"So this surprise visit wasn't really about me? For me, that is?"
His lips quirked, but no smile blossomed. "It was, but maybe not completely about you."
"Jack, I care about you. I'm not afraid to admit that, but I'm not going to let you pressure me into doing something I don't wish to do."
He lifted a red tulip from the bunch and tapped it against his chin. "I have never met a woman as antagonistic as you, but I like that. Sometimes. Other times...well, that will remain unsaid." Tucking the vase into the crook of his arm, he broke the stem off the lone red tulip and placed it behind my ear.
He cocked his head and stared at me for a long time before he moved away, walking towards their graves. He knelt down, placing the vase on the base of their gravestone. He removed a white tulip, broke its stem, and offered it to my daughter.
I ducked my head as the shame rolled over me. My skin felt hot. My breathing was erratic. As if on autopilot, my feet began to move, drawing me to Jack. I stopped an arm's length away from him, the pain in my chest unbearable as tears fell from my eyes.
I took the flower from behind my ear and placed it on her headstone. My fingers traced over the etching of the teddy bear. I hoped its presence had kept her company until her daddy's arrival.
"Mahala," I whispered.
"Why am I not surprised that it starts with an 'M'?"
I grinned, my fingers remaining connected to her headstone. "I guess we weren't that original."
"It's lovely. Does it mean anything?" he asked.
I lifted my fingers to my mouth, pressing them against my lips, and then marked Moses's headstone with my kiss. I caressed the cool, slick stone as if I was touching his warm, smooth skin. "The tender one," I chuckled, the sound grating my throat. "Or, the barren one, but I think that actually applies to me."
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
It was the night before Jack's deployment. We sat together on his couch, watching a comedy about a bunch of bridesmaids. His mood was relaxed, no tension evident on his face. I, on the other hand, was a knot of tension as I struggled to keep my hysteria in check. Hysteria. From the Greek word hystera meaning "womb." It was a disease suffered by women, originating from the womb.
It was funny, really. I never really thought about it, but I had never seen a hysterical man before. I had seen a raving man, an angry man, but never a hysterical one. The movie was funny, but I was afraid that if I started laughing it would turn into a hysterical fit. That was the last thing Jack needed. This was his night. Not mine.
"So, do you have everything you need? Blankets? Extra socks? Underwear? Your gun?" I asked him.
He laughed. I wasn't sure if it was at me or the movie. "You sound like my mother."
"Well, we're probably the same age," I said, rubbing my hands across my lap. "Does she know that you're banging someone old enough to be your mother?"
He leaned away and peered at me through his lashes. "Is that what we've been doing? Banging?"
"More or less. Usually, it's my head that's banging against the headboard, and your tongue is flopping around, like a happy puppy," I said, wiping an imaginary crumb from his chin.
He laughed. This time, I knew it was at me, or rather, with me. "Are you really complaining? Now?"
"You weren't really in a receptive mood before."
He beamed, the skin around his eyes crinkling into smile lines. His eyes were clear; unlike me, he wasn't dwelling on thoughts of impending doom. "I have everything that I'll ever need or want, Mercy," he said. I didn't think he was referring only to his bags and deployment gear.
"What happens in the morning? Do you need a ride to the airport or something?" I asked.
"No. About that, I'll have to leave early in the morning. You don't have to get up or anything, but you might hear me rumbling around the room."
"I'll be up."
"You don't have to."
"Yes, I do," I retorted as I smoothed back the strands of hair lying across his brow. He closed his eyes and relaxed against the couch, enjoying my touch. "I can't believe you're leaving me."
"It's only seven months. The separation will be over before you know it," he said.
"Anything can happen between now and then. I might find another man, someone more suitable."
He turned to look at me. His gaze was heated, and there was a mocking challenge in his voice. "Admit it. You're going to miss me."
"For about two weeks, and then I'll need to get back to work."
"Bullshit. You're done with that."
"I took this little sabbatical for you, but I still need to make that money, kiddo."
