Under the Cypress Moon (67 page)

"So," Aunt Helen, giddy with excitement, continued, "How far along are you now, Baby?"

"Just over eight weeks, Aunt Helen."

"Oh, you got a long way to go, Baby, but it'll get here.  I bet ya'all are real excited.  I know when I heard the news, I couldn't believe it.  You gonna have to let Aunt Helen come down and help you out some.  I can't wait to see it.  You and Mark are gonna make the most beautiful of babies!  I know that back in my day, a woman who got in that way without bein' married was called many names, but nowadays, it ain't considered so bad as it was back then.  It is the right thing that you're gettin' married.  It's what God wants.  Believe me, Child.  He does.  I can't wait to see you in your weddin' dress.  You got one picked out yet?"

"Not yet, but that's next on my list.  I know this might sound bad, but since Mark has so much money and said he doesn't mind spendin' a lot, I have been lookin' at some really pretty ones that aren't that cheap.  I'm afraid to just get one, though, without askin' him first.  I don't know.  I know it's gonna work out.  I've prayed about this so much.  I keep gettin' the feelin' that God is really lookin' out for us.  Mark's had so much bad luck lately with gettin' hurt, but maybe that just means we're gonna be blessed that much more."  Shylah's face shone so brightly, so beautifully, that Mark could not take his eyes off of her.

Mark could not understand how he had been so lucky to have Shylah.  She was his light, his life, his love, his hope for happiness.  She was everything that he wanted and the only one that he could imagine ever feeling such things about or spending his life attempting to please. 
Shylah, even with her hair a bit stringy and clinging to her face from the intensity of the day's heat, dressed in old, faded clothes, with hardly a spot of makeup on, looked as if she were an angel that had somehow been brought to Earth just for Mark.

Shylah slowly moved away from Aunt Helen's side and standing behind Mark, leaned over the back of his wheelchair, letting her arms slide down his chest.  "I love you so much, Baby," Shylah said, kissing Mark over and over and his head, sweaty as it was.  "You got a lot of sweat on you.  You're wet like you just got out of the shower.  Ugh.  But I hope you're havin' fun.  This is all for you, my handsome, wonderful man."

"Thank you, Baby," Mark responded, placing his hand on Shylah's wrist.  "I love it.  Thank you.  So, December thirteenth, huh?  Southern Hills?  You never told me this stuff."

"Like you would've listened.  I've tried to tell you, but you don't pay any attention.  But speaking of all that, I was wondering if maybe you might think about putting me on a bank account or starting one, just enough money for me to pay for all the wedding stuff and groceries and other stuff we need without me havin' to bother you.  Plus, I don't really want you to know everything that I wanna get for our wedding.  I wanna surprise you with some of it.  I do need to tell you about the dress, though.  The one I want... I don't think you're gonna like this, but it's almost eight thousand dollars.  I won't get it if you don't want me to.  I can get a much cheaper one.  It's just that this one is the one I want.  It is so gorgeous and so fancy.  I'd feel like a real queen in it.  Other stuff, I'm not spending quite so much on."  Shylah grew more and more frightful of Mark's possible reaction.  She worried that she might be overstepping and possibly, angering him.

"No, Baby.  I told you you could have whatever you want.  It's all up to you.  I've got all that insurance money comin' soon, speakin' of which, I need to get ahold of Stan Walker.  Money's not a problem.  You get whatever you want.  If I get that money soon, I'll start an account with both our names on it, one with plenty of money in it for you to always have some when you need it.  No worries, Baby.  What are we doin' about the honeymoon, though?"

"I don't know.  I love the thought of bein' somewhere with a beach and palm trees and fruity drinks and stuff.  Maybe Jamaica or the Bahamas or somethin'.  We gotta go see a travel agent or somethin' and see what they can do, if there's enough time.  We can't put it off til after the baby's born, or we'll never get to go. 
What about a cruise that goes all through the Caribbean?  How's that sound?"

Mark thought about it for only a brief moment and quickly and resoundingly added, "That sounds awesome, Baby.  That'd be cool with me.  Maybe they even have some that stop in some of those places so we can have a little bit of time maybe in Jamaica and a little bit somewhere else.  Just gettin' away from home, just me and you, no troubles, no responsibilities, celebratin' bein' man and wife, sounds great!  We'll go see somebody soon and see what they can tell us."

