Love Knows No Color Pt. 16

"You don't like us together," I continued. "All that means is we will rub it in your face every time you come at us. We are not ashamed of our love, but you are."

We sat in silence, Shavonda's hand in mine, while Nora stared off in the distance. Shavonda moved her chair closer to me and snuggled under my arm, I ran my fingers through her coarse, straightened black hair. The sound of Kenny and Edie testing the instruments drifted in from the back porch. We watched as a car slowly made its way up the dirt road to the house. When it stopped, Althea, James and Shaunice got out. Shavonda and I went down the steps to greet them, with hugs all around. We helped them unload their bags while Nora watched from the porch.

"This is my Aunt Nora," I told the family. "She's Mom's sister. Nora, this is Von's Mom and Dad, Althea and James. And Shaunice, Von's older sister."

"I don't remember seeing you at the wedding," Althea said.

"I...I couldn't make it," Nora replied, her discomfort obvious.

"Mmm," Althea grunted, turning and making her way in the house.

We took their bags up to the room Mom had prepared for them, then we all headed down to the back porch. On the way, I grabbed the CD played and iPod out of our room, and brought it down. "Kenny," I said, "You ready to try to learn these songs?"

Shavonda and I had developed a system of learning the more complex songs, since we had no sheet music, and even if we did I couldn't read it very well anyway. So, we learned everything by ear. First, we'd let the entire song play through. Then we'd listen to small parts, about 30 seconds to a minute at a time, and try to play our respective parts. It had worked well for us, but we'd never tried it with Kenny before. There was no need to worry. He understood what we were doing, and followed along like he did it all the time.

We started in with Refugees, because it had the more complex bass line. It took us about an hour or so to get it right. Footprints was a bit easier, though I wished we had a drummer to fully flesh out the song. We had just finished learning the songs when Dad arrived home and we sat down to dinner. Since there were so many of us, Sally had talked Mom into a big pot of spaghetti. Shavonda and I hadn't had that in a while, and the kids loved it.

"Jason," Nora asked, "When you play guitar, I noticed you dance to the music you play. Why do you do that?" I looked at her in amusement. Obviously, she didn't understand.

"I noticed that too," Mom said. "You never did that before when you were down here."

"Before, I was playing the upright bass," I explained to Mom. "It's kinda hard to move when the instrument is as big as you are. But with the guitar, I have freedom of movement. I just let the music I play flow through me. I move because I feel the music inside me. Von taught me how to do that. That's why I love playing bass so much."

While we were learning our songs, Dad arrived home from the paper mill, and we all sat down to eat the big pot of spaghetti that Sally and Mom had been making. The kids loved it, and I vowed I'd make it for them when we were at home.

After dinner, we resumed playing< starting out with Footprints. "We figured you'd like all the Beatles references in this song," I said. Starting the song, I started the rhythm on my bass while Shavonda let the keyboards wash over us. Kenny picked up the melody on his guitar and I accented what he played as the keyboards continued to provide atmosphere. I started the spoken verses:

"I saw her footprints on the sea

I knew her eyes were watching me

So I ventured further in my mind

In the hope that I would find:"

Wailing the chorus, I let loose:

"Tangerine trees and marmalade skies and

plasticine porters with looking glass ties"

Returning to spoken word, I started the second verse:

"My mind had formed a mental prison

I cried aloud no-one would listen

Then floating through the heavy mist

My vision took a sudden twist"

I wailed out the chorus again, then Kenny lit up a searing Gilmouresque guitar solo, all the while, Shavonda's keyboards continued to wash over everything. Midway into the solo, I started the third, spoken verse:

"Empty people stood in grey

Children laughing far away

An empty courtyard wept alone

Rain lashed down on darkened stone"

The solo over, I wailed out the chorus again before we settled down into the gentle guitar and keyboard riff that had started the song as I closed out with the final verse:

"A crystal glove points to the door

A threshold I had crossed before

On turning back all I could see

Were her footprints on the sea"

When we finished, I was smiling. I had done it. I had mastered one of my two favorite bands. My voice wasn't used to that much strain. I felt a sense of accomplishment, even though it was one of their simpler songs. Mars Volta would be much more difficult to pull off, but I was sure with enough practice, eventually we would be able to do it. We took a rest from the intensity by playing a couple of songs that let the ladies vocals shine. We finished with Refugees, which wasn't particularly taxing on my voice, but had some interesting complexities in my bass part. But by this point, we'd spent a bit of time practicing the song, so I was passable, but not perfect.

