Raid

by Kristen Ashley

  Raiden lifted an arm and wrapped it around my shoulders. He tucked me tight to his side and dropped his lips to my ear.

  “Let ‘em battle it out. You’re just makin’ it worse.”

  I clamped my mouth shut and my eyes on the choir.

  Grams and Mrs. McGuillicutty exchanged a few more barbs before Grams sat back, muttering, “I love this hymn and no McGuillicutty is gonna make me miss it.”

  Thus letting Margaret have the last word with, “Boudreaux, think they own this town.”

  Though Grams did get in a, “Humph!”

  We successfully made it through the final prayer and communal hymn without incident, but hostilities reengaged after Pastor Wright released us.

  “Falling asleep and whispering in church like it was a Boudreaux bedroom and kitchen. Shameful,” Mrs. McGuillicutty remarked loudly to no one, and all in the vicinity looked away like they wished they could whistle.

  This, of course, meant Grams said to her, but directed her remark at me. “Need you to get me a cane, child. Not to walk with it, so I can beat Margaret over the head with it.”

  Raiden chuckled.

  Margaret gasped.

  So did I, before I hissed, “Grams, we’re in church!”

  She waved her hand in front of her face, “God’s forgiven me for a lot over ninety-eight years, that’s the least of it.”

  “We gonna get breakfast or we gonna have a smackdown in pew three?” Raiden asked, sounding amused.

  Grams didn’t miss a beat. “Breakfast. Need my vittles to perform a successful smackdown.”

  Then she turned and toddled off slowly down the pew.

  I leaned around Raiden and said to Mrs. McGuillicutty, “I’m sorry, Mrs. McGuillicutty.”

  “As you should be,” she fired back. “No excuse for rudeness. And falling asleep in church? Appalling.”

  I gave my apology, therefore did my duty to good manners. She could be ornery. She had to answer to God for that, not me.

  Therefore, I was going to let it go and get out of there.

  Raiden had other ideas.

  He turned his big, tall frame Margaret McGuillicutty’s way and looked down at her.

  “One, Hanna apologized. The right thing to do is accept, not throw it in her face. Two, Miss Mildred can take care of herself and she’s too old to give a damn what you think. Obviously, Hanna cares or she wouldn’t have apologized when she had no need to. Now what you gotta know is, if I’m standing next to her or not and I just hear you were rude to her, I’ll take it as you bein’ rude straight to me and I think most folks in this town know you do not want to be rude to me.”

  She stared up at him, lips parted while I processed what he said and the fact that any of this was happening at all.

  She snapped her mouth shut to hiss at Raiden like he was twelve, not thirty-two, “Well, I don’t believe it. I’ll be having a word with your mother, Raiden Miller.”

  “Have at it. She won’t give a flying mostly because she thinks you’re as foul-tempered and aggravating as everyone else in town,” Raiden fired back.

  A couple people heard and tittered, proving him right.

  I decided we were both done so I grabbed his hand and yanked him down the pew.

  Fortunately, he followed me.

  We made it to Grams, then we followed in what felt like suspended motion as she made her slow way out of the church, her snail’s pace hindered further with the need to call a greeting to everyone she knew, which was just plain everyone.

  Raiden made a break for it at the doors, mumbling his excuse of, “I’ll go get the Jeep.”

  Fortunately, this meant when we got to the end of the walk at the front of the church Raiden was there.

  Like we had when we came, I climbed into the back and Raiden held Grams steady at waist while she latched on with a bony hand. He mostly lifted her into her seat, but in a way where it made it seem like she put her foot to the edge of the door herself.

  We were on our way when I decided a debrief was in order.

  “I don’t believe that happened,” I remarked.

  “Believe it, chère. Margaret has always been a sourpuss. Makes it worse, she had her sights set on your Granddaddy and never got over losin’ him to your Grandma.”

  This was news.

  And made the whole situation even more unbelievable.

  “Seriously?” I asked. “That had to be fifty years ago, and sorry, Grams, but they’ve both passed. Holding a grudge when there’s no one left to hold it against?”

