Finding Peace: Baytown Boys

by Maryann Jordan

  She smiled as she looked up and directed, “Swing by Bill’s Takeout. I’ve placed an order.”

  “Okay,” he said, both glad she took charge of dinner and confused by her request. A few minutes later, he pulled into a parking place outside the small shop just off Main Street. Seeing her hand on the door, he said, “Oh, hell no, Ginny. You may have ordered it, but I’m paying. Call me old fashioned, but that’s how it’s gonna be.”

  Nodding, she said, “Okay. Just tell him to add extra napkins and I’ll return the cooler tomorrow.”

  With those instruction, Brogan climbed out and walked inside the takeout place. A few minutes later, he returned carrying a large chest. Placing it in the back of his truck, he climbed inside before turning to her and asking, “So, where to?”

  “How about the beach,” she replied. “In fact, park near the pier.” She watched as his head tilted toward her and she shrugged. “I’ve never had a picnic on the pier but I’ve always wanted to. I figure I might as well do it with someone I really like.”

  With that explanation exploding in his chest, Brogan smiled and backed out of the parking space.

  Ten minutes later, they walked to the end of the town pier and set the chest down. Opening it, Ginny pulled out a small tablecloth, that she spread on the wooden planks, and sat on one corner, tucking her legs to the side. She reached inside again and pulled out paper plates, plastic cutlery, an abundance of napkins, and several plastic containers. Grinning up at Brogan, still standing with his hands on his hips, she said, “You just gonna stand there or are you gonna join me?”

  Chuckling, he settled his large frame on the opposite corner of the cloth and watched in awe as she popped the top off one of the containers. The smell of Old Bay seasoning mixed with butter hit his nostrils as he peered inside, seeing steamed shrimp. Another container opened revealing two large crabcakes and a bag of seasoned fries complemented the meal. His eyes opened wide as she pulled out a bag of buttered corn of the cob. Near the bottom was a plastic container and as she popped the top off, he viewed chocolate cannoli. And the last thing she pulled out were two large iced teas.

  Looking at the bounty, he realized this was the first time a woman had gone to so much trouble for him. And he could not remember the last time he had a picnic on the pier…not since I was a kid. Lifting his eyes to her, he shook his head.

  “Is this okay?” she asked, doubt seeping in.

  Unable to stop himself, he leaned over and placed his hand on the back of her head pulling her gently forward until his lips settled on hers. His kiss was light…soft…and oh, so sweet.

  Letting go reluctantly, he blushed. “Sorry. I—”

  Laughing, Ginny said, “Don’t you dare apologize, Brogan MacFarlane! I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

  Her confession surprised him, lightening his heart. A rare grin split his face. “Then I’m glad I took the chance.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she agreed, her face softening with a gentle smile. “So, you ready to eat?”

  Chuckling, Brogan nodded and the two piled their plates full. Looking at the iced teas, he asked, “You didn’t want beer with your seafood?”

  Holding his gaze, she shook her head. “I notice you don’t drink. I figure you have your reasons and tonight is about getting to know each other.”

  Stunned and touched…Brogan simply stared, unable to believe Ginny Spencer wanted to know more about him.

  Timeless. The ever-present surf undulated beneath the wooden planks of the pier, creating a soothing background noise as Brogan and Ginny finished their dinner. Digging into the basket, she pulled out the wet-wipes Bill’s Takeout had provided and handed several to Brogan. He accepted them gratefully, his fingers messy from the peel-and-eat shrimp. He stood, picking up the refuse and walked the few feet to a trash can.

  Ginny leaned back against the pier railing, her eyes planted on his ass. His body was a piece of work and she had admired it from afar for a while, but seeing him up close and being able to gawk without anyone noticing had her sighing in appreciation. His arms were large, but she knew it was from hefting heavy cartons and crates at the pub. His legs were firm, but from running on the beach. She could not imagine him in a gym, preening as he ran on a treadmill. No, he had the easy grace of a man comfortable with his body and not giving a damn what anyone else thought.

