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Randall
TRACI ANSWERED THE door without a word and walked back into the kitchen, visibly upset. Randall had a few hours off and jetted over to be with her. He had picked out the perfect engagement ring, a 3.05 carat yellow diamond center mounted with two half-moon white diamonds along each side of a platinum and yellow gold band styled in a fancy sunflower and daisies relief. He had never seen anything like it before. Ray had really helped out at Jameson’s. Now he was waiting for the perfect time and place to ask her ... his stomach flipped again ... to be his wife. Why was he so nervous? The right moment would present itself, he just had to stay calm. Don’t rush it, he thought. Right now, she was upset. “I'll fix that in a few short minutes.”
She opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water. He closed it, put the bottle aside and kissed her. Her hair was damp with a faint scent of coconut as he found that tenderness under her chin with his kisses, down the front of her neck and the sweet spot along her collarbone, scented with the perfume he loved. She had told him the name, but he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t think of anything except, “This woman.” Already he was lost inside the taste of this woman, everything else was drifting out of his mind, the investigation, the news reporters demanding answers that he didn’t have. And now on top of everything the police union negotiations had hit an impasse at the most critical time when he was fighting for overtime pay. He was getting pushback for the staffing levels he had assigned to the Charlotte Carter case instead of other “politically pleasing pressing” issues, like enforcing curfew and truancy codes, but right now, it was all fading to black like they didn't exist. Just like that, he let it all go and started unbuttoning her blouse. “How many buttons are there on this thing?”
“Randall ...”
“So many buttons” he slid his hand under her blouse and up her back. The sensation of her soft skin ... he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He just wanted to get lost in those lips.
“Yes, angel, what is it?”
“Randall ...”
“Does she really want to talk to me now? No, ugh ...” He pulled her tight against him. He needed this time to just ... not think.
“I need to ask you something.”
“Let it be quick. A sports bra? Ugh, I'm gonna need some help here.” He took a breath and settled himself. “Okay, ask me anything you want.”
“I wondered if you would take Milo into the station with you one day, soon. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you. Maybe introduce him around, let him see how things work and get an idea of the other side of law enforcement.”
“Why is she doing this? Seriously, why?” He dropped his head against her shoulder and whispered through gritted teeth, “You want me to what?”
“Please.”
“What's the quickest way out of this?” He took his hands off her and folded them on top of his head. “Okay, sure. I can probably arrange something through our Community Outreach team.”
“You promise to be with him, though. Right?
“Sure ...”
“Great, I’ll call Moe and find out his work schedule.” She walked out of the room and left him standing alone with the cats. He looked in the crockpot on the counter and filled a plate with beef brisket and potatoes. He gave a side-eye to the grilled cauliflower “steak” and other faux meat under the glass lids and sat down at the kitchen table.
Traci returned, humming a little tune and started to prepare a plate for herself and added something green from a bamboo steamer on the hotplate. She added a portion of that next to his brisket. He removed them and put them on her plate.
“It’s asparagus. C'mon, you might like it.”
“Well, that's possible. But I don't want to like it.”
“That doesn't make sense, Randall.”
“No?” He looked up. Her expression looked innocent but was there something in her tone? “Why not? I like what I like, okay? This ...” he said pointing to the mound of beef drenched in gravy, “this is what I like. Just because you're making all these changes doesn't mean I need to, as well.”
“Oh.” She looked crushed. “I see.” She started pushing the food around her plate.
“What am I doing? Oh, good God, how did we get here?” He pushed his plate away and wiped his mouth. “Listen ... the food, the meditation stuff, and ... all I'm saying is ... what I meant is ...” She was stabbing at her food now. Not good. She was about to shut down on him. He could feel it.
“I know what you mean,” she murmured.
“How do I fix this?” he thought. It was like Traci was making Milo part of a 'package deal to be with her, and he didn't know how to feel about that. Every time she was in contact with that kid it was an automatic bad mood full of worrying and he was left to shovel her out of that pit. He was getting tired of it. “I'll be back,” he said, stood up and left.
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THERE WEREN’T MANY places he would go when he felt the way he did right now, like his head was going to blast open. Jay’s Fitness was blocked off due to an annual full facility sanitation. The gun range was closed, and he didn’t want to bother RD again so soon. He made the turn onto the exit leading to Crown Hill and followed it to the furthest ridge of Riverview Memorial Cemetery. He sat for a few minutes in the silence, then climbed out of the car and walked toward the sun. Fifteen yards from his parking space, he knelt and whispered a prayer. He opened his eyes and brushed the twigs and dried leaves from the space in front of him.