  “Lost love, precious,” Grams replied, turning her head to look out the side window. “Stings like a wasp bite that never fades.”

  This made me pause for reflection, especially the knowing way Grams said it, but Grams wasn’t done.

  “Probably didn’t help, my boy’s beautiful granddaughter sittin’ next to the town hunk. History, in a way, repeating. Salt in the wound.”

  My eyes went to the rearview mirror, caught Raiden’s and they rolled.

  When they rolled back, his were back on the road but they were smiling.

  We hit the Pancake House, all pancakes, all the time, (no kidding, they had nothing but pancakes, sausage and bacon on their menu); a weird restaurant that did booming business about fifteen miles out of town up the foothills. It had a fabulous view and the best pancakes I’d ever eaten. So good Grams and I never went anywhere else for Sunday breakfast, and this continued the tradition of Dad and Mom taking us all there every Sunday up until the Sunday before they moved to a different state.

  As usual, the pancakes didn’t disappoint and breakfast was fun. Grams talked through most of it, which meant Raiden and I laughed through most of it, and Raiden didn’t surprise me by being gentlemanly and charming.

  We had syrup covered plates and were on our third cup of coffee when Raiden’s jacket chimed. He took his arm from the back of my seat, dug into his suit jacket that he’d slung on the back of his chair, pulled out his phone, looked at it and turned to me.

  “Gotta make a call.” His eyes slid to Grams. “Excuse me.” His attention came back to me, his hand came to my jaw and he tilted my face up to touch his mouth to mine.

  That felt nice. I liked that he was making a habit of kissing me when he left me, so my lips tipped up against his.

  I watched up close as Raiden’s eyes smiled. He let me go, straightened from his chair and walked away.

  I watched the show.

  “Now, chère, church with the grandmother and word whizzin’ ‘round town about holdin’ hands, all cozied up at Chilton’s, of all places. Good to know early that boy isn’t about half measures. But I’m guessing you’re sparin’ your old biddy of a Grams the details about how you caught the eye of Willow’s most eligible bachelor.”

  I looked at her, grinned a little and replied, “I was running late this morning or I would have called to let you know he was coming with us, but yeah, Grams. Raiden and I are seeing each other.”

  “Don’t kid a kidder,” she said softly, and my brows drew together at this unexpected reply.

  Unfortunately, she explained.

  “Not lost on you I’ve lived me some years, precious, but they didn’t slide by and not touch me. A girl falls asleep at church on Sunday morning because she had too much fun on Saturday night and one look at Raiden Miller says clear exactly what kind of fun he has with a pretty girl.”

  That was when I felt my eyes get big.

  “Grams, I—”

  She waved her hand at me. “Don’t. Got ourselves enough marks on our soul, disprespectin’ God in His house today. Don’t add to that, chère.”

  I closed my mouth.

  Grams didn’t.

  “A week ago, he came to my house. I knew why. He’s got about as much interest in doing an old woman’s yard work as he has in goin’ to the ballet. But I looked up at that big, strong man and thought to myself, Raiden Miller? I liked that for my girl. I liked it a lot. You’ve been alone for a while now and a girl like you, it’s a
waste, you bein’ alone. Always knew in my heart you’d stand by the side of a man like Raiden Miller. Those boys you saw, they were okay, but not one of them was good enough for my Hanna. Now hardly any time at all has passed and he didn’t waste a lick of it. He’s diggin’ deep into that heart of yours, with intent, and child, I’m gonna share, it troubles me.”

  Again, this was unexpected, but this time not in a confusing way. In an unwelcome one.

  “Sorry?” I whispered, stunned.

  “Way he looks at you now he’s had you, way he is, man like that.” She shook her head, her eyes went distant then she focused on me. “Boiling under the surface.”

  I leaned across the table toward her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Had me fooled over sweet tea but now… now I see it.”

  “Grams—”

  “That man is dangerous,” she declared.

