by Sally John
Then, back at her dad’s, they ate pizza, one last meal together before going their separate ways. Of course, her mom had already gone her separate way.
Yes, it was all too sad for words.
Now she was home for the very first time since before the fire, since before she’d gone her own separate way and moved to Tandy’s.
She stepped into the kitchen, stopped dead in her tracks, blinked, and screamed, “Kevin!”
Dirty dishes and glasses lay everywhere—in the sink, on the countertops, on the table. Empty chip bags, boxes of crackers and cereal, and more sat all over the place. A potted philodendron in the window was brown. Not yellow or weepy green, but brown and crusted.
“Kevin!”
“Whoops. Sorry. I didn’t have a chance to—”
“I can’t believe this!” She circled the small area. “My poor philly. Nobody kills a philly. Oh. My. Gosh. Look at that stovetop!”
“Jen.”
“What?” she snapped and looked up at him.
“I missed you.”
“What does that have to do with living in a pigsty?”
“I’ll clean it up.”
“You got that right.”
“Tomorrow.”
“You are not a slob. My gosh, you’re a Marine. You get on me for not being tidy enough. And look at this! Unbelievable.”
“What can I say? I lost my head. I couldn’t think straight without you here. I couldn’t eat or sleep.”
“It looks like you ate plenty.”
“I didn’t eat right. Mostly junk food.”
She stared at him. He wasn’t doing his little-boy, oh-shucks-ma’am routine. He was admitting what she meant to him.
“Because I wasn’t here?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “You saw your dad Monday night at the lookout point? I wasn’t in that bad a shape, but close to it.”
“Oh, Kev. You never let on at school or at that brunch Erik tricked us into.”
“Right. And lose macho face? A guy doesn’t go around saying, ‘Boo-hoo. I’m falling apart because she left.’”
“They do in songs.”
He smiled. “Hey! Wait a minute. Back up. Did you hear what you said?”
“What?”
“You called me a Marine. Present tense.”
“I did not.”
“You did. Come here, pretty lady.” He took her hand and led her out of the kitchen. “Let’s get out of the pigsty. We need to talk.”
They sat on the couch. For a long moment they only stared at each other. In all the hubbub of the past few days, Jenna didn’t remember really looking at him. There hadn’t been a spare moment to be alone.
She touched his bristly jaw. “Did I thank you for coming to Tandy’s Monday night?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been my rock this week. You were just there all the time, helping everybody. You never complained. You always knew exactly what to do.”
“I love your family.”
“It’s not my family. It’s ours.”
“Okay, our family. As long as I don’t have to change my name to Beaumont.” He smiled. “Welcome home.”
“Thanks. It was good to all be together, in the same house, but, whew.” She batted her eyes. “This feels so incredibly good to be home. With you.”
“We’re each other’s home, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, we are. Being away from you was the worst.” She smiled. “And I hated living at Tandy’s. I mean, it was all right. Except for her lumpy mattress and the long drive to school. Not to mention having to check in with two moms all the time about my schedule.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Well, I could have gone to Dad’s. That would have been more comfortable—”
“I don’t mean I’m sorry about Tandy’s. I’m sorry, Jenna. I’m sorry for not discussing with you my decision to reenlist.”
She leaned toward him. “Can you repeat that? I’m not sure I heard correctly.”
He caught her in his arms, turning her until she was across his lap facing him. “Only if you repeat what you said.”
She giggled. “I did not say you are a Marine, present tense.”
“You did.” He pulled her close.
His navy eyes blurred before her. She became acutely aware of how close his mouth was to hers.
“On second thought,” she murmured, “maybe I did.”
“I love you, and I am sorry I hurt you.”
“I love you, and I am sorry I hurt you.”
He brushed his lips over hers. “Does that mean you’ll clean up the kitchen?”
“No way.”
“Jen, I promise to try to talk more about things with you. I’ll try to remember that besides being a Marine—present tense—I’m also your husband, present tense. Will you forgive me for not cluing you in on my decision before I made it?”
She studied his face, drinking in the familiar angles and markings, pushing aside the realization that they still did not agree on what happened. “Cluing” her in on his decision was not exactly all she wanted. They should have discussed the idea for a long, long time. Her opinion should have been given full consideration.
But . . . maybe this was where give-and-take came into play.
“I forgive you, Kevin.”
“Thank you.” He kissed her. “But I might mess up again. Wait. Knowing me, that’s a given.”
She nodded. Of course he would. Of course she would. “That’s life.”
“I mean, I’ll screw up on purpose.”
She pushed back to see his face better.
“Just so we can make up again.”
She watched his lazy grin emerge, one corner of his mouth lifting at a time. The thought struck her that she would not see him for long periods of time. That they would again separate and make up, so to speak.
“Jen, I was kidding. Don’t look so sad.”
“You’re leaving. Because you’re a Marine.”
“Yeah.” He drew the word out, as if he didn’t follow her reasoning. “Not for a while, though. Hey, pretty lady. Will you stick by me, even when I make you sad?”
She saw the worry in his eyes. He feared the unknown future as much as she did. He needed her as much as she needed him.
