WG2E All-For-Indies Anthologies: Viva La Valentine Edition

by Scott, D. D.

  “And all the commercialism surrounding the holiday is romantic?” she scoffed. “What’s so romantic about flowers that last less than a week? Or a ring that costs more than a small car?”

  She marched forward, aware of both Dane and Grandpa following, toward Grandma and Morty who were standing shoulder to shoulder.

  Grandpa roared, “Why is Morty holding my urn?”

  Amanda reached the older couple and sure enough, Grandma had handed Morty the urn. She stepped forward. “Hello, Mr. Weatherby. How are you? Here, let me hold that for you.”

  And before anyone could object, she slipped the urn from his arms into her own.

  It weighed a ton.

  As she shifted it in her arms, she glanced at her Grandpa and hoped he was satisfied. At least he was no longer glowering at Morty, so she turned back to the elderly couple. “Have you found anything?”

  “I like this area.” Morty stomped on the snow beneath his feet. “What do you think, Elvira?”

  Grandma walked around the plot. “Look at the drainage. George always said he didn’t want to get his feet wet.”

  Dane took the urn out of Amanda’s hands and she was grateful. How did her grandma carry it around all of the time?

  Behind her, she heard her grandpa’s shout of outrage, but as far as she was concerned, Dane wasn’t the competition so he could have the urn. She quickened her steps to keep up to her grandma. “It’s higher ground over here.”

  Grandma hooked her arms through Amanda’s. “I want it to face east because your grandpa was an early riser. He always enjoyed watching the sun rise in the morning.”

  “Okay.” Amanda glanced over at Dane, who was helping Morty through the snow.

  Grandma let go of her arm to bend down and look at a headstone. “And I’d like him to know his neighbors.”

  “See, bumpkin, she still loves me.” Grandpa bent down beside Grandma. “Who’s this, Elvira? Someone we know?”

  Grandma jerked upright, and with a confused frown on her face, turned toward Morty and Dane. “Did one of you change your aftershave?”

  First Dane shook his head, followed by his grandfather. Morty stepped forward, right through Grandpa George who disappeared in a poof, and took Elvira’s hands. “What is it, my dear? You look distressed.”

  “It’s…I….” She leaned toward Morty, sniffed around his neck, and shook her head. “Never mind. I’m being silly. I thought I could smell George’s aftershave.”

  Grandpa popped up beside Amanda. “How is that possible, bumpkin?”

  Morty patted Elvira’s hands and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Maybe there’s still some on his urn. Once you put his ashes to rest, my sweet, you’ll feel much better.”

  “What if I don’t?” Grandma turned her back on her fiancée, took the urn out of Dane’s arms, and gestured toward another part of the cemetery. “How about over there, George?”

  Distracted, Grandpa George followed her, muttering, “Humph, first words she’s said to me since she started to date that bastard Morty.”

  Amanda met Dane’s gaze. He smiled at her, a friend’s smile, a familiar smile, the kind of smile that made her feel warm and fuzzy inside and hinted at the length of time they’d known each other. Since grade school or earlier. Hadn’t her mom once said they’d played together in the crib?

  It was a long time to be friends and she wondered why he’d never found her attractive enough to make a move on her.

  She cocked her head to the side and looked up at him. “She’s not giving up the urn, you know.”

  “Morty understands what your grandma needs.” He took her by the elbow and urged her after the older couple. “And that, your grinchness, is what true love is all about.”

  Four

  True love.

  Amanda didn’t think she’d recognize it if it hit her square between the eyes. Of course, there was always her parents’ relationship to consider.

  At the moment, she would have preferred to avoid them, at least until the memory of her dad’s butt faded, but when she returned home from the cemetery with Grandma, she encountered her mom in the kitchen.

  Dora grabbed an empty wine glass, filled it to the top, and refused to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry about what you saw.”

  “Forget about it, Mom.”

  “We should at least talk. It’s natural for two people to —”

  “Seriously, Mom. We had this talk when I was thirteen, remember?” She gestured toward the stove. “Is there something I can help with?”