  My heart skipped a painful beat and I stared.

  “What?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, he won’t break your heart. He’d die before doin’ that. But there’s a lotta ways to get a broken heart, precious girl. And he’ll do it all the same not even knowin’ he’s doin’ it.”

  Grams was experienced. Grams was wise. Grams was observant. And Grams was smart.

  Therefore, I didn’t like this. Not one bit.

  Still, I started to explain, “Grams, we’ve only been out on a couple of dates, but he’s really a good guy. A gentleman. And—”

  “Dangerous. In every line of his body, hidden deep in his eyes. Missed it then, but he hadn’t had you then. I see it now and I see you got bit by his bug. I’m tellin’ you, Hanna, you be careful. You go forward cautious. Hard to guard your heart from a man like that who’ll do nothing and everything to win it in a way you’ll want him to own it forever. But mind this, child. Raiden Miller doesn’t find a way to beat back the danger lurking within, he’ll go down and he’ll take you down right along with him.”

  She held my eyes, hers bright and keen, and I realized my chest was rising and falling fast. I took a sip of coffee and sat back, trying to force myself to relax.

  I was also thinking about the air in his hunting lodge that morning, the look on his face when I said I wanted to give his Dad a boot to the groin.

  There was something about that that moved me, scared me, spoke to me. I just didn’t know what it was saying.

  “You find a way to have fun, you enjoy him, chère, and I’ll enjoy him when I’m with you two. But don’t forget what I said,” she continued, taking me out of my thoughts.

  “Okay, Grams,” I told the tablecloth.

  “Love you,” she told me and my eyes moved to her. “Said what I said and I’ll end it with this. If you’re the kind of woman who can withstand the blaze of hellfire he’s got burning inside, he battles that and wins, you will know nothing for the rest of your life, no taste, no experience, not even the birth of your children that will be sweeter than the love he’ll have for you.”

  Oh my God.

  She was totally freaking me out!

  “We’ve only been on two dates,” I whispered.

  “I see that. And I see he’s lost in you so completely it’s a wonder he knows his own name.”

  I was back to semi-panting.

  “He’s headed this way, precious. Take a deep breath,” she ordered, and my eyes went over her head to see added proof to what I’d had repeatedly had all my life. That Grams not only had excellent hearing, but eyes in the back of her head.

  Raiden was headed our way, but he’d been stopped by Mrs. Bartholomew and her family. He was standing at their table, talking.

  I deep breathed then took another sip of coffee, trying to force back Grams’s dire words, fit them someplace in my brain where I could go over them later (preferably with KC). I achieved this feat and had it together when Raiden slid back into his chair beside mine.

  He also slid his arm along the back of my seat as he asked, “More coffee or the check?”

  “Naptime for biddies, son, so the check. And I’m old, I’m a grandmother, so that means I pay and I don’t care how much of a man you are. When you’re old and a grandfather you’ll know what I mean and you’ll be glad you let me do it.”

  He pulled me into his side and grinned at Grams.

  I felt how great we seemed to fit together and frowned at Grams because I loved that feeling and she’d made me terrified of it.

  She ignored my frown, lifted her hand and called, “Darla! Child, bring us the check, would you?”

  Darla, our waitress, like she did every Sunday when Grams called for the check, scurried to do the matriarch of Willow’s bidding.

  * * * * *

  An hour and fifteen minutes later…

  “You wanna tell me what’s on your mind?”

  We’d just dropped off Grams. After a glass of sweet tea (well, Raiden and Grams had one, I had diet root beer), Raiden was taking me home.

  I turned to look at him and asked, “Sorry?”

  “You’ve been weird since the Pancake House.”

  “I’m tired,” I replied.

  Not exactly a lie, just not the whole truth.

  “I get you home, you rest. I gotta go out and do something and when I get back I’ll bring a pizza. But after pizza, babe, you gotta have energy.”

  I felt my nether regions quiver as I looked to the windshield.

  I forced down that feeling and asked, “Does this something you have to do have to do with your crew and drug dealers?”

