Oregon Trails

by Olivia Gaines

  Chapter 12

  “T he crate in the back is the one with all the household goods and cookware,” she said, pointing.

  Paul didn’t care. He just knew that there was a ton of stuff to fit in a two-bedroom house. The last thing he wanted was clutter and fancy things he had to wear pants in order to sit on. Next she would want to hang foofy towels in the bathroom that he couldn’t use. His face was distorted as he helped pull down the ramps so her vehicle could be driven from the truck.

  “Kalinda, I have skillets and a pot if you want to start up some breakfast while we get unloaded,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “That’s a good idea! I can also run a broom and mop across those floors before I put down those rugs,” she said. He watched her cute little bottom as she walked back towards the house with a spring in her step.

  “Yeah, you are gone,” Uncle Randy said.

  “Excuse me?” Paul asked.

  “When a man watches a woman walk away like you just did, son, if you ain’t in love, you will be in the next few days,” Uncle Randy said as he unloosened the hitch.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being in love with your wife,” Paul said defensively. “I think we are going to make a great life together.”

  “I sure hope so. This is a long way to have to come back to kick your ass,” Uncle Randy said.

  “I really don’t think that will be necessary, but you are welcome to come back. The summers are sticky hot and the winters are ball busting cold– take your pick,” Paul said.

  Uncle Randy only nodded as he watched the young man work alongside him, unloading the truck. Questions kept popping about his head like little thought bubbles until finally, the silence was too much.

  “Son, what made you put out an ad to get you a woman? You a nice-looking young man. Are you some kind of doomsday dude that is building a stockpile of weapons like Waco?” Uncle Randy asked.

  “No,” Paul said, turning the crank to move the crate. “I own 2,000 acres up here. My family owns another 10,000. I moved up here to see if I can convince them not to cut down all the trees but make this into a place where people come to get away from the city and spent some time out in some wide-open spaces. That is also the name of my company. Well, our company. Kalinda and I are going to make this area a weekend getaway for all types of nature lovers, hikers and bird watchers.”

  “How you gonna making a living at that?”

  “Easy. We charge folks to rent out one of the little houses for the weekend or a week,” he said with pride.

  “How does my niece play into all of this?”

  Paul wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve. “I know all about the great outdoors, but I don’t know nuthin’ about the internet, blog pages, tweets, face pages or any of that stuff. I don’t want to, either. My wife is my partner in everything. Kalinda and I are going to build something special up here.”

  It was the smile on his face as he looked over the hills that eased Uncle Randy’s mind. Kalinda came to the door to see her Murano on the ground parked next to Paul’s vehicle. The crates were also separated and opened.

  “Breakfast is ready,” she called out. The smile on her face was as large as Paul’s. He didn’t know what to expect as he walked in the house, but the table had food on it. Hot food which filled his nostrils with memories of food stories past. His mouth watered as he went to wash his hands. Uncle Randy went to the bathroom next.

  “Good Hell in whale blubber! That bathroom smells worse than some of the truck stops I hit coming across the country. Is that the septic tank smelling like that?” Uncle Randy asked.

  “You might be right,” Paul said.

  “We still have one down in Bainbridge and we use a natural enzyme to bust up that poo,” Randy told him.

  “Can we stop talking about poo before we eat? It kind of ruins the meal,” Kalinda said to the men, pouring coffee into the mug she had earlier. That one would have to go to Uncle Randy. Since there were only two mugs, she would forego her second cup.

  “This looks amazing, Kalinda, but can I eat any of it?” Paul asked, looking at the spread.

  “Yes, you can eat all of it. It is nothing more than the turkey bacon you had in the fridge, some home fries, lightly seasoned with salt, salt, pepper and onions, and some spinach omelets.”

  “I can eat all of this?” he asked again like a child in a candy store.

  “Paul, veggies, eggs, and meat don’t contain gluten,” she told him.

  “Nobody is eating anything until I bless this food,” Uncle Randy said.

