Four Crazy Writers

Success

2012-01-27T18:33:00.001-06:00

Secret to limitless power is you.

Austro-Hungary

2011-12-31T23:00:00.004-06:00

The house is dark though the clock on the mantle shows it is barely five in the evening. The winter steals the sun from the sky earlier and earlier, and it will be two more weeks before the days begin to lengthen again. A girl, perhaps sixteen, is perched in an awkward position on the narrow ledge of the window, the warmth of her body steaming the glass, while outside the snow falls in thick piles on the branches of the trees. When the trees were first planted, they were twenty or thirty feet away from the house, but as the decades passed, they grew closer. Now they scratch against the stone walls and glass panes, creating a clatter in the wind of the storm, a seasonal symphony.

“Sitting in the dark again?”

A middle-aged woman with a branch of candles comes into the room, the hem of her skirt dragging along the floor behind her.

“I didn’t feel like moving,” says the girl, pulling the large, plaid scarf up higher on her shoulders, but otherwise not stirring.

“And where’s your brother?” asks the woman as she kneels in front of the fireplace and begins to place the logs and kindling.

“How should I know? Last I saw him, he was riding out, though you were shouting after that he shouldn’t in this weather.”

The woman sniffs, whether taking insult at the girl’s description of her ‘shouting’ or at the boy’s refusal to obey, it’s hard to say. She braces herself against the mantle to rise and takes one of the long matches from the box in her hands. She drags it slowly across the bricks to strike it and then slides it expertly between the logs where the kindling is, and repeats it with two other matches until the logs are creaking and crackling.

“He’s been back now, over an hour. Of course he hasn’t the manners to warm a room for his sister.” The criticism is tempered, born more from the annoyance of the moment.

“He’d never think to be so gallant.”

At last the girl moves, stretching her legs and crossing the room to a more comfortable seat closer to the fire. “Tea?” she asks, pushing the cups and saucers around a tray that has been there since noon.

“Be lucky if it’s lukewarm. Let me get a fresh pot from the kitchen,” says the woman, wiping her hands, dirtied by the ashes, on her apron.

“Don’t bother,” shrugs the girl, but the woman has already gone, a lifetime of servitude still evident in her brisk movements.

The girl pours the tea anyhow. It’s cold and over-seeped, but the girl hasn’t enjoyed the taste of anything in weeks, so it makes no difference to her.

“Ah, I see you started a fire,” observes a boy, two years older, as he comes into the room.

“Madge started it, not me. I’ve been sitting in the window. Listening to the wind.”

“And what does the wind have to say today, Sister?” He sits in the chair opposite her, stretching out languidly.

Unthinkingly, the girl hands him a cup of the cold tea, and he takes it. Though he knows it’s hours old before it even touches his lips, he finds it doesn’t matter to him that much and takes a few, quick sips out of habit.

“Cake?” she asks, holding out the platter of pastry. “They may be a bit stale from sitting out in the cold room.”

Her brother takes one, as does the girl, and they sit in silence, chewing and sipping.

“Where is Madge?” the boy asks after a while.

“The kitchen making up a fresh pot of tea.”

“Seems a waste at this point,” the boy remarks, finishing his cup and setting it on the tray.

“You know Madge.”

The pair sits in silence once again, plentiful warmth coming off the large fire -- enough, even, to put a bit of color back into the girl’s thin cheeks.

“Yes, although it would seem more like her to ration the tea, given the circumstances.”

“We can get more tea when the storm moves out and the roads clear.”

“Could be weeks,” warns the boy.

“Madge keeps everything in reserve in the pantry. We could probably keep on as we have for months.”

The boy tilts his head to one side, a gesture of agreement. The old servant has always been diligent and resourceful, her two charges never wanting for anything, least of all food or drink.

Bored with the idle conversation, the girl picks up a book from the table beside the sofa and begins to flip through it, settling on a page in the middle and reading from there.

“That’s no way to do it,” her brother chastises, but she doesn’t respond.

Several minutes later, Madge enters with a fresh tea tray, cleaning up the old one.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Nicholas,” she says with the same tone of tempered criticism she used earlier in reference to the boy.

The boy only smiles, patting the woman as he rises and walks to the fireplace where he rests one arm on the mantle.

“I thought I would come watch Liza play the scholar. You see how she reads? But don’t let her fool you -- she started in the middle, Madge. Shouldn’t you be scolding her instead of me?” He tisks and shakes his head, but his smile is mischievous.

“You both need more scolding,” the woman says, sitting in a chair in the corner and taking up some knitting in a basket there.

Nicholas rests his boot on one of the andirons, unsettling some of the logs and sending a small flurry of embers and smoke into the room. Most of the embers are extinguished mid-air, but some some land on the corner of one of the drapes where they smolder a moment longer before fading into a pile of ash.

“When do you think father will be home?” asks the girl, looking up from her book.

Madge and Nicholas share a furtive glance, but Madge answers calmly that it’s hard to say.

“Forced to trudge through this winter, could be he’ll be gone til Spring. Depends on when the ships are leaving port in London and how the seas are in between.”

“Seems he should have left London by now,” the girl insists. “When he left he said he would be home by Christmas.”

“He was being hopeful,” Nicholas says, nudging the andirons again to similar effect, this time turning his face away to avoid the sting of the smoke.

“I don’t see why he had to go anyway.” The girl sets the book back on the table and pours some of the fresh tea into her cup half full of the cold tea. She adds a spoonful of sugar and stirs it, but then places it down again without drinking any.

“One doesn’t volunteer to negotiate a peace treaty so much as one is commanded to go,” Nicholas remarks, no trace of bitterness in his voice, even if he feels it.

“It’s not as if we had anything to do with it,” complains the girl. “I don’t see why we should have to send anyone to London. Especially when last I heard the war isn’t even over.”

“Hush, child,” warns Madge. “They’re our neighbors and it matters for our Empire as much as theirs.”

“How I weary of politics,” the girl says with a sigh.

“As do we all, child.”

“As do we all,” the boy agrees.

Fourth Grade Words Writing Challenge

2011-12-27T15:53:00.000-06:00

The moment I saw her walk in, I knew I had to have her. More importantly, I had to make her know, deep down in her soul, that she had to have me, too.

I had noticed her the day before, watched her slowly trudge across the sidewalk. She looked tired as she glanced in the window. Today was a little different. It was the jingle of the bell above the door that really caught my attention, the awkward clatter of the contents of her purse spilling across the floor as she tripped her way inside that caught everyone else’s attention. All of us looked at her. There was something so devastatingly sad on her face, at least on the little bit of her face that we could see. She mostly kept her head down as she knelt and hurriedly gathered her things, shoving them back into the small bag.

Straightening up, she smoothed her hands over her hair, her dark, plentiful curls springing in every direction. It was then that I saw her eyes. Dark. Sad. Weary. I couldn’t help but wonder what a woman like her was doing in a place like this. Of course, I say that, but I didn’t know what I was doing in a place like this, either. A vintage store. For a long time, I thought vintage was just a fancy way of saying lukewarm-hand-me-downs. Over time, though, I came to see the store for what it was. Not hand-me-downs. Legends. Things from another time. Once I understood that, I came to value my time there, came to appreciate the variety of people who came and went—the elderly gentleman down the street looking for a hat for his wife to remind her of their early years together and the way he would, without fail, always knock her hat from her head when he would passionately kiss her; the scholar from the local college preening in front of the mirror in what would be a costume for a dance; the volunteer from the hospital who wanted to attend a fancy dinner and accept an award being bestowed upon her but couldn’t afford a new dress.

Lots of women came and went and I always watched them. They were all different shapes and sizes…blondes and brunettes…redheads…and sometimes pink and blue heads! All their eyes told different stories. So many varying shades of so many colors. Green. Blue. Brown. Hazel. Sometimes mixes of colors. Sometimes two different colors. Her eyes, though…her eyes…they were the simplest, purest, most expressive dark brown. Those eyes drew me in. And I just held my breath, hoping and praying that she would see me.

Normally, I would have reserved that kind of hope for the women who looked like they had a lot of money to spend. This woman, though, I don’t know. I could tell she was down and out. I knew it was a long shot. But I watched her walk by me. Once. Twice. A third time. Finally, she reached out and touched me. Oh, how I hoped she would pick me up, look at me more closely, maybe even take me the fitting room and try me on. I knew I was a hard sell. There was a reason I’d been left on this rack for so long. I convinced myself it was because I hadn’t found my perfect match yet. But this was it. It had to be!

Carefully, so gently, she lifted the hanger from the rack and held it up to herself. My fabric swished against her. I met her gaze in the mirror, desperate for her to see what I saw. We were perfect for each other. I could feel her heart pounding against me as she turned this way and that, critically appraising me. Critically appraising herself. Finally, she tilted her head to one side and smiled. She gingerly draped me over her arm and walked into the fitting room.

Part of what made me such a hard sell was my color. I was a true wine. Really. Not a muddy red or a dull burgundy or faded purplish mahogany with delusions of grandeur. I was, and still am, the color of the richest, most aromatic and beautiful red wine. I was made in the 1940s. I don’t remember what year. But what a perfectly shaped cocktail dress I was, complete with a slightly heart-shaped neckline, rounded sleeves and a gently draping knee-length skirt that would flare if anyone spun me around. And my fabric! This gorgeous color, a sensuous mix of crepe and velvet. I’m not bragging when I say that I was truly magnificent. But nobody ever wanted me. Not ever. Everyone always said that there was something off about my color.

But this woman…she saw me. I mean really saw me. She saw my potential. She saw herself in me. It was only a few seconds until she’d carefully slipped me over her head. Her body felt warm against me and I couldn’t help but feel excited. I kept telling myself not to get my hopes up. I was just so happy in that moment. To finally be tried on. To finally be considered for something other than just hanging on a rack! I knew if she didn’t pick me, I would have to ration the joy I felt in this moment so I could parcel it out later. I didn’t want to feel disappointment too quickly after this.

Her hands were cool against me as she smoothed my fabric. I clung invitingly to her body in the all right places. I was a bit snug in the waist, but not uncomfortably so. She ran her hands over her breasts and I felt them linger there. I pushed her up a little, adding a little more curve to what she already had. The fit over her hips was beyond perfect. I settled just below her waist then hung gently to just above her knees. I noticed she had a long scar on her right knee and worried that my length would be a deal breaker. The shiny red scar traveled from a few inches above to a few inches below her kneecap. It looked angry, the scars from the stitches or staples looking like bared teeth ready to snap. But she didn’t seem to notice or care. She was enamored. Turning her back to the mirror, she craned her neck over her shoulder and looked at my back. The fit was equally nice as the front, the swell of her bottom just barely noticeable under the fabric of the skirt. Her eyes widened and she giggled, a startled but happy sound. She spun around just once, taking in the full flare of the skirt, the tops of her thighs clearly visible. I found myself hoping she had appropriate undergarments to wear with me.

My price tag dangled from the sleeve. Frowning, she looked at it and I could see her mentally calculating. Could she afford me? She slid me off, careful not to let me hit the floor. I liked the way she chewed on her lower lip, gently gnawing on the left side. It was a good thinking look. I hoped she was thinking about buying me. We left the dressing room together and I could tell she was walking back toward the rack. Disappointment descended upon me, but it evaporated quickly when she passed it and went to the side wall to look at shoes. I knew there was no way she’d find perfectly matching shoes. Not with my color. Maybe, hopefully, she’d find something in black, something pretty that would catch her eye and convince her to keep me.

In the end, there was nothing to worry about. There was a darling pair of pumps, dancing shoes if I ever saw any. Black, covered in smooth satin with a rounded toe and thick heel, a narrow strap that neatly buckled around the ankle. The smile on her face blasted like a beacon. When she finally made her way to the counter to pay, I practically jumped into the garment bag. I was going home!

The first two weeks with her were strange, to say the least. I just hung in her closet. A few times a day, she’d peek in at me, touch my fabric, sigh and smile. She lived alone. Nobody ever came over to visit. No pets, either. She was as alone as anyone could be—more alone than I thought was possible. She talked a lot, too. It was funny, entertaining. And so terribly, terribly sad.

The first story she told me was about her wedding. Well, not quite. What she said was, “I knew when I tried you on that I had to have you. The last time I was so happy and excited to be trying on a dress, it was my wedding gown.” Her face clouded over then and she shut her closet door. There were lots of other clothes in there, but no wedding gown. A few days later, I heard her talking to herself about how good it was going to feel to wear a dress again. To feel like a real lady again. To maybe, just maybe feel pretty again.

I wanted to tell her that she was more than pretty. She was a lovely young lady with a sweet soul. Pretty doesn’t even begin to cover it. But I also knew she would never believe it. Something in her had been broken, shattered and it was only carefully placed back together, not healed or even carefully glued to give it some stability. Just a fragile pile of carefully placed pieces in danger of collapsing again.

Over the next few days, I listened to her reminisce about her ex-husband. A handsome doctor who had swept her off her feet. Literally. Apparently, he was a brilliant orthopedic surgeon and he’d performed the surgery on her right knee to correct a deformity that had left her with a limp for her whole life until she’d met him. After she’d recovered from the grueling procedure, she could walk normally for the first time ever in her twenty years and she was so happy, she didn’t even mind the horrible scar that had been left behind. The day she walked her first steps with a heavy brace on her leg, she threw her arms around him and wept with relief. She was surprised when he hugged her back and even more stunned when she saw tears brimming in his eyes, too. Three months after her surgery, he saw her a follow up visit in his office and they shared their first kiss. It was a movie screen kiss and her face pinked up as she reminisced about her reaction to his lips on hers. That same day, he dropped her as a patient and three months after that, they were married. She went into her marriage believing she’d found her Prince Charming, a gallant knight on a noble steed, whisking her away into a life she’d only dreamed about.

What she hadn’t dreamed about were the long hours he worked and the time they would have to spend apart. She’d left college when she’d had her surgery, but decided to go back to school to finish her art degree and took on a job illustrating children’s books. For nearly three years, she was a devoted wife, catering to his needs, keeping his home and cooking his meals. Restlessness took over though, as she longed for something more. When she approached him about having children, his reception was lukewarm at best. They’d never discussed it before, and frankly, he liked having her all to himself.

In the end, things fell apart rather quickly. She never nagged, only quietly asked him every so often to consider her request. I’m certain that if his answer had been a simple “No” she would have managed and just found other things to occupy her time and fill her need to be needed. But the fact that only a year later, he left her for his pregnant mistress was too much to bear. Though he was generous in the divorce, leaving her with a nicely furnished and fully paid for home, as well as significant financial security, she wasn’t the same.

She was empty.

Over the course of the next two years, she gradually withdrew from her friends and lived only for her work. She had no family to speak of and contented herself with her isolated existence. To this day, I have no idea what brought her into the dress shop or why she picked me.

I hung in her closet for seven months.

Then one night, she opened the closet door, a short cotton bathrobe tied loosely around her waist and her hair swathed in a towel. She looked at me, her lips set in a tight, thin line. When she reached in for me, I thought she was going to yank me off the hanger, but she was gentle. Careful. There was something in her eyes that evening. Not a rage, exactly. Not passion, either. The only way I can describe it is a smolder. Something burning just below the surface. She draped me across the footboard on her bed and I was able to see her getting ready. I watched as she smoothed her curls, rolling them up neatly at the nape of her neck and leaving a few strands to dangle enticingly around her face. At her dressing table, with a careful and steady hand, she applied her makeup, not that she really needed any. Small flicks of eyeliner on the outer corners of her eyes, a creamy rose blush and a subtle lip gloss. Using a dark, dark mascara, she swept her eyelashes up and out, opening up her whole face.

Twice, I noticed her lips curling into a smile.

An hour or so later, she carefully slipped me over her head and arranged my fabric over her body. I fit her perfectly.

“I’m going to have fun tonight,” she whispered. “I’m going to smile and talk to people. I’m going to dance.” She only gave one glance to the scar over her knee then shrugged and turned away from the mirror.

I have no idea where exactly we went that night, but wherever it was, it was beautiful and elegant and everything a dress like me could have dreamed and hoped for…it was perfect. Big band music, freely flowing champagne, dim lights, gilt framed mirrors and heavy brocade tapestries on the walls and—I suppose I should be embarrassed to admit this—smoke. You see, where I came from, smoking was glamorous and sexy. I know it’s not and believe me, I don’t enjoy reeking of cigarettes, but it was all about setting the scene.

She didn’t smoke at all, but she enjoyed several glasses of champagne and cheerfully asked several men to dance with her. I liked the feel of their hands on me around her waist, a soft touch on her shoulder, a firm grasp on the small of her back.

During one song with a quick beat and smooth tempo, she danced her way across the smooth ballroom floor to a gentleman standing off to the side, looking awkward and shy, nursing a watered down drink. With a smile that practically beamed off her face, she danced-sashayed up to him, took his drink right out of his hand, tossed it back, swallowing it in one gulp, then set the glass on the bar, grabbed the end of his tie, and fox trotted him right out to the dance floor.

Clearly, he was a terrible dancer, but following her lead, he managed to only minimally embarrass himself. She laughed and leaned in close to him, never missing a beat as the music picked up pace. He was several inches shorter than she was, though if she hadn’t been in those delicious heels, they probably would have been close to eye-to-eye with each other. And he had the kindest eyes. A pale green with a bit of a sparkle, dancing eyes that made up for his poorly dancing and clumsy two left feet. His palms were hot and sweaty. I could feel them through my fabric when he touched her.

At the end of the song, she winked at him and turned to walk away, but in a split second decision that I’ll never understand, she whirled back, throwing her head back in a girlish laugh, then grabbed his tie again, pulling him forward into a hot, wet kiss. For a moment, he just stood there, eyes wide open as she covered his mouth with her own. It only took a second for him to respond in kind, his left arm circling around her waist and his right hand cradling the back of her neck. I could feel sweat trickling down her back as she pressed up against him.

There was so much wild abandon in that kiss, I’m sure I would have blushed a shade deeper than my own color if that had been possible.

She never wore me again after that one night, but the memories are burned into my fabric.

And I should clarify that while she never wore me again, she visits me often, always with a smile on her face, and an even bigger smile now when she shares her story of true love while holding her sweet, baby girl with the same clear green eyes as her daddy.

Excerpt: (untitled)

2011-11-18T12:44:00.003-06:00

She had chosen the black dress that she never had the chance to wear with him at their senior homecoming two years earlier. Her sister had helped her straighten her hair to perfection, though now, hours later, the ends were beginning to flip outward. Her makeup had freshly been touched up and her jewelry reflected what she was feeling on this inside.

He pulled her closer to his side, his arm wrapped loosely yet comfortably around her waist. He was dressed to perfection; his black suit currently untouched by the day’s festivities and his tie not yet tugged loose from irritation.

She placed her hand on his chest which he gently covered with his free hand and as she turned to smile at him the flash went off, capturing the moment.

Excerpt: Ti amo così tanto

2011-11-16T22:28:00.003-06:00

Jude and I were quiet on the bus ride back to her apartment, both a little sad to have sent Crockett on his way. When we arrived at her stop, we dragged my suitcase up the flights of stairs. Her number of roommates had dwindled to two, one of whom I hadn’t met yet. We made a quick introduction, but then Jude and I washed up and crawled gratefully into bed after the long day.

“Are you ready to go home?” I asked her as we lay silently in the dark.

She paused only a few seconds before saying, “Yes.”

And though it was barely louder than a whisper, it was a strong and certain word. It wasn’t “yeah” or “I guess.” It was “yes.” And I knew she meant it.

“But I’ll be ready to leave again by August,” she added. I could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “My parents will drive me crazy before the first week is out.”

“Isn’t it weird to think that we’ll go home to our parents after all this?” I mused. “It seems like I’ve been gone for years sometimes.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “It’s because of the changing.”

That’s exactly what it was. The changing. I was so far from the girl I had been when I left for Lille. And I wondered who I would be when I finally left Rome.

Excerpt: The Alabaster Jar (end of Chapter 1)

2011-11-08T12:34:00.001-06:00

I kicked off my shoes and sat down on the edge of my bed, already planning what I was going to do when I woke up in the middle of the night. Midnight laundry sounded like a good idea. I hadn’t unpacked yet, but there was no way I was going to drag myself back downstairs to get my suitcase now.

I stood back up to undo my hair and leave the pins on my dresser.

I’m not sure what came over me, but I felt a wave of sentimentality as I thought of the stinky perfume Kiki had made for me. I took the lid off of the jar and leaned in to take a sniff.

I immediately regretted my choice. The smell filled my nostrils and instantly coated the back of my throat. I felt like I could taste the very plants that had been used to make the perfume and I coughed and gasped to clear my airway.

I fell back onto my bed and everything went black.

Excerpt: Ti amo così tanto

2011-11-06T22:57:00.000-06:00

My thoughts insisted on worrying me.

What was I doing? What was there in Rome? It was madness. I should have booked a plane ticket back to the States instead of embarking on this foolish adventure.

But the truth was that I had dreamed about Italy. Not all the time, but off and on. My freshman year in college, in my first Studio Art class, the professor had showed a short, hand-shot reel of the Art in Italy Program. It featured spindly wildflowers, stone cottages, the bright Mediterranean sun and simple, modern studios for painting, drawing and printmaking. It was an idyllic presentation, and it latched onto my imagination.

I could see myself living, not in one of those small, stone cottages with faded curtains and dried wildflowers on the windowsill, but in a vaguely abandoned (or at least abandoned-feeling) villa in Tuscany, surrounded by nothing but fields of grass and endless countryside. I imagined the way my bare feet would feel on the cold, stone floors, covered in the thin film of dust and dirt from the open doors. Of course the doors would be open all night and day, the air moving restlessly through the furniture-less rooms.

I would paint large canvases in every shade of green. Green-gray, green-brown, green-blue. They would be sky and tree and ground. I would wear old linen blouses without the need for a smock, paintbrushes perched precariously on one of two ladders I would need in order to paint the top portions of the landscape.

And the music -- I couldn’t forget the music. The soft strains of a guitar, filtering through the house, somehow even less obtrusive than the summer breezes, bouncing off the stucco walls and filling the whole house and my whole head. That music, guiding the paintbrush in my hand and building the image that existed only in my mind’s eye.

In the mornings, on the weekends, I dreamt that we would ride bicycles into town, perhaps two or three miles away. We would buy simple vegetables and bread, even a little meat once in a while. We wouldn’t need much, me and the dark-haired boy who would be my musical accompaniment, my muse, my lover.

He was the one who spoke a little Italian. Not a lot, and very poorly, but he was the one who would negotiate the prices as I stood by. Now and then he would give me a new word and I would practice it as we walked our bicycles back to the villa. But the way back would be longer, we would be lazy and distracted. Perhaps we’d stop along the road and nap in the convenient shade of one of the twisted trees that I imagined the Italian countryside would surely have.

It would be sunset by the time we got back, the colored light illuminating the dust particles in the cool rooms. We would still be feeling languid, uninterested in taking up paint or song, and so we would lie down on a simple mattress with white sheets and sheer curtains hung around it from the ceiling, and we would make slow love until, exhausted, we would sleep.

I built a whole world from a five-minute home movie and a crush on the dark-haired musician in my Russian History class. It was intricate and detailed and totally unrealistic, but I would probably never be able to get it out of my head.

The only problem was that program, that dream, was in Corciano.

And I was on my way to Rome.

Fractured (end)

2011-08-31T18:29:00.003-05:00

Dee woke up, safe and sound in her bed. She had a vague sense that she had been dreaming an awful dream, but no matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn't remember a single thing from it. The gentle snores of a newborn baby drifted up from the bassinet beside her bed. She smiled brightly at the sweet babe by her side. Sitting up and stretching felt so good. But what had been in her dream?

She put the thoughts aside and slipped into her robe. She could smell the aroma of fresh coffee being brewed downstairs. Everything felt so perfect. From the kitchen, she looked out into the garden. Her husband was out there fussing over some flowers. She went to the back door, and down the porch steps to greet him.

He looked up, startled at the squeak of the screen door.

His smile spread from ear to ear and Dee couldn't help but return the grin. She felt as if she had been cooped up for so long and the beauty of this garden forgotten. For a moment, the joy filling her threatened to spill over in the form of tears--her sweet new baby, this lovely home.

"Welcome home," he said as he wrapped his arms around her. The strength and love seeped into her core, and the tears spilled as a laugh escaped her lips. She was so happy to be home.

***

Jack shifted the news camera to his shoulder and prepared the shot for the live news report about to take place. He hated these stories. The squalid shack of a home was in the background, and the field repeater lifted the microphone...

"It has been confirm by the authorities that the body of a young woman was discovered in the home you see behind me. Neighbors had complained for years of strange sounds of crying coming from this home where they all believed the man charged in this grisly crime had lived alone..."

Always...

2011-08-19T21:59:00.001-05:00

Calmly, kindly, think before you speak.

Sometimes...

2011-08-19T21:58:00.001-05:00

Biting your tongue makes it bleed.

With Love

2011-08-16T20:05:00.001-05:00

Create a beautiful life each day.

Nice Stuff (that you already own)

2011-08-15T12:38:00.001-05:00

Stop saving it, enjoy it now.

Future

2011-08-13T10:31:00.000-05:00

I no longer understand my purpose.

Daily

2011-08-12T11:58:00.000-05:00

Carving my path, step by step.

Budget

2011-08-11T10:58:00.003-05:00

I wish emotions weren't so expensive.

Working Title: "Scissors"

2011-08-10T08:12:00.001-05:00

***In Progress***

When she got to her office, she resisted the urge to shut the door behind her. She had rarely shut her door in the six years she had been there and she felt careful the past week not to do anything out of the ordinary. She shook her head to herself.

Yes, nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing like ransacking the cabinets in every kitchen on every floor until she had found what she had been looking for. She picked up the mug from her bookshelf and sat down with it at her desk. She turned it over in her hands, observing the familiar chip in the rim, the coffee stains on the bottom. She had bought it for him on one of her trips to Chicago.

”Now you can think of me every time you have your morning coffee.”

The words and the memory of his answering smile made her stomach feel full of bricks. She swallowed and swiveled the chair around to face out the windows. They took up almost the whole wall behind her desk. In the distance the Pacific Ocean stretched against the sky, vanishing in a hazy, gray line. She tried to focus on it as she let the words assemble themselves in her head.

Dear Diary.

Sad again today.

Better than yesterday though – I didn’t think about him until I brushed my teeth. But then I thought about the mirror in his bathroom and it made me cry. Sometimes it feels like I will never be happy again…

She said “Dear Diary,” but she probably should have said “Dear God.” She leaned her head back against the chair and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. The phrase “drowning in memories” was something she lived daily now. When she finally forced herself to stop remembering, it was like her head breaking through the surface of the water. She needed the extra oxygen.

“…Kim?” There was a faint knock and a girl’s voice at the door.

She turned her chair around quickly with a bright smile. It was her assistant Vanessa. “Yeah, come on in. Is it time to go over the calendars?”

Vanessa nodded and sat down on the other side of the desk. It was time to get back to work. Time to put the sadness away for a while.

Time

2011-08-09T08:57:00.001-05:00

Enjoy the days, years fly fast.

Suggested Daily Intake

2011-08-09T08:35:00.001-05:00

Let go of envy and fear.

Life

2011-08-08T21:49:00.001-05:00

Know stupid when you see it.

Victory

2011-08-07T20:16:00.001-05:00

This, too, shall fall before me.

Regret

2011-08-07T19:45:00.001-05:00

Much to ponder, nothing to regret.

Fastened

2011-08-06T20:33:00.002-05:00

Highs, lows; roller coaster of life.

Summer

2011-08-05T08:14:00.000-05:00

Wish I lived at the beach.

Waiting

2011-08-04T09:12:00.001-05:00

More ideas than time to write.

[Insert Title Here]

2011-08-03T12:03:00.007-05:00

He looked so small as he kneeled in front of her apartment. It was something she wasn’t use to, him looking small. His hair had grown just beyond its normal length, hanging just over his forehead, blowing slightly in the night wind. His face was illuminated by the nearby streetlamp, and he looked like a young boy, eager for Christmas morning.

If you had asked her a year ago, this is what she would have told you she wanted. Still, six months ago, all she wanted was promises, the promise, a ring on her finger and the rest of her future set. Tonight, at this moment however, she felt like she was going to be sick.

He pulled the small cherry wood box from out of his jacket pocket, and she struggled to swallow. The box opened slowly, revealing a rather large round diamond ring with two smaller stones on each side, and she closed her eyes, wishing she was anywhere other than where she was.

“Isabella Christianson,” he began.

She opened her eyes, unfortunately finding herself still standing outside her building. As he reached to take her hand, she took a small step backward. “Christopher,” she interrupted, but it didn’t seem to phase him.

“Isabella, I know that things have been difficult these past few months. I’ve been working longer hours than I have in the past, traveling nearly every weekend, and I know that I haven’t always been there lately when you needed me, but we’ve worked through it, Iz. We’ve been together a long time, gone through so many challenges, but here we are, still together, and I think that that honestly means something.” He tried to take her hand once more, but this time her body did not receive the message from her brain that said ‘don’t’. “Miss Christianson, you are the love of my life, and it would honor me beyond any expression that I am capable of expressing if you would spend the rest of your life with me.”

She almost choked, though she wasn’t sure if it was because of the tears forming in the corners of her eyes or her saliva that wouldn’t go down. “Christopher,” she tried again.

“Isabel.” There was a longing in his eyes that she had never seen before. He was trying to save them.

She shook her head, wishing it was a dream. “I can’t.” It came out just above a whisper.

He was immediately up on his feet, box still in hand, not more than a foot away from her. “We don’t have to get married right away,” he said, touching her face. “We can wait. I know that you’ve always wanted to - -”

“No, Chris.” She closed her eyes once again, trying to get the look on his face out of her mind. “I can’t marry you.”

His hands were gone from her. The red box magically closed and tucked back away in his jacket. “I don’t understand….”

“Chris, let me explain - -”

He held up his hand, silencing her. For a moment they stood there in the dim light of the streetlight, avoiding eye contact, not saying a word. Then, without warning, without any mutter of words, he turned and leaped into his convertible. The engine roared to life and he sped away from the curb. Down the street, he took the first turn at an alarming speed, nearly losing control, but regained his direction quickly. He flipped the radio on and up, filling the night air with rock music. In that instance, he didn’t see the delivery truck pulling out from the ally.

Anniversary

2011-08-03T10:08:00.000-05:00

We married fifteen years ago today.

Bump

2011-08-02T19:28:00.000-05:00

Nothing by halves, kneecap off track.

Purpose

2011-08-01T22:39:00.003-05:00

Born to love and see beauty.

Working Title: "Scissors"

2011-08-01T19:29:00.004-05:00

***In Progress***

She was standing in the doorway of Phil’s office, flipping through the open folder in her hands as she spoke.

“I mean it, Phil, no coffee at the end of the interviews. I know he’s gonna ask you, but you have to say no. I need him at the Met no later than six if we want to start on time.” She looked up at him and shut the folder. “I already talked to his assistant, and she has it all blocked on his calendar, but I need you to do your part.”

“All right, all right, no coffee,” Phil laughed.

“I mean it.” She said again. She had a young face, but she managed to look stern. “If he’s not there, I’m blaming you.”

Phil gave her a mock salute and a friendly, “Aye, aye, captain,” that she took good-naturedly.

They were colleagues, but they were also friends, which is why she braced herself when his teasing face became serious and he cleared his throat with a half-hearted, “Oh hey,” to transition the conversation. He reached out and put one of his hands on her arm.

“Are you, uh, doing okay?”

She smiled easily, but it was her eyes that gave her away when she said, “Yeah, Phil. I’m fine.” She put her hand over his and gave it a little squeeze. “I appreciate you asking though.”

Phil also smiled easily, but it was tinged with relief. He brightened more completely than she had, the emotion of the moment quickly passing.

“Good. Well, I’m here if you need me.” He could have meant it either way: work or personal. “I guess I’ll see you on Friday then. You’re headed over tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, two days for set-up, last-minute checks with the sound and lights, catering, staff, the loose ends. As long as you get the boss there on time, should be a great event.” She couldn’t resist one final jab, turning out of the office.

As she walked along the winding desks laid out in an open setting that was the hallmark of the communications “pen” in the building, she could feel several sets of eyes watch her as she passed. All those silent eyes asking the same question Phil had managed to say out loud.

Was she doing okay?

She passed by them almost indifferently, but as she turned toward the elevators, she almost bumped straight into Nick.

“Hey!” he greeted, half in surprise from their near collision. “What are you doing down here?”

“Keeping your boss in line, of course,” she said as they started to move past each other. It was nothing more than hallway conversation.

“Oh yeah, big day Friday, right?”

“Yup. Bringing home the bacon.” She waved over her shoulder, but kept her eyes on the elevator, reaching almost desperately for the ‘up’ button.

She could feel his eyes in a different way than the others. Nick’s eyes, with their dangerous sympathy, were like a physical touch instead of a mere look. She hadn’t known before that such a seemingly gentle emotion could be dangerous, but now she knew. Every time he looked at her since she got back, his eyes seemed to say, I can save you if you let me.

She felt a rush of guilt and pity as the elevator doors opened. She hit the number 8 and leaned against the wall.

Guilt because she wore the pain so plainly that anyone could see it apparently. She tried to put it away, at least for work. She tried to leave it at home, but somehow every morning it seemed to stow away. Popping up over emails, over lunch. The creeping, crawling grasp of the sadness and the hurt.

