by Lora Lindy
“You know, I think you talked me into soup as well, but I think I’ll add a sandwich.” He winked at her and added. “It’s a guy thing.”
“And I can vouch you are truly a wonderful man.” He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. She held his hand and it was nice his hands were warming her iceberg fingers. Men always seemed to have warmer hands than women, and she wondered if there’s a scientific reason for that.
“Excuse me, here are some menus and water,” said the perky waitress giggling. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” then she giggled again. Lana thought, what an adorable little girl. Her hair was tied back with a clasp, but a few hairs were straggling along her back. Her eyes were big and bright hazel, and they squint when she giggled. The make-up applied just perfect, not too much of anything. Her fair complexion looked like a china doll, but many people were like that in the north. She was a little overweight, but her five-foot-seven height helped hide it along with her clean white apron. But what Lana noticed most was the soft pink lip gloss she had on, just enough to brighten her smile.
Mike asked. “What do you recommend today?”
Giggle, giggle. “I like the smoked salmon, and the soup of the day is oyster stew.” Giggle, giggle.
They couldn’t help smiling at her. “Do you, by any chance, have potato soup?” Lana asked.
Giggle. “Umm, I don’t know, but I can ask.”
“Please do, I’m in the mood for that today. In the meantime I’ll look at the menu,” Lana said.
Giggle. “Okay.” Giggle.
Mike squeezed her leg under the table trying not to giggle. He snickered when she went back to the kitchen.
Lana whispered. “Mike I forgot to tell her to bring us some sweet tea, and it was because you were playing with my leg under the table.”
He nibbled on her ear. “Babe I have just started playing.”
“You are so bad,” she said as she raised her sleeve so Mike could see the goose bumps he caused.
Then he sang Bad to the Bone.
“You know babe you sing pretty good,” she said as the snuggled close to him. She took a deep breath remembering him serenading her last night.
While they waited, they looked out across the ocean. Several boats leisurely floated by and Mike knew the make and model of all of them and how much they cost. “Honey, see that first yacht with the pointed bow, it is a seventy-two footer called Grand Banks Aleutian RP and it cost well over two million dollars.”
“How do you know this?” She asked.
“I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express.”
Lana rolled her head back with laughter.
He raised his left eyebrow as if to say. Don’t interrupt me I’m on a roll, then he continued. “I’ve always wanted a yacht to sail when I retire, but this one is out of my league.” Another yacht drove in and it was so smooth. “This next beauty is a seventy-eight footer called Ferretti 780 and it’s probably valued at about three million dollars.”
“Well Mike, I think we should go buy one today.”
“I wish I could, but there are some beautiful boats owned by some rich families out of Boston. Maybe one day I can afford the row boat that goes with these yachts.”
“Well there should be one you could afford, one a little bigger than a row boat.”
“I’ll keep looking and I will find one I want one day,” he said while he daydreamed about owning a yacht.
“Do you want to live on one?” Lana asked taking a drink of her water. It tasted fishy to her.
“Not literally, but I’d like to sail for months at a time. Would you go with me?”
“Yes, I would love to go. I’ve never been anywhere on such a big boat, but I’ll give it a try.”
She was the first woman he dated who ever considered sailing with him. All the other women always complained about leaving friends, family, and work. Lana didn’t even hesitate.
The waitress came back with her giggle and said. “The chef said if you have a little time he would be glad to make you some potato soup.” Giggle, giggle.
Lana could not have been happier. “That’s what I’ll have and tell your chef thanks you so much, and he made my day.”
Mike added. “I’ll have the same thing and I’ll add a Philly steak sandwich with mine.”
Giggle, giggle. “What do you want on your sandwich?”
Mike squeezed her leg under the table and it tickled her. “I want everything on it. I’ll trust the chef. Oh, and we both want sweet tea.”
She picked up the menus and said. “I’ll bring you some bread and sweet tea.” And off she went with a giggle, giggle.
She couldn’t help herself as she moved her hand up Mike’s thigh and leaned close to his ear and said. “Giggle giggle.”
As they left the restaurant they were both rubbing their bellies, full to the brim. The potato soup was the best they ever had, including Lana’s own recipe. The waitress was their entertainment, and they could hear her giggling waiting on other tables.
Mike started the truck and he took her hands to warm them up and he decided keeping her hands warm would be his life mission. Several pairs of gloves would be one of the first Christmas gifts he planned on purchasing for her.
“Where are we heading to next, I can’t wait?” She asked with a quick kiss.
“How about the Pilgrim Hall Museum, it has a bunch of stuff about the pilgrims that date back to 1620.”
“That sounds great and what kind of stuff do they have there?”
“They have William Bradford’s Bible, Myles Standish’s sword, the only portrait of a Pilgrim, Edward Winslow, painted from life, the cradle of New England’s first���born Peregrine White, the great chair of William Brewster, and I think they have a lot of stuff from Myles Standish.”
“Let’s go there. Have you ever been to this museum?”
“Nope,” he answered.
“Do you want to do something else?”
“Nope.”
“Since you live in this area, why haven’t you visited this museum before today?” She was determined to get more than a one word answer.
