Joy and Tiers

by Mary Crawford

  Well, this makes me mad, so I tell him so. “Shall we examine my life during the last two years? A couple of weeks ago, someone broke into my food truck and left behind a couple of souvenir bullet casings. Not to mention this was the second time this year my truck was vandalized, and I actually could’ve been inside. Then there was the crazy ex-father-in-law who went on a rampage at Kiera’s wedding. If that weren’t bad enough there are Mindy’s biological parents who are child abusers and drug addicts. Who’s to say they won’t come after her and Becca and try to take them back? Isn’t that enough craziness in my life to warrant the need to be armed?”

  Tyler rakes his hand through his hair in an agitated manner as he says, “I wish it were that easy, Gidget. But, you have to get a concealed weapons permit, and there’s a waiting period before you can purchase a weapon. You’re probably going to need your own weapon because the ones that I have are going to be too large for you.”

  I walk over to the freezer and get some keys out and then walk over to the pantry and remove a lockbox. After I unlock it, I remove the contents and place them on the table in front of Tyler. “You mean like this?” I ask.

  I wish I had a video camera to capture Tyler’s reaction. I figure it’s roughly equivalent to how I look when I go visit the vintage clothing store in Portland. His eyes widen, and his jaw goes slack. Ty gives a low wolf whistle as he carefully picks up my 1849 Derringer. He practically caresses it as he checks the chamber to make sure there are no bullets loaded, and he grins as he spins the cylinder. He closely examines the elaborate filigree engraving and snow white mother-of-pearl handgrips and checks the date stamp and shakes his head in disbelief.

  “Do I need to give you a moment?” I ask with a teasing grin.

  “I don’t know, I might just need one,” Tyler admits. “Do you have any idea what you have here? It’s in pristine condition. Did I just see you pull this out of your freezer?”

  “No silly!” I reply. “Who would keep a gun in the freezer? I only keep the keys to the lockbox in the freezer. I don’t want the bad guys to find them.”

  “Where did you get this? It’s a museum quality piece,” Tyler states.

  “Oh, my grandpa gave it to me. It’s been in my family for years. He said every woman should be able to defend herself. Unfortunately, he passed away before he had a chance to teach me much about shooting. I only got to go target shooting with him twice. The first time, he said he feared for his life because I couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn. But, by the end of the second time, I had gotten much better and was murdering watermelons with frightening ease.” I explain.

  “He let you shoot this gun? This specific gun? How old were you?” he asks incredulously.

  “I don’t know, I guess I was about twelve,” I clarify. “Why? It’s not like I’m a mass murderer or anything. We were shooting at soda cans and watermelons in the middle of his field against a barrier made of hay.”

  “Gidget, I wasn’t casting any aspersions on you. It’s just that in the condition that this gun is in, it’s pretty much a priceless antique. If you would’ve dropped it in the dirt or something, you could’ve done irreparable damage to it. I’m just surprised he would take that kind of risk.”

  I raise my eyebrow at Tyler as I quip, “Well, I was a pretty cute kid, maybe I was overly persuasive.”

  Tyler’s eyes sparkle with mirth as he says, “You’re still pretty cute. But, I wouldn’t recommend using this gun. If I can find you a suitable replacement, would you consider using a different gun? I think I can find you a modern version of the same gun and let you enjoy the sentimental value of this one.”

  “Really?” I ask, excitement tinging my voice. “Does this mean you’re going to teach me how to shoot?”

  “Of course I am,” Ty answers as he gingerly places my gun back in the lockbox. “A deal is a deal. Besides, you have a valid point. If you feel threatened, you should be able to defend yourself. And if you’re planning to carry a gun, you should be properly trained to use it. There is nothing scarier than someone who feels they should carry a gun but doesn’t bother to get the proper training. Do me a favor, though, don’t ever show Mindy you keep the keys to the lockbox in the freezer. You wouldn’t believe how many gun related incidents I go on with the Sheriff’s Department that involve family members. By the way, I give you points for a creative hiding space. I would have never guessed that the container didn’t hold frozen orange juice.”