"I'll loan you the money," he said.
"I won't accept it," I retorted. "Besides, Jack, I actually like my work."
"You like sleeping with men for money? Good to know," he said, turning his gaze back to the TV. His face was tense, his jaw locked.
I patted his check, but that only caused his jaw to tighten more. I kissed his temple, my hand sliding down to rest on top of his. "I'll miss you, Jack."
"You'll miss me, and you'll promise not to see anyone else?"
"C'mon, that's like begging you not to deploy."
"Really? I'll be fucking other people while I'm gone?"
I recoiled, not liking his tone. I didn't know what he expected from me, but I was beginning to wonder if it was more than I could give. "No, that's not what I mean. It's just that this is my job. I know you have a hard time understanding that."
"It's not like you've been building this career up over decades, Mercy. It's been, what, four or five weeks at the most. You can find something else to do. No. You will find something else to do." His eyes never left the television.
I snatched my hand back. Stuffing my hands in my lap, I crossed my legs, hiding them away. I understood his objections, but I didn't think he had anything to be concerned about. I cared for Jack, and I could honestly say that he was my favorite client. However, in the future, there would be more clients. I needed the money, but truthfully, I was also curious to know what type of men I would encounter through this experience. My life had stopped when Moses died. I had no intention of stopping it for Jack.
"I don't want to argue tonight," he whispered.
"I'm all tuckered out," I squeaked, fearing he wanted to spend the rest of the night pursuing bedtime activities.
He grinned at me, his humor restored. "We could try talking, but without the arguing. Is that too difficult for you?"
"I don't know how I'm supposed to answer that. What I want to say is bound to start another argument."
We were silent as we gazed at each other. Jack moved to rest his head on my lap. I cradled the dear boy, my growing love for him swelling in my chest. I wanted to blurt out my feelings, but I felt to do so would be dooming him to his death.
My cell phone began to buzz in my back pocket. I lifted off the couch, unsettling Jack, as I grabbed the phone. "Hello?"
"Mercy?" asked the voice on the other end.
"Yes. Red, is that you?"
"Oh my God! You won't believe where I am," she shouted into the phone.
"Try me."
"I'm in Vegas."
"What? Why are you all the way out there?" I asked. I mouthed down to Jack "She's in Vegas". He smiled, and returned to watching the movie.
"John asked me to come out to some convention and I thought it would be grand, since I have friends out here. That old bastard lied to me. There wasn't any convention. We checked into a hotel and played a few slot machines. Next thing I know, I'm married," she gushed.
"What?" I asked, practically leaping from the couch.
"I'm married. John and I got married."
"Really? You married John," I repeated slowly. That caught Jack's attention. Pushing himself up, he stared at me as I spoke with Red.
"John's been asking me lately but I kept telling him no. He told me that he never wanted to marry again, and I believed him even when he began to say otherwise. He kept pestering me until he beat down my re
sistance. Can you believe it? I'm an Admiral's wife! Oh, I can't wait to see that bitch Deanna's face," she crowed.
There was a ruffling sound on her end of the phone. "Okay, okay. What?" I heard her say. Then the call ended before I could get more details. I placed the phone on the coffee table.
"I can't believe that old bastard did it," Jack said.
"You know the Admiral?"
"Not closely, but he's friends with the General that I work for. John's pretty infamous for his exploits with hookers."
"Oh, I see. Should I be concerned about Carol?" I asked him.
"Nah. He might be an ol' dog, but he's a loyal one. I don't think she has anything to worry about."
"Crap," I said, as the crisis began to sink in.
"Trust me. He'll be good to her," Jack soothed.
"No. I believe you. I think they are perfect for each other. It's just that I have to find another tenant," I said turning towards him. "It was fucking stressful the first time around and now I have to do it again?"
"Are you seriously complaining over your friend's happiness?" he teased.
I grumbled, "Yes. It's rather inconvenient of her."
He laughed, taking my hand. "How dare she leave you, huh?"
