by C. L. Parker
“Headless dick,” Kerrigan retorted, prompting Gabe to gasp in mock surprise.
She was never one to curse, unless she was really mad. It just wasn’t very lady like, but Gabe disagreed emphatically. Of course, he could get away with saying just about anything he wanted. He pretty much thrived on the whole “shock and awe” thing. No matter how used to him people were, he could still come up with some really raunchy verbiage. He always held the element of surprise, and he was damn proud of it.
“Almost done with the packing,” Gabe said.
“I see that,” Kerrigan acknowledged, looking around at all the boxes. “Thanks. I’m sorry I had to skip out on you.”
“Sure you are.” Gabe’s voice was laced with sarcasm. “The movers will be here tomorrow to load everything up and get on the road. They should be there by the time we arrive. Which means…we have to get up at the butt crack of dawn to finish up.”
Her best friend would be moving to St. Augustine with her – at Kerrigan’s insistence – and she was ecstatic about that fact. It didn’t take much convincing or arm twisting on her part. Gabe hated his job anyway, and his love life was non-existent, even if his sex life was scandalous. Through the duration of their friendship, Gabe had always said wherever she went, he would follow, and wherever he went, he was going to drag her along kicking and screaming whether she liked it or not.
His own family had disowned him when he came out of the closet, so he really didn’t have any ties to make him feel the least bit obligated to stay in Chicago. Truth be told, they didn’t even know he was still alive and didn’t much care. He may have been dead to them, but he meant the world to Kerrigan. Although Gabe could come off as self-absorbed, he loved Kerrigan almost as much as he loved himself. That was saying a hell of a lot.
“I dreamed about her last night.” Kerrigan’s voice was quiet as she divulged her secret to the only person she could. “I saw her die.”
“Again with the dreams?” Gabe asked incredulously. He shoved her feet off his lap.
“They’re real, Gabe. I swear. I don’t know how, but they are. Oh my God, I’m a freak, aren’t I?”
“Jeez, dramatic much? There’s only room for one freak in this relationship, Kerr Bear, and I’m it. Maybe you’re just psychic or some shit like that.”
Gabe was the only one she told about her dreams. He didn’t judge her, but the first couple of times it happened, he hadn’t believed her either. They were always about her grandmother. Little insignificant things like what she was cooking or a description of the last piece of jewelry she had made. It was like they were connected on a whole other level, but no matter how hard Kerrigan tried, she couldn’t piece together their correlation.
“I don’t know, but maybe they’ll stop now that she’s…”
She couldn’t bring herself to say the word, but she didn’t have to. Gabe knew what she meant. He scooted down the couch and guided her head over onto his shoulder to hold her. There were no tears shed, just the quiet of their breathing. They stayed like that until the movie ended, and then they both decided to turn in early. The entire day had been emotionally challenging for Kerrigan, and the next couple would be a test of her ability to keep her sanity.
She would make it through, though. Somehow.
Arriving at the airport was bittersweet. As a child, Kerrigan knew she could expect her grandmother to be waiting for her at the gate. It always made her anxious for the airplane to land and the seatbelt sign to be turned off. This visit would be different, though. Grammy would not be there to envelop her in her arms and welcome her home. The thought made her feel desolate.
They hadn’t even had the chance to drive by Grammy’s house – Kerrigan’s new home – before the funeral service. The only flight they were able to secure at the last minute didn’t afford them the time. Hudson had scheduled an appointment with his mother’s attorney for the reading of the will, and he hadn’t been very flexible since it was the weekend. So, it meant they had to go straight to the attorney’s office from the airport.
Mr. Donaldson was a no-nonsense type of guy, getting right down to business. In short, Kerrigan got everything. The house and a very sizable bank account. All the paperwork was signed, and he was ready to usher them out the door within moments of their arrival, which was a good thing. If they hurried, they would make it to the funeral in time to say a private farewell. Kerrigan and her family – plus Jackson, of course – were about to leave when Mr. Donaldson paused amid shutting his briefcase.
