Pink Neon

by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  In a bright pink blouse, Cecily sparkled. Her eyes shone bright as she gazed down at him and her hand wrapped in his gave him comfort. “Did he come to fire me or arrest you?” he asked, hoping neither one would happen.

  “Huh-uh,” she replied. “I’m cleared of any suspicion and I think he wants to give you some award or commendation or something. You should’ve told me you had back up when I went in there with your great-grandma’s Comanche knife, sugar. I could’ve got my ass shot.”

  The last moments before everything went dark played across his mind and he shuddered. “I thought you did querida. I saw you fall over after I heard a shot. But unless I’m crazy, I thought you knifed the bastard first.”

  She smiled. “I did. Then I fainted, nerves and not eating all day can cause that, I hear. But I wasn’t out more than a minute or two. The shot took down Johnson before he had a chance to kill me or shoot you again but the dude who fired it told me I probably killed the asshole – he just hadn’t died yet.”

  “Who fired?”

  “That Martin, your boss,” Cecily told him. “He was almost as upset as me when you were lying in your own blood on the floor. And the guy you didn’t like, the one treated me so mean in Springfield, Tillman?”

  “Yeah?”

  “He showed up after everything went down and tried to put me in handcuffs, the son of a bitch,” Cecily said with a little laugh. “I heard he got his ass canned for it, too. Seems like the FBI has a job opening to head up the Springfield satellite office too or so I hear.”

  Maybe because he remained physically weak or perhaps because he loved this damn woman so much, tears came into his eyes. What she didn’t say loomed big and important. He’d wondered how their relationship would be, after, if they both lived. Now they were here, on the other side of it and Cecily mentioned a job, one which could put him within easy commuting distance of Branson. She wants a future together as much as I do. Although he hadn’t doubt it, the reality evoked raw, powerful emotion but he tried not to show it. Instead, he said, with what he hoped was a casual tone, “You hear a lot, querida.”

  “Don’t I?” she told him. “Before I heard about the job opening, I’d come across some mention of space for rent in Country Club Plaza up in Kansas City too. And rental openings in somewhere called Zona Rosa too, more at Bannister Mall and the Blue Ridge Mall. Who knows? I might just relocate or open a second store, give this one to Nia.”

  He asked, although he thought he knew the answer. “She’s okay, right, Nia?”

  Cecily nodded. “She’s good. Thinks you’re some kind of hero now. I’m gonna have to watch her around you, I think.”

  Then she winked and he grinned. “You have nothing to worry about, mi corazon. I guess the only question is whether we stay here or end up in Kansas City. Where do you want to be?”

  Her expression shifted to a sober one and her eyes met his, open and unafraid. “There’s only one place I want to be, sugar,” she told him. “I want to be where you are, where you come home at the end of the day. I don’t care where.”

  Joy filled his soul and expanded outward. “Then we’ll see what happens,” he replied. “It’s what I want, too, querida.” Their hands clung and he wished he could hold her in his arms. Soon, he would. After a few minutes, he said, “You said a long line of people. Who else is out there besides Martin?”

  “I think you’d better just see them,” Cecily said. “Do you feel strong enough for more company?” Her brow furrowed as she asked and he nodded, touched by her concern.

  “I think so. They don’t have to stay long, do they?” he asked. Who could it be, anyway, except maybe Cecily’s cousin and some fellow FBI agents – he didn’t know anyone else here.

  Her lips twitched with suppressed laughter. “No more than you want, sugar. I’ll go get them.”

  Daniel watched her leave the room and then used the automatic controls to raise the bed so he wasn’t prone. Cecily came back within minutes, grinning wide and stepped aside so someone else could enter first. He’d prepared a stern look to greet Martin but his mother walked into his hospital room and to his bedside. Her blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears but her voice was calm as she said, “Mi hijo, it’s good to see you. How do you feel?”

  “I hurt,” he said, his voice choked with emotion, moved they’d come so far to see how he fared. “But I’m alive and that’s all that matters. I’ll heal.”

  “Si,” Luz replied. “I prayed to god, to all the angels and saints, and to the dead.”

  She leaned over to kiss his forehead and moved away. Michael stood there, his grin more than a little shaky but he gripped Daniel’s hand and greeted him. “Sara and Anna wanted to come, too,” Michael told him. “Mama said ‘no’, you would be all right. She was sure – I wasn’t so I’m glad you’ve improved. I didn’t want to bury my brother.”

