by Lori Leger
“Well done, Meagan.”
“You think so? Lord, I have never been so terrified in my life. I seriously thought I was going to lose it up there until I saw you.”
Laughter rumbled in his chest. “I was channeling courage in your direction. Did you feel it?”
She chuckled. “I believe I did, Mitch, thanks for that.”
“Glad I could help. Where do we go from here?”
She craned her neck, barely able to see Sarah and Tanner standing off to the side, surrounded by well-wishers. “I’m sure you’ll need to stick around here for pictures, but the reception is at Red and Tiffany’s ranch, at the pond out back by the pavilion.”
He gave her a curious lift of one brow. “Will you be there?”
“For a while. I have to go pick up my son first. My roommate watched him during the ceremony, but she has other plans tonight.”
“Oh…yeah. Your little boy.”
She shouldered her purse strap, trying not to feel hurt at the immediate change in his demeanor—the tightness in his face, tension in his shoulders she couldn’t ignore. “That’s right—my son, Buck. I’m glad you could make it in for this, Master Sergeant. I know it meant the world to Sarah.” She headed off in the opposite direction without another word.
****
Jesus, she can’t get away fast enough. He knew he’d upset her, though he sure as hell hadn’t meant to. He’d barely laid eyes on her, and just for a few moments, he’d forgotten about the kid. The son…her son…Buck. Totally disgusted, he asked himself how the hell he could have forgotten the existence of a child.
“Jackass—” he mumbled to himself with a sharp shake of his head. Unfortunately, that was just the first of many reasons he wouldn’t be good for her.
After enduring twenty minutes of a photographer barking orders like a sharp-tongued drill instructor, the group headed over to the reception venue.
Against all good reason, Mitch began searching for Meagan as soon as he arrived on site. Not so much to hang out with her, as for observation purposes. The soft drawl reached him even before he spotted the bluest eyes in this part of the state. Settling at the portable bar across the dance area from her, he accepted a beer from the guy tending the drinks.
Meagan’s son, Buck, had grown a good several inches since he’d seen him last. His face had thinned out, giving him more the look of a little boy, rather than a toddler. Despite his mom’s best efforts to rein him in, the boy wanted to cut loose. Meagan knelt in front of him, pointing to the pond in the distance before poking him gently in the belly, most assuredly warning him about going near the water. The child took off toward a group of other children, most were older, but a few a little younger than himself, including Mitchell’s own nieces, Sarah’s twins.
He sat through his sister and new brother-in-law’s first dance as a married couple, and then danced with the bride. After handing her back to her new husband, he found himself touring the floor with the maid of honor.
Melanie Finley’s eyes creased with secretive laughter. “Hello Marine. How’ve you been?”
“Since you left me alone in a Lake Coburn hotel last year, letting me wake up to a post-it note on the pillow, you mean?”
She gave her head a quick shake. “It wasn’t a post-it note, it was a deposit slip from my checkbook, and it had my info on it…which you did not use to contact me, I might add.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize that.”
Her face blanched. “What did you do with it?”
“What? The note?” He shrugged. “I think I just left it where it was.”
She paused their dancing to stare up at him. “Seriously? Well, that’s just great. Whoever found it knows I had a one-night stand with a Marine, not to mention my name and all my contact info.”
He laughed softly at the look of horror on her face. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I saw the housekeeper. She was seventy if she was a day and barely spoke English. I doubt seriously she could read it.” He nudged her into continuing their dance. “Besides, that was nearly a year ago. If she wanted to steal your identity, I’m fairly certain it would have happened by now.” He stopped suddenly and stared down at her. “You don’t have any other surprises for me do you?”
“Like what?”
“Like ‘Guess what? The condom broke and you’re the father of a bouncing baby… whatever…”
She looked serious for a moment. “Come to think of it, I did receive a blessed little addition to my household as of one month ago.”
Mitch felt the blood drain from his face as he stood there contemplating the weight of her words. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Is it…he or she…mine?” He felt as though he’d be sick at any moment.
