Meagan's Marine (Halos & Horns)

by Lori Leger

  “—That’s Master Sergeant Oorah to you, ma’am,” he said, touching the brim of his cap.

  “Whatever!” Niki waved off his correction. “Maybe Mitch can help us out by watching Buck until you get back from your appointment.”

  Meagan gave one violent shake of her head. “Absolutely not.”

  Mitch stepped in front of her, insulted by her dejection. “Why the hell not?”

  “Because he’s my son and I don’t leave him with just anyone.” She glared at him, her mouth set and unapologetic.

  “Just anyone? You saw how good he and I got along at the park. He’s crazy about me.”

  “You ever babysat before?” she asked. “That’s you, the child, and no one else around.”

  He crossed his arms, amazed at her ability to insult him so easily. “Yes, actually. Sarah trusted me to watch both of her daughters at the same time. And one of ‘em even dumped on me.” An involuntary shiver passed over him as he fought back a gag at the memory. “God, that was surprisingly awful.”

  Meagan waved her hand, dramatically. “I rest my case. One poopy diaper and he’s scarred for life.”

  Mitch raised a defiant finger. “That was no ordinary poop. It was nasty. I’m talking poop all up her back and down both legs.” He shivered, still revolted at the memory. “It was all over…everything. But, I managed.”

  “Put her straight in the tub?” Niki asked, snorting with laughter.

  “Nope, took her outside and blasted her with the water hose.” He balked at Meagan’s look of horror. “What? It was a warm day and she loved it. Besides, by the time I got her out there, I needed a little hosing down myself. I was covered in crap…literally.”

  Mitch leveled his gaze on Meagan. “I’m assuming I won’t run into that situation with Buck.”

  “No, he’s been potty trained for two years.” She seemed to consider his offer before giving him a brief nod. “All right, if you’re sure you can handle it, you can watch him. Hopefully, I won’t be gone over a couple of hours.”

  ****

  Meagan hung her keys on the pegboard and draped her purse over the nearest chair back before heading to the fridge for water. After several thirst quenching gulps, Buck’s excited shouts and Mitchell’s deep laughter, both coming from the back yard, caught her attention. She leaned over the sink just in time to catch a flash of red and yellow jet in front of the kitchen window. She refilled her glass and brought it along as she made her way to the smallish, fenced-in back yard.

  “What’s going on out here?”

  Buck gave his mother a jubilant grin. “Mom! We’re flying a aiwo-plane! Mitch bought it and he says I’m a good pilot.”

  “Are you?” She clapped her hands and leaned over to give him a kiss on his cheek. “I don’t doubt it for a second, Buckaroo. Your great grandpa became an airplane pilot when he was a young man.”

  Buck cocked his head curiously. “I have a gweat gwanpa?”

  She nodded. “He passed away a long time ago, but he used to tell me stories when I was little. He was in a war we called World War II.”

  Buck’s mouth dropped open in awe as he stared at her with huge round eyes. “My gweat gwanpa flew aiwo-planes?”

  She slipped her hands in her back pockets and stared down at the one thing she’d done right in this world. “He sure did. I’ve seen pictures of him in his plane. He painted my grandma’s name on it—Diana Rose—with a yellow rose beside it. My Paw Paw said it brought him good luck because he flew the same plane for a whole two years and never got shot down.”

  Buck’s face lit up as he contemplated her words. “I’m gonna fly a plane, too,” he said, his tone seriously even and calm before running off, hands out and ‘flying’ around the yard.

  She stared after him, still somewhat dazed at the frankness of her son’s statement. “I bet you will, Buckaroo.” It took a couple of repetitions before she realized Mitch had spoken to her. She turned to see him staring down at her. “What did you say?”

  “I asked how long he’d flown…your grandfather, that is.”

  “Oh, he flew well into his seventies, so over fifty years. He became a crop duster once he made it home. He did that for about thirty years until he finally retired from flying full-time and just ran the business. But he still flew for the enjoyment of it.”

  “Did your dad follow in his footsteps? Or was he your maternal grandfather?”

