Patchwork People Chapter II The Good Man Hard to Find
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Patchwork People XXXII: Welcome Home. free porn video
XXXII. Welcome home.
Autumn was now more than just a hint of wood-smoke in the nippy air of a
summer evening. The trees had turned and the leaves were in free-fall. In
the night sky, the constellations had subtly shifted position. The stars
were sharper. The frogs and crickets had grown quieter.
"Good evening ladies." Walt waved to them as he cruised passed the porch
on the tandem.
He was showing up all over town lately riding solo on that bicycle. He
was becoming famous for it. If he wasn't careful, he was going to earn
himself a reputation for eccentricity. He made a point of hailing Marcia
whenever he happened to come across her on the street; it made her blush
every time.
"That man is crazy," Marcia said.
"Crazy about you is what he is." Grace waved back at Walt. "Otherwise, he
may be the sanest man I've ever known."
"Well. That in itself may be the scariest thing I've ever heard."
"He lives outside of the box." Grace nodded approvingly.
"He knows what he wants and doesn't care who knows it. By the way, have
you made a decision yet?"
"A decision about what?"
"About when you're going to marry Walt."
"What? Has he told you?"
"Do you suppose he had to?"
Marcia had no answer. She took a sip of the warm mulled cider they were
drinking, but tasted nothing. A light came on in the living room window
across the street and a shadow passed in front of it.
"What are you waiting for anyway?"
"I'm trying to protect him."
"Really?" Grace said, putting her cup down. "How interesting. Because
he's trying to protect you. Sounds like a perfect match to me. Pray tell,
though. Just who do you think you're protecting him from?"
"Not who--what."
"What then?"
"Disappointment."
"You're the only one disappointing him."
"You don't understand," Marcia said irritated.
"What I think is that you're really protecting yourself."
"That's silly."
"Is it? Marrying Walt would cause all kinds of potentially delicate
situations. He knows that. Don't you think he's aware of that, that he's
considered it, that he's accepted it? Has he ever, even once, seemed
uncomfortable? Has he once made you feel uncomfortable? You don't need to
answer because I know the answer already. We both know."
"This isn't a fairytale," Marcia said, a little more harshly than she
intended. "Everyone but me seems to be forgetting that."
"Really? Well tell me, Sleeping Beauty. If it isn't a fairytale, if it
doesn't have a happy ending, just who is it that right now, not tomorrow,
or next week, or ten years from now, tell me just who is it that right
this very moment is keeping it from being a fairytale?"
Marcia didn't answer.
She didn't have an answer.
Instead, she rose from the chair in a kind of daze. On any other night
she might have had some snappy quick retort to Grace's question, but not
tonight. Perhaps, tonight, it was something in the way the stars were
aligned, something in the sporadic speed and pattern of the fireflies
floating above the darkening lawn at the base of the hedges, or the
mysteriously suggestive shapes of the hedges themselves. Perhaps it was
that light that had come on in the window across the street and the
ghostly shadow that had moments before drifted across it's gauzy square
of illumination. Or it was simply the breeze so soft that carried with it
the perfume of just the right combination of late summer flowers and
early autumn, a perfume so poignant it could intoxicate one to the
crystal clarity that only came once in a lifetime.
In the end, it may have simply been what ambient light there was left in
the darkening neighborhood and the way it glowed softly on the old
woman's face that gave her the wizened look of a wisdom that seemed
mythological and infallible.
Whatever it may have been, Marcia started for the stairs of the porch,
thinking, "If he rides passed again for some reason, any reason at all,
that is my answer."
But that wasn't quite it either. That wasn't enough.
So she ran down the stairs and continued running, running down the walk
between the carefully tended border of flowers, running towards the
street waving her arms and calling and suddenly out of the gloom there he
was, riding towards her.
He was riding towards her, slow and leisurely, as if he had all the time
in the world, as if everything weren't getting darker and more dangerous
with every passing second.
He braked the tandem to a smooth stop and Marcia climbed onto the seat
behind him as if she'd done it a thousand times before; it was a perfect
fit, of course. He had spent so much time adjusting it just for this very
moment.
"All ready?" Walt called over his shoulder.
The streetlights above them had come on.
"All ready."
Walt pushed off and they began pedaling, pedaling together before the
darkness overtook them. There was still light enough to make it easily.
They didn't have to hurry. The bike beneath them moved like a dream. Just
as Walt had promised. It was going to be a great ride.
They pedaled effortlessly together, perfectly in sync, toward home.
* * * * *
This completes Patchwork People. The entire novel has now been posted
here on Fictionmania. It can also be purchased as an Amazon Kindle ebook
for $2.99.
For more of my writings, drawings, erotica, and photos please visit my
blog Bad Pussy at
sissyforlife(dot)blogspot(dot)com.
Charlize
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