The Memory of You

by Laurie Kellogg

  “Do you need to use the bathroom, Buddy?”

  “I just gotta brush my teeth.”

  “Doesn’t it make more sense to wait until after you eat?”

  “I do it again after breakfast.” Tommy sighed. “Uncle Rob says I hafta.”

  Robert would. The guy probably brushed after sex, too.

  While Tommy used the sink, Matt turned on the shower to give the water time to heat. At the sound of his son’s gasp, Matt spun around. The child gawked up at him in wide-eyed horror. He touched Matt’s scarred arms and back and asked past the frothy toothbrush in his mouth, “W-what happened to you?”

  Squeezing his eyes shut, Matt sucked in a deep breath and turned the water off. He sank onto the toilet and pulled Tommy close to his side. “I don’t know for sure, Bud. I think I was whipped and burned with something.”

  He assumed from the circular shape of the scars on his arms it’d been cigarettes—especially since the smell of tobacco smoke put him into a cold sweat.

  Tommy’s mouth hung open with mint-scented foam dribbling out of it. “Did ya do somethin’ really bad?”

  “No. The people who did it were bad. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “I bet it hurt a lot.”

  “It’s not something you need to worry about.” Matt hugged him. “Finish brushing your teeth and get dressed for school.”

  As soon as Tommy rinsed his mouth and left, Matt closed the door, shucked his pants, and climbed into the shower. In the process of lathering himself, his body remembered the way Abby had almost touched him the night before, resurrecting his wilting morning erection. He spun the water to cold for the last few seconds of his shower. Unfortunately, the momentary chill did nothing to alleviate his raging hard-on.

  He grabbed the towel and stepped out onto the bath mat, rubbing his dripping hair. Abby’s sharp gasp alerted him to her presence outside the open bathroom door.

  Evidently, Tommy must have returned for something.

  Her eyes grew as round as binocular lenses. He whipped the towel in front of himself, as she jerked her crimson face away. “Uh, I just wanted to tell you breakfast is served whenever you’re ready.”

  Oh, that he was. But at the moment, it wasn’t eggs he was ready for. “Sorry. I’ll be right out.”

  Closing the door, he sighed. His wife had undoubtedly seen him naked with a woody before. Except he didn’t remember it, and she didn’t know it. Still, he would’ve preferred to put on a few pounds before parading around in the buff in front of her.

  Running his hands over his ribs, he studied his body in the mirror. He didn’t look nearly as bad as he had two weeks ago. He stepped onto the bathroom scale to check his progress. Since his first exam in the Philippines after his release, he’d put on nine pounds. Another ten and maybe he’d stop looking like a walking World Hunger poster.

  When he arrived at the breakfast table a few minutes later, Tommy was licking icing from his fingers. He rubbed his son’s shoulders. “What do you have there, Buddy?”

  “Mommy made cinnamon rolls. ‘Cept you gotta eat your eggs and drink your juice first.”

  “Is that the way it works?” He lifted an eyebrow at Abby.

  “Absolutely. I thought I’d make up for how crummy I fed you on Sunday. How do you like your eggs?”

  “Cooked. But if that’s too much trouble, I’ll take them raw. You won’t hear any complaints from this side of the table.”

  “That’s refreshing. Matt sent his food back in restaurants all the time. I can’t imagine him ever eating a raw egg.”

  She should only know how much a man could change. “As I’ve said before, if a person is hungry enough, he’ll eat just about anything.” He’d lost count of the number of grubs and insects he and his friends had choked down to keep enough strength to run if the opportunity presented itself. “Look, uh—I’m sorry about the bathroom door. Tommy must’ve come back in and left it open.”

  Abby broke four eggs into a bowl and beat them to a froth before sprinkling in some grated cheese. “I surmised as much. The coffee is ready if you want it.”

  Matt got up and poured himself a cup. “You know, I haven’t noticed any pictures of your husband around.”

  “I don’t have all that many. There are a few in my bedroom. When I started dating after he was killed, my mother insisted men wouldn’t want to look at my husband’s face while they were trying to get romantic with me in my living room.”

