Becoming the Czar

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Becoming the Czar Page 22

by Olivia Gaines


  “Let me get you a bottle of water,” Diadra said. “Would you like to sleep while we finish our book chat?”

  “No, I don’t want to be rude, so I’ll join you. Which book are you discussing?” he asked, taking a seat. The linen pants draped over the blue suede tasseled shoes. He wore a matching jacket with a dark crème colored shirt with blue fluer de lis in the pattern. A pair of shades with almost pink lenses sat on his face. The hair, usually styled, sat askew and flopped a bit on top of his head. The normally neatly shaven man appeared to have been up all night partying. To Diadra, he looked as if he was happy to come home.

  “We’re discussing Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens,” Tony said. “Have you read it, Ed?”

  “This is the book with the girl who lived in, what is the word, the swampy? A coming of age book on the innocence of youth. Yes, I read it a couple of years ago, but I should be able to join the discourse,” he countered, accepting the bottle of water and thanking Diadra.

  Jules wasn’t buying it. The whole getting her man a bottle of water as he thanked her sweetly was a crock of shit. Where did this man live, and where did this Ed work? He obviously didn’t have a key to Diadra’s place, which meant it couldn’t be that serious. He mentioned Bolivia and Jules had questions. She proceeded forward, putting her rather large foot in her mouth.

  “Ed, I asked earlier about your intentions with my friend,” Jules repeated.

  He sipped at the water and sighed loudly. “It has been the longest two days of my life, Jules, and although I appreciate the concern you have for Diadra, your concern is totally unwarranted,” he said. “We are fine.”

  “I don’t think you are fine, Ed! I think, you’re going to break her heart and run off and leave her to raise your children, that’s what I think, so forgive a good friend for looking out for her bestie,” Jules countered as Tony tried to shush her.

  “Jules, seriously, you need to take a step back and be respectful,” Diadra cautioned.

  Yuñior was too tired to fight with anyone right now. Diadra could pull down his pants and spank his naked ass as far as he was concerned at this point, but he looked forward to shutting up Jules.

  “Baby, in my messenger bag is a gold box. Would you bring that over?” Yuñior said to Diadra who retrieved the box and handed it to him. “Uhm, okay, let’s see.”

  He got to his feet, sitting her in the chair he vacated. He turned the box in his hands a couple of times, and then got down on one knee. Margie and Frank started to clap. The box opened, and sparkles sprang from inside from a small light. Yuñior had practiced the words on the long flight, and he knew exactly what he wanted to say and in what order. He had planned for her questions, her words, her challenges. In one fell swoop he did his best.

  “Diadra, you live in New York, well, for right now, so I didn’t want this ring to be too big where someone would rob you for it,” Yuñior said. “To answer Jules’ question, this past year has been difficult on us, and I’m tired of living apart. I’ve cleared up, cleaned up, and rectified every question in your head, and I ask you, Diadra Ann Parsons, to be my wife, the bringer of my line, and the calm which soothes my soul. Will you marry me?”

  “Everything is cleared up, cleaned up, and rectified?” Diadra asked, her bottom lip quivering.

  “Sí, it is,” he said.

  “Then yes, my answer is yes,” she said. “I think it’s yes, but I have questions.”

  “No questions. I’m going to marry you first in your country, then again in mine in three months’ time,” he said. “I’ve spoken to your boss and have basically gotten you a leave of absence. Monday we are heading to Vegas to get married, then on to Italy for a week, then to France for another week.”

  “Are you serious?” Jules asked with her mouth opened wide.

  “Sí, very serious,” Yuñior replied turning his head to look at the busy body woman. “Of course, my grandparents want us back in Argentina before the wedding as well. Tonda says hi and now is seated at the big table next to my father, but he’ll be at the wedding as well. He has found himself an odd little woman who smells a lot like the corny chips, but he’s happy. Tonda has also become a Czar, so there is that. Diadra, I spoke to your father and also your brother, whom we are scheduled to have dinner with in Germany between the stops in France and Italy.”

