Burned Bridges: Oliana Mercer Series Prequel (Crossing Series)

by Marguerite Ashton

  She was in a pouty mood, and that was our cue just to leave her alone.

  “Where’s Kevin?” I asked.

  “Dinner visit with his kids,” Norman said, taking a sip from his mug. “Today, I felt like I was back on my parents’ ranch shoveling manure.”

  “Why?”

  “The lady whose husband I clonked out on during surgery was at the hospital and boy did she make a stir.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I did what my administrator told me to do. I stayed out of her way. I felt like a horse’s patoot by the end of the day, working on loads of paperwork and no patients.”

  “It was just for today,” I said, hoping I sounded consoling enough.

  Norman ate a boiled egg and rye toast while I finished my bagel with sour cream.

  I glanced over at Olivia who was looking out the window. She turned to me, lowered her head and stared at her hands. Was she hoping that I didn’t notice the black circles under her eyes?

  I blew into my cup and took a sip. Duran’s coffee tasted better with two sugars and heaps of cream. Even with the latest news, it was still good enough. Coffee was better than beer.

  “Why did you have me order decaf? You never order decaf,” Norman asked.

  “A healthier choice,” I said, taking another sip.

  “It makes no sense to me. What is coffee without the caffeine?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Norman stuffed the remaining portion of toast in his mouth, cleared the table, including my unfinished bagel and dumped the tray. When he returned, he leaned down to whisper, “Is this the sort of thing you want with Marc?”

  His breath smelled of egg and coffee, homey aromas, but feeling his lips near my neck filled me with an unexpected sensation of butterflies.

  “It’s complicated. I thought so, but I’m getting mixed signals from him.”

  “A baby is supposed to be a miracle between two people who love one another. Not used as leverage to get what a person wants,” Olivia said and started humming a lullaby.

  Norman grimaced. “Let’s go.”

  The sun was a welcoming bath from the air conditioned inside.

  “Hush, little baby, don’t say a word,” Olivia sang in a voice that could make angels cry, “Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.”

  “Traci, you and I need to decide on what we’re getting the birthday girl for a present,” Norman said.

  “I’m available this weekend.”

  “Good.”

  Norman walked us to our cars. “Looks like there’ll be another party to be had,” he said. “Although a baby shower is just for women, my gift to you will be a nice meal.”

  Olivia blew past us. I watched her walk to the car.

  “I’m worried there is more going on with Olivia than she’s telling us,” Norman stated.

  “I think she just needs love. She feels abandoned, and we should do all we can to make her feel wanted. No matter how moody she is.”

  “Maybe.” Norman looked at his watch and put on his sunglasses. “I have an early shift tomorrow. Call me if you need anything.”

  “Why did you ask me that question back in the shop?”

  “What question?”

  “The one about Marc.”

  Norman rubbed his chin and turned to face me, but I couldn’t read his eyes with the sunglasses still on. “Just looking out for a friend.” He waved goodbye, hopped in his car and sped away.

  “Would you like some company?” Olivia asked, sticking her head out the window.

  “Sure.”

  Deep inside, I knew that she cared, but her actions left me wondering if there was an ulterior motive behind them.

  Later that evening, our conversation would confirm my suspicions. To prepare me for the party, we went over what to expect from her mother and stepfather. “They can be loud and rude,” she said. “They hang out with the most disgusting zits on the ass of humanity.”

  From our previous discussions about her family, those opinions were to be expected. The one thing I did not anticipate was her blunt response to what I had seen in her bag.

  “I need you to hold the gun until I ask for it,” Olivia said.

  “To hold a gun? What—”

  “At first I got it for protection. Except now, I’ve had fantasies about doing something else with it, and I don’t trust myself.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Never mind.” Olivia’s chin trembled.

  “Wait a second,” I said, closing the space between us. “You can’t just ask me to hold a gun then expect me to drop the subject. Does this have to do with your brother?”

  Olivia turned away and looked out the window.

  “I received a text from a number that I’ve never called. Talking about an item not being traceable. Was this person referring to that gun?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does this have to do with your brother?”

  She remained silent.

  “Fine, Olivia. I will hold the gun for you. Especially since you’ve left me to believe the worst.”

  She handed me the gun wrapped in a striped handkerchief, and I weighed it in my hand. It was hard to fathom my current situation being in possession of a gun. It was not something I believed in. I disliked having a weapon in my home. I was more for a bat or my cane -- if you gave it a good swing it could disable a person -- but the worst thing someone could do to me was disturb my positivity bubble. It had officially popped.

  I tried, but no amount of internalizing helped. I couldn’t stand not being able to put my perfect little world back together or explain away the problem. “I’m going to ask you to leave me alone for the evening,” I said.

  After Olivia left, I hid the gun in the linen closet, underneath a pile of bed sheets. I shivered as I replayed the conversation over in my mind. If my suspicions were true, then I had done the right by her when I agreed to hide the gun.

  Chapter 4

  At Jensen, Lake, and Powers, Dennis, my favorite member of our janitorial staff, mopped the floors and whistled to his favorite malt shop oldies after everyone who worked in the office had gone home.

