AFRICAN AMERICAN URBAN FICTION: BWWM ROMANCE: Billionaire Baby Daddy (Billionaire Secret Baby Pregnancy Romance) (Multicultural & Interracial Romance Short Stories) (85 page)

Chapter Four

              Not much difference could be seen after the first day of working to get the double-wide cleaned up. She had to rely quite a bit on George to ask him where he wanted certain things, so that everything could at least start to have some semblance of organization.

              Just getting part of the surface mess up was a triumph in and of itself--one that Abigail was proud of. Sure, the house still looked like a tornado had wrecked the inside of it, but she knew that she had put in a good day's work. Not that George so much as thanked her once, but she didn't necessarily expect to get thanked for the work. She was happy enough just collapsing in bed after working so hard.

              Abigail honestly was half expecting some untoward advances from her new soon-to-be husband, but she didn't get any. Unless she counted the way he laid beside her and put his arms around her, pulling her close to him. That was unwelcome and unnerving, honestly, but at least it wasn't as bad as some things that he could have done. She just counted herself lucky that he wasn't being a total creep.

              So, that silver lining taken into account, she fell off to sleep, and first thing in the morning she started cleaning again. Now that she had a good idea of what types of things went where, she only rarely had to consult George with questions pertaining to where things should be put. She put a good dent into the mess, then went to sleep again in much the same way. The cycle continued for four days before the whole trailer had gotten a thorough reorganizing and scrubbing down, inside and out.

              On the fifth day, the wedding was to take place. Abigail had always thought that weddings were rather important events. In her community, they were rather grand sorts of events. The entire town was involved and invited to the ceremony, though that was to say there was about sixty or seventy in attendance. All the women cooked, the men got together to help the husband build a new house and a new barn for his family. Truly, it took the whole village to prepare for a marriage. However, on the outside, Abigail quickly learned that things weren't quite the same.

              Honestly, Abigail didn't think she expected much. She expected for there to be a bit of ceremony involved, but no. She and George drove to the courthouse, signed some papers, made their vows, and then went back home.

              At the trailer, about thirty people were invited over--which was honestly too much for the little residence. About three-fourths of the guests were part of George's family, and then the other fourth were work acquaintances and then friends of George's. The guests all brought in dishes to share, though George did provide a main course by ordering fried chicken from the local deli for everyone.

              During the event, everyone milled about, but didn't pay much attention to Abigail. Perhaps it was the awkwardness of their friend or family member marrying someone that they had never heard of, and whom he had certainly never talked about. Despite that awkwardness, however, the guests were happy to converse with one another and to congratulate George on his instant wife, but nary a word was spoken to Abigail until almost an hour in.

              A woman of about sixty arrived to the party then, and got out of her beaten-up old car. The first thing she went to do was go and speak to George. By listening in the background, Abigail was able to discern that this woman was George's mother.

              Abigail thought it was very strange to see George's mother arrive at the festivities late. After all, this was her son's marriage they were talking about! It was a once-in-a-lifetime sort of thing, so Abigail thought. So how could his mother possibly be so careless as to be late? Of course, it didn't affect the proceedings or anything of that nature, but Abigail would think that a child should mean more to a mother than for her to just show up late to his wedding.

              The only explanation that Abigail could think of for why George's mother might be late came upon her suddenly and made her worry. Perhaps George didn't invite her because he was embarrassed that he had a mail-order bride? Sure, he hadn't divulged that information, but if anyone could put two and two together, it would be a man's mother.

              Abigail's hypothesis concerned her greatly, and so she got up from the table she had been sitting at to observe the crowd, and started going inside when George called her over.

              Why is he doing this? Abigail wondered. Why pull her over, when she couldn't possibly have anything to say to the woman? Still, ignoring him and going inside wouldn't do, so she begrudgingly let herself walk over to George and his mother.

              "Oh, well, isn't this a pretty face," the woman said, not at all sarcastically. It took Abigail aback. She was rather pretty, of course. She was wearing a wedding dress from a charity shop, but it fit well and was flattering enough, despite it being rather old fashioned. Her long hair, flowing in black and luscious waves down to her waist, was free of any adornment. A simple bride, but a pretty one.

              "She is pretty, isn't she?" George agreed. "Got the house looking pretty nice, too," he added with a chuckle.

              "Well, how long have you two been seeing each other?" the woman asked.

              "Aw, about two months," George said. He carefully calculated his response, unbeknownst to Abigail, to the last time his mother had checked in, so she wouldn't find anything contradictory.

              "Well, that's rather fast to jump into marriage. Let's hope this one lasts," George's mother said with a laugh.

              "This one?" Abigail couldn't help but ask. She received an admonishing look from George for speaking up, but Abigail didn't know she wasn't supposed to say that. In truth, though, even if she did know, she probably wouldn't have been able to help herself from saying that. It was just so strange to her ears to hear someone say "this one" in regards to a one-time event in someone's life. Was it a colloquialism of some sort? She had no idea, but the question slipped from her lips.

              "George! Don't tell me you haven't told this poor woman . . ." George's mother began.

              "Well, no. No, Ma, I haven't. I wish you would've not, either," George replied, getting a little defensive about the whole thing.

              "You're married to the girl! You should have already told her about your failed marriages, not wait till your mother does. You didn't think that I wouldn't bring it up, did you?" she retorted, frowning at him.

              "Um, failed marriages?" Abigail repeated, not caring much what dirty looks she got from George, because she simply didn't understand how George was married before and was now marrying her. Was he a polygamist? Did his previous wives die? What was going on?