"Mmmm.  I love you so much, my sweaty man," Shylah chortled.  "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Meanwhile, Darius, T.L., Dan, Lou, and a few of Darius' and T.L.'s coworkers were sitting around one of the picnic tables, drinking beer and watching as Aaron Jones and Darius' brother, Josiah "Josey Joe" King kept themselves busy, manning the grills.  Mountains of fresh meat had already been cooked and piled high, yet there was far more left to be cooked.  Everyone who witnessed the piling on of the sumptuous flesh felt their mouths salivating uncontrollably, their stomach rumbling with anticipation, their hands twitching with nervous excitement.

"Mr. King," Lou suddenly chimed in as Darius' eyes fixated themselves on the monumental amounts of meat.  "Mr. King?"

"Yeah," Darius finally answered.

"When you think the plant's gonna be openin' up?  Mark promised me a job there.  I'm just curious as I'll get out."

"About a month, he said.  You know, you could end up workin' for me, Lou Sanders.  I'm gonna be a supervisor now," Darius touted, placing his thumbs under his arms to show that he was "bit stuff" now.

No sooner than Darius finished this ejaculation of braggadocio, Shylah signaled for the singing to begin.  The entirety of the back and side yards were filled with a heavy chorus of, "Happy birthday to you...," to Mark's great embarrassment, exactly what Shylah had hoped for. 

The rest of the evening went surprisingly well and surprisingly fast.  Everyone seemed to get along well, even Mark's family with Shylah's.  The Merricks did not hold the same extremities of view that Thomas Crady held when he was still living, but they occasionally felt ill at ease when they were outnumbered by so many people of different color than their own. 
Aaron Jones, on the other hand, felt a great uneasiness for a different reason.

Aaron thought it funny and quite disheartening to be at the place where so many of his ancestors had toiled endlessly and without compensation, facing the master's scolding and whippings, a place that was bought and paid for with the blood, sweat, and immeasurable tears of people so less fortunate that they were forcibly obtained and detained.  It seemed a monument of sorts to the foul and wretched history of the despicable institution that helped build America.  Aaron kept his mouth shut on the matter, except for a slight mention of it to Darius and to his daughter, Kayla.

Before so many hours, the great crowd dispersed and went on their way to their homes or wherever else they wished to go.  Mark and Shylah were left alone, except for the lingering presence of T.L. who wanted to stay and have a few more beers with Mark in honor of his birthday.  It was a tradition between the two friends that on their birthdays, no matter what else they had going on, they had to drink together, without others around.  Of course, T.L. made an exception for Shylah. 

Together, Shylah and T.L. built a very large bonfire from the remaining cinders of the one started during the party, adding to it much dry grass, twigs, tree branches, paper plates and plastic cups from the party, and whatever else that they could find for fuel.  Soon enough, the fire roared and crackled, sending tremendous fumes up into the night sky.  It was a beautiful sight, all thought.  It reminded them of their earlier days, especially Mark and T.L., so often sneaking away somewhere with as much beer as two high school students could get their hands on.  They would always go to some secluded spot, far away from parents and from other prying eyes, light a bonfire, and break out the beer.  Sometimes, it was only the two of them.  Other times, when they had girlfriends and didn't mind the extra company, it would be four.  When they felt really adventuresome, they would have large parties, with guests sometimes neighboring in the area of fifty.

"Here's to you, my buddy, my friend, my brother who's closer to me than a brother," T.L. toasted as he clanked bottle on bottle, the clinking sound of it causing a serious cringe from Shylah. 

"Same to you," Mark replied.  "Here's to twenty-three, almost twenty-four years of friendship.  Here's to many more years of us givin' each other shit and all that.  And," Mark continued, looking to Shylah, "Here's to many, many years of happiness with the most beautiful, most amazing woman ever!  And here is to us havin' a whole bunch of little, mixed babies!"

Shylah felt herself more embarrassed now than she had been all of that day.  "Thank you, Baby.  You know how to embarrass a girl.  I'd drink to it, if I could drink.  Here."  Pulling an ice cold can of Coca-Cola from a cooler nearby, Shylah held it high.  "Now, I'll drink to that."

