Putting Love to the Test

By Lynda Martin

‘No female in the Nolan family shall ever marry!’ Sisters Cheyenne, Brianne and Roxanne grew up listening to family members whisper about the generations-old curse. No one knew who made the curse, or why. To the sisters, it was nothing more than an old-wives tale! Each sister has found her soul mate and is looking forward to a life of love happily ever after. Unfortunately, the path to happiness is littered with roadblocks. The relationships are suddenly tested, as each couple is faced with a situation that threatens to crumble what they thought was a strong love bond. The sisters find themselves making war, not love with their mates. Will love win out, or would the most damning, oft-forgotten part of the curse, ‘It will not last’ win out after all?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662428913

Book preview

Chapter One

Three months later…

Mrs. Walker? Uh…excuse me…Mrs. Walker?

The voice sounded anxious and shook Cheyenne out of her reverie. Looking up quickly, she saw a young woman standing in the doorway to her office.

Oh, Aishia, I’m sorry. I was just finishing up some proposals.

Mrs. Walker…excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.

Both spoke at the same time, each trying to explain to the other what was going on. Aishia blushed slightly and hurriedly went on to explain why she was there.

Your husband is on line two. He said that he only has a moment and needs to speak with you.

Almost as if apologizing, she quickly backed out of the office, closing the door quietly behind her. Before the door was completely closed, Cheyenne had picked up the phone from its cradle.

Hello, sweetheart. What’s so important that you had to interrupt my very busy day with this call? Laughing softly, she continued, You know that I look forward to any chance to talk with my very handsome, very sexy husband.

He chuckled in return, his low sexy voice tickling her ears. I was between the courthouse and the office and just thought that I would call my incredibly beautiful and sexy wife and tell her that I love her.

Her body tingling with desire. She sighed.

I don’t think that I will ever tire of hearing you say that. Just don’t start something that you can’t finish, she admonished softly. You know that I will expect to hear that every day for the rest of our lives. And oh, by the way, I love you back.

Leaning back into the old leather recliner that was her office chair, she closed her eyes, thinking back on their earlier morning together. As they had done for most of the mornings since their honeymoon, they had made sweet love, and just remembering caused her to shiver.

Fanning herself and clearing her throat, she forced herself back from thinking about things that she could do nothing about…at least for the moment. Attempting to sound as if her mind hadn’t just been in the bedroom, she continued.

And how was your day in court, my love? I know that whatever case you were trying, you were the victor. I can see you now…standing in front of the jury, looking every inch the very successful, prosperous, handsome attorney that you are, she teased, knowing that he enjoyed it every time she flattered him.

"Actually, I wasn’t the one in front of the jury. I was there to support our brother-in-law. I am the second chair to the case. And by the way, I do plan on telling you that I love you every day. For the rest of our lives. And don’t you forget it. He chuckled. Now I really do have to go. The car has just pulled up to the garage, and I have a couple of hours more work to do. But I will be home as quickly as I can. I want you to be waiting for me. And by the way, wear something sexy."

Oh, but of course. I will be wearing the big tattered T-shirt that you like, with rollers in my hair and my big dirty pink bunny slippers and—

Laughing softly, he finished the call with his response. As long as you are there, I don’t care what you have on…or off. See you, baby.

She hung up the phone and sighed. She loved that man. The last few months with her husband were still a dream to her. Oh, there were times that she wanted to strangle him and he her, but they had resolved their issues quickly and with love. She laughed aloud as she thought back to the warnings that she had gotten from friends and family. Sure, it was challenging to go from an existence of singleness for the first fifty years of her life, but it wasn’t as hard as she had been led to believe.

She laughed softly as she thought about how easily they had moved into their life of twoness. And how different they were. She didn’t trip when he left the toilet seat up or left small hairs all over the bathroom sink after a hurried shave. He didn’t trip when she left her clothes scattered all over the bedroom when she undressed after she came home. He left her to herself whenever she was caught up in her latest novel. She didn’t grouse, usually, when he left her to join his favorite threesome to play golf. But there was so much that they shared.

She always joined him when he was stationed in front of the television, shouting at the coach or players when his favorite sports team was losing. She generally brought the snacks and cold drinks as she snuggled next to him, joining in and shouting just as loudly.

Weather permitting, they golfed together as often as possible. His love for music displayed itself with his tenor saxophone. Hers was the piano. Lately, they had been trying some jazz improvisations—she on the keyboard and he on his sax. While they had a ways to go before they would be known as a musical couple, the melodies and harmonies usually led to another form of music they enjoyed more than anything else and took place in the bedroom.

