The Officer Says I Do

by Jeanette Murray

  Jeremy jerked his head and Tim pushed back in his roll chair. A few clicks of the keyboard later, and Dwayne was waving from Tim’s computer screen.

  “Damn, took you long enough, Jer!”

  “He was resistant.” Jeremy grabbed a chair and swung it around to sit behind the desk.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “Intervention,” Dwayne said through the screen with a small smile.

  Tim stared at Jeremy. “You’re using Skype to hold an intercontinental intervention?”

  “Trust me. If I could kick your ass, I would. So this will have to work.” Dwayne’s voice was a little hollow, carrying an echo through the speakers, but his frustration was clear all the same.

  “I filled him in on the situation this morning over email. Well, morning for us. Early evening for him.” Jeremy dug through the bag and tossed Tim a sandwich, pulling one out for himself.

  “And what does my deployed therapist have to say?” he said around a bite.

  “I’m disappointed.” The words were soft but no less intense for their lack of volume.

  Tim stared at the desk, picking a chip in the paint to focus on. “So am I.”

  “No. I’m disappointed in you.”

  Tim looked out the corner of his eye, but Dwayne had taken the same approach of staring away instead of at the camera. Jeremy, for his part, was retying his bootlaces as if it was the most important thing in the world. “Care to elaborate, Deputy Dwayne?”

  Dwayne shook his head, and Tim immediately regretted the swipe. Dwayne was definitely one to prove that though country boys may talk slow, that didn’t mean their minds worked at the same pace. “It’s been almost a week. I thought for sure by now you’d have asked for some leave time, gone down to Texas, and figured out how to bring Skye back. But you haven’t.”

  Tim didn’t have an answer for that. It was the truth. He hadn’t requested leave, hadn’t made plans to head down to Texas. Other than those calls, he hadn’t made the effort at all. He’d been just waiting. Waiting on word from Skye. Waiting on papers from a lawyer. On a smoke signal. Anything. But why should he put forth the effort to chase after a woman who didn’t want him?

  “Because you love her,” Dwayne answered, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be able to read a person’s mind.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Didn’t have to.”

  “Shouldn’t you be out doing deployment-type things?” Tim asked without any heat.

  Dwayne just smiled. “It’s my downtime. I’m seven and a half hours ahead of you. I’ll be climbing in my rack once we’re done kicking your ass.”

  Tim glanced at Jeremy, who was still focused on his boots. “And what do you think, oh Quiet One?”

  Jeremy shrugged and said nothing, but Tim wasn’t about to let it slide.

  “Put up or shut up, jackass. You were against the marriage from the start. And you sure as hell weren’t quiet about your opinions when I first said we were going to make it work. I can’t believe you have absolutely nothing to say about the situation now. So speak up.”

  Jeremy let his boot drop back down to the ground, watched the papers on the floor rustle and settle. Then he looked at Tim, eyes focused and intense. “I just can’t believe what a coward you are.”

  Tim sucked in a breath. Coward my ass. He was ready to nail a good right hook, but Dwayne grunted and muttered, “Don’t do it.”

  “Yeah, I was against the marriage. Can you blame me? You come home from Vegas, and you don’t even know you’re married. Then some woman shows up with a certificate and some pictures saying you tied the knot. You knew her less than a day, and suddenly you were going to make it work? Sorry for looking out for my friend.” Jeremy shook his head. “But I know you’re not an idiot. And as much as I wanted your best interest, you were determined. Determined enough, I thought, to see it through. Now shit’s gone tits-up and you’re diving into the foxhole. You just wait for her to make the next move. That’s not you, man. And if I thought you were happy without her, I might let it go. But you’re a fucking wreck.”

  Dwayne scoffed at that. “Dude’s right. I’m not even gone a month and everything falls apart. You look like hell. If you feel half as bad as your face says you do, then this plan’s not working for you.”

  Tim couldn’t argue.

  “So yeah, I’m actually with D on this one. If you’re ready to call it quits, then call it quits. Draw up papers. But if you want her so bad—and you act like you do—then fucking do something. Don’t sit here and mope around like someone stole your car and ran over your dog, for crissake.”

  As much as Tim wanted to slug him for the insult, the truth was the truth. “Shit,” he murmured.

  “Shit,” Dwayne and Jeremy echoed. Surround sound from round the world. Great.

  He’d messed up. Somehow, things had gone wrong in his marriage. In his life, period. And it was time he stopped sitting back on his heels and watching it fall away. Time for some affirmative action.

  ***

  Skye’s arms ached after carrying the last of the boxes in from the makeshift loading dock. Her parents’ little “mom and pop” organic grocery store had grown leaps and bounds since they set up shop over twenty years ago on the commune. They had been successful, providing a healthy, happy, and stable—if a bit unorthodox—childhood for Skye. And if they’d had to live off of what they sold to the community and random passersby alone, they would have been just fine. But although they believed in grass roots and investing in your own community first, her parents weren’t idiots. The minute the organic wave hit mainstream America, they set up a serious web presence, shipping organic herbs and spices and other all-natural food items directly from their store to countless homes across the country.

