A Wife for Stephen (22 page)

problems that have crept up overnight.
“Is that all, Honey? All will be well. You just go ahead
and start getting dressed, I will handle everything.”
When Momma says that she will handle things, then
things are as good as handled. Celeste’s nerves are still on
edge. It’s a special day indeed when a woman commits her
life to a man for better or worst, for richer or poorer, in
sickness and in health ‘til death does them part. Or is the
minister going to say, for as long as they both shall live?
Yeah, that’s it. There is to be no mention of death on this
happy occasion.
Only life, and a joyful one at that. Celeste is so grateful.
Today is no exception, once again; mother has come to the
rescue.
“Mom, how did you get the limos here, on time and in
the right color?”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head over that dear,
just know that mother handled it.”
And she handled everything else as well, the reception
hall called while Celeste was in route to the church and said
that everything had been decorated and was in perfect
order for the wedding party to arrive. And when Celeste
stepped into the church, all the flowers had been delivered
and arranged according to her specifications. Celeste could
now breathe a sigh of relief.
Celeste quickly hurries to the dressing room. When she
steps into the dressing haul it is a blur of motion and
commotion, hair stylist, manicurists, make-up artists, you
name it. If they are used in the beauty field in one way or
another, they are in this room.
Celeste just lets herself go; she lets herself go with the
flow and the rhythm of things so that everyone can do their
job without any fuss or interference from her.
As the wedding march begins to play, she knows the
time has come. In a moment there would be no turning
back, but there would be no need for Celeste is confident
that neither bride nor groom wanted anything other than to
spend the rest of their lives together.
Looking down the long aisle, Celeste is hit with a sense
of deja vu that she knew only came from the dream she had
where she had married Stephen. But this is not a dream,
she has only to glance around the crowded sanctuary in
recognition of all the familiar faces of family and lifelong
friends for reassurance that this is indeed reality.
Celeste’s throat begins to close and feel choked up as
the minister begins addressing the congregation. Most of
the minister’s words go by in a blur as Celeste is only
aware of her steel like grip on Stephen’s hand. One
sideways glance into his face and watching how intently he
is hanging on every word of the minister, brings calm to her
nerves, and she is able to relax and focus more on what the
minister is saying.
“Do you, Howard, take Laura, to be your
lawfully
wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in
health, for richer or poorer, forsaking all others cleave only
to her, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.”
“Do you, Laura, take Howard, to be your lawfully
wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in
health, for richer or poorer, forsaking all others, cleave
only to her for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.”
After a few more instructions, the minister says what
everyone has gathered here to hear, “By the power vested
in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss
the bride.”
“See,” a voice whispers in Celeste’s ear, “Everything is
just fine.”
Celeste reaches up to wrap her arms around the man
who has been her partner for the past 27 years, “I love you,
Stephen. And I would marry you 100 times over again to
prove it.”
Stephen kisses his wife gently on her slightly parted lips,
“You don’t have to prove it; you prove it every day in
hundreds of ways. And I am the luckiest man alive to be
able to call you my wife. And just thinking of all the awful
things you thought of me 27 years ago when we first met
makes me want to say, ‘I told you so.’”
“And I’m certainly glad that you did. Can you believe it?
Our daughter just got married!”
“Hmm. I’ll tell you one thing, I’m glad, for more reason
than one that we only have one daughter. This shin dig cost
a bundle.”
While they may only have one daughter, Celeste has
additionally given Stephen two strapping sons, Mark and
Kenneth.
Knowing that
her
husband is
only trying to
lighten the mood, she squeezes him tight and kisses him on
the chin. “Well, I don’t think this is the last wedding we
will be attending in the short term. Have you seen the way
Mark has been making goo goo eyes at Laura’s friend
Kelly?”
Stopping his wife in mid turn Stephen says, “Now don’t
you go getting any ideas in that head of yours.” With a
gesture to incorporate the span of the room that is crowded
with loved ones and a distinctive glance in the direction of
Kenny, Stephen’s base player, he adds, “You see what
happened the last two times you decided to play match
maker. Poor Kenny and Sharon have only been married 2
years and are now expecting twins. They aren’t going to
get one first baby but two first babies.
“And Laura, I told you I never wanted her to
get
married,
she
was
supposed
to
become
an
old unwed
spinster.”
Feeling absolutely no remorse for her husband’s
impractical plan, Celeste takes Stephen by the hand and
gently tugs, “It’s time to go meet and greet. So put on your
happy face and pretend that this didn’t cost you a fortune.”
Stephen just can’t resist his wife. Even after 27 years of
marriage, his love for her continues to grow. Trying to be
as inconspicuous as humanly possible, he sneaks a squeeze
to her bottom.
Or at least he attempts to as he his caught with one swift
glance from her over her shoulder. “And stop thinking what
you’re thinking.”
Sneak Preview from

Rushing, rushing. Venus always found herself rushing.
She would be late to her own funeral. As she ran across the
expansive yard of the university, she tries to focus on the
notes she has been diligently going over since six o’clock
that morning while also trying to keep from falling, as laden
down with books as she is.