  Even as the smell of cleaning products clung to his clothes, Dennis stood out from all of the other janitors. He was the type to say hello to everyone even if they were in a bad mood.

  Dennis was an older gentleman with dark skin and a flat nose. I could see just the crest of his shaven head when we would stand and talk about his Army days, or about his upcoming retirement and how much he was looking forward to being at home with his wife.

  “Guess the rumor’s true,” Dennis said this evening.

  I looked up from my paperwork. “What rumor is that?”

  “You don’t know when to quit working.”

  “Yeah, it’s just that tomorrow is my anniversary and I’m hoping Mr. Edwards will give me the raise he owes me. Goodness knows I need it now.”

  He smiled. “Well, good luck to you. You deserve it.”

  “Thanks.”

  I went back to working on the depositions and updated Mr. Edwards’ appointment calendar. Twenty minutes later I packed up my stuff in the briefcase, turned off my computer and switched over the phones to voice mail.

  I knocked on the glass window to get Dennis’ attention over the buffing machine. He saw me and waved goodbye.

  It was a smooth ride home. The freeway was clear from rush hour traffic, and I had my radio blasting a love song that Marc and I had danced to on our second date.

  Pulling into the driveway, I noticed two parked cars and lights were on in my house. Unlocking the door, I heard voices. One was Marc’s.

  Coming out of the foyer, I could see Marc and a woman standing at the dining room table. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and their closeness was just a little too much for me.

  “Marc?”

  The woman’s hand dropped down to her side.

  Marc looked up at me and smiled. “Hi, sweetheart, glad you’re home. This is Step
hanie.”

  A beautiful blonde with blue eyes, and perfect curves that could make any man, committed or not, want to take a chance with her, walked up to shake my hand.

  “Nice to finally meet you, Traci. Marc has told me all about you.”

  Reluctantly, I touched her fingertips and let go. “And you are?”

  “I’m Marc’s new paralegal.”

  “She’s my temp,” Marc said, cracking his knuckles.

  “Right, that’s what I meant. Sorry.”

  I shifted my weight and said, “I doubt it.”

  “Traci, don’t be rude,” Marc said.

  I burned with humiliation. I was doing my best not to make a scene in front of his employee, yet he had the audacity to talk down to me like I was a child.

  It wasn’t only disrespectful, but it hurt. Other women in my position would have made a spectacle, acting like some half-crazed woman souped-up on PMS. To be honest, it didn’t sound half bad.

  “Can I see you in the living room for a moment?” I asked.

  Marc turned to Stephanie. “I’ll be right back.”

  I worked to gather my thoughts so I wouldn’t look like a jealous girlfriend. “Who the hell do you think you are? Bringing some woman in my home without my permission.”

  “Is it possible for you to bring it down a bit?”

  “Excuse me. You had no right, bringing that woman in my home without talking to me first.”

  “You’re right, I’m sorry. My mistake for thinking you would be sensible enough to realize that we’re working, nothing else.”

  Silence fell between us.

  “Stephanie’s my temp,” Marc said, walking up to me and touching my shoulder. “Dana called in twice this week. I don’t know what the hell she’s doing.”

  “Marc, this is my house. No one is allowed in here without my permission.”

  “Sweetheart, I did not want to take her to my apartment. This was a last-minute meeting. I thought it would be more respectful to you, to bring her here.

  “There is the office, Marc.”

  “Dennis was cleaning. There was no way to concentrate.”

  “Just because you possess a key, it doesn’t mean you have free rein to do as you wish,” I said.

  “You’ve made that very clear,” Marc snapped.

  Disgusted, I turned around and stormed off to my room. I wanted to hate him but couldn’t find it in my heart to do so. Later that evening, Marc came to bed and laid with his back to me.

  Deep inside, I knew I should have handled the situation better and been more of a lady. Or I could have unleashed my temper and denounced her for the blonde tart she was and reamed Marc for speaking to me as if I was a five-year-old.

  If I heard little Miss Stephanie’s name again, it would be too soon.

  After a restless sleep, come morning I wanted a fresh start and an apology. I turned over and shook Marc awake. He opened his eyes and looked at me tenderly. Oh, how I missed those times. It was one of the reasons I had fallen for him, but lately, such tenderness was rare.

  “Are you still mad at me?” he asked.

  “I don’t want to be. But your temp should have kept her hands to herself.”

  “It was no big deal.”

  I pulled away and sat up in bed. “No big deal? You didn’t seem uncomfortable with the, closeness.”

  “You’re hormonal, so I’m going to leave that alone.”

  “Do you think she’s pretty?”

  “Come on sweetheart. Don’t do that.”

  “Why won’t you answer the question?”

  “Because, it’s a trick question. Women do it all the time. No matter what I say, you will not be satisfied. There will always be a follow-up question.”

  I bit on my lower lip. “Maybe we should let the subject drop.”

  “Thank you.”

  Marc’s blasé attitude poked at what was left of my self-esteem and my pregnancy journey was feeling like a one-woman mission into space -- where I was left floating with no real sense of being grounded.

  He ducked, dodged and even rolled out of answering my questions. It was as if he viewed me as a jury to which he delivered a closing argument.

