Page 110 of At Her Will

When he stopped the truck by the barn, he turned off the ignition and slid his hands along the wheel, a marveling look on his expression.

“When he was young, Witford and his friends liked to drive fast, like young people do. Some time I might do the same, just to see what it like to be the driver when doing that.” He shot her a glance. “I sound like a kid.”

“But you’re not. Not at all.”

His gaze swept over her. “I thank the Lord for that.”

When they were back in her car, she twisted toward him. “I’d like to see the home where you grew up, before your mother died.”

He didn’t seem bothered by the request. “It ain’t much to look at. The neighborhood is pretty run down. I don’t have the exact address, but I know the name of the street, if you want to put it in your navigation screen there.”

She complied. As she turned onto the highway that would bring them back into NOLA’s city limits, Rev had his own question for her. A startling one.

“Do you ever wish you back with your ex-husband?”

“Lord and Lady, no.” She jerked the wheel when she looked toward him, and Rev’s hand was immediately overlapping hers, helping her to steady it.

His expression eased at her forceful response, though he looked like he regretted asking. It had upset her, but she realized she wanted him to know.

“It's hard, even when it's your choice and even when it's already been over well before you make that decision. But Imourned the loss of the‘wished for marriage’ more than the actual one. There are so many could-have-beens and dreams that die with the relationship.”

“It is a death,” Rev said soberly. “And you had to grieve. You ever see him?”

“No. Donovan moved out of the area a long time ago. He won’t be back. I check his social media now and again, but we haven’t spoken in years. He got married, had a couple kids, and lives in DC. We were planning to have some, but I made excuses for us to hold off. Something felt wrong, and I’m grateful we never had any. I wish him joy in his current marriage, and hope they’re more compatible than we were.”

“Did he…submit to you?”

“Some. But he liked submission as play acting, to spice up the relationship. Which was fine, but it runs far deeper for me than he wanted to go.”

“That feeling, that wanting to surrender to a Mistress, was always just waiting inside me,” he said. “Least it feels that way. Was it the same for you?”

“Strongly enough that it was part of why my family and I had to part ways. My faith is inseparable from what I want in a relationship with a man. While I didn’t feel an in-depth discussion of my sex life was necessary, they heard things, and found out what I liked.”

“And what’s that, Mistress?”

She gave him a sidelong glance, a feline smile. “A strong man, so well set with himself that he can submit beautifully to a dominant female. Or submit in a less than beautiful way. They both have their moments.”

They’d reached the part of town he’d given her, so their attention shifted to him directing her through the turns that brought them to the home he’d shared with his mother.

The square cinderblock structure with one solitary front window, covered with bars, looked like a casualty of Hurricane Katrina. Though it was probably too damaged inside to meet code, a realtor somewhere was sitting on the deed, hoping for a future where the area might get gentrified, and the small lot would make him or her money. But for now, it just looked like an abandoned building. With some notable exceptions.

The property had reasonably fresh exterior paint and the thatch of grass in front was mowed. A steel magnolia wreath was on the door, and shells were piled at the doorstep like a cairn.

“I go to the beach each year just before her death,” Rev said, looking at it. “Get some shells, add to it. The steel magnolia wreath, that’s the kind of flower she was, so it fit. I found it at a junk store, cleaned it up and painted it.”

“You keep up the house?”

“The outside, since the door locked, and the realtor don’t want anyone but him inside.”

Rev’s gaze rested on the wreath, his hands spread on his knees like uneasy spiders. “Teena Joy favored my momma. So growing up, sometimes when I’d look at her, it was like I could almost see her. I’d feel this need to reach out and touch Teena Joy’s face, as if I’m touching that memory, feeling my momma living there, under the skin.”

He glanced at Vera. “Like what I feel when I look at you. I'm seeing something I want so much, I want to reach through, inside you, and touch your soul. Just one touch would be enough, and I’d know it was eternal.”

He looked toward the door again. “I don’t remember her real good. Teena Joy was my momma in most my memories, but when I’m here, I feel her strongest.”

She touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry you lost her so young. And I’m sorry about Teena Joy. Even when it’s time for death to come, that doesn’t mean we’re ready for it.”

“No.” He turned toward her. “If you decide…if you want to try to reach out to your daddy, because of his health, I can be there for you.”

---