  And Robert didn’t mind having him in her bedroom?

  He took a sip from his steaming mug. “Unless you’re a whole lot older than you look, you and Matt couldn’t have been married long when you got pregnant.”

  She stopped stirring the eggs in the skillet and glanced nervously from Tommy to him, silently shaking her head.

  Great. He must have gotten her pregnant before they were married. It made sense. She was awfully young. In fact, maybe too young. Had it even been legal for him to mess with her? Maybe they’d never really loved each other in the first place. If so, how could they recapture something that never existed?

  “Sooo—Daddy had to get out the shotgun, huh?”

  She scraped the pan full of cheesy eggs onto a plate with a huge pile of bacon. “No, my brother did. My father had died about a year before. Believe me, Peter was not pleased by my news.”

  “What happed to your dad?”

  “He was a cop. He died while saving a little boy who fell through the ice. My dad pulled him out, and after his partner took the child, the ice under my father gave way. John couldn’t get to him in time. Tommy and I lived with my mother until she died from lung cancer a year ago. She left me the house.”

  “I wondered how you bought this place. I can’t imagine you’ve had it easy.”

  She slid the plate of bacon and eggs in front of him along with a platter of warm fluffy biscuits. “It really hasn’t been too bad. I do some custom dressmaking and tailoring to make ends meet.”

  The fancy dresses he’d seen hanging on the rack next to her sewing table looked like they belonged on a Paris fashion runway.

  “And Lucy gives me a little each week to help feed Royce,” she added.

  “You watch him for free?”

  Staring at the floor, she nodded. Obviously, she didn’t want him to know she had such a soft heart. “Lucy wants to pay me, but I can’t take it when I know how broke she is. Speaking of expenses, I should take you to buy the paint this morning.”

  “Do you think maybe we could stop at an auto parts store, too? I need a new battery and stuff to work on the bike. I could also use a side trip to buy some clothes.”

  “Sure.” She put a finger to her chin. “You know, I have most of Matt’s old clothes in the attic. His straight-legged jeans are out of style, and he was a little huskier, but I could take some of them in for you.”

  He shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Thanks, but I can wear ‘em baggy. I’m trying to put weight on, anyway.” He crunched a strip of bacon. “This breakfast is great. Maybe by the time you’re done feeding me, the clothes will fit.”

  “As soon as I get back from walking Tommy to the bus stop, I’ll show you where the boxes are. Then you can get out of that long sleeve shirt. It’s supposed to get really warm today.”

  “Can’t Mac take me instead?” Tommy asked.

  She hesitated a moment, clearly unsure if she should trust her homeless housepainter with her child. She raised her palms in surrender. “I guess that tells me where I rank.”

