of a sister of hers. Look at her work this room," Beverly said. "It is her wedding to our son, but she has married herself to everyone who has attended. When she picks up a phone and makes a call, every able body in this room will respond to her request. Look at George...he is ready to do whatever she asks."

  Jeremiah watched Kalinda mill about the space pretty much taking a photo of her and Paul with everyone in the room. His wife was sitting on top of one of her hunches. In nearly 40 years, she had never been wrong. "What do you think she is doing, Beverly?"

  Beverly sipped at her Mimosa, "She has just made everyone in the room feel like they are about to be a part of something amazing. Everyone is included and all the ugly ducks can go to the ball to become swans. That's what she is doing."

  "Hmmmph," Jeremiah retorted. "I think you might be right."

  "I know I am right," Beverly said. "Do the right thing, honey, don't let her prove you wrong about your own son."

  Chapter 8

  T he quietness of the afternoon was lulling to both Paul and Kalinda as they rode the elevator to Paul’s private suite on the top floor. He explained that he didn’t have a house or an apartment in the city, but used the hotel as his official residence. It was a two-bedroom suite with a small kitchenette and a guest water closet.

  “Your things have been moved to the second bedroom where you will stay tonight,” he said to her.

  “Thank you, Paul.” She eyed the space loaded with heavy dense wooden pieces in oak surrounded by oak wainscoting which made her feel claustrophobic. “I may need a hand getting out of this dress. It is starting to feel tight.”

  “No, it is probably this room. It makes me feel like...I dunno, like I can’t breathe or something. This is almost 1600 square feet, but maybe the heavy furniture and dark drapes make it seem smaller,” he said.

  Kalinda opened the drapes to stare down at the city. Although she stood still, the sound of his footsteps approaching behind her quickened her heartbeat. Instinctually, she leaned her head to the side, wanting the feel the heat of his lips on her neck. The power and strength of his body she craved to have pressed against her as his strong fingers tugged at the zipper of the dress, pulling it downwards, freeing the straining material as small kisses brought her to a fevered place of longing.

  Paul moved silently behind her. The long neck begging for his lips, she tilted her head and waited for his kisses, but if he started, could he stop himself? One hand slid around her waist, pulling her body closer to his, the excitement he felt holding her so close pressing into her back. One hand tugged at the zipper of the dress as his mouth touched lightly upon her neck. Her breath quickened as his hands slid down to his thighs, gripping his legs for balance.

  “Oh God,” he murmured into her neck. His hips pressed into her, pulling her to him, urging her to touch, tease, please him any way she was willing. “Kiss me, Kalinda.”

  The dress, now unzipped, clung to her breasts by a force of gravity as she turned her body, reaching upwards to put her hands around his neck. The dress slipped low, revealing the black lace strapless bra. Kalinda’s lips touched his, causing Paul to growl as he tightened his grip on her. His mouth, ravenous, slanted over hers again and again, his tongue probing her mouth greedily, begging for more.

  “Paul,” she whispered huskily.

  “I know,” he said back, still kissing her. “You just feel so damned good, Kalinda, I am trying to pull away, but I can’t. I just...” he started to say but kissed her again. His hands moved lower, taking a handful of her hips, squeezing her glutes, pulling her close so the hardness of him pressed at the V between her thighs.

  A loud knock came at the door, startling them both. Reluctantly, he let go. Paul bent over, resting his hand on his knees, as if he’d just finished a sprint, pointing at the second bedroom urging her to go. He adjusted himself and his jacket, waiting for her to pass him before answering the door. As soon as he heard the click of the bedroom door, he inhaled deeply, trying to calm the fire in his blood that wanted to shoot whoever was at the door so he could go and make love to his wife. My wife .

  The title took away some of the ache in
groin as he made his way to the door to open it to find his attorney standing there with a bored look on his face.

  “Aubrey,” Paul said.

  “Paul,” the attorney replied as he let himself into the suite. “I have the documentation you requested as well as the marriage certificate for you to sign. As your attorney, I will caution you against this course of action.”

