To You, Madam

By James Norman

Most love stories are pretty much the same. A man and a woman come together, fall in love, and pursue their dreams of happiness. Yet each story is as unique as the individual lovers. In this story, the couple struggle against great odds not only for their love for each other but also for the continuation of a family line that is threatened with the real possibility of extinction.

The driving force comes from the love, strength, wisdom, and spirituality of the matriarch. She supplies the strategy and determination that is needed to save the bloodline and the vast holdings of the Covington family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524555788

James Norman

James Norman was born and raised on the south side of Chicago, and partially educated there. He grew up during the 40s, 50s, and 60s where he gained a realistic understanding of this society. It was during these years that he gained some sense of history, and in particular, that of his people. This was primarily due to his parents and his grandparents. At some point he started to look at the world and yearned to discover it. He knew he had to leave Chicago. He settled in historic Fort Greene, Brooklyn, where he raised his family and presently resides. He says he writes because he must.

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 by James Norman.

Library of Congress Control Number:      2016918099

ISBN:      Hardcover             978-1-5245-5580-1

                Softcover               978-1-5245-5579-5

                eBook                    978-1-5245-5578-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 11/04/2016

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Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

DEDICATION

Again I walked out on the edge, and again, my family came to the rescue. From beginning to end, Mom encouraged me. To my wife, Shira, my youngest son, Daniel, and my baby girl, Erika, who took care of me during my recovery. I was able to finish the book with the help of their love and support. You know that I can’t thank you enough, and I love you. Prop me up for my next journey.

I am most grateful to Dr. Lisanne Norman for an excellent job of editing. I want to thank Daniel Norman for his beautiful design of the cover, and his photographic work. To Tub, when I was faltering, you were there to give me support, and for that, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

CHAPTER 1

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The night was a bit brisk, and the wind was whipping in with biting gusts that made you regret leaving your house on such a night. A light snow had started falling in the afternoon, and by evening, it was several inches deep. There were storm warnings all day, but most people apparently failed to take the warnings seriously. At Grand Central, the trains were delayed, and the crowd was building. Hotel rooms were rapidly filling up, and the weather report was now warning of a severe blizzard heading their way. The traffic was getting worse, but the subway trains were still in service. He was not certain that he would be able to get a train to Connecticut tonight, so Myles decided to grab a burger and a bowl of onion soup, with a double of Jameson, across the street at Annie Moore’s.

There was the usual crowd for this time of evening, so he worked his way to the bar to have a drink while he scanned for a table. Halfway through his drink, he spotted a couple leaving a table back in a corner looking out on Forty-Third Street. With luck, he was able to squeeze through the crowd and grab it. It was a small table for two, and that was fine because he was not in the mood to listen to any chatter about sports or the market. He simply wanted to relax, enjoy his burger, and contemplate this weekend. While waiting for his food and staring out into the weather, he thought about cancelling the trip to Connecticut and perhaps going to listen to some jazz in Brooklyn. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He was a bit annoyed with himself for allowing his Aunt Babs to blackmail him into coming up this weekend. She still entertained the idea of a match between him and Carol after all these years. The thought of such an event made him shudder. Aunt Babs was strange.

While enjoying his burger and Guinness, a woman approached his table. She appeared to be in her mid- to late thirties, well dressed, about five feet eight inches tall, a bit on the thick side (what some would call full figured), and very attractive with auburn hair and green eyes.

Excuse me, but would you mind sharing your table with me? she asked in a soft rich voice.

Not at all. Come, have a seat.

Thank you, she said with a warm smile as she seated herself.

He noticed as she was taking her coat off that she was solidly built. He was stunned by her gracefulness and her beauty. She was not pretty in a glamorous, plastic way but in a womanly mature manner. There was a charm and sensuality that emanated from her whole being. There was the revealing spark of intelligence in her eyes. She was a very feminine woman through and through. All this together with genuine good looks and a captivating smile.

I’m Brenda Mallory, she introduced herself.

I’m Myles Covington, he replied as the waitress came for her order.

I’ll have a medium rare sirloin with baked potato and sour cream, with green beans and a Guinness.

Will that be all? the waitress inquired.

Yes, she replied, but I’ll have the Guinness now. Thank you.

