I’ll Be Seeing U

by Dianne Castell

  “I’ll get over Cynthia, she’s just another woman.”

  Ryan laughed and slapped Quaid on the back. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. I better find the woman I swore to get over before she wolfs down all the barbecue at Slim’s without me. Keefe and Callie are due in from New York. He’s got Arsenic and Old Lace to put on. If his star performer doesn’t measure up, Keefe gets to build the high school a new baseball field. And you know what that means?”

  “That we get to build the high school a new baseball field. I got a feeling that’s going to happen no matter how good that play is. Damn glad you’re back, the four of us together again. I’m taking a tow to Memphis to drop off a propeller and engine parts to a friend of Dad’s, but I’ll be back tonight.”

  Ryan headed for Slim’s. Quaid turned for the docks, then eyed the two-lane leading to Ivy Acres. He should fix the trellis and then he’d tell Cynthia he wouldn’t bother her anymore. He got it now, Cynthia Landon might like to screw around with him but that’s all he’d ever be to her, a hot roll in the hay. She admitted that last night.

  He was done with Cynthia, now he just had to convince his heart. Hell, he’d survived worse, a lot worse…probably. Maybe. Quaid followed Max down the two-lane, feeling a little like Opie on a hot summer day, and a whole lot like a lovesick jackass who couldn’t get a woman off his mind. Sounded like a bad country-western song.

  The road dipped, then rose, the red brick of Hastings House looming beyond the woods to the left and Grant’s favorite haunt to the right. The white stucco of Ivy Acres came into view, and Quaid followed Max up the path, cutting through the back yard, around the garden, and passing under the open side window. He heard Cynthia’s voice, low and shaky, and that made him stop dead. Even when he met up with her that first night when her car slid into the ditch she didn’t sound like this.

  She said, “Aaron, why are you doing this to our son? You don’t want custody of Lawrence.”

  “Like hell I don’t, and I bet I can get it too. I’m still in New York, and that’s where Lawrence grew up and where he went to school. And you know how I can sweet-talk the women. If I get a woman judge I can make her believe anything, and make you out as an insensitive, uncaring bitch who yanked my son from my loving arms and moved away. Sounds pretty damn convincing doesn’t it?”

  “You said you didn’t care what I did, where I went after my loft paid off your loans. Actually you said you didn’t care if I gave you that antique necklace I got from my grandmother.”

  “Yeah, well I pawned that last week and the money’s gone. If I get custody you pay me child support. I figure that’ll go a lot further than some necklace. Look at this place, it’s got to be worth a damn fortune. I’m thinking I want my share.”

  “Ivy Acres is already mortgaged.”

  “So mortgage it again, sell it, I don’t give a rat’s butt what you do. You’re going to pay me child support, wifey dear. Get used to it.”

  He laughed low and mean and Quaid felt his blood go to ice. He rounded the corner of the house and took the front steps two at a time, tore open the front door, and made for the living room, Max in his wake, his claws tapping on the marble floor. Cynthia wasn’t there now but Aaron was, and he had his fist around Lawrence’s arm.

  “Did you hear what I just said to your mother? You’re coming to live with me, worm.” Lawrence tried to step away but Aaron held him in place and shook him. “No more mommy to hide behind. Just you and me, kid.”

  For a split second a million memories flooded into Quaid’s brain, taking him back to the worst time of his life. He could feel a mean hand on his arm, getting shaken and smacked and…Max growled, snapping Quaid back to the moment, and in a flash he came up behind Aaron, twisting his arm up behind his back where Lawrence couldn’t see. “Let the boy go,” Quaid said, amazed he hadn’t torn Aaron in two.

  The guy sucked in a quick breath. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Who are you? This is my damn son, I can do whatever the hell I want to do with him.”

  Quaid twisted harder. Aaron stood on his toes to lessen the pressure. Max bared his teeth, growled and Aaron released Lawrence. Quaid said to him, “I bet it’s breakfast time, sport.”

  “I already ate.”

  “Eat again.”

