The Memory of You

by Laurie Kellogg

  “If you tell what we want to know, maybe we let you live.” The man fished Matt’s pack of cigarettes from one of the guard’s pockets and lit one. Matt broke into a sweat from the odor of tobacco smoke. The bastard barked some orders to the guards in Vietnamese and tossed the pack of smokes back to them on his way out of the cell.

  Matt squeezed his eyes shut. If only he could forget about his life, they wouldn’t be able to torture him anymore. No matter how much it hurt to think about it, he loved Abby enough to want her to make a new life for herself and their child.

  He held his head between his hands, trying to squeeze out the mental picture of his sweet wife responding to some other guy the way she had to him and all he would miss as his child grew up. He couldn’t bear the thought of another man holding Abby....or rocking his baby to sleep. If they forced him to think about it another moment, he’d go out of his mind.

  It would’ve been better if he’d never met Abby.

  Sobbing into his hands, he gasped. What if the news of his death made her lose their baby? God, please, no. He had to quit thinking about her dazzling smile and beautiful green eyes. If he could stop remembering everything that made his life good in the past, maybe his present wouldn’t seem so horrendous.

  He had to block her out. Forget the pleasure and awe on Abby’s face when he made love to her. Put the sweet scent of her hair out of his mind. Tune out the sound of her laughter in his dreams.

  He had to forget Abby ever existed.

  Chapter 4

  Mac rapped on the back door and waved to her through its window before Abby had a chance to get dressed the next morning. Her cheeks radiated heat like two little blast furnaces. She tightened the sash on her skimpy black robe.

  Two weeks after receiving the news of Matt’s crash, a package had arrived containing the silk lingerie set along with his last letter about how he couldn’t wait to see her in it.

  Ever since, she’d imagined him looking at her with the same male appreciation that flickered in Mac’s eyes when she opened the door. His heavy-lidded gaze slid from the top of her tousled head, down the length of her naked legs, to the tips of her bare toes.

  “Morning, Abby,” he rasped, “Am I too early?”

  “N-no, you’re right on time. I’m running a little behind schedule.” She filled two bowls with steaming oatmeal, her hands trembling as if she had a palsy. Why was she so darn rattled? She wore a lot less than this to the beach.

  Even though Mac had at least a decade on her and was missing twenty pounds, his underlying good looks turned her into a quivering mass of adolescent nerves. And that was without even smiling, which she’d yet to see him do. In hindsight, she couldn’t believe she’d ended up sharing so much with him last night. There’d been something about him that made her feel as if she were talking to an old friend.

  “I’m sorry breakfast isn’t something more exciting, but I have to get to the library. I run a children’s story hour every other Saturday.” She set a basket of fruit on the table with a box of doughnuts. “If that isn’t enough, there’s bread for toast and peanut butter and jelly. You can help yourself to it.”

  He slid into the seat he’d occupied at dinner the evening before. “As long as you don’t serve me rice,” he murmured, stopping to yawn, “I’m a happy man.”

  “You don’t sound awake yet this morning, either.”

  He rubbed the dark smudges under his eyes. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I’ll be okay as soon as I have a cup of that coffee I smell.”

  While Mac and Tommy ate together, she hurried into the bedroom and dragged on a pair of navy slacks and a pale blue cotton sweater. By the time she returned to the kitchen, Mac and her son were involved in a deep discussion about dinosaurs.

  The man seemed extremely well read and explained even the most complex aspects of the subject at a level her six-year-old could comprehend. It seemed Tommy had gotten the erroneous impression in school that there was only one of each variety of dinosaur.

  “You have to think of them sort of the way you do birds,” Mac explained. “Parrots, crows, and chickens are all birds—just different types. Tyrannosaurus Rex wasn’t the animal’s personal name like Daffy and Donald are for your cartoon ducks. It’s just the title for that kind of dinosaur.”

  “So if they was fish, Triceratops could be like a shark?” Tommy asked.

