Eleven Days: An Unexpected Love (27 page)

BOOK: Eleven Days: An Unexpected Love
2.53Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

"Yes, I
would
love to go. I've never been anywhere on such a big boat, but I'll give it a try."

She
was
the first woman he dated who
ever considered sailing
with
him. All the other women always complained about leaving friends, family, and work.
Lana
didn't even hesitate.

The waitress came back
with
her
giggle and said. "The chef said if you have a little time he
would
be glad to make you some potato soup." Giggle, giggle.

Lana
could not have been happier.
"
That
's what I'll have and tell your chef thanks you so much, and he made my day."

Mike added. "I'll have the same thing and I'll add a Philly steak sandwich
with
mine."

Giggle, giggle. "What do you want on your sandwich?"

Mike squeezed
her
leg under the table and it tickled
her
. "I want everything on it. I'll trust the chef. Oh, and we both want sweet tea."

She
picked up the menus and said. "I'll bring you some bread and sweet tea." And off
she
went
with
a giggle, giggle.

She
couldn't help herself as
she
moved
her
hand up Mike's thigh and leaned close to
his
ear and said. "Giggle giggle."

As they left the restaurant they were both rubbing their bellies, full to the brim. The potato soup
was
the best they ever had, including Lana's own recipe. The waitress
was
their entertainment, and they could hear
her
giggling waiting on other tables.

Mike started the truck and he took
her
hands
to warm them up and h
e decided keeping
her
hands warm
would
be
his
life mission. Several pairs of gloves
would
be one of the first Christmas gifts he
planned on purchasing
for
her
.

"Where are we heading to next
, I can't wait
?"
She
asked
with
a quick kiss.

"How about the Pilgrim Hall Museum, it has a bunch of stuff about the pilgrims
that
date back to 1620."

"
That
sounds great and what kind of
stuff
do they have there?"

"They have William Bradford's Bible, Myles Standish's sword, the only portrait of a Pilgrim, Edward Winslow, painted from life, the cradle of New England's first–born Peregrine White, the great chair of William Brewster, and I think they have a lot of stuff from Myles Standish."

"Let's go
there. Have you ever been to t
his
museum
?"

"Nope," he answered.

"Do you want
to do something else?"

"Nope."

"Since you live in t
his
area, why haven't you visited t
his
museum before
today
?"
She
was
determined to get more than a one word answer.

"When Kathy and I first moved here we had little kids, and I traveled a great deal
with
my job and
she
was
mom and dad to the kids. Later
she
got sick and …," he choked up and had to regain
his
composure before he could finish. He
was
n't ready to talk about
her
death. "... I just don't like to go to these places alone."

"Mike I didn't mean to bring up past memories, I just want to make new ones
with
you." After
his
answer
she
knew one day they
would
have to sit down and have a long talk about both of their pasts.

"I like to think of past memories, it makes me appreciate every moment I have now, and I appreciate you." He looked down as if he
was
thinking of something.

"Honey, please don't be sad,"
she
said.

He looked in
her
eyes and
his
faced turned pale. "I thought about what it
would
be like if I lost you like I did Kathy.
I don't want to think about it, it might kill me if
that
happened.
Honey, I just don't want to ever lose you."

"You're stuck
with
me forever or at least thirty years."

"
That
's not good enough I want at least fifty years."

"You've got it."
She
scooted as close as
she
could and wrapped
her
freezing hands around the arm of
his
wool jacket.

The
quaint
museum
had
every nook and cranny filled
with
incredible
his
tory. They held hands and walked through the several rooms and read everything on the walls and in the glass cases.

They read about a desk and chair, and how it
was
used signing in laws. The chair
showed
signs of wear.
She
could only imagine the talks
that
occurred
with
the fore fathers sitting in it. The men talked of treaties, laws, women, and Indians. On the desk
sat
an ink well.
Lana
daydreamed about how many quall pens were dipped in it. Maybe a young girl wrote
her
fiancé who lived in Europe.
She
wrote and told
him about their hardships in America.

