BOMAW 1-3

by Mercedes Keyes

  God almighty, look at her. I want you, lady...I want you, and come what may, you're going to be mine, Everett thought as he pulled up to his porch, having his pulse race to see Sylvia and her grandson sitting there waiting on him and Isaac. The picture was one that gave him a feeling of contentment, a feeling of rightness. She was what he wanted...and he wasn't a stupid man. His nearness, his presence, did things to her as well. Things she tried to hide, but it was too late. He'd laid up last night thinking long and hard...and seriously. He was willing to take another chance on a serious relationship, because he knew with her it would have to be that...or nothing. Isaac was talking to him. He had to tear his eyes away from her to give him his attention. "Can we go again?" Isaac pleaded.

  "That's enough, Isaac," Sylvia announced, having gotten up from the porch, overhearing as she approached the bike. Everett reached past Isaac and turned off the engine. "One more time," he begged. Sylvia looked him straight in the eyes, shaking her head with an expression that said loud and clear, No! And don't ask again! He knew the expression; he'd received it enough from his mother, grandma's daughter. Isaac sighed but then looked at his little brother and immediately brightened. "You see me, Darren? You too little to ride, you just a baby...when you get big like me, you can ride then," he announced as Everett removed his helmet from his head. Darren gave a perplexed look and laughed, then said his one dependable word, "no", unsure of what Isaac was saying. They all looked towards the road upon hearing a car horn blow.

  "That's my mama and daddy! I ride the moto'cycle! I ride the moto'cycle!" he began yelling as he worked to get down from the bike. Everett chuckled, handing him down to the ground, and he took off towards the road to his parents.

  "Isaac!" Sylvia, Everett, and Victor, Sylvia's son in law, yelled at the same time to stop him. He skidded to a halt.

  "What did I tell you about that road and running into it?" Sylvia scolded as she marched up to him, reaching down, grabbing his hand. "I wanna tell my daddy about the moto'cycle," Isaac whined. Sylvia sighed deep, shaking her head as Victor sat partly in her driveway glaring at his son. Shaking his head as well, he pulled the rest of the way in and around the inner curve as Sylvia walked into the yard, one grandson on her hip, the other in hand. As soon as she stepped out of the car, Crystal, her daughter, started in on him. "Little boy, you are going to get the worse spanking you ever had about running into that road. I've told you over and over about that!"

  "I ride the moto'cycle!" Isaac whined, the scolding stealing his joy from the telling of his great adventure on a machine he'd admired since the first time they rumbled by him, sitting in his parent's car, strapped snugly in his car seat. "Chile, get yo’ kids. I'm done. They stuff is waitin' at the door," Sylvia announced, turning Isaac loose and handing Darren over to his mother. His arms outstretched, his little fingers pumping eagerly for his mother to take him. "That's right, baby...go to yo’ mama. Grandma love ya...but grandma done had enough."

  "Mamaaa!" Crystal whined, laughing.

  "I'm just telling you the truth! I raised my babies! These yours, have at it!" Crystal laughed, shaking her head. "You don't have to be so excited about us coming to get 'em." She grinned.

  "Who don't have to be excited? I can't help but be excited! My baby days are over! And I ain't missin' a thing! I'm in heaven," she finished, entering her kitchen with her daughter behind her. They could hear Isaac talking to his father excitedly as they followed, in addition to another voice mixing in with Victor's and Isaac's. As her daughter entered the house passing her, Sylvia stood at the screen surprised to see Everett bringing up the rear as he introduced himself to Victor. Amid Isaac's happy chatter about his ride, Victor was also excited, asking questions about the bike's style, speed, power, and motor size. The usual male exchange when they engaged in conversations where a souped-up car or motorcycle was the topic of discussion. She was surprised. She hadn't expected him to follow her back across to her house with her daughter present.

  "Who is that?" Crystal asked as the three males stopped outside at the bottom of Sylvia's porch to continue their discussion. Sylvia looked back at her daughter, unsure how to answer. "Um-hm...now I see why you in a hurry for me to get my kids," Crystal accused, her tone with a knowing Black gesture of now I know what's going on.

  "All right now...mind yo' business," Sylvia warned good-naturedly.

  "Um-hm...let me get they stuff. I'on wanna stand in your way." She grinned.

  "Now see, it ain't even like that! He just being nice, gave your child a ride and made his weekend. Ain't nothing else happening...so get that look off yo’ face." Sylvia couldn't keep a straight face as she explained, the grin was more powerful than her words.

  "I ain't saying nothing. I just come to get my kids and I'm off."

  Sylvia nodded in agreement. "Good idea. So get yo’ babies and get to gettin'. And while you at it, get yo’ mind out the gutter and outta my business."

  Crystal was biting the inside of her mouth not to laugh at her mother. "Come on, now, mama...don't make it no mystery. Ain't no big secret, you still young. You look good, and you single...and—he—is—foine!"

  "Would you hush! I ain't thinkin' about you! And I ain't thinkin' about that man!" she denied.

  "Um-hm...can't…think about me...got that man on yo’ mind," Crystal continued to tease.

