Kiss Kiss

by Various Authors

  “What?” I said, stupidly.

  “Just shut up and listen to me, all right?”

  I shut up. And nodded. And listened.

  “I’ve spent most of my life alone, in one way or another. But an old friend reminded me of something yesterday. He said … you make your own home. I’ve never had one. For a while, I had a big brother. And he kept me together, when I was just a little girl, all alone. And then … you know what happened. All I had was my armor. All I had was my shell, holding me together, because I couldn’t trust anyone. I couldn’t believe in anyone.”

  She sniffled and then said, “But something has happened to me. Something I never thought would happen. I want to trust you. I … I want to feel. I want to know what it’s like to love and to have a real life. I want to know what it’s like to have a home for the first time in my life.”

  She was really crying now, and I would have wiped her tears, but it would have taken a mop bucket. Instead, I pulled her close to me and let her cry on my shirt.

  “Crank … you’re my home now. You’re the person I want to come home to. You’re … I love you, Crank.” She laughed in the midst of her tears, her eyes shining, blue green. “I can’t believe I just said those words. But it’s true. I love you. I want to be with you.”

  It was all I could do to keep from crying myself. I held her tight against me as she shook, and she whispered, “Can you forgive me? For not being able to say it before? For not being able to admit it? I didn’t want to hurt you. I never wanted that.”

  I leaned close to her ear. “There’s nothing to forgive. But even if there was, then yes. I’ll forgive you today, tomorrow, every day.”

  She was still crying, but she said, “And you won’t write any more stupid songs about me?”

  I guess if she could joke, then things were better. “Can’t promise that,” I replied.

  She laughed, shaking against me, and I said, “In fact, that may be all I do for the rest of my life.”

  She leaned against me and whispered, “Mine.”

  I leaned close, looking in her beautiful blue eyes, then at her lips, and I moved closer until our lips touched. Sweet, beautiful lips. It was different than before. Not so rushed, not so fraught with tension and distance. I felt like she was looking into my soul, that with the touch of our lips, she could see and feel everything about me. And me, with her.

  She pulled back from the kiss. “Can you put up with me? I’m crazy half the time. You know I’ll pull away and get angry when things are tough.”

  “I’ll chance it.”

  “Why?” She looked in my eyes as she asked the question. “Why would you risk that? Why would you risk me hurting you?”

  I put my hands on either side of her face. “Because you make me better. You make me—you make me feel like I matter. Like my life matters. I feel like, with you, I can do anything in the world. That we can do anything in the world. And we will.”

  “We will,” she said. “I promise that.”

  And so, we sat there in that chapel for a long time, holding each other, listening to each other breathe.

  And then I got a crazy idea.

  “Come here a second,” I said. I stood and led her over to the electric piano.

  “Sit down,” I said. We both sat down at the bench, and I said, “Do you remember when I said I wanted to make music with you?”

  Her eyes watered, and she nodded. I took my messy notes out of my front pocket and unfolded them. “I’ve been working on this for a few weeks, but I couldn’t get it right. Help me?”

  She smiled a crazy, happy smile, and nodded.

  So I put the notes on the music stand. “Your part,” I said, pointing.

  Then she saw the title of the song. A Song for Julia. And she started to silently cry.

  I started to play. She listened, nodding, then on the second measure, joined in. She was studying the notes I’d scribbled on the paper and kept up with me. It was perfect, every note in place.

  And then I started to sing. It was a duet, and I sang of my longing, of her refusal, and of my precious hope that if I let her go, if I kissed her goodbye and watched her go, that she’d eventually come home.

  I could feel her beside me, her eyes wide, shining bright, even as tears rolled down her face. We were in sync, and when she joined in the song, her voice scratchy and tired, we still sang it with perfect, beautiful harmony.

  Finally, the song ended. And she said the words again. The words I’d waited for her to say, the words that scared her so much she’d run away from me.

  “I love you, Crank.”

  I whispered back, “I love you, Julia.”

  She leaned against me, and I put my arms around her, and she closed her eyes.

  “I’m so sleepy,” she said. “And I can’t seem to stop crying.”

  I just smiled, then reached out and lifted her up and carried her over to the pew.

  So we sat and waited. I knew I had Julia in my arms, and that she loved me, and that somehow, with us, everything was going to be okay. I thought of Dad, a few rooms away, fighting for his life. Julia and I would wait it out together. It would be enough.

  Julia fell asleep, leaning against me. I shifted positions, cradling her in my arms, and I watched her face, the lines smooth, and her sleep peaceful.

  Not long after that, my mother found us. She looked in and saw us there, quiet in the chapel, and put her hands, clasped together, to her chest. There were tears of hope in her eyes.

