The Proposal Box Set 1 / Volumes 1-10

by Lisa Shea

  Zillie drew Latisha into a warm hug. “It’s so good to see you! How is your research on New London Whaling going?”

  Latisha’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “Oh, it’s fantastic! You should see the diaries they have at the museum! My book about a black captain is going to be a best seller. I just know it.”

  Zillie patted her on the shoulder. “Of course it will be. I’ve adored your writing since you were little. I can’t wait to read it.”

  From deeper in the apartment Zillie heard her father’s gruff voice. “No, no, let me get that for you. That’ll be a reach.”

  Daniel’s rich voice, calm and steady, responded. “That’s all right. I can manage.”

  Zillie paled.

  Daniel was here already?

  She’d meant to get here first. To pave the way for him. To handle all those awkward pauses and comments and –

  She dove past her sister and into the neat apartment. There were awards and certificates from her father’s many years as a top salesman at the furniture store. A few of the oil paintings her mother had done before she passed. The back bank of windows overlooked the Mystic River with its speckle of kayakers and fishermen.

  And by the dining table, a plate of grits balanced on his lap, was Daniel.

  Zillie tried to see him as her family might. He was handsome, of course, with skin the color of a weathered mahogany bar and eyes full of dark soul. His hair was cut short and sprang into a nest of dense curls. His full lips wore their gentle smile. He was dressed in a tan polo shirt and dark slacks.

  And he was in a wheelchair.

  Zillie saw that fact last of all, but she had learned over the years that many people saw that first.

  Some people saw only that.

  She reached him and drew him into a warm hug. “Daniel! You’re early!”

  Her brother, Leroy, loomed over them, his six-foot-three height seeming a skyscraper. “You’re late,” he teased his sister, giving her a poke in the ribs. Then he pulled her up into a tender embrace. He was in a button-down white shirt and grey slacks. She could see his suit jacket slung over her mother’s favorite recliner.

  “Yeah, well, you only had to drive in from the city,” she reminded him. “We just finished our gig down in Philly late last night. Our follower count is going through the roof, after those videos went viral!”

  He grinned. “Don’t I know it. Everyone keeps asking me if I’m her brother.”

  She moved on to her father and drew him in. He seemed older than when she’d last seen him. More wrinkled. Grayer. She could almost feel his ribs through his shirt. The words burst out of her. “Are you eating enough, Dad?”

  “Enough, enough,” he said gruffly. “Just glad to have the family together.” He glanced at the photo of his late wife on the wall. “Well, almost all of us.”

  Zillie gave his hand a squeeze. “We all miss her, Dad.”

  Her father pulled his eyes away from the image with visible effort. “Yes, well, today is about new beginnings. About meeting …” His eyes went down to the wheelchair, taking in its chrome and its rubber wheels, well worn with use. “Your new friend.”

  Zillie kept the smile warm. “Boyfriend,” she prodded him. “We’ve been seeing each other for three years now. Didn’t you and Mom already have both me and Leroy by this point in your relationship?”

  “That was another time,” he stated. “And we were both young. Healthy.”

  His eyes went to Daniel’s legs.

  Zillie plunked down in Daniel’s lap. “We’re both healthy, Dad,” she pointed out. “Daniel’s the top scorer on his basketball team. And I jog five miles every morning. Gigging ain’t no slouch, either. Burns lots of calories.”

  Latisha bubbled over, now carrying a glass of Chardonnay. “So, what’s wrong with him, anyway?”

  Zillie held in the wince. She’d heard enough versions of the question over the years that it slid off of her. “He’ll tell you that it was just a skiing accident. But there’s a bit more to it than that. His senior year in college, winter break, there was this seven-year-old girl out snowboarding with her older brothers. They were egging her on and she got going too fast. She slewed right in front of Daniel. He was captain of his ski team, so he managed an insane maneuver to leap over her. The girl was totally unharmed. But Daniel catapulted into a tree. He broke his spine between the L2 and L3 vertebrae and had other injuries. He’s now unable to walk.”