“Oh, just one more thing, Kerrigan.” Kerrigan stopped and turned back to him. “Ms. Cruz came in a few days ago and left a sealed envelope she wanted me to be sure I gave to you in the event of her passing.”
He pulled a letter-sized envelope from his briefcase and held it out to her. She timidly took it from his hands and nodded her appreciation as they turned to leave. In her father’s rental car, she took a moment to look at it. Her name was written in her grandmother’s beautiful script across the front, and although Jackson urged her to open it – probably wanting to know what other goodies she had been given – she couldn’t. She just felt like she should wait to read it when she was alone, having one last bit of privacy with the woman she adored so much.
The funeral service was nice and quaint, nothing too extravagant. She wouldn’t have wanted a fuss to be made over her anyway. Kerrigan recognized most of the people at the graveside service as her grandmother’s closest friends and locals who just wanted to show their respect. However, there were still a few she had never seen before. Not that she was surprised. Availia Cruz was well respected in the community. People loved her for all the kindness she had shown everyone she ever met. She had touched a lot of lives in one way or another in her ninety-one years.
The last time she saw her grandmother was when she graduated from college. Grammy’s skin had been gently sun-kissed, her eyes a brilliant blue, and her hair was free-flowing and soft as silk sheets blowing in the breeze. But looking down on her as she lay in the coffin, Kerrigan hardly recognized her. Perhaps it was the pale makeup some beauty school drop-out had caked on her face, or the ton of hairspray they had used on her hair, but she definitely didn’t resemble the beautiful woman she had known for all her life.
It wasn’t until after the funeral service that she finally got the chance to pull the envelope out and read the letter it contained. She stole a moment away, excusing herself to the bathroom at the restaurant they had stopped at for lunch. Gabe had been hovering over her since they left the attorney’s office, and he would usually go to the ladies room with her, but he seemed to sense her need to be alone and let her go with a squeeze of her hand. She knew her emotions would be on overload once they reached the house and she was in such close proximity to every memory she had of her grandmother. Reading the letter then would only send her into oblivion. It was better to tackle one emotional hurdle at a time, starting with the letter.
Checking to make sure she was alone, she locked the door to the bathroom and went to sit on the little bench. Then she pulled the letter out of her purse and slid her finger under the fold to crack the seal. Tears began streaming down her face the moment she saw the greeting.
Kerrigan ran her fingers over the slight indentations in the sheet of paper, tracing her grandmother’s handwriting as if she could somehow touch her. Teardrops fell onto the page, and she grabbed a tissue from the table beside her to dry the page before it could smear the ink.
Dominic Grayson. Who was he, and why was he so important to Grammy?
She decided it didn’t matter. If he was important to her grandmother, then he would be important to her as well. She would honor Grammy’s dying wish. He would be allowed to stay in her home for as long as he needed or wanted.
“Kerr?” she heard Gabe call to her from the other side of the locked door.
“Yeah, I’ll be right out,” she answered.
She re-folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope before stowing it away in her purse. Th
en she stood and went to the sink, looking herself over in the mirror as she fixed her makeup to remove any traces of her tears. Convinced she had done about as well as she could, she turned and went to rejoin the rest of her family.
“You okay, bitch?” Gabe asked when she opened the door. His use of the word wasn’t meant to be hateful. It was a term of endearment. Like Gabe always said, “It’s how you use the word that makes it derogatory.”
“I’m good. Hey, that letter Grammy left for me…She said there’s a guy living at the house. Um, Dominic Grayson is his name. She asked me to let him stay.”
“Oh snap! Grams was shacking up with a man? I didn’t think old people were still able to get their freak on like that.”
“Keep your voice down!” Kerrigan scolded him in a whisper. “We don’t know that it was like that. But even if it was, I don’t care. This guy was obviously important to her.”
