The Life After War Collection

by Angela White

  I couldn’t stop the tears as Marc put the silver band on my finger. It fit perfectly.

  “Are you still sure?” he asked nervously.

  I nodded, wiping at my cheeks. I buried my head against his chest when I couldn’t stop crying. Deep down, I think a part of me had been positive that he was lying to get what he wanted, just like the other males in my life. This was proof that I was wrong.

  “Hey! I’ll get you a better one later,” Marc joked, making me snort loudly.

  I got myself together, trying to find the words to tell him how much this ring already meant to me, but Marc kissed me again. Like that first one, it was intense. When he drew back, I’d forgotten how to speak, let alone how to think.

  Marc ran a thumb over my lips, making me shiver. “Do you still want to do more?”

  I nodded quickly, but still couldn’t form words.

  Marc hugged me, chin coming down to rest against my neck. “I get worried I’m going too slow. That you’ll get impatient and find someone else to show you these things.”

  I tightened my arms around him. “That won’t happen. But I do want more. You already know that. I’ve been very patient.”

  “So have I,” he murmured. “But we’re getting closer now and I… I didn’t know you were ready and I need these moments with you! I’ve already waited so long.”

  I understood exactly how he felt. When he’d given these moments to Jeanie, it had hurt me deeply. I didn’t want him to experience that. “Kiss me again?”

  Marc became serious. “I want to go further. A lot further.”

  “All the way?” I asked, suddenly a bit nervous myself. This wasn’t how I’d imagined that.

  “Hell, no!” He smiled at me. “How about half way?”

  I frowned. “How far have we gone so far?”

  Marc thought about it. “Probably not even a quarter.”

  “Big jump,” I confirmed, wishing I’d kept reading that book so I would know what was coming.

  “Scared?” he asked, tugging me closer.

  “A little,” I admitted. “But I want you and I’m not afraid to get hurt if it means gaining something I want.”

  Marc sighed. “Yeah.”

  His hand slid down my arm to my hand where he twined our fingers.

  “You’re sure?”

  I kissed him as my answer.

  Marc

  I slid my hand up her thigh as if I was in a daze. This was so wrong.

  “Please,” Angie begged. “You can stop when you want to, but you at least have to start!”

  I laughed, fighting with myself. The amusement faded when she leaned back and closed her eyes. Angie had decided she was going to do this and if I wanted to be a part of it, the time for thinking and discussing it was over.

  Confirming that thought, Angie slid a hand inside her jeans and smiled. “Love me. As much as you can.”

  Angie

  Ten minutes later, moans were spilling from my mouth that should have attracted every dog in hearing distance. I couldn’t be quiet. It felt too good. I couldn’t believe a single finger could do that to a person through their clothes.

  When it was over, I wanted to do it to him, but that’s where Marc stopped us. I wasn’t allowed to touch him that way until I was older. I began planning my next birthday.

  When I immediately got hot again from discussing that, Marc repeated the cure and I realized he was giving me a release from the hormones that had plagued me. He swore he wasn’t going to anyone for relief when I asked him about it. His answer that he would use his hand while replaying these moments with me was good enough. Since I planned to do the same when he wasn’t around, I had no problem with it. I did hate the restrictions though, and pushed him by dropping my hand to his hard lap anyway.

  Marc stiffened and groaned against my lips. His hands came up to grasp my shoulders, but he took a long time to push me away.

  I reluctantly let him put me back on the couch by his side. When we were alone, I wanted to be able to explore these feelings. I knew they were connected to him, to my attraction for him, but I had no idea what it led to–only that it was forbidden and complicated. I had asked Marc to explain the final act to me, but he’d refused, saying I was too young and he wasn’t strong enough to get through the conversation. I planned to bring it up again next year.

  “Thank you,” Marc breathed, now reading my thoughts as easily as I could his. He’d been practicing.

