The Road To Glory

by Advocate

  Guilt warring with resentment, Leigh watched as RJ shrugged into her clothes. I don’t owe you an explanation! Right? "Please, RJ." She stepped forward, grabbing a handful of the tall woman’s cotton undershirt to prevent her from leaving the room. "I’m not hungry and I don’t want breakfast."

  The pilot nodded and gently pulled away. "Suit yourself. I’ll go make some fresh coffee then. Seems we could both use it."

  Leigh sighed. "I’m not going to beg you to stay and talk to me, RJ. I don’t know what I can say anyway." She turned and stalked back to the bed, yanking up the covers. "Go make coffee." She made an irritated flicking gesture toward the door. "I’m not stopping you."

  RJ just shook her head and left the bedroom, muttering, "Women."

  Leigh jumped at the sound of the slamming door. "Fine," she mumbled. "I won’t beg you to stay and talk to me." She punched her pillow, moving her head back and forth against it in a vain attempt to get comfortable. "I don’t even want to talk!" She lasted all of three seconds before jumping out of bed and heading for the door.

  RJ looked up from the sink where she was refilling the coffee pot. She didn’t say anything to Leigh as she set the pot to brew. She could tell that the blonde woman was mad and she didn’t want to annoy her any further. This was supposed to be a vacation; they were supposed to be having fun. Things weren’t supposed to be getting complicated! "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Let’s forget it and start over. I’ll fix some more eggs," she glanced at the clock, "for lunch. Then we can figure out how we want to spend the rest of the day."

  Leigh crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her foot. God, she hated this emotional shit. She could see RJ wanted an explanation and yet the dark-haired woman was going to make her chase her in order to give it. "I’m not –" Leigh paused. No lies. "Okay, I’m a little upset. But mostly not with you."

  RJ watched the dark liquid streaming into the pot, her empty cup in hand. She grinned at the blonde woman standing there in the kitchen naked as a lark and looking like she was going to start spitting nails at any second. "Lass, I really didn’t mean to upset you. I’d just been wondering why you jumped out of the truck the way you did that evening" And holding you so close, I couldn’t stand the thought of you running away from me.

  Leigh leaned against the counter. "I left because I was starting to feel … uncomfortable," she said seriously. "I needed some fresh air so I could think."

  RJ cocked her head. "Was I making you uncomfortable? And would you like a robe or a blanket or something? I have to admit having your chest out there like that is making concentrating very difficult." She grinned, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

  "I don’t want a robe." She plucked RJ’s cup out of her hands and loudly set it on the counter. "It wasn’t entirely you that was making me uncomfortable, it was the situation. And you’re making me insane! You act angry, but smile, then makes jokes about my chest." She crossed her arms over her breasts. "For once I’m not thinking about sex!"

  For a moment RJ was speechless.

  "Did that answer all your questions?" Without waiting for RJ to respond, Leigh turned on her heel, marched to the fridge, pulled out a Pepsi and cracked the top. She took a long, satisfying drink, looking at RJ over the top of the can. "Are we done?"

  RJ nodded. Biting back a grin and trying not to laugh, she let her head sway slightly. "If you say so. You’re so cute when you’re grouchy."

  "Argh!" Leigh set her can and ran over to RJ. She held her hands up in front of her neck, shaking them wildly as though she was choking her. "You’re trying to make me go nuts! I just know it." When RJ only winked back, Leigh dropped her hands in exasperation. She picked up the Pepsi can and stomped toward the bathroom, loudly calling out what RJ had only mumbled before. "Women!"

  RJ puttered around the kitchen for a bit, hearing the shower go on in the bathroom. Then she remembered the cure for her black eye was in the fridge. She touched the tender skin as she pulled the steak from its wrapping, then rinsed it in the sink and poured herself a cup of coffee. Hopping up on the counter she placed the steak on her swollen eye and began sipping the dark liquid, wishing she’d thought to bring her cigarettes with her.

  Leigh emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later. Her shower had been a quick one and she hadn’t bothered to blow-dry her hair. She was wearing a thin pair of gray sweats and a mint green t-shirt that somehow managed to make her eyes look even more sky blue.

