TWO LOVES, ONE HEART - CHAPTER 3 (LAST FREE CHAPTER)

Billy got promoted to Chief Engineer for his hard work and his concept of drafting. I was so proud of my husband and his accomplishments. Though, as proud as I was of Billy, and his achievements, his ambitions moved me and made me want to pursue my career. But I figured I would wait a little longer before I said anything.
The days lumbered by, and they turned into months, but I was patient and I occupied myself with making a quilt. My grandmother had insisted that I learn how to quilt some of the weekends that spent with her when I was growing up. I became rather good at it. After all these years, I found that it wasn’t that hard to pick back up. I even sold a couple of them to a female colleague of Billy’s who thought they were very beautiful and ornamental.
This particular day was just mediocre. It was very nice outside and the sun beamed in through the openings in the vertical blinds. I had been working on another quilt, sewing pieces together that would create the quilt top when I have enough of them sewn together.
I had been working on this quilt now for several hours and really needed a distraction. I could always pick the quilting back up anytime that I wanted. After all, quilting was just a hobby I had assumed --- a pastime to fill my day. Idle time never did do anything for me except make me restless. At an early age, my parents had instilled into me the importance of making constructive use of my idle time. Evidently this teaching has remained with me, even after reaching adulthood.
The ringing phone penetrated my thoughts.
“Hello Lynn…. How are you doing?’ the voice chimed.
“Hi Sam…. Oh-h-h I’m fine…. How are you?” I asked back, trying to sound cheerful.
“I’m good. Hey…. What are you doing for lunch?”
“I was jus getting ready to raid the fridge. I had been working on a quilt, but I’d gotten bored and needed a break.”
“Why don’t you come over and eat with me and keep me company so that I won’t have to eat alone?”
“Sure…. I’ll be right over.”
I went to the bathroom and freshened up and headed over to Sam’s place. The walk was very pleasant and getting out of the house was exactly what I needed.
The summer heat had yielded to a temporary cool front pushing through and, as always, I felt profound relief. I strolled down the sidewalk between rows of oaks and magnolias that were so big and old that they formed a canopy through which the sun shone through in dappled patches. The gray Spanish moss hanging from the trees stirred gently in the faint breeze.
Back a little ways from the narrow street were white houses with front and side porches. New sections on Lakeshore drive had brick houses, but on this old street the houses were all frame, all white, and all ample in size. I seemed to have a love-hate relationship with my new residence. I was never able to forget that many of the lovely old places now enshrined by preservationists had been built by black slaves, and that the wealth of the planters who’d established the town was made possible by slavery.
On the other hand, it was home and therefore a sustaining fabric of associations, events, and memories. Most of the time I was content here because of my husband, my newfound friends, and because I could get away when I needed to do so. I liked a suburban environment and found vitality in it. Charleston was much like Atlanta in that respect.
When I arrived at Sam’s house, she greeted me at the door with a huge smile and a big hug.
“Come on in Lynn,” Sam invited. “I hope that chicken salad and a fruit plate is good for you.”
“Sounds great to me Sam. I feel like I’m starved.
“Go ahead and seat yourself Lynn. I need to get these rolls out of the oven. I already have us some ice tea fixed. I’ll be right back”
I seated myself and admired the pretty setting of the table.
“You really do have a very lovely home Sam,” I said admiring her ample kitchen.
“It’s all right I guess,” Sam remarked modestly, as she placed a basket of hot rolls and a dish of butter on the table.
“The salad looks great and the rolls smell heavenly,” I said, spreading butter on a roll.
Sam and I chatted as we ate our salads. Sam was a history teacher at Ashley Hall High School. She was on her lunch break, but since she also had an extra hour of free time due to a study period, she often came home so that she could unwind and relax before her next class.
Sam and I chatted about various things as we consumed our salads, our fruit, and our rolls. We ended up talking about different shopping malls about South Carolina, which afterward, we concluded in making a date to go shopping and for her to expose me to some more of our fair city. I eagerly agreed to the shopping trip ---- it sounded like fun.
Sam and I finished our lunch and I helped her wash up the dishes and straighten up the kitchen.
