Three Weeks in May

Three Weeks in May

By Cherese A. Vines

Copyright 2012 Cherese A. Vines

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

3

W

I

M

three.weeks.in.may

by.cherese.a.vines

cover.design.by.jessica.l.lyons

To my husband with love.

-Resi

And special thanks to Jessica L. Lyons.

-Sissy

Part I

Chapter One

February, New Earth (N.E.)

Present Day 06

It was a foggy day in DuSable City. The cloudy air rolled quickly off the lake. Gwendolyn Elani Tolliver felt cold to the bone. She wore a brown crochet hat pulled down low, but it barely covered her short black curls or even her now completely frozen ears. A scarf would have been nice. Her summery bronze color had faded to her normal honey brown, but now, in the freezing cold, her skin was downright pale. In hindsight, she should have dressed less cute. Still, cute was cute. Her quarter-length pea coat matched the hat and showed off her beige suede skirt with the dangerously high slit up the back. Gwen cursed the slit just now, and held fast to her fiancé’s warm, gloved hand.

I should’ve worn gloves too. Gwen shivered involuntarily. Elliot Polis Rosser smiled down at her. She smiled back up at him. A few inches shorter than Elliot at five-six, the four-inch high-heeled boots she wore brought her up to within an inch of looking eye-to-eye with the love of her life.

Elliot looked cute too, she thought. She had chosen the chocolate-colored, full-length wool coat and plaid newsboy cap he wore. His hairless face was a mask of patience as he stood beside her. Gwen enjoyed looking at his profile with its smooth brow, large jaw and pointy chin. His violet-hued eyes, like other Monacurians, stood out against the gray, snow-covered day. He looked the stylish yet humble and considerate gentleman she had met five years before. Now they were going to be married. She was happy to be standing by his side. But it was taking this woman forever to make it down the line of excited couples, she thought. Gwen leaned forward quickly to glance at the Matchmaker. She guessed that they all had to be deeply in love to suffer through this mid-February ceremony.

It was the Ceremony of Moons. The Monacurians used the ceremony to give couples official blessings to get married. Elliot was Monacurian, so he was accustomed to the ceremonies, but this was all new to Gwen. She was Human. The whole ceremony was exciting and romantic at the same time. It had some history to it–a history that Gwen longed for. It seemed as if she could not find any history in DuSable City. The great museums and libraries seemed oddly devoid of anything more than fifty years ago. When she asked, the curator or librarian always said something like: There was a fire, or Everything was stolen during the wars. The Monacurians helped us rebuild.

Gwen heard someone stifle a cry, which brought her mind back to the ceremony.

What happened? She whispered, glancing down the line again.

"Shh." Elliot warned gently and gave her a wink.

The Matchmaker continued down the line, stopped at another couple and grasped their clasped hands. She announced something in Monacurian and the couple smiled. This happened three times and all the couples kissed both cheeks of the Matchmaker and stepped back. Gwen was about to lean back when the Matchmaker announced something different to the fourth couple. They immediately bowed their heads to the Matchmaker and stepped back.

Gwen’s forehead wrinkled. She did not speak Monacurian, but she knew a few words and could tell that the Matchmaker had said something different to the fourth couple. Elliot was teaching her the language too slowly for her taste. She waited and watched the fifth couple, straining her ears to hear and try to translate the Matchmaker’s words. The Matchmaker made her announcement and the couple kissed her cheeks.

Hmm. Gwen hummed and straightened up. What did she tell that other couple–the one that touched their heads to her hands?

In a minute. Elliot cautioned, shaking her hand slightly to quiet her. She frowned up at him.

The chill of the morning air disappeared as Gwen listened to the Matchmaker as she moved closer. Her nervousness made her suddenly warm all over. Finally, the Matchmaker stood before Elliot and Gwen. The woman was not that much older than Gwen’s twenty-six years. She had dark, violet eyes and bronze skin. Her black hair was pulled into a rather large, tight bun on the top of her head. She wore robes of satiny purple that reached down to the ground and reflected in her eyes.

