A Love Story ~ The Romancing of Cheryl
There were several women I dated after Gail and I split up. Janie was the second to last. I was despairing. Janie was all right, I suppose, but she was a smoker and drinker and, having gone into her house, I knew she was completely unsuitable for a long-term relationship. After our Friday date, I dropped her off in Cleveland and slowly drove the 20 miles home to Harrisonville, knowing I would not see her again. I had never been one to pray to the Lord for help with temporal matters; perhaps it was time.
So I prayed. I asked the Lord if it wasn’t possible to find a particular woman. I wanted someone who was in to being a wife, a novel concept in those days. Someone who could cook, and liked to do it. Someone who could occasionally clean house and do the laundry. Someone good with kids, particularly little boys since I had two. I wanted her to be attractive and not averse to occasionally wearing makeup. She would have to share my conservative political and world views. I simply could not tolerate another liberal or leftist or free love woman in my life. I wanted to find someone to love, and who would love me, whatever that was. I wanted someone who would be absolutely faithful under all circumstances. Very important for me. I wanted someone to always have my back. So, this was my very sincere prayer. In my world in 1984, I didn’t stand a chance of coming across this person without God’s help. I was 36 years old and running out of time.
I was very into working out at gyms in those days. I was buff and wanted to stay that way. Unfortunately, there was no gym in Harrisonville, the small town where I had moved in September. Looking around, I found a small fitness center in Butler, 25 miles to the south, and a smelly gym in Grandview, 20 miles to the north. The Grandview gym was closer so I went up there three or four nights a week. The gym was owned by an odd little man named Gene Wilson. He was short and wiry, no fat at all, a stringy marathon runner. Very friendly. His son Mark, same size, was there most nights. New Creations Gym attracted some pretty heavy-duty guys. Some Chiefs football players liked to work out there along with some of the Kansas City Kings basketball team players. They made my 200 pounds look small.
That Monday night I was finishing my workout on the lat machine in the south room that held all the machines. The north room was strictly weights. New Creations had no women body builders at all, so it was surprising to see a couple of girls come in. Always on the lookout, I watched them. One was blond and a bit overweight with ok looks. The other was brunette, slender, and, simply put, a stunner. They stopped at the counter and visited with Gene for a few minutes. Getting some kind of permission I suppose, they pulled out notebooks and perfume spritzers, and walked straight over to me – I was the only other person in the room.
I stopped pulling the weights to see what they wanted. As they came up I directed my attention to the blond. One could safely look at her, but not the brunette. Only glances there. You know what I mean. She was simply too beautiful to look at directly. Model quality good looks. Unbelievable brown eyes. No, not safe at all to look at the Brunette, not at all. They talked with me, telling me they were students at Longview College and were conducting a study on the effect of various cologne scents when spritzed onto sweaty males. They wanted to spritz me and personally smell the results. Hmm. Not wanting them to leave too quickly, I agreed to be a subject. After spraying various parts of my arms, checking the results, and making notes, they wandered off to find other subjects.
I simply could not let that brunette get away without finding out some more about her, so after they left I inquired with Gene. I still remember that I said, “So, what’s up with those girls?” To my surprise, Gene told me the brunette was his daughter, Cheryl Barta. He went on to tell me she was having a really hard time right now. She was married but had split up with her husband some months ago. She had several kids. Then, without my even asking, he gave me her telephone number.
I mulled it over for a week and decided to take the plunge. Cold calls have never been my strong suit, and the fear of rejection was always present. This Cheryl was, after all, way beyond any girl in looks that I had ever dated, and she was only 26. This made her almost a child in my mind. Fortunately, she had a bunch of kids, and that automatically provides gravitas to a person. So I forced my fingers to work the phone and we visited. It turned out she was forewarned by Gene that he had given me her telephone number, and, although she couldn’t believe he had given me her number, she was expecting a call. I found out she wasn’t dating anyone, in fact, hadn’t dated anyone since she separated from husband Bob. I was impressed with our conversation. She was obviously smart as well as stunning. What a rare combination. She would, very hesitantly, like to go out. We agreed to a date on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. We hung up, but I had a funny feeling lingering in my chest.