"Yes! No," I mumbled. "I've grown rather fond of Carol. I will really miss her when she leaves. Plus, the next person I bring into the house might not blend into our little group."
"Just take your time and find someone who will."
I looked at him, hoping the exasperation was clear in my face. "It's really not that simple. You're throwing together a bunch of women; drama is sure to ensue. Look at Penelope!"
"How is she?"
"She's okay. We haven't heard from the Senator so I guess that's a good sign."
"That poor man," Jack muttered.
"That poor man?" I retorted. "That poor man stormed into my house, not once, but twice, demanding his ex-wife cow-tow to his wishes. He's an arrogant asshole and Penelope should be thanking her stars that she's far away from him."
Jack looked skeptical. Puckering his lips, he furrowed his brow. "But the sad bastard still loves her."
"That's his own fault," I said, shrugging my shoulders.
"That's nice. Now, about us?" he said, resting his arm over my shoulder. I snuggled closer to him, laying my head against his chest. He smelled like coffee and vanilla. Inhaling his scent, I made a mental note to pick up some French vanilla coffee on my way home. I listened to his heartbeat, feeling his warmth seep through my skin.
"In seven months, I'll be back. In the meantime, we can chat through email or video?"
"Video?" I asked, lifting my head.
"Please tell me you know about webcams and video," he said.
"Sure I know what they are," I lied, settling my head on his shoulder. I prayed that one of the girls knew how to handle the technology.
He moved, standing up and walking around the couch. He grabbed his laptop from the dining table and settled back onto the couch. "I'll show you what I mean," he said, his voice indicating he didn't believe my lie.
He quickly walked me through the steps. "You'll need to download the software onto your computer, and then you'll need to create an account. It shouldn't take but a few minutes. I'll write my screen name down so you can add it to your contacts. Then, we can coordinate a time to talk."
I listened, enjoying the cadence of his voice. I didn't bother to tell him that I didn't own a computer. I went to the library and used one whenever I needed to. I supposed now I'd have to buy one and then do all of that downloading stuff.
"What's your email?"
Oh damn. "Email?"
He rubbed his face with his hand. Dropping his voice, he said, "C'mon, you have to have an email, Mercy."
"I do. Seriously, I have an email address, but I don't remember it. Exactly," I hedged. "I only used it for posting online ads for the room. It's good that I'll have to dig it out for you because I'm going to need it for my new ad."
He stared at me, blinking a few times before turning back to his laptop. He clicked through a couple of screens before asking me, "What would you like as a screen name?"
I knew that at least. "Mercy Higgins."
"You shouldn't use your full name."
"Why not?"
"People can steal your identity, mess around with your credit. People are seriously fucked up. Let's see. I wonder if...." He clicked away on the keyboard. He grinned and said, "Look it's available."
I looked down on the screen. In the box marked screen name, he had written "1meanoldbitch".
I glared at him. He grinned, his fingers clicking away.
"Name. We'll just put Mercy H," he said. He clicked through the address field and put the city and zip code down. He went to the new screen and opened another window. "Dear Jack. I miss your body. Love, Mercy."
"I would never write that," I said, watching as he sent the message.
"You would if you're vocabulary wasn't so stilted."
"I hate you."
"I doubt that," he said, kissing the tip of my nose. "Every morning, I'll send you a message. They won't be profound or anything, just a few ramblings about my day. If you behave yourself, I'll even send you pictures."
"Naughty pictures?"
"Only if you behave," he chuckled. He placed the laptop on the table, and he rested his hands on his lap. His voice softened as he said, "I need one promise from you."
"Fine. I'll respond to every email you send me," I said, meaning that promise.
"No. That wasn't what I was going to ask."
"What, Jack?"
"I want you to promise me that you'll visit me if anything happens," he said.
"You mean your grave."
"That or the hospital or anything really," he said.
He had to know how difficult it was for me to promise. I felt put on the spot, and I'm sure that was his plan. But this was Jack. My Jack. And I would say or do anything to reassure him at this time. "I promise to visit you if anything happens."