Afterward, I loaded my camera card into the laptop, and uploaded the photos I'd taken earlier in the day. Kenny also uploaded the video he'd taken, and we watched it with James on the computer screen. "It looks like they use the same tri-lights we have," he said, referring to the signals we had captured in the shots, "But the aspects are slightly different." James was referring to how different combinations of colored lights were interpreted by the train crews. "I've never seen a flashing yellow over red before."

"Down here we use four indication signalling," Kenny explained. "Flashing yellow is the fourth indication. It is an advance approach signal that means the signal two blocks ahead is red."

The three of us had a technical discussion on railroad signalling while everybody else looked kind of lost. I told James that the addition to the railroad I was building represented this area, and that once I was done with the scenery I intended to add a 4-indication signal system to the whole layout. I'd already been stockpiling signal kits for that eventuality, but hadn't had time to assemble them yet.

Shavonda had curled up under my arm, and fallen asleep. It had been a long, busy day. I asked Kenny to bring the baby carrier up to the room, and I carried my sleeping queen up the steps and gently laid her in the bed, before bidding good night to Kenny and Edie. They promised to come by early so we could make the hike up to Hanging Rock, which sat atop the mountain ridge just above the house, maybe three miles away.

We awoke in the predawn stillness, Miracle being hungry. After she'd been fed, Shavonda curled up into me and we spooned, trying to fall back asleep. Eventually, we gave up and made love instead. It was difficult to sleep nestled against her soft booty, as I slowly inflated, and my poking her in the back was turning her on as well. We tried to keep our moans down, but I think by this time everybody in the house expected us to behave like rabbits. We couldn't help it. We were both so attracted to each other that it just came naturally. I thanked the good lord that I'd found somebody who was that compatible with my own needs.

After a nice breakfast, the four of us packed into the Jeep and drove to the parking area for the trail to Hanging Rock. We were all dressed for the hike, with Kenny and me wearing our work boots, and the ladies wearing sneakers instead of the sandals Shavonda normally wore. We'd also warned the ladies to wear long pants, because we might run into briar bushes. But we needn't have worried about that. The morning air was still chilly enough that we all needed jackets, and anybody wearing shorts would have been cold and miserable.

Hiking the trail up the mountainside, the climb was steep at first but levelled out as we neared the ridgetop. The fire cabin itself was perched atop a rock formation tilted at an odd angle of almost 45 degrees. We were, after all, still in the Ridge and Valley section of the mountains, with the numerous anticlines and synclines, and oddly tilted rocks were the norm here. The cabin itself had once served to house forest rangers who stood watch for forest fires, and its high elevation and panoramic views were essential to its function as an observation post. This function was now being put to use by others in observing the migratory patterns of predatory birds. We did observe several hawks riding the thermals above the valley below, circling effortlessly on the rising air currents as the morning sun heated the valleys below. I promised Shavonda we'd make the trip back up here in the autumn when migration was at its peak, so she could watch the eagles soar. I made sure to take plenty of photos of the area, and posed Kenny and Edie in many of them. Kenny likewise took photos of Shavonda and me, and we even had a passing hiker take a couple of the four of us together on the observation deck looking over the valley off to the north. It occurred to me that this was the first hike we'd taken in these mountains, and that it was ironic that the lady I never thought I'd find was here with the baby she never thought she'd have.

As much as we would have loved to spend the day up here, where the ridgetop curved gently to the northeast, we knew we had to get back to the farm where the rest of the family would soon be gathering. So, we began the descent back to the Liberty, enjoying the cool morning air in the forest. At the parking lot, we put Miracle in her carseat. I started out of the parking lot and let the car freewheel down the mountain, only putting it in gear for the uphill pull on the dirt road to the farmhouse.

