Meagan's Marine (Halos & Horns) (9 page)

“For what?”

“For
him
to approach
me
,”
she whispered.

“But he won’t in here,” Meagan insisted.
“You have to go in there.”

“Oh no, he’ll come out here. He just
didn’t realize he could until now.”

Meagan shook her head. “I don’t
understand.”

“That’s part of why he’s so frustrated.
He feels trapped and doesn’t know what to do. Look how long it’s taken him to
get this far.”

Mitch didn’t even attempt to hide his
confusion. “I still don’t understand.”

Elvinia
sighed and sat forward on the chair. “Was Christopher a real talkative person
when he was alive, Meagan? I mean, did the two of you sit together and have
long talks about life and things?”

Meagan frowned and shook her head. “Not
really. Chris was always on the quiet side. But we knew each other so well, it
was as though we didn’t have to speak to communicate. I could look at him and
know what he was think…
ing
…oh…
ooohh
.”
Her eyes widened as she set her coffee cup down with a clatter and covered her
mouth with one hand. She stood and paced the length of the living room several
times then stopped to stare at
Elvinia
. “Are you
serious?”

“Yes ma’am. He doesn’t know how to communicate
with you in any way other than face to face. And in case you hadn’t noticed, he
doesn’t have a face anymore.”

“But Buck sees him, so how is that
possible?” Mitchell demanded.

“Only because Buck doesn’t realize he’s
not supposed to. Children don’t know that most people don’t believe in ghosts.
Heck, he doesn’t even know he’s a spirit. He just thinks he’s—”

“The sad man,” Mitch finished for her.

Elvinia’s
head tilted forward. “Yes, the sad man.”

Meagan dropped to the couch and leaned
forward. “What does he see,
Elvinia
? What do you see?
Can
you see Chris?”

“I don’t see him with my eyes. I sense
him, but in my mind, he doesn’t look anything like that picture you have of him
in that room.  He’s in his fatigues, and he’s covered in…” She paused,
flexing her fingers as she struggled to explain.

“Filth,” Mitchell finished for her.
“He’s covered in layers of grime, sometimes weeks of sand and dust and dirt
buildup with no water or way to take a shower. It’s like I told you the other
day, Meagan. He’s lost and alone in Afghanistan.”

Meagan dropped her head into her hands
and sobbed quietly while Mitch looked on, helpless to do anything but let her
cry. After a short round of tears, she wiped her eyes and lifted her chin.

“What I can I do,
Elvinia
?
I don’t want him reliving the worst time of his life…or death…or anything that
has to do with that hell hole. I want him to be at peace, here in his own
country.”

The psychic seated herself alongside Meagan
and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I know that, and he’ll find his
way back, eventually.”

Meagan pulled a tissue from the box on
the cocktail table and wiped her eyes. “I still don’t understand. He’s here
already. His presence is here, not in the middle-east. Why can’t he see where
he is?”

“It doesn’t work like that. He doesn’t
exist on the same plane as you or I. He’s in the spirit world and he’s
confused. It’s almost as if he’s being haunted by his own memories. He doesn’t
realize he’s not among the living anymore. We have to find a way to communicate
with him, to let him know that you’re okay.”

“How? Should I use a Ouija board?”

“Heavens, no! Those things will bring in
the kind of spirits you surely don’t want to see around here. The way you
communicate is to open your heart and your mind up to him. First of all, you
have to accept what’s happening for what it is. Clear your mind of all doubt.
Then concentrate on the message you want to send him.” She leaned in close.
“There is no magic in this, Meagan, simply the act of controlling your emotions
enough to get your message through to him. And no one can do it but you.”

Meagan stood and began to pace, waving
her arms animatedly as her voice rose in a hysterical rant. “I don’t know how
to do that! Isn’t there some book…some website I can go to that will show me
how it’s done?”

