Elizabeth was everything that Simon could want in a wife. So what went wrong?

This is a work of adult fiction; there are no deliberate references to anyone who has ever lived, is alive now or who has passed on. This work is copyright and no reproduction in any form, except for personal perusal, is permitted without the express permission of the author, her heirs or assigns.
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She’s Not You
by Susan Heywood

~ ELIZABETH ~

I rounded a bend in the road which led over the crest of the hill. Hanscombe stretched out before me as in a fairy tale. It was vast; it appeared to go on forever as I drove seemingly for miles with a strong wire fence on my right. The fence eventually gave way to a stone wall and, not long after, I came to an imposing stone archway, beneath which a pair of large wrought iron gates formed the only visible break in the boundary. I turned into the entrance, stopped the car and, opening the window, pressed the call button.

A disembodied voice answered from a speaker, which was set into the stonework. "Good morning, Hanscombe House."

"Hello, I’m Elizabeth Bennett; I’m expected."

"Good morning Miss Bennett, please proceed up to the house and one of the staff will meet you."

- Can I do this? Isn’t it all a bit too much, too soon? More to the point, will they like me? -

The gates silently swung open; I sighed as I let the big car coast gently through. I couldn’t see the house, but a tarmac drive disappeared into the distance and I headed along it. My route was lined with palm trees; there must have been hundreds of them. They weren’t out of place on the South Devon coast, where the climate is usually quite mild.

- Imagine planting so many trees, knowing that you won’t live to see them grow to maturity -

It took several minutes to reach the house, which appeared suddenly as the road took a sharp right-hand turn, and came to an abrupt end in a gravel car park the size of a football pitch. I’d been driving for several hours and, although the Mercedes was air-conditioned and automatic, I was tired from my journey. I had grown tense and anxious, but excited, at the prospect of the sixty-odd hours before me.

It was a relief to turn off the engine and step out into the fresh air. I was greeted by birdsong and the relentless crash of the waves as they met the shore, somewhere on the other side of this magnificent building.

My research had revealed that the eighteenth century house was originally conceived to demonstrate the wealth of a rich merchant. It had been extended over the ensuing one hundred years or so by his heirs, and it was obvious where each builder had left his unique mark on it. Ostentatious to say the least, and built in the Palladian style, it had the almost obligatory mock Greek temple in the grounds. There were a few steps up to a wide main door and the elegant floors were crowned by mock battlements.

- Imagine upsetting the owner and being met with a hail of musket balls fired from up on that roof -

The front door opened, a man stepped out and proceeded to walk down the stone steps towards me. He looked to be somewhere in his fifties, with grey hair and thick-framed glasses, and wouldn’t have been out of place in an Agatha Christie mystery. He appeared to be the archetypal English butler: black suit and tie, white shirt, and black shoes polished to reflect the spring sunshine.

"Good morning, Miss, I am James," he said as he came over to the car, opened the boot with practiced ease, and retrieved my suitcase.

- He would be James, wouldn’t he? -

"Please follow me, Miss." He led me into the house.

The front door gave onto an enormous entrance hall. The room featured sumptuous Egyptian blue carpet and suits of armour standing to attention against the dark wood paneled walls. Portraits of sour-faced antecedents glowered down upon the steel army below. Interspersed with the portraits were paintings of many of Jonas Hanscombe’s fleet of sailing ships.

My research, on the family and the house, revealed that the other rooms had been decorated and furnished to the same high standard as this one; Jonas Hanscombe had made a large fortune, very quickly.

Just then I heard a male voice command, "Rusty; stay." A moment later, my beloved strode into the room.

My heart quickened as I took in his rugged good looks — his strong features and his dirty blonde hair, cut in a short military style. His clothes bore testimony to the fact that he had just returned from a horse ride around the estate. His whole image shouted English country gentleman. I walked quickly to him and smiled, tilting my head. He enfolded me in a bone-crushing hug and kissed me soundly on the lips.