  I beamed at him, glad he understood the gift I was giving. Boys followed me around a lot and I had no time for them. Georgie was all over me, and even my teachers stared. It was hard not to notice the difference that my looks and body had on people, as compared to how things had been when I was younger. Now that I was approaching the age of consent, the males were crowding me, hoping to be chosen, and no matter how nice I was about it, my refusals brought ugliness. If I forgot to smile at my science teacher, I got a low grade on that day’s assignment. If I wouldn’t go out with the jock, I was called a lesbian whore. It got so bad that I hated speaking to anyone except Patty and Marc. No one noticed.

  “Are you okay?”

  I blinked, brought back. Marc would have noticed.

  “Thinking about life.”

  “Your expression was too adult. Is something bothering you?”

  I swallowed a dozen replies to say, “No.”

  Now that Marc was committed to me, telling him more about my troubles would just get him sent away and that already happened enough.

  “I would try to help you,” Marc stated quietly, sounding ashamed. “I’d do everything I could.”

  He knew. Marc was observant and that skill grew each time we were apart. He was asking if I wanted to run now.

  “You think it could work?” I had to ask. I was constantly miserable and any hope was desperately wanted.

  Marc shook his head, and flames dance on his hair. “Not really, but I’d try my hardest. We might make it.”

  I hadn’t thought we would go until I was eighteen and I didn’t ask him to change those plans now. If he had given a different answer, I might have, but I doubt it. Any bad choices now endangered his freedom. I wasn’t going to be the reason Marc was locked up or hurt by Georgie. Mother Brady was no longer my biggest fear.

  “I’ll survive,” I stated, flashing a rough smile. I didn’t need to tell him these moments would help hold me. He already knew. He also knew it wasn’t enough.

  Marc’s arm went around my shoulders and I melted into his comforting heat, lids closing. “I love you.”

  “Right back at ya, dollface,” he rumbled against the top of my head after kissing it. “Forever?”

  I grinned, arm coming around to hold his free hand. “Yup, but not a second more.”

  The next day, Marc was gone again.

  A month later, when Daniel found me crying in the woods, I discovered that Marc was on the farm. It didn’t matter where he’d been sent. Without Marc, I was back in the same old life of fear, terror, and misery–always counting the days until I could be safe.

  Marc

  New Years for my mother was the same each year. She pretended that it was any other day. Mary saw nothing patriotic or Christian about celebrating a new year. She usually went to bed early, with the fans on to drown out the fireworks. I used to spend them the same way. When I went to live on the farm, I had to adjust to an all-night party that even the kids were allowed to attend. The adults drank and danced while the kids roasted marshmallows and hotdogs on the bonfire. When the magic moment came, guns were fired, spoons were banged against pans, and people kissed! There were hugs and smiles, laughter and well wishes for the New Year. It was so odd that I always found something else to do. There was no sleeping through it like at my mother’s house.

  Most of those years, I had visited with nearby uncles who didn’t live on the farm or shivered in the barn loft with my Walkman and a book. That was before I had a car. To bring in 1997, I gathered a few things and crashed in the back seat of my
Buick. I barely noticed the loud bangers for the novel that I’d been drawn into. It was called Scarlett. Most people didn’t know there was a sequel to Gone with the Wind. I’d always wondered what happened after the first book ended, and I was perfectly content to spend the entire night drinking PepsiFree and reading about the infamous couple after the split. I didn’t realize my absence would be noticed this year.

  My front passenger door opened and I shot up in the seat as someone climbed inside and shut it. The person was dressed in so many layers of coats and scarves that I couldn’t tell who it was until they turned around in the seat to stare at me accusingly.

  “We need to talk.”

  Daniel scanned my entertainment and his scowl deepened. “You’re reading? Tonight? Instead of being with her?”

  I marked my place in the book and glared. Things had been awkward between Daniel and me since I’d noticed him stealing looks at Angie. “What do you want?”