  “Okay,” she said, looking at him and the weight of his choices worn on his face. “Ed, do you want to go and rest a while? You seem tired.”

  “I am tired, but I feel really good about what’s next for us,” he said. “I hope you do as well.”

  “I do,” she said and giggled. “Monday, I’m going to say that for legal purposes. We’re actually doing this for real, Ed.”

  “We’re doing it, but keep in mind, we have to get to Las Tierras before the wedding. You still need to buy furniture for our wing of the house.”

  “Do I get to redecorate my quarters in Argentina too? The bed is comfortable, but that room is way too gaudy for my taste,” she said.

  “You’ll have to take that up with my grandmother.”

  Jules had enough of the talk about furniture and traveling. There was no way in the world this young man had all of that, and if so, how in the world did he end up with Diadra? She wanted to know. She demanded to know.

  “Just who in the hell are you anyway?” Jules asked, jumping to her feet.

  Yuñior took a seat on the floor in his very expensive pants. He crossed his legs lotus style and lifted the book from the table. He knew it was Diadra’s book because the pages were dog eared. She often ruined books by turning down the corner of pages. It was one of the quirks he loved about the woman. Jules was still standing there like an idiot, and he finally responded.

  “Me llama is Eduardo Benicio de la Marta Castanza Delgado, Yuñior. I am the first-born son of the Fer de Lance of Colombia, I am the eldest grandson of Eleon and Anya Fernandez, the cattle baron of Argentina. I am the Bocaracá, the chameleon of the Conclave of the American Vipers,” he said, “but I like for my friends and you too, Jules, to call me Ed.”

  - The End-

  Epilogue - One year later.

  Hola. Como Estas. It’s me, Yuñior.

  I hope this message finds that you are doing well in your life.

  Today, I wanted to take a moment and have, how do you say, another of the chitchat, before you close out the end of my story. Understandably you are satisfied, and believe me, so am I. As I completed my story, my English became better along with the love of a good woman; so did I. Perdon, I hope you are not too angry at me for not inviting you to the wedding. I can tell you that I looked very handsome, and Diadra, she took away the breaths in my lungs. Tim outdid himself on the dress and her hair, I must say. I was impressed.

  I’m never one to gossip, but the Jason, you remember him, married to Connard the Blakemore, or whatever title they give their relationship – he met Tim the Johnson. The way they carried on I knew Papa was going to shoot them both and chop them up to feed their parts to the hogs. It was, I must also state, was hella fun.

  My apologies. I digress and shall make this brief since at this time, my wife, is delivering our first born. It is a boy. We have named him Emmanuel. From the first moment I felt him kick inside of Diadra’s belly, he stole my heart. I am to be a father. Isabella is excited to be an Aunt although she doesn’t know what that means. She has convinced my mother to buy the baby panties, even though he is a boy. I chuckle at her face each time she sees Diadra’s belly. Imagine. Me. A father. I know it is as hard to believe as it is that I am now twenty-two years of age. Diadra was shocked when she found out on my last birthday that I was but twenty and one. She acted as if she were so much older, only having three years over me.

  Papa is torn between being a grandfather and still having a toddler in the house himself. He is happy and very proud. Andres is next to be married, and Micah’s match has been made. I’m not sure Micah likes the girl, but he is only fifteen and finding his way. I look forward to
when you get to find out more about my brother and how he’s found ways to use his Asperger’s to work in his favor. Between me, you and the coffee mug, that young woman he chose to be his body guard is tough as nails. She protects him even from Andres’ ribbing. He made a wise choice in her, but I see complications with the relationship as it goes forward. He’s a smart dude and one of my favorite people, even though he’s my brother. Yet, that is another story in itself, one I’m sure, in time, shall be told.

  I also told you once that truth is subjective, my friend. It is the nature of humans to want to touch the glass where the snake slumbers in a container, not looking to see the top has no cover. So is the way of love. It is an odd thing, this love a man has for a woman. This love can defy all logic and all reason, making a man believe he can do all things, yes, with the aid of Jesus, but we know, he walked with me when I was uncertain of my steps.

