Meagan's Marine (Halos & Horns)

by Lori Leger

  He stared at her, a little surprised that she possessed knowledge of his sister. Not that long ago, he would have balked at something like that, insisting it was some kind of trickery. However, his recent experiences with the unknown had opened his mind as nothing else ever had. Finally, he gave her a nod. “Thank you, that’s good to know.”

  “Anyone else want coffee?” Meagan headed for the kitchen.

  The psychic gave her another toothy grin. “Yes ma’am, I surely would. Just a little cream, I’m sweet enough.”

  “I’ll take some also,” Mitch said, turning to see Elvinia’s gaze locked on him. He gave her a self-conscious smile. “So, is it her ex haunting the place?”

  A sudden roll of thunder accompanied her reply. “I believe it is, but he’s not dangerous.”

  He nodded, staring out the window as fat droplets of rain began to pelt the room’s large plate glass windowpane. He turned back to find her gaze still pinned on him. “Is there something wrong?”

  She shook her head slowly. “No…nothing wrong. But I want you to know that you won’t let her down.”

  “I’m not worried about my sister. She’ll be okay from here on out.”

  Elvinia’s deep chuckle echoed in the room. “I know she will, but she’s not the one I’m talking about.” She reached out to place her large hand on his chest, right over his thudding heart. After several seconds, she leaned in close to whisper. “You’re in love and you don’t even know it yet.”

  Mitch couldn’t manage more than a wide-eyed stare as she threw her head back in jubilant laughter.

  Meagan entered, carrying a tray with three cups and set it on the ottoman. “Did I miss out on a joke?” She handed out two of the cups and took the third one for herself as she waved her hand at the sofa and chair. “Sit, please.”

  Elvinia sat with a flourish. “You didn’t miss out on any joke. It’s only that the truth is hard to swallow for some people.”

  Meagan glared at Mitchell. “You weren’t making fun of her abilities or anything, were you?”

  Mitch opened his mouth to protest. Before he could say anything, Elvinia jumped in.

  “Not at all. I was only teasing him, and he was being a good sport about it.” She gave him a wink before raising her cup to her mouth.

  The three of them sipped their coffee in silence for a moment before Meagan cleared her throat. “Elvinia, is there anything you want to know about what’s happened before? How Christopher died or anything?”

  The psychic blinked twice, her heavily mascara coated lashes fluttering like two large, velvety butterflies with perfectly synchronized wings. “No.”

  Mitch stared at Meagan, waiting to see if she had some kind of comeback. Realizing she didn’t, he turned his attention to Elvinia.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked, more than a little curious.

  “Well,” she said, before sipping her coffee and settling back on the overstuffed chair. “I’m going to enjoy this delicious coffee…and wait.”

  “For what?”

  “For him to approach me,” she whispered.

  “But he won’t in here,” Meagan insisted. “You have to go in there.”

  “Oh no, he’ll come out here. He just didn’t realize he could until now.”

  Meagan shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s part of why he’s so frustrated. He feels trapped and doesn’t know what to do. Look how long it’s taken him to get this far.”

  Mitch didn’t even attempt to hide his confusion. “I still don’t understand.”

  Elvinia sighed and sat forward on the chair. “Was Christopher a real talkative person when he was alive, Meagan? I mean, did the two of you sit together and have long talks about life and things?”

  Meagan frowned and shook her head. “Not really. Chris was always on the quiet side. But we knew each other so well, it was as though we didn’t have to speak to communicate. I could look at him and know what he was think…ing…oh…ooohh.” Her eyes widened as she set her coffee cup down with a clatter and covered her mouth with one hand. She stood and paced the length of the living room several times then stopped to stare at Elvinia. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes ma’am. He doesn’t know how to communicate with you in any way other than face to face. And in case you hadn’t noticed, he doesn’t have a face anymore.”

  “But Buck sees him, so how is that possible?” Mitchell demanded.

  “Only because Buck doesn’t realize he’s not supposed to. Children don’t know that most people don’t believe in ghosts. Heck, he doesn’t even know he’s a spirit. He just thinks he’s—”

  “The sad man,” Mitch finished for her.

