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Elizabeth, Happy at Last Ch. 02

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Dear Readers: I would like to take this opportunity to apologize for my absence from this site. The last year has been difficult for me and because of some serious health problems and a bout with writer’s block during my convalescence. I have finally written the second chapter of this story and I hope it answers the questions the first chapter left you hanging with. I will soon be posting another story series that will be a change of pace for me. I won’t say anything more as that will spoil it for you.

*****

My son completes our family.

When I started writing the first chapter of this story, I unconsciously wrote it using the voice of the young woman I was at the time of my mother’s death. After we buried Mother, and my father and I started ‘Making Love’ instead of just ‘Fucking’, my whole outlook on love and life changed so much that by the time we boarded the plane in St. Louis that Tuesday in September 1988, I was becoming a completely different person. From here on, I will be writing in the voice of the adult woman I have become since giving birth to my son, Raymond.

Having never flown on an airplane, I was excited as we walked down the ramp and into a world I had only seen on television or in the movies I had seen as a child. I didn’t realize that we were flying First Class until my father and I were seated in the second row of the plane where there were two seats on either side of the aisle. I was so excited when I got to sit by the window, that after we all buckled our seatbelts, I was enthralled with watching the sights go by as we taxied to the runway, that I barely paid attention to what the pretty flight attendant was telling us to do ‘in case of an emergency’.

After the plane reached the beginning of the runway, and started accelerating, I felt an adrenalin rush the likes of which I had never experienced before, and when we left the ground and were flying, I got a little dizzy. As I watched the ground disappear as we climbed into the clouds, I felt euphoric, and sexually aroused.

When they announced that we could unbuckle our seatbelts and could use the restrooms, I realized I had to pee. I unbuckled my belt, slipped past my father, and was the first passenger to make it to the Ladies room. When I got inside, pulled up my skirt, and pulled down my panties, I realized the wetness in my panties was not pee, but the juices my vagina produced when my body was getting ready for sex.

As I sat on the toilet and masturbated, the plane’s vibrations made me cum faster than I had ever experienced before. Afterwards, I realized I smelled like sex, so I used the scented wet wipes to clean myself and mask the aroma of my orgasm (Oh the perks of flying First Class).

When I returned to my seat, the flight attendant asked if we would like some champagne, my father said yes. He knew my first taste of an alcoholic beverage was the Asti Spumante I had a few months before, so he whispered, “Sweetheart, this is a bit stronger that what we had on your birthday, so drink it very slowly.”

I remembered how ‘happy’ the wine we had on my birthday had made me feel, so I was careful and only sipped this bubbly wine.

My stomach was still full of the huge breakfast I had eaten only a few hours earlier, so when I finished my glass, I felt sleepy, and decided to take a little nap. When I awoke, we were being served a meal, and I enjoyed the braised whitefish and wild rice with Riesling as the snow peaked Rocky Mountains passed by below us.

Later when we were getting closer to the end of our flight, the plane descended lower than the snow peaked mountains. Soon, I could see the green pine trees out my window as we dropped into the Columbia River valley, and the next thing I knew we were landing on the runway of Portland International Airport (PDX), on the banks of the Columbia River, just North of downtown Portland, Oregon.

After we deplaned and retrieved our bags, we went to the National Car Rental desk, where my father showed his Illinois driver’s license and State Farm insurance card before they had him sign the paperwork and gave him the keys to a red Mercury Topaz. When they told him where the rental car was parked, and gave him a map of the area, he asked the agent if she could give him driving directions to the Extended Stay motel we were staying at in Canon Beach.

She punched a bunch of information into her computer, and the printer behind her spit out a map with driving directions printed on the lower half of the page. She also told us that we could return the car at any of their company’s locations in the area without any additional cost.

My father thanked the agent and we made our way to the parking area across the busy eight lane street from the terminal building. We found our car easily because it was the only red car in the lot. After we put our bags in the trunk and got in the car, my father handed me the map with the directions, and I navigated as he drove.