Her backpack is jarring the bottom of her spine, but she
can’t stop running. If she does not make it inside the class
by the time the class door is closed, she will miss her
calculus test. Mr. Smith does not like tardiness, and he
does not allow it on test days.

She glances quickly at her watch; she has two minutes
to make it in the door and is she almost there. She will
make it; Venus begins to feel some calm coming over her
frantic nerves. She is confident she knows her material and
that she will pass, but first she has to make it there on time.

As she rounds the final corner that will lead her to her
class, she runs into a wall that has suddenly moved into her
path and sent her sprawling onto her backside. The extra
weight of her backpack only serves as an anchor to make it
harder for her to shake off her surprise and rise to her feet.

“I’m sorry. Here, let me help you,” a deep masculine
voice speaks to her. When she looks up to see who it has
come from, she finds herself looking into the most beautiful
blue eyes she has ever seen. Although her mouth isn’t
currently functioning, her brain is, she holds out her hand
and allows herself to be brought to her feet.

A jolt of pain suddenly goes through her ankle as she
tries to place weight on her left foot. “Ouch” she howls.
Venus has never been one for tolerating pain. That is why
she never played any sports; she preferred to sit on the
sidelines, unlike the man who was currently holding on to
her to keep her from falling.

Mark Watson, captain and quarterback of the university
football team. He has it all; looks, money, charm, and fame.
Oh how she envies him. He doesn’t have to work part time
to keep food on his table or work his butt off to keep good
grades in order to maintain his scholarship.

Not that he doesn’t have good grades; he does, which
came as a shock to Venus when she found his name on the
Dean’s list for academic achievements.