  When I met Diadra, I knew. Yes, I manipulated Irena, but honestly, did you really see me with that woman? I didn’t think so either. In the end, I did what was right for me.

  All of my life, people reminded me of my responsibilities to the family and an entire continent. Everywhere my feet touched, people thought they knew who I was. Even you. Yes, you believe you know the shoes in which I walk. I am here to tell you, maybe you didn’t. Talking about my mother and sharing that part of my life with you was difficult, but that too is a part of me. Speaking of the experience aloud and sharing with Diadra aided me in reconciling my own guilt, and finally being able to say goodbye. I will never truly let her go because even on days when I don’t feel myself, Diadra will make me eggs and rice, just like my Mama used to make. I sigh heavily here as I pen the last of these words.

  This was not a comfortable journey for me, and I struggled between my heart and the duties I must perform. In between those times, I’ve stretched my legs, limbs, and every other appendage, enjoying being a very virile young man. I am now a husband, and in a few minutes, a father. I can’t believe it either. Life swept by very fast.

  Just so you know, I did get to sand surf in Dubai with Diadra. Brody the Johnson and I did visit the Pyramids in Egypt. The home in Aruba is furnished, but when we want to get away, the little green house is Costa Rica in still our spot.

  Thank you for your faith in me. I hope you enjoyed my story. I know I did. It was, how do you say...ah, sí, hella fun.

  Fondly yours,

  PS...I’m enclosing a photo of me smiling. Yes, the kittens in the village are going to die!

  Maple Sundaes & Cider Donuts

  Chapter One - Gemütlichkeit

  Nervousness took over shaking hands as Leta Feldman punched the office address into the app for car service to Hartsfield Airport. Today, if all went well, she would say "I DO" at three o'clock on the dot to one Evan Eaton of Meredith, New Hampshire. Over and over she second-guessed herself until the day arrived. There would be no looking back from this point forward. The apartment was cleared, the goods packaged and shipped to New Hampshire, which left only her to get on the plane.

  The lease was over on the Lexus she loved to drive about the Atlanta freeways, but the crowd, hustle, and bustle of it all left a dry coating on her tongue. Talking about living life and doing it were separate animals in two opposing cages. Life was a call to action and she'd been called. Seated in the rear of the vehicle, she Leta's eyes ran over the screen of the phone, double-checking the flights to ensure she could board on time, but more importantly arrive on time. To save a few bucks on the airfare, the flight into Portland, Maine got in the air on a nonstop journey from Hartsfield to Maine, arriving in less than three hours. Leta reserved a rental car from the airport to drive over to Meredith and say the I Dos.

  Tight hands fisted and clenched, then unclenched, as the car came to a stop. Most of everything she owned was neatly packed, rolled and sorted in three very large suitcases plus one carry-on bag. At some point, she gathered in her zooming thoughts, she would want to get a small dog as a companion. Right now, Evan Eaton would have to suffice. She knew he was a busy man, serving as the Town Clerk of Meredith and a part-time photographer. The images he'd taken of the home they would share, the land and lake were breathtakingly astonishing. A man with an eye for that much detail and composition should make a find husband and companion.

  "Excuse me," Leta said, pushing past the crowd waiting at the curbside. "I need to check these bags, please."

  "Of course. Right this way. Need to see your ticket," the sky captain said, almost snapping his fingers at her. "Tickets out. Have your tickets ready."

  He was a rude man in her estimation. She was the one catching the plane, not him, and it was clearly over an hour before her flight. Leta tipped her driver plus the sky captain as the doors to her new life opened, ushering out the cold air of the building, mixing with the heat she'd be bringing inside. Smiling as he high heels clicked on the tiled floor of the busy hub, Leta made a beeline for security, checking in with little to no effort, skirting her way around slower passengers walking in the middle of the thoroughfare. Hopping onto the downward escalators to the subway cars, excited bodies flooded off the trains to make connections as anxious bodies piled on the train to make destinations.

