The Marriage Pact (Viral Series)

by Mara White

  The barn was decked out in string lights and hay bales. Music blasted from a speaker. Angel and Mia abandoned Jackie as soon as they got out of the car. Each already held a red solo cup, not heeding her words. Jackie wanted to take them away, but she wasn’t twenty-one yet either and who was she to spoil their fun.

  “Lookin’ good, Bowen,” Kratch said, as he sidled up to her. He handed her a full cup of beer from the keg.

  “Better than you, anyways,” she retorted. Kratch bumped her shoulder playfully. It seemed like another lifetime that they had dated. There had been a time when she thought she’d never get out of this town and she’d end up spending every weekend just like this—in a barn, with a keg and Kratch. A chill crept up her back.

  “You too smart for us now?” he asked in a teasing tone.

  “Always was, Bub.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.” Kratch wrapped an arm around her shoulders and before she could stop her brain, she realized she was comparing it to how it felt when Ryan did it. Kratch didn’t feel the same. Didn’t smell the same. Didn’t elicit the same warm feeling in her belly that Ryan did.

  Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. It was a dangerous train of thought. She didn’t know what she wanted. Jackie wiggled out of Kratch’s embrace and chugged her entire plastic cup of beer. Drunk Jackie could forget Ryan. Sober Jackie could not.

  Chapter 7

  Ryan

  Ryan was thrilled to be home for the holiday. He’d entered their two story Cape Cod style house with the same warm rush and small spark of excitement that he always got. Whether he was five or fifteen or twenty-five—there was always joy when walking into his house around the holidays. While Ryan’s life wasn’t perfect—no one’s was—his came pretty damn close. He was tight with his parents, loved and admired them both. His three brothers were his world and even just being away at college made him miss them so much. Energy rushed between his shoulder blades as he slammed the front door.

  “I’m home!” he called into the hallway. His mom had already wrapped the stair banister in pine boughs with red ribbon. A fragrant wreath on the front door enveloped his senses and reminded him of Christmas when he was a kid. The tree was up but untouched, a gorgeous, naked Blue Spruce in front of the bay window. They’d decorate tonight and tomorrow, like they did every year, while his mom cooked.

  “Ryan!” his mother exclaimed, as she came to meet him in the hall. She wiped her hands on her apron, while tempting scents wafted out of the oven. Nothing like eating at home.

  “Your father took Scott and Carlos to Lowe’s to get something they needed for putting up the outside light show. Bulbs or power cords, I don’t remember. You know how he is—getting more daring every year. I swear we’re going to have to rent a storage space for his endeavors. Lord knows my gardening shed has been invaded by elves and reindeer. Not much room left for anything I need.”

  Ryan hugged his mother, whom he now dwarfed with his size. He kissed her warm cheek amid a distinct ache in his chest, knowing that Jackie didn’t have this happy feeling about going home. A mom’s love was the sweetest. Nobody would ever love you more than mom. Nothing replaced that. Her hair was short, full of waves and almost all grey now.

  “Are you tired? I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee on and there’s an apple pie that I was saving for desert, but Scotty ate two slices as soon as he got off that bus.

  Both Scotty and Ryan were on football scholarships at Big Ten schools and thank God, because their parents were not financially equipped to put four boys through college. And it didn’t help that all of their boys weren’t widely separated in age. Scott and Ryan by just fourteen months, Ryan being the elder. The other two brothers, Andres and Carlos were also separated by fourteen months and two years older than Scott. Andres and Carlos were adopted, but they’d been around since before Scott and Ryan were even born, so there was no pretense or divide between them, just brothers, they slugged one another just as hard.

  The story went that their parents were traveling as missionaries in Guatemala when a bus in the town they were working in, overturned and caught fire. Two young boys were saved from the wreckage, Carlos, then just six months and Andres nearly two. Cal, their father, helped tend to survivors and bury the dead, many of whom had no ID and were put into graves marked solely with a wooden cross. Cal performed all of the funeral services, while Diane comforted the few survivors. Just one night of rocking the boys to sleep in the mission, she bonded and refused to let them ever see the inside of a government run orphanage.

