Love Knows No Color Pt. 14

At the church, I quickly strapped Miracle into the sling, while Shavonda led Brittany and Ethan inside. As usual, everybody made a fuss over the baby. After the services, we stayed for the lunch the church usually served. Reverend Frazier came over to greet us. "Good to see you two back so soon."

We discussed having a christening for Miracle, and decided to wait until after Christmas to do so. We scheduled a Saturday service the first weekend in January, with a small ceremony at the church, and a christening party afterward at our house. Since both parents had been raised in the Methodist church in one form or another (I was United Methodist, Shavonda was African Methodist Episcopal) we didn't see any problem with different beliefs. As a matter of fact, the AME church had accepted me with open arms, and I was proud to have them christen our daughter.

After we got home from church, we let the kids play in the backyard, while we relaxed with Miracle in the living room. We were exhausted. In the past two weeks, we'd had 3 days in the hospital. (Yes, we. Once I got there just in time for the birth, I never left Shavonda's side until she was released.) We'd also had family stay over for 4 days and nights. All this time, Shavonda was trying to adjust to life with a newborn. I was too, but it was easier for me since my body hadn't undergone the strain of childbirth.

I was thankful we'd chosen to live in Shavonda's house instead of mine. She'd inherited the house and two acres of land from her Grandmother, and the extension we'd put on the house gave us room inside the house while the huge backyard gave the kids a safe place to play outside. My old house was hemmed in on all sides in a densely-populated neighborhood, with a postage stamp sized yard and no room for expansion other than to buy the neighbor's house and tear it down.

After dinner, the kids were sound asleep. Playing outside in the seasonably cold weather had worn them out, and the leftover turkey we had filled them with tryptophan. It was no wonder they conked out early. Shavonda had just nursed Miracle, and pumped her other breast, and she was beat as well. We put Miracle in her baby carrier, and cuddled on the couch watching a Tyler Perry movie. Yeah, I was domesticated. So what? For the first time in my life, I was truly happy this past year and a half. And I owed it all to the queen nestled in my arms. It was fitting that we'd come to make our life together in the very place we first made love. It seemed like an eternity ago. In all honesty, I had a hard time now remembering what life was like before Shavonda.

The influence this woman, this angel, had on the people around her was profound. First, she'd gently prodded me into taking a chance on her. She made me fall in love with her mind and personality long before we'd ever met in person. She'd believed in me when I felt I was alone against the world. And once we'd met, she quickly became my addiction. Or, I should say, we quickly became addicted to each other. As our love solidified, we wound up changing the very way my family saw race. They went from separate but equal to embracing our interracial marriage, and in the process gained another family, all based on the love they saw between us. Love that was instinctive. Though we were both highly intelligent people, we operated more on an intuitive level with each other. Most of the time, we anticipated each other's needs and accommodated them. In fact, her influence was so strong I was even starting to talk like her in subtle ways.

Our first year had been a rough one, but we'd come through the trials and tribulations that would have broken up a weaker relationship. We were still dealing with the fallout from that first year, but every day it was becoming less. And to top it all, God had decided to give us the Miracle baby who peacefully slept in her carrier at our feet.

Knowing that I had to work early the next morning, we took our first bubble bath since the baby shortly after dark, and I enjoyed once again soaping her lovely dark brown skin. She'd changed a bit. Because of the baby, I'd watched in fascination as she'd grown in size, never losing her intrinsic beauty. Even now, her breasts were swollen with milk, and though her belly was slowly shrinking she now had stretch marks. It didn't matter to me. I loved every inch of her body, and even found the stretch marks strangely arousing.

We kept our bath sensual but I kept away from her most sensitive areas. I didn't want to hurt her after all she'd been through. Shavonda, though, had other ideas. She soaped and lathered my private area with lavish attention. I couldn't help but become aroused. "I missed doing that," she said. "I love having that effect on you, more than you'll ever know. Tired as I am, it's torture knowing I can't take you inside me and ride you. I am so horny right now."