  "This is it," Leta said excitedly as the doors closed. The calming voice came across the intercom announcing the terminals as the train slowed, dumping off more bodies, before collecting additional people and rolling on as if it were not a moving statement on the plight of mankind.

  "D Terminal and the D Gates," the calm voice said. Leta, in the throng of bodies, inched her way off the train, to journey up the escalator to the departure gate. Moving at a clip, she arrived, just as the boarding began. More aggressive people stood, waiting, giving others the side-eye in an effort to get on board and be seated.

  "We're all going the same place on the same vehicle which means we all get there at the same time," Leta said in a husky, low voice.

  A little old lady with stark white hair gave a half-hearted smile as if she wanted to take a running sucker punch at Leta's mouth. No one was going to ruin this day for her. It was the day she was getting married. Evan waited for her in Meredith, New Hampshire, and tonight before they made love, he would hand feed her a maple sundae, seated on top of a cider donut, as he gazed deep into her eyes and confessed his love.

  An entire year of long love letters, only one phone call with photos outside of the one from the Mail-Order Bride agency. The first-class seat, while spacious, seemed cramped by the judging eyes of people passing down the aisle, looking down their noses at a Black woman in the front rows. Everything was going to be first class from now on in her life. No more back seats, sidecars, or honorable mentions.

  "I'm going to be Evan's wife," she said, smiling, allowing the tension to ease as the doors of the plane were closed, and the attendants prepared the cabin for departure. The week had been spent in such fervor preparing to take the life-changing journey from the four seasons of the south; well technically two- hot and not as hot- to a part of the country that would be buried under snow six months of the year. Droopy eyes gave up the fight as eyes closed, dreaming of her wedding night to a man she fell in love with through his letters.

  EVAN EATON WAITED IN his office for the arrival of the mail-order bride. Today was the day. He really didn't want to be married any more than he desired to have his left nut snipped off in a cigar cutter, but life didn't always give you what you wanted. He knew he didn't necessarily want this, but he'd given it the old college try, by doing things the old fashioned way- courting through his words. Meticulous word choices were selected to avoid the misuse of clichés and oversexualized language. As a matter of fact, he'd intentionally went out of his way to write as asexually as humanly possible to avoid leading her on to believe the marriage would anything more than what it was.

  He needed a wife and an heir in the upcoming year. Evan didn't want to romanticize the marriage, but the match was scientifically calculated which increased the probability that he would be ab
le to share the house with another person without wanting to run a hot poker in his own eye. Twice, he'd offered to pick her up at the airport and twice she'd refused. This, of course, made him all the more nervous.

  "Hell, I just hope she has all of her teeth," he grouched, picking up her last letter. He sniffed the linen stationary, inhaling bits of hyacinth and jasmine, hoping she smelled the same way. One last look into his computer, he clicked on the image, pulling up her smiling face. Long blond tresses hung down the side of her face and baby blue eyes stared back at him. She was a pretty woman with fetching eyes.

  He'd had a lifetime of pretty and really wanted sustenance, but at this point, he was a beggar, and he really couldn't be choosy. Four candidates. Evan had been through four candidates who either wanted to chat, meet up and spend hours on the phone. That wasn't his style. This was his last chance to lock this one in, get hitched, produce an heir, and hopefully, she would want to return to her life and he keeps the kid.

  "At least that's what I hope," he said looking at his watch. "Any minute now. Any minute now."

  The bride to be would come through that door. A couple of signatures on six sheets of paper, a walk across the hall to the judge and by 3:15, he would be a married man. He could keep his land for at least another six months as long as his wife conceived. He was the last Eaton. Technically, he needed an heir and a spare, but he'd take what he could get.

  In a few sweet moments, he would be getting what life had sent him to get. If nothing else, Evan hoped for a bit of Gemutlichkeit, a term his grandmother used to express a cordiality or friendliness between two people. If they could be cordial, the marriage could work. Besides, they lived in a small town covered in snow most of the year. There’s wasn’t much to do in winter other than make children and eat chili. He looked forward to welcoming her to Meredith.

 

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