  Elvinia’s head tilted forward. “Yes, the sad man.”

  Meagan dropped to the couch and leaned forward. “What does he see, Elvinia? What do you see? Can you see Chris?”

  “I don’t see him with my eyes. I sense him, but in my mind, he doesn’t look anything like that picture you have of him in that room. He’s in his fatigues, and he’s covered in…” She paused, flexing her fingers as she struggled to explain.

  “Filth,” Mitchell finished for her. “He’s covered in layers of grime, sometimes weeks of sand and dust and dirt buildup with no water or way to take a shower. It’s like I told you the other day, Meagan. He’s lost and alone in Afghanistan.”

  Meagan dropped her head into her hands and sobbed quietly while Mitch looked on, helpless to do anything but let her cry. After a short round of tears, she wiped her eyes and lifted her chin.

  “What I can I do, Elvinia? I don’t want him reliving the worst time of his life…or death…or anything that has to do with that hell hole. I want him to be at peace, here in his own country.”

  The psychic seated herself alongside Meagan and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I know that, and he’ll find his way back, eventually.”

  Meagan pulled a tissue from the box on the cocktail table and wiped her eyes. “I still don’t understand. He’s here already. His presence is here, not in the middle-east. Why can’t he see where he is?”

  “It doesn’t work like that. He doesn’t exist on the same plane as you or I. He’s in the spirit world and he’s confused. It’s almost as if he’s being haunted by his own memories. He doesn’t realize he’s not among the living anymore. We have to find a way to communicate with him, to let him know that you’re okay.”

  “How? Should I use a Ouija board?”

  “Heavens, no! Those things will bring in the kind of spirits you surely don’t want to see around here. The way you communicate is to open your heart and your mind up to him. First of all, you have to accept what’s happening for what it is. Clear your mind of all doubt. Then concentrate on the message you want to send him.” She leaned in close. “There is no magic in this, Meagan, simply the act of controlling your emotions enough to get your message through to him. And no one can do it but you.”

  Meagan stood and began to pace, waving her arms animatedly as her voice rose in a hysterical rant. “I don’t know how to do that! Isn’t there some book…some website I can go to that will show me how it’s done?”

  Elvinia blinked several times before her low chuckle filled the room. “I guess you could always try Googling it…but good luck with that. No telling what kind of crazies you’d get in response.” She gathered her purse and stopped on her way toward the door to widen her big black eyes at her. “You probably think I’m nuttier than a fruitcake, but honestly? I’m pretty tame compared to what’s out there.”

  ****

  Meagan stood at the door waving as Mitchell’s truck pulled out of her drive. When she could no longer see the red of his tail-lights, she turned to study her surroundings.

  Alone…She was alone in the place that suddenly seemed much larger than its actual square footage. She walked through the tiny den, wishing Niki and Buck would suddenly appear. No chance of that, since her friend had taken him to a movie at the local mall and wouldn’t b
e home for another hour.

  She made herself go into her son’s room and lowered carefully onto his bed. With eyes closed, she took a deep breath and held it a few seconds before releasing it slowly into the room. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to conjure up some form of communication with the father of her child.

  “I’m still so pissed at you, Chris,” she whispered into the silence of her son’s room. “You promised me you’d come back alive and healthy.” Her head lowered, her chin rested on her chest as she remembered the first sight of a flag-draped metal casket holding her fiancé’s remains.

  She’d waited for hours in a hangar at the tiny airport of a suburb south of Lafayette, Louisiana, determined she’d be there when he arrived. The small plane taxied up to the terminal, stopping within clear view of the hangar’s large window. She’d held her breath until the red and white stripes appeared, pushed slowly and carefully through the opening of the plane’s cargo hold. Remembered how the breath had rushed out of her, how all air in the room seemed to empty suddenly, becoming a vacuum. A cold, dead vacuum, just as dead as her Marine was, inside that casket.