I hope you have no binding commitments tonight. It’s going to get worse, Myles said to her. She was sitting quietly looking at him, and it made him feel a bit uneasy. It was as though she was seeing right through him, reading his thoughts, with her hands on the pulse of his feelings. When he spoke, she smiled.

No, I was supposed to meet someone, but they called, couldn’t make it. So it looks like I’ll have a quiet weekend alone, she explained.

The waitress interrupted them and set Brenda’s Guinness in front of her. Thank you, Brenda said and then took a sip.

You’re welcome, the waitress replied. Your food should be ready soon.

Ah! That is good, Brenda said as she set the glass on the table. The waitress departed leaving them alone again.

Myles explained, I’m supposed to be on my way to Connecticut to visit my aunt, which I dread. Now, I love my aunt, but she is obsessed with the idea of me joining with the daughter of one of her dear friends. This has been going on since high school. It’s a good thing, I went away to boarding school. He laughed lightly. When I got married, she eased up. Then when I got divorced, she renewed her campaign.

Interesting, she said with a light laugh.

She’s a nice person, but if I had married her, I could see myself going out one night for cigarettes and never returning. She has never married. Strange person. He shook his head. The interesting thing is that when you came to the table, I had decided not to go.

So what’s your alternative? she asked.

I had not decided, but I am certain that I will not be going to Connecticut. I don’t know. I guess my plans will be similar to yours.

Well, there is pleasure to be found in that too, she said, still looking at him, smiling.

Will probably go to listen to some jazz, he said, as though he had just finalized his plans. Do you like jazz?

Yes. I love jazz, she replied with some enthusiasm. Who are you going to see? she asked as the waitress brought her food.

Oh, I don’t know. There are several clubs near my house in Brooklyn, and they generally have good musicians playing, he explained. And the plus side is that it will be easy for me to get home later.

Interesting. She nodded her head as she ate her steak.

Who do you like? he asked her.

She paused from her feasting and looked out the window briefly. Milt, Peterson, Miles, Laws, Klugh, Bird, of course, Winton. You know who I like a lot? Watanabe. I find him very interesting.

We are of like minds, he agreed with her choices.

She finished her dinner, took a long drink of stout, and sat back with a deep sigh. She ordered a brandy, and they talked more about the artists they liked. At this point, they were really enjoying each other’s company.

It seems that you really enjoyed your dinner, Myles commented.

Oh yes, she said, smiling, it was delicious.

Myles was staring out the window at the snow falling and thinking about the rest of the evening. He had an idea but was reluctant to suggest it. His thoughts were in a whirl like the wind and snow he was watching when her voice brought him back to the table.

I’m sorry, but what did you say? he asked her.

Was it a nice trip? You left me for a moment, sitting here all alone. She laughed. Good to have you back. I was getting lonely.

I was thinking about our situation tonight, and well, my train has left by now. He paused, searching for the right words.

What is it you’re trying to say? she urged, seeing that he was uncomfortable.

Neither of us has anything to do tonight or the weekend. Now please, please don’t take this the wrong way. I know it must sound ludicrous, but—

Let’s hear it, and we shall see. She was smiling, near laughter.

If you’re in agreement, we could go to Brooklyn to listen to some jazz, and afterward, since we will be closer to my house than yours, you are welcome to stay at my place. That is, if there is any difficulty in getting back tonight. I have a guestroom, and I assure you that you will be comfortable and safe. Tomorrow when, hopefully, the weather is clear, you can go home. If you wish, I will drive you home, or you are welcome to stay the weekend. Whatever you wish to do. He took his wallet and laid it on the table in front of her.

What is this? she asked.

It is to let you know who I am and where I live.

Brenda opened the wallet and looked at a few cards. You’re a driver, the National Associations of Architects, the Masonic Order, and the NAWCC. What is this? she asked, holding up the card.

Horology is my hobby. I collect watches, he explained.

Very interesting, she said, returning his wallet to him. She knew that he was anxious, so she teased him a bit, sitting quietly for a few moments, just smiling at him. It does sound a little insane, but I like the idea.

Very good, he said with some relief. Let me take care of the check. Would you mind?

Be my guest, she told him, enjoying his delight.

We should still be able to get a cab. Whenever you’re ready, he told her while trying to summon the waitress.