“Hey, babe.” Jackson saddled up to her side and leaning in to kiss her. It had become a habit for Kerrigan to present her cheek to him instead to prevent the overwhelming stench of his putrid breath. “Hud wanted me to tell you that we’re ready to go.”
Hud? So now he’s using the same name my mother calls my father? Kerrigan thought. Great. Just great.
Kerrigan didn’t talk to anyone on the drive to her grandmother’s house. Despite the looks she got from her father in the rearview mirror each time Jackson attempted to get her to snuggle into him, she kept her head lying on Gabe’s shoulder with his arm around her instead. She didn’t really care. Her father was going to have to get used to not seeing Jackson around, and there was just no telling what kind of scene the douchebag was going to make when she broke it off with him anyway.
St. Augustine hadn’t changed at all since the last time she had been there. Then again, it’s the oldest city in the United States, and the locals liked to keep it looking as authentic as possible. The salty smell of sea air wafted in through the opened windows and invaded Kerrigan’s senses. It reminded her of days spent at the beach making sandcastles with her grandmother. She smiled to herself as she recalled how much her grandmother loved the sunshine. She almost seemed rejuvenated when she basked in its warmth.
“We’re just about there,” Hudson said from the driver’s seat.
The rental car made the turn onto Magnolia Avenue. The majestic oaks had Spanish moss hanging like wisps of angel hair from their limbs, and it gave her a feeling of nostalgia. There had been many days she and her grandmother had strolled down that street – mostly hand in hand – just to enjoy the beautiful scenery and visit with neighbors. They would walk all the way down to The Fountain of Youth as Kerrigan marveled over the intricacy of the Taby Wall made of oyster shells.
Children were out playing in their front yards, and it reminded her of days she spent with her two closest friends there, Sydney and Olivia. They lived on the same street as her grandmother and were always very welcoming when she came to town. They treated her like she had lived there all her life. Sure, they were always talking her into doing things she probably shouldn’t have been doing, but it was all in fun, never meant to be harmful. Theirs was a lifelong friendship – a bond time itself couldn’t sever. Neither was at her grandmother’s funeral service though, so Kerrigan could only assume they no longer lived in the area. Come Hell or high water, they would have been there if they had known about her passing.
Hudson pulled into the circular driveway of the house, and parked the car behind the moving truck. After everyone else got out, Kerrigan paused, looking up at the pale yellow Victorian house in all its splendor. The grand oak still stood in the front yard overshadowing the house, and the old swing Kerrigan remembered playing on for hours at a time still hung from one of its lower branches. A brief flash of a memory invaded her mind in an instant: Kerrigan being pushed by her grandmother, laughing and swaying to and fro. Then another: a boy, his hair jet-black and in need of a trim, his eyes an emerald green framed by long, dark lashes. He had been her imaginary friend once upon a time, and she wished she could see him again. As quickly as the image came to mind, it was gone again – much like the boy was so many years ago.
Kerrigan smiled to herself and looked back toward the house. Nothing had changed about it. A little more weathered and in need of some repair perhaps, but it was the same nonetheless. The paint was chipping, but it added character to the place. She took in the white trimmed wraparound porch with its ceiling fans, rocking chairs, and old wooden porch swing. There were two more porches above the first, one off each level. The rooftop was a light gray color with one chimney stack protruding from the center. Not that they had ever needed to use it, but it was there, just in case.
The house may have been old, but it had been kept up over the years, outlasting all of the others before it. Grammy had once told Kerrigan that the land had been in their family since Don Pedro Menendez de Aviles first settled a colony in St. Augustine. In fact, Grammy’s first name was a variation of the famous admiral’s: Availia Milena Cruz. Milena was the traditional middle name all of the Cruz women had in common. It was handed down from generation to generation, as was the land and the home that sat upon it. Now it all belonged to Kerrigan.
She stepped out onto the brick walkway that branched off to lead to steps on either side of the porch and headed toward the house. She took a deep breath and steeled herself for what she might find.
