Love of a Marine (The Wounded Warriors Series Book 2)

by Patty Campbell

  “I asked you to call me, remember? Good night, Cluny. I hope you sleep well.”

  “Queen’s on the job. Bye for now, beautiful.” He clicked off the call, rubbed the dog’s head, and took her outside. The cold June night air did nothing to cool off the desire burning in him.

  * * *

  Graciella made her way to her bedroom, switching off lights and checking the front door as she went. She paused at Santos’s room, carefully stepped inside, and watched her son sleep. He was beginning to take on a more mature appearance. Where had all those years gone? Not her baby much longer he’d be grown and gone from home before she knew it.

  In her room, she slowly slipped out of her amethyst-hued robe and studied her nude reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of her closet door. She scrutinized herself, not as Santos’s mother, but the young woman who’d sat on the beach in the embrace of the handsome compelling man who hadn’t hidden his attraction to her. He’d rocked her in his strong arms and sung a love song. She’d never hear that song again without experiencing the same exciting sensation. When Cluny sang the words to her this afternoon, the lyrics had imprinted themselves on her heart and mind.

  This man had problems and flaws she hadn’t discovered, so she’d tread carefully. She had a child whose needs came before hers. But she liked what she knew of Cluny McPherson so far. The way a man related to children said worlds about his true character.

  She picked up the book on her nightstand, changed her mind about reading, and snapped off the light. Settling back against her pillows, the bed seemed too big, empty, and cold. She wanted Cluny’s arms around her again. She knew in her heart he wanted that too. Possibilities. She swam in a warm sea of lovely possibilities.

  * * *

  Thursday evening, Chatsworth

  “Santos, get the door! Grandpa and Grandma are here.”

  She watched from the kitchen as her son ran to the door and threw it open, let out a whoop and hugged his grandparents. Earl rolled his eyes and reached behind Lillian’s back to take the new fielder’s mitt she’d been hiding.

  This brought on another round of joyful sounds as Santos hugged it to his chest and bounced on his toes. “I knew you’d bring it, Grampa, I just knew it!”

  Lillian shook her head, clearly amused at their antics, and shoved them outside. “Go! Break in your new mitt. All this excitement is too much for an old woman.” They were gone before she got a chance to close the door.

  “Lillian, how nice to see you.” Graciella motioned for her mother-in-law to join her in the kitchen. “Let’s have a glass of iced tea and talk while they work off some of that energy.” She took her mother-in-law’s sweater and draped it over the back of a kitchen chair. They exchanged a hug and sat at the counter. “I have dinner ready and warming and the table is set. How have you and Earl been?”

  They talked about trivialities, then Graciella told Lillian that Santos had selected his future bride and was on his way to becoming a full-fledged beach bum. “The girl and her godfather have been sharing picnics at the beach with us. We’ve had some good adventures this summer. Her name is Amber Dempsey, and she helped him conquer his fear of the water.”

  Lillian smiled and sipped her tea. “So when’s the wedding?”

  “That’s the good news. He’s decided to wait for at least ten years.”

  “Dempsey. That sounds Irish.” Lillian’s eyes took on a cloud of confusion.

  “I suspect you’re right. Her godfather’s name is Cluny McPherson. Clearly there’re Celts in the family tree.” All she detected in Lillian’s voice was curiosity, not a hint of alarm or concern. She breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  “How did you meet them? Through Rio Samba?”

  “No, Zuma beach. Santos was curious about Cluny’s dog.”

  “He had his dog at Zuma? I’m surprised the beach patrol didn’t ask him to leave.”

  “They allow dogs wearing a service vest.”

  “Oh! So the man is handicapped?”

  “You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but yes, he’s a wounded warrior.” Graciella shifted. “Lillian, I was hoping we could have a few minutes alone to talk about Krystal. There was an unpleasant confrontation in our apartment last Sunday. She came unannounced and walked right in without knocking. She was rude to our dinner guest, and she upset Santos. I was so embarrassed. I don’t understand why she’s changed so much lately.”

