Love Knows No Color Pt. 17

The letter she wrote was as follows:

Dear Rose,

We hope you enjoy your visit with Brittany and Ethan. Children should spend time with their mothers on this day. Although I love them as my own, and try to provide them with a stable home, I am not, and can never be, their birth mother. That honor is for you alone. And you have our promise that we'll never stop the children from visiting you.

On our trip to see Jason's parents over the Easter break, Ethan discovered one of Jason's old treehouses from when he was a child. As a result, Jason and Ethan are building a treehouse in our backyard. He is teaching Ethan how to use a tape measure and hand saw.

Brittany has been doing well in first grade. She has made the honor roll this time. And Miracle has learned to roll herself over and sit up. It won't be long until she's crawling.

We realize it must be lonely where you're at, and if there are any books you'd like to read, let us know and we'll send them on Barbara's next visit. Until then, hang in there. We are praying for you.

Sincerely,

Jason and Shavonda

The letter was meant to comfort Rose, but was also written as a way to calm Shavonda's nerves before she had to confront Shoemacher for the final time.

Since the hearing was at 9am, I had taken the day off from work. Shavonda wore a conservative outfit of long black skirt with a white blouse, and matching heels. While businesslike, the outfit looked stunning on her. It accented her natural elegance. My queen looked positively regal on this day, but I knew it was merely covering the apprehension she felt inside. We left the Cruze at the park n ride, and rode the busway downtown. Arriving at the courthouse, we waited in the hallway until time for her to give her statement. When she was called, I took my seat in the spectators' chairs while she took the stand.

"I am here today," Shavonda said, "to give my statement to the court as a victim of Mr. Shoemacher. Anybody who has been involved in the trial, or who has read the transcript knows what he was convicted of. This man is a sexual predator who has preyed upon the weak and powerless, hiding behind his badge. Although I am the only one he has been convicted of attempting to assault, I doubt I am the only victim here. Four other women came forward to testify, and I am sure there were others too afraid to speak up. I can tell you from personal experience testifying as a victim of attempted rape is not an easy thing to do. I was fortunate to have credible witnesses to back up my testimony, something the other victims did not have."

"In spite of all that, I was victimized a second time by a defense that was more interested in smearing my character than in seeing justice done. This man turned what should have been one of the best nights of my life, my engagement, into a terrifying ordeal. I honestly didn't know if I'd come out of that night alive, but I did know that whatever he forced me to do, I was going to fight back. I thank the good lord that my husband and our dear friend, Officer Zigarelli, were working on my behalf to ensure I got fair treatment. It is because of them that the defendant was stopped before he could physically assault me. They are heroes in a true sense of the word. Had they not been in my corner, had I been on my own like the other women who testified, my situation would have been far different."

"In a sense, this trial and conviction is far larger than just the conviction of one man. It is a small step towards restoring the credibility of the Pittsburgh police. Because when people like Mr. Shoemacher are allowed to break the law with impunity, then hide behind the badge to escape consequences, the law itself becomes meaningless. Those who are sworn to uphold the law should face severe consequences when they violate that law. And because of that, this man deserves to be made an example, so that others will think twice before they do what he did. He is a stain upon the reputation of the police. Particularly among minorities like myself, there is a deep mistrust of those sworn to protect us."

"The saddest part of it all is that if what he really wanted was a black woman, there are plenty of us who are available for the asking. Good men, who treat their women with respect, are hard to find. And if he were one of them, he could have his choice. Instead, he chose to force himself upon those least able to resist him. In my case, he insisted on detaining me despite evidence that should have shown him I was not a prostitute. What streetwalker wears a $4000 ring while working? What john has a half-eaten engagement cake in the backseat of his car? And that ultimately led to his downfall, because unlike his other victims I had the love and support of a good man and his friends who were in a position to do something about him. His actions in my case could not be ignored, and triggered the investigation that led to his arrest."

"I hope that the court sees its way clear to imposing the maximum sentence upon this man, as a warning to others that this sort of conduct will no longer be tolerated, swept under the rug as a dirty little secret. Because when you look the other way when he does wrong, you are sending a message to others that what he did is somehow okay. Rape is never okay, no matter who the victim is, or what she does with her life. It is never okay to force yourself upon a helpless woman handcuffed in the back of your patrol car."