It took us an hour to get through the topkapı escort afternoon Portland traffic even though we were on multilane interstates the whole way, but when we finally made our way onto Sunset Highway (westbound US 26), the traffic started to thin out. Within an hour we were turning south on the Pacific Coast Highway (US 101), and soon we were in Canon Beach. We saw the sign that advertised our motel and turned right at the traffic signal.

Our motel was at the end of the next block, and we parked in front of the office. When I watched as Father signed the register, I noticed the reservations were for Mr. and Mrs. Charles Madison. When he stepped aside and let me see what he was signing, I smiled and said nothing when I saw that the room only had one bed.

When my father asked for a recommendation for somewhere to eat, the desk clerk recommended the seafood restaurant at the end of the block because it was a local ‘Mom & Pop’ place that had been in business for years.

We thanked Ginger, who looked like she could have been Sally Struthers’ older sister, and parked the rental in front of our room,

54 that was in the rear on the ground floor. We carried our bags into the room, undressed, and made love on the queen-sized bed. Then we showered together, redressed and walked two blocks down the street to ‘Bill and Judy’s Seaside Café’.

Judy met us at the door and showed us to a booth next to a window that faced the beach. She was very friendly and asked us where we were from. We told her we were from central Illinois, but we were moving to the area. When she told us that they were originally from Canton, we told her we were from Peoria Heights, and it made her day. She recommended broiled tuna steaks because they were freshly caught and suggested a local white wine to go with them.

We told her that sounded wonderful and left us alone as she headed to the kitchen. After she left, I started to look around the room. I noticed the place was nicely appointed but not ornate or overly commercialized. I also noticed that there were only six other couples in the place, so less than half of the tables and booths were occupied.

The aroma coming from the kitchen was heavenly, and when Judy brought our salads and wine about ten minutes later, she also brought an unmarked bottle of dressing. She told us it was the house special Italian dressing, but that she had French or Blue Cheese dressing if we preferred.

I told her their house dressing would be fine, and she filled our wine glasses and left the bottle on the table. We finished our salads, and Judy brought our entree, and as my father and I ate, we noticed the restaurant was getting emptier as we watched the sun fall lower over the Pacific Ocean.

When we finished our dinner, there was only one other couple left in the restaurant, and when we ordered cheesecake for desert, Judy was ecstatic. After she brought our desert, the last couple in the restaurant paid their bill and as they left Judy locked the front door behind them.

Soon after that, Judy and a large, balding man who resembled Vic Tayback’s character Mel from the television program ‘Alice’ came out of the kitchen, grabbed two chairs and joined us at our table. Judy introduced her husband, William (Bill) Jacobs to my father and me.

Bill extended his hand and my father shook it saying, “Hello Bill, I’m Charlie Martin, and this is my daughter Libby. Pardon me for asking, but you look very familiar. What did you do before you opened this restaurant?”

Bill answered my father saying, “You look familiar too Charlie. I used to be a Union plumber for PIPCO until I took early retirement seven years ago.”

My father smiled and said, “Of course, I knew I’d seen you someplace. I was a laborer foreman for Jobst Brothers for the last ten years. We must have worked around each other for years.”

Then Bill smiled and said, “So Charlie, what brings you to our little town?”

My father answered, “Well Bill, we lost my wife in a tragic auto accident a short time ago, and after we buried her we decided that there was nothing keeping us in Illinois. We got a big settlement from the insurance company, and I qualified for early retirement, so when I remembered how beautiful this part of the world was when I visited one of my buddy’s parents in Astoria when I was in the army, I decided to look for a place on the coast somewhere near here.”

Judy asked, “Have you talked to a realtor yet?”

I answered her, “We just landed at PDX this afternoon. We’re staying at the Extended Stay just up the street and we were going to start looking for one tomorrow.”

Bill replied, “Judy’s best friend Flo is the town realtor. She helped us find this place when we first came here. We live in the apartment upstairs, so we’ve been able to keep this place open through the slow seasons like this by making enough during the Spring and Summer.”