  “Now you’ve got the idea. We’ll talk more about how animals are classified tonight.” Mac ruffled his hair and winked at Abby. “I guess I’d better get cracking if I’m gonna get anything done today.” He drained his mug and stood.

  Abby poured a cup of coffee for herself. “If I don’t have what you need to do the job, give a holler.” She pointed toward the laundry room. “You can get to the garage through there.”

  Tommy shoved his cereal bowl aside. “I’m gonna go help.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Sweetie, let Mac do his job in peace.”

  “It’s okay.” Mac held the door open for Tommy. “I don’t mind if he comes with me. I enjoy his company.”

  A half-hour later, she stepped outside to leave, and Mac was already scraping the house as diligently as if it were his own. Tommy danced around the base of the stepladder, chattering like an excited magpie.

  Shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand, she gazed up at Mac. “I see you found everything. Tommy and I are going now. I’ll fix lunch as soon as I get back.”

  “Take your time,” he called down to her. “I won’t starve.”

  On the way to the library, Tommy jabbered about what Mac had taught him. He turned pensive a moment and then asked, “Mom, did my daddy know a lot about dinosaurs?”

  A warm lump of grief clogged her throat like a glob of the oatmeal she’d made that morning. She glanced in the rearview mirror at her son’s face. She loved that he wanted to know about his father, but it ripped at her heart to talk about Matt.

  “Your daddy knew a lot about everything, Tommy.”

  “Did he know about baseball, too? Mac says he’s gonna teach me how to play.”

  The man’s attention had only reminded Tommy that he didn’t have a father. “Sweetie, your dad was the smartest person I ever knew.” Her son certainly hadn’t gotten his brains from her.”

  “Would my daddy have eaten my peas for me?”

  She wiped the mist from her eyes and chuckled. “I don’t know. Your dad really hated peas, too.” Most likely, Matt would’ve insisted Tommy shouldn’t have to eat something he despised that much. But no way would she tell her son that.

  “Did my dad like hot dogs?”

  “Your dad loved hot dogs.”

  “I bet Mac likes ‘em, too. Can we have ‘em for supper?”

  “I suppose so.” She’d been planning to make a roast for dinner, but maybe if the guy hated hot dogs, Tommy would stop comparing him to his father.

  While she drove the rest of the way to the library, she thought about the thorough job Mac was doing scraping the house. A needle of guilt pricked her that all he was receiving for his sweat was meals and Matt’s old motorcycle.

  Regardless of how ridiculous it would be to keep the Harley, it hurt to let it go. Probably because it was more than just a verbal admission that Matt was really gone.

  Her chest tightened as she recalled the first time she rode it with him. It’d been the night after they’d met. She’d been shocked that a guy so much older had offered to take her out.

  “Why in the world would you want to?” she’d asked, straightening the napkin at one of the place settings on the dining room table.

  He studied her intently, wearing a sexy hint of a smile. “Because you’re sweet and funny....and very pretty. But to be honest, I’m dying to find out if your lips taste as luscious as they look.” Dragging his knuckle down the side of her face, he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I figure it’s going to take at least until our second date before you let me kiss you. I’m hoping you’ll let me count tonight as our first.”

&n
bsp; Abby shivered as a troop of goose bumps marched down her arms. The challenge in his eyes suggested girls usually let him do a whole lot more than kiss them on a first date.

  He might be too old for her, but she couldn’t let this gorgeous hunk think she was as big a prude as everyone at school said she was. Granted, her dad had made her wait until she was sixteen to start dating so she hadn’t gone out with many guys, but she could at least show Matt she wasn’t completely naive.

  She pulled his head down while she stood on her tiptoes, boldly pressing her lips to his in a soft kiss. He tasted of breath mints mingled with tobacco. She stepped back and flashed a smug smile. “There, now you don’t have to take me out just to satisfy your curiosity.”

  When his eyes twinkled with amusement, her stomach sunk. The gloating indulgence in his gaze said she’d just proven how inexperienced she actually was.

