The Memory of You

by Laurie Kellogg

She dug her keys out of her purse and handed them to him. “Take my car. You’ll get all messed up riding the motorcycle.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” He turned to leave, but she grabbed his arm.

  Standing on her tiptoes, she laid a peck on his cheek. “For luck.”

  Mac walked out the door with Robert glaring at his back.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “You’re getting awfully chummy. What’s with the kiss?”

  “I like Mac. He’s a nice guy. You should see how great he is with the boys. He really seems to enjoy their company.”

  “That’s not what concerns me. What I want to know is how much you enjoy him.”

  “I thought the other night you decided Mac was an over-the-hill scarecrow, and you didn’t need to be jealous.”

  “The other night, you weren’t warming up sweet rolls for the scarecrow and lending him your car. And you weren’t kissing him good-bye. You may not mean anything by it, Abby, but it’s going to give him ideas. I don’t like him staying here.”

  “Well, that’s too bad. He has nowhere else to go.”

  Rob pulled her back down on his lap. “Just make sure you get rid of him as soon as he’s done painting.”

  “Not until he has someplace to go, and if you don’t like—”

  “Wonderful. We could be celebrating our golden anniversary by the time he moves out. You still didn’t tell me how you got that bruise.”

  She couldn’t tell Rob the truth. Nonetheless, she also didn’t want to lie. “I just banged it in the middle of the night.”

  “You need to be more careful. I don’t want my bride walking down the aisle black and blue.” He pushed her up and stood to leave. “How about an invite for dinner tonight?”

  “Sure, that’d be great.” She tipped her face up for his kiss. “You really do need to spend some time with Tommy. He’s a little worried about you coming to live with us.”

  “He’s worried? Or you are? Kids are resilient. He’ll adjust in no time at all.”

  She watched Rob walk out and thought about how their lives would change once he moved in. Her stomach gurgled with anxiety. She wished she could label what she was feeling as just a little worried.

  Oh, well. She sighed. A smidgen of terror was probably good for the soul.

  Chapter 8

  Since Matt had Abby’s car, he made his first destination the Department of Motor Vehicles. Even with the letter Major Jensen had written to verify Matt had been out of the country for over half a decade, he still had to go ten rounds with the supervisor before the man agreed to give Matt a road test and reissue his expired license. Then his only problem was his lack of an address. In the end, he reluctantly gave them Abby’s.

  After stopping at an insurance agency to take out a policy on the Harley, he visited two employment agencies, which eventually landed him in Malcolm Carlisle’s office.

  The balding job consultant wore a dark brown toupee that looked as if some critter had curled up and died on his head. He made little humming noises while he perused Matt’s application. Finally, Mr. Carlisle peered at him over his reading glasses. “Do you have a résumé?”

  “Not yet, but I’m working on one. As you can see, I’ve only been back in the country about a week. To be truthful, I’m flat broke, so any job will do for now.

  “Well, Mr. Foster, we don’t want to place you somewhere you don’t intend to stay. We won’t receive our commission if you quit right away.”

  “I’m willing to guarantee at least nine months at whatever job I’m offered. I just need something to get me started.”

  The man pushed his reading glasses up on his nose and studied Matt’s application again. “You’re twenty-nine, and you’ve never been employed full-time. In the years since you graduated college, you’ve never used your education.”

  With his credentials put that way, Matt sounded absolutely worthless. If the man represented him to prospective employers with this much enthusiasm, Matt would never get hired.

  Mr. Carlisle took off his glasses. “Exactly what sort of job were you hoping we could find for you?”

  “An entry level position in the electronics field. I’m an engineer for crying out loud. Ohm’s law is still Ohm’s law, and current will always equal voltage over resistance. I’m sure that hasn’t changed.”

  “You’re a little over-qualified for an entry level position.” Carlisle sniffed. “I’ll make some phone calls. In the meantime, you’ll need to write up a résumé.” He handed him a business card. “If you’d like it prepared professionally, this person freelances and gives our clients a substantial discount. I’ll contact you once I’ve set up some interviews.”

