Then they’d returned, watched some television, and made more love.
Mo was exhausted, and a wee bit sore. Brian was as well—which was why he was unconscious now. She wished she could curl up with him and sleep alike.
But she could not.
The motel was right near the highway, and the noise of trucks and cars zooming by through all hours seeped into her brain and made a syncopated soundtrack for thoughts that demanded to be thought.
She had so much to tell him, so much she needed of him, and now that they were quiet, everything she’d hoped to leave at home had caught up with her here in Tulsa.
Unwilling to let her demanding thoughts have their way, Mo focused instead on what she had here in Tulsa: her man, returned to her whole.
Brian slept beside her, on his back, one arm flung over his head. They’d left the bathroom light on, and that glow made enough light in the room that she could see his tattoo on his chest. Mo chuisle. And her name. Not Maureen, but the name by which she’d always been known. Just Mo. Just her. Above his heart.
She brushed her fingers lightly over his strong chest, that beautiful image etched into it. His love for her.
His hand came down from the pillow and covered hers. “Hey.”
“Oh—I didn’t mean to wake you.” He was always a light sleeper, but she’d forgotten how light he slept when he first came home. Even in Saigon, it seemed, he’d rested at full readiness.
“It’s okay. I don’t think I was really asleep. You okay, Irish?”
“Mm-hmm.” She snuggled close and rested her head on his chest.
“I don’t believe you.” He tapped her head. “I can hear the gears grinding in there.”
“It’s after midnight, and I’ve just got you back. I don’t want to talk about serious things yet.”
“Okay, that’s not gonna cut it, sweetheart.” Brian sat up and switched on the gooseneck sconce by the bed. They both winced against the sudden light. “Tell me what’s up. Are you thinkin’ about Dave?”
She nodded. But what weighed on her mind was more than he was asking about.
“Ah, Mo. I’m so sorry he’s gone. I want to pay my respects. Will you take me where he’s buried?”
“Aye.” Now her worries and disappointments were loose, so she sat up, tucked the sheet across her chest, and faced him. “I miss him so much. It hurts every day. But there’s more—it’s even worse than the loss of him. We’ve learned things we didn’t know. Things he kept from us. He had a terrible secret.”
“What d’you mean, secret? Shit, he didn’t—there wasn’t another … woman?”
“God no! Brian! Are you mad?”
He blew out a gust of relief. “Sorry, sorry. Then what? Gambling?”
Shocked, she swatted at his arm. “You arse! Who do you think my uncle was?”
“I think he was a good man. But you just said he kept things from you, and it’s got you sitting up at almost two in the morning after I did my damnedest to wear your pretty little ass out, so you tell me. What was his big secret?”
“He was broke. In debt up to his hairline.”
“What? How? How did he keep that a secret?”
“I don’t know. Aunt Bridie’s a mess, Maggie’s hopeless with maths, and we don’t want Robby to know too much, but Roger and I’ve been trying to sort out his books, and dear lord, Brian. It appears the bad economy these past few years crippled the shop, and he was taking out loans with two hands to keep it aloft, paying one loan with the next, each one with more and more interest. It was such a snarl it took us weeks to sort out. We think we’ve got it sorted now, but we’ve got to sell the shop, and even so, we don’t know there’ll be enough in the clear after everything’s paid off to support Aunt Bridie, much less leave anything for Robby or anyone else.” She sighed. “He took a loan against his life insurance, Brian. Even that’s gone.”
“Christ. Come here.” He held out his arm, and Mo took the comfort and shelter he offered. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. This. I just needed to say it out, away from where it’s all happening, where I can feel bad for a moment without having to solve the problems.”
His arms tightened around her, and he buried his face in her hair. He didn’t try to speak, and that was perfect.
This was what she’d needed—to be held, to be worried, to be comforted. She’d needed the chance not to be strong. It was why she’d so craved the weight of his body, the power of his arms: Brian was here, and she could finally let herself feel all the pain and worry and need she’d kept bottled up tight so she could move through her days. So she could work. So she could live. So she could wait.
“Thank God the house is paid for,” she said on a sigh, snuggling as close as she could get. “He didn’t borrow against that. Maggie and Roger are going to move in and take over the bills, so Aunt Bridie and Robby won’t lose their home. But there’s no money for Robby to go to college now. He wants to be an astrophysicist.”
“I love you,” was all he said. “I got you.”
And that was all she needed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
With the US troops finally coming home, the country finally getting out of the death spiral that was Vietnam, there seemed to be less animosity toward returning veterans—at least in Oklahoma, which was the only place Brian cared about. He thought it was naïve as hell and coldhearted to boot; the war had been a disaster, but the US had abandoned the South Vietnamese to certain defeat, after all these years. The war wasn’t over, the US had simply cut and run. But the people here in the States didn’t care about the people over there. They wanted out of the war, and they’d gotten their way.
For Brian’s part, the settling public sentiment—not respect for returning troops, but less abuse—made his life easier, and he’d given all he had to give over there, so he took the good of the end of combat and didn’t think too hard about where it came from. He was home with Mo, and he knew he could stay. They could get started on their future, and make real plans.