Elliot removed his glove and raised his hand with Gwen’s chilled fingers intertwined in his. She immediately felt his nervousness, and squeezed his hand gently. The Matchmaker placed both of her palms around their hands, pressing them together. Gwen smiled at her. But the woman did not look at them directly, but over their heads. Gwen wondered about this because she could have sworn that the Matchmaker looked at the other couples.

The Matchmaker said something in Monacurian. Elliot sighed and immediately touched his head to the Matchmaker’s hands. Gwen gave him a confused look. He indicated with his head that she should do the same as he had. She felt that the Matchmaker had just given them some bad news, but she complied slowly and then let Elliot lead her backward, out of the line.

Wait a minute, Gwen protested as they joined the crowd standing behind the other couples. What just happened?

This is not the time, Elliot whispered hastily.

There were several other couples for the Matchmaker to speak to. Gwen bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. She hated waiting. She wanted to know what was going on. Finally, the ceremony finished and the Matchmaker made a short speech seemingly of congratulations and then the crowd in front of her cheered and clapped. People moved forward to congratulate the couples who had remained in the line.

OK. What just happened? Gwen demanded, turning to Elliot. He pulled her back through the crowd and started walking toward the parking lot.

She said no, Elliot informed her, unconcerned.

No to what? Gwen asked, pulling him to a stop.

She didn’t approve our marriage, he replied. Come on, it’s cold. Let’s get to the car.

No, wait. She said no. So what? I thought this was just something you all do to help people celebrate. So what if she said no. Gwen waved her hands around erratically.

It means that we are not ready. We cannot officially get married without the Matchmaker’s blessing.

She thought the ceremony was in name only. How did this woman know if they were ready for marriage? She opened her mouth to tell Elliot this, but he stopped her with a look.

We can stand before the Matchmaker in three months, he told her and started walking again.

You can’t be serious? What about our plans–the wedding date? We picked everything out, and I almost have everything booked already. She crunched after him across the muddy snow. Elliot stopped and turned to her. The solemn look in his dark, violet eyes made Gwen stop short.

This is the way it’s done. Gwen, you will have to accept my customs if we’re going to be married. Elliot frowned and turned back toward the parking lot. She just stared at him. It was ridiculous, but he was right. If she was going to be a part of the Monacurian culture, she had to respect their customs.

Dammit, she thought and trudged after him

***

Cheers greeted Gwen and Elliot as they entered the restaurant momentarily drowning out the loud jazz music. All of their friends and family raised their glasses as the couple made their way hand-in-hand to the bar area. The restaurant’s usually dim lights were all the way up and the tables were arranged around the outer walls and tall windows that faced the snowy evening. A live band that consisted of a lead saxophonist, a keyboard player and drummer played from a corner that faced the entire room.

People mingled and danced on the small dance floor made in the center of the room. The bar was just as crowded where others waited for glasses of the several hundred wines stocked by the restaurant. Gwen was glad that she and Elliot had convinced his parents that they should only pay for the food. But apparently it did not matter to many of their friends and co-workers who were lined up at the bar. She almost chuckled, but her mood would not let her. What would Elliot’s parents say when they found out? Would they think it was her fault that the Matchmaker had denied them? She did not like the position she was in, and Elliot seemed not to care.

Gwen smiled her sweetest smile and tried to suppress the urge to try to break the fingers clasping hers. Elliot glanced back at her briefly, his brow furrowed. She continued to smile, ignoring his look. He knew she wasn’t happy. That was enough. They had decided in the car that they would not tell anyone but their parents and closest friends that the Matchmaker had denied them her blessing.

Congratulations! Savannah Little yelled, pushing other well-wishers aside as she made her way to the couple, and gave Gwen a bear hug. Savannah was her friend and co-worker at the Coalition, and she was anything but little at five-ten, made taller by her crown of auburn-tipped coils.