  Calvin summoned the help of his church to file for official adoption papers. It took nearly a year to get the boys into the States, Diane was pregnant with Ryan when Andres and Carlos finally came home for good. None of the boys were treated any differently, regardless of their parentage. In fact, it took Ryan a long time to even realize what it meant. Everyone in his family said the word “adoption” with ease, it was never a secret or a scandal, it was only a blessing and family was just family. Although, his parent’s did like to joke and tease that while Andres and Carlos had both forged an intellectual path with their higher education pursuits, Ryan and Scott were the biggest jocks in their high school—if not the whole town. And of course, the two sets of boys looked nothing alike. Mom always said that they were all identical on the inside.

  Last year, Andres got married and now his wife, Jessica was pregnant. His mom was overjoyed, already buying baby clothes and knitting blankets and cutting out old family snapshots for a scrapbook. Ryan was excited, too. The thought of a nephew brought a quick smile to his face.

  Ryan told his mother about Jackie over pie and coffee.

  The crust was so flaky, it melted in his mouth. Apples from their back yard, coffee that was pumped out of the old drip machine, ten faithful Pyrex cups each and every morning.

  “I wish you’d brought her home, Ry. We always have space for one more. There’s the pullout couch in the basement.”

  Diane added a scoop of vanilla ice cream onto his plate with another slice of warm pie. Ryan closed his eyes for just a second, savoring both the flavor and the mood.

  “She’s great, Mom, but still kind of reserved about home stuff. Believe me, I wanted to ask her.”

  His mother extended him a sad look and topped off his coffee. Ryan’s father, Cal was, and had spent the last twenty years being the pastor of their church. His mother was a former school teacher and librarian, who now dedicated her whole life to charitable causes, both worldwide and in their own neighborhood. His parents did love with an ease that was remarkable. Growing up, Ryan never realized how lucky he was, until he spent time with other kids, saw their parents fight or be manipulative. Cal and Diane were always on the same team, no matter what. When the going got tough, the two of them just loved harder.

  “Lovey, I don’t mean to embarrass you, but this is the very first time you’ve ever talked to me so compassionately about a young lady,” his mother said, with a faint smile that played on her lips. Diane had a pile of post-it note marked recipe books covering the kitchen table.

  She poured cream into her own coffee and blew lightly at the steam, as she held the mug in both hands, elbows on the table.

  “Mom, at the risk of sounding sentimental, I’m really into her.”

  “Into who?” his father bellowed, as he came through the front door herding Scotty and Carlos with more bags of pine boughs, a giant wreath and what appeared to be a Santa Claus hat sticking out a tall figure wrapped in brown paper.

  “Diane, this is the year! Carlos talked me into the sleigh idea. We even bought runners, they’re in back of the truck.” Cal’s voice was loud and deep, overflowing with excitement. Ryan’s father was a passionate man and wouldn’t be caught dead throwing up a string of lights along the rain gutter and calling it Christmas. Church was his second home. December was Jesus’s birthday. His decorating was epic. Joy on amphetamines.

  “That’s wonderful, Calvin, just no trips to the emergency room.”

  “The roof isn’t icy, D
iane! Carlos did those roofing jobs while he was in college—we’re talking about a real expert here.”

  “Yeah, Ma. I got it covered,” Carlos spoke up, smiling.

  “I know you do, dear,” Mom said to Carlos, with a quick wink. “Andres will not be allowed on the roof, he’s got a baby on the way.”

  Ryan’s Dad whined in disappointment, like the big soft-hearted man that he was. He was going to go all out. Ryan could already imagine him shouting “all hands on deck!” as he put the ladder out.

  Diane was loving and warm but protective of her sons. Understandably so because the woman had seen her fair share of emergency room visits over the course of raising four boys. Between the four of them, there had been fifteen broken bones, countless fractures and sprains, stitches and one emergency gallbladder surgery. She wasn’t about to have anyone fall off of the roof and ruin her holiday.

  “I love you, Calvin, but I’ll testify against you in court if anyone breaks their neck.”

  Cal grumbled and said something as he grabbed a chunk of pie with his fingers and Diane swatted his hand.

  His mom pulled sandwich fixings out of the refrigerator, preempting the late afternoon hunger of five grown men.