“You’re hurt. Let me help you sit down.”
“No! You don’t understand. I need to take my calculus
test. If I am not in Mr. Smith’s class in,” she looks at her
watch, “thirty nine seconds, I am history.”
“Then I’ll make sure you get there.” Without another
word,
he
bends
down
and scoops
her
up against
his
muscular chest. With his long strides, he makes it inside her
class with seconds to spare. “Where’s your seat?” he asks
once they have stepped inside the classroom door.
Venus is too taken aback to speak, so she points to the
last open seat in the back, which she usually never sits in.
She has always been the type to sit in front of the class but
then again, she has never been carried into class before.
After setting Venus into an empty chair, Mark leans
down to look her in the eye as she settles her back pack on
the floor at her feet and fumbled in it for a number two
pencil to take the test with. “I’ll be back to take care of you
when you’re done with your exam.”
Having said that, he turns on his heals and heads out the
classroom. At least that is what Venus assumed. As she
follows him with her eyes open wide, she sees him stop
next to Mr. Smith’s desk and say something to him in
hushed tones. She knows she is being spoken of when
Mark looks back at her and gestures towards her.
Venus
is highly embarrassed. However, she doesn’t
have time to reflect on it. Right now she needed to focus
on her test. Once the question sheet, scratch paper and
Scantron sheets are passed out, everything except the task
before her, flees from Venus’ mind.
The test takes her a little less than an hour to complete.
She
slowly pushes
herself up from the
desk that
she
occupies but is waived to sit back down by Mr. Smith. She
lowers herself back into her seat, relieved that she won’t
have to struggle to the front of the class to turn in her test
sheet.
Venus watches Mr. Smith go to the classroom door and
stick his head out before making his way down the aisle to
where she sits. From her desk Mr. Smith picks up her
Scantron answer sheet. And just who does she see coming
quietly into the classroom in Mr. Smith’s wake? Mark
Watson. What is he doing here?
Her question is answered as he comes and kneels down
in front of her and takes her left foot into his hands.
“How’s your ankle feeling?”
“It...It’s still sore.”
Mark looks into and becomes lost in soft hazel eyes. Her
skin
is
the
color
of
caramel
and her
hair
the
color
chocolate.
What
a
powerful
combination,
sweet
and
satisfying. He can only imagine that kissing her will taste
just as good as she looks. But he wouldn’t be finding out
just
yet.
Something else
must
take
priority
over
his
attraction. “Why don’t we see what we can do for it?”
Again, he scoops her into his arms and in the same fell
swoop, takes hold of her backpack before he carries her
from the classroom with everyone gawking at them. Mark
doesn’t care. He has never been one to care what people
thought of him, or if they ever thought of him at all.
All his life he has always received unwanted attention
for everything he did. He couldn’t help that he had been
born with a proverbial spoon in his mouth and that from
childhood he had been groomed to take over his father’s
investment firm.
Although he has a head for investments, he’s unable to
pin point
his strategy.
He watches the market
just
as
fastidiously as anyone who has a lot of money invested, but
he relies more on his intuition and gut feeling than charts
and graphs.
In his own right, he is well on his way to becoming a
millionaire,
and
he
is
only
a
senior
in
college.
The
surprising aspect to his parents is that although he has
proved his talent for investments he is not inclined to settle
into the family business just yet. He prefers to play football.
His first game had been in junior high at the local park
with some school friends. He took to it like a fish to water.
It was only natural that he would pursue it in high school
and then on to college. What is surprising is that a national
football team was scouting him. The Crows had shown up
to
several
of
his
games
last
semester
and had begun
contacting him just a few short weeks ago. They actually
want to recruit him. They feel sure that they can develop
his talent even further and that in a few short years, he can
lead the team to the play offs and maybe even to the super
bowl.
Having been the team with the worst record in last
year’s football season meant that they would have first pick
in the NFL Draft Pick. Although they have the right to
choose him whether he liked it or not, the owner of the
Crows would prefer that every member of his team, be
there because they feel that they can contribute to the team
and help make them a successful organization.
Mark is not too sure of all that, but if signing with the
Crows means he can continue his passion, then he will do
it. Just a few short months are left before he will graduate
university and be free to pursue his passion full time. He
has a lot to look forward to.
Looking down into the face of the beauty he carries in
his arms gives him even more on which to look forward.
However, he doesn’t even know her name. “By the way,
my name is Mark. Mark Watson.”
“Oh, I know who you are. You are the quarter back for
the university football team.”
Mark is not too surprised that this beauty would know
whom he is, many people know who he was. Nevertheless,
he can’t believe that he has never seen her around before. If
she is in Mr. Smith’s class, he should have run into her
before now. He smiles inwardly at the pun.
“Well, I must admit that you have me at a disadvantage.
I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Venus Walters.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Venus Walters. I only wish
it had been under better circumstances. Where’s your car
parked?”
“Oh, I caught the bus today. My car’s leaking oil so I
decided it would be better to let it sit until I can get a
mechanic to look at it.”
“Well then, we’ll just have to head to my car.”
Venus looks up into Mark’s face with wide eyes and
asks, “Why are we going to your car?”
“We
certainly
should have
your
ankle
looked at.
Although I doubt seriously that it is broken, or else I would
have made you skip the test, it still would be wise to see to
it.”
“I’m sure it’s not broken. I just need to wrap it and put
some ice on it. I’m sure it will feel much better by
tomorrow.”
“You’re probably right. Well, at least let me drive you
home. I feel terrible about knocking you to the ground.
And you’re such a tiny little thing.”
“No, you don’t have anything at all to apologize for. I
