by Lori Leger
Elvinia grinned broadly, her two gold teeth practically glowing in her dazzling white smile. “Four years old, huh? That’s an important age, young man. But then, every age is important, so don’t waste any of them.”
Meagan watched as her son reached out his hand to touch the smooth, cocoa brown skin of Elvinia’s face. His gaze focused on her mouth.
“I like your magic teef, Ms. Evina.”
Meagan groaned out an apology as the large woman straightened with a chuckle. “I’m sorry Elvinia. I believe he’s thinking of the golden eggs on the video he’s watching.”
“Golden eggs and gold teeth…Why, of course! That makes all the sense in the world to me, Buck!” She turned to Meagan with a question. “Would it be okay if I brought my little dog inside? I just picked him up from the vet and I hate to pile more separation anxiety on him. No fleas, I promise.”
“Sure, bring him on in.” She and Buck watched as Elvinia went to her van and returned, carrying the most adorable white puffball she’d ever seen.
“Oh, my goodness, he is beautiful!” Meagan breathed.
Buck’s huge blue eyes sparkled with wonder at the puppy. “What’s his name?”
“His name is Samurai Sam, but I call him Sammy, for short. He’s a handsome little devil, isn’t he?”
“He looks like a baby polar bear, Elvinia. What breed is he?”
“Sammy, like both his parents, is a miniature American Eskimo. I’m quite partial to them. They make wonderful companion dogs and pets for children. This is my second Eskie. My last one, a female named Sophie, lived for seventeen years.” She placed him in Buck’s arms. “You think you could watch Sammy for me while your mom and I take care of some business, little man?”
“Yeah! Oh, mom, he’s so soft.” Buck sat on the floor with the puppy, breaking into a fit of giggles as Sammy’s tiny pink tongue darted non-stop to lick the boy’s face.
Elvinia placed her hand on Meagan’s shoulder and turned her toward the bedroom. “Now, let’s get down to the business of the living and the dead, shall we?” She marched Meagan into Buck’s room and closed the door behind them.
“I’m sensing a change in you, Meagan. Have you made your choice?”
Meagan stared at the portrait of the Marine who’d dominated her thoughts for nearly ten years of her life. She couldn’t remember a single day of junior high or high school that she hadn’t loved him. “He’s gone, and he’s not coming back, in any form. Th-this-thing, this situation, whatever it is, is not a viable option. I need to get down to the bottom of it so I can end it, for good. I don’t want to live like this anymore, tethered to a past I can’t change.”
Elvinia nodded, obviously pleased with her comment. “Good, you’ve chosen the living over the dead. That’s the state of mind you didn’t possess during my previous visit. Now you’re ready to ask him.”
“Ask him what?”
“What message he has for you, but you need to be willing to listen. Just be still and really listen. You will hear it.” She walked to the door. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
Meagan grabbed at her arm. “But, I thought you could do it for me!”
“I could, but what good would that do? I didn’t know the boy nor the man he grew into. What could he possibly have to tell me? Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.” She stepped into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind her.
Meagan turned to stare into the room, feeling somewhat like a thirteen-year-old girl trying to break up with her first boyfriend. She smiled at the thought, realizing that she had done that before. Only once, and only when she realized she was crazy about Chris.
She walked over to his portrait, and picked it up, examining the battered frame. She flipped it over and spun the tabs holding the back in place, then removed the portrait. Returning to Buck’s bed, she curled up on top of the spread and stared at the picture.
“Christopher.” Her mouth quivered as she struggled to hold back threatening tears. “Do you have any idea how difficult it’s going to be for me to let you go?” A tear traveled across the bridge of her nose to trail its way across the opposite cheek. Shrill puppy barks, accompanied by Buck’s high-pitched squeals of laughter came to her from two rooms over, mingled with words spoken in Elvinia’s low voice. “But I have to, for Buck’s sake. You see that, don’t you?”
