Silk hadn’t expected to be instantly attracted to Richard Dixon, but she was. And that attraction was accompanied by a flash of jealousy. If she were in Louisiana, she would have pulled out her knife and warned those church bitches to take their asses back into the dining room if they knew what was good for them. But here up North, she had to let go of her old ways and behave like a prim and proper schoolteacher.
“Daddy! Deacon Whiteside gave us new model airplanes, but we need you to help us put them together,” Myron said in a rush of excitement.
“Boys! This is not the time to bombard your daddy with foolishness. He’s under a lot of pressure,” Sister Beverly said, shooing the boys away.
Buddy muttered that he’d take a look at the planes later, and rustled the boys’ hair before they returned to their perch in front of the TV.
“Come on in the dining room and rest yourself, Buddy,” Sister Beverly said. “The ladies will fix you a plate of fried chicken and a nice glass of lemonade to cool you off,” she said, steering Buddy out of the living room.
Buddy stopped walking as his eyes landed on his daughter. “How’s my little bunny rabbit?” he said to Dallas. Silk could tell he had a soft spot for his little girl, and she was glad that she was winning the child over.
“I’m fine, Daddy,” Dallas responded. “How come you didn’t bring the twin babies home?”
“They’re too small right now. They have a lot of growing to do before they can come home.” His gaze shifted to Silk. “You must be Clara’s friend.”
“Yes, my name’s Silk Moreaux.”
“I’m Richard Dixon but everyone calls me Buddy. I heard about your mishap in Philly, and I want you to know you’re welcome to stay here.”
“She’s catching a bus back down South when Clara leaves,” Sister Beverly interjected.
“We don’t have a lot of room, but we’ll make do,” Buddy said. His voice was deep and rich. The sound of it made Silk feel tingly all over.
“Thank you for your hospitality, and I’m terribly sorry about your loss,” Silk said.
“Miss Silk talks country like Aunt Clara,” Bruce blurted. He and his brother broke into titters of laughter and Silk wanted to slap them. But instead she smiled at the boys.
“Clara and I are country girls. What you hear is called a Southern accent,” Silk explained.
“Your daddy used to have a Southern accent, too,” Clara reminded her nephew.
“Uh-uh, our daddy never talked country, did you, Daddy?” Myron asked.
“I was a country bumpkin when I arrived here in Chester, but I lost my accent after a while,” Buddy explained to his son.
“That’s enough about country-talking,” Sister Beverly said. “Come on, Buddy; let’s get you something to eat. You’ve been gone for hours, and you must be starving.” She motioned for Buddy to follow her to the dining room.
More than anything, Silk wanted to kick Clara, her baby, and all the church folk out of the house so that she could have some privacy with Buddy. Before he was whisked away by Sister Beverly, she could have sworn that he’d given her a special look. A look that told her he’d rather spend time with her than be stuck in the dining room with a bunch of ol’ biddies.
CHAPTER 11
The boys shared the bedroom with their father, Clara and her baby stayed in the boys’ room, while Silk bunked with Dallas. Silk wondered if she’d get a wink of sleep tonight while sharing a tiny little twin bed with the youngster.
Dallas’ bedroom reminded Silk of a child’s room in a magazine. The wallpaper was decorated with little ballerinas. Frilly gingham curtains with sashes hung at the windows and the dust ruffles around the bed matched the curtains. On the floor beside the bed was a multicolored oval rug that was bordered with peach rosettes. Beneath the windowsill was a large, wooden toy box that was painted white and had Dallas’ name engraved on the front.
There were dolls and stuffed animals everywhere: perched on shelves, clustered on top of the chest of drawers, lying in toy cradles, and life-size dolls stood like sentries in different areas of the bedroom. Silk had never possessed any shiny, new toys as a child. She’d had a crude rag doll that Big Mama had made for her out of old scraps of fabric. But Silk’s most prized possession had been a Tiny Tears doll passed on to her by one of Big Mama’s customers, discarded by her daughter after she’d dropped the doll and cracked its hard plastic skull. Silk had cherished that doll, feeding her lots of water and then squeezing her rubber tummy to make the tears trickle from her eyes.