And then there was the pity. She pitied Nick because she knew that there was nothing he could do to save her. There was nothing anyone could do.

Fractured (middle)

2011-07-31T19:56:00.003-05:00

Dee could hear the monster making its way toward her. The flimsy door between her and it would offer no protection--it never had. She started to shake, her limbs literally trembling and her eyes stinging from unshed tears.

Normally she would cover her head, but she knew she had to shield her mid-section. She had to save the baby from the monster.

Crack.

The door gave way.

There was no way to fight the blows. There never was. All she could do was hope that she would wake up soon.

Cheating

2011-07-31T17:45:00.000-05:00

I'm behind on my writing, meaning I'm using a "cheat" during this writing session.

Ahem...

Once upon a time

a lady did sit alone

calm and not lonely

Fractured (beginning)

2011-06-30T22:12:00.001-05:00

Dee woke up with a jolt, sitting straight up with her eyes wide open and her hands automatically cradling her slightly rounded belly. It took just a moment for her to see that she was safe, and then she let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“I heard you cry out,” her husband said as he rushed into the bedroom. “Are you okay?”

Dee moved her hands to rub her arms from her elbows to the edge of the capped sleeves on her nightgown.

“I’m fine,” she told him, but the faint trace of fear in her voice was still there. She moved her hands to hold her belly once again.

“Was it the nightmare again?”

She nodded slowly. Always the same horrid nightmare with each pregnancy. She wished it wouldn’t happen, but with each baby, it seemed to get worse.

The bed dipped slightly as her husband climbed next to her and wrapped his arms around her.

“Do you want to tell me about it,” he asked quietly.

“No. Not tonight,” she whispered. He knew what it was. It was always so painfully similar—being trapped, a horrid attacker, no escape.

His arms were a soothing comfort. She felt herself relax against him, and he kissed her cheek. He held her close, but she knew she couldn’t relax enough to go back to sleep.

“I’m fine,” she reassured him.

He leaned back and brushed a stray lock of hair from the side of her face.

“I’ll make you a midnight snack,” he smiled.

She smiled back. He knew how to make her forget the horrible nightmare whenever it cropped up.

“Will it be a snack involving chocolate?”

“Has it ever not been?” he laughed.

Her smile grew. “Let me check on the girls, then I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“You’ve got it!” He popped up ahead of her and left her to check on the two sweet daughters tucked into their beds.

The Prodigal Daughter

2011-06-30T21:44:00.004-05:00

The entrance to the church was raised so that one had to step over it in order to pass through the door. It was a small, stone structure, barely more than twelve or fourteen feet wide, irregularly shaped and windowless. It dated back to the eleventh century, though it was impossible to be more specific. In addition to a simple altar there were narrow wooden benches, clearly more modern additions, and little else. To the casual observer it would have looked abandoned, but a closer look revealed it was still in use. In the corner, the only adornment besides the cross was what must have at some point been a statue, but which was now worn down to a smooth mound of gray stone. Looking closer still, one might be able to distinguish a head and body draped in robes, perhaps even a sense that it was -- or at least had been -- a statue of a woman. At her feet was a tray of candles burned to the wick, save for one that struggled on defiantly. The wax on either side of it was fresh though, evidence that prayers had been said recently.

"Why do you sneak so quietly, sister?" asked a voice in the doorway.

She turned around from her lost reverie. She hadn't even noticed she had put her hand on the statue where the shoulders had once been.

"I am not a nun, father," she answered promptly, taking her hand from the stone.

"And I am not a priest," the man said, stepping into the church.

She turned her back against the wall as he did, as if she was positioning herself defensively. It was automatic, not because he looked in any way threatening.

"Tell me then, child," continued the man, bending one knee and crossing himself before rising again. "What brings you to this remote place?"

"I may not be a nun, but I was raised by them," she answered. "I grew up at the convent no more than two miles from here."

"Ah, an orphan."

"On the contrary," she said, lifting her chin. "I was blessed with a hundred mothers."

The man nodded, but otherwise did not acknowledge her correction. "Raised by nuns and yet you did not take the veil yourself?"

"You don't know that I did not." His unintentional insult did not dispose her to be any more forthcoming.

"So you did then. And yet you are not a nun now?"

Until that point they had both remained standing, but he sat down on one of the benches. He looked at her expectantly when she was silent. At length she answered:

"Yes. As soon as my mothers would allow it, I took my vows. I was eighteen, but if they had let me I would have done it when I was sixteen. Fourteen, even."

She remembered her younger days. As a child, she had been wild and full of mischief. The mother superior would call her a godless child of godless parents. Who her parents were or where she'd come from remained a mystery save for those chastising words. Godless or not, she had been given treats of toast with fresh butter and fresh jam though the sisters of the house ate much more simply. She remembered the jam in particular. A dark currant. Thick and sweet.

Her patient mothers had indulged her youth and as she aged, she became more like them. The unruly child who could not be made to sit on the wooden benches in that very church for more than ten minutes at a time would eventually kneel for hours on the cold stone floor as testament of her devotion. Every afternoon, and all day on Sundays, the sisters would walk the dirt lane two-by-two to the chapel for prayers and reflection. Their black habits -- gray in the summer -- were like ink spills against the green and brown parchment of the hills. At the end of the line, hand-in-hand with the mother superior, the child grew into a girl and later a woman. When the mother superior had finally gone to meet her God, the girl had cried for days in the arms of her other mothers. She had wished that the rest of them would never leave her so that she would not have to know that pain again. And yet time does not stand still, nor does the hand of God.

"So what happened?" asked the man.

She clasped her hands behind her back. "I was a faithful servant of Christ for four very blessed years."

She wished the story might end there, but the man quickly prompted, "And?"

"And then I met a man who I loved more than my God." That could not be the end of the story either. "And I prayed conflicting prayers that I not be led into temptation, but that he might be. Only one of those prayers was answered though. I married him one year later."

"And do you regret it?"

She stared at the floor, the dirt in between the cracks in the stone. She had not looked at the man since he had entered, but she did then. She looked at his young-ish face, the lines around his mouth, his hands set flat against the seat of the bench he sat on.

"No." It might have been a whisper had the stone not echoed and enlarged it. "No, I do not regret it."

Several more moments of silence passed before the man again spoke. "So then what happened?"

She shrugged. "We moved far away from here. We had three children. Our lives were full and happy."

"And now?"

"Now the children are grown."

"And did you never come back?"

"I never did until today. I was too ashamed of having broken my promise -- as much a promise made to my mothers as it was made to God."

"But you are back now." It was an observation, not a question.

"Yes. They are going to close the convent, you know. Or you would know, if you were from this region."

"And what will happen to your mothers?"

"Nothing."

The man looked puzzled, but she moved toward the door calmly.

"Nothing?" he insisted. "You have just come for one final goodbye then?"

"No. I have bought the convent. They will continue on as they always have. And I have finally come home."

Untitled 1: Part 15

2011-06-27T19:53:00.000-05:00

Dennis Cox sat across from Eileen and Ryan with his arms folded tightly across his chest, his mouth set in a grim line. Ryan kept a steady gaze on the older gentleman’s face. “Tell me again how it was that you found Karen.”

Dennis groaned. “I’ve already told you. I told you the day you and your partner came over when I found Karen. And I’ve told you three more times just since you brought me here. Which, by the way, I don’t appreciate. You and me could’ve had a plenty nice talk at my house. Instead, you two had to go and make a big spectacle by coming over and telling me I needed to come down here. Pointing your incompetent detectives’ fingers at me don’t change anything. My story isn’t changing because there’s nothing to change. I already told you mister and miss detective, I don’t know nothing about what happened to Karen.”

“Of course not,” said Ryan, a wry smile twisting the corners of his mouth. “You don’t know anything at all about Karen.” He slid a gruesome close-up of Karen’s dead face to the stoic man. “Or Justine.” Another photo. “Or Denise.” Ryan paused before slapping the close-up of the dead girl’s slashed throat on the table in front of Dennis, who took a cursory glance and shrugged.

“Mister detective, if you think those pictures are going to bother me, you’re pretty mistaken. I’ve seen more dead bodies than you have, trust me. And they weren’t pretty bodies dressed up in some morgue, all nice and clean. I walked through the trenches of hell in Nam, felt the blood of my friends and enemies, saw heads blown open, tripped with my own two feet on the intestines of some poor bastard who’d been digesting his dinner not a minute before. I’ve heard grown men screaming for their mommas, screaming to live, screaming to die. What you’re doing here is nothing.”

Eileen chewed on the inside of her cheek, barely noticing the taste of blood in her mouth where she bit a little too deep. It seemed impossible that Cox could be so unaffected, so completely unperturbed by the grisly photos, no matter what he had seen in battle. Unless he really was a complete sociopath. Or unless…unless he really didn’t know anything. She shook away the thought. No. They had the right guy. They did. All the signs and clues pointed to one person, and he was sitting across from her right now.

So why was she feeling that nagging doubt?

Dennis Cox had barely moved since they all sat down. Ryan was getting frustrated with their lack of progress and it was evident in his tone of voice. “Look Cox. You’re the only one who had easy access to Karen’s apartment. You knew she was going to be out of town and that nobody would be looking for her. Just tell us what happened. Were the two of you involved? Or maybe you wanted to be involved with her and she wasn’t interested? Maybe you were jealous that she was taking a trip and leaving you behind? Did you think she was seeing another man?”

The man’s gray eyebrows rose so high they were almost into his thinning hair. “You kidding me mister detective? Me and Karen?” He laughed and slapped his knee. “You police got nothing better to do than come up with crazy stories about old men and pretty girls. Karen was my tenant. My tenant. Was she pretty enough that I noticed? Yes. Did I ever do anything forward with her? No. Never. Not even once. She was quiet. She kept to herself and she paid her rent. That’s it. That’s all.” He sat back defiantly, crossing his arms again, keeping his expression neutral. He was unflappable.

Ryan stood. “Tell you what Mr. Cox. You sit back for a while, think again, think long and hard about what happened when you found Karen. Then think long and hard about what happened before you found Karen. My partner and I will be back shortly.”

“You sure will,” Dennis replied. “You’ll be back shortly and you’ll be letting me out of this room because you can’t keep holding me here. Face it, buddy. You had something to pin on me, you would’ve charged me already and you haven’t. You’re on a fishing expedition and we both know it. Trouble is, mister detective, you’re fishing in the wrong pond. I. Don’t. Know. What. Happened. To. Karen.”

Ryan stomped out of the room, Eileen following behind with butterflies in her stomach. Something wasn’t right. “Ryan, maybe he’s telling the truth.”

Ryan shook his head. “I don’t think so. Everything points to him. He’s the only one who had access to Karen’s body before we got there. I don’t see any other explanation at this point. It had to be someone who knew her, knew the layout of the place and knew her schedule. Karen didn’t have a boyfriend and no family to speak of. She was a loner. It made her an easy target."

“Okay,” said Eileen hesitantly. “I agree with you to a point. I mean, I’m the one who put all that together to start with, but even if he did kill Karen, what about the others? We haven’t been able to find any kind of connection.”

“Maybe not,” Ryan concurred. “But that doesn’t mean there’s not a connection there.”

“I still don’t know, Ryan. Even if he did kill Karen in a fit of rage or a lover’s spat or something, it doesn’t explain the others. What could his reasoning possibly be?”

“Do wackos have to have a reason? Do they ever? Let’s be real, Lee-Lee. Sometimes, people are nasty and evil just because. But let’s say he wanted Karen in a really bad way. Pretty young thing, nothing tying her down, he’s older, single, lonely. It would have been an ideal situation if she’d been the least bit interested. Hell, maybe she was interested. Maybe they tried to get it on, but he couldn’t get it up and she laughed at him, so he killed her.”

Eileen chewed on a hangnail. “That’s plausible, I suppose. I mean, in each case, there was evidence of attempted rape. In Justine’s case, we got a nice sample right off her leg since whoever it was couldn’t hold it long enough. Maybe she didn’t laugh at him because he couldn’t get it up. Maybe she laughed at him because he couldn’t get it to stay up.”

“See? Now you’re speaking my language, Lee-Lee. We know this guy had something to do with it. Maybe he killed Karen, then tried to go out and hook up with someone else with the same results. Nobody likes being laughed at in the bedroom.”

Eileen’s mind quickly turned to Mike and his prowess in bed. There was nothing to laugh at there. She gave Ryan an impish grin. “I would agree. Bedrooms are not for laughing. But back to the topic at hand. What do we do next? Dear Mr. Cox is right. We can’t hold him much longer. We either need a confession, which I don’t think we’re going to get, or we need something more solid to go on and charge him with at least Karen’s death. If we can nail him on that one, maybe it’ll buy us enough time to nail him on the others.”

* * *

Untitled 1: Part 14

2011-01-17T13:19:00.001-06:00

The next morning, Eileen woke to the sound of Mike’s soft snoring. She was cuddled against his back, enjoying the skin to skin contact when her cell phone rang. Fumbling for her purse, she caught it on the third ring, but Mike was already stirring.

He tried to stifle his loud yawn so Eileen could hear whoever it was on the other end.

“Eileen, it’s Ryan. Listen, I know it’s early, but I wanted to let you know that we got that fax from the security company.”

“And?” she asked impatiently, pulling the sheet up under her arms to conceal her nakedness, as if Ryan could see her through the phone. “What did it say?”

“There was some activity that morning.”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘activity’? Like something triggered the silent alarm and they didn’t call me to check it out? Our activity like just something a little funky and out of the ordinary?”

“It would be the latter. Hang on a sec.” She could hear him ordering coffee somewhere, apparently at a drive-through, given the static she could hear in the other person’s voice.

“Hello? Ryan? Priorities please. You can’t drop a bomb like that and then stop so you can order coffee. What kind of activity are we talking about?”

Mike was watching her intently as she waited for Ryan’s response. She playfully slapped at him when he tugged the sheet down and let his hands roam over her sleep-warm skin.

“The alarm was never triggered, but someone did turn off the alarm and then turn it back on, all within less than sixty seconds. It happened at five-eleven yesterday morning.”

Eileen swallowed hard, trying to ignore Mike’s warm hands and teasing caresses. “So whoever did it knows the security code. How did he get that information? I have the code, you and Mike have the code, and the security company has the code. Mike didn’t even have the code until yesterday after everything went down. Hell, I didn’t even give the code to Scotty because when he’s home, we’re always together. I suppose he may know it from watching me punch it in, but he’s all the way up in Lake Zurich. So who the hell was it?”

“I don’t know, babe. Trevor said they dusted the keypad, but they didn’t come up with anything. And the partial print didn’t match anything in the database. But we’ll get it figured out. I know we will.”

“Okay. Thanks for the info. I’ll see you later.”

“Do you want me to swing by and pick you up on my way in?”

“No, I think I’ll be fine driving myself today. I’m feeling better. And if I’m not sure later, I can have Mike drive me.”

“I’m glad he stayed with you. He’s a good guy.”

She looked over at his sleepy face and ran her fingertips over his stubbled jaw. “Yeah, he is. I’ll see you later.”

They both hung up and she tossed the cell phone back into her purse.

“Sorry that woke you up. I tried to grab it right away.”

“No problem,” he answered, reaching to pull her back under the covers. “Do you have to get up yet?”

“Pretty soon,” she said, glancing at the clock. “I can be lazy for a little bit longer. Maybe ten minutes.”

“Good. Now come lay by me.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Snuggling against him, her cheek on his shoulder, she was silently chiding herself for trying to get rid of him the previous evening. His hands continued to roam over her body and little shivers went up and down her spine.

“You cold?” he asked, continuing to trace her back.

“No. Just…mmmm…feels good.”

“How good?” Hungry eyes were taking her in and she felt herself melting under his touch.

“Very good. Very, very good.” Little sighs were coming from her as he moved on top of her, kissing her neck and collarbone, sweeping his chest over hers. Her arms had already made their way around his neck and she guided his lips further down, shivering with delight as he kissed each of her breasts in turn, sucking on the puckered pink nipples until they stood out like pencil erasers. When she thought she couldn’t take it for even another second, he nudged her thighs apart with his knee. She opened herself to him and he sank deep into her, both of them emitting small moans of pleasure.

Afterward, he continued to hold her, and though she knew she needed to get up for work, she let herself linger in his secure embrace for a little longer. The thought of having to get up was not pleasant, made even less so by the information that Ryan had given her earlier. Finally, knowing she had to get up or be late, she disentangled herself from Mike, giving him a quick kiss as she did so.

“Any big plans for today, Mr. O’Brien?”

“Not really. I’m not sure what to do with myself. I’m so used to being on the go, working, working, working, that I don’t know what to do with this down time. I suppose there’s no way I could convince you to stay home? Take some vacation time with me?”

“Nope. It’s this sense of obligation. I have to see this thing through. Anything less than that, and I wouldn’t be able to respect myself.” She grabbed a simple pair of khaki slacks and an olive green blouse from her closet, tossing them over the footboard of the bed. “Why don’t you go back to sleep? I’ve got to take a shower, then I’m going to grab some coffee and head out of here.”

“Are you kidding? I can’t go back to sleep. Do you want breakfast? I can make something for you.”

“That’s sweet, but no. I’m running really late. If you could start coffee, though, that would be great.”

Mike watched her hurry to the bathroom and heard the water start a minute later. He got up and went into the kitchen, wanting to make sure the coffee would be ready by the time she had to leave. He measured out the coffee grounds, adding some extra to make it good and strong the way Eileen liked it. In no time, the kitchen was filled with the scent of the aromatic brew. As an afterthought, he put a whole-grain English muffin into the toaster, figuring she could eat it on her way into work. He knew she needed to keep up her strength. The shower was turned off a minute later, and he could hear Eileen puttering around in her room, getting dressed. She emerged less than five minutes later, looking relaxed and refreshed.

The blouse brought out the green in her eyes, and she had worn her dark hair in loose waves around her face. She looked more like she was getting ready to pose for a magazine shoot than to go to work. She would have been even prettier if she’d been smiling a little more.

“What’s wrong kiddo? You look like you just found a dead fly in your coffee,” he said as he handed her a steaming mug. “Which, by the way, there isn’t. I cleared out all dead bugs before I poured it.”

She smiled at him, taking a generous swallow before setting the mug on the kitchen table. “No bugs. I just can’t find my shoes.”

“Which shoes are you looking for?”

“The brown loafers. I wore them a few days ago. Last Friday, I think. I was sure I had left them in the bedroom, but they’re not there.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “They could be hiding behind the socks I’ve been leaving under your bed.”

“No, I checked there. And there aren’t that many socks,” she said, smiling at him. “And even if there were, I wouldn’t complain. I wouldn’t pick them up and wash them for you, but I wouldn’t complain about them, either. It doesn’t really matter, I guess. I have a pair of beige Skechers that I can wear. They’ll probably be more comfortable anyway.” The shoes were by the back door and she slipped her feet into them as she grabbed her purse and coffee. “I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you tonight. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Wait,” Mike called out as she headed out the door. He grabbed the English muffin and wrapped it in a paper towel before handing it to her with an apple. They were standing on the back patio. “I didn’t want you to go to work with an empty stomach.”

She was touched by his thoughtfulness and gave him another kiss. “That’s so sweet. Thank you. Now I’ll have a full belly and I’ll be able to concentrate. And it’s all because you’re so great.”

“I am pretty great.” He pinched her cheeks and kissed the tip of her nose. “Have a good day at work. I’ll be here. I might run out later to do some errands, but other than that, I’ll be here.”

She waved to him from the garage, and he stood watching her, feeling grateful and lucky that they’d found each other when they had. He knew it had to be hard on her to rely on him for anything, but he liked being needed, and even if Eileen didn’t want to admit it, she needed protecting right now. And Mike wanted to be the one to protect her. And to take care of her. Forever. Or at least as long as she would let him.

He turned and went back into the house, thinking about what he could do to keep busy. Figuring he was going to have a lot of time to kill, he decided to get things ready for dinner. He’d purchased a large turkey breast at the grocery store the previous afternoon, and settled on putting it in Eileen’s crock pot and making it with pecan cherry stuffing and Brussels sprouts. It was his plan to wine and dine her, then take her out somewhere for dessert. Maybe they could splurge and go to Ghirardelli’s for ice-cream. The weather was supposed to be decent and it shouldn’t be too crowded downtown on a weeknight. It would be nice to get her away, even if it was only for a couple of hours. As he busied himself in the kitchen with the preparation of the meal, he had no idea just how badly Eileen would need to get away.

* * *
Eileen was just pulling into the parking lot, still humming to herself, happy and feeling good, when she saw Ryan sitting on the steps outside waiting for her. Not liking the look on his face, she gathered her things and approached him.

“Ryan? What’s up?”

“Lee-Lee, we have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“Another body. It matches. Our guy is getting more brazen. And more violent. This is murder number five. There was more time between them before, but we recovered the body of the woman with the missing leg yesterday morning, and we’ve already got another one. He left a note saying we should get ready for another one Thursday night. Bastard’s giving us a time limit. He’s planning on showing us up, playing this damn cat and mouse game.” He was chewing on his thumbnail and remained silent for several minutes before he realized that Eileen was glaring at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You didn’t tell me that you’d found the other body.”

“Sorry. I didn’t want to say anything yesterday.”

She was angry and not afraid to show it. “Bullshit. I’m still your partner and like it or not, we’re working together. You don’t get to pick and choose what information you’re going to share with me about our cases. Especially when it directly involves me. You know I hate being kept in the dark.”

He threw up his hands in defeat. “I know, I know. I should have told you. I just thought it might be too much to handle with everything that had already happened. And if you’re pissed now, you’re going to be even more pissed off in another two minutes.”

Eileen looked at him expectantly, chewing the inside of her left cheek. Ryan could see that her nostrils were flaring and was regretting not telling her sooner. “Well?” she demanded. “What else haven’t you told me?”

“The girl we found yesterday? Well, you already know that one of her legs was missing. What I didn’t tell you is that on her other leg, she was wearing a shoe.”

“What the hell difference does it make that she was wearing a shoe? Just because the leg left on my couch was barefoot?”

“No.” Ryan looked down at his own shoes. “She was wearing one of your shoes.”

“Excuse me? What do you mean she was wearing one of my shoes? How do you know it was mine? And where…” Her voice trailed off as Ryan looked up at her and met her gaze. She sat down heavily next to him on the concrete steps. “It was a brown loafer, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. The ones you wear all the time. It still had the heel cup inside and the small line of black ink on the side of it.”

Eileen remembered the stain. She had been reaching down to scratch her ankle one day, but she was holding an uncapped Sharpie and had gotten a small stain on the side of the shoe. And she needed the heel cups because the inside of the shoes were wearing out and getting uncomfortable.

She looked at Ryan for a minute, unsure of what to say. What could she say? “Did you find the other shoe?”

“No,” he said shaking his head. “There was only the one. I don’t know where the other one is at. Presumably, our guy still has it. We haven’t released that little nugget of information to the press, just like we haven’t released the info about the carvings on the girls’ feet. We don’t want to set off a string of copycats, or worse, make our guy resort to something else.”

“I doubt that he would. He seems to be enjoying this game too much.” She was pinching the skin between her eyebrows, trying to fend off the headache that was building there. “So what am I supposed to do? You realize this puts a different spin on things. Whoever this creep is, he got into my house, left a leg as a present, and managed to get into my bedroom and steal my shoes.”

“Wait, what do you mean he got into your bedroom?”

“Those shoes. The last place I saw them was in front of my dresser last Friday. That’s when I wore them last. That means he got into my bedroom without me waking up. How could he do that? How could I sleep through that?”

“Honey, I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t go in while you were there.” He was grasping at straws and he knew it. This guy was playing a dangerous game. “We’re going to catch him, okay? I swear we will.”

“Are we?” she asked. “Because I’m starting to have my doubts.” She got up and brushed off the back of her slacks. “I feel like a prisoner. Worse, really. I feel like a mouse stuck in one of those little glue traps. Am I going to have to chew off my foot to get myself out of this situation?”

“No,” Ryan said. “And that was not a funny joke. Don’t talk about severed body parts, okay?”

Eileen hadn’t even realized what she’d said. “Oh that was gross, wasn’t it? I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that I’m feeling so trapped, like there’s no way out. It’s affecting everything, you know?”

“I can’t even imagine what kind of impact it’s having on you. I wish I could make it better.”

“Me too,” she said. “But all we can do is to keep doing what we’ve been doing. And sitting out here isn’t getting anything done, so let’s get to work.”

Ryan, still disturbed by the whole situation, ventured to ask her something that had been weighing on his mind for weeks. “Eileen, can you think of anyone who would want to hurt you? Someone who you may have inadvertently ticked off? Or maybe even a perp from an old case? Someone who you pissed off and vowed to get revenge?”

“Not that I can think of. And trust me, I’ve been racking my brain, trying to come up with something, some reason why this guy has seemed to take a personal interest in me. I don’t get it. I don’t have any enemies. I’m too busy to be going around making enemies. And until the past few weeks, I wasn’t going out and doing anything. All my free time was devoted to Scotty. It’s only been recently that Mike and I have been spending more time together.”

“Eileen, I hate to even ask this, but could it have anything to do with your relationship with Mike?”

“I doubt it. Nothing happened between us until after we found the second body. We found that one with the letter, and then there was that whole incident with the bees. There was nothing going on between us before then. And the letter didn’t seem to indicate…”

A perturbed look crossed over her face and Ryan immediately saw it. “What’s up? I can practically see the wheels turning in your head.”

“I just thought of something. Where is that letter that was found with the second girl?”

“Probably wrapped up with the other evidence. We’ve got pictures of it, though. There’s probably at least one in the file.”

She grabbed Ryan’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “Come with me. Do you think there’s a picture that’s clear enough that we can read what the letter said?”

“Probably,” he replied, holding the heavy glass door open for her. “Why? What are you on to?”
“Maybe nothing. Maybe something. Let’s just take a look at it first.”

Five minutes later, they were at Ryan’s desk, poring over the files. “Here,” he said, handing her a photograph. “It’s a little blurry, but you can make out most of it.”

Eileen took it from him and stared at the words. “I knew it!” she crowed.

Ryan was taken aback by her enthusiastic response. “You knew what? What are you seeing?”

“Look. See here? It says, I will stop you, before you stop me. Just like I stopped these other whores.”

“So? What does that have to do with anything?”

“We missed it the first time, Ryan. We found this body second. We found Justine first and Karen second. In the letter, it says whores. It’s plural. Karen had been dead longer, but we found her second. He knew we found Justine first. He had to have gone back to put the letter there. Or,” her eyes widened as a new thought crossed her mind, “maybe he was there while we were investigating. Harvey found the note when he was doing the preliminary exam at the scene. Who had access to the body before him?"

“The landlord!” Ryan shouted.

“Yes, the landlord. He was the one who found her. Isn’t that convenient? He was the only one alone with that body before the police and paramedics arrived.”

“True,” Ryan said. “That’s very true. But isn’t it also possible that the killer was keeping an eye on us and knew we’d found Justine first? Maybe he just went back and left the note.”

Eileen shook her head. “Too risky. There’s no way some stranger would have known that she was planning on going on vacation and that the downstairs apartment was vacant. He had to know that nobody was going to be expecting her at work and that it would be safe to come back. He wouldn’t have wanted to risk being seen. And who could easily be on the property without raising any suspicion at all?”

Ryan nodded. “We’re back to the landlord. I’ll be damned.” He shook his head in disbelief. “But that doesn’t explain where you fit into all of this.”

“Maybe not. He’s obviously a sicko. And I’m the one who gave the statement to the press, so maybe he was just trying to engage me in his twisted little game.” She exhaled forcefully, suddenly feeling lighter than she had since this whole thing started. “It worked, didn’t it? He got me totally wrapped up, playing right into everything.”

“Could be, could be.” Ryan was stroking his chin. “Well, little lady, I guess we’d better get to work. I’ll see about getting a search warrant and we’ll bring him in for questioning.”

Eileen wanted to jump up and sing. The nightmare was almost over.

Untitled I: Part 13

2010-11-07T16:23:00.002-06:00

Eileen was lying on her bed, face buried in her pillow, when Mike came into the room.

“Hanging in there?” he asked, lightly rubbing her back.

“I don’t know. This whole thing is so surreal. Someone came into my house. Someone who wasn’t invited.” She shuddered. “Someone who wants to hurt me. Someone who’s already hurt other women and tried to hurt me once before. What am I supposed to do? I don’t think I can keep going on like this. I’m tough, but not that tough. My home is supposed to be my sanctuary, and now it’s been invaded.”

Mike sat on the edge of the bed and she scooted over, laying her head in his lap. He stroked her hair. “I’m going to help you through this.”

“I don’t want anyone to help me though this. I want to catch this guy and just get him the hell out of my life.”

“You can’t do it alone.”

“I know that,” she said angrily, sitting up. “I know I can’t do it alone. And I hate it.” She lunged off the bed and stood in front of her bureau. Grabbing a hairbrush, she yanked out her ponytail and began brushing her hair with savage strokes. “I’m not going to be a prisoner. I’ve got to get my day started.” She disappeared into her closet, emerging a minute later with a light gray skirt and short sleeved pink blouse draped over her arm. She tossed them onto the bed and dug through her drawers looking for a clean pair of nylons. She found a pair and tossed them on the bed with her clothes, then dug into another drawer and pulled out a pink satin bra.

She grinned over her shoulder at him as she kicked off the sweatpants. “I thought I’d keep up with the color you chose.” Mike couldn’t help but stare when she took off her sweatshirt, revealing her high, firm breasts. She snapped on the bra then wiggled into her pantyhose. “I swear, a man must have invented these things. A woman wouldn’t do this to one of her own.”

Five minutes later, she was dressed and ready to go. Her dark hair was pulled up into a black barrette and she had dotted some concealer under her eyes, applied a hint of blush and finished it off with a light dusting of face powder. She swept a sheer rosy gloss over her lips as she slipped her feet into a pair of black loafers.

“How do I look?” she asked, striking a pose.

“Honestly? You look like you just spent a week at a spa. How do women do that?”

“Makeup. A little concealer can go a long way.” She put on her holster, checked her gun, then grabbed a black blazer that was draped over the bed post. “I’m ready to go. Want to walk me out to my car?”

“You’re going to leave while the guys are still here?”

“Yeah. There’s nothing else I can do right now. I’m going to start my day and carry on like I always do. The earlier I start, the earlier I can get home and clean up the mess from the investigation.”

“Eileen, let me drive you to work. I don’t want you off by yourself today.”

“I won’t be by myself. Ryan will be with me. And you’ll be here when I get home, right?” She looked at him expectantly.

“If you want me here when you get home, I’ll be here. But I’d prefer it if you would stay with me all day. I really don’t want you to go to work today.” He slid his arms around her waist, looking at their reflection in her dresser mirror. She was putting on a pair of diamond studs and he could see that her hands were shaking. He grasped them in his own, feeling how cold they were. “Eileen, it may not be the worst thing in the world to take some time off. You never take time off and this would be a perfect opportunity. I’ve got a load of vacation time accrued. I never really wanted to take time off before. I didn’t have a reason. I’d go visit my folks every now and then, but that’s it. Taking time off just meant being home alone, thinking about the past. I’m beyond that now. Let’s get out of here, huh? We’ll take Scott and we’ll go somewhere. We can go to the Dells. Hell, let’s take a cruise or go to Disney World. If you’re worried about money, don’t. I’ve got more saved than I know what to do with and nothing would make me happier than spending it on you. Let’s just get out of here. Please.”

Eileen turned to face him and carefully rested her cheek on his shoulder, not wanting to smear makeup on him. “Mike, I’m not going anywhere. Your offer is incredibly sweet and one I will definitely take you up on somewhere down the road, especially since I’ve never been on a real vacation.” She smiled up at him and gave him a soft kiss on his lips. “Going away with you would be heaven for me, but I can’t run away from this. I appreciate what you’re trying to do and it’s sweet that you want to protect me. The thing is, I’m not going to feel safe until this guy is caught. You could whisk me halfway around the world, but if this guy can get into my house while I’m home, he can find me anywhere. At least if I’m here, I have a home field advantage.”

“Eileen, I just need you to be okay. Let me help you with this.”

Pulling back, she looked him square in the eyes. “You are helping. Just being here with me helps.” She hesitated, obviously wanting to say more, but having difficulty with it. “Mike, I don’t like admitting that I’m afraid, okay? But I am. I am really afraid. I don’t want to leave, but I don’t want to be here alone, either. Will you stay with me for a while? Just until things blow over?”

“I’ll stay for however long you want me to. I can arrange my schedule so that I’m here every night. I’ve got the most seniority at the station, and even with Rodriguez out with his busted leg, I know I can work it out. I want to be here with you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, kissing him again.

Mike pulled away from her, grasping her hands hard in his own. “Baby, there’s one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I think that you should keep Scott away from here for a while. I know it kills you not to see him on the weekends, but maybe we can go up there instead of him coming here. I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to get caught up in this.”

She sighed, obviously upset, but knew he was right. “We’ll talk about it, okay? Deep down, I know you’re right. I’m also guessing that Ryan put you up this. He loves Scotty and he has the advantage of being at least a little removed from the situation. Sometimes he can think a little more clearly than I can, but I’m the first to admit that I’m not always very receptive to his suggestions.”

Mike felt relieved that she was going to at least consider it. “So you’re not mad?”