  “I’d like to go with him, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure.” Abby shrugged one shoulder. “Lucy will be there with Royce.”

  ~~~

  They spent the entire morning shopping. Matt bought himself some more socks, underwear, and a suit along with everything else he needed for job interviews.

  After they returned home and had lunch, he changed into a set of the old clothes Abby had given him, then worked on cutting in around the trim on one side of th
e house.

  At three-thirty, the boys appeared at the bottom of the ladder. “Can we help?” Royce called up to him.

  Matt looked down at the two toothless grins tilted up at him. “If you put on some old clothes you can.”

  Ten minutes later, the kids dashed out the back door, wearing outfits that emphasized how much they’d grown that year. Seeing the inches of leg between his son’s pants and PF Flyers fed Matt’s growing rage. He’d missed so damn much with his child.

  He gave them each a brush and a coffee can with primer and showed them the proper way to apply the paint. The boys impressed him with their neatness and diligence in coating the lowest two rows of clapboard along the whole side of the house. They were so intent on outdoing each other they ended up working right along with Matt for the rest of the afternoon, entertaining him with their chattering and questions.

  At six o’clock, Abby called them for dinner. Before heading inside, Matt stroked his beard as he strolled along the length of the house, inspecting the kids’ efforts. “Wow. I can’t believe you guys did such a great job. You’re the two best helpers I’ve ever had.”

  The boys’ faces beamed as they raced each other into the house. Matt finished cleaning the brushes and hurried inside, rolling his eyes at the aroma of roast chicken and herbs. “Mmmm. That smells great. Let me get cleaned up, and I’ll be back to help.”

  He changed into one of the short-sleeved polos and a clean pair of jeans Abby had given him. On returning to the kitchen, he poured drinks for everyone and then reached for the meat platter to carve the chicken.

  “Oh, Mac,” Abby exhaled his name in a long breath, her gaze locked on his scars. She ran her hand down his mottled forearm. “What’d those animals do to you?”

  He clenched his jaw, closing his eyes. “Abby, I have scars all over me. The last thing I want to do is talk about how I got them.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  A few minutes later, just as Royce finished saying grace, a set of knuckles rapped on the back door and a blonde fellow with a GI haircut stepped in.

  “Uncle Peter!” the boys screeched in unison and leapt out of their chairs, spilling Tommy’s milk.

  Matt jumped up and helped Abby mop up the mess with a wad of napkins. He glanced down at his soaked lap.“At least most of it landed on me instead of your clean floor.”

  After the guy finished peeling the boys off his legs, Abby kissed him on the cheek. “Hi, should I set a place for you?”

  “Sure, thanks.” The man extended his hand to Matt. “Hi, I’m Pete Larson, Abby’s brother.”

  Matt nodded and shook his hand. “Mac McCartney.”

  “Have we met? You seem vaguely familiar.”

  What would he do if her brother recognized him? “I doubt it. I’ve been out of the country the last six and a half years.”

  “Six and a half?” Abby frowned. “I thought you told me it was seven.”

  Great. This was why it never paid to lie. “Oh, uhhh, I just rounded it off. It felt more like seventy years.” He jerked his head toward the hallway. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I have to change my pants.”

  By the time he returned, her brother had squeezed in at the small table next to Tommy. Peter glanced at Matt sideways. “So how do you know Abby?”

  Matt filled his fork with fluffy stuffing. “I don’t really. We just met on Friday. She hired me to do some work around the house.”

  Peter glowered at his sister. “I was wondering about the fresh paint. Carol had a night class, so I came to take you to pick out a color. You know you can’t afford to hire anyone.”

  “Relax. Mac isn’t costing me a dime.”

  “That’s not quite the truth.” Matt held up his fork. “I’m eating her out of house and home. When it comes to cooking, your sister makes Julia Child seem like an amateur.”

  A speculative gleam lit Peter’s eyes. His gaze ricocheted between them and the hallway leading to the bedroom where Matt had just changed his pants. “Is Mac staying here with you?”

  “As a matter of fact, he is.” She nodded. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “I find it hard to believe Rob approves of this.”

  “Robert isn’t happy. And it’s none of his beeswax, either.”

  “For crying out loud, Abby,”—Peter groaned—“you just got engaged. Don’t screw things up. Where is Rob tonight, anyway?”

  “He has late office hours on Wednesdays.” She moved Royce’s glass from the edge of the table. “And I hardly think Rob would break our engagement because I have a houseguest.”

  “That all depends on where your company is sleeping.”

  She glared at Peter. “I think you owe me an apology.”

  “I think you do, too.” Matt narrowed his gaze at her brother. “Either that, or you owe me one. Which is it? Is Abby a woman lacking in morals, or am I a seducer of unsuspecting widows?”

  “I’m not sure.” Her brother scowled. “That’s what I’m afraid of. I don’t know you from Adam.”

  “Well, I do.” Abby huffed. “Mac has been nothing but a gentleman. I’m a grown woman, and I don’t need a father. So you’re just going to have to trust my judgment.”

  Peter flicked a self-righteous toward Tommy. “I know where your judgment managed to get you on one particular night. So don’t ask me to place any great faith in it.”

  “I don’t have to listen to this.” She pointed toward the door. “If you don’t like things around here, you can leave.”

  Tommy and Royce’s gazes darted back and forth between her and Peter, tension pinching their faces. Matt gestured toward the kids. “I think you’re upsetting the boys. Why don’t you continue this conversation at another time?”

  “No, I’m not continuing this discussion at all, because if I don’t get an apology, Peter will be leaving—without dinner.”

  Her brother muttered into his plate, “I’m sorry, okay? Crucify me for worrying about you.”