  As Brogan turned, he caught Ginny’s eyes lifting to his and he grinned, realizing she had been checking him out. Chuckling as he walked back, he planted his fists on his hips and said, “Like anything?”

  Red-faced at being caught, she shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re alright, I guess,” she joked.

  “If I was interested in a huge, muscular, well-built man with gorgeous blue eyes and interesting tattoos.”

  Plopping down beside her, his back against the same railing, he propped his forearms on his bent knees. “Guess it’s a good thing you find my tattoos interesting.”

  Grinning, she said, “I do. But, then, I find all of you interesting.”

  At that, his smile dropped as he turned to stare into her face, finding nothing but sincerity. Shaking his head, he said, “Can’t imagine why. I’m just me.”

  Twisting so she could hold his gaze, she placed her hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles underneath her fingertips. “Brogan…you’re unique. And I like that. I like you…just the way you are.”

  Cocking his head to the side, he watched as she pursed her lips for a moment before she continued.

  “I like that there’s no bullshit with you. What you see is what you get. Quiet strength. Character. A good soul.”

  “You see all that?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow.

  Nodding slowly, she said, “Yeah.”

  They sat, side by side, shoulders touching, as the sun sunk lower in the sky over the water. Where his shoulder contacted hers burned warm, the tingling moving all the way down his arm. “Don’t know anyone’s ever seen me…not like that,” he said softly, his voice carried away in the breeze.

  “It’s hard when you have to be tough,” she said. “You’re the eldest in your family…the one others rely on. I’m a cop, with a certain persona I need to portray.”

  Nodding, Brogan agreed. “You’re right. That makes it hard sometimes. Hard to let someone in. Hard to just let your guard down.”

  “Hard to trust,” added Ginny.

  He cut his eyes over while keeping his face forward, seeing her blink as though tearful. As the sun continued to create a colorful panorama in front of them he said softly, “You can trust me, Ginny.”

  She swallowed deeply as she nodded, but no other words came.

  Nervous, terrified of making the wrong move, he lifted his arm and settled it across her shoulders, allowing her to lean her head against his chest. The scent of her floral shampoo wafted by and he inhaled just to hold on to her fragrance.

  As the sun finally settled into the horizon, a slight chill swept by and Ginny shivered. Brogan curved his arm, pulling her in closer while rubbing his hand up and down her arm. He knew the chivalrous action was to suggest they leave, but his heart screamed for them to stay. Stay connected, touching, holding.

  “Ginny, I wanted to ask you something,” he said, finally, gathering his courage. “I was wondering if you’d give me a suggestion for a counselor to talk to at the Mental Health group.” He noticed as her breathing changed and plunged ahead before he lost his courage. “I’d like to…uh…I guess talk to someone.”

  Ginny nodded, not trusting her voice.

  He continued, “I figure it’s time I got some help with…well, some of the shit I came back with.”

  Swallowing deeply, she leaned forward so she could twist around to face him, her eyes full of understanding. “I’d be happy to,” she smiled.

  Brogan watched her shiver once more. “I hate like hell to leave, but you’re chilly.” Standing, he gently pulled her up, not letting go of her hand until she was inside his truck.

  At her front doo
r, she turned, her eyes imploring. “Do you want to come in?”

  Lifting his face, searching the heavens for the right answer, he dropped his chin and pierced her with his intense blue eyes. “The answer is yes. I want to come in. But I’m not going to.” Seeing her about to protest, he added, “I want to see you again…soon.”

  Tilting her head, she said, “How soon?”

  “Is tomorrow too soon?”

  Laughing, she said, “No. Tomorrow is perfect.” Digging in her purse, she pulled out a card for the Eastern Shore Mental Health Clinic. “Here. I hope they help. I…well, I’m seeing them too. I see a woman named June, but if you prefer a man, I know one there named Charles who is supposed to be really good as well.” Holding his gaze as she smiled up into his face, she added, “Maybe there’s hope for both of us.”