  The attorney’s words were halted as Kalinda stepped out of the bedroom in sharp black slacks and a soft yellow twin set with pearls. A fresh application of lipstick had been added as she stepped forward with grace to greet their guest.

  “Kalinda, this is Aubrey Broome, my personal attorney. He has brought some documents for you to sign,” Paul said.

  “May I inquire which documents those are?” she asked Paul.

  Aubrey spoke up, “The documents in question are the marriage certificate, health and life insurance, as well as business papers for Wide Open Spaces.”

  Kalinda’s eyes went to her husband.

  Paul took the folders. “The first is our marriage certificate,” he said, handing her a pen. She signed the document followed by Paul, who in turn gave it to the attorney who notarized the slip of paper.

  “The next document is health insurance. I was uncertain since you left your job if you had any,” Paul said.

  “I have been self-employed for five years; I have my own health insurance,” she said.

  Paul smiled, “I’m certain, but I have more comprehensive coverage. As my wife, you will fall under the Darton Health plan, so be a dear and sign here.”

  His eyes sparkled as he pushed the paper to her to sign. She complied with her tongue in her cheek. Eying the other folders, she gave him a hooded look as she scrutinized the next stack of papers.

  “This is life insurance. There is a million-dollar policy on me and fifty-thousand-dollar policy on you,” he said.

  “Why is mine so low?”

  “Because if anything were to happen to me, I want you to be covered,” he said.

  “But what if something were to happen to me...,” she said.

  “Then no one would think I killed you for the insurance money,” he said with a wry grin.

  “I want to laugh at you but that’s not funny,” she said.

  “It is to me in so many ways. People are going to assume you are marrying me for my money. I don’t really have any since I spent most of it buying tiny damned houses to be placed on a mountainside. I also spent my right leg digging wells and septic tanks to go with each of those tiny ass houses, so my chunk of change is nothing but some change. You are marrying a poor man, but I am willing to give you half of everything we build,” he told her.

  This statement was accompanied by the last set of papers.

  “It is against my better judgment that you do this, Paul,” Aubrey advised.

  “My best judgment is to have my wife fully invested in this venture. I can’t see any other way of doing it other than giving her half of the company right now,” Paul said.

  Aubrey was shaking his head no.

  Kalinda was impressed that he was willing to put it all out there for her. She asked, “May I inquire how much you have invested thus far to get everything off the ground?”

  “I have spent roughly two hundred,” he said to her.

  She said nothing as she walked away to the bedroom to locate her purse. She returned with her checkbook. Both men watched her take a seat at the table and with ease, she opened the designer wallet and in an even hand began to write a check. “Do I make this out to Wide Open Spaces or to you Paul?”

  “What are you writing a check for?”

  “I am putting up my half for the company,” she told him.

  Aubrey piped up, “Make it out to Wide Open Spaces and I will deposit it into the account!”

  Kalinda signed the check and handed it Aubrey. “Is there an additional fee for you having to carry that to the bank, Mr. Broome?”

  “No...no, not at all,” Aubrey stuttered.

  “Good,” she said to him, signing the last document. “Please provide me with copies of all the documentation. Thank you for coming by and a special thank you for looking out for my husband’s best interest.”

  The man was still trying to talk as she escorted him to the door, nearly pushing him into the hallway. Her face was contorted when she turned about to face her husband.

  “I take it you don’t like lawyers?” Paul asked.

  “I don’t like small minded men,” she said.

  “Yeah, well that’s Aubrey, but he is a very good attorney,” Paul said. He paused, rubbing his bottom lip. “I didn’t see the check. May I inquire about your investment in our company?”

  “You invested two hundred, so did I added half of that amount,” she said.

  “When I said two hundred, I meant thousand,” Paul emphasized.

  “When I wrote the check, I wrote it for half of that,” she said with the arching of her brow.

  He did not move from the spot where he stood.

  Kalinda remained still as well.

  “Don’t toy with me, Kalinda,” he said to her.

  She reached for her checkbook and showed him the duplicate sheet. He held the wallet as he took a seat on brown bonded leather tufted scroll arm Chesterfield sofa. Leaning back into the aged leather, he sighed deeply. “I have been wanting this for so long,” he said.