  “He was my mom’s father, and no, there weren’t too many women pilots back then. Of the two of my parents, mom probably could have flown. My dad was always terrified of heights. I’ve always wondered,” she said, somewhat wistfully.

  “Wondered what?”

  “How she’d have turned out if she hadn’t been held back by the standards of the day. My mom is a very intelligent woman. I believe she could have done anything she wanted to do, if only she’d been allowed…encouraged to spread her wings and…”

  “Fly?” Mitch finished for her.

  She chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “What’s she like, Megs? You never talk about her, or either of your parents.” He sat on the long wooden bench at one side of the tiny patio and patted the seat next to him.

  She settled in beside him and shrugged. “She’s mom—always very sober and serious. Or she was when I was there. I care barely picture her with a smile on her face, much less laughing. She saved that for rare occasions, like when they had some of their church friends over.”

  “How about your dad?”

  Meagan snorted with disgust. “God, he was even worse. Stern, unyielding, unforgiving…and oh, so full of holier-than-thou-self-righteousness. I’m sure he believes he’ll be seated at the right hand of God when he goes.”

  Laughter rumbled from deep in Mitchell’s chest. “Um…I think that seat’s already taken.”

  She shot him a humorous look and winked. “But won’t dad be surprised when he figures it out? It almost makes me wish I could be there to see that. But, according to him, we won’t be in the same place.”

  Mitch placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure he’s right about that, but not for the same reasons. He’s one of those people who thinks he’s on the right track, but won’t find out until it’s too late that there is only one judge…and he ain’t it.”

  “Judge not, lest thee be judged,” she whispered.

  “You got that right.”

  She watched Buck. “You know, for years I had this weird feeling about the two of them. To me, Mom acted as though my father held something over her head. Like he used it to keep her in line.”

  Mitchell cocked his head to one side. “You think you’ll ever find out?”

  “I can’t be certain of course, but I’m doubtful.” She looked at her watch, grimacing at the amount of her day already gone. “Buck and I have some shopping to do before I leave for work tonight, Mitch.”

  He stood, arching his long back with a low groan. “I can take a hint. I’m going.” He headed toward Buck and offered his hand. “See you later Buck, my man. Mom’s chasing me off for the rest of the day so you can go shopping.”

  Buck’s face crumpled in disappointment. “Oh man, I don’t want to go shopping! That’s girl stuff.”

  Meagan lifted one brow at her son. “Really? Here I thought you were looking forward to picking out your own Halloween costume this year. At least that’s what you told me yesterday, and every day for the past week. But if you don’t want to go…” She laughed as Buck’s entire face lit up. “That’s what I thought. Now thank Mr. Mitch for watching you.”

  The boy turned a sheepish look toward Mitch. “Bye Mitch, and thanks for bwinging the aiwo-plane to play with me.” He gave it one last adoring look before offering it back to Mitch.

  “I’ll tell you what, Buckaroo. If you promise not to fly this without your co-pilot…that’s me…I’ll leave it here with you. You have to take excellent care of it. Keep it safe in the hangar, okay?”

  Buck’s eyes grew large and quizzical. “I g
otta put it on a hanger?”

  Meagan smothered a laugh while Mitch came up with a suitable answer.

  “Just keep it in the box, Buck. That’ll be good enough.”

  The child gave him a jubilant nod before running inside with the plane.

  Meagan stood up, adjusting the bandage on her arm. “Thanks for watching him for me.”

  “It’s been my pleasure, Megs. I guess I’ll see you tonight at the club?”

  Just for a second his statement threw her off.

  “I’m on schedule to work, too,” he added.

  “Oh! I guess I’m still trying to get used to that,” she said, feeling somewhat flustered as heat infused her face. She glanced up into his laughing eyes, knowing he enjoyed every second of her discomfort. “Oh, just shut up for once, Marine…and goodbye!”

  “Later, Megs.”

  “And quit calling me that!” she called out to his broad, straight back and tight, jean-covered ass.