They managed to get a cab, but the traffic was jammed all the way to the Brooklyn Bridge. It was too early for the music, but it was wise to get into Brooklyn while they could. Myles hated the subway and would avoid using it whenever possible. They didn’t mind the traffic because they both found their company delightful, and it was an adventure. They had already eaten, so the question was, what were they going to do in the meantime before going to the club? They agreed to go by his house and drop her bag. He would show her the guestroom, and she could get herself settled and freshen up.

Myles called the clubs near him in the area of Fort Greene to see who was playing, but they were all closed because of the storm. The only thing left for them to do was to go to a local bar and drink or simply stay in. When he told Brenda, she was not bothered by the change in events.

No problem, she said with a shrug. It looks like we will be snowed in for the weekend. I hope you don’t get tired of me. She laughed.

I don’t think there’s a chance of that, he assured her. Nevertheless, I am very sorry, and I don’t want you to think the worse of me for the way things turned out.

Not at all. There are other times, she told him. And don’t worry about it. I’m quite comfortable and contented.

I just didn’t want you to think—

Shush! She raised her hand. What did I just say to you? Besides, you seem to have quite a collection of CDs and vinyls. Yummy.

Come, let me show you to your room. He took her bag and led her upstairs. Here you are. I’m in the next room. If you don’t see what you want, just ask. It has been a month and a half since anyone has slept in here. My best friend drank too much one night during our poker game, and he stayed over. The linen is fresh. My cleaning lady changes it weekly whether someone stays over or not. She changed it today. I hope you find it to your liking. Okay?

Everything is fine, thank you, she said as he left the room to get wood for the fireplace.

Well, make yourself at home.

I will, she promised. She hung her clothes in the closet and laid out her toiletries. She then refreshed herself and put on a skirt, sweater, and her slippers. She looked around the room, accessing Myles. She approved of his taste. It was warm and cozy. There was a queen-size bed. She liked a big bed; she could spread out in it. She turned the lamp on the right side of the bed on and switched off the ceiling lights. She favored the right side of the bed. ‘Very comfortable,’ she thought as she smiled and left the room.

Everything okay? Myles asked as she entered the parlor.

Everything’s fine, she answered, seating herself on the couch. When you finish, will you show me the kitchen?

They went into the kitchen. Myles stood in the doorway while Brenda walked around, carefully examining one thing after the other. Now he had a full view of her voluptuous figure. Her hips were full and solid, and she had big shapely legs with the very slightest bow. Her feet were well-proportioned to her body, and he was mesmerized by the roll of her hips when she walked. She had let her hair down, and it fell in an auburn mass to the small of her back, and over her full breasts in the front. He liked women with long hair. On Brenda, it seemed to give a magical glow to her skin.

She was very focused on the stove. It was a six burner, with two ovens. She examined it closely, standing back, nodding her head. Her next stop was the refrigerator. She asked if she could open it, which she did on his approval. She stood carefully checking the contents. It was well stocked for a bachelor.

Do you approve? Myles asked her, looking at her more closely. She really had a fine figure.

You’ll have to feed me this weekend, and that is no small feat. No, I’m serious, I like to eat, and I’m blessed with a good set of genes. I don’t have to worry about my weight.

Eat all that your heart desires, he told her. I think you have a beautiful figure. I happen to like full-figured women.

Well, you’ve got one here. I’m feeling a little peckish. How about you?

I’m fine, he told her.

Okay, why don’t you go and put on some music while I whip up a little something? she suggested.

Myles went to the parlor and put on Heart String by Earl Klugh while Brenda cooked an omelet with diced ham, bacon chips, and cheddar cheese. He was sitting back on the couch, listening to the music, when she came in to get him.

A nice choice of music. I like Earl Klugh. Come, the snack is ready. She took him by the hand and led him to the kitchen. I hope you like it.

I wasn’t hungry, he said. She seated him and put the plate before him, and the smell of the omelet changed his mind. When they finished eating, she washed the dishes; and they went to the parlor to relax, have a drink, and listen to the music.

Why don’t we go to the sunroom? I think you will enjoy it there, Myles told her.

The sunroom? What is that?

Come, you’ll see. He took her by the hand and went to the rear of the parlor and drew the drapes back, revealing a glass wall and doors. He stepped in and hit a switch, turning on the lamps. She was awestricken when she saw the snow falling. All the walls were glass, and you could see outside. Everything was white. He seated her and went to the bar to pour a scotch for himself and a brandy for her. There were speakers that brought the music out there. How do you like it?