Elvinia
blinked several times before her low chuckle filled the room. “I guess you
could always try
Googling
it…but good luck with that.
No telling what kind of crazies you’d get in response.” She gathered her purse
and stopped on her way toward the door to widen her big black eyes at
her.  “You probably think I’m nuttier than a fruitcake, but honestly? I’m
pretty tame compared to what’s out there.”

****

Meagan stood at the door waving as
Mitchell’s truck pulled out of her drive. When she could no longer see the red
of his tail-lights, she turned to study her surroundings.

Alone…She was alone in the place that
suddenly seemed much larger than its actual square footage. She walked through
the tiny den, wishing
Niki
and Buck would suddenly
appear. No chance of that, since her friend had taken him to a movie at the
local mall and wouldn’t be home for another hour.

She made herself go into her son’s room
and lowered carefully onto his bed. With eyes closed, she took a deep breath
and held it a few seconds before releasing it slowly into the room. Her heart
pounded in her chest as she tried to conjure up some form of communication with
the father of her child.

“I’m still so pissed at you, Chris,” she
whispered into the silence of her son’s room. “You promised me you’d come back
alive and healthy.” Her head lowered, her chin rested on her chest as she
remembered the first sight of a flag-draped metal casket holding her fiancé’s
remains.

She’d waited for hours in a hangar at
the tiny airport of a suburb south of Lafayette, Louisiana, determined she’d be
there when he arrived. The small plane taxied up to the terminal, stopping
within clear view of the hangar’s large window. She’d held her breath until the
red and white stripes appeared, pushed slowly and carefully through the opening
of the plane’s cargo hold. Remembered how the breath had rushed out of her, how
all air in the room seemed to empty suddenly, becoming a vacuum. A cold, dead
vacuum, just as dead as her Marine was, inside that casket.

Until that moment, she’d been able to
hold out for some form of hope. Even after the visit from the three men dressed
in crisp uniforms. It was as if she’d been holding back for something…some
military error…some miracle of mistaken identity…some reason for a phone call
saying her Marine was in a stateside hospital, injured and weak, or even
comatose.

Any other scenario would have been
preferable to having what was left of his body processed in the massive port
mortuary of Dover Air Force Base in Delaware.

His death hadn’t seemed real until the
moment she’d seen physical evidence. She’d made her way slowly through the door
of the hangar to approach the casket. After researching the entire process,
she’d known the stars of the flag would be placed strategically over his heart.
She knew exactly where to lay her hand, and then her head, over the spot. In
that moment, he wasn’t a Marine being returned to her…but Christopher…her
Chris. The only other person in her life who’d mattered until she’d seen that
pregnancy test plus sign informing her of the other life she carried.

She’d waited a day before deciding to
email him, somehow knowing it was important not to wait for the scheduled Skype
call the next week. She wanted him to think twice about taking unnecessary
risks while out on patrol.

A single tear made a barely audible
plop
onto her clasped hands.

She’d been too late. And she’d never
forgive herself for that. Strange that at the very moment she’d hit the send
button, she’d gotten a sick feeling in her stomach, like she knew he’d never
see it. Once she’d received word and got the exact time of Christopher’s death,
she’d done the math to calculate the time difference and discovered it was within
minutes of her sending the email.

Fate was a son of a bitch in combat
boots.

Meagan looked up at the sound of his
picture falling. She stood and approached Buck’s dresser, lifted the fallen
portrait of his father and brought it close to her chest. Violent flights
through the air and into the room’s wall had bent and weakened the frame’s
stand, causing its fall. No mystery there.

“You lied to me, baby.” Her voice came
out sounding tortured and hoarse. “You left me.” She trailed her finger along
the inside edge of the frame and winced as a tiny shard of glass caught at the
tip of her finger. She pulled it out and squeezed her finger. A perfect dot of
dark red blood pooled in its place. Meagan stared at it for a moment before
grabbing a tissue from a box on the dresser to dab at it. She dropped it, along
with the shard, in the small trash receptacle decorated with dinosaurs and
walked to the doorway. Pivoting slowly, she addressed the emptiness of the
room.