She wiped frantically at the fresh onslaught of tears tracking down her face to fall freely upon the brightly patterned bedspread.
“He’s such a good little man, Chris, and he’s got so many of your qualities. He’s going to be super organized and neat, just like you. I already see that.”
She passed a hand lovingly over the face in the portrait. “When I close my eyes I used to see you, before the Marines, when it was just you and me in our little apartment. Remember? When we had so little, but loved each other so much? But now, all I can see is this picture of you. In your dress blues with your high and tight, the brim of your cover pulled low over your brow…no smile…looking so stern and serious.” She choked back a soft sob.
“That’s not the Chris I want to remember, baby. This isn’t the real you, and as sad as that makes me, it’s still better than the ‘sad man’. If we don’t stop this, that’s the only way your son will see you.”
With a new resolve, she wiped her eyes and sat up, determined to change things for Buck’s sake. “It’s not fair, Chris, not to him and not to you. It sucks that the two of you never met. It sucks that I didn’t even get to tell you about him, to hear the joy in your voice, the pride as you told all your friends, ‘Hey, guys! I’m gonna be a daddy!’ I know you would have been thrilled…I know it.”
She pushed herself off the bed and stood, holding the photo to her chest. “But what will suck the worst is if Buck has to grow up without a father. I mean, Niki and I do our best, but it’s not the same.” She bit her lip to keep it from quivering, knowing her time with him was ending. “He’s such a good kid, Chris. He deserves so much more than two mothering women as role models. He deserves a dad in his life. One who can teach him how to hit a ball, catch a fly, or throw a decent spiral…God knows I can’t do those things.”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “But somewhere in this world, there’s a man who might be willing to do that, and to love him like his own. I may not find one right away. I may have to kiss a few frogs first, but I need to start looking for one who’s right for both of us. And I can’t start until I tell you goodbye, Chris.”
One sob managed to escape before she reined in her emotions once more. “Elvinia seems to think you had a reason for all these appearances. Some message you were trying to get across to me.” Lifting her arms in a helpless gesture, she continued. “I’m listening, Chris. Please, tell me…show me…somehow…please find a way to let me know.”
Meagan smoothed off Buck’s bedspread, yet again, then pulled out the small desk chair and sat, waiting in silence for a full ten minutes. A soft knock preceded Elvinia’s entrance into the room.
“Are you all right?” She walked over to lay a gentle touch on Meagan’s shoulder.
Meagan gave the empath a nod. “I’m okay. I’ve been trying to listen Elvinia, but I don’t hear anything. How’s he going to get the message to me if I can’t make myself hear him?”
“I think that time is over.”
“What?” Meagan looked up into the woman’s sad, dark eyes. “What do you mean?”
“He’s gone, sweetie, about ten minutes ago…I felt this surging presence…such a feeling of goodness and love. I know he’s where he belongs now.”
“No! He couldn’t have.”
“I thought maybe you’d seen something and I was giving you some time to yourself.”
“I didn’t see anything. I didn’t feel anything.” She turned to the woman, her heart breaking all over again. “Are you telling me all of this was for nothing? No word, no sign from above, no message. Nothing?”
“He must have found some way, or he wouldn’t
have left when he did, as peacefully as he did.”
Meagan gave her head a wild shake. “No! No, I don’t think he did. He left me alone…again…with an even bigger mess than before. How many years will Buck remember the ‘sad man’? Will his image haunt him? Will he have nightmares or terrors about it? Will this leave him damaged…broken psychologically in some way he’ll never get over?”
Elvinia stared down at her. “I think Buck will be fine, but sugar, I’m just a tad worried about you.”
Meagan turned on her, furious. “How do you know he’ll be fine?”
“Well, I guess there are never any guarantees, but you’re talking like it’s a given he’ll be hiding on a rooftop with a sniper rifle, taking out one person at a time.”
“Well, he coul—”
“—Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” Elvinia snapped. “What did you ask of Chris?”