I shivered with pleasure.

"Hello darling. Tiring journey?"

I nodded and smiled again. "I’d kill for a bath; I must smell like Rusty after a swim in the lake."

He kissed me again, and smiled.

"Well, as I want to live a long and healthy life, and see my grandchildren grow to maturity, I’d better not stand in the way of a woman on a mission. James will show you to your room; I will escort you into dinner."

I quivered with anticipation as I turned to go, but his voice made me falter; my heart grew warmer, if that was possible.

"By the way, you smell simply delicious, not at all like Rusty."

I grinned as I turned towards the wide staircase and followed James.

I was shown into a room — no, a suite - at the back of the house. When I was at last alone I headed for the opulent bathroom, and prepared to make the most of the next few hours.

After pampering myself, I put on the toweling robe, thoughtfully provided by my hosts, and returned to the bedroom. I dried my hair as I gazed out of the window at the breathtaking view of the English Channel, seemingly just a stone’s throw away.

Gulls and terns, wheeling and diving over the shoreline, made a spectacular and noisy sight. I made a mental note to keep the bedroom window closed at night or the birds might wake me before dawn.

- That’s if I’m still in this room when I wake in the morning -

Knowing that dinner was semi-formal I had brought a red cocktail-length dress and matching heels. I had made sure the dress was suitably demure, in deference to Simon’s parents. I didn’t want them to gain the wrong impression.

Simon liked me in red; he said that it complimented my tanned complexion and my long, wavy blonde hair. He seemed to like me in most of the clothes I wore but said that he liked me most of all, "out of them."

- Randy sod! Not that I’m complaining; that man just has to stand near me and I tingle all over -

It being my first visit to the house I couldn’t help peering at every detail as I made my way down to dinner. I saw Simon’s reflection in the huge mirror at the foot of the stairs; my heartbeat became almost audible. His superb physique was enhanced by a dark-blue suit, air force-blue shirt and RAF OCA tie.

Squadron Leader Simon Hanscombe DSO DFC was indeed a fine catch and I, Elizabeth Bennett, appear to have caught him.

We had met at a dance in the officers’ mess at RAF Lyneham, where he had been stationed at the time, and we’ve been together ever since. I had to temporarily suppress thoughts of waking next to him every morning for the rest of my life. I was in imminent danger of disgracing myself and wet panties at dinner would not be at all amusing.

Simon and I smiled at each other as I took his arm; he led me through an ornate, wide doorway into the dining room. The décor and furnishings left even me breathless, and I was in awe of the huge amount of money that had been handed down through the generations.

Simon’s parents greeted me as I entered the room. I stared open-mouthed at the amount of silverware on a dining table that could comfortably seat fifty. All along the sides of the long room, large mirrors reflected the glitter and grandeur of the occasion. The girlfriend had come to visit and she was to be assured of the wealth of this family and its estates — while being assessed as to her suitability to become the next Mrs Hanscombe.

"Elizabeth, welcome to our home," Simon’s mother said, after a gentle hug. "I do hope that you will enjoy your weekend with us. What a lovely dress! Oh, and do please call me Sarah."

I gulped, and then smiled. "Thank you, Sarah; I am delighted to visit you but I am glad that I am not responsible for cleaning these enormous chandeliers."

She laughed melodiously. "Oh I can see that we are going to be fast friends. Let me introduce you to Simon’s father. My dear, this is Elizabeth Bennett. Elizabeth, may I present Peter Hanscombe."

"Hello Elizabeth; I must say what a pleasure it is to meet you. Simon has sung your praises and I can certainly see why. And please call me Peter."

Still smiling, I allowed him to take my hand and I accepted a brief kiss on the cheek. "I am delighted to meet you, Peter. Simon has told me much about you both, and about your wonderful home."

We all sat down to a very enjoyable meal.