“He, and I named him Shots, you know, like ‘shots’ of tequila.”
He pictured her as she was that night at the bar, downing shots of Patron with salt and lime. “You named my kid after booze?” he seethed, suddenly furious at the indignation of it all.
“Hold on, now, Marine. I haven’t said he’s yours. Although, now that I think of it, I guess he could be. I mean….we did do it doggy style…”
“What? What the hell does that have to do with…” He stopped as she burst into laughter.
“Oh God, your face! I got a new puppy, Mitch!”
“Ohhh…oh shit, Mel. I think I’m gonna puke.” He rubbed at his belly, shaking his head at the woman doubled over in laughter. “Man, that ain’t cool, Detective. Not cool at all.”
“Maybe not,” she finally managed to spit out between ladylike snorts. “But it was funny as hell.”
He took her in his arms again, determined to finish the dance with some nuance of dignity. “Says you…shithead.” He managed to smile as her joviality finally faded to soft chuckles. “You realize, of course, this means I owe you one.”
Melanie made a fist and punched him playfully in the chest. “Well, you go on and give it your best shot, Marine. You’ve already taken out the element of surprise. I’ll be waiting for it, now.”
“You’ll never see it coming, Detective. That, I can promise you.”
****
Meagan laughed as Tanner regaled them with how his mom used guilt to persuade him and Sarah into having a larger wedding than planned.
“I told Sarah she’d do it, gave her plenty of opportunity to get her anti-mother-in-law mojo brewing, so she could resist her. Did it do any good? Noooo! We could have been married a month ago, if she had.”
Sarah slipped an arm around Tanner’s waist. “Oh, it wasn’t that bad. You barely had to lift a finger. Besides, she started out insisting on a society wedding in Houston that would have taken a year to plan. I held her to one month and convinced her how beautiful it would be here at Red and Tiffany’s ranch. I’d already seen the pictures of Giselle and Jackson’s wedding here, with the pond all lit up at night. It was gorgeous! I wanted a church wedding but I knew I had to have the reception here.”
Tanner gave his new bride a resounding kiss on the mouth. “Ours is beautiful too. I’ve got to hand it to you, babe, my mom isn’t easy to sway once she sinks her chops into an idea. Society weddings are important in her inner circle.”
“Not nearly as important as keeping my new daughter-in-law happy.” Heads turned as Celine Collins joined their circle, carrying one of the twins. “As much joy as she’s brought into our lives with these two angels, it’s the least I can do.”
Tiffany stepped forward with Sarah’s other twin. “Besides, after this, all of Ms. Celine’s Houston friends will probably decide that outside fall receptions are the thing to do. It really is lovely.”
“Oh thank you, Tiffany. I had such fun planning this. Maybe I ought to do it for a living. It’ll keep me from sitting around and growing old in between visits with my new granddaughters.” She leaned in, speaking in a loud whisper. “Along with any future grandchildren they decide to bless us with one day.”
Meagan listened half-heartedly, while keeping one eye peeled on her child. All this talk of grandchildren and their doting grandparents made her a little sad for her own son. Sarah’s parents had died, but no doubt, they would have loved to be around their granddaughters. Poor Buck had four living grandparents, none of whom wanted a thing to do with him.
Sometimes life just sucked.
Who would he have to teach him the things her own grandparents had taught her? Things like when to plant your vegetable garden so the plants don’t get frost-bitten, how to cook popcorn the old fashioned way…in a kettle, not a microwave, and how to season a black iron pot?
Misty eyed with old memories and a sudden feeling of homesickness, she saw Buck pull to a sudden stop in the middle of chasing a balloon. She smiled, recognizing that look on his face—Christopher’s look—the look he got when he saw something he couldn’t resist. He started a slow walk toward whatever had garnered his attention. Meagan’s vision tracked ahead to see what it was and froze at the sight of the lure.
Warning bells went off in her brain, but she couldn’t seem to move. What the hell? Had she traded her heels for lead boots since the ceremony?
