Montana (Modern Mail Order Bride Book 2) (14 page)

Pecola sat upright again, her fingers sliding down the side of his face. She planted kisses on the rough skin before she leaned into his strength holding him tight. “I can get used to this, William,” she whispered.

“I can, too,” he said. “Wow, that was...powerful.”

“Not everything is about the rush of the words.  Sometimes the beauty is allowing the story to unfold incrementally, savoring each movement of the pen to paper, a keystroke to the computer screen, bringing forth new life,” Pecola said softly.

“I want to make babies with you,” he confessed softly.

“We will, William, but first, we must find our own rhythm together before introducing another person,” she paused as she toyed with the thick hair.  “More importantly, we have to get your brother on board.”

He pulled back in shock. “Why? Is the ranch mine?  It was left to me,” he said defiantly.

She kissed him again; she still spoke in hushed tones, “But he is a Johnson. His children will also be Johnsons and they will need to learn the land as the two of you did growing up.”

This was not how he wanted to approach this subject but the gate was open. “Chad can’t have children,” he told her.

“Even more of a reason to make him a part.  He needs to be a part of the vision so that he can also be invested in our lives and the lives of his nieces and nephews. I know my brother will be,” she told him.

Billy Joe slowly began to lean back, giving her an opportunity to straighten her legs.  She lay atop him as his hand went to his favorite spot, the hock of her beautiful butt.  The plate of food was pushed to the side again.  “I can honestly say, I ain’t never met anybody like you,” he told her.

“I can honestly say I am not impressed with your use of a double negative,” she said with a chuckle.

Someone in a tent close by yelled out, “Would you two book nerds take your butts to sleep!”

This made Billy Joe pop back up, focusing his attention on his wife and remembering she still hadn’t consumed any food.  “You have to eat. You ain’t ate nothing worth anything today!”  He grabbed the plate, unwrapped it, and pulled out a chunk of ham, almost shoving it down her throat.

“Stop shoving that in my mouth,” she said far louder than she had planned.

A few giggles were heard traveling across the plain.  A stern male voice, which sounded a lot like Pap, called out. “Billy Joe, you let that gal alone and you two get some sleep!”

“It’s a piece of ham,” he yelled out. “I’m trying to get her to eat.”

Pecola recognized the next voice immediately.  It was the shoe molester from the sidewalk on her wedding day.  “Oh, is that what you call it during your sexy time, William?  A piece of ham?”

Giggles were heard all over as he handed her the second piece of meat and lay back down. “I give up!” he told her.

Now Pecola wanted in on the fun, “Oh, William.”  she said really loudly.  “Don’t be like that, baby.”  She started to laugh along with Billy Joe.

Pap called out one last time, “Shit hell people, get some shut eye.”

She snuggled closely to her husband, the power of him gently nurturing something inside of her that she had cut off a while ago: her trust of men.  This man had carved a place in her heart with his words. Tonight, he showed a willingness to understand what she needed during lovemaking.   If he could understand that not each connection meant ramming the hive until the royal jelly oozed out, then he could also be shown how transformative his words could be on paper.

“I love you, Honey,” he said to her as even breathing filled the tent.

“I am falling pretty hard for you, too,” she told a sleeping mass.

T
he quiet of the morning sunrise dawned with little fanfare as clinks, clunks, and clanks could be heard from families breaking down tents to pack up to head to their homes.  As soon as the first rays of light touched the horizon, most trucks were loaded, ready to commence the journey back to farms and homesteads.  Reverend Ezekiel Moss arrived at the break of daylight to deliver a Sunday morning sermon that was brief but full of metaphors about helping your fellow man.  These words, of course, were followed by a collection plate.  A plate which Billy Joe passed on to the next person without adding a single red cent.

“Not in a giving mood this morning, husband?” she asked as she tried desperately to come awake.

“To him, never,” he said.

Pecola found her wallet and added a dollar or two to the pot, feeling better about her family’s contribution to Reverend Moss’s administration to the flock.  As soon as the man walked over to them and began to speak, Pecola wanted to take back her donation.  The way which the reverend looked at her was anything but religious. The means in which he addressed her ruffled her feathers even more.

“Ah, Mrs. Johnson,” the Reverend said.  He did not attempt to shake her hand. “Congrats on your nuptials.”

“Thank you, Reverend Moss,” she said, watching his beady eyes.

“I see Billy Joe opted to wed you in the courthouse instead of the house of the Lord,” he told her with his eyes focused on her breasts.

Billy Joe stepped forward, placing his arm about her shoulders, “Where there is faith, the Lord is always present Ezekiel.”

“Yes, but this union...,” Reverend Moss started to say but was quickly interrupted by Billy Joe.

“This union is strong. Soon, Pecola and I will usher in a new generation of Johnsons who will grow up on Johnson land, eat Johnson beef, and be a part of this community, Ezekiel,” he said firmly.

“I was just saying...” Reverend Moss started again.

“You were saying nothing as far as I am concerned.  I cannot see why a supposed man of faith would take exception to tending the flock simply because one of the sheep is black,” Billy Joe told him.

The reverend opened his mouth again but Billy Joe turned his wife and his back to the man, walking away with a pride that required no words.  The pickup truck, already loaded, offered shelter to its owner, who climbed behind the wheel of the truck after securing his wife, gave two toots of his horn and rolled across the field to the dirt road. No words were said until they reached the back gate coming onto Johnson land.

“Get behind the wheel, Honey,” he told her.  Like before, she pressed down on the brake, eased the truck into gear, and slowly rolled through the gate.

Once inside the vehicle again, Billy Joe was tight-lipped as he drove back to the ranch house.  The silence was deafening.  The anger was not.  It could be heard bouncing about in his head.