This family clearly adhered to the tradition that men and women separate into their gender groups after dinner. Thus I found myself being grilled by Sarah on my history, my ambitions and, basically, my fitness to bear the next generation of Hanscombes. I spoke of my father, the multi-millionaire property developer; my mother, the shy socialite; my expensive education in Switzerland; my resulting fluency in French and German and my first meeting with Simon. My love for him must have shone out and I silently hoped that I would give a good impression of myself over the next two days. The fact that I came from the Nouveau Riche didn’t appear to be a problem. After all, I don’t suppose that Jonas Hanscombe was well-connected until he himself made those connections — and his fortune.

Dinner was served by James, but I was very surprised to learn that Sarah had planned and prepared it. She told me that James’ wife Gloria helped in the house; cleaning, cooking, housekeeping, and so on. Apart from Bill, who looked after the estate and gardens, and his assistant Leo — who also acted as groom - that was it. Everyone was kept very busy.

Simon was the only male child; it was essential, therefore, that he make a good marriage and continue the family line. His younger sister Emily was away at medical school. She was going to be a gynaecologist. I quickly learned that this family planned things; they set their minds on them and they happened.

The evening came to a very amicable end and Simon kissed me goodnight outside my bedroom door. I watched him as he walked to his own room. I had no need to resort to the tedium of words; he knew that I had a very healthy appetite — and that Simon Hanscombe was my favourite late night feast.

I awoke with the dawn, the sea birds making quite a cacophony as they hunted for their breakfast. I was puzzled, still in my room and alone. Had last night happened? I glanced at the pillow beside me and noticed the depression where his head had been. I felt very satisfied, but frustrated that I’d not received my usual wakeup kiss . . . together, of course, with a further session of lovemaking. . .as had become our custom at their townhouse. I realised that this visit was important to our future and resigned myself to the need for discretion at his home.

I heard movement elsewhere in the house and, by the time I’d bathed, dried my hair, creamed and powdered my body, put my face on, and dressed for the day, a good two hours had elapsed. Time enough, I thought, to go looking for my own breakfast.

Simon and his parents smiled when I entered the breakfast room; breakfast lounge would be a better description. Overlooking a terrace and the English Channel beyond, the room looked like the set of an old black and white movie from the nineteen-thirties.

"This room is gorgeous; it catches the morning sun and the sea views are stunning but I almost expect Bacall and Bogart to join us at any moment," I quipped.

Everyone laughed good-naturedly and I assured them that I had slept well. I didn’t mention my disappointment at waking alone.

Rusty, a six-year old Red Setter who seemed to follow Simon everywhere, appeared to change his allegiance that morning and sat motionless by my side, gazing adoringly while I ate my breakfast. He paid me more attention than did his master, but that’s dogs for you; he obviously thought I was a soft touch.

- I was certainly a soft touch last night — but what touched me hadn’t been soft at all, thank goodness -

Conversation was light and inconsequential.

At one point, Sarah touched my hand. "Tell me, my dear, do you ride?" She asked in a way that implied that those who did not were somehow lesser beings.

I confirmed that I did. Simon went out with his father, presumably on estate business, and I was left to the not so tender mercies of his mother - clearly a competitive and ambitious woman, especially on horseback.

The remainder of the day passed in reasonably good humour and dinner was again a semi-formal affair. Simon again escorted me to my room, kissed me, and said in a low voice, "I’ll see you later when Mama and Papa have retired for the night."

I tingled from head to toe.

I had been in my room for an hour or so when there came a gentle knocking at my bedroom door. On opening it I found Simon wearing nothing but a fetching silk robe and a predatory smile.

I awoke again to the sounds of birds and the breakers on the shore. I stretched and felt pleasantly relaxed and satisfied, but was again disappointed to find that the other half of the bed was empty. I put this down to consideration on Simon’s part, bearing in mind the proximity to his parents’ room, I longed for the freedom which we usually enjoyed and looked forward to the day when such caution was no longer necessary. This was, after all, a political visit; necessary but frustrating. I needed the seal of approval from God-knows-how-many generations of Hanscombes.