  Latisha’s mouth went round, and she took down a long swallow of her wine. “Wow, so they can’t fix it? He can’t walk? Can he – you know …”

  Zillie had been prepared for this, but even so her face tinged with heat. “That type of function would be more in jeopardy if the injury had been lower down – in the S2 to S4 region. So, yes, we are intimate.”

  Her father’s lips turned down. “That’s enough of that kind of discussion. Here, Zillie, come help me with the chicken.”

  She went with him into the kitchen. The delicious aroma of chicken wings with jerk spice rose up out of the oven. She grabbed up pot holders and carefully drew the pan out.

  Her father’s eyes held her, concerned. His voice was low. “I know you feel sorry for the guy, Zillie. You were always the one saving lost kittens and baby birds. But this is your life you’re talking about. You should have a real man to take care of you. Not a broken one you are always nursing and tending to.”

  She put down the pot holders and took her father’s hands in her own. “Dad, people in relationships take care of each other. That’s what life is all about. And he supports me in ways no other man I’ve dated ever has. He comes to nearly every single one of my gigs. He runs our Facebook, Twitter, blog, and other pages. He’s gotten us all sorts of shows.”

  “So hire him as your manager,” pressed her father. “And find someone else as your partner.”

  “If Mom had trouble walking would you have married her?”

  “Of course I would have,” he hotly retorted. “She was the sweetest, most compassionate woman I’d ever met. The soul of an angel.” His eyes misted. “And now she is an angel, watching over us all.”

  Zillie nodded. “What makes a person a person has little to do with their external body. Any one of us could be in a car crash or, heck, fall down our front steps!”

  “Those are just chances,” pointed out her father. “You already have the serious injury in front of you. So things could only get worse.”

  She smiled. “Things could get better. They’re making breakthroughs in research every day. Heck, they’ve got robotic exoskeletons that can be controlled by brain waves. For all we know, in another ten or twenty years, every person who is paralyzed will be able to walk again. And that’s not even counting the progress they’re making on nerve regrowth.”

  Latisha came bounding into the room. “Hey, Dad, stop hogging her!” Latisha grabbed Zillie’s hand and dragged her over to the window. “Isn’t this a gorgeous view? You should move up here, Zil. We could go kayaking together down the Mystic!” She glanced back at Daniel. “Oh, I guess not.”

  “Actually, he loves kayaking,” said Zillie. “He’s got amazing upper body strength. You don’t really need legs for kayaking, after all.”

  Latisha’s eyes still held doubt. “And he can’t dance with you, Zillie. Don’t you want to dance any more?”

  “He and I can dance, and Daniel has some pretty snazzy moves. And he doesn’t mind at all when I dance with other people. Besides, most of the time I’m up on stage, playing. So he’s the one out there dancing with others!”

  Music began flowing out of the speakers, and Zillie chuckled. It was a recording from their gig in Orlando back in March. She turned to smile at Daniel. “I see you keep up your promotion efforts even here at home!”

  “Your father said he hadn’t heard this set yet, so I brought it up on my phone. You do an awesome rendition of So What.”

  Leroy took her arm. “You don’t have a drink yet. C’mon, let’s get you hooked up. You still drinking tho
se Sidecars?”

  She nodded. “Yup! It’s a classic. Why mess with something when it’s perfect?”

  They walked over to the bar and Leroy took up the Hennessy bottle. His voice dropped. “How about when it’s fairly flawed?”

  “We all have our flaws,” she pointed out. “Remember how all the boys all called me Scarecrow Zillie when I was growing up? Or The Toothpick? Daniel loves me for who I am.”

  “Easy for him to say; I bet he didn’t have many options,” muttered Leroy.

  “Quite the opposite. He always had women hanging all over him. He’s intelligent, funny, strong, and he gives you this sense that he wholly believes in your dreams. What else could a woman want?”

  “How about legs that move?”

