Under the Cypress Moon (47 page)

Shylah knew that she could not leave but that she could not remain near Sara.  Not knowing what to do, she stepped back outside and found her brother, quickly bumming a cigarette from him. 

"You don't smoke," T.L. stated, puzzled at the prospect.

"I have sometimes.  You know that, and right now, I need one!  I need about fifty!"  Shylah pulled the crumpling pack from her brother's clenched hand and placed the cigarette in her mouth, prying T.L.'s lighter from his other hand.

"Ok, but if Mama or Daddy ask, I ain't lyin' to 'em.  It's on you."

"You smoke, T.," Shylah muttered through her pursed lips that were now clutching the cigarette tightly.  Removing her filter-tipped friend from her mouth, Shylah added, "It's my business, and I think they'd understand with what's goin' on!"

No sooner than Shylah said these words, Darius stepped out of the house, catching her before she could hide what she was doing.  Though she flipped the cigarette quickly, Shylah knew that she had been caught red-handed and that her father would give her some sort of trouble over the matter.

"Girl, what you doin'," Darius shouted.

"Nothin', Daddy."

"Don't you dare lie to me.  I seen what you was doin'!  Don't think you can hide it!  Now, why you wanna take up that filthy habit?  Ain't it bad enough your brother does it?"  Darius, now standing within two feet of his daughter, filled her with great fear.  Though Shylah was an adult, she dreaded the wrath of her father, most of the time, at least.

"I'm stressed, Daddy.  I had to have somethin'.  I can't drink.  Plus, you used to smoke."

"Yeah, well I gave it up, just like your brother should!  And you should, too!  I care about you, Baby Girl, and I don't wanna see you makin' my mistakes.  Your daddy knows best.  It's your life, though.  Do what you want.  It hurts me to see you in such a way.  What you so stressed for anyhow?"  Seeing Darius standing there with a beer in his hand and then a quick glance to her brother to see him doing the same made Shylah want to smoke all the more for lack of being able to imbibe alcohol.

"Daddy, that woman, she's too much.  I can't stand her!"

"What woman is that," Darius asked, quite perplexed at the remark.

"You haven't met her, I suppose," Shylah continued.  "You don't want to either.  Trust me.  She's mean and cold.  She's a snake, that woman.  Mark can't see it, but I do!  There is somethin' really not good about her!  She says she's his sister, but I don't know if she is or isn't.  What I do know is that she's up to somethin', up to somethin' really bad!  I want her out of here!  Please, Daddy, don't be mad at me, but I do need a smoke.  T., please gimme one.  I need it.  I have to have somethin', and since I can't have a drink, c'mon.  Just give it, please, T."  Shylah shook nervously, anticipating that her request would not be complied with by anyone.  To her astonishment and satisfaction, her brother handed her a cigarette and his lighter.  Darius stood by, silent, now, much more worried about his daughter's mental and emotional states.

Shylah's smoking was no longer the issue.  Now, all that any of the three could discuss was Sara Kenner and what she might be up to.  Though it filled Shylah with increasing disgust to think of the woman, she was glad to have someone to confide in and to take her side.  She knew that Mark would not and that she possibly loved him even more for his generosity and kind heart, even to someone he knew so little yet trusted so fully.  It would be a very difficult night that loomed in the nearing distance. 

Chapter 22

Sara remained for all of the day and well into the night, long past the time when all of the other guests returned home.  She informed Mark that she would go to her motel room for the night and back to Macon the next day to retrieve some of her things and call when she planned to come back and assume her place in the Crady house.  There still existed a jeremiad of reasons for Shylah to doubt the woman and want her to remain gone.

Shylah tried all of that night to pull Mark away to the cypress grove for a loving rendezvous, perhaps, their only chance of temporarily forgetting the sudden change in their lives, but Mark would not hear of it.  He was still so overtaken with his newly found sister that he could hardly be reasoned with or spoken to without the subject being quickly change to Sara.