  The blessing was quick and a quiet Paul ate a meal that he actually tasted and enjoyed. Each bite was more heavenly than the last. Savoring each morsel, he tried to make the meal last. Neither Kalinda nor Uncle Randy said a word as he ate the last potato on his plate. His hands folded across his waist as stared at the empty plate.

  “I won’t use your fancy towels,” he said softly.

  “What?” Kalinda asked.

  “The fancy towels you are going to put in the bathroom that I won’t be able to wipe my hands on, I won’t use them. I will also take my boots off when I come in the door so I don’t get mud and dirt on your fancy rugs. You just have to promise to make me more good food like this,” he said with sad puppy dog eyes.

  “Paul,” she said, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “I didn’t pack or bring anything we can’t use every day. I have no room for that kind of stuff anymore in my life. Anything that comes in this house we will be able to use all the time.”

  Uncle Randy didn’t get it. His frowned-up face said as much. His niece’s house in Atlanta was a show home that had been featured in several magazines. Priceless art hung on the walls with vases created by people with names he couldn’t pronounce. The few times he had stopped in to visit, he was afraid to sit on anything out of fear he would break the delicate pieces in half. He didn’t like her house in Atlanta– it felt all wrong. This house felt kind and friendly. He was comfortable and they hadn’t even started to bring the stuff in. He just hoped this place would keep the same feel as it had now and that Kalinda would find a happy medium. She was such an intense person that he never really understood. By the time they unloaded the crates, he got it. So did her husband.

  The guest room received a day bed complete with trundle and a functional work desk with a chair. A rag rug accompanied the bed along with a small chair with a thick quilt that hung precariously across the spine of the chair. “I remember when your Mama made that quilt,” Randy said with a fond remembrance as she laid it across the seat.

  “Then you must also remember this one,” she said as the made the day bed. The quilt, white with large yellow appliqued flowers, fit the bed perfectly lightening the room.

  “I do. I tried to get that one from her for my baby girl, but Annie said she was saving it,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Well, lucky you get to enjoy it while you sleep in here,” she told him.

  The kitchen received a new farmhouse table with a folding side that pressed against the long wall of the house. The three chairs were added back to the table and a padded bench went along the wall next to it. Kalinda winked at Paul.

  “That’s extra seating for when our friends come over for dinner on Saturday evenings,” she told him.

  Paul and Uncle Randy hung shelving that towered over boxes that Kalinda said would unpack later.

  Paul’s concerns for the living room were put aside when his old couch was moved to the back porch under the covering as a new sofa came through the front door. It wasn’t overpowering in the room. It was, in fact the perfect size. So were the two coordinating chairs, one of which reclined.

  “Is this chair for me?” His eyebrows were arched in surprise.

  “It is,” she told him.

  Kalinda didn’t know if the idea energized him, but he worked twice as fast bringing in the rest of the items. The rag rug went in front of the couch that faced the fireplace. A small table with nesting baskets sat in f
ront of it as the two chairs sat like silent partners. The thing that made her husband really happy was the flat screen television that hung above the mantle. Paul worked quickly to hook up the satellite and turn it on.

  He stood still in the middle of the floor, looking around at all the new touches. “I get it,” he said.

  “Good, I need to get me a hot bath,” Uncle Randy said. “My back is hurting like I spent the weekend loving a big girl!”

  “Let me get a bath started for you,” Paul said as he walked out the back door.

  “Where is he going? Wait a minute, I didn’t see no tub in that bathroom!” Uncle Randy’s voice filled the house.

  “The tub is out back,” she said, waving for him to follow her.

  Randy followed her out the back door as Paul pumped water into the tub, adding firewood to the side burners and firing it up.

  “Hell Naw! You ain’t fixin’ to boil my old ass!” Uncle Randy yelled, his voice ricocheting through the hills.

  “Trust me, you are going to love this,” Paul told him.