  RJ jumped off the counter and followed Leigh into the living room. "Feel better?"

  "Jesus Christ!" Leigh’s stomach churned queasily when RJ lifted the steak from her eye, leaving a pink, bloody ring around the discolored flesh. "God, RJ, that’s disgusting."

  "It’s the perfect cure for a black eye, lass. But I’m guessing from that response you won’t be joining me for steak and eggs for lunch then?"

  Leigh shook her head and laughed. "What is this obsession with food? Over the last few days you haven’t had much appetite at all." She gestured toward the steak, now resting comfortably back on RJ’s eye. She sat down on the sofa and curled one leg under her.

  "I’m not obsessed with food." RJ went back into the kitchen and re-wrapped the steak, placing it back in the refrigerator. She then washed her hands and her face, before joining Leigh, who was watching the rain through the glass door that led to the balcony. She gave the young woman’s foot a little tickle. "I have much better things to be obsessed with than food."

  Leigh feigned surprised. "Feet?" She made a face. "Ewww ... I can barely stand to look at my own feet, much less anyone else’s."

  "No," RJ said in exasperation as she tickled her foot again. "Not feet. You. All of you."

  "Oh." Leigh’s ego hummed happily. "That’s a plan I can get behind. So –" she paused and jerked her chin at the rainy gloom they were watching from the couch. "What do you want to do today? I know I want to go and see how the body shop is doing on my truck." Those fuckers had better not be ogling Mom as they paint over her.

  "Well," RJ began a gentle massage of the foot she still held onto, "actually there is someone here in Seattle I’d like to try and see." Here goes. "It’s the woman who was my grandmother’s co-pilot."

  "You’re going to wash that hand before touching me again, right?" Leigh pulled her foot from RJ’s grasp and leaned forward, interested. "She was the one who tried to save your grandmother, right? Wow, she must be pretty old."

  RJ looked at her hands. She shrugged and dropped them in her lap. "That’d be the one. She’s probably in her mid-eighties by now. It’s been sixty years since the end of the war." Jesus, Mary and Joseph. It never seemed like that long ago until RJ actually said the words. I can’t even imagine that sweet, red-haired lass, Lucy, that old. Does this mean I’m robbing the cradle with Leigh? "I just hoped maybe she’d be able to tell me something I didn’t know about my grandmother. My mother suggested that I look her up if I was going to be in Seattle. And I need to try and thank her for what she did for me.

  "Do you know where she lives? Seattle isn’t a small place."

  "She’s in a nursing home. I have the address in my duffel bag. If you don’t want to go, I’ll understand. I could call a cab or something. Lots of folks can think of better ways to spend part of their day than visiting an old woman."

  Leigh’s gaze softened. "It’s important to you, right?"

  The pilot nodded, trying not to allow the tears that threatened to spill. There was no way she could explain this type of emotion to Leigh, considering she supposedly hadn’t even met the old woman yet. She swallowed hard. "It’s very, Leigh. She’s the last one … who really knew my grandmother, and even though I didn’t know her she’s important to my family."

  "Hey." She patted RJ’s leg worriedly, feeling a pang in her guts over the sad look on RJ’s face. "Don’t worry. I’ll take you. We didn’t have any special plans for the day, and if it’s something you want to do," she shrugged, "that’s more than good enough for me."

  RJ leaned over
and gave Leigh a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Has anyone ever told you how special you are, Leigh Matthews?" If I didn’t know better, I’d say you are my guardian angel.

  "Only my junior high school guidance counselor. But that was just because I was tardy for 86 days in a row." Leigh quirked a grin and received a wry one in return. "I believe you have a hand to wash before we go?"

  * * *

  "Bait!" The male squirrel’s jaw wobbled loosely from his face.

  The female nodded and shrugged. It had to be.

  "I don’t want to be bait!" He began to tremble and blurted out in a panic, "Bait is bad! Bait is dangerous! Bait gets eaten! And I just know it would hurt."

  "Don’t make me alter my plan and remove the small contingency I’ve incorporated so that you have at least a minute chance of surviving," the female warned reasonably. "All missions have a certain of level of acceptable losses for the greater good."

  "Acceptable losses?"

  She rolled her eyes. "That would be you, dear."

