Reed

by Mariska Hutchence

  “I think he’s looking better, Luz.” I say.

  She nods her head. “He is, Señorita Des.” She says. “You, not so much. You need to rest, to sleep. I will make sure he’s okay.”

  The thought of leaving him sickens me, but I know that she’s right. I’ve been a fixture at his bedside and even I can feel the toll it has taken on me. I just don’t know if I can leave him, not like this.

  “I know, Luz. I know.” I say, looking up and seeing the concern in her motherly face. “I just want to be here if he wakes up.”

  “You will be in the next room, Des.” She says, putting her palm on my shoulder from behind. “I will come get you. You need to stay strong…for him.”

  The last words are those that finally sink in. If he wakes…when he wakes, I need to be able to support him.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Reed

  I hear the voices all around me. I’ve been hearing them on and off for as long as I can remember; some in English, some in Spanish. Some are sweeter than others, and though I can’t be certain, I believe those words are from Des. The pain is getting more bearable, allowing more of the words to slip through the cracks, letting me understand.

  “He is in God’s hands now.”

  “She is finally sleeping, pobrecita.”

  I want to open my eyes, but that’s not something I seem to be able to do quite yet.

  “Tato and Ruiz.”

  “They found him.”

  “Took him away.”

  I don’t understand the last few, but the tones are hushed and ominous, almost in a whisper. I don’t hear Des’ voice, and I’m hoping she’s the one sleeping that they’re speaking about. I need to get back to her.

  Epilogue

  Des

  I haven’t gotten used to everything yet. There’s a little bit of bite in the wind today, but nothing that I normally expect from Christmas. The locals are bundled up tightly against the cold, but it’s all relative and it makes me chuckle sometimes.

  Luz is the one that suggested that we go to Antigua to stay with her family there. The rationale was that we’d be closer to Guatemala City and the things that we have to do there, and it does make sense, though I’d like to return to Sololá someday, despite what happened.

  The last letter from the lawyer was very positive, and I’m smiling, something I seem to be doing a lot more of lately. He says that the paperwork should go through just fine, sometime before Spring comes. I hear the door open, then the creak of the stairs. It makes my smile even bigger.

  “So how’s my favorite agent?”

  Reed’s blonde hair is the first thing I see as he comes up into the little apartment we’ve been sharing for the last few months.

  “Still retired.” I say, smiling. He takes me into his arms and that feeling washes over me for the hundredth time; that feeling that everything in the world is going to be fine.

  “That’s good to hear.” He says. The kiss is soft and sweet on my lips.

  “How was business?” I ask as he sets his bag down on the table.

  “Pablo says I’ll get the hang of it one of these days, but at least I’m able to communicate with the customers since they mostly speak English.”

  I laugh. “He’s just giving you shit. Sara tells me that he talks about you all the time and you’ve been a big help at the shop.”

  Sara and Pablo run a little store in the tourist-district of Antigua, mostly selling little jade figurines and things that give travelers a good memento of the culture of Guatemala.

  Reed laughs and shakes his head, smiling. “Any news?”

  I want to tease him a little bit, but I can see he recognizes the smile on my face.

  “The lawyer says everything is fine and there’s no problems. Once it’s all finalized, we will be free to go wherever we want to go.”

  “Anyplace in particular?” Reed asks, hugging me tightly.

  “I’d love to go to Europe, but I’m thinking that this is home more and more. Well, the orphanage, at least.”

  Honestly, I’ve missed it. Of everything I’ve done in my life so far, it was the most rewarding, the thing that made me feel the most…human.

  “I kind of thought you’d say that.” Reed says, kissing me again. “I’ve actually been thinking about that more and more.”

  “What about it?” I ask, curious. It’s the first I’ve heard him mention it.

  “Well, for one thing, it’s probably one of the most beautiful places in the world.”

  “I’ll agree with you on that.” I say, picturing the mountains, the forest, and that beautiful deep blue lake.