  Leaning down, he kissed her lightly. Just a taste…just enough to remind him this was real and not a dream.

  10

  Brogan lifted the heavy crate of bottles from the storeroom, carrying them with ease toward the bar. His heart as light as his mind, he performed the mundane tasks to get ready for the day. He still felt the sensation of Ginny’s lips on his, soft and gentle, smooth and silky. With just the hint of chocolate from their dessert.

  “What the hell is that noise?” Aiden yelled from the front door.

  Brogan looked up suddenly, his eyes narrowed as he spied Aiden and Katelyn walking toward him. Katelyn’s smile spread across her pretty face and Aiden’s shit-eatin’ grin almost matched hers. “What? What noise?”

  “Brother dear,” Katelyn purred, “I do believe I heard whistling when I came into the pub.”

  “Sounded more like a fuckin’ cat howling, if you ask me,” Aiden quipped, walking behind the bar.

  Cuffing Aiden on the back of the head, Brogan groused, “No one asked you, asshole.”

  Rolling her eyes at both of them, Katelyn hopped up on a barstool and said, “So tell me about your date last night with Ginny.”

  “How’d you know about a date?”

  Throwing her head back in laughter, Katelyn’s blue eyes danced. “Seriously? Grant found out because Ginny said she wouldn’t be available last night unless it was an emergency and that was unusual for her nights off. So, he pressed and she confessed she had a date, which he then told Jillian. Jillian was looking for me, but found Gareth instead, so she told him to tell me to call her. But he was curious, so she told him first…which kind of pisses me off, that he knew before I did. But anyway, he told me last night.”

  Brogan’s hard stare pierced her, but she was unshakeable. Instead, she just perched on her stool, a wide-eyed, expectant look on her face. Dropping his head, he said, “What the hell’s wrong with this town? Ain’t nobody got nothin’ better to do than get all up in people’s business?”

  “Nope,” Aiden and Katelyn said in unison.

  Rubbing his hand over his head, Brogan lifted his head, but his retort died on his lips as Katelyn’s hand snaked across the bar and gently squeezed his. Sighing, he said, “Not much to tell. The Sunset Restaurant was having some kinda shindig and was too crowded, so I figured the date was over before it got started. But she ordered some food from Bill’s Takeout and we went to the pier.”

  Katelyn’s mouth fell open, but no words came out and, as Brogan glanced at Aiden, he caught his brother smiling. Shrugging, he added, “It was nice.”

  Expecting Aiden to make a brash comment, he was stunned when he just walked by, slapped him on the back, and said, “Good job, Bro. Sounds like it was perfect.”

  Brogan watched as Aiden picked up the now-empty crate and walked toward the back. Feeling the squeeze on his hand again, he turned and looked at Katelyn.

  “Aiden’s right, you know. It does sound perfect.”

  Nodding slowly, he said, “Yeah. She’s special. What the hell she sees in me, I don’t know, but I’m just glad she does.”

  “Do you remember how you said that when you came back from the war, I was different? After Philip died, I seemed to die as well?” Seeing Brogan’s surprised nod, she continued, “You were different too. You were always the serious brother, but when you came back, you were positively somber. You didn’t smile. You didn’t joke. You didn’t drink. You were…well, different.”

  Saying nothing, Brogan listened, knowing every word she said was true.

  “We were all worried, but you came back, worked hard here to continue to make the pub a success, and we all got used to the new Brogan.” She slid from the stool and walked over to him. Lifting on her toes, she kissed his cheek. “I love you, but want you to be happy…not just to exist. And I think Ginny can make you very happy. In fact, I think you can make her happy too.” With that, she headed out the door.

  Ginny walked into Mitch’s office and got right to the point. “Got a smudge print on Celia Ring’s window.”

  Mitch’s eyes jumped to the report she laid on his desk as she continued to speak. “It’s not identifiable, but it does corroborate her story of someone looking in. She has a lawn care service, so it could have come from them, so I know it’s not conclusive, but it still lets us know someone was at the window. We know that peeping toms can escalate. It’s not just harmless pranks, but is behavior that can lead to more invasive and intrusive actions.”

