Black Bear Rising: A BWWM Paranormal Romance (Black Bear Saga Book 1) (39 page)

The doctor said a few more words to Einar and then left to join his wife at another table.
 

“Are you ready to see some Icelandic people party?” Einar asked with a big smile. “This thing is going to go on all night and well into the morning.”

“Oh I’m ready. I hope you have your dancing shoes on,” Lana said.

“Once I get a few beers into me you won’t be able to stop me tearing up the dance floor. Even with a limp I intend to put some of these guys to shame,” Einar said.

“You talk a big game. I hope you don’t embarrass yourself out there,” she said teasing him.

“Don’t underestimate me because of my bulk. I am a sight to behold once I get up there and start grooving, I’m surprisingly fleet of foot” he said.

The hall was full with people grabbing plates of food and local beers. Men in heavy traditional Icelandic sweaters stood around in groups chatting about how their summers on the farm had went. Chairs where dragged across the hall as groups began to solidify and set up their tables for the night ahead. Everyone was happy and smiling as the drink began to flow. The band had finished setting up and the lead singer looked in Einar's direction and gave him a thumbs up.

“We’re up,” he said as he walked arm and arm with Lana to the stage.

The long haired singer handed him the microphone and Einar tapped it once or twice to get the crowds attention.

“Hallo, Hallo,” he said in english. “Before the party starts I’d like to make an announcement. Myself and this beautiful woman standing beside me are engaged to be married.” The crowd erupted into cheers, people clapped and the group of men in woollen sweaters whistled loudly. Einar waited for them to simmer down and went on, “If you could all welcome Lana to Vik and give her your warmest Icelandic greeting I would appreciate it,” he said and then said a few words in Icelandic.

The crowd began to sing a song in unison. An older man sang in a deep baritone and the crowd replied to him in a call and response.

Lana waved to the crowd as they sang. “What are they singing?” she asked Einar.

“It’s a traditional song of celebration. They are welcoming you to the family. You’re an honorary local now,” he said and kissed her. A huge cheer went up from the crowd and people clapped as they kissed. Einar passed the mic back to the singer while the crowd continued to sing at a quickening pace as people stamped their feet into time to the beat.

Back at the table Einar turned to Lana and said, “Prepare for the questions. You're going to have a line of people coming over and asking everything about yourself, the wedding and your plans. It’s all honest curiosity, a wedding is a big event in these small towns. People get really really excited by them.”

Lana held his hand and stroked it and said, “I love you Einar.”

“I love you too,” he said smiling widely.

The crowd finished singing and the band kicked into a fast rock song that was famous in Reykjavik during the seventies. People of all ages began to get up on the dance floor and sway to the music. As more people got up to dance, peoples moves got more boisterous and less self conscious until the dance floor was packed with people of all ages.

“Here they come,” Einar said as the first batch of people made their way over to their table.

Two older women shook Einar's hand and kissed him on the cheek tears glistening in their eyes. They turned to Lana and said in slowly enunciated english, “Welcome to the family.” They switched to Icelandic and spoke a few more words to Einar before leaving.

“They are my aunts. They live on a farm an hour away from Vik. Neither of them ever married. Both are amazing women with kind hearts. They wouldn’t stop saying how beautiful you are,” he said.

And so the evening continued like this. People patting Einar on the back and warmly hugging Lana in a tight embraces. They ate and drank and danced the night away as the sun shone and the waves crashed on the black sand beach of the tiny town of Vik. The night flew by in a whirl of good food and even better times. Lana would glance over at Einar as he spoke to an old friend and her heart would thump in her chest with pure love and excitement for the life they were about to build together. For the first time in what felt like forever Lana could envision a happy and fulfilled life with Einar by her side, living a simple rural lifestyle side by side. They had both exposed their demons to each other, seen each other at their weakest moments and they came through this changed and strengthened. Their love for each other made it feel like anything was now possible for them. And now day by day they were beginning the rebuilding process, as their new life together made all past deeds fade away like a snow flake in the midnight sun.

Everything was as it should be on my table. My notepad was open and my pen was placed at a ninety degree angle to the crisp white pages. To the right of my notepad sat my cup of coffee with wisps of steam rising off it. My purse was placed to the left of my coffee mug and aligned to the top margin of my notepad. I let out a small sigh and felt myself relax a little.
 

Only now would I allow myself my first sip of coffee. Deep down inside I knew nothing would happen if I didn’t have my table set just right, but I still followed my rules. So many rules and so much order, but it kept me sane and allowed me to navigate through the world a little easier.

I can’t remember when I first started running my life in regimented and interlocking systems. If I could trace it back to one event it would be an early memory I had. My mother had bought me a new dress and shoes for a birthday party at a cousins house. The dress was in the prettiest shade of blue and my patent leather shoes were a deep crimson. My dark skin accentuated the blue dress when I tried it on and my Mothers eyes started to glisten with held back tears as she told me how beautiful I was going to look at the party.

The weeks leading up to the party I had laid on my bed with my wardrobe door open and stared at my new dress and shoes. Thoughts of the party to come danced through my mind. I knew I would look great in my new attire. The weeks went by and the morning of the party arrived and my excitement increased.

My mother helped to dress me and as I slipped my left foot into my new shoe my mother clicked her tongue loudly and began shaking her head back and forth.

“No, No, No this won’t do,” she said. She licked her thumb and rubbed it along the side of my shoe. I looked down at my Mother and I could already feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“Whats wrong?” I asked, confused with how close to tears I already was.

