Chapter Three

I won’t say that I didn’t feel a sense of loss over Bert’s death. We were engaged once, after all. Even though it ended badly, I’d had feelings for him at one time.  It’s just that the thought of sitting within the confines of the church amongst the ‘Gertie haters’ was more than either I or Chris wanted to endure.  We decided to forgo the church and catch up with the funeral proceedings at the cemetery.  

I was surprised to see how intimate a crowd it was that gathered around the open grave.  I stood close enough to hear the eulogy, but far enough away as not to intrude on what appeared to be a tight-knit gathering.  My ever-supportive friend stayed glued to my side, gripping my elbow at times whenever someone from the group would look our way.

I smiled to myself when I remembered the time that Bert accused me of being a lesbian.  Chris’ intent on shielding me from the mourners could easily be interpreted as the actions of a lover. 

Just one more thing to fuel their fire.

When the service was over, we scurried to leave before the other attendees could get close enough to offer a snide comment or two.

“Gertrude, dear, wait up!” called Eliza Matthews as she hurried toward us.  I looked at the woman dressed in black with curiosity.  The last we’d spoken, she’d reiterated the fact that she believed Bart’s accusations of my being a lesbian and thought that I was a horrid person for deceiving him in such a way.  Hearing her refer to me as ‘dear’ completely threw me. “Please, dear,” she said, breathlessly, as she caught up with us.  “Just one moment of your time.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Matthews,” I said, softly.

“Thank you,” she said as she dabbed at the corner of her eye with a tissue. “I just wanted to thank you for attending today.  I know that it would have meant a lot to my son.”

I was unsure how to handle this unexpected comment, so I simply mumbled, “Thank you.”

“I’d like you and your friend to come back to the house for something to eat,” she said, hopefully.  “Will you do that?”  I looked from Chris, to Eliza, and then back to Chris again.  She shrugged her acceptance of the idea, so I nodded that we’d come.  “Excellent,” she said with satisfaction.  “Where’s your car?”

“I don’t own a car,” I said flatly.

“How did you get here?” she asked.

“We walked,” Chris offered politely.

“Across town?” she gasped.

With a hint of a smile on her face, my friend proceeded to explain that we lived in the very large borough of Queens where people walked far greater distances than the few miles we’d ventured to attend the funeral.  In Queens, walking was cheaper, and often faster, than taking a cab or driving a car.

“It won’t take us long to get to your home,” I said firmly.  “Our legs are strong.”

“Nonsense,” she sputtered. “You’ll ride with me.  Charles!  Make room in the car for these two young ladies!”

Without waiting for our reply, she scurried off toward the rather large Lincoln.  Quick to comply with her request, her husband, Charles, stood waiting with its back door open.  I looked at Chris with raised brow while she good naturedly nudged me into motion.  It seemed we avoided the confines of the church only to suffer those of the car, followed by the Matthew’s modest Cape style home.

“I’m so glad you came,” Eliza reiterated when we were all settled in the car and headed toward her house.  “I simply hate the way things ended.” She looked at Chris and gave a slight smile.  “I’m Eliza Matthews.”

“I’m Chris Benning,” Chris said sweetly. “Gertie and I work together.”

“How nice,” Eliza mused.  “Do you live together too?”

It was clear that she still believed the accusations about my sexual preferences.  I smiled as I watched the myriad of emotions flash over her face when my friend proceeded to tell her that I lived alone and that she lived with her boyfriend who she hoped would soon propose marriage.  It wasn’t necessary for Chris to divulge so much information to a perfect stranger.  I knew that she did this specifically to shatter the rumors about me and I was grateful. 

Had I truly been a lesbian -or even bi-sexual- I would have held my head up high and proudly admitted it.  It was the fact that I disliked false rumors spread about me, no matter what the topic, that agitated me so.  Chris knew and respected this about me; for which I was grateful.

Considering the small group at the cemetery, I was surprised to see the number of cars outside of the Matthew’s residence.  It looked like the majority of the funeral attendees did just the opposite from Chris and me.  They attended the church and avoided the cemetery.  Considering the primitive fear that a good deal of society has where cemeteries are concerned, I understood their reasoning.  I may not have agreed with it, but I understood it.

The living room and dining room of the fourteen hundred square foot house were packed with friends and family.  There was a large variety of food laid out on the dining room table; ranging from lasagna and a few casseroles to potato salad and deviled eggs. Considerations were made for vegetarians and carnivores alike.