  “I think we could bring tourists in. For the extra rooms at the orphanage. There’s twelve apartments, and they’re only using a few. Not everyone wants to visit another country and stay in a five-star hotel. Some people actually want to experience the culture of a place.”

  I smile as he sits down in one of the chairs. “Sounds like you’ve been giving this a lot of thought.” I say.

  He grins. “Well, it’s either that or gun smuggling, and you’ve been pretty clear how you feel about that.”

  “I personally like you with fewer bullet holes, but that’s just me.”

  The door slams below.

  “Careful with the door!” Reed calls down as we both hear the footsteps coming up.

  “Sorry, Poppy.” Keyrin says with a smile, her hair pulled back with a red ribbon, her bookbag thrown over one shoulder.

  Reed gets the first hug and a kiss on the cheek before she comes to me. “How was school?”

  “That boy, Paco, was giving me trouble again.” She says, but there’s nothing but a smile on her beautiful face.

  “Well, he probably just likes you.” I say, smiling.

  “I did what you told me, though.” She returns, beaming.

  “And what would that be?” Reed asks, looking at me as she sits in his lap.

  “Kicked him in the shin.” She says, laughing.

  Reed sighs for effect before laughing. “Yeah, that’s just like your mom.”

  Keyrin turns to him. “It’ll be forever one day, right? You being my mom?”

  I can feel the tears coming and see them in Reed’s eyes as well.

  “Yes, but it’s already forever, Keiry.”

  End

  SNEAK PREVIEW – LUKE (Late November 2016)

  Prologue - Bailey

  The banner stares down at me and the most startling thing about it is that I don’t know whether to think of it as the end of the beginning, or the beginning of the end. It’s over-dramatic, and I know it, but the thought of leaving High School scares me even more than the fact that I’ve just become an adult.

  CLASS OF ‘72

  The decorating committee, which I was on, has pulled together a remarkable job, but a lot of that has to do with the venue itself. Being a private preparatory school, we have a little bit of an advantage. The country club is fabulous, but we’ve done a great job of putting our own flourishes on the already opulent room we were able to secure, thanks mostly to a few influential parents, including my own.

  I’m waiting for Stan, my boyfriend for the last year to come back to me, even though we’ve just arrived.

  “Just a minute to talk with Ash about something.” He had assured me, though a glance at my watch tells me that fifteen minutes have already passed, mostly spent watching the rest of the girls laughing and dancing with their own partners. Overall, our relationship is great, but there have been a few things that irk me. That happens in every relationship, right? He’s the love of my life. I feel that in my heart, but my brain also tells me that I’m only eighteen-years-old. Well, my brain and my somewhat overprotective father.

  “Sorry, Babe.” Stan says, suddenly appearing over my shoulder. I turn and he’s in my space, which I normally like. He looks more handsome than ever in his tuxedo, and I feel a momentary wash of pride. “I did tell you that you looked stunning already, right?”

  “You did, but I’ll ne
ver complain about you repeating it.” I say, smiling. The smile feels forced, because I can smell the alcohol on his breath, even though he towers over me. It’s one of the things that irks me.

  “Do you want to mingle, or dance?” He asks.

  “Well, I’m only going to graduate once, so I definitely want to dance.” I say as I slide my hand through the offered crook of his elbow.

  There’s a live band, and they’re playing reasonable covers of some of the songs that I love; even the ones I’ve heard my father express his distaste over. Honestly, the stuff I listen to in private is much more intense; so much so that my friends aren’t even that keen on it. My father is still enamored with the sappy, squeaky-clean ‘rock’ that came out of the fifties, though, having already been too responsible and straight-laced to be drawn into the culture of the sixties, that is unfortunately breathing its last breath. To each their own, I guess. The song changes to something slower the moment we hit the parquet dance floor, which is a little disappointing, even though I know I’ll be able to be close to Stan.