“If you can show yourself to our son,
why the hell can’t you show yourself to me?” Her heart pounded out its rhythmic
beat as she waited, hoping for some sign, some hint that he knew she was there
and wanted to communicate with her. Greeted with the room’s silence, she turned
away, feeling empty and alone. 

The familiar ring tone of Train’s “Hey
Soul Sister” had her running for her phone. After a quick swipe of her thumb,
she answered. “Hey,
Nik
, what’s up? Is my son driving
you crazy yet?”  Her friend’s sigh had her immediately on guard. “What’s
wrong?”

“First of all, he’s all right,
Meggie
.”

“Oh shit…”

chapter 13

Broken Bones,
Bad Tires, and Blood Money

Meagan tore a check from the register
and handed it across the desk to the woman seated opposite from her, noticing her
nametag for the first time.

Shanna May’s fingers flew across the
keyboard and soon she was handing her a printed receipt. “We’ll file this and
if your deductible is all or partially paid you’ll get a reimbursement check
from us.”

Meagan forced a smile from lips that
hadn’t lost their tightness since
Niki’s
ominous
phone call an hour earlier. “Yes ma’am…thank you, ma’am.”
That’s a hundred
bucks I’ll never see again.

She turned, and went to meet
Niki
, who sat waiting with Buck, his left arm braced and in
a sling.

“Hey Buckaroo…how you feeling?” She
leaned over to kiss his forehead, smoothing his hair back out of habit.

He looked up at her, his eyes big and
round. “
M’okay
Mom. Can we
hab
ice cream?”

“It’s on me!”
Niki
insisted. “It’s the least I can do for breaking your child’s arm.”

Meagan touched her finger to Buck’s
nose. “It’s have…not
hab
, little man. And I don’t see
why not.” She stood and hugged her friend tightly. “It was an accident,
Nik
. I don’t want to hear any talk like that again.”

“But he was in my care and I feel like
the world’s worst friend-slash-babysitter.”

Buck grinned up from the wheel chair
they’d seated him in. “
Boys’ll
be boys, Aunt
Nik
. It’s not your fault. I asked you to spin fast. I
shoulda
held on.”

“Well, it won’t happen again, Buckaroo.”
Niki
wiped a residual tear from one eye. “Your pleas
will fall on deaf ears from here on out.”

“Huh?” He squinted up at her.

Her own burst of laughter took Meagan by
surprise. “Never mind, son. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

They’d just left the Sonic when Meagan
pushed the speaker button on her ringing phone. “We just left you and you’re
right behind me. What now,
Nik
?”

“God, I hate to be the bearer of more
bad news, but you’ve got a low tire, Meg. Really low.”

Meg released a frustrated groan. “Of
course I do. I couldn’t possibly expect something pleasant to counteract the
first part of this day, could I?” She released a long slow breath to calm her
nerves. “Pulling over now to check it.”

She found a spot wide enough to get her
off the road and pulled to a stop. “Hang on Buck, mama needs to check the
tires.” She stepped out and saw it immediately…the left front tire was
noticeably low on air. Squatting to take a closer look, it didn’t take long to
find the culprit. 

Niki
pulled up behind her and approached her cautiously. “Can you tell what the
problem is?”

Meagan grunted as she stood up and faced
her friend. “I picked up a nail somewhere. It’s okay. I’ve got a spare.”

“You need me to call someone to change
it for you?”

“Nah, I can change a flat. Just take
Buck home for me and I’ll meet you soon.”

Within a few minutes, they transferred
Buck to
Niki’s
car and Meagan stood waving them off.
She popped her trunk and pulled back the heavy liner to reveal her spare.
Closer examination had her groaning in disappointment at the significant signs
of wear.