  “For the record, I’m going to state again that I’m not a bimbo,” I respond. “There’s a reason that I hide the keys and keep the gun in the lock box. I may live alone, but I’m not stupid. I know that I have kids coming in and out of my house. It won’t be long before Becca is as curious as Mindy.”

  Tyler has the grace to look chagrined as he says, “I’m sorry. It’s one of the hazards of the job. Sometimes, I forget that I’m not always on duty. If I get this way, you can always tell me to shut up. You can just remind me I’m not always Officer Colton. Sometimes I’m just Ty.”

  Tyler looks so sad and dejected, I feel like I need to do something to remind him this is a casual setting and he’s not on duty right now. So, I step away from the table and back between his legs. I run my hands lightly down the sides of his face, along his angular cheekbones and capture his face between my hands. Then, I slowly kiss him. “There…does that help you remember that I’m on a date with Tyler Colton the private citizen, not Officer Colton, law enforcement officer extraordinaire,” I ask when we finally surface for air.

  “Holy smokes, Gidget,” Ty exclaims as he shifts in his chair. “I may never forget or forget every day depending on what gets me more of that. That was incredibly sexy. I think it was dangerously hot because I completely forgot what we’re talking about or why. I just want more kisses like that.”

  The honesty of his response is a huge turn on for me. I meant the kiss to be just a comfort measure, not something more, but my body doesn’t seem to be listening. I try to collect my thoughts as I reply, “Shooting lessons. We were talking about scheduling shooting lessons for me. I’d like some, please. Given all the craziness that’s gone on in my life recently, I think sooner would be better than later, don’t you think?”

  “Probably so, Heather. But, for you to get any use out of it at the food truck, you need a concealed weapons permit,” Ty replies.

  “Oh, I’ve got one of those. I’ve had it for a while. I got it back when the first break-in happened. I don’t like it when weirdness happens in my life. I want to be able to protect myself and especially Mindy and Becca if I’m babysitting.”

  Tyler looks at me with concern on his face, “Gidget, if you were so freaked out, why didn’t you say something to me before? We could have taken care of this months ago,” he offers.

  I blush again. Darn that stupid blushing. “I guess I just didn’t want you to see me as some crazy hysterical female who couldn’t handle my own problems. So, I didn’t say anything. I wish I had said something much sooner because I haven’t been sleeping very well since the first incident and since we found bullets during the second one, I have turned into a real insomniac. Every time I shut my eyes, I think about what would’ve happened if I had been there. Even worse, what if the girls had been visiting me. Sometimes, if it’s an in-service day at school, Mindy comes and volunteers as my cashier. She rakes in the tips better than any veteran waitress I’ve ever seen. But, if we had been in the truck at the time that the bullets were fired, they could have been hurt. Mindy would be heartbroken if she had to stop coming,” I explain, spilling all my words in a rush. It seems like I’ve been holding in my feelings for months now, and it feels very cathartic to let them out even for a moment. I guess I didn’t realize how much I’ve been keeping inside.

  “Gidget, we got those guys remember? I don’t think they’ll be bugging you anymore. You just happened to park your truck in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Ty says in a calm and reassuring voice. “But, I’ll be happy to take you to the gun rang
e so you’ll feel better prepared.”

  “I just wish I had Tara’s kick ass self-defense skills. Have you seen her in action? She could give Jackie Chan a run for his money. But, I can’t move this big ole’ body like she can,” I comment wistfully.

  “First of all, you’re not all that big. Secondly, comparing yourself to Tara is really not fair because Tara has had tons of classes. Does she compare her cooking to yours?”

  I practically choke on a snort of laughter as I respond, “Oh Lord, I hope not. If it weren’t for Kiera and me, that girl would have pretty much starved to death in college. Cooking is not her primary gift. She knows her way around the can opener and a box cutter, but that’s about it.”

  “Do you judge her for that?” Ty asks, his eyebrow raised in question.

  “Of course not!” I insist. “She didn’t even have a mom to teach her how to cook. So, it would be mean as well as stupid to compare our situations.”

  Tyler grabs my hands and holds them between us as he states firmly, “Exactly. So, tell me, sweet Gidget. Why are you so nice to everyone else and so mean to yourself?”