I drove to Columbia for Thanksgiving with the parents on the 21st, leaving the boys with Gail for a change. The next day I was hanging around the kitchen talking with Mom. Around 2 p.m. a prophetic moment struck. I told her about this girl I had met in the gym and talked to on the phone. I told her I planned to marry her. Mother scoffed. I said wait and see. I feel this in my bones.
I picked Cheryl up at her little red house on 165th Street in Belton around 6 pm. Her kids had been farmed out to the lady across the street. My plan was a concert, and a comedy club in Kansas City. The concert featured Ravi Shankar, the sitar player, backed by the Kansas City Philharmonic Orchestra, at the Lyric Theater. I liked his music. He sat on a blanket barefoot surrounded in a semi-circle by the orchestra. I had a ‘moment’ as we were walking up the hill to the theater. It was quite cold and Cheryl was dressed very lightly, no coat, so I put my arm around her waist. She stiffened up, clearly uncomfortable. Well, maybe that was too familiar for a first date, although it certainly hadn’t been for the other girls I was dating. I took it as another good sign, and not a rebuff.
After the concert, we drove out to Waldo and the comedy club, which featured Calvin Coolidge. I must admit I had never been to a comedy club. I had discovered Cheryl was a Mormon as we exchanged information. When we went into the club she informed me Mormon’s did not drink alcohol, ever. That was ok by me. The fact she was a Mormon was intriguing, and I did not care a bit about not drinking. In fact, I found it admirable. Coolidge, was, however, a drunk, and got plastered during his routine. What was worse, he cracked a slew of bad Mormon jokes. I was embarrassed.
So, the evening of our first date ended. I drove her home and walked her up to her door. There was no invitation to come in, and after a few moments, I offered a very light kiss goodnight, more of a peck, really, on the cheek. Kind of stiff, she hadn’t been kissed in a very long time. I found out years later that Cheryl was expecting dinner on our date and had not eaten. She could have mentioned that and we could have gone to dinner instead of Calvin Coolidge, but she didn’t. As soon as I left she fixed herself something in the microwave.
Have I mentioned how gorgeous this girl was? Men stared at us, well, actually her. In addition to going to school, I had found she worked as a model for Ray LaPietra and Alaskan Furs, and did hair shows for Christoff. LaPietra had inside connections with the Kansas City mob, and Christoff was a flaming queer.
A few days later, Cheryl voluntarily came by the gym to see me, although she didn’t know I was there for sure. Or maybe Gene called her. We visited.
I felt it was time for the children to meet each other and the other adults. I had never introduced my boys to the other women I dated, but I knew this was more than just me. I needed to meet Cheryl’s children. Jared hid under a table, but he was very shy and insecure then. The rest of the kids got along. Bobby was wild. Brooke was quiet. Brad had in-the-way-itis. Beth was an unhappy baby. It was interesting to find Brooke and Aaron were practically the same age as were Brad and Jared. This similarity seemed to close the 10-year age gap between Cheryl and me, but I still felt like I was closer to her father and mother in age.
I learned a lot more about her past history that night. All about marrying her high school steady, Bob Barta. Having her first child at 19, then three more in quick succession, all at home. More things in common, Jared was born at home as well. As we talked, hints of her difficulties came out. She was trying to better herself by getting a college degree, while she worked as a model and raised four children. Since she split up with Bob he wasn’t much help. She and Bob talked about divorce, but hadn’t done it. She was afraid of going it entirely alone. I couldn’t blame her. She hadn’t dated a single guy since kicking Bob out nine months earlier. It’s the problem with being a beautiful woman – men are afraid to approach, and being several years older than the boys in the college, and having a lot of baggage, four children, although that probably wasn’t known since no one had even tried. Besides, she was married and a Mormon.
