Melodic RedemptionChapter 5
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Melodic RedemptionChapter 35 free porn video
Johanna's Turn:
I walked out of the classroom with a definite spring in my step. I had several reasons to bounce, you know. Let's see. That test paper I laid on the GA's desk was, to the best of my knowledge, close to perfect. Stoney was home waiting on me. The semester was almost over and for the first time in my life I was not packing up to go spend winter break with Mom and Dad.
The test. How ironic that I was testing at the end of a class on the history of Europe since 1945. I smiled at the thought of the class scope and the fact that I had a little window on some living history when Georg and Betta submitted to questioning about a view of communist-run Czechoslovakia and eye-witness reports of Prague Spring. The smile vanished quickly when I remembered the sad expressions as they recounted the oppression, friends disappearing into secret police vans, some to never be heard of again.
Stoney. My Stoney. Walking almost as well as he was before the accident. This Friday he's making what he hopes is a final trip to the doctor before going back to work. At this stage in our life together, I am actually going to miss having him there when I get home during the day. I giggle to myself. Key's gonna miss him too.
"Jo, if that boy hadn't just fallen right into your lap like he did, uh ... he's a keeper."
"I don't have to worry about you two, do I?" After all, he was there home alone with Key helping him out. At first he was pretty much bed-bound, but even after he got a bit more mobile, she still came over when I was in class and she wasn't."
"No you don't. First place, he's all into you. I think I coulda tossed my naked butt on his lap and not even gotten a rise out of 'im. He's into YOU. I think he's waited his whole life for you. But if he wasn't married to you and he acted just a little bit interested..."
"That would freak out your mom and dad."
"It'd prob'ly kill Grammaw," she said. "But he might be worth the risk."
"You have Hutch."
Key's smile dazzles. "Yeah, I do. But Stoney came along before Hutch and I got serious. Just sayin'."
"And you're telling me all this, just why?"
"'Cuz you got a good one, girl. I know guys who won't wait until their wives or girlfriends get out of sight before they're hittin' on women. Stoney? Ain't one a'them."
And I know that he's been having morning coffee with Mister Georg while Mizz Betta goes to the market. Lots of people are going to miss Stoney when he goes back to work.
And this year Mom and Dad will come to town to visit with me and my husband for Christmas.
"Of course we don't mind, Johanna," Dad told me. "Your mom and I have done Christmases all over the globe. Our Christmas tradition is not rooted in a geographic location."
I remembered a lot of those, overseas, when Dad was in the army. The embassy duty was one thing. The garrison duty was another, and I remember our home filled with other soldiers and soldiers' wives as Mom and Dad took care of his men.
"Are you sure you don't mind?" I asked. "Stoney and I could come up there."
"No. Your mother and I discussed this at length. December is a slow time for business and we shall take a tiny vacation. My daughter and her husband provide a stop."
"Then I shall prepare Christmas dinner," I said.
"And you sadly underestimate my control over your mother if you think that I can restrain her from helping."
"Ever since I was a little girl I have wanted to prepare Christmas dinner for my family. It's time. And Mom should be here.Thank you, Daddy," I said. He knows that 'Daddy' is used to establish my status as his little girl, even though he recognizes me as a young adult who has made good choices in life.
So I'm driving home to a life that's almost a fairy tale. I walk into the house to find Stoney with the vacuum cleaner. My nostrils flare. "Potpourri?"
He shut the vacuum down. "What?"
"Do I smell potpourri?"
"Yes. One of those bags we bought at that street market. Thought you'd enjoy the effect."
"You're so awfully domestic."
"I am easily house-broken. How'd the test go?"
"Great. I think I did it. 4.0."
"I didn't marry a dummy," he smiled. "What'd'ya wanna do for celebration?"
"Short-range? That soup and salad place for dinner. Mid-range? Pack up some stuff and spend the weekend on the boat."
"Baby," he said. "I checked the weather. It's supposed to be miserable Friday and Saturday. Overcast, blustery, rainy."
"I have Norwegian blood in my veins, Stoney. Overcast skies and a boat make me want to go pillage a monastery. I'll settle for abusing your Saxon butt all weekend."
He laughed. "That's the most charming threat I've ever received. You really like going off on the boat for the weekend?"
"Yes I do, guy. Sometimes I want isolation. Just me and you. You'll be back at work Monday, I suppose, so we'll get us a weekend." I thought for a second. "Uh, how're we sitting on propane. Do we have enough for the weekend?"