REMY JAMES WELLS
Husband, Father, Soldier
Brave in spirit, strong in love.
“I got Roxy up and running now, Pops.” He cleared his throat and continued sweeping away the dirt from the headstone. “I wish you could see her go. I figured out the timing problem. Then, there was the oil pressure and ... well, nothing major. New glass, rims and trans. All stock. It was hard to find but worth it. Not another one on the road like it. I wish we could’ve finished it together. I sure could use one of your talks right about now. I fixed the car and made a mess of everything else, it seems.”
He noticed Reverend McMoultry consoling a widow near a plot about thirty yards away. He knew the family and the cause of death. Motorcycle accident, fatality, teenage boy from Bay Farm Ridge. Kid misjudged the length of the curve and spun off the side. Randall had been at the scene of the accident. Peer pressure, lack of parental involvement, alcohol and drugs. He had seen it dozens of times. Each one meant a visit to an unsuspecting mother to deliver the worse possible news. He considered walking over to pay his respects, but he didn’t trust himself to have the right words right now. Reverend McMoultry stayed back from the small gathering as they dispersed, providing an opening for Randall to acknowledge him. He did. And the minister joined him.
“No matter how many years it’s been, it still grips your heart the same,” Reverend McMoultry said looking down at the grave. “You remind me of him. He would be proud of you.”
“I don’t know. There’s some things I need to work on ... in me,” Randall said. “Sometimes I’m, well, I should be more patient, I guess.” He looked past the reverend toward the sky where the sun had begun its descent. Summer was passing and the days were becoming shorter. They should both make their way out of the cemetery, but he wasn’t willing to let go right now. “When I was in the service, I saw some things. I did some things that I’m not proud of.” He patted his chest. “It’s like I’ve got to keep everything under control, but I know deep down that’s impossible. So, I’m constantly fighting in here and it just spills over.”
“Listen, son, every person that’s been to war comes back with a story they’re never gonna tell,” Rev. McMoultry said looking directly into his eyes. “If you didn’t control your surroundings, you might not make it home. Sure, that stays with you. You never forget what happened over there. You just find a way to keep it caged up inside. But that doesn’t always work. You need a friend in your life that understands and will stand by your side. You got that in me.” He stepped forward and pointed at the gravestone. “I knew your father, Remy James. He wasn’t a perfect man. Who is? When your brother didn’t come home, it really took its toll on him. But if you’re half the man he was, you’re among the best this country could ever have in uniform. Just don’t forget who you work for and why. People need to feel like they can trust the man wearing that badge.”
“Honestly, there’s only one person’s trust I care about right now. And, if I can’t figure things out with her, I’m not sure ...”
“Here’s my personal cell number. Don’t be ashamed to use it.”
“Thank you.”
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RANDALL TOOK THE LONG way back to town. The fresh country air and a few moments with Reverend Mac was the refreshing his mind needed. He took off his sunglasses and clipped them to his collar. It was getting late and he was running out of daylight. Working those long hours meant he had no sense of “normal” time anymore. Traci was probably right. Chances were Charlotte Carter was nowhere in Faucier County, but he couldn’t tolerate that woman being free to cause more trouble or worse, death. Serving warrants and searching every possible location for her and coming up empty every time was like walking barefoot through a mud pit.
He pulled into the driveway, added a quart of oil and slammed the hood shut. He grabbed his bags and met Traci on the back porch. She was sitting cross-legged on the chaise wearing a slimy green mud mask on her face. “Steady, that’s a live wire.” He took a deep breath and approached her.
“I'm not sure what just happened, but I’ve been told that all couples have arguments. That it's normal. The key is to “fight fair”. Honestly, I'm not sure what that means. But I want to learn. I want us to figure this out ... together.” He stepped closer and held out the little brown bag. “And, I brought a peace offering. I drove through Yo-So-Good and got you one of their frozen yogurt specials. It's full of those berries you like.” He held up the bag and read the label. “It says 'gluten free, no preservatives' and it's got those ... umm, probiotics ... and ...”
“Randall, I'm vegan now.” She stood up and walked in the house.
“Good God, I can't catch a break.”