  His question brings me up short. He’s absolutely right. I am so willing to cut everyone else a break yet shred myself to pieces for the smallest thing. I’m not exactly sure how he knows that about me. It’s not really something I willingly show to the world, but he seems to have figured it out, nonetheless.

  I look up at him. He’s clearly still waiting for an answer. I decide to be brutally honest when usually I would deflect with silly humor. “I don’t know,” I whisper.

  “I wish you could see the beautiful woman I see when I look at you,” Ty softly kisses the top of my head. “Let me help you with these dishes. I can’t imagine how many you probably have to do after cooking all that food.”

  Just then my phone rings. My heart sinks when I recognize my father’s ringtone. It’s never a fun phone call from him. What a way to put a damper on a great night. I put my index finger to my lip to indicate to Ty that I need to take the call, and he nods and heads to the kitchen. When I answer the phone, my dad unceremoniously tells me that my grandmother suddenly had a brain aneurysm and has passed away. He further tells me I’m expected to arrive in Texas in a week for funeral services. There are no words of condolence or comfort even though she was my favorite relative and mentor. I sit in stunned silence until I finally start to sob uncontrollably.

  As soon as Tyler hears me crying he runs around the corner as if the house is on fire and kneels at my feet. “Heather, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he probes as he pulls out his small flashlight and starts examining my arms and legs for injuries.

  Mutely, I shake my head as tears are streaming down my face. I draw in a deep breath and try to explain. “No, it’s my grandma. She d-d-died,” I stammer.

  “Aww, Gidget, I’m so sorry. That’s rough. Mine died when I was in Iraq the second time,” Tyler says as he takes my hand and leads me over to the big recliner chair. He sits down on it and pulls me down onto his lap. Normally, I would be embarrassed by this, but he just wraps me up in a huge bear hug and allows me to sob on his shoulder while he holds me tightly.

  He has no way of ever knowing that this used to be my grandfather’s chair. It was the first piece of furniture my grandparents bought together back in the day. After my grandfather died, I paid to have it shipped from Texas and saved up the money to have it recovered in a style similar to the original brown leather my grandfather had in his den. I remember my grandmother telling me stories of how she used to nurse my mom in this chair. I remember my poor grandma trying to teach me how to embroider and cross stitch while I sat Indian style in the huge leather chair. Now, as Tyler is trying to console me in this same chair, it seems as if it’s my last tangible connection to my grandparents.

  “Tyler? Do you think a brain aneurysm hurts?” I mumble into his shirt.

  “No Darlin’, she might’ve had a headache. But, it’s a pretty fast way to go,” Tyler reassures me.

  My shoulders slump with relief. I would not have been able to bear it if I thought she suffered. She lived such a bright and shiny life that she would not have coped with pain well. She had a sister who had Lou Gehrig’s disease and she watched her lose all function. She always told me she never wanted to live that way. I’m grateful that she passed quickly, but I’m so sad that I never got a chance to say goodbye. I kept promising her I was going to go have some pictures taken with Mindy and the rest of the Girlfriend Posse so she could see us being silly. But, we never seemed to find the time to do it. Now, we’ll never have that chance. I’m kicking myself that I just didn’t take the time on a Sunday afternoon to take Mindy to the mall. As I think about it, a fresh round of tears overtakes me.

  Tyler just holds me a bit tighter and murmurs words of comfort in my ear as he rocks me slowly.

  The shrill tone of my phone breaks the oppressive silence in my house again, but I’m sobbing too hard to answer it. Tyler looks at me with a questioning gaze. I nod at him indicating my permission for him to answer my phone. I retreat into my emotional cocoon. I vaguely hear his deep rumbling voice talking in the background. I can feel the vibrations in his chest as he speaks, but I’m tuning out his words. If he’s talking to my dad, I don’t even want to know. I want to pretend that the outside world doesn’t even exist.

  After a few minutes, Ty strokes my hair and murmurs, “Gidget, babe, do you want to talk to Tara?”

  I nod tearfully.