Sam had to go back to school. Her lunchtime was over and she was due in class shortly.
“Girl, I have about fifteen minutes to get back to school. Want me to drop you off at home --- it’s no problem.
“Oh no-o-o…. I want to walk back so that I can enjoy this beautiful day.”
Okay…. Well I’ll see you later, okay,” Sam yelled, as she backed out of the driveway.
I waved back as she sped away. I stood and watched until she disappeared around the corner.
After returning home, I felt recharged. My lunch and visit with Sam seemed to rejuvenate me.
I strolled about the house, admiring everything about it. It was a very beautiful home that Billy and I shared.
My mind drifted back to when we were looking for the perfect home here. I knew just the type of home that I wanted for Billy and me. I think that I had kind of stressed the realtor out a little by my indecisiveness. I wasn’t going to settle for anything less than the house I had laid out in my mind.
When I found this house, I remembered how my heels clattered through one of the empty rooms in particular, leaving an echo behind. It was a large, open room with an endless span of picture windows looking out on the Bay. The floor had beautiful, dark inlaid wood and there were bronze sconces on the walls.
I had told myself,” This is a remarkable view.” I nodded pleasantly, but said nothing out loud. It was a beautiful view…. a splendid view. This was a very lovely house. Billy had said that he wanted a house.
When I stood in the dining room, it had the same view of the Bay. Turning around with my back to the window, there was a beautiful fireplace. It was a warm room with beam ceilings and bay windows instead of the flat picture window of the living room. I squinted and envisioned seeing white organdie curtains and plants, inviting cushions in the window seats, a soft white rug, and a rich, dark wood table…. I squinted again seeing it all, and began smiling to myself.
I remembered telling the realtor that I was going to take another look upstairs. The realtor nodded silently that time because she was tired. She had been doing this for three days, and there was nothing left to show. I had seen everything. Sunken living rooms, sweeping views, seven bedrooms, three bedrooms, wood paneling, marble floors, and crooked Victorians in need of work. I had seen everything from the decrepit to the divine in this suburban area. The realtor just sat down heavily in the window seat, and flipped through her book for the thirtieth time in three days. This was it I told myself. It was the last suitable home she had.
While I was upstairs, I looked out at the view from the master bedroom. The Bay again, and the same cozy window seats that I had seen downstairs in the dining room, and the fireplace with the marble mantelpiece. There was an overwhelming friendliness to this place. I imagined Billy passing me in the hall and him pinching me on my behind as he reached into closet. I imagined having a son, and would be sitting in the window seat with him looking out over the Bay at twilight, talking about something important, like baseball or snakes. There were two other bedrooms on the second floor. One of the rooms was a large one, which faced the garden at the front of the house, with lots of sunshine and tall French windows. That room could be my son’s room. And there was another room that was an equally pretty bedroom --- a guestroom perhaps. We probably didn’t need one, but it was always good to have a spare room.
The kitchen I’d seen downstairs was open and warm, a room to have dinner in when Billy and I didn’t have guests. It had two brick walls and a built-in barbeque, and the rest of it was painted blue with a blue ceramic floor. The tiles had been brought over from Portugal from the last tenants. It was perfect…. All it needed was copper pots, and a wrought-iron hook with salamis and peppers…. Glass jars filled with spices…. Curtains, and the butcher-block table Billy had in his kitchen right now. I was bringing very little from my place. Only a few treasured things, the pretty pieces I had acquired over the years. The ordinary, functional things Billy said that we could buy when we get a house.
I continued on my mental journey, looking around the room that could be my future son’s room again, and down at the well-tended little garden. High hedges that would give privacy surrounded it. In fact, the house seemed to be equipped with everything we needed. The view and the fireplaces and high ceilings Billy had said was a must, an elegant sweeping staircase that led upstairs, and three bedrooms, which even gave them a spare. Everything that this house had to offer was just what the two of us wanted. I sat on the top of the stair and looked up. Directly over my head was a skylight, and to my right was a slightly open door. More closets maybe? I leaned backward to take a look. It looked like a stairway. I frowned and got up, calling down to the realtor still waiting downstairs.