If something did not change soon, Shylah told herself, she might be left with no choice but to pack her things and go to her parents' house for a while, at least, long enough for Mark to come to his senses and see what he was doing to his relationship.  Shylah stole away to bed long before Mark was ready to join her and was fast asleep by the time that he arrived.  Mark slipped into bed, awash with thoughts of how his life had changed for the better.  He could not think of the plant, of his father, or even much of Shylah.  He was happy to be beside his lady love yet floating on air with such notions as the new presentation of life made available. 

The next day, Mark and Shylah heard nothing from and nothing of Sara, much to Shylah's joy and relief.  She nearly forgot about the Sara altogether.  That was, until Mark made known his thoughts on the woman, most of which, Shylah could not hear, choosing to listen to as little that spewed from Mark's mouth as she possibly could. 

In the afternoon, Mark received a call from Benter's Jewelry, informing him that the engagement ring he ordered for Shylah had arrived.  In great haste, Mark made his way to the store and brought the ring home.  He did not know when he might propose the possibility of marriage to Shylah, and he did not see that Shylah was already so cross with him that she might consider refusing the offer.  Mark hid the ring inside of a box in the deep recesses of a drawer in his nightstand, planning to wait for a better time to use it.  His only real thought was that he hoped the ring would not be too big or too small. 

The remainder of the day passed with very little said between the couple.  Mark spoke often, in dulling diatribes of fanciful affection for his sister, and again and again, Shylah chose not to listen.  Mark was under a spell, but he was the only one not to notice that this was so.  He decided, the next morning, that he would inspect things at the plant, feeling much better than usual, and happily told Don of his imminent proposal.  Don encouraged him, congratulating him in advance, offering to be his best man.  Mark knew that if the day came, as he expected it would, that T.L. would be his best man, but he could not tell this to Don.

The matter pressed upon Mark's mind so heavily that he knew he must find a moment very soon to ask his question.  He knew that he must do it that very night.  He must take Shylah to the grove, and after much talking and sweet words of love, he would find some way to catch Shylah by surprise and pull out the ring.  With no one in the house to tend to and no pressing matters at hand, Mark took Shylah for a romantic dinner one town away.  He hardly spoke a word of Sara the entire night.  Shylah felt assured that she had the old Mark back, that her luck had changed for the better.  Somehow, she even sensed that it might be the night that Mark finally asked the question that was obviously on his and Shylah's minds.

When their dinner was finished, Shylah wondered when the moment would come.  She fully expected that it would happen during dinner or sometime immediately after, but as they drove back toward home, the thought of this was lost.  Shylah consumed herself with music, jokiness, and merriment of other sorts, some romantic, some sexual. 
She felt certain that the rest of the time from that until falling to sleep would be full of loving moments without worries of anything else, even if no proposal loomed.

As soon as Mark stepped from his truck, he dragged Shylah away toward the grove, never stepping in the direction of the house.  At least, Shylah thought, there would finally be another nighttime tryst under the star-soaked canopy. 
They danced to no music, spinning around and around in that moment of love-entrenched splendor, forgetting all of their worldly cares.  Mark still had no plans of how he could work up his nerve and broach the subject of marriage.  Now that he had a ring, it all seemed quite impossible to discuss it.

The entire time, Mark contemplated what to do.  Before a single idea came to his mind, he felt Shylah's hand wander downward, groping and rubbing its way to his groin.  Mark didn't mind this, but he hadn't thought much of things progressing to a sexual stage.  For now, all that seemed important was getting the one important question made open to the mother of his child.

As Shylah's hand roamed recklessly, moving suddenly sideward toward Mark's pocket, Mark grabbed her wrist to stop her, but it was too late.  Shylah felt a hard bulge in the pocket, and knowing that it was the wrong place to be the bulge that she expected, dove her hand in to see what was protruding so evidently.  Pulling the ring box out, Shylah opened it with stricken excitement.

"Oh my god, Mark!  I can't believe this!  Yes!  Yes!  A thousand times, yes!"

"But," Mark clamored.  "But... I didn't even ask you."

"But you were going to, right," Shylah said, winking and running her hand all over Mark's arm after slipping the ring onto her finger.