Silk was fascinated by Dallas’ toy collection and the little girl was fascinated with Silk’s long hair. While Dallas brushed and combed Silk’s hair, styling it a half-dozen different ways as if she were a real-life Barbie doll, Silk took an interest in the child’s Betsy McCall paper doll set. Wearing a smile, Silk cut out the fancy paper clothes, carefully working the scissors around the tabs that would secure the clothing to the cardboard doll.
When Silk noticed Dallas yawning, she reluctantly put away the paper doll and told Dallas it was time for both of them to call it a night.
“Do you want to play with my Patti Playpal tomorrow?” Dallas pointed to the dark-haired, life-size doll that was dressed in a summer short set. “She’s wearing my old clothes,” Dallas said with pride.
Silk pulled back the covers. “I love toys, and we can play some more first thing in the morning. Now, get in bed, and I’ll curl up at the bottom.”
“I have to say my prayers first.”
“Well, go ahead and say ’em.”
Dallas got down on her knees beside the bed and placed her hands together prayerfully. At the conclusion of the prayer, the list of people she asked God to bless went on endlessly.
“Okay, that’s enough blessings,” Silk said with a patient smile. Unlike her rowdy, smart-aleck brothers, Dallas was a sweet and likable child.
“And may God bless Miss Silk.” Dallas stood halfway and then returned to her knees. “And dear God, please let Miss Silk stay here with us until our mommy comes back home with the twins.”
“Honey, your mama ain’t coming back. Didn’t your daddy explain what happened to her?”
Dallas nodded. “He said she’s resting with the angels.”
“That’s right, and she’ll be resting for a very long time.”
“How long?”
“Your mama won’t be coming back, ever. But don’t worry; she’s safe up in heaven with God and his angels.”
“I don’t want her to be with God; I want her to come back home,” Dallas said with her bottom lip quivering, and tears spilling from her eyes. The child began to tremble, making a low, screechy sound that reminded Silk of a wounded animal.
“Shh. Don’t cry, honey,” Silk said comfortingly as she wiped the tears from the little girl’s face. “Everything is gonna work out.” She put her arms around Dallas. “Hush, now. You still got your daddy, and from what I can tell, he’s a kindhearted man. He’s not gonna let anything happen to you.”
“But I want Mommy, too,” Dallas cried. Gasping, her little chest heaving up and down, Dallas was finally releasing the grief that had been bottled up inside, but it was bad timing for her to choose the dead of night to finally let go of her sorrow. Only a wall separated Dallas’ room from the room where Clara and her baby were sleeping, and the last thing Silk wanted was to hear that loud-mouth baby yelping and crying.
“You gotta hush up before you wake up your baby cousin and everyone else in the house.”
There was a tap on the bedroom door, and Silk wasn’t surprised. “See, you done woke up your auntie,” Silk said in exasperation. “Come in,” she said, expecting Clara to walk through the door clutching her fussy baby. But it was Buddy who entered the bedroom, and he looked boyishly handsome in a pair of striped pajamas.
He crossed the room and sat on the small bed next to Silk and Dallas. “What’s wrong, bunny rabbit?”
“I want Mommy. I want Moooommy!” Close to hysteria, Dallas’ voice escalated.
Silk gazed at Buddy helplessly. “I was trying to calm her down. I told her that her mama was with the angels, but she doesn’t seem to understand.”
Buddy scooped Dallas into his arms. “I know you miss your mother. I miss her, too, and if I could bring her back, I would, but the good Lord called her home.”
“Why?” Dallas inquired in a tearful voice.
“He needed another angel,” Buddy said softly. “We’re all going to have to learn how to live without her. It’s not going to be easy, but we’ll get through it, I promise.” Buddy’s voice cracked with emotion and Silk took that opportunity to comfortingly pat him on the back.
The pats turned into a circular rub along his shoulder blade and then the center of his back. She didn’t look at his face, but could tell by the way his shoulders relaxed, that he was responding favorably to her touch. She cut an eye at Dallas and was relieved to see that although the child was sniffling a little, sleep was overpowering her and closing her eyes for the night.