If I’d had my way, we’d have just run off to some exotic island in the Caribbean and shagged our way around it for a couple of weeks.

I knew that Simon had taken a posting to an American Air Force base and that I would be without my usual, 'bedtime comforter.' It was, therefore, with a heavy heart that we said our lingering goodbyes on the Monday morning. We would see each other again the following weekend, at their townhouse, but I also knew that I would have to survive several months of deprivation while he was in the States. Our next weekend together was everything I hoped for — and more — but I definitely was not looking forward to three months without him. I know that absence is supposed to make the heart grow fonder but there are limits. It’s as well that I’ve a good variety of toys in my bedside cupboard; I’d go mad without them.

~ SIMON ~

I’d been looking forward to Elizabeth’s visit. She and I had quickly became much more than dance partners, much more even than good friends and I just ached for the times, in between my duties, when we could be together. Looking further ahead, I could see a time when she would be Mrs Simon Hanscombe. I anticipated her visit with mixed emotions because clearly we could not be as free with our feelings towards each other as we were in town. Still, it was necessary that Mama and Papa meet Elizabeth and, I sincerely hoped, give her their approval. I loved her so much and knew that I had to be patient while both sets of parents plotted and schemed in the background.

I felt that I had to be discreet, and that meant that I couldn’t take the risk of my bumping into parents while I escaped back to my room. It was therefore with frustration and sadness that I’d leave Elizabeth as dawn was breaking. The freedom which we usually enjoyed had to be curtailed in the interests of placating parents who were, to my mind, quite conservative.

It was with a heavy heart and slight relief from tension that I said goodbye to Elizabeth on the Monday morning. I promised us both that, before heading for the States in ten day’s time, I would do my level best to ensure that we spent a totally decadent and lazy few days together.

~ ELIZABETH ~

We met at the townhouse and enjoyed the whole weekend together. By the time Simon had finished work and driven from his base, he was fairly tired, but, as promised, I was at the house early and cooked a dinner for him.

After dinner I asked what he’d like for dessert.

He simply smiled and said, "You."

The pattern for the weekend had been set. We didn’t stray far from the bedroom and, apart from Sunday brunch with mutual friends, we spent every minute we could together. I reluctantly bade him a long farewell on the Monday morning, knowing that the wonderful man with whom I was so deeply in love would be out of the country for three months.

~ SIMON ~

Things started to go wrong when I took up a three-month posting to Arnold Air Force Base in Tennessee. I just couldn’t pass up the chance of spending three months at the Engineering Development Center, particularly as Her Majesty’s Government was paying. The AEDC, from what I saw, can justify its claim to be the largest and most advanced complex of flight simulation test facilities in the world. I got the distinct impression that I was being groomed for stardom and my rapid rise to commanding my own squadron was evidence enough for me.

Shortly after I arrived in Tennessee, I bought a map, hired a car and spent my spare time exploring the area around the base. On the Saturday of the third weekend I walked into a restaurant in Chattanooga.

Annie Lincoln was petite, slim, and beautiful, with wavy, brown hair to her shoulders and curves in all the right places. She put a glass of water on the table and set out cutlery and a napkin. "What can I get you? The ribs come highly recommended."

I could easily command a squadron of pilots and ground crew but she had me tongue-tied, a situation with which I was totally unfamiliar. Her cultured voice sounded nothing like the other Tennessee folks that I’d already met in the time that I’d been here. It flowed over me like baby oil being gently wiped across the skin with a fine, silk cloth.

Between mouthfuls of my delicious lunch, I watched as she attended to the other customers. She had a good rapport with them, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling of instant magnetic attraction. I was despondent when my meal was finished; I’d eked out the time with coffees, but could think of no good reason to further prolong my visit.