I was incredibly uncomfortable as I inched my way through the sea of strangers.  With the exception of Jack Adams – who leaned against the wall in the corner of the room glowering at me- along with Charles and Eliza Matthews, and Chris, I didn’t know a soul.

“Who are these people?” Chris whispered as she stood next to me filling her plate with potato salad and cold cuts.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I replied.   “We’re on fairly even ground in this one and I used to live here.”

 “It’s weird,” she said with a slight shudder.

“It’s a funeral,” I reminded her.  “They’re rarely filled with joy and pleasantries.”

“Just the same, let’s eat and do the nicey- nicey thing with the Matthews and then get the hell out of here,” she urged.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” I sighed.  “I don’t know why I allowed Dr. Mokena to talk me into this to begin with.”

“It seems to have brought some joy to his mother,” Chris observed.

I lifted my eyes from the impressive array of food to look for Eliza Matthew’s upon Chris’ mention of her and stopped short when my eyes locked with those of one of the handsomest men I’d ever laid eyes on in my entire life.   My body tingled, unnaturally, from head to toe from the somehow familiar intense look he gave me.  Propriety called for me to look away, -after all, this was a funeral, and not a pickup joint- but I couldn’t get my eyes to obey.  It was as if they had a mind of their own as they shamelessly drank in every delicious inch of his six-foot plus frame.

I almost dropped my plate when he politely, but boldly, elbowed his way to me.

“Hello,” he said in a rich baritone voice that matched the rest of him just fine. “I’m Marcus. Marc for short.  You’re the ex-fiancé, right?”

“You’re the guy from the bar,” Chris gasped.

“Touché,” he chuckled softly.

“What are you doing here?” she asked with an impolite bluntness that surprised me.

It was the very same question that occupied my mind, so someone needed to ask it.  Since I seemed to be stuck on stupid from the sheer nearness of him, that responsibility fell on Chris.  I just wished that she’d been a bit more diplomatic with her tone, since I seriously doubted that he was stalking us.

“I’m paying respects to parents who just lost their son,” he replied patiently.  “How about you?”

My face reddened at the mere question.  How callous it would sound if I told the truth about how my therapist felt it would be good for me to have closure from such a bad situation by attending the funeral of the person at the root of that situation and then I decided to stay for a few eats afterward.  Just thinking it shamed me.

“Are you from here?” Chris demanded.

“Chris,” I hissed.

“I find it odd that he just happened to be at the bar the other night and, now, he’s here,” she shrugged.

“It is a little odd,” I muttered.

“Actually, it was intentional,” Marc offered.  “I was there for Jack.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” I said, hesitantly.

“In case you haven’t noticed, he’s a bit off,” Marc whispered as he tapped his pointer finger against his temple. “I was warned that he intended to seek you out and harass you, so I followed him.”

“Who warned you?” Chris asked suspiciously.

“Eliza Matthews,” he said. 

“Jack was always a bully, but I never knew him to be crazy,” I said, thoughtfully.

“You know about the brain tumor he suffered not long ago, right?” Marc asked.   At my rapid intake of air, he added.  “I guess not.”  He lowered his head so that he was speaking close to my ear.  I could feel the heat of his breath as he said, “They got the tumor out, but he was left a bit touched.”

I shuddered at the sensation of his hot breath against my flesh.  Ripples of sheer delight traveled my body.  I closed my eyes to revel in them.  It was then that I realized that if I replaced the expertly tailored suit with a denim shirt and jeans, the same tall, dark, hunky stranger who haunted my dreams was the very same tall, dark, hunky stranger whose deep, breathy, voice caressed me in a way that could only be described as erotic.

The temptation to shout that I knew him from my dreams was great, but the realization of how crazy I’d sound prevented me from acting upon it. I did, however, step back to put some distance between his sexy energy and my overheated body, so that I could better gather my wits about me.  If he noticed my sudden retreat, he made no indication of it as Eliza approached and formally introduced him as the owner of lodge and campgrounds a few miles north of town.

It was difficult to visualize the man standing before me dressed and looking like a GQ model operating the local campgrounds.  I could, however, easily imagine him doing just that when he was dressed in the casual, manly attire he’d sported in my dreams.