  "Greater good?"

  "That would be me."

  "But I don’t want to be bait," he whined, digging his little toe into the soil.

  "Let me put it this way: one of us has to execute the plan with extreme precision, skill, brains and cunning."

  "I could do that part!"

  The female simply stared at him until he cracked under her knowing gaze.

  "I’m the bait," he sighed.

  "Of course you are." She patted his shoulder comfortingly, thinking that she would always remember him. Then for the first time that afternoon she got a good look at his attire. "Why are you wearing that hideous outfit?"

  He puffed up his chest. "I’m a warrior! Brave and strong. Ready to fight to save the squirrel I love most!" That would be me.

  "Uh huh."

  The male was wearing an oak leaf twisted into a ridiculous hat, a dented beer bottle cap serving as a chest plate.

  "I’m emulating my favorite warrior I saw on TV. No woman could resist him!"

  "The imbecilic moron?" The female’s face twisted in disgust. Humans were such perverse animals.

  The male looked aghast. "But kids love him and he’s the cornerstone of all the comedies!"

  "I am not having this discussion with you again." The female sat down on a large stick she’d dragged into their nest while the mate went in search of weapons to use in their battle against Flea, the bane of their eternity. He’d excitedly returned with rusty nails, bits of glass, a half-eaten Ho Ho which he refused to share, and an issue of ‘Play Squirrel.’ He’d cried for hours when he discovered that the best parts had already been torn out, confirming once again that they were, in fact, in squirrel hell.

  "What did you collect for our attack against the evil one?"

  "I didn’t collect anything. I made something. Just as a backup to my brilliant plan."

  "What?"

  "This!" She reached behind the stick and thrust a large furry thing in her mate’s face.

  "Ahhh!!!" he screamed, throwing himself under their bed. "Take it away! Take it away!"

  "What? You don’t like my voodoo doll?" She laughed wickedly, stroking her cat-like creation, which was complete with brown fur. She’d wanted black, but her choices had been woefully limited.

  "No! I hate it! It’s grotesque." He peeked his head out from under the bed. "But I see you managed to get lots of brown hair to glue onto the doll ... finally decide to shave your upper lip?" He burst out laughing at his own joke, his stubby arms wrapped around his shaking sides.

  The female narrowed her eyes. "Yes, dear. That’s exactly what I did." Her gaze flicked to his now bald back and ass, thinking it much improved over normal.

  "You know," he paused and scratched an itch on his back that had been bothering him all day. "I had the weirdest dream last night."

  * * *

  Patrick and Liam just rolled their eyes as their mother continued to place dishes on the table in what they kindly thought of as a less-than-loving manner. They both looked at their father, who simply shrugged and tried to remain inconspicuous.

  The younger Fitzgeralds, ages 8 and 14, watched their mother with slightly wide eyes. She was in a rare temper. And for Katherine Fitzgerald that was saying a lot. Dinner hadn’t even started yet and it was already a quiet affair — always a bad sign in the usually boisterous household.

  Finally, Patrick couldn’t stand it any longer. "Mother, you don’t know what the council’s answer is going to be," he commented, reaching for the rolls.

  "Tis not a matter for the council," she snapped, giving the red-haired man an annoyed look. "They already said no." She slammed down the gravy boat, biting her tongue when the brown sauce sloshed over the sides and onto her lace tablecloth. "Tis up to a higher power now."

  "Katherine, having a fit about it certainly isn’t going to help." Harris’s voice was calm as he tried to clean up a bit of the gravy.

  "Harris, tis not a fit I’m throwin’." Katherine sat down, literally wringing her hands. "I’m the one who made the petition today. I’m the one who stood there and said that Ruth Jean deserved this chance. I’m only fretting because I can’t decide what breaks me heart more. The idea of her leaving us for years on end or the idea of her staying when her heart is driving around in a big red truck."

  Liam leaned over and placed a serving of vegetables onto his sister Mary’s plate. "Mother, RJ is a big girl. She knew what she was getting into when she went off with Leigh." He nodded to the younger children to eat, which they both began doing with varying degrees of enthusiasm. They were far more interested in finding out if RJ would be leaving Glory.

