Kevin’s father stood on shaky legs, then kneeled next to the coffin, resting his head on it as he cried silent tears for his boy.
It’s not right for a parent to bury their child, it’s just not right.
The woman next to me squeezed my hand again.
“Freedom has a taste that the protected will never know,” she said, whispering the well-known words.
“And I, one of the protected thank you deeply and sincerely,” I replied.
The wake began with muted chatter and we paid our respects to the Murphy family, uttering meaningless words, awkward in the face of such grief. Kevin’s father and sister shook hands with everyone, but his mother sat with her youngest daughter, inconsolable, until her husband urged her to take a sleeping pill and lie down.
Uniformed men and women stood in groups reminiscing about deployments they’d shared, recalling fond memories of sandflies and crotch rot. Then the alcohol started flowing and the noise level gradually grew. After a glass of wine I switched to water, knowing that I’d be the one driving us later.
I met some more of Jack’s friends and chatted to a few of the wives about living in San Diego, making a mental note of their recommendations for which areas were the best to live in.
Somehow it seemed wrong to discuss this at a wake, but of course, life goes on.
Just not the life of Kevin Murphy.
Jack was drunk and weaving all over the place when I got him back to our hotel. He sat on the end of the bed fumbling with the multitude of buttons that made up his uniform, swearing with frustration when they defeated his uncoordinated fingers.
I had to help him out of his clothes, watching with sadness as he remained closed off, rolling onto his side and immediately falling asleep.
I undressed and had a quick shower before quietly climbing into bed next to him. I listened to his soft snores for a long time before I fell asleep.
I was woken by Jack’s hands sliding over my body as the full moon bathed our room with silver. He made love to me with a silent intensity and desperation that told me he needed me, even if he couldn’t say the words.
I knew he would, one day.
The One In White
Sixty days later . . .
JUST FOUR HOURS earlier, a stunning blonde with Jack’s navy blue eyes stumbled into my arms sobbing her heart out.
“I’m so happy to finally meet you!” she cried, almost knocking me over with her enthusiasm. “Thank you for making Jackson so happy!”
Lucy was a force of nature who then proceeded to soak my t-shirt while she wept, and made her way through my handy-size packet of tissues, hiccupping and blowing her nose and telling me how awesome it was that I was marrying her big brother.
After I’d held her, stroking her narrow shoulders and patting her back for five minutes, she gave a small giggle.
“I think I’m a little drunk. Jackson flew me and Mama first class and they had free champagne.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I smiled. “It’s really sweet of you.”
“Oh, don’t be nice to me!” she wailed. “I’ll start gushing all over again, I’m so ridiculous!”
I laughed and passed her yet another pack of tissues while my three other bachelorette party guests Lee, Allison and Jules eyed her with amusement.
“I’m so happy Jackson isn’t marrying Emmy. She’s okay but she’s such a stuffed shirt—she never bitched about anyone, not even the appalling Coley Robson. He’s the Reverend’s son and used to wipe boogers under the pew. There’s no way she’d have beer and a barbecue on the beach if she was getting married like you guys. She’d probably have a cotillion ball.”
As I’d run out of tissues, she wiped her face on her sleeve.
“Oh God, I’m such a mess.”
“You look lovely,” I said almost honestly, if you ignored her red nose and swollen eyes. “Should I introduce you to my friends?”
“They must think I’m such an idiot,” muttered Lucy.
“You’re fine,” I reassured her. “We’re all a bit emotional.”
“At least Mama’s not here. She’d be so embarrassed by me.”
Jack’s mother had opted to spend the evening at the hotel. She said it was because she was tired after the flight, but I suspected she didn’t want to cramp our style during my bachelorette party. I wouldn’t have minded in the least—I was very fond of Evelyn.
“Lucy, you already know Jules. Come say hi to Allison and Lee. Al was my PA when I worked in New York—knows everyone and everything about everyone. And this is Lee who’s also a writer and is married to a former Marine, so she’ll be filling me in on all the gory details.”