  “The doctors called. Jack’s waking up.”

  Epilogue (Julia)

  “You’ve got everything you need?” Margot asked. “Toothbrushes. Razors?” We were standing at the entrance to the security lineup at Logan Airport.

  “Yes, Mom,” he said. “We’re all set. And if I didn’t, Julia would have three backup copies of everything anyway.”

  I grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. “Knock it off, Crank.”

  He looked back at me, eyebrows raised. “You know it’s true, babe.”

  “Call me babe again, and you’ll find yourself walking to Las Vegas.”

  Jack laughed. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.” Then he put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. Jack looked good. He’d had a tough road recovering from the heart attack. He was lucky to be alive at all, but when he’d collapsed during the run, they’d quickly gotten him medical attention. Now, he looked almost back to normal, though the Boston Police had given him an early retirement. He spent his days puttering around the house, running Sean back and forth to school, and making Margot’s life difficult. And I could tell he loved every minute of it. Surviving the heart attack, getting his wife back: he was like a man reborn, always grinning, eyes bright. He and Margot had been talking about taking a tour of Europe that summer during the month Sean would be on tour with us.

  I smiled back at him. “You’re family, you know that?”

  We embraced. “Always. Whatever happens in life, you’ve always got a home with us, you hear?”

  My eyes pricked with tears. Home was a good word. “Love you, Jack.”

  “All right. No tears. You start crying, next thing you know, I will. And no one’s allowed to see an old man cry, you hear?”

  I winked at him. “I may not see it, but I know.”

  “Smartass,” he grumbled.

  We parted, and I clasped hands with Margot. I leaned close and whispered, “Thank you. For everything.”

  Finally, Sean. He looked a little awkward, as always. His eyes slid off me as he said, “Have a good flight. Make sure you don’t use your computer until you get to altitude. Electronics interfere with the instruments.”

  I smiled and pulled him into a hug. He was stiff, but after a second he gradually put his arms around me. “I’ll miss you,” I said. “You’ve been a good friend.”

  “I’ll miss you,” he said, pulling away. His eyes drifted off to the security gate. “I’ve got the tour schedule. I’ll join you at the eighteenth city.�
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  I nodded. “We’ll see you in August. And Sean?”

  “Yes, Julia?”

  “Take care of your mom and dad, okay?”

  He nodded, his face expressionless, eyes drifting off to the side. “I will.”

  Crank hugged his mom and dad. “Don’t get in too much trouble with the ladies, Sean.”

  Sean, as always, took the suggestion literally. He responded, “I most likely won’t.”

  I took a breath, looked at Crank and then my watch. “We’ve got to go, we’re going to miss our flight if we don’t hurry.”

  “All right.”

  I reached out, and we laced our fingers together, and walked away from our family, getting into the security line.

  We had a three-month tour ahead of us, opening for Allen Roark. I’d graduated three weeks before, said my final goodbyes to Adriana and Linden, and a much more tearful one with Jemi, who promised to keep in touch. She was going home to Sierra Leone, but said she’d be back. At the end of the summer, we were planning to stop off in San Francisco, to spend three days with my sisters … and my parents … before driving back east with Sean and Carrie. Thirty-six cities in three months. Ironically, that was far more travel than I’d ever done with my parents.

  But I was okay with it. My home would be traveling with me.

  “You ready for this?” I asked.

  He winked at me and gave me that sideways smile that always made my knees want to melt into the ground.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

  Julia and Crank's story continues in

  Thank you

  Thank you for taking the time to read A Song for Julia.

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  Playlist

  Down with the Sickness, Disturbed

  Beer Goggles, Smash Mouth

  Carol of the Bells, George Winston

  Closer, Nine Inch Nails

  Come as You Are, Nirvana

  Concerto No. 20 in D Minor for Piano and Orchestra, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

  Creep, Radiohead

  Fade Away, Automatic Loveletter

  垃圾場(二版) Garbage Dump, He Yong

  Heaven’s a Lie, Lacuna Coil

  (Ghost) Riders in the Sky, The Outlaws

  The Kids Aren’t Allright, The Offspring

  Living Dead Girl, Rob Zombie

  Man in the Box, Alice in Chains

  My Girlfriend’s Dead, The Vandals

  Wicked Game, Chris Isaak

  Copyright

  Books by Charles Sheehan-Miles

  http://www.sheehanmiles.com

  Charles Sheehan-Miles

  Published by Cincinnatus Press

  Copyright 2013 Charles Sheehan-Miles.

  v120112

  Cover Design by Okay Creations

  Edited by Lori Sabin

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-?sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is unintentional, with the exception of certain named historical characters.

