Lewis Security

by Glenna Sinclair

  “I’m glad you think I did,” I finally replied. “It’s not easy when you do something like that. You can wish for it, you can hope you get the chance, but after you do it…there’s no taking it back, you know?”

  Her eyes hardened. “I saw what he did to Mom and Denny. He deserved it.”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” I got out of bed and went to her. She let me wrap her in my arms. “I’m so sorry. You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even be talking about it. I’m sorry.”

  “I miss her so much,” she wept. “We had Christmas without her, and she was supposed to get married on New Year’s, and that won’t ever happen now. I cried and cried so much when I was there, and I was all alone. He left me all alone.”

  It could have been worse, I thought bitterly. I was grateful it wasn’t worse, but it could’ve been. She was lucky that he’d left her alone the way he did. “I don’t think you would’ve gotten much comfort from him,” I managed to choke out.

  She nodded against my shoulder. “I know. I know. You’re right. It was just all so messy inside.”

  “I bet it was.” I stroked her hair, freshly washed. She smelled like shampoo and soap and a clean hospital gown. Much better than she had when I last held her. “You are such a brave, brave girl. I know your dad is proud of you.”

  “He’s proud of you, too. He told me so.”

  “When did he tell you that?” I pulled back to look down at her.

  “Last night. You were sleeping, and I just woke up. You didn’t hear us.” Evidently, I hadn’t.

  “Wow. I didn’t know that. You two are so sneaky.” I kissed the top of her head, and she settled in against her pillows with a cup of water I poured for her.

  She shrugged. “I asked him if he liked you and if you were really his girlfriend like that man told me you were.” She wouldn’t say his name, I noticed. She never had. She never needed to, either. Whatever helped her get through it was all right with me—I wouldn’t judge.

  “What did he say?” I asked, eyes narrowed.

  “He said yes, and if you want to be.” She flashed an impish smile that told me she would be okay. It would take time for her to trust again, and she’d never get over losing her mother—especially the memory of the way she’d lost her. But she would be okay in time.

  “So?” she asked. I hadn’t realized I was lost in thought until she prompted me.

  “So what?”

  “So do you want to be?”

  I bit back a laugh and fixed my face in a serious expression. “Well, I don’t know. What do you think?”

  “I think he’s pretty okay. I mean, he’s my dad. I love him. And he’s been single for a long, long time. Mom…” Her voice cracked a little, but she continued. “Mom always said he was too nice to be single for such a long time, and that it wasn’t really his fault they got a divorce. It was both of them, and sometimes grown-ups have problems like that and they do what they can.” She shrugged again. “I guess I’ll understand more about that later on.”

  “I guess you will.” I ran a hand over her hair, smiling still. “Let’s talk about what you’re going to order for lunch.”

  ***

  It was good to be home. Even if Mom was driving me nuts.

  “You weren’t in the hospital,” she said as I tried to give her the morning meds.

  “Yeah, I was, Mom. Remember, I was there for a few days. I was in a fire.”

  “You were?” she looked and sounded skeptical. I held up my hands to show her the bandages.

  “That’s what these are for.”

  She looked stricken. I sat down across from her. “It’s okay now. I’m fine. And the neighbors came in to check on you and make sure you were okay. Everything’s fine.”

  “We had a fire?”

  I took a deep breath. “No, Mom. I was in a fire. At work. You were okay here.”

  “Oh. And you’re all right?”

  “I am.” I got up, patting her hand as gently as I could—my palms smarted like crazy under those bandages, even though the burns were almost healed—and went to the kitchen to finish fixing her a cup of tea. By the time I got back to where she was seated in front of the TV, the entire conversation was gone and she asked me why my hands were bandaged.

  I couldn’t do it on my own anymore.

  People always said life flashed before their eyes in what they thought were their final moments. I used to think that was a bunch of bullshit—like a group hallucination, or the power of suggestion. You think you’re supposed to see the moments of your life flash before you, so that’s what you think you’re seeing. After being in that fire, however, and struggling to detach myself from the floor in time to avoid burning to death, I felt different. I knew it was all true.