“No, not at all. I mean, I’m mad at the situation, but not mad at you or anyone else. Just pissed off that this asshole is dictating how I get to live my life.” Picking up her purse from the floor, she rummaged through it, making sure she had everything. “I’m ready to go. I know you offered to drive me to work, and I said I was going to drive myself, but maybe I shouldn’t be alone this morning. Ryan’s already here so I’ll just go with him. We’ll have to stop off at his place so he can change, but then we’ll be on our way. I have a meeting at ten-thirty and I have to be at the courthouse at two to testify on a case. Plus, anything else that comes up during my shift. A detective’s work is never done, you know? Anyway, I’ll have Ryan drive me home. I should be back around six-thirty tonight.” She playfully punched his arm. “You can stick around if you’d like. Hang out. Watch television, do whatever. But have dinner ready for me when I get back.”

He kissed her, slow and deep, tasting her strawberry lip gloss. “I’ll have dinner ready for you. And dessert, too.”

“I can hardly wait.” She gave him another quick kiss. “See you tonight.”

“I’ll be here.”

He watched her walk out of the room, still concerned for her safety. He knew she was a big girl, capable of handling her own problems, but for the first time in a very long time, he felt his protective side emerging. Nothing would make him happier than taking her away from this nightmare, but he respected her feelings. And even though he didn’t want to admit it, she was right about having a home field advantage. He had a better idea now of what they were working with and there was no way he was going to let anyone get that close to hurting her ever again. He’d lost his wife to a monster that he couldn’t stop. He wasn’t about to lose another person that he loved.
* * *

After being assured that the investigative team was going to be there for a while, Mike drove to his apartment and packed some clothes and toiletries that he thought he might need. Anything he didn’t have could be bought later. He’d also called the station and talked to his boss, Dave Helm. Word of what had happened to Eileen had traveled fast, and all the guys were genuinely concerned for her safety. Mike explained the situation and casually informed him of his relationship with Eileen.

Mike could hear Dave laughing on the other end. “Mike, everybody knows you and Eileen are together. You two do a pretty decent job of trying to hide it, but there are some pretty obvious signs that you’re involved with her. Like the fact that you get all googly-eyed which, by the way, is very unmanly, but kind of cute. It’s none of my business, I know, but I’m happy for you. And happy for her, too. Listen, just do what you have to do. We’ll make do here.”

“Thanks for understanding,” Mike said, sincere with his words.

“It’s no problem. Really. I’m glad you’re taking some time off. I wish it was under better circumstances, but it’s still good to get away for a while. Besides, if you were trying to work with all this going on, it would take a toll on you. The last thing we need is you burning out or being so distracted that you make a mistake. The department needs you too much. Take whatever time you need. Just keep me posted, okay?”

“You know I will. And thanks again.”

“No prob. Take care and I’ll talk to you soon.”

They both hung up and Mike did a quick survey of his apartment. He didn’t think there was anything else he needed to do. Grabbing his bag off the couch and the picture he’d purchased for Eileen weeks earlier, he headed out. As he locked the deadbolt behind him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was going to happen. Something big. And bad. He shuddered, just praying that he would be around to protect Eileen from whatever it was.

He got back to Eileen’s house at eleven-thirty, just as the guys were wrapping up. His heart sank when he saw mess in the living room. There was fingerprint dust on everything. Trevor gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry about this. We wanted to be thorough.”

“Did it pay off?”

“Not really. We couldn’t find anything inside. Not a hair, not a fingerprint. And trust me, we looked. We dusted for prints on every surface in this house. We did a visual sweep of the attic and basement, too, but we came up empty-handed. We got a partial print from the wrapping on the newspaper. That was a good find, by the way, and it was thanks to you remembering that you didn’t bring in the paper. We’ll see if we can match it to anything in the database, but it’s pretty unlikely. Worth a shot, though. And the security company is supposed to be faxing over a report to us at some point. They need to get Riley’s signature on some form authorizing them to release the information. We did find something outside, though.”

Mike was immediately hopeful. “Something you can use?”

Trevor looked pained. “We’re not sure yet. We found a dark, wet spot on the bricks of Eileen’s patio. I didn’t want to believe it when I saw it, because it was too gross to think about.”

“What was it?”

“It was, um…it appeared to be some kind of body fluid.”

Mike shrugged. “Okay, body fluid. What’s so gross about that? Did the guy take a dump out there or something?”

Trevor looked down. “Not quite. Honestly, it looked like bloody ejaculate. It was partially dried, but the appearance was consistent with that substance. The lab guy got a sample and is bringing it in to test it. If we’re lucky, and that’s really what it is, we can probably get a DNA sample from it. It’s only going to be helpful if it belongs to our guy.”

“Who else would it belong to? Is there some other pervert who would jack off in Eileen’s yard?”

“Well, probably not. But the blood is concerning. I’m guessing it’s not our guy’s blood.”

“Whose blood do you think it is?”

“Look Mike, I know Ryan told you about Matt Tucker. We think it may be from Matt.”

Mike was incredulous. “You think Matt was jacking off in Eileen’s yard and the perp cut him there? That's nasty.”

Trevor shook his head. “No, that’s not what I think. I think maybe Matt was forced into doing it in order to leave something that could be viewed as evidence that would throw us off for a while. Or the perp was jacking off and Matt surprised him. Something must have gone wrong, though. Why would this bastard leave Matt’s body so close to the scene? You’d think he would have taken him somewhere else. He had the squad, so nobody would have suspected anything.” He shrugged and rubbed his eyes. “Who knows? Why do people do anything?”

Mike felt bad for the veteran detective. He was obviously frustrated and tired. “So, what happens now?”

Trevor rolled his shoulders and turned his head side to side, trying to ease out the tension that had been building all morning. “We wait on the DNA and then take it from there. We were originally treating this as a breaking and entering, but with a human leg on the couch and what happened to Matt, we’re treating it as a homicide investigation. A double homicide, really. Speaking of which, I’ve got to go. I’m the lucky one to pay a visit to Mrs. Tucker. Shit. I hate having to break bad news.”

Mike’s heart went out to him. “I guess it’s a job hazard.”

Trevor nodded. “Yeah, yeah it is. I can handle it when it’s just part of the job, some random victim that becomes part of my day. But this is different.” His eyes watered briefly as he tried to compose himself. “Matt was just a kid, got married a few months ago. His wife’s going to be devastated. And she knows something’s up. She’s been calling around looking for him. He was supposed to be home at nine this morning. I’m going to head over there now.” He sighed heavily, obviously not wanting to do it. “I better go. Call if you need anything. And tell Eileen the same.”

“You know I will. Take care.”

Mike watched as they all left, feeling grateful that Eileen was okay. They had averted disaster this time around. He could only pray that they would continue to be so lucky. When everyone had cleared out, he went into the kitchen and sat down at the table, closing his eyes. What a morning. Getting up, he rummaged in the refrigerator, pulling out some leftovers for lunch. He had just sat back down to eat when the phone rang. He checked the caller ID and saw Eileen’s cell phone number.
He answered immediately. “Eileen?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Trevor just called and said that the guys are finished. How bad is it?”

Mike looked at the kitchen and down the hall past the dining room into the living room. It was filthy. “Not so bad,” he said.

Relief was evident in her voice. “Good. I was afraid I was going to have to spend the next three days trying to get it cleaned up. I just wanted to check in, see how things were going.”

“Everything is fine. Really. Don’t worry about things here, I’ve honestly got it under control.”

“I believe you. Listen, I was wondering if you’d be willing to do something for me this afternoon.”

“Sure, just name it.”

“Will you run out to the grocery store for me? There’s money in a shot glass that I keep in the cookie jar next to the stove. There’s a spare key in there, too. It’s only for the deadbolt for the back door, but you can set the alarm, too.”

Mike peeked inside and sure enough, it was there. He grabbed the key, but put the lid back on the jar without taking the money. “What do you want me to get?”

“Just some odds and ends. Some fruit and vegetables, some milk. I’ve got meat in the freezer and a ton of stuff in the pantry. I just started thinking that this creep was in my house, and the thought that he may have touched something that was open is making me feel sick.”

Mike, remembering the leftovers he was going to eat, suddenly lost his appetite. “That’s a good idea. I hadn’t even thought about that. I’ll take care of it, don’t worry, okay?”

“I’m trying not to. It was stupid for me to come into work today. I can’t concentrate at all. I’m going to grab lunch with Ryan now and then I have some files to go through before I head to the courthouse to testify. I may actually head out early today. I’m not much use to anybody right now.”

“Whatever you want to do, Eileen. I’ll be here. Do me a favor and give me a call when you’re on your way, okay? I’ll have food ready when you get home.”

“Sounds good. I can hardly wait. I was planning on being late today, but that idea has been pushed to the outer recesses of my brain. I’m going to try to get back there by five. Oh and before I forget, here’s the code for the alarm.” She rattled off a series of numbers, which Mike jotted down on a piece of paper that was next to the phone. He repeated the numbers back to her to make sure he got them right.

“That’s it. I have to go, but I’ll see you tonight.”

“I’ll be waiting. Be careful.”

“I will. You too. Talk to you later.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Mike hung up the phone and stared at it for a minute. He didn’t want Eileen to have to deal with this mess when she got home. He dumped his plate of food, then hurried to empty the refrigerator of anything that had been opened and also did the same for the pantry. Fortunately, Eileen used most of what she opened, so there wasn’t too much to get rid of. He jotted down a quick list of items that he threw away so he could re-stock them for her, then grabbed the garbage so he could dump it in the outside can before he went to the store.

There was a grocery store ten minutes from her house, and he hurried through the aisles, crossing things off his list as he went. He had just finished getting all the necessary items when it occurred to him that he had no idea what kind of cleaning products she had at home. He zipped back through the store, grabbing a handful of multi-purpose cleaning items and several rolls of paper towels. As an afterthought, he went into the liquor section and grabbed a bottle of white wine. Eileen would need to sit back and relax after the day she’d had.

On the way back to her house, he pulled into a plaza with a floral shop and picked up two dozen roses. Driving back, he hoped he would have enough time to pull things together. Mike wasn’t completely sure what kind of dietary restrictions she had, but he knew her cholesterol was a problem, so he had settled on a vegetarian dish for dinner. He rushed to put the groceries away, being sure to leave out the items he would need for later, then set to the task of getting the house cleaned up.

Ten minutes later, armed with a bucket of hot water, glass cleaner, dusting spray and a roll of paper towels, he decided to work in the living room first. He didn’t want Eileen coming home to the mess that had been left behind. As he cleaned, he noticed things he hadn’t really paid attention to before today, including a grouping of books dedicated to art history, another to military history, and a small collection of porcelain elephants on a corner shelf. He lifted each item carefully, dusted away the fingerprint powder and meticulously wiped away the dust from the shelves before replacing each item in its exact spot. Afterward, he cleaned all the windows and ran the vacuum cleaner, whisking away the last bits of dust remaining on the carpet. He did the dining room next, following the same procedure, pausing in his cleaning only long enough to hang the picture he’d brought for her. Admiring his handiwork, he hoped that Eileen would like it as much as he did.

It was easy to clean the bathroom, Scotty’s room and Eileen’s room, as the guys hadn’t done much in those areas. He saved the kitchen for last, wanting to make sure it was spotless. Starting at one end of the countertops, he carefully bleached everything, ensuring it was all completely sanitized. Silently cursing himself for cleaning after he shopped, he pulled everything out of the refrigerator and sanitized the inside of it before putting everything back. After mopping the floors, he carefully bagged up the soiled paper towels and the yellow latex gloves he’d worn to protect his hands and brought the trash outside. Checking the clock when he got back in, he saw that it was almost four o’clock. The afternoon had certainly gone by fast.

Mike grabbed a change of clothes and his razor and headed into the sparkling clean bathroom. He shaved at the sink and rinsed away all the hairs before he got in the shower, then shampooed and soaped up and was done in less than ten minutes. He pulled on a pair of khaki slacks and a white tab-front shirt and splashed on aftershave. Giving himself a quick glance in the mirror, he was surprised at his own reflection. The shadows that had been under his eyes and the tension lines in his forehead and around his mouth that had been there only a few weeks earlier, were gone. He smiled to himself, thinking how much of that had to do with Eileen. Just being with her and feeding off her energy and positive attitude made him feel years younger.

Donning one of Eileen’s striped aprons, he began the task of making dinner. He was carefully peeling and slicing eggplant when the phone rang. He saw that it was Eileen and answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

He could hear the tiredness in her voice through the phone. “Hey Mike. I’m just wrapping up here. I should be home shortly before five. I’ve got a nasty headache and I’m exhausted.”

“Well, you’ve got me here tonight, and I’m going to take excellent care of you.” He cradled the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he brushed the eggplant with an eggwhite wash and flour mixture. “I’m starting dinner now. I thought we could eat early and then either take a walk or zone out in front of the television.”

“I vote for the television,” she said. “I seriously don’t think I have the energy to take a walk. Hang on a second.” Mike could hear muffled voices in the background before she came back onto the line. “Listen, I have to go, but I’ll be home soon. Ryan is dropping me off.”

“Does he want to stay for dinner? I can easily make extra.”

“Nah. I told him I was sick of looking at him and he said the view wasn’t too pretty from his end, either. He knows you’re staying with me tonight, so he’ll just get me inside and then be on his way.”

“All right. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye Mike.”

She hung up and Mike returned his attention to the eggplant. He pre-heated the oven and turned on the flame under a large skillet, heating up a few tablespoons of olive oil while he diced tomatoes and spinach. When the oil was hot, he carefully cooked the pieces of eggplant, using caution not to splatter the oil. He then layered the eggplant, tomatoes and spinach with mozzarella cheese and tomato sauce in a baking dish and put it all in the oven, setting the timer for thirty minutes. Turning his attention to a ready-made pie crust, he carefully layered frozen peaches, stuffing the pie crust and bringing up the ends and pinching them together, leaving a gap at the top for steam to escape. It was four forty-five when he put the peach tart in the oven next to the eggplant.

Taking off the apron, he suddenly remembered the roses he had bought. Eileen had a crystal vase in her dining room, which he filled with water. He arranged the roses and set them in the middle of the table. Next, he went into the bathroom to run a hot, deep bath for her. The tub had just finished filling when he heard the back door.

“Mike?” she called out.

“I’m in the bathroom. Come on in.”

“In the bathroom? You’re not stinking it up, are you?” she asked as she appeared in the doorway. Her mouth dropped open when she saw him kneeling next to the tub. “What’s this for?”

He gathered her into his arms, kissing her forehead and holding her body tightly against his chest. “I know it was a hellish day for you. I thought you might like to relax.”

“This is amazing,” she said, smiling in appreciation.

“Go ahead and get undressed and get in. I’ll be right back.”

He went to Eileen’s room and selected a pair of pale gray cotton panties, lightweight yoga pants and a white tee shirt, no bra. On the way back to the bathroom, he poured her a glass of wine and brought it to her. She took it from him and sighed.

“If I’m going to get this kind of treatment from you, I just may have to hijack you and keep you here permanently.”

“I’m not opposed,” he said, as he sat on the edge of the tub, and gently began washing her hair, massaging her scalp as he did.

She relaxed under his touch, enjoying the pampering. “This is so nice. I would never do anything like this for myself. And what are you cooking? It smells heavenly.”

Smiling at the compliment, he began to soap her up, using a rich bath creme. “Eggplant. I’m actually a decent cook, but I haven’t gotten to show off my mad skills in the kitchen since you usually do the cooking. I thought you might enjoy being on the receiving end of the royal treatment for a change.”
She looked up at him gratefully. “I do appreciate it. You have no idea how much.”

He lavished her skin with the moisturizing wash, stroking her skin and lightly massaging her muscles. She leaned against the back of the tub, the water up to her chin as he stroked her legs. He couldn’t help becoming aroused. Her body was so smooth and inviting and just looking at her and touching her was incredibly erotic. When he was through, he rinsed the suds off her then got up and dried off his hands. “You can go ahead and finish up. Take your time. I’m going to set the table and get the food out. Would you like another glass of wine with dinner?”

“I would,” she said as she handed him her glass. She stood up and stretched, water running down her body. Mike stared at her, amazed at how stunning she was.

She winked at him as she toweled off. “Didn’t I tell you this morning that it wasn’t polite to stare?”
He laughed at her, then pulled her into a tight hug, running his hands down her body. “You did. But it’s hard not to. You finish up so I can get dinner out for us.”

Leaving the bathroom, he could hear her softly laughing as she slathered on lotion before getting dressed. When she emerged a few minutes later, she looked like a new woman, fresh and pink-faced. He was pleased to see that she was wearing the clothes he had picked out for her, and had also gone sans bra. Her breasts jutted against the fabric and she smiled at his obvious pleasure.

“You picked out a nice outfit for me. It’s very comfortable.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said lightly brushing his fingertips across the front of the shirt, grazing her nipples. “Now get out of my kitchen.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me? Your kitchen?”

“Yes, my kitchen. I cooked up an amazing dinner for you, and your job is just to enjoy it. That automatically makes it my kitchen today. So go sit down at the table. Your glass of wine is waiting for you.”

“Fine. I’ll go into the dining room, but not because you told me to. Just because I want that glass of wine.” He gave her a light pinch as she turned on her heel and skipped out to the dining room.
He was arranging food on their plates when he heard her shriek of delight. She came running back into the kitchen, barreling into him so hard he almost dropped their dinner.

“That picture! Where did you get it? It’s perfect!” She was squealing and clapping her hands like a little girl who had just gotten a new bicycle for Christmas. “I love it, love it, love it! And did I mention that I love it?” She threw her arms around him and kissed him with wild abandon. When she finally released him, he was short of breath.

“Wow. If that’s the reaction I’m going to get every time I get you a present, I may have to do it more often.”

Eileen was still smiling and clapping her hands, doing a crazy little dance around him. “No, you don’t understand. I’ve been looking for something for that wall for so long and just couldn’t find anything. Nothing seemed to be a good fit. And then bam,” she snapped her fingers as she said it, “I leave you here alone for one day, and you magically transform my dining room.”

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d had the picture for weeks already, and figured it didn’t really matter when he got it. All that mattered was that it was up now, and she really liked it. And given the sudden glow about her, he was pretty sure that she really, really liked it.

He gave her a gentle nudge. “What do you say we go into the dining room so you can look at the picture while you eat this fantabulous dinner I made for you?”

“Fantabulous? That’s not a word!”

“Yes it is,” he replied, carefully setting their steaming plates on the table. “It is a word and I use it all the time.”

“Just because you use it all the time doesn’t automatically make it a word,” she said as she tossed her hair back over her shoulder.

“I’m telling you, it’s a word,” he insisted as he dug into his eggplant. “In fact, I’d even make a bet with you that it’s a real word.”

“Hey! This is really good!” Eileen exclaimed as she chewed her food. She swallowed it down, savoring the flavors left on her tongue. “Okay, you win. This is fantabulous. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

Mike couldn’t help but feel proud that dinner had turned out so well. He really wanted to show her that he was capable of playing an equal role in their relationship when it came to cooking and cleaning. “It’s a recipe I picked up down at the station house. One of our guys there is a fantastic cook, and I’ve mooched some recipes from him over the years. I don’t get to use them very often since I live alone. I usually horde the recipes, then cook them up all at once for family parties.”

“Your family must love having you around during the holidays if you do the cooking.”

“They do,” he said quietly, eyes downcast.

Eileen could see that she’d hit a nerve with him. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No. It’s just that, well,” he shrugged. “The holidays just aren’t what they used to be, you know?”

She could hear the sadness in his voice and her heart ached for him. “It must be difficult getting through what’s supposed to be a happy time when you don’t have your wife with you.”

He nodded. “It’s hard, but it’s not just that. Obviously I miss Tina more around the holidays. But I miss her family, too.” Eileen continued to eat as he spoke, her eyes glued to his face. “We were godparents to two of her nieces, and since she died, the family has sort of cut me out of their lives. I don’t think it’s anything they really do on purpose. I know her dad was pretty angry with me for a long while. He thought that since I was a doctor, or,” he lowered his voice in a good imitation of his father-in-law, “a doctor who couldn’t cut it and took a few steps down to being a paramedic,” he changed his voice back to normal and continued, “I should have caught on to the cancer earlier. There was no way I could have caught it. She didn’t have any symptoms. When she started complaining about headaches and an achy abdomen, I thought she was pregnant and was secretly thinking about names. I had no idea that it was cancer. But then her dad told me that she’d been complaining to him and her mom for months about not feeling well.”

Eileen reached across the table and squeezed his hands in both of her own. “Mike, there’s no way you could have known, doctor or not. You’re human. And you were her husband, not her physician. If she was complaining to her parents, that was their business, not yours. You weren’t her keeper. Tina was an adult, same as you. If she chose not to take care of her health, you couldn’t make her.”

She realized that her words had come out harsher than she intended and immediately softened her tone. “What I mean is, Tina probably complained to her parents because she didn’t want to worry you. And she must have not been too worried herself to put off telling you and going to the doctor. I’m sure she thought it was nothing. Or maybe she was hoping she was pregnant, same as you were hoping.”

“Could be,” he said, finally looking up and meeting her gaze. “Oh man, listen to me. I’m such a turkey. Here I made this nice dinner and planned a relaxing evening for you, and I’m sitting here boo-hooing over the past. Sorry about that.”

“Mike, there’s no need to apologize. I can’t really understand how hard it is for you, because I haven’t lost a spouse. I hope I never have to deal with something like that. And truth be told, I think you’re coping amazingly well.”

“Thanks Eileen. You’re a peach. Peach! Oh man!” He slapped his forehead then jumped up and ran into the kitchen.

“Mike?” she called out. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just give me a minute.” She could hear him opening and closing the oven door and rifling through the silverware drawer. Curious what he was up to, she tried to peer into the kitchen, but all she could see was his back. And his firm rear end. Suppressing an impish grin, she returned to her dinner, happily devouring the eggplant in front of her, instead of trying to figure out what he was doing.

Mike emerged a few minutes later, carrying the peach tart and a tub of Lite Cool Whip. Eileen was eyeing it hungrily. “Is that for dessert?”

“You bet it is. I know better than to try to get through a meal with you and not satisfy your sweet tooth. But it’s also relatively healthy, so you can indulge to your heart’s content.”

“Good. Now finish your dinner so you can indulge with me.”

They finished the rest of their meal in comfortable silence, just enjoying being together and sharing the space at the table. When they were through, Eileen leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms high over her head. Mike felt some stirrings below as her breasts pressed against the front of her shirt, clearly outlining what lay just beneath the soft fabric. She caught him looking and gave a little shake, which made him blush.

She couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Mike, how did you manage as an emergency room doctor? How do you manage as a paramedic? You must see naked, or at least half-naked women every single day.”

“That’s different! That’s all job-related. It’s easy to be professional when it’s a stranger. You have a different kind of effect on me.”

“Well, I’ll assume that’s a good thing,” she said as she reached for the peach tart and a knife. “How do I cut this thing? It looks like if I stick the knife in it, it’ll fall apart.”

“It probably would since you have no idea how to properly cut anything.” He sliced through it and handed her a piece.

She eyed it warily. “This looks like it might be too healthy to be a dessert. Is this some kind of trick?”
“No tricks, I swear.”

She took a cautious bite, rolling the tangy peaches on her tongue before giving a nod of approval. “Pretty good, Mike. I think I could get used to this.”

“I think I could handle being employed as your personal chef. Just so long as you don’t get too demanding.”

“I’m not demanding!”

“I didn’t say you were. I said as long as you don’t get too demanding.”

“Hmmmmm.” She chewed her dessert, trying to think of a good comeback. “I like to drink the brine from pickled pigs’ feet.”

Mike nearly choked on his mouthful of food. “What? What do you mean you like to drink the brine from pickled pigs’ feet? That’s disgusting.”

“It is disgusting. And I really don’t like it. Actually, I don’t know if I would like it or not. I’ve never had pickled pigs’ feet, let alone drank the brine from them. I just couldn’t come up with a spur-of-the-moment comeback for your smart aleck comment about me being demanding. So, I figured I’d just say something dumb instead.”

“Eileen, you’re an enigma. You really are. Where do you come up with stuff like that?”

“I guess I’m just talented.” She stood up to start clearing the dishes, but he waved her back into her seat.

“Sit. Let me clean up.”

“You did all the cooking, so the least I can do is help with the cleanup. And I see that you cleaned my house, too. I don’t know what it looked like when everyone left, but I’m sure it was a disaster. You did a heck of a job. Everything looks clean and smells clean. Like hospital clean. And it was just nice and really thoughtful. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Having to take care of it after work would have been horrible for me and it’s sweet that you want to help me out.”

They loaded the dishwasher together, Eileen chatting about her day and being in court that afternoon, taking a few verbal jabs at the defense lawyer in the case she had testified at. Mike listened to her, grateful that she appeared to be far less shaken up than she was that morning. Afterward, they relaxed together in the living room, Eileen propped up on several pillows, flipping through a magazine, and Mike absent-mindedly watching Wheel of Fortune. Her legs were stretched out over him and he was rubbing her ankles.

Mike didn’t realize it, but Eileen had been staring at the same page of her magazine for over twenty minutes, thinking back to the horror of earlier that morning. Even worse, she’d had to deal with the stares and whispers from some of the guys she worked with. There was speculation that she’d engineered the whole thing as some sort of ploy to get attention. Ryan was enraged when he’d heard the talk in the squad room and had completely gone off on two of them. Eileen chose to take the high road, not wanting to feed into the gossip. Her life was complicated enough already. She didn’t need anymore drama. And she was worried about Scotty, too. And Mike. What was she supposed to do? Just stop her daily living until the crazy bastard who was terrorizing got caught? She couldn’t do that. Could. Not. Do. It.

Suddenly angry, she threw the magazine on the floor, causing Mike to jump. “Hey, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Mike, I can’t do this. I can’t drag you into this mess. You need to go. Now.” She got up and grabbed his overnight bag, which he’d left propped against the overstuffed chair next to the couch.

His eyes widened as she tried to hand him the bag. “What? Why? I’m not going anywhere.”

“No. You have to go.” Since he wouldn’t take the bag from her, she started dragging it toward the door. “I’m not going to risk you getting hurt. I care too much about you to let anything happen to you. I’d never forgive myself. It’s bad enough that I’m in this position and that I’m pretty well stuck. You don’t have to stay here. You shouldn’t stay here. I need to just deal with this on my own. There are uniforms outside and there’s no way that anybody is going to get in here. Hell, I’m not going to be able to get out until tomorrow morning when I leave for work. The damn department issued a curfew for me. Can you believe that? They issued a curfew to a thirty-year-old homicide detective. I’m stuck here, no doubt, but you deserve to be out doing stuff. Having fun.”

Mike was completely dumbfounded. He pulled her to him, fighting her as she struggled against him, until she finally relented and let him hold her, though she remained stiff and unyielding in his arms. “Eileen, I’m not going anywhere. If you want me to leave, you’re going to have to figure out how to pick me up and carry me. I’m taking vacation time right now because I want to be here with you. And I don’t know what you mean when you say I should be out doing stuff. Do you have any idea how much overtime I racked up with the department? I never wanted to go home. Other than hanging out at Charlie’s with you or Ryan sometimes, I didn’t go anywhere. You think I should be out having fun. Hello?” he asked, gently rapping her on the forehead. “This is the most fun I’ve had in years. Getting to see your face in the mornings, cuddling with you at night, tickling you, just talking, or walking and holding hands. I feel like I’ve lived a whole lifetime in these past few weeks. So, you can’t just get rid of me, okay? I get that you’re worried about bringing me into the insanity of your life right now, but if I was going to bolt, don’t you think I would have done it already? If I wasn’t scared off by the sight of you first thing in the morning before you’ve showered and brushed your teeth, and had your two cups of coffee, what do you think it would take?”

Eileen pulled back and shot him a dirty look. “You were making me feel better until you got to the end there. I’m not that bad in the mornings.”

Mike sniffed at her. “Oh really? You’re a crabby pants. I swear you’re allergic to mornings. You have to be. But I’d rather be around and have to deal with you being crabby for an hour after you wake up than not be around at all. What’s it going to take for you to believe that?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I don’t know what it’s going to take. I do know it’s nothing you can give me, though. I’m going to have to figure it out on my own. I’ve been conditioned to protect others and not let them get too close to me.”

“I respect that, Eileen. But like it or not, I’m part of your life now, and I want to be close to you.”

“How close?”

“This close,” he said as he lowered his head to hers.

His lips were warm and soft against her own, and she could feel his tongue probing against her mouth. She let him in, running her own tongue over the slightly uneven ridge of his bottom teeth. They stayed that way for a while, kissing, touching each other, building up to what they both knew they wanted. After a while, he took her hand and led her down the hall to her room, where they spent the evening falling into the ecstasy that they knew so well how to create.

Late One Halloween Night

2010-10-31T20:47:00.003-05:00

Late one night, while I sat eating

I thought I heard the sound of breathing.

Up from the kitchen chair I stood,

Turned about and spilled my food.

Right before my very eyes

a human spider heaving sighs!

Eight black arms and a tummy of yellow

I was too scared to even bellow.

This Baby Everett on the loose

All he wanted was some juice!

Mind Whispers

2010-10-14T20:59:00.002-05:00

I have no idea if I posted this before...I was digging through some computer files and found it and it stirred up some nice memories.

When I close my eyes, I can still see the two of them standing there. Two men, two friends, arms casually draped over each other as they smiled for my camera. Two men, so different in every way…one quiet, loyal and dependable, sharp-witted, dark in his features, but glowing with an internal light, a gentle soul longing for the soothing balm of true love; the other strong and burly, wild in appearance, overflowing with artistic passion, long hair, piercing eyes, and a stance that would have been frightening had I not known the gentle being within. Eight years ago [actually, as of today, it's been eleven and a half years]…not so long, but still what seems to be a small eternity in this world. The photo needn’t be in my hand for me to remember. The picture is etched into my brain, the edges razor cut so sharp that I’m afraid if I blink, the corners may slash the recesses of my memory and make the colors and feelings of that time bleed and fade away into nothingness. Two men. This is how I will always remember them…

He stood there looking at me, the air slightly damp, not quite warm, though we were in the throes of Spring. His dark brown eyes were limpid, mirrored pools of my own and he was searching my face, the corners of his mouth slowly tugging upward. I knew what he was thinking. He was waiting patiently (so hard to be patient, why can’t she see that I’m crazy about her?) for me to answer his question. I had no idea what he had asked me. Some inane question about politics and my thoughts on government reform. I didn’t know. Didn’t care. But I could see the near frantic desperation in his face, even though he was smiling (keep a smile on your face, don’t let her see how badly you want to grab her and crush her lips with your own, finally know what it’s like to feel their warmth and taste their sweet softness).

I grinned and shrugged, nothing more than a slight twitch of my shoulder as I tossed my hair to the side. When I saw his hand coming toward me, I thought he was going to touch my face. My heart fluttered in my chest as I anticipated his fingers caressing my skin. Instead, he delicately extracted a piece of a cherry blossom from my hair. I smiled at him as he handed it to me. Our fingers brushed (what would she do if I took her hand and folded it into my own and never let go?) and I felt warm. I wanted to tell him in that moment (I have the same feelings for you, just give me a little more time to admit it! Touch my hair, my face, wake up the woman that I know is lurking somewhere in here!) that he could have left it in my hair. It was, after all, just a cherry blossom.

Our moment was shattered a second later. Loud laughter as the other one unintentionally intruded on the moment. Time to meet our group of friends for dinner. I sat between them that night, the air heavy over us, their silent battle being waged around me. Two men silently competing with each other, mutual respect preventing what could have been an ugly scene. I was cautious in the conversations, wanting to devote equal time to each. The other one leaned in close to me, whispering about the history of the town. His long hair brushed against my arm and I felt him shudder slightly (what would it feel like for my hair to be loose around her, her warm skin pressed against my own?). I smiled as color flooded his face. He wanted to know more about me, what I’m passionate about (could she ever be as passionate about me as I am about her?), my plans for the future.

I politely answered his questions, sharing what I wanted to do with my life (is he able to read my thoughts right now and know that part of what I want to do with my life is be with him?). He sat with his left elbow on the table, chin propped on his fist as he used his right hand to swirl the wine in his glass. His eyes bored into mine and he tilted his head casually to the right (does she know that I’m thinking that maybe someday, I’ll be swirling champagne in my glass as I toast our love at our wedding reception?) waiting on me to continue speaking. I smile and look away. The meal is finally, blessedly over.

Long after midnight, I lie alone in the stillness, counting cracks in the ceiling, mulling over the day’s events. Two men, both kind, both solid, both wanting so much from me. I cannot choose between them. Both are gracious, and if I did choose, the other would smile and wish us luck. I want both of them. I can have neither of them. It simply would not be right.

The next morning, and every single day after that for over a year, I balance my time with them. Neither knows how my heart races when I see them. I can hear their minds whisper to me, gently cajoling (pick me, give me a chance and I’ll give you a lifetime of love and passion, stability, a family, more, anything you want, just pick me and I swear I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life) but I always pretend that I am unaware of how much they care.

One of them gave me unconditional support and confidence (you’re an amazing woman and in a way, I envy you. I hope someday you’ll discover just how wonderful and beautiful you are, that you’ll be able to see yourself the way I see you. I want you to want me and feel these same feelings, but I love you enough to let you go) to just be me. His kindness never wavered, he never faltered in his quest to bring me closer to loving him…until the very end when there was no denying that I would not allow myself to fully welcome him into the most secret parts of my soul. I still feel the strength in his arms as he held me for a moment in what would turn out to be our farewell embrace. I feel the warmth and gentleness in his touch as he brushed his work-roughened thumb over my knuckles before he released my hand and walked away...

