Protected by the HERO (43 page)

Casey sat in the bookstore reading his chapter in the anthology of stories about parenthood. Her heart sank when she read how he’d met his wife in Paris while he was there teaching a class in creative writing.

A friend had arranged for them to meet, as they were both lonely Americans in Paris. She’d come walking into the elegant bar with a skirt and a pair of cowboy boots on.

In his chapter, he’d said he’d fallen in love with her immediately.

Shortly after they were married, she’d gotten pregnant and she had the baby in Paris. Finding it difficult to navigate a different healthcare system, they’d moved to Maine shortly after that, where Paul could teach at a nearby university and be close to his beloved ocean.

He was ecstatic, he wrote, at his late and last chance at fatherhood and Casey could tell his daughter meant the world to him.

Casey closed the book and closed the chapter on Paul Neal for good.

He’d found his happiness, something she couldn’t begrudge him for.

But in that moment, Casey Larson realized it was time for her to find her own joy.

*****

When Sarah went off to college, Casey decided that it was time for her to leave Cape Cod. She’d done her duty as a mother—something she felt good about. But she was still young enough to broaden her horizons, maybe even find a broadcast job at a local television station in New York. She was too old to be groomed for national news, but she thought doing local news in the city would be a good compromise.

April was due to graduate in a year. Both she and Robert agreed that she was too far along in high school to leave, but that Casey would alternate weekends, having April take the three-hour train ride to New York, while Casey would come to the Cape on the odd weekends. She’d rent a small apartment on the Cape to serve as a home base.

Casey loved New York and she loved her job even more. It was so wonderful to finally take a slice of life and forge her own adventures. She made new friends at the station, a few who recommended she get a complete makeover and start her life in the city as the new Casey Larson.

She spent her free time visiting museums and galleries and walking through Central Park in all kinds of weather. In some ways, she was trying to make up for lost time.

One day, as she was walking back to her studio from work, she passed a bookstore with a sign out front announcing that best-selling author Paul Neal would be there for a signing that evening.

She stopped dead on the sidewalk, staring at the sign.

Her brain tried different scenarios on for size, trying to decide which felt more comfortable.

Should she keep walking, pretending she never saw the announcement, or should she rush home, put on a chic, casual dress and show up for the signing?

She decided a compromise felt best. She’d go home, freshen up, and then show up at the bookstore, just skirting the edges of the store without committing herself to approaching Paul.

The book signing started at 7:00 and she showed up a half hour late, just to be safe. When she walked in, she found a row of books to hide behind and peeked out through a crack.

She felt ridiculous, but it was wonderful to see him again, still in a scruffy beard and casual clothes, but indeed looking more than a decade older. He was still handsome, she thought, and she could tell by the way he was talking to his fans that he was still gentle and charming.

She opted out of approaching him, but was still glad she got to see him again, if only from behind a stack of books.

She began to make her way back down the long aisle, answering a text to April as she walked. At the end of the row, she saw a pair of shoes in front of her and when she looked up, there stood Paul Neal.

He was grinning in a sweet way.

“You weren’t going to leave without saying hello, were you?” he said.

“Oh my gosh, Paul,” Casey said, stammering for words. She was utterly dumbfounded that she had been caught stalking him in a bookstore. How had he known she was there?

“I saw you walk in,” he said. “How could I not have spotted those infamous blue eyes? I saw you on the news this afternoon, Casey. I knew you were in New York and was hoping you’d stop by to say hello.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t trying to be rude. I guess I wanted to see you again without the drama of approaching you. I feel ridiculous.”

“I want to talk to you,” he said, looking as if it were important to him. “I have a few more hours here. Let’s meet up next door at The Green Door at 10:00. Would that be okay?’

Casey spent two hours walking the streets of the West Side, thinking about their weekend romance, wondering if she really wanted to spend time with him tonight. As silly as it was, her heart had been broken when he’d written her that last letter. Somewhere inside, she knew she wasn’t enough for him. She was a single mother then, living a life of unfulfilled dreams—even somewhat desperate.

But today she was her own person, forging ahead with her plans for her life, no matter how late they had been in coming. She was in her early 40s, and even though she’d put off fulfillment for many years, she felt good about her choices. Her daughters were bright and beautiful and she’d helped them get a good start in life.