“Oh God, no,” she whispered, finally taking a step, then several more, but not before her son made it to his destination.
****
Mitch felt a slight tug on his jacket and looked down. Meagan’s little boy stood there, his face cloaked in childlike innocence and wearing a look of awe. “Hey there, buddy. How ya doing?” No training, military or otherwise, could have prepared him for the single question uttered by the boy.
“Are you my daddy?”
Mitch contemplated the strange question, as he studied the face so much like his mother’s, but then again, not. He obviously bore a heavy resemblance to his father. His father…Meagan’s Marine. He’d just made the connection by the time Meagan reached the two of them.
“Buck! Hey! There you are. I’ve been looking for you. I bet you’ve been having some fun playing with all these kids, huh?”
Her breathless, overly enthusiastic act fooled neither Mitch, nor her son, obviously. After casting a glance toward his mother, he looked up at Mitch and repeated the question.
“Are you my daddy?”
“No! Buck…No! He’s not your daddy. He’s just a friend of mine.” Meagan knelt beside her son, obviously struggling to stay calm in a situation she’d never found herself in before. “His name is Mitchell, and he is a Marine, like your daddy was.”
“Is.” The word left Mitchell’s mouth before he could stop it.
Two sets of identical, blue-eyed gazes landed on him.
“What?” Meagan asked—her eyes wide with worry as Mitchell knelt before her child.
Mitch looked from the mother to the son while keeping his tone steady and calm. “No, I’m not your dad, but I want you to know something. Even though your dad isn’t where you can see him every day, he still is a Marine, Buck. One you and your mom can be very proud of.” He took his cover off and played with the brim. “I bet you have a picture of him at your house, and he’s dressed like I am, huh?”
Buck gave him a shy smile and a vigorous nod. “It’s in my woom.”
Mitch chuckled. “In your room, huh? I figured as much.”
Buck gave him one more nod. “He looks like you,” he said, reaching out a chubby finger to touch a shiny brass button. “You look like him.”
Mitch swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the presence, the man that the ugly side of war had taken from this child’s life, permanently. He offered his hand slowly. “I’m Mitchell, Buck—Master Sergeant Mitchell Hebert. It’s real nice to meet you. And it’s an honor to meet the son of a fellow Marine.”
Buck looked up at his mother to get her approval before offering his own pudgy hand to return the handshake. “I’m Buck. I gotta go.” In an instant, he was gone, off chasing another balloon, leaving the two adults staring after him.
Mitch rose slowly to his feet, even as Meagan began muttering apologies.
“I’m so sorry, Mitch. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“No apology necessary, Meg. It wasn’t difficult to figure it out. The dress blues are designed to make an impression, but to a little kid, we must all look alike. How old is he, anyway?”
“He’ll be four in two months.”
Mitch nodded. “So, his dad never—”
“Chris died before he was born,” she rushed, before he could finish.
He stared off after the boy. “That’s too bad.”
“Yep.” She crossed her arms as though to ward off a sudden chill.
“Are you cold?” He started to take off his jacket to offer it to her.
She raised her hand to stop him. “No, I just get this feeling every now and then when I talk about him. My granny used to call it ‘knocking on a coffin’. It’s almost as though I can feel his presence.” She ran her hands up both arms. “You’d think I’d feel comforted, but, for some reason, it freaks me out a little. I never was good with ghost stories and things like that.”
“Yet you like to watch scary movies, like the one we watched at the theater last year.”
“I don’t have a problem with Hollywood spirits, Mitch. It’s the real ones that give me the heebie-jeebies.”
“You believe in that stuff?”
“Oh sure. My granny had too many stories and real life experiences of her own for me to be a non-believer.”
“You don’t think they were just that…stories?” He knew he sounded skeptical and there was good reason. There was no such things as ghosts and spirits.
She lifted her chin. “You know, I’m not trying to persuade you to believe. It makes no difference to me one way or the other what you think.”