"I thank the court for allowing me input on this matter, and I trust that you will make a good decision regarding the fate of this man."

As Shavonda stepped down off the stand, and walked toward me, Shoemacher mumbled something to her as she passed. She stopped, stiffened, then turned around and said something to him. He turned red, and the defense attorney laughed nervously. "Mrs. Waite!" the judge thundered. "You will not speak to the defendant! Approach the bench!"

Shavonda turned and walked back to the judge. She spoke to him and I could see he was trying not to laugh. She turned and walked back to me, hips gently swaying as she passed the defendant. We left the courtroom together, and once out in the hall, she grabbed me in a tight hug. "Thank you for being there," she said. The undercover cop had followed us out the door, and Shavonda gave her a hug as well.

"What just happened in there?" I asked.

"That bastard had the nerve to ask me if there were any videos of me floating around," Shavonda growled. "So I told him no, but that I was going home to make one with my husband. I told him that you were twice the man he was, plus another inch." The undercover cop laughed.

Shavonda wasn't done with the story. "The judge threatened to hold me in contempt, then asked what I said. So I told him. Did you see how he was barely able to contain himself?"

We talked for a while with the undercover cop, whose name was Ramona. We all ended up going to Villa Reale for lunch. While there, Ramona asked me a question. "You didn't seem disturbed when the defense presented a magazine with nude photos of your wife. Why not?"

"Von had told me a long time ago about the photo shoot, so it wasn't a complete surprise. And I was pissed, but not at her. If those photos would have been recent, I'd have been mad because she posed without telling me. But ones taken long before I ever met her, I can't get mad at her for. We all have things in our past we shouldn't have done. Why would I jeopardize the best thing in my life over something from the distant past?"

"Is he for real?" Ramona asked Shavonda.

"Yes, he is," Shavonda replied. "That's why I love him so much. He's my rock. He's stood by me no matter what life threw at us."

"He sounds like a one in a million," Ramona said. 'You are so lucky. I do a lot of undercover sting operations, and I see some of the worst in people. Sometimes it's easy to forget that not all men are like the scum I deal with."

Shavonda and Ramona exchanged business cards, with Ramona telling my wife that there were victims groups out there if she needed help. And Shavonda invited Ramona to our anniversary party/ reunion in two weekends. "Bring your husband if you have one," she said. "We're a nice group to hang out with. We'll have good food, and a DJ. And Jason and I will probably play a few songs ourselves."

Afterward, we returned to our car, riding a bus half empty during the midday lull. It was nice to actually be able to see out the windows on both sides for a change, with no crowd of standees to block the view. At the park n ride, we retrieved the Cruze, and returned home. We changed our clothes, and loaded the Jeep for the weekend trip we were taking. We intended to kidnap Edie and get her out of Pittsburgh for the weekend, or at least that's what we told her. We didn't let her know the destination was my parents farm. I wanted to spend Mother's Day with my family this year, and Shavonda and I had compromised. We'd spend Saturday with my mom, then leave early Sunday morning in order to be back home by dinner time, which we would spend with Althea.

Arriving home, we walked in the door, and Shavonda immediately burst into tears. "I can't believe it's finally over," she sobbed as I held her. Althea watched as I comforted my wife, holding her close as she let herself crumble in a safe place. That was one thing I had come to love about her, how she put on a brave face for the world to see. To the outside world, she was the epitome of the strong black woman. But to those of us close enough to earn her trust, she let her vulnerability show. Today, maintaining her dignity and grace while facing the man who'd attempted the ultimate humiliation, Shavonda had pulled it off, giving an intelligent and impassioned statement to the court. But the ordeal had once again shaken her to her very core.

"Jason," Althea said, "Take your wife to the bedroom. Let her rest, and hold her while you tell her you love her. I'll watch the baby while she gets it together." Thanking Althea, I led my wife by the hand to the room and helped her out of her clothes. We spent much of the afternoon in bed holding each other while she cried herself out. By this time, I'd been through this with her several times before, and knew just what to do. I ran my fingers through her curls, telling her how proud I was of what she'd done. And how much I cherished her. Finally, the tears stopped, and she kissed me passionately.