  He turned at the gate, his voice a low, sexy growl. “Quit staring at my ass and I’ll think about it.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Big Needles and Bigger Promises

  Meagan finished her third glass of water for the night and dabbed discreetly at her mouth. She tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle yet another yawn, frowning as she caught Mitchell’s scrutinizing gaze on her. She turned away to hand a customer two frosty bottles of beer. Before she could recover, Mitch was whispering in her ear, low and disapproving, but still managing to raise the hair on the back of her neck in anticipation.

  “Every time you donate plasma, you can barely keep your eyes opened during work. I know your school work must be suffering also.”

  “I’m fine, and I have a 3.98 GPA, thank you very much.”

  “You’re not fine. I’ve been watching, you know,” he growled.

  “No kidding? I had no idea!” She couldn’t suppress the sarcasm in her comeback.

  “It’s not necessary, Megs. You have a responsibility to keep your strength up for Buck.”

  She rounded on him, cutting off his reply. “Don’t you dare talk to me about responsibilities,” she hissed. “I know full well what my responsibilities are. Like keeping my child clothed, fed properly, keeping a roof over his head and decent tires on the vehicle I have to drive him around in.”

  “All I’m saying is, I want to help.”

  “I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help. Why can’t you understand that?”

  ****

  God, but the woman was stubborn! Usually he bordered somewhere between anger and admiration for her hard-headed tenacity. Tonight, seeing her fight off her exhaustion, his anger, fuelled by concern for her, had the definite advantage.

  He got nose to nose with her, determined to make her see his point. “And why can’t you understand that I don’t want to see you collapsing from weakness or dehydration on top of everything else? No friend would want to see that. It’s called concern, Meagan. I know you aren’t a charity case, but everyone can use a helping hand now and then. Let me give you what you’d be making in plasma donations.”

  Her face grew pensive, as she seemed to consider his offer. Finally she spoke, her voice containing a hint of mischief.

  “You really want to help me that bad?”

  He nodded, praying he’d found a chink in her armor. “I certainly do.”

  “Meet me at my place Tuesday morning at 7:30 a.m.” She lifted her hand to stop him from asking questions. “That’s it, Marine. If you don’t show up, I don’t ever want to hear another word about this. I’m serious!”

  He nodded. “I’ll be there.”

  ****

  Accustomed to early rising and little sleep, Mitch waited in his truck for fifteen minutes before giving her front door a few tentative raps on Tuesday morning.

  She pulled it open quickly, greeting him with a severity he didn’t know she possessed.

  “I’ll allow you to help me financially under one condition.”

  He reached out, palms up and breathed a sigh of relief. “Finally! What’s the condition? I’m game, no matter what it is.”

  “That’s good to know.” Her mouth curled in a twisted grin. “I’ll accept money from you only if you’ve earned it donating plasma.”

  His hands lifted in protest. “Hold it! I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

  “I’m sure you did. You come with me, list me as a referral so I can get extra money, donate, and I’ll accept whatever you’re paid, if you still want me to.”

  He pondered her resolution, thinking he was surely creative enough to find a way out of it before it happened. No way would he actually allow strangers to shove large needles up his arms to drain the fluids out of him. “All right. You’ve got a deal.”

  She nodded and adjusted her purse strap. “Good, are you ready to go? I hope you ate a good sized breakfast.”

  Mitch swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. “You mean, right now?”

  “Sure. You can ride over there with me. It’ll take longer your first time but I’m willing to wait.”

  He paused, studying the look on her face. “You don’t think I’ll do it, do you?”

  She shrugged lightly. “Not everybody can take needles, Mitch.”

  “I’m a Marine, Megs. I laugh in the face of adversity.” Son of a bitch, he hated MoFo needles.

  She chuckled. “All I’m saying is that I’ve seen bigger men than you brought to their knees.”

  Her condescending tone gave him a steel resolve. He gave his head a brief shake. “And I’m about to show you that there’s a big difference between a man and a Marine, Megs. Let’s go.”

  ****

  “Oh man.” Mitchell gulped when he saw the size of the needle.