A second later she’d left him standing there, with the realization that he had, once again, shitified the entire situation.
“One of these days you’ll learn to shut the hell up when you need to, you dumb son of a bitch,” he grumbled while heading to the opposite end of the reception area. He finished off his beer, deciding it was probably for the best she’d high-tailed it when she did.
CHAPTER 3
The Sad Man (Part One)
Meagan arched her back, stretching her tight muscles, then attempted to work the kinks out of her neck with one hand. She swiveled in her chair at the light shuffling sound in the hallway, already suspecting what she’d find. “Hey buddy, you okay?”
Buck stood in the doorway, one arm wrapped around a purple and gold stuffed LSU “Mike” the tiger, while rubbing his eye with his right fist. “I can’t sleep, mommy. The sad man keeps staring at me.”
He shuffled to her outstretched arms and she lifted him onto her lap. “Aw, sweetie, we’ve talked about this before. The man in the picture isn’t sad, he’s just being serious for the camera, and he’s your dad. You’re not afraid of him, are you?”
Buck tried to suppress a huge yawn and failed. “It’s not daddy. It’s another sad man.”
“Another sad man–what do you mean, Buck? You see someone in your room, someone that’s not in daddy’s picture?”
Buck nodded adamantly. “He’s in my woom wight now.”
Meagan hugged her boy closely, amazed at such a vivid imagination in a child under the age of four. Any day now, he’d be coming up with imaginary friends, just as she did when she was little. “You just dreamed about him, sweet boy, that’s all. Daddy’s just watching over you while you sleep.”
“But I’m not asleep anymore.”
She pushed his wayward curls back from his forehead. “No, you certainly are not.”
“He’s still in my woom, and it’s too cold.”
“Okay, let’s go say good night to him together, then.” She saved out her report on the differences between alkanes, alkenes, and alkynes on her roommate’s PC before shutting it down. If her laptop hadn’t crapped out on her, she’d have been working on it in the comfort of her own bed. She struggled to her feet while hefting her son onto one
hip, his feet dangling nearly to her knees. “Pretty soon, you’re gonna be too big for me to carry you around, Buckaroo. You’re almost as tall as me now.”
Meagan entered the room, somewhat shocked at the chill in the air as she turned on her son’s Thomas the Tank table lamp. “Mommy is so sorry, baby. I must have left the window open in here.” She placed Buck in his bed and tucked the covers tightly around him, then turned to shut the tiny room’s only window. Halfway between her son’s bed and the window, a wall of frigid air hit her, vaporizing her warm breath into hazy puffs. Jolted to a halt, she stood there, staring at the closed window. Icy breath on her neck had the hair standing up at the base of her scalp, goose bumps raised on her arms. She whipped around, but no one else was in the room besides her and Buck.
She pivoted her head slowly to stare at her son. Buck was still tucked tightly in his bed, but watching her, his eyes large and round.
“Buck?” He didn’t answer but continued to stare at her. No. Not at her, but at the empty spot beside her. “Buck?” she repeated.
Without a word, he freed his left arm from the covers, lifted it slowly to point at the spot.
“There he is.” His whispered reply was barely audible over the thudding in Meagan’s chest.
Pretending to be calm for his sake, she steadied her voice. “Who, baby?”
“The sad man, Mommy. He’s wight there. Wight next to you.”
Meagan turned slowly to her right and stared at the vacant spot. She lifted her hand, encountered nothing—or she supposed it was nothing. Though why it had every fine hair on her arm standing at attention, she’d probably never know. “Oh my God!” She screeched, as she jerked her hand back and clenched it tightly to her chest.
Footsteps in the hallway preceded her roommate, Niki’s frantic call from the door opening. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Meagan couldn’t keep the terrified trembling from her voice any more than she could stop the onslaught of goose bumps from covering her entire body. “You don’t see anyone besides Buck and me, do you?”
Niki stepped into the room and shivered. “No, but why is it so damn—darn—cold in here?” She made a face and mouthed the word ‘Sorry’ to Meagan.