  “I told you that you wouldn’t,” Luz said. “And your sisters, their families, and Tomas too are coming later to see you. We’re going to have a fiesta when they do. But if you want you can come home to Texas to recover.”

  Home meant one thing to him now. Daniel met Cecily’s dark eyes and she nodded.

  “Thanks, Mama,” he said. “But I think I’ll heal just fine here but we’ll come back for the fiesta. And I’m glad you came, you and Michael. It means everything.”

  Luz smiled. “We’re family. And now we’re going to let you rest awhile. You look tired.”

  “You’re not going back to Texas yet?”

  “No,” she said. “Soon but not yet. Te amo, mi hijo.”

  With another quick kiss, she left, Michael with her, leaving Andrew Martin. His boss approached the bed but he didn’t shake hands and he sure as hell didn’t offer a kiss. “I won’t stay long,” Martin told him. “I just wanted to tell you what good work you did and express how glad the bureau is you’ll recover. And, I wanted to apologize for the attitude toward Ms. Brown and Frank Tillman’s actions. He acted out of line and I’m sorry.”

  “De nada,” Daniel said. “Thank you.”

  Fatigue rushed over him with the force of a quarterback making the winning touchdown and he sighed. Cecily noticed. “Thanks,” she told Martin. “I appreciate all you’ve done.”

  When no one remained but Cecily, he sighed, loud and long. “Are you okay, sugar?” she asked as she dropped the rails on the hospital bed to sit facing him. She smoothed a few stray hairs back from his forehead.

  “I’m just tired,” he said. “And thirsty.”

  She poured water for him again and he sipped it. Then he slept, soothed by her presence and secure in their love.

  ****

  Two weeks later….

  Once she had him home, she hovered worse than a news helicopter over a traffic jam. Cecily longed to pamper Daniel, to cosset him and spoil him, all because he’d scared years off her life when she saw him pitch to the floor, twice shot and bleeding hard. If he’d died…she would begin to think and then be unable to complete it because it was too horrible to contemplate. She preferred not to think about the hectic moments after or how she knelt on the floor beside him, screaming his name. The hours spent waiting at the hospital while the staff stabilized him and then performed surgery, the endless time spent outside ICU so she could visit for short minutes each hour, and the long days as he improved were difficult. Although she’d put on a brave face and smile for Daniel, Cecily trembled inside, still worried and afraid to believe he survived.

  After he shared his near death experience with her, she freaked out even more. Cecily tried to get him to rest in bed once he arrived at her house after being released but he refused. Daniel preferred sprawling on the couch. She plumped pillows for him and offered blankets even though temperatures hit record highs for early September. Cecily opened cans of soup and made gourmet sandwiches, baked cakes, cookies and brownies in a cooking frenzy. If he asked for anything, she stumbled over her own feet in a rush to provide it and each time he got up to totter to the bathroom, she insisted on walkin
g beside him in case he should fall.

  By noon on the second day after he came home, Daniel became silent. He stared at the television with a pained expression and each time he visited the bathroom, he shut the door and stayed awhile. Worried almost sick, Cecily waited until he settled back onto the sofa, seated and not prone, and said, “Sugar, are you feeling worse? You’re so quiet.”

  Daniel patted the cushion beside him. “Sit down, querida, we need to talk.”

  Her concerns raged out of control. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “I’m doing very well, much better. I feel good, just a little weak and there’s some pain but it’s to be expected. Please, sit down so I can say this.”

  Cecily sank onto the floor at his feet and stared up at him, heart racing. “What is it?”

  “I’m not made out of glass,” he said, his tone gentle and kind. “I won’t break and you’re not going to hurt me. I’m not a baby, either. I love you and I know you love me. And I know you were scared when I got shot. But you have to let go of the fear. If you don’t, it’s going to eat you up. I understand you want to take care of me, querida, and I like it, sometimes. I like it when you want to comb my hair or make food I love but it’s too much.”

  Her first response was hurt, followed by irritation but she listened and by the time he finished, she understood the sense of his words. Cecily leaned against his right thigh and put her head in his lap. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just still shake all over when I think about what could’ve happened.”