While Dallas drifted off to sleep in her father’s arms, Silk’s hands were busy. “Let me get the kinks out your neck,” she whispered. She scooted behind him. On her knees, she administered to his taut muscles. She squeezed and kneaded the muscles in his neck in the precise manner that Big Mama had taught her to work on her stiffened muscles after she’d put in a long day of hunting, fishing, or digging in the ground.
“That feels nice,” Buddy murmured.
Silk’s hands traveled to his shoulders and began to squeeze hard. “Your shoulders are so tense, seems like they’ve been carrying the weight of the world.”
“Yeah, I got the weight of the world on me. That’s exactly how it feels.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m here to lighten your burden, somewhat.” She made chopping motions on his shoulder blade and across his back, working her way to his other shoulder blade.
“Mmm. Feels nice. How’d you learn how to do this?”
“My mama was a nurse. She took care of the ailments of all the folks in our community, and she taught me a few of her nursing specialties.” Silk reached upward and began massaging Buddy’s temples. She smiled with satisfaction when he let out a soft moan. Cutting an eye downward at Dallas, Silk was glad that the mournful child had finally cried herself to sleep.
“Dallas is out like a light. You wanna lay her down so I can finish taking care of you?” Silk used the sweetest and most innocent voice that she could manufacture.
“Uh, okay.” Buddy placed Dallas at the top of the bed, gently resting her head on the pillow and then covering her with the top sheet. He resumed his sitting position at the foot of the bed and Silk continued to work on him from behind.
“Why don’t you take off that pajama top so I can rub your back real good?”
“No, that wouldn’t be proper. I think I better keep my top on.”
“I didn’t mean any harm, Buddy. You been so kindhearted toward me; I only wanted to pay you back by using my nursing skills on you.” Her breasts were pressed into his back as she began to massage his scalp. Her fingers meandered to his forehead, which she lightly stroked.
“Close your eyes,” Silk whispered, and then gently caressed his eyelids. She ran her fingertip along the bridge of his nose and down to his lips, outlining them, and then brushing her finger against his full lips.
When Buddy let out a groan, Silk interpreted that utterance as permission to take things a little further. She inserted the tip of her finger between his lips. Feeling the cool moisture of his tongue, she drew in a sharp breath.
“My whole body is tingling,” she said, keeping her voice low and glancing over her shoulder, making sure Dallas was sound asleep.
Buddy grasped her wrist and removed her finger from his mouth. “This is wrong. My wife’s not even in the ground yet.” Anguished, he buried his face in his hands.
She eased off the bed and stood in front of him. “It can be our secret. No one has to know,” Silk said, caressing the hands that covered his face. “You’ve been staying strong for your family, but everybody has a breaking point. You need to let your guard down every once in a while, and you can do that when you’re with me.”
She crouched in front of him and buried her face in his pajama crotch. “I know you’re grieving for your poor, dead wife, and all I want to do is take some of the strain off you,” she said with her lips pressed against the bulge that began to form beneath the cotton fabric. “What goes on behind closed doors, ain’t nobody’s business.” She kissed the phallic imprint that lengthened and twitched with yearning.
“Quit it! This ain’t right.” Buddy patted her head briskly, urging her to stop. But instead of heeding his wishes, Silk looked up at him and smiled as she defiantly wound her hand inside his pajama fly and worked it inside his boxers.
Clutching his pulsing manhood inside her palm, she said, “Close your eyes and relax while I give you some special treatment.”
Buddy leaned back a little, but remained upright with his palms pressed against the bed, his weight supported by his extended arms. Silk stroked his rigid flesh, drawing from Buddy more agonized objections, but she silenced his protests when she fitted her lips around the head of his throbbing appendage and sucked it in slowly, and then suddenly allowed it to slip from her mouth.
“What’s wrong?” Buddy inquired in a desperate voice.
“I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want to do. I wanna suck this big ol’ thing of yours, but I won’t do it if you think it’s wrong.”
“It’s not wrong,” Buddy said in an urgent, hoarse voice. Panting, he gripped Silk by her shoulders and pulled her closer. Shuddering, he groaned and clutched the bedspread as he slid in and out of her moist mouth.