“When Kathy and I first moved here we had little kids, and I traveled a great deal with my job and she was mom and dad to the kids. Later she got sick and ���,” he choked up and had to regain his composure before he could finish. He wasn’t ready to talk about her death. “… I just don’t like to go to these places alone.”
“Mike I didn’t mean to bring up past memories, I just want to make new ones with you.” After his answer she knew one day they would have to sit down and have a long talk about both of their pasts.
“I like to think of past memories, it makes me appreciate every moment I have now, and I appreciate you.” He looked down as if he was thinking of something.
“Honey, please don’t be sad,” she said.
He looked in her eyes and his faced turned pale. “I thought about what it would be like if I lost you like I did Kathy. I don’t want to think about it, it might kill me if that happened. Honey, I just don’t want to ever lose you.”
“You’re stuck with me forever or at least thirty years.”
“That’s not good enough I want at least fifty years.”
“You’ve got it.” She scooted as close as she could and wrapped her freezing hands around the arm of his wool jacket.
The quaint museum had every nook and cranny filled with incredible history. They held hands and walked through the several rooms and read everything on the walls and in the glass cases.
They read about a desk and chair, and how it was used signing in laws. The chair showed signs of wear. She could only imagine the talks that occurred with the fore fathers sitting in it. The men talked of treaties, laws, women, and Indians. On the desk sat an ink well. Lana daydreamed about how many quall pens were dipped in it. Maybe a young girl wrote her fianc�� who lived in Europe. She wrote and told him about their hardships in America.
The pilgrims had a very difficult life and might have starve
d if it would not have been for the Indians. Then the pilgrims got greedy and wanted what the Indians had. “You know Mike the Indians led a very simple life and then the white man came and took everything they had.”
“Yea and it’s sad,” he said.
“It would be interesting to see how history might have been changed if Christopher Columbus never stepped a foot on American soil.”
“All I know is we might not have met.”
“That is so true,” she said. That was such a nice and simple answer.
The artifacts were impressive and she called Mike over and whispered. “I didn’t know Myles Standish was involved with the massacre of Indians. That bothers me. Why can’t we just all get along with each other?”
“You know, I think Myles wife coined that term,” said Mike.
She stopped in her tracks and tried to quietly laugh. Why she tried to be quiet she didn’t know, they weren’t in a library and no one stood around them. “Mike you are so feisty, but that’s okay as long as your this feisty when it comes to my back rub tonight.”
“Oh yea,” he said as he reached over and took her hand and held it. He noticed they were cold. They were always cold. He walked behind her and put her hands in his pockets and he also put his hands in the same pockets. “Is this better?”
“Yes, but how will we walk around like this?”
“We’ll manage.” Then he kissed her on top of my head. Thinking of Lana being cold bothered him to the core. Keeping her warm and safe was his job. The idea of keeping her near him and protected made his heart content.
They spent several hours looking at the all the chairs, desks, writing tools, paintings, and artifacts. They didn’t miss one thing in the small museum. When everything was examined they decided to head home.
As they walked outside Lana bumped into a man, hard. He almost fell down but she grabbed him in the nick of time and apologized. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got over me. I must have been daydreaming.”
Mike stepped between them. He was more than ready to intervene if he had to but since the guy appeared to be nice about the incident, Mike relaxed.
“That’s okay ma’am, by the way is this ramp the entrance to the Pilgrims museum?” Huh, he said museum so funny, like he was saying Mooseum.
“Yes sir, this is Pilgrims museum entrance,” she answered, but something nagged at her.
*****
When they drove up to the house Mike noticed a light on in the kitchen. “Babe, did we leave the light on in the house?”
“I don’t remember, but we could have.” Her nerves started that familiar flicker of anxiety. She wished Mike never said a word. Normally if she saw a light on she would just go in and turn it off, but with all that has happened the last couple of days, her normal routine was not routine anymore.
“Hon, you wait here and I’ll check out the house.” He pulled a gun from his jacket and cautiously walked in the house. She nervously waited and decided as long as there wasn’t any yelling she thought she would be fine. Within a few minutes he returned and said. “Everything looks fine and I probably turned the light on when we left.”
“I’m sure we did.”
Once they took off their coats, Mike started a fire and Lana grabbed some wood to help. Mike stacked the wood in the Boy Scout crisscross shape then he put newspaper under the wood.
“Baby I see you have the fire under control, and you don’t need me to supervise anymore. So I’m going to put the potatoes on or they will never get done,” she said as she patted his butt as she walked by him.
“Don’t start something you can’t stop. I might have to help you in the kitchen, in more ways than cooking.”
“Come on big boy, I’m sure I can handle you.” She washed the potatoes and stabbed them with a fork then wrapped them in foil and popped them in the heating oven.
Mike stood in front of the fire staring at lies within it. His eyes sparkled against the glow of the flames. With a poker in one hand and his other hand holding on to the mantle was a sight to see. Now and then he would poke a little at the fire and a few sparks flew around in a circle then fizzed out, screaming a hissing sound as they go. He seemed to be mesmerized.