Exhausted and anxious to be back with
her son, she talked herself out of calling someone to help her. Instead, she
got busy loosening lug nuts then jacked up the car to change the tire. When she
was nearly done, a state police car pulled up in front of her. The female
officer got out of the car and approached, asking if she needed help.

She waved off the officer. “Thanks, but
I’m almost finished.”

The officer, a Lt. Kerrie Pearce, walked
over to inspect the scene. “That spare looks pretty bad, ma’am.”

“Yes ma’am, I just noticed that.”

Lt. Pearce walked around the car and met
up with her again. “It looks like you need to spring for a whole new set.”

Meagan tightened the last lug nut the
way Chris had taught her to and jacked down the car. “I’ll have to buy them two
at a time. I just dropped a small fortune at the ER for my son’s broken arm.
Had my friend take him on home so I could change this one.”

 The officer sucked in her breath.
“
Ew
, how’d that happen?”

“He fell off the merry-go-round.”

The officer’s eyes widened. “At City
Park? One of my co-workers witnessed it. He said the baby-sitter freaked out
but the kid barely cried at all.”

Meagan smiled grimly. “Yep, she’d taken
him to the movies, and said he was so good when he asked to go to the park she
couldn’t turn him down.
Niki
was still pretty freaked
out at the ER, but Buck never made a peep. Just like his daddy,” she added in a
low whisper.

“His dad around much?” At Meagan’s
curious gaze, Officer Pearce shook her head apologetically. “Sorry, I’m a
cop…I’m used to asking questions.”

“Buck’s dad was killed in Afghanistan
before he was born. My friend watches my son for me when I’m at work and
studying. Poor thing feels so guilty even though I told her it wasn’t her
fault.”

  The cop nodded and gave a
grunt. “Always something with kids. You got insurance?”

“Yep. Got deductibles too.”

“Deductibles suck, don’t they?” The
officer growled, picking up the flat and placing it in Meagan’s trunk.

“Yes ma’am, they surely do. Thanks for
the help, Officer Pearce.”

The tall, thin woman gave her a nod.
“Anytime, and, uh, try to get those tires as soon as you can. I’d sure hate to
work an accident scene and discover it’s you and your son. You’re lucky that
tire just went flat instead of blowing out. I’ve seen some horrific accidents
because of blow outs, so I always check people’s tires.”

“Yes ma’am, I’ll have to beg for extra
hours at work to afford it now.”

“Have you ever thought of donating
plasma?” the officer said.

Meagan shook her head slowly. “No, but I
donate blood every three months.”

“Plasma is different. It takes longer
because they have to separate it from the blood before pumping it back into
you, but they pay you for it. I think my daughter made $100 her first week of
donating and $60 or $70 every week after that. She and her roommate keep the
rent paid with it.”

“Really?” Meagan heard a distinct ‘cha-
ching
’ at the thought of making a quick hundred bucks. “I
may have to check it out.”

“You should. Years of police work have
taught me what to look for and you look like someone who could donate. Trust
me, those places are desperate for plasma they can actually use.”

The officer took a card and a pen out of
her pocket and scribbled something on the back of it before handing it to her.
“Here’s the address of the place here in Lake Coburn and that’s my daughter’s
name. If you say she referred you, she’ll get an extra bit of money on her next
donation. If you refer someone else, you’ll get extra money.”

“Thanks, and I absolutely will.” Meagan
accepted the card and stared at the address. “I bet I pass this place all the
time and never realized it was there. Do you know what they do with the plasma
they collect?”

The officer smiled down at her and
nodded. “Yes ma’am. They save lives with it.”

****

After researching the process, Meagan
contacted the plasma center. She found herself there at mid-morning on a
Tuesday, tired of waiting and bored after a drawn-out screening process. She
sighed in relief when they finally called her name.

“Is it always going to take two hours to
get in to donate?” Meagan followed the technician to the back room where four
rows of chaise lounge looking beds were set up to accommodate 24 donors at a
time.