“I asked him to leave us so we could get on with our lives.”
Elvinia threw her hands up in the air. “Well, didn’t he do just that? Why are you so angry?”
“Because he didn’t leave a message!” she hissed. “Why would he put us through all of this if there was no purpose behind it?”
Elvinia stood with her head held high. “I don’t know, Meagan. But God will show you when it’s time, if that is what is meant to be.”
Meagan took a deep breath and released it slowly, staring up at the woman…feeling an emptiness she had never remembered feeling, even in the days just after losing Chris. “Bullshit.”
Elvinia took a step back. “Excuse me?”
She crossed her arms. “You heard me. I said bullshit, and I meant it. The only thing God has to show me is the back of his hand for daring to disobey my parents. My good, Christian, holier than thou parents, who couldn’t find it in their hearts to forgive their own child or reach out to their only grandchild.” She slapped her hands together as though brushing off crumbs from a cookie. “I’m done with them, and I’m done with him.” She jabbed her finger up in the air to make a point.
“Oh, child, you can not mean that!”
“You bet your ass I do. This is twice he screws me over.” She took a step closer and lowered her voice a notch. “Two simple words would have sufficed: I know! As in, I know about our son. That’s all it would have taken to give meaning to this miserable experience. But God couldn’t even give me that!” She crossed her arms again. Good and ready to take her hurt, her anger, out on someone or something.
“So, I’m calling bullshit on him. I’m not wasting another second of my life believing in him.”
Elvinia stared down her long, straight nose at her, unable to hide the smile behind her eyes.
The telltale signs of humor only made Meagan angrier. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Just wondering how long it’ll take you to discover that no matter what you choose to believe, you can’t stop God from believing in you.”
She walked out, leaving Meagan alone in the room with her own thoughts.
CHAPTER 18
Bachelorettes and Barfing
Mitch approached Meagan, hard pressed not to notice the sheen of perspiration on her forehead and neck. “Man, they’re bustin’ y’alls butts tonight, aren’t they? Neither ends nor the middle of the bar are getting any down time. Is there another rodeo in town?”
Meagan handed three Coronas to a customer and started making the first of several pitchers of Margaritas for the massive group of women that just turned in their orders. She pointed to two of them, both wearing cheap veils and pins that flashed I’M THE BRIDE in red lights. “Double bachelorette party: Two sisters marrying two brothers in a double ceremony.”
“Is that supposed to be good luck or something?”
Meagan gave a loud snort. “You’ve gotta be kidding me, Mitch. You’re asking me about good luck?”
“You were lucky enough to meet me when you did, fresh from the Corps and still in shape.” He made a show of flexing his considerably large bicep for her.
“Whatever.” She pushed the blender button, drowning out the rest of his comeback.
He waited until the whine of the blender’s powerful motor halted. “How are things at home?”
“Uneventful, thank Go…” She paused, then seemed to think better of it. “Uneventful.”
“So, he’s really gone?”
She shrugged as she filled several glasses with the icy drinks. “It seems so, and I’d really rather not talk about this here if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” Mitch pinched the bridge of his nose as a wave of women clamored around the bar for their drinks. The scent of several different perfumes, mixed with alcohol and body heat had him craving a breath of fresh air. “Damn!” he rubbed at the ache in his forehead. “I wish women would wear the same brand of smell-good when they travel in packs.”
“It can get to be overpowering, can’t it?”
“That’s one word for it. Another is downright nauseating.”
“Are you going to be sick?” she asked, looking concerned.
“Nah, but it ain’t helping this headache. We got anything back here for that?”
She opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. Wordlessly, she handed him a couple, along with a bottle of water from the cooler.
He took them, thankfully, and downed them with half the water. “Thanks. If you don’t need me to stick around up here, I think I’ll go stand over by the door for a while.”
“Sure. A little distance will do you some good.”
