Beyond The Ghosts (Legacy Falls Project) (12 page)

With less than twenty-four hours until show time, the house was buzzing with activity when Dad and I got home from the shop. The ladies of the Rotary were still spread out in the dining room, so Mom served us our dinner at the kitchen table. The kitchen table was full of food as crockpots and steamer trays galore lined the surfaces of the kitchen sharing power strips keeping their contents warm. The ladies had escalated from finger foods to full potluck status as their deadline approached. 

My dad ate quickly and grabbed a few pastries and wrapped them in a paper towel before heading to his bedroom. He would be happy when the event was over and he got his house back. Christina found me in the kitchen serving myself a second helping of Mrs. Jones' shepherd’s pie. 

"Hello, beautiful," Christina looked behind her to see who I was talking to before meeting my gaze again.

"I'm talking to you. Which one of these dishes is yours?"

"I made the pigs in a blanket over by the toaster."

"I haven't even made it over there yet. I will have to try them out." Christina grabbed a few from the steamer tray and put them on a small, round, paper plate and put them beside my bowl of shepherd’s pie. 

"Come here." I wrapped my arm around her waist and drew her back to me, landing her on my lap. "I have a question for you."

"Anything."

"Wanna take a trip with me to Texas? I can't say it's going to be tons of fun since it's for a funeral, but it will be a nice ride."

"Sounds like fun. I can ask for the days off."

I leaned her back to give her a kiss. 

"What was that for?" she asked, breathless, cradled in my arms.

"Aren't you supposed to kiss the chef?"

"I only made the piggies. They're not even hard to make."

"You could make me a peanut butter and jelly; and I would still kiss you." I leaned down again to sweep my tongue across her mouth, but one of the ladies came in in search of something to drink.

Christina straightened up right away and walked away from me putting some distance between us. 

The Rotary lady retrieved a drink and went back out to join the group. 

"Why are you so jumpy?" I asked her. 

"Me? I'm not jumpy."

"You practically flew out of my lap."

"Sorry, I just don't want them to start gossip about nothing." The last word stung, and I wasn't sure how to proceed. 

"It didn't seem like nothing, Christina."

She lowered her head and picked at her invisible hangnail. 

"Is it nothing?" I asked.

Her head snapped up, and her eyes narrowed in on mine. "You're the one who said you weren't built for relationships. So, you tell me."

I
did
say that. Open mouth, insert foot. When I didn't say anything else, she turned on her heels and left the kitchen. 

I was batting a thousand. 

I sat up in my room basically avoiding Christina. Her words still rang in my ears and I saw the hurt on her face. That was exactly what I warned her about. I just wasn't cut out for relationships. I didn't know what she wanted from me. 

My belly growled, and my bladder kicked me in the gut. I got out of bed to use the bathroom and then ambled down the stairs to the kitchen to grab a snack. A few ladies sat huddled with my mother at the dining room table going over last minute details for the Memorial Day event as I passed through. 

I walked into the kitchen and Pierson was leaning forward with both hands on the counter in front of the sink. It wasn't until I heard her squeaky little Munchkin voice did I realize Christina was on the other side of his wall of a body. 

"What are you doing, man?"

He didn't even turn around to face me. I saw Christina trying to wiggle under his arms to get free, but he shifted to the side blocking her passage. 

"I'm just getting to know this sweet little bird a little better." 

Fire consumed my veins and a warm flush emanated throughout my body. I saw red and grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around. Christina scurried out from behind him and the terror was clear on her face.

"I wasn't done. What the hell, Sarge? We were just talking."

My arm snapped back, and my fist connected with the side of his face crunching his nose. 

"You owe this young
lady
an apology. We don't treat our Southern women like birds. Stay away from her, or you will have me to deal with."

"I didn't know you already claimed this one, Sarge. She was down here all by herself. I figured she was free game."

Pierson didn't know when to shut his mouth. I punched him in the face again, clipping his eye, and he went down. I went to Christina's side and held her to my chest. 

"I'm sorry for him."

"You
know
that guy?" Christina screeched.

"He is in my unit."

"I guess he was absent on Manners Day," Christina barked past me as Pierson tried to stop the gush of blood flowing from his nose.

"Well, he just got a refresher lesson."

"It's probably time I got heading home. Big day tomorrow."

"I think you broke my nose, Sarge," Pierson whined through a fistful of paper towels.