He joined her church. They rarely missed a Sunday service. It was a way to thank God for their many blessings. They spent whatever time that was left to share with family. She laughed softly to herself as she thought about the family curse.

Her Native American ancestors had cursed the female lineage when it came to finding and keeping love. The curse said that they wouldn’t marry. If any should marry, their lives together would be anything but wedded bliss. Not that she had believed in the curse. Well, maybe just a little, but finding her one true love was a long time coming, and she had her baby sister to thank for breaking the curse! Roxanne married Charles, the love of her life, almost three years ago. And Brianne would be marrying John in three short months.

She thought back to the well-meaning family members and friends who had warned her that, at fifty, she should probably take what God had intended, live out the rest of her life relishing her singleness. They told her that she was better off after all, because she was settled in her ways. Any man that she found certainly would be too. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to suddenly change her life to accommodate a man being in it.

Thinking back, she was glad that she had made the decision for herself, much as she had always done in her life. Aaron augmented her life. He provided the completeness that was missing. They both relished the newness of their married life together.

During their honeymoon, they had promised to demonstrate their love for each other, often and creatively. Each one was responsible for two weekends each month, to help to erase the strains of the harrowing week and to share their love. They each tried to outdo the other with the events they planned. Their natural competitiveness had resulted in some unforgettable experiences. She smiled wickedly as she thought of some of the more creative dates that they had shared.

For now, Aaron had one-upped her. He had found a refurbished drive-in movie theater a couple of hours south of Chicago. Taking off early one Friday, they had made the drive, the convertible top of the Mercedes down. Playing old-school music on the radio, they had teased each other with sexual comments during the entire trip. They got there at dusk. They snacked on hot dogs and root beers until the movie started. They had hooked the speakers to the windows and watched the first ten minutes of the movie.

Cheyenne couldn’t even remember what the movie had been about because they had made love in the car during the rest of it, trying to keep the other moviegoers from knowing what they were doing. As if most of them weren’t doing the same thing.

Her most memorable contribution to date had been a special lap dance that she had done for him. She sent him a special invitation and a rose to his office. He had followed her instructions and met her at a classy club that offered private rooms for their well-paying clientele. Dressed in red, she had stripped for him behind the smoked glass of one of the private rooms that she had reserved until closing time, while patrons enjoyed the show from the club’s best. Then they had made sweet love until morning, going to breakfast before going home.

For her next weekend, she was planning a weekend at the Sybaris, especially since talking with Brianne, who had been there often with John. She had recently gone shopping at Victoria’s Secret, selecting a couple of sexy ensembles that she was sure Aaron would love.

Uh…excuse me again, Mrs. Walker. You have another phone call. Aishia’s soft voice sounded apologetic. She would have to talk her into joining her Young Woman’s focus group, soon. Cheyenne had done wonders so far with the members of her group, and she was sure that she could help Aishia find her confidence.

Thanks, Aishia. I’m going to be leaving soon, so you can leave early too. Smiling, she picked up the phone as Aishia quietly backed out of the office.

Good morning. Cheyenne Walker. May I help you?

Hey, girl. What’s up? Brianne’s sensual voice seemed to fill the room.

Hey back. I’ve just been sitting here for the past few hours getting absolutely nothing done. What’s up with you?

Same shit, different day. Why are you even working anyway? With that rich, gorgeous husband of yours, if I were you, my ass would be sitting around my pool eating bonbons and drinking mai tais. Brianne laughed gleefully, enjoying her own scenario. Leaning back and shaking her head at the rather graphic picture Brie had just painted, Cheyenne laughed too.

I could say the same thing about you, sister dear. Your company is about to break the two-million-dollar mark, and it’s not even the end of the year. You certainly could let your new office administrator run things. Plus, that wealthy money-managing husband-to-be of yours would love to have you waiting for him when he comes home at nights. Girl, you can take the day off anytime you want. Then we both could sit around my pool and enjoy life as it is meant to be enjoyed. Like two very well-off women of leisure. Both sisters laughed gleefully as they momentarily thought about the very tempting picture.

"Girlfriend, even though today would probably be the day I would do it, you know I don’t quite trust the bitch who thinks she sits at the helm of my empire."

Brianne’s voice had taken on an edge that made Cheyenne shudder. Uh oh, I wonder what’s up now?

Cheyenne thought about the administrator that Brianne had brought on board just a few short months before—the flamboyantly gay male who was working to save up for a gender transition as soon as he amassed the funds. As if reading her mind, Brianne went on to answer her unasked question.