Oh, Myles, I have never seen anything quite so beautiful. This is amazing.

Here is to a most beautiful lady, he toasted.

And here is to a most dashing gentleman. They talked a long time about music and themselves. They were getting to know each other. They were both divorced for many years and were uninvolved with anyone. Myles was becoming aware of a deep attraction they had for each other. Brenda knew it ten minutes after she sat down at the table. Myles had a strong urge to kiss her, but he had given his word, and he was a gentleman. Brenda was fully aware of this, and she respected his integrity and consideration. She too had desires, but they were not kids looking for a rump in the sack. Their needs were broader, much more mature, extending beyond the bedroom. They were deeper, more certain, and much more complex. They sat quietly for a bit. He was listening closely to a passage in the music. Brenda was looking at him, smiling. She thought to herself, ‘He’ll catch up.’

Is there anything you want to hear? he asked her.

Yes. I think I would like to hear Peterson, she replied.

Anything in particular?

Yes. ‘On Green Dolphin Street,’ and could you please play the vinyl?

Coming up, just for you. You know, I very seldom play the vinyls.

The richness of the music filled the room as she lounged on the loveseat, and Myles reclined in his chair, putting his feet up on the ottoman. He watched her as she seemed to fall into a swoon with the music. He could feel a pull on him, as though he was being caught in a net, wrapped up with her—in her. It had been so terribly long since he felt like this. He felt a warmth engulfing him, and the more he looked at her, the more she filled him. The sight of her lying there in all her lusciousness was very disturbing. She opened her eyes for a moment, looked at him, and smiled. Then she closed them, and the net seemed to close with her eyes.

The evening was very pleasant and informative to both of them. She was highly intuitive, and that somehow made it easy to talk to her. They were very open with each other as they shared their lives. She told him about her house in Tarrytown and her garden and about her family and daughter. She had practically no contact with her family because of their prejudice. They were bigots. However, they did not talk about their ex-spouses or the reasons for the divorces. By this time, it was getting late, and they both were tired and ready to retire for the night. There was a long weekend ahead, giving them ample time to get around to other things. The storm was becoming a full-blown blizzard. He turned the lights out in the sunroom, and they went upstairs. Myles stood by the door to his bedroom as Brenda went to her room.

Are you okay? he asked.

Oh yes, I had a delightful time. She stopped in the doorway, looking at him. Very enjoyable.

Then I’m pleased, he told her. Good night, Brenda.

Good night, Myles. Sweet dreams, she said, entering her room.

In the course of their conversation, they spoke briefly of their professions but more of their varied interests. Brenda restored archeological artifacts for the Museum of Natural History, and she worked freelance as a consultant. Myles was an architect. Though he was fascinated by the field, he was not that excited by his job. There were other things that drew their attention. They opened themselves to each other about who they were: their early lives, family, who and what had influenced them to become the people they were. The sharing of these intimate facts was their initial bonding and the fusion of their relationship.

Myles slept a little later than usual. When he woke up, he could smell coffee, which he needed. He put on his robe and headed downstairs, where he found Brenda sitting at the table, sipping on a cup of coffee. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the kitchen. She got up and poured him a cup of coffee and set it in front of him.

Good morning, she greeted him.

Good morning. Did you sleep well? he asked her.

Very well, thank you. The food is warm in the oven, she told him, rising from the table

Oh yes, I’m… I’m hungry, he replied. He noticed that she was still in her nightclothes, and her robe was very complementary to her figure. I’m hungry, but I always have my coffee first. You gave me my coffee first. Very interesting.

Eat, she ordered as she put his food in front of him. She then poured him a glass of orange juice. Now enjoy. I hope you like it. She sat back down to her coffee, watching him eat with great pleasure and relishing the fact that it was good to him. In this brief interval of time she was in a beautiful place, all was well with the world. When he finished eating, he had another cup of coffee and a cigarette. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t wait for you to eat. When I get hungry, I have to eat.

The storm grew worse overnight, he said, looking out into the backyard.

Could I have a cigarette?

Of course. Here you go. He passed her his cigarette case.

