Page 23 of Miles. Alton & The 9:04 (Modern Mail Order Brides #19)

T hom expected a call from Mae that never came.

He paced the floor of his office, concerned she may have lost her nerve, or they had countered with a better offer.

More than anything, his thoughts revolved selfishly around himself, feeling sorrowful as the hours passed, that perhaps he wasn't enough for her.

The argument in his head went back and forth, culminating on the concept of the fifteen hundred bucks in flame colored cookware, which meant his sexy chick planned to fluff up the roost. Finally, having run out of second guesses, he picked up his phone to call, but looked up, and in his office doorway was Mae.

“Mary? Are you okay? I was getting worried,” he said.

“It's a heck of a drive, nearly four hours, plus, I had to bring my plants and clothes,” she said.

He simply stood staring. She'd come to him, but this wasn't how he’d wanted this to happen. Also, now wasn't the time to discuss matters, so he reached into his pocket and passed her the keys to the home.

“I should be there in about an hour,” he said.

“Okay, see you at home,” she said and blew him a kiss, leaving him standing perplexed and slightly bemused.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, he arrived home to the flame-colored pots on the stove simmering a meal which smelled mouth-wateringly delicious.

A colorful rug he hadn't seen before was on the living room floor in front of the ridiculously long sofa.

The bare windows had leafy green occupants seated nearby, peering out, sunbathing in the last of the day's rays of light. The house felt like home.

A barefoot Mae appeared, wearing a loose-fitting pair of lounge pants with a matching top which hung off one shoulder. The hair, which had been down earlier, sat piled high in a messy bun, and Thom had seen nothing more delightful in his life.

“Oh, hey you,” she said casually, walking over to kiss him to welcome him home. “Pretty good day today?”

“The question is, how was yours?”

“Quit my job, handed in my keys and the corporate credit card, said farewell, and walked the hell out,” she said. “I got to my apartment and didn't want to be there, so I packed up my favorite things and brought them here to where I want to be.”

He scratched his chin, forcing himself to push away the questions he wanted to pelt her with to gain an understanding of where they were currently standing, “Mary, what is the plan, or do you have one?”

“Sure,” she said, walking past him to stir the yummy in the pot. “The courthouse opens at 8:30, we go get a license, then find a judge and get married.”

Mae brought a spoon of the broth to him to taste, and his eyes grew wide from the perfectly seasoned liquid. “That is amazing. What are we having for dinner?”

“Braised lamb chops in red wine with risotto,” she said. “I saw the lamb chops taken down, so I put them on. I hope that is okay.”

“Yes. Yes, it is, but we need to talk,” he told her.

“Okay. I'll set the table, and we can talk,” she told him.

Mae didn't seem to be in the mood to be contrary.

She had driven for four hours, cooked the man a meal, rolled out a colorful rug which brought panache to the drab living room, and added air cleaning greenery to the house.

In her heart, and in the back of her mind, Thom Brown had better plan on doing some singing so she could get a whole heap of loving, or there was going to be a fight.

“I read your face, Mary,” he said, laughing.

“Me? I didn't say anything,” she said, winking at him.

Thom brought the food to the table, blessing it and enjoying one of the best meals he'd ever had in his own house. If she could put dinner on the table like this, the whole meeting with her Daddy thing would have to wait. He was marrying her in the morning and that was going to be that.

“I read your face, Thom,” she stated, laughing at him. “Say what's on your mind.”

He sighed.

“I want to marry you, but not like this,” he explained.

“I want to meet your folks, talk to your father, break bread at your mother's table, and ask for your hand. My intentions have never been to have a live-in lover with a title. The only title I want for the woman who sleeps next to me permanently is being Mrs. Brown.”

“Pugnacious,” Mae said.

“Excuse me?”

“It is the perfect word to describe Raymond Amos Elijah Weston, or Rae, Weston, my father, who is a grumpy retired train conductor,” she told him.

“Rae Weston is going to take one look at you and scream, ‘Ah Hell naw’ then turn his back to you. You shall offer him your hand for a shake, which he will look at as if you used it to wipe your ass and left residuals on your fingers and nails.”

“Wow, that is a visual,” Thom said, blinking slowly.