She walked into the bar at 10:10, and there was Paul, waiting for her with a beer in front of him. He looked tired but relieved that she’d shown up after all.

“Tell me everything,” he’d said. “I’m dying to hear about your new life.”

Casey recounted the last decade to him, letting him know that she was happy with the way it had all worked out.

“Most important to me were my children,” she explained. “Jackie Kennedy once said that if you screw up raising your children, you can’t be good for much else. I believe that—that if you bring children into the world, it’s your responsibility to turn them into happy, responsible adults. I don’t live a life of guilt now. I put them first and I don’t regret that.”

Paul listened to her thoughts, and admitted that now that he was a father, he had come around to her point of view. He told her he was separated from his second wife and was struggling to see his daughter as much as he would like.

“You don’t live in the same town?” Casey asked, somewhat incredulous.

“No, they’re in Seattle,” Paul said. “I moved back to Northern California. It’s the only place I can write.”

That’s what Casey needed to hear. She’d never gotten to know him enough to see who he truly was. And while she didn’t judge his choices, she realized that they could never have been together. Casey’s priorities were different than his. She couldn’t have lived his life.

“You know,” she said, looking for her purse and getting up from the barstool. “I have an early day tomorrow.”

“How about dinner tomorrow night?” he asked. “I’m going to be in town for a few days.”

“I don’t think so, Paul, but thanks for asking. Let’s just leave it at this: we’ll always have Hurricane Betsy. It was the best weekend of my life so far, but I know that might not always hold true. I still have my whole life ahead of me.”

She walked out into the streets of Manhattan and stood at the corner to flag down a cab. She felt good—for the first time in a very long time. She knew that life was full of surprises and that Paul had come along at a time in her life when she needed to be reminded that she was still beautiful, still worthy of a little magic in her life.

She owed him a debt of gratitude for that. But in that moment, she was even more grateful for having always known who she was.

THE END

Bonus Story 12 of 20

There aren't many things better than hard liquor and pleasant company in the old, withered west. Especially if you're a cowboy returning from a two-month cattle drive. Jack, however, was never too much into saloons, or fast acquaintances with happy and always underpaid women. He preferred the open plains and big skies to towns, but this weekend he had to visit one to resupply, if he wanted to continue his trip south.

So, when Jack saw the first signs of the town as he approached on horseback, he was almost obliged to lower his hat.
The less I see about this town, the better it will be for me
, he thought. He reined his horse in and was now looking for the least shady-looking saloon.
I have to take a long sleep before looking for a supplier around here.

Jack's hands were lying relaxed while he was holding the reins. A sudden burst of laughter almost made him jump off the saddle. He was able to hold his cool demeanor though, and simply turned his head looking for where the laughter had come from; it was one of the town's saloons; a recently painted building, with a big, rectangular sign hanging above the small, swinging doors.

He reined in front of the saloon and dismounted. In front of the entrance, there was a wooden post to tie the horses to. Pulling his horse closer to the post, Jack was caressing the strong animal.

“You did well once again old buddy. Now, let's rest for the next couple days.” Lad was the name of his horse, and they had been together for the past five years. This returning trip was their fifth, since every year Jack went on the cattle drive as a full-fledged cowboy. After all, it paid well and it was a means to an end.

A creak on the wooden floor made Jack stop giving attention to Lad. Jack turned, and saw an old guy, white-haired and mustached, totter away from the saloon. Giving off an intense smell of liquor, and murmuring incomprehensible things about some cards, he bumped into Jack and shuffled off, without even apologizing.

“Watch out old man. If you can't handle it, then don't start it,” Jack said. He spoke loudly enough to catch the man's attention, making him seemingly turn, looking annoyed.

“Who are you? I've never seen your sorry ass around here... son,” he complimented his sentence with a hiccup.

“I'm just a passerby, looking for his apology from an old geezer like you.” Before Jack completed his sentence, the white-haired man had pulled his gun out and was aiming at Jack's head. With his big hat still lowered, and his hands on Lad's back, Jack didn't seem any bit concerned about the drunken man's unsteady hand.

“If you say another word, this will be the last town you’re passing from,” he said, and hiccupped again. “Did you hear me?” he shouted. But at the exact moment, Jack quickly snatched the man's wrist and, like a snake attacking its prey, twisted the wrist until a loud crack was heard.