  Her mom raised the glass to her lips, and chugged half of it down before wiping the back of her wrist across her mouth. “Your dad is embarrassed.”

  Not nearly enough, she was sure. “Next time, since I can safely assume there’ll be a next time, perhaps you should hang a sock on the door. Or a sign. Your Parents Are Making Whoopee. That’ll keep me out.”

  With a nod of agreement, her mom proceeded to chug the rest of her wine. As she set the glass on the counter, Amanda noticed the amount of food cooking on the stove and in the oven. “This isn’t all for me, is it?”

  “Dane and Morty are coming for supper.” Tottering on her tiptoes, her mom reached into the highest cupboard for a bowl. “Just because they’re almost family doesn’t mean you shouldn’t dress up a little.”

  Amanda wondered what Dane would think if she showed up for supper in a slinky, low cut dress. Would his eyes light with appreciation? Or would he laugh at her attempt to be sexy? She shoved the thought away as she glanced down at her jeans and t-shirt. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  Her mom handed her the bowl and pointed to the potatoes on the stove. “It never hurts to look attractive.”

  The doorbell rang, and Amanda heard her dad and grandma’s voices greet the new arrivals. She leaned forward so she could peer out the kitchen opening and down the hallway toward the front door. Dane’s tall frame dwarfed his grandpa, and something in her stomach tumbled and stumbled. “Was Dad your first love?”

  “Of course not. I had other boyfriends.”

  As she crossed to the stove to fill the bowl with potatoes, she asked, “But was he the first man you loved?”

  Her mom peered at her before she turned her attention back to the gravy bubbling on the stove. “I always knew your Dad was the one for me. Right from the moment I laid eyes on him.”

  The deep rumble of Dane’s voice drifted into the kitchen and Amanda felt her stomach dip, then rebalance. The image of him towering over her when he’d caught her as she’d tumbled from the car, broad shouldered and strong, crawled into her thoughts and stayed. “How did you know?”

  “Honey, what’s this about?”

  She set the bowl of potatoes aside, took the spoon from her mom’s hand, and stirred the gravy. “Nothing, just curious about you and Dad.”

  Her mom turned off the burner, poured the gravy into the gravy bowl, and handed it to Amanda. “Why don’t you call everyone to the table? We’re ready to eat.”

  Amanda carried the gravy bowl into the dining room and set it on the table. “Supper’s ready.”

  Her dad glanced her way. His cheeks turned ruddy and he directed his attention to seating everyone at the table. Amanda found herself next to Dane. He leaned toward her and whispered, “I composed a special Valentine’s note for you.”

  She felt his hand on her knee, warm and firm and familiar. And when she looked down, he was sliding the note up her thigh, sending a rush of breath-stealing tingles toward the center of her body —

  She grabbed his wrist, tugged the note from his hand, and met his gaze. He grinned at her, and the ever present laughter twinkled in his eyes.

  Across from them, Grandma set the urn down on the table, then sat in the chair Morty held out for her.

  Amanda’s mom sighed. “Elvira, can’t you leave Dad’s ashes in your room for just one meal?”

  Grandma reached out and caressed the urn. “He won’t be with us much longer. Morty and I found a lovely spot today, so we
can finally put him to rest.”

  Grandpa’s image popped up behind them, startling Amanda into nearly dropping the bowl she’d just picked up. “Putting me out with the trash, she means. Look how she fusses over the bastard.”

  Amanda saw her grandma cutting Morty’s meat. The older woman froze and sniffed the air. “There it is again. Is someone wearing George’s aftershave?”

  When all three men answered in the negative, Grandma resumed cutting Morty’s food, her concentration fierce.

  “Used to cut my meat for me. Thought it was because she loved me, but now I know the truth. She’ll do it for anyone who buys her an engagement ring.” Grandpa folded his arms over his chest and glared at the back of Morty’s head. “Fricking bastard, fricking bastard, fricking bastard.”

