Bread and Butter

No, Buddy, it's not that simple. She isn't in heat. Women are far more complicated than cats. What did I do wrong, you ask? Good question. I'll tell you.

I did nothing wrong, zip, zero, zilch. I did the right thing by Rachel, and I stand by my decision, and no, catnip is not going to soothe her. Flowers may help, or dark chocolate with caramel and sea salt, she loves those, so I'll have both delivered," and John sighed. "Thanks for listening, Buddy. I appreciate your suggestions. Yes, I know you want to eat, coming right up."

He ordered the flowers and candy and had them delivered to the house. He visited Jacob Yoder after breakfast; the man was mortified by his son's

behavior. However, John assured him there were no hard feeling. He spent the rest of the morning until early afternoon resetting the stones in sections of the stone fence along the road on the east side of the property. It was a large undertaking that would take months, perhaps a year. The hard physical labor helped to distract his frustration with Rachael.

He was naked ready to take a shower when he saw Rachael's white Toyota minivan through the bedroom window pull in the driveway. He playfully shouted out the window, "I'm in the shower. Why don't you join me," and he got in the shower, turned it on, and waited for her, hoping for a first, and he wasn't disappointed.

She quietly undressed, getting in behind him. John was soaping his face with his back to her when she put her arms around his waist, and she said, "So, where's Raggedy Ann, John, are you tired of her already, you hound?"

"Megan, you're not Rachael," he said opening his eyes, "what the blazes do you think you're!" and he didn't finish the sentence having to rinse the soap from his face that was stinging his eyes.

Megan is a tall woman at six-three; sexy and curvaceous. She is confident and outgoing, as well as being open, and at times bluntly honest; a fine catch for a strong man who is capable of handling her. She was trying to rekindle the blazing masculine inferno he had for her that she foolishly extinguished.

A few years after turning him down, Megan married a much older man for his money and being an honest, straightforward woman, honored her marriage vows to the letter and never strayed.

Her husband wanted a companion, and a beautiful wife to show off. He had little interest in sex. He was a good man and paid off her mother's medical bills, and the first and second mortgages to save the family John Deere Dealership from forclosure. Megan was very fond of her husband; loving him like a brother, but not deeply, or romantically in love. She cared for him when he took ill. She was a very wealthy woman after he passed. John learned this from Brad Green the night of the Gala.

From John's view of her in the shower, Megan was in exceptional condition, for a woman of forty-four; strong, fit, buxom, and curvaceous.

Before stepping into the shower, Megan twisted her waist-length hair up into a high bun, securing it with the two antique ebony chopsticks inlaid with gold wire. John gave her the chopsticks as a gift for her sixteenth birthday. Although he didn't comment, John noticed and was pleased she still had them.

When he dated her, John's pet name for her was Wonder Woman because of her striking resemblance to the comic book heroine. Megan's natural, long, and luxurious ebony tresses and her vibrant blue eyes made her a natural for the part.

She ran her hands up and down John's buff sculptured chest, squeezing the defined muscles on his hard, brawny arms, and she said, "You know baby, you haven't changed much at all. You're the virile hard-bodied stud I remember."

He ignored the compliment and said, "That must be your minivan. Rachael has one almost identical to it."

"Does she? Your little nurse isn't here now; I am. I can't imagine what you see in her. She's so vanilla and docile. I suppose she's OK if you like cute as a button. You and I used to be the Justice League of lovers, Superman, and I'm available again and all yours. Looking back, I was a fool when I turned you down all those years ago."

"Rachel is a Physicians Assistant, " John replied, getting out of the shower and grabbing a towel, "and this isn't right. I love her, Megan. We have a home here together. The last thing I need is you naked in the shower!"

"I'll give you all the lovin you want, with no strings attached," Megan replied, stepping out of the shower. "You used to enjoy playing with my long hair while I sucked on your cock," She licked her finger and ran it down his chest to his manhood."Before you say no, let me prove I'm the better woman, your Wonder Woman, and a better lover. I'm not leaving until then. One last fling with me and if you're not satisfied, I'll leave and give you my blessings. She will never be the wiser. I'll even apologize to Rachael for how I acted at the Gala. I give you my word."