  “Mom?” She dusted her palms on her flowing capri pants. “Where are you?”

  “In the office.”

  Skye grabbed her Nalgene from the mini-fridge under the counter and headed back to the office, rubbing the cold material against her neck to cool her off. She stopped in the doorway and just watched while her mother moved around the office, searching for who knew what. Her tank top was wrinkled and stuck to her back thanks to the humidity. The long skirt draped and swished around her ankles, showing off her bare feet. Skye knew the material for the skirt would have been made in the commune, likely by their neighbors, the Vecheks. Whenever physically possible, her parents shopped in-commune.

  “What are you looking for?”

  Her mother didn’t jolt at the sound of her voice. Neither of her parents were ever shocked by anything. As if they had some sort of mysterious, uncanny way of knowing someone or something was behind them at all times. “A tax form. I’m sure I placed it around here somewhere.”

  “Well, at least it wasn’t important,” Skye joked and sipped water. Now this was a familiar sight. In her parents’ quest to remain carefree, details were often left behind. Swept under some mental rug, not to be dealt with again until physically necessary.

  Without turning around, her mother asked, “Are you almost done?”

  “Yeah, finished bringing in the last box. It was a heavy one. But everything is in the back, in order. I’ll unpack it here in a minute.”

  She held up a paper, shook her head, and put it back. “No. I mean are you done hiding?”

  The question almost had Skye dropping her bottle. “Hiding?”

  The file cabinet shut with a metallic scrape that had Skye wanting to cringe. Her mother turned then and sat on the corner of the desk, the form completely forgotten. “Sweetheart, you know your father and I love you to pieces. And you are welcome anytime, as long as you want. But you’re not here for a visit. You’re here to hide.”

  “No.” Skye took a deep breath. “I’m here to give myself some space. To figure out what
I want. To remember who I am.” Please don’t push me. I don’t want to think about this.

  Her mother sighed, as if the answer was so obviously wrong. “You are who you are. And you always will be. What worries you so much, sweetheart?”

  When Skye showed up on her parents’ doorstep five days earlier, she had only given the basics of the situation. Her fast marriage with Tim. Their choice to work through it. That she needed a little time to process because of how rapidly things were changing. Her parents didn’t press for more—Skye never expected them to. They likely had some theory about the great earth mother or the wind goddess blowing her into their paths or something. Who knew. But she knew she was at least safe from interrogation.

  “I’m just worried. I thought that the whole thing was a sign. Fate. That despite our differences, Tim and I were supposed to be together. But I don’t think he can be with me as I am. And I can’t be the woman he’s always needed. It’s not in me.”

  Her mother was silent a moment. “We can only be ourselves in the long run. Everyone can be someone else for a time. Actors have jobs for a reason. But eventually, our true natures win out. You never could have been someone else for long, even if you tried. It would have broken you.” A soft hand caressed her cheek. “And you’re too special to break.” Then her mother stood back up and started shifting through files again. Such was Amber’s way. Just like that, the conversation was forgotten. Not because it wasn’t important. But because it wasn’t in the now.

  Skye walked out to the main grocery portion of the store where her father was helping a family load their pickup truck with boxes of something. She brought the last box out to the pickup truck and watched her father give a fond farewell.

  “Regulars?” Skye took a seat on the top porch step.

  “Yup.” Her father sat beside her. “Drive over twice a month from the city for the organic selection.”

  “Good news for you.”

  “Hmm.” He stared out into the road, dust still settling from the departing truck. “Am I ever going to meet this man you’ve married?”

  Great question. “Soon, Daddy.” If I still have a husband. “He’s got a lot on his plate now with work.”

  “A Marine.” Her father rubbed a toe in the dirt. “I’m not quite sure where we went wrong…”

  She sighed. “You didn’t go wrong. He’s just the man I fell in love with.” Saying it out loud, for the first time, only reaffirmed that truth. And strengthened her resolve to face the music and do her best to make things work. And work for them both. They couldn’t continue on the way they were, with one pretending to be something she wasn’t.

  “But he carries a gun, Skye Meadow. And uses intimidation and force to get what he wants.”

  “In his job. Which protects the right for you to sit here and own this store. He’s not some gun-toting mercenary that just runs around scaring people all day to get what he wants, Dad.” Wow. Where did that come from? She checked her rising anger and forced herself to speak more calmly. “He’s my husband. So please, just let that all go?”

  Her father nodded but still didn’t look at her. She placed a hand on her father’s shoulder and stood up, going back inside to the air-conditioned store. Behind her, Peter muttered something about the evils of war and how the human race was one step away from blowing the planet to bits. She let the front door shut tightly behind her.

  Veronica stood behind the cash register, thoughtfully quiet as always. Skye was determined to make a friend out of this woman. They were complete opposites. But at the same time, Skye could appreciate how composed she was, sweet and even funny in a shy sort of way. The only problem was she wasn’t all that open. Yet. But if her parents and the community had taught Skye anything, it was that a blank sheet was nothing but possibilities waiting to happen.

  “Veronica, how are things?”

  The woman ducked her head, then as if determined to make eye contact, raised it deliberately. “Fine.” Her voice was naturally soft.