  “Even if science never takes care of that – which seems unlikely – I am wholly happy with Daniel in my life. We’ve been together three years. I have no hesitations at all.”

  His brow lifted. “None? C’mon, that can’t be true.”

  “None,” she repeated. “Three years. We’ve seen the highs and lows. We know each other inside and out. We know we were meant for each other.” She chuckled. “Did you know he’s a synesthete?”

  His forehead furrowed. “Is that something to do with how his spine got damaged?”

  “No, no,” she chuckled. “It’s a type of creativity. It’s when your brain connects together two types of inputs. So when he hears my jazz music he sees colors. He says it’s like a light show. Different notes light up in different hues. He’s amazing!”

  His lips turned down. “If you say so.”

  Zillie’s fingers curled.

  She’d had just about enough.

  She strode to the center of the room and put her hands in the air. “Everyone, if I could have your attention, please?”

  In a moment her father, sister, brother, and boyfriend had all come around her with questioning eyes.

  She reached to take Daniel’s hand in her own. She spoke to the group.

  “I love this man. I love him with all my heart and soul. He is good to me. No, more than that. Whatever project I imagine doing, he is right there by my side, helping me to achieve it. He believes in me wholeheartedly. He is my truest cheerleader. My best friend. And I want to be with him for the rest of my life. I want to be his wife. I want us to raise a family.”

  The eyes all went wide.

  She blushed and looked down to Daniel. “I’m sorry, hun, that it burst out like this. I know we should have talked –”

  “That’s all right,” he reassured her, his face glowing. “Are you sure? Really sure?”

  Her smile spread. “Absolutely. Indubitably. With every cell in my body.”

  His hand squeezed hers. He gave a wry chuckle. “This is where I’m supposed to get down on one knee.”

  Her eyes misted. “We’re an unconventional couple and we do things the unconventional way.” She looked at her father. “Mom said she left her engagement ring for me. She wanted me to wear it when I knew I’d found the right man.” Her throat closed up. “Well, I have.”

  He gruffly nodded. He walked into the bedroom and shortly returned with a small, black velvet box. He handed it to Daniel. “You take care of my Zillie. She deserves the very best.”

  “Absolutely, sir,” agreed Daniel. “I will do everything I can to make her the happiest woman on Earth.”

  He turned to Zillie and lifted the lid.

  Zillie’s breath caught. For all of her life this ring had been proudly worn on her mother’s finger. Zillie remembered seeing it at Thanksgiving dinners and church pot lucks. At Sunday walks and just sitting on the front porch, passing the time.

  The diamond stone sat within an elongated diamond made out of gold. Then a surrounding framework created a hollow that was also diamond shaped. Her mother had loved the design. She said that it reminded her that beauty came in infinite variations.

  Daniel’s eyes held hers. “Will you marry me, my darling Zillie?”

  She was beaming now. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

  She collapsed onto his lap, twining her arms around him, and her world was wholly at peace. There was nothing else she could possibly want from life.

  At last she looked up at her family.

  Her father had tears in his eyes, and he slowly nodded.

  Her sister’s eyes shone with delight. Zillie knew she had visions of little nieces and nephews to play with.

  And her brother Leroy …

  His eyes were shadowed. As if he were seeing a glimpse of something he desperately craved with all his heart.

  She knew, without a doubt, who she should give the Mohican love charm to. For her own life was now stunningly completely.

  Book 9 – Paradise

  Leroy steered his silver Cadillac down the quiet roads of rural Pennsylvania. He’d long since left his beloved Manhattan with its delicious sushi, bagels, stromboli, and of course the fold-in-half pizza available twenty-four hours a day. Now he was deep into Amish country. Just ahead he could see a traditional black carriage pulled by a quiet gray horse. Farmland rolled for miles in every direction.

  His stomach twisted.

  He didn’t belong here. He wondered if he was the only black man within a hundred miles. Or the only one with a summa cum laude in accounting. Up in Manhattan he worked for a company which traded heavily on NASDAQ. His office had windows overlooking the Hudson.