  Matt brushed the pad of his fingertip over her lower lip and whispered, “No, Abby, that wasn’t even close to the kind of kiss I had in mind. Come out with me tomorrow night, and I’ll teach you the difference. If you say no, I’ll have to show you now. And you don’t want to see your brother behind bars, do you?”

  She couldn’t believe he still wanted to go out with her after she’d made such an idiot of herself. “Why would Peter go to jail?”

  “Because, if he caught me kissing you the way I want to, he’d beat the living cra—uhh—daylights out of me. So, I think it’s your sisterly duty to agree, don’t you?”

  The temptation to let Matt show her what a real kiss felt like coiled tight in her belly. All the boys she’d dated had either slobbered on her or given her dry, nervous pecks.

  In the end, she hadn’t been able to refuse Matt’s invitation, so the next night he showed up at seven on the dot to take her to the movies. He looked down into her eyes and smiled while he strapped a helmet on her. “All you have to do is hang on to me and follow my lead leaning into the turns.”

  Once he lifted her onto the back of the motorcycle and straddled it in front of her, she rested her hands on his waist and gripped his leather jacket. He jumped on the kick-start and then sank down. The old Harley’s powerful engine rumbled between their legs. Matt wrapped her arms tightly around him, pulling her breasts into his back.

  When he grabbed her knees and jerked her lower half forward so that her denim-covered thighs hugged his hips, she gasped. With the V between her legs nestled against his rear, his hard rump vibrated intimately against her, making her squirm at the empty ache inside her.

  “Aren’t we getting a little close for a first date?” she hollered.

  He grinned over his shoulder. “Why’d you think I wanted to get you on my bike? Besides, tonight’s our second date, remember?” He winked and yelled back to her, “It’s a little cool, so tuck your head against my back.”

  The motorcycle lurched forward as he turned the throttle and let out the clutch. If only everyone at school could see her. They’d never call her a prude again.

  She loved riding with Matt and understood why he’d gone on so long the night before about his Harley. Twenty minutes later, when he pulled up to the theater and cut the engine, she heaved a disappointed sigh. He lifted her off the bike. “Were you cold?”

  “A little.” She took off her helmet and finger combed her hair. “But it was great.”

  Sliding his arm around her, he pulled her close, warming her with his body’s heat. Once inside the theater’s lobby, she used the restroom and came out to find him toting a huge tub of popcorn, two sodas, and three varieties of candy.

  He smiled and shrugged. “I didn’t know what you like.”

  The pockets of the few guys who’d taken her to the movies in the past had only gone as deep as the tickets and a small box of popcorn. Despite that Matt needed help paying for college, he definitely wasn’t skimping on their date.

  He led her into the almost vacant theater and steered her directly to the very last row. “The film is at the end of its run, so it should be pretty empty tonight.”

  Studying the ten rows between them and the rest of the meager audience, she chewed on her lower lip. “D-don’t you think this is awfully far back?”

  “We can move up if you want. But I like it here. Unless the place fills up, no one will sit in front of us. And—we won’t have to worry about bothering anyone if we want to talk during the movie.”

  “Oh. I guess that’s good.”

  “No one will disturb us, either.”

  She swallowed hard, and her knees quivered like warm Jell-O. What had she gotten herself into? Maybe she really was a prude.

  “If you’d prefer,”—he smiled, gazing deep into her eyes—“we can sit near everyone else.” When she hesitated, he stepped aside and waited for her to decide, murmuring softly, “But I’d rather be alone with you.”

  What was she so worried about? They were in a movie theater for crying out loud. Besides, she really wanted him to kiss her.

  Abby slid into the rear row and let Matt guide her all the way to the furthest corner of the theater. Placing the tub of popcorn in her lap, he slipped his arm around her. “I think you’re going to love this movie. The kids in it are really talented.”

  She did a double take. “You’ve already seen The Sound of Music? We could’ve gotten tickets for something else.”

  “That’s all right. I like being with you. I wanted to take you to something you’d enjoy.”

  Soft music drifted from the sound system while they snacked on popcorn and waited for the coming attractions. The gentle strains of the Beatles’ recording, In My Life, filled the theater. “I love this song.” She sighed.