He stared at her, hoping like hell she was talking about the too sweet mixture of perfumes, and not her. “Okay.” He unclipped his radio and held it up. “Call if you need me.”
She stopped pouring glasses of margaritas on the rocks long enough to send him a look, heavy with promise and hidden messages. “I’ll do that.”
Mitch swallowed, unable to tear his gaze from her until she turned away. He wound his way around the crowded dance floor, somehow knowing her eyes were still on him.
****
Meagan studied him—the broad shoulders that pulled the T-shirt taut across his back, tight on his arms, and tucked neatly into a pair of jeans that fit the man like a pair of leather driving gloves. Trim belted waist, narrow hips, a firm butt and muscular legs. Everything combined to assure that Mitchell looked just as good leaving as he did coming.
She groaned as an ache started deep inside her. She’d had no sex since Christopher, who’d been her first, as well as her only. But that had been making love with the man she wanted to marry. Maybe it was time to step out of her box. She’d even been fantasizing about down and dirty, no strings attached sex. A little something to feed the need, though something told her that particular Marine had more to offer than the average man.
She smiled to herself and turned back to mixing drinks, feeling more alive than she had in years. Freedom was the key, freedom to live her life. The headiness had her wishing, wanting to be a bad girl for a change. Maybe it was time to shed her careful, good girl image. She cast another look toward Mitch, deciding tonight was as good a night as any to set the wheels in motion. She could hardly wait.
****
Ten minutes after the DJ announced the last dance of the night, Mitch locked up the front doors of the club. He headed to the bar area where Meagan was stocking her coolers for the next night, wondering if he’d imagined her earlier silent signals. “You want some help with that?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Just finishing up.”
He discarded the empty beer crates and watched her efficiently organizing her space for the next night. Three nights on and two nights off—she had the same schedule as he did, and they’d just completed night number two. Red McAllister didn’t expect any more from his bartenders than just serving drinks…he hired a cleaning crew for the club’s upkeep. But Mitch knew that Meagan liked setting up her work area ahead of time. By the time she finished, he’d decided he’d read too much into the look she’d given him earlier.
&
nbsp; The DJ had long been gone, and Mitch told the other three bartenders good night as they left through the back door. “I guess I’ll be heading out myself.” He wasn’t certain if her change in demeanor called for disappointment on his part, or relief, considering his massive headache.
“Uh Mitch, there is something you can do for me. If you’re up to it, that is.”
The teasing lift of her lips—the crook of her eyebrow, had him holding his breath as well as the answer. A subtle lift of her brow had him offering a far-from-subtle comeback. “Sure! Anything!” He cursed himself silently for sounding so much like an eager junior high kid. “What do you need?”
She turned to him suddenly, lifted up on her tiptoes and looped her arms around his neck. “I need you,” she said, before planting her mouth onto his for a kiss. Not a timid, quick, filled with innocent yearning type of kiss—but hot and aggressive—tongue seeking, teeth nipping, hands pulling and threading roughly through his hair. An extremely hot kiss that had him totally hard in a few, short seconds.
He leaned forward to place his hands on her lower butt and lifted her easily onto the bar surface. She spread her thighs and pulled him close, her nails biting into his back through his shirt as she looped her shapely legs around his waist. With one arm around her waist and the other tangled in her hair, Mitch pulled her closer. He hadn’t thought that kiss could deepen, but damned if it didn’t, strengthening with an intensity that had him about to explode.
The feel of her hands, first pulling his shirt out of his jeans, her hands—Meagan’s hands—on his bare skin—good God—he’d never felt anything so fine before. Her nails lightly scraped along his ribcage, and he sucked in his breath, only to release it a moment later as she dragged them roughly across his back. Her hands slipped around to the front, caressing his abs, his pecs. A feather light brush of her fingers had his nipples tightening so quickly it was almost painful.
Suddenly her hands were unbuttoning his jeans, then on his zipper, jolting him to his senses. He pulled away, holding her arms.