Judy reached into her apron and pulled ümraniye escort out a business card. She handed it to me and I read ‘Florence Lorentz, Realtor.’ She asked, “Can I give Flo a call in the morning and tell her to expect you?”

When my father looked at me I nodded, and he said, “Thank you Judy, I really appreciate the help. When you talk to her, would you tell her that we are looking for a small place near the water, preferably with a secluded or semi secluded beach. We won’t need a lot of amenities because we plan on living simply.”

Judy smiled and said, “It’ll be really nice to have you two living around here.”

I said, “Judy, Dad and I will be eating here quite often until we get settled, and at least once a week after we do.”

We realized that the sun had set and when Judy unlocked the door, we said good evening to our new friends before heading back to the motel. When we reached our room, we undressed immediately after we closed and locked the door behind us. My father turned on the television to mask the sounds of our lovemaking, and we made love again until the late news came on.

When it came on, we both watched the news, weather report, and sports, and turned the television off when the program was over. Then we made love again until we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

In the morning, my father and I made love in the shower together. Then we dressed before we tried the free breakfast in the motel’s lobby. After we had eaten our fill, we walked to the beach and enjoyed the scenery until the Realtor’s office opened at 9AM.

When we arrived at the realtor’s office at 9:15AM, we were met by a very large middle-aged woman who resembled Cass Elliot of The Mammas and Pappas folk singing group from the sixties. She introduced herself as “Florence Lorentz, realtor extraordinaire, but you can call me Flo.”

Then she continued, “You must be the couple that Judy told me about. What type of property are you looking for?”

When my father told her that we were looking for a semi secluded home near the beach that was small and simple. He stressed that we weren’t looking for something with too many amenities that would not require a lot of maintenance.

Flo asked us to have a seat, and as she sat behind her desk and started looking through several books, I noticed how her disheveled office could only be described by the words ‘organized chaos’. After looking through several books and writing in a small notebook, she said, “OK, I have several properties to show you, follow me please.”

We walked outside and there was the biggest automobile I had ever seen. It was light blue Oldsmobile with a white vinyl roof, and I watched as my father walked around it, looking at every detail. Finally, he said, “Flo, this is a beautiful automobile, you don’t see many of these 1976 Ninety-eight Brougham’s any more. That was the last year they used the 455 V8.”

Flo smiled and said, “Why thank you Mr. Madison, you certainly know your way around automobiles. My late husband John picked this one out for me because it was big and reliable. As you can see I’m not a petite little flower, and since he passed, five years ago, Henry down at the local garage had been able to keep ‘Old Bessie’ in tip top shape for me.”

Flo got behind the wheel, my father got into the passenger seat, and I climbed into the back seat that was larger than my bed at home in Illinois. Then she drove us to three properties, took us to lunch, and showed us three more afterwards. None of the places she showed us fit the description my father had given her. These homes ranged from ramshackle dumps to ostentatious mansions, and all day, Flo was taking notes in her little notebook.

When she could see that we weren’t interested in anything she had showed us, Flo said, “I’m sorry if you think I’ve been wasting your time today, but I have just been trying to get a feel for what your needs are. If you give me a few days I know I can find what you want.”

After she dropped us off at our motel, my father and I went to Bill and Judy’s for dinner. When Judy greeted us, she asked how our day had gone. After we were seated at the same table as the previous evening, I told her about our day and how I thought that her friend Flo was wasting our time. When I asked her if she knew any other realtors, she said, “Flo is a unique person and has her own way of doing things. If you give her a little time, I’m sure she will come through for you.”

We ate our dinner, and afterward went back to our room where we undressed and carried on with our incestual dance of love until we fell asleep together. For the next two days, we drove up and down the coast on the PCH from Warrenton to Garibaldi, stopping along the way and exploring places we thought looked interesting. Unfortunately, all the places we looked at were even worse than what Flo had shown us.

As a last resort, my father was able to find the telephone number of yenibosna escort his old army buddy, Ralph Jones. When he called, the phone was answered by Mrs. Jones, and after a short conversation, we were invited to their house in Astoria for dinner.