While I paid the bill, I asked if she worked the next day. She touched her fingers to her lips, then to mine and said, with a smile, "See you tomorrow, honey."

I found a hotel and took a room.

- I know it isn’t far back to the base but I can’t leave Chattanooga -

That sweet face filled my waking thoughts and my restless dreams.

I had no part in the decision as my feet took me into that restaurant at lunchtime on Sunday. There she was. She smiled and came over to my table with water, cutlery, and napkin.

"Hi, honey."

That voice again. I smiled as my stomach flipped.

"Special?"

"Y... Yes please."

"I just love your accent." She smiled as she turned and went to place my order. I wondered if she realised just how much her voice affected me.

Her gently swaying body hypnotised me when she walked. When she eventually brought a plate of food, I realised sheepishly that I had no idea what I’d ordered. I ate mechanically, not really tasting the chicken, but imagining sharing a meal with this delightful creature.

She left me to my lunch and when it came time to settle the bill, I asked if I could see her again. Crazy, I know. Cheating on Elizabeth, I know. Bewitched by this brown-haired beauty, definitely.

I visited Chattanooga every time I could and very reluctantly said goodbye to her when it was time for me to return to the UK. We exchanged addresses and lingered over a deep, toe-curling kiss. My shoulders were slumped as I got into the car to drive to the base, pick up my things, and head for home.

~ SARAH ~

Simon had been back in the UK about two weeks when letters from the USA started arriving. I tackled him about it. "Simon, who do you know in the States?"

"Oh, just someone I met in Tennessee."

All through Simon’s childhood, I knew when I wasn’t being told the whole truth. I knew it now.

~ SIMON ~

I’d been dreading Elizabeth’s visit. I know I’ve not been fair to her and that she deserves better. I just don’t know what to do. So much has changed, almost in the blink of an eye.

We met again at the townhouse and I hoped that the weekend ahead would douse the American flame. Not a chance. Elizabeth must have seen that I was seriously distracted because she asked several times if I had found someone else. I denied it, but I’m not really sure that she believed me.

It was with a profound sense of relief that I kissed her goodbye on that Monday morning and we headed our separate ways. It was one of those times when I was very glad of the sheer volume of work involved in keeping a squadron of aircraft operational.

- Maybe the responsibility for all those people and millions of pounds worth of kit will take my mind off my dilemma -

~ ELIZABETH ~

I visited the estate again about two and a half weeks after Simon returned from the USA and a week after the disturbing weekend we’d spent at the townhouse.

Simon greeted me and we went through the usual routine of catching up after five days apart. It did seem, though, that he lacked the fire of the old Simon — somewhat how I imagined my car might feel to drive if part of the engine wasn’t working properly.

During my stay, I noticed that Peter Hanscombe appeared to pay me more attention than did his son, who often gave the impression of being on a different planet. Simon’s posture clearly indicated that he was rather dejected and I felt like a distant family member, rather than the love of his life. I was sorely tempted to ask if there was a problem with his work but this could have been misconstrued as snooping - so I remained silent and merely answered him when spoken to. If it had not been for the small talk with Sarah, and my instant friendship with Emily, who was visiting for the weekend, I am sure that I would have made some excuse and left early.

I awoke each day with the dawn, the sea birds squawking as they wheeled and turned overhead, then knifing into the water and emerging with their beaks full of fish. I was puzzled, and felt hurt and neglected. Each morning, I woke in my room and was alone in a cold bed. I was sure that Simon would have suffered some deprivation, particularly as I’d not seen him for a week, and before that for three months — but here I was, gazing up at the ornate ceiling and wondering where Simon and I should go from here.

The atmosphere at breakfast and during the days was brittle.

Oh, Simon was friendly enough, as was his family, but I was still convinced that his thoughts were elsewhere. I didn’t hear a movement all night and it took ages for me to get to sleep. My mind kept running over the events since he returned and I wondered if we really did still have a future together.