Her father unlocked the door and then held the keys out to her. “I believe these are yours now.” He dropped the keys into her hand. They felt heavier than she anticipated. This was it. She may as well just go inside and get it over with.
Kerrigan opened the old screen door, recognizing the groaning creak of the aged spring, and stepped inside. The moment her foot crossed the threshold, a thousand memories came crashing back on her. Grammy was everywhere in the house – her smell, her laughter. She was engrained in every single pore, as if the house was an extension of her very essence. She thought being back there would make her sad, but she wasn’t. She was almost giddy and wanted to smile and laugh the way she and her grandmother always had. That house wasn’t a house of sadness. It was a happy home.
Kerrigan closed her eyes and allowed herself to take it all in. Each of her senses became engulfed with Grammy’s presence at once. Echoes of her grandmother’s voice humming This Little Light of Mine sang through her memories, and she felt comforted.
She was home.
“Move out of the way, babe.” Jackson shoved past her, breaking her reprieve.
Gabe held up his hand into the shape of a claw and prepared to swipe at the back of his head. Kerrigan caught his arm and stopped him before he could make contact, ignoring his growl of frustration.
“Jeez, this place is a dump.” Jackson walked into the living room and eyed all of her grandmother’s old antique furnishings. His rudeness made her regret that she stopped Gabe from attacking him.
Hudson looked around at what was once his childhood home. “It could use a bit of work, maybe a little remodeling, but I’d hardly call it a dump. This old house has taken care of many in her day.”
“Hud, why don’t you walk me out back to the garden?” Priscilla gave her daughter a reassuring smile and then took her husband’s hand to let him lead her out. At least she let him think he was leading her. Priscilla had a way of making him believe he was in control, even when nothing could be further from the truth. Her technique was flawless.
Kerrigan walked over to the mantle and looked at all the picture frames her grandmother kept on display there. Most of them were of her over the years, but there were also photos of her father and mother and her grandfather, as well. He had passed away at an early age, and Grammy never quite got over it. She had said on many occasions that she had merely existed through life until Kerrigan came along and gave her reason to live again.
“Eee, look at you,” Gabe giggled as he held up one of her childhood photos. “I guess you were kind of cute in a Shirley Temple kind of way, but I’m still cu
ter.”
Kerrigan laughed and shoved her shoulder into him playfully. She turned and walked down the hall to the kitchen that sat off to the left. Rounding the corner through the doorway, she collided into a wall that wasn’t supposed to be there. A human wall.
“Dammit!” the stranger shouted. He fought to control the glass of water in danger of slipping from his hand. Once composed, he eyed Kerrigan warily before realization set in. “Oh, you must be Availia’s family. I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”
Kerrigan took in the sight before her and was rendered speechless. The man was tall with thick, black hair that was cut neatly and looked soft to the touch. Tanned skin was covered by some sort of tribal tattoo that peeked from under the collar of his black T-shirt and extended up the length of his neck to lick at his hairline. Her eyes were drawn to his face, and he was more attractive than any one man had the right to be.
He had a prominent jaw line shadowed by a thin, light beard and high, masculine cheek bones. Full red lips with the little cupid’s bow divot on the top captured her attention as they formed words she didn’t quite hear.
“Hellooo?” His voice was deep and velvet smooth, although laced with a hint of irritation. “Are you deaf? I said, ‘Who are you?’ ”
Her eyes snapped to his. The words that were forming in her throat came to a halt under the intensity of his stare. They were a pale celadon green with a dark lining around the irises, so tranquil they reminded her of Caribbean waters.
“Um…I’m Kerrigan,” she answered after finding her voice. Then, as if drawn like magnets, her eyes dropped to check out the rest of him. A vintage rock T-shirt clung to his upper torso, accentuating his pectoral muscles and biceps. She wanted to reach out and touch them just to feel their strength and hardness. Low-rise jeans hugged his hips, thighs and – she had to avert her gaze when she found the bulge at his crotch. Again, wanting to touch.
