by Sable Hunter
Savannah
Hearing from him and being able to communicate with him made Savannah only want to please him more, so she began to pour through her resources to see what she could find. It wasn’t long before she hit pay dirt. “Yes!” Here it was in black and white. Oh, it was just a start, but at least this clue would give her an idea of where to look next.
(Pierre LaVerdure, a French Huguenot came to England and married an Englishwoman named Prescila Melanson. Pierre LaVerdure later moved to Acadia with Sir Thomas Temple during the occupation by the English. Two of LaVerdure’s sons took their mother's name – Melanson - and chose to remain in Acadia while the third son, John, kept the name LaVerdure and immigrated to Boston.)
So, Patrick had been looking for the wrong name. LaVerdure wasn’t familiar to Savannah, but Melanson or Melancon was as common a name in Louisiana as Smith or Jones in any other part of the country.
Refusing to wait another moment, she shot off another email to Patrick to share with him her good news. And then she sat and waited – and waited - for a response and when it didn’t come she was so disappointed.
*****
“Look here, Patrick. Look what I found!” Jayco walked around the jeep and held up a black lab puppy. “She’s half starved. What do you want me to do with her?”
“You might as well shoot her,” Hawke grimaced. “It’d be more humane. She’ll just starve to death out here.”
“Give me that dog,” Patrick held his arms out. No one was going to shoot any puppies while he was around. He cradled the little dog to his chest. “Poor little mite. What’s your name, Girl?”
“You’re Irish, why don’t you name her an Irish name.” Hawke drained a beer, and then stared at the dog as if deep in thought.
Patrick didn’t contradict him. He was only part Irish, the rest was English and French, but it didn’t really matter. “She doesn’t look like a Colleen.” He rubbed the small dog’s head and thought about what he had to offer her to eat from his rations.
“Ciara means black in Gaelic, why don’t you name her Ciara.” Hawke raised his beer bottle and pointed to the small black dog.
“That’s a good name, Philip.” Patrick thought a lot of Phillip Hawke. He was as honest and reliable as the day was long. The man was a rock, physically formidable and the kind of a marine that you wanted at your side. Hawke was his spotter and he trusted him with his life. “Ciara it is.”
“Where did you come up with that and how did you know Ciara means black?” Jayco asked. Jayco was their flanker and there was no better man to watch your back than the Texas good ole’ boy.
“It’s them damn romance novels, Hawke is an avid reader of historical romance.” Patrick couldn’t resist hoorawing his buddy.
“Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Those books are damn hot. One handed reading, if you know what I mean.” He moved his fist up and down in a jacking off motion. “Beats the hell out of getting the clap from the brothels in Kabul. Those Chinese lovelies they’ve brought in are sweet, but I’m picky.”
“Hey, Patrick,” Jayco grinned. “Who’s Savannah?”
“What do you mean?” Patrick put the small dog down and began walking, whistling to see if she would follow. She did.
“When you were napping in the jeep earlier, you were moaning her name. It sounded like a serious moan to me.”
Patrick didn’t blush, but he did narrow his eyes and flash fire at his buddy. “Savannah is a beautiful woman that I met the day before I shipped out. And if anybody is moan worthy, it’s Savannah.”
“I bet she’s a Nordic beauty like Heidi. Right?” Jayco thought he had Patrick figured out.
“Nope, Savannah is petite with dark hair, dark eyes and a smile so sweet it makes the birds sing.”
“Damn Hawke, our Alpha has a lady.” The flanker had no ridicule in his tone, if anything it was a hint of jealousy.
“That’s right, and if you all will excuse Ciara and I – we’re going to go email my lady. She needs to know about this other woman in my life.”
“Patrick,” Hawke’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “I’ve heard rumblings. We’re about to be knee deep in trouble, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, don’t get too comfortable. It looks like Lucas has done it again. I think we’re about to get sent out on a reconnaissance mission. There’s a raid coming down the pike and if you’re a praying man – now’s the time.”
*****
It had been two days since she had heard from him and Savannah had convinced herself Patrick had experienced a change of heart. Logically she knew he was on a mission, and being in a war zone was not conducive for opportunities to chat on the computer all the time. But all the reasonable thinking in the world didn’t prevent her from worrying. What Patrick did was dangerous, there was no denying that.
Even though she would have liked to sit in her office and stare at the computer monitor, Savannah had several projects vying for her attention. PROOF had called and reported they had received final permission from the owners to investigate the grounds of The Grove plantation near Baton Rouge. It had burned down in the 1960’s after it had been struck by lightning. Some of the ghost stories told about the place were fantastic, so Savannah couldn’t wait. She had been asked to take part in the filming and had agreed to do so. So to get up to speed, she had begun to research the topic and get ready for her maiden voyage into the paranormal. After checking out a few websites, she had placed an order for some equipment and printed out all the protocol and tips she could find on how to have a successful ghost hunt. Just for fun, she was going to head to the local cemetery the first chance she got and see if she could find anything on her own. And today was Wednesday – the children would be at her house in about an hour and a half, so she had some things to do to get ready for them. Today’s project was cookie makings in a jar.