"He took a clean towel off the shelf and tossed it to her, and said, "I take you for your word. However, the answer is still no. You should apologize regardless. I'm going to my bedroom and get dressed. I want you dressed and gone before Rachel gets home, or else," and she followed him out into the hallway.

"Don't be silly! Or else what? She asked, dropping the towel on the floor, and walking towards him. "It's not in your nature to lay hands on a woman, and I." Megan didn't finish her sentence, stopping abruptly in surprise, but then smiling in amusement.

"I have no problem, though, "Rachel said quietly, stepping out of the bedroom, resolute and ready, her intense eyes, a kaleidoscope of dangerous shifting colors.

"Rachael, it's not what it seems. Nothing happened. Give me a chance to explain," John said, standing in the hallway with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Don't insult me, Mr. McCord. It's all that it seems. Something is happening, because a naked bimbo is standing here."

"Hey! What do you mean by a bimbo," Megan exclaimed, getting into Rachael's face, her indignation overcoming her lack of clothing.

"The word bimbo is a noun, meaning a woman who is intellectually vacuous and has an inordinate interest in appearing sexually seductive, you," Rachael replied coldly, "Get dressed and clear out, bimbo, or else." "Or else what?" Megan asked, sneering.

With a flash of motion, Rachael drove the heel of her palm into Megan's solar plexus. Surprised, but undaunted, Megan was in pain and gasping for breath, but still ready to fight, when Rachael added, "How was that for vanilla and docile, you bimbo?"

"Sorry, Megan, that was the or else part," he said. "I tried to warn you," and quickly got between them he added, "You've made your point, Rachel, don't hit her again. We both know she doesn't stand a chance against you."

"I've had my say, Mr. McCord. How could you? I want her gone, and by the way, you look exceptionally guilty standing there wearing nothing but a towel, and she snatched it away from him, "Case closed," Rachael turned her back to them and walked away, tossing the towel over her shoulder.

After they dressed, John tried to make the best of a bad situation, and walked Megan to her minivan, using himself as a buffer to keep the two women apart because Megan might demand a re-match only to lose again if Rachel came outside.

"Well, you can't blame a girl for trying, John," Megan said, smiling. "I know I put you in a bad situation. I was wrong, and I apologize. I remember you the way you used to be when no woman could tie you down, except for me, and the stupid fool that I was to let you getaway. Do you want me to talk to Rachel when she cools off? I'll take all the blame and explain everything. I owe you that."

"No, I'll talk to her. You'd better stay out of her way for a while."

"I'm not afraid of her, and besides, it was a lucky punch."

"I know you're not, afraid of her, and no, it wasn't a lucky anything; take my word for it. Rachel keeps me on my toes."

"Are you angry with me, John? Do you still hate me for turning you down? You never answered any of my letters?"

"I'm more annoyed than angry, and I don't hate you," he said, opening her car door for her. "You haven't changed at all. You are as beautiful and as tempting as ever, and after all these years you've kept my gift. If you returned home a year sooner, who knows."

"I glad you remembered," she replied, smiling, "I've never worn them for anyone but you."

Do you remember Batman at the Gala?" John asked.

Yes, he was one big strapping hunk. He couldn't take his eyes off of Rachel. Did you do something to him, because if you did, I'm sorry I missed it?"

"No, Rachael did, and you left before she pinned his ears back. Brad Green was there, ask him what happened. I'm glad you've moved back home though, and in time, we'll all have a good laugh over the whole thing."

John found Rachel at the kitchen sink washing russet baking potatoes. He cleared his throat to get her attention, and she ignored him. "We need to talk," he said calmly, and she ignored again.

He tried to put his hand on her shoulder to get her attention. She hissed menacingly, "Don't touch me! I know you're standing there."

He stepped back, took a deep breath, and said, "Fine, Rachel, I'm still going to have my say."

"Sure, real smart, continue digging yourself deeper," she replied, not turning around, "Have your say for all the good it will do for you. Is your bimbo gone, because I soon will be, and you can keep everything we bought together."

"Yes, she's gone, and Megan is not a bimbo. We dated through high school, and then I joined the Marines. Please be reasonable and turn around and look at me?

I don't want you to leave. We can work through this when you know what exactly happened."