  “Look, when you call, it’s important you ask for me as Mac McCartney. Otherwise you’ll be told I’m deceased.”

  The man’s eyes became two suspicious slivers. “You wouldn’t by any chance be trying to steal a dead man’s credentials?”

  “Get real, Mr. Carlisle.” Matt snorted. “If I had the balls to rip off some stiff’s identity, don’t you think I’d also be shrewd enough to choose someone with a helluva lot more going for him than Matthew T. Foster?”

  ~~~

  Abby finished filling out the last wedding invitation and smiled at Mac trudging in the back door. “So how’d it go?”

  “Don’t ask.” He tugged off his tie, dragging his feet into the bedroom, his shoulders sagging.

  Mac didn’t qualify as particularly lighthearted to begin with. The last thing he needed was something more to bring him down. She followed him to the guest room and pushed in his partly open door at the same moment he stepped out of his trousers.

  “Oops, sorry.” She turned her head.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not stripping. Tommy treated you to a whole lot more than my underwear yesterday.” Mac pulled on the clothes he’d worn to paint the previous day.

  “Don’t you think you’d feel better if you talked about it?”

  “No, I don’t. There’re only two things that would make me feel better right now.” He cocked his head and smirked. “And the first one would get my face slapped.”

  “So what’s the second thing?”

  “To be given back the years stolen from me. Today just confirmed how much of my life was actually taken. Charlie didn’t just rob me of my dignity and my freedom. They stole my whole freaking career. No one wants to hire a man my age who’s been rotting in a cell for years.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find something. This was only your first day looking.”

  “Right. Tell that to all the vets who’re living on the streets.” He finished buttoning his paint-speckled shirt and slumped on the bed. “There’s not much call for experience picking maggots out of rice. I’m about as employable as an ex-con, and the only thing I ever did wrong was serve my country.”

  A country she had to admit had turned its back on its soldiers.

  “So why don’t you go back to school and take a few refresher courses or get another degree in a different field,” she suggested. “Are you interested in anything besides engineering?”

  Mac shrugged. “I seem to know quite a bit about biology and anatomy. I think I must’ve had a little medical training at some point, because I took care of some of the wounded prisoners. A bunch of them called me Doc.”

  She did a double take, amazed by the similarities in his and Matt’s interests. “That’s a coincidence. My husband once told me he’d thought about becoming a doctor. In fact, he started out in the Army training for the Medical Service Corps. He was designated for assignment to a combat battalion aid station. But halfway through the program, the Army decided they didn’t need another junior officer in that position, so they reclassified him as a Signal Officer.”

  “That sounds like the military. So why did your hubby change his mind about being a doctor?”

  “While he was in high school, Matt was working nearly full-time to help his family out, so it affected his grades. He didn’t think his G
PA would ever get him accepted at a med school. When he finally had the time to study in college and was carrying a 4.0 average, he was already enrolled in the engineering program.” She glanced at Mac askance. “If you’re interested in medicine, why don’t you go to med school?”

  “Yeah, right. At my age?”

  “Sure.”

  “And how do you suggest I pay for it?”

  “What about your GI benefits? I heard last year they increased the education assistance for Vietnam vets.” When he released a discouraged sigh, she sank next to him and slid her arm around his shoulder. “You’re feeling sorry for yourself.”

  “You’re damn straight I am. You don’t understand. You’re getting married. You’ve got a great son, a nice house, and a car that runs. On top of that, you’re not a man. You aren’t capable of understanding how I feel.”

  Turning his face, she gazed into his eyes. “Try me.”

  “I’m all alone, I have no job, and I’m flat broke. So it looks as if I’m going to remain that way for a good long time. I have nothing to offer a woman, so how can I ever have the family and kids I want?”

  She and Matt had wanted lots of kids, too. Even after all this time, she still had trouble accepting life wasn’t always kind.

  Mac stood and hung his suit in the closet. “I have a college degree that I might as well use as toilet paper for all the good it does landing me a job.

  “I do understand. You’ve gotten a lousy deal. You know what they say to do when life hands you a bushel of lemons.”

  “Yeah.” He laughed without a hint of humor. “Suck one and pucker up. That way life can kick you in the ass while you’re bent over waiting for a kiss.”

  “Nothing I say will make you feel better, will it?”

  “Not likely. I told you the two things that could, and neither of them includes conversation.”

  She peeked at him from under her lashes. “So, what’s the first thing? You just said it would get your face slapped.”

  Mac tipped her chin up and stared into her eyes. “I know you’re not that naïve, Sweetheart. If you’d like a demonstration, I’d be happy to oblige you.”

  “Come on.” She stood and pulled him to the door. “I’ll make you lunch. After you eat, you’ll feel better.”

  He yanked his hand away and stode down the hall to the kitchen. “Don’t bother. I’m going out to paint. The weather report said it’s supposed to start pouring tomorrow and last for at least two days.”

  “You won’t gain any weight if you skip meals.”

  Mac stopped short at the back door. “Quit trying to mother me, Abby. I need a woman, not a nursemaid. You made it clear anything between us is out of the question. So unless you’ve changed your mind about providing that first thing I mentioned, just leave me the hell alone for a while.”