  Lawrence nodded, turned, glanced back, then ran through the dining room, his little footfalls retreating across the hardwood, Max right behind him.

  Quaid waited till the two were out of sight, then let go of Aaron’s arm. He spun around, swung at Quaid, missed, stumbled and knocked over a chair. Quaid slammed Aaron in the gut, then jammed his forearm into his neck, flattening him against the wall, knocking a picture of Stonewall Jackson off its perch, crashing to the floor, glass scattering. “You ever touch that kid again,” Quaid seethed, “I’ll break off both your arms and jam them so far up your butt you’ll be scratching your eyes from the inside. Got me?”

  “You threatening me?”

  “The name’s Quaid O’Fallon. I have two brothers and a father who are gentlemen, men of honor. You happened to meet up with the asshole of the family. Let me make something perfectly clear—you’re never coming here again. You’re calling Lawrence on his birthday and Christmas and you’re sending a gift, something nice. If you don’t I’ll hunt you down and make you wish you had.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Quaid shoved his knee into Aaron’s side, against his bottom rib, feeling it give under the pressure. Aaron’s eyes bulged with pain and he grunted.

  “Got me?”

  Aaron nodded, his face red with rage. Quaid continued, “You’ll never call Cynthia again or make contact with her in any way. You do, and the next thing you’ll contact is the bottom of the Mississippi with a cement block at your neck.”

  Quaid stepped back and Aaron slumped to the floor, panting hard. “You can’t get away with this.”

  “I just did. Get out of here.”

  Aaron staggered upright, started to flick Quaid off, thought better of it, then stumbled his way into the hall and out the door. Quaid looked around and spotted Cynthia standing in the dining room entrance, eyes wide, not breathing. Two women wearing black bandanas stood beside her, grinned and suddenly applauded. The blonde said, “Well hot damn, boy…I mean God bless you my son!”

  The redhead added, “Amen and praise the Lord. That was one damn-fine piece of work, my man.” The nuns strutted to the main hall, the front door closing behind them. Cynthia still didn’t move, staring straight ahead.

  “It’s okay, babe,” he said in a soothing voice. He put Stonewall back on the wall, kicked the broken glass under the couch and set the chair upright. “See, all’s well. Antiques saved for another few generations.” Bees hummed in the hollyhocks outside the window; the nuns chattered on the porch. An engine started then faded down the drive.

  He took Cynthia’s elbow and led her toward the couch. She looked fragile, like something had snapped inside. Maybe he should call a doctor. “Gee, I’m starved and Lawrence is having breakfast. Bet Preston left something good. He probably made coffee. I could really use some—”

  “Thank you.” She stopped dead, he still didn’t know if she was breathing. “I don’t know what I was going to do if Aaron tried to take…I don’t have money for lawyers and—” She swallowed, her eyes narrowed, her spine stiffened. “He was going to take Lawrence away from me.” She started to shake. “If I had a gun I would have shot the son of a bitch dead as a mackerel and buried his putrid hide in the garden.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The little prick caught me off guard. I knew I hated his guts but now…” Cynthia threw back her shoulders, jutted her chin, her eyes cleared. “I need a gun.”

  “What?”

  “You can teach me how to shoot. You’re military, they shoot things all the time. Now I got a thing that needs shooting. I need something with major firepower. Something with…cahoonies.”

  “Cah…cah…It’s over with, Cynthia. I swear it is. No one’s ta
king Lawrence anywhere, least of all—”

  She paced. “I’m thinking one of those AK-forty-somethings they talk about on TV.”

  “AK-47. It’s an assault rifle, and you just can’t go into a store and buy one and—”

  “Quaid.” She looked him dead in the eyes, hers unforgiving, determined. “I’m from New York. Give me ten minutes and I can buy anything.”

  Holy shit! “Cynthia. This is really not a good idea.”

  “He tried to take my son!”

  “Okay, it is a good idea. But there’s a problem, jail could be involved. You would not like jail, really ugly clothes. No designer anything. Cheap material. Let me handle it.”