My other journalist friend Marc was supposed to be with us, but once he’d met Jackson and all his buddies, he’d decided to be ‘one of the boys’ for a change. I wondered how he’d get on since I suspected there’d be strip clubs involved at some point during Jack’s bachelor party. Oh well, Marc had practically a platoon of Marines to take care of him, and he was tougher than he looked.
Since both Lee and Jules had opted to leave their children at home, my plan for the evening was a casual dinner and drinks at Ruby’s diner on the pier at Oceanside, and cocktails on the terrace.
Unfortunately, that was deemed far too tame by Lucy. She insisted that dinner was just the start to an evening that ought to include a show and casino in downtown San Diego. Allison backed her up, and Lee smiled and said she’d go with the majority. I was desperately willing Jules to say she’d prefer a quiet evening, but she winked at me, then reminded me that there’d be nothing quiet about Jack’s evening.
“Gray promised he’d get Jackson back in one piece, although not necessarily conscious.”
I winced and shook my head.
“I’m not sure I want to know.”
Lee laughed.
“It’s the best way. You know what these guys are like when they get together, they all revert to little boys, trying to decide who has the biggest . . . weapon.”
Lucy tossed her long hair over her shoulder and said she was going to get an Uber to take us into the city after dinner. Then she pulled a small piece of fabric out of her suitcase, insisting it was a whole dress and it was what I would be wearing. As she’d made the dress herself especially for me, I didn’t have a choice but to grin and bear it. Or bare it.
It also came with a promise that she’d give me a makeover before we went out.
“It’s so nice to have a sister at last!”
I couldn’t veto her ideas after that, so I decided that Lee was right and I should go with the flow.
Two hours later, I’d been polished, buffed, primped and straightened, my chin-length hair looking glossy and full. Lucy had done a good job with my makeup, too, although I was probably wearing my usual quota for a month in a single night.
The dress though . . .
Oh my God it was so short, it was more of a pelmet than a skirt, barely past mid-thigh. Lucy’s dress was even shorter. Neither of us would be able to bend over in public all evening.
Allison looked amazing in a slinky silver halter-neck, and Jules had glammed up in a pale blue bandage dress. Lee, older than the rest of us, was stunning in a dark red cheongsam that clung to her full curves.
“Sebastian chose it,” she said, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
“He has great taste,” I said, hugging her.
Jack and Sebastian had only met this afternoon but they’d immediately gotten along. Two tall blond guys who looked like models—they’d be breaking hearts tonight, I was sure. Marc had certainly thought so. He was also a friend of Lee’s and had met Sebastian before—he said he was looking forward to catching up.
Dinner was enormous fun and it was lovely to see all my friends chatting and laughing. Lucy kept ordering cocktails for me, determined to loosen me up, as she put it. After a Cosmopolitan, Key West Cooler, Hendricks Fizz and two Mojitos, I was so loose that walking in heels demanded extreme concentration.
“I’
m going to break my ankle,” I mumbled to Lee.
“We’ll look after you,” smiled Allison, putting her arm around my waist while Lee locked her arm through mine.
The car, when it arrived, was a huge stretch limousine with a fully stocked bar.
Lucy smiled wickedly as she crawled onto the back seat.
“Jack always says ‘Go big or go home’, and anyway, he’s payin’!”
The floor show at the casino was something else. A group of male strippers gyrated across the stage, while I clamped my arms to my chair and refused to volunteer for anything, despite Lucy egging me on.
When one of the men dressed in leather pants with the ass cut out started grinding on a Harley Davison, I took a long drink of my Sea Breeze. Lee leaned across to me and whispered, “Sebastian used to feel like that about his motorcycle.”
I spat out a mouthful of vodka and cranberry juice, making her jump.
“I can’t believe you just said that!”
She winked at me and demurely sipped her glass of champagne.
Then one of the strippers strode up to the microphone.
“I hear we’ve got a bachelorette party here tonight!”
I cringed in my seat as Lucy jumped up and down pointing at me.