  ~~~

  Abby silently stared at Peter, fuming. How dare he throw her unplanned pregnancy in her face?

  While she listened to the two guys discussing the military, her mind drifted back to the night her brother had referred to.

  It’d been her last night with Matt before he left for advanced training. They’d gotten a room at the Hilton so they could spend the evening alone. They should’ve known just holding each other wouldn’t be enough.

  She’d kicked off her shoes and lounged on the bed while Matt called room service for dinner. When he hung up the phone, he settled next to her and slid his arms around her. She tipped her head, exposing her throat to the exquisite pleasure of his hot mouth nibbling her neck.

  “Oh, Matt.” Her breaths came in short little gasps.

  Cupping her breast, he teased her nipple through the fabric of her bra and blouse, making her squirm. “You like that, Sweetheart?”

  “Oh, yes.” Ever since things had gotten out of control on their first date, Matt had kept a tight rein on their relationship. He’d been adamant about not putting his hands under her clothing again. “I love you.” She moaned softly.

  “I love you, too.” Tumbling her back on the bed, he covered her body with his while his mouth moved ravenously over hers, sucking and nipping hungrily. He drew back and gazed down into her eyes. “When your hair spreads out all around you like this, it looks like a golden halo.” He ran his fingers through her tresses and buried his face in them, breathing in deeply. “You smell so good. Please don’t ever cut your hair.”

  The top three buttons of her blouse gave way to his plucking fingers. He slid the neck of her top aside and feasted on her shoulder. Whimpering, she clutched at his shirt and ran her hands up his hard chest, aching to feel his warm skin against hers.

  Eyes closed, he gritted his teeth and squeezed her closer. His stiff arousal pressed against her, reminding her of what he’d given up for her.

  Before his graduation, she’d attended a party at Princ
eton with Matt and had met his friends. All evening, she’d overheard the guys teasing him about the decline of his sex life. It’d been three months since they’d met. How would he feel about her after six months of cold showers?

  A sudden knock on the door made them both flinch. “Room service.”

  Apparently they’d been making out a lot longer than it had seemed.

  He let the waiter in and watched while the man set out their dinner. Matt slipped the fellow a tip as he left and then pulled out a chair for her at the small table. After cutting into his T-bone, he tossed his fork down. “Damn it. I should know better than to order a steak from room service.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I ordered it medium well. This is still mooing.” He shoved the platter aside and stabbed his fork into his salad. Matt hated it when he paid for a meal and they didn’t serve the food the way he’d requested it.

  “Do you wanna try mine? It hasn’t moved on my plate, so I’m pretty sure it’s dead.”

  He peered at her steak. “No, that’s not much better. Don’t worry. There’s plenty of other things to fill up on. I’ll just leave the meat.”

  After eating his salad, baked potato, dinner rolls, and chocolate cake, he smoked a cigarette while she finished her meal. Staring into her eyes, he told her how much he was going to miss her. Her throat tightened at hearing the tenderness in his voice.

  She wanted to make love with him before he left.

  After dinner, while he pushed the cart into the hallway and put out the Do Not Disturb sign, she stripped off her blouse, trembling.

  He closed the door and sucked in a sharp breath, his gaze locked on her lacy bra. “Sweetheart, please. Put your top back on. I don’t have that much control.”

  “Matt,” she croaked past the constriction in her throat. “I w-want you to make love to me.” She slid her shaking fingers over the fabric stretched taut across his broad chest and up his neck’s corded muscles.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, he held her away from himself. “Then why are you shaking like we’re shooting a scene for a horror flick? You’re not ready to go to bed with me, yet.”