Thank you. You should see the streets. The cars are all snowed in, she told him. It looks like you’ll have me for the weekend and possibly longer. How do you like that? she asked him, smiling.

Just fine, he answered.

There was no rush to do anything, so they lounged and watched the news and weather. Nearly four feet of snow had fallen so far. The forecast was for more snow and high winds. The news did not affect them; they were very cozy and at ease with their situation. It was now past eleven; so they decided to go upstairs, take a shower, and dress.

There had been many years since his house had felt like this. It was filled with a warmth that was embracing, bringing him into a near-perfect balance. The feeling was right. He liked it, and this was precisely what he wanted and needed in his life. This was what he wanted. What he had been missing for so long. The change in the house was the presence of woman but not just any woman. There had been other women in the house but none like this one. None that he wanted to stay. None like Brenda. Brenda had her own particular energy. He liked it. He needed her.

It was very odd that he could arrive at such a certainty in such a short span of time. Nevertheless, he had never been more certain of anything before in his life. He felt strongly that there was no choice for him to make. It had been made for him. Last night was not by chance, and wherever it led him, he was going to ride it out. He had no alternative. If ever he needed courage, it was now because he felt that this was the adventure of his life. This was his life in a sense because it involved his future. This reminded him of the first time he reached the summit of a mountain. He was washed in humility and gratitude. He wondered how he could be so fortunate twice in his life.

Brenda finished dressing and went downstairs, but she did not see Myles. She looked in the kitchen, dining room, and the sunroom. She called him, and he answered. Following his voice to a door off the dining room, which she thought was a pantry, she knocked on the door.

Come in, Myles called to her.

Am I disturbing you? she asked, entering the room.

Not at all, he assured her. Come in. Welcome to my den.

My, the room is spacious. I thought this was a pantry.

I designed the plans when I renovated, he explained. My study and library are downstairs.

It feels very private in here, as though I was intruding in a very intimate space, she said as she looked around the room. She was amazed as she surveyed this intimate place. It was so masculine. There were watches and clocks neatly on display all around the room, with photographs of mountains and men climbing. There were ropes and other climbing paraphernalia on the walls. This struck her as strange, but at the same time, she was totally fascinated.

Myles was seated at a workbench with a watch in front of him. I don’t allow many people in here, he told her.

What are you doing? she asked.

Adjusting the time, he explained. The time is off by about four minutes fast.

May I watch? she asked.

Sure, he replied. It’ll only take a few minutes. Look around.

This is beautiful, she exclaimed. Are they all vintage?

The majority are vintage. I have some contemporary pieces, but I guess you can tell where my heart is. I have a few special pieces that I keep in the safe. I’ll show them to you another time.

They looked over the cases; and he tried to answer her many questions about the different companies, time periods, types, quality, and technical advances. He told her that it was impossible to absorb all this information in one day. He told her that she was asking good questions, but she would have to have a passion for watches, or she would never get through it all. It takes a lot of time to learn what she wants to know.

She was drawn to one case in particular. These are gorgeous. What are they? she asked, taking him by the arm.

These are Gruen Curvexes, he answered. You like them?

Oh yes, they’re lovely.

Which do you like the most? he asked, opening the case.

I don’t know. They are all fabulous. She took her time and carefully studied the case. Myles, I found it, she told him in a near whisper, pointing to the watch of her choice.

That, my dear lady, is a 14K gold, seventeen-jewel manual wind, made in 1942. The name of this model is the Ashley. He took the watch out of the case and let her hold it.

Beautiful, she said in a soft tone, holding it ever so gently she laid it on her wrist. Funny, I’ve never noticed the excellence of design in the old watches.

It’s not just great engineering. It is art, he commented. It is a marvelous creation, he told her as he placed it back in the case.

Thank you for sharing this with me, she said and then kissed him on the cheek. And for the education.

She surveyed the room as though in a slight daze. She was thoroughly overwhelmed by the watches by all the watches that dominated most of the space in the room.

The afternoon was spent watching classic movies. They agreed on Now Voyager and The Heiress in that order. They would save The Corn Is Green for later that night. They made themselves comfortable on the couch and watched the films between Brenda’s snacks. When the movies finished, it was starting to get dark. The snow had stopped, but the wind was still high with strong gusts, and the temperature had dropped. Brenda announced that it was time to start dinner. Myles followed her from the couch to the kitchen, taking a bottle of Bass ale from the box and a mug from the cabinet. He filled his mug, took a seat at the table, and watched her every move.