  Lillian lowered her forehead to her hand. “We don’t know what to do.”

  “What’s happened to her? Why is she throwing around racial epithets?”

  “We believe it’s the man she’s seeing. He’s got her convinced she’s a victim of racism. That only reason she’s been unable to get her modeling career advanced beyond department store catalogs is because of her color.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “No, of course not! The competition for the few available slots at major modeling agencies is fierce. We’ve tried to reason with her. I pointed out that some of the most famous faces in major advertising are women of color, but she doesn’t want to listen to us.”

  Graciella sighed and rested her hand on Lillian’s shoulder. “I would think this attitude works against her efforts to advance. This is all so recent. It sounds as if the man has poisoned her perspective.”

  “Absolutely. He’s convinced her to go to court to have her name changed.”

  That startled Graciella. “Changed to what?”

  “We’re not sure, but she’s told us she refuses to be known by a ‘slave name.’ We’re broken-hearted over her decision. Jefferson has been the family surname for over two hundred years. Earl is proud of his ancestry. Marvin always joked to his fellow SEALs that he had the most American name in their team.” She shook her head. “It’s very sad.”

  Shocked over Lillian’s revelations, Graciella asked, “Where did she meet this man?”

  “Through an online dating site. I told her she was asking for trouble. You never know what kind of person you might meet. But, she signed up anyway. She’s headstrong, just like Marvin. Shortly after they first went out, she brought him home to meet us. Jamal was very courteous at first, then little by little he began to draw away from us. After a while he stopped coming inside the house. He comes to collect her in his car, and she leaves without a word about where they’re going. We’re at our wit’s end.”

  Hair on the back of her head prickling, Graciella turned the name Jamal over in her head. “What’s his last name, do you know?”

  “Mujahid, but Earl and I suspect it isn’t his birth name.”

  Graciella had become interested in Arabic names when Marvin deployed to Iraq. Krystal’s boyfriend’s name translated roughly to Beautiful Man Fighting. “This is unsettling, Lillian. Especially today, when we read so much about the radicalization of young American men.”

  “We don’t know what we can do.” Lillian’s lips trembled. “Earl doesn’t want to ask her to move out because we’re afraid he might be abusing her. Two weeks ago, she came in very late. We’d already gone to bed and didn’t know she was home. Earl heard angry voices and scuffling sounds so he got up to investigate. Jamal was storming away from Krystal’s room. Earl asked him what he was doing there, but he pushed past him and left. The next morning Krystal had bruising and swelling around her eye. She had to cancel a photo shoot.”

  “My God, Lillian, this is terrible! Why haven’t you spoken of this to me before?”

  “I’m glad we’re finally talking about it.” She lowered her head and rolled it from side to side then took a tissue from her pocket and dabbed her eyes.

  Graciella moved closer and put an arm around her shoulder. “How did she explain what happened?”

  “She made up some story about falling. We didn’t believe it. When Earl pressed her, she flew into a fury and bolted from the house.” The woman’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “She’s had every advantage we were able to provide for her. She excelled in school and was popular with her cla
ssmates. Where did we go wrong?”

  “Don’t blame yourself, please. You—”

  They were unable to continue the conversation when Earl and Santos returned. She was relieved and at the same time she wanted to know more, but Graciella wouldn’t discuss it in her son’s presence. “Is anybody hungry?” She hopped off the barstool.

  “Something smells wonderful in here, daughter.” Earl pecked her cheek and turned to Santos. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved. Let’s get washed up so we can enjoy whatever wonderful dish your mother made for dinner.”

  “What can I do?” Lillian asked.

  “If you’d get the salad from the refrigerator and toss it with the dressing I made, that would be a big help.” She put on a pair of oven mitts and opened the oven door. “This ham is just perfect. I’ll set it in front of Earl’s place so he can serve us.”

  During dinner Graciella asked Earl if he’d drive Santos to Spring Grove Park three days a week so he could join the baseball team at the beginning of the summer season.