It was about 11am when we got back. The others had been up for a few hours, and the kids were enjoying their Easter candy. Sally asked Kenny and I if we'd gotten our chocolate bunnies yet. We both laughed. "Maybe," I said. "Then again, maybe she got some white chocolate herself." Nora looked uncomfortable as usual, but I noticed she had nothing to say either. I also noticed Althea was looking at Nora, almost daring her to say something. Althea had sized Nora up when they first met.

"Von," Sally said, "you are a bad influence on Jason, you know that?"

Shavonda laughed. "I hope so," she said. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Ethan came running up to the porch, screaming, "Daddy! Daddy! Come see what we found!" Shavonda and I followed him as he led us excitedly into the forest. In a little ways, he pointed up in one of the trees. They'd found one of my old treehouses, and Brittany was happily looking out of one of the window holes. Honestly, I was surprised it was still in as good shape as it was. I had built probably a half dozen of these with Kenny when we were children, scattered all over the place. Evidently, this one was being maintained by hunters as a tree stand for deer hunting. As far as I knew, this one, like most of the others, was on National Forest land. As I recalled, the only one on our property had been down on the edge of the middle pasture, overlooking the railroad.

I boosted Ethan up the ladder into the tree house, then followed him up to have a look around. Inside, the hunters had built a couple of wooden benches against the wall where they could sit waiting for deer. Whoever was using it had been considerate enough to pack out their garbage, and a few cigarette butts on the floor were all the evidence that anybody had been here recently.

I climbed back down, and told Shavonda to go have a look. She passed me Miracle's sling, and climbed up the ladder. "Jason, this is amazing!" she called down. It occurred to me that, living in the city, she'd probably never had a tree house. When she came back down with the kids, I asked her if I could build one in our backyard. We had a couple of big oak trees at the rear of the property. "I'd love that!" she exclaimed. "But only if the kids help you build it. That sounds like a wonderful father and son project."

By the time we got back, Calvin and his family had arrived with Aunt Penny and Uncle Walter. Mom had baked an Easter ham, and we still had leftover spaghetti from last night for anybody who wanted it. So we all sat down to eat, but with 15 people in the house there was no room on the porch for all of us.

After dinner, Shavonda asked Mom a question that had been evidently burning a hole in her mind for a while. "Julia," she asked, "How did Jason get his name?"

"Not for Jefferson Davis if that's what you are asking," Mom replied. "He is indirectly named after Thomas Jefferson, but really after the forest." We lived in the middle of Jefferson National Forest. "The forest was named after Thomas Jefferson."

"I always wondered about that, every time I see the national forest sign, but I always forgot to ask."

"So, I guess you're his Sally Hemmings?" Nora asked. Sally buried her head in her hands, Althea looked ready to kill Nora, and the rest of us just watched to see what Shavonda would do.

"No, Nora," Shavonda replied. "Sally Hemmings was a slave. She had no choice about who she had children with. I am nobody's slave, and I am with the man I love by choice. Do you understand the difference?" Nora squirmed. She'd put her foot in her mouth yet again.

"Aunt Nora, why is respect for my wife so hard a concept for you to grasp?" I asked. "You are going to open a hornet's nest you don't want if you keep saying stupid things."

Althea looked like she wanted to say something, but she kept quiet. I was sure Shavonda was getting tired of the little comments like this, and the next time Nora said something, Althea and Shaunice were probably going to join in as well.

"Nora," Mom asked, "Why are you still trying to bait her? After three days, I am sure Von's getting tired of this. I know I am. If you can't say something nice, please don't say anything else. I really hate to have to say this, but if you say one more thing to her, you are going to have to leave. I know you are my sister, but Jason is my son. That gives him priority in this house. And, whether you accept it or not, Von is his wife. She's part of him. I will never ask her to leave here for defending herself against ignorance. Up to this point, they've been playing with you, Nora, but you are too dumb to realize that. Don't push you luck. Because when their patience runs out, you are going to have a whole bunch of people here ripping you to shreds."

After that, Nora kind of kept to herself. The rest of the family, who had all met at our wedding, got along well. We didn't have any illusions that we'd changed Nora's mind, or that she'd come to grudgingly accept us. But as long as she stopped trying to voice her opposition to us, we'd let her alone. Mom had said what I had been thinking. Sally and I were the heirs to the house, not Nora, and if anybody had a right to be there it was me. And wherever I went, so did Shavonda.

