40. Chapter 40
Chapter 40
Nova
I t was a hot summer day, so, I had my hat and sunscreen on while we walked on cobblestone streets along with a tour group, organized by the Historic Savannah Foundation.
I loved old homes, so it was kinda cute that Anson was putting himself out there since he was not the tour guide kinda guy. He wanted to see a home, he got a private tour, but he knew that would make me uncomfortable.
"What do you like to do?" he asked me once after we started to date.
"Ah…do? I work, Anson."
"I know you like to work, but…what else do you do?"
I felt defensive because I couldn't come up with anything except hanging out at bars and restaurants with friends. "What do you like to do?"
"Hike. Scuba dive. Travel."
I thought hard and, viola!, I had something. "I love to go on tours of historic buildings. Aurora takes Gabe's daughter and Nina's daughter every Sunday. They both want to be architects. I join them."
"What do you like about it?"
"I feel like I'm stepping back in time. Each house tells its own story through its architecture and the lives it sheltered," I mused. "Someday, I'd like to live in one of those old houses, with a ghost or two haunting it."
He got the idea for our date from that conversation, he told me.
Our guide, a cheerful woman named Polly, led us to a stunning house on the river. You couldn't help but admire its elegance. It was a blend of classical and colonial architecture, with white columns, a sweeping porch, and tall, inviting windows. It was grand, and yet, retained a sense of warmth and homeliness.
Polly gathered us around in the front yard. "This house was built in the early 1800s," she began enthusiastically. "It has been beautifully preserved, and is a wonderful example of Southern architecture from that period. What's truly remarkable about this house, though, is its history."
"This is so fun," I whispered to Anson.
"Yeah, fun ," he said tightly, and I knew he hated being part of a large group where you were directed on how to experience something.
"Oh, loosen up, Larue. I know you grew up in a historic home, but some of us have to experience it like this."
He rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around me.
We followed Polly inside, stepping into a spacious foyer with high ceilings and intricate woodwork. The interior was just as breathtaking as the exterior. Elegant furniture and tasteful decor created an atmosphere of refined comfort. I felt a pang of longing; this was the kind of home I had always dreamed about but knew was out of reach.
"This house played a significant role in the Underground Railroad," Polly continued as we moved into the living room. "The original owners were staunch abolitionists. They built secret passages and hidden rooms to shelter escaping slaves on their way to freedom."
I squeezed Anson's hand gently and saw that his eyes reflected the same awe I felt. "It's incredible to think about the bravery and compassion of the people who lived here."
"Yeah. Much better than having slave quarters on your estate," he murmured. "This history is somethin' you can be proud of."
"Hey, the Larue family has done a lot for Sentinel. Maureen told me how you have elevated the standard of living for everyone in Sentinel, and are going to give them even more with Sentinel Heights. Don't knock that."
He kissed me on the side of my head. "Thanks, Sugar."
Polly led us to a small door hidden behind a bookshelf. "This is one of the hidden passages." She opened the door to reveal a narrow staircase. "It leads to a concealed attic space where people could hide. The homeowners risked everything to help those in need."
We climbed the stairs, emerging into a cozy attic room. Despite its small size, it felt safe and welcoming. I could almost imagine the relief and hope of those who had found refuge here.
"This is the kind of home I always dreamed about," I confessed to Anson, my voice tinged with wistfulness. "A place with history that's also warm and homey."
Anson looked at me with a tenderness that made my heart ache. "Yeah? Well, maybe we can make that happen."
I chuckled. "It's a dream, honey, and I don't know if a house this size would ever suit me. I like living in the city, and being able to walk everywhere, you know?"
"That has a certain attraction," he agreed. "But there comes a point when you need more space."
"No one needs this much space." I waved a hand around. "Unless you're a thirty-people family."
We descended back into the main part of the house, where Polly continued to share more stories about the house's history and the lives it had touched.
The tour ended in the backyard, where a beautiful garden overlooked the river.
"This was so much fun." I leaned into Anson.
"Now…how about something even more fun?"
I looked up at him. "You know, you don't have to go all out for every date."
He was making such an effort, from dolphin cruises to beach picnics to bourbon tastings to treasure hunts—Anson seemed to be infusing our lives with events to make up for something I'd already forgiven him for.
"I know I don't. But I like doing things with you. I like that we're building memories."
It came too easily to him, I thought, this ability to make every day interesting and fun. But when I told him that he laughed, because he thought that's what I did and had always done for him.
"I like the sound of that," I whispered.
Maybe this was what dating meant—you spent time doing things that help you grow and learn while having fun. Maybe this is what it meant to be in a relationship. And that worked for me.
"So, what's next on the agenda?" I asked brightly.
"Lunch… and gangsters," he said cryptically.
I laughed when we went to the American Prohibition Museum and took pictures, posing with wax figurines of gangsters.
"I've always wanted to visit, but you know how it is, you never have time to play tourist in your own city," I said.
The museum was the only one in the United States that focused on the history of the 18th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.
"I can't imagine living through dry times," Anson said as we looked over photographs that detailed the history of speakeasies. "I mean, if you can't drink bourbon after a fucked-up day, what the hell else is there to do?"
"Sex?" I suggested.
He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, but all those society stiff-upper-lip men and women needed alcohol to loosen them up so they could fuck."
We walked around learning about Rum Runners, hooch, and even tried our hand at making moonshine!
We ended our date by learning how to dance the Charleston. Anson and I had never gone dancing—in fact, we hadn't done a lot of things as a couple. In some ways, I understood his need to fill our dates with activities to make up for lost time, for him to show me how special I was and how great we were together.
We followed a cheerful instructor who stood at the front of a live band, demonstrating dance steps to a group of eager participants, which included me (Anson, not so much).
I grinned mischievously. "Come on, everyone wants to learn how to do the Charleston."
"That's an overgeneralization," he retorted but acquiesced.
We joined the group, and the instructor welcomed us warmly. "Alright, folks! The Charleston is a dance that's all about having fun. Don't worry about getting it perfect—just enjoy yourselves!"
As the music started, we began to learn the basic steps. The instructor broke it down into simple movements, the kicks, the swings, and the iconic knee-crossing.
I stumbled a lot at first.
The rhythm of the music and the energy of the dance were exhilarating. Anson and I moved together, our steps gradually becoming more synchronized. I found myself laughing more and more, the joy of the dance washing away any lingering doubts or fears I had about us.
We spun and kicked, our movements becoming more fluid with each pass. The band played a lively tune, the trumpets and saxophones filling the room with an irresistible energy. I glanced around and saw everyone else having just as much fun; their faces lit up with smiles.
"You're a natural." I felt a thrill run through me as Anson led with confidence, twirling us around the dance floor.
"Maybe I took classes," he grinned.
"And to think, I had to convince you. You're full of shit, Anson Larue!" I exclaimed, feeling lighter than I had in a long time.
"I'm full of you, Sugar…heart, soul, and body, you inundate every sense I have," he whispered, his lips moving against my ear, igniting arousal inside of me.
"Let's go home," I suggested, holding back a moan.
Anson stroked my cheek as if mesmerized. "Yeah, Sugar, let's go home."