"Suck it up, it's nothing a little duct tape can't fix. You're lucky that's all I broke."

Christina giggled and shook her head at me. I leaned down and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips before she went out to the dining room to say her goodbyes.  

"Shit, shit, shit. Sarge I didn't know. Dammit. I guess I deserved that."

"If you are looking for a piece of ass, look somewhere else. Lesson number two: Don’t shit where you eat."

"Hurrah, Sarge." Pierson gathered some ice in a plastic storage bag and placed it on his face avoiding any remaining women on the way to the guest room. 

Despite all my mother's worries, the Memorial Day dedication service for the Pleasant Street station went off without a hitch. The event drew a large crowd. Nearly every resident in town was in attendance from what it looked like. It equated to lots and lots of shaking hands and standing in the long receiving line. 

The dedication plaque read:

"Dedicated to the Pleasant Street Station on this day, 31 May 2016, for her dutiful service and commitment to our military, active and retired. God Bless this train. Legacy Falls Rotary Club."

There were a few other veterans but Pierson and I were the only ones dressed in our dress blues. Others sported veteran hats and various pieces of retired uniforms and jackets with their insignia and medals proudly displayed. We stood alongside the lady officers of the Rotary, including my mom, the mayor, and the Pleasant Street Station Master for countless pictures with the plaque and during its placement before heading back to Town Hall for the dinner banquet. 

Pierson's blackened eye and bandaged nose weren't questioned beyond our household; he didn't know anyone in town. People created their own stories, and he let them fly. Mom, of course, noticed, and when she questioned the cause, he dodged the inquiry and eventually was bailed out by my father who simply stated, "Boys will be boys". Avoiding any further pressing on the subject, he made himself scarce around the house, and I wasn’t sure where he went or what he did, but he would return after dinner hours where my mom had made him a plate and left it in the microwave for him. 

On Wednesday, Pierson heard from Goemans' mother. It was time to bury her son. We were going to leave early in the morning. It was a day's drive from Legacy Falls to Fort Hood, Texas but we wanted to drive during the day and at a leisurely rate. Pierson left out as soon as word came from Mrs. Goemans so he could help her with the arrangements. We were taking Christina's car because it was great on fuel mileage, but not the most comfortable ride so I allowed plenty of stretch my leg breaks.

Bright and early, I met Christina at her apartment at five in the morning where it looked like everything black colored was laid out on her bed. 

"I don't know which dress to wear. Or should I wear pants? You're wearing pants."

I laughed out loud at her ridiculous statement, but she glared at me. "Of course I'm wearing pants, I'm a man."

"You know what I mean."

"No, no I don't. I have never ... Okay, correction, except that one time I lost a bet with my sister ... I don't wear dresses."

"Well, I don't want to be disrespectful to his memorial service."

"I don't think people will be judging your little black dress choice."

"I will take both and a pair of pants just in case."

"Christina, you are being ridiculous. We will only be gone for two days. How much stuff are you packing?"

Her red, hard-cased, carry-on suitcase was laid out on the floor but didn’t have one stitch of clothing in it. Hair products, a flat iron, at least three pairs of shoes and various toiletries filled the case. The matching red wardrobe bag was buried under her outfit choices on the bed. 

"Where is your stuff?" she asked me desperately.

I pointed to my garment bag and backpack resting on the side of her couch. 

"That's it? That is all you are bringing?" She let out an exasperated sigh and stuffed most of the contents on her bed into her garment bag and threw one more pair of sandals into her carry-on. "I guess this will have to do."

It was only a few hours to Beaumont, TX and we were well ready for lunch. The great thing about Beaumont was Pappadeaux restaurant off of the I-10 that sported a huge sign featuring $30 all-you-can-eat lobster.
Challenge accepted.
 

We pulled in and sat down and ordered the sides for our meals. The lobsters were a pound and a half each and the platter of sides came with a cup of soup, side salad, a choice of potato, and coleslaw. Our waitress was a young, long-haired blonde who handed us plastic bibs after writing down our order. 

"Can I get you guys something to drink?" she asked.

"Some sweet tea please and a couple glasses of water."

"Anything else?"

"Is it really all you can eat lobster—" I looked for her name on her rectangle badge on her polo shirt "—Megan?"

"Yes, Sir. Just let me know when you are ready for the next round."

"In that case, you should probably bring them out two by two. Just to save time."