From This Day Forward: Multicultural Romance Read online

  Maybe it was her imagination, she tried to tell herself as she drove on, but her mind didn’t fool her.

  On a whim, she jerked off on the side of the road, turned her vehicle around and headed back toward Velma’s home. Within moments, she was ringing the doorbell.

  “Who is it?” Velma asked.

  “Just me,” Loretta said.

  Velma opened the door. “Did you forget something?” she asked, looking back at her foyer table for perhaps her sunglasses or purse.

  “No, no,” Loretta said, a seriousness about her. “Vel -- are you okay?” Loretta asked, concern filling her eyes.

  Velma darted her eyes away for a quick second, then let them land back on Loretta’s.

  “I’m fine,” she lied. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know, I just feel like something’s going on with you that maybe you’re not telling me?” Loretta said with a question in her eyes.

  Velma exhaled. “Loretta I am fine,” she stated emphatically, placing her hands on her friend’s shoulders. “That’s nothing more than that overactive, ‘mama’s-got-to-have-something-to-be-worried-about’ imagination. Now get on out of here before you can’t see your hand in front of your face on these dark roads,” she chuckled and turned Loretta toward the front door.

  “I love you, Velma,” Loretta said, the feeling still not completely leaving her, no matter what her friend said. She reached back and hugged her neck for a long moment.

  “I love you, too,” Velma said, hugging her back. “Now go on, git!” she swatted at her friend playfully and closed the door behind her.

  Loretta looked back to see Velma peeking out the side curtain at her as she drove off into the darkness toward Thornton Vineyard.

  Chapter 13

  After watching Loretta drive away, Velma let the curtain drop and sauntered into her living room. She sat on the long, mud cloth-covered couch, thinking.

  She was happy for her friend, who was finally going to get laid, after all this time. She smiled to herself. Alonzo was a nice gentleman. Velma had always admired him as a business owner and as a person. He was a hardworking man, with morals and values.

  If only Malachi could have been more like him.

  She and Malachi had been married just a few short years before the tragedy happened. She remembered how they found each other. She’d met him at the gym. A personal trainer, he’d come to her home to provide private training sessions. One thing led to another, and they began sleeping together.

  Velma adored him. She hadn’t expected to fall for him, any man really, because she was always so busy with work. And part of her thought she may be gay, though she never explored those feelings. Something about Malachi made her forget everything and fall in love with him. She finally proposed to him after less than six months of dating, and he didn’t hesitate to say yes. They were married by a Justice of the Peace in the valley, and they honeymooned at her condo because the funeral home was too busy for her to take any meaningful time off. That was now almost eight years ago.

  It was Malachi that pushed her to buy her house. He loved being married to a woman of means, and he was not shy about wanting the finer things in life -- with her money.

  Velma always knew she was more smitten with him than he was with her. After all, he was thirteen years younger than she was, and he was handsome and fit. And he made her feel like a queen, especially in the bedroom, and especially in the beginning of their relationship.

  In spite of that little voice in her head saying he was a mistake, she married him anyway.

  The very first year of their marriage, things started to go sour. Malachi stopped working his physical training business and began using her money as if it were his own. Too often, he stayed out all night, and was not shy about telling her he didn’t see anything wrong with it -- even though he was a married man.

  But Velma stayed with him, just the same. He was almost like a drug to her, an unhealthy obsession, she knew, but he was her husband and she knew she’d be with him forever.

  The thought of not being with him, no matter how he treated her, was more painful than how he made her feel.

  And then, one day Malachi threatened to leave her.

  “I’ve met somebody else, Velma,” he said using a cavalier tone. “I want a divorce.”

  All Velma could do was stare at him. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her.

  Seconds later, Malachi said he wanted to discuss the alimony payments she would be sending him.

  Velma’s heart seemed to bolt out of her chest as she saw herself lunge toward him. They struggled that night in the kitchen, with him trying to restrain her more than anything.

  She didn’t mean to kill him. It was an accident; a horrible accident, she told herself as she watched the blood gush from his head as his body bounced back from the sharp edge of the granite countertop down to the white marble floor.

  It was an accident, but her Malachi was dead just the same.

  Velma thought about calling the police, but she thought about her business, her reputation, going through an investigation, and the possibility of going to jail.

  She closed her cell phone as quickly as she’d opened it.

  He was getting ready to leave her, so she told everybody he did.

  That night, Velma cleaned Malachi’s head wound, dragged him to the basement and kept him there until she could figure out what to do. They next morning, she made plans to discreetly move his body from her home by herself to her funeral home, where she would cremate him.

  Everything worked according to plan.

  Placing his ashes in a gold-embossed urn, she kept him in the basement. As the months passed on, she renovated her basement to look like her and Malachi’s master bedroom suite.

