Charlie Foxtrot

by Lani Lynn Vale

  We sat on the side of the booth opposite of her and her son, scooting and moving until we got comfortable.

  Which meant Blake was under my shoulder, and her hand was resting on my thigh.

  We were touching from shoulder to knee, as we liked to do.

  We small talked for a while, but it wasn’t long before I could tell Blake was getting anxious. Extremely so.

  She’d never been the best at waiting.

  And right now, with her foot tapping on top of mine, I knew she was near her limit.

  “Selene,” I said, interrupting her question about what we were getting to eat. “If you don’t mind, could you tell Blake why you called? I don’t know how much longer I can keep her curiosity contained.”

  Blake shot me a glare, but Selene only nodded in understanding.

  Turning her gaze solely to Blake, she started speaking.

  “I don’t think you really realize what all you’ve done for me,” Selene whispered, looking over at her son with her whole heart in her eyes. “But I had to tell you. Had to thank you.”

  “Thank me for what?” Blake asked in confusion.

  I tightened my arm around her shoulders as Selene continued.

  “A couple of months ago I called 911 because my son was having a seizure. And you were the one to get the medics there. You were the one who spoke to me, calmed me down enough to get my head on straight,” she whispered.

  Blake looked over at the little boy, and smiled. “I remember that. I had wondered how he was.”

  She nodded. “Well, he started out really not well. He was born with a disease where his kidneys don’t do their job right. Over the next few years, we’ve been using all sorts of medications in a vain attempt at helping him, but then he had a setback, and all of a sudden he had renal failure. He was put on a donor list, but we never thought he'd get that bad…but it did.”

  The woman smiled at her son as he interrupted her, holding his page up for Selene to see.

  “It’s beautiful, honey. So beautiful, Holden. Will you draw me another one, please?” Selene said to her son.

  Holden nodded, and dutifully got to work on his newest creation.

  Selene waited a moment, watching her son with such love in her eyes that it made my heart long for the same.

  Finally, she turned from her son, looking back at the two of us before settling her gaze back on Blake.

  “Then, a little over a month ago, I got a call in the middle of the night.” A lone tear slipped down Selene’s cheek. “They said,” her voice cracked. “They said they had a match for Holden, and that I needed to get him to the hospital within an hour.”

  She took a deep breath before continuing.

  Blake’s hand on mine tightened.

  My guess was that she saw where this was going, and was bracing herself to hear what she knew was coming.

  “I got him there in twenty. Rushed him up to the floor, practically shoved him at the nurse, and urged her to hurry,” she sniffled. “It wasn’t until much, much later…about four hours into Holden’s surgery, that I heard how we’d come to get the kidney.”

  Her eyes closed, and her words practically cried out her pain as she said, “It was a police officer that’d been in a shooting. He’d been the one to give my baby boy another chance at life. “

  Blake’s breath caught as she started to cry, and I pulled her into my chest, kissing her temple as she wept.

  They were happy tears, though. That I could tell.

  “He’s…he’s alive because of my dad?” Blake croaked.

  Selene nodded. “Yes. Yes he is. And healthy once again. Something I only dreamed about.”

  ***

  “Do you think my mom would want to know that?” Blake asked me quietly as we were driving home an hour later.

  I glanced at her, and reached for her hand before saying, “I think she’d like it. Yes, I think you should tell her.”

  Blake’s mother was a bone of contention for us.

  Blake really would rather not have much of anything to do with her since she’d treated Lou so badly before he died, yet I felt that she’d suffered enough.

  No one would know if they’d have been able to work it out, because fate stepped in and changed the course of every one of our lives.

  “Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll call her in the morning.”

  “Good,” I said, looking back over at her again to gauge her mood before I breeched the next topic. “You hear about David?”

  She blinked and turned to me, the hue of the red light clouding her face in red shadows.

  “No,” she scrunched up her nose. “What about him?”

  I turned back ahead as the light turned green, and accelerated through the intersection.

  “He’s leaving, effective two weeks from Monday. Got a job up north somewhere,” I informed her.

  She stayed silent for a few long seconds; so long, in fact, that I didn’t think she was going to say anything at all. But she surprised me.

  “I’m not ever going to like him again…but that doesn’t mean I want him to have a horrible life.” I caught her shake her head out of the corner of my eye. “But I’m glad he’s going. He’s got a lot of ghosts in this town.”

  I agreed.

  “So … tomorrow I want to start looking for houses,” I said, tossing her a look.

  She grimaced. “We have a house. Mine.”

  I sighed. “Your house works for now, but I want room to grow. I want to have babies, and build tree forts. And your yard is the size of a postage stamp. Wouldn’t you like Molder to have a bigger yard to play in?”

  I knew that’d work. She loved the hell out of Molder. Even though he ate my boots…and the walls.

  “Fine,” she said stubbornly. “But I want a kiln.”

  I snorted. “As if I wouldn’t agree to that. I find that when you’re covered in mud, you’re quite attractive and enticing.”

  She stuck out her tongue. “I already said yes.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  She growled at my comment.