There are some small things that have happened lately that I can’t quite account for. There are several invoices that clients swear that they’ve paid but aren’t showing up on the books. Other invoices have been undercharged, but the payments are made for the jobs as they should be. Altogether, there’s about two thousand dollars missing and unaccounted for.

Brianne’s voice suddenly hardened. But I’m investigating it, and if Sean has anything to do with any of this, his ass certainly won’t have to worry about any sex-change operation. When I get through with him, he wouldn’t be worried about who he was. It would be more like what he was.

Knowing her sister, Cheyenne didn’t doubt the promise that she heard in her voice. She felt sorry for poor Sean. Changing the subject, hopefully to find out the reason for the call, she asked, "And what plans do you and John have for the weekend? Given the fact that you two will be an old married couple in a few short months, I know you’ve got something wickedly perverse up your sleeve."

As a matter of fact, I do. That’s why I’m callin’ you.

I don’t work for United anymore, so you’re going to have to pay full fare if you are thinking about flying somewhere, Cheyenne warned, remembering Brie’s previous forays into the unknown with men she met on the Internet. She hoped that those days were over, now that she was soon to become one half of a permanent couple.

Brie laughed. Girlfriend, you know I don’t need to go nowhere to find good dick. Besides, that’s not what I was calling for. What are you and Aaron doing this weekend?

I don’t know what he has planned. It’s his weekend.

Y’all still doing that dumb shit? When are you gonna give it up and just settle down into your very boring, very predictable married life? Brianne snickered.

If that’s what you think, then why are you marrying John? And anyway, it’s not dumb. Trust me, it keeps things very exciting. You should try it sometime, Cheyenne retorted.

Brianne laughed. Girl, you know I’m kidding. Besides, I’m kinda lookin’ forward to getting that good, predictable dick anywhere, any time, and any way that I want it. John has tickets to Tyler Perry’s new play. I just wanted to see if you two wanted to go. Maybe have some dinner?

Cheyenne relaxed. Thanks, sweetie, but I’m going to enjoy whatever my loving, sexy husband has planned. Did you call Roxanne?

She’ll probably say no. Her pregnant ass can’t sit in a chair for too long. You know that. Brie laughed, not feeling the least bit sorry for their sister’s plight. But just in the off chance, I’ll give her a call. Plus, Sean’s ass has been on the phone for as long as I’ve been talking with you. Something tells me I’d better listen in and find out what’s up. Ciao, bella.

With that, she clicked off. Cheyenne shook her head, laughing as she thought about John and his very full hands. Her middle sister certainly wasn’t the easiest person to deal with. His would be a job that was twenty-four seven if he wanted to keep up with Brianne.

She looked at the piles of papers on her desk, realizing that she hadn’t accomplished anything productive in the last couple of hours. She determined that it was time to call it a day. Just as she had told Aishia to do, she was going to leave early.

She looked around the small space that was considered her office. Although it had only a small desk, a second-hand leather chair, and a bookcase, she loved it. It was one of a block of offices in a shelter for battered and abused women. The shelter located on the west side of the city provided job training, counseling, and shelter for women and their children when they had nowhere else to go.

After she and Aaron had gotten engaged, she hadn’t even given her two weeks’ notice to United. After twenty-five years, she had gladly given up the day-to-day pressures of the industry, which, after September 11, were spiraling downward for even the biggest of the domestic carriers. But she found that she couldn’t stay at home and do nothing. Aaron had suggested becoming part of the program at the shelter. Although it paid very little—most of their monies came from government grants and generous private donors—it was the richest-paying job that Cheyenne had ever had.

She relished being able to help change lives, and it counted toward earning her doctorate. She was responsible for starting several new programs, focusing on young women in high school, preparing them for what she called their after-life. Many of them had some serious issues. There were babies with no support from the babies’ daddies or their families. They were involved with drugs, had very few skills, had bad home lives, and had little promise of getting out of the dismalness that was their lives. Add to that the seriousness of the escalating HIV and AIDS crises. Cheyenne and the shelter had their hands full.

As she organized her folders, putting some of them into her briefcase and filing the rest of them, she decided to surprise Aaron with dinner. She would stop at the store on the way home and pick up the things she needed for his favorite meal and surprise him. She got excited as she grabbed her purse and briefcase and hurried to the car. As she turned on the engine, her happy scenario came to a shuddering halt. It was Mrs. Winthrop, Aaron’s housekeeper. Cheyenne bristled. If there was one thing that marred the perfection that her life had become, it was Mrs. Winthrop.