Thanks. Gwen was smiling so hard she felt like her face was going to crack. Savannah stood back and stared at her, and then rolled her green eyes.

Come on, she whispered. Let’s fix your face before Mama Irene sees it. She pushed her way through the crowd, dragging Gwen toward the bathroom. Out of the way unless you want to get peed on.

"Savannah." Gwen almost laughed despite her mood.

You see they’re getting out of the way. Come on.

Gwen accepted several more congratulations before she and Savannah made it to the bathroom. The overpowering scent of potpourri made her cough as her friend checked the stalls for company. Finally Savannah turned and faced her.

What’s wrong?

It almost occurred to Gwen to lie, but when calling her mom was not an option, Savannah was always there.

The Matchmaker didn’t give us her blessing, she answered in a neutral tone. She did not want her friend to know how much it actually bothered her.

What? Savannah crossed her arms, making her already revealing top more nonexistent. Gwen absently wondered if her friend knew it was February.

Why should some crazy person decide whether you can get married or not? So what senile reason did she give you?

I didn’t ask. Gwen smiled at Savannah’s mocking tirade. But then she sighed. Elliot said to let it go. We can go back before the Matchmaker in three months. And we’re only telling family and close friends. OK?

OK, she responded dismissively, rolling her eyes again. But that doesn’t make a bit of sense. Are they going to dictate how many kids you can have too? Or where you’re going live? That’s just crazy.

Gwen did not answer. What Savannah had just said got her thinking. She would have to go see the Matchmaker and find out exactly why she denied them. Just then the door opened.

Hey, Gwen. Congratulations, the woman greeted her. Gwen could not for the life of her remember who the woman was. She smiled anyway.

Thanks.

I think they’re looking for you out there.

Thanks, Gwen answered again as the woman went into a stall. She turned to leave when Savannah grabbed her arm.

Your face, Savannah said, indicating her mood.

Gwen made an exaggerated gesture of presenting her best B.S. smile to which her friend nodded approvingly as she opened the door.

You know your hair is taller than most of the men in here tonight. Gwen observed, glancing up at Savannah as they left the bathroom.

Well, the girls are on their eye level, so I’m sure they don’t mind.

Gwen laughed genuinely.

***

You still mad at me? Elliot asked later that night as he nuzzled Gwen’s neck. She stood in front of the refrigerator, filling her glass with water from the dispenser. The slight buzz she had from the engagement party earlier that evening was wearing off.

I wasn’t mad, she informed him, trying to ignore the pleasant sensation spreading through her from the touch of his lips. She moved away. "I’m just frustrated. You’re not the one planning a wedding and suddenly have some stranger put everything on hold for three months."

Elliot sighed. Gwen, you have to understand…

I get it, Elliot, she cried, talking over him.

Gwen…

"I get it. I just have to rearrange…everything. Maybe we should just postpone it until next year. Thank goodness I haven’t sent the invitations yet. Maybe I can stop the printer…"

Gwen! Elliot grabbed her by the shoulders to stop her rambling. What’s really going? You knew the Matchmaker could delay us. Now you’re talking about waiting another whole year.

"I just want to be married on that date, she answered evasively, pulling out of his reach and sitting down at the breakfast bar. The small kitchen felt smaller by Elliot’s looming and inquisitive presence. I just want everything perfect. We can wait. We’re not in a hurry. We’ve been engaged only a few months. I was always told that people should be engaged at least a year."

I know when you’re avoiding answering me. He stood over her, watching her nervously wipe the condensation from the glass.

That’s it. Honestly, Elliot. She glanced up at him momentarily and then took a drink of water.

We’re not waiting another year, he said firmly. The Matchmaker will approve our marriage in three months and everything will go fine–just the way you want.

You don’t know that, Elliot. Anything could happen. Gwen’s eyes glazed with tears and she turned away from him.