  Being in his arms makes me forget about his breath, and even about the brain-side of my thoughts about him. He’s everything the budding woman in me always dreamed about; tall, dark, handsome; you name the cliché and he certainly fits the bill. My hands are on his shoulders. The height difference is awkward, but he’s the one for me and my eyes light on the promise ring, glittering in the flashing lights of the dance floor. It’s new, and I’m still swooning a little bit over it. It makes me feel so…adult.

  ___

  That was five years ago. Between then and now I’ve been called ‘bitch’, ‘ice-queen’, ‘frigid’; and those are just from the classier high-society men who have made a play. Stan had fucked me, both literally and figuratively after that night, and I haven’t really been the same since. Don’t get me wrong, it hasn’t been that much of a burden to be without a guy. I even joke with my more concerned friends that it’s the only reason I pulled the grade point average I did in college. I love the thought of love; I just haven’t found anyone that I have felt worthy of giving that much of myself to since things went bad for me.

  It’s funny how an event like that can shape your life and sometimes I wonder if people who are the catalyst for things like that, as Stan was for me, are even aware of it. It’s not that he left a husk of a woman behind, it’s simply that it changed me. When I found the Equal Rights Amendment movement shortly thereafter, I threw myself into it. Though I’m not as involved as I was even a year ago, it’s still something I believe in. Some of my more mainstream friends have asked me if I’m feminist a la Gloria Steinem. I usually give them an answer that leaves them with more questions, but that’s probably because I have questions of my own. I certainly don’t feel hostile; and while I’d like to see a little more equality, I do get the fact that there are inequalities by design, though they don’t make one sex better than the other. Okay, so I’ll freely admit that some of those design elements are the one thing that I have been missing.

  Dad’s been grooming me to take over his investment firm, and as old-fashioned as he is, I think he’s as proud of me as I am of him for taking me under his wing and teaching me the ropes. He’s too stoic to say anything, but I’m of a mind that I shocked the hell out of him at how well I took to it; especially after almost immediately doubling the ‘play’ account he had given me to ‘get my feet wet’. Was it lucky? Damn right, but there’s always some luck involved in anything, it’s just a combination of knowledge and the guts to go after what you want that makes the dice tend to land the way you want them.

  The only thing I’m dreading right now about the Gala this weekend down in Savannah is the men. Most will be the same old ‘eligible’ bachelors that I’ve already dismissed in my heart; society circles can be as in-bred as the hillbillies out in the sticks. Hell, some of them got pretty close to winning me over, until the fucking rhetoric about raising a family or the subtle commentary that at some point I’ll want to give up the whole career thing and be a woman. I definitely want to stay far away from becoming the financial version of Peggy Seeger’s ‘Engineer’, a song that I consider one of the last gifts from my mom since she passed.

  For now, I’m happy. That’s not always easy for a person to say, but I feel it. My career is on-track, I have my friends and my causes as well as the responsibility to take care of my father. It surprised everyone that my mother passed first, considering the age difference. I know it’s just a matter of time, but I’ll deal with that day when comes.

  Prologue – Luke

  It’s a small delivery, but I’m out of my normal area and it is definitely striking a nerve in me. Vernon is a friend of the family, but still, I’d feel more comfortable if I knew the area better. As he unloads the jugs from the trunk, my eyes are constantly scanning the unfamiliar approaches to the little bar and grill he’s just opened.

  This probably isn’t the life that I was meant to have, but it’s better than the alternative. Hell, this is the 70s; I’d rather be living it than studying about it in college. High school had been seriously dull, without even a hint of a challenge and I had grown bored, so my GPA wasn’t really college material in the first place. Besides, this is what our family has been doing for generations; making and delivering what people want, right under the nose of the law. Ideal? Not really, but it’s a far cry from the boredom of school.

  Candace is in the passenger seat. Normally, she wouldn’t be around, but she gets out of the tri-county area about as much as I do and she’s good company, at least. I’m leaning into the driver’s side window, staring at those long legs in her tight-fitting shorts even now as I’m waiting on Vernon to come back out with the cash. Dad and I have a solid deal. Fifty-fifty split down the middle, about as difficult a math problem as the work involves, as the nuances of making the product itself is more about a feel than fractions or decimals.