  Each evening, she visited with him in there-created bedroom suite in the basement, chatted with him about the day’s events as if he were still alive, enjoyed their favorite television shows, and kissed him goodnight before she disappeared upstairs in the wee hours to the second level of her home.

  The phone rang, startling her.

  It was Loretta.

  “Just want to let you know I’m in okay,” Loretta sang.

  “Good,” Velma said. “I’m getting ready to turn in myself. Have fun on your date tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, I will,” Loretta sang.

  The women bid each other goodnight.

  After hanging up, Velma hummed a tune as she sauntered into the kitchen. She refreshed her tea and pulled down Malachi’s favorite coffee cup. Pouring hot water from the steaming kettle into his cup, she sauntered down through the secret door leading to her basement.

  “It’s me, I brought your tea,” she said too cheerfully. “That was Loretta visiting,” she said sitting the cup in front of the urn holding Malachi’s ashes on the nightstand next to the large bed. “She and Alonzo finally have a date!”

  Chapter 14

  The next evening, the large gate at Alonzo’s estate home was already open for Loretta. Smiling, she pulled her SUV into the large, circular driveway. It was a few minutes before eight o’clock. Glancing into the driver’s side mirror, she brushed a stray curl from her hair. Not often pulling her hair down from the thick ponytail that traveled beyond the nape of her neck, she had conditioned and curled it for her date. She decided she really liked the new look. Maybe I’ll keep it for a while, she thought, glancing approvingly at herself as she powered her nose and applied another light coat of mulberry-colored lipstick.

  As Loretta slid out of the vehicle, her new pink sundress slid up around her thick, shapely thighs. A soft, silky cotton, the fabric was cool and comfortable. The bare shoulders and slightly plunging neckline of her dress revealed a tasteful amount of skin and accented her full bosom and slimming waistline.

  Loretta felt confident and sexy as she clanged the big iron knocker hanging on the front door. Before she could knock two times, Alonzo had already opened the door.

  The sight of him took her b
reath away. He stood broad and tall, wearing casual black slacks and a white linen shirt. A dark, thick belt with a bronze buckle was fastened around his waist. The still-damp, dark wavy mane was brushed back from his head, and the stubble about his face had been trimmed slightly.

  “Hi,“ he said, his eyes dancing as they traveled her beautiful figure.

  “Hi,” she blushed as his eyes traveled her body.

  “I don’t mean to stare,” he said. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” she smiled, glancing down before looking back up at him. Catching a whiff of his woodsy cologne as he reached for a light suit jacket on the hanger next to the tall, thick door made her want to reach up and pull him close.

  “You too,” she offered. “I mean, you look very handsome.” Her eyes bored into his, unable, she was certain, to shield her attraction.

  Alonzo read her inviting stare. His mind lingered on the kiss he hoped to steal before the night was over.

  “Thank you,” he said, flashing that broad, white smile again.

  “Shall we?” she said, motioning to her vehicle in the driveway.

  “Yes,” he said. “But I’ll drive.”

  She didn’t question him, just handed him her keys. She knew it was a man thing, being behind the wheel, and suddenly that was just fine with her.

  After Alonzo opened the vehicle door for her on the passenger’s side, they were off on their first date. She told him the name of the waterfront seafood restaurant she’d made reservations at, at Velma’s suggestion.

  “I know the place,” he said. “The owner is a colleague.”

  “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” she said, as she relaxed and let Alonzo drive them to the establishment about seven miles from the vineyard.

  The restaurant was white tablecloth and the menu was pricy, which did not phase Loretta at all. Alonzo had been very generous to her, so she looked forward to repaying him with a fine dinner.

  Throughout the evening, their conversation flowed seamlessly as they talked about their children, their businesses, and finally their marriages. Alonzo was very open with her about his relationship with Marissa.

  “You still love her, don’t you?” Loretta asked at one point during the conversation.

  “Does true love ever die?” he asked in the thick romance accent rolling off his lips like fine wine.

  “No, it doesn’t,” she said, thinking about her own husband.

  “I just love her differently now,” he said, taking a bite of his filet mignon. “And I pray she’s well and happy. She’s the mother of my son, and I will always wish the best for her.”

  “You’re a good man,” she responded.

  “I try,” he said. “I try.”

  After dinner, they each had a brandy and moved out to the plush seating area on the moonlit patio overlooking the water.

  When Alonzo darted inside for a few moments, Loretta exhaled, enjoying the cool, night air. She was having the time of her life. The food, the setting, the company, the evening couldn’t have been more perfect. She smiled to herself as she took another sip of her brandy.

