Chapter 15

And he was beautiful.

When he opened the front door, Dhakiya squealed and jumped up and ran to him. She threw herself into his arms, and he caught her easily.

"Hi, baby." He kissed her three times, each time a little longer and a little more thoroughly until the last and final kiss in which he groaned in pleasure against her lips.

That is when the funny things begin to happen in Jane's body. The smile of greeting fell from her mouth as she began to warm and pulsate. She glanced away but her eyes pulled back to the two young lovers. For a moment they had forgotten her. Dhakiya's arms were around his neck, and his hands were on her hips. It was so innocent, but for Jane it was the sexiest thing she had ever seen.

She looked down at her hands in embarrassment, her breath feeling tight in her chest and her throat aching. Dhakiya pulled back with a broad smile on her face.

"Rodney." Dhakiya took his hand and dragged him into the living room where Jane was still sitting on the couch. "This is my best friend and my sister in spirit, Martier. Martier Besigye."

Jane stood and offered her hand.

Rodney's smile was as bright and welcoming as Dhakiya's when he picked her up in a big bear hug. Jane's eyes widened in alarm, and she was soon engulfed in his strong arms. Her heart began beating wildly, the pulse in her body thrummed faster, sweat began to form on her brow, and she had difficulty breathing.

"Well, if you're Kiya's sis then you're my sis, too!" He gave her a quick squeeze and released her. "Mar…Martie-AY?

She nodded too fast and gave him a shaky smile. "Mar-TEE-ay."

"Everybody call you Marty?" he joked.

She ducked her head in the sight of his smile. "Everybody calls me Jane."

"Jane?" He looked at her in confusion.

Dhakiya rolled her eyes. "Honey, I told you how our school likes to rename everyone."

"They don't do it anymore," Jane explained hastily. "We have children from Haiti and they needed to remember their names in case their parents … locate them."

Dhakiya made a humph sound. "They weren't wrong, of course. They'll never admit that."

Rodney grabbed her from behind and kissed her neck. "Shh, babe. Those days are over."

Jane tried not to watch. Their intimacy was so commonplace to them, but they had no idea how much she longed to have someone touch her like that.

Dhakiya relaxed in his arms.

"I'm going to get cleaned up for dinner," he announced then waved his hand to Jane while retreating to the bathroom.

He seemed nice. And it wasn't that she wanted him. She wanted what they had. When he hugged her, it was the first one that she could ever remember receiving from a man. Every place that his body touched on hers left a phantom impression. Even now as she sat on the swing, she could still feel the hardness of his body against the softness of hers.

Jane opened her eyes and went back to the school. She headed for the sanctuary and sat in one of the pews, picking up one of the Bibles that sat in the slot behind the pew in front of hers. She thumbed through the pages until her eyes settled on the words that she so loved.

…I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock.

I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.

The watchmen that went about the city found me, they smote me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.

I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, that I am sick of love.

What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women? what is thy beloved more than another beloved, that thou dost so charge us?

My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.

His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a raven.

His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set.

His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh.

His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl: his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.

His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.

His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem ...

For some unknown reason, it was Tim's face that Jane imagined.

II

When Martier got to work, early as usual, her mood had improved from the day before. Jen came in a few moments later. And as usual, Jane admired her pretty outfit. Today it was a pencil skirt and a matching jacket with three-quarter sleeves. Maybe she would ask if Jen would help her shop for suitable clothes. She was wearing a green tweed skirt that reached just above her knees and another white blouse, this time with a fake lace front sewn in to look as if she was wearing a pretty undergarment.

"Good morning," Jane said.

Jen didn't speak. She put away her things and walked to the coffee pot and poured herself coffee, watering it down and then nuking it.

Jane glanced at her. Even if Jen hadn't heard her she still would have spoken by now. Jane turned back to the computer, lightly biting her lip. Was Jen angry at her because of what those women had said? But she hadn't done anything wrong.

Tim arrived as Jen was unlocking the file cabinets. "Good morning, ladies."

Jane looked up and saw that Tim had gotten a nice haircut. His face didn't seem as angry either. "Good morning," she said.