Chapter 2: Welcome Home, Honey
Sherman returned from a town meeting exhausted. He wanted Constance to rub his weary shoulders and speak in quiet, soothing tones, sending him off to calm and dreamless sleep. Her gentle nature is truly something to behold, he thought, opening the door in search of her sweet face. That is when he saw it.
He had received ‘the look’ from a few prior girlfriends and it was frightening enough then, but none of them held a candle to Constance. While the eyes and anger of others had shot daggers into his quick retreat, not one had filled him with dread like ‘the look’ staring back at him now.
Constance was not a woman who angered easily. She was long on patience, empathetic to a fault, and knew fact from fiction almost without exception. Everything she breathed, touched, and attempted, was with single-minded, passionate devotion. It was one of many qualities that drew him to her, but he hadn’t considered her passionate focus in this context.
She had only a few faults, the worst of which were jealous tantrums. She had good reason, but Sherman was ill-prepared for jealousy, coupled with murderous intent, in the eyes of his lovely bride. Standing here now, frozen in his tracks, he realized, if looks could kill, I’d be a dead man served up cold on a cement slab, and the colonel would still put a bullet in my brain. Thank God he was with me!
Sherman summoned all his courage, slapped on a bright smile, and handed her a bouquet of flowers that she did not try to grasp. The bouquet fell to the floor and Constance didn’t blink. Neither did her expression soften in the slightest. She just stood there, glaring hatefully, with stems and petals strewn about her tiny feet.
“Honey, I’m sorry. I had to attend the meeting at town hall. This was about farming and water for the crops. They might dredge the lake and I had let them know our fields are drying up. I didn’t know it would last all night,” he explained. Seeing no change in her countenance, he finished, “What was I supposed to do?” He stood defiantly, waiting for response.
With her arms still folded across her chest, Constance kicked the flowers from her slippers, never taking her eyes from him, and slipped stiffly into a chair, “Lie to me,” she spat acidly, with rage building in the timber of her voice, “This is how much respect you have for me? You think I’m so unintelligent that you’re going to just stand there and lie to me now,” she quizzed him, with her fury building dangerously close to combustion.
Anyone with eyes could see she was a lit keg of TNT with precious little fuse left. Sherman began to approach and then thought better of it. She’s a volcano about to erupt. Even I can see this one coming on. Then suddenly, his lips turned up slightly as he recalled the first time he’d bedded her and she had been a much more accommodating volcano. He wiped off the grin but it was too late.
“You dare to laugh at me? You think this is funny? I paced the floor all night wondering if my husband is alive, dead, or with the town whore, and you’re smiling? How dare you,” she screamed, “So it’s hilarious that you worried your wife sick”?
Constance shoved her chair back standing ramrod straight and crossed the room. Fisting the first heavy object that came into her hands, she sent a prized Louis XVI sevres hurtling toward him, nearly clipping his ear, as it whizzed past his head and shattered against the wall along with his hard won calm.
© February 23, 2017 – 07:36 PM – All Rights Reserved
Tagged: Lust, Love, Romance, Jealousy, Tantrums, WiP
Chapter 1: Revelations
Sherman recalled his triumphant return from battle. He was jubilant enough to ask her father for Constance’ hand in marriage. Many truths were revealed that night. It was an evening he would never forget.
Colonel Douglas Brenner appeared to be all business. He ran the mansion quite efficiently, made his fortune in farming, land and crops, and spoiled his daughter with extravagant trinkets and lavish gowns all for the fun of seeing her face light up with joy.
Colonel Brenner shook Sherman’s hand and slapped him on the back, saying, “I wish you luck, old boy. You’re braver than the dandies that came to call before you.”
“Why thank you, sir,” he responded stiffly.
“Don’t be so formal, Sherman. We’re practically family now,” the colonel smiled.
They shared cigars and brandy over a game of chess until the small hours of the night. After they’d had their fill of drink, Sherman watched a darkness come over the colonel as he leaned across the large, oak desk to impart his wisdom.
“Constance is not my biological daughter,” he spoke softly; “I don’t think she remembers and I am the only father she’s known. I trust you will keep this confidence strictly between us,” the colonel said conspiratorially.
“What are you saying,” Sherman questioned.
The colonel continued, “Her mother and I made the adoption legal after we were wed, son, but we decided never to tell Constance if she didn’t question her heritage”.
Sherman watched slack-jawed while the colonel took a long pull from his drink, draining the brandy from its snifter. He whispered his confusion, “But her mother is.” Again he stopped with the unease of having been drop-kicked into a mine field blindfolded.
“Anice,” the colonel phrased the question for him.
“Yes,” Sherman acknowledged.
“Yes and no,” the colonel replied, “Before I married Anice, the future Mrs Brenner attended the Institut Villa Pierrefeu. It’s a finishing school in Switzerland. She shared a room with a young woman who’s reputation was,” he paused, searching for the right words, “less than sterling. Lydia Oliver was her name”.
Sherman lit a cigar, urging, “Go on”.
“The young lady got herself with child. Anice helped Lydia hide the fact, but Lydia abandoned the baby girl soon after giving birth. She left her child on a blanket with a note.”
The colnonel rummaged through a desk drawer and produced a scrap of paper. Sherman read it in silence.
“Dearest Anice, I know you come from money and that your heart is made of gold. You’re a better friend than I could have hoped for. Please take care of her like you did me.”
Sherman looked at Douglas Brenner with new respect and asked the obvious question, “So she kept Constance?”
“Indeed,” the colonel beamed, “She went to the Headmaster and higher-ups to explain her predicament. They tried to talk her into giving the child up for adoption but Anice was already in love with the baby girl. She was determined to keep her. It was teamwork and some luck that they managed to hide the presence of a baby at the Institut Villa Pierrefeu. Anice is quite a special woman,” He finished wistfully.
“And you married her anyways”? Sherman queried trepidaciously.
“Absolutely,” the colonel beamed, “I’ve only loved three women in my life,” he exclaimed, “My mother, Anice, and Constance. It’s no easy task to give my youngest in marriage but you’re a good man, Sherman Mandrel, I know you will never fail to do right by my little girl,” he said, patting his revolver for assurance.
“You can count on me, Colonel,” Sherman uttered, hoping his voice didn’t shake.
© February 23, 2017 – 07:36 PM – All Rights Reserved
Tagged: Lust, Love, Romance, Requests, Revelations, Proposals, WiP
They met and fell crazy in love,
both giving and taking,
in the grip of fiery, insistent need,
always ravenous lovemaking,
exchanging deep, fiery passion;
their united eternal need.
They married in an hour,
stayed together forever,
and lived happily ever after.
HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!
Tags: Flash fiction, Love and Lust, Valentine’s Day