The other gave me Paris. A beautiful nighttime sky, a gentle rain falling over the city, the backdrop for what could be a passionate love story…for what could be our passionate love story. I close my eyes and I still see it, can still feel the heat of his body in the coat that he wrapped around me (the Eiffel Tower is beautiful at night, isn’t it? I’ve been there. I want to go again, but this time with you. We could spend our lives there, getting to know each other better than two people ever have. I can race you around the streets of France during the day and make sweet love to you at night). I can still feel his neatly trimmed beard resting on top of my head as he pulls me to him and we gaze at the photograph, almost able to hear the passing cars and feel the breeze blowing over the city…

Two men. So different from each other, yet each being exactly what I wanted in a life partner. Particles of dust dancing on the winds of time in this universe. How very fortunate that I got to know and love both of them in this lifetime.

Years crept by, time slowly chipping away at the foundation of our friendship as each realized that I would never pick one of them. As painful as it was, I knew the time would come to make a choice. I did make a choice, a choice that was practical and simple and agonizing. But I never told them that the only reason I chose someone else was because I couldn’t bring myself to choose between the two of them.

I never told them that I loved them (so much that I thought my heart would burst…so much that there were days I could barely focus…so much that I ultimately punished not only them, but myself, too). But I did love them, as deeply and profoundly and completely as is possible to love someone.

And somehow, despite years and time and distance, I still do.

The Devil You Know

2010-10-06T20:59:00.004-05:00

Did he think that I wouldn't recognize him yesterday? It was the same intersection for goodness sake! And even though he wasn't standing at the same corner, and he was wearing different clothes, I could tell in a moment that it was him. A black knit hat, and loose, baggy clothes in mismatched black--as if he could pass for some sort of gang banger type slouched against the streetlight! But the glance of the devil does not go unnoticed.

The light stayed green and I drove right past him this time. He glanced up at me and I clenched my teeth as I went through. What is he hoping for? If it requires him to be in disguise, he's terrible at it. I didn't bother to look back.

But he wasn't satisfied.

Not much later, when I had to stop--first in line--for a red light, there he was. New outfit, shiny black car, and big, gleaming smile directed right at me as he sat waiting to turn left off of the street with moving cars. I could almost roll my eyes in annoyance. But I wonder--why?

So, today, he sent me a coat in the guise of an error. Beautiful, expensive, and something from a dream. In black. I was almost strong enough to leave it in the box, but I tried it on. It fit like a glove.

I pulled it off and packed it back up since I see it for what it is.

The devil can keep his coat.

Untitled 1: Part 12

2010-10-03T14:15:00.003-05:00

The week passed uneventfully, which had its pros and cons. On the one hand, it meant that there weren’t any murders. On the other hand, it also meant that they weren’t any closer to solving their case. Eileen and Ryan were getting on each other’s nerves, and both were having trouble concentrating on anything except finding the killer that had infiltrated their lives.

Mike and Eileen opted not to go away for the weekend, deciding to wait until work settled down for both of them. They were both working long hours, and by the end of the week, Mike was crazy with wanting. Saturday, they had gone fishing, bringing Scotty along. It had been fun walking along the lake and teaching him how to cast a line. Eileen had turned out to be a natural and had caught more fish than Mike and Scotty and combined. After a fish fry back at Eileen’s house, Scotty had piped up, asking if he could go back to the group home.

Eileen didn’t want to take him back, but he’d insisted. “Please mom? They’re having movie night tonight. And the girls from next door are coming over. Melanie’s new there and I told her maybe I could see her tonight if you took me back. She’s real pretty, mom. I like her.”

Mike smiled as Eileen relented. Challenged or not, Scotty still had the raging hormones of a teen-aged boy. They drove out to Lake Zurich in Mike’s car, Scotty chatting the whole way about Melanie, who was new to the program. Scotty prattled on and on about her, obviously smitten and experiencing his first real crush. Eileen was barely able to get in a hug and kiss before Scotty took off out of the car.

Mike couldn’t help but notice the wistful look on her face. “Why don’t you go get him settled and I’ll wait in the car for you.”

“Okay. It’ll be just a few minutes.” Eileen smiled as she walked after Scott, thinking about how fast her boy was growing up. It seemed like only yesterday he was a happy-go-lucky kid, picking dandelions and handing them to her like they were some long-lost treasure.

Tiffany, the residential lead on the weekends, was just cleaning up from dinner. “Miss Riley! It’s good to see you. Bringing Scotty back early this weekend?”

Eileen nodded. “Yeah, he was begging me to come back. Something about movie night and a young woman named Melanie. I didn’t have the heart to keep him away.”

Tiffany laughed out loud. “Those two are so cute together. Melanie was terrified when she got here, but Scotty took right to her, and they’ve practically been inseparable. She follows him everywhere and he completely dotes on her.”

They chatted easily for a few minutes about Scott and Melanie and the rest of the activities for the weekend. Tiffany admired Eileen and the devotion she showed for her son. Scotty was one of the few residents who went home every weekend and she had the utmost respect for his mother. They continued to make small talk until Scotty came barreling through the kitchen, appearing shocked at seeing his mother still there.

“Mom? Are you staying here tonight, too?”

“No, sweetie. Mike’s waiting outside for me.”

Scotty looked relieved. “Good. It wouldn’t be as much fun if you were here during the movie. Now I can sit by Melanie instead of by you.”

Eileen gave him a playful swat as he ran toward the living room. “Goofy kid.” She smiled at Tiffany. “Thanks for taking such great care of my son. It makes me feel good to know that he actually enjoys being here. Have a great weekend,” she called out as she headed for the door.

On the way back, Mike held her hand and she leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder, falling asleep before they hit the highway. Mike stroked her cheek, thinking to himself that life was good. Every now and then he would glance down at her, amazed at the intense look she had, even in sleep. He knew she was exhausted and felt guilty waking her up when they got back.

“Sorry for falling asleep,” she mumbled. “I seem to making a habit out of that when you’re around.”

Mike stroked her face. “No problem, honey. You sleep as much as you need to.”

He guided her into her bedroom, where she undressed and fell asleep again. Mike crawled in next to her, pulled her over and held her close, her skin warm against his own. When they woke up the next morning, Eileen was her usual cranky self. “What time is it?” she muttered.

“Just a little after eight. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“No, I’m up. I may as well stay up.” She had a scowl on her face that reminded Mike vaguely of an annoyed Chihuahua.

He laughed a little bit, and though he tried to muffle it, Eileen heard it and was not amused. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Would you like me to make some coffee for you?”

Still scowling, she got out of bed and grabbed her robe. “Yeah, if you don’t mind. Maybe some caffeine will get me going.”

She headed to the shower and Mike got up, trying to stifle the smile that kept coming across his lips. Mornings definitely were not Eileen’s forte. Calling her crabby would be too kind.

Half an hour later, showered and dressed, Eileen seemed a little more energized, but remained unusually quiet. Mike made an offer to cut her grass and trim the hedges under her front window, which she accepted. While he busied himself outside with the lawn mower and clippers, Eileen dusted and vacuumed in the house. When Mike was through and came back inside, she was waiting with a sandwich a glass of lemonade for him. After lunch, she challenged him to a game of Scrabble.

“Scrabble?” he asked. “I kick butt at Scrabble. You better watch out.”

Eileen grinned. “I don’t think so.”

An hour later, Mike sat completely dumbfounded, searching the dictionary for yet another word that Eileen had put out. Sure enough, it was there. He tossed the dictionary aside, completely disgusted.

“Eileen, is there anything you’re not good at?”

She smirked. “Of course. But I’m not going to tell you what. I guess I should have told you, though, that I won the school spelling bee every year from sixth grade through my senior year in high school.”

He shook his head. “You’re a nerd.”

“Yes, I am. And I’m okay with that. Tell you what. How about if you relax for a while and watch the game and I’ll get dinner started.”

“You sure? I can help.”

“Nah. You cut my grass for me. The least I can do is whip something up to show my appreciation.”

Mike was soon absorbed in the Cubs game as Eileen puttered around the kitchen. Before he knew it, she was gently shaking his shoulder, waking him for dinner.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep,” he said over a yawn, stretching his arms and legs.

“It’s the weather,” Eileen commented as she led him into the dining room. “Any work outside in warm weather tends to suck people dry.” She waved him into a chair. “I made something simple tonight. Roasted chicken and mashed potatoes with zucchini. I’ve got fruit salad and a light sponge cake for dessert.”

Mike rolled his eyes at her. “Sure. A simple dinner. To you, one step below a seven-course meal is simple.”

She smiled at the compliment, but said nothing. Mike noticed that Eileen was quiet during dinner, none of the usual cheerful chatter that he had come to enjoy so much. He was missing the musical lilt of her voice and the usual sparkle that always surrounded her. Tonight, she was sitting quietly, shifting the food on her plate, breaking her chicken into smaller and smaller pieces and designing her mashed potatoes into some type of architectural wonder. He’d been done eating for almost ten minutes, but he didn’t think Eileen ever even put her fork in her mouth.

“You know,” he said quietly, “it really isn’t nice to play with your food. Especially food that you made and most especially food that tastes this good.”

She was momentarily startled by the interrupted silence. “What? Oh yeah.” She jammed a forkful of potatoes in her mouth, then hurriedly spit them into her napkin when she realized they were cold. Mike couldn’t help but laugh at her sour expression as she wiped her tongue on the napkin.

“Not funny,” she said.

“You’re right. It’s not funny. It’s very funny.” When she didn’t respond, he cut the laughter and reached across the table to tuck her hair behind her ears. He cupped her face in his hands, seeing the pale lavender shadows under her eyes, wishing he could kiss away whatever was troubling her. “Eileen, you look so upset. Do you need some time to yourself? I can go.”

She shook her head free from his gentle touch. “No. I’m just feeling lousy today. There’s so much going on.” She took in a deep breath, closing her eyes as she exhaled. “I’ve got too much on my mind, not enough time to work through it, and certainly not enough emotional energy to keep going on like this.”

Mike heard the catch in her throat. “I guess I haven’t been too helpful to you in that area.”

“It’s not that. It’s really nothing to do with us. It’s work stress. I’ve been feeling a little burned out. I would love to take a few days off, just for some mental R and R, but I know I wouldn’t be able to rest. No. I’d just be wasting my hard-earned vacation time. Ryan and I need to solve this case first. Maybe then I can relax.”

“Are you and Ryan getting any closer to figuring it out?”

“Not really. It’s like a damn puzzle. I guess every crime is. It’s our job to put the puzzle together. The problem this time around is that it’s like trying to put together a puzzle without the benefit of the cover picture. But we’ll figure it out.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Actually, yes.” She stood up and began clearing their plates. “You can help me load the dishwasher and then take a long walk with me. I’m just about overcome with cabin fever and I think the fresh air would do me some good.”

“I’d like that very much,” he replied as he gathered the serving dishes. “In fact, I’ll even throw in a free backrub when we get back.”

“Really?” There was a hint of happiness in her voice and Mike even caught a little glint in her eyes. “A real backrub? Like with massage lotion and candle light?”

“Absolutely. So how about that walk?”

“Let’s go,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He hugged her back, enjoying the feel of her body pressed against his. “What’s this for?”

She shrugged. “Just because.”

Leaning in closer, she softly kissed his lips. Mike ran his fingers through her hair, feeling himself grow hard. “If we’re going to get that walk in, we should really go now.”

“Okay,” she whispered back, pressing herself against him, feeling his erection against her hip. She kissed him again, longer and slower, seductively running her tongue along his lower lip. He parted his lips and their tongues did a slow dance.

“Do you want to wait on that walk?” he whispered hoarsely.

“I think so,” she murmured against his neck.

He lifted her onto the kitchen table, snaking his hand up under her skirt. He moaned when he felt her damp panties. Deftly moving the fabric aside, he plunged a finger into the wetness, causing her to gasp.

“Would you also like to wait on loading the dishwasher?” He slid his finger back and forth, teasing her into a near frenzy.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Everything can wait until later.”

He continued to tease her until she began pumping her hips and arching her back. Her nipples were hard, poking through her tank top, aching to be touched. He playfully bit them through the fabric, feeling her body shudder with barely contained pleasure.

Mike lazily kissed her neck, nibbled on her ears, getting harder every second. He leaned his face close, pressing his forehead against hers. “Want to go to the bedroom?”

“Not particularly,” she replied, gazing into his eyes. He looked confused until she shamelessly undid his jeans and tugged them down, along with his boxer briefs. A knowing look crossed his face and he winked at her.

“Whatever you say.”

She scooted closer to the edge of the table, hiking up her skirt around her waist. “More like wherever I say.”

“Okay,” he said, eyes glittering as he watched her slip off her panties.

“Okay then.” She scooted forward a little more, pulling him closer, closer, until he hit home.

Half an hour later, Mike sat in a kitchen chair, Eileen naked on his lap with her arms and legs wrapped around him. She was smiling, her head resting on his shoulder.

“It’s good that I don’t have company too often. I’ll never be able to let anyone sit at the kitchen table again.”

“Sure you can,” he laughed, gently massaging her lower back. “You can let them sit at it. Just not on it. And you probably shouldn’t let anyone sit in this chair.”

She let out a lusty laugh, scooting her way higher on his lap and lightly nipping at his shoulder. “Yeah. This chair is definitely reserved for you and me. And you know what? I’m actually hungry now.”

He grinned at her, gently tugging on her hair. “See? I knew a little workout would bring back your appetite.”

She gave him a playful pinch as she stood up. “You did give me a workout.” She pulled on her tank top and stepped into her skirt, then twirled her panties around her finger. “Want to take that walk with me? There’s a seasonal ice-cream place a few blocks away where we can get tuna sandwiches and root beer floats. I’m not in the mood for what I cooked tonight.”

“Sure,” he said, zipping and buttoning his jeans. “Do you want to go now?”

“Yup.”

He eyed her suspiciously as she casually tossed her panties into her bedroom as they made their way to the front door.

“What are you doing?”

She gave him a wide-eyed, innocent stare. “Why, whatever do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Eileen gave her skirt a quick flick, briefly flashing him. “Don’t worry. It’s not windy today.”

“Are you joking?”

“Nope.” She slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops and stepped out onto the front porch. Mike stood in the doorway staring at her. She looked back at him, her eyes locking with his. “Are you coming?”

A slow smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he met her on the porch, pulling the door shut behind him. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m coming.”

A sly look crossed over her as she leaned forward and whispered, “Not yet you’re not. But maybe later.”

Color seeped into his face and he felt his cheeks get warm. He couldn’t believe how good she made him feel. “Eileen, you are really bold, aren’t you?”

“Sometimes. Especially when it comes to getting something I really want.” She took his hand and kissed it. “And I really want you. But I also really want to eat.”

He kissed her full on the mouth. “Let’s get you fed so you don’t get all cranky on me.”

“Me? Cranky? How could I be cranky after the action I just got?”

He smiled at her, holding her hand, but didn’t respond. They strolled together in the summer air, enjoying each other’s company. They were quiet for several minutes.

A quarter block from Tastee Time, Mike finally broke the silence. “So, are we okay?”

Eileen looked at him but didn’t reply.

“No, Eileen. Seriously.” He stopped walking and placed his hands on her shoulders, trying to get her to look at him.

She avoided his gaze. “What do you think?”

“I think we’re okay, but I’d like to hear it from you. You’re tough to read. I’m still feeling badly about how I treated you. I’d like to make it up to you, prove to you that nothing like that will ever happen again.”

“Mike, you don’t need to make anything up to me. I brought it upon myself. I think the bigger question is, are you okay? Okay with me? Okay with us?”

He pulled her into a tight embrace, squeezing her so hard it made her ribs ache. “I’m very okay with you. And very, very okay with us.” He slid his hands down her back, gently squeezing her behind, getting a thrill out of knowing that she was naked underneath her skirt.

“Okay then,” she said, wriggling away from him. “Let’s get moving so we can eat and go home.”

Mike nodded, too unsure of himself to speak, but definitely liking the way that sounded. Home. As he watched Eileen sidle up to the window to order, he realized it didn’t matter where he was. As long as they were together, he would always be home.

They sat outside, a warm breeze blowing over them as Eileen ate her sandwich and Mike fiddled with the straw in the root beer float they were sharing. In the fading light of sunset, Eileen’s hair gleamed a stunning myriad of brown and red, with golden highlights peeking through the darker strands. Her green eyes were intently fixed on him.

“You look like you’re lost in thought, Mr. O’Brien.”

He smiled at her, his heart swelling in his chest. “I am. Sorry. I didn’t mean to get distracted.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.”

Eileen crumpled the wrapping from her sandwich and tossed it into a nearby trash can. “You can’t be thinking about everything and nothing. The human brain doesn’t work like that.”

“Mine does. Really.”

She snatched the root beer float from him and slurped down the last of it. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she playfully tapped him on the forehead. “Nope. No, it doesn’t work that way. So, what were you thinking about?”

He smiled and shrugged. “Nothing really.”

She gave him a dubious look. “I don’t think I should believe you.”

Her serious expression made him laugh. “Okay, okay, you caught me.” He grasped her hand and held it tightly as they began walking back toward her house. Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, he thought about what he wanted to tell her. They had walked several blocks and she looked at him expectantly, but kept quiet, not wanting to push too hard.

After a few long moments of silence, he said, “Do you want to see other people?”

Shock registered immediately on her face and she averted her gaze away from his face. So that’s what he’d been thinking about. Trying not to let him hear the hurt in her voice, she choked out a reply. “What? Why? Do you want to see other people?”

Suddenly realizing that what he’d said had come out wrong, he hurriedly tried to explain. “No, no that’s not what I meant. That came out completely wrong. I, um, what I mean is, it’s just that,” he stuttered for another few seconds before finally stopping to catch his breath. “No, I don’t mean that I want to see other people. And I don’t mean that I want you to see other people, either.”

Still wary, but looking at least a little relieved, Eileen squeezed his hand. “Well, good, because I don’t want to see other people.”

“Okay. Good. That’s good.” He seemed flustered and Eileen was curious about what had him so anxious.

“Mike, is everything okay? You’re scaring me a little.”

Despite the air that was turning a little bit cooler, he’d suddenly begun to sweat and he wiped his forehead on his shirt sleeve. “I’m sorry. This is coming out all wrong.” He stopped when they reached Eileen’s house and faced her, looking deep into her eyes. “Look, Eileen. I’m kind of an old-fashioned guy. I don’t mind being labeled a fuddy-duddy, because I guess I am. What I’m asking you is this. Can we be exclusive?”

She was puzzled by his choice of words. “Exclusive?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Exclusive. Like going steady. Will you be my girl?”

Touched by his request, Eileen jumped up, throwing her arms around his neck and wrapping her legs around his waist. “I would love to be your girl.”

His eyes actually sparkled. “Really? I mean really really?”

“Yes, really.” She gave him a light head-butt. “Don’t be such a knucklehead. Maybe you didn’t realize it, but I already was exclusive with you. You’re the only person I’ve ever been exclusive with. Other than the whole Derek situation, I haven’t been with anyone. You know?”

“You mean you were a virgin?”

“Well, no, not technically. Derek got that part of me. But I guess in a lot of ways, especially from an emotional standpoint, I was a virgin.”

Mike looked deep into her green eyes. “I was your first? I mean, willingly your first?”

She smiled at him. “Yeah. I never understood how people could have casual sex. I was never into that. It’s not like I ever dated much anyway, but to me, this is beyond just dating and sex. Don’t you think?”

“Yes,” he agreed. “I do think this is far beyond just dating. We haven’t been ‘together’ per se for very long, but I think we’ve covered more ground as a couple in the past few weeks than most people cover in the course of their whole relationship.” Wrapping his arms around her, his hands suddenly made contact with the bare skin on her bottom. He groaned, having forgotten that she was naked underneath. He immediately felt himself rising. Eileen felt it too and pressed a little harder against him.

He groaned again. “Woman, you’re like kryptonite to Super Man. One touch and I go weak in the knees.”

Nuzzling his ear, she whispered, “You are my Super Man. Maybe I can be your Lois Lane.”

She was pressing harder against him, sending little stabs of pleasure through his loins as he headed up the sidewalk to her door. “Eileen, you can be whatever and whoever you want to be, as long as it’s with me.”

“Um, Mike?”

“Yes?” he asked, distracted by her warm skin and the sensations he was feeling from below the border.

“Now that we’re in agreement that we’re exclusive, and I’m your one and only girl, is there some kind of ritual? Do I get a class ring or a pin or something to make it official the way they do in high school?”

“Oh, you’re going to get pinned all right,” he growled as he reached the front door. “There will definitely be an official pinning ceremony.”

Her soft giggles turned into barely audible moans as he trailed kisses down her neck. She fumbled with her keys until Mike took them from her and unlocked the door, carrying her inside and kicking the door shut behind him. Her hands were working the front of his pants open and he was sinking himself into her before they even made it to the living room. Balancing her against the door, he filled her with long, hard thrusts, his body pressing hard against hers.

Gripping his back for support, she kissed his neck and bucked against him, passion building and flowing over until she erupted in climax. A jagged cry came from the back of his throat as his own hot juices spurted forth. Not missing a beat, he turned her and knelt down with her, laying her on the floor, continuing to move in and out of her with a steady rhythm that she seemed to be enjoying. Her eyes were closed and her head was moving back and forth, soft sighs of pleasure escaping her lips. She dug her heels into the backs of his thighs and Mike groaned as she came again. He could feel her tight muscles contracting around him and he smiled as he kissed her hard on the lips.

She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I think I like this. Can we have pinning ceremonies more often?”

Smiling as he rolled her on top, he nodded. “Honey, we can have as many pinning ceremonies as you want. It’s allowed now that we’re official.”

“Good,” she whispered, gently biting his lips. “I think I’m going to like this whole ‘official’ thing.”

“Me too,” he said as she began a slow, easy ride. “Me too.”

* * *

Later in the evening, after a long, hot shower together, as promised, Mike massaged Eileen’s back. She lay on the bed with a towel draped over her lower half as his hands kneaded her sore muscles. The air conditioning was turned off and the bedroom window was open, letting the summer breeze drift in and billow the curtains. Mike decided to light two candles on her dresser and the soft flickering gave her skin an ethereal glow. Mike’s touch was firm, but gentle as he worked out the knots and stiffness, first in her neck, then in her back. More than once she found herself nodding off as she relaxed under the magic of his touch. He massaged her arms and legs until she felt as limp as cooked spaghetti, and he was glad to finally see some of her tension melting away. They were both quiet and afterward, she cuddled in his arms, not really wanting him to leave, but afraid of asking him to stay.

Mike desperately wanted to stay, but was afraid of overstaying his welcome. He really didn’t want to intrude on her personal time or space, and figured she could use both right about now. Carefully disentangling himself from her embrace, he slid off the bed and stood to get dressed.

“Are you leaving?” she asked, sadness evident in her voice.

“I should. You need your rest. And since Scotty’s back in Lake Zurich already, you can sleep in a little bit tomorrow morning. I’ll let you get some peace and quiet.”

She was genuinely disappointed and it was evident in her voice. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said as he pulled on his tan polo shirt and tucked it into his faded blue jeans.

“Do you want to go?”

Momentarily taken aback, he didn’t respond.

“Well?”

“Actually, no, I don’t. The thought of going back to my apartment is kind of depressing. I’d rather be with you, but I thought you might want some down time. You do so much cooking and entertaining when I’m here, I figured you’d like the night off. I don’t want to wear out my welcome, either.”

She shook her head at him. “You’re not wearing out your welcome, I promise. I can take the night off with you here. If you’d like to stay the night, I’d love to have you here. Besides, it’s late.” She looked at him hopefully.

Unable to resist—not that he wanted to—he pulled his shirt and jeans back off and slid into bed next to her. “It’s really not that late, but I’d love to stay. You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She sat up and looked at him, her green eyes fixed on his face. “I know we’re still early in our relationship and that we jumped into things pretty quickly. But the truth is, I really like having you here. I like holding you and being held. I like being able to cook for us. And it’s not just because I’m secretly a domestic diva and I enjoy doing the whole Suzy Homemaker thing. I really like seeing your face first thing in the morning when I wake up. Scotty and I have lived here for five years, but to me, it was always just a house, a place to crash at night.” Sincerity was obvious in her voice. “It’s only been recently that it’s really started to feel like a home to me.”

Touched by her words, he reached out and traced her face with his index finger. “I have a confession.”

“What?”

“Earlier this evening when you commented about going home, it occurred to me that just being with you feels like home. That’s why I hate going back to my place. It’s because you’re not there. It’s just an apartment to me. That’s all it’s ever been. I couldn’t bear the thought of being in my old house without Tina, because after she died, it was just a house. It wasn’t my home anymore. Now, when I think about you, I start getting that easy feeling again. That feeling that says I’m home.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m that comfortable with you. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because you don’t judge me or because you’re so easy going. I don’t know what it is. I just know that I’ve never been this comfortable with anyone else before.”

Eileen suddenly looked upset and hurriedly turned her face away from him. Startled by her response, alarmed that he’d somehow upset her, Mike gently tugged her hair until she looked back at him. Tears were bulging in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

“Eileen, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She shrugged as she swiped away the tears. “I don’t know. I’m feeling so much right now. I still feel guilty about not telling you about Scotty. I’m confused and scared…but happy, too. And I’m worried that I’m going to say or do something stupid to drive you away. Or that I’m going to wake up in the morning and this will all be gone, like some kind of crazy dream.”

Mike took her hand and kissed her palm before placing it over his heart. She could feel the steady thump, thump, thump in his chest. “Eileen, this is not a dream. I’m flesh and blood, and my heart is beating away. Every beat right now is for you. I know you feel guilty, but don’t. In a strange way, things worked out exactly as they should have. We may have taken a winding road to get here, but we’re here now. And I believe with every fiber of my being that we are carrying out God’s plan for us.”

“I guess I’m kind of a fraidy cat. I think it’s been burned into me that good things can’t last.”

“Let me help you get rid of that feeling. Good things do last, Eileen. They last for as long as God wants them to. Sometimes His timeline is a little different than our own, but that’s okay. For a long while after Tina died, I felt cheated and I was angry with God for taking her from me. But you know what? If not for that tragedy—and if not for the tragedies leading up to that tragedy—I never would have found this kind of happiness.” He paused, waiting for Eileen to absorb his words. When she said nothing, he continued to speak. “You are an amazing person. I don’t feel less for you because I lost Tina. That loss created a deep hole in me, a hole that I thought would never be filled again. Eileen, it’s overflowing now. I never would have guessed that I was capable of this kind of emotion. I feel so much for you, I’m not even sure how to begin describing it. You’ve re-introduced me to parts of myself that I thought were long gone. And you’ve introduced me to parts of myself that I never knew existed. I want to do the same for you.”

Eileen was holding back tears and her voice quivered. “You’re already doing that for me,” she choked out. “I never knew that I wanted to be with another person. It never occurred to me that there was someone out there for me and I thought I was fine just being alone. I’ve been on my own for a long time and I was just used to it. That’s the way things were. Now, I’m finding that I don’t want to be alone anymore. I want to be with you.”

Mike held her tight. “Good, because I want to be with you, too. I don’t know what the future holds for us. All we have is right now, and I want to make the most of it. I learned the hard way that life is too short. I know that I want to live every minute to the fullest. Yes, we will probably hit some bumps along the way. We already have and we made it through. I’m guessing we’ll hit a few snags every now and then, but I’m ready for that. I know you’re not perfect, but I wouldn’t want you to be. I’m not perfect either. Tina pointed that out to me often.” He suddenly gave a hearty belly laugh and blurted out, “She used to complain that I farted in my sleep. I think she was making it up.”

Eileen laughed too before pulling away from him. “Oh Mike. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but she wasn’t making it up.”

Mike’s face flooded with embarrassment as he tried to calm his laughing. “Okay. See? I’m not perfect. I also have a bad habit of leaving my socks laying around and forgetting to rinse out the sink after I shave. It’s worse now that I’ve been living on my own the past few years and I don’t have anyone around to remind me not to be a slob. Sometimes I get pretty distracted, and it isn’t until the sink in my apartment looks a clone of a porcupine that I finally clean it up. I’ve had to make a conscious effort to not be messy when I’m around you.”

“I’d rather have you around and messy than not around at all.”

He snorted at her. “You say that now, but after you find nine pairs of socks shoved under your bed, you might change your mind.”

“I think I’ll take my chances.”

“Okay, but you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

They lay together after that, Mike sharing stories about him and Tina and Eileen sharing stories about her and Scotty. As darkness closed further in, Eileen found that she was getting hungry again.

“Would you like something to eat?”
Mike considered it. “You know, I think I would. What would you like? I can run out and get something for you.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ve got leftovers from dinner tonight and a whole variety of stuff in my fridge and cabinets.” She pulled on a short silk robe while Mike slid into his boxers and tugged on one of Eileen’s many oversized t-shirts.

Looking her up and down appreciatively, he said, “You know, that robe is really pretty. Maybe you should part with these old men’s t-shirts and let me replace them with something else.” He ran his fingers over the delicate embroidery on the sash.

She looked amused as they made their way to the kitchen. “And what exactly did you have in mind?” she asked as she rummaged in the refrigerator.

Mike filled two glasses with ice and water. “I was thinking something a little gentler. Maybe a little sassier. T-shirts are good, but…”

“They are good,” she interjected. “And comfortable, too.”

“I know they’re comfortable. But you have a gorgeous figure and these old shirts don’t do it justice. If you trust me, I can go shopping for you. I’ve got impeccable taste. Really. I just need to know your size. I’m not a fan of going up to sales people and saying,” he spread his hands about six inches apart, “she’s about this big. I need something more concrete to work with.”

“Depends” she replied as she sliced the cake she’d prepared for dessert. “Number sizes, I usually wear an eight or a ten, depending on the cut, especially in pants. My hips are kind of wide, so I usually need a bigger size to get them on, but then they’re really baggy in the waist. And they need to be tall sizes, because regular pants look like cropped pants on me.”

Mike gave her an admiring smile. “That’s because you’ve got such long, sexy legs.” He stroked her thigh under the robe, causing her to shiver. “I’d like to see more of these legs.”

“That could be arranged,” she said as she piled fruit on their plates. “In fact, I think it could be arranged right now.” She hiked up the robe as she sat at the kitchen table, revealing her right leg up to her hip. “How’s that?”

Mike took his plate from her. “Very nice. Very nice, indeed. What about other sizes?”

Eileen bit into a large strawberry, using a napkin to wipe the juice dribbling down her chin. “Like small, medium, and large? Usually, I’m a medium, but I wear sweaters in a large because I like them loose.”

“I wasn’t talking about sweaters, sweetie. I was thinking, ah, more intimate sizes.”

Eileen flushed. “I wear a 34C. Is that what you mean?”

“Yes,” he said mischievously, “that’s exactly what I mean.”

Although it didn’t seem possible, she flushed an even deeper shade of crimson. “What exactly are you planning on getting for me? And do I get a say in it?”

“I’m not telling and no. I want to surprise you. Let’s just say you’ll be putting the Victoria’s Secret models to shame.” He gave her an impish grin. “And I can hardly wait to be your audience. What are you doing next weekend?”

“Probably the same thing I do every weekend. Getting Scotty, getting stuff done around here. Fooling around with you.”

He playfully threw a slice of banana at her, which she successfully dodged. “I’m being serious, Eileen. Would you like to go away next weekend? Scotty could come along. I have no problem with that. I thought we could hit a bed and breakfast in Galena or something. We can get Scotty his own room. Or he could share a room with us. It doesn’t have to be just about you and me.”

Eileen thought about what he said. “If we’re going to go away, it should be just us for the first trip. Besides,” she said with a wistful smile, “I think I’m going to have trouble getting Scotty to come home anyway. He seems pretty enthralled with the young woman he was telling us about. Melanie. She’s a cute thing. A tiny blonde pixie with Down’s syndrome. If your schedule works out, we could leave Friday night, stop and take Scotty out for dinner, then bring him back and head up to Galena. And maybe we could stop again on Sunday and take him out for lunch?”

“Of course. Eileen, I never want to take away time from your son. I know that he’s your priority.”

“You’re a priority too, though. The two of you are different priorities, but still priorities. Very important priorities. I want the three of us to spend time together, but it’s probably good for you and I to get some alone time, too. I want you to know me as a woman and a mother. Not just one or the other.”

“I know you as a person. I know you as Eileen. And I like what I know. Nothing’s going to change that.”

They finished their cake and fruit and Mike hurried to rinse the plates before Eileen could do it. He led her into the living room and she curled up against him.

She snuggled into his chest, feeling warm and safe. “Want to watch a movie?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I don’t think so. Last time I agreed to that, it was a kid’s movie. And you agreed that next time it would be a movie at my place. A movie that I would get to pick.”

“You’re right. But you know what?”

“What?” he asked as she shifted her weight and sat on his lap.

“Kids’ movies are a good thing. Don’t you remember the outcome when we watched it?” She untied her robe, letting it slide down her shoulders and onto the floor.

“I remember the outcome,” he whispered as he ran his hands over her smooth skin, tracing her collar bone and running his fingertips down across her belly and outer thighs.

She tugged his shirt over his head and trailed kisses down his neck and chest, working her way farther down. “Well then,” she said with a sly look, “maybe you shouldn’t complain.” She nipped playfully at the waistband of his shorts and he sighed.

“I’m not complaining. Really. Movies with G-ratings are fine with me. Especially when they lead to things that aren’t G-rated.”