  “But it didn’t,” he reminded her. “Let the past go – live in the present with me so we can have a future.” He placed his hand on the back of her head, steady and calm. “Look at me, Cecily.”

  She did as he asked. “What is it?”

  “I have two things I want to ask you, querida,” he told her. “First, in a minute after I ask the other question, will you make love with me? I know I have to be careful but there’s no reason why we can’t. I need you and I want you.”

  God, she’d missed his body and their coming together with wild heat and light. Some of the tension she’d carried lessened as she smiled. “Sure, sugar, I’d like to, very much.”

  “Good,” he said. “Then there’s the other thing.”

  He wore such a serious expression she wondered what might be on his mind. If he says we need space, if he wants to get a place of his own, I guess I’ll fake a smile and say ‘okay’. I won’t like it but I’ll do anything so I don’t lose him. “What’s that?”

  Daniel reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulled out a creased, worn envelope. “Mama brought this when they came up after I got hurt,” he said. “She thought I might need it and I do.”

  Puzzled, Cecily waited. “What is it?”

  He handed it to her. “She thought you might like to have it, querida. Open it.”

  Her fingers fumbled as she unfolded the flap of the tattered envelope. A heavy silver ring dropped into her hand and she examined it. A silver braid dominated the center flanked by solid silver bands on either side. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “I like the quiet simplicity of it. Why didn’t Luz give it to me herself?”

  “Because she can’t,” Daniel said. “She gave it to me, querida.”

  “Why?” She must be missing something here because none of it made any sense.

  Daniel laughed, low and sweet. “This is about as backwards as we could get, you kneeling, me sitting here but what the hell – I’ll ask anyway. Querida, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  His words filtered into her brain and when she realized what he’d said, she gazed at him, the ring between her fingers. “Do you mean it?” she asked.

  With a half-frown he nodded. “I’m not asking just for fun,” he said. “Will you?”

  “Oh, god, yes, sugar,” she told him. “It’s a wedding ring, then?”

  “Yeah,” Daniel answered. “It’s the one my daddy gave mama when they were married. She’s worn it ever since – until she took it off her hand to give to me before Michael took her back to El Paso. This envelope, well, it’s the one my daddy carried in his pocket with the ring until he proposed to mama. It’s not fancy but I thought you might have had enough of diamonds and jewels and I didn’t buy you an engagement ring for the same reason. But if you want one.”

  “I don’t,” she told him. Happiness erupted within her. “I’ve had all that stuff. This is real.”

  His face became tender as he slid it onto her ring finger. “Then wear it for now as a promise,” he said. “And we’ll get married in El Paso at the fiesta. It’s what Mama planned all the time, if it’s okay.”

  “It’s perfect.” She’d dreamed of three things, a man who’d love her, a big family to be part of, and owning her own boutique. Dreams, she thought, could come true. “I’d love that.”

  “Good,” he said. “But right now I’d rather you love me.”

  Daniel grasped her left hand with the silver ring and pulled her to her feet. He stood and wrapped his arms around her, the first full embrace he’d given since he left Texas. Cecily hugged him, careful to favor his side wound and left shoulder. “Kiss me, sugar,” she said.

  Their mouths came together, two halves of a whole and liquid fire burned through her veins. Desire consumed them and without bothering to move into the bedroom, he took her on the couch, slow and complete. After, they lay together on the couch, spooned against each other and she sang accapella, slow and low, “Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be, the future’s not ours to see, Que sera, sera.”

  He silenced her with his mouth. “Oh, but it is ours, querida,” he told her.

  “And what do you see, sugar?” she asked, lazy and filled with love.

  “Happiness,” he said. “And life together, always.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Cecily told him and put her hand against his chest. She liked the weight of the silver ring on her finger, solid and real, lasting as their love.

  The End

  About the Author

  Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy grew up scribbling her stories in the old historic city of St. Joseph, Missouri, the place where outlaw Jesse James met his final bullet. Living in a haunted house fired her imagination, as did listening to the many stories that her Granny told her. After surviving high school and college, she worked for a few years in radio broadcasting and moved on to other careers that including substitute teaching before settling down to write full-time. She is a member of the Missouri Writers Guild, Ozark Writers League, Paranormal Romance Guild, and the Romance Writers of America. She now lives with her husband, three children, and one dog in the scenic Missouri Ozarks in what passes as suburbs in a small town.