  “What do you want to do after this, Candy?” I ask, looking over my shoulder and seeing no sign of Vernon yet.

  “Whatever you want, baby. It’s all groovy.”

  Candace’s parents were late-blooming hippies and she grew up in that lifestyle. My own family didn’t want anything to do with anything but God, guns, and country. Anyway, I don’t think it would have been for me, anyway. I’m in love with the girl and despite outside appearances and expectations, one is good enough for me. I see Vernon coming out of the bar out of the corner of my eye.

  “I do have to work at the tavern tonight, though.” She says, just as I’m turning to face the grizzled old codger.

  “It’s all there.” He says. “Tell your pa thanks for me. I know it’s out of the way.”

  I take the roll of bills he offers. “Like I’m going to count it, Vernon. Anyway, why the hell did you move way out here in the first place?”

  He shakes his head and runs his fingers through the stubble on his chin, a habit he never lost since the beard was long and flowing. “Shit, Luke. Not enough traffic down in the county.” He said. “At least not enough for two bars.”

  It makes sense. Dempsey’s has been around forever and that’s where ninety percent of the locals hang their hat. I gesture with the bills. “Well, I don’t mind the drive.” I say. “More where that came from, but I reckon you know that.”

  Vernon grins. “That I do, son. Best shit in all Georgia, like always.”

  I open the door to the Chevelle and slide in. “You take care, sir.” I say, firing up the engine. It rumbles loudly.

  “You too, kid.” He says. “Sweet ride.”

  It’s new, or at least new to me. The 1967 Chevelle had been a dream of mine in school and going straight to work had put it in the driveway long before college ever would have. Candace isn’t the biggest fan. She loves the sound of the engine and the power, but she seems more pissed that it has buckets instead of the bench my old beater had.

  The gravel kicks out from under the tires as we pull off, her hand going to my knee, my own mind on the fun we used to have i
n the back of that piece of shit.

  “You going to take me up to Atlanta one of these days, Luke?” She asks, her hand sliding higher up my knee.

  “There’s nothing for us up there, baby.” I say, flooring it, pressing her tight little chassis back into the vinyl seat as the speedometer flies to the right.

  “You know we haven’t checked out the back of this thing yet.” She says, and I can hear the bad girl in her voice. Candy’s good at that. When the folks are around, she’s as sweet as apple pie. When we’re alone like this; all bets are off. It doesn’t take much thought, at least with that hand sliding higher and higher, for it to stir something in me.

  The windows are down and my hair is blowing in my face. I pull the sunglasses off the visor and slide them on. Doesn’t bother my eyes that way.

  “You know you look like Gregg Allman when you wear those, right?” She says, smiling, those pretty blue eyes framed by those long brown locks.

  “You're my blue sky, you're my sunny day, Candy.” I say, quoting a lyric as I pull off the dirt road onto the highway.

  She laughs, right as I feel her hand finally work its way somewhere much more interesting than my thigh. “Find someplace, baby.”

  The words and the touch combine to make it an imperative. It’s not really my neck of the woods, and I don’t want to wait until we get back to oblige the young lady at one of our usual spots, if you know what I mean. It only takes a minute before I recognize a goat trail going off into the woods; something most people passing through would never notice. Good enough.

  It's barely a trail, but that’s a good thing. The overgrowth is enough that we don’t have to go too far off the road, but I know the hell it’s playing on the finish. Worth it.

  I catch Candace playfully by the ankle as she crawls over the seat, before I’ve even had a chance to turn the engine off. She giggles as she finally struggles out of my grip, but I’m not more than a few seconds behind her. Damn, she’s definitely a looker, as my pa would say…and had. It sounds kind of weird, but that’s a point of pride for me. Hell, I’ve seen pictures of ma back in the day, before she passed, and Candy’s in the same category, so I don’t blame him. Nowadays, he just bides his time with the still up in the woods and keeps to himself. He never was the same after losing her.