  Her eyes went beadier still. “And what if you’re not around next time, huh? I’m getting a gun, this is Tennessee, I’m entitled. Birthright and all that.”

  “Mom?” Lawrence’s voice came from the dining room. “You’re going to buy a gun?”

  “For…rats,” Quaid chimed in. “Just to scare them.” He was no psychiatrist, but knowing that your mother was gunning for your dad—no matter how rotten he was—might cause some scarring, even in Tennessee.

  “Big fat rats,” Cynthia added. She turned to Quaid. “What are you doing today?”

  “Taking a tow downriver. A short run, but—”

  “Lawrence is going with you.”

  “And so are you. There’s no way I’m leaving you here with a rat problem.”

  “I’m good at rat problems, getting better all the time. I’m not into boats.”

  “You’ll get better at that too.” Though with that pissed off look on her face he wasn’t sure about anything. He said to Lawrence, “Get on shorts and gym shoes, sport. Grab the sunblock, it’s a blast furnace on the river.”

  “Yes!” Lawrence grinned, pumping his arm in triumph. “A towboat, I’m going on the river!” He darted for the stairs. As soon as his feet hit the bare wood Cynthia said, “I am not going with you.”

  “Lawrence needs a diversion right now. In case you missed something, this has been a rather tedious morning even by New York standards. Besides, if I leave you here you’ll go gun shopping. Christ almighty, woman, I should just call you…Cyn.”

  She gave him a lopsided grin. “I think I like it.”

  “Cynthia!”

  “All right, all right, I’ll go and forget about guns. I’m not happy about either decision but you’re right that Lawrence needs something else on his mind besides his dad, and if I don’t go with him, he’ll be thinking about me.”

  “Now take your hands from behind your back so I know you’re not crossing fingers, making your words null and void so you won’t show up.”

  She held out her hands, wiggled her digits and huffed, “There, happy?”

  He felt a bit better, but not completely. Miss-Priss-does-Annie Oakley was something he didn’t know how to reckon with. “Meet me at the docks in twenty minutes and we’ll shove off. When we come back tonight we’ll talk about Aaron and what to do with him that doesn’t involve…cahoonies.”

  She folded her arms. “You know, when it comes to dealing with that man and protecting my son, I think I’ve grown a nice big set all my own.”

  Chapter 10

  Cynthia stood on the top step of the porch and watched Quaid and Max head down the road. Quaid turned back and waved, giving her one of those you-better-not-be-messing-with-me-looks, like Ida did when Cynthia was little. Well, Cynthia Landon, once-upon-a-time James, wasn’t little any more.

  Ginger stood beside her, white brush from painting the side of the house in hand. She said in a low voice, “Honey, if you’re needing some help, Sister Candy here and I can lend a hand. We have connections.”

  “You’re right, prayer always helps.”

  The nuns exchanged looks and Sister Ginger added, “Our order is one of those God-helps-those-who-help-her-selves kind of orders, and no one needs protection like a woman doing woman’s work, no matter what that happens to be. You got your baby to take care of, and we’re going to help you do it. That’s what he would have wanted.”

  “God is caring and—”

  “Not exactly the he we were talking about, though this he did let out an Oh my God when he got real excited. I guess that’s close enough.”

  “Damn straight…I mean darn straight.” Sister Candy added, “Sister Ginger and I will be back in a few hours. If you’re feeling the need for some artillery to keep you and your offspring safe, we’ll get it for you. All of us women need to work together to make things happen.”

  Cynthia helped the sisters gather up the drop cloths. “You two are so accommodating.”

  Sister Candy giggled. “We hear that all the time.”

  They stored the paint on the side of the porch, and the sisters got in their metallic red Mustang convertible and headed down the dive.

  Cynthia sat on the front porch and tried to unwind. At least Ida didn’t have to witness this little altercation with Aaron, since she and Beau had gone into Memphis. Beau needed to take care of family business while Ida shopped, and Cynthia hoped it was more window shopping than buying shopping.