The Mormon thing was quite interesting. I had attended the Presbyterian Church in Paola when I was with my first wife, and since moving was attending the Presbyterian Church in Raymore now. I was just attending, had never been baptized. I knew the history of the Mormons and even gone to a Mormon open house in Paola four years earlier. Cheryl had only recently converted to the faith due to the influence of her next-door neighbors.
I also found she was very conservative and had voted for Ronald Reagan. I admired Reagan more than any other man and still do. The woman was certainly fitting all my requirements and then some. She was clearly a hawk, not militarily, but in general. There would never be anything soft spoken or retiring about Cheryl. She knew what she wanted in life – to be a success. She just wasn’t sure what in. She had also decided somewhere along here that she wanted me, but she kept that to herself.
I couldn’t keep away. I had firmly resolved that I would have this woman. When I called her from the gym, she asked me to pick up a gallon of milk. This became a regular occurrence. We talked for a few hours. She wanted me to call her when I got home, which I did, and we talked for a few more hours. This, too, became a regular occurrence.
As with Monday, Cheryl needed a gallon of milk. I was going to be the milkman, then. Cheryl fixed dinner and we talked for hours again. At some point in the evening the kids went to bed and we found ourselves on the couch, kissing. Just passionate kissing. She lay back on the couch and I looked into those beautiful brown eyes, and fell in. What is that song, ‘I want to know what love is’. I knew then what love is, for the very first time, and I was there. She was too, but she did not want to admit it.
Had to bring milk again. Cheryl fixed a nice family dinner. It was good. My first wife did practically no cooking. If we wanted to have something besides zucchini and onions, I fixed it. The kids kept wandering in to the table and getting food, but wouldn’t sit down. This would have to change. I do like an orderly dinner.
Cheryl was doing some scent modeling at Indian Springs shopping center in Kansas City, Kansas, for Ray LaPietra. In those days, it was still safe to go there in the daytime, but it was getting very dangerous for the sales girls and models to walk to their cars late. Guards had to walk them out. I discovered that the black guys that frequented Dillards were totally enamored with Cheryl. This went on for years, still does.
On Thursday, Cheryl had admired some earrings, but couldn’t afford to buy them, so I did. And, now, in the middle of December, she still didn’t have a decent warm coat, so I bought one of those she had admired, too.
The first time I went to church with Cheryl was at my old church in Paola, Kansas, the Presbyterians. The occasion was Vespers Service, which was always really outstanding. The church choir was practically professional, my ex-wife was the organist/pianist, and she was a professional. There were always other professional musicians as well, concert violinists, wind instruments. I wanted Cheryl to see Gail, but at a distance. It was a bit uncomfortable. Gail noticed us, which I didn’t mind at all. I try not to be bitter about Gail and her choices, but I wasn’t entirely successful with this.
Judy Odem was the City Clerk at Cleveland, Missouri, my client. Over the months I worked for the City, we had become friends. I stopped at City Hall to visit for a few minutes and told Judy I planned to marry Cheryl. Judy’s comment was, “Roy, you can’t do that. She is a Mormon and is going to hell.” Judy was a committed Baptist. I shrugged that off. According to the Baptists, I was going to hell, too, for being a Presbyterian.
We took off at noon one day for an afternoon of Christmas shopping. This was novel for me. I never shopped with another person, much less a woman. I was extremely nervous. I was planning to make a really serious major move, and I wasn’t sure of myself or the possible results. Cheryl was still married. She had four children. I wasn’t at all sure I could support four children and a beautiful wife. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, but I had to have her, now and forever. God gave me this opportunity, and He wasn’t going to do it again.
I had my ring with me. This was a favorite of mine, a heart shaped setting of rubies surrounding a cluster of diamonds. It was the most precious thing I possessed. I had bought it a couple of years before with the thought of giving it to Gail, but when I showed it to her, she disparaged it. I didn’t mind keeping it. I had bought it because it was beautiful and I loved it. If I weren’t a man, I would have worn it myself.