We towel dried each other and she led me to the bed, hand on my dick. Pushing me down on the mattress, Shavonda said, "I can't take any more. I have to have you somehow. And this is the only way I can." She hovered her head over my shaft, before taking me fully into her warm wet mouth. Her soft, full lips worked their way down as her tongue did its wicked little dance over my sensitive skin.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

She raised her head and popped me from between her lips, stroking my length with her hand. "Yes, boo. You need this as much as I do. Don't worry. I'ma get mines. After I'm done, since you can't touch me where I want to be touched, you can worship my feet. I can still enjoy that. But for now, just lay back and enjoy this, knowing that I'm enjoying it as much as you are." She slipped me between her lips and resumed her tongue dance, making sure to hit my most sensitive spot. Working her head up and down now, she took me deeper, coating me with her saliva. Her lips felt so good on me. I'd come to love the way she went down on me, knowing what would eventually happen, and driving me toward the inevitable eruption with eager anticipation.

I had my hand on her breast, kneading it absently as my pleasure built. Not knowing or caring if I was squeezing milk from it onto the bed. I guessed that since she'd just fed Miracle and pumped her milk she wouldn't be leaky yet. But in the end, neither of us cared. We'd wash the sheets if we had to.

The music played softly in the background, Luscious Jackson singing about naked being a state of mind. My personal state of mind was one of barely controlled lust as I involuntarily began to thrust upwards into her mouth. With one hand on Shavonda's breast, my other hand played in the tight curls of her hair. My pleasure was building in waves, each one threatening to take me over the edge. How I hung on for as long as I did, I'll never know. But she never let up her pace. Sensing by the urgency of my thrusts that I was getting near, she worked her hand over my balls, cupping them, playing with them. That was all I needed, and helplessly I was swept overboard by a wave of pleasure that caused me to erupt in spasms. I filled her eager mouth with shot after shot of thick, pent up sperm.

I watched as she pumped her hand, trying to milk me dry. I saw her throat muscles swallow my seed, watched the little rivulets seep from the corners of her mouth. Satisfied she'd gotten it all, Shavonda raised her head and gave me a sticky smile as she looked deep in my eyes. "That's just a small part of what I really wanted to do to you tonight," she said. "But my body won't let me just yet. I promise you, as soon as the doctor clears me, I'ma wear your ass out."

I kissed her deeply, happy to do anything she wanted the rest of the night. It was a game we played, taking each other to plateaus of barely controlled lust just to see where it would lead. Tonight, with her pussy off limits even to touch, I blazed a trail of smoldering kisses down her body, from her neck to her ankles. Finally reaching her feet, I had her already moaning in delight.

I kissed the arches of her feet first, licking her insoles and she shuddered with pleasure. She lay there panting for a while as I worked my tongue and lips over the sensitive arch, before gasping, "Jason, toes."

Oh, yeah, almost forgot about those. I took her big toe in my mouth and swirled my tongue around it as if it were a huge, bony nipple. She cried out, "Jason, baby, that's the spot." I could feel her toes start to curl, and I knew she was close.

Pulling her toe out from between my lips, I asked, "Can I take you over the edge, boo?"

"We're not supposed to," she panted, "But fuck that. I need this bad."

I continued sucking on her big toe, feeling it curl in my mouth once more. Pushing her leg forward, I picked her foot up off the bed as I moved up the bed. Her leg bent as I moved, until her foot was adjacent to her other knee. That was where I wanted her. The spot was within reach now. She wanted to go over the edge, I was going to take her there. Reaching my hand down, I ran it up her inner thigh until I hit the magic spot where her ass cheek began. My fingers massaged that spot softly. "Jason, no!" Shavonda screamed in pleasure as she realized what I was doing. Her body convulsed in orgasm as the pleasure from her inner thigh and her toe overwhelmed her defenses. "You bastard," she gasped as I looked deep into her eyes. I was laughing. It felt so good to finally get our releases out of the way. I know I felt much of the tension leave my body, and I hoped she had the same experience.

Her labia glistened with her arousal. Bending my head down, I worked my way to her moist folds. "Baby, I need a taste," I said. "I promise I won't linger, but I need to lick up your juice." Before she could protest, I ran my tongue up and down her lips, circling her clit as I did so. I heard her breath catch as I touched her sweet nub. Then I pulled myself away in a feat of willpower. "Are you okay?" I asked.