Like what? Elliot asked, concern entering his eyes. He placed his hands on her shoulders.

Never mind. Gwen abruptly left the room.

Talk to me. She heard Elliot call after her, but she knew he would not follow her. He had learned not to follow. It was better if he didn’t. They would argue just like her parents. Gwen shut the door to the bedroom and turned on the radio next to her side of the bed to drown out her thoughts. It did not work. She lay on her stomach across the queen-size mattress and shut her eyes.

Gwen suddenly pushed herself up from the gold-embroidered duvet and paced the large room. There were so many thoughts and doubts going through her head that she could not stop them. She really loved Elliot. She just did not want to rock the boat. They were so good together. Everything seemed to click just as long as she kept her head.

She pulled off her suede jacket and angrily tossed it toward the closet. As she made a second circuit pass the plush armchair near the bathroom door, she stopped and plopped down into it. She pulled weakly at her boots for several seconds and then abandoned the effort and sank back into the chair cushions. Gwen could never be completely herself around him. She had too much of her mother’s combative spirit in her. She vowed that Elliot would never see that side of her. By avoiding any confrontation, he could never hurt her and she could never hurt him. But Elliot was right, she thought, as a solution formed slowly. They could still go through with the wedding. She just needed to be sure that the Matchmaker would approve.

***

It took several tries before she got an address from the Coalition for the Matchmaker. The Coalition seemed to guard the Matchmaker’s information like she had the access codes for a nuclear bomb or something. The brownstone looked fairly new despite its classic-looking facade. The faded red brick stairs were brightened by the almost cayenne-red of the front door. An arch decorated the top of every window in a gray-brown stone imprinted with an intricate floral-like design.

Gwen stood nervously outside. She had gone straight to the Matchmaker’s home immediately after work. She was dressed more warmly than she had on their first meeting, and she remembered her gloves. Still, the chilled winds that blew through DuSable City challenged her almost ankle-length navy down-filled coat. It was more than a few minutes before the door finally opened.

Hi, Gwen said giving the young woman her cheeriest smile.

Yes? the woman asked, hesitantly. She seemed unwilling to open the door more than a crack. Her small amethyst eyes, looking out from a petite, coffee-colored face, studied Gwen with mistrust. She wore a plum-colored velvet robe similar in style and length to the satin robe the Matchmaker had worn to the Ceremony of Moons. However, Gwen could see the cuff of dark blue jeans peaking through a fold of cloth. The woman was obviously the Matchmaker’s assistant although Gwen did not remember seeing her at the ceremony.

I came to see the Matchmaker. Gwen was freezing, having walked three blocks from the L, but she kept her smile in place.

The Matchmaker doesn’t see anyone except at the Ceremony of Moons. The next ceremony will be…

That’s what I’m actually here about. Gwen interrupted her. She grinned harder. "I was at the ceremony last Saturday and she actually…refused to…approve my marriage." She finished slowly.

If that is what the Matchmaker has announced…

I know. I just want to find out why. You see, I have all these places reserved, food on order…you know how it is. I just want to find out why she denied us so that I can make sure that she’ll approve us in three months.

I cannot help you. The woman looked over her shoulder nervously, causing her long, straight black hair to whip about erratically. Gwen noticed her anxiety and leaned in toward the door, dropping her smile.

Well, maybe you could help me, she whispered conspiratorially. "You’re the Matchmaker’s assistant?"

Apprentice.

The woman looked quickly at Gwen and then back inside. Hmm? Gwen thought.

Is she letting you…announce? Gwen asked leadingly. Or does she say that you’re not ready?

I’m ready, the woman whispered, looking at Gwen haughtily.

Well, then you can help me. We don’t need to bother the Matchmaker. Gwen shrugged innocently, giving the woman a slow smile as she straightened up. I just need to know why.

Because I said no. The door flew open and the Matchmaker stood in the space. The other woman melted into the background.