  Cincinnatus Press

  Bethesda, Maryland

  * * * *

  The Perpetual Quest for the Perfect Life

  Copyright © 2013 by Tammy Coons and Michelle Pace

  Formatting by JTFormatting

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Discover other titles by Tammy and Michelle at Amazon.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  TAMMY – The Perpetual Quest for the Perfect Life is dedicated to the greatest fan base I could ever have: my husband Casey, and three children, Skyler, Sawyer and Savana. I love you so much!!!

  MICHELLE – To my beloved family, who understands and tolerates my relationships with the persistent voices in my head.

  And to absent friends - here’s lookin’ at you, Joe.

  Nicole shot straight up in bed, her heart galloping in her chest. Momentarily unsure where she was, her eyes darted around the room and panic set in. Sunlight streamed through the curtains; it was obvious she’d slept the entire night. After a terrifying moment, she realized she was in her new bedroom. She gulped several deep breaths of air and pushed her blonde hair out of her face. Covering her eyes, she tried to block out the images from the reoccurring dream about her late husband.

  Ryan, dressed in green scrubs, stood drinking a cup of coffee at the nurses’ station. Red-eyed from no more than two hours of sleep, he was the resident on-call. He’d picked up a shift for a friend, leaving Nicole home on maternity leave. Though he was granted two weeks off for the birth of their son, after only six days, Ryan joked that he’d get more sleep on a crappy on-call cot than at home with their newborn. Nearing the end of his second-year residency, he lived and breathed medicine. Scoring brownie points with the staff docs was his number one goal. Nicole often wondered how different her life would be if he’d only stayed home another week as originally planned.

  He’d been showing off Ike’s baby pictures when the ER doors slid open and a hooded man stormed in and began shooting. He gunned down two nurses close to the entrance, then an orderly. He took out a patient who attempted to flee in her wheelchair. Always the hero, Ryan sprang into action. He tackled the gunman from the side, taking him down. The shooter managed to fire two shots on his way to the ground.

  Ry hadn’t died instantly; he slowly bled out over the next few minutes as the ER erupted in chaos.

  Nicole rubbed her eyes, trying to erase the vision her subconscious had concocted of her husband’s last moments. She reached into the bedside table and pulled out her bottles of Zoloft and Xanax. Swallowing two tiny pills, she looked over her shoulder. In the center of her bed, her son slept soundly, his thumb firmly in his mouth. Over two and a half years old, Ike was the spitting image of his father, except with Nicole’s fair hair and skin. He would have no memory of h
is dad, and she wondered if that was going to be a blessing or a curse. Ike usually went to sleep in his own bed, but ended up in hers. Last night had been the first night in a new house and when he’d wanted to sleep with Mommy, she’d obliged.

  Climbing out of bed, she tossed on a robe and carried her sleeping boy down the stairs and into the kitchen, maneuvering around unpacked boxes. After placing Ike on the couch, she backtracked to the kitchen.

  Their new two-bedroom loft house seemed like a palace to Nicole, who’d spent the last few years living in a tiny Chicago apartment. She’d updated with a fresh coat of paint, refinished hardwood floors, and crown molding. She was thrilled with the results. Yawning, she flipped the switch on the coffee maker. Silently she thanked her sister-in-law, Avery, for suggesting they unpack the kitchen first. She’d been too physically and emotionally exhausted to exercise such forethought herself.

  Realizing Ike would wake soon and Avery would be back to unpack, Nicole hurried in the shower. As she washed her hair, she considered a trip to the salon for a trim. Spending the last couple of weeks with Avery (who was always manicured and waxed) had started to make her insecure and nostalgic for doting on herself. One such thought led to another and Nicole realized it had been a long time since she’d shaved her legs. Her world consisted of tippy cups and storybooks. Self-indulgences were low priorities.

  When she returned to the kitchen, she saw the glorious sight of a full pot of coffee. Pouring some into her favorite coffee cup, she added creamer and adjourned to the porch, casting her haunted blue-green eyes out at her view of the river.

  Nearly a decade had passed since she’d graduated from Jefferson Point High, and being back had a surreal quality. The unseasonable warmth was a bonus; Nic was thrilled to be outdoors without a jacket. The October foliage was nearing its peak, leaving the river valley a mosaic of reds, yellows, and oranges. She could see the Mississippi peeking out between two brick buildings directly across Main Street. A selling point of her new home was its prime location in the heart of the historic downtown. As she watched, a barge traveled south on the Mississippi, past The Old Mill and away from her picturesque hometown.