The drunk was now lying on the ground, holding his wrist, screaming his butt out. “You're crazy. You're fucking crazy!” He continued screaming well after someone passed right next to him and helped him up.
That is why I don't like places like this. You just ask for an apology and you get treated like a criminal.

Straightening the edge of his hat, he started walking towards the entrance. The closer he got to the saloon, the louder the laughter was. He was now able to hear uplifting music, and women singing from the other side of the door.
Remember Jack, it is only for a couple of nights. After that, you're out of here.

After taking a deep breath, he pushed the saloon doors once. They were pretty old and they were squeaked loudly, unwittingly alarming everyone inside the hazy room. A new customer had arrived. It was more than that though. Everyone went silent. The musician stopped playing, the dancers stopped dancing and the attendants simultaneously turned their heads and watched him walk towards the bar.

His back was now itching from all the prying eyes stabbing him.
Wait until they learn about their friend whose arm I broke,
Jack considered, wanting to smile but cleverly refraining from doing so. He got his hat off and placed it to a stand next to him. 

“What can I get you?” said the barman, an old man.

“Something strong.” He needed to calm his nerves and relax his saddle-sore butt. After riding for the last five days, from morning to night, his whole body was sore, but his butt exceptionally so.

“Whiskey it is,” the barman said with a hoarse voice. He grabbed a bottle from the upper shelves behind his bar, and slowly read the tag on it. He nodded twice and then stretched his hands below. Now, he was filling the glass, Jack and thought that this was the perfect time to ask him about a spare room. But, the barman was faster.

“You're not from around here. Are you returning from the cattle drive?” he said, but he was eloquently hiding something between his words.

“Yeah. I just got paid and I'm going back to the south.”

“Something interesting there? Family? Wife?” He gave the glass to Jack and already grabbed another one. He was carelessly wiping it, even though it was crystal clear.

“No, it's just me and my horse. I'm looking for a job there to pass my time while the winter strikes in.” Jack took a sip of it, smelling the heavy aroma and tasting every kind of flavor; it was a long time since he had whiskey.

“We have some cowboys around here as well, but we seldom see outsiders.”
Aha,
Jack thought,
now he starts to show his true colors
.

“I'm just a passerby, wanting to resupply. Do you have any spare room?” Jack took another sip, but his mind was starting to get blurry.

“Yeah, I'm sure there is something we can do for you. You're going to have to put up with the girls though. They stay up until early in the morning, if you know what I mean,” he winked with a naughty smile on his face.

Jack glanced at the man, making him sense his displeasure. He put the glass back behind the bar and moved away from him.
What a nosy bunch of people,
Jack thought, even though the alcohol was starting to kick in and everything felt cozier.
Maybe I should not drink it as fast,
he noticed. But, as everything in the room had turned back to normal, the dancers had begun seducing the tenants once again.

Their dresses were long, but they were feeling generous and often raised them to show their laced underwear. All of them granted wide smiles to everyone, but especially to some men who were playing cards on the dark corner of the room. His eyes were searching for something interesting, a habit he had developed after so many months traveling between places.

Today, however, nothing was feeling right for him, even if there were some girls in there who seemed more than experienced.
Another night between me and my sore palms,
he sighed to himself. It was difficult spending his time between a group of men every day, and the long cattle drive was truly a trial of will. He had to spent his days fantasizing how it would feel to touch a girl, or even see her naked.

Disappointed, he turned his head towards the big mirror on the other side of the bar. His hair was dark brown, with some parts turning to silver-white. His eyes were blue and lonely, and his body was thin but full of muscles. He hadn’t shaved for a while. Now that he was looking at himself in the mirror, he was thinking that maybe the time to shave that hairy mess had arrived, but it was an idea that didn't last long.

Feeling his head heavy, he was ready to move out of the saloon and tend to some business before getting to his room. It was right then that he sensed a woman standing really close to him. Jack was able to smell her perfume, and almost feel her smooth skin.

“Hello,” she said with a shy look on her face.

Between his confusion and her brown eyes, Jack was left speechless.
She wasn't here before,
he thought. Her light, blonde hair was curly and caught in a rough bun, leaving only a tuft falling on her face. Her smile was small, but had a sincere feeling.

“Hi,” Jack replied in a monotonous sense.

“Are you new around here?” she asked with the greatest of interest.