“I assume we were married in the courthouse because the good reverend didn’t want to perform an interracial marriage,” she said to his silhouette.

“You would be correct,” he said.

“The anger is misplaced, William. Despite his unwillingness to do his job, the disservice he failed to provide is between him and his God, not you and him. We are still married.  We will still start our family and that small minded man has no place in your head nor your heart.  He is taking up space that you are going to need to love all this sexiness that is now your wife,” she said.  The last part she added with a sister girl mouth twist, followed by a stereotypical neck roll and finger snap.

Billy Joe slowed the truck.  The Soft eyes softened; thick black hair stuck up in several directions from the makeshift pillow the night before that seemed to have molested his head. “You are something special, Pecola Johnson,” he told her.

She rolled her neck again.  Another finger snap was added. “And don’t you forget it.”

P
ecola was excited about having her first guest for dinner.  Billy Joe, on the other hand, was working hard on changing out the bed.  He said little as he walked into the house with a few tools and began to remove the bedding from the antique metal bed with the squeaky springs.  This was also about the time Chad showed up.

“What are you doing, Billy Joe?”

“Getting rid of this lying ass bed,” he told his brother.

“Huh?”

“Sit down on that side,” Billy Joe told him.  Chad rested a hip on the side of the bed; it creaked under his weight.

“Now lie back,” Billy Joe said.  The bed groaned as if it were being tortured by a weight lifter. “Turn to your left,” he told his brother.

The bed creaked and moaned as he turned his tall muscled body. Billy Joe jumped onto the bed, bouncing a few times.  The bed responded to his every move, almost echoing the pleasure of having him bouncing on the coils. The antique metal verbally cried out at his every move.

“See, this bed is a liar.  I am not even doing anything as much as it is carrying on like I am working it over,” he said with his brow furrowed.

Chad burst into laughter.  “I am sorry, little brother. You thought you were putting a hurting on her and instead all you were doing was moving in an old ass bed,” Chad said aloud.

“Yeah. Well...anyhow,” he said as he got out of the bed. “Help me get this out of here and bring in the wood sleigh bed from the barn.”

As little as he wanted to admit it, working alongside his brother again felt good as they pulled the bed from the storage of the barn. Chad applied a light coating of oil soap over the wood, checking cracks and crevices for spiders before taking it into the house. For some odd reason, the idea of his sister-in-law waking up to a creepy crawly on her didn’t sit well with him.  For extra measure, he tapped the frame hard on the ground to shake out any other inhabitants before he took it inside. The bed, set up and remade, brought a large smile to Billy Joe’s face, especially when he lay back on it. No sounds were heard. Chad lay down on the bed and rolled from side to side as well, checking for creaks and squeaks. Billy Joe lay face down, pumping the bed with his hips.  Chad, on his back, legs bent at the knees as his butt bounced from side to side on the bed, found himself smiling at the ridiculousness of the situation. Pecola watched the two brothers from the doorway, seeing, understanding, but uncertain of what in the hell to say.

“Okay boys, time to stop molesting the bed,” she said softly.

They both bolted up from the mattress as if they had been caught doing something terrible. Billy Joe ran his fingers through the thick black hair, his eyes lowered in shame at being caught in such an unflattering, compromising position.  His cheeks were red from embarrassment.

“Come on; time for supper,” she told them.

Billy Joe’s eyes were wide as he looked at the spread on the dining room table.  His wife had pulled out the cloth napkins and the good glasses and had picked some wildflowers to go in the vase.  The table setting was lovelier than when their mother set it for Thanksgiving dinner. A moment of nostalgia went through the brothers as they eyed the table, bringing back a flood of memories.  His wife had done all of this for his brother.

“I found the rib roast in the freezer.  I made a special quick marinade,” she told them as Billy Joe helped her with her chair. “I hope you enjoy the meal.”

A blessing was offered for the supper as both men cut into the meat, bypassing the vegetables and rolls that she made from scratch. Pecola nudged Billy Joe under the table.

“What?” he asked with a mouth full of meat.

She nodded towards Chad.

Chad picked up on it right away. “You two are up to something,” he said.

“No,” Pecola said with a smile. “We just want your feedback on an idea.”

Billy Joe slowly began speaking to his brother about the plans for the ranch.  He spoke with passion laced with enthusiasm and a bit of idealism when he told him about the layout, the cabins and the fees that would be charged. The tender eyes were filled with hope that was knocked crossways by Chad’s next words.

“That bed wasn’t the only thing lying to you, Billy Joe!” he said as he set down his knife and fork. “You get a belly full of good food and some hot loving and lose your God dang mind!”  He turned to Pecola.

“And you!  You are probably putting it on him like he has never had, making him willing to do whatever you want.  Those prices for a cabin is your fancy New York ideas; it will not sell out here,” Chad said adamantly.

In that second of time, she saw Billy Joe’s entire childhood flash before her eyes. The disappointment on his face spoke volumes to her of a young man who hid in books, afraid to be whom he really was. Everything he ever wanted to do or try had been squashed by his brother or his father. She could see a young Billy Joe being forced to conform, to use words that were smaller than his grand ideas so that he could fit in. The time for fitting in was over.  He had a vision and she was going to help him bring it to fruition.  This time, Chad was not going to get away with it.

She exhaled loudly. “I guess in order to get you on board and make you fall in line with the program, I am going to have to take you in the bedroom and whip some of this
good good
on you as well, Chad,” she said as she rose from the table. Her hand went to her blouse as she reached for the buttons.

Both her husband and brother-in-law’s jaws hung loosely, watching her in disbelief. Billy Joe’s mouth was moving and no words were coming out, but the look on Chad’s face was worth the price of admission. “You two are too easy,” she said.  “I made a peach pie. Who would like a slice?”