Into Many Worlds - A Collection of Short Stories

Ever The Twain Shall Meet

Their eyes met and instantly his heart beat faster as butterflies stirred. Her hazel eyes stared into his soul, unblinkingly as he fell. Her golden hair neatly laid over her shoulder in beautiful waves, bringing out the dark gold in her brown skin. Her tan lips, with their perfect shape, widened in a smile. She sat still in her regal pose. There was no doubt in his impulsive mind she was the love of his life. He only had to formally meet her first and convince her.

"Believe it or not, this artist, as fabulous as he is, still couldn't capture her beauty."

Sam reluctantly took his eyes off the portrait of his future wife to look at his companion. Charles was his name. Sam met him on the cruise's trip back to his home, New York, and they've been inseparable since then. He was glad for it because he got to see the miniature portrait that Charles had commissioned for his sister as a birthday gift.

Charles was the son of a prominent coal business-man. He stood taller than Sam, and dressed considerably better, as he should, Charles came from a socially relevant family in New York, while Sam was just a reporter writing under a pen name. His hair wasn't golden like his sisters, but a light chestnut that suited his mahogany skin, and the green in his hazel eyes.

Sam and Charles grew close in the Holy Land. They were both freed blacks and abolitionists, and though the thirteenth amendment was established only two years ago, it was still an important status.

Sam learned that Charles had no love for the family business or the social-climbing he was born into, and Charles learned that Sam wanted to be a writer and had some very radical ideas for novels meant to shake up the worldview on slavery. But Charles had never really talked about his family, especially not his sister.

"What's her name?" Sam asked.

Charles turned from admiring the painting and smiled knowingly at Sam.

"Oh man," Charles said, nodding his head.

"What?" Sam asked. Charles burst out laughing, the most joyful laugh Sam had heard in a long while. "What?" Sam asked, confused.

"There is a line of suitors waiting for dear Livy back in New York. Join the queue, brother," Charles said sighing heavily and wiping at tears, "but I like you, Sam Clemens, I'm rooting for you."

"Livy," Sam sighed. He stopped listening to Charles after the mention of his beloved's name.

"Olivia Langdon," Charles informed him.

"Olivia," Sam repeated, incapable of hearing anything.

"I think my baby sister would like you," Charles said, turning back to the painting of his sister. "Come to New York, Sammy! Have dinner with my family and we'll see if you can beat out the others."

"You'd do that for me, Charley?" Sam asked.

"Of course!" Charlie slapped his shoulder, "you should see the schmucks that come calling."

They resume talking and relaxing as Olivia stares from her painting. "Olivia," Sam sighs. He's heartbeat wild at the thought of meeting his future wife for the first time.

X

He stood at the decorative door to the Langdon's household. He didn't want to be late and have a bad first impression, but he was even more scared to knock on the door. The love of his life was just a breath away. He took hours in the mirror getting ready so he knew where every inch of his hair laid on his each, each kinky strand of black hair straightened and styled. He knew the deep green of his jacket looked good on him, but maybe it was too gaudy for the likes of the famous Langdons.