He realized someone was up front, standing on top of a pickup with amplifiers, speaking into a microphone. Though it was difficult to hear, he worked his way around the outside of the crowd until he had a better spot. From the sounds of it, it was a sort of town hall meeting. Business about the community. Updates about a homeschool co-op was next up on the agenda.
“Hi there.” A woman, probably in her eighties, with steel-gray hair and a feel of frailty about her, placed a hand on his arm. Chunky bracelets clanked as she moved, and her eyes were kind. “Are you passing through?”
“I don’t know.” Tim continued scanning the crowd, looking for any hint of Skye. There was so much color, so much light, it almost hurt his eyes to stare at it. Almost nobody wore dark colors, and black didn’t exist to these people.
I have to be close.
“Are you searching for something? Enlightenment of some kind?”
“I’m searching for—whoa!” Tim pulled gently against the woman’s grip, which tightened on his wrist. The rings covering her gnarled fingers dug into his skin. “Can I help you?”
The woman turned serious eyes to him. “All newcomers should be introduced.”
“Oh, there’s been a mistake. No introduction necessary.” Please and thank you.
Watery blue eyes stared back at him. Then, as if she hadn’t heard him, she repeated, “All newcomers should be introduced.” With that, she started walking toward the front, pulling him behind.
No. Oh hell no. Tim tried digging his feet into the ground, but she managed to continue pulling. He could have jerked his arm away, but the thought of causing the elderly woman to fall or hurt herself was worse than being dragged around like a lost child in an airport. He followed, grudgingly, still scanning the crowd for Skye.
No such luck.
They reached the side of the pickup located at the front of the crowd, where a bald man in his late fifties, maybe early sixties, was reading about someone’s newest little bundle of joy. Tim’s captor tugged on the man’s flaring capri pants with authority. “Peter, we have a newcomer.”
The man looked at Tim, his eyes narrowing a moment. “Yes, we do. Well, come on up, young man. Tell us about yourself.”
Tim stared out into the crowd, praying for a glimpse of Skye. Or at least someone to rescue him. Nope. Not his lucky day. He sighed and stepped up, figuring it was easier to go along with the shenanigans than run away. He could easily guess nobody would be overly helpful to the man who knocked down an eighty-year-old woman just to escape saying hi. Besides, why not ask four hundred people at once where Skye was rather than one at a time? It was just more efficient, really.
Yeah. Efficient. That’s how he’d mentally file this one. Efficient sounded better than crazy.
Hopping up on the bed of the truck, he waited until the vehicle stopped rocking, then took the mic from the older man. He stared into the sea of faces, some smiling, some skeptical, others lost in their own world, like their minds were tuned to a completely different channel.
“Hi, my name is Tim, and I—”
“Hi, Tim!” The roar of the crowd almost knocked him back. Christ, what was this? Some AA meeting?
“Uh, right. Anyway, I’m not here for enlightenment or anything like that. Or maybe I am. I guess that depends.”
There was some mild chatter, and a few brilliant smiles aimed his way. He rubbed the back of his burning neck.
“Ignore that. First things first. I’m looking for my wife. Skye McDermott? I think this is where she grew up.”
The crowd, buzzing with welcoming energy, shut down faster than a frat party during a raid. The smiles melted away, the skeptics looked smug. Even those who appeared lost in their own world seemed to shrink back, as if some psychic wavelength told them he was bad news.
What the hell did he say? He’s a stranger, and these people don’t know him. Right. Of course, a small little commune like this would circle the wagons—or rather, circle the flower power—around one of their own.
He tried again. “She came for a visit, and I was just trying to find her. She’s about this high—” he held up his hand to shoulder height, “with long brown hair. Blue-gray eyes? Beautiful? Anyone?”
Silence. Owl stares. Sweat dripped between his shoulder blades.
“Right. Well, if you see her,” and he knew they would, “tell her that her husband is looking for her. Tell her… just tell her—”
“Tim? What the hell are you doing?”
He jolted, almost dropping the mic. “Skye?” He turned around, not daring to hope. But there she was. Her hair was pulled back on either side from her face, curls and waves flowing around her shoulders. The sunburst tunic top skimmed over her hips, and her legs were in some bright yellow leggings. Her feet were bare, kicking up dust as she walked toward him.
“What are you doing here?”
His mouth was dry when he tried to speak. She looked so beautiful, so naturally Skye, that he almost lost his thoughts. “I came. For you.”
The shock showed on her face. “Really?”
“Yeah. I didn’t come to practice my public speaking skills.” Realizing he still held the microphone, he thrust it at the other man and hopped down from the bed of the pickup. In three long strides he reached her but stopped just short of wrapping his arms around her like he wanted. “I’m here to bring you home.” Before she could speak he shook his head. His world narrowed until all he saw was her face, all he heard was her breath, growing heavier. “No, I meant that. Home. Our home. I hate that you think you were a roommate. You’re my wife. And I want you to be home with me. I don’t care if that means you’ll burn twelve different incense a day and hang up posters of spirits and leave your socks on the coffee table. Just come home.”