shouldn’t have been running in the hallway. If I hadn’t been
in such a rush I would have seen you and would not have
collided into you like a bat out of hell.”
They have reached his car and he stands next to the
passenger side door and says, “I’ll need you to dig the keys
out of my back pocket, so I don’t have to put you down.”
Venus feels a warm blush start at her chest and spread
clear up to the roots of her chocolate colored hair. She has
never touched a man so boldly in her life, and here is Mark
Watson, of all the men in the world, inviting her to dig into
his pants pocket.
“Come on Venus, I won’t bite.”
So, she does as he bade. As quickly as possible, she tugs
the keys from his back pocket. Although she accomplishes
the task quickly, she can’t but notice having felt what had
to be the tightest buns on all the campus.
But she isn’t allowed time to reflect before Mark cuts
into her thoughts by saying, “Just push the unlock button
on the remote twice.”
After doing as he says, he swiftly gets the car door
open, and Venus is gently deposited in the passenger seat.
She has been so engrossed in being carried in his arms that
she hasn’t even noticed what type of car she has been put
into.
As he rounds the hood of the car to get in on the
driver’s side, she sees the glove box in front of her and
reads Lexus. At least now, she has some clue as to what
she is riding in, not
that it matters much. She is just
thankful that she won’t have to struggle with getting home
by means of public transportation with a sore ankle.
Mark again cut into her thoughts by saying, “Which
way?”
Venus gives him the address to the apartment she shares
with her two roommates and asks if he is familiar with the
area. Surprisingly, he is. She never would have thought that
he would be familiar with areas that aren’t as rich as the
neighborhood in which he lives.
“So, what year are you Venus?”
“I’m a sophomore.”
“Have you gone to USC both years?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before now.
Especially
considering we
have
a
class
in
the
same
building.”
Venus hardly finds it surprising in the least. And she
says as much, “Not surprising at all. We don’t actually
frequent the same surroundings.”
“We’ll have to see what we can do about that.”
Confused by this statement, Venus thinks it better just
not to comment on it at all. Instead, she changes the subject
to sports. “Are you planning on signing with the Crows
when you’re done with school?”
“Yeah. I enjoy football so much I couldn’t imagine
giving it up cold turkey.”
“And you’re so good at it. I couldn’t imagine it either.”
Mark glances quickly at Venus’
profile
to
find her
intently staring out the window as if the passing scenery
holds her entire interest. “Are you a sports fan?”
“Not really. But you don’t honestly have to be a sports
fan to follow your athletic achievements.”
Mark doesn’t like that he is never far from people’s
wagging tongues. He enjoys sports and recognition for his
accomplishments, but he wants it to stop there. However,
he resigns himself to the fact that if this is the path he has
chosen, then he must take the good with the bad. “How
come you aren’t a sports fan?”
“Probably because I was never athletically gifted. I tried
a few sports as a kid, team sports, but I was never able to
get the hang of any of them, so I just kind of lost interest
all together.”
Mark slowly brought the car to a halt at the curb and
parked. “What are we doing here?”
“I thought I should at least feed you lunch before I take
you home, given the fact that you won’t be able to fend for
yourself for a while.”
“That’s really sweet of you but entirely unnecessary. It
was my fault anyway. I shouldn’t have been running in the
hall.”
Mark just gives her a heart-jolting smile and exits from
his side of the vehicle. Before he shuts the door, he turns to
Venus and asks, “Do you like Chinese food?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’ll be right back.”
True to his word, in less than ten minutes he is back in
the car and pulling away from the curb. It is a short drive to
Venus’s house.
“Are you on the ground floor or do I need to carry you
up the steps?”
“I’m on the ground floor.”
When Mark opens her car door, he leans down close to
her to say, “Why don’t we eat first, then I’ll come back and
get your back pack.”
“OK.” With Venus’ agreement, he scoops her into her
arms and heads for her apartment building.
Once inside her apartment, he set her down on a dining
room chair and asks, “Where do you keep your plates?”
For the third time since meeting this gorgeous hunk of a
man, Venus again finds herself unable to utter a single
word, so she points to the cabinet that holds the plates.
Mark steps up to the kitchen sink and washes his hands
before placing two plates on the table, retrieving cutlery
from the silverware drawer and glasses from the cabinet.
Within minutes, the table has been formally dressed, and he
is removing many cartons from a plastic bag and placing
them in the center of the table.
Venus counts five medium sized containers and one
large container. She wonders just how many people he
thinks he is going to be feeding for lunch. Her thoughts
must be prevalent on her face for without a word from her
he says, “I wasn’t sure what you would like, so I chose five
of my favorite in hopes that something would suit. But if
you don’t like any of it, I will order something else to be
delivered.”
“Oh, I’m sure this will be just fine. I’m not really all that
fussy. Just about anything will do.”
Mark looks into her hazel eyes with his dark blue ones
and says, “No. ‘Just about anything’ will not do for you.”
He can hardly believe his own intensity. Here he is having
lunch with a woman a few hours ago, he hadn’t even
known
existed
but
whom
he
is
now
feeling
an
overwhelming urge to please.
Mark has never been the type to care what a woman
thought. She either liked him or didn’t. But having women
like him had never been a problem. He always had women
coming on to him left and right. What he had found to be a
problem, was deciphering the fake and phony from the
sincere and honest.
He can already tell that Venus is not the fake and phony
type. Heck, she doesn’t even watch football. How much
further from trying to impress him could one woman get?
She will be his.
His?
What is he thinking? He has a
whole life and career in front of him, and he’s only twenty-
two years old.
His?
Yes. His. Mine. As in belonging to me and not to
anyone else. His mind is made and set. Once Mark makes
up his mind, there is no changing it. Venus doesn’t know it
yet, but she is about to be swept off her feet.