If I said it didn’t bother me that I’d somehow managed to conjure up a real live person that I’d never laid eyes on before in my entire life to fantasize about in my dreams, I’d be lying.  It both troubled and creeped me out.  For the first time since I’d started seeing Dr. Mokena, I was actually eager for an appointment.  I clearly had some serious, deep rooted issues.

When I was able to get a word in amidst Chris and Eliza Matthew’s babbling, I queried the handsome man of my dreams as much as I could about himself.  I learned that, although he looked to be in his late twenties, he was actually in his early forties.  He was single and moved east from Montana a few years ago.  He bought the lodge and adjoining campgrounds, almost immediately.

Upon hearing this, I decided that perhaps I’d seen him in passing during one of my visits to my parents and immediately abandoned the idea for the emergency session I’d planned on booking with Dr. Mokena as soon as I’d returned home.

Rather than us enduring a long and drawn out event, the time passed quickly and pleasurably.  We were so entertained by our handsome new friend that, before we knew it, it was early evening and the mourners were filing out of the quaint little Cape while giving one final note of sympathy to Eliza and Charles Matthews.  Marc wouldn’t hear of us calling a cab to return us to my parent’s house and -with Eliza’s backing- insisted on driving us himself.  By now, we’d spent enough time with him, watched his interactions with other guests, and learned sufficient information to feel comfortable accepting his offer.

When Chris eagerly slid into the front seat of his SUV, I chuckled and pushed my slender five-foot-one-inch frame into the back.  I was glad I’d worn slacks instead of a skirt since getting up into vehicles the height of an SUV or a truck were never a graceful event for my small frame and short legs.   As I adjusted myself into the seat, I noticed a slight grin lighting up Marc’s handsome features as he monitored my progress through the rear-view mirror.

“All set?” he asked when I’d completed wrestling with the seat belt.

“You bet,” I said with a giggle that I haven’t a clue the reason for.

The streets of small town USA were fairly empty as he maneuvered the SUV with the confidence of someone who spent a great deal of time behind the wheel.  Within the matter of minutes, we were outside of my home giving him our thanks and saying our goodbyes.

As I opened the door to slide out of the vehicle, he reached over and gently laid his hand on my shoulder.  Shards of erotic energy permeated every inch of me.  It felt so amazing that I couldn’t help sighing with pleasure.

“Have lunch with me tomorrow?” he asked.

“Both of us?” I asked, softly, as I looked at Chris waiting next to the car.

“Just you,” he said with a grin.

“Sorry,” I said with obvious regret, “she’s my guest. It wouldn’t be right.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” he said, thoughtfully. “My apologies.  Please, will you both be my guests for lunch tomorrow?”  

He said it loud enough for Chris to hear.  The delight in her eager acceptance overpowered the nagging in my gut and I nodded my agreement.

“What time do you want us there?” I asked.

“I’ll pick you up around noon,” he said as he released my arm and turned back to face the wheel. “Sound good?”

“We can take a cab or borrow my parent’s car,” I offered.

“That’s up to you, but I need to run a few errands in the morning, so I’ll be out, anyway,” he said non-chalantly.

 “You’re like our own personal driver,” Chris giggled.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a smile and a nod.

“We’ll be ready,” I said with a roll of my eyes as I slid out of the door and positioned myself next to Chris.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he said with a wave as he pulled the SUV away from the curve.

Chris slid her hand through the crook of my arm and guided me up the walk to my parent’s house. 

“Wowza, wowza, what a looker,” she mused.

“You certainly were taken with him,” I snickered.

“Come on,” she grumbled. “Are you going to try to tell me that you didn’t think he was the hottest thing you’d set eyes on since… I don’t know when?”

“Since the other night at the bar?” I chuckled.

“I was too drunk to really appreciate his hotness,” she said with a grin.

“He’s breath taking, for sure,” I agreed.

“The question is… Is he a keeper?” Chris added.

“What about Tom?” I asked with surprise.

“Not for me, silly.  For you.  It’s time that you got back into the game,” she said.

“I didn’t know that I was out of the game,” I pouted.

“I’ve met the guys that you’ve been dating,” Chris pointed out.  “There’s no comparison.”

“I believe it would be difficult for any man to hold up against that one,” I mused.

“You like him, don’t you?” she asked. “It was so obvious that he liked you that even a blind man would notice.”

“I don’t know him,” I replied.

“You know enough,” she said.

“For lunch or maybe even dinner, but don’t start planning my wedding quite yet, okay?” I said.

“Can I plan the engagement party?” she giggled.