  A little while later, as they prepared to leave, Loretta giggled, embarrassed she’d almost forgotten. “Wait, I have to pay the check.”

  “I’ve already taken care of it,” Alonzo said, guiding her toward the doorway.

  “Goodnight, Ms. Devon. Goodnight, Mr. Thornton,” the hostess said with a smile. “It’s good to see you again,” she smiled at Alonzo. It was clear the young lady had a crush on Alonzo. “And Mr. Abernathy sends his well wishes.”

  “Thank you for a lovely table, Patricia,” he nodded and smiled back warmly. “And please give Arthur my regards as well,” Alonzo said, placing his strong hand in the small of Loretta’s back as they exited the restaurant.

  Loretta glanced back at him with a question.

  “You didn’t really think I’d let you pay, did you?” he asked.

  “But I wanted to take you out,” she said.

  “You did,” he smiled as they waited for the valet to bring the SUV around. “And I had a lovely time.” After removing his suit jacket and draping it around her bare shoulders, he rested his hand back at the spot just below the small of her back.

  Loretta enjoyed his strong, steady touch.

  After taking the keys and tipping the valet, he held the door open for her, and they drove off into the darkness toward his estate home at the vineyard.

  ***

  Later that evening, they were sitting on a plush leather couch in his great room. Giant back windows off the first floor looked out over a large courtyard bordering a long, shimmering, swimming pool. Even in the darkness, the place was gorgeous.

  It was going on eleven o’clock, but Alonzo insisted Loretta come in for the night cap he’d promised.

  “I want you to know, I had a lovely time this evening, Loretta. I haven’t had this much fun in, well, to be honest, I can’t remember. I really enjoy your company,” he said.

  “I enjoy yours, too, Alonzo,” she said. “You’re so easy to talk to.”

  They exchanged a long glance that let them know they were both feeling the same thing.

  “And you are, too,” he said. “Can I get you that brandy?” he asked.

  “Just a little bit,” she said. “I am driving.”

  “You’re right up the road on the vineyard,” he reminded her. “I can drive you home if you feel like you’re tipsy.”

  He didn’t want her to go home, at all.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “I’m fine, just cautious.”

  “I understand,” he said, pouring her snifter half full. They chatted some more about the children, their families, and a host of other things.

  “Do you have any pictures of your village?” Loretta asked a little later. She had enjoyed listening to him recount stories about his village over dinner.

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” Alonzo said, standing up. “In the library, come with me.”

  Loretta followed him through the foyer to the tall entry just beyond the winding, mahogany staircase. Alonzo’s broad frame seemed to dwarf even the towering doorway. She glanced up at the second floor landing. The cathedral ceilings seemed even higher on the second floor.

  Gesturing for her to have a seat on the burgundy, tufted, leather couch in the library, he opened a floor-to-ceiling wooden cabinet by tugging on its wide, brass handles. After a little shuffling, Alonzo retrieved two weathered, antique photo albums.

  “Ah, here they are,” he said, returning to take his seat close to her on the couch.

  Loretta didn’t move. She stayed close to him as he pointed out pictures of his village and old friends. He laughed as he recounted stories about the people in the photos, and he smiled fondly as his eyes landed on a picture of his mother and father holding him when he was just a toddler.

  “Your mother was beautiful,” Loretta said, looking at the petite lady with the long dark tresses. “You have her eyes,” she said glancing over at him.

  He was doing it again. Throughout the evening, Loretta could feel Alonzo’s eyes, as if studying her, when he seemingly thought she wasn’t looking.

  “This is you?” she said, looking at the handsome, shirtless man in dark slacks.

  “Yes, that’s me,” Alonzo said. “Many, many years ago. I was in tip-top shape back then.”

  “You’re in tip-top shape now,” Loretta whispered without realizing it, as she let her hands travel the photo over his broad chest.

  “You’re a good liar,” he chuckled, “But I was in my prime back when I was trying to return to boxing.”

  “You were a boxer?” Loretta asked. Every day it seemed something about Alonzo Thornton intrigued her more.

  “Yes, I was just a teenager in Galonias when I was coming up in the ranks. Then I moved to America. After college, after the vineyard was running smoothly, I played around in the sport again, but that was a long time ago.”

  Loretta noticed his eyes lit up as he talked about th
e sport.

  “Not so long ago that you can’t get back into it if you want to.”

  “I’m a little up in age for that,” he chuckled, taking a sip of his brandy.

  “I don’t mean compete, I mean train for the sport of it. You know, find a group of guys who like doing what you like doing, and, well, just socialize in the sport.”

  She chatted on and on, and Alonzo just listened. That was one of the things he enjoyed most about her; just listening to her talk, filling the air with goals and dreams in an almost singing voice.