  It was true. Uncle Randy was left alone with a large towel, a giant bar of soap, and some soaking salts as he sat in the hot tub, enjoying the warmth of the waters. Paul sat in his new chair, remote in hand, his eyes on the screen, not really watching the television, but enjoying the idea that if he did like to watch a show every now and then, he could.

  The little house felt like a home.

  Kalinda had made him a home.

  He would come back from work every day to a home with her in it. He stood slowly. Emotions crawled all over him like small children greeting him after a long day. Kalinda hummed a song he’d never heard as she sorted through boxes, putting away plates, cups, saucers, and kitchen gadgets. He called her name softly as he walked up behind her. His arms slipped around her waist as a light kiss was planted on her neck.

  “Loving you is going to be the easiest thing I have ever done in my life,” he said into her neck.

  “You’re just saying that because you are getting hungry,” she said jokingly.

  “I’m hungry for you,” he told her. He turned her quickly, his mouth finding hers, kissing her deeply. His hands roamed her back, trying to feel everything, holding her close to his body.

  Kalinda, breathless, pulled back. “Wow,” she said.

  “Wow is right,” he told her as he lifted her in his arms, making his way to the bedroom. “I don’t know if I will ever be able to get enough of you.”

  His foot closed the bedroom door as he laid her upon the bed.

  “My wife,” Paul whispered as he hurriedly undressed them both to make love to her before Uncle Randy finished his bath.

  Uncle Randy attempted to eat the sandwich Kalinda made for him as a snack. However, it was made on gluten free bread that Uncle Randy wanted no part of, so he opted instead to take a nap. His nap lasted all night. The daybed was not nearly long enough to accommodate his mass, so the trundle was let up. At an angle, Uncle Randy was able to fit in the bed, but his feet still hung over the edge. When he woke in the wee hours of the morning, he’d figured he’d stayed long enough.

  “I thought you were going to stay a few days,” Kalinda said to him.

  “Naw. These old bones need to be back in my bed, in Bainbridge next to your crabby old aunt. Besides, you two newlyweds need your time alone. I am satisfied and I will report back to your Mama that you landed on your feet,” Uncle Randy said.

  “You are welcome to come back anytime,” she told him.

  Over his shoulder he noticed a sleepy Paul looking at him. “You feel the same way about what she just said, son?”

  Paul yawned wide. “Sure. Come back anytime.”

  “Thanks, I will tell that to the family. Give me kisses, Mary Jane,” Uncle Randy said bending his face low.

  “Give everyone at home my love,” she told him, peppering his face with kisses like she did as a small child.

  “Hold on, I will walk you out,” Paul said.

  In silence, they walked in the dark of the morning. The sun, unseen, strained to come over the horizon to make a Monday morning appearance. They approached the eyesore of a dragon truck as Uncle Randy clicked the remote start on the big ugly semi.

  “I wanted to say thank you or driving all this way to bring my wife’s things,” Paul said, trying to clear his throat of the morning phlegm. He handed Randy an envelope he pulled from his back pocket.

  “What’s that?”

  “A little thank you from me,” Paul said.

  “I don’t need your money, son,” He told Paul.

  “I never said you did. As her husband, this is to show my appreciation for your long journey out here. I don’t care if you blow it on strippers or put it away towards a vacation for you and the missus, but you will take this along with my gratitude,” Paul said.

  “Lordy Be! She and her mama sure know how to pick ‘em,” Uncle Randy said.

  This sparked a thought that had been resting on Paul subconscious. “I was wondering, since you brought it up...Kalinda said she lived in a house with holes in the walls. May I ask why you and your brothers didn’t fix the house up for your sister?”

  Uncle Randy scratched at the gray hairs on his chin. He thought about the question a bit. Then he thought about it some more.

  “Mary Jane is a lot like her Mama. When they get a notion in their head, ain’t no going back. Annie, that’s her Mama, wouldn’t let us touch that house. She said it was up to the man who put them in it to take care of his family. And he did,” Randy spoke quietly, so his voice didn’t echo.

  “Hurley is quite the conundrum,” Paul said.