  “Ryan met a girl. Jackie,” she said, half disappeared into the crisper. “He wanted to ask her home for Thanksgiving, but was feeling too shy, right, Ry?”

  Ryan groaned. His mother was the worst when it came to relationships and being subtle about them. She might as well have been talking about the neighbors.

  Cal poured coffee into his mug and topped it off with egg nog from the carton.

  “Aww, Ryan’s in love,” Scotty teased and rubbed his knuckles into Ryan’s head. Ryan was closest in age to Scott, but it was Carlos who always shared his wavelength; they were brothers and the best of friends. Scotty, on the other hand, was a punk, a pain in the ass, and probably the most fun person to be around of any of them.

  Ryan whacked Scott’s arm and sucker punched him teasingly in the gut. He stood to hug his dad and Carlos. Cal patted him on the back so heartily, he could feel his ribs shake.

  “Good to have you home, son,” his father said. Cal was earnest and teary-eyed.

  Ryan felt ecstatic to be home, surrounded by his loved ones. He looked forward to the festivities, food and most of all, the antics. A tiny, high-pitched whistle zinged through his chest. He missed her. A lot. Even more than he’d expected. If only Jackie could be there to enjoy it with him.

  The night before Thanksgiving, there were seven of them around the dining room table, with a feast nearly as large as the one they would share for the actual holiday. Andres and Jessica had arrived just in time for dinner. Diane made lasagna and garlic bread, in addition to a huge salad. Jessica was glowing and his parents were fawning over her, not to mention Andres, who had gotten up from the table, nothing short of three times, to fetch things she needed.

  Jessica was friendly and open, she hugged hard and loved big and was the perfect counterbalance to Andres’ quiet mannerisms and tendency to lose himself in books. Jessica was a potter and worked with her hands. She was expressive and funny, she’d roll her sleeves up for anything. Andres adored her and she fit perfectly into the family.

  Ryan let his mind wander and imagined what it would be like to be the son who brought a girl home, to have Jackie here, with his parents hanging on every word she said. Asking her to pass the salad or pouring her coffee in the morning. Her laugh that was energetic and loud, lighting up the room. They would love her and she them.

  He couldn’t help but wonder if she were having a nice meal, if her environment felt safe and warm like his did. His imagination conjured up Cinderella, Jackie dressed in rags, soot on her cheek, waiting on her whole family hand and foot.

  Diane had made four pans of lasagna, their normal amount for a family of six. Ryan often felt like he could polish a whole pan off himself. The tangy, garlicky sauce tasted like only his mother could coerce out of a can of crushed tomatoes and basil from her herb garden. He groaned when the first cheesy, flavorful bite hit his tongue.

  “Don’t make it like that up in Wisconsin, son?” his father asked, obviously enjoying his reaction.

  “Ma, you need to start a meals on wheels and the first city you should serve is Madison!”

  “Thank you, Ry! I’ll send you back to school with the leftovers, if there are any after these beasts take their fill.”

  Ryan ate so much that he had to push back his chair, undo the button on his jeans. He listened to the banter around the table and all the loving teasing that went on between his brothers and parents. Even Jessica’s eyes glistened and she looked overjoyed to be there with the family. Andres lovingly rested his palm on her belly and when they made eye contact, it was almost too intimate to watch; they were in love and it was written in every gesture. It floated between them in waves that Ryan could almost see in the air. Before where there had been chemistry between the two, it now coalesced into perfect alchemy. A baby.

  Ryan thought he’d want that someday, the whole package, love marriage and children, not only bringing a woman into his family, but starting his own. His mind immediately ran to Jackie.

  “Ma, I’ll load the dishwasher, just leave it all on the table. I’m gonna step out back and make a quick phone call.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for dinner, you’ve outdone yourself, as usual. I’m ruined for cafeteria food for the whole next semester!”

  “Jackie?” his mother intoned and patted his forearm.

  “I just want to make sure she’s doing okay; you know, hear her voice.”

  “Tell her next year we expect her here at our table.”

  “Thanks, Ma. I will.” Ryan left the dining room and walked through the kitchen to the back door, fishing in his pocket for his cell phone.