  Luckily we’d just pulled up to her place, where we now stayed.

  Otherwise I would’ve had to endure the silent treatment. Again.

  Not that she was very good at it.

  Once we entered the house, she walked straight the bedroom where she let Molder out, and I immediately let him outside to pee.

  Then I fed him, locked the doors, and made my way back to our bedroom.

  I stripped off my shirt and started to sit down to take off my prosthesis when my eyes caught Blake in the mirror.

  Half turning to see if what I was seeing was real, I gasped in horror.

  “Please, for the love of all that’s holy, tell me you’re not using my razor,” I said to her stiffly.

  She looked up from where she was shaving her pussy and smiled. “It is. Yours works way better than mine.”

  I blinked in surprise, astounded that she’d answered me truthfully.

  “You know it’s my razor…and yet you willingly continue using it,” I clarified.

  She nodded. “Yep.”

  No remorse in the woman whatsoever.

  “You do realize,” I said, standing up on my one leg to get into the shower. “That that razor touches my face, correct?”

  “Mmmm hmm,” she agreed, going back to shaving.

  “Have you ever used it before?” I asked slowly.

  She nodded. “Every time I shave.”

  My mouth fell open in shock. Absolute shock that this woman…this crazy, exasperating woman, used my razor. The thing that shaved my face every single morning when I trimmed up for work.

  “And you realize that that thing touches my face…right?” I said for a second time.

  She nodded again, not bothering to answer that time.

  I leaned back and flushed the toilet, eliciting an ear piercing scream out of her.

  “What was that for?” She sputtered, as the ice cold water of the shower poured down onto
her.

  Her nipples hardened, and yet again, as always, my eyes zeroed in on those perky little buds.

  “Stay away from me, you horny toad,” she hissed as she saw where my gaze had fastened on to.

  “And if I don’t?” I taunted, staying seated with my prosthesis on the counter beside me.

  She got out, leaving the shower running, and wrapped the towel around her chest, covering all that I loved to taste in one fluid motion.

  “Oh,” she teased, walking out. “I’m sure I’ll find some way to get away from you.”

  Warily, I looked around, trying to find what she’d do to me this time, yet couldn’t find anything wrong.

  Shrugging it off, I stood, then realized that my crutch, as well as my cane, were no longer standing where I’d left them the previous night.

  “Hey babe,” I called behind her. “Have you seen my crutch?”

  She laughed.

  The bitch laughed.

  “Oh, you mean these?” She asked, poking her head around the corner.

  Then she lifted up her hands, showing me the crutch and cane that were in her hand, as well as my prosthesis.

  I glared at her. “Give them to me, you wench.”

  She giggled. “And what do I get if I obey, oh lord and master?”

  I started to hop to her, causing her to back away and start giggling once again.

  I made it to the door to see her collapsed onto the bed wiping her tears.

  “What are you laughing at, you little stealer?” I asked, hopping some more.

  The moment I touched the bed, she started to rise, but I caught her ankle and pulled her back.

  “Eeeek!” She squeaked. “Let me go.”

  Pinning her down, I said, “No. Now tell me what has you laughing.”

  She had to get out a few more giggles before she finally replied with, “Your dick.”

  I ground my erection into her hip, letting her feel the rock hardness of it.

  Something that was a constant bone of contention between me and my dick.

  All the woman had to do sometimes was walk in a room, and it was rearing to go for her.

  “My dick makes you laugh?” I confirmed.

  She nodded. “Yes, you jumped in here and all I could focus on was the way your dick swung with each upward movement.”

  I pinched her ass, and rolled her over onto her belly.

  Then I pressed the tip of my cock against her entrance, and started to slide inside.

  “So…who’s laughing now?”

  She sobered. “Not me. Absolutely, one hundred percent, not me,” she said, pressing her ass back so I slipped further inside.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  Epilogue

  Have fun. Be safe. Come home.

  -Key chain

  Blake

  6 months later

  “Let’s go, I don’t have all day,” Grandpa grumbled, doing his best not to smile.

  I fluffed out my skirt one more time, turned in a circle, and grimaced.

  I looked like a beached whale.

  At five months pregnant, there wasn’t much a girl could do to hide the fact.

  I wasn’t blessed with one of those small bellies, either.

  I was blessed with a large one. One that didn’t hide a single damn thing.

  “You’re pregnant. Yes. You don’t have to keep staring at it.” Grandpa put in his unwanted two cents.

  I stuck my tongue out at him, and finally stepped up to the door that led to the chapel.

  “Ready, Freddy,” I teased.

  He narrowed his eyes at me, stopping me before I would’ve opened the door.

  “You know your daddy was always real proud of you, right?” He asked, touching the tips of his fingertips to my face.

  I smiled, cupping his hand with my own.

  “Yeah, grandpa. I do,” I whispered, a lone tear threatening to spill over.

  He leaned forward and kissed my nose before turning back toward the door and thrusting it open.

  The door banged against the side of the wall, effectively announcing our entrance just as well as the music that was now playing throughout the church.