"Yeah.  I was, but I still wanted to ask.  You didn't give me a chance."

"Ok," Shylah agreed.  "Ask!"

"Ok.  Shylah King, I love you so much.  You are my world, my rock, my one real hope in this world, the greatest thing a man could ever have.  Errr... You know what I mean... greatest woman.   You are everything to me.  Would you please do me the honor of being my wife and sharing every day from now until forever with me?"

"Yes, Baby.  You knew the answer before you even asked, before I even found the ring.  I love it!  It's so beautiful, but you didn't have to spend so much!  I would've been happy with a Cracker Jack ring if it came from you!  Thank you, Baby!  I'll make you the best wife ever!"

"I know you will, Honey.  I know you will."  Mark grabbed Shylah around her waist and pulled her as close to him as could be done.  "You love the ring, huh?"

"Well, it's like a half a size too big.  It might need sized down, but then again, I'm gonna get fat, so.  But I definitely love it!"

"You're gonna get fat?"

"Uh, I'm pregnant.  That's what happens, Silly!"

Mark took a brief moment to let that thought sink in as Shylah admired her ring over and over, lifting her hand high under the moonlight peeking through the treetops.  Hardly sooner than the couple had begun to bask in their love and joy for the wonderful event to come, a car door was heard.  It seemed entirely too late for anyone to come for a visit.  As Mark and Shylah stepped from the grove, hand in hand, stopping briefly at times to share a small kiss, they saw in the distance what looked to be Sara carrying numerous bags and suitcases.

"Hi, Sis," Mark shouted from fifty yards away as Sara trudged, with nearly half of her belongings up to the front door. 

Shylah could feel her heart sink a mile in her chest.  Everything that she feared and hated had begun again.  Mark ran away from Shylah in a great hurry to aid his sister with her things, leaving Shylah behind to contemplate not going into the house.  Mark spent more than an hour helping Sara unpack and situate herself in the upstairs bedroom while Shylah stripped down to her underwear, sliding into bed for what she deemed a night alone with the TV. 

"I hope you don't mind, Baby," Mark stated so casually as he got into bed that it made Shylah much more irritable than she already was.  "I had to help her out.  I'm here now."

"So you are," Shylah replied, not knowing if she could be happy enough that Mark had come to join her.  She wanted to tell Mark exactly what she thought.  If it weren't for her deadly dreadful premonitions, she would not have minded and would have welcomed Mark to bed with open arms.  Knowing that it was her own bad feelings about it all that made her start to doubt Mark filled her with disgust for herself of a magnitude almost to match that held for Sara.  She wanted terribly to let it go, to think no more of it, and most of all, to just be happy that Mark had proposed.  She did not want the baby to be Mark's only reason for asking.  She hoped that it was much more his love for her that prompted him to make the gesture.

Rarely did Mark and Shylah got to sleep without making love first, but on this night, Shylah did not care.  She contented herself in lying soundly on Mark's bare chest, running her fingers through the hair it bore.  Mark went so easily to sleep that Shylah envied him.  She wished that she could do the same, but her mind wandered to and fro, realizing every little detail of why she did not trust Sara and why she fretted over Mark's severe attachment to the woman.
  Trying thusly to combat the worry, Shylah found sleep completely eluding her.  Hour after cold, dark hour passed in utter silence, except for the sounds of her own raptured breathing.

When the morning sun poked through the window to beckon one and all to rise, Shylah opened her sleep-strained eyes to look at the clock and see that she had gotten less than four hours of very interrupted sleep.  She did not want to lie in bed any longer, and though she did not want to risk seeing Sara, she sprung from bed and after a quick jaunt to the bathroom, hurried to the kitchen to make a full pot of coffee.  Before she could finish her first cup, however, Shylah was joined by Sara, dressed in only a thin tank top and shorts that were too small to cover much of anything, leaving so much exposed skin peering from underneath that Shylah believed vomit would soon rise to her throat.  Choking it back, she continued her morning ritual in hopes of no further disturbances.