"I love you, Jefferson Waite," Shavonda said softly. "I'm sorry you had to see me like this."

"I am here for you," I said. "It took a lot of courage to do what you just did. And even when the jackass tried to rattle you, you verbally humiliated him. I don't think I could have been that strong."

She kissed me again, then looked me in the eye. "Jason," she said, "I'm ovulating. Make love to me. Give me that baby boy."

We made love passionately, each filled with the need to possess the other. Shavonda had placed the bed pillows under her ass, lifting her pelvis to me at an angle that made deep penetration easy. I slid inside her moist heat, thrusting into her as her legs wrapped around me, pulling me deep inside her. I was hers, to use as she pleased. I thrilled to the sight of her milk laden breasts bouncing to my thrusts.

The month before, we'd set the ground rules for sex during ovulation. In an effort to maximize our chances of conception, we used pillows to elevate her vagina, so that when I came, my sperm would flow down into her uterus. Afterward, I was allowed to use whatever stimulation I wanted to bring her to another orgasm, with one exception. I was allowed to lick the outside of her pussy and clit, but not allowed to put my tongue or fingers inside her. We wanted to keep as much of my seed inside her as we could, and from what we'd read orgasmic contractions helped my sperm get to where it was needed. And yes, that also meant I could touch, kiss lick or nibble her sweet spot on her inner thigh....

Today was no different, as our bodies moved against each other I took her over the edge, and her orgasmic spasms hastened my own release. I looked deep into her eyes as she went over the edge. Even after two years and over 500 times having sex with her, I still thrilled to the sight of her body. I loved the look of lust in her eyes as she lost herself in passion. I was still in awe of her dark skin so unlike my own. The most beautiful woman in the world rocked beneath me, and she was mine, only mine. As I shot my milky seed deep within her womb, I thought how lucky I was. I had my dreamgirl, and she loved me just as much as I loved her.

I stayed within her in the afterglow, then pulled out when her spasms died down. She'd milked me of all that I had. Now it was my turn to pleasure her. I knelt between her legs, sucking gently on her clit as I worked my fingers on her sweet spot. She looked as good as she tasted. I couldn't resist moving my mouth down to her inner thigh, licking up the juices that had leaked out of her as I worked my way to the special spot at the bottom of her ass cheek. Once there, I sucked hard on her skin, giving her a mark of my possession as her second orgasm hit her hard.

We lay there in each other's arms afterward. We must have drifted off, because we were soon awakened by Edie and Althea knocking on the door. "Oh, shit!" Shavonda said as she grabbed a sun dress from the clothes rack in the closet. She slipped into it quickly, not bothering to put on bra or panties. I knew this was going to drive me crazy on the trip tonight. I quickly grabbed a pair of shorts and a t shirt from the dresser drawer and soon we were both presentable. We opened the door, smiling as we did so.

"Ewww," Edie exclaimed, "You two so nasty!" Althea gave us a knowing look.

"She's feeling a little better now," I said.

"I bet she is," Althea replied. "I hope you gave her a boy." Shavonda laughed. Evidently, she'd told her mother she was trying to conceive.

We put the baby and Edie's bags in the Jeep. Promising Althea we'd be back on Mother's Day we hit the road. Edie had no idea where we were going. "Did you bring a nice outfit for tomorrow?" I asked. She had packed a sun dress in case we wanted to go somewhere special. She was going to be in for a surprise, but we had to keep our destination a secret or she would have backed out of the trip. I wasn't going to let her do that. Too many people had worked too hard on what we had planned for her.

In order not to give a clue where we were headed, I took a different route south. Getting on the turnpike in Monroeville, we headed east to Somerset, then took 219 south to Berlin, and 160 from there to the Maryland border. We dropped down the mountain into Cumberland in the fading light and stopped to eat at Kline's, one of our favorite places in the area. After dinner, we continued south on 220, finally stopping for the night at a motel in Franklin, WV. I rented two rooms. Edie would have to sleep alone tonight, my wife and I had some baby making to do.