“Good,” she said. “That’s very good. Now hush.” She continued to kiss her way down his body. Moments later, her mouth hit its target and there wasn’t another word from him.

* * *

Eileen’s eyes opened slowly. It couldn’t be Monday already, could it? The weekend had gone by so fast. Too fast. She stretched out in her bed, luxuriating in being able to sleep in until seven o’clock. It was rare that she got to sleep in on Mondays with Scotty’s schedule. It was rare for her to sleep in any day since she always started early to make up for having most of her weekends off. She pulled the covers back over her head, not wanting to face the day. Suddenly, she yanked them back, in a panic. Where was Mike?

She heard faint sounds from the kitchen, and she made her way down the hall, tying her robe as she went. He was standing in front of the stove, cooking something that smelled of warm cinnamon and vanilla.

“Mmmmm. What are you making?” She nuzzled against his back, stifling a yawn.

“French toast. I hope you like it.”

“Have you ever known me to pass up food?”

She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the smile. “No. I know how important it is to keep you fed. Ryan has warned me that you’re quite a bear when you’re hungry. And apparently, that’s pretty often.”

“Don’t listen to Ryan. He’s just trying to cause trouble.”

Mike turned and gave her a peck on the lips before turning his attention back to the stove. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen what happens when you get hungry.”

She snaked her arms around his waist, hugging him hard from behind. “Hungry in what way?” she asked in a sultry voice, letting her robe fall partially open.

“Oh my, my. I mean food hungry. Not the kind of hungry you’re talking about. And even if you are hungry that way, I’m afraid I can’t accommodate you this morning.”

Putting on a pout, Eileen sat down at the kitchen table where there was a glass of juice waiting for her. “Why can’t you accommodate me?”

Mike slid two slices of French toast onto her plate and handed her a bowl of fruit. “Honey, you’ve been giving me quite a workout lately. I can barely walk.” A big smile spread across his face. “I’m not complaining, mind you. I can’t think of a better way to get my exercise in. However, certain areas of me are, well, they’re a bit overworked right now. I think I just need a day off to recover.”

She smiled back at him over her glass of juice. “Probably a good idea. We can treat it like your rotations at work. Twenty-four on, forty-eight off.”

“Not quite,” he said as he sat down to eat. “I don’t think I could stand being without you for forty-eight hours. I enjoy your company too much to do that.”

“Are you sure it’s only my company you enjoy?” She winked at him suggestively.

“Of course it’s your company.” He stabbed a piece of French toast and chewed thoughtfully for a minute. “Well, your company and maybe a few other things, too.”

They both laughed at their silliness before settling down into a routine that was intimate and familiar. They split up the newspaper, Mike reading the headline section and Eileen delving into the sports section as she happily wolfed down her breakfast. She was reading about plans for the upcoming football season when she was suddenly aware of the heavy silence in the kitchen. Looking up, she saw that Mike’s normally ruddy complexion was stark white.

“Mike, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Eileen, just stay put.” He wasn’t looking at her, but past her. From where they were sitting, he had a clear view of the couch in the living room. He slid out of his chair and she made a move to follow him, but he held his arm out. “Wait.”

“Mike, you’re scaring me. What the hell is the matter?”

Slowly, cautiously, he made his way to the living room. “Eileen, call the police.”

She brushed past him, swatting his arm away as he tried to block her. “I am the police. What are you looking at?”

Bile rose in the back of her throat. Propped neatly on her couch was a human leg, which had been cleanly severed at the knee. On the outer ankle was a tattoo of an ace of spades.

Moving in a trance-like state, her feet carried her into the room, though she felt like she hadn’t even left the kitchen. A moment later, she was standing in front of her comfortable plaid couch, which was now in a desecrated state. She reached out for leg, but Mike held her back. “Don’t touch it. Baby, don’t look at it.”

It was almost magnetic, pulling her eyes toward it. Upon closer inspection, Eileen saw that it was a very feminine looking leg with pretty, pale pink polish on the toenails. Not wanting to look, but knowing she had to, she squatted and looked at the bottom of the foot. The calling card was there.

Whirling back to look at Mike, she didn’t speak at first. Her lips moved, but nothing came out. Her eyes were wide and her lips began to quiver. “Mike, he was here. He was in my house,” she whispered hoarsely. “How the hell did he get in my house? I have an alarm. Squads are driving by day and night.” She was starting to cry and trying not to. “We were both here. How did he get in? Why didn’t we hear him? When did he do this?” She began to hyperventilate.

Mike guided her back to the kitchen and sat her down in a chair. “Stop. Just sit there. I’ll take care of this.” Grabbing Eileen’s phone, he punched in Ryan’s cell number.

He answered on the second ring, his voice thick with sleep. “Riley, it’s not even seven-fifteen. What are you doing calling me so damn early?”

“Ryan, it’s Mike. I’m at Eileen’s and we need help.”

On the other end, Ryan came fully awake. “Mike? Is Eileen okay? What’s going on?”

“Look, we got up this morning and there’s a…there’s a human leg on her couch.”

“A what?” His stomach sank and he prayed he hadn’t heard correctly, though in his gut, he knew he had.

“There’s a leg on her couch. A woman’s leg. It’s got a tattoo. And a carving on the bottom of the foot.”

“Did you touch it?”

“No, neither of us touched it. Can you get over here?”

“I’m on my way. I’m going to call ahead for some help. Is Eileen okay?”

“She’s shaken up, but I’ll get her together before you get here.”

“Give me five minutes.”

“Okay. We’ll be here.”

Cradling the phone back into the receiver, Mike took a deep breath, then gently pulled Eileen to her feet. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you into some clothes. Ryan’s on his way and he’s calling ahead to get some help over here.”

She didn’t respond, but obediently followed him.

Mike guided her back to her bedroom. She stood numbly, staring into space as he hurriedly changed into his clothes. “Eileen, sweetie, we need to get you dressed.” She nodded, but stayed rooted where she was at, not even budging when the doorbell rang. Mike ran to the front door, peeking out the side window before swinging it open. Ryan was standing there in navy sweatpants and an undershirt, old Adidas beach sandals on his feet. It was a far cry from his usual, polished look.

“Is she okay?” he asked as he brushed past Mike.

“She’s in her room. I wanted to get her into some regular clothes, but she’s just standing there, not moving, not talking. Maybe you can get through to her.”

Ryan nodded and hurried to her room, talking to Mike over his shoulder. “Look, the team is going to be here shortly. I told them not to come with lights or sirens since everyone is fine and I don’t want a big spectacle in the neighborhood. Eileen’s feeling like she’s in a fishbowl as it is. I don’t want to create any additional chaos. And I want to know where the hell the marked squad is at. He was supposed to be cruising the neighborhood or parked in front of her house and I don’t see him anywhere.”

“He’s got to be nearby, Ryan. I woke up around four-thirty to go to the bathroom and I saw the car. It was parked right out front and your man was standing right outside of the car having a cigarette.”

Ryan froze just as he put his hand on the doorknob to Eileen’s room. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. I looked out the window and he was leaning up against the passenger door smoking a cigarette.”

Ryan swallowed hard. “Matt Tucker was on last night. He doesn’t smoke.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that he doesn’t smoke. I don’t know who you saw, but it wasn’t Tucker. Look, we’ll figure it out later. Let’s just focus on getting Eileen together.”

Eileen was standing in the same spot Mike had left her. Ryan took her hand and it was ice cold.

“Eileen, honey, we need to get you dressed.”

She made no movement, didn’t blink. Ryan couldn’t even tell if she was breathing.

“Eileen? Honey? Mike and I are going to help you.” Eileen nodded but still didn’t respond.

“Ryan, tell me what you want me to do to help her.”

“Go start water in the tub. Not hot, but hotter than just warm.”

Mike did as he was told as Ryan stripped off Eileen’s robe and picked her up. He carried her to the bathroom and placed her in the rapidly filling tub. The water seemed to do something for Eileen, and she let out a long, low wail before completely breaking into tears. Ryan leaned over the tub and Eileen clung to him, crying so hard that she was coughing. Mike stood awkwardly to the side, feeling like an intruder.

Several minutes passed before her tears began to subside. “Ryan, he got in the house. How did he get into my house? I’m a cop. Why didn’t I hear him? Why is he doing this? What am I supposed to do?”

Ryan stroked her wet back, holding her close. He ached down to his soul. He couldn’t stand to see her cry. Watching this strong, vibrant woman come completely undone was almost more than he could take. “Baby, I don’t know. But I’m here, Mike’s here, and I swear we’ll protect you. The bastard won’t ever get to you again.” Turning to look up at Mike, he asked, “Can you get some clothes for her? She keeps a few sweat suits in her bottom right drawer.”

Mike did as he was asked, but felt a tug of resentment. He should be the one taking care of Eileen. And how did Ryan know where Eileen kept her sweat suits? That was odd. He and Tina had been married, and he didn’t know where she kept her sweats. When he got back to the bathroom, Ryan had already soaped her up and was sponging the suds off of her. When he was through, he lifted her out of the tub, wrapped her in a large bath sheet and started rubbing her arms. She was starting to get some color back in her face, and though her eyes were red and puffy from crying, she was looking more like herself again. Mike handed her the sweats.

“Eileen, do you need me to get anything for you?”

She shook her head. “No, thanks. Wait. Can you get me a cup of coffee? I’m freezing.”

“I can do that. Ryan, you want coffee, too?”

“Yeah, that would be great. I’ll help you out. The guys will probably want coffee, too.” He gave Eileen a quick kiss on the cheek. “Get yourself dressed. Mike and I will be in the kitchen.” The doorbell rang and Eileen jumped.

They heard the front door opening, then, “Maxwell! You in here?” The booming voice of Trevor Fuller echoed through Eileen’s house.

“Yeah! We’re getting Eileen squared away. We’ll be out in a minute.” He turned to Eileen then. “See, it’s okay. It’s just the rest of the guys getting here. Meet us in the living room. We’ll have coffee for you.”

Her teeth were chattering as she nodded. “Okay. Just give me a few minutes.” She swooned for a second, and both Mike and Ryan reached out to steady her. “I’m fine. Just a little too much excitement for a Monday morning.” She gave them both a wan smile. “Really. I’ll be fine.” She unwrapped herself from the towel and hung it on the bar next to the tub before pulling the sweatshirt over her head, seemingly unbothered by her nakedness. As she stepped into the pink cotton panties that Mike had included with her clothes, she realized that they were both watching her.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, she couldn’t help but give a small laugh. “Look guys. You act like you’ve never seen a naked woman before. I realize I’m drop-dead gorgeous and all, but it’s really not polite to stare.”

Mike blushed and had the decency to look away, but Ryan just rolled his eyes. “You’re not all that, so don’t pretend you are. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to fall over on us.”

Eileen stuck out her tongue before hitching up the sweat pants. “Whatever. At least Mike appreciates what he sees.” She looked pointedly at him and he blushed even harder. “Mike, it’s okay. It’s not like our relationship is a secret. And Ryan and I have been partners for six years. We’ve gotten into some odd situations. He’s seen me naked more than a few times.”

“Yeah,” Ryan sneered. “But unlike Mike, I haven’t had the luxury of getting any action from you.”

Eileen flipped him off before gathering her hair into a ponytail. “That’s not my fault. You had plenty of opportunity and you blew it.”

Mike shook his head, not really understanding how Ryan and Eileen could banter back and forth like that, when only ten minutes earlier, she’d been practically catatonic. He supposed that working in law enforcement did strange things to people, and maybe this was just one of those strange things. Heading toward the kitchen, he just couldn’t shake the feeling of dread he’d had since he first saw the leg on Eileen’s couch. Something was wrong. He and Eileen were both in the house all night. The leg wasn’t there at four-thirty, but it was there three hours later. Less than that, probably, because he’d gotten up at six-thirty to make Eileen breakfast, and if someone had come in the house after that, he would have heard it. He was certain of that much. So, the bastard had gotten in during a two-hour time frame.

Mike arranged six cups on one of Eileen’s serving trays and poured steaming coffee into each one. By the time he made it into the living room, Eileen and Ryan were sitting on the large ottoman. Three officers were busying themselves with organizing the scene and Trevor Fuller was taking Eileen’s statement. Mike could see that she was agitated and her voice had a steely edge to it.

“No, I didn’t see who put the leg on my couch. If I saw someone in my house carrying a human leg, don’t you think I would do something about it? Give me a break, Trevor!” She flopped back on the couch, folding her arms across her chest.

The detective was nonplussed by her outburst. “Look Eileen, you can get as mad as you want, but you know as well as I do that I’m asking you standard questions.” He looked to Mike for help. “Can you tell me anything?”

Mike shook his head. “Sorry, but no. I got up a little bit before Eileen to start breakfast. I didn’t look in the living room before going into the kitchen, so I don’t know if it was there already. But I can tell you that I didn’t hear anything between the time I got up and when Eileen got up.”

“Ryan said you told him you got up early this morning?”

“Yeah, I got up at four-thirty to use the john.”

“It was exactly four-thirty?”

Mike shrugged. “Either four twenty-four or four twenty-nine. My eyes were a little bleary when I looked at the digital clock in the bathroom. It was close to four-thirty, though.”

“And what were you doing at that time?”

Mike bristled at Trevor’s tone. “I already told you, I got up to go to the bathroom.”

Trevor nodded. “Yes, you did. Ryan also said you looked out the window?”

Not liking where the conversation was heading, Mike stiffened. “Yeah, I did. When I was walking back to the bedroom, I saw headlights out front. It seemed strange since this is a pretty quiet residential neighborhood, so I went to the living room and looked out the window. I saw the squad parked out front. It was running, and the cop was leaning up against the door smoking a cigarette.”

“You’re sure it was a cop?”

“I didn’t get a good look at him, but he was wearing a uniform.”

“Did you go out and talk to him? Wave to him from the window? Anything?”

Mike could feel his blood pressure rising. Forcing himself to take a deep breath and relax, he replied, “No. I did not talk to him. I did not wave to him. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t put on a light, didn’t even move the curtain. I saw him, saw the squad, and went back to bed. I went back to sleep, and then I got up just after six-thirty and made French toast. There are leftovers if you want to check. We sat down for breakfast and were reading the paper. I looked up to give her a hard time about reading the sports section and that’s when I saw it. I thought I was mistaken at first, but I wasn’t. As soon as I was sure, I called up Ryan and he came right over.”

Trevor could hear the hostility building in Mike’s voice. “Mike, I’m not trying to bust your balls, okay? I’m trying to figure out what the hell happened. This guy is a killer. A serial killer. And he’s got his sights set on Eileen. I don’t know why, but he does. We’re doing everything we can to keep her safe, and that includes checking out the people who are closest to her. Unfortunately, that means you. And Ryan, too.”

Ryan looked surprised. “Me? I’m her partner!”

Trevor held up his hand to silence Ryan. “I know that. But that also means you’re probably closer to her than anyone else and you know the layout of her property. And I’m curious. This is now twice that you and Mike have miraculously been on the scene to save Eileen from this crazed lunatic. How did you get here so fast this time?”

Ryan’s face flooded with color. Trying not to shake with the rage he was feeling, he said through clenched teeth, “Mike called my cell phone from Eileen’s house phone. I went to the ballgame yesterday. I was out late last night with friends and had too much to drink. I crashed with a buddy who lives a few blocks from here.”

“What’s his name?”

“Edward Abbott. He was with me at the game.”

“Mind if I check out your story?”

“Hell yes, I mind! I mind because Eileen is my best friend and I would never do anything to hurt her. I resent the fact that you’re implicating anything otherwise. But I can give you Ed’s number right now and you can call him. I woke him up before I left so he would know that I didn’t head out last night while I was still smashed.”

Eileen piped up. “Trevor, cut it out. It wasn’t Ryan, okay? And I know Ed. He’s a good guy. If Ryan says they were at the ballgame, that’s where they were. And if you ask any of the guys at the station, they can tell you that it was all Ryan was yammering about last week.” Eileen masterfully left out the fact that Ed was also Ryan’s occasional lover. Ryan shot her a grateful look, obviously appreciating her discretion.

Trevor ran his hands over his face. “Okay, okay. Look, I’m just covering all my bases. It must suck to be giving a statement instead of taking one, huh?”

Eileen nodded. “Yes, it does suck. So, can we finish up here? Is there anything else you need from me?”

Trevor shook his head. “Not right now. We’re going to have to dust for prints and nose around outside and inside a bit, see if we can’t figure out how the bastard got in. Eileen, I’m going to need the number to your security company so I can see if they got any hits on the silent alarm.”

“Sure. Actually, let me call them and I’ll turn the phone over to you.” She picked up the receiver in the living room, punching in a series of numbers before getting an operator. She briefly explained the situation and then handed the phone to Trevor. “Need anything else?” When Trevor shook his head, she stood up and gave his hand a quick shake. “Okay then. You and your guys get to work, and let me get to mine. Thank you for getting here so quickly. Let me get dressed.” She looked down at her sweats sheepishly. “Or, at least more appropriately dressed for work so we can get things moving along here.”

Mike’s eyes followed her as she walked to her bedroom. Ryan nudged him in the ribs. “Go check on her.”

“Why? She seems okay and I don’t want to bug her.”

“Just check on her, okay? I’ve known her longer than you have and she’s putting up one hell of a brave front, but she’s terrified. After the crying she did, she won’t talk to me about this because she doesn’t want me to think she’s a wimp. I make fun of her a lot because she’s one of the only women on the force. None of it is serious, but she tries to act macho because she really wants to fit in and have the guys accept her. Just make sure she’s okay and that she knows she’s not alone in this. She’s not going to ask us for help or even hint that she’s less than okay. The little meltdown she had in the tub was nothing. Anyone else would have completely fallen apart, but good old Eileen is being stubborn and strong, just like always.” He sighed heavily. “She needs other people to be strong for her and she’s got to know we’re here and we’re going to be here no matter what.”

“I’ll see how she’s doing. Can you do something for me?”

“Sure, what do you need?”

Mike swallowed hard. “If it wasn’t your guy, Matt Tucker, out there early this morning, who did I see? Can you find out? And can you find out if Matt’s okay?”

Ryan hesitated, then nodded, but Mike caught the disturbed expression on his face.

“Is there something I should know? Something you’re not telling me about Matt?”

Gesturing for Mike to follow him, Ryan went into the dining room. He spoke in a low voice so nobody else could hear.

“Look, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I’m going to. Just please don’t mention it to Eileen. You definitely did not see Matt. We’re guessing that you saw the guy we’ve been after since the murder in the brownstone last month. Trevor’s going to ask you about what happened this morning again, because he wants to try and get some kind of description so we can try and figure out what the hell this guy looks like.”

“But I already told you, I didn’t get a good look at him. I really don’t think I can do anything else to help.”

“That’s fine. Just answer his questions, okay?”

“You know I will. I just don’t think…” His voice trailed off and color drained out of his face. For the briefest of moments, he was afraid he was going to vomit on Ryan.

Ryan instantly noticed the change in Mike’s pallor. “Are you okay, buddy?”

“I just thought of something. The newspaper. It was the Chicago Tribune. Today’s edition.”

Ryan was perplexed. “What does today’s paper have to do with any of this?”

Mike realized he wasn’t being clear. “It was today’s paper, Ryan. How did today’s paper get on the kitchen table? I didn’t go out to the front porch to get it. And Eileen didn’t get up at all. Not until she came in for breakfast. I know she didn’t get out of bed because she bounces like crazy when she gets up. There’s nothing subtle in her movements. It’s like Earthquake Eileen. I know that would have woken me up. I’m sure of it.”

Ryan slapped Mike on the back. “It’s good you remembered that. Maybe we can check the plastic wrapper for prints. See? You thought you weren’t going to be helpful. You may have just opened a door to our biggest clue in this case so far.” He waved for Trevor Fuller to come into the dining room, wanting to keep him apprised of the situation. “Just one more thing, Mike.” Ryan dropped the volume of his voice even more, so that Mike had to strain to hear him. “Trevor’s guys found Matt. He was in the alley two doors down, stuffed between two garbage cans. He was naked and his throat was cut. His uniform, badge, wallet, gun, car, everything…just gone. We’ve got one crazy bastard out there. And he’s a crazy bastard with a cop’s uniform and a gun.”

Mike shivered. “Is there anything the department can do for Eileen?”

“We’re going to have sentries here at the house and we’ll increase the number of cruisers in the neighborhood. I wanted her followed twenty-four seven, but the department won’t approve it because she hasn’t been threatened and I’m with her most of the day anyway.”

“Are you kidding me? After the bee incident? And now a human leg in her house?”

Ryan shrugged. “It’s politics, my man. What can I say?”

Mike’s face sagged and his stomach churned. “I guess nothing. I’ll do what I can and be here as often as I can. I don’t like the idea of her being alone.”

“Me neither. Maybe we can work something out so one of us is always here with her. And one other thing. Maybe you can talk to her, too, about not having Scotty home until things blow over.”

“You know she won’t agree to that. She was heartbroken on Saturday when Scotty wanted to leave and go back to the group home early.”

“Make her agree to it. It’s for her safety and his. She won’t put her son in any danger. Just make her listen.”

“I’ll do my best. Let me know if you need anything. I’m going to check on her now.”

Ryan nodded, feeling guilty for not telling Mike one other piece of information. They’d found the girl that the leg belonged to.

And there’d been a message left on the body, scrawled in blood across her chest. I’m getting closer.

Untitled 1: Part 11

2010-09-25T18:40:00.001-05:00

Mike realized he was holding his breath. He looked at Eileen and saw that the ice-cream in her cup had melted and was leaking from the bottom. He took the cup from her and set it on the coffee table.

“Your mother made you keep the baby?” he asked.

Eileen nodded. “My mother may have been a crack whore. But she was a Catholic, church-going, God-fearing crack whore. Abortion was not an option. And I could not bear the thought of giving my baby up for adoption. The thought of someone else raising my baby. Maybe being abusive or doing something else,” she shuddered at the thought of it. “There was no way I could give my baby away to someone. I believe in adoption now, but back then, I couldn’t even consider it as a possibility.”

Mike nodded. “So, then what?”

“Well,” she sighed, “I was pretty lucky. Considering how young I was, how physically unprepared I was for a baby, I did okay. The pregnancy itself wasn’t too difficult. I went to school until December. My mom spoke privately with the Principal about what had occurred, and he arranged for a private tutor so that everyone at school wouldn’t know I was pregnant.

“My water broke three weeks before my due date while mom was at work. I was terrified, called her crying. She rushed home. We thought that we had plenty of time, but the contractions were coming fast and hard, and I was bleeding. She got me to the hospital faster than an ambulance could have. I was tucked into Labor and Delivery right away. The doctor was worried because things were happening so fast, but Scotty and I came out of it okay. He was so tiny. But beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

“I was supposed to go home the next day, but I really wasn’t feeling well. The doctor thought it was just because I was so young and my body wasn’t prepared for the rigors of childbirth, but I knew something wasn’t right. My body just felt off. Nothing I could put my finger on. She agreed to let me stay another day. During the night that night, I was nursing Scotty, and mom was asleep in the chair. Out of nowhere, this horrible pain ripped through my abdomen and I started hemorrhaging. I called for my mom and she bolted out of that chair like a rocket. The last thing I remembered was her catching Scotty as he slipped out of my arms.

“When I woke up, I was in Intensive Care. Apparently, a tiny piece of the placenta had stuck behind in my uterus, and was causing massive complications. I ended up having to have my uterus totally removed. Yup. Thirteen years old and having a hysterectomy. The ovaries were left in place. But the uterus was out. So, that’s why I’m not able to have children.” Eileen laughed a small, bitter laugh. “Yeah, all the benefits of not having a period, but all the hell of PMS thanks to my hormone-pumping ovaries. Lucky me.”

Mike’s nostrils flared as he exhaled. “How awful for you. I still can’t believe your mom made you keep the baby. I mean, I’m Catholic and I don’t particularly agree with abortion, but I’m not a woman. I wouldn’t tell any woman what to do. How in the world did you cope, especially after the surgery?”

“It was hard,” Eileen admitted. “Mrs. Burkman really helped out, though. She took care of me and Scotty so mom could go back to work. Those early months were really difficult, but time went by so fast. Mrs. Burkman watched Scotty during the day so mom could work and I could go to school. She didn’t have any children, so obviously no grandchildren, either, and Mr. Burkman had been dead for—gosh, I don’t remember. Ten years, maybe? But she loved Scotty and took such good care of him. She watched him almost every single day during the week until he went to kindergarten.”

“Scotty was able to go to a regular school?”

Eileen was confused. “What do you mean?”

Mike flushed a little. “I just thought—um—well, Scott seems, I don’t know. Slow?”

Eileen let out a small laugh. “Oh yeah. Duh. Scotty wasn’t born like…like how he is now. He was actually way ahead academically in kindergarten and first grade. No, it was something else that happened.”

Mike’s heart was aching for her. “What happened? Did he get sick or something? Hurt?”
Tears welled up in Eileen’s already red-rimmed eyes. She hadn’t done any actual crying since she started talking, but was getting dangerously close. She took a deep breath, trying to get control of her emotions.

“Hurt is probably the best description. He got hurt and ended up with some brain damage.”
The tears she was fighting to hold back began spilling over onto her cheeks. Mike reached out to wipe them away, but Eileen pulled her head back.

“Don’t,” she said. “I’m okay. Let me just get through this.” She took a long, slow, deep breath, and closed her eyes for a few seconds.

“Okay, I’m better. So anyway, yes, Scotty got hurt. It was toward the end of first grade. I had been going to school part-time and working.” She sighed heavily. “I got home one evening and found Scotty playing in the living room by himself. It wasn’t like Mrs. Burkman to leave him alone in a room. She was always hovering over him. I looked around and was relieved to find that my mom was home, but she was asleep in her bedroom. I woke her up to see if everything was okay, but she was kind of snippy and told me to leave her alone. That wasn’t like her, but I figured maybe she just wasn’t feeling well. I spent a quiet evening with Scott, and the next morning, mom seemed fine. She didn’t mention anything from the night before, so I just let it go. Everyone’s entitled to an occasional bad day, right? God, I was so wrong.

“Three days later, I came home from work and it was complete chaos. I walked in the back door and it was like a tornado had gone through the kitchen. The table was knocked over and the dinner my mother had obviously been making was all over the walls. I was in a complete panic. I ran to the living room, calling for my mother and Scotty. I found Scotty on the floor, unconscious, but breathing, with a puddle of blood around his head.

“I was on the phone with the 911 dispatcher, grabbing a towel from the hall closet for Scotty’s head, when I saw mom on the floor in the bathroom. She’d been badly beaten. But I had to take care of Scotty first. The police and paramedics came, and it was like a flashback to the night I was raped. Just the noise and the chaos. Mom and Scotty were both rushed to the hospital, and then Scotty was air-lifted to the children’s hospital. He was in bad shape. I went with him, but it was hard to leave my mom behind.

“Scotty was in critical condition. His brain was swelling, and he was in a drug-induced coma. The doctors weren’t sure he was going to make it, and I felt so damn helpless, because I didn’t even know what happened. I knew my mom had been released from the hospital, but she didn’t come to see Scotty for two days after that. I was too scared to be angry about it.

“When she did show up, she was in pretty bad shape. Her nose was broken and half of her teeth were missing. And she just had this look. I’d seen that look before. And I knew she had relapsed. I knew that my baby boy was on the brink of death because of her carelessness. I flew at her, physically attacked her before she even had a chance to speak. It took two security guards to pull me off of her, and she just stood there, crying and wringing her hands. I just wanted to wring her neck.

“Finally, she told me that she had relapsed several weeks earlier and she had been ‘borrowing’ from an old dealer friend. That day, he came to collect, but she didn’t have enough to pay him. He tried to force himself on her, thinking that they could work out a little barter system like they had in the past. When she refused, he administered a light beating in an effort to straighten her out.
“However, he underestimated the power of my little boy, who was not about to let anyone hurt his grandma.”

Eileen started to laugh. “Scott ran up to the guy and bit him on the butt. Even through the guy’s pants, he bit hard enough to draw blood.” She laughed for another minute, then quieted down.
“So, Scotty bit him. The bastard backhanded him hard enough to knock him to the floor, but that didn’t stop him. He got up, ran over to the guy, then lunged at his ankle like a crazy dog. Scotty got two big chunks of skin out before the guy kicked him in the face. But then he kept kicking him. Over and over until Scotty’s skull was cracked and partially caved in. Then he beat my mom until she was unconscious.

“The guy was caught two days later. The cops put the word out at local hospitals about the bites, and he ended up getting nailed. He’s still serving time.

“So, that’s it. Scotty eventually woke up. Took about three weeks. But even when he came around, it was obvious he was gone. The brain damage was that severe. He needed extensive therapy. Very extensive therapy. Three months into it, my mother died of an overdose. It was labeled an accident, but I think she did it on purpose. Just out of guilt, you know? Two months later, Mrs. Burkman died of a heart attack, so then I was really alone.”

Eileen looked at Mike and saw that he had tears in his eyes.

“God, Eileen, how horrible for you. How in the world did you manage?”

She shrugged. “I just did what I had to do, you know? Actually, I got pretty lucky. Mrs. Burkman left the building to me in her will, along with the money from her life insurance policy. I quit school and my job for a while to take care of Scotty and lived off that, plus the income from renting out the lower level. A few years later, I went back to school and got a degree in Criminal Justice and then went through the Academy. And now, here I am. The end.”

Mike was slowly shaking his head back and forth. “You are one hell of a woman, Eileen Riley. But you left something out.”

She gave him a quizzical look. “Um, it’s my story, Mike. I think I know it pretty well.”

“No. What happened to Derek? Was he ever caught?”

Eileen gave him a stiff smile. “I guess you could say that. Joe kept his word. He worked on every lead, even when they seemed like dead-ends. When I was eight months pregnant, he came over to tell me and mom that Derek had been shot by police after robbing a liquor store. He pulled a gun on the cops and they took him out. Joe stayed pretty involved in our lives. He’s actually Scotty’s godfather. Mrs. Burkman was his godmother, but she’s been gone a long time now.”

“Joe sounds like a heck of a guy.”

Eileen smiled. “He is. Old Joe Blue is the best.”

Realization hit Mike. “Are you kidding me? Joe Blue? As in the nickname for one Mr. Joseph Bloomington, the chief of police?”

Eileen’s eyes twinkled. “That’s him.”

“Damn! No wonder he’s so good to you. The guys used to joke that the two of you were either banging, or you were his illegitimate kid. Now I know the real reason."

“Yeah. He’s been very flexible with me and very discreet in letting my supervisors know why I work the schedule that I do. I know some people resent my being able to be off almost every weekend, but I put in a lot of extra time during the week. Good old Joe. He was so proud when I told him that I wanted to go into law enforcement. Well, actually, first he wanted to clobber me. Once the shock wore off, then he was proud.”

Eileen looked at Mike, briefly meeting his eyes before hurriedly looking away. Mike caught it immediately.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

She didn’t speak at first. She fiddled with the pins in her hair, finally pulling them out, allowing her hair to fall and partially cover her face. Mike reached over to smooth down the tresses, but Eileen pulled away from him.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “I am so, so sorry that I didn’t tell you about Scotty right away. Obviously, Joe knows about Scott. And since Ryan sent you here, you know he knows. But I haven’t told anyone else until now.”

Mike slid closer to Eileen, cautiously reaching over to hug her. She was stiff for a few seconds, but finally relaxed in his embrace, leaning her face into his chest.

“Eileen, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing. Actually,” he swallowed hard over the lump in his throat, “it’s me who should be apologizing. I am so sorry for how I behaved and the horrible things I said. Nobody deserves that. Especially not you.”

He kissed the top of her head and stroked her cheek, surprised to find it wet with tears. He pulled her closer, and she continued to quietly cry, saying nothing, making no sound except for an occasional sniffle.

Mike was at a loss for words and opted to remain silent and wait for Eileen to speak. The minutes ticked by, and he continued to hold her. She finally let out a small sigh and sat up, rubbing her eyes.

“Okay. I’m done being weepy. I’m betting that you have a ton of questions. Fire away.”

“Kiddo, it can wait.”

She shook her head. “No. I’d rather answer as much as I can now. If you wait, I may not be in the mood to answer.”

Mike shrugged. “I don’t have a ton of questions. I mean, I’m curious about how you kept it a secret all these years. And how did Scotty end up not living with you anymore?”

Eileen eyed him warily. “That’s really all you want to know? You’re sure?”

He nodded. “That’s all. Really. Wait. I guess I’d also like to know why you kept Scotty a secret. He seems like a great kid.”

Eileen smiled. “Scotty is a great kid, and I love him very much. I don’t tell people about him because—I’m embarrassed to say this. I don’t tell people about him because I’m afraid of being judged, and I don’t want to have to tell the whole ugly history. The past is painful and I really don’t like talking about it. But I’d have to tell the whole story if people are going to understand. That’s the why of it.

“The how isn’t that hard. I’ve just never mentioned it. It was harder when he was living here full-time. I tried to make it home everyday to meet him when he got off the bus. He attended a therapeutic day school here in the city, and he usually got home around five. He knew if he got home before me, he could get a snack from the refrigerator and wait for me. That worked for a while, but as he got older, he wanted to be more independent. I didn’t help at all. I was being completely overprotective, not letting him do anything.