I think it’s time for her to retire. God knows she’s saved enough to live in comfort with someone to take orders from her for a lot longer than most people would like. Me especially.

Mrs. Winthrop was the widow of the man who had been Aaron’s valet and all-around man of the house for many years. Both were clearly devoted to Aaron. When Mr. Winthrop died suddenly, Aaron had kept her on. She still lived in the small bungalow that she had shared with her husband for the past twenty-five years, which was located on the opposite end of Aaron’s very large property. It was considered the guesthouse to the estate. Two years ago, she and Mr. Winthrop had it charmingly redecorated.

The two-bedroom, two-and-a-half bathroom home was perfect for them. The large kitchen, formal dining room, and two fireplaces—one in the master bedroom and one in the family room—gave the house warmth and its own unique touches. It was conveniently close to Aaron, which they really seemed to want. They both walked the half-mile trip between the guesthouse and the main house twice a day, which helped keep them in relatively good shape.

Mrs. Winthrop seemed to ignore the fact that there was a new Mrs. Walker in the house. She didn’t seem to like Cheyenne and didn’t hide that fact. Whenever she got the chance, she talked about the first Mrs. Walker. To hear her tell it, the woman had walked on water. No one could ever replace her in Mrs. Winthrop’s mind. She took every chance she could to put Cheyenne down, to put her in her place, as it felt to Cheyenne.

She seemed to find fault with everything that Cheyenne did or didn’t do. According to Mrs. Winthrop, nothing Cheyenne did was acceptable. To make matters worse, Aaron refused to get involved.

It’s between the two of you. I am not going to get caught up in your arguments. He would throw up his hands and walk away every time they went at each other. His indifference sometimes made her want to knock him out, but so far, they had gotten through most of the storms.

Well, there’s a new sheriff in town. She’s large and in charge. While she manipulated the car into traffic, she rifled through her briefcase and took out her phone. Attaching the earplug to the phone, she hit speed dial. She waited while the phone rang. Moments later, Mrs. Winthrop’s arctic tones filled her ear.

This is the Walker residence. Mrs. Winthrop speaking. The dry, clipped tones grated on her nerves, but she put on her best face and smiled sweetly.

"Hello, Mrs. Winthrop. This is Mrs. Walker…uh…Cheyenne. I just wanted to let you know that you have the night off. I am going to fix dinner tonight. For my husband." She braced for the argument that she was sure would come. But Mrs. Winthrop surprised her.

That’s nice, Mrs. Walker. I’m sure that Mr. Walker would enjoy it if you cooked for him tonight. And I could use the evening off. Is there anything else?

Cheyenne was stunned and momentarily speechless. Uh…no. Thanks. Enjoy your evening, she mumbled before clicking off her phone.

Well, I’ll be damned. Who said the Wicked Witch of the West can’t change her colors? Now if she would only call me Cheyenne, we might be turning a corner here.

Humming happily with Beyoncé and V103, she maneuvered the car south while mentally making a grocery list.

Mmmmm…something smells good, and someone sure looks good. Aaron embraced Cheyenne from behind, kissing her neck and earlobes. Where’s Mrs. Winthrop? Not that I’m complaining, of course. He continued to nuzzle her neck while he slipped his hands underneath the very short shorts she had changed into, cupping her smooth, taut behind firmly.

I don’t know when dinner will get finished if you keep that up, Cheyenne cooed, smiling happily and kissing her husband. Leaning back, she looked into his eyes and warned playfully. "I hope that you don’t give Mrs. Winthrop the same attention when she’s cooking dinner."

For an answer, he kissed her deeply. Leaning back, he licked his lips. If dinner is any comparison to that kiss, I am truly a lucky man. He added, his voice deepening, And I plan to get very full tonight.

He loosened his tie and took off his jacket, draping it over one of the tall wicker chairs that surrounded the huge island in the middle of the kitchen. He proceeded to lift lids from their pans, leaning over to smell their delicious odors. She whacked him on the butt with an oven mitt.

You know that I can cook. And better than you, truth be told. Eyes twinkling, she laughed as she watched the expression change on her husband’s face.

"You a better cook than moi? I don’t think so. But this does look mighty good. Moving through the very large kitchen, he went over to the industrial-sized steel gray refrigerator to get a beer. Do you want your drink refreshed?" he asked, indicating the empty glass that sat on the island.