She stared at him for a moment, eyes widening. Then she jerked her head to the side and walked back behind the pickup truck, shielding them from a majority of the curious onlookers.
“Why?” Her voice was soft, almost scared.
Thank God. An easy one. “Because I love you. I love you, Skye Meadow McDermott, the way I married you. I don’t know what happened, why you thought you had to change completely to make me happy. And I don’t know why I ever let you think you needed to. But I want Skye back. You.”
Skye closed her eyes, and Tim felt his stomach drop and the blood rush in his ears. He was too late. He didn’t move fast enough. And now he was going to suffer because of it.
But then without opening her eyes, Skye launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, taking him completely by surprise. He stepped back a few feet to regain his balance and held her tight. Thank God the side of the pickup was right behind his back or they would have topped into the dirt.
“I love you too,” she mumbled into his neck. “I just… I didn’t…”
“I know.” He stroked her wild hair once, tangled his fingers in the curls. “I know.”
Past the roar of his own heartbeat, Tim heard the sound of applause, muffled and distant. As they stood peacefully, soaking each other in, his hearing cleared and the clapping became louder until it was like a tidal wave, crashing over them.
“Uh, Skye, I think—”
“Yeah. They’re clapping for us.” Her voice held laughter, and he smiled. He’d put up with a lot to hear her that happy again.
Soon—too soon—Skye slid down until her feet touched the ground. “Dad.”
The bald man from the truck peeked over the side of the cab, a huge grin on his face. “Yes, pumpernickel?”
“That’s your dad?” Tim asked incredulously. When Skye nodded, he turned to the man. “And when I was up there, pouring my heart out about my wife, you didn’t think to stop me and say, ‘Hey, she’s back that way’?”
The man shrugged, completely unapologetic. “Not my decision to
make.”
“Dad,” Skye broke in, laughing. “We’re heading to the house for a bit.”
“I gotcha.” The man winked and turned back to the crowd, asking them to settle down so he could finish his announcements.
Tim let his head drop to the side of the truck with a thump. “That wasn’t awkward or anything.”
She grabbed his hand and tugged. “Come on. Everyone here will be busy for at least another hour.”
“Say no more.”
***
Skye pulled the door shut behind them, watching as Tim wandered the living room, soaking in the mementos of her childhood. Pictures, childish crafts, awards were all displayed in random order, scattered throughout the room and the house. She wondered what he would think of the completely mismatched home, with its worn, broken-in furniture and bizarre decor.
“Looks like you,” he said after a minute. “I see you in this place.” He stopped to grab a framed picture of Skye at seven, holding a trophy for being the homeschool co-op’s best peacekeeper. “Cute,” he said with a grin.
“So you flew in?”
“Yup. Didn’t have a lot of leave time. But since you have your car, we can drive back.” He glanced around and saw the suitcases next to the kitchen door. He stared at them, as if he’d never seen luggage before. “Are those packed?”
“Yeah.” When he said nothing, just continued to stare at the bags, she went on. “I was leaving tomorrow morning.”
“Going where?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“Home. Back to you.” When he finally looked her way, she smiled. “You just beat me to it.”
He reached her in two steps and crushed her against his chest. “Don’t do this again. Please. Talk to me. Scream at me. Rearrange the furniture or burn the place down. Just… don’t leave again,” he mumbled into her hair.
Poor Marine. Always so sure of himself at work. Ready to fight wars, take over countries. Solve any problem. And instead, he suddenly looked so… lost. She scratched his scalp lightly with her fingernails until his body started to relax, tension seeping out. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t see another way at the time. That was rude of me, to leave during the function. I hope I didn’t get you in trouble at work. I know—”
“Fuck work.” He held her at arm’s length, his face fierce. “I mean don’t leave me. Just me. I don’t care if you never host another coffee or never go to another function. I want you to, because I love being with you, having you with me. But if you don’t, I won’t care. Just don’t run away from me.”
“The coffee wasn’t too bad,” she murmured as she eased back into his arms. “And I like barbeques.”
“I’m sorry too. I didn’t see how you were taking things. I should have spoken up sooner, let you know you didn’t have to change. But the truth was, I wasn’t sure myself how things were going to work. It was so much, so fast and I—”
“Shh. It’s okay. We’re okay.”
His hands stroked over her back, soothing at first. Then he slipped under the tunic, his rough fingertips electrifying the nerves along her back until she shivered.
“Are you making a move on me in my parents’ living room, Captain?”
“I sure as hell am.” His hands moved around to cup her breasts, pulling them out the top of her flimsy bra. Skye let her head drop back while he nuzzled her jawline. “If you have to ask, I must be doing a piss-poor job of it.” And without warning, he bent at the waist until he could lift up with Skye draped over his shoulder. She shrieked, then laughed as he carried her to the sofa and plopped her down. “Is this more obvious?”
His heavy, comforting weight draped over her, and she smiled. “You’re nothing if not a perfectionist.”
“I aim to please.”
Skye let him please her until the meeting was over.