On the Monday morning, as James took my case to the car, Simon took me in his arms and kissed me. I felt as though I’d been kissed by my first boyfriend, not the man I’d hoped to marry.

"Darling," he said behind sad eyes, "I’m so sorry about this weekend; I am very tired and confused after my trip to America and need to make some important decisions. I promise that I’ll call you in the week and perhaps we can get together at the townhouse next weekend. This place is not conducive to clear thought, especially when it involves something as important as our future."

"There’s someone else, isn’t there?"

He was silent: his silence condemned him.

I walked in a daze as he guided me to the car. I sat for a few minutes gathering my thoughts before I let the car quietly take me back to the main road and home.

~ SIMON ~

I was confused. I thought I had it all worked out, but I was so wrong. The only thing I could think of was to go back to Tennessee and try to make up my mind.

I wrote and asked Annie if I could see her again. She replied by return, saying that she was looking forward to it.

She lived near the Smoky Mountains National Park. I rented a cabin there and picked her up on the way. I ran towards her as she came out of her house; we met and hugged and kissed like old flames rekindled. I’m sure she could feel my heart pounding as I picked up this little woman and my lips crushed hers. It seemed an age before we broke the kiss.

A feverish barking noise from the side of her house alerted me to the presence of a very protective dog, who obviously thought I was attacking his mistress. I took one look at the animal and froze. It could have been the twin to the one I had left at home. Annie laughed, walked over to the animal, and spoke gently, scratching its ear.

"OK Rusty, he’s a friend," she said, laughing again, and telling me that Rusty was a six-year old Red Setter. I knew that and I nodded numbly; the name, the breed and the age were the same.

I said I had one at home that could be his brother - spooky. She said that we both obviously had good taste; we laughed delightedly while I took her bag to the car.

Once at the cabin, we quickly developed an unspoken language. I questioningly raised my eyebrows as I opened the door to the master bedroom and she enthusiastically smiled at me and flung her arms around my neck. We didn’t stray from that room for a very long time.

During the next few days we explored the Park or just sat under the Hickory trees and talked. That’s when we could be bothered to even get out of bed in the morning.

She spoke briefly of her family in Maine. I asked how she came to be in Tennessee.

"After school, I took a year out to travel around the States. When I got to Tennessee, I fell in love with the place and decided to stay. There’s just something about it I love."

"Hmm, I feel the same," I said, smiling at her.

I gave her an edited and brief summary of my family in England. I didn’t mention that I was the heir to a fortune; I didn’t think it mattered to my wonderful country girl.

And, I certainly didn’t mention Elizabeth Bennett.

I thought I’d been in love with Elizabeth, but this felt so different. By the end of the holiday, I believed that I was really in love with Annie, but I didn’t want to rush her. I reluctantly dropped her off in Gatlinburg on the way back to Nashville; the goodbye kiss seemed to go on forever. I caught the plane home.

~ SARAH ~

Simon came to visit on his own. I asked him what was preoccupying him and what the problem was with Elizabeth.

"Problem?"

"Simon, I could always tell when you were withholding something; I can tell now. What is it?"

He sighed. "I don’t know, Mama, I met a girl in Tennessee and I can’t get her out of my mind."

"Are you having second thoughts about Elizabeth?"

"I don’t know, Mama."

"It’s not fair to keep her hanging on."

"I know; I just can’t get Annie out of my mind."

"Tell me about her."

Simon spent the next hour telling me all about this American girl he’d met.

"I don’t think she’d make a suitable wife for you; she’s so culturally different from us."

"That doesn’t matter, Mama; I love her."

"And what about Elizabeth? You’ve known her for some time; you’ve only known this Annie for a few weeks."

Like his father, Simon could be very stubborn. We had wanted him to join Peter’s law firm, but Simon had other ideas.