  “I’d love to. I’ll get a return on my investment in that new glove.”

  “Oh, boy! I’ll tell Macfearsome I can come.”

  “What day and time?”

  “I’ll find out for sure on Sunday,” Graciella said. “We’re going to Cluny’s house so Santos can show him how to make brigadeiros for a 4th of July barbecue. It will be at the home of Amber’s parents next Wednesday. The annual event is attended by former and current members of the military and their families.”

  “Macfearsome told me practice is on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons and the games are all on Saturday.” He smiled at his grandfather. “So you’ll take me? And come to all the games?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it. You can count on me.”

  “We’ll both come to your games.” Lillian nodded at Graciella. “Will you be there on Saturdays? I know you usually have the school open.”

  “Yes, I’m only conducting one morning class on Saturdays all summer. The games don’t start until two.”

  She raised her hands. “How about a round of Mexican Train Dominoes while we make room for dessert? I made pudim.”

  Earl stood and began clearing dishes. He waggled his eyebrows and grinned at Graciella. “Did I ever tell you you’re my favorite daughter-in-law?”

  “High praise, Earl, considering I’m your only daughter-in-law.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Thursday, Spring Grove

  Cluny wondered how dinner was going with Graciella and her in-laws. He ate in front of the TV while watching a baseball game. Queen lay on her back taking up three quarters of the couch, snoring away as if she were exhausted. All she’d done was lie on the porch for hours and watch him sweat in the hot sun mowing the lawns and trimming the hedges on either side of his property. He was the one who should be snoring, but instead he was alert and restless.

  He could think of nothing all day but Graciella, their kiss, and the feel of her soft mouth brushing the side his neck. She stirred something deep within him that he couldn’t quite identify. She was different from any other woman he’d ever been attracted to, mature and beautiful in a very sexy womanly way. His heart pounded whenever he pictured her in that bright green bikini. All golden skin and fabulous curves. She was thoughtful, kind, and laughed at his lame humor. Graciella had it all—and he wanted it all.

  The woman and her son had come into his life at the time when he’d reconciled to living alone and enjoying family life vicariously through the Dempsey’s. They’d appeared during one of the worst, most depressing weeks he could remember. First the boy, then his mother. He dared to think it possible they’d come together in some preordained way, and he feared the flame of hope struggling to ignite in his heart would be extinguished.

  She’d seen what could happen. Graciella held his hand, encouraged him to talk to her, trust her. Up to this point, he’d done everything possible to hide his PTS. He desperately wanted the love and comfort of a woman. A woman to come home to. A woman he could talk to and laugh with, or sit quietly and watch TV or read without need for conversation. A woman to share those intimate, safe moments, knowing he could be himself without worrying about horrified, frightened responses leading to rejection. He dared hope Graciella was that woman.

  At ten o’clock, he put the popcorn bowl aside, snapped off the TV, and stretched. He wanted to go to her right now. “Why not?” He pulled his loafers on, grabbed his wallet and keys and headed for the door. “Come on, Queenie, we’re going for a ride.”

  All the way across the pass through the Santa Susana Mountains on the 118 Freeway he grinned, shook his head and asked himself what he thought he was doing. “Am I nuts, girl?”

  She cocked her head from side to side, tongue hanging out of her grinning mouth.

  “Is that a yes?” He bumped her nose with his fingers.

  So what was he planning to do, other than cruise by her apartment building then turn around and go home? He’d see them on Sunday. He had plenty to keep him busy between now and then. His crew would return to work on Monday. They had a big job lined up starting that day. It would take most of the week to complete it, with taking the 4th off on Wednesday. “Go home, idiot!”

  Queen lifted her majestic head from between her paws and stared. He laughed and patted her. “It’s OK. We’ll just drive past their place then leave. You’re right. I’m nuts. I’ll turn up ahead and we’ll go home.”