But first, she was going to pick up the genealogical research she had ordered for Patrick from the South Louisiana Historical Society. As it turned out, there was much more available on the Melancon family that she could have imagined. He would have to look at it, however, and see if any of the names meant anything to him. In fact, she intended to go ahead and send it to him as soon as she got back to the house. Hopefully this would be information his grandfather could use.
Heading to the parking lot she walked up on Fred March before she could make a move to evade him. What was he doing here?
“Hello, Savannah. Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
She always tried to be polite; Mrs. Mosby had ground southern manners into her very soul, but this man tried her patience. She didn’t trust him one iota. There was just something about him that didn’t ring true. “I’m on my way home, Mr. March. Have a good evening.” Now wasn’t a good time, she had no desire to fend him off. And what he was doing at the Cultural Center, she didn’t even want to think of it.
“Don’t be in such a hurry, Savannah. How about we go out for a drink?”
Fred was tall and thin. The suit coat he wore was rumpled and his shoes needed shining. Rivulets of revulsion skated over Savannah’s skin. “No, thank you. I appreciate you asking, though.”
“I don’t know who you’re saving yourself for, Savannah. It’s not like there’s a line of suitors waiting to take you out. You’re lucky that I waste my time on you. If you think that soldier has any real interest in you, you’re just fooling yourself.”
She didn’t answer. What could she say? He began to walk toward her and Savannah was just about to panic when Mr. Davis called his name. She had never been more glad to see her boss. “Professor, may I help you?”
“I’ve got an appointment with Randolph,” March volunteered.
As Fred made nice with Mr. Davis, Savannah made her escape. She’d apologize to her boss later, but right now all she wanted to do was get in her car and away from that snake. What he said shouldn’t have bothered her; after all, he was just a pervert. But it did.
Flinging open the door of her c
ar, she entered and hurriedly pushed the start button and got the hell out of dodge. Seeing the center in her rear-view mirror made it a little easier to breathe.
An email alert over her phone caused her heart to jump. Could it be Patrick? Lord, she was tempted to check her mail while going down the road. But that was too dangerous. So, she refrained and waited until she had run her errands and driven the few miles to her sanctuary. Today was the first time she wished for a security gate. Savannah couldn’t imagine Fred following her home, but the possibility gave her pause.
As soon as she was in her back door, Savannah put the safety latch on and breathed a little easier. Perhaps she shouldn’t sleep with the windows open tonight. Another ding caught her attention – more mail! Making her way to the kitchen, she pulled her shoes off along the way and headed straight to the coffee pot. Recently she had given herself a gift, one of those coffeemakers that made one cup of fragrant brew at a time. Her favorite was pumpkin spice, and right now she needed it. When she finally had the caffeine laden drink in hand, she sank down at the kitchen table and took her laptop from the carryall. Opening it up, she held her breath until she saw his name. Yay!! Patrick had emaile her.
Hey Gorgeous! It was so good to hear from you. I’m in the desert wasteland now and we don’t always have the most perfect internet service. I sure do hope you get this email all right. I’ll hold my breath till I hear back from you. The last one you sent me made me smile. I can guarantee that I will give you all the kisses you want. So you think I’m sexy? I must admit that made me hard. You’ll have to tell me how far I can go in these emails. I don’t want to offend you with my frank comments.
As far as you cooking me dinner when I come home, I accept your invitation. I wish I could tell you exactly where I’m going and what I’m going to be doing, but I can’t. When I leave base camp, I won’t be able to contact you until I return. But you keep praying for me, I’m counting on that.
We didn’t get to talk about a whole lot of things when we were together, so I think we should use this time to get to know one another better. Guess what? I have a dog. My teammate Jayco found her wondering outside base camp. I rescued her and named her Ciara. I think we’re going to be best pals. I’m bringing her with me when I come home. Could I bring her to dinner? Would you mind? Let’s see, what else can I tell you about myself? Oh yeah, I’m thirty years old. My best friend’s name is Revel Lee. He lives in Baton Rouge, not too far from you. Revel was in the Corp too, but he’s out now. I can’t wait for you to meet him. We’ve been friends since elementary school. I love to read and Homer is my weakness, the Illiad and the Odyssey are timeless. And my favorite music is jazz. Oh, and don’t be shocked, but I’m somewhat of an artist. I sketch and I weld metal sculptures. Someday I’m going to try and get them in a gallery. I’ve done mostly wildlife; full-size alligators, cranes, whitetail deer – even a buffalo. And I’ve done more abstract pieces, too. It makes me feel free when I create them and I know I’m leaving something of myself behind. I would write more but I have a meeting to go to. Wish me luck, there’s some really screwy things going on over here.