  She looked around, everything quiet and peaceful, a perfect summer day—except for the shiver snaking up her spine. See, this is what happened when testosterone invaded her life. She kicked off her sandals and studied her crossed toes. She’d promised Quaid she’d show up, but this was her fight. What if the nuns came back empty-handed? Lawrence came outside and stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking much older than his eight years. “Is Dad really gone for good? He doesn’t love me, does he.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Your dad doesn’t love anyone but himself. I think you’ve known it for quite a while now. There are people like that, and there’s no changing them. What you have to remember is: you don’t want to be that way.”

  “Some people luck out and have two good parents, like you, some get one, like me, and some get none, like Quaid till Rory came along. Quaid turned out okay so I’ll be okay too.”

  “You use your head and your heart and you’ll be fine.” Cynthia mentally called her piss-ant ex every name she could think of for terrorizing Lawrence, and she was building quite a list of adjectives. “Your dad will not hurt you, Lawrence, and he will definitely not take you away from me. You are perfectly safe, I swear it.” And she meant every single syllable, no matter what it took. “Now I’ll drop you off at the dock with Quaid, and I’ll run up to Slim’s and get us something loaded with calories to eat on the boat.”

  His face morphed into a slow grin. “I think it’s going to be a good day after all. We’re going to ride on a tow. This is great! Aren’t you excited?”

  She kissed his cheek. “Exciting is the début of spring fashions in Paris, but this will definitely be an experience.”

  “Ah, Mom, you are such a girl.” She kissed him again then grabbed her gym shoes from the hallway. They got into the Buick and she pumped the gas pedal, smacked the dash and cranked over the engine. “Good car.” A complimented car was a smooth-running car.

  She dropped off Lawrence then headed for Slim’s, except this was not just about things barbecued and lunch. The sun hid behind a puff of clouds as she parked the car and went into the bar, door open with the heat of the day not yet at full blast on the Landing.

  “Well if it isn’t Cyn,” Sally yelled, then waved from behind the bar.

  “I need lunch for three and how’d you hear about my new name already?”

  “It’s been a half hour. That’s a coon’s age around here for good gossip. Besides, your visiting nuns stopped by to make sure I kept an eye on you in case a certain cretin of an ex reappeared. Those are my kind of gals—helpful, smart, take no crap from anyone. In fact, the way things are going with me and Demar, I’m giving serious consideration to signing up and getting my own black bandana. The man’s driving me bonkers. He’s with me, all sweet and nice, then he’s not with me and I bet he’s with Jett, being all sweet and nice.” She fluffed her spiraled
curls. “I’d look real good in a black bandana, don’t you think? And the Mustang is superb.”

  A young woman sitting on a barstool started to laugh. She spluttered, “You, a nun?”

  Sally parked her hand to her hip, trying for the indignant look and not succeeding. “I’d be a good one.”

  “Except for the no-sex rule,” the woman added. “You are so not into no sex.”

  Sally loaded chicken, fruit and cake into a bag as she nodded to the woman. “Cynthia Landon, meet smart-ass Effie Wilson, fiancée of one Ryan O’Fallon. And she can sit there now and be hooting her head off at me, but I remember not too many weeks ago when Ryan was pushing all her buttons and making her loony as a bird, too.”

  “Oh, he still does,” Effie said, wiping tears from her face. “But he is worth it. Lord knows I never thought I’d say such a thing, but the man is.”

  Sally folded her arms, looking a little dangerous, as she said to Cynthia, “Heard your ex paid you a nasty visit and you’re searching for a little protection.”

  “I’m thinking semiautomatic protection…though I’m not all that sure what semiautomatic means, but it sounds edgy.”

  “Actually it sounds like Quaid. Anything happens to someone he cares about and he’s automatically protecting them with everything he’s got. I hear he showed up and saved the day.”

  Cynthia pursed her lips. “He did, and I’m grateful, but I need to be able to take care of myself and it’s turning out to be tougher than I thought. I never considered the possibility of seeing Aaron again. I really thought we were through.”