Warm Intrigues

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© Copyright 2013 Lynn M. Dixon.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4907-2019-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-2018-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-2017-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013921932

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Dénouement

Dedication

To all of those who have loved and lost and have the courage to try it again.

CHAPTER 1

The Rendezvous

Yes, we will meet somewhere in the middle, said Phoenix. She and Trey (Tyre) had finally decided on a rendezvous after that chance and second meeting on Fifty-Seventh Street Beach. He would be coming from Evanston, and she would be coming from Homewood, Illinois.

When he called her at the appointed time, they agreed to meet at Leona’s on Taylor Street because of its central location and quaint atmosphere. The ongoing music videos also served as a comforting backdrop during lively conversations. They almost said Leona’s in unison as they talked about choosing a comfortable eatery in the heart of Chicago.

Trey? Or should she say Tyre? she asked again during his phone call.

Call me Tyre, pronounced as ‘tire,’ he answered. All she knew is that he was a widower in his thirties. She was one of the first people whom he introduced by his given name and not his nickname, Trey. She was attracted to this college professor and was impressed by his intellect and good looks; but, she would let him share the details of his life—only when he wanted and what he wanted.

He, in turn, had never met such a beautiful librarian when he initially met her at the Homewood Library. She was not only knowledgeable but also quite refined. He was used to librarians looking like the stereotypical ones, but not this one. They had not shared too much during that second meeting at the beach, but he knew that she was a woman who had experienced her share of pain. He figured that a solo trip to the waterfront usually signaled that someone was in deep thought. He privately hoped that he would be around long enough to find out more about her. He figured most people in their thirties had had some knocks in life.

Okay, I will be there at 1:00 p.m., she had said.

Okay, see you there, he added and hung up the phone.

Phoenix started her Saturday morning with her normal routine of making coffee, reading her spiritual messages, and journaling until she felt she had amply given thanks for all the last twenty-four hours of living. When she felt sustained and fortified for the day, she pulled out the clothes she would wear on her first date with Tyre.

She worked on her makeup after showering and had to pause to stop her racing heart. She reminded herself that she was almost as giddy as a school girl. She slowed down to breathe. She went to sit in her easy chair, and she lightly touched the unusual rock that they had found on the beach that day. He offered it to her and told her that his given name, Tyre, had some connection to a rock. That was another story that had to be finished by this intriguing and handsome man.

Tyre answered the ringing phone as he emerged from the shower. Trey? boomed his father.

This is Tyre here, he grinned. "I took your advice, and I will now go by my given name which will give me increase, so I can stand like a rock."

Yes, and stand as powerful as the tradesman of old stood on the isle of Tyre. They were known for the selling of purple dyes. Read up on it, his father said.

Purple also means power, added Tyre.

So glad you were listening, Son. I just wanted to call to give you a dose of confidence as you move forward in your life. Good luck on your first date with… He paused. What’s her name again? asked Elisha.

Phoenix, Dad. Her name is Phoenix. Phoenix Matthews. Tyre smiled as he talked.

His father was quiet on the other end of the line. He was giving a silent moment of thanks and gratitude to the Great One. His son was sounding like his boy again! There was a sigh of relief that life went on for his son, after the carnage of his former wife, Flora.

Dad, are you still there? asked Tyre.

Yes, Elisha said, coughing. My coffee went down the wrong way, he lied. Have a good time and enjoy yourself, Son, he closed.

Okay, Dad. I will call you in a few days, said Tyre. He hung up the phone.

Tyre, wrapped in a large towel, sat down in his favorite chair. He sat still for a moment before he ventured out to meet this beautiful and smart woman. Thoughts of her brought warm feelings. He picked up his daily meditation messages and gave at least twenty minutes to the routine to become focused before going to meet the world.

After the mishaps with his former wife, he was hopeful that he had the courage to establish a relationship with someone with whom he was equally yoked. He knew in his heart of hearts that a good connection would strengthen and not exhaust him. He hoped that this Phoenix could be the answer to his need for a good woman.

Tyre put on a pair of khakis and a green T-shirt. He made sure that he felt well-groomed. He then got into his SUV and headed south to the center of the city of Chicago. He breathed and smiled as he listened to Earth, Wind and Fire sing September as he eased through traffic. The flow was seamless, and he took this as a good omen.

Phoenix, on the other hand, wrapped up her morning meditation and vowed to put the significance of her name to practice. She proclaimed that she was starting anew and said, Out of ashes, peace will rise. This was one of her private rituals as she sincerely hoped that this would be the start of something big. Heaven knows she had had her share of disappointments in the game of dating.

She liked smart, somewhat serious, men. No buffoonery and no lying. She wanted the truth, even if it came in intervals. As she buttoned the light green blouse and threw on her skinny jeans, she hoped that this would go well. She would compare their getting-to-know-you session to the slow peeling of a peach. They would shed one layer at a time, and if things evolved, they would eventually get to the core and the truth of their souls.