The Matchmaker also wore a dark velvet robe. Her hair was free from the bun she wore to the ceremony, but it was still trapped in a long black braid that lay across her shoulder. Her dark, violet eyes looked down on Gwen. The sternness of her expression formed lines around her full mouth.

So you just decide to say no and that’s it? Gwen said with as much politeness as she could muster even though she was past being irritated. I’m sorry, but I just can’t accept that. There is always a reason…for everything. Why is it such a secret?

It is not secret, the Matchmaker addressed her stiffly. She clipped the end of her words off sharply, making her Monacurian accent sound heavy. It sounded slightly Mediterranean.

Then, you can tell me. Gwen gave the Matchmaker her most dazzling smile. She even put in a short batting of her eyelashes.

This is not how it is done. It is not the Monacurian way, the Matchmaker told her. It was evident that she did not appreciate Gwen’s presence or her attempts to butter her up.

Well, as you can probably tell, I’m not Monacurian. This would be so helpful. Gwen continued without a hitch. As I was telling your apprentice, I have made reservations and we’re really on a…not a tight schedule, but you can imagine how hard it will be to reschedule everything. I’ve even gotten the invitations to the printer.

Gwendolyn Elani Tolliver. the Matchmaker interrupted her. I do not envy the difficulties you have created for yourself. However, my announcement was not made with the intention of hindering you.

It took Gwen a second to respond as she tried to remember if she had told the Matchmaker her name. Maybe the Matchmaker remembered it from the ceremony. She shrugged it off and continued.

Well, just tell me how I can fix it and I’ll be out of your hair, Gwen stated a little more challenging than she intended.

The Matchmaker narrowed her violet eyes and stared at Gwen. Gwen stared back, trying not to shiver from the chill. Was it from the outside or the chill of the Matchmaker’s stare that made her feel cold all over? She stood her ground and waited. After a good minute of this, the Matchmaker mumbled something in Monacurian and opened the door wider.

You’re letting the cold in. The Matchmaker motioned Gwen inside. Gwen nodded her head in acceptance and entered the building. She knew a little Monacurian from Elliot, and she did not think the Matchmaker’s words sounded nice at all. But as long as she could get what she wanted, the Matchmaker could mumble insults under her breath all day long.

She politely followed the Matchmaker pass what looked like a sitting room, but she did not have time to look inside as the woman led her up the stairs and through the first door at the top.

Sit, the Matchmaker instructed unceremoniously as they entered the backroom of the brownstone. The apprentice had disappeared, Gwen could only guess where. But it did not matter because she was about to get the goods from the horse’s mouth…so to speak. Gwen sat down onto a plush ottoman next to the wall. The Matchmaker settled onto a low wooden stool opposite Gwen’s.

Give me your hand, the Matchmaker commanded.

As Gwen removed her glove and held out her hand, she looked around the room. It was cluttered with fabric hanging from ceiling to floor on every wall. She could not even tell where any windows might be. There were shelves on every wall except the one she had entered the door by. Each shelf was piled high with books or glass containers. She could not remember what they were called, but Gwen was sure they were the same type of containers she used in chemistry class back in high school. There was one bright lamp in the room, but it only illuminated the space to a dim glow.

Look at me, Girl.

Gwen slowly turned her eyes to the Matchmaker and arched one eyebrow. She was no girl. She had not been a girl for sometime. She was twenty-six, and she did not appreciate being referred as a girl. Gwen was about to correct the Matchmaker on this detail when the woman said,

Your heart does not belong just to Elliot Polis Rosser.

What are you talking about? Gwen asked, surprised.

When your heart is Meant for a certain individual, your chakra burns vibrantly for that one person. Gwendolyn Elani Tolliver, yours is divided. A chakra cannot allow you to love two people at the same time. This means your heart is still attached to someone else, and so it doesn’t shine as brightly as it should.

"There is no one else.