“When you try to explain who and what you are to me, he is going to dismiss you and sit pouting like a child before looking at you again, shouting, Ah, hell naw,” Mae said. “Please don't expect any support from my mother Barbara Anita Enya Weston, whom he calls, yes Bae.”

“Mae, Jae, Rae, and Bae?” he asked, his eyebrows arching,

“Bae Weston is a retired CNA who mutters under her breath, saying mean little things she thinks no one can hear, and I can guarantee you upon seeing you, her reaction is why she gotta bring home Conan O'Brien, didn't they have any that looked like the Superman guy ?” Mae said.

“Then she is a going to make an offhand comment about your ear and the kids with special needs not being able to reproduce to make more kids with special needs, because that's how God designed it.”

His face contorted in disbelief at her words, asking, “What?”

“Oh, we are only warming up, Thom,” she said.

“My sister, Fae, Felicity Ann Emilia, is an active train conductor who is married to a bitter bus driver with a gambling problem, but to him, lottery tickets are simply to support the Illinois Education System,” Mae explained.

“My sister became a conductor to win Daddy's love since my brother decided to marry a doctor and become a simp as Daddy calls him, which leaves all of his attention on me, a fact my sister hates and my brother secretly resents.”

“I was not expecting this,” he said.

“Of course you weren't, but here is where the salt shall meet the wound,” she told him.

“Every Wednesday, my father calls my office to say hi and mention what is being cooked for dinner on Sunday, but mainly, he calls the switchboard to be connected to the Director of Philanthropy's office.

He doesn't call my cell. He doesn't call me at home. He calls the switchboard every Wednesday like clockwork.”

“And this coming Wednesday, when he calls and you're not there?”

“He's going to be pissed, and yell at me through the phone about throwing away opportunities and his sacrifices for my graduate schooling,” she expounded. “I will then tell him I quit, am married, and moved to Alton. He will have no choice but to deal with it.”

“And his willingness to accept me as his son by law?”

“That shit ain't ever going to happen, so stop being hopeful on that front,” she said. “Now, are we doing this in the morning, and are we making out tonight?”

“I might be too full,” he said, patting his stomach, “plus I need to process all of what you said. Pugnacious. Eager to argue, fight, and bicker. Your father.”

“My family,” she said. “You and I go in as a unified front.

We are one, and I am unemployed, I have no idea what is next, and frankly, I don't care.

However, please keep in mind, as my father will discover I am no longer at the offices, so will other organizations, and they are going to start throwing out offers.

Married, clothes in the closet, my plants are here, I'm not tempted.

I'm where I want to be. You just need to make us permanent.”

“I can make us permanent,” he said, looking at her. “Mary, have I told you how beautiful I think you are?”

“Yes, but I was naked, spread eagle on the bed, awaiting you to violate my body,” she said, laughing.

“Well, yeah, there was that time,” he said, smiling. “I just lost my train of thought.”

“Ohh, you said train,” she added, licking her lips. “Thom, I meant to tell you I am a qualified locomotive engineer for steam, diesel, and electric.”

“Still distracted,” he said, looking at the pretty mouth.

“I can operate a trolley car on those tracks, electric or diesel,” she said. “I just thought you should know.”

“Still on the naked, spread-eagle beautiful thing,” he replied. “Morning. Marriage. Tonight, make out. Honeymoon. When? Where? Don't care. Naked. Spread eagle.”

“Thom,” she whispered, but he didn't hear her. In one motion, she was in his arms as he carried her down the hall to the bedroom.

He would deal with the situation with her parents when it arose. Tonight was not the time to think about such matters. There was love to be made, and he was ready to make it.

****

T HE LOVEMAKING SESSION left a knot in the middle of his back from trying to throw a hump with a full belly.

Much of what Mae had told him he needed to process, along with the emotions threatening to choke him out.

None of his careful planning was going to plan.

Everything was coming at him sideways, and truthfully, he didn't know if he was in a calm state of euphoria or in an altered moment of time where he was the one chasing fairies.

Mae had a fucking diesel train engine and a lot of clothes.

The closet with his six pairs of pants, four pairs of shoes, and two jackets now was loaded with blouses, dresses, and cute little shoes, which loaded up the shoe rack.

“It was only two suitcases,” he said, thinking of her Winter clothing. “She’s probably going to need the spare bedroom closets.”