"I really don’t know what to do, Mama. I do love Elizabeth, but Annie makes me feel as though I could conquer the world. I’d row the Atlantic for her if I had to. I can’t really explain it."

"I think you just did."

"I think I need to visit the States again."

I said nothing. I’d not seen Simon like this since he told Peter that he wasn’t going to study law, that he’d accepted a place at Cranwell and wanted to be a pilot in the Royal Air Force.

~ SIMON ~

Annie met my flight. It had been a long journey, with several connections, but it was worth it to see the look on her sweet face. We kissed deeply and I was glad to toss my travel bag into the back of her car.

The world, England, and my job faded into insignificance as I once again beheld my sparkling young woman; she smiled while she negotiated the roads to Gatlinburg. I’d booked no accommodation; I was staying with Annie. It didn’t take long for me to make up my mind that this was the girl I was going to marry.

One evening, we were sitting watching a stream idling its way from the mountains; I couldn’t wait any longer. I asked her to marry me.

She looked downcast and turned away from me to stare at the meandering water. She sat with her head in her hands, tears running down her cheeks.

"I knew this would happen. I hoped and dreaded it at the same time. Simon, there’s something you should know; I can’t have children."

"Oh." I thought of my mother and became angry. Annie was perfect for me but wouldn’t be perfect for my parents, for whom I needed to find a good breeding mate. Then I brightened. "We could adopt."

"No, it’s more than that. I... I love you so much — but I can’t lie to you. Y... You have to know about me before we can go on."

I looked at her, puzzled, but silently willing her to continue.

"Simon, I... I was born a girl, but not a complete one. I was an intersex baby."

"WHAT?"

"I’m sorry."

"I don’t understand, we’ve been..." I shuddered and thought of the past few months, our sharing a bed, but she’s...

She explained about her birth, "Androgen Insensitivity" she called it. I didn’t want to hear it but I suppose I had to. When she finished she looked at the expression on my face and said, tearfully, "Please, just take me home."

We drove in silence. I left her in Gatlinburg and collected my things. Not a word was spoken by either of us. I hired a car and drove to the airport.

On the flight home, I cursed my parents; I cursed every generation back to Norman the Conqueror; I cursed my cowardice. I’d been decorated for gallantry in a war zone, but had cowered before a past that held me prisoner just as surely as if I’d been captured by an enemy.

I knew that I’d never forget Annie Lincoln.

Throughout the years of my marriage to Elizabeth Bennett, and despite four children and thirteen grandchildren, I never did.

The End

Once again, my grateful thanks go to Angela Rasch for her invaluable help and advice.

---

This story was inspired by a song on the album 'No Fences' by Garth Brooks. The album and, especially, this track is played a lot in my house and on my mp3 player, etc. I’m definitely a fan.

'This Ain’t Tennessee' by Jim Shaw and Larry Bastian

It’s a big estate, with wrought iron gates
And palm trees standing tall;
Fancy mirrors and chandeliers,
Comfort wall to wall.
And the ocean air is so crisp and clear
And they rave about our view;
But there ain’t no mountain breeze,
And there ain’t no Hickory trees,
And this ain’t Tennessee, and she ain’t you.

There’s a bedroom suite where she comes to me
And, as her fingers touch my face;
I close my eyes and I fantasize of another time and place.
What she feels is so warm and real
And I know her love is true;
And she tries so hard to please,
But I think sometimes she sees,
That there ain’t no Hickory trees,
And this ain’t Tennessee, and she ain’t you.

It’s not that it’s not grand enough
And it’s not that I’m not man enough
There’s just something easy-going that I love
About you and Tennessee.

So I made my mind to learn my lines
And try to play the part;
But part of me is in Tennessee
And deep down in my heart
I miss my Smoky Mountain home
And I miss your lovin’ too.
And it’s deep inside of me,
And it’s always gonna be,
Cause this ain’t Tennessee
And she ain’t you.