  "Look...it's time for you to go. Let me help you. Grab that bag, and I'll grab this one. Then you can be on your way! And stop that grinning—looking at me like that!" Sylvia shushed her daughter again, who was laughing out loud, flexing her brows and winking.

  "Okay, mama, anything you say. Just the neighbor being nice. I'll have to thank him." Out the door she went before her mother could say another thing to her. Stepping onto the porch, Crystal gave him a quick, thorough inspection as he looked up at her.

  "Thank you so much for giving my son a ride, hope he didn't drive you crazy," she opened.

  Smiling, Everett shook his head answering, "No problem...any time."

  Crystal again grinned. "Oh, and by the way, my name is Crystal," she introduced herself.

  "Everett…Everett Styles," he returned, looking past her to her mother. Sylvia had a peculiar look about her face. He grinned and winked at her. She thought she would faint on the spot. Crystal looked back at her, simpering. "Well, we gotta get going. Love you, mama, we'll talk to you later." She leaned back and kissed her mother's cheek. Sylvia returned it, then leaned forward and kissed Darren's brow. "I love you, too. Bye, bye, baby...grandma love you." Darren scrunched up his face and grinned. "Isaac! Come give grandma a kiss and hug before you leave here," Sylvia called down to him. He tromped up the porch and obeyed. "I love you, baby." She ended the tight hug and kiss.

  "Me too, grandma...love you...bye!"

  "Your daughter is beautiful."

  "Thank you, and you know what...her inside matches the outside. That's what I'm proud of." Everett looked down at Sylvia as she sat on her side porch steps. He stood leaning against the outside corner of her garage, his ankles crossed as were his arms across his chest. "I get a feeling she's the direct result of her mother. You're a beautiful woman, Sylvia Payne. Even if you are ornery as all get out," he finished, grinning.

  "Well, excuse me! And seeing as how Isaac's gone, with the ride over...you can head on back across the street so I can go in my house!" she shrilled out, standing.

  "Now do you see what I mean? Here we were getting along just fine, and you had to go and take exception at what I said," he returned, standing from his spot, approaching the steps where she stood. "I know what you're up to, Sylvia Payne. It's not going to work. You think you can run me off by inciting a fight. Well you're wrong," he informed her, standing at the bottom step, closer to her than she felt comfortable with. His overpowering presence was unsettling as her heart testified to, especially with both of his hands grasping either sides of the rail post.

  "How long are you going to fight this between us?" he asked boldly.

  "Ex-excuse me...the
re…there's nothing between us. You're crazy. I'm not the least bit…” She swallowed the lump in her throat.“…interested in you. You don't...move me...one bit, Mr. Everett Styles. Now if you will excuse me...I have things to do." She turned away from him, going up the three steps to the porch landing.

  "Sylvia Payne...of all the things I've thought of you...I never pegged you being a coward."

  That stopped her dead in her tracks. "Excuse me?" She turned back with hands on hips.

  "You heard me. I never thought you were a coward, but obviously you are." Well that got her dander up and the head moving.

  "You listen to me, Everett Styles! I am not a coward! There are very few men I am afraid of, and you certainly aren't one of them." His grin was knowing, challenging. A dare was in the making... she could feel it, but her pride would not let her tuck tail and run as she knew she should.

  "You may not be afraid of me, but you are definitely afraid of the way I make you feel. I'm beginning to think that your anger and shortness with me is a defense mechanism. You're trying to scare me off. Turn me off, but it ain't working. And that…dear lady, is what scares you," he finished, very confident.

  Her heart was pounding. "Look! I'm not afraid of you. I'm just not looking for someone in my life right now. I like things just the way they are," she informed him.

  "So, not only are you a coward, but you're also a liar," he boldly stated.

  "A liar! I beg your pardon, I am not a liar!" she defended hotly.

  "Okay, then, maybe that was a little strong, but you are in denial. You see, I remember. In my house. In that room with all the paintings. Before you knew I was there, watching you...it was written all over your face. The loneliness. The longing, and the need. To have someone cherish you, treasure you as it was captured in that painting. You see, not only do you need that, you want it, but you're afraid to trust anyone with your heart. Especially me, because I'm making you feel the need and want even stronger."

  Sylvia felt total exposure. Completely vulnerable as if her chest lay wide open to him, with her heart exposed to his whim. "Leave me alone! You understand? I don't have time for the games. Nor to help you over your moments of boredom and restlessness. Have a nice day, sir." As if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heals, she turned and fled within her sanctuary.

  Everett stood in the position she left him in. Inhaling deep he declared, "You can run, lady, but you sure as hell can't hide. I'm after you and I can wait it out, just as long as you can hold out and deny it."