  Until that moment, she’d been able to hold out for some form of hope. Even after the visit from the three men dressed in crisp uniforms. It was as if she’d been holding back for something…some military error…some miracle of mistaken identity…some reason for a phone call saying her Marine was in a stateside hospital, injured and weak, or even comatose.

  Any other scenario would have been preferable to having what was left of his body processed in the massive port mortuary of Dover Air Force Base in Delaware.

  His death hadn’t seemed real until the moment she’d seen physical evidence. She’d made her way slowly through the door of the hangar to approach the casket. After researching the entire process, she’d known the stars of the flag would be placed strategically over his heart. She knew exactly where to lay her hand, and then her head, over the spot. In that moment, he wasn’t a Marine being returned to her…but Christopher…her Chris. The only other person in her life who’d mattered until she’d seen that pregnancy test plus sign informing her of the other life she carried.

  She’d waited a day before deciding to email him, somehow knowing it was important not to wait for the scheduled Skype call the next week. She wanted him to think twice about taking unnecessary risks while out on patrol.

  A single tear made a barely audible plop onto her clasped hands.

  She’d been too late. And she’d never forgive herself for that. Strange that at the very moment she’d hit the send button, she’d gotten a sick feeling in her stomach, like she knew he’d never see it. Once she’d received word and got the exact time of Christopher’s death, she’d done the math to calculate the time difference and discovered it was within minutes of her sending the email.

  Fate was a son of a bitch in combat boots.

  Meagan looked up at the sound of his picture falling. She stood and approached Buck’s dresser, lifted the fallen portrait of his father and brought it close to her chest. Violent flights through the air and into the room’s wall had bent and weakened the frame’s stand, causing its fall. No mystery there.

  “You lied to me, baby.” Her voice came out sounding tortured and hoarse. “You left me.” She trailed her finger along the inside edge of the frame and winced as a tiny shard of glass caught at the tip of her finger. She pulled it out and squeezed her finger. A perfect dot of dark red blood pooled in its place. Meagan stared at it for a moment before grabbing a tissue from a box on the dresser to dab at it. She dropped it, along with the shard, in the small trash receptacle decorated with dinosaurs and walked to the doorway. Pivoting slowly, she addressed the emptiness of the room.

  “If you can show yourself to our son, why the hell can’t you show yourself to me?” Her heart pounded out its rhythmic beat as she waited, hoping for some sign, some hint that he knew she was there and wanted to communicate with her. Greeted with the room’s silence, she turned away, feeling empty and alone.

  The familiar ring tone of Train’s “Hey Soul Sister” had her running for her phone. After a quick swipe of her thumb, she answered. “Hey, Nik, what’s up? Is my son driving you crazy yet?” Her friend’s sigh had her immediately on guard. “What’s wrong?”

  “First of all, he’s all right, Meggie.”

  “Oh shit…”

  CHAPTER 13

  Broken Bones, Bad Tires, and Blood Money

  Meagan tore a check from the register and handed it across the desk to the woman seated opposite from her, noticing her nametag for the first time.

  Shanna May’s fingers flew across the keyboard and soon she was handing her a printed receipt. “We’ll file this and if your deductible is all or partially paid you’ll get a reimbursement check from us.”

  Meagan forced a smile from lips that hadn’t lost their tightness since Niki’s ominous phone call an hour earlier. “Yes ma’am…thank you, ma’am.” That’s a hundred bucks I’ll never see again.

  She turned, and went to meet Niki, who sat waiting with Buck, his left arm braced and in a sling.

  “Hey Buckaroo…how you feeling?” She leaned over to kiss his forehead, smoothing his hair back out of habit.

  He looked up at her, his eyes big and round. “M’okay Mom. Can we hab ice cream?”

  “It’s on me!” Niki insisted. “It’s the least I can do for breaking your child’s arm.”

  Meagan touched her finger to Buck’s nose. “It’s have…not hab, little man. And I don’t see why not.” She stood and hugged her friend tightly. “It was an accident, Nik. I don’t want to hear any talk like that again.”