Later that evening, Mom handed me an envelope. "This came in the mail the other day," she said.

"Wonder why?" I asked. "I ain't lived here in well over ten years." I opened the envelope. Inside was a flyer about the 15th year class reunion for the Monroe County class of 99.

"We should go," Shavonda said, looking over my shoulder. "Don't you ever wonder what happened to all your friends?" She was right. I hadn't seen my classmates since I'd moved, except for occasionally bumping into one at the store. Shavonda saw people she grew up with all the time. They lived in the neighborhood, instead of 300 miles away. And yes, we were going to her reunion, in June. Mine was the Friday before Grandma's birthday party, so we'd already be in the area. We'd just have to come down a day early.

The rest of the evening went smooth. We played music, both electric, and acoustic with Calvin. He didn't seem too put out by us playing the electric set without him. Instead, he was impressed with the progress I'd made in my playing, and surprised that I now sang as well. But the music was an important part of our lives now. It was a shared hobby for Shavonda and me. Funny how we'd progressed from listening, which we still did extensively, to actually playing our favorites.

All too soon, people started to head for home. Kenny and Edie helped us break down our equipment and load it into the trailer before they headed off for one final night together. Nora was the last to leave. I gave her a hug. After all, she was still my aunt. "What happened to the Nora I knew and loved?" I asked her sadly. "The one who put a mud pack on her face and sat out in front of the post office waving at passing cars? I was five, I thought that was the greatest thing. We had so much fun back then."

"I grew up," she said.

"Did you?" I asked. "You certainly have been acting childish around us all weekend. Anyway, if you ever decide to leave that hang-up about color behind, come and see us in Pittsburgh. We're celebrating our first anniversary next month. You're invited, if you choose to come."

With the guests gone, we took the baby upstairs. Miracle was sleeping peacefully. Everything around us was peaceful. We sat on the bed, listening to the spring peepers at the old farm pond. There is just something soothing about a mountain spring night, especially in a place you once called home. When we finally got sleepy, we lay in each other's arms beneath the blankets, just enjoying the feel of each other's body.

As was the norm during our stay here, we awoke before dawn and made love before drifting back off to sleep, snuggled in the afterglow. The smell of breakfast awoke us to a bright sunny morning. Kenny had already brought Edie back for breakfast before he had to head off to work. We watched as he hugged Edie like he'd never see her again, telling her how much he loved her. And then he was gone. Edie seemed subdued and quiet.

After breakfast, we finished loading up the car and trailer, and Shavonda's parents packed as well.

"Jason," James said, "Why don't you let us take Brittany and Ethan? Von told us how crowded the ride down was. We'll take the kids and Shaunice can ride with you. That way everybody has a seat." It sounded like a good idea to me, and we quickly transferred the carseats to their car. I got my two-way radios out of the glove box, and handed one to James. I was sure we'd have to make many stops along the way, for the kids to use the bathroom, for Miracle to be fed, etc.

"Aunt baby's in Fairmont for dinner?" I asked.

"Sounds good to us," James replied.

"Aunt baby's?" Shaunice asked.

"Soul food restaurant," Shavonda explained. "They even have ghetto Kool aid."

And so, with hugs all around, we left Mom and Grandma waving on the front porch. Dad had long ago left for the paper mill. It occurred to me how lucky I was, travelling in a car full of beautiful black women, one of whom was my very own queen.

As we headed over the mountains, Shaunice asked, "What was up with that Nora bitch anyway? I didn't like her at all. I wanted to smack her."

"She has a problem with Jason and me being together," Shavonda said. "And Edie being with Kenny as well. Don't worry, big sis, we pushed her buttons good."

"What did you do?" Shaunice asked.

"Jason told her he'd been drinking a lot of milk, and I told her the baby only takes one." They all laughed.

"Do you really drink her milk, Jason?" Shaunice asked.

"Of course," I replied. "Have you ever tried it? It's the nectar of my goddess."

"Aww that's so sweet," Shaunice said, laughing. "That's why we love you." We noticed Edie was quiet and asked what was wrong.