She finished washing the last of the four potatoes and then wiped her hands on a dishtowel, throwing it violently into the sink. Rachael turned and looked directly at him and said, "Under the circumstances, I'm acting very reasonable. How could you?"

"Would you like to sit at the table?" John offered, sitting down across from the red roses and candy he had delivered for her, which she hadn't acknowledged.

"No, I'll stand," she said firmly, "have your say."

John told her everything, including how Megan broke his heart years ago.

John finished by saying, "That's the truth, Bunny. I'm ready to settle down, and you're the only woman in the world for me."

She walked past him and turned the oven on, preheating it to four-hundred-fifty degrees.

"That's quite a story," she said, taking a standing rib roast out of the refrigerator and placed it on a cutting board. Rachel was frowning, while she rubbed the roast vigorously with Worcestershire Sauce and then with coarse ground black pepper and sea salt. She made a series of 1/4 inch deep slits all over the top and sides and pushed garlic cloves into them. She then put the roast in a heavy cast iron roasting pan, bones down.

"Do you need help preparing dinner? Is there anything you want me to do? Do you like your roses? You haven't said. What about your favorite candy?"

"No, I don't need your help!" and she picked up the pan and slammed it on the cutting board. "Don't assume you can bribe me or that I'm stupid? You've done quite enough, thank you, and you haven't answered my question; how could you?"

"How could I what? I'm not having an affair. I love you. I explained everything to you. Nothing happened. Do you have anything constructive to say to me, any questions?" He asked, trying to keep his temper.

"No, I have eyes, and ears and my mind is made up," she said checking the oven temperature, and satisfied slid the roasting pan in and set the wind-up kitchen timer for fifteen minutes.

"Damn it, Rachel!" He exclaimed, standing up, and raising his voice.

He accidentally overturned his chair, frustrated with her for being so cold and distant. "I'm trying to reason with you," he added, lowering his voice, now angry she was acting this way. He picked up the chair and put it back in place with a loud thump.

"Don't raise your voice to me, Mr. McCord, and stop throwing and banging the furniture around like an angry child. I'm not interested in your lame excuses, or your sob story, and I'm not the person caught with a naked woman. All the evidence points to an affair. Your bimbo was all over you the other night. I ignored it because I trusted you, and now this. You admitted to me you're a hound. Why should I believe you've changed when my eyes tell me otherwise?" She walked past him and started preparing the Ceasar salad, repeating, "How could you?"

He stood in place for quite a while with his arms folded across his chest and his eyes closed, keeping his temper in check while she walked past him several more times. He then opened his eyes and said, quietly, "Stop calling me Mr. McCord, and will you please stand still, or sit down at the table so we can discuss this like reasonable adults?" The kitchen timer went off as if on cue.

"I don't want to talk about it, "she retorted, and she walked past him again to turn the oven down to three-twenty-five and reset the timer. She then walked back to the sink counter and began grating the Parmesan cheese.

"We are going to talk about this."

"Why should I, you just accused me of not being an adult."

"Damn it, stop twisting my words, and we are going to talk about it!"

"No, we are not!" she exclaimed, turning and raising her voice, "not until you answer my question," They stood there staring at each other.

"Yes, we are!" he insisted, just about having enough of her accusations.

"I don't take orders from you! Try and make me!" she challenged, and she turned her back to him again and continued grating.

"Try and make you? Try and make you! What is your major malfunction, woman?" He asked, having enough, and storming outside through the door in the kitchen leading to the back porch, and catching himself from slamming it. He needed to be alone for a while.

Running after him and calling out his name, Rachel caught up with him at the end of the driveway, wondering if she pushed him too far. She grabbed his shirt to stop him and said, "Johnny, you should have seen the look on your face, when I said, Try and make me. I can't do this to you anymore," and she started laughing. "I'm sorry, for teasing you, but an opportunity like this only comes once in a lifetime."

He didn't turn around and replied, "Are you saying the whole bullshit thing was an act?" John asked, still angry. "God damn it, Rachael, it's not funny, and I'm not amused."

"Please don't be angry with me. I admit I pushed you too far. Did you forget I told you I was in the Drama Club all through high school and college?" He didn't comment or turn around.

"Let me explain," she continued, I recognized Megan just before she turned down our road. We were coming from opposite directions, and obviously, she didn't know it was me. I didn't follow her right away but drove past. I waited a couple of minutes before pulling into the driveway. She was entering the house by then."