“Oh no. Your first time we have to give
you the complete blood work up and physical. From now on, it’s a much quicker
process. We’ll do a quick screening that takes maybe five or ten minutes then
send you back out. Within a few minutes of that, we’ll call you back. Go ahead
and lay down right here. Don’t use your cell phone to make calls, please. It
can interfere with the machines.”

Within ten minutes, she was hooked-up,
and watching one of two flat screens mounted on the wall, each playing the same
re-run of
Law and Order.

“Is this your first time donating,
honey?”

Meagan turned toward the voice to her
right, seeing a pretty, well-dressed woman who looked to be in her mid-fifties.
Blondish hair in a short and stylish cut, nails neatly manicured and clothed in
an outfit that more than likely came from a higher end department store like
Dillard’s. Diamond studs sparkled in her ears and the single ring on her left
hand could easily have totaled more than a couple of carats. 

“Yes, ma’am, it is. Yours too?”

“Oh no, I started coming here about four
years ago, after my husband died.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you, but we had thirty wonderful
years together. The last five we wouldn’t have been able to enjoy if it weren’t
for places like this.”

“Really? Was he ill?”

“He had something called
Hyperviscosity
Syndrome and it made him miserable.
Spontaneous bleeding, loss of hearing, dizziness, horrible headaches…the
symptoms varied but always made it impossible to enjoy life. Then he began
plasmapheresis
treatment. In a nutshell, they hooked him up
to machines like these, took out the infected plasma and replaced it with
healthy plasma.”

“And it worked?”

“He got his quality of life back for
five years. Then I lost him in a car accident, but I was thankful for the years
he got to enjoy life because of donors such as yourself. So, I became one.” The
woman held out her free left arm. “My name is Marilyn…Marilyn
Istre
.”

“Meagan Hutton…it’s so nice to meet you.
You know, I lost my fiancé around the same time you lost your husband.” The
fact that they’d both loved and lost gave them common ground, and soon the two
were deep in conversation. Not only did they have their grief in common, but
also their home state of Texas. Meagan found herself discussing Buck, broken
arms, insurance deductibles and bald tires with the woman who proved to be very
likeable, as well as remarkably easy to talk to.

The next forty-five minutes flew by for
Meagan and before she knew it, a technician named
Shonda
Thibodeaux had wrapped her arm with an ace bandage. Within two minutes, she’d
punched in a pin number into an ATM and collected a nice little payment of
$45.00.

She met up with Marilyn at the
appointment book and smiled.  “Which days are the best to come in?”

“Tuesdays and Thursdays are good for me.
What about you? I’d love it if we were always here at the same time. You’re so
sweet and easy to talk to.”

Meagan searched Thursday’s page and
filled in the open slot right under her new friend’s name. “I guess I’ll see
you in a couple of days.”

They walked out, laughing over the fact
that they’d parked next to each other.

“You see? It’s fate that we meet!”
Marilyn patted her arm. “I know you need to get home to that beautiful son of
yours now, but you be sure and get something to eat right away and hydrate
honey, hydrate! I’ll see you on Thursday.”

Megan drove home, feeling somewhat
uplifted despite being a quart low. She’d stopped off for a bite from the
dollar menu at a drive thru and chugged down a bottle of water.

Once home, she tucked away the bills in
an envelope and wrote
TIRE MONEY- $45.00
in neat block letters on the
outside before stuffing it far back into the top drawer of her nightstand.

Meagan crawled under the covers and
pulled the sheet up around her, tired, but smiling. By Thursday afternoon of
the next week, she’d have money for two brand new tires. By the end of the
month, she’d be able to pay for three more, including a new spare.

She closed her eyes, thinking of the
Officer’s warning.  It amazed her how one seemingly bad stroke of luck had
turned into a possible way to earn a little extra cash.  It would be nice
not to be such a struggle to put money aside. She drifted off to sleep, feeling
a little more capable of providing for her child.