  Daniel sighed, pushing his hood down. “You can’t give it to me.”

  I frowned, trying not to get upset. “With me, Daniel. Why are you here?”

  “I’m here because you always get to go off and leave her,” he stated in a fast insult. “And I’m the one who has to put her back together each time. But I won’t be here to do it anymore. You have to stop.”

  “What are you talking about?” I demanded, now getting angry at the accusation.

  “I’m moving.”

  Daniel’s tone said he didn’t want to go. I understood that feeling completely. “What?”

  “My family has to move. We pissed off your mom.”

  I winced. If he was here to ask for my help in convincing my mother to change her mind, he was out of luck. Any power I held in that area would be used in the future–for me.

  “She’s gonna be alone again.”

  “Angie?”

  “Yes. And she…”

  I could tell he was about to give up a secret and I braced for it. None of the rumors about Daniel were good.

  “I’m tough,” Daniel stated evenly. “I’m a guy. We have to be.”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “But she’s a little girl! I keep them away from her when I can, but after we move, she’ll be alone.”

  “Keep who away from her?”

  “The other boys!” Daniel spat. “They hound her, Brady, and so does her stepdad. Can’t you get your mom to make them leave her alone?”

  I laughed bitterly, telling Daniel I was as powerless as he was.

  “That’s what I thought,” he muttered.

  “When are you moving?” I asked, becoming worried. I honestly did feel better knowing that she had Daniel while I was away.

  “In the summer or fall, I think,” Daniel stated, turning to watch the town fireworks explode in the distance.

  “What happened?” I needed to know.

  Daniel shrugged, pulling his hood back up. “They won’t tell me. I think your bitch of a mother pulled the bank notes on us because I’m not dating Angie. You are.”

  I winced at having an outsider put a name to what Angie and I were doing. It was so much more than that.

  “Revenge, huh? That sounds like her.”

  “Can you do anything?” Daniel asked, pinning me in place with his desperation. “If you can, now’s the time. She can’t be alone this year. We’ll both lose her.”

  I didn’t want to understand what he meant by that, but how could I not? Daniel loved her.

  “I’ve never interfered,” Daniel told me, emotions clear. “I never would have. But you can’t leave her alone again this year. If you do, I’ll make a move and convince her to run away with me. I’m her best friend. It might even work.”

  Daniel got out and slammed the car door before I could threaten him. I didn’t follow. I left the book on the seat and spent the rest of the night going over my plans and then changing them. Because after all these years if Daniel was worried enough to come clean about his feelings, then things had to be worse for Angie than I had thought. I reluctantly changed my plans from next year to this one. I would deal with my mother twelve months sooner than I’d thought.

  I expected it to be the hardest moment of my life.

  1997

  Chapter Twenty

  Snowy Memories

  January

  Marc

  “Where are you going, Marcus?”

  Over the years, I’d lost the small bit of warmth for my mother that had once drawn tears from me on the farm. I felt nothing for her now, beyond a weary contempt.

  “Marcus?”

  I ignored her, gathering my keys and wallet from the dish by the door as the snow fell in thin sheets. I already had on as many layers of clothes as I could stand. I was going to be out all day.

  “Marcus.”

  It was ugly, that tone, and I found myself turning to face her despite my resolve not to. To balance my pride, I said,” Yes, mother?”

  Noting my insulting tone, her sharp gaze narrowed in on my clothing.

  “Biking again? In this weather?”

  I gave a single nod, waiting for the rest. I mostly knew how to handle my mother, but sometimes she still managed to surprise me. I sensed she was trying to do that now.

  “Be here at 3pm.”

  I raised a brow. “For?”

  “A discussion about your future in this family.” She waved off my suspicious glower. “Unless your time…biking is more important than your freedom.”

  Panic sank into my gut. That tone said Mary knew all our secrets. I was careful to be expressionless when she glanced over her shoulder.