What? she asked, turning to look at him.

What are you cooking?

You’ll see, she answered.

He sat there watching her as she went through the paces of preparing their meal. Her movements were graceful and fluid, precise, like a dancer. She was soft and warm, engaging, and not to be interrupted. She went about her task, ignoring him. She was fully aware that he was watching, and she was enjoying it. A big part of her enjoyment was that he didn’t know that she was aware of his gazes. She was deeply flattered by his desire for her.

Could I help? he asked with a grin on his face.

No, thank you, she answered as she looked at him and caught his eyes on her breasts. She laughed softly. Why don’t you go and find something to occupy yourself with? If the food is not good, then you can fire me.

As she prepared dinner, she realized that she felt exceptionally well, warm, and in her natural state. It felt good to be wanted—really wanted. It had been a long time since she had felt that way. It felt good to be appreciated, and it felt good to be cooking for a man. One who really was a man in the true sense of the word. He has a gentleness about him, kindness, consideration, and respect. With all these attributes, he was extremely masculine. In these times, she thought, there seemed to be a diminishing appreciation for a man’s man as though they were a dying breed.

She laughed softly, thinking of how he made her quiver in her womb when he got close to her. She, a near-menopausal middle-aged lady, feeling such a fire again at this stage of her life. She was far from dead, but this arousal had an intensity far beyond the ordinary. It was a little scary because it laid her wide open and vulnerable to a point of not caring to resist any advances that he may choose to make. Thank god, he was a gentleman. Fifteen minutes after she sat down at his table, she decided that she liked him, that she wanted him, and that she would have him. However, at the time, she had no idea that he would touch her so deeply. What she was feeling now was something far greater than desire. This was something that she had no power to control. She could not be cavalier about this, because every part of her was telling her in no uncertain terms that this was too beautiful and too precious to spoil.

She went to the parlor and sat next to him on the couch. He closed his book and laid it on the table. She just looked at him and sipped her wine.

The food is nearly ready. She patted his hand. Are you hungry?

Oh yes, it smells delicious, he replied. I’m captivated already. It must be witch’s stew, he teased her. He washed his hands and seated himself at the table and waited for his treat.

I hope you like it, she said as she served his food. It’s not witch’s stew, she laughed. It is meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans. What do you want to drink, wine or Bass ale?

I’ll have Bass ale.

Well, enjoy. She took her seat and served herself.

They ate dinner, accompanied by pleasant conversation about the cuisine of different cultures. They agreed on French, soul, Creole, and northern Italian. She liked Indian, and he liked Cuban. She had chocolate pudding with whipped cream for dessert, and he had Irish coffee.

That was really good, he complimented her. Thank you.

It was my pleasure, and you are welcome.

You know, he said as he lit his cigarette, this could become addictive.

What? she asked.

Delicious food and beautiful company.

Is there anything else you desire? she asked, smiling at him.

Well, more of your company.

You have it, she told him.

Brenda ordered him to the living room while she cleaned up and washed the dishes. When the kitchen was finished, she joined him on the couch. They were growing more comfortable with each other, and time seemed to stop. Whatever was happening between them was growing at a miraculous rate. It generally took years for two people to reach this level of intimacy and understanding. They complemented each other very well without fully realizing it. There were questions but no apprehensions about this thing. They would pursue this with certainty.

Tell me about the pictures in your den, she requested, knowing that they had to be important to him.

They are pictures of different mountains I climbed and of friends. Some of which are no longer with us.

Tell me about the one with three people standing on the top of the mountain with one in the middle holding a flag. Who is that? she asked.

That’s me.

I had a feeling it was you, but I couldn’t see your face because you’re wearing goggles and a mask.

Well, it was about fifty degrees below zero, with high winds as you can see. I was holding the flag, and the one on the left of me fell on the way down. We couldn’t retrieve the body because he fell in a crevasse. That was on a mountain name K2 in the Himalayas.

Were you close to him?

Yes, very, he replied. The other pictures are on Mount McKinley, Mount Shasta, and various other mountains.

What’s it like up there? I can’t imagine.