  Instead of waiting for the music to get to the right point, he started to yank me down the aisle as fast as his arthritic knees would allow.

  “You know, right, that you’ll have to spend the rest of your life with him?” Grandpa asked once we were half way down the aisle.

  I giggled. “Yes, I do know that.”

  I passed Pauline and gave her a little wave before I, once again, got yanked for not keeping up.

  “Come on, slow poke. Your man’s a-waitin’,” he urged.

  I looked up into Foster’s amused eyes, so freakin’ happy that I barely contained the urge to run down the aisle towards him.

  “Go on, you know you want to,” my grandpa said, giving me a slight shove.

  I stopped and pulled him to a stop next to me. Then gave him a loud smacking kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, grandpa.”

  He blushed. “Get on with it. If you don’t hurry you’ll be givin’ birth in front of the entire God forsaken town.”

  I laughed, then started to run towards the man that made my dreams come true.

  His overprotective self, of course, started to freak out that I was running when I should clearly be taking caution in anything I did.

  And running definitely wasn’t taking caution.

  But I enjoyed seeing the panic in his eyes as I launched myself at him.

  I had no doubt that he’d catch me.

  Something he did effortlessly.

  Even going as far as to cushion the impact by hunching his shoulders to allow more room for my belly.

  He spun me around once before turning with me in his arms to face the priest.

  A priest, who enjoyed the display of affection, just as much as the rest of the audience.

  “So…I can see that we’re all excited to be here,” he laughed.

  I nodded enthusiastically.

  “Alright,” he nodded his head. “I was told I had to read this before I began. So here it goes.”

  My daughter and the man that holds her heart,

  I gave this note to your uncle on the off chance that something ever happened to me. He was to give it to the preacher on the day that you married. I only assume that he followed directions, because if you’re hearing this note read aloud, it means that I am no longer of this world. And Darren always was a shithead who refused to follow orders.

  The crowd laughed, my eyes, now watering, turned to Uncle Darren.

  He smiled at me fondly, nodding his head, encouraging me to listen.

  The day that you were born was the happiest day of my life. I never thought that I would ever have something so precious that was made by me. Of course, your mother had a hand in it, too. Yet, I knew, the moment you were born that you’d be my little girl. I’d teach you everything you needed to know to succeed in life. To mold you into the perfect person who’d make some man extremely happy one day.

  And I did. And I know that man standing beside you is extremely happy. In fact, if he has any brain in his head at all, he’s thanking the good God above that you were given to him.

  Foster’s arms tensed around me tightly. “He’s right. I’m fucking ecstatic that I have you. And always will be.”

  From this day forward, you will forever belong to this man. There’ll be days that you fight. Days that you can’t stand the sight of the other. Yet, you’ll forget about it, because you love each other. You will have a fight, and the next thing you know you’re cooking dinner together and neither one of you will remember what you were fighting about twenty minutes before.

  A word of advice to my son- in- law, she’ll bring up things that happened a year and a half ago in a fight about what you want for dinner. It’ll happen. Trust me. Blake is a shit when she’s in a bad mood. Stick with her, though. She’s worth it.

  I laughed, wiping the tears from my eyes, thankful that
I’d worn waterproof mascara.

  To my Blake, I hope you realize just how much you meant to me. How much I regret not being there to walk you down the aisle. To give you away to the man that I know will take care of you for the rest of your life.

  You’re the beat to my heart, and I’m so proud of you.

  I love you with all my heart, and I will always be watching over you.

  Dad.

  I hiccupped a sob as I turned my face into Foster’s chest, grieving once again for the man that I missed with all my heart.

  “The priest said ‘shit,’” Foster said into my hair.

  I laughed into his chest before I leaned back and stared up at the man I was about to marry.

  I knew one thing for sure, and that was that I was one happy woman.

  I was marrying the man of my dreams. I was pregnant with his baby. We had a house that was beautiful, and we both had jobs that we loved.

  I couldn’t ask for a single thing more than I already had.

  ***

  6 months later

  Foster

  I walked into the room, tired as hell from a shift that went from eight hours to twelve.

  I’d just started heading to a call when the pager that I was forced to carry for any SWAT callouts went off.

  Now, after a four hour long hostage negotiation call was over, I was finally getting home to my family.

  I wasn’t sure if they’d be up or not. Beckham’s schedule was still pretty sporadic.

  At two months old, she still got up every three to four hours like clockwork to eat…and that was if she even went to sleep afterwards.

  I found my two girls watching TV.

  Well…Beckham was in her swing, swinging away while she stared at the TV.

  Blake was on her back on the couch, arm thrown up over her head while she slept.

  She looked beautiful, even if she was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, and was sporting a giant white stain on her chest from what’d I assumed to be spit up.

  Beckham cooed as I walked over to her.

  Turning the dial off to stop the swing, I picked her up and cradled her against my chest.

  She smelled like baby lotion. The one in the purple bottle that was supposed to help her sleep. Yet, here the girl was, at 1:35 A.M. Still wide awake while her mother sacked out on the couch.