Shavonda breathlessly nodded, her eyes ablaze with passion. Grabbing my shoulders, she pulled me up to her mouth for a deep kiss. Our tongues danced as we each sought out the taste of our juices. We lay back on the bed, cuddling in each other's arms as we let sleep overtake us.

Back to work, I quickly got into a routine. Shavonda had opted to take it easy, stopping in to check on the stores during the day, but doing most of the work at home, assembling jewelry in the workshop, and updating the website in her home office next to the game room. She intended on doing this for at least another week, until she felt up to putting in full days at the stores again. In the meantime, I would continue to pick up the slack by concentrating on solder work in the evenings. That way we could keep the baby out of the workshop while solder work was being done. Even though we had a booth with a fan ventilating the lead fumes outside, I still didn't want to take the chance of Miracle breathing stray fumes.

Shaunice had followed through on her promise to get Shavonda's hair done. She opted to have her hair straightened, and cut short on one side while left its natural length on the other side. The effect was a sexy, asymmetrical cut that really highlighted her face and neck. It was a different look for Shavonda, but I loved it just the same.

The DA had been in contact with Shavonda about her testimony in Officer Shoemacher's upcoming trial. She told him she wouldn't make a decision without me, and set up a meeting at our house for one evening after work. We sat on the couch as the DA made his pitch. "I know it's going to be hard for you, but we really need you to testify to show a pattern of conduct. All the other women who have come forward have credibility issues, either drugs or prostitution. But you are a respected businesswoman. You would have credibility they don't have. With your help, we can get him off the streets for good." He looked at me. "Mr. Waite, your testimony would help buttress Shavonda's. You can testify how he broke protocol and essentially railroaded her. We also have the testimony of your friend who was at the party, and the zone commander. Altogether, it would be devastating to the defense."

"It's Von's reputation on the line," I said. "The final decision is hers. Von, whatever you decide, know I am behind you 100 percent."

"If I do testify," Shavonda said sadly, "I know the lawyers are going to have a field day. Understand that if I do appear in court, I am also going to be bringing a civil suit against the officer and the city for mental stress and other damages."

"Do what you must," the DA said. "I can't offer you anything in exchange for your testimony. Your case would have to work its way through court, but the transcript should help you. On behalf of the City of Pittsburgh, I do apologize for what that officer put you through. He should have been taken off active duty, if not fired, long before it got this far."

"When will we have to give a deposition?" Shavonda asked.

"The trial isn't until February. I'd probably set something up for early January."

"I'm not happy about this, but I will do it if it keeps him from ever victimizing anybody else," Shavonda said.

So, it looked like we were going to have to testify. I was glad Shavonda felt up to the task, but I knew they'd put her through the ringer. Not only the events of that night would be questioned, but her entire life as well. They'd look for something, anything, in her past to try to discredit her. She'd once mentioned to me that she'd done a nude photo shoot back during her college years. I hoped they didn't find those photos.

Ethan was starting to act up. Even though he was now 5 years old, he'd been the baby for his whole life. That had changed, and he resented it. He started demanding to be picked up and carried, at first, I humored him. But as Shavonda pointed out, the more we caved in to his demands, the more he would demand.

It came to a head one evening in Walmart. Ethan had demanded do be picked up and carried, Shavonda was in no shape to be lifting a 5-year-old, let alone carrying him. I was wearing Miracle in the sling, basking in the looks of approval from the older ladies in the store. I told Ethan that I was carrying the baby, and no way was I going to carry him too. He immediately fell out on the floor in a temper tantrum, kicking and screaming. In utter frustration, I told him in a menacing voice, "Keep crying and I'll give you something to cry about."

By this time, people were staring at us. Shavonda was getting pissed and I'd about had it. I told Ethan that he was going to walk out of this sore with us. And if he didn't we were going to leave him there. We then walked around the corner where he couldn't see us between the shelves, but we could keep an eye on him. Once he could no longer see us, he stopped his act, and whimpered, "Daddy? Ms. Von?" We let him look around for a minute, then when he started to wander off in search of us, Shavonda quickly ran out and grabbed him by the hand.