"I'll call Gary and get him to check, make sure we have a full bottle for the weekend."
We spent a little time going over a menu: Friday dinner, three meals for Saturday, breakfast and a snackish lunch for Sunday. Wasn't too critical. A few miles out in the bay, swinging at anchor is a lot different than what I'm thinking of packing for a longer trip, maybe up or down the coast. From the Gulf outlet of the bay, it was a long way to an open-water destination. Most sailors, Stoney tells me, just hop up and down the coast.
We're talking about it, but honestly, it's just talk. I have another, final semester of college. Stoney's got work. Any serious sailing would need a few weeks to really get anywhere. But we're talking. Next summer's probably out of the discussion. Hurricane season starts in June and things can go bad in the Gulf in a matter of hours. Besides, in the summertime, the heat in the South is oppressive. We'll see where things are, come next fall.
"You're doing it again, redhead," he says.
"Oh, just thinking about me getting done with college and what happens after that. I think of our boat and I dream..."
"We've talked," he said.
"I know ... We can become itinerant musicians. Not like we're gonna starve."
"I've thought about engineering. The company may keep me on a list to call when they have overflow work. I know a couple of guys who're doing that," he said.
"Yes, baby. But aside from Brad, there's not a lot of social attachment here. I'm thinking 3Sigma. They'd probably put up with our flighty schedule."
"Especially if we show up every now and then for social purposes."
"I get the feeling that they'd like that," I said. "I still think about that bunch." I caught the look in his eye. "Honestly, if they weren't a hundred and fifty miles from anywhere we could put our boat..."
"We can stay right here," I said. "Maybe not in this apartment, but within driving distance. I like the colleges and the music scene. We can use the network here to get ourselves involved with them. I'll have a place to play, and so will you. Music and engineering both."
"We do what we want..." he started.
"As long as it puts Jo right next to Stoney," I stated.
"I wouldn't have it any other way," he said. "That's what I mean."
"We do a couple of years of Jo and Stoney, then we determine when to bring our much-anticipated progeny forth."
"Thereby insuring that your mother has her dream fulfilled," he laughed.
"And making me hope that we can do as well as Mom and Dad."
"While they're spoiling the kid silly."
"Doting, baby. They'll be doting grandparents."
"I hope the kid gets your red hair," he smiled warmly. "Blue eyes ought to be a given."
I giggled. "Of course, Key said you and she would have those exotic mocha-colored kids."
"Stop it!" he laughed.
"Ooo-oh," I picked. "Talking about Key is getting to you?"
He's a whole lot less crippled than he used to be because he pinned me to the sofa and kissed me though the tickles.
"Oh, sure, use ME as a surrogate!" I squealed between laughing fits.
Afterward, lying across the bed, breathless, I sighed, "Well, that answered the question of what to do until dinnertime."
"Yeah, I found that quite entertaining," he smiled, his hand wandering.
"I'm getting a chill. Cover me up," I said.
He tossed the covers over the two of us and pulled me against him. I didn't fight that, not a bit. I backed against him, letting him spoon me and nuzzle the back of my neck. Savor, dammit, Jo! Savor!
I know of dozens of conversations about sex where the girl complained about lack of, not foreplay, but afterplay. Stoney never fails. Afterward, he's got me and even if it IS late at night and we know we're going to sleep, I go to sleep in his arms.
But that's not right now. We enjoy a few minutes and then ease out of bed, getting dressed. While he's tossing things in a pot for dinner, I'm in the living room with my flute, working through practice. Early on I'd tried to get him to let me help in the kitchen.
"No," he'd said. "Unless you think I'm that bad a cook, you practice while I get things together."
Now, after he has the thing in the oven, he joins me in practicing. He notices me eyeing the clock. "What are you watching the clock for?"
"Sir, it's a cold and nasty night, and I think that after we bathe, we should curl up on the sofa and watch a movie. It's on at eight."
"Yes, ma'am," he said.
I won't bore you with too much of this. I do want you to understand that Stoney and I were finding a balance in the merging of our lives together. Weekdays? Like this one, or maybe dinner out, but not too often. I wasn't raised to be profligate and neither was Stoney. Usually if we ate out, it was because we were meeting friends, often Key and Hutch, for dinner.
Weekend on the boat? Our own nautical version of the cabin in the woods. No matter that the wind was out of the north at forty degrees and twenty knots, the anchor held us in place and the little heater made the cabin cozy and we learned that we can be perfectly happy together each with a book, with music playing on the stereo, lying together in that master berth. Alone together.
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