  He looked into the backyard and snorted. Cal had strung Christmas lights around the roof of their dilapidated playhouse out back, the boards were rotting and collapsing, but the little shack had more lights on it than some of the other houses in their neighborhood.

  “No dessert until Santa, the reindeer and the elves are on the roof!” Calvin bellowed. He smiled at his father’s steadfastness with his holiday traditions. His brothers all groaned. Just as he was stepping out the back door and tapping her name on his phone, his father followed his wife into the kitchen and Ryan distinctly heard her say, “I think Ryan’s in love.”

  Thanks, Mom. His heart galloped in his chest. Because that was just what he needed to hear right before Jackie picked up the phone and he had to form coherent sentences, explain why he was calling her, when he’d just seen her yesterday, or worse—explain why he felt the overpowering need to make sure that she was okay.

  “Domino’s,” Jackie said when she answered the phone.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I must have, wait—Jack? It’s Ryan, is that you?”

  It was a full-on laugh she released into the phone. A guffaw, with a snort. Jackie was drunk.

  “It’s me! Oh, my God, Ry, I wish I could have seen your face!” She was laughing so hard, Ryan imagined tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes, doubled over, holding her stomach. Was it at his expense?

  “It’s not even six-thirty, Jack. You’re already hitting it?” He felt concern more than anything; an instinct to protect and take care of her.

  “Woo!” she screamed and laughed into the phone again, this time not directed at Ryan. Maybe she was at a party. It seemed unlikely that she’d be home drinking with her father and her little sisters. Ryan suddenly had the sinking feeling that Jackie was even more unattainable than he had originally imagined her to be. Like a masterpiece in a museum, look but don’t touch. Admire it, love it. It can even be your favorite, but it will never belong to you.

  “Do you have a safe ride?” He resented his own question, because he sounded like an RA in the dorm, not Jackie’s best friend, the ladies’ man, the star quarterback. Either that or a jealous boyfriend.

  “I’m at the neig
hbor’s place playing darts. I can walk, if I have to. It’s only like a quarter of a mile!”

  He knew she lived in a rural area, ‘farmland and meth shacks’ she had once told him. Who was this neighbor who she was so close with, that they got drunk together on holidays? A quarter of a mile in the cold?

  “Okay. Just wanted to say ‘hi’ and make sure you were having a good time.”

  “I am! Crushing everyone at darts right now! Slaying. I’m good!”

  “Everyone?” God, he sounded like an overprotective boyfriend and he smacked his forehead with his palm.

  “Yeah, just Jimmy and Jonny really, Kratch and Robin can’t play for shit.”

  She was with a bunch of guys. Ryan knew that Jackie had a lot of male friends. Her looks garnered male attention but her personality attracted their friendship. She was athletic and outgoing, wild and crass—the kind of girl men felt comfortable around and didn’t feel the need to act polite or dig out the false pretense. You could fart or burp and she’d laugh, maybe elbow you or kick you in the shins. He tried to calm his alarm and tell himself she was okay.

  “I was thinking about you, Jack. I was wishing I had talked you into coming and spending the holiday with me.” There. He’d said it. So what if it made him sound soft. So what if it made him appear like he was interested in more than just her friendship.

  “Ryan, you are so sweet. I miss you. I wish you were here. And then I could show you how to play a game of darts. I’d kick your ass at pinball and pool down at the hunting club.”

  Guns. Alcohol. Men. Fantastic! None of it sounded safe. Ryan had a mind to get in his car and drive the six hours it would take to get to her. Make sure she got home safe, make sure that no one harmed her. He was her best friend, not these other losers with weird names and unidentifiable intentions. A cold chill touched the back of his neck.

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, debating whether or not to tell her he was worried about her—that he missed her so much, it bordered on crippling. He wasn’t at the point where he could say anything about the obscene domestic fantasies he was harboring, with her head superimposed on Jessica’s pregnant belly. She would deem him a nut case and never want to talk to him. Distance herself from an obsessively possessive male friend. He had no other choice but to play it casual and keep her at a safe distance, the only distance she seemed to be comfortable with. He could play the game. He had to in order to hold onto any part of her.