  Katherine tossed her napkin onto the table. "You shut your mouth, Liam! RJ had no idea this would happen when she left. Even now she might not be sure of her feelings for the truck driver. And she certainly didn’t ask to be allowed to leave Glory for another lifetime."

  Liam, the oldest of the children, who had died in a crop dusting accident in the late 1960s, always seemed to be the one who clashed with his mother. And he was as accustomed to his lot in the afterlife as he had been in life. "No, you’re right, Mother, she didn’t. You took that crusade upon yourself. How do you know Ruth Jean will even want to leave? Maybe when the week is over it’s her intention to just come home where she belongs."

  Katherine looked pointedly over at her husband, Harris, her gaze softening almost imperceptibly. "Tch. I know what I would do and Ruth Jean is ten times as stubborn as I could ever hope to be."

  The table burst out laughing.

  "What?" Katherine demanded, looking at each face with accusing eyes.

  "Mother," Patrick nearly choked on his coffee, "We love you. You know we do. But when it comes to stubborn, you’ve written the book!"

  Patrick’s wife, Betsy, rolled her eyes. When would the man learn to shut up?

  Katherine reached over and smacked Patrick in the back of head, earning a broad smile from Liam, who was the one who usually got smacked. "You just volunteered to say grace. Get to it, boy. Our dinner is gettin’ cold."

  Patrick scowled but began reciting a commonly used blessing.

  Under the table Harris reached over and squeezed his wife’s hand. Katherine gratefully squeezed back. This is where she found her strength. She wondered briefly where Ruth Jean found hers.

  CHAPTER XI

  LEIGH AND RJ made their way up the walkway that lead to the reception area of the Golden Link Retirement Center. As the sign proudly stated, it was an ‘assisted’ living facility.

  Stepping inside, RJ shook out the umbrella they’d both huddled under on their way from Leigh’s Jeep.

  "You think this is the place?" Critical green eyes surveyed their surroundings. It wasn’t nearly as sterile as RJ had feared and was filled with warm-colored furnishings and carpet, cheerful Big Band-era tunes playing softly in the background.

  "The address and name match," Leigh commented as she took off her jacket and tucked it under her arm. She began tugging RJ to the re
ceptionist. "Are you sure we shouldn’t have called first?" Leigh said quietly, feeling like she was in a library and would be scolded for being too boisterous. Or for having sex in the bathroom. That was even worse than an overdue book. Unless, of course, it was the actual librarian you were having sex with. Leigh sniggered her to herself.

  "No. I’m not sure." RJ’s voice was tight, and she felt Leigh pull her to a stop.

  The blonde woman squeezed RJ’s hand reassuringly, surprised to feel a slight chill. "Are you okay?"

  "I’m a …" RJ licked her lips nervously, intentionally not looking at the curious receptionist who was watching them both. "I’m a little nervous, I suppose. I’ve never been in one of these aged homes before."

  Ah. Now that made sense. Even the nice ones could be a little unsettling, Leigh knew. "I visited my grandpa in a place sort of like this, only it looked a little more like a hospital than an apartment complex." She wrinkled her nose. "It smelled funny."

  RJ nodded. "But this place isn’t too bad."

  Leigh smiled softly. "No. It’s a very nice place." She allowed RJ a few more minutes to look around before gently prodding her with her elbow. "Ready? That receptionist is about ready to die from curiosity about the two woman standing in the middle of the room and not moving."

  RJ shot Leigh a mild look. "I’m ready, lass. You’re coming with me, right?"

  "Do you want me to?" Leigh had figured on waiting in the visitor’s lounge, and reading two-year-old copies of People Magazine while RJ met with her granny’s friend.

  "I … I want –" RJ abruptly halted her speech and bent down to whisper in Leigh’s ear. "I want you to come, Leigh. If only for a few moments."

  Leigh’s heart broke at the abject fear in RJ’s voice. "Of course, I’ll come."

  RJ exhaled explosively and bravely headed for the reception desk. "Good." I knew I could count on you, darlin’.

  * * *

  "I don’t have her listed as a resident or you as a visitor," the man said politely, rechecking his log one more time to be sure. "What was the resident’s last name again? We have several Lucy’s."