“It was really only a matter of time before something would happen. And it did. Oh boy, it did. It was a couple of years ago. Scott beat me home and decided to make dinner for us. He wanted to surprise me, show me he was capable of helping out. He wanted to make grilled cheese for us.
“He got things started, and was actually doing okay, but the pan got too hot, and started to smoke. Scotty started to panic, didn’t know what to do. He threw a towel on top of the pan, but the towel caught on fire. He was terrified and put the burning pan and towel in the pantry to hide it from me. He was afraid I’d be mad.

“When I got home, the kitchen was full of smoke and Scotty had locked himself in the bathroom. There was a fire in the pantry, which fortunately, was small, but still scary. I put it out with a fire extinguisher, but not before it did some damage. Actually, that was when I decided to gut the pantry and make it a laundry room. That was also when I decided that I needed help with Scotty. I had to face that I just couldn’t do it by myself.

“I spent the next few months looking into group homes. I finally found one that I liked out in Lake Zurich. I took Scotty for a visit and he seemed to like it. He didn’t move in right away. We did a slow transition, because I didn’t want him to feel like he was being punished because of the kitchen fire. I think he understood, but he was still terrified. He cried so hard when he did his first overnight visit. Ryan was with us, and Scotty just sat on the floor, hugging my legs, begging me not to go. I finally got myself out of his grasp and kissed him good-bye, but I was crying so hard, I couldn’t drive. Ryan drove and just let me cry the whole way home. Now that I think about it, he spent the night and listened to me blubber the whole evening about how guilty I felt, how I was such a bad mom, how I felt like a failure. He was just there for me, said all the right things to make me feel better.

“When we went to pick up Scotty the next day, he didn’t want to leave! I had to coax him into coming home to pack his things. He could hardly wait to get back there. Now, he spends his weekdays out there, going to school and learning job skills and independent living skills. He’s at home with me every weekend and on holidays and vacations. I pick him up on Fridays after work, and drive him back on Monday mornings. The staff out there think I’m nuts. Most of the parents only come out to see their kids a few times a year.” She shook her head in disgust. “Some of those parents think they got such a raw deal. But you know who really got the raw deal? Those kids. They’re slow, but they’re not stupid. They know full well that their parents view them as an embarrassment. I just can’t even imagine that.”

Mike was still stunned by all that he had just heard. “You drive to Lake Zurich every Monday before work? You must be out the door by five in the morning.”

“Actually, it’s closer to five-fifteen. But it works for us. That’s also why I’m so darn tired on Mondays.”

“No wonder. It explains a lot. You are something else. Scotty is very lucky to have you as his mom.”

Eileen shrugged. “Not quite. I feel like I’m the lucky one to have Scotty as my son. Nobody could ask for a better kid. He does pretty well for himself, all things considered. But so do I, I guess.”

There were a few moments of awkward silence as Eileen and Mike sat looking at each other. The air was heavy between them, full of things that were said, things that were left unsaid.

Mike spoke first. “Eileen, I don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah, me neither.” She took a deep breath. “Have I damaged our relationship to the point that it’s beyond repair?”

Mike started to respond, but Eileen shushed him. “You don’t have to answer now. Think about it. I know we rushed into things. Jumping into bed probably isn’t the best foundation for a long-term relationship, so if you want to just play it cool for now, that’s fine. I’ve been attracted to you for a long time, but I never acted on it. I was too worried about—well, worried about a lot of things. I knew how important your marriage to Tina was, and I didn’t want to intrude on that. I needed to evaluate myself and why I was—am—attracted to you.

“I also needed to determine if I could open myself up enough to tell you about Scotty. I made a huge, huge mistake in not telling you right at the very beginning. Or even the morning after. I don’t know what I was thinking. Obviously, if we were going to start a relationship, I was going to have to tell you eventually. I guess I just thought if I had more time, I could figure out how to tell you. I made a serious error in judgment. The whole stupid thing is that Scotty knew all about you. I’ve talked about you to him for years, and he was always asking if he would get to meet you. I wanted to have control of the situation, and I told him that I was sure he would meet you someday, but it would probably be a long time. Scotty, bless his heart, isn’t quick enough to realize that it’s an issue. Time isn’t very relevant for him, so it doesn’t matter when he meets someone. Anyway, I’m babbling. Sorry.”

Mike looked at Eileen for a long, long moment, not speaking, barely breathing. Then, without a thought in his head, he threw his arms around her and kissed her hard on the mouth. She stiffened in his arms, eyes wide, caught off guard by his reaction. After a few seconds, she relaxed, tentatively wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him back.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, clinging to each other, until Mike broke the kiss. He kept his forehead pressed to hers, looking intently into her eyes. “Does that answer your question?”

Eileen smiled. “I think so. But I still have a lot to make up to you. I know that dishonesty is something that is very, very difficult to work past. I meant it when I said I was sorry. I really am. But I’m not going to keep apologizing for it. I believe that if someone says ‘I’m sorry’ too many times, it loses its meaning. Just know that I am. And it’s a mistake that I’m not going to repeat.” She paused. “That’s not to say that I’m going to run around telling everyone that I have a son, but I will promise that there will always be truth between you and me, no matter what.”

Mike was struck by the sincerity in her voice, touched at the effort she was displaying to make up for what had happened. He sighed. “Kiddo, I couldn’t agree with you more. Hugs and kisses for truth telling from now on. Sound good?”

“Sounds very good.”

They sat awkwardly for a few minutes, neither one sure what to do or say next.

Eileen finally cleared her throat. “So, now what do we do?”

Mike shrugged. “I’m not sure.” He caught Eileen’s eye and smiled a sly smile. “I wouldn’t be opposed to fooling around. You know, just to make sure we still have chemistry.”

Eileen rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Mike, I don’t think chemistry will ever be a problem. Tell you what. Let me go check in on Scotty, and then we can…we can do something. I’ll be back.”
Mike watched as Eileen headed toward Scott’s room, amazed at the strength in her stride. Life had certainly kicked her around, but she was obviously stronger because of it. He paused and reflected on all that she had just told him. He felt happy and settled, knowing that this strong woman was giving him another chance, and he vowed to himself that he would never do anything to screw it up.

Untitled 1: Part 10

2010-09-23T19:53:00.002-05:00

Eileen sat for a few moments, staring at the fourteen flickering flames and smiled to herself. Mom had remembered. Thirteen candles, one for each year. The extra candle was her special wish candle. She looked up from the cake, locked eyes with her mother, and they both smiled. She could almost hear her mother’s slight southern drawl, and though neither one of them said a word, she knew exactly what her mom was thinking.

"C’mon darlin’ and make your wish. Make it a good one, for something that you really want. Prayers are for things that we need and wishes are for things that we want. So wish big."

Maribeth looked at her daughter, who was busy contemplating the candles on the cake. Eileen was growing up so fast, turning into a lovely young woman. Mother Nature was being especially kind to the tomboy-turned-teen-age-girl. Maribeth felt so guilty about her behavior since Matthew died, and she really wanted to make things better for her little girl.

She caught Eileen’s eye and gave her a wink. Eileen winked back at her. They both knew what she was wishing for and Maribeth was determined to make it happen.

“All right, darlin’. You wait much longer, and the candles are gonna burn the cake into nothing. Blow ’em out already.”

Eileen took a deep breath, then blew with all her might. All the candles went out and she grinned. This was the best birthday since her dad died.

Maribeth served up slices of cake to the birthday guests, apologizing profusely for forgetting to buy ice-cream, but nobody seemed overly concerned about it. Eileen opened her gifts afterward, delighting in the colorful, dangly earrings, necklace, and bracelets from her friends, and the bright green sweater from her mom.

Maribeth tousled Eileen’s hair. “I know it’s still summer and it’s too warm, but I saw it and thought it would be perfect for when it gets cooler. It’ll bring out your eyes.”

Eileen’s heart felt ready to burst. This was the mom she remembered. She got up and threw her arms around Maribeth, not caring that her friends were giggling over the display of affection. Maribeth stood there, embracing her daughter and fighting back tears.

Finally, she laughed and disentangled herself from Eileen, playfully swatting her bottom. “Now scoot, girl. You and your friends go do whatever it is that thirteen year old girls do. But be back for dinner, okay?”

Eileen nodded. “I will. We’re just going to go down to the park and hang out.”

The girls scampered out the door and Mrs. Burkman smiled after them. Eileen was such a sweet girl, and in spite of Maribeth’s troubles, she truly liked the woman.

“Maribeth, you’re doing okay with that girl.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Burkman. But I can’t take much credit. Eileen has really been raising herself these past few years. I haven’t been much of a mother to her since Matthew died. And even before that, Matt was always more hands on and way more involved than I was.” She sighed heavily. “I really feel like I’m letting him down.”

Mrs. Burkman gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Maribeth, you are not letting him down. Yes, you’ve made mistakes. But Matt would forgive you and only look at the fact that you’re really turning it around.”

Maribeth smiled through her tears. “You have such a way of making me feel better. I really appreciate all that you’ve done for me and Eileen. It means more than you’ll ever know. I’ll figure out a way to repay you someday.”

“Nonsense. You being okay is payment enough.”

They chatted for another hour over coffee and then Mrs. Burkman left to attend Saturday evening mass at the local Catholic Church. Maribeth busied herself with cleaning up from the party and preparing dinner. Eileen bounded in just as she was finishing cooking.

“Hey sweetie. Did you have fun?”

Eileen nodded, smiling. “We just goofed around a little. It was too hot to really do anything.” Her face was damp with sweat and she had a slight sunburn on her cheeks. “What’s for dinner?”

Maribeth’s eyes twinkled. “It’s your birthday. What do you think?”

Eileen let out a whoop. “Caramel apple pancakes?”

Maribeth nodded, handing Eileen a plate. Her daughter did a crazy little dance around the kitchen table before sitting down. Maribeth rolled her eyes. A teen-ager. Good grief.

Eileen wolfed down her pancakes and Maribeth was so pleased to see her baby girl smiling and happy. After dinner, bellies full, they sat on the couch, Eileen watching the regular Saturday evening programs, and Maribeth working on needlepoint. At eight o’clock, Eileen started getting restless. Maribeth looked up from her work.

“What’s up, honey?”

Eileen shrugged. “Nothing really. Just a little bored, I guess.”

“Tell you what. Why don’t you go shower and then make some popcorn. I’ll go down to the video store and rent a movie. I’ll stop for ice-cream, too, and we can finish off the rest of the birthday cake.”

Eileen brightened. “That sounds like fun. Rent something scary.”

Maribeth rolled her eyes, but nodded. Her daughter had strange taste in movies, and seemed to enjoy horror films. Normally, she would try to discourage it, but it was her birthday, so she relented. She gathered her purse and keys while Eileen got her things together for her shower.

“I’ll be back, kiddo. Fifteen minutes, tops.”

“Okay,” Eileen sang out as she closed the bathroom door.

She had just gotten undressed and was ready to start the water when she heard a knock at the back door. It was either Mrs. Burkman or her mother had forgotten her keys. She pulled a towel around herself and trotted through the kitchen to the back door. She swung it open and was startled to see a man standing there. Alarmed, she took a step backwards.

“Hey Eileen. Is your mom home?”

Eileen looked him over. She knew him from somewhere, but couldn’t quite remember.

“I’m sorry, kid. You probably don’t recognize me. I’m Derek. Your mom and I dated a few years back.”

Realization dawned on her. Of course. She remembered him now. He was one of the few men her mom had brought home who was actually nice to her. He had always brought her little treats and would sit by her and help her with her homework. She had been sad when her mother suddenly broke it off with him.

“Hey Derek. You’re right, I didn’t recognize you at first. Mom’s not here right now, but I’ll tell her you stopped by.”

“Would you? I’d really appreciate it.” He turned to go, but then stopped. “Gosh, Eileen. You sure have grown up since I last saw you.” He looked her up and down appreciatively and she shrank away, not liking the smirk on his face.

“Um, thanks. And thanks for stopping by. I’ll let mom know.”

He smiled at her. “Actually, I moved since I last saw her. Let me just leave you with my new phone number. Can I borrow a pen and paper?”

“Okay.” She clutched the towel tighter around herself. “There’s paper and pencils next to the kitchen phone.”

“Sounds good. Lead the way.”

He brushed against her as she stepped past him, causing her to inwardly recoil. She fumbled with a pencil and paper, self-conscious in the towel, wishing Derek would just leave.

Eileen turned to hand him the items, and he grabbed her wrist.

“Boy Eileen. You’re not a little girl anymore, are you?”

She jerked her wrist out of his grasp, glaring defiantly at him. “No, I’m not. Look, my mom will be home soon. If you want to wait for her, you can wait outside. Otherwise, please just leave your number and she’ll call you.”

“My, my. Haven’t you become a sassy little thing.”

He leaned his face in close to hers and Eileen’s heart sank. Until now, she hadn’t noticed his bloodshot eyes and the powdery white residue around his nostrils. She tried to step away from him, but he had her cornered against the wall by the phone. She attempted to side-step him, but he moved with her.

Derek reached out and traced Eileen’s collarbone with his finger. She slapped his hand away.

“Quit it. Write down your number and leave. Please.”

He threw up his hands. “Okay, okay. Don’t get all bent out of shape.”

He scribbled a phone number down and handed the paper to Eileen. She reached out for it and his hand clamped on her forearm like a steel vise. She struggled to get her arm free, but Derek just laughed.

“You struggle all you want. I’m not letting you go.”

Eileen opened her mouth to scream, but before the shriek could escape from her throat, he backhanded her so hard that she momentarily blacked out. When she opened her eyes again, her face felt hot and she tasted blood in her mouth. Derek had her back pressed up against the wall and he was grinding against her. She bucked against him, but that just seemed to excite him more.

“Feisty one, huh? You must get that from your momma.” He began tugging on the towel and Eileen got hysterical, flailing her arms and legs, trying to push him away. Derek hit her in the face again, this time with his fist, but Eileen didn’t black out. She did, however, feel two teeth in her mouth, which she spit in Derek’s face. He continued to laugh as teeth, blood, and spittle ran down his face. Ruthlessly, he yanked the towel away, and Eileen tried desperately to cover her nakedness with her arms.

He grabbed her by the hair, violently jerking her head back. Her eyes were rolling in their sockets as she tried to avoid his mouth and tongue as he kissed her. She turned her head from side to side, trying to get her mouth away from his, finally biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Derek jerked his head away and touched his finger to his lip. He looked at it like the blood belonged to someone else. He ran his bloody finger across Eileen’s cheek, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to believe that this was all a nightmare, and she would wake up, and she and her mom would be on the couch, watching a movie.

Eileen began to whimper as Derek jerked her forward, twisting her wrists and forcing her arms up and behind her back. He shoved her roughly until she bumped against the kitchen table, then forced her to bend over it. She was hurting and confused and scared. She felt Derek’s hand probing her, and then he thrust a finger inside of her, causing her to gasp in pain.

Derek took her gasp as a signal of pleasure. “You like that, honey? You’re nice and tight. But not wet enough. Not wet enough to let me get in there. We better fix that.” He reached around her and began massaging her clitoris. Eileen began to hyperventilate. She had been in sex ed at school, and one girl she knew was actually pregnant, but she didn’t understand what Derek was doing to her. A weird tingle shot through her privates, almost like a small zap of electricity. Eileen bucked against him, trying to get him to stop. He again thrust a finger in her, obviously pleased by the results of the clitoral massage. “That’s better.”

He continued to hold Eileen’s wrists with one hand as he undid his button and zipper with the other. Eileen began to sob openly as she felt him rubbing against her. The kitchen table was cold against her small, budding breasts, but all she felt was Derek’s throbbing member pushing against her opening. She struggled against him, doing all that she could to wriggle away. But it wasn’t enough.

He opened her with his free hand, then slammed into her so hard and so forcibly, that the delicate tissue tore and began to bleed. Eileen began to cry harder, on the verge of fainting from the pain and humiliation of the attack. She vomited on the kitchen table as Derek ejaculated inside of her. He shoved her face in the vomit and grunted with pleasure.
Eileen’s face was smeared with blood, snot, and vomit. Derek casually pulled up his pants, sighing with satisfaction. He let go of her wrists and gently patted her bottom. Eileen remained hunched over the table, crying and coughing.

“There you go, honey. That wasn’t so bad, was it? Come on and dry your eyes.”

He ran his hand up and down her back, but she hunched over even tighter, trying to avoid his touch.

“Poor baby. But I have to go before your mom gets home.” He picked up the piece of paper with his telephone number on it and tucked it into his pocket. “Guess your mom won’t really be needing this. Too bad. She’s a sweet piece of ass. Must be where you get it from.” He grinned at her and winked. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

Derek was just heading for the back door when he heard Maribeth’s voice.

“Sweetie! I’m home!”

He motioned for Eileen to be quiet, then hurried to the living room to exit through the front door.

Eileen slid to the kitchen floor, curled up, trying to conceal her battered, naked body. She did not remember the horrified look on her mother’s face or her frantic voice on the phone with the 911 dispatcher. She did not remember her mother wrapping her in the towel or being held and rocked. The first thing she remembered were the dark, dark eyes, infinitely soft and kind, of the first police officer to arrive.

He did not try to touch her. Instead, he squatted down next to her and said softly, “Eileen. I am so, so sorry that this happened to you. My name is Joe, and I promise I’m going to catch the bastard that did this to you.”

Looking up momentarily and meeting his eyes, she believed him. Then she buried her face in her hands and burst into tears.

* * *

“Mrs. Riley? I’m Dr. Mary Chin.”

Maribeth shot up out of the chair, frantic with worry. The damn doctor had kept her waiting for almost two hours while the physical exam and rape kit were done on Eileen. She just wanted to be with her daughter.

She glared at the tiny Asian doctor. “Where’s my daughter?”

The doctor took her by the elbow and guided her down the hall. “Mrs. Riley, I’m going to take you to her. Physically, Eileen is okay. Battered, bruised, and sore, yes. But she will be okay. She lost two teeth, one on the top, one on the bottom, but they were both molars, so it won’t be noticeable when she smiles. Plus, now she’ll have room for her wisdom teeth when they come in.” Dr. Chin gave Maribeth a wan smile. “Sorry. I’m just trying to lessen the horror of it all. But I can’t, can I? Okay. Her face is black and blue, her left eye is almost swollen shut. But the facial bones are intact, which is very good. Both of her wrists are mildly sprained, but we bandaged them up and they’ll be fine in no time. She’s also got six stitches to repair the vaginal tear from the sexual assault.”

Maribeth visibly paled. Yes, she knew her daughter had been brutally attacked, but hearing the doctor give the details out loud was almost too painful for her to bear. Her poor little girl. She shook her head and took a deep breath.

“But is she okay? I mean really okay?”

The doctor gave a small shrug. “Mrs. Riley, your daughter seems remarkably resilient. The exam she underwent is horribly embarrassing and uncomfortable, but she did it. ‘In the name of justice,’ were her words. After the exam, she just asked if she could change into the sweats that the crisis counselor brought for her. She did change, and now she just wants to go home and take a shower. And she can, just as soon as she finishes giving her statement to the police."

The doctor handed her Eileen’s discharge paperwork. “Mrs. Riley, I don’t know how she’s going to cope. I would strongly recommend counseling for her.”

Maribeth nodded, mentally steeling herself against the emotion rising inside. She needed to be strong for Eileen.

She stepped in the room and saw Eileen on the exam table, arms crossed over her chest, sitting cross-legged on a pillow. She looked up as Maribeth entered, but said nothing. The police officer stood up and shook Maribeth’s hand.

“Mrs. Riley, I’m Joe. We met briefly earlier this evening. I’m just finishing with Eileen, but I was hoping I could speak with you for a few minutes before you take your daughter home.”

“Of course,” she said. “Eileen, honey, will you be okay for just a little bit longer?”

Eileen nodded, but remained silent.

Joe and Maribeth stepped out into the hall.

Joe sighed. “Mrs. Riley, I’m so sorry for everything you’re going through. And I’m sorry you were kept waiting for so long. Normally, I would’ve met with you and your daughter together, but apparently, she asked for me after the rape kit was done, and she just started talking. I encouraged her to wait until you came in, but she was adamant. She said she wanted to tell it before she forgot anything.”

Maribeth nodded. “That’s my daughter. Stubborn as can be.”

The kindly officer squeezed her shoulder. “She’s one heck of a girl. She gave a very detailed statement, but I still need to clarify a few things with you.” He glanced at his notes. “It’s my understanding that Derek is an old boyfriend of yours?”

“Yes. We dated a few years ago, after my husband died. I was in bad shape back then. I’m assuming Eileen already told you that?”

“She did, but she was fiercely protective of you. She obviously loves and respects you.”

Tears filled Maribeth’s eyes and she swiped them away with the back of her hand. “Eileen is a special girl. She gives me way too much credit. Anyway, Derek and I dated on and off for about four months. Eileen really liked him, and I liked the fact that he was so kind to her. Derek and I were both pretty messed up back then, but he just seemed like such a good, nice person, especially when Eileen was around.”

Joe chewed on his lower lip. “Eileen wasn’t clear on why you stopped dating Derek, just that it seemed to end pretty suddenly.”

Maribeth began to cry openly. “It was sudden. We were getting ready to go out one night and I had gone into the bathroom to snort a line. When I came out, Derek wasn’t in the living room. I found him in Eileen’s bedroom. She was asleep, but he was standing over her, watching her sleep, and masturbating. I grabbed him by his hair and literally dragged him out of her room. He kept apologizing, saying he didn’t mean anything by it. But I threw him out, and I hadn’t seen or heard from him since. I didn’t even know he still lived in the city. At least, not until today.”

“And Eileen never knew about that incident?”

“No. Even though she was angry, because she really liked Derek, I never told her.”

“Okay then. That was all I needed. Mrs. Riley, I’m going to find this son of a bitch. I swear I will. Nothing makes me angrier than people who attack children. I have a son and a daughter, and I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to them.”

He handed her a business card. “Please call me if you think of anything else, if you need anything, day or night. My pager number is written on the back. Use it anytime. I’ll keep you posted on any developments.”

Maribeth shook his hand, then gave him a quick hug. “Thank you for all your help. Please find him. Find Derek and make sure he has to pay for what he’s done to my baby.”

Joe hugged her back. “I will. You have my word. No matter what it takes or how long it takes. I’ll find him. You just get your little girl home, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks again.”

Joe turned to leave, but turned back. “Oh. And before I forget, your downstairs neighbor took it upon herself to clean up the kitchen. The poor woman was blaming herself for forgetting to lock the outside door when she went out. We told her not to worry. But anyway, at least you won’t be going home to a big mess.”

Maribeth smiled. “Mrs. Burkman is the best.”

Joe again turned to leave and Maribeth watched him retreat down the all. She wiped the tears from her face and took a deep breath. It was time to take care of Eileen.

Maribeth stepped back into the room. “Are you ready to go, sweetheart?”

Eileen nodded, gingerly got off the pillow, and climbed down from the exam table.

“It hurts to move,” she whispered.

“I’m so sorry, honey.” She fished in her purse for the Eileen’s discharge papers. She quickly looked them over. “It says here you can take Tylenol every three hours.”

Eileen shook her head. “No. You know how I feel about taking anything. I didn’t even want to take the antibiotics they gave me here. I refused until they told me that Derek could’ve gotten me sick. You know. That way.”

Maribeth shuddered. Her baby with an STD? Surely God wouldn’t be that cruel. He’d already taken Eileen’s father and her virginity. The girl had suffered enough.

Eileen slowly made her way across the room, moving awkwardly. She stood in front of Maribeth for a moment, saying nothing. Then she slumped into her mother’s arms and began to sob. The sobs shook Eileen’s body, and her breath came in strangled gasps. Maribeth held her daughter, stroking her hair, trying to hold back her own tears.

When Eileen’s sobs quieted, Maribeth lifted her face up, really seeing for the first time the extent of damage that Derek had done. Yes, her face was badly battered and swollen, but it was the eyes. Eileen had a complete look of brokenness and defeat.

Eileen slipped her hand into her mother’s and they slowly exited the emergency room and made their way to the car. Maribeth’s hands were shaking as she tried to turn the key in the ignition. Eileen reached over and covered her mother’s hand with her own.

“It’s okay, mom,” she whispered.

Maribeth looked at Eileen. “Don’t you dare try to comfort me. This is all my fault. If not for me, if not for all the stupid things I did, Derek would never have been in our lives and this never would have happened.”

Eileen looked angry. “Stop it. None of it matters. It’s not your fault. It was Fate, mom. Destiny. Whatever you want to call it. It’s part of God’s plan. It was written in the stars.” She flopped back in the seat, wincing in pain as the sudden movement pulled at her stitches.

“Besides,” she said, “there are more important things to worry about.”

Maribeth was puzzled. “Like what?”

Eileen gave her an impish grin. “Like what movie you rented and what kind of ice-cream you bought.”

Maribeth gave a small laugh of relief. Eventually, Eileen would be just fine.
* * *

The rest of the month of August passed without incident. There was contact with the police, but no new leads as to Derek’s whereabouts. Eileen would not go anywhere outside by herself, and she had trouble sleeping for a few weeks, but as her body healed, her spirit seemed to heal, too. She went back to school in September and complained to her mother that she was bored in class. Her grades weren’t suffering, but she often complained of being tired. Maribeth wasn’t concerned, as the counselor that Eileen had been seeing had indicated that chronic fatigue and tiredness were common in the months after a rape. In mid-October, Eileen seemed to be feeling better, and she began to get her appetite back. That Friday after school, Eileen told her mother she needed a new uniform.

Maribeth groaned. “Are you sure? I just bought that one last year. I was hoping it would get you through this school year, too.”

“Sorry mom. I’m a growing girl. It’s just getting too tight. I have to suck in my stomach to get the skirt zipped and buttoned.”

Maribeth checked, and sure enough, her little girl was on the verge of bursting out of the maroon plaid. “Okay, kiddo. We’ll go shopping tomorrow. And maybe we’ll even buy it a little bigger to compensate for all the Halloween candy I’m sure you’re going to eat.”

Eileen laughed. “Mmmmmm. Chocooate. And peanut butter. I can hardly wait!”

The next morning, though, Eileen didn’t feel like shopping. She came out of her room, looking pale and pasty. Maribeth was immediately alarmed. Eileen rarely got sick.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?”

Eileen shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just feeling kind of tired and pukey today.”

Maribeth pressed her forearm to Eileen’s brow. “You don’t feel feverish. Could it be something you ate?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe I just picked up a bug from school.”

“Maybe. But if you’re not feeling better by Monday, I’m taking you to the doctor.”

Eileen remained tired and lethargic for the rest of Saturday and Sunday. True to her word, Maribeth took Eileen to the doctor on Monday, over the howls of protest from the thirteen year old.

Eileen’s pediatrician, Dr. Pederson, was a woman of about sixty, and had been taking care of her since she was two. Eileen adored her.

Dr. Pederson listened patiently as Maribeth described Eileen’s symptoms. She hadn’t seen Eileen since her follow up two days after the tragic encounter with her mother’s ex-boyfriend, and was puzzled by the sudden onset of new symptoms.

“Well,” said Dr. Pederson, “let me take a look at you, Eileen.”

She did a quick once-over, and Maribeth noticed that the doctor, who was usually very chatty and cheerful, had a slight frown on her face. She called for a nurse, then turned to Maribeth.

“Maribeth, honey, would you mind stepping out of the room for a few minutes? I need to ask Eileen a few quick questions. I’d also like to do a routine pelvic exam. It’s possible she has an infection. I just need to take a quick look.”

Maribeth’s heart was racing. “Okay. Can I wait right outside?”

“Sure, honey. I’ll have Nina call you when I’m through.”

The nurse smiled at Maribeth, but she couldn’t smile back. Please, God, please don’t let Derek have gotten her sick.

She paced out in the hallway for ten minutes before Nina poked her head out of the room.

“Mrs. Riley, you can come back in. Doctor is finished.”

Maribeth re-entered the exam room and her heart sank. Eileen, who had already gotten re-dressed, had obviously been crying.

Oh shit, Maribeth thought. It is some kind of infection. Damn! Why my little girl?

Dr. Pederson pointed to a chair. “Have a seat, Maribeth. We have a few things to discuss.”
Maribeth sat down heavily, alternately looking between her daughter and the doctor.

“Well?” she asked. “What’s wrong with my baby?”

Dr. Pederson sighed. “Maribeth, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but your baby is having a baby. Eileen is pregnant.”

Eileen began to cry again and Maribeth, who wanted to go to her daughter and comfort her, simply slid out of her chair in a dead faint.
* * *

Untitled 1: Part 9

2010-09-13T19:33:00.003-05:00

(Somewhere a few days later, after another homicide that I haven't written about yet...)

Over the next two days, Eileen only saw Mike once when they both responded to a call that Thursday. They had exchanged hellos, but nothing more. The pain between them was still too fresh, too raw for them to even pretend they were comfortable being in the same room. As Ryan and Eileen left the scene, Ryan gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Eileen had said nothing about her dinner with Mike from the week before and aside from the fact that he could sense the tension between her and Mike, it was obvious that something was very wrong. Eileen was normally very chatty, working the room whenever they were investigating a homicide. She’d been unusually quiet all week and today, she’d barely spoken to anyone, instead letting Ryan do the questioning of the witnesses.

Ryan had tried hard to focus on the task at hand, but his attention kept drifting to whatever was going on between Eileen and Mike. There was no denying that Mike had been watching Eileen, though he was trying hard to make it look like he wasn’t watching her, and Eileen had struggled with not making it look like she knew he was watching her. She had been stiff and all business, appearing to be her usual abrasive self, but didn’t make eye contact with anyone.

“You want to talk about it, babe?”

Eileen shook her head and got into the passenger seat, looking out the window.

Ryan reached out and stroked her hair. “Sweetie, it might help to get it out. You’ve been miserable, and it hurts me to see you like this.”

Eileen looked at him and burst into tears.

“Oh, honey, come here.” Ryan reached across and gathered her into his arms, rocking her as much as the confines of the car would allow. Eileen’s whole body shook and her breath came in heaving gasps. Ryan’s heart was breaking for her. He had only seen her cry twice before, the most recent time when she was in the hospital, but both times before were nothing compared to this.

Her sobs quieted after a few minutes, but she still clung to him, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

“Now do you want to talk?”

She nodded, pulling herself back into the passenger seat and clicking on her seatbelt as Ryan started the car. She sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“That’s okay,” he replied. “Tell me anyway and I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

“Okay.” Eileen sniffed and wiped tears from her cheeks, straightening up and regaining her composure. “Can we go to Starbucks?”

He laughed. “You drive a hard bargain, but sure.”

He eased the car into traffic and Eileen gave him a brief summary of what transpired between Friday and Saturday, trying not to gush too much about the electricity and passion between her and Mike.

Ryan let out a low whistle. “Good thing my washer broke. You wouldn’t have been able to get it on with him if I’d been hanging around. What the heck happened? It sounds like things were great.”

They pulled in at Starbucks and ordered their coffee. Eileen was quiet until they got back into the car.

“There’s more to it.” She then told him about Monday and Tuesday. “It was horrible, Ryan. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so terrible.” She sipped her coffee and looked out the window. “But I can’t blame him,” she said sadly. “Not after what he saw on Sunday.”

Ryan glared out the windshield. “I can. I can blame him. He shouldn’t have talked to you like that. Maybe if he would’ve listened to you, it would’ve been better. He’s a damn fool.” He glanced over and saw that Eileen was crying again, not the deep sobs like earlier, but a steady flow of tears running down her face. He took her hand and kissed it.

“Baby, please don’t cry. It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.”

That just made her cry harder. “No, Ryan, he is worth it. He really is. If I had the chance, I’d be completely honest and tell him everything.”

“Want me to talk to him?”

Forcing herself to regain control, she took a slow breath and said, “No, that would just make things worse.” She sighed a deep sigh and sifted through her purse looking for a tissue. She blew her nose twice, then gave herself a quick once over in the rearview mirror. “God, I’m a mess.” She smoothed down her hair and dabbed her nose again. “Maybe I’ll just forget the whole relationship thing and join ranks with you and be a lesbian.”

Ryan laughed out loud, spraying some coffee out of his mouth on the steering wheel. He wiped it up with his sleeve. “You don’t want to do that. Trust me. Women are bitchy. You’re much better off if you have man troubles.”

She gave him a wan smile. “You’re right. I’ll deal with my man problems. Speaking of which, how are you doing in the man department?”

He shrugged. “Same old, same old, I guess. I’m going to a Cubs game later this month with a few of my buddies, but none of them have any potential for a relationship. Did you know there’s a shortage of nice, good-looking men in this city?”

Eileen snickered at him. “No, there isn’t. There’s a shortage in this city of nice, good-looking, gay men who can live up to your standards. I mean, come on, Ryan. You’re basically looking for someone to cook and clean, iron your shirts, and rub your back at the end of the day. Hell, you’re looking for a wife!”

He grinned mischievously at her. “Is that an offer?”

“No way. You had your chance and blew it. I know it drives you crazy that I’m such a good cook and I keep my house so neat. But that’s just because you realize what you gave up.”

“I guess. Not!” He stuck his tongue out at her. “It’s just hard. I know it’s stupid, because I’ve got this macho cop-image to maintain and telling the world I’m gay would blow that out of the water, but I just feel like there’s nobody out there for me.”

“Again, I’m not sure you’re being realistic.”

“Are you saying I should settle for less than I deserve?”