She said, “I suppose ‘sad’ comes under the category of ‘for better or worse’? Which means I already promised in our wedding vows to stick by you, but I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. You did what you did because you thought I wasn’t sticking by you.”
“But I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you. It all turned out for good. I think we learned a lot about each other, about marriage.”
“Yes.”
“Uh-oh. I just had another thought. Enlisting means a pay cut. You’ll remember the ‘richer or poorer’ part too?”
An almost unbearable weight of sadness pulled the corners of her mouth downward. It had nothing to do with money. She forced a smile and nodded.
Kevin pulled her close again and held her tightly to himself.
For one brief moment, she wondered if the pain of sticking by him would be worth it. If she got up and left right now and never looked back, she would not have to say good-bye and hello, good-bye and hello, over and over and over. She would not have to try to fit into the parameters that defined the incomprehensible being called a “military wife.”
She pressed her face into his shoulder and wondered when life had gotten so hard.
Eighty
In the evening twilight, Max stood on the patio, hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet, appraising the dam-age to his yard and pool.
Fighting off a migraine.
Danny kept him company. He and the others had spent the afternoon at the hacienda, returned to the house, and ordered in pizza.
“The others” meaning everyone except Claire. Claire never would have ordered in pizza. She would have cooked for them. She was a great cook. And she was gone. Again. Still? Whatever. It was for good
this time. He felt it in his bones.
“Dad, can you hire somebody to help clean this mess?”
“Hmm? Oh yeah, I’ll hire some temps. It hardly seems like much, though, not compared to the hacienda.”
“That’s for sure. I’d help you, but I have to get back to work tomorrow. I’m going home tonight.”
“Understandable. Thanks for all you’ve done. It was good to all hang out here together, huh?” He smiled.
“Yeah, it was. I’m taking Lexi home too.”
“Aw, you’re all abandoning me,” he teased. “First Erik, Jenna, and Kevin. Now you and Lexi.”
Danny didn’t respond for a moment. “Did . . . uh . . . did Mom or Nana tell you about Mom’s incident in the mine?”
“What incident?”
“Lexi said Mom had this sort of flashback thing. They were in that space just beyond the entrance tunnel?”
He nodded. He knew the mine’s back door and wasn’t all that surprised to learn the twins had discovered it on their own.
“She said Mom screamed and cried for, like, twenty minutes.”
Max stared at him.
“Nana prayed. Later Mom told Lexi what happened. She was reliving a time when her mom locked her in a root cellar. She was three years old. Her dad eventually found her, then beat up her mom.”
Max cursed under his breath. “I swear those two take the cake for being supreme idiots.”
“And . . . well . . .”
“Well, what?”
“The point is, those supreme idiots abandoned Mom. And she feels abandoned by you. Basically that’s what she’s been saying for months.”
“You’re all psychiatrists now?”
Danny turned toward the pool, clearly disgusted with Max.
“Son, I’m sorry.” The words came quickly to him. He was so tired of hurting people. “Okay. I can see how it could make sense. Your mom felt abandoned by me because whenever business was my priority, it would appear to her that she wasn’t. Given her history, she would be especially sensitive to abandonment issues, even if she didn’t analyze exactly what was going on.”
“Maybe it’s not just your prioritizing the business.”
He waited.
Danny looked at him. “What were you doing Monday night?”
Kissing Neva. “Making a dumb mistake.”
Danny chuckled softly, a sound of surprise. “Wow. That’s gotta be a first, you admitting fault.”
“I suppose.” Max rubbed the back of his neck. “Trust me, Danny, I know I’ve made countless mistakes. Now it’s time to rectify them.”
If it wasn’t too late.
Hey, bud.” Phil rapped his knuckles on Max’s desk.
“Huh?”
“Why don’t you go home? You zoned out on us again.”
“Sorry. I’m fine.”
“Shoot, Max, you’re not fine, and you shouldn’t be fine. Right, Neva?” He glanced at her in the other chair across from Max’s desk.
“Right,” she said. “You have family matters to attend to.”
He gave a sad smile. “My parents are older than they look. I should go with them to buy a vehicle.”
“Then go,” Neva said. “Nothing needs your immediate attention here. We’ve gotten by without you for most of the week. Missing Friday afternoon isn’t going to hurt.”
He closed up a file folder. “You’re right.”
Phil stood. “Anything I can do, besides the obvious?” He took the file from Max’s hand.
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay. Then I’ll get to this and see you next week.”
“Thanks.” Max watched Phil leave his office.
Neva remained seated.
He looked at her.
She looked back at him, her face unreadable.
He said, “I get the feeling something does need my immediate attention.”
“I’m resigning.”
Max wouldn’t have guessed he could feel any more hollow than he already did, but her words dug a new hole.
“I’ll wait until you’re on your feet again. You do have a lot on your plate personally. Not to mention the city is falling apart, and everybody needs temporary help.”
“Why?”
“The fire.”
“I didn’t mean why the need for workers.”
