Look How You Turned Out (33 page)

It is early morning, first week of February and fresh snow blankets the front yard. I see Dad's lights on across the street. I know what he' s doing, sitting in his recliner sipping the first cup of coffee, half-cup only because his hands tremble before his meds kick in.

He's not alone anymore. He has Teresa. I'm not alone anymore. I have Marcus. Marcus isn't alone anymore. He has me.

Juney isn't alone anymore. He never was.

Marcus has told me, in the wee hours, has tried to tell me what it means to have me. So many years alone. He's never wanted another woman the way he wants me. He knows men don't say it, but he won't be like his father and he's the age his dad was when he died, the exact age. He's brought it up a couple of times now, and I've said, "So? I'm not superstitious. Are you?"

He laughs. I pull his plug--his very serious plug.

"You're not him," I say.

I've felt it, this cloud in his mind, this worry about his death. There was a cop killed in the line of duty in Seattle, but still, it always hits hard, always. It happens. You think of the family. You relate.

"Take every precaution…and live," I say.

He squeezes me, but he's silent. Then, "We need to be prepared," he says.

"And we've been over that. I know our money. I know what you want. Beyond that…I can't prepare. Know why? I don't have to, Marcus. You're alive. And you're staying alive," I say.

"We're just talking," he says. "You know how it is."

"So we talked," I say. "When it's your time…."

"Some go too soon," he says. He looks away, maybe at his own limitations.

"Hey," I say, "now you're post-partum. That's what it is my friend. Think about it. You've taken on the world in a very short time and you're overwhelmed."

He laughs a little then gets quiet again.

"Lean a little. You're not alone. You've got Artie over there, and you've got me."

"I know," he says. Well, he knows everything.

I lie awake long enough to hear him lightly snore.

So it's the next day when Artie comes in my office, and I know it's serious when he closes the door.

"First off," he says, "Marcus is fine."

That brings me to my feet.

"He's fine. He took a domestic this morning, and the guy fired shots."

"Dad…."

He's patting the air. "It's all right. He missed. He's in custody."

This makes me plop back to my chair and hold my chest. "Oh God."

Then I spring into action. I gather up Rebecca, who is sleeping at the time, and I'm quickly headed for the door.

"Honey you need to wait here for him," A,rtie says.

"I can't," I answer. I'm quickly to the Jeep loading Rebecca in her seat. A car pulls in right then, the crunch of those tires, the engine the best sounds. I know it's him before I turn.

He gets out, and I shut the door, and I walk to him, then I run.

His arms are around me quickly, and I am buried against his jacket. I feel the hardness of his vest, his turtle shell. I know I can't give him all I feel, not now, and I swallow hard, will it back down. So I pull back and look at, him and there are no words. He's here. That's all. "I love you," I say.

He's the one who swallows now. "It's okay," he says.

I know he'll need to talk to Artie. I know Dad paces in the kitchen.

"He's waiting," I say, and we let go of one another.

But not really. Not ever.

Here's what Marcus tells me later: The guy is waiting in the bushes in front of his house, and he fires off two shots at Marcus as soon as he's out of the car. Marcus draws his weapon and for a minute, it's a stand-off.

"His wife was in there, his kids," Marcus says.

He was able to talk the guy down. By the time David got there, he had him cuffed.

We're both thinking it could have been today, and we're thinking about how it would be for our family and me. Instead, we're sitting here together, holding hands atop the table, the dishwasher humming, Juney doing his homework in the next room while Rebecca rolls around on the floor.

"I believe in what I'm doing," he says.

So do I. One man's sacrifice for what's right benefits everyone. You make their lives better, you make yours better. That's Artie's gospel. But it's ours too, all of us holding this line.

"The day you can't share with me," I say, "is the day we're in trouble."

He raises my hand and presses his lips against it, looking at me the whole time.

It's even sweeter that evening. He's different, helping me clear the table and giving Rebecca her bath and wrestling around with Juney which is how they pretty much hug these days.

I realize what I see on him is…gratitude. I know, I feel it too. We're held by something bigger than ourselves. We both know it.

In bed that night our love-making is fast and sweet. Afterward we hold one another, and I keep running my hands over him, across his chest and down his arms.

He is doing the same to me. There is so much comfort in touching one another like this.

Marcus tells me, "Artie goes twelve years and is never shot at once, and a twenty-eight-year-old cop buys it in Seattle, on a routine traffic stop."

Yeah, we just can't get this world lined out no matter how hard we try.

He clears his throat, I know he's choosing his words with care, "I've had this hanging over me…the pull to do this…and worry about you and the kids. But you were right, and I can't explain it any better than that. It just wasn't my time. And it isn't…until it is."

I stay quiet, waiting.

"It's like…it's all right, you know?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"On the ride to the diner…the craziest thing. I couldn't get to you fast enough, but it's like I knew…it was time to let go. I had just talked Benson into it…but I couldn't do it myself."

"Surrender?" I say.

"That's about it."

Worry is a leak in the boat. I think that's what he's trying to say. When duty calls, he needs to be there…all there.

"I may be sheriff, own a business, have a family, but I don't own life and death," he says. "I don't own time. I don't own the calendar. I don't even own you."

It's almost like we're floating. This is more than a eureka moment. He's had a revelation.

"So you realize that someday you'll die, but you're not going to let it beat you up in the meantime? That's what I hear." I am looking at him, and there is nothing between us but the truth.