  Marc might have dismissed my silly notions as hormonal but I know hormones didn’t make me imagine the connection he and Stephanie were sharing when I walked in the door. No. That was real.

  Chapter 5

  I met Norman at the Cherry Creek Mall to help him find Olivia a birthday present. Both of us had to work late, and we arrived with an hour to spare. As we went inside, it began to pour. Norman looked up at skylight as the rain pelted the glass while lightning lit up the clouds. “If we keep getting days like this, I may have green grass this year.”

  “I hate thunderstorms.”

  “Why?”

  “Maybe someday I’ll tell you,” I said, stopping at the window of Lydia’s Department Store. “A hundred and fifty dollars for a pair of jeans?”

  “And they’re on sale,” Norman said, pointing to the red tag.

  “The prices here are way out of my range. I’m lucky if I’m going to be able to pay half.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Pay what you can, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  As we continued our search, we passed some specialty shops. There were restaurants for casual and fine dining, and a movie theater with stadium seating.

  Finally, I came across a store that sold exquisite glass and crystal sculptures.

  “Look at this one,” Norman said, pointing to a glass sculpture of a puppy.

  I glanced at it but didn’t feel that would be right for Olivia. I continued to look at some others until I came across a figurine locked away in a display case. “This one is gorgeous.”

  “Would you like to see it?” the sales lady asked. Before we could answer, she seized a set of keys next to the cash register and unlocked the door. Using the tips of her polished nails, she lifted the figurine out, set it on top of the case and wiped it with a soft cloth. “It’s a rotating music box. It plays four nature tunes and is part of the Aqua Series. There is a total of seven. This beauty is number six.”

  I lifted it carefully, tilting it from side to side. The fine details of the hand-crafted dolphin leaping through a wave was impeccable.

  “It’s about six inches tall and laced with 22 karat gold.”

  “You think she’ll like it?” Norman asked.

  Oh yes. It’s perfect. “How much is it?”

  “Our price is $200.”

  “I’ve got sixty dollars.”

  Norman patted his pockets for his wallet. “Don’t tell me I left it in the car.”

  I caught a glimpse of the sales lady grimacing. I suppressed a grin as her caked on make-up bunched up in her folds of her wrinkles. I’m sure she was concerned about losing her commission.

  “Ah, found it,” he said, retrieving his wallet from his coat.

  The saleswoman quickly reverted to displaying her plastic smile when Norman handed her his credit card. “You can never go wrong with platinum.”

  By the time we got back to our cars, it was going on eight o’clock and my clothes were soaked from the rain.

  Just as we planned the night before, the four of us met back at my house, talked for a couple of hours and had a quick meal. Still chilled from the rain, I turned on the gas fireplace.

  “The more I think about it, I don’t feel like I’m going to be another day older tomorrow,” Olivia said.

  “None of us feel our age, unless that is what we want,” Norman said.

  “Tomorrow also marks my one month anniversary of sobriety,” Olivia sang. “So, I can say that every decision made is done with a clear head.”

  “We’re proud of you.” Kevin lumbered out of the kitchen with four diet sodas.

  “Kevin’s right. Happy birthday,” Norman said, producing her present from behind his back.

  “Aw, you guys. Thank you.” Olivia took the purple gift box and lifted its lid. Parting the
tissue paper, she placed the figurine horizontally in the palm of her hand.

  “Read the inscription,” I said.

  “You are now a free spirit, to go wherever you want without permission. No reason to look back on your past, just a promise to go forward and lead a better life.”

  “Here you go,” Kevin said, presenting her with a birthday card.

  Olivia read it quickly and hugged us. “You guys are such great friends.”

  “All of us wanted you to have something positive in your life,” I stated.

  “Hey, look at the water in the street,” Kevin said, pointing out the bay window.

  Norman said. “Doesn’t look like it’s letting up anytime soon.”

  “If anyone’s interested, you can just crash here tonight, and we can go to the party tomorrow afternoon,” I said.

  The three looked to one another.

  “I’m pretty sure Marc doesn’t want to come home and see a bunch of adults spread out on the floor,” Norman said.

  “Marc’s out of town.”

  “Then it makes perfect sense.”

  Kevin said, “I’ll take you up on that offer.”

  “Perfect. I figure we could all camp out here by the fireplace,” I said. “Unless one of you would prefer the guest room.”

  “I worked fifteen hours today. I don’t care where I sleep,” Norman said.

  “Olivia?”

  “Guess I’ll take the couch.”

  “I’ll go grab some blankets and pillows,” I said, yawning.

  When I went to the linen closet, it dawned on me to check and see if the gun was still in its hiding place. It was.

  I chose lightweight cotton blankets and some throw pillows. I dropped them on the floor in the living room and restarted the timer on the fireplace.

  The four of us formed a small N shape around the fireplace and listened to the storm for a bit. Norman and I laid on our sides facing one another with our feet toward the fireplace. Olivia and Kevin were at our heads. The orange glow reflected off our skin.

  Olivia softly slugged Kevin in the shoulder. “I’m sorry for snapping the other day.”

  “I understand,” Kevin said. “When I turned your age, I got married not long after that. That was the worst day of my life.”