  ~~~

  Late that afternoon, Matt looked down from the ladder at two toothless grins. How could a guy stay depressed around faces like that? “Hey, guys. Are you ready to get to work?”

  “Yeah.” Tommy nodded. “But first I wanna give you what I made in school today.” From behind his back, he pulled a picture of Matt on the ladder painting the house.

  A lump formed in Matt’s throat, strangling the long whistle he tried to release. “Wow, that’s a beauty. How about you help me hang this up by my bed?”

  He followed the boys inside, and Tommy rooted through one of the kitchen drawers for tape. Abby pointed to the refrigerator. “You don’t need that. There are magnets on the side of the fridge.”

  “I don’t want to put it there,” Matt said. “I want to hang it by my bed.”

  She crossed her arms in feigned indignation. “Oh, I see. Don’t you think that’s rather selfish keeping it all to yourself?”

  “Maybe so,” he mimicked in the same playful tit-for-tat tone. “But it’s my picture.”

  “Yeah. It’s Mac’s picture,” Tommy parroted, his gaping smile extending from ear to ear.

  Once Matt taped the drawing to the bedroom wall, the boys ran outside. He returned to the kitchen and stood beside Abby who was addressing envelopes. “Uh, Abby?”

  She glanced up. “Did you hang your picture?”

  “Yeah. I, uhh....I want to apologize for taking my frustration out on you earlier. I know you were only trying to help. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I understand how tough it must be for you.”

  No, she didn’t. She couldn’t know how hard it was for him to watch her address invitations in preparation to marry another man. She had no concept how he ached to hear his son finally call him Daddy. Nor could she fathom his pain when he thought about how much of Tommy’s childhood he’d been denied.