In the meantime, store security had been called, and they saw Shavonda run out and grab Ethan. Next thing we knew, we were in a back room at the store, trying to explain that Shavonda was Ethan's legal guardian. They'd been freaked out by the sight of a black woman snatching up a small, crying white child. I told Ethan, "You do that again and you won't get any presents this year."

"I'd have smacked his ass," Shavonda said.

"We can't do that in public," I explained. "Especially not you. They don't know you are effectively his mother, so they'd do worse than what just happened. You'd end up in jail."

We sent Ethan to bed without dinner, and after he'd calmed down, I brought him a plate and sat down and talked to him about what he'd done. I also told him next time he threw a tantrum like that, I was taking one of his toys away from him. That seemed to calm him down for a while.

The next weekend, Barbara took the kids. We forewarned her about Ethan's temper tantrums. We knew he might say something, and we wanted to make sure Barbara knew the context beforehand. Besides, we figured she was going to take the kids to Muncy to visit Rose for Christmas, either this time or the next time she had them. We also gave Barbara a photo of Miracle, in case Rose wanted to see a photo of the baby. Given the correspondence we'd had from her, prison was mellowing her out a bit. Too little, too late, such a shame.

That Friday night after Barbara left, we dropped Miracle and several bottles off at Althea's house overnight so Shavonda could go to karaoke with Darren and Minnie. When we got to the bar, it was already packed. We got our usual steak hoagies and fresh cut fries, along with our drinks. Shavonda picked out some songs to sing from the catalog, and we awaited her turn.

When she was called to the mike, before she could start her song, somebody heckled her from the back. In typical Shavonda style, she walked over to the heckler, wireless mike in hand. "Nice to see you again, too," she said. "So, what was it you said?" She shoved the mike in the face of the older gentleman who'd heckled her the last time she'd sang here.

"I asked what you had," he replied. "Obviously, you've had the baby."

"I had a little girl, named Miracle," Shavonda said proudly. "Thanks for asking." The crowd hooted and hollered. They were pumped up tonight. Shavonda spoke to Minnie, who was in charge of the music. Minnie nodded her head, and searched the computer for Shavonda's request. "I was going to perform a different song, but since you were kind enough to ask about the baby, I've decided to dedicate my first song to my daughter, Miracle Shavonda Waite, born on November 22."

Shavonda began to sing as the music began to play Stevie Wonder's Isn't She Lovely. The crowd grew quiet as she sang her heart out, about the birth of our lovely daughter. When she finished, the crowd went wild with applause.

The rest of the night was tame compared to that moment. Shavonda just had that knack of choosing just the right song for the occasion, and the voice to make any song her own.

By the end of the night, we were both tipsy, and we staggered across the street to our motel room. It was because we wanted the option to drink as much as we wanted that we rented the motel when we came out here in the first place. No sense in either of us getting a DUI. For me, that would be career suicide. Arriving in the room, Shavonda insisted that since we had no baby, that I drink her milk. Like I'd actually refuse. I loved the sweet taste of her secretions, and the only reason I left her alone most nights was so Miracle would have enough to eat.

The next day, Shavonda was in low spirits. The combination of our natural seasonal depression, and her post partum blues had her in tears. I held her while she cried on my chest until checkout time, then I drove her back home in a typical gray, dreary, dark Pennsylvania winter day. We stopped on the way home at a hardware store, and I bought some daylight spectrum bulbs. I couldn't give her the sun, but by changing the bulbs in the house with bright daylight bulbs, I could at least give her some artificial sun.

Once home, I installed the bulbs and Shavonda sat on the living room couch nursing Miracle in her sling. The combination of the baby and the bright bulbs seemed to pick her spirits up a bit, but she was still a bit gloomy. "I got everything I wanted," she said sadly. "I have a beautiful baby, a wonderful, loving man, and two children who love me like their own mother. I just don't understand why I'm so miserable."

"Your body is trying to get back to normal," I said. "Your hormones are out of whack. And to top it all off, it's a dreary time of year. It'll get better. And until it does, I am here."

There was a Christmas card from my parents in the mailbox. I took it to Shavonda and together we opened and read the card. "Best wishes for a Merry Christmas and a prosperous New Year. Love, Mom & Dad. P.S. I hope you enjoy the clipping." Neatly folded up in the card was a newspaper clipping from the Monroe County Times.