As we were driving up the coast I said, “Father, I love you with my whole being, but I need for you to do something for me.” When he asked what it was, I answered, “Will you stop calling me Libby. I’ve never liked the name because it sounds childish, and demeaning, but most of all because Mother used that name to keep me under her thumb. I would really love it if you would introduce me as Elizabeth, or Liz for short, OK?”

He got a very somber look on his face and said, “I’m sorry sweetheart, I never realized that it bothered you that much. I never liked that name either, but I didn’t want to cross your mother. From now on you will be Elizabeth formally, and Liz for short.”

I smiled and kissed him sweetly on the cheek, and soon we arrived at a house that my father told me was the same place he had visited nearly twenty years before. We were greeted at the door by a solidly built man with a salt and pepper crewcut who gave my father a bear hug as he said, “Sarge, it’s great to see you again.”

My father answered, “It’s great to see you again Corporal Jones.”

The man stood answered, “That’s Sargent Major Jones, Master Sargent, I got promoted when I came home from my third tour in Nam. I wanted to make the army a career, but finally got tired of all the BS. I retired after ten years and took over my parent’s place after they died.”

He closed the door behind is as he led us into the house, and said, “The only good thing that came out of the Army was my Bonnie,” as he hugged a lovely full figured, middle-aged blonde woman.

He continued, “She took care of me when I was recuperating after I was wounded in Nam, and we fell in love. We’ve been together ever since.”

We sat down in the dining room of the well cared for mid century bungalow on a hill overlooking the Columbia River valley and ate dinner as my father and his old buddy swapped war stories. After dinner, as I helped Bonnie clean up, we shared our stories out of earshot of the men in the other room.

She was an orphan who had joined the Army medical corps and had risen to the rank of captain when she met Ralph who had been burned over the lower half of his body and wasn’t expected to walk even if he survived. She had made him her special project, and when he started responding to the treatments at Walter Reed, it wasn’t long before she started having feelings for him.

When he got well enough to be mobile, he started to return her affection, and by the time he was released from the hospital, he was discharged from the army with a Medal of Honor and a promotion to Sargent Major. She resigned her commission, they were married soon afterward, and moved in to the house we were in with his parents.

They inherited the house after his parents’ death, five years later, but were unable to have any children. While Ralph had no trouble getting an erection and satisfying her needs, his testicles were too damaged to produce viable sperm, so over the years they had raised seven foster children, the last of which would graduate from Oregon State in the Spring.

I told her a little about my life, and how we had recently lost Mother in a tragic automobile accident. I told her about my unexpected pregnancy (but not who the baby’s father was) and said that the insurance settlement was generous enough to allow us to move. I told her that my father had chosen Oregon because he had enjoyed himself so much when he had visited her husband’s parents while here on leave.

She gave me a big hug and whispered, “Elizabeth, I know a very good obstetrician here in town in case you are interested.” I thanked her for her help and said I would be in touch with her as soon as we got settled.

By the time we went back into the front room, the men were on their third beer, and I heard my father say, “Thank you for the help buddy, I was beginning to think I wouldn’t be able to find my little piece of Heaven like you have.”

When I sat on my father’s lap and asked him what they were talking about, he answered, “The Sargent Major said that we should look for a place to live just outside the little town of Arch Cape. He told me that he used to go surf fishing there.”

I smiled and said, “We drove through that town with Flo the other day, but we didn’t stop there. Arch Cove is the next town south of Canon Beach where we are staying now. We should drive there tomorrow and see what we find.”

My father agreed, and we said goodbye to the Jones’s. When we stepped outside, the cool night air made my father realize he was in no shape to drive, so he handed me the keys and I drove us back to our motel. When we got there, we got undressed and made love.

As we were holding each other later, I started to think about the baby I was carrying, and wondered what kind life he, or she would have. I knew that I would love my child unconditionally, and sacrifice my life, if necessary, to keep him or her safe.

As I look back on that moment now, I realize it was during the night of September 26, 1988 that I dedicated my life to my child.

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