  “It’s time to choose, Marcus. You can’t have it all. Not even I’m that powerful.”

  I could tell she wanted to say a lot more, but she wouldn’t yet.

  “I’ll be here,” I replied snottily. I’d pushed her into this with my indifference, as I had with my car. If I’d come to her and asked for this meeting, she would have delayed it until she got me to agree to whatever she wanted before we even held the discussion. This way, I might get what I needed. There were still no guarantees. My mother wasn’t one to give more than she thought she had to.

  When I left the room, Mary was still watching.

  Putting off leaving last week had triggered her reaction today, but it was merely the final straw. I had employed several sneaky tactics. The first had been showing up, unannounced, on New Year’s Day. I’d refused to explain, saying I just needed some time at home. Because of my age, it would be hard for her to get me to go if I really put my feet down, and she wasn’t sure if I was doing that now. A few days ago, I’d left my Marine gear lying across the bed to be sorted while I’d talked to the recruiter on the phone. I was positive that she’d overheard every word. I also mentioned selling my Buick. That had definitely gotten her attention. I’d given her the impression that I was about to leave home permanently. I much preferred to actually have the good hand instead of bluffing. I’d only employed that tactic a few times in my life so far, but Mary held all the power here. I would do what I had to. I wasn’t leaving for any reason until I knew Angie would be safe.

  Angie was waiting for me near the empty lot that was full of kids riding bikes. I ignored her while I joked with a few approved friends and did some wheelies. I stayed a full ten minutes and then spun off toward the cornfield, skin stinging. The wind was bad, even through my many layers of coats and shirts. I didn’t know how the kids here could stay outside so long in a snowstorm. Angie had told me they couldn’t go home and had learned to tough it out, but I still didn’t understand how they could. It was cold!

  It didn’t occur to me that Angie was also one of those kids.

  As I left the lot, I didn’t spot her, but I knew she couldn’t have gotten very far yet. I sped up.

  When I arrived, Angie was standing inside the dead rows of the cornfield, just below the tire swing. “How do you do that?”

  “I’m fast.”

  “And pretty,” I added, making her red cheeks grow
even darker.

  Angie giggled.

  The sound drew me as much as it ever had, melting my will to resist that treasured hug. Sometimes, late at night, I wondered if these feelings would fade over time. So far, they had only grown.

  Eager to hold her, I quickly put down the kickstand, but without my usual cool move. I was frozen and too thickly padded.

  Angie only had a thin coat on over her usual pair of jeans and t-shirt. She did have a scarf and gloves, but the scarf was open at the neck and her gloves had holes in them. Around her birthday, I had asked if I could buy some things, but Angie had gotten upset over it and shouted at me for the first time. I assumed it had embarrassed her.

  “I’m fine,” Angie stated, waiting for me to make the first move toward our hug. She was always scared that I would change my mind while we were apart, but she never said it. I respected that.

  Angie’s eyes lit up as I got closer, pulse at the base of her throat pounding with nervous anticipation. She’d missed me.

  “Yes, I have.”

  I took her in my arms, chuckling over how we couldn’t get very close because of the bulk. “We were here yesterday and the day before.”

  Angie burrowed through my layers to settle against my chest. Warmth rushed over my skin, producing sweet chills.

  Her happy sigh floated straight into my heart and I held her tighter.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. I didn’t feel her in my mind, but it wouldn’t have bothered me if she climbed in and set up a tent. “Nerves, I think. Let’s go inside. I’ll tell you about it.”

  We ducked into the misshapen clubhouse that still needed a few more small panels on one side to be completed. We planned to do some of them today. I had the nails in my pocket.

  Angie struck a match to the tinder we kept ready to go. I lingered nearby as she coaxed the sullen flame into a roaring warmth that quickly forced her to move back.

  Tension thickened while I tried to find the right words to explain what I was feeling. As I did, joy spread across my cold face. I took her hands, gently rubbing them.