The rest of the night flew by in a general haze.  The next day, Mark learned that his check for his father's insurance settlement had just arrived at Stan Walker's office.  As painful as it was to get in and out of Shylah's car, Mark and Shylah excitedly rushed to see the attorney and get their money. 
It all took less than ten minutes to get into the office, get the check, and leave.

Stan Walker advised Mark to hold onto the money, to watch it carefully, as it would still be months before the estate's probate period had ended.  The total accrued value of the insurance policy was just over nine and a half million dollars.  Walker took none of it, stating that it rightly belonged to Mark and should not be touched by anyone else, not to mention that as Thomas' friend, he could never do anything to hurt Thomas' only son.  There were no taxes to be paid of the money, as all moneys paid into the policy had been paid from taxable income.  Mark fully expected that taxes would be owed on the policy
and was over-delighted to learn that taxes would amount to "double taxation," something that the IRS would never allow.

As Mark walked out of Stan's office, check in hand, he could not believe his good fortune.  Now, however, he wished that he had done a wire transfer instead of accepting a paper check.  "To the bank, Baby, right away."

Mark quickly put the majority of the money, all but one million dollars, into various accounts for saving, not only savings accounts but a substantial IRA account and numerous CD accounts.  After depositing three-quarters of the remaining million dollars into his already existent accounts, Mark set up a joint account with Shylah, depositing into it two hundred fifty thousand dollars.  "Now, Baby," Mark stated joyously, "You'll have all the money you need for whatever.  You can pay all the wedding bills and whatever else.  You'll have plenty for anything, even goin' shoppin', if you want to."

As Mark and Shylah left the bank, ready to head home, Shylah decided to broach the subject weighing on her mind.  "Baby, you know how my car is.  It's old.  It's not in good shape.  It gives me lots of fits.  I don't want you to think for a second that the money is important to me, but do you think maybe I could go look at a car?  It doesn't have to be new, just better than what I got now.  What do you think?"

"Baby, I don't think you get it.  That money is yours.  As long as you keep the wedding stuff paid for and don't spend all of the money, it's yours to do whatever you want with.  Ok?  It's yours, Baby.  If you wanna buy you a brand new car, there you go.  That's my early wedding gift to you.  Get whatever you want.  Just make sure you're still gonna have plenty of money for other stuff.  Go out and buy you a new..."  Unable to think of what Shylah might want, Mark continued, "a new whatever it is you like."

Shylah was overcome with joy, hardly able to comprehend such an allowance.  Other women might be excited over the occasional giving of money to them, but Shylah had just been given one-quarter of a million dollars to do with as she pleased, yet ironically, she was not the type of person to be tempted by such things.  She thought to herself that as long as the wedding was paid for, and she got a better vehicle to drive than her old, rundown Taurus, that was all that she could need.  This was not to say, however, that she would not consider a shopping trip from time to time with her mother.

With no further hesitation, Shylah drove to the only car dealership in town.  With only a short test drive and her handful of questions easily answered, Shylah decided upon purchasing a new, 2014 Chevrolet Equinox.  She could not believe it that she was spending nearly thirty thousand dollars on a vehicle, but she knew that not only was this totally acceptable to Mark, but it would keep her from having unreliable transportation, save her gas mileage, and be one more preparation made for when the baby arrived.  It all seemed like her life was becoming the fairy tale she had so often heard of.  She found her prince.  She would marry that prince.  On top of that, the prince showered her with gifts and affections and would be with her forever, raising their beautiful child together.  It could not have been more perfect if a cherub came from Heaven and granted Shylah a golden decree from the Creator Himself.  Actually, that would have made it all a bit frightening, but as it was, Shylah was not frightened a bit about anything that lay before her.

Unfortunately, Mark had to be presented with a step stool to get into the car.  Shylah traded in her old car and got less than two thousand dollars for it, but it didn't matter.  She was too happy about the new one to be concerned at all.  Mark, however, decided that he would not get out of the car until he reached home, and even then, it would have to be done very slowly and very carefully.  Though it dawned on him, he was too happy that Shylah was so happy, to inform her that her car purchase would mean great difficulties for him to go anywhere, whether to work or to the doctor.  The Taurus, at least, was low enough to the ground that Mark could get in and out of it with little trouble.  His only hope of getting in and out of the S.U.V. was to always have a stool handy.