  The road arched slightly and crossed a small stream. A young boy in dark pants and a cornflower-blue shirt looked up as he passed, fishing rod in hand.

  Leroy’s hands clenched on the steering wheel, and he slowed as he approached the turn-off. The road faded to dirt here. He didn’t know if his car’s wheels had ever touched dirt. He carefully made the corner and eased his way down the road. Fences on either side kept cattle from roaming into the corn and wheat. There was a scarecrow up ahead. Its face was blank, as were all Amish dolls. A tribute to modesty.

  Leroy drew in a deep breath.

  What in the world was he doing?

  Up a low hill, down the other side, and the farmhouse complex stretched before him. There was the big, white house, simply but sturdily built, meant to last centuries. A long covered porch stretched across its front side.

  Alongside the house was a large, red barn created from vertical slats – this housed the dairy cows. Then the towering, curved silo for the grain. Other out-buildings scattered around held equipment for making candles and carving wood.

  Leroy had never seen it before, but he knew it all by heart.

  It was just the way Esther had described it.

  He pulled up to a stop by the barn and turned off the engine. He sat there for a long while, just staring at his gear shift. It would be so easy to slide into reverse. To retreat. To head back up to the high-rises and night-clubs and everything else that kept New York humming at all hours of day or night.

  But the relentless drive of the city had carved a deep hollow in his heart.

  He climbed out and headed toward the front door. His heart thudding against his ribs, he gave the wood a solid knock.

  The door pulled open.

  A man stood there in black pants with suspenders over a blue shirt. On a hook by the door hung his flat wide-brimmed hat. He was in his mid-forties with a thick beard and worn face.

  But it was the eyes Leroy recognized.

  He had Esther’s eyes.

  The man’s voice was gruff. “You must be Leroy. I am Jacob, Esther’s father.”

  Leroy put out his hand. “Of course, Mister Fisher. Esther had told me much about you. She loves you dearly. I am very pleased to at last meet you in person.”

  Ester’s father gave a low cough, but pleasure shone in his gaze. He shook Leroy’s hand. “Call me Jacob, please. Come in.”

  Leroy nodded and entered the house. They were standing in the main living room. An oval hooked rug in shades of blue was at the center of the floor with a trio of wooden chairs nestled around it. A fireplace sat dormant on one
wall. Pots of herbs flourished in each window.

  To the right was the dining room, with its simple wood table and long benches on either side. From beyond it Leroy could smell the mouth-watering aroma of baking bread. It made his stomach rumble.

  The hint of a smile came to Jacob’s lips. “You had a long trip. Come to the kitchen. We will get you something to eat.”

  The word we sent fresh flutters through Leroy’s stomach, and he followed behind Jacob. The dining room wall was decorated with an exquisite quilt crafted with star patterns. Leroy knew Esther had sewn it by hand. They reached the kitchen –

  She turned and stared at him.

  Leroy could barely breathe.

  Esther looked just as she had when they’d met in Manhattan. When she’d had her year of Rumspringa and shared an apartment with her distant cousin. She adored art and had visited every museum within reach. The Museum of Fine Arts, the Museum of Modern Art, the American Museum of Natural History; every one she could travel to by public transportation. She had soaked them in like a desperate traveler in a desert suddenly finding a lush oasis.

  It had been in the Guggenheim that Leroy had first met her. She’d been staring at Cezanne’s Plate of Peaches –

  Esther took up a peach from the pine bowl at the center of the plain-wood table. “You must be hungry. Would you like a peach?”

  He fought to keep his fingers still as he took the fruit from her; the barest brush of their fingers sent electrical sparks through him. She was in her full Amish traditional outfit now, of course. The white prayer bonnet and the black apron over a pale rose dress. On her Rumspringa she had not strayed far from that look. Her bonnet was left at home but her mahogany hair was kept in a simple single braid down her back. Her hand-made rose dress had been a breath of fresh air amongst the Gucci and Prada and –