"That will do." He kisses me. "That's good."

He swallows. "You were right all along."

He holds me so tightly. He lets it out. I reach hard as I can and get him a Kleenex. For once.

After a while, we're quiet together. We're good, so good. He sighs, and his arms tighten again. "There's no one like you, Bedilia. Not for me."

Well, he's right. But I have to admit, Artie is the one that got him on the hook. I just showed up.

Before we sleep, I have to tell him one more thing. "That part about not owning me," I'm shaking my head. "You own me body and soul Marcus Stover. Just so you know."

The End

Other books by Diane Munier:

MY WOUNDED SOLDIER, BOOK ONE, FIGHT FOR GLORY:  Prequel to My Wounded Soldier, Book Two, Fight for Love: The year is 1866. All across the country men are drifting home from the war. But when Tom Tanner musters out, he doesn’t plan to go home. He has been working in the brickyard in Springfield trying to save enough money to buy a rig and head west. He’s not expecting his father to show up and plead with him to return to the farm. After the horrible loss of his older brother, Tom doesn’t feel worthy of the family’s company. But his guilt won’t allow him to cause them more pain and so he goes home for one last visit. It’s hard to find normal around the folks. The work of harvest provides the perfect distraction. Once the crops are in he’ll go so far away, they’ll never have to look at him again. But his plans are challenged one day. Tom is working in the field when the neighbor boy, Johnny, comes running for help. What Tom finds at the neighbor’s home is a scene right out of the war. But it’s not just about killing. The Missus Addie Varn is ready to birth. Tom wants to run, and he will come fall, but now he must roll up his sleeves and play midwife.

MY WOUNDED SOLDIER, BOOK TWO, FIGHT FOR LOVE: Sequel to My Wounded Soldier, Book One, Fight for Glory:  Tom Tanner has taken on a family. He lived through the war, but becoming a lover and pa to two small children may be the role that breaks him. This is the story of a man’s slow rise from black sheep to patriarch. 1866 is a time of learning to carry on in the aftermath of civil war. Tom is ready to heal, ready to take over Addie’s farm and make it a grand place. He has money from reupping in the war and reward money for bringing a few notorious outlaws. Can Addie’s love help him settle and become an outstanding man like his pa? It’s the only fight worth making-- a fight for love.

LEAPING:  Two lonely souls on the beach. A chance meeting or orchestrated? She invites him to leap to the end of what could be a great time. She has a cabin for three weeks. He has his grandfather’s Victorian house. He doesn’t take chances, as a rule, but he’s been drifting for a long time. Does he have the guts to take her up on the offer? It’s reckless. But his moral compass got reset after the incident. So maybe he’ll leap and see where he lands. 

FINDING MY THUNDER: The story takes place in the late sixties. Hilly Grunier has been in love with Danny Boyd since she was a kid telling scary stories on summer nights at the fire hydrant while Danny pulled close on his bike. But when Danny is thirteen, their friendship ends when he and his brother Sukey have a vicious fight over Hilly. Years pass and Hilly carries a secret and growing love as she watches Danny rise athletically to the top of their school’s food chain. He even dates the prom queen and rumor says they are engaged. Now Danny has graduated and shows up in her dad’s shop looking for some temporary employment until the army picks him off for Vietnam. He’s thrown aside his college scholarship and the golden girl. He seems to be searching for something new before he leaves town. He seems to be searching for her. Hilly can’t let him go overseas without showing him how she feels. But once he’s gone, her own battle intensifies. It’s a long road to finding her thunder.

ME AND MOM FALL FOR SPENCER: The house next door to Sarah and her mother Marie has been vacant since the murder that happened there when Sarah was ten. Their neighbor, Frieda, was like a second mother to Sarah and she died brutally and that event sends a paralysis over this sleepy neighborhood that hasn't lifted for seventeen years. Imagine Sarah’s surprise when the old place finally sells to an on-line buyer. She looks through the thick growth separating her house from the other and a wild man looks back. He’s thirty-seven-year-old Spencer Gundry. Once he shaves the beard and gets a haircut, he’s not hard to look at. Well, Sarah’s mom doesn’t think so. And maybe she doesn't either. The problem is, Sarah has evolved into the neighborhood watchdog and she knows this tumbleweed Gundry has as many secrets as the house he owns.

DARNAY ROAD: Starts out in summer of 1963. Sweet little ten-year-old Catholic school girl Georgia Christine meets eleven-year-old smoker with armpit hair who really does live on the wrong side of the tracks Easy. She and Abigail May are mystery solvers, The Darnay Spies, in their spare time, and Easy Caghan (E.C.) and his brother Cap will keep these two little ladies on their sleuthing toes. Darnay Road leads them into a future where their childish friendship blooms into love. Will the Vietnam War be the one challenge they can’t overcome?

About the Author:  Living comfortably in the heart of America with the people I love. I live an extroverted life, but I'm a genuine introvert. An urban kid, I spent much of my youth running in various neighborhood establishments. There I met many colorful characters and I learned to love them and be fascinated by them. My love of story comes from them. I learned to sit on a bar stool or a kitchen chair or in a pew and hear story. Hear the voices telling story. See the mouths move and the hands clutching glasses or cigarettes. See and hear the laughter. There is no greater honor than to hear someone's story. If you feel that way about the tales I tell...what more could I ask.

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