***
Dinner should have been uncomfortable, eating with his in-laws who he had never met before. Not to mention the numerous not-so-subtle digs about the military and war that Peter kept tossing into the conversation.
But, no surprise, Skye’s parents were unconventional and didn’t seem to feel any sort of discomfort. They acted like it was a weekly occurrence, having their only daughter’s husband show up to claim her, making unintentionally public vows of affection and love.
And then there was Veronica, the quiet, tiny girl who was almost silent. No, not girl. Woman. She had to be at least in her mid-twenties. But with her hair in two long braids, and her naturally subservient manner, he couldn’t help but think of her as much younger than her real age. Like a pre-teen getting to eat at the adult table. He could tell she wanted to speak, and often. Her hand clenched around her fork repeatedly. But she held back. Skye introduced her simply as her cousin, nothing more. But Tim couldn’t help thinking there was far more to the story than that. It just wasn’t his place to pry.
Amber placed the last of the vegetables on the table. Next to the other vegetables. And the bread. And more veggies. Ah, the feast of vegans. So he’d have a burger tomorrow on the way home. Surprisingly, the vegetables were delicious.
“What’s the seasoning on these potatoes?” he asked between helpings.
Skye’s mother smiled. “Family secret. But we sell the mixed seasoning in packets to customers.”
It was an odd combination. They lived in a very old-fashioned manner, without a television or computers in the home. No sign of even a radio that he had noticed. And most everything they owned seemed to be made in the commune, from clothing to furniture and everything between. It was almost completely self-reliant, this little community. And nobody was in want. But their business sense was as savvy as any entrepreneur straight out of Harvard. They operated their store with the same family-friendly, local charm as every other place in the commune. But they also had a booming Internet business, as Skye showed him earlier that evening, shipping organic spices and herbs and other food-related items around the country.
“Did your mother tell you about our next trip coming up?” Skye’s father asked. To Tim, he added, “We often travel around the country, speaking at smaller conferences about the benefits of homegrown organics and integrating natural foods into the American diet. It’s a great way to promote the business.”
Skye shook her head. “No. You hadn’t said anything.” But she didn’t look surprised. “When do you leave?”
“Sunday. The Clarks will be watching the store while we’re gone.”
“Will you be going with them, Veronica?” he asked.
Before the cousin had a chance to answer Tim, Amber said, “We were hoping you might take her with you. Let her experience more of the world while we’re gone. We can swing by California and pick her up on the way back.”
Skye looked thoughtfully at Veronica before glancing at Tim. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
He knew that was her way of saying she wanted to. If she didn’t, she would have said so. This was his out. And he wasn’t going to take it. “It’s fine with me.”
Her brilliant smile told him it was the right choice. “Veronica, do you want to come back with us for a bit?”
Tim doubted she was even paying attention, she was focusing so hard on her water glass. But then she nodded. And surprised him by giving more than a one-word answer.
“Yes. I’d like to go. I need to see more. More… everything.” Raising her head, almost defiant in the gesture, she looked him straight in the eye. “As long as you don’t mind the burden.”
“Not a burden. You’re my wife’s cousin. Family’s never a burden.”
She nodded once, and her eyes were shining. Gratitude? It was just a trip to California. How little had this woman been given the opportunity to experience if a simple road trip and a week or two of Cali sunshine had her near tears? Well, it made his wife happy. And that was enough for Tim.
&n
bsp; ***
Veronica watched as Skye and her husband loaded the small car with suitcases. When Tim came to take the one small bag she’d packed, he looked around.
“Got anymore?”
She shook her head and forced herself not to take a step back. Men, even in a platonic sense, were not something she was used to dealing with on a daily basis. But Tim was kind, and her cousin’s husband. She trusted Skye, and therefore she trusted Tim.
He smiled and shrugged. “Makes packing the car easier.” Then he jogged down the front steps and started working on rearranging the trunk again.
She bit her lip, wanting desperately to call back her bag. Tell him not to pack it. That she changed her mind. That she would stay in her safe little bubble where nobody could hurt her.
No. That’s what they would want you to say. Make your own choice.
This was why she came to America in the first place. Why she went against everything her parents believed in to experience life. Now here was a chance to take another step in the right direction. The normal direction.
He finally managed to squeeze her bag in and shut the trunk. And so, shut the door on any chance to change her mind.
This is good for you. You need this.
“Are you ready to go?” Skye walked up behind her from in the house and placed a soft hand on her shoulder. Veronica barely felt the touch at all. “If you want to stay, I’m sure that—”
“No. I need to go.”
Skye said nothing. But her hand squeezed slightly before it dropped away. A tiny show of support. Of encouragement. It was all she needed. Following Skye, she walked down to the car.
“Ready to roll?” Tim asked Skye.
“Let’s do this. I’m ready to head home.”
They both climbed in the car, and Veronica opened her back door. With one final glance at the house she’d stayed in the past few months—her baby step into the real world, she thought of it—she blinked against tears. Peter and Amber had been her saviors. And now she was hoping Skye would be half as understanding.
Her cousin looked back, a sweet smile tilting her lips. “You ready?”
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