  “But he was in my care and I feel like the world’s worst friend-slash-babysitter.”

  Buck grinned up from the wheel chair they’d seated him in. “Boys’ll be boys, Aunt Nik. It’s not your fault. I asked you to spin fast. I shoulda held on.”

  “Well, it won’t happen again, Buckaroo.” Niki wiped a residual tear from one eye. “Your pleas will fall on deaf ears from here on out.”

  “Huh?” He squinted up at her.

  Her own burst of laughter took Meagan by surprise. “Never mind, son. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

  They’d just left the Sonic when Meagan pushed the speaker button on her ringing phone. “We just left you and you’re right behind me. What now, Nik?”

  “God, I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but you’ve got a low tire, Meg. Really low.”

  Meg released a frustrated groan. “Of course I do. I couldn’t possibly expect something pleasant to counteract the first part of this day, could I?” She released a long slow breath to calm her nerves. “Pulling over now to check it.”

  She found a spot wide enough to get her off the road and pulled to a stop. “Hang on Buck, mama needs to check the tires.” She stepped out and saw it immediately…the left front tire was noticeably low on air. Squatting to take a closer look, it didn’t take long to find the culprit.

  Niki pulled up behind her and approached her cautiously. “Can you tell what the problem is?”

  Meagan grunted as she stood up and faced her friend. “I picked up a nail somewhere. It’s okay. I’ve got a spare.”

  “You need me to call someone to change it for you?”

  “Nah, I can change a flat. Just take Buck home for me and I’ll meet you soon.”

  Within a few minutes, they transferred Buck to Niki’s car and Meagan stood waving them off. She popped her trunk and pulled back the heavy liner to reveal her spare. Closer examination had her groaning in disappointment at the significant signs of wear.

  Exhausted and anxious to be back with her son, she talked herself out of calling someone to help her. Instead, she got busy loosening lug nuts then jacked up the car to change the tire. When she was nearly done, a state police car pulled up in front of her. The female officer got out of the car and approached, asking if she needed help.

  She waved off the officer. “Thanks, but I’m almost finish
ed.”

  The officer, a Lt. Kerrie Pearce, walked over to inspect the scene. “That spare looks pretty bad, ma’am.”

  “Yes ma’am, I just noticed that.”

  Lt. Pearce walked around the car and met up with her again. “It looks like you need to spring for a whole new set.”

  Meagan tightened the last lug nut the way Chris had taught her to and jacked down the car. “I’ll have to buy them two at a time. I just dropped a small fortune at the ER for my son’s broken arm. Had my friend take him on home so I could change this one.”

  The officer sucked in her breath. “Ew, how’d that happen?”

  “He fell off the merry-go-round.”

  The officer’s eyes widened. “At City Park? One of my co-workers witnessed it. He said the babysitter freaked out but the kid barely cried at all.”

  Meagan smiled grimly. “Yep, she’d taken him to the movies, and said he was so good when he asked to go to the park she couldn’t turn him down. Niki was still pretty freaked out at the ER, but Buck never made a peep. Just like his daddy,” she added in a low whisper.

  “His dad around much?” At Meagan’s curious gaze, Officer Pearce shook her head apologetically. “Sorry, I’m a cop…I’m used to asking questions.”

  “Buck’s dad was killed in Afghanistan before he was born. My friend watches my son for me when I’m at work and studying. Poor thing feels so guilty even though I told her it wasn’t her fault.”

  The cop nodded and gave a grunt. “Always something with kids. You got insurance?”

  “Yep. Got deductibles too.”

  “Deductibles suck, don’t they?” The officer growled, picking up the flat and placing it in Meagan’s trunk.

  “Yes ma’am, they surely do. Thanks for the help, Officer Pearce.”

  The tall, thin woman gave her a nod. “Anytime, and, uh, try to get those tires as soon as you can. I’d sure hate to work an accident scene and discover it’s you and your son. You’re lucky that tire just went flat instead of blowing out. I’ve seen some horrific accidents because of blow outs, so I always check people’s tires.”