  Chapter Nine

  From that day forward, Sylvia struggled with the seeds Everett Styles planted, desperately avoiding him and his sudden need to disrupt her life. Until he came along, she had been focused and determined. Methodical and precise. Her writing had been flowing smoothly and unstoppable, bridging the gaps from one scene to the other with ease, and now she found it hard to focus. Her mind kept wandering across the road. Her senses picking up the distinct rumbling of his motorcycle as it roared in and out of his yard. Before him, her solitude and isolation had been instrumental in the healing of her inner being. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. Alone she had been able to do some serious soul-searching. Alone she'd been able to focus on being consistent with the entries of her journal. Scribbling her deepest thoughts. Writing through one spectrum of a painful event, to the unraveling of how it eventually manifested. Ending with what she had determined was the cause, and the prevention. The understanding, insight and wisdom that she'd gained, and how would it best be applied to her and her future life, and the decisions she would make. She was trying to grow. She was trying to become this person she'd held up in her mind's eye that was a worthy inspiration and role model. Then smack dab in the middle of all these discoveries and awakenings...he showed up. To this point, the past year of her life had taken on the smooth simplicity of a well-orchestrated concert...the music calming and soothing the unrest within as a hypnotic potion to lull one into blissful peace.

  The suddenness of his presence had brought the concert abruptly to silence, making her stand, stare and wonder...who would dare disrupt what she had carefully laid for her pleasure? No matter how she tried to resume the harmonious balance that she'd created, it could not be recaptured. Because as she already knew...a person of her nature and being could not sit forever in a concert playing just for herself. She needed someone in her life, problem was...she was scared to death to trust someone with all that she had so carefully fixed and put together in her heart and mind. She'd established a good foundation in which to move onward from, but it was still fragile. To build on it would mean careful construction, because she couldn't bring herself to take on a relationship that might possibly prove to collapse later on down the road…when the frame was up, walls were in, windows and doors installed. It would crush her, and she couldn't chance it, but there he was. The feelings had already taken root as her mind kept cultivating the possibilities.

  Bringing her down also was the fact that three weeks had passed since he'd tried to contact her or approach her again after the weekend the boys were up. She tried to carry on as if it didn't matter, but it did. It bothered her to the point that too much thought of it already brought tears to her eyes. Because here she was dwelling on him, and he probably hadn't thought another thing of her since she charged into her house and slammed the door. Sin or not, her pride was paramount. It bothered her that he had in such a short time, already possibly broken through her carefully-laid defenses. The stress she was starting to feel now was the very thing she was trying to avoid in her life. Now she felt anger that he had so carelessly disrupted her peace. Yet the anger was short-lived as time went by with still no attempt to contact her. She tried to go on and ignore the things he said. She tried to block out the image of him. She tried to kill the longings he'd rekindled, but her trying was not good enough. Nothing she thought, conjured up in her mind, seemed to work to dispel what she was feeling.

  It was growing colder, fall was quickly switching over to winter. The wind blew sharper. The temperature was dropping at night, leaving a chill in her open house that meant...soon, she'd have to start stacking firewood within. Something she realized she should have started a while ago. Walking through the house with her black knit stretch pants on and an oversized black sweater, she was gearing up to go out to the woods. She would start marking dead and falling trees that were dry or drying, for burning. A young man in town already posted that he would come on anyone's property, cut up their wood and stack it for them for a fee. She started looking for where she put the flyer to call him. As she searched, finally reaching her clouded mind and it's preoccupation, was the distinct sound of a chainsaw. It had been going for some time, but because she'd ventured to a part of the house closer to her woods, the sound was even clearer. She stood in attention a moment, her brows drawn.

  "What the heck?" she questioned out loud. She walked back through the house to the kitchen, then out the door. Immediately the cold fall wind hit her stepping out on her porch. She wrapped her arms around herself, taking quick strides down her steps and through the backyard to the wooded area framing her land. The noise from the chainsaw was louder and definitely coming from her woods. The wind was cold, she now realized she should have grabbed her coat. Ignoring it, she quickened her steps to trotting, entering the woods, following the trail made from other people and deer.

  The chainsaw was all she heard now, and then she saw the sawdust flying. Coming around a slight curve, she stopped dead in her tracks, stunned. With protective eye gear, a scull cap on his head, a heavy winter snow suit and thick suede work gloves, she stared as Everett cut into another fallen tree. Already there was a tall stack of cut wood that just needed splitting. He saw her out of his peripheral, then stood and turned the chainsaw off, turning to her. "What are you doing?" she asked immediately, starting to shake from the cold, her teeth were about to start chattering. "What do you think I'm doing? It's cold as hell and getting colder, and I don't see any wood stacked around your place
. Just like a women to wait to the last minute! And get your behind in the house before you catch pneumonia! Are you crazy? Get!" he scolded, pointing to the house.

  Tears came to Sylvia's eyes. Speechless, she nodded and spun. So much sudden joy filling her heart, she thought it would burst. She flew back through the yard as if her feet had wings. Not from speed, but from a sudden lifting in joy. Immediately she ran and put some coffee on, then raced through the house, looking for warm outer garments. She was so excited, her insides trembled and she refused to think or feel anything—but elation. The coffee was done and she fixed him an insulated tumbler of it. When she made it back outside and through the yard, she noticed a pickup had backed up to the trail where he was working. There was a young man out there with him. It was the one from the flyer. He was there with his truck and a log splitter. When she walked up to the scene, they were hard at work, filling the pickup with the split blocks. Seeing her approach, Everett stood, giving his back a rest. Silent and humble, Sylvie walked up to him with the warm tumbler.