              "Well, first, before we go any further, hon, I'm Pearl. I'm your new stepmother. Now, I'm gonna go ahead and fill you in on everything my son hasn't told you. Sorry I came a bit late, but it shouldn't be a deal breaker. He's been married twice before, and both times his wives wanted divorce. I think they were just hussies incapable of settling down with anyone, because my son is a very nice man. But, yes. He probably just didn't want to say anything in case it made you get a bad first impression of him," Pearl informed her, much to George’s chargrin. Still, he didn't do anything or say anything to fight it.

              "Divorce?" Abigail asked, getting a bit hung up on the word. Her community never tolerated divorce--it wasn't even an option. She'd never heard the word used before, and none of her books mentioned it. Given that she had no television to speak of and didn't fraternize with tourists too much, the word was just a totally alien one to her, and she didn't know what to make of it, honestly.

              "Yes, dear. You're awfully hung up on that word, you know," Pearl said, getting a bit concerned at that. She didn't think that the fact that George had been divorced before would bother Abigail so much, but maybe it was the fact that he hadn't told her about it prior to getting hitched. In all honesty, Pearl would have been quite upset in similar circumstances, but now she felt like she had to do damage control to make sure she didn't ruin this marriage from the very start.

              "Look, my son is a very nice man. He just had some hard luck with women before, but that's no reason to freeze up. You can't blame him for being a little bit nervous."

              "No, no. Pearl, it's not like that. I just haven't heard that word before. What does it mean?" Abigail asked, and she saw George let his hand cover his face in embarrassment.

              "You don't know what divorce is?" Pearl asked, and started laughing.

              This reaction wasn't what Abigail was expecting in the least. She felt her cheeks burning, and just wanted to leave their presence before she embarrassed herself any further, so she certainly didn't speak anymore on the subject.

              "Are you being serious when you say that you don't know what divorce is? Or are you just pulling our legs?" Pearl asked. Abigail was severely tempted to say that she was joking, and to play it off as if she had a sense of humor rather than just being ignorant, but she couldn't. She didn't want to lie. Doing so just gave her a sinking feeling in her gut, and unless it was absolutely necessary for one reason or another, she would refrain from lying.

              "Yes, I am being serious when I say that I don't know what divorce is. I come from an Amish community, and I've never heard of a failed marriage, or divorce," Abigail replied. She figured that perhaps if she explained that she was Amish, that would enlighten Pearl as to why she didn't know the term. After all, outsiders always talked about how "quaint" and "sheltered" Amish people were when they visited. Abigail usually took offense when they would say things like that, but it played to her advantage now, because she could explain away this apparent oddity.

              "Oh, Amish," Pearl said, as if trying out the word, then looked over to her son. "Amish? Where did you meet an Amish girl?"

              "Well, I'm ex-Amish. I just recently left," Abigail said, to clarify, and hopefully make the story that George would have to construct a little bit easier to spin. She wouldn't tell the lie for him, but she knew that she had put him into this hot water, so she felt responsible for getting him out of it, even if it was not directly due to anything that she had done wrong.

              "Yeah, we met because she wanted to take the position of secretary for my garage. Says she's done bookkeeping for her family for as long as she could count well enough. Instead of hiring her, we just really hit it off. Now here we are," George replied, keeping the story short and sweet. The less details he involved, the less chances for inconsistencies, after all.

              "Oh, well, how sweet! And do you think she'll still be interested in bookkeeping?" Pearl asked, quite amused with the story.

              "I dunno, haven't asked her. We've had more important things to talk about," George replied.

              "Yes, I imagine you have," Pearl replied, and continued chatting with her son about all the arrangements that were made and how happy she was that he found someone. She talked on for the next few hours, until the party had dwindled down, and everyone was going. Pearl was the last to leave, but that was to be expected of a mother.

              Once the guests were gone, Abigail busied herself getting all the things that had been set out for the festivities cleaned up, and getting the general mess tidied. It was a chore, and an annoying one considering how recently she'd worked her hands to the bone to get this place spotless, but when George came in, the filth was the last of her concern.

              "Why did you go and make yourself a fool in front of my mother, and all the guests?" George asked, enraged by Abigail's behavior. For what little she talked, what she said really did upset her new husband.

              "Make a fool? I didn't realize that I did," Abigail replied in a rather flat tone. She didn't take kindly to being yelled at or patronized, and so she certainly didn't act impressed when her husband was haranguing her.

              "Don't know what divorce is, really? Don't act stupid, woman," George said. For such an ill-groomed man, he seemed to have a sensitive ego.

              "When people get married where I'm from, the only way they stop being married is if one of them dies," Abigail replied simply, being rather bold with George, because she saw no reason not to. That reason promptly met her cheek in the form of a sharp smack.

              Abigail stumbled backwards, catching herself on the counter of the kitchen and looking at her husband with wide, surprised eyes. For a moment, she wasn't sure what had happened to her.

              "I--you--" she began, completely confused. For the time, her brain couldn't think enough to put together coherent sentences and thoughts.

              "Don't start preaching to me, woman," George replied.

              Abigail didn't respond to that, she just kept her eyes trained on George to see if he would do anything else.

              A stare-down between the two lasted for about a minute before George swept off a table full of dishes, letting them all fall and break into a million little pieces on the ground. "Clean this damn place up!" he said, letting out all his anger and frustration from earlier, now that he was alone with his wife.