My Mother pulled the shoe off my foot and held it up for my inspection. “Look,” she said brandishing the shiny crimson shoe close to my face. I couldn’t see anything wrong. The shoe looked perfect to me, the leather was buffed to a high gloss and I could make out a distorted reflection of my face, my eyes already reddening as I was close to tears. My Mother pointed at the side of the sole, running her finger along the ridged plastic that was stitched to the leather of the shoe. One of the ridges had a tiny scratch and a small flake of plastic protruded from the sole.

My Mother dropped the shoe to the ground and pulled me close to her. “You can see it can’t you,” she whispered in my ear, “Of course you can”.

I started to sob against my Mothers neck as I knew then that I would not be going to the party. The scratch had ruined everything. I would not let something so small ruin my life again.

As time moved on I organized my life so that a scratch, or a loose button, or an errant thread would not derail my whole day. From the chaos around me I carved a path of order protecting myself from any upsets or wrenching changes. Sometimes my systems didn't always work and the unexpected would happen. Times like that would be the hardest for me but I usually came through it with a new set of rules to help me manage the unexpected change.

A typical day for me would go as follows: Up at 6:00 A.M every day. Brush teeth for two minutes. Exercise for ten minutes on the stationary bike. Make breakfast consisting of porridge with strawberry jam, two pieces of buttered toast and a cup of chamomile tea. I could already feel myself relaxing a little as I ran through my daily routine in my mind. I let the sounds of the cafe wash over me as I continued down my list. After breakfast I would wash up and clean my bowl and cup. Then I would shower for six minutes. After showering I would. I was abruptly pulled from my thought as a white man sat down at my table directly across from me.

I had a bad experience when I was fourteen with a white guy in school. His name was Billy Grant and he was the football captain and admired and feared by most in the school. He could have any girl in the school and he was usually seen with a hot blonde cheerleader on his arm. I should have been suspicious when he started talking to me one afternoon when I was alone in the library studying. I was sure that a slightly chubby African American was not his usual type, but here he was being all charming and interested in me. I was flattered and blinded by his patter and my raging teenage hormones only made things worse. Before I knew it he was leading me off to the far corner of the library. My mind raced and my skin prickled with anticipation. I couldn’t believe that we were about to kiss. This would be my first ever kiss and for bonus points with a white guy. My whole body was tingling. We got into a corner and locked eyes. He bent in towards me and started to kiss me gently, my toes curled in my shoes. Then just as abruptly as the sweet sensation had started it was wrenched away from me. The laughing started and he stepped away from me wiping his mouth. Hidden behind the shelves three of his friends came out and all were laughing uncontrollably.
 

“You did it Billy,” said one of his meathead friends, “You nabbed a black one. Whats next an asian and then an indian?”

“I nearly have the full set,” Billy said as he turned and winked at me.

They walked away laughing as I felt a hitching sensation in my chest and tears started to stream down my cheeks. I had been nothing more than a colour on a checklist for those guys. I pretty much swore off white men from that day on.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” he asked as he sat down before I could answer. His accent sounded like he was from the mid west, but there was also a soft lilting quality to it.

I composed myself and said, “I’d rather sit alone”.

He didn’t move and looked me direct in the eyes and said, “Do you want some adventure?”. I could feel my skin prickle hotly under his gaze but I made sure not to drop my stare. He was handsome in a plain and almost predictable way, but there was something about his eyes, the way they danced and sparkled with a mischievous gleam. He had a grin that was warm and welcoming and he repeated the question again “Do you want some adventure?”.

I knew my answer before I said it. “No. I am happy to sit here and enjoy my coffee, which I was until you rudely barged in and sat at my table.” I said. I glanced down and my pen had been knocked out of alignment by this man jostling the table. I moved it back into position.
 

The man put his hand out for me to shake and I let it hang in the air for a beat before taking it and shaking it.The palm was course against mine and he enveloped my hand in his large meaty grasp.

“I’m sorry for coming on strong. Let’s start over. I’m Tom Bradshaw. Nice to meet you,” he said grinning widely.

“I’m Grace Taylor” I said releasing my hand from his. I took a sip of my coffee and I could feel my knees shaking a little. This change from the norm was not good. I would try to get rid of him quickly and gracefully. Even though I wanted him gone there was another distant part of me wanting to stay and talk to him. There was something about him that sent tiny shocking tingles through my skin every time our eyes meet momentarily. Was I fooling myself thinking that his eyes had darkened since we first meet?

I was already planning my exit strategy when he stood up abruptly from the table. “I can see I am making you nervous,” he said. “I will leave this with you and let you decide when you are ready”. He slid a small white card across the table to me and then turned and left. I looked at the card and written on the back was the number twenty six. I flipped the card over and it was a business card for a hotel situated a couple of minutes drive from here. I could feel my face heat up at the nerve of this man. Was he expecting me to go to his room and hook up with him? To put it bluntly I was pissed. Here was another white guy presuming I was an easy black woman. Who did this random man think he was intruding on me enjoying my coffee and my perfectly ordered day. Why did he pick me?

I looked around the cafe and he was gone. I scanned the other patrons wondering why he choose me. There were a group of young woman sitting at a table in the corner, all of them much more attractive then me. Why did he not approach them I wondered. Even though I was pissed and my mind was reeling with the brashness of this man I could feel my nipples harden under my sensible clothes and between my legs throbbed a pleasurable heat.

I weighed up my options. I could go about the rest of my carefully planned day, everything happening as expected and planned and be back home in the safety of my apartment tonight and put all this randomness behind me. The rational and ordered part of me knew what the right thing to do was but my psychical reaction betrayed me. I couldn't deny it, this brief encounter thrilled me and I was turned on. I don’t think I’d ever been turned on by someones physicality so quickly before. The way he had moved there was something strong powerful and assured about everything he had done. He had been insistent but not too brash, and what did he even mean by adventure? Such an odd choice of words for a hookup.