Love Delivered

“It’s not that. I just need time to adjust.”


“How much time do you need? You either need to get with it or have a good explanation as to why you can’t. I’m not *footing around with wanting.”

“Okay,” I attempt to mollify with a conceding tone as I rub my palms over his pecs. “I know.”

What a way to kick off morning worship.

~~~~~~~~~~

September 2014

I punch in the keys, in an attempt to open the darn machine.

“I’m sorry, Momma. This is one of the new registers we’ve rolled out to all three locations. Give me a minute.”

I go back to trying different keys. Today is an important day for me. For years, I’ve wanted my mother to quit her job and take over one of the bakeries. I hated having her make pennies for the time she puts into a calendar year. A few years back, Stenton finally convinced her to quit cleaning. I don’t know how he did it or what he told her, but she quit cleaning homes for part-time income. Over the past few months, since having finally settled the bakery, securing its clientele, I’ve tried to persuade her to retire her full-time job of more than twenty years. She was still young and could still keep busy, but with less work and more pay. And I could rest well at night knowing my momma was running one of my locations.

Now, today, at her orientation, I’m so nervous, I can’t get the darn cash register to function!

“How about this one, dear.” My mom hits a key and the machine dings and opens with ease.

My eyes glide over to her, fluttering. “Yeah, that one. It was hiding from me.” She chuckles at me. “Okay. Let me show you your office. I had it painted and carpeted last week.”

My mother follows me to the back, quietly observing my responses to the few staff members, stopping me on the way with work-related questions. I’ve introduced her to everyone in this morning and will continue throughout the day. I’m excited beyond belief to be working with my superwoman, finally. We make it to her office and I go over all the file cabinets, bank envelopes and various bank slips, vendor accounts, and security codes. She takes notes on her notepad as I sit behind her desk to set up her desktop.

“So, how are you and Stenton making out with the engagement, dear? Have you set a date yet? I need to start my diet plan right away.”

I peer over at her with a wrinkled forehead and questioning eyes. “Since when do you diet, Sarah Barrett?”

My mom has never made a fuss over her weight. She’s voluptuous and perfect, the epitome of grace in beauty and my eyes.

“Since having children. I was as tiny as you before I finished having you girls. Where do you think you get it?”

I glance down at my thighs. They’re hardly small. I’ve gained almost fifteen pounds since having JR. I don’t begrudge them, never did since Stenton let me know right away that it pleased him some years ago. I kind of like it myself. It fits the Elizabeth motif.

“I want more,” I mutter, while waiting on the software to load.

“More what?” she asks. “Children?”

With my chin resting on my fist, I nod. Now that I have Stenton back, my heart aches for babies. His babies. Who knew Zoey Barrett was a glutton for being knocked up and changing diapers?

“Why the pout, Zoey? Does Stenton want more?”

I nod. “But not until marriage.” I feel myself sulking.

“Well, at least one of you is thinking morally. I agree with him.”

“Why? Why is marriage such a big deal?”

“Are you still resentful of the institution, Elizabeth? I used to hear you and Angela chant that crap as kids, but paid no mind to it, thinking it was due to your youth.” She laughs. Hard…and a lot. “You guys were rebels without a cause.”

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