We had a late lunch at Victoria’s Station at 104th and Wornall in Kansas City. After lunch, I offered her the little box with the ring in it. Would she take it? I didn’t know. We had met only 24 days before. It represented commitment. It was hard for me to offer the commitment. It was going to be hard for her to accept it. She took the ring with something inside her melting. I could see it. I did not ask for her to marry me, then, but it was understood that our relationship was changed now.
Beverly and Jerry Aksamit were political friends of mine. Bev was the County Collector at the time, Jerry the Mayor of Cleveland (Missouri). I wanted to tell someone what I had done, so I told Bev. Bev, unlike Judy, entirely approved. A couple of hours later I had lunch with Cheryl. She had the ring with her and put it on at the table. It fit. I guess the commitment was made. We were engaged, sort of. Of course, she was still married to Bob.
Cheryl was leaving Sunday for Michigan with her kids and Bob to go to her in-laws for Christmas. A tradition. I was, frankly, terrified. I did not see how she could spend a week away with her husband and not sleep with him. I was sure Bob and his family would have a full court press on to stop our relationship. This could be the end of my new dream. Cheryl offered what assurances she could, and left. I went to Columbia for the holiday.
I was in the kitchen at Mom’s house when she called. What an unbelievable surprise. She said she had walked to a public phone, it was outside, and it was cold, and snowing. We talked for quite a while with Cheryl freezing in the snow. My heart sang. This would be a Christmas to remember.
We survived our first separation and a trial of faith. I asked her to marry me. She demurred.
By the time we had celebrated New Years Eve, I was snowed in at Cheryl’s house. I spent the night on the couch and went home in the morning.
One should have a special dinner on New Years Day. One of my favorite recipes was my own version of Swiss Steak. It involved preparation of a complicated sauce in which the steak was cooked. I gathered up all the ingredients plus some side dishes and headed to Cheryl’s through the snowdrifts. I think that the Swiss Steak dinner may have been the convincing factor for her. She still mentions it. I really am a good cook as well as being a good engineer.
Late that night I again asked her to marry me. She demurred, again.
Cheryl’s mother had, I think, decided to take a hand in the romancing of Cheryl. It was time to meet the parents – outside of the gym – so we were invited to dinner. It was an interesting situation. In the first place, Gene had facilitated the romance by encouraging me to call Cheryl. In the second place, Caroline, her mother, wasn’t all that much older than me. Dinner was good. Caroline was and is an excellent cook, and she laid it on for me. I am fairly sure she noticed the expensive ruby ring Cheryl was wearing, and offered not so subtle comments about how stable and secure engineers were, particularly engineers that were in private practice. We talked a lot. By the end of the night I clearly had an ally in the courting of Cheryl. Saturday, I was flying to Denver with the boys for a planned ski trip with my sister and brother-in-law.
I had to leave for the short ski trip with the boys that day. I asked Cheryl to marry me, again, very seriously. I told Cheryl that she had to tell me yes or no, no demurrals. I loved her and had to marry her, or go away for good. At 2:00 a.m., she accepted. After a 60-day courtship, the issue was resolved. I don’t know if it was a case of ‘the third time is the charm’, or motherly influence, or she had this in mind all along. Later that day I left for Denver with the boys.
It was time for her to finalize her divorce with Bob.
We were betrothed, but we were also determined to be honorable and postpone conjugal relations until we were actually married. I did not love Cheryl because she was good in bed, I loved her for who she was, and, of course, because she was beautiful. Being older now, I knew that a marriage must begin on mutual understanding and respect, not on sexual relationship. Besides, she was still married, and I would not participate in that old fashioned concept, adultery. My first wife had done that and I knew the ultimate destruction that came from it. We agreed by some means to get married April 19, quite a ways off.
I had noticed the old worn down three story Victorian house on East Pearl some months before. It had been for sale, but then was signed as sold and with a contract pending. The day before, Monday, Jan Copeland, local realtor, called to tell me the house was back on the market. So, Tuesday morning, I looked at 1101 East Pearl. It would be large enough, but it would also have to be completely remodeled from the ground up. Cheryl called at 2:30 to ask about the house. I had no idea how I would manage to buy it.