  “The Beatles haven’t recorded much I don’t like.” Turning toward her, Matt captured her gaze again and softly crooned the romantic lyrics, “In my life I love you more.” Every time he looked at her, she had trouble drawing a breath.

  “Umm....” She gulped. “I really like Till There Was You, too.

  “I don’t know if you know it,”—he fingered a strand of her hair, sending a shiver up her back—“but that song isn’t really theirs. The Beatles covered it from The Music Man.”

  “No way.” She chuckled, unable to imagine a guy who rode a Harley listening to show tunes. “You like musicals?”

  “Why not? I like all sorts of music.”

  “So do I, but most guys think, if they admit they enjoy shows tunes, people will say they’re pansies.” Evidently, there was a lot more to Matt Foster than the badass image he projected.

  “I guess I don’t see how any kind of music can be emasculating. West Side Story has some of the funniest lyrics ever written.”

  He was so much easier to talk to than the boys she went to school with. It was nice being with a fellow who didn’t think he had to act macho to prove he was a guy.

  “Don’t let it get around, but I’ve even got a stack of sheet music from stage shows.”

  Her lips parted in surprise. “You play an instrument?”

  “Yup. I took piano lessons for seven years. My parents owned a small corner grocery. When a large supermarket opened only a block away, their business went belly up. My parents couldn’t swing my lessons anymore. That’s also why I lost out on an academic scholarship for Princeton. While I was in high school, I was working so much to help my parents out I couldn’t keep my grades high enough to qualify.”

  Apparently, Matt must have been a bit of a nerd, too. When he finally pulled his penetrating gaze from her, she relaxed slightly. “So were you any good?”

  “At the piano? I guess. My dad thought I’d be the next Liberace. So it was just as well that I had to quit. I wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing all those sequins—no matter how much they paid me.” He peered back into her face. “Don’t you play? I saw a piano in your living room.”

  She tossed some popcorn into her mouth. “No, my mom does. She’s really good. Although, she hasn’t played much since my dad was killed. I have absolutely no talent.”

  “I wou
ldn’t say that,” he murmured. “I’ve never met another girl who’s such a contradiction. You keep me totally off balance. I’d say that’s a definite talent.”

  Her jaw froze in the middle of chewing. He should talk. She’d never met a guy who was so unique. “A contradiction? In what way?”

  He tucked a tendril of her hair behind her ear. “You’re unbelievably sweet and incredibly sexy at the same time. For example, tonight, I didn’t know whether to take you for an ice cream cone or for a candlelit dinner.”

  Her mouth had less moisture than the Sahara. Okay, calm down. Don’t let him see what he’s doing to you. “They both sound nice.”

  “Mmm. They do. So I chose something in between.” He gently caressed her cheek. “But now I can’t tell if you want to end the evening with a piggyback ride or if you’d like to fall asleep in my arms. I think you know which I’d pick.”

  As she finally dragged in a gulp of air after forgetting to breathe for a moment, her chest quaked. She didn’t want him to think she was immature enough for piggyback rides, but she certainly wasn’t ready to sleep with him. “Compromise is always good.”

  The moment the lights went down, Matt made his intention crystal clear. He began a relentless crusade to render her not just willing but eager for his kiss.

  His hand started on her shoulder and slipped just under the edge of her scoop neck blouse. An electric current tingled through her. He stroked the sensitive flesh along her collarbone and up the side of her neck where his fingers tangled in her hair and lightly caressed her ear and cheek.

  His seductive touch stayed just within the bounds of propriety. By the time the coming attractions ended, he’d progressed to sensually running his fingertips over the base of her throat.

  His fingers trailed down to her cleavage, making her nipples tighten. Some of the guys she’d gone out with had tried to feel her up, but none of them had ever made her ache for it. Breathing erratically, she squirmed in her seat and cringed with embarrassment as a helpless whimper escaped her. A delightful shiver rippled through her. She’d never felt this way before. It was much better than a ride on his back or even a double dip ice cream cone.