Page 31 of Miles. Alton & The 9:04 (Modern Mail Order Brides #19)

T hom arrived at the brick bungalow house on South Justin Street.

For some odd reason, the home was exactly as Thom imagined: tight windows, with little to no space between the homes, and no driveway.

The small driveway which was there, he used to back in the moving truck.

Several neighbors came outside to see what was causing the beeping sound from the truck backing in, and it also brought Rae Weston to the front porch as well.

His face grew tight as he watched the tall man in a hat exit the driver's side of the rental truck and walk around opening the door for Mae.

Thom's head was down, as well as him wearing long sleeves and a necktie with a cardigan, looking like he had fallen into The Gap.

Thom opened the door for Mae, helped her out, and walked in front of her, leading the way.

He only made it as far as the bottom step.

“Mae, is that a white man?” Rae Weston bellowed. “I know like hell you ain't bringing no white man to my damned house talkin' 'bout this yo huzband. Aww hell naw!”

Thom stood at the bottom step, looking up at the man. He saw no surprises in his delivery or his reaction to seeing him. This part he'd anticipated and was actually looking forward to dealing with in the right proper fashion. He offered a bright smile.

“Mr. Weston, I'm Thom Brown,” he stated.

“I don't care if you're Thom Thumb,” Rae yelled. “Mae, you have some explaining to do young woman.”

Thom shrugged. “Okay then.” He turned and began to walk away from the home, clicking the unlock button on the truck. “Mary, it's still pretty early; if I push it, we might get home before dark.”

Rae Weston didn't know what to make of it. “Hold on there. Where are you going?”

“Sir, since you're unwilling to welcome me into your home, don't be the least bit surprised when I'm unwilling to welcome you into ours,” Thom said. “I guess you can still do your weekly Wednesday calls to stay in touch. Nice meeting you.”

Thom opened the truck door for Mae as Jae came out of the house. He yelled at Thom, “Hey, where are you guys going?”

“Home,” Thom said. “We'll talk later.”

Rae Weston began to stutter as his son took over. “Man, you and Mae get in this house. Ma has been cooking most of the day, and everyone is here to meet you. Daddy, come on now,” he said to his father.

“Jae, that is a white man,” Rae said.

“He's a man, Daddy,” he said, waving Thom forward, but Thom hadn't moved. His eyes were on the father, waiting for him to back down and act like he had some sense.

“I'm not understanding this at all. She quit her job to marry him and move to where again? This is making no sense, no sense at all,” Rae said.

“Mr. Weston, I'm here for you to find out what she saw in me to claim me as her own and marry me,” Thom said. “Aren't you the least bit curious to know what it is that made her choose me as her husband?”

“I guess,” Rae mumbled, slightly backing down.

“Mr. Weston, are we invited in, or are we leaving?”

“Come on in. I mean, Bae has spent all day cooking, and she misses Mae, so yeah, I guess,” he acquiesced.

Thom led the way as Mae followed behind.

He extended his hand for a shake, which Mr. Weston refused, but he moved to the side as his wife embraced her father, giving the man a hug.

Jae led the way inside the home, to shiny wooden floors with updated appliances Thom could see in the open floor plan.

Jae was all smiles as he made the introductions.

“Thom, this is my wife, Dr. Sherryl Weston, and our daughters Ella and Josephine,” he said pointing to the girls who stood watching him.

“Ah, Josephine, what kind of dancing do you prefer, ballet or modern?” Thom asked.

The girl scowled at him and asked, “How do you know I dance?”

“Your feet,” he said. “You're standing in first position.”

His eyes went to Ella, who wore a pair of treble cleft earrings. He smiled at her, “Jazz or R however, as he told his wife before their arrival, Thom Brown knew who he was, and her family could test him if they so desired, but he would stand his ground.

He provided a pleasantry to her as she called for everyone to come to that table. Thom wanted to wash his hands, and Mae showed him to the bathroom. She rubbed his back, telling him to relax.

“I'm cool,” he said.

“I know you are, but they aren't, so relax; we'll get through this,” she said, more for herself than her husband.

They arrived in the dining room for Thom to find himself seated directly in front of the mother-in-law, Jae, on his left and Mae on his right.

It was a flanking maneuvering designed to bring him comfort but the food on the table was already upsetting his stomach, and he had yet to taste any of it.

His mind immediately went to “Rapper's Delight” when he saw the macaroni and cheese, crispy on the edges with orange puddles of grease floating on top.

The pork chops were fried harder than a press and curl the Saturday night before Easter.

The greens sat in a bowl with an iridescent slick coating covering the saturated leaves.

Only the corn on the cob appeared edible, which for Thom would not be the first thing he chose because of the bridge work on his incisors.

Rae Weston offered a prayer, food was passed around the table, and plates were filled. Thom opted for smaller portions since he had no intention of eating any of it, outside of maybe cutting the kernels from the corncob. He could feel eyes on him looked up to spot the guy Rick, staring at him.

“I bet you don't eat nothing like this where you come from, huh?” Rick asked, trying to be sarcastic.

“I sure don't,” Thom replied, taking his knife to cut the corn off the, which also drew attention.

“You can't bite into the corn?” Ella asked.

Thom snarled his lip to show the silver wires around his incisors. “Bridge work, which also makes eating apples no fun either,” he said, offering her a smile.

“Bad teeth, missing ear, what else is broken on him?” he heard Bae mutter under her breath.

He continued cutting off the corn, also noticing Sherryl wasn't eating the food either, and Jae was working hard to get it down.

The girls were toying with the greens, but the two boys were scarfing down the food.

Thom sawed through the pork chop, which was fried so hard it curled up on the ends.

His mother-in-law, still muttering under her breath, making offense remarks on everything from his teeth to his ear, was starting to bug him a little bit.

He felt Mae's hand on his thigh as he inhaled deeply.

“We don't even know what kind of stock he comes from, who his people are, or if he has my baby living in some trailer in the middle of nowhere,” Bae mumbled.

“And what is up with that ear? I mean, his teeth and the ear, is it some form of a birth defect, and will it affect their children?

I don't know why she felt working around all them white men, she thought we'd be okay with her bringing one home. Really. Is he going to like explain what happened to that ear, or do we have to guess whether their kids will have the same deformity?”

Thom had enough of her passive aggressive bullshit and finally decided to answer her.

“My ear was shot off when I was three as I wrestled the gun away from my mother who was attempting to take her own life,” Thom said as all eyes at the table focused on him.

“My brother LeBeau and I are only 18 months apart, and at the time, no one understood post-partum depression or the impact it would have on a military wife living in a place like Ft. Leonard Wood in Missouri.”

Everyone at the table was looking at him, and he lowered the knife and pushed the plate away.

“My father was a career Army soldier, who on that day became a single parent. My mother went into care in the state of Missouri, and my father had orders to report to Kit Carson in Colorado, a nice place with a great Army unit who provided support for my dad during a difficult three years.”

He looked at Mae before taking a breather.

“The next duty station was Ft. Riley, Kansas, the complete opposite of Colorado, with no support, and a single father with two very active boys became a bit much, along with a unit that hated each other, the mission, and everything the Army trained them to do.

My father became a functioning alcoholic, and one Friday, he didn't come home.”