The stripper was the color of a teabag, thanks to his fake tan, and so musclebound that I couldn’t help wondering where he found pants to fit over his enormous thighs.
He vaulted off the stage and sauntered toward me.
“Hello, beautiful. Wanna take a ride with me?”
“No! No!” I squeaked at the same time Lucy yelled, “Yes! Yes!”
He smirked, pulling me up easily and tossing me over his shoulder as if I was a side of beef.
“Put me down!” I yelled, trying to scrabble free and hoping that I wasn’t flashing my panties to the audience, but his back was so well oiled, I couldn’t find anything to hold onto and slithered around helplessly.
He dumped me in a chair on the stage and then danced around, thrusting and grinding. I didn’t know where to look, so I glared at my so-called friends who were laughing their asses off.
He leaned down, giving the audience a view of his smooth ass, as shiny and hard as teak.
“Your friends just want you to have a good time,” he whispered. “Come and shake that cute lil tush for me.”
“Oh alright!” I grumbled.
I stood up, grateful when he helped me catch my balance, then surprised the hell out of myself and everyone else when I showed some moves that I’d learned in a belly-dancing class in Cairo featuring the traditional hip lift, shimmy and figure eight, working it like a pro, and shakin’ what my mama gave me.
“Holy shit! It’s always the quiet ones,” he yelled.
When he tried to copy me, the audience howled with laughter at both of us.
Ah well, what’s a little public humiliation between friends?
I stumbled into bed about three in the morning, wishing that Jack hadn’t booked us separate rooms for the night before our wedding, out of respect for his mother.
I fell asleep smiling because the man I was going to marry was so darned sweet.
I woke with a start when someone banged on my door. Dawn was seeping through the heavy drapes and my head pounded, reminding me exactly how much alcohol I’d had the night before . . . um . . . a few hours before.
“Who is it?” I croaked, my voice cracked and dry as a desert.
“’Smee!” came Jack’s voice, slurred and happy.
I opened the door to find Sebastian and Gray holding up a drooping Jack.
“He wouldn’t go back to his own room until he’d seen you,” Sebastian apologized, looking none too sober himself, if his glazed expression was anything to go by.
“Hey, sugar,” grinned Jack, a goofy smile on his face. “You have great tits. I really fuckin’ love your tits.”
As if my boobs had magnets attached to them, both Sebastian and Gray’s eyes swung to my nipples, and I realized that the sexy nightgown I was wearing left nothing to the imagination.
Sebastian winced and looked away; Gray’s mouth dropped open.
“Okay, you’ve seen her,” Sebastian muttered to Jack. “Now let’s get you back to your own crib. Sorry to bother you, Maggie.”
“M’gee, M’gee. I wan’ M’gee,” slurred Jack, gripping the doorpost and refusing to let go.
“It’s fine, let him stay,” I laughed, despite my headache.
Looking relieved, Sebastian half dragged, half carried Jack to the bed and let him fall on top of it. I wanted to yell, “Timberrrr!”
“Love you, M’gee,” he mumbled. “Lots ‘n’ lots. Love. You.”
“I love you too, you big lush,” I whispered, kissing him on his parted lips, and inhaling enough whiskey fumes to make me wrinkle my nose.
Within seconds, Jack was snoring softly.
“Sure you’ll be okay?” Sebastian asked, trying not to look at me or my over-enthusiastic boobs.
At that moment, we heard a crash in the bathroom.
I rushed in to find Gray laying in the tub with his dick hanging free and the toilet unflushed. He was also out cold.
“Ah shit,” Sebastian sighed, discreetly pulling Gray’s pants up so he was at least covered. “Wake up, motherfucker!”
He shook Gray, but there was no response.
“Which room are you in, dumbass?”
Still nothing.
“Leave him,” I said, yawning. “I’ll just throw a blanket over him.
Sebastian shook his head, suddenly seeming sober.
“He shouldn’t sleep with his prosthetics on or he’ll be in a world of hurt tomorrow.”