He exhaled sharply. His shoulders relaxed as he released the tension from his body. His lips curled into a smile and I knew he was satisfied with my promise.
Unfortunately, it had taken a lot out of me. I didn't think he understood how much, but it was enough that I needed to bolt. Right then.
"I better get going. You need to get as much sleep as you can," I said, standing up.
He hopped out of his seat, grabbing my arm. "Wait. Stay, Mercy."
"I should go," I said as I grabbed my coat and my clothing from the night before. I moved back to him. Standing on my toes, I brushed my lips across his before I whispered, "I'll be here when you get back."
His jaw tightened. I knew he had something to say, but he realized that he had pushed me too far, too quickly. "I'll send you an email before I leave."
Shit. I was going to have to get a computer tonight. "No. I'll send you an email," I said, flashing him a grin as I walked towards the door. "Goodnight, Jack," I said, blowing him a cheerful kiss. I tried to make my departure as upbeat as possible, but my heart and soul screamed that I wouldn't see him alive and whole again.
Tears seemed to gather in his eyes. I saw a brief shimmer before he turned away, his gaze settling on the pictures on the wall. He nodded as if accepting that I was really running out on him at that moment. "I'll see you when I get back, Mercy."
I nodded and walked out the door. I strode towards the elevator and punched the button for the lobby. I heard his door open, and he stepped out into the hallway. He stared at me. "I will come back, Mercy."
I stepped into the elevator. I smiled at him as the door closed. As I rode down to the ground floor, I prayed, "Moses. Samuel. One of you. Please keep that boy safe."
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
"It's a goldfish. I don't know what the big deal is," Jack scoffed.
"It's not a single goldfish. She said it was two or three, which means she has ten or twelve." On my laptop screen, I watched Jack lift a bottle of
water from his little table and take a sip. "Is it really hot?"
"Not too bad today. It's certainly been worse," he said, placing the bottle down. "Tell me about the other women."
It had been three months since Jack's deployment. Red had moved out a week after her return from Vegas, and I had spent the last few months searching for her replacement. I had spoken with dozens of women and shown the room to a handful, but none were the right fit.
"Then there was Netta," I said. Jack and I spoke every day, mostly through email, but we had regular video-chat sessions.
"Uh oh," Jack laughed.
"Uh oh, is right," I said. "Netta, if you haven't figured out by the name, is a Black woman. Tall, maybe six feet, and probably three hundred pounds. This lady walked into my house, and she immediately began hugging everyone. She mentioned all of my nice furniture and how big my house was. She speculated that I must have married a rich man or something. I just looked at Melia and knew the answer."
Grinning, he asked, "And what would that answer be?"
"No way in hell was she moving in with us. Trust me when I say, I can sniff out a busy-body ten feet away," I said.
Jack burst out laughing. I heard someone else in his room ask, "You talking with your mom?"
Jack shook his head, glancing off to the side at someone. "No, my girlfriend."
Another soldier's head popped into view, right beside Jack's grinning face. He looked to be in his late twenties, maybe Hispanic or biracial. The soldier peered into the screen. Jack's gaze fell to the keyboard, his shoulders shaking with laughter. I waved at the other soldier. His eyes widened, his mouth falling open in an "O" shape, and his head disappeared from the screen. I heard a shout from further away, "Yo! You won't believe this!"
"What in the hell are you about? I'm not your girlfriend," I laughed, enjoying the boy's surprise.
Jack grinned and shrugged. "Maybe I should have told him you were my favorite whore?"
"Jackass." I chuckled as I watched Jack on the screen.
He glanced back at the doorway behind him. His lips disappeared into a thin line as I saw movement over his shoulder. Figures appeared in the doorway, straining to get a glance at the screen. "I'll be back," Jack said, lifting a finger towards the monitor. He reached down, grabbed his weapon, and moved towards the doorway. My face ached from my ear to ear grin as I listened to him shout at the others.
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