We just looked at rings. They were all very expensive, and held no special meaning. Some time later, Gene offered Cheryl the diamond from his mother’s wedding ring. It is an old fashioned cut, so we looked for an old fashioned setting in an antique jewelry store. A week later, we found a beautiful old basket style setting ring in white gold that was perfect and had the diamond set. As time has passed, Cheryl has received many new rings and typically wears one of them on her third finger because the antique basket setting of her wedding ring is too delicate to wear much.
In all my life, I had never asked for financial help from my parents. Not for cars, university, anything. I felt prompted to talk with Dad. He quickly agreed to get me the money, although my Mother objected. It seemed everyone was getting into this marriage to Cheryl thing.
Poor Cheryl, she had a big gig to do makeovers for a bunch of sorority brats, and try to sell them makeup. Do to our incessant kissing, she had developed fever blisters on her lips. It wasn’t nice. The sorority brats weren’t interested in whatever brand of makeup Cheryl was selling, and spent their time making obnoxious comments. This event was at the Nichols home in Mission Hills, an incredible mansion. J.C Nichols owned most of the Country Club Plaza shopping district in Kansas City. It was fun sitting in the kitchen with him drinking expensive wine and eating delicious cheese. Cheryl deserved better than this.
Took Cheryl on a ski trip to Colorado. She had never skied, in fact, had never been to the mountains. I skied a lot, and undertook to teach Cheryl rather than putting her in ski school. This trip probably deserves its own special story. Cheryl picked it up pretty easily, only getting stuck with fear paralysis once on ‘Steep’, and only sliding under the ski rack at the base lodge once. I rescued her on Steep, but I am afraid I had to sidle away when she went under the ski rack dumping about 50 pairs of skis. Lucky she is so cute.
We stopped by the old house and started planning. It was going to be mine in a week or so. What an unholy mess. The former owners had kept animals in the house, including goats. It was a flea farm. Ceilings were falling in. Windows out. Plumbing didn’t work.
Somehow Dad had persuaded Mom to go along, and I got a check. In my ebullience, I failed to notice the radar trap.
The move to the old house made me very ill, I think with nerves. I would have a house payment now to go along with a new wife and six kids.
This week I moved all my stuff to the new old house. It didn’t look like much at all in the cavernous space.
Cheryl carefully arranged a surprise birthday party for me, and it was a complete surprise. Mom and Dad and Jan were there, Aunt Betty and Uncle Bill, my new in-laws to be, my new brother-in-law to be, the Aksamits, Jerry Porter, and others. This is the first birthday party I have ever had.
Now we moved all of Cheryl’s stuff. I was by this time paying Cheryl’s rent plus my own. Come the end of the month, I would owe another rent payment. Since we were getting married in less than three weeks, we decided to co-habitate. No more driving back and forth to Belton every day, except, of course, Bobby had to stay in school until the end of the semester.
Just a week away. We were really going to do it.
Cheryl was so nervous on the way to the church I thought she would pass out.
What a day. It started with Bethany falling down the back stairs and getting all bruised up. Cheryl was incredibly nervous all day. Her car had broken down, and we were all going to have to get to Grandview in my little truck. Well, the kids were pretty small. Bradley and Jared were to be ring bearers, and were not being cooperative. Bobby and Aaron were to be candle lighters. Brooke and Bethany were flower girls. The last two, Anastasia and Brianna, were just bits of DNA in waiting and did not play a part. I am not sure how, but we pulled it off. Jared crabbed out and wasn’t much of a ring bearer. Aaron didn’t know what to do with his lighting candle, so dropped it on the floor and kicked it under a pew.
I don’t remember anything about the reception, or even if we had one. In lieu of a honeymoon, we were spending the weekend at the Elms spa in Excelsior Springs. Gene gave me a hundred dollar bill to spend, which I appreciated. Relatives took all the kids, and we were suddenly alone driving back to Harrisonville to change, Mr. and Mrs. Obermiller. We stopped in Belton at the Thai restaurant for our wedding dinner
And so, the adventure began.
It goes on to this very day.
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