Let me hear from you soon. When you get ready to tell me that important secret, you know that I’m waiting to hear it. I just want you to know that I can’t even begin to imagine you telling me anything that will make me feel any differently toward you than I do. And yes, God, yes, I want a picture of you.
Patrick
Savannah reread the email a dozen times. Finding out more about Patrick was wonderful. She couldn’t wait to see some of his metal sculptures. He was smart, sweet and kind. There wasn’t a thing wrong with Patrick O’Rourke that she could see. He was perfect. And she would tell him so. Now, to worry about something really important - - which picture would she send? Immediately shbegan to wish for glamour shots, but she didn’t have any. Finally she decided on a candid shot that Tammany had taken. It wasn’t sexy, but her face and hair were decent and she didn’t look too chubby. What she wouldn’t give to be taller. And blonde. Oh well.
How glad she was to have something concrete to send him about his research. But mostly, she just wanted to talk to him.
Dear Patrick
I loved all the insight you gave me into your life. You are a renaissance man! I can’t wait to see your metal sculptures. They sound amazing, especially the cranes.
Please send a photo of Ciara. I love dogs. And knowing that you rescued her just warms my heart. And of course you can bring her to my house; I look forward to meeting an Iraqi puppy. What breed is she? Will you have trouble getting her back to the states? I hope not.
Oh yeah - I have attached a photo. It’s nothing special, but neither am I. I’ve also attached what I’ve found out about the LaVerdures. You may be related to the Melancon family. It was an unusual quirk in history where the sons took their mother’s name and that is where the confusion occurred, I think.
I enjoyed what you said about being hard. Knowing that about you made me wet. How is that for equal opportunity dirty talk? I have never participated in sexting or explicit conversation online, but I have to admit I find it exciting. What makes it exciting is because it’s with you. I wouldn’t be able to do it randomly, but I have touched you and shared with you and that makes all the difference to me.
Please be careful on your mission. I am so scared for you. I’ll be counting the days till you come home. There is so much I want to know about you. Thank you for the details about your life. Now it’s my turn.
My favorite ice cream is cheesecake. I love Elvis Presley and bubble baths. My favorite holiday is Halloween and I live to take walks in the rain. I collect pottery from places I visit and if I had to pick a favorite author it would be Clive Cussler – I just love Dirk Pitt and those adventures he goes on. Playing piano is the closest thing I have to a talent, and it hasn’t been developed. Lessons weren’t available to me when I was growing up and all I have is a keyboard, but I can play something if I hear it. Who knows if I’m doing it right or not, I just play what I feel.
Your emails are becoming very important to me – as are you. And about the secret - I’m trying to work up the courage to tell you. Maybe someday. I’m just not ready to lose you, yet. So, I’ll keep it a little longer. Take care of yourself, my friend.
Savannah
After hitting send, she set aside her laptop and got ready to greet the children. They would like the project today. She had bought glass jars and all the ingredients for chocolate chips cookies, plus a red gingham ribbon to tie around the lid. One of the older girls who had a computer had volunteered to make small recipe cards that they could attach to the ribbon. All she needed to do now was get the batch she had already prepared in the oven. Fresh homemade cookies would bring a smile to all of their faces. Cookies . . . – that reminded her, she’d have to ask Patrick about sending him a care package. And she’d do that just as soon as the kids were gone.
She had just barely got started when her email alert sounded. Unable to resist, she went and got her laptop and brought it to the kitchen. Clicking on her account, she was thrilled to see Patrick’s name.
Savannah, Love
I have an idea. I’ve been able to download video chat. Would you try? The link is below. I’d love to see your face and hear your voice. Let’s say we meet here in three hours? You’ll have to register and send me your info so I can place the call. I’ll be here, waiting – I hope you join me.
Love, Patrick
*****
“What exactly is your relationship with Miss Doucet, Fred?” Carlyle Randolph had known Fred March for about ten years. He was an excellent teacher, but their greater bond was an appreciation of the female form. The professor had turned him on to some excellent online porn sites.
“She won’t give me the time of day. For some reason the little twit thinks she is too good for me. And we both know that’s not true. She’s not paper bag ugly, but she’s close. If it weren’t for that fine ass and those magnificent tits she hides so well, I wou
ldn’t bother.”
Randolph chuckled. He wasn’t blind. “I’ve jerked off to the sight of those tits more than once. There’s this one sundress that she wears to work and when she bends over, they hang down like lush ripe fruit.” Leaning back in his desk chair, he ran his palm over his dick. Later, as soon as March left, he would see to the problem.
“Damn.” March wiped a bit of perspiration off his brow. “Could you put a little pressure on her and get her to go out with me? A woman will do a lot of things if she thinks her job is in jeopardy.”
Carlyle Randolph looked to the right and to the left, making sure they were alone. “You really don’t want to go out with her.”
“Why not?” March didn’t understand. “I’m not interested in marrying her – I just want to diddle with her a little.”