  She sprang up and searched the area, made a small woof, put a paw on the dashboard as he turned into the parking lot of the complex, tail thumping on the seat when she recognized the building where her pal, Santos, lived.

  He fully intended to drive right through to the other exit and leave. But he didn’t. He parked near the stairs leading to her apartment. One small light shone from her window. He stared at it for several seconds. It went out. “Aw, hell.”

  Reaching for the driver’s side handle, he mumbled, “Be right back,” stepped out of the car and bolted up the steps. He rapped lightly on the door and was about to turn around and avoid making a fool of himself when the light inside blinked on. A shadow passed before the peephole. He took a step back so he’d be well-lighted under the porch lamp and waited. A wide grin he couldn’t stop grew on his face.

  The handle turned. He waited. Graciella peeked through a one-inch crack, her eyes round and wary. “Cluny?”

  “Hello, gorgeous.” His smile morphed into a chuckle.

  She pulled open the door. Then she began to laugh. “What are you doing here?” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m laughing, but you look so silly with that big grin on your face.”

  He didn’t answer, just smiled wider and chuckled louder.

  “What are you doing here, Cluny?” She stepped forward and put her fingers over his lips. “Shhh, you’ll wake Santos.” He caught her fingers between his teeth, and she snatched them back squeaking with alarm.

  He leaned close to her ear. “Shhh, don’t want to wake Santos.”

  “Well, for heaven’s sake. For the third time… What do you want?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think I came to kiss you goodnight.”

  “What!” she hissed. “You came all the way over here at this hour to kiss me goodnight?”

  “Sounds better when you say it.” He wriggled his eyebrows, unable to take his eyes off her sexy, soft mouth, and shrugged.

  She crossed her arms and nodded. “Well then, what are you waiting for?”

  What was he waiting for? He took a step forward, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her. Twice. On a sigh, he stepped back. “Nice robe.”

  She stared, opened her mouth to say something, but then didn’t.

  His hands drifted down her arms. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

  * * *

  Graciella wasn’t sure how long she stood there in the open doorway, his kiss still warm and tingling on her lips. Her face glowed from the feel of his hands against her cheeks. She placed fingers to her mouth, smile
d, and whispered, “He drove all the way from Spring Grove to Chatsworth to kiss me goodnight.”

  “Who did, Mama?”

  She jumped and closed the door. “Santos, you startled me.”

  “I heard you talking to somebody. It sounded like Macfearsome. Was that him?”

  Her face flushed, a deep warm buzz of embarrassment prevented her from answering for a moment. She cleared her throat and switched off the hall light. “Um…yes, it was Mr. McPherson. Now let’s get you back to bed.”

  Santos yawned. “Did he forget something? Is that why he was here? It’s kinda late.”

  Her hand on his shoulder, she directed him down the hall. “Yes, he forgot something.”

  “What?” He stopped and looked directly at her in the dimly lighted hall at his bedroom door.

  There was no way she would satisfy him with anything but the truth. She wasn’t in the habit of lying to her son and she wasn’t going to start now.

  Just answer the question, Graciella. Keep it short and simple.

  “Yes. He forgot to kiss me goodnight.” Her jaw clenched, waiting for his next question.

  “That’s nice. Night, Mama.” He stumbled sleepily to his bed. Lay on his side facing the wall and pulled the blankets up to his neck.

  All that worry for nothing. Santos accepted the kiss as the most natural thing for his mother and Macfearsome.

  Graciella went back to make sure she’d locked the door, then proceeded to her bedroom. Every muscle in her body vibrated. She’d be lucky if she didn’t have to read a hundred pages of her bedside book before getting sleepy.

  She slipped off her robe and slid between the sheets. It was very warm. Should she turn on the air conditioner? No, it wasn’t the heat of the evening she felt—it was the heat of Cluny’s kiss. She sighed, hugged her upper arms, and replayed the vision of his face moving close then closer to hers, the simple declaration of his purpose for being there. His smiling mouth pressing hers. His big hands gliding down her arms. His abrupt mission accomplished departure.