“No, you know my thoughts on that. The moment you settle for less than you deserve, you’ll end up getting even less than you settled for. I heard that once a long time ago and I believe it’s true. What I am saying is that you need to face reality. You’re going to be hard-pressed to find a guy who will stay in the closet with you. The world is more accepting of homosexuality. Maybe you need to be more accepting of it too. Besides, secrets are no way to maintain a relationship.” She took a deep breath and sipped her coffee. “Trust me, I know.”

Ryan reached over and patted her hand. He knew that she knew. Boy did she know. Eileen was silent the rest of the way back, but the wheels were turning in Ryan’s head. There was no way in hell he was going to let Mike hurt Eileen more than he already had. Eileen deserved better than that. He would just have to coax the kind paramedic into opening his eyes and seeing things for what they were. And Ryan could be very persuasive when it was necessary.
* * *

Thursday afternoon and Friday passed quickly. Eileen found that she was looking forward to the weekend. She was completely drained and desperately needed some sleep. Since Mike had told her to beat it, she’d barely been able to go into her bedroom at night. Every time she looked at the bed or tried to rest her head on the pillow, she couldn’t help but think of the hours she had spent there with him. Thursday night, she’d given up and ended up catching a few hours of sleep on the couch, but even when she did sleep, it was fitful and restless. Strange dreams left her feeling groggy, slightly hung over in the mornings.

Late Friday night, Eileen forced herself to take a long, hot shower before going to bed. Feeling drowsy, she could have sworn that she smelled Mike’s cologne. Fighting off the despair that threatened to overwhelm her, she forced herself to relax and drift to sleep. The weekend would be a good time to mentally rejuvenate and put the past behind her.

* * *

Late Sunday afternoon, Mike walked into Charlie’s, just glad to be out of his apartment. He’d felt like he was suffocating in the cramped confines and just couldn’t take it anymore. He needed a meal and some good company, and he knew he’d find both here. It was unusually quiet for the time of day, but he went up to the bar and placed his order with Mona.

Seeing the dark circles under his eyes and the tension lines in his face, she could tell he was not having a good day. Poor guy. She offered him a wink and a big smile. “You want a beer with that, Mike? You look like you could use one.”

He thought about it for a second. “Why not? Sure. I’ll take a Heineken.”

She popped the top off a bottle and leaned over to slide it across the bar, giving him a clear view of her ample cleavage. Her nipples jutted against her thin t-shirt, and she smiled when she saw that Mike had noticed. “Good choice on the beer. I’ll get your food right up.”

“Ah, Ramona, you sweet thing. You’re the best.”

She winked at him again and blew him a kiss. “I know. That’s why you keep coming back.”

Mike grinned, as he watched her sway her voluptuous bottom as she made her way toward the kitchen. The easy flirting was a soothing balm on his ego, making him feel good, taking away some of the sting of what had happened the previous weekend. Deciding to kill some time until he could eat, he walked over to the dart board. He was throwing darts, actually not doing too badly, sipping his beer and trying not to think about Eileen, which was difficult since they’d made a habit of teaming up and taking on their friends and co-workers, typically cleaning house and making a couple bucks on some friendly wagers. The minutes ticked by as he zoned out, lost in the soft thuds as the darts repeatedly hit the board. The blissful silence in his head was interrupted when he heard Ryan Maxwell’s voice.

“Hey Mike. C’mon over and join me. I had Mona bring your food to the table.”

He hesitated, tempted to pretend he didn’t hear Ryan, but then decided to join him. All the Eileen stuff aside, Ryan was a good guy, and they had hung out together many times without Eileen. He slid into the booth across from Ryan, noting that he was eating a giant burrito with hot sauce. Mike looked at his own plate, which consisted of grilled chicken, steamed vegetables, and a fruit cup.

Ryan sneered at him. “Man, how can you eat that stuff?”

Mike raised his eyebrows. “Me? How can you eat that?” he asked, pointing to the burrito. “I can smell the jalapeño from here. That’s going to tear up your insides later.”

Ryan chewed thoughtfully, considering Mike’s words. He swallowed, then took a swig of beer. “Point well taken. The good thing is, I live alone. Eileen, however, will have to deal with it all day tomorrow.”

Mike bristled at hearing Eileen’s name. He jammed a forkful of chicken into his mouth to avoid having to speak, but Ryan wouldn’t have it.

He narrowed his eyes, watching Mike chew. “She’s a good girl, man. Don’t mess it up.”

“It doesn’t involve you, Ryan. Back off.”

“Don’t tell me to back off. It does involve me. If it involves Eileen, it involves me. You can’t hurt my best friend and expect me not to have some kind of reaction to it. I know she’s a big girl and can handle her own problems, but I don’t like to see her like this.”

Mike sneered at him. “Then maybe you ought to invest in a good set of blinders.”

There was a slight twitch in Ryan’s left fist and for a split second, he actually considered popping Mike in the jaw. “Watch it man. You mess with Eileen, you mess with me.”

The air around the table reeked of testosterone. Mike and Ryan were sizing each other up, but mutual respect prevented both of them from throwing a punch.
After a few minutes of strained silence, Ryan spoke. “What the hell are you thinking?”

Mike set down his fork and looked across the table at Ryan. “Look, this really doesn’t involve you. If it did, you would have more of a clue as to what’s going on. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ryan stared hard at him. “Yes. Yes, I do know what I’m talking about. Look, Eileen told me what happened and—”

“And I’m sure she only told you her side of the story and made me look like an asshole.”

“No. She told me everything, including your side of it.” Ryan glared at him, angry and upset for Eileen. “Hate to be the one to tell you, buddy, but you don’t need anyone to make you look like an asshole. You’re doing a fine job of that on your own.”

Mike clenched his fists, trying not to get riled up. “Okay, so I’m an asshole. But if Eileen really did tell you everything, then you should understand why I’m so upset.”

“I would understand you being upset if you were right, but you’re not. There is an explanation, and if you’d bothered to listen to her, you’d know that.”

“So tell me what the explanation is.”

Ryan bit off a huge chunk of burrito, not really caring about the crumbs flying out of his mouth as he spoke. “No way, man. Eileen is my best friend. I’m not telling you anything. I would never betray her trust like that.”

Mike poked at his dinner with his fork, not really hungry anymore. “I just don’t get it. I don’t know what possible explanation there could be. I saw her with someone else. He kissed her. They were holding hands. I just don’t see a reasonable explanation for that.”

“Is that why you called her those names?”

Mike flushed a little. “I was really angry.”

“I can appreciate that. I’ve worked with Eileen for a long time. And you’re right about a few things. She can be inconsiderate sometimes. Bitch? Absolutely. Especially when she’s tired or hungry, which is pretty often. But the town slut? No way. You’re damn lucky she didn’t knock you on your ass. In fact, I’m surprised she didn’t. And you know she could do it.” He shook his head. “She is not a slut.”

Mike shrugged. “I was just calling it the way I saw it.” He scowled at Ryan. “Besides, if you combine what I saw with the amount of time the two of you spend together and the rumors we all hear, what other conclusion am I supposed to reach?”

Ryan was annoyed and it came through in his tone of voice. “Again, she is not a slut. And you more than anyone should know how hurtful rumors can be. All that crap people said about you after your wife died, how you’d gone off the deep end. Man, me and Eileen defended you, and she barely knew you at the time. You want to try and use something to judge her, how about you use that? A nice woman doesn’t know you from anyone and she’s telling people to back off and let you grieve. Out of everyone, your friends and family included, she was the only one who seemed to get it and know you weren’t losing it.”

The jab hit exactly where Ryan had intended, as evidenced by the obvious shock on Mike’s face, but he made a quick recovery. Through clenched teeth, he said, “First off, you’ve got a lot of nerve bringing up my wife and how I coped after she died. Secondly, I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about you and Eileen. How do you explain it? You two are always together. Always. Two good-looking people of the opposite sex? How could you have not hooked up? It would make sense if the two of you were brother and sister or maybe gay. But I don’t get it.” His nostrils flared as he gulped air, trying to control his temper.

Ryan let out a long-suffering sigh. “You know what? That made sense. But we’re not siblings. And she’s not gay.”

“Then how do you explain it?”

Ryan finished his burrito and chugged the last of his beer. He wiped his mouth with a napkin before he spoke. “Dude, you’re not getting it.” He reached over and rapped Mike on the head. “You need to put on your listening ears. Isn’t that what those nuns told you when you were going to school? So listen up now, buddy. I said she’s not gay.” He raised an eyebrow at Mike. “Now do you get it?”

Realization dawned on Mike and he leaned hard against the back of the booth. “No kidding?”

“No kidding,” Ryan replied. “But you better not tell anyone. Eileen is the only other person who knows, and her lips are sealed. So if anyone else finds out, I’ll know it came from you, and I’ll have to kick your ass.”

Mike threw up his hands in mock terror. “I’m shaking.” Then he turned serious. “You know me better than that. I won’t say anything to anyone.” He looked down at his plate, quiet for a moment, thinking about what he should do next. “Contrary to what my recent words and actions may indicate, I’m not a bad guy. Though I’m guessing Eileen would probably have something to say about that.” He rubbed his sleep-deprived, bloodshot eyes, causing them to water for a moment. “She must think I’m a scumbag.”

“Not quite. But don’t take my word for it. Go to Eileen’s house and make up with her.”

Mike shook his head. “No can do, my man. It’s Sunday evening. You should know that she’s not home.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “I can’t believe I’m letting myself get involved with this. Look, she’s home. She’s home every Sunday evening. She does play softball during the summer on Sunday afternoons, but trust me, she’s home now.”

Mike contemplated Ryan’s suggestion. “Okay. I’ll go.” He glanced at his plate, not wanting to waste the food. “Look, I’m not going to finish my food. I know it’s not what you would normally eat, but help yourself.”

As Mike was getting up to leave, Ryan pulled his wallet from his back pocket, opened it, and pulled out a ten. He handed it to Mike.

Mike looked at him quizzically. “Dude, I’m not a hooker. You don’t need to pay me to go over there.”

Ryan snorted at him. “I wouldn’t pay you for anything. No way, not when I know you’re making a hell of a lot more money than I do. There’s a Dairy Queen a few blocks from Eileen’s house. Stop there first and buy two medium Heath Bar Blizzards.”

Mike gave him a puzzled look. “I know where it is, but why do I need to stop there? I mean, I can get something for Eileen, but why two? I don’t like Heath Bar Blizzards.”

“Mike, considering you were in the military, you do a piss poor job of following orders. Did I say one was for you? No, I didn’t. If you want something from Dairy Queen, pay for it yourself. Just buy two of them and go to Eileen’s house.”

Mike shrugged. “Whatever you say.” He started to leave, then turned back to Ryan with his hand extended. Ryan gave it a firm shake.

“Thanks. I still don’t think that this involved you, but for what it’s worth, I am glad that you butted in. But I have something to ask you, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Well, given your recent—ah—given the recent information, I was just wondering…”

Ryan shook his head and held out his hand to silence Mike. “Oh man. You’re going to ask me if I’ve ever thought about you that way. I refuse to answer that.”

“Why?”

“Because. If I say yes, then you’ll feel all weird around me. But if I say no, then you’ll be offended that I don’t find you attractive.”

Mike decided Ryan was right. “Fair enough. We’ll leave it at that.”

As Mike turned and walked away, Ryan watched his broad back retreat and sighed. If Mike only knew what he thought about. Rather than dwell on what could never be, he slid over Mike’s nearly full dinner plate and liberally doused the plain chicken and vegetables with hot sauce, looking forward to Monday morning with Eileen in the car. He could hardly wait to hear the relationship gossip.
* * *

Mike was on his way to Eileen’s when he decided to make a quick stop at church. His parish was one of the few left in the city that kept its doors unlocked. He parked in a spot right out front, leaving the windows partially open to prevent the early evening summer sun from turning the interior into an oven.

The inside of the church felt cool, though there wasn’t air conditioning. He walked up the center aisle, sat at the front, and stared at his hands, glowing multi-colored from the stained-glass windows. As always, he was assaulted by memories of Tina.

Their wedding day, as she walked up the aisle to meet him at the altar, her pale blonde hair piled high on her head, her face absolutely suffused with joy behind the gossamer veil. He remembered how beautiful she looked, her rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes glowing with happiness. He remembered kissing her after they exchanged vows, holding her tightly against him as their families and friends thundered applause in the large church, having no idea that Tina was thinking only of him going back overseas and wondering if she would be a widow before she could even get used to the idea of being his wife. He smiled as he thought about the time they spent in this same church, week after week of attending mass together and walking up the aisle for Communion, and the occasional pinch on his bottom that she would give when she thought nobody was looking. As the years went by, he and Tina would stay after and pray together for him to make a sound career move, and they would also pray for a child. Then she got pregnant twice and miscarried twice. But they still prayed. And then, in their sixth year of marriage, she got pregnant and stayed pregnant. Their joy was only overshadowed by her violent morning sickness that lasted until the beginning of her seventh month. It was during that seventh month that she started feeling better, only to have her water break in the middle of one of her shifts at the hospital. In spite of having access to immediate care, the labor couldn’t be stopped. Little Ben came too early and he was too sick. Mike had had to practically carry Tina up the aisle as they walked behind the tiny white casket.

Tina had stopped going to church after that, feeling that her relationship with God had been irreparably damaged. Mike couldn’t blame her, but he still went, still prayed. Less than a year after that, Tina was making dinner one night as he got ready for his shift. She hadn’t been feeling well, and Mike was hopeful that her nausea, headaches, and slightly achy abdomen for two weeks indicated that she was pregnant again. But right in the middle of cooking, she had collapsed on the kitchen floor, blood gushing from between her legs and pooling around her feet. She had been rushed to the hospital, barely conscious, Mike holding her icy hands and praying during the short ambulance ride. It was then that they learned that Tina was not pregnant. Her uterus was full of cancer. An emergency hysterectomy was done, dashing all hope for them having a child of their own. But, Mike still went to church and prayed.

They were cautiously optimistic during Tina’s chemotherapy. She responded well to treatment, and though she was devastated when she lost her hair, the chemo helped. Following treatment, the doctors couldn’t find any more cancer. Two years later, she was healthy as could be.

And then it happened.

They were making love one night and Mike was nuzzling her left breast when she suddenly yelped in pain. Mike was sick with fear when he and Tina both felt the tender spot and found a lump. A trip to the doctor the next morning revealed the hard truth. The lump turned out to be a tumor. There were options. Mastectomy. Another round of chemo. Tina was horrified at the idea of losing her breast, but Mike assured her it didn’t matter. He loved her, not her breasts. And he prayed. Then more bad news. Stage four cancer. In both breasts. Her lungs. Her brain. And still Mike prayed. Tina had refused further treatment, preferring to live her last days without the poisonous chemo that may extend her life for a few months, but not cure her. Mike supported her decision. She was dead four months later.
And he had walked up this aisle again, this time, behind his wife’s casket.

Mike sat, carried away by memories, his past memories and present feelings bleeding together. He twirled his wedding band and remembered the funeral. Tina’s family and friends. His family, friends from the Army, friends from work. The mass. The eulogy. He got up and spoke about her, smiling and even laughing occasionally when he told everyone about what a bad cook she was but what a wonderful wife she had been to him, wanting them all to know her the way that he knew her.

Through it all, he sat, dry-eyed, telling everyone he was fine. No, really. I’m fine. As fine as I can be under the circumstances. Yeah, it hurts like hell and I’m going to miss her, but this wasn’t unexpected. We all knew her time was limited. We were lucky. We got to hold each other and tell each other all the things we needed to before we ran out of time. We got to hug and cry and come to terms with it before today. I’m fine. Really. He was fine through the service at the cemetery. And he was fine when they began lowering her casket into the ground in the plot next to their son. And then he couldn’t take it anymore. The thought of his wife gone from him and in a place where she could hold and care for their son, waiting for him to join them, was finally too much for him. The life he had always wanted, all the plans he had, his dreams for the future, lay in the two graves in front of him. Something in him began to unravel and he sank to his knees, barely able to breathe. People stood awkwardly, not sure what to do for him. Most began to walk away. Mike stayed on his knees, watching as the casket containing his dead wife dropped further down. He was holding his breath without realizing it, staring at the ground as he started to feel dizzy. All he wanted was to jump down in there and rip the top off the casket and shake Tina, make her breathe, make her open her eyes and stay with him. He wanted to scream, rip out his hair, do whatever it took to make her come back.

Then, just as he was giving serious thought to planting himself on top of the casket and being buried with Tina, there was a gentle touch on his back. He had looked up and saw that it was Eileen. She said nothing, just slid her hand onto his shoulder and stood there. He felt the heat of her hand through his suit jacket, and that was his complete undoing. Under the unbearable burden of a life gone horribly wrong, his shoulders sagged, his body giving way to the pain that was suddenly too overwhelming to carry, and he buried his face in his hands and wept. Through it all, Eileen just stood there, not saying anything, letting him cry. She didn’t pat his shoulder, didn’t rub it, didn’t squeeze it. She just stood there, her palm resting firmly against him.

For the better part of ten minutes, he gave into his grief, gut-wrenching sobs shaking his large frame. When he was spent, he’d stood up and looked at Eileen. She handed him a handkerchief, which he took. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze and said, “I’m sorry that you’re hurting. I’ll say a prayer for you and Tina tonight.” She had walked away after that. Mike still had the handkerchief, tucked away in his underwear drawer. He held onto it, and whenever he saw it, he remembered the kindness of a woman he had barely known, but who had seemed to understand the devastation he felt.

And now, back in this church, the church he was baptized in, where he’d made his First Communion and Confirmation, where he was married, and the church where he’d said good-bye to a baby son and a wife, he now sat and thought of Eileen. Guilt consumed him as he thought about how shabbily he’d treated her, the horrible names he’d called her. And he asked God’s forgiveness. Peace settled over him and he prayed. He knew God forgave him for his foolishness. He prayed that Eileen would forgive that same foolishness and find it in her heart to give him another chance. And then he prayed for the courage to forgive himself.

Just as he always did on his way out, he paused and lit a candle. It would be Tina’s last candle. He quietly thanked her for her years of love and support, and asked her to please understand that it was time for him to move on. In his heart, he knew she did, and as he left the church, he slipped off his wedding band and put it in his pocket.
* * *

Mike sat in front of Eileen’s house, trying to talk himself into getting out of the car. He knew he couldn’t keep sitting there, especially with the marked squad so close by. Finally, he took a deep breath, grabbed the two Blizzards from the cup holders, and made his way to her front door. The sun was just starting to set, and the front porch was bathed in cool shade from the large elm tree in her front yard. He could hear music playing, muffled, but he recognized the strains of country music and the song that he and Eileen had danced to in her kitchen the weekend before. It had seemed to fit that moment perfectly, and he’d been listening to the local country station regularly, always hoping to hear it again. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them, and reached out to ring the doorbell.

The time it took for her to answer the door seemed like an eternity. She was smiling when she opened the house door, but the smile froze and disappeared when she saw him through the storm door. She unlocked the storm door and opened it for him.

Not sure how to react to his presence, she simply whispered, “Hi.”

He stood sheepishly with his hands behind his back, taking in her appearance, not even remotely surprised that, as always, she was beautiful. She was wearing a pair of white denim shorts and a blue Chicago Cubs t-shirt. Her hair was pulled into a high bun, which accented her pretty face.

Mike realized he was staring at her. He hurriedly looked away, trying to maintain his composure. Being overly sleep deprived was combining with the fact that he was a little emotional to begin with, and unbidden tears sprang into his eyes.

“Sounds like our song.”

She looked confused at first, then embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. Sugarland. I like this song a lot.”

“Sugarland?”

“They sing the song.”

“Oh,” he said, feeling awkward. Eileen continued to look at him, not sure what to say. Finally he cleared his throat. “You were wrong about something,” he said, still not able to look her in the face.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Pardon?”

He smiled and finally met her eyes for a brief moment before looking away again. His words came out in a rush. “Last weekend. You said you’d never seen me without my hat before. You were wrong. At Tina’s funeral. You stood with me. I wasn’t wearing a hat then.”

“You came over here to tell me I was wrong about that?” Eileen was confused, and her tone had an edge of annoyance to it.

Summoning up his courage, he pulled his hands from behind his back and held out the two cups. “No. No, it’s more than that. Truce?”

Eileen smiled a small smile, but it was genuine, and her tone softened. “You must have been talking to Ryan. Sure. Come on in.”

She took the cups from his hands and stepped aside so he could enter. She was quiet, waiting for Mike to speak. He opened his mouth, words of apology ready to spill out, but froze the second he walked into the living room. There, sitting on the couch, was the same man he’d seen Eileen with last weekend. Even worse, the guy was wearing his hat. His stomach churned, but he tried to stay calm. Ryan had sworn there was an explanation.

Eileen, now realizing she would have to speak first, broke the silence. “Given the fact that you came with two Blizzards, it’s obvious Ryan told you something. It’s also obvious he didn’t tell you everything.” She paused and cleared her throat. “Mike, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She motioned to the man who had turned toward them but had yet to say a word. “Hey Scotty. Turn off the radio and come on over here.”

The man got up from the couch, clicked off the CD player, and walked over. More like shuffled over. He had a slow, slightly unsteady gait. Upon closer inspection, Mike realized that the guy was younger than Eileen. A lot younger. And something was a little off. Scotty had a smooth, bland face, but it was something about the eyes. It wasn’t just the color, though they were a darker and more startling shade of green than Eileen’s eyes. It was something. Something.

Eileen nudged Scotty’s hand. “Mike, this is Scott. Scotty, say hello to Mike.”

Scotty’s face brightened. “You’re Mike.” He shook Mike’s hand, vigorously pumping it several times. “I’m wearing your hat.”

Mike nodded, still bewildered. “You sure are.”

Scotty eyed the Dairy Queen cups that Eileen was holding, a big grin spreading across his face as he templed his hands under his chin. “Is one for me?”

“Scotty, that’s not very polite. But yes, one is for you. Mike brought it.” She handed him one of the Blizzards and Scotty’s whole face lit up.

“Thanks, Mr. Mike. Mr. Ryan usually brings me ice-cream on Sundays, but you’re okay, too. I’ve been waiting to meet you.”

Mike was thoroughly confused. “You have?”

Scotty nodded. “Yup. My mom told me all about you. She said you were the one who gave her the ouchie on her neck. I was mad when she told me.” His face tensed momentarily, but then relaxed. “I was mad. Really mad. But she said you had to do it to make her better after she got bit—I mean stinged. Or, um, stung. Yeah. When she got stung by the bees.”

Mike nodded. Mom? he thought.

Scotty continued. “My mom gets sick from bees. But I don’t. Just her. I’m glad you made her better, but I was sad last weekend when you came over. Mom said she couldn’t pick me up on Friday night like she usually does, but she said it was so she could make you a thank you dinner for helping her not be sick anymore.”

He grinned mischievously. “First I was mad because Mr. Ryan was supposed to come, too, and he plays catch with me when he comes over. But then mom said he couldn’t make it and it would just be you. So I made fun of her and said she had a date.” He broke out into song, “Mom and Mr. Mike, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.” He laughed gleefully, flapping his arms, then hugging himself. “She told me to cut it out, but I thought it was funny. She still came for me though, just not until Saturday. But it was okay. I had fun with my friends Friday night. We played Frisbee Golf.” He looked inquiringly at Mike. “Do you know how to play Frisbee Golf?” When Mike shook his head no, Scotty kept talking. “It doesn’t matter. I can teach you if you want. Me and mom had a lot of fun on Saturday. We went to the dentist. That was okay. Some people don’t like dentists, but I do. He’s real nice. Me and mom were supposed to play softball on Sunday, but a bunch of people couldn’t come because it was so hot. Some of them can’t be outside when it’s real hot. But I can. So mom took me out for lunch on Sunday since we didn’t play softball, and we got ice-cream after. It was good.”

He looked down at his Blizzard. “Mom, can I eat it in my room?”

“Okay. But make sure you brush your teeth after.”

“I will. Can I watch Spider-Man while I eat it?”

“Fine. You know when to close your eyes, right?”

“Yup. The one scary part. And I’ll remember to go to bed by nine-thirty so I get up on time tomorrow.”

Scotty gave Eileen a hug and a kiss. “Just so I don’t forget later.” He gave her another kiss, still hugging her hard. “Good night, mom.”

“Good night, sweetie. Sleep well.”

“I will. Good night, Mr. Mike. I’m glad you gave your hat to my mom. It made her happy. And I like wearing it, too.” Scotty leaned forward and hugged Mike impulsively. “And thanks for the ice-cream, too.”

Eileen tapped Scotty’s shoulder. “Honey, Mike and I will be in the living room, okay? If you need anything or you get bored watching the movie, just come on out.”

Scotty gave her a devilish smile. “No, I’ll stay in my room except for when I go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. You two might want to kiss or something.”

Eileen gave him a playful pinch on his cheek before hugging him again. “I love you.”

He wiggled away from her, calling out “I love you, mom!” as he scurried away.

Mike watched, completely dumbfounded, as Scotty made his way to his room. When he heard the bedroom door close, he turned to Eileen.

“Mom? I thought you couldn’t have kids.” His tone came out sharper than he intended. He softened his voice as he continued. “I’m guessing there’s more to what you told me last weekend?”

Eileen closed her eyes. “Believe it or not, I can explain. But it’s a long story.”

Mike sensed that it was, indeed, a very long story. He reached out and took her hand. “No time like the present, kiddo.”

Tears welled in her eyes when he called her that. That simple word. Kiddo. It began to heal something in her. She nodded and they walked over to the couch. Eileen sat down, curling her legs under herself. She stuck her spoon in her Blizzard, swirling the ice-cream and candy bits, then took a heaping spoonful and shoved it in her mouth.

She rolled the sweetness around on her tongue and was aware that Mike was staring at her. “What? You want some?” She offered him the cup.

“No thanks. It’s all for you.”

Eileen sighed. “Sorry. I’m stalling. Okay. Well, I guess you already figured out that Scotty is my son. He’s seventeen.”

Mike did the math in his head and raised his eyebrows at her, ready to speak.

She held up a hand to silence him. “If I’m going to tell this story, you have to hold your questions until the end. Okay?”

He nodded. “Deal. You talk, I listen.”

Eileen nodded. Her eyes took on a faraway look. “I guess I should start at the beginning.” Her voice grew so quiet, Mike had to strain to hear her.

“I had a pretty good childhood. Not perfect, but pretty good. My mom was a secretary at a law firm downtown and my dad was a truck driver. I actually grew up in a two-bedroom two-flat not far from here. Dad was gone a lot during the week, but he was home every weekend.

“When I was nine, dad was killed in an accident. I wish I could tell you it was something dramatic, like he died trying to save someone else, or it was a fiery crash in the middle of a blizzard, but it wasn’t anything like that. Truth is, it was the middle of the afternoon on a perfectly clear spring day. He was speeding, which was just like him. Not going horribly fast, but enough that it was a problem. Anyway, he went to change lanes, lost control and hit a guardrail, then a concrete wall. Still, he might have survived, but he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. He flew out the windshield of his cab, died when he hit the ground. Traumatic injury to his brain stem. He never had a chance. After his whole crazy life—his parents dying when he was a kid, ending up in foster care, enlisting in the Army and going to Vietnam—he was done in by a one-vehicle crash.

“The funeral was hard. I was confused and scared. But mom—mom was devastated to the point of being catatonic. For weeks after, she would just lay in bed all day, crying and crying. I got myself up and off to school, and would make dinner when I got home. The neighbor downstairs helped us out a lot.

“After about a month, she started to pull it together and went back to work. Things were okay for a little bit. But then mom started acting weird. Really weird. Hyper. And when she wasn’t hyper, she was angry and mean. I was on my own a lot because she started going out every night after work. And she would bring people—men—home every night and they would spend hours in her bedroom. I just tried really hard to stay out of her way.

“When I was twelve, I finally learned why her mood swings were so bad. Turned out she was using cocaine. I walked in after a half-day at school and found her snorting a line at the kitchen table. She was completely humiliated. I didn’t know until I was older, but she was whoring herself out to pay for her habit. Her own salary and dad’s life insurance policy sure couldn’t cover it, especially since she was using so frequently. I guess one of the lawyers in her firm turned her onto coke. Mom never said so specifically, but she hinted at it.

“Anyway, in the months leading up to my thirteenth birthday, mom tried to get clean. She felt really bad about everything that happened and was dealing with a lot of guilt. She wanted to make it up to me, so that year, she planned a small surprise birthday party for me. I was so touched. We didn’t really have any family, but she invited our neighbors and my three best friends from school. When the time came for me to blow out the candles on my cake, I wished with all my might that mom would stay clean.”

Eileen took another spoonful of ice-cream and chewed thoughtfully on the chunks of candy. Though it was difficult, Mike said nothing. It was a full minute before she spoke again.

“So, it was my birthday.”

The Salesman's Son (3)

2010-08-29T23:01:00.004-05:00

Chapter Two

In 1910, Zim enrolled at Yale.
It had been a battle of wills against his grandmother, who was predictably horrified at the idea of any of her grandchildren being educated in a northern institution, no matter how prestigious. His father, perhaps surprisingly, had defended the decision though, and ultimately was able to bring it about by swearing that Zim would return to Carolina at the end of his degree. Of course, though a grown man of seventeen, Zim was denied any say in the final decision, content at least that he would be able to attend a university so close to New York, a city about which he had read much over the years, and which seemed like a world apart from his life in the South.
And so he left Charleston once again, this time to travel even further into Yankee territory, to uninspired New Haven. He wouldn’t have been entirely honest if he hadn’t admitted that the fact that his grandmother disliked the idea so much made him enjoy the train ride north even more. Ever the dutiful but cynical grandson, he even penned her letter along the way, posting it in New York when he changed trains for the last leg of his journey.
Just as he had assimilated easily into the boarding school in Virginia, Zim was almost immediately and universally well-liked at Yale. At first, some were suspicious of his elongated vowels and deliberate manner of both moving and speaking, but they were quickly overlooked as Zim revealed himself to be game for entertainments of all sorts, not to mention fully acquainted with the pursuits of a well-bred gentleman, from cards to cars and all things in between. A well-placed quote from Socrates even established him to be scholarly enough, though not unsocially bookish.
What Zim found difficult to adjust to was the pace and attitude of northern sophisticates. He had been raise to think that there was a universal etiquette in the “right kind” of circles, things that entailed rising when a lady entered a room and always offering a lady a compliment in the course of conversation, even if the compliment was merely perfunctory. In New Haven, and even more so in New York though, they seemed to have a wholly different code of conduct, though there was no question that those young and monied sons were of the same “right kind” of circle that was his own birthright. And so, Zim found himself simultaneously at risk of being labeled old-fashioned – or worse, a country bumpkin – as well as a hardened flirt. He walked a fine line his entire first semester, trying to emulate the habits of his peers as best as he was able, until at last he was able to find a handful of other southern-born sons at the august university.
Chief among this set was a likeable young man by the memorable name of Saxby Allston. Saxby – Sax to most of the boys – was the epitome of both the southern gentleman and the southern stereotype. He was confident and brash; he talked and drank too much; and he was known to make the ladies blush redder than their painted lips. Most importantly, Sax could guarantee a good time, and any brand of good time. He was older than Zim by two years, but they were in the same year at Yale, and when they met at one of the clubs, early in Zim's second semester, everyone attested that it was like a meeting of the minds, the two seeming as though they had been brothers mistakenly separated at birth. From their first encounter, there was no good thing Sax couldn't say about Zim nor the other way around. Their shared experience of growing up in reconstruction states, being raised by once great families, and having errant fathers only strengthened their bond as their first year came to a close.
"The boys around here say that I could drink a sailor under the table, but they have never – nor will they ever – meet my father. Now there is a man no stranger to the bottle," Sax confessed one night as the two sat in one of the empty club rooms on campus, smoking and of course drinking.
"At least you can say that much about your father," Zim said quietly, staring moodily into his nearly empty glass. He had been morose for the better part of the day, the result of a particularly strident letter from his grandmother and a frustrating one from Charlotte. "I don't know a thing about my father well enough to say with any certainty. He might drink. He might womanize. Only he and God know what he does because my mother and I sure as Hell don't."
"There are worse things than not knowing your father," Sax mused after a sympathetic pause. "I don't know that I wouldn't have traded mine for an absent one. Would have lessened the number of beatings as a kid, that's for sure."
They fell silent again, nothing but the smoke filling the air between them.
Although Zim was more concerned with the social aspects of life at Yale than he was with his courses, he maintained standing as a good student and was allowed to equally split his courses between banking and law because he couldn't bring himself to decide between the two. He felt certain he could tolerate a career in either and that both, being respectable enterprises, would eventually lead him to the sort of life he envisioned for himself.
But even the life he envisioned for himself was split in two. On the one hand he longed to escape the depression of his beloved Carolina. Beyond his less than pleasant family situation, the place itself was riddled with the baggage of a war lost and the burden of a loser's reconstruction. Although nearly fifty years post-war, the South had yet to rise again, yet alone to the splendor it had once known, the splendor that was idealized to him as a child and seared unto his mind as if the antebellum memories were his own. –Which is what rest on the other hand for him. He would sometimes imagine himself going back to Charleston and being useful to the city’s revitalization. Perhaps even becoming a city figure of some kind. A savior who would finally be able to restore the old jewel of the south to her former glory, lift the downtrodden lady from her knees, so to speak, and breathe new and beautiful life into her...
But that was just the hero complex in him.
In his rational mind, he knew such a dream was distant from reality, and what little of it might be realized would require time and effort and commitment, not to mention money, which though he didn't necessarily lack, remained precarious so long as it depended on his Mamaw's favor.
While one part of him longed for glory, the other part of Zim eschewed it. He reminded himself that he would be better off simply dedicating himself to amassing a fortune and being happy with that pursuit. He was certain he’d be able to find a pretty young wife to make and keep his home when the time was right. Perhaps he could even add to his fortune through marriage. After all, the Montjoy name was nothing to turn up a nose at. His family had been early settlers of the Carolina colony, Revolutionary patriots before they'd turned Confederate rebels, and his name still had gold to lend it a bit of polish and plenty of respectability. He might not catch the fancy of a northern girl, concerned with her New York nightlife or Newport summer home, or the Such-and-such family of Boston, but who wanted a cold, northern girl anyhow? Give him a sweet southern belle, a flirt and a tease, and he could easily find himself content. Of anything, Zim was sure of this.
That's not to say the New York girls didn't catch his eye though.
When the boys went around town, he saw plenty of girls, even stepped out with a few on occasion, but there always seemed to be a decided lack of connection. It went back to his sense that Yankees had a different social code than the one he had known so well. It seemed no one had taught any of the New York debutantes to flirt, and some reacted with sharp gasps and sharper words when he said something they considered “too forward,” but he considered the most ordinary compliment. Some of the other boys even teased him on occasion for "chasing the ladies away."
"Where I was raised, if you saw a pretty girl, you let her know how pretty she was, and she accepted such a compliment as her proper due. Can't a gentleman tell a lady she's lovely north of the Mason-Dixon?" Zim asked one evening after having sent a waitress hurrying away with a blush on her cheeks while he grinned after her retreating figure.
Saxby, having witnessed the little drama, laughed. "It's not a matter of telling her, it's how you do it, Zim. I've never seen a girl leave your side without blushing scarlet."
"I like to see a bit of pink in a lady's cheeks," Zim insisted.
"Putting some pink there is one thing, but I said scarlet. You have them red to their ears, though God knows what you say to do it."
With them that night was one of the few Yankees of their set, William Davenport Lawley, Jr., a Philadelphia man with a somewhat nervous temperament, always cautioning them against their latest prank, but in the end always grudgingly joining in. Wills, as they called him, tried to get Zim to reveal what it was he did say to make the girls blush that way, but Zim winked and refused to tell, claiming it as a “trade secret.”
The club they were at in Manhattan was slowly losing its crowd as the time neared two in the morning, and the boys headed outside for a last cigarette, still teasing Zim.
“Wills, run and find that stupid car we hired, will you?” Sax asked after a few minutes. “We’ll freeze if we don’t get off these streets soon.”
One thing neither Zim nor Sax could get used to was the cold. Even in April the wind in New York could be biting and both men found no comfort in either their lifted collars or thick scarves.
Wills went off to get the car, but not without a wondering comment about what kind of men they were if they couldn’t stand a little Spring chill. When he was out of hearing distance, the silence of the empty streets seemed to surround Zim and Sax, the latter obviously having something to say but taking his time to say it.
“When was the last time you took a girl out, Zim?” he asked casually.
“I don’t know. Probably the last dance over at Vassar we went to. February, wasn’t it? Claimed it was a Spring dance, but I remember there being seven inches of snow.” Zim shook his head remembering.
“Seems like it’s been a while is all,” Sax observed. “Unless, of course, you're not really interested in any of the girls here..."
There was no pretending that Sax was subtle.
Zim had begun to mention Charlotte with greater frequency and it was obvious from Sax’s pointed stare that he was implying that Zim had designs on the girl – designs that included marriage. Wise to the implication, Zim did not rise to the bait, instead shrugging in disinterest. He was saved from having to give any further response by a black car rounding the corner, reflecting the yellow street lamps. It slowed and Wills threw open the back door so that the other two could slide in.