We hit the road early the next morning, stopping for breakfast at a diner. Shavonda was wearing a cute leopard print halter dress that nicely showed off her curves, and Edie wore a nice blue sun dress that also showed off her body. We felt every eye upon us as we walked in and sat down. But the waitress was friendly as were the customers. We'd have to remember this place, it truly showed off the best rural America had to offer. I had to admit, I did miss living in a place like this. The city just wasn't the same. I understood why Kenny was reluctant to give up living in the mountains.

A little after 8 we rolled into Covington, VA, and it finally dawned on Edie where we were headed. "Why didn't you tell me we were going to your mother's?" Edie demanded.

"If I'd have told you, would you have come?" I asked her.

"No."

"Well then you're just going to have to deal with it. By the way, you are beautiful in that blue dress," I replied.

"Since we're here, want to get the ice cream now?" Shavonda asked. We pulled into the Food Lion parking lot, and I was lucky enough to find a spot close to the door that I could pull the Jeep into. When we left, we could pull straight out, instead of backing. Driving an 18-wheeler has left me leery of backup moves. In the big truck, I have some major blind spots, and if I'm going to damage anything it will be when backing up. Even in our cars, I still try not to back up unless necessary.

Edie volunteered to stay in the car with Miracle, who was awake and bubbly as usual. I think Edie wants kids of her own, but for now, Miracle would serve as a surrogate child for her.

The store was not crowded this early in the morning, most of the people there seemed to be picking up things for lunch on the 9am shift at the paper mill. We quickly found our fudge ripple, and made our way through the express line. With our purchase paid for, we started for the door when I heard a voice calling my name.

"Jason Waite, is that you?" I turned to see Randy Patton walking toward us. I'd gone to school with Randy, though we had been more enemies than friends. Randy had been a troublemaker then, I'd hoped he'd changed. At any rate, I was polite.

"Hi, Randy. How you been?" I replied.

"Oh, not bad. Who's your friend?"

"That's my lovely wife, Shavonda." I answered. Shavonda, like she usually did when introduced as my wife, held out her hand to show off her ring.

"That's a nice ring," Randy said. "Too bad you wasted all that money on a nigger." I clenched my fist. Randy hadn't changed a bit. He still liked to stir things up. Shavonda noticed my reaction.

"Jason, no," she whispered. "Not here." As usual she was right. Here we were in a small Virginia town, outsiders, and a nontraditional couple to boot. A fight would probably wind up with one or both of us in jail. So rather than deck Randy, which was what he wanted, I turned to him and smiled.

"Randy, you got it all wrong. Shavonda is worth many times what I paid for that ring. If you knew what she does for me and to me you'd understand. She's smart, she's beautiful, and she has the body of a goddess." I glanced at Shavonda, who was grinning, flattered by my compliments. "And, she has such a beautiful smile, she still has all her teeth. Randy, how many teeth does your wife have?" I could see Randy doing a slow burn. "Von, let's get out of here before the ice cream melts."

I took Shavonda's hand in mine and we started to walk through the door. Shavonda was smiling over her shoulder as we walked. "Jason, watch out!" she warned as I felt a hand on my shoulder. Instinctively I ducked.

The hand on the shoulder was a classic Patton move. Randy was one of four brothers and a sister, and they all fought dirty like that. They'd grab you by your shoulder, and spin you around as they threw a punch with the other arm. The unsuspecting victim would usually catch a fist in the jaw or nose, occasionally breaking a bone, before they had a chance to react. By the time they knew what was going on, they'd be too dazed by the hit to effectively fight back.

I'd learned to duck when I felt a hand on my shoulder. By doing so, not only did I avoid being hit, I also turned the tables on whichever Patton decided to mess with me that day. They usually threw the punch so hard that when I ducked it threw them off balance, and they'd tumble over my back. And I'd be on them before they knew what hit them. Once I started doing that, it got me suspended from school a couple of times, but it also bought me an uneasy peace with the Patton family.

Evidently, Randy had forgotten my move. I didn't even think about what I was doing, I just ducked, fully expecting Randy to tumble over me. Then I'd be on him like white on rice. After all, he threw the first punch, and anything I did after that was self-defense. But instead of feeling the weight of Randy losing his balance and tumbling over my back, I heard a sickening crack as his fist narrowly missed my wife and hit the metal door frame instead. Randy collapsed on the floor, howling in pain.