The economy overall wasn’t so great, but he had a much easier time finding work, and his Army career had been a help this time, not a hindrance. Within a week of unpacking his duffel and stowing his dress greens in their plastic bag, he’d gotten on as a mechanic at a Sinclair station in the suburbs just south of the City. His boss, Dean Hoffmeister, was a salty old World War II vet, a Navy man who’d done a couple years as an engineer on a PT boat in the South Pacific. They understood each other, and got along just fine.
Less than two months after Brian started at Hoff’s, the lead mechanic got himself killed in a turkey hunting accident, and Hoff promoted Brian. So now, he was working good, normal hours, Monday through Friday, seven to three—close to the same hours Mo worked, though she stayed after school to do her grading and other things—and he was finally earning more than his wife.
And thank fuck for that, because coming in second had worn a sore spot on his psyche for years.
On a warm Friday in late April, the last official day of Mo’s spring break. Brian pulled onto the driveway and cut the engine on his chopper. As was his custom, he walked the bike up the drive, past her Bel Air and his truck, meaning to park at the door of their little garage he used as a workshop.
He was surprised, though, to find their back yard teeming with children. Paul, Jamie, and Kristy were all running around, playing some kind of game that had to do with catching bubbles and yelling “NOT IT,” as loud as possible, suggesting it was a variation on tag, while Mo erected a tent under the cherry tree. Baby Jeffy, not much more than a year old, toddled as well as he could after his siblings, laughing maniacally.
“Unca Bri!” Kristy cheered and veered off toward him. He kicked the stand down and dismounted.
“Hiya, princess!” When she launched herself at him, he caught her and lifted her high. “What’s goin’ on back here?”
“We’re campin’! Auntie Momo said we could make s’mores and tell stories and catch lightning bugs!”
“Are lightning bugs out yet?” April was still pretty early, he thought.
“I suppose we’ll see.” Mo came over, brushing her hands on her hips. She was wearing Brian’s favorite pair of jeans—the waistband rode so low on her hips that the curve of her hipbones showed, they hugged her thighs, and the bottoms flared out to at least a foot wide. The hems were shaggy because they dragged on the ground. On a guy, he thought these big bell-bottoms looked ridiculous. But on a chick? On his chick? Goddamn, she was gorgeous.
That tight little yellow knit top, with the tiny buttons she had buttoned only in the middle, was pretty far out, too.
“Hi, beautiful.” He hooked his free arm around her waist and kissed her. Squished between them, Kristy giggled.
“Hello, handsome. I hope you don’t mind. I tried to call the station, but it was busy. Faye and Lenny have a meeting with the realtor about that property they like, and she asked if I’d watch these ruffians”—she grinned and tugged gently on Kristy’s pigtail. “I offered to give them the whole night. It seemed a grand night for a campout.”
“Are we sleeping out here?” he asked, preparing himself for the worst.
“No,” she laughed. “That wee thing won’t hold us all. Jeffy’s sleeping inside, too, as he’s not yet housebroken. But we’ll have supper and make s’mores over the barbecue, aye?”
“AYE!” Kristy shrieked. She kicked her legs, and Brian set her on the ground. “Come help, Unca! Come help!”
“In a second. I need to get out of my work clothes.”
“Okay.” She wrinkled her freckled nose. “You smell stinky.”
He laughed. “Well, thanks a lot.”
“You’re welcome!” She spun and hurried back to her brothers.
In the moment of quiet, Brian focused on what Mo had said. “Realtor? They’re really doin’ it, I guess.”
While Brian was in Saigon, Lenny had retired from the oilfields. He’d done his twenty years, and it was a union job, so he had a good retirement plan. But now they were talking about picking up and moving, buying a motel, of all things, and taking their four kids to live in the City. He couldn’t figure it, and he didn’t like it, but nobody much cared what he thought.
Oklahoma City wasn’t far. Hell, in the next ten years or so, Shayton would probably be considered a suburb, and people would start building those ugly subdivision things. It wasn’t the distance that had Brian rattled. They’d still be close enough for easy visits. But it was a change of living he couldn’t reckon. Lenny had taken retirement and then made his life—and his whole family’s life—busier, not calmer. He was uprooting his kids from the life they knew—school, friends, neighbors, family. And Faye was stretched to the breaking point as it was, with four kids.
“I guess they are. I think they’re putting an offer in. Faye seems excited about it, love.”
Brian grunted. Faye would do what Lenny wanted and make the best of it. That excitement could be little more than her putting a good face on things.
“I don’t want them getting in over their heads.” In the short time he’d been home, he’d been deeply immersed, standing at Mo’s side, with the calamity of Quinn’s Drug & Sundry—and that shop had been operating for decades. They’d only just gotten all the legal and financial knots untied and had finally gotten an offer on the business not much more than a week ago—an offer that would come close to paying off all Dave’s secret debts, but not leave anything over.
They were due to close in a couple weeks, and, in the meantime, the family was trying to pack up everything that wasn’t part of the sale. The new owners meant to keep the drugstore going under a new name, so they’d bought most of the stock, but after so many years in the Quinn family, the building held personal history as well. It meant going through everything carefully to separate what had been sold from what was personal.