“Is there more upstairs?” I called out to her.
There was the sound of shuffling through the now familiar book, and then a vague “I’m not sure.” And then as I walked toward the door, the realtor came to the foot of the stairs. “Maybe some kind of attic. But it doesn’t say anything about it in the book. It just says here three bedrooms, den, and maids'.”
“Den?” I hadn’t seen a den. There was a den I thought.
The stairway was narrow but carpeted, and the walls had new-looking beige silk tapestry. It hardly looked like the kind of thing you’d put on the way to the attic. As I reached the top of the stairs, I saw why. This was no attic, and it wasn’t even a den. It was a small, well-proportioned room with wood-paneled walls, a fireplace, and a 360-degree view of the Bay and the hills leading south. The room was well carpeted, boasted the now familiar bay windows, and there was even a little extension to it, a kind of solarium, which would be heavenly filled with plants. Also, this would make me a great office if I decided to pursue writing or wanted a home office. There would be plenty of room for a desk and file cabinets. The extension had two discreet, glass French doors, which did not impair the view, but still allowed one to shut oneself off…. it was the perfect office. For Billy and me, it could also be a special hideaway, a room to fill with beauty and children and love. The whole house was that way. It was exactly what we wanted. Better than that…. It was exactly what I’d dreamed of, but thought I would never find. This house possessed beauty, elegance, simplicity, warmth, privacy, and convenience.
“We’ll take it.” I said in a decisive voice as I turned to the realtor, who had now followed me upstairs.
“It’s a remarkable place,” the woman agreed.
I nodded victoriously. “It’s perfect.” I was beaming. I could hardly wait to show Billy. “How soon can we have it?”
“Tomorrow.” The realtor grinned. They had done it after all. She couldn’t get over this. She had been sure this sale would be a hopeless one. This woman wanted everything and wouldn’t settle for less. But the upstairs room did make this house and incredible find. Why the hell hadn’t someone else grabbed it up? Maybe no one else had noticed the upstairs room before. It sure wasn’t on the listing. “It says here that it’s available immediately. We can draw up the contract and it’s yours.”
“I really ought to show it to ---- my fiancé. But I’m absolutely sure. This is it. In fact, just to be sure of it ---- how much do they require as a down payment?” The realtor checked her book again and came up with a most unexceptionable figure. I wanted to shriek, “That’s all?”, but I kept quiet. This one was too good to blow. I hastily wrote out a check and handed it to the woman. “I’ll bring my fiancé back tonight.”
I did too, and he fell in love with it as I had.
“Isn’t it great?” I said excitedly.
With Billy I could be indulgent.
“Oh Billy, I love it!” I said, as I plunked down in one of the window seats with a huge smile.
“I love the house ---- and I love you.” He walked over to me with a peaceful smile, and then looked out at the Bay. “It’s going to look terrific with you and possibly a few kids running around in it.”
“Do you think we should take it?”
I was smiling at him like a child, anxious and excited and proud.
Billy laughed. “You’re asking me? I thought that it was already settled, sweetheart. I owe you for that down payment, by the way. I expect to support you fully. You deserve it and I love you Lynnie.
Billy sat down on the window seat beside me. “I promise to always love you and provide for you.”
A backfiring car snapped me back to the present. I realized that I had to get supper ready for Billy. I prepared the meal in record time and none too soon. Just as I finished setting the table, Billy breezed in.
“Hi sweetheart…. I’m totally wiped out. Today was rough and intense.”
Billy walked up and kissed me lightly on the cheek.
“I’m pretty beat to honey from working in the house.”
Billy and I ate our meal and had a light conversation about our day. When we finished eating, Billy went upstairs to take a shower while I cleaned up the kitchen and washed up our dishes.
When I made it upstairs, Billy had already gotten into bed. I took a shower and soon joined my husband in bed. I got in bed and snuggled up to him and he put his arms around me and pulled me close. I felt so happy and secure and loved. This comforting feeling soon was replaced by contented sleep, as I lay tucked away safely in my husband’s arms.



Copyright 2006 Carrie J. Keaton. All rights reserved.