After a few moments, Silk pulled away.
“Please,” he uttered, jutting forward and attempting to refill her mouth with his hardness.
“You don’t want Dallas to catch us, do you?”
“No.”
“Then, let’s get down on the floor, so she won’t see us.”
Lying atop the soft, oval rug on the floor, Silk lifted her nightgown and spread her legs invitingly. “Come on and get some of this poontang. It’ll help with your grief.”
Buddy straddled her, pushing inside her with urgency. As he humped and thrust, Silk’s eyes wandered around the lovely bedroom that was overflowing with toys and dolls. She wondered how Buddy would respond if she asked him to buy her a brand-new doll. Grown women had doll collections, she reasoned. One of Big Mama’s best customers had a doll collection that included a beautiful bridal doll and a Victorian doll with an elaborate hat and an umbrella. Shoot, I want me a bunch of pretty dolls of my own. With the thrills I’m giving Buddy, he should be more than willing to spoil me the same way he spoiled his dead wife and his kids.
CHAPTER 12
The spur-of-the-moment rendezvous with Buddy had been Silk’s way of making a down payment on the comfortable lifestyle she longed for. After Buddy slipped out of Dallas’ bedroom, Silk got under the covers and slept like a baby. She was in the midst of a dream where she was well-dressed and classy-looking, wearing a sleek shift dress and a pillbox hat with a veil that was similar to a Jacqueline Kennedy ensemble.
A knock on the bedroom door pulled her out of the dream. She sat up and looked around. Dallas wasn’t anywhere to be found. The door opened and Clara entered, cradling her brat. She was dressed in a flared skirt, a white blouse, and clutching a pocket-book, all dolled up like she was on her way to a special outing.
“Where’s Dallas?” Silk asked.
“She’s downstairs eating breakfast with her brothers.”
“Oh, I guess I must have overslept.”
“That’s okay. After all you went through in Philadelphia, I’m sure you needed the rest.”
Silk nodded.
“I’m fixing to go to the hospital to check on the twins with Buddy. They don’t allow children or babies to visit patients, and I was wondering if you’d be
kind enough to look after Vernon, Jr. and Buddy’s kids while we’re out? After we leave the hospital, we have to stop by the insurance company for Buddy to sign some papers.”
“Okie dokie,” Silk said reluctantly. She didn’t know the first thing about taking care of a baby. Had never changed a diaper or bottle-fed a baby in her life, and she wasn’t in the mood to start now. But needing Clara’s continued support and friendship until she secured her position as Buddy’s wife, Silk thought it best to tough it out and try to care for the cranky baby.
“I saved you a plate of pancakes, sausage, and eggs. It’s covered with wax paper on the kitchen counter.”
“Thanks, Clara.”
Clara kissed the baby goodbye, which prompted him to try and launch himself out of Silk’s arms in an attempt to get to his mother.
“His bottles of milk are in the ice box. You can feed him the jar of baby food I left on the counter around noon. In a few minutes, he’ll be ready to be put down for a nap.”
The baby let out a sharp cry and Clara eased backward toward the open door. “I best-better sneak on out of here before my son starts a big ol’ ruckus.”
After Clara fled down the stairs, Silk alternated between shaking and rocking the baby, attempting to get him to take a nap. She didn’t appreciate being saddled down with a baby and a pack of kids. After the good loving she’d laid on Buddy last night, she should have been relaxing—watching TV and eating from a gift box of chocolate bonbons.
All in due time, she told herself.
Vernon, Jr. finally dozed off and Silk decided to lie him down on Buddy’s bed, since it was too wide for the baby to accidentally roll off. While in Buddy’s bedroom, Silk did some more snooping, looking through his wife’s bureau drawers and examining her clothes that were hung in the closet she shared with Buddy. Silk had to hand it Mrs. Ernestine Dixon. The deceased had been a snazzy dresser with oodles of regular clothes and maternity wear. The top shelf inside the closet was stacked with hat boxes. Silk took the boxes down and peeked inside each one. The hats were glorious, a variety of shapes and colors that were decorated with feathers, flowers, and veils.
The Secrets of Silk Page 7