  He plowed his fingers through his hair. “Look, you haven’t a clue of what I’m going through because there’s so much more involved than you can guess. So please, stop trying to empathize with me. Some good old-fashioned pity will suffice.”

  ~~~

  At five-thirty, Matt cleaned up and strolled inside to the kitchen, inhaling deeply. “Is that what I think it is in the oven?”

  “Only if you think it’s lasagna.” Abby chuckled.

  He scooped her up and spun her in a circle in his arms. “Sweetheart, you found something else that could cheer me up.”

  “I’ll thank you to put my fiancée down.” Robert stood outside the screen door, a dark scowl twisting his face.

  Matt let Abby slide down his body and raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything. I was just having a little fun.”

  Rob opened the storm door and glared at him. “I don’t like your brand of fun. Keep your sleazy hands to yourself.”

  Rather than get into it with him, Matt stomped off to take a shower. When he returned, Robert sat reading the newspaper in the living room like a monarch seated on his throne, while Abby set the table in the adjacent dining room. Matt pulled the milk carton from the fridge and called into the living room through the archway. “So, Webber, what would you like to drink with your meal?”

  “I brought wine. It’s in a bag on the counter.”

  Matt found the brown paper sack, opened the Merlot, and carried the bottle to the dining room with the tumblers he’d filled. He arched one eyebrow at Abby as she tucked a napkin under each fork. “Why are we eating in here? Isn’t the kitchen classy enough for the dentist?”

  “It’s not that at all. You saw how crowded the kitchen table was last night after Peter showed up. Would you mind telling the boys to wash their hands?”

  “Not at all.” He strode through the kitchen to the hallway and poked his head into Tommy’s bedroom. “Time to wash up for dinner, guys.” As Matt headed back toward the dining room, Abby slammed into him in the middle of the archway. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her and gently touched her bruised cheek. “It makes me sick, seeing what I did to you.”

  Her face tensed, reminding him of Robert seated in the living room. The man stood and swaggered over to Matt. “Are you saying you gave her that bruise?” Rob turned his gaze on Abby. “Why’d you lie to me?”

  “I didn’t. I just didn’t tell you the whole story because I knew you’d be upset.”

  “You’d better believe I’m upset. What do you expect when I find out you’re covering for this jerk after he hits you?”

  Matt’s palms itched to throttle Rob for even suggesting he’d intentionally hurt Abby. Instead, he gritted his teeth and kept quiet. She didn’t need him making things worse for her.

  “It was an accident.”

  “It better have been, or I’m going to beat the shit out of him—which I just might do anyway.”

  Matt squared his shoulders. “In your dreams, Webber.”

  Robert pulled himself up to his full height and scowled at him, his nostrils flaring. Abby jumped between them. “Both of you just stop all your macho posturing.”

  Rob crossed his arms over his chest. “Then quit evading the truth. You said you banged your face in the middle of the night. What were
you even doing near this deadbeat?”

  “I don’t have to answer to you. I’m not your wife, yet. For your information, Mac had a nightmare and was hollering. When I went to wake him, he thrashed around and accidentally hit me with his elbow.”

  “Oh.” Rob shrugged. “See, now that wasn’t so painful, was it?”

  “Actually it was.”

  “Very funny.” Rob curled his lip. “Why’d you need to dance around the truth? Or wasn’t that all that happened?”

  Matt glared at him. “No, it wasn’t. I asked Abby to stay with me, and she turned me down flat. She’s undeniably yours, Webber. So quit your jealous whining.”

  “And she’d better stay mine. Keep your hands off of her, or I’ll break them for you.”

  “Oooh, I’m shaking.” Matt sputtered and rolled his eyes at Abby. “I’ve been beaten, whipped, starved, and burned, and this windbag thinks I’ll be intimidated by a dentist.”

  Then again, the jerk did have an electric drill and a whole slew of sharp instruments.

  Matt headed into the dining room and took a seat on the side of the table with two place settings. He smiled at Royce when he slipped into the chair beside him. Tommy stamped his foot. “No fair. I want to sit next to Mac.”

  “Hey, be a good sport, Buddy. Royce was here first. If you sit across from me, we can make faces at each other.” Matt crossed his eyes at his son, sending him into a fit of giggles.

  Robert spent half the meal talking about a patient’s abscess he’d treated that day and the rest of the time draining and refilling his wine goblet. An infected tooth wasn’t Matt’s idea of scintillating dinner conversation. He looked at the boys and asked softly, “So did you two do anything good in school?”

  “Yeah.” His son bounced in his seat. “I got to go to my special class today.”

  Special class? Abby had told him the school had pushed Tommy ahead a year. “What’d you do in your class?”

  “Just stuff with numbers. Didja know when I add two numbers together it don’t matter what order I put ‘em in?”

  The associative property seemed pretty advanced for a kid his age. But then Matt’s engineering background suggested he must have had an aptitude for the subject, too.