Between the nagging of Mr. Spencer and the bellowing of the spiritual voices inside her tormented brain, Celeste decided to kiss everyone’s rear-end to keep the peace. For over a year and a half, the cowgirl became a book worm full of knowledge as Mr. Spencer diligently schooled the half-breed to graduation. Her personality is sharp, straight to the point, but lacks the glorious sunshine that usually radiated out of the girls soul. It has been too long of a time since Mr. Spencer can last remembered seeing the girl smile as he views his student testing. Celeste sat at the kitchen table taking her final exams to graduate this year seriously. The letter no longer sat at the center of the table, and Mr. Spencer didn’t instigate if she read it or not. He views the beautiful half-breed that barrels him over with her intelligent mind every time he gazes into her sad strange eyes.
At the age of seventeen in a half, Celeste’s artistry blooms to perfection. She is not the girly girls who likes to be pampered or primps into a mirror to paint her skin. She is simple in worldly possessions, but someone to take a double glance at her exotic earthy style. Celeste decided a while back to begin to make her own clothing out of animal skins just because she hated to go into a town, and since she jumped up to the height of six feet; it was hard for her to find clothing that fit her long legs, except for cowboy boots. She loved the soft deerskin leather to work her hand stitching magic creating tops and shorts for comfort, and bikini’s for the hot summer days. Even at an early age she never watched TV and found reading at night a pass time escape from the world; but lately she found herself sewing her clothing with satisfaction in peace and quiet listening to every clock on the wall tick tocking it’s time away. Her waist length unruly blonde hair is groomed into a long braid with leather strings behind her back with a cowboy hat upon her head she received from a cowboy at a rodeo. She is thankful the hat hid her gold and green eyes from Mr. Spencer’s nervous energy. It takes her a few more moments to check her multiple pages of the test before passing the work towards her teacher. “You sure Celeste; because if I pick up my red pen it’s final,” Mr. Spencer states in a firm tone. She stands up from the round table, and turns her back on him for the grading to commence.
Mr. Spencer is use to her silent treatments, and begins his examination upon her papers. It takes him a few hours to complete the grading after a whole pot of coffee Celeste made for the scholar. Celeste is stitching a pair of buckskin pants when Mr. Spencer steps into the living room where she retreated to keep herself busy. The teacher sits on the leather black sofa and said in a sad voice, “I’m sorry Celeste to tell you my assessment,” he waited to get her attention with her vision. Celeste laid the soft fabric down on her lap and gives Mr. Spencer a emotionless sad face. “It seems you are officially graduated from high school with a grade average of four point zero, which means you will no longer need my services unless…well I don’t know.” Celeste gives Mr. Spencer who is blushing a soft gaze, and nods her head with a small smile upon her lips. She desperately wanted to laugh a little at how he tried to be serious while joking with her, but she didn’t want him to see her smile again nor anyone else for that matter.
Celeste stands up and places her pants on the rocking chair, and turns to Mr. Spencer. “I thank you sir for pushing me to succeed, and for being there when I had no one to encourage me. Also, for letting me learn in a safe environment and understanding me as a person. It is I who am grateful my grandfather found you.” Mr. Spencer sat mesmerized by her smooth silky voice, he bumps himself out of his thoughts and stands up to her. He is afraid to ask her what he had spinning round in his mind as he finds their eyes connecting for the first time in a long time. “I…I,” Celeste scrunched up her brows in thought. “Yes, Charles” she encouraged the handsome scholar by having the gall to address him by first name in her sultry slow reply. Mr. Spencer became nervous under her watchful orbs and more shocked she had used his first name for the first time since they’ve been together. In fact, lately Mr. Spencer felt a deep rutted pull in his gut to investigate his feelings for Celeste sense every time he came near the cowgirl, her earthy allure would overwhelm him to senselessness. Not only did he feel her essence of womanhood rising each day, Charles could feel an unexplained power laying dormant deep in her soul that has yet to be set forth upon the world. He shakes his head and thinks he recovered his dumbness when he blurted out like a school boy nervous to ask a girl out for a date.
“Will you go out with me, I am mean….grrrr…I’m no good at this and for some reason you are making me tongue tie.” Mr. Spencer suddenly became wormy with nerves. Celeste was about to answer when Charles cut her off, “I mean just dinner to celebrate your graduation,” Charles sweated at the brow trying to explain to Celeste. “No sir, but I thank ya kindly. There’s no need to celebrate, except I do have a bottle of whiskey Henry use to drink if ya like a swig.” He nodded yes and followed the retreating cowgirl into the kitchen where she poured them both the fire liquor. “Celeste I’m impress you haven’t taken up to drinking alcohol, will this be your first time drinking,” he asked with care. “Yes, I haven’t had the nerve to get all liquored up, nor do I care too sir, now drink up and here’s to spit in you’re eyes.” She raised her shot glass to Mr. Spencer who busted up with laughter hearing her solute and took his shot glass off the table to join in the toast grinning so heavenly. Celeste finally couldn’t hold her lips any longer from moving, she too broke out in a smile, but not a laugh. “Where on earth did you hear that statement,” he asked cheerfully. Celeste returned back in time in Alabama when Ernie was her best friend in the woods who said the funny statement many times while raising his glass up to the heavens of moonshine to taste the pure brew of the alcohol substance. “An old mountain man use to make the comment,” was all she informed him before she brought the liquid to her lips and took a sip with Charles following suit.