If Dave Quinn could drown after so long in business, which such a strong reputation, how on earth would Lenny and Faye succeed, starting a business in this economy—a business they had no experience in at all?
Such doubts had begun to chip away at his confidence in his own plan as well. But he had some time. He was starting his first business class at Oklahoma City Junior College in the summer. When he bought a business, if he bought a business, he meant to know what the hell he was doing.
“I don’t think either Lenny or Faye is reckless, do you?” Mo asked as they walked into the yard and she picked up Jeffy.
Lenny and Faye had raised him. No two more stable people had he ever met. But then, he would have said Dave had his head screwed firmly on, too. “No. They’re not reckless.”
“So let’s be happy for them.”
Paul, Jamie, and Kristy came over, and Brian stopped worrying about real estate, and finances, and futures. He’d go in and get his shower, and then he’d play with his nephews and niece, and his incredibly foxy wife, and for that evening, they could pretend they were mom and dad and kids.
~oOo~
Brian took the last drag from his smoke, dropped the butt to the sidewalk, and ground it out with his boot. He’d been using smoke breaks as an excuse to get out of the shop as often as he could.
Today was the last day before the new owners took possession of Quinn’s, and it was like a wake. He and Mo had been here since eight in the morning, beating Bridie and the rest of the heartbroken clan by about half an hour. Now it was nearly three in the afternoon, but he didn’t think they were close to done yet.
A steady stream of Quinn’s customers had filed into the shop since Mo had flipped the lights on. People had begun bringing food and drinks in, and yeah, it had become a wake. They stood around, reminiscing, laughing, crying. Everybody had a hug for Bridie, who’d been a sopping mess all day.
He hated to admit it, but he felt superfluous, and it was starting to wear on him a little. This shop was where he’d met Mo, so it held one of his very best memories, but beyond that, he didn’t have a strong connection to the place. He’d been away two of the five years he’d known the Quinns, and Mo hadn’t worked much at the shop since she’d started teaching. Her family was absolutely his family and vice versa; they’d all blended tightly together into one affectionate unit. He missed Dave, too. It had taken some time for them to warm up to each other, but they’d always shared one strong thing to bond over: their love for Mo.
But Brian’s many happy memories of Dave or any other of Mo’s family had happened at the house, not the shop.
He was here today for Mo, but she didn’t need him. She was in her ‘family rock’ mode, being strong for everyone else. Tonight, when they were finally alone, she’d need him. But for now, he was superfluous—and literally in the way. Few of the customers and neighbors knew him, and he’d found himself nudged to the side again and again by people who wanted to get close to the Quinns they knew.
So he stood out here on the sidewalk and smoked, and peered through the windows, feeling like an asshole for being jealous that he didn’t share the day’s grief.
Just as he’d started to go for a fresh smoke, he saw Mo coming to the door, and returned his dwindling pack to his pocket.
Her eyes were red and swollen, and he caught her hands at once and pulled her close.
“Hey, sweetheart. What can I do?”
“I need to get out of here. Roger and Maggie can handle the rest. I can’t take anymore. I need to go someplace and not think.”
“Then let’s ride.” Without even a pause, he pulled her from the door, around the corner, to his bike.
~oOo~
Damn, how he loved riding with his old lady. As soon as they got clear of the little clutch of streets that constituted ‘Downtown Shayton,’ he felt her relax behind him with a great intake and release of breath. Brian settled in on the country road and dropped a hand from the grip so he could take hold of her leg. She rested her head on his shoulder and calmed fully, and they rode.
He hadn’t taken the time to ask her about her handbag, or a jacket, and she wa
s wearing a skimpy halter top that had her whole back exposed, so he didn’t open the throttle too much. They didn’t need to race; they’d already escaped. So they rode easy and took in the afternoon.
Back when they were dating and had no place to be alone together, they’d gathered a few favorite places—secluded little glens and glades in the Oklahoma countryside where they could be alone and free with each other. Good places to fuck and then lie naked and watch the stars, or the clouds, to bask in the warm sun or cuddle together under a blanket and keep the chill at bay.
On this sunny afternoon in early May, Brian knew where he was going. They rode for almost an hour, to a state-run wildlife area. It was a preserve, with no public access, but in his thousands of hours riding the Oklahoma roads, he’d come across an old maintenance road here. One he didn’t think got much use, overrun with weeds as it was, and the chain across the entrance sagging between two leaning, worm-eaten posts and nearly rusted through. You had to go looking to really see it.
He’d found it years ago, only because his bike had run out of gas, and he’d been on foot, walking it back several miles to the nearest station, and had needed a minute to stand the bike and work the knots from his shoulders. He’d stopped about twenty feet from this road he must have passed dozens of times without seeing.
When he brought Mo here, he always killed the engine and they walked the bike in, around the useless chain, trying to obscure their progress—he wasn’t keen on anyone else finding this hidden gem. Because about a quarter-mile into this wildlife preserve not open to the public, it was like a fairyland. A large pond, a bright wash of wildflowers and reeds dancing in the breeze, and dragonflies and butterflies flitting everywhere. Perfect peace.
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