Watching him, she couldn’t resist putting her arms around him and giving him a big hug.
He reciprocated the gesture with zeal, along with a kiss.
She noticed how gentle he always seemed to be with her. Once he got used to her she hoped he would get a little feistier. She wasn’t a china doll and she wouldn’t break. Even when he held her hand he tried to be gentle.
After a few seconds of kissing, he asked her. “How long do we have before the potatoes are done?”
“About two hours,” she answered knowing why he asked. The same idea grew in her own mind and body.
Mike walked over to the stereo and played some soft music. He easily moved the heavy coffee table to the side. He smiled at her, held out his hand and asked. “Would you like to dance?”
“Oh yes!” She knew Mike didn’t know this, but she loved to dance. There were many women who would find this gesture romantic. Lana found his spontaneity a turn on, better than foreplay. It couldn’t get any better than this.
They swayed back and forth interlocking their fingers. Along with the songs came kissing, and with the kissing came taking off the clothes. After several songs, and nearly all their clothes off, Mike picked her up and carried her to their bedroom.
He finished undressing her with rhythm of the music. He never lost eye contact as they swayed to the music flesh touching flesh.
*****
In each other’s arms, they lay content and drained.
Mike drifted off to sleep.
Lana wanted to sleep, but she had to cook dinner. She wished they would have ordered pizza or grabbed chicken. She lay next to Mike as long as she possibly could. Quietly she crept out of bed and went to the bathroom and put on one of Mike’s t-shirts. It seemed really cold in there and she looked around to find the source. The window was cracked, maybe an inch. She gasped! Fear rose in her beyond anything she knew before and she could hardly breathe. Was someone in the house with them? Oh God! She could feel her heart pounding in her throat. She was terrified. She tried to focus. She tried to think. Get Mike, he’ll know what to do.
She ran and jumped on the bed, breathing sporadically. “Mike, get up someone’s in the house.”
He tried to understand why she was so upset. He rubbed his eyes, groggy from sleeping. “Babe calm down, what makes you think someone is in the house?” He sat up in bed trying to focus.
“The bathroom window is unlocked and cracked. Go look for yourself. I noticed it how cold in there and I saw it open,” she said with a trembling voice.
When he heard her fear, he knew the severity of it all. He felt the panic through her voice. Mike tried to console her. “Honey, I left it open after my shower this morning before we left. I always open the window when I shave.”
“Mike, I closed and locked it before we left, and that was after you were done in the bathroom. Please get your gun and look,” she begged him.
Her shaking body and throbbing veins in her throat told him the seriousness of her fear. He quickly put on some boxers.
“Mike, think about it, the light was on in the kitchen. Do you think that was a coincident?”
“No, I don’t.” He got his gun out of its holster and walked to the back door. The back door was unlocked and ajar. In the patches of snow he could see footprints. Mike stood there in disbelief. He knew he locked the back door before they left the house, and when he walked through the house after they got home. How did he get in the house? His face turned white. “Come on and let’s get dressed, we’re getting out of here.” Mike grabbed his phone and immediately called the police.
While he was on the phone Lana motioned she would take out the potatoes. Mike nodded okay.
As she turned on the light she screamed for Mike.
Mike ran in the kitchen holding his g
un down to his side. “What’s the matter?”
Lana pointed at the counter with a trembling hand. “Look,” she said with weak voice, barely audible.
The steak lied on the counter with a knife stuck through it.
He couldn’t believe his eyes. Someone was in this house when he made love to his Lana. He wanted to kill him. He wanted to go outside and find him, make him pay. But he couldn’t leave her, not when she was so terrified. “Honey let’s get dressed and wait for the police. I’m going to search every inch of this house. I want you to stay behind me.”
“Okay.”
Mike checked every nook and cranny. She felt relieve when she saw the police lights coming down the road. She was so relieved the adrenaline crash made her weak and she had to sit down on the couch.
Police cars rushed to the house and Lana could hear them skid on the gravel as they came to an abrupt stop. There were several cars and the lights lit up the entire street. Detective Paul Quentin, called Quent was the lead detective and they were good friends with Mike.
Mike met him at the door. When Lana followed Mike, he motioned for her to stay in the house. “Hey Quent, thanks for coming out, I appreciate how quickly you got here,” Mike said as he shut the front door behind him.
Staying in was a relief for Lana. Her body shook so bad she went and stood in front of the fire, trying to calm down her nerves. Reflecting back the last twenty minutes, she couldn’t remember everything. She always heard about people being in traumatic situations and not remembering, whether it might be a rape, car crash, or someone dying. The last thought remembered was the cold feeling, after that, she could only remember seeing white spots. Fear consumed her. When James died she remembered everything. But that was sorrow not fear. One thought that kept her fearful. What if Mike wouldn’t have been there? That thought made her shake even more.
Police were everywhere, outside and inside dusting for prints. She didn’t know what to do with herself so she decided to pack. While she was in the bedroom she heard some men talk outside the bedroom window. She peeked out and Detective Quentin and Mike pointed to something on the wall. CSI were everywhere and she noticed they cast some footprints in the snow.