“I didn’t either. Let’s call it The Fire, capital letters. It changed everything between us. I was going where I swore I would never go with you. I love you, Max. I always have. But I should have kept quiet about it. The Fire showed me you’re not mine to have. It melted you, and now the truth shows: you won’t leave Claire. Even if she leaves you, she’ll always be with you. I can’t stay here knowing that.”
“I—I—”
“You have nothing to say.” Neva stood. “There isn’t anything you can say. Except that you’ll write a great letter of recommendation for me.” She smiled in a sassy way.
Before he could gather a coherent thought, she was out the door.
Women. The most untrustworthy species that ever walked the face of the earth. Every single one in his life had walked out. That chick in high school. His mom. Neva. Claire. Why did they all leave him? What was it about—
About him? Talk about slow on the draw.
“Okay, God. I get the picture. It must be my fault. I let them down. Fine. I take responsibility.”
Max closed his eyes. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he resisted.
And then he wondered, what did he have to lose? A little face? Did that really matter after losing the most important woman in his life?
“Evidently I have abandonment issues too. God, help me to for-give Claire and Neva and my mom and any others.” He took a deep breath. “And please, God, forgive me for how I’ve hurt them all.”
Eighty-one
Claire slept for three days at the hotel. On Sunday evening, she called Eddie, the fireman. A short while later, they met on a sidewalk outside a book-and-coffee shop.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
An awkward moment passed as they stared at each other.
He grinned crookedly. “This is like some kind of weird blind date.” He held open his arms. “It shouldn’t be, should it?”
“No.” She sighed and stepped into his embrace.
He was taller than she remembered. Lean. Sinewy. His cotton polo shirt smelled of fresh laundry, his arms of soap.
The stranger again—offering safety and security she could find nowhere else.
They sat across from each other at a small corner table, coffee mugs in hand. Classical music played softly in the background. Scattered about the store was a hodgepodge of people at other tables and on couches and upholstered chairs, with friend, book, or lap-top. Paintings by local artists adorned the walls, some of them pastoral, some of them angst-ridden.
Eddie said, “This is a great place. I’ve never been here before.”
She nodded. “It’s comfy. I found it a few years ago.”
“So.” His eyes zeroed in on hers. “How are you?”
“Confused, angry, exhausted. Wondering if I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Did I mention angry?”
“Hmm.”
“Sorry, that sort of slipped out by itself.”
“No, it’s fine. I was just thinking you look prettier than I remem-ber. Probably because you washed the smudges off your face and combed your hair.”
“Now I know why I called you. You lie quite well.”
He laughed. Crow’s-feet crinkled around sky-blue eyes. His mouth was wide in a narrow face. Now that his cappuccino-brown hair wasn’t mashed down from a helmet, she saw that it was wavy.
“It’s the truth,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes, the ones that carried bags so large she hadn’t even bothered with makeup. It wouldn’t have helped. “I have to warn you. I’m into being abrasively real these days.”
“I’m okay with that.”
“I keep upsetting people.”
“Then let’s get something straight. I’m a mess and I look it, and I don’t care. I am not capable of saying a kind word, and I don’t care.”
“I still think you’re prettier than I remember.”
She puffed out a sound of disbelief.
“You will get through this.” His gentle voice and demeanor melted her defenses. The words of hope echoed Indio’s.
She plunked her elbows on the table and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.
“Hey.” He pried off one of her hands and squeezed it. “It’s okay. Did you know disaster survivors get together in support groups? Just like we’re doing, so they can vent and laugh and cry and connect on a level that’s impossible with anyone else who didn’t experience what they did.”
She sniffed and lowered her other hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m really glad you called. When Zak told me he and Lexi were having dinner tonight, I was hoping he’d invite me and she’d invite you. He didn’t catch on to my hints. I guess a support group wasn’t what he had in mind.”
“Zak and Lexi? Dinner?”
“You didn’t know?”
She shook her head. “I moved into a motel on Thursday. I needed to be alone.”
Concern registered on his face. “Claire. This isn’t the time to be alone.”
“I’ll give you the short version.” She explained the current status of her marriage.
“I’m sorry.”
“So I haven’t talked with anyone for a few days. Is Zak a nice guy?”
“Yeah, he is. I’ve worked with him for about three years. You can trust him with your daughter. And you’re changing the subject.”
“Yep. Enough about me. How are you?”
His eyes crinkled again, and grin lines deepened around his mouth. “Way better than you.”
“Well, aren’t you special?”
His laughter filled the shop and turned contagious for other patrons. Even Claire joined in, one giggle at a time.
“I’ve been in some serious fires.” Eddie grew somber. “I never came that close to dying, though. It started to sink in when I saw Indio’s wall of crosses. It was one of those ‘whoa!’ moments.”
“And their Bible not burning?”
“It wasn’t so much that; I’ve seen that happen before. I chalk it up to another example of weird phenomena that happen with fire. Amazing, yes. But this was different. I saw that paneled wall with wood frames and crosses and whatnots hanging on it, right next to a blown-out window where incredible heat came roaring in, and nothing was burned? Now we’re talking beyond weird phenomena.”