The pilgrim
s had a very difficult life and might
have starved if it
would
not
have been
for the Indians. Then the pilgrims got greedy and wanted what the Indians had. "You know Mike the Indians led a very simple life and then the white man came and took everything they had."

"Yea and it's sad," he said.

"It
would
be interesting to see how
his
tory
might
have been changed if Christopher Columbus
never stepped a foot on American soil.
"

"All I know is we might not
have met."

"
That
is so true,"
she
said.
That
was
such a nice and simple answer.

The artifacts were impressive and
she
called Mike over and w
his
pered. "I didn't know Myles Standish
was
involved
with
the massacre of Indians.
That
bothers me. Why can't we just all get along
with each other
?"

"You know, I think Myles wife coined
that
term," said Mike.

She
stopped in
her
tracks and tried to quietly laugh. Why
she
tried
to be quiet
she
didn't know, t
hey
weren't in a library and no one stood
around
them
. "Mike you are so feisty, but
that
's okay as long as your t
his
feisty when it comes to my back rub tonight."

"Oh yea," he said as he reached over and took
her
hand and held it. He noticed they were cold. They were always cold. He walked behind
her
and put
her
hands in
his
pockets and he also put
his
hands in the same pockets. "Is t
his
better?"

"Yes, but how
will we
walk around like t
his
?"

"We'll manage." Then he kissed
her
on top of my head. Thinking of
Lana
being cold bothered him to the core. Keeping
her
warm and safe
was
his
job. The idea of keeping
her
near him and protected made
his
heart content.

They spent several hours looking at the all the chairs, desks, writing tools, paintings, and artifacts. They didn't miss one thing in the small museum. When everything
was
examined they decided to head home.

As they walked outside
Lana
bumped into a
man, hard. He almost fell down but s
he
grabbed him
in the nick of time
and apologized. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what got over me. I
must have been daydreaming.
"

Mike stepped between them. He
was
more than
ready to intervene if he had to
but s
ince the guy
appeared to be
nice
about the incident
, Mike relaxed.

"
That
's okay ma'am, by the way is t
his
ramp the entrance to the Pilgrims museum?" Huh, he said museum so funny, like he
was
saying Mooseum.

"Yes sir, t
his
is Pilgrims museum entrance,"
she
answered, but something nagged at
her
.

 

*****

 

When they drove up to the house Mike noticed a light on in the kitchen. "Babe, did we leave the light on
in the house
?"

"I don't remember, but we could have."
Her
nerves started
that
familiar flicker of anxiety.
She
wished Mike
never said a word.
Normally if
she
saw a light on
she
would
just go i
n and turn it off, b
ut
with
all
that
has
happened
the
last couple of days,
her
normal routine
was
not routine anymore.

"Hon, you
wait here and I'll check out the house
." He pulled a gun from
his
jacket and
cautiously
walked in
the house
.
She
nervously waited and decided as long as there
was
n't any yelling
she
thought
she
would
be fine.
With
in a few minutes he returned an
d said. "Everything looks fine and I probably turned the light on when we left.
"

"
I'm sure we did
."

Once they took off their coats, Mike started a fire and
Lana
grabbed some wood to help. Mike stacked the wood in the Boy Scout crisscross shape then he put newspaper under the wood.

"Baby I see you have the fire under control, and you don't need me to supervise anymore. So I'm going to put the potatoes on or they will never get done,"
she
said as
she
patted
his
butt as
she
walked by
him
.

"Don't start something you can't stop. I might have to help you in the kitchen, in more ways than cooking."

"Come on big boy, I'm sure I can handle you."
She
was
hed the potatoes and stabbed them
with
a fork then wrapped them in foil and popped them in the heating oven.

Other books

Little Star by John Ajvide Lindqvist
Blindness by José Saramago
Classic Ghost Stories by Wilkie Collins, M. R. James, Charles Dickens and Others
Sweetest Little Sin by Wells, Christine
Flying Too High by Kerry Greenwood