Untitled 1: Part 8 (I'm tired of the roman numerals)

2010-08-29T16:14:00.002-05:00

Mike’s eyes fluttered open and he stretched. Eileen was not in bed with him, and for an instant, he felt panic rising. Then he remembered that he was in her house, her bed, and it wasn’t likely that she’d gone far. He also vaguely remembered waking up a little earlier when she had crawled out of bed, but he’d drifted back to sleep. Sitting up now, he saw his clothes folded neatly at the foot of the bed, along with a toothbrush, towel, and bar of soap. There was a folded slip of paper, and in Eileen’s neat script, he read, “Ran out to get stuff for breakfast. Back soon. E.”

How cute, he thought. He still couldn’t believe he was here. The night before had been intense, and they’d woken twice during the night and made love again. The first time, he had woken and the feel of her back against his chest and her warm bottom pressed against him was too much to handle. He’d absent-mindedly begun to stroke her breasts and kiss her neck, and she had gradually wakened with him. It was slow and gentle, and she had wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him as he took her. The second time, he had woken to find himself completely engulfed in her mouth. He’d almost lost it in that instant. Tina had never done that over the course of their marriage. He had gone down on her many times, but she had never offered to reciprocate, and he never questioned her about it. So, to find himself like that with Eileen had almost driven him over the edge before he was even fully awake. Fortunately, Eileen was very in tune with his body, and slowed it down until he could regain control. That time, she was almost rough with him, her hunger spilling over as she crushed his lips with her kisses and held onto him as she rode him. Just thinking about it made him hard again.

Mike sat up and arched his back, enjoying how good he felt. It was tempting to just stay in bed. He rarely slept in, but didn’t want Eileen to think he was lazy, either. He flopped back on the sheets, aware that they were still damp from their mingled sweat, redolent with pheromones. After a few minutes, he got up and stripped the sheets, then walked down the hall and loaded them in the washer, but not before he inhaled the fragrance of them one more time. He then made his way to the bathroom, figuring he could at least be presentable when Eileen got back. His reflection revealed that he was a little scruffy, but he didn’t have a razor. Instead, he brushed his teeth, then turned on the water in the shower.

Steam was billowing around him as he soaped up, humming to himself. As the hot water needled his skin, he closed his eyes, reliving the night before. Soft skin, whispered words, the taste of her lips. He was lost in reverie when the curtain was suddenly yanked back. He nearly lost his footing he was so startled, but Eileen reached out and steadied him.

She was smiling at him and he took in her appearance. Her hair was pulled back into a high, damp ponytail, and her face was dewy with sweat. She was wearing a blue and white sports bra and blue jogging shorts. She reached down and unlaced her running shoes, simultaneously kicking them off and pulling the sports bra over her head.

“Want some company?”

Still amazed by his luck, Mike nodded. He watched as she peeled off the sweaty jogging shorts and stripped off the plain white cotton panties, which were a stark contrast to the sexy satin ones she’d worn the night before. Not that he cared. Underwear was underwear, though it appeared she had a knack for choosing styles and colors that complemented her sexy figure.
Eileen stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain closed behind her. Mike steered her into the warm spray of water and she sighed.

“It’s weird how it can be so flipping hot out, but a hot shower still feels good.” She tilted her head back, letting the water run over her hair. She rolled her head from side to side, easing out a sleep-induced kink. “It is really miserable outside. I can’t stand the humidity.”

“Then why did you go out?” he asked. “You didn’t have to run out for breakfast, especially since it appears you literally ran. You probably shouldn’t be running in this weather anyway.”

She shampooed her hair as she spoke. “I have to. If I miss even one day, I’ll never want to start again. I missed a few days this week because of the bee stings and I was on the verge of completely losing my motivation. I grumble and moan about my diet and exercise, but I need to keep healthy. And running helps me to clear my head, especially after a long work week.” She rinsed out the shampoo and applied conditioner, then pulled on a funny looking pair of gloves and began soaping herself up as the conditioner worked its magic on her frizzy tresses.

Mike was puzzled. “What in the world do you have on your hands?”

“Loofah gloves. They really help to exfoliate.”

“Exfoliate? That sounds scary.”

She laughed. “No, it actually feels really good. Here, let me rub you down.”

He took a step back from her. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on. Live a little.”

He watched her warily as she raised her hands and began to rub his chest with the rough, nubby material. He relaxed under her ministrations. She was right. It did feel good. And weird. But mostly good. And it felt even better when she pulled him closer under the warm spray and wrapped her arms around him. She rubbed his back as the water came down, and she rested her chin on his shoulder. He gently massaged her scalp as the water rinsed away the conditioner. She sighed and snuggled in closer, kissing his neck.

“Too bad you have to work today. We could’ve gone to the beach or something.”

Mike grunted. “I’m not exactly a beach kind of guy.” He nibbled on her ear and whispered, “But we could’ve stayed in bed all day.”

Eileen rubbed up against him, trapping him between her thighs. “Want to call in sick?”

“Don’t tempt me,” he growled.

He turned her so that her back was pressed against the shower wall and kissed her. She responded by bringing her right leg up and hooking it around his waist. She trailed kisses along his neck and said, “We can take advantage of the rest of the morning. Give you something to think about during your shift.”

Mike moaned softly as he eased himself into her, partly because he was sore from the number of times they’d made love, but mostly because he felt so damn good. Eileen practically purred as she met him thrust for thrust. It was quick, but good. They were both caught up in the afterglow when Eileen suddenly shrieked as the water turned ice cold. Mike hurriedly turned off the faucet.

They both stood there, dripping and laughing. Mike grabbed a towel and wrapped Eileen in it, briskly rubbing her to warm her up. He pulled her close and said, “You know, getting all wet is what got you in trouble in the first place, little lady.”

She wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “I know. But it’s nice.” She closed her eyes for a moment and just stood there against him. “You better watch out,” she murmured. “I could get used to this.”

Mike turned her face up toward his and softly kissed her lips. “I could get used to it, too. So, maybe you’re the one who ought to watch out.”

“I’m fine with it if you’re fine with it.”

He nodded and tugged the towel away from her body, wanting to feel her skin next to his. While admiring her rear view in the large mirror, he noticed something that he hadn’t seen the night before.

“Is that a tattoo on your back?”

“Yeah. You didn’t notice it last night?”

“No.” He ran his hands over it. It was an ace of spades in the center of her lower back. “Does it have some kind of significance? Or did you just do it on a crazy whim on spring break in Florida?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Contrary to what my behaviors indicated last night, I typically don’t do anything on a whim. I actually gave it a lot of thought beforehand, knowing full well it was a lifetime decision.” A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Some people associate aces with poker or blackjack, but for me it’s a little more significant. I remember reading somewhere that during World War II, American prisoners in the German camps were sent decks of cards. If the prisoners moistened the Ace of Spades and peeled it apart, they would find a section of a map inside with an escape route. Later on, in the Vietnam War, soldiers would put an ace of spades in the front of their helmets. I think for some, it was sort of anti-peace sign, but I learned in school that it was kind of a psychological weapon. There was a superstition that the Vietnamese believed the spade meant death. Even though it was kind of an old wives tale, a lot of guys believed in it, and even if it wasn’t true, it probably boosted their morale a little.”

Mike kissed her forehead, slightly embarrassed over his lack of knowledge, especially considering his own stint in the military. “So, you cook, you do interior design, you’re fantastic in bed, you’re a homicide detective, and you can give history lessons. You are something else, Eileen Riley.”

“Yes I am. And you’re stuck with me now.”

“I can’t imagine wanting to be stuck with anyone else.”

Though neither of them said anything else as they made their way back to Eileen’s room to dress, Mike was sure that this new relationship would last far beyond a one night stand. They were both too sensitive for this to be a fling, and too old for the games and consequences of casual sex. After dressing, Eileen served up a fabulous breakfast of whole grain bagels with low-fat cream cheese, yogurt, egg-white omelets, and fresh fruit. Mike was embarrassed over the fuss she made, but loved it at the same time.

He gazed across the table at her, amazed at how young and fresh she looked. She wore a white tank top with a white and red floral print skirt. Today, she was wearing bright red flip-flops. He smiled as he took her in, noticing how she wore no jewelry except a pair of pearl stud earrings. She had her hair casually pulled back into a low ponytail and was makeup free, except for a hint of ruby-colored lip stain. He felt grossly underdressed in his jeans and polo shirt from the day before.

Eileen caught Mike staring and blushed. She seemed to be blushing an awful lot around him lately. “What are you looking at?”

He slowly shook his head back and forth. “You. I’m looking at you. You don’t get it. You’re beautiful. I’ve known you for four years, and yet, I never realized until last night that you’re stunning. Whenever I see you on the job, you’re always in those damn dark suits and looking so serious. Right now, you look ten years younger. Hell, Eileen, you look like jail bait.”

She blushed harder, but laughed good-naturedly. “You’re good for my self-esteem. Can I keep you?”

Mike reached across the table and took her hand. He kissed each of her knuckles and fingertips. “I would love for you to keep me.”

“Deal,” she whispered.

They finished breakfast and Mike helped her load the dishwasher. Afterward, he leaned against the counter, ankles crossed, lingering over a cup of coffee as she busied herself wiping the counters, humming along with a country song that was quietly playing from her kitchen radio.
Her movements were quick and focused until the next song came on. Looking at him with a bright smile, she draped the towel she was holding over the back of a chair, and did a pirouette. Before he knew what was happening, she had his hands grasped tightly in her own and they were moving around the kitchen floor in a slow dance. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, singing quietly. He didn’t recognize the song, but understood the significance of the words as she sang along. “We could keep things just the same/Leave here the way we came/With nothing to lose/But I don’t want to/If you don’t want to...”

When the song was over, she continued to sway back and forth for another few seconds, loving the feel of Mike’s hard body next to her own. They were both quiet for a few minutes, just holding each other, neither one wanting to break the magic of the moment.

Finally, Mike sighed. “I really wish I hadn’t agreed to pick up this extra shift. I’d love to spend the day with you.”

She kissed him lightly on the lips. “I know. Me too. But maybe we can meet for lunch on Monday since you’re off.”

“Sounds good. I work again Tuesday through Friday, then I’m off again for a few days.”
He pulled a piece of paper from the table by the kitchen phone and wrote down his number. “Call me at home, okay?”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“Of course I promise. I’ll even make something good for lunch on Monday.”

He wrapped her in a warm hug and they stood that way for a few minutes, just holding each other there in the kitchen. Reluctantly, he let her go.

“I should get moving. I need to stop off at home before my shift.”

She nodded against his neck, then sighed. “I should get moving, too. I have an appointment out in Lake Zurich this afternoon.”

“What in the world is out in Lake Zurich?”

“Dentist,” she replied. “I’m lucky he’s got hours on Saturdays.”

Eileen grabbed her purse and car keys, and she and Mike, holding hands, walked out to the garage. The air was heavy with humidity, the ground still wet from the previous night’s storms.
Mike inhaled deeply. “I love the way the air smells after a good rain.”

Eileen nodded in agreement. “It does smell good. Sort of like everything has been swept clean. A new day, a new beginning.”

Her hand felt lost in his and when she looked up at him, she saw that he was smiling. “What are you smiling about?”

“You. Us. What a night, huh?”

“That’s an understatement. And what a morning, too.”

“Yeah.” Strong arms pulled her in close and she could feel Mike’s chin resting on top of her head. “Eileen, I need to ask you something.”

“Of course.” She was slouching slightly, her head pressed against his chest and his voice was deep, reverberating under her ear.

“Was last night okay?”

Picking up her head and looking deep into his eyes, she smiled. A real smile. “It was absolutely okay. Why wouldn’t it be? Are you worried that I’m having second thoughts? If there were any second thoughts even lurking in the back of my brain, last night never would have happened.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I’m not worried about second thoughts. I know I don’t have any, that’s for sure. It’s just,” he swallowed and looked away from her. “What I mean is, like you thought it was really okay? I was okay? I mean you liked it? And you like me?”

Eileen was incredulous. “Are you actually being serious?”

Mike, still not looking at her, nodded slowly. “I’m way out of practice. I mean, way, way out of practice. You said last night you were afraid of disappointing me, but I was terrified of disappointing you.”

“Mike, you’ve got to be kidding. But you’re not, are you?” When he shook his head, she plunged ahead. “Last night was amazing. Wonderful. If it wouldn’t blow your ego into outer space, I’d tell you that you’re a total stud.” She smiled when he blushed. Cupping his face between her hands, she forced him to look at her. “I never would have even entertained the thought of going to bed with you if I didn’t already like you. And I do like you. A lot. And after last night, I can say that I like you that way, too. You practically set my whole body on fire. Woke up a part of me that I didn’t know was there. Saying that I enjoyed it is nowhere near sufficient. Were you in the same room with me? The same bed? The same shower?”

Leaning in, Mike gave her a feather light kiss, his lips barely touching hers with a sheer gossamer caress. “I was there. Oh, I was there all right. You had me totally and completely. You still do.” Nuzzling against her neck, his hot breath on her skin, he whispered, “You can still have me if you want.”

Shivers ran down her spine. “I still want you. That’s not an issue.” Looking up at him, her arms around his neck, she planted a hard kiss on him. “And not just in a physical way. Your body isn’t the only thing that stimulates me.”

“That’s good to know. See, I’m not all brawn. I’ve got brains, too.”

“Of course you do. And so do I. Which is why we both need to get going. You have to work and I have to get to the dentist.”

As they stood in front of the garage, Eileen noticed the marked squad slowly driving past her house. She couldn’t tell who the officer was, but she waved in greeting anyway. He returned the gesture with a friendly wave of his own.

She raised an eyebrow at Mike. “You know, people are going to find out about this. Even if we don’t say a word, Officer Friendly over there is bound to shoot off his mouth to somebody.”

Mike shrugged. “Do you care?”

Eileen carefully weighed her words. “Not for myself. I’m perfectly capable of handling gossip and rumors.” Mike nodded, knowing about some of the vicious rumors that circulated around her partnership with Ryan. Eileen looked at him with a serious expression. “But I don’t want to put you in a compromised position.”

“I won’t be. Really.” He noticed her dubious look and pulled her close to his chest. “Listen to me. We’re two adults. Consenting adults. Neither of us is married, we don’t have families to worry about.”

He noticed that she had stiffened, but she didn’t say anything, so he continued. “If people want to gossip, that’s their business. As long as we’re not doing anything to jeopardize our jobs or anyone else, it doesn’t matter what people say. And if anyone gives you crap, let me know and I’ll beat them senseless. And if anyone gives me crap, I’ll tell you and can pistol whip them or something, okay?”

She was still stiff in his arms, but she smiled and nodded. He kissed the tip of her nose. “I really do have to get going.”

“Me, too,” she said, standing next to his motorcycle, watching as he pulled off his cap. He was getting ready to put it away, but thought better of it and put it on Eileen’s head instead.
She laughed and pulled it low over her forehead, snaking her ponytail through the back as he strapped on his helmet. He reached out and stroked her cheek for a second before reluctantly straddling the bike.

Eileen ran her fingers over the smooth chrome. “Maybe you can take me for a ride sometime. I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”

“You bet, kiddo. How about next weekend? Or even the weekend after. I’m off for the holiday.” He hesitated for a second, but then forged ahead with what he was thinking. “Maybe we could go away overnight somewhere Friday or Saturday. With the Fourth being on Thursday, places shouldn’t be too crowded. We could get a cabin out at Starved Rock. Or go to…I don’t know. Somewhere.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s talk more on Monday and we’ll work out the details.” She kissed the tip of her finger, and then tweaked his nose through the opening in the helmet. “I can hardly wait.”

“Me too,” he said. He kicked up the stand on his bike and began walking it out of the garage. “I…” He stopped short.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. I’ll talk to you on Monday. I’ll miss you until then.” The bike roared to life and he rolled down the driveway. He raised his hand in a final farewell gesture, thinking how dangerously close he’d come to blurting out that he loved her. He tried to convince himself that he was confusing loving feelings with the sexual feelings he had for her, but he knew that wasn’t it. It didn’t seem possible, but he felt things stirring in him, a longing that he thought he’d lost the day he buried his wife. But it was still there, and the tiny spark he’d felt last night, that had turned into a flicker the second he kissed Eileen, was fast turning into a burning flame.
* * *
Mike sailed through his Saturday shift and Sunday dawned hot and bright. He was lingering in bed, deciding what to do to ease his cabin fever. He felt restless, but giddy and full of energy. It was too hot to really do anything outside, but he didn’t want to sit at home all day, either. He mulled it over as he showered, finally deciding to go downtown and wander around, do some window shopping.

He ate breakfast alone at his small kitchen table, thinking how funny it was to be eating Honey Nut Cheerios when just the morning before, he’d been eating breakfast with Eileen. He flipped through the Sunday paper, and decided to go head to church before he went downtown. He hadn’t gone for a few weeks, and after his amazing night with Eileen, he thought it would be nice to give thanks, lose himself spiritually, and make his soul shiny. It would be a good way to start the week.

Mike sat toward the back of the church, a habit he’d picked up when Tina was still alive. Poor Tina had suffered from terrible claustrophobia and had preferred to sit in back near the doors. The idea of sitting in front with all those people behind her had caused anxiety attacks, and she just couldn’t do it.

Mass was short and Mike smiled to himself during Communion, remembering their wedding day and how terrified Tina had looked as she walked up this same aisle. He knew she’d been completely freaked out knowing all the wedding guests would be looking at her back. But she knew how important a Catholic wedding was to him, and it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

After mass ended, he hung around for a few extra minutes, as he always did. He loved the feeling of sitting in the big cavernous space. He always felt closer to God, and today was no exception. He said a few silent prayers, remembering to thank God for all the blessings in his life, and offering up a weak apology for the night he’d spent with Eileen. Growing up Catholic, he was aware of the teachings on pre-marital sex. He and Tina had waited, and he hadn’t shared a sexual bond with anyone else until last night. He waited for guilt to consume him, but it didn’t. Thinking about it, he wondered if maybe it was because he was older, or just because of everything he’d been through, but it didn’t feel wrong. He and Eileen had a mutual respect for each other and the time they’d spent together was special. It wasn’t just because Eileen was beautiful and kind. Their lovemaking had a spiritual quality to it, something that went far beyond just sex. It wasn’t just about joining their bodies, though they certainly had done that. He felt connected to her in a different way now.

Mike continued to think about it for a few minutes, then pushed the thoughts away. It was what it was. And whatever it was, he knew it was special. On his way out, he lit a candle, just like always, in memory of Tina. He hesitated for a second, then bowed his head and lit a second candle. As he watched the flame glow, he hoped it indicated a bright new chapter in his life.

Two hours later, Mike was walking around a Michigan Avenue shop, still basking in the glow of his lovemaking with Eileen when a framed picture caught his eye. It was a huge black and white print of Wrigley Field at night, and he knew it would look perfect on Eileen’s dining room wall. On a whim, he grabbed it and paid for it, glad now that he’d come downtown.

He left the shop and was getting ready to cross the street and head back to the parking garage, thinking about the picture, and feeling really glad that he’d taken his car instead of his bike. And that was when he saw her.

He did a double-take when he saw Eileen walking out of the ice-cream shop. His heart fluttered in his chest and he couldn’t help smiling. He raised his hand and was ready to call out her name, figuring that her softball game had been cancelled for today, when he saw her holding the door open for the man behind her. She’s so nice, he thought.

What he saw next made his blood run like ice-water in his veins.

The man leaned forward and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. She said something back to him, and he took Eileen’s hand and kissed her on the cheek. Mike felt sick to his stomach as he watched them walk away. The picture he carried suddenly felt unbearably heavy, heavier than his heart felt sitting in his chest. He didn’t remember walking back to his car and putting the picture in his trunk, or pulling out of the parking garage. The drive home was a blur. The next thing he remembered was sitting at his kitchen table, wiping tears from his cheeks.
* * *
Eileen plugged along through Monday morning, drinking an extra cup of coffee to keep her going. As the lunch hour drew closer, she tried calling Mike for the third time. She was sure he said he was going to be off today. They were supposed to make plans for next weekend. She gnawed on her lower lip, wondering if maybe he’d had to pick up an extra shift with Rodriguez out. But if he’d had to work, he would have called.

She thought about it for the next ten minutes, then decided the hell with it, and called the station house. Someone answered on the third ring.

“Chicago Fire Department, this is Brian.”

Eileen was relieved it was at least someone she knew. “Hey, Jamieson. It’s Eileen Riley.”

“Riley! What’s going on pretty lady?”

She smiled. “Not much. I was actually wondering if Mike was in.”

“Nope. He’s off today. Not due back in until tomorrow afternoon. But he usually comes in a few hours early, just to shoot the breeze with the guys. You can try back maybe around twelve, one o’clock tomorrow.”

Eileen’s heart sank. “Okay. Thanks Brian.”

She hung up the phone, wondering what was going on. He couldn’t be blowing her off. Could he? That would just be plain mean after the night they’d spent together. He wasn’t at home, wasn’t at work. But he had to be somewhere. She dialed Mike’s home number again, frowning as all she heard was ring after ring. She hung up after the eighth ring. Not even an answering machine to leave a message. She clicked her ballpoint pen against her teeth, finally deciding to just eat without him. He’d turn up eventually.

Looking at the cooler next to her desk, she felt a heavy rock forming in the pit of her stomach. Something had to be wrong. But what? Eileen tried to shrug it off. “Ryan?”

Ryan looked across his desk at her. “What’s up, Lee-Lee?”

“You hungry? I’ve got extra food today. Good stuff.”

Never one to pass up a free meal, Ryan bounded across and peeked in the cooler. “What do you have? I’m starving.”
* * *

Back in his apartment, Mike sat alone on his couch, holding his head in his hands, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest that seemed to get bigger each the time the phone rang, growing and expanding until he was engulfed in emptiness.
* * *

Monday night, Eileen tried several more times to get in touch with Mike. She was having trouble believing that he was only interested in a one-night stand. He didn’t seem like that kind of guy at all and after the tender words and sweetness prior to their departure, it was even harder to believe that he’d changed his mind. Unless maybe he was feeling guilty about Tina.

It was well after midnight before Eileen finally settled down enough to go to bed, and after two before she finally fell asleep. Even then, her sleep was restless. She tossed and turned, feeling uncomfortable, nagging fears and doubts plaguing her. At five-thirty, she forced herself to get up and go out for a morning run. She waved to the officer out in front, then focused on nothing but the task in front of her, which was simply to get in her five miles. As she ran, she found herself wondering if maybe Mike had bailed because of the case she was working on. Or what if…the thought crashed so hard into Eileen that she actually stumbled and almost fell. What if whoever was stalking her got to Mike?

Trying to quiet the doubts, she reminded herself that Mike was a strong man, someone to be reckoned with. He’d worked on Saturday, of that she was sure. Brian Jamieson had said nothing about him not showing up for his last shift. There had to be some other explanation.

Cutting her run short, she sprinted towards home, wanting to get in a good shower and a solid breakfast before starting her day. In the shower, she hurried to get ready, getting clean in record time. Back in her bedroom, she pulled on a lightweight, cotton pair of navy blue slacks and a crisp, white linen blouse. Looking in the mirror, she smiled to herself. If she’d had her hair in pigtails, she would have looked exactly as she had when she was attending Catholic grade school. Eileen skipped putting on makeup. She knew that her skin was pretty good, and there was nothing she could do about the dark circles under her eyes anyway. She threw a few necessities in her purse then sat in the kitchen, eating a bowl of Cheerios and a banana. Her stomach was churning, but she knew she needed to eat something if she planned on getting through the morning without fainting.

She threw lunch together, packing enough for two, and was out the door before seven o’clock. She’d be getting in early today, but maybe that was a good thing. She could re-read some of the files from the cases she and Ryan were working on. Plus, she wanted to take a little bit longer lunch. If Mike was still working today, she had every intention of catching up with him.

Tuesday afternoon, after trying three more times to get in touch with Mike on the phone, Eileen decided that she had to know what was going on. In throwing lunch together that morning, she had packed a soft, insulated cooler with homemade chicken salad, croissants, mixed salad greens, fresh squeezed orange juice, a variety of fresh fruits and vegetables, and slices of homemade blueberry pie, carefully tucked into Tupperware containers. As she drove to the fire station, her mind kept wandering back to Friday night and Saturday morning, and the sheer intensity of making love with Mike. She was thoroughly confused as to why he had missed their lunch date, but whatever his reasons, she wanted to know. It was more than that. She needed to know. The thought of beginning something so special and intimate and then losing it made her feel ill.

Pulling into the parking lot, she noticed that Mike’s motorcycle was parked along the side of the building. She was relieved and scared at the same time. If his bike was there, it meant he was there and he was okay. She checked her reflection in the rearview mirror, smoothed her windblown hair and blotted sweat off her face with a tissue. She was glad she had skipped makeup, knowing full well that because of the heat and humidity, it would have all melted off. Now, though, she was feeling self-conscious. The circles under her eyes told quite a story, and she didn’t want Mike to know that she’d been worried sick. She dabbed concealer over the circles and swept a sheer mineral powder over her face, finishing with a hastily applied layer of rosy-colored lip gloss, giving her mouth a slightly pouty look. That’s about the best I can do, she thought. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the car, pulling the cooler with her.

One of the garage doors was open, but it didn’t feel right to just walk in. Instead, she walked over to the set of double doors and rang the doorbell. Brian Jamieson was working again, and he gave her a big smile as he opened the door.

“Hey, Eileen.” He eyeballed the cooler and sighed. “I’m guessing you’re looking for Mike and that you don’t have anything in your cooler for me.”

She smiled at him. “You would be correct.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “Fine. I’ll go get Mike.” He disappeared as Eileen waited in the doorway enjoying the blast of air conditioning.

Mike was reading the paper in the lounge when Brian came in with a grin on his face. “Hey Mikey. You got a visitor waiting for you downstairs.”

“Don’t call me Mikey. I can’t stand that. And what do you mean I have a visitor? Who would be visiting me at work?”

“Your lady friend. She looks real good today. Looks like she brought you lunch, too. Lucky bastard. Good food and a good looking woman. I’m already jealous.” He gave Mike a playful one-two punch on the shoulder, then disappeared.

Mike took a deep breath. He’d thought that Eileen would have gotten the hint to back off when he didn’t answer her calls the day before. And he knew it had to be her calling him over and over again. The only other time his phone rang was if his mom was calling or they needed him for overtime at the station. Going downstairs, Mike steeled himself for whatever was going to happen. When he saw Eileen, he thought his heart was going to stop and he silently cursed himself for feeling so weak around her. Even in her boring dark blue slacks and white blouse, she looked beautiful and he couldn’t help but let it have an effect on him. Her smile practically beamed from her face when she saw him, but it faded quickly when she noticed the serious expression on his face. He stepped past her and pushed the door open, motioning for her to follow him, which she did.

“Mike,” she began, but he held up a finger, indicating for her to be quiet. She snapped her mouth shut.

He glared at her. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She was taken aback by his venomous tone. “I’m sorry. I had been trying to call you and I know you’re working this afternoon, but,” she hefted up the cooler, “I thought since we didn’t meet for lunch yesterday, we could do it today.”

“I don’t think so.”

Eileen was visibly upset. “Do you mind telling me what’s gong on? We had an amazing night together and I thought we were entering into a relationship. I’m not exactly the kind of person who engages in a one-night stand.”

Mike raised an eyebrow at her, disdain clearly evident on his face. “You sure about that?”

Shock and rage crashed over Eileen. “Just what in the hell is that supposed to mean?” She was aware that she had raised her voice, and dropped it down to just above a whisper. “What exactly are you implying? I’m ready to jump in here and make a commitment to a relationship with you, and you’re backing out. Why?”

Mike rolled his eyes and turned to go back into the station house.

Eileen grabbed his shoulder but he shrugged her hand away, continuing to walk away from her. “Wait. Tell me what’s going on. If you’re going to blow me off, you could at least be fair and give me some kind of explanation.”

He whirled on her, fire in his eyes. “Fair? Fair? I saw you downtown on Sunday, you inconsiderate bitch!”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but it was like a dam had broken loose, and he was helpless to stop the words that spilled out.

Eileen paled. Now it made sense. “Shit. I can explain.”

“No. Don’t bother. I am not going to be some kind of boy toy for you. You say you’re not into one-night stands? I don’t believe a word you say. I’m not going to sit around like an idiot who’s only good for an occasional pity fuck for the town slut.” His voice became choked more with emotion than fury. Tears pricked his eyes, which only served to fuel his verbal assault on the woman he thought he was falling in love with. “Damn you Eileen. Damn you for making me care. Damn you for making me betray Tina’s memory.” He was angry, lashing out, wanting to hurt her for making him hurt so bad.

Her pale face actually went a shade whiter, then abruptly flooded with color, and Mike knew he couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d physically struck her. She opened her mouth as if getting ready to speak, but changed her mind. Instead, she set the cooler at Mike’s feet, then straightened up and looked him square in the eyes for a few seconds. Her chin quivered, just once. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, she turned and walked slowly back to her car, her heels clicking across the pavement as she retreated in defeat.

Mike stood there, aching, watching her leave. He wanted to run after her, take her into his arms and kiss away the hurt he knew he had just caused her, but his pride kept him rooted where he stood. He watched Eileen get into her car, put her sunglasses on, and drive away. She wasn’t aggressive in her driving, didn’t speed away or squeal her tires. She simply left. She never looked back at him, not even once. He stood there, hoping she might change her mind and turn back around, but her car just kept going, without even the flash of a brake light, until it was out of sight.

He stood there, absorbing the silence. Finally, he sighed and looked down at the cooler. His curiosity got the better of him and he opened it up, touched by the thoughtfulness that Eileen had obviously put into the preparation of the lunch. It was good that she had packed so much. He could easily get two full lunches out of it, which was good since it would most likely be a very long time before he had another homemade meal.