  Dane elbowed Amanda in the ribs, drawing her attention. “Are you going to keep those potatoes all to yourself or share them with the rest of us?”

  She shoved the bowl into his hands and picked up the note. Across the table, Morty grinned at Elvira and she gave him a weak smile back. Grandpa reached for Morty’s unused knife, slid it off the table without anyone noticing, and held it over Morty. “Make her stop or I swear, I’ll stab the bastard in the back.”

  Amanda jumped to her feet, crushing Dane’s note in her hand. “No.”

  The table went silent, and while everyone stared at her, she watched Grandpa mime stabbing Morty in the back before he floated away with the knife still in his hand. He plopped onto a chair in the corner and proceeded to sulk.

  Grandma leaned forward and glared at her. “What’s the matter with you?”

  Amanda sat back down, embarrassed and annoyed and worried about her grandpa. “Doesn’t Morty know how to cut his own meat?”

  “Of course he does, dear, but it makes me feel useful again.”

  “Well, stop it. Grandpa doesn’t like it and he’s getting….” She slumped on her chair and looked at the various expressions of the people around the table. Disbelief. Anger. Dismay. Yep. They all thought she was crazy. Or rude. Didn’t much matter as long as she kept Grandpa from killing Morty. She sighed and looked Grandma square in the eye. “He thought you cut his meat because you loved him.”

  With her expression set in stone, Grandma set the knife down beside Morty’s plate and pushed back her chair. As she stood, she grabbed the urn, lifted it into her arms, and hugged it to her chest. “You’re just being ugly and I won’t stand for it.”

  As Grandma stomped away, Amanda looked at Morty. “Sorry. It was something I had to do before someone got hurt.”

  He picked up his fork, put a piece of meat into his mouth, then slid back his chair and stood up. “I better go talk to her.”

  As he left the room, Grandpa floated out after him, thankfully without the knife in his hand.

  Amanda glanced from her mom to her dad, then met Dane’s gaze. “I know it was rude and I’m truly sorry.”

  Her mom pushed back her chair and stood up. “Well, I guess supper is over. Tom, help me clear off the dishes.”

  “Mom —”

  Her mom stamped her foot on the hardwood floor. “No, enough of your nonsense. I know your grandma getting married is difficult for you. You haven’t had time to get used to it, like the rest of us. But whether you like it or not, the wedding is happening tomorrow.”

  Her dad poked at a piece of ham with his fork and watched Dora stomp out to the kitchen. With a sigh, he pushed to his feet and started to gather plates. “A man could starve in this joint.”

  And like her mom, he stomped out to the kitchen.

  Silence enveloped the dining room, until finally Amanda found the nerve to look at Dane. “Oops.”

  He sat back, arms folded across his chest. “What was that all about?”

  How did she tell him about her grandpa? She shrugged, and stuffed her hands into her pockets where she found Dane’s crumpled note. Pulling it out, she smoothed the paper out against the table. “What’s the occasion?”

  He pushed back his chair and stood up, shuttering his gaze with a sweep of his lashes. “I should get going. Thank your mom for supper, will you?”

  “But you haven’t even touched your plate.”

  “Like everyone else, I’ve lost my appetite.”

  Amanda didn’t say a word until he’d pulled on his jacket and boots.

  “The least you could do is take me with you,” she grumbled but he ignored her and walked out of the house.

  When he was gone, she turned over the paper and stared at the words he’d written.

  Dear Mandy. Be my Valentine Grinch Forever.

  Five

  The next morning, while her parents drove Grandma and Morty downtown to pick up the wedding attire, Amanda marched across the street and pounded on Dane’s front door.

  Valentine Grinch?

  Forever?

  It didn’t matter how sweet he was, no way was she cleaning the wedding car alone.

  The image of her parents making out in the backseat refused to go away. Her dad’s naked butt.His hands on her mom’s naked breasts.The ecstasy on their faces. The yellow can of whipping cream on the dash.

  Amanda squeezed her eyes shut, leaned one shoulder against the door, and pounded on the wood again. “Damn it, Dane, open up.”