  “You say that as if you know the man,” Randy said looking at Paul.

  “Well, I spent some time with him last week,” Paul countered.

  “When? Where? How?” Uncle Randy almost yelled.

  “He was here last week for the wedding. He walked Kalinda down the aisle and everything. Connie came too, but- wait...why does everyone keep calling her Mary Jane – is that some kind of nickname or something?”

  “No, it is her birth name. She would make up all these stories in her head as a kid. When she finished college and become a professional storyteller on the news network channel in Atlanta, even before she graduated college, she legally changed her name to Kalinda Marsh. She shortened the Marshall to Marsh and I don’t know where she got the Kalinda. But to me and everyone one in Bainbridge, she will always be Mary Jane Marshall, our little storyteller,” Randy said, climbing up in the truck. “You take care of our girl, Paul Darton.”

  “She is in good hands,” he told Uncle Randy, who tooted the horn as the big red beast of a truck rolled down the gravel drive. Paul only had a couple of hours before he had to go into work. Work was the last thing on his mind. He wanted to stay home with his wife.

  It wasn’t possible today. There were 80 households waiting on the delivery of their mail. Rain or shine, he had to deliver. Paul Darton only hoped he could deliver on the life he promised to Kalinda.

  Chapter 13

  T he kitchen was almost in order, the bathroom needed a good scrubbing, and those filthy windows deserved her undivided attention before the day was over. Paul slept quietly in the bedroom, rising again when the alarm sounded at six am. The three-hour time difference was going to take a few days to adjust to, but in the meantime, she had a store to set up and a house to get in order, and she needed to walk the trails of Wide Open Spaces.

  “I would prefer you wait for me to do that,” Paul said as he watched her over the rim of his coffee mug.

  “You don’t have to worry. I am not venturing off into the woods by my damned self,” she told him. “I will wait for you. What time do you get home?”

  “I should finish up about four today. I didn’t deliver mail on Friday or Saturday, so I have to get all of that sorted as well as today’s, load, up and hit all my stops,” he said.

  “How many homes do you deliver to in all?”

  “If I have something
for everyone, there are about 80 stops. There are roughly 175 residents in the area, well with you that makes 176,” he said with a twisted smile.

  “I look forward to meeting the townsfolk soon,” she said.

  “You planning to head to town today?”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Are you high? Some random, lone black woman roaming around a town full of people who hold a rattlesnake and bear meat festival each year? Hell no! I will wait for you,” she said.

  “People here are real nice and real friendly,” he told her.

  “Yes. I can imagine they can be to people who look just like them. I grew up in a small town. Ugly is ugly whether it is disguised with a ‘bless your heart’ or a ‘we don’t like your kind around here’ Paul,” she said with a wry twist of her lips.

  “Give the people a chance. Besides, if we are going to have those friends over on Saturday nights, you will have to,” he said to her, grabbing his postal hat from the hook by the door.

  Kalinda watched him as she leaned against the kitchen counter. He sure did look really nice in the postal uniform. Her mind began a sexy role play game of him delivering her a big package.

  “I can almost hear what you are thinking,” he squinted at her. “You want me to do some kind of sexy strip tease in this uniform, don’t you?”

  She nodded her head up and down. “Oh yeah!”

  Paul turned his back to her, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of the blue postal pants. He rolled his hips, shaking his butt at her, looking over his shoulder with a wink. Pumping his groin a few times, he hit a signature MJ move and licked his lips.

  “Shit! Where’s my purse? I know I have a few twenties in there,” she called out to him.

  “Save them for later,” he said with a grin.

  Kalinda walked to the front door, leaning against the jamb as Paul climbed into the 4x4, her eyes longing for him to stay, but knowing there were things she needed to get completed while he was gone. Paul cranked the vehicle, looking back at his wife, his concentration still in the bed with her as he reached to put the car in gear.

  “Shoot!” he said as he pushed it back into park. He flung open the door making a beeline for the house and up the three front stairs. “I can’t leave without kissing you goodbye.”