  Tyler takes one look at my face and digs into his pocket and pulls out an old-fashioned cloth handkerchief. “Heather, come on blow Darlin’. You’ll feel better,” he cajoles.

  I shake my head, “I can’t do that. I’ll get your handkerchief all gross,” I protest.

  Ty chuckles lightly as he replies, “Well Gidget, that’s kind of what they’re for. I really don’t mind. I’ve got a drawer full of them. I just put this one in my pocket this morning. It’s clean. Go ahead. I won’t even watch.”

  True to his word, Tyler turns his head away as I blow my nose. Then he hands my phone to me.

  “Hello?” I answer tentatively.

  “What’s wrong?” Tara demands.

  “I just found out my grandma died of a brain aneurysm,” I reply. Saying it out loud brings a fresh round of tears.

  “I’m so sorry to hear about Lydia Rose, but I’m glad you’re not hurt,” Tara says in a rush. “Aidan and I are in a time crunch, but I wouldn’t stop pestering him until he let me check on you. I just knew something wasn’t right. Are you going to be okay?”

  I’m used to Tara’s weird premonitions and gut feelings by now. I suspect if he isn’t a believer in Tara’s special gifts by now, Aidan soon will be.

  “Tara, I can’t believe she’s gone. We just had a Skype call with her a few weeks ago remember? Mindy did her little recital piece for her. I feel so guilty that we didn’t have those stupid pictures taken,” I lament.

  “Heather, I didn’t know your grandma all that well, but from what I did know of her, she wouldn’t want you to feel guilty over something as silly as that. She would want you to celebrate all the good times you had together. She was a lot like you—you know. Fearless to take on life and always up for a new adventure. She was always supportive of her friends in her gardening and quilting clubs. Remember how she learned how to use Skype and Facebook so she could promote her friends businesses. To me, that sounds an awful lot like you. You should be proud.”

  I smile at the memories. My grandma was a pistol for sure. I’m flattered Tara thinks I’m anything like her. That’s the biggest compliment anyone can give me. “Thank you. I’m pleased you think so. I hope she is proud of me and I hope she’s happy with grandpa now.”

  “I bet they’re up there swing dancing by now,” Tara answers. I can hear the warm smile in her voice. I remember my grandma’s excitement when she heard about Tara’s history as a dancer. My grandmother was so excited to tell her all about the Arthur Murray dance classes that she and my grandfat
her had taken when they were engaged. They used it as a socially acceptable reason to touch each other in an era when it wasn’t allowed. My grandfather was so proud of himself for finding a way of getting around my grandma’s dad.

  “Well, Aidan and I are about to get on a plane, so I better let you go,” Tara says as I hear the overhead speakers blaring in the background. “But, I wanted to check in with you. If you need anything, call me. You should talk to Kiera. She would want to know what’s going on. Someday soon, you’re going to have to let me know what’s going on between you and the Cowboy.”

  Even though she can’t see me, I blush bright red as I answer, “Okay, I promise, we’ll do lunch when I get back from Texas. Have a nice flight.”

  As I push the end button on my phone, Tyler is studying me with great interest. “Dare I ask what made you flush as red as a rooster comb?” Ty asks.

  Of course, that makes me blush even more. “Tara asked about the state of our relationship,” I mumble sheepishly.

  “Oh, this ought to be good,” Tyler comments as he chuckles. “What did you tell her?”

  “I didn’t tell her anything. I basically punted. I don’t think we have a relationship status yet to be updated. I’m not sure how you would define us. I define us as I always have— ‘confusing’. Why? How do you define us?”

  “I don’t find our relationship confusing at all,” Ty responds. “It’s pretty simple. I like you.”

  I look at him with a befuddled expression on my face, “What about the fact that we spend half our time arguing?”

  “Gidget, it doesn’t bother me that we have a few fireworks between us. That just keeps things interesting. If we got along like two peas in a pod, things would surely get boring in a hurry, don’t you think? If we have differences of opinion, then there are endless things to talk about and discuss,” he explains with a casual shrug.

  I look at him with a dubious expression as I reply, “Okay, that might explain our conversations, but it doesn’t explain why you act like you hate me sometimes.”