  He opened the door, wearing nothing more than water droplets on his chest and a towel around his hips. He shoved a cup of steaming coffee into her hands and started to close the door in her face. “Go away.”

  He was pissed, she noticed, which made her kind of sad. They’d been friends too long to ruin it now over her grandpa’s threat to haunt her for the rest of her life. Before he slammed the door in her face, she shoved her booted foot into the opening. “I’m not going near the garage without you.”

  “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you tried to ruin our grandparents’ wedding.”

  “I didn’t try to ruin their wedding.” She shouldered her way inside, determined to gain his forgiveness, and set the coffee cup on the ledge near the door. “Quit pouting.”

  He closed the door behind her. “I’m not pouting.”

  “Then what would you call this pissy mood you’re in?” She studied him, fresh from the shower, his hair still wet, his nipples pebbled from the outside temperature. A bead of water ran down his chest, over his washboard abs, and headed south toward the towel. A pleasant flush started deep in her mid-section and spread.

  He chucked her under the chin, and she raised her gaze past all that delicious male anatomy until she finally looked into his face and blinked.

  “Up here, princess.”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. If you go away, I promise to be there in fifteen minutes.”

  He turned away and headed for the bathroom, whipping the towel off before he was even halfway there, giving her some shock and awe to cover up the other shocking memory of her parents. Now, if she really wanted to erase the bad images, maybe she could get him naked in her mom’s car.

  She slipped off her boots and followed him down the hallway to the bathroom door. Leaning one shoulder against the door jamb, she watched as he pulled on jeans over his boxer shorts.

  When he noticed her in the doorway, he frowned, his jeans unzipped, his chest still bare, looking like a yummy half-dressed centerfold shot. “Are you still here?”

  Amanda dragged her attention from his abs and chest, and knew she wouldn’t be able to think coherently until he covered them both with a shirt. She smoothed out the note in her hand and held it up so he could see. “You better show up, Dane, because if you don’t, I’ll hunt you down so we can talk about this.”

  She pushed away from the door jamb, retraced her steps to the front door, and grabbed the coffee cup.

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” he called out after her, his voice tight, controlled. “I just thought your grinchness would get a kick out of it.”

  Amanda slipped her feet into the boots and headed back across the street to the garage.


  She didn’t want to think about her parents in the backseat of the car, not right now while her mind was filled with images of Dane. Images that went back to their childhood. She’d always felt right when she was with him, content, fulfilled.

  Special.

  Un-grinch-like.

  She entered the garage and glanced at her mom’s car. Images of Dane and her in the front seat filled her thoughts. What a great way to ruin their friendship. Or would it? “What am I going to do?”

  “About what, bumpkin?”

  She jumped. Coffee sloshed out of the cup and ran down the front of her jacket. She brushed the liquid away and yelled, “Don’t do that.”

  Grandpa floated around the car and stopped in front of workbench to examine the wedding decorations. “Do what?”

  She huffed out a sigh. “Sneak up on me.”

  “I don’t sneak.”

  “You’re a ghost. It’s not like you come through the door like a normal person.” Amanda noticed the glum expression on his face. “What’s up, Grandpa?”

  “Ah, bumpkin, love hurts.” He sighed, heavy and sad, his expression shadowed with grief as he poked through the decorations. “I miss my life. I miss my wife.”

  Amanda closed the distance between them and carefully moved the decorations out of his reach. “Grandma misses you, too.”

  “No, she doesn’t. She’s marrying that bastard Morty and she’s forgotten all about me.”

  “Not true. Look how she carries your urn around all the time.”

  “Only because she wants to put me six feet under.”

  Amanda felt her heart break. Softly she said, “It’s time, Grandpa. She needs to move on.”

  He plopped down on the stool. “She’s my one true love.”

  “She loved you first, before she loved Morty. Isn’t that good enough?”

  “If she marries Morty, I’ll lose her forever.” He clenched his hands at his sides and surged to his feet, until he towered over her and she stepped back. “You promised, bumpkin. You promised to stop the wedding.”