"What exactly did you hear?" John asked, turning to face her. Rachael took a step back frightened. His normally warm blue eyes were hard and cold; sub-zero ice-cold, and dangerous, and his posture was ramrod straight; rigid and unyielding,

"I heard everything," she admitted, not laughing now, and worried he wouldn't forgive her. "Your sister told me about Megan, turning down your proposal of marriage. Sarah still wants her horsewhipped. She worries about you, Johnny. I'm sorry, what more can I say, except I love you, Johnny, and I'm sorry?"

"I see, I'm still not amused. Now you tell me you've been conspiring with my baby sister. Sarah is going to get an ear full from me. How long has this been going on?"

"For months now," and she put her arms around his neck, "Bread & Butter, sweetheart, aren't you going to kiss me?" "No, damn it."

"Pretty please, kiss me, Johnny." She entreated.

"No," he persisted, "how do I know you're not acting now, and the bullshit won't start over again?"

"Kiss me, pretty please with hot peppers on it?" She beseeched playfully, touching his face, and running his fingers through his hair, "Will you please forgive me?"

"Make me." He demanded, trying to suppress a smile, tugging lightly on her ponytail, and relieved Rachael knew he forgave her.

"I want to make love to you, Johnny, but first we'll have a cozy, romantic candlelight dinner. I have some other surprises for you, and thank you for the candy and flowers."

John gently crushed her to him and kissed her lips long and deep; his anger and annoyance went. He'd been outmaneuvered big time and had to admit it was a brilliant, convincing performance, despite being at his expense. His sister would still get an earful, for playing the matchmaker, bless her good intentions.

"As always, your luscious lips are warm, inviting, and delicious, plus glorious and uplifting. I love you, and I forgive you, Bunny. May I have another?"

She returned his kisses and said, "I'm going to have my say. You're mine Johnny, and nobody or nothing in this universe, or the infinite void between heaven and hell, including demons or angels, will ever come between us."

"You left something out, Rachael Ann Buchanan, and the most important thing of all."

"What did I leave out?" she asked wondering why he was using her full name

"There are some things I won't tolerate, even from you," and John started laughing, "You got me good. You outgunned me. I was outflanked and almost bombed to smithereens. You had me in full retreat until you ran out and captured me by grabbing my shirt. If we are going to argue, do it for real. It is time to go home and check on the rib roast, and Bunny?"

"Yes, Johnny"

I never want to hear that kind of bullshit, from you ever again. Do I make myself clear?" She looked into his eyes and realized this was the first time since they had been together; he set limits with her. "Yes, Johnny," and she hugged him and kissed his cheek; surrendering to him.

When they returned home, Rachael went upstairs to dress for the candlelight dinner while John helped by setting the kitchen table. All the silverware, dishes, and glasses were matching now. She returned wearing a pale green summer dress with lace trim, and Rachael had put her red auburn hair up in an elegant French twist.

"Rachael, your hair, you look ravishing, and where did you get that dress?" John asked, surprised, and thinking she heard everything when he thought she was sleeping, "Did you purchase it today to surprise me."

"It was my mother's dress, sweetheart; Mom was wearing it when she first met my Dad. She was spending the afternoon in the Savannah Botanical Gardens with her sister, my Aunt Mary. This dress has been in my hope chest for years. I've never worn it and was saving it for a special occasion", she said taking the rib roast out of the oven to rest.

"I was angry with you, Johnny, and I needed to get away to think past my anger when we should have talked it out like we always do. You turned me down, and I was hurt and frustrated. That got me to thinking. It was me who was being unreasonable. You're so reasonable most of the time; it's almost annoying. I went shopping and decided to make a special dinner for us."

"Is that it, Bunny? "You're sure there's nothing else?" He asked, putting his arms around her waist and kissing her cheek, "Did I tell you how lovely you look?"

"Should there be something else?" she asked, looking into his warm blue eyes; and noticing he was smiling with his precious dimples showing. "I did mention surprises. I bought you six pair of the thick merino wool socks you like to wear, and some for me. I found a luxurious, virgin wool scarlet red Mackinaw coat with a detachable hood. It was on sale, 40% off."