“No, just a passerby. Are you...dancing here?” Jack was feeling his face reddening, while his grip was getting stronger on the poor glass.

“Yes, I am, although today I was late because I had a rough night. But don't tell anyone about it because I might get in trouble,” she said while smiling in a playful way. “Would you want me to get into trouble?” she accompanied her question with a wink.

He was observing every small detail on her face that almost didn't hear her question. “No, of course not,” he said. “Excuse me but I have to go and stable my horse, Lad, and then attend to some business. So, if you can excuse me.”

Jack grabbed his hat quickly and headed towards the swinging doors. The girl was now standing against the bar and was waving goodbye, calling at the same time, “Are you coming back later honey?”

Jack was feeling too ashamed to even answer. He turned his back and shrugged. However, he really wanted to reply to her, to stay another minute and watch her eyes.
But, what was this familiar thing I felt watching her,
he thought after getting fresh hay for his horse.

“Maybe you know better than me, Lad. I'm rusty as hell around women,” he said, talking to himself. It didn't take him long to sober up, especially after smelling the manure in the stable. “Someone really has to clean this place up.”

After grooming Lad, and unsaddling him, his boots were full of dirt, and his jeans torn. After all, he hadn't had the chance to change his clothes all that much during the cattle drive, so now it was a good time to go and take a bath, and maybe mend his jeans.

Although he had a lot of business to attend to, buying supplies for the next leg of his journey, he wasn't able to get her face out of his mind.
She is the first woman I wouldn't mind paying to have, just for a night,
he found himself thinking. But, he was ready to punch himself after that. He was against winning a lady's affection in that manner, even if selling her body was indeed her occupation.
I have to find the strength to resist, no matter how much I want her
.

Having paid for his supplies, he was ready to return to the saloon. The sun was starting to dive behind the never ending, gold sand of the old, withered west. It was the first time, however, that Jack was feeling good about returning to a warm, hazy place, full of smoke and booze.
At least, if I have to put up with it, I'd rather enjoy it,
he thought.

Not able to hold back a smile, he was now feeling eager to return. His hands had unconsciously moved above his crotch, and he was using his thumbs to rest them in the edge of his jeans. Confident and ready, he pushed the swinging doors once again. She was there, but she was on the lap of another man.

***

Jack was holding five cards in his hand. Beside him, the dancer from earlier was laughing out loud with a joke that someone else told to her. The room had a pleasant warmness, and the fires from the lamps were flickering, making the shadows around them dance.

“Your turn new guy. Take them or leave them. Your choice,” a white man said to him, with a deeply lined face and a big, brown mustache. The hair was starting to fall from various places on his head, but he was still holding on strong.

“Don't frighten the boy Ron. He just learned the game.” This man had a kind voice and was sitting in a chair opposite Jack. His hair was black and his face jovial, but his eyes had a sly shine. Every time Jack caught a glimpse of it, it sent shivers down on his spine.

“Boys, too much talk, too little gain. Go, go,” said another gray-haired man. He was the bluntest of them all, but he meant well. Acting like a corner stone between those two sleazy weasels, his eyes were harsh and his mouth was in a constant scowl, but he was the only one being actually patient with Jack, who just learned this weird game.

“Okay, I think I'm in. Do I need to show my cards now?” Jack asked in a low-toned, exhausted way, sounding older than the three of them together.

The three men looked at him with an amused expression and started silently laughing. “For the last time, you have to wait for all of us to bet, and then you can show your cards. Ron? It's your turn,” the scowling man said to the deep-lined one. But Jack didn't care about them; he only cared for her, the dancer with the brown eyes.
Why doesn't she talk to me? It's like she is openly rejecting me.

Abruptly, one of his fellow players knocked his hand on the table, giving Jack a start. However, he was really good at hiding his feelings and didn't make a fool of himself in front of them—and especially in front of her.

“Come on Kris. Stop cheating,” the black-haired man cried out loud. But it was he who had been cheating and everyone knew it, including Jack.

“You can't be serious Gary. You're the one who is always on the move, not me. So, are you in or out?” Kris replied to him while waving his hands at him.

“I'm in. So, everyone ready? We now have to show our hands,” he whispered, to add suspense in his words. Jack saw that ominous shine in his glare and started to wonder for the first time that night what he was doing there with them.