In a word, brutal, he said. It is unsympathetic, unforgiving, and totally indifferent to your flaws. It is a master teacher of truth. A hard teacher. It shows you who and what you really are. It will beat you down to tears. It will teach you humility. If you’re smart and if you learn anything at all from the experience, you will leave arrogance and ego up there.

Do you still climb?

No. That’s over, he spoke with a little regret in his voice.

Why? Because of your friend? she queried further.

No, he said. Because it was time to quit.

I know people must ask this question a lot, but—

I climbed because I had a fire in my gut. The mountains, with all its beauty, pulled on me, and I had to go. There, I found peace. I was driven, and that’s it. If I said anything else, it would be a bunch of crap, he stated firmly.

Do you miss it?

Yes. You never get over it. It’s a part of you. The mountains allowed you to survive, and you must show your gratitude and respect.

Until you returned, I would be worried to death, she told him sadly. I know that it was difficult for you to talk about it, and I want to thank you for sharing it with me. She took his hand and squeezed it gently.

They spent the rest of the evening relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. Engaged in fine conversation, listening to music, each in their own way hoping that this was really the first of many evenings to come, being shared with this other person. No one really knows about tomorrow or what it may bring. We can only hope for the best. We must hope and work on the things that may bring us some measure of happiness and joy. When we have been fortunate enough to have a true companion, then we have acquired riches.

The last thing he remembered was sitting on the floor next to the couch, Brenda gently stroking his head. He turned to find her still lying on the couch, peacefully sleeping. He just watched her. This was the first time he had ever seen her sleeping. Quiet and still, she showed beauty even while she was sleeping. He watched her and anticipated hopefully of the many times to come when he would be able to enjoy this picture of her. He was now being selfish. She needed to get to bed. He gently shook her and called her name. She rolled onto her back, blinking her eyes, then turning her face to him, and smiling. She didn’t speak. She just lay there, looking at him, smiling. She reached out and touched his face, then rolled back onto her side. She lay still, looking at him with that charming smile of hers, as though she was afraid he would disappear in a cloud of smoke. She seemed, at least for now, to be genuinely happy.

You should be getting to bed so you can rest properly, he told her.

I’m fine right here, at least for the moment, she said softly. Just stay with me, like this for a little. Would you please?

Whatever you wish, he told her.

She continued to look at him, studying his face and looking deep into his eyes. They were deep, gentle, sensitive, and warm. They were an odd shade of brown, and very alluring. This was one handsome man! He was brown skinned, over six feet, well built, and he moved with assurance and grace. His steps were firm and sure, giving him the appearance of being certain where he was going. He had strong teeth that did not dominate his face, so when he smiled women were captivated by a full dose of his charm. As she looked at him, she found herself quivering. She had heard about this kind of thing happening to people but never believed it to be true. Some believed that love is a miracle. Whatever this was that had hit her, she had never experienced anything like this in her life. Here, she was a mature, rational woman, laid wide open, and overjoyed by it. Vulnerable as a silly schoolgirl and loving it. She was loving being desired, wanted, and needed by this man. The great beauty was that he felt this way about her. This, she was certain of. She had no idea how, but this man had captured her heart. No, she would not give up this night. She could not entertain the thought of being apart from him—not on this, their first night together. She would not give this up for the world.

Here, get up here next to me, she said to him, scooting back on the couch to make room for him. It’s okay. Come, get comfortable.

Are you sure? he asked.

I’m sure, she assured him.

Let me get some blankets. They slept comfortably in a warm embrace, waking up near noon.

Good morning, she greeted him, kissing him on the cheek. Did you sleep well?

Good morning to you, he said, giving her a gentle squeeze around her body. It was the best in a very long time.

Then you like sleeping with me? she asked, giving him a nudge with her hip.

You know I do, he told her.

That’s good, she told him, laughing. Let me go clean up, and I’ll cook us something to eat. I am starving!

When Brenda got up, he rolled over into the warm spot that she had vacated. The smell of her perfume was still heavy on the couch and on his clothes. My Sin—it was intoxicating. He had to remember this. She said she only wore the vintage extrait. He made a mental note to find out where to buy it. He got up and headed for the shower.

The coffee was good and strong, and waiting for him when he came down. She poured his cup when he entered the kitchen. They