  “Do you like the area?”

  “Yes.”

  So far, she wasn’t much on sharing past the basics. Her parents hadn’t given Skye her cousin’s background. They wouldn’t though. If Veronica wanted Skye to know, she would share. That’s the way it worked around the commune. Nobody was obligated to share their past.

  “So where did you come from?” Skye hopped up on the counter and grabbed an apple out of the basket by the register. She wiped it on her shirt and took a bite.

  “Around.”

  Skye tried another tactic and said nothing. When Veronica realized she was still waiting, she added, “We moved around often.”

  “Huh. I grew up here. Didn’t really leave until college. Might have been fun to explore other places. You’re my mom’s brother’s kid. Are there more of you?”

  “Just me.” Veronica turned away, busying herself with looking for something—likely nothing—behind the counter.

  Okay, so no family talk. “Have you met anyone around here? Hung out with anyone in the area? There were some people my age when I grew up here, though they might have all taken off now.”

  Veronica shook her head, the thick gold braid shaking as it fell between her shoulder blades. For the first time, Skye could appreciate how long the woman’s hair really was. It reached past the waistband of her skirt. She could probably sit on it if she tried. That had to be annoying. She took a longer look at her cousin. Plain clothes, slightly baggy. Whether she bought them that way or she’d lost weight, Skye had no clue. Not a hint of makeup. No jewelry either, simple or otherwise.

  “Do you like working at the store? If not, I bet my parents could find you another job in the commune. Maybe working at the teashop or the bookstore. I know when I was saving up cash for college I used to grab a few hours of work over at—”

  “No.” The word was sharp, definite. Skye smiled. So she wasn’t entirely a mouse after all. “I like working here. Your parents have been wonderful. I couldn’t have hoped for better.”

  Skye’s smile grew. “Yeah. They are pretty great. How old are you?”

  Veronica eyed Skye out of the corner of her eye. “Twenty-six.”

  There was a formal tone to her speech. Sort of like people who spoke English as a second language. Even more interesting. Skye was determined not to pry, however. “Well, my parents are great to work for, and live with.” She hopped down from the counter, ready to head over to the house for a break and some privacy before the town meeting that night.

  As much as she loved her parents, loved the commune, and loved revisiting her past, it was time to figure out her future. Tomorrow she’d head home.

  ***

  Tim followed the GPS as far as it would take him, which wasn’t far. Apparently Skye’s family lived in the middle of nowhere. Literally. Tim’s symbolic little blue car on the GPS screen was driving through nothing. If he hadn’t stopped at the last gas station to ask where the infamous commune was located, he would have been lost an hour ago.

  Actually, he wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t lost now. Hippies, despite their peace, love, happiness attitude, apparently liked their solitude.

  He didn’t have time to roam around the great state of Texas looking for his wife. He had exactly one week to reach Skye, figure out where things went wrong—on both sides—and convince her to come back with him.

  If he could find her first.

  Chapter 23

  Another fifteen minutes and Tim felt like singing a hallelujah chorus as he saw signs of civilization in the distance. Inching closer, he picked out several buildings that appeared to make a complete circle, with one road that led in. He drove on, heading straight for the opening. If this wasn’t it, then he was going to demand a guide like Lewis and fucking Clark to get the rest of the way there.

  Tim headed for the first thing that looked like a busin
ess—a café of some kind—and parked in their front lot. He got out and walked around to the front of the business, taking in the area. The circle of buildings looked like it was a mile around, with another layer or two of buildings behind the first, sort of laid out in a spiral. The wide sidewalks flanked decent, well-kept roads. And not every building was cookie-cutter perfect, each carrying its own charm. This little town was definitely not built by a mega-millionaire corporation.

  He jerked on the door to the café, determined to ask a few questions, but the door didn’t budge. On second glance, he saw the Closed sign. Sort of an odd time to be closed, being in the middle of dinner. He walked over to the next building, a salon, and found the same. Closed. Then Tim looked around, listened.

  Nothing.

  No cars driving around the roads, no people walking from store to store, no radios blaring or kids laughing. It was a ghost town. Or was it a ghost commune?

  Someone had to live here. A ghost town didn’t stay this well-maintained and preserved. So where the hell was everyone? He wandered down the sidewalk, searching for signs of life, practicing the speech he would give once he finally found his runaway wife.

  As Tim rounded the curve, he heard a faint buzzing noise. The first real sign of civilization since he parked. He followed the noise, winding back between a bookstore and a coffee house and then slipping around a house to find an open field full of bodies, a few hundred by his estimate. Some sitting, some standing, some… dancing? Yes, a few were actually swaying to some unheard music. Tim hesitated to call them crazy. His wife would simply say they were free spirits, moving to the beat of their own drummer—literally. But it was impossible to see if Skye was among the crowd.

  People of all ages were gathered, from babes in arms to a few with wheelchairs and walkers. Everyone was dressed very Skye-like. Or rather, Skye before she started changing her look. Flowing garments, loose folds, tunics, crazy patterns. Tim glanced ruefully at his own khakis, button-down shirt, and simple dress shoes. For once, he was the one who stood out.