Beyond The Ghosts (Legacy Falls Project) (7 page)

“Christina is a good girl. I think you just scared her.”

“She should be scared. She deserves better than a broken soldier.” Her light, playful mood turned somber, and her voice dropped to a small appeal.

“You came back all in one piece. She would be lucky to have a good guy like you.”

“Beth, you don't know what I've done. I’m not a good guy. I could have hurt her.”

“It’s just a bruise. She likes you. You did what you had to do over there, but you are a good guy.”

"Who is a good guy?" Mom said, bringing a tray of snacks and sweet tea into the living room “New boyfriend, Beth?”

“No, Mom. Don’t start knitting the booties.”

“When are you going to settle down and get yourself a man?” my mom pleaded. Thank God for Mom’s grandchild obsession. For once, it worked in my favor.
Welcome to the hot seat, Beth.

“Last time I checked, incest was frowned upon even in the South, and Peter is the only good guy I know,” Beth said with enough sarcasm to cut glass.

My mom, obviously a pro at this game with Beth, volleyed back, “What about the Davidson boy from the hardware store?”

“He only knows how to sell tools, not use them.”

“
Elizabeth
Marie
. Sometimes I don't know why you say such vulgar things.”

“Oh, relax, Mom. I didn't say anything bad. I didn't even say
penis
. But if you were counting on him for grandkids, you are barking up the wrong tree.”

I nearly choked on my sweet tea and had to cover my mouth to keep from spewing tea all over my mother who swat at Beth with the dish towel always on the ready hanging from her apron.

“
Elizabeth
Marie
. You are not too old to wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Oh, please, Mom, you never did it to me as a kid, you aren’t gonna do it now.”

“You were such a sweet little girl. That’s why. I don’t know what happened.” She turned to me with doe eyes. “At least my sweet Peter didn’t change. You're still my sweet boy. Let me get you some more tea since Beth wanted to exercise her trucker mouth.” I grabbed the last tea cookie off the tray before she took it away to refill the tea decanter in the kitchen.

“You're still Mom’s favorite,” Beth huffed.

“Why do you talk to her like that?”

“Oh, my god, you are taking her side? Don't tell me that whole Stepford Joan Cleaver routine doesn't annoy you.”

“Come on, it’s just Mom. What else do you expect?”

“I don’t know. Maybe for her to step out of the ‘60s. I thought the ‘60s was supposed to be the decade of enlightenment?”

“I don’t know I wasn’t alive. Besides, I think that was the ‘70s”

“Well, whenever it was, she missed the bus on that one.”

“One day you will miss Mom’s ways.”

“Yeah, whatever you say.”

“Trust me, little sister, when you are in the middle of the desert with guys shooting at you for no good reason with bombs strapped to their chest in the name of some radical movement or religion, you will miss Mom’s sweet tea and lemon bars.”

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up.” Suddenly, Beth got quiet, drooping her head down. I lifted her up by her chin.

“Beth, I’m okay. It's okay. I’m not going to freak out on you. Mom makes really kick ass lemon bars. I missed them and all of her quirky ways. It's those little things that you think about when shit gets real.”

“I still think you should give Christina a call. She likes you.”

“Aren’t you the same sister that was complaining about your bestie always trying to hook you up on blind dates?”

“This is not a blind date! You're my brother, and you guys have hung out already. How is that a blind date? It’s a completely different scenario.”

“Whatever you say.”

“She is coming over later.”

“Really? Why are you pushing this?”

“Totally wasn’t me. She is helping Mom with some Rotary Club thing. Just a heads up.”

I wasn’t sure what exactly the Rotary was, but it was like the Masons for women. Not that I knew what the Masons were about, either, but they had their hands into everything and both factions were frequent sponsors for anything and everything around town.

“I’m guessing you aren’t gonna get me out of here today then?”

She feigned innocence.

“Me?” Placing her hand upon her chest and fluttering her eyelashes, she continued, “Why, I don’t know what on Earth you mean, big brother.”

“Yeah, right. You can’t pull that Southern belle crap on me, little Miss Mischief.”

“I have to work tonight, so you are on your own.” She popped up off the couch, planted a chaste kiss on my cheek, and be-bopped out the door.

Beth was right and Mom was neck deep as the event chairman for the renovation of the Legacy Falls station celebration. Thankfully, it was not just Mom and Christina, but there was a gaggle of women from the Rotary club that flooded the house like clockwork at 6 PM sharp. 

There was a definite advantage to the flock of women that invaded our dining room—plenty of coffee and treats. Each woman came bearing a covered dish of something sweet, and the dining room was filled with confections. Mom’s lemon bars, of course, were my favorite followed a close second by Mrs. Taylor’s cinnamon pecan danish with fresh pecans from her trees and Mrs. Jones' peanut butter fudge. Cookies of all flavors, little fruit tarts, and finger sandwiches were perfect bite-sized bits of heaven. 

Ladies of the South wouldn’t gorge on sweets but coffee for the Rotary with “snacks” was expected. After all, it was Legacy Falls: hospitality central of the South. Christina made caramel mini bear claws. They were sticky and gooey, and I was pleasantly surprised at the hint of chocolate in the center.