But enough of the deep thought, she told herself. She got into her car and entered onto the interstate and headed north to the center of the city. To her amazement, it was as if the angels had lifted the car as she cruised through the traffic with great ease while listening to the violinist David Garrett. Her thoughts moved from one pleasantry to another, and before she knew it, she was pulling up in the parking lot off Fillmore Street. She pulled into a spot and sat until the song We Will Rock You finished. She danced to the music in her seat, and once again, she felt as if she had an audience. She looked to her left, and there sat Tyre smiling. She had not realized that he had pulled in next to her and was watching her in motion.

They both got out of their cars, laughing, and she said, Tyre, you caught me again!

He simply responded, I loved watching you! They locked their cars and headed through the gangway from the parking lot and entered the restaurant.

CHAPTER 2

Lunch Date

T yre and Phoenix entered into Leona’s together. He said, softly, Watch your step. She looked down and noticed that there was an extra step that could have been overlooked. They each wrote down their license tag numbers as was customary for those who parked in the back of the restaurant. He told the host that there were two of them and that they would like a booth in the front room. Phoenix stood quietly and admired his confidence and his ability to lead.

Yes, she thought. This is a man who can take control and give me a mental break from having to make the decisions all of the time. Two points, she thought.

They sat in the booth and each could see different monitors of the ongoing music videos from where they sat. The atmosphere was cheerful and relaxing, and they started looking over the menus that had been handed to them by the friendly waiter.

He brought them glasses of iced water and asked what they would like to drink. Phoenix thought of Leona’s wonderful pina coladas, but she played it safe and answered, Iced tea, please.

Tyre’s thoughts immediately went to a nice cold glass of Chardonnay, but he decided against the desire. He responded, Diet Pepsi or Coke, please.

Both of them wanted to impress and did not want to spoil this in anyway, so each proceeded with caution.

She asked, Do you like calamari?

"I do, he smiled.

Good. Would you like to share an order? she posed the question.

Sounds like a good idea, he responded. Have you tried their lasagna?

No, she replied.

It’s great, he added.

Okay, and we must have something green to stay healthy, she said.

House salads? he asked.

Sounds like a plan, she agreed.

So when the waiter returned with their hot bread and delicious spicy butter, they placed their order of two house salads, an order of calamari, and one order of lasagna.

Tyre thought to himself, That was easy.

Phoenix said, softly, Good teamwork.

Yep, he said.

And so the lunch began. Both silently cut the bread and spread the butter and began to break bread in silent communion.

Mike Jagger was singing, I Can’t Get No Satisfaction on a music video. They took a break from the bread, and each just smiled as they caught each other’s eyes.

Tyre started, "Phoenix. First, thanks for agreeing to have lunch with me. I must start by saying that I am testing the use of my real name with you. I have gone by the nickname of Trey for years, but after a long conversation with my father, it is time to act as the man I am. The games of irresponsibility are over, so I am starting a new phase of my life to hopefully get better results.

So, here I am, Tyre M. Thomas. I am assistant professor of English and Literature and a young widower. My former wife was named Flora and the details of that story will be unfolding as time moves on. Her life ended tragically, and I have blamed myself for not being a better husband. Unfortunately, I do not think that we were right for each other, but I learned so much from knowing her. I learned a lot more about myself as well. So on that note, I will now pause and now it is your turn.

What does the M stand for? she asked.

Melvin. My paternal grandfather, he answered.

I like it, she responded.

I, Phoenix A. Matthews, was named for the Phoenix-bird that starts over on a daily basis. My parents agreed to give me a strong name which would call forth a strong spirit in me in hopes that I would be able to survive the hard times in life. So, each day, I try to start over and be a little better than I was the day before… She trailed off. I am the twin, and my fraternal brother, Phinny, is deceased. We will discuss that at another time, she said with a cracked voice. And from our meeting at my workplace, you know that I am a librarian who specializes in young adult literature, she closed.

And what does the A stand for? he asked.

Ainee. It is pronounced A-knee. That was my father’s choice. That’s a story to be shared at another time.

That’s fair enough, said Tyre.

The salads had arrived along with the calamari and lasagna. They continued to share bits of their personal stories as they sampled the foods on the table. He noted how daintily and neatly she seemed to place food in her mouth. She watched his gestures as he ate in an easy manner. They stole looks at each other from time to time.

Time seemed to move at a fast pace as if on autopilot. She talked a little about her job where they had first seen each other when he was looking for information on the Quakers. He noticed how her eyes lit up when she spoke of the youth and how she had recently assisted them in raising funds through a neighborhood carwash.

Such grace and class, he thought.

So very gracious and handsome, she thought.

He talked about the challenge of sometimes teaching a cultural piece to a diverse student body and how he had to make sure that no one felt left out or offended during the heated discussions. "When teaching Zora Neale Hurston’s short story Sweat, many students had a hard time with the dialect and I had to explain why she felt she had to