You are my savior. I was so very hot and dry. Fanning herself, she playfully pretended to swoon, laughing as she watched him get the ice and the raspberry iced tea. Refilling her glass, he brought it to her and kissed her on the cheek.

Well then, I’m going to change. I’ll be back down to help out. With that, he grabbed his jacket and briefcase, disappearing up the stairs and into the west wing of the house. Cheyenne returned to putting the finishing touches to dinner. She was rinsing the romaine lettuce leaves and baby spinach leaves when he returned. He had slipped into a pair of much worn faded blue jeans, leaving his plain white shirt unbuttoned over his silk T-shirt.

Okay. What’s next? What can I do? he inquired, looking much like a child anxious to please.

She laughed merrily. You, my darling husband, can set the table. I thought that we’d eat outside since the weather is so beautiful. And use the good china. Even though it was the patio set on the deck, she still wanted to make a statement with a decorated table. She loved the huge home that she shared with him. All parts of it. They were sitting on one and a half acres that were very private, and the emerald green of the flawless grass was breathtaking. The redwood deck was enormous. The patio set could seat twelve comfortably. Lounge chairs were placed in clusters, accompanied by small tables.

On one end of the patio’s deck sat his pride and joy—a large industrial-sized gas grill that held court by itself. The other end of the deck had a complete bar with six large stools, and tucked into the corner was a state-of-the-art hot tub. Lastly, next to the deck was a medium-sized building that contained a sauna and changing room. The property also contained a large Olympic-sized pool and a tennis court.

Mrs. Winthrop’s bungalow sat at the end of the property so that they enjoyed their privacy whenever they used the hot tub. Cheyenne’s favorite part of the vastness was the floral display. Much to her surprise, she had been delighted to find out that one of Aaron’s hobbies was gardening.

His hired landscapers were instructed that the flowers, plants, and bushes were his sole responsibility. Whenever he could, he relaxed in his garden. The explosion of colors and scents entranced Cheyenne whenever they were on the patio, which was as often as they could both find time for.

He finished setting the table for two, complete with freshly cut pale peach-colored roses from his garden, holding court in a crystal vase in the middle of the table. He came through the patio doors back into the kitchen, eager to start taking their dinner outside. Cheyenne had decided on roasted Cornish hens, stuffed with a raisin nut stuffing.

His favorite vegetable was grilled asparagus, to which she added a light cream sauce complete with capers. She completed the meal with a garlic-flavored orzo and a salad with Roquefort cheese, red and green peppers, red onions, and cherry tomatoes.

Once settled, they grasped hands and Aaron said grace. He hadn’t finished saying amen before he had a forkful of stuffing in his mouth. He mimicked a gangsta wannabe. Hmmm…it’s aw’ight. But…maybe a little too much salt.

Not looking at her, he proceeded to slice into his hen, then he glanced up quickly. Unable to keep a straight face at the surprised expression on her face, he leaned over to kiss her on the cheek just as her arm raised to swat at him with her napkin.

Darling, it’s delicious. You know I love it. And if I haven’t said it since I got home, I love you too.

You just saved yourself from sleeping in one of our many guest rooms, she retorted playfully.

While eating, they shared summaries of their perspective workdays and talked about the latest in the news. Before too long, they realized that the sun had started to set as the strategically placed gaslights started to come on automatically.

Okay, it’s time for dessert. Cheyenne announced this fact as she stood up, grabbing the remains of dinner to take into the kitchen.

Aaron groaned. If I eat another thing, I’ll explode.

He watched her butt as she retreated through the patio doors. Let me rephrase that. If I eat any more food, I’ll explode. He thought for a moment. But then again, if I eat my favorite delectable piece, I will explode for sure.

He looked at her, his eyes taking in every inch. Without wasting any more time, he grabbed what he could and followed her into the kitchen. When all was cleared from outside, he turned to Cheyenne with a twinkle in his eye.

His voice deepened as he announced, I have an idea. Let’s leave this for Mrs. Winthrop to clean up. I have some ideas on what we can do for dessert.

With that, he picked up a giggling Cheyenne and proceeded to their bedroom.

Chapter Two

Roxanne was pissed! Besides her back hurting, her head was pounding. The baby was kicking to beat the band, and Jason was tearing through the house as if he had the energy of three little people. The contractors were in the back of the house, still working on the new addition.

They were two weeks behind schedule, and here they were, on a Saturday, pounding and yelling to each other over the loud sounds they were already making. Charles had left her with the mess early this morning, looking apologetic as he hurried out the