  Holding up his hand, Mitch halted her explanations. “I know and I agree.”

  Letting out a breath she had not realized she had been holding, she nodded. “Thanks, Chief.”

  Continuing to pin her with his gaze, he said, “It’s none of my business, but you seem particularly…moved…by the subject.”

  Blinking, she sat up straighter, swallowing deeply. She opened her mouth in denial, but clamped it shut quickly. Looking past his shoulder, focusing on a spot on the wall, she said, “No one has a right to invade someone’s privacy and…well…no one.”

  Mitch nodded and changed the subject. “Keep up the good work, Ginny, and let us know what you find.”

  Grateful for the reprieve, she stepped out of his office. Leaning her back against the cool wall, she closed her eyes for a moment, willing her heart to slow its pounding. After a moment, she sucked in a cleansing breath and walked out of the station.

  That afternoon, Ginny walked into the high school with Grant, making their way to the office. After greeting the principal, he took them into a conference room where five young, teenage boys sat. Their expressions ranged from frightened to cocky and Ginny narrowed her attention on the cocky ones. The principal explained that it had come to their attention that the boys were passing around cell phone pictures of a girl from a neighboring school.

  Ginny took the proffered phone and skimmed through the photographs before turning back to the boys. Fighting the urge to smack the smirk off the face of one of them, she leaned down and said, “Do you realize this is illegal? Do you realize that you not only face expulsion, but also arrest?”

  Two of the boys grew wide-eyed and, for an instant, she thought one of them might throw up. Turning her attention to the one still smirking, she got in his face. “You think this is funny? You have no idea how much trouble you’re in.”

  “Oh, yeah, well that slut sent me those pictures,” he argued, holding her stare.

  “Really? For your information, it’s illegal to share those, send those, and have those on your phone.” Seeing the first glimmer of doubt in his eyes, she continued, her voice raising with each word, “And, furthermore, a couple of those pictures were not taken by the person in them—especially the one in the locker room, so after the principal calls your parents, I suggest they call a lawyer, ‘cause I’m confiscating the phones as evidence and we’ll be obtaining a search warrant for other sites you may have uploaded these pictures to.”

  By now, four of the boys were staring wide eyed, their gazes shooting between Grant and Ginny. As the principal took the boys to his office, the last one turned and smiled at her, his eyes roaming from the top of her head to her boots and back up again, lingering on her brea
sts.

  Seeing red, she stepped forward, her body tense with adrenaline. Grant put his hand on her shoulder, his fingers squeezing slightly, causing her body to halt. Silence enveloped the two of them as they stood in the now empty room. Blinking several times as she breathed deeply, she jerked her head in a short nod before they left the room.

  Once inside their SUV, Grant called it in before pulling out onto the road. No words had been spoken, but as he opened his mouth, she jumped in, “I know. I’m working on it.”

  Nodding slowly, he replied, “If you ever need someone else to talk to—”

  Snorting, she interrupted, “You volunteering to be my counselor now?”

  “Hell, no.” After a moment, he said, “But, I’m glad you’re seeing one.”

  Ginny peered out the window at the scenery flying by, but her thoughts were across the world in Afghanistan. Grimacing as she attempted to block out the images, she whispered, “Yeah.”

  “You’re doing really well,” the counselor encouraged, peering at her over her glasses.

  Ginny nodded toward June, her chest tight from reliving the anger, but she knew she was on the road to finally gaining some peace. “Thank you. It’s not easy.”

  “Counseling isn’t always easy,” June commented. “While the end goal is to find a way to deal with things that have happened, the process can be very painful.” After a moment of silence, she asked, “How are you doing with the coping mechanisms?”

  “Mostly…I run.”

  June stared at her for a moment, but when no other reply came, she asked, “Have you found anyone in town that you feel would understand your burden? I know that you did not find that with your family, but since you’ve moved here, any friends you can talk to?”