As the women wrapped up their meeting at 7 PM, I returned to the dining room to see what all was left of their confections. I spotted one last lemon bar and the mini bear claws and went in for the kill. The sound of a woman’s throat clearing made me turn around, my mouth stuffed with a whole bear claw as caramel ran down my chin.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Mmmfff mm for wrrrrffyyy gggdd “

“What was that? I’m sorry, I don’t speak Yogi.”

I chewed quickly and swallowed hard, the crispy edge of the pastry scratching my throat on its premature way down. I cleared my throat and tried that again.

“These are really good. You make them yourself?”

“Yeah, they're my poppa’s recipe.”

“I never had bear claws with chocolate in them.”

“They are Rolos.”

“Really? Huh. They give it a little extra something something.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“What could be bad about chocolate?”

“Said no woman ever.”

“Exactly. I am going to have to run like five extra miles with all these sweets, but I can’t stop eating them. I think I’ve gained ten pounds since I got home.”

“I don’t know where unless you are hiding it in your shoes or your pockets or something. You look the same to me. In fact, I think you can afford to eat a few more.”

“Don’t tempt me. I’m fighting my inner fat kid right now.”

“Hey, hashtag yolo, right?”

“I don’t think that is an acceptable response for my Master Sergeant.”

“Well, whenever you have to report, let me know, and I will send you along with some, and you can let the bear claws speak for you.”

“Hell no. I refuse to share.”

“Goodbye six pack, and hello suitcase.” Christina tapped my still-firm abdomen. My definition was fading, but the muscle memory was still very much present. She suddenly tensed up and backed away with her head down. I rubbed my belly and stepped back into her space.

“I’m fluffy now. It’s okay; I’m enjoying the treats. It’s been a long time since I have had home cooked sweets. The kosher Oreos and stale Girl Scout cookies we get drop shipped to us are awful by the time we get them. This is the life.” Rubbing my distended belly again, Christina looked up at me through her long, curled eyelashes.

“You have a little …” She reached up slowly and perched up on her tippy toes to reach the corner of my mouth with her hand to wipe away a strand of caramel with her thumb. I grabbed her wrist and stuck her thumb in my mouth sucking the remnant caramel off.

“I was saving that.” Her jaw laid open and slack while her eyes were wild, wide, and transfixed on my mouth. “Christina.”

She merely squeaked and retracted her hand from my grasp. Shaking her head out of her self-induced trance, she looked at her hand and quickly wiped it on her pants.

“Ew, ew, ew … Lord knows where your mouth has been.” Miss Sassy had returned. For a split moment, I thought I saw a softer side so I took the plunge. Wrapping my arms around her small waist, I lifted her up to meet me face to face. Her small rigid frame pressed against mine and before she could react, my lips engulfed hers, my tongue darting out seeking entrance into her sweet cavernous mouth. She sighed into my mouth giving me the entrance I sought. Remnants of salted caramel, rich dark chocolate, and sweet confectioners’ sugar scorched her taste into my brain. I lapped at her inner cheeks seeking every sweet corner. When the sweet taste faded, I kissed the corners of her mouth gently in completion and lowered her limp body to her feet.

Her eyes fluttered open with awakening, and her hands flew to her mouth. Redness flushed her cheeks as they drew up past her fingers, revealing the smile beneath her small palms.

“I guess you liked the bear claws,” she squeaked out through her fingers.

“Very much so. Thank you.”

“You're welcome, and thank you too.”

She stood there staring at me for a minute before grabbing her purse and scurrying off.

“See ya later. Tell Beth I will call her later.”

Peter -1 Christina -0. She is all bark and no bite.

I sat on the couch and polished off the rest of those bear claws while catching up on episode after episode of
American Idol
and
Big Bang Theory
. I toggled back and forth every hour or so between the two practicing my Al Bundy stance. In between laugh tracks, geek humor, and musical selections, my mind kept drifting back to Christina.

I didn't want Christina to be scared of me. 

I kept trying to replay that night at my sister’s apartment back in my head over and over trying to find the trigger. I couldn’t find one. I had slept with my platoon and my weapon by my side and under my pillow for the last eighteen years. That was the first time I was unarmed at any time. That was the first time I had been asleep in a room with anyone other than one of my brothers in arms.

Most nights, I didn't remember the nightmares. The only evidence would be my twisted sheets, waking up armed at the ready in my underwear or one of the guys throwing something at me to shut up. I didn't know if they ever stopped, but the thought of someone getting hurt by being around me sleeping scared me. 

My weapon was locked up and secure in the bottom of my closet. My knives were tucked away in a drawer. That didn't stop me from hurting Christina. My hands were just as lethal. I just needed to stay awake and be careful and no one would get hurt.  

When I returned home, I went back to my childhood bedroom, while the contents were mine, I felt detached. All the remnants of my former life before the Army were all here. My letterman letters and spelling bee medal hung from the mirror over my dresser, along with a picture of my senior prom date and I, dressed to the nines. My parents had always given me space, and aside from my mother setting my clean laundry on the foot of my bed, she rarely came into my domain.