  “No, it has to do with another job, but that has to do with my crew. Just not drug dealers.”

  This was an answer, but it still wasn’t.

  I didn’t call him on that.

  I just mumbled, “Oh.”

  “Change of plans tonight,” he stated. “Pizza, me sharin’ about what I do, then I’ll test the recuperative powers of the nap you’re about to take.”

  I turned to him, “Raiden—”

  He cut me off, “I tell you, it’ll be honest. It’ll freak you out, but you’ll deal.”

  Holy Moses.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “It means I got out, assessed my talents, made decisions about what I wanted to do, I’m doin’ it. What I do might come as a shock to you, but then you’ll get over it,” he declared.

  There were more words there, just no explanation.

  “Uh, just FYI, this discussion is not conducive to me getting a nap,” I shared.

  He gave me a quick glance and grinned.

  “Right then. I’ll tell you I did all the work last night. I’m in the mood to test you to see what you can do, and just a guess, honey, but I ‘spect you’ll wanna pass.”

  He would guess correctly.

  But that comment also wasn’t conducive to me getting a nap.

  We were pulling up to the front of my house so I turned fully toward him.

  “Raiden, I—”

  His belt zipped back and he undid mine. His hand wrapped around the back of my neck and he pulled me to him. My hand came up automatically and crashed into his chest, then I did, scrunching my hand between us.

  “What I do isn’t bad,” he said quietly. “It isn’t conventional but it isn’t bad.”

  “Okay, so now I’m not totally freaking out, I’m only kinda freaking out,” I replied.

  “Babe, a day ago, you found out two of your friends played you. You freaked out, felt the pain, sucked it up, hung up on that fucker when he tried to phone and moved on. You take care of your grandmother, not like it’s a burden like everybody else would treat it, but a boon. That translates to her so she doesn’t feel the burden of being a burden and she can just enjoy the life God’s seen fit to grant her. What I do is what I do. It’s part of who I am. It came from what life threw at me and you’re gonna suck it up and deal with that too.”

  This was a cool speech, but it was also a scary one.

  So I asked a pertinent question.

  “What’s happening here?”
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  “I’m about to kiss you good-bye, you’re about to take a nap, and in a few hours I’ll be back with pizza.”

  “I mean with you and me.”

  His eyes held mine, his hand slid up into hair and his other hand lifted to wrap around the side of my neck as he replied gently, “You know the answer to that.”

  I had a feeling I did, and it exhilarated and terrified me.

  “Raiden, maybe we should—”

  “If you’re gonna say slow things down, baby, enjoy this because this is as slow as it’s gonna get.”

  I felt my eyes get wide.

  “Yeah,” he confirmed to my unspoken cry of shock. “If you can take it tonight, I’ll explain that too.”

  “Now there’s no way I’m getting a nap,” I mumbled.

  “You wake up happy?” Raiden asked and I blinked at him.

  Then I whispered, “Yeah.”

  “I did too. When was the last time for you?”

  “The last time, what?”

  “The last time you woke up happy.”

  Oh God.

  Before him, I wasn’t unhappy. I also wasn’t exactly happy.

  What I knew was this: waking up in Raiden’s bed, I definitely was happy.

  “I don’t remember,” I admitted.

  “Me either,” he replied.

  Oh God.

  I liked that and hated it. I understood it just as much as I didn’t. I wanted to know why he wasn’t happy just as much as I was scared to find out.

  “Raiden—”

  “We’re holding onto that,” he declared, and like it had a mind of its own my hand slid up his chest to curl around the side of his neck like it was answering his statement for me and doing it by agreeing.

  He knew it, felt it and understood it.

  Therefore, he stated in his rough, commanding voice, “Yeah.”

  I dropped my head to his shoulder.

  He was right.

  Yeah.

  I knew what was happening here.

  His hand slid out of my hair so he could wrap his arm around me. “What do you like on your pizza?”

  “Everything but onions, peppers, sausage, pineapple, ham, anchovies and olives.”