“Oh,” I said softly. “I guess . . . I guess we should take them off then.”
We stared at each other. Somehow, removing his aluminum legs seemed far more intimate than covering up Gray’s dick, as Sebastian had done just a moment ago.
“So, we just . . . pull?” I asked doubtfully, staring at Gray’s prosthetic legs sticking out of the tub.
“Let me check,” said Sebastian, rolling up the pants leg. “Depends on whether he’s got a shuttle lock or a vacuum or . . . oh yeah, vacuum. I should be able to just ease it off. Pull gently here while I . . .”
Lacking the coordination of full sobriety, I tugged too hard and landed hard on my ass on the bathroom floor, clutching one of Gray’s legs. I was appalled, but when Sebastian started to laugh, I couldn’t help joining in.
“Holy shit! That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen!” he grinned while gently pulling the thin fabric sheath covering Gray’s stump. “Can you do that again?”
“I’ll tell Lee you said that,” I pretended to grump.
“Won’t matter,” he said cockily. “She loves me.”
I smiled at the certainty in his voice. Plus, he was right—his wife adored him.
He turned back to Gray’s other leg, carefully pulling off the prosthetic and the second lining.
“Mind you,” he said quietly, “Jack is pretty damn crazy about you, too. Kept going on about how amazing you were. Wouldn’t even let Charlene or Ginger . . .”
He ground to a halt, his handsome face turning pink.
“Uh . . .”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” I smiled.
“Thank Christ,” he said, shaking his head. “I must be more hammered than I thought. I’m gonna go find my woman. I haven’t had sex for nearly a whole day.”
“Thank you for bringing Jack home safely . . . mostly.”
“No problem. See you at the wedding.”
He waved over his shoulder, crashing into the doorframe as he left the room.
I found a pillow and spare blanket for Gray, making him as comfortable as I could and propping up his legs next to the tub so he could reach them in the morning.
While I was in the bathroom, I swallowed a couple of Ibuprofen and washed them down with a glass of water. One hangover averted, with any luck.
Then I untied Jack�
�s sneakers and managed to ease them off his feet. I pulled off his socks, but I couldn’t make headway with his jeans—he was just too heavy to shift. Sighing, I covered him with the quilt.
“I love you Jackson Connor,” I said. “I’m so happy that I found you.”
Then I crept under the quilt as well, enjoying the wall of heat that rose from his prone body.
I slept till mid-morning when I was woken by Gray’s pitiful groans coming from the bathroom. I tried to go back to sleep but the sound of retching convinced me I ought to go check he wasn’t dying.
He’d climbed out of the bath and was draped over the toilet seat, moaning and swearing.
I, on the other hand, felt refreshed and only had a slight headache that would be solved by drinking a few glasses of water.
“Morning, Gray!” I said cheerfully. “Good time last night? I’m just going to order sausage, bacon, eggs, fruit, toast and coffee. You want some?”
“You’re evil,” he whined, glaring up at me with a bloodshot eye.
“Suck it up, buttercup,” I laughed.
Back in the bedroom, another of the fallen was sitting up in bed, clutching his head.
“Shoot me now,” he croaked. “Put me out of my misery. I’m dyin’, Maggie.”
His misery was so abject, his expression so plaintive, I laughed out loud.
“Come on, Sarge, first to fight!”
He muttered something under his breath and fell back with his arm over his face.
I crawled onto the bed, kissed his chin, then dropped my lips to his ear . . . and yelled.
“Time to get up, Marine! You’ve got a wedding to go to!”
He cringed, holding his head, his eyes wide and wounded.
“You’re mean! Is this what married life is going to be like?”
“Only when you get tanked,” I grinned at him. “Now, can you evict Gray so I can go shower?”
“Gray’s here?”
“Yup. He helped Sebastian carry you back here last night, but Gray never made it out of the bathroom. He’s in worse shape than you are.”
“Don’t count on it,” Jack mumbled.
Battle Scars Page 20