  And what did I see in what I thought were my final moments? When the flames were getting higher, hotter, closer? Did I see a happy life? In the past, sure. When I was a kid. When Dad was alive and we went on modest trips together every summer. When Mom made trays of Christmas cookies for the entire neighborhood and I used to help her in the kitchen for days on end. Those were good times. Lately, however, times weren’t so good.

  Except in Jamaica. In Jamaica, everything was perfect—and it had nothing to do with where I was, but rather who I was with. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to start living life for me again. There was nothing I could do to make Mom’s life better, nothing more than what I was already doing. And she was getting worse. She didn’t normally forget an important conversation that quickly.

  It was time to start making some hard choices, but her doctors had already suggested an assisted living facility that specialized in memory care. I would have to start there. After that, it was time to put my life back together.

  I had that in mind as I drove to work for the first time since before the fire. I wasn’t sure what to expect—I remembered the guys huddled around me as I was on the ground outside the shed, screaming at the EMTs to help me, give me oxygen, give me a blanket. Like a bunch of protective big brothers. What would they be like when they saw me looking more like myself?

  I got my answer minutes later, when I found out I was the guest of honor at a party. Lydia gave me a big hug, then ushered me to the conference room. There was a big cake there and other food, balloons, a banner that said “Welcome Back”, flowers, streamers. I didn’t know what to say. Bursting into tears seemed like the right thing to do, so that was what I did.

  Pax fought his way through the crowd—all our agents and their families. Spencer with Charlotte and the kids. I couldn’t wait to kiss that sweet baby of theirs. Brett and Molly with their twins. Dylan and Vienna, who was expecting their first baby in a few months. Marcus and Lauren, Danny and Jenna—finally engaged after years of going back and forth in the basement. Even Ricardo and his fiancée, Elise, both of them wearing radiant smiles.

  On Pax’s heels was a young lady wearing a smile as radiant as any of the others. I gave her a big hug. “Sweetheart! I didn’t know you got out already!”

  Lizzie beamed. “Just last night. I told them I wanted to be out in time for your party.”

  “Oh, honey. I’m so happy to see you.” She looked wonderful. I knew Pax was planning to take her to an experienced child psychologist as soon as possible, but I would never know from the outside that she’d been through what she’d been through.

  Pax wrapped his arms around me, and I leaned my head against his chest for a moment before remembering we were in public, around a bunch of people who didn’t know about us. I wasn’t sure if he even wanted them to know. I straightened up, feeling like a complete idiot.

  Only they all looked understanding—including him. “They know,” he said with a smile. “It’s sort of common knowledge now.”

  “Oh, jeez. I wasn’t sure.” I heard a smattering of good-natured laughter from around the room while my cheeks flushed deep red.

  “It’s about time,” Ricardo called out. Elise gave his arm a playful slap.

  “He’s right, though. It h
as been too long. I think everybody in the agency knew before we did how we felt about each other.” He put an arm around my shoulders—it felt so good—and smiled down at Lizzie. She nodded with a smile of her own. What did they have up their sleeves?

  “I’ve spoken with my daughter about this, and she agrees.”

  “Agrees with what?” I asked. Everybody seemed to know what was going on but me.

  “That we should get married.”

  My head snapped up in his direction. He smiled down at me with more love than I could remember seeing in his eyes, ever. Even more than when he found me and Lizzie in the middle of the fire. He got down on one knee. I heard sniffles around the room—including my own.

  “Christa Michaelson, I learned that life’s too short to take our time. I know we’ve only technically been together for four weeks, maybe a little less, but none of that matters. Besides,” he added with a smirk, “we’ve known each other for years.”

  “That’s true,” I whispered with a laugh.

  “You would make me the happiest, luckiest, most blessed man in the world if you’d agree to be my wife.”

  I looked down at Lizzie. “What say you?”

  “I say go for it,” she grinned.

  “Okay.” I turned my attention back to him. “Yes. I will.”

  The joy in his eyes was palpable as he slid a diamond solitaire on my finger. I bent to take his face in my hands and kiss him, my tears wetting both our faces.

  The room erupted in applause, much to the displeasure of Spencer’s baby, but everybody else cheered and clapped and offered us their congratulations. All I could do was hold on to my husband-to-be and daughter-to-be. My new family. My new life. I would never let it go.

  ~~~