  “Second thoughts?”

  Meagan’s voice, jovial and teasing, came to him from the cot on his immediate right. He turned to her, determined to banish the amusedly smug look from her face. “Hell, no. I’ve waited two hours and I’m not leaving here without seeing this thing through.”

  The technician, Shonda, grinned as she leaned over his arm with the larger than normal needle. “Small stick…”

  Mitch tensed, hissing lowly through his clamped jaw.

  “All right, it’s over,” she said.

  He’d just forced himself to take a relaxing breath when Meagan’s voice reached him again.

  “You can open your eyes now, Mr. Big Bad Marine.”

  He cracked open one eye, and the other, only then realizing they’d both been squeezed shut. “Piece of cake,” he whispered, releasing a slow breath as Shonda got him taped up and flowing.

  “When the blood pressure cuff is tight on your arm, pump your hand quickly. When it stops, quit pumping your hand and rest it. It usually takes forty-five minutes to an hour to complete the cycle.”

  Mitch stared hard at the clear plastic tubing, now tinted a dark red from his own blood beginning the first loop from his body. He turned his head away from the sight, swallowing the taste of fresh bile rising in his throat. “I can do this.”

  “What was that?”

  He caught Meagan giving him a curious gaze. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? Because you have to let them know if you start to feel like you’re going to—”

  “I’m fine!” Before he could apologize for his sharp tone, he caught the twinkle of amusement in her eyes. A long, slow growl accompanied his release of breath. He settled back on his cot, forcing himself to relax and do this thing. He concentrated on the wall-hung flat screen playing a Bones rerun and he concentrated on getting into the storyline. It seemed to work, because before he knew it, he’d filled his plastic container with the yellowish liquid and the tech was wrapping his arm with a stretchy bandage.

  “Drink lots of water to rehydrate…stay away from caffeine and take it easy for the next few hours. And here’s your PIN to collect. The ATM is in that booth. If you have any problems at all, don’t hesitate to call us. You have to wait f
orty-eight hours to donate again and you can’t donate more than twice in seven days.”

  After collecting his $45 bucks from the ATM, he walked to the front where Meagan sat, patiently waiting for him. She popped up from her chair and approached.

  “You’re not feeling faint, are you, Marine?” The edges of her mouth turned up in a faint smirk.

  “Of course not,” he lied, making a mental note to eat a larger meal before making his next donation…like there’d be another donation. After all, she wouldn’t know if he actually donated or not, would she?

  “I normally try to get here early on Tuesdays and Thursdays because Niki’s home those mornings to watch Buck. You can put your name right below mine.”

  “I don’t think that’s a great time for me, Megs. I’ll just find another time slot.” He began flipping through pages, looking for a section where her name was nowhere to be found, when her voice came to him, soft and lyrical, but filled with unmistakable challenge.

  “However, I will only accept money from the donations scheduled the same time as mine.” She retreated a few spaces as he leveled a hard gaze on her. “Just saying.”

  Mitch turned away, trying hard not to curse under his breath. He flipped through the book until he found her name in the 8:00 a.m. Thursday spot. He placed his sticker just under hers and turned to her. “Let’s go eat. I’m buying.” He stuck his finger in her face as she started to protest. “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t say another word!”

  ****

  Mitchell washed down the last bite of his burger with a gulp of sweet tea. He stretched his back in the red padded booth across the table from Meagan. Leaning to one side, he pulled three folded bills, two twenties and a five, from the front pocket of his jeans and held them out to her. “Will this give you enough to buy the last two tires for your car?”

  She pulled them from his fingertips and stuffed them into her wallet. “Oh, I had those put on yesterday.”

  “Uh…then why the hell are you still doing this?”

  “Savings account,” she said. “I told you a year’s worth of donations comes out to almost $2,500.00. That’s a tidy little sum for emergency situations. For the sake of my son, I can’t afford to turn my nose up at that that kind of money. Besides, I like the idea that I’m helping. I’d like to think that, even if I didn’t need the money, I’d still give just for the sake of improving someone’s life.”