  “What another investor?”

  “No, someone to see the vision and believe in it. You wrote a check based on my word alone and you haven’t even seen the land,” he said.

  “I am not investing in you, Paul. I am investing in us. If this is going to work, it will take us both giving it everything we have,” she told him.

  The stinging in his eyes made him close the lids to prevent the spillage of what his father called weakness water. He dabbed at the corner of his eyes. “Thank you, Kalinda,” he said.

  “No, thank you. I get a fresh start and you get fresh eyes,” she said. “Now what else do we have to do in Portland before we get the hell out of here?”

  He laughed loudly as she pulled him up from the couch. “I have to meet your father for a drink, then mother is having a tea at two to introduce you to some ladies. Tonight we have the gala...”

  “Stop! My head is spinning,” she said.

  “We leave in the morning if that helps,” he said.

  “It helps a lot,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist.

  “Great,” he told her. “Now let me get changed so I can go deal with your Daddy.”

  Page Break

  Chapter 9

  S ix a.m. could not arrive fast enough for either Paul or Kalinda. At five minutes after five, the 4 x4 was loaded, fueled, and ready to hit the open road. Kalinda showered quickly, donning a lightweight beige top with tiny pink flowers that matched perfectly the pink Capri pants and cute pink sneakers. The socks she wore were beige with little pink roses etched in the cotton.

  Paul looked her up and down. “I get it,” he said.

  She shrugged her shoulders, pulling her hair back and banding it at the nape of her neck. “I like things to coordinate,” she said to him.

  Based on what he’d seen of her wardrobe, he did in fact, get it. Each piece of clothing she wore was made of well-chosen fabrics, in hues that complemented her skin tone and were perfect for the occasion. ‘Carefully selected’ were the exact two words Paul used when he observed his wife over the next few days.

  Getting out of the hotel and on the road was not as easy as he’d hoped. His mother wanted to give advice, his grandmother had too many questions, Hurley, well, half of what he said to Paul, confused him, and Connie woke up full of piss and vinegar. He nearly carried Kalinda outside, slammed the vehicle door, and gunned the engine. Two toots of the horn and they were off to start their lives. It took fifteen minutes to drive out of the Portland city limits, connecting to I-84 and pushing the engine to almost 85 miles per hour. They were nearly in Mosier before Paul physically stopped
holding his breath.

  “Good Lord,” he said aloud.

  “Say it twice,” Kalinda chuckled.

  “How insane was that?”

  “Which part, the crazy goodbye continental breakfast or the entirety of yesterday?” Kalinda asked.

  “I’m not sure. Having drinks with your father is still blowing my mind. Your Daddy is different,” Paul said.

  “So was that group of botoxed barracudas your mom sat me down with for tea. The good news is that I think I may have secured a supply of artesian soaps from Bitsy Stewart. Helen Morady has a great connection for organic teas that is going to be awesome in our little store,” she said with a grin.

  “Yeah, but did Helen happen to mention most of her teas are filled with marijuana?”

  Kalinda’s eyes were wide. “No way, she is what, every bit of 70?”

  “Yes. She and my grandmother sit around drinking tea and getting high as hell while they reminisce about the heartbroken men they left in their wake,” Paul said.

  “That’s just wrong,” Kalinda said shaking her head.

  “No, hearing my grandmother talk about the soldier who did sexual things to her in a night club bathroom is wrong. Watching her grin as she tells the story is wrong. It is doubly wrong when she is high and gets herself off retelling the story,” he said, glancing at her sideways. He shuddered, trying to shake off the visually disturbing memory.

  “Does she do that often?”

  “What do you mean often? Hell, seeing your Grandma orgasm sitting in chair by her damned self is bad enough the first time. The second time is not as shocking, but now she tells the story every Christmas brunch,” Paul said with his face contorted. “She is sitting there waiting for that moment that she likes to describe as her nasty little soldier man taking her with force against the dirty bathroom stall door. Her little wrinkled legs sticking out, her eyes rolling up in her head. It’s nasty, Kalinda. Just damned nasty! My grandmother is a nasty little woman.”