Footprints Page 3

  “Hmm, how’s Mark?” she asks.

  I choke as her words sink in, wanting to laugh out loud, you know that whole roll-on-the-floor laugh, but I don’t. My mother is being a bitch and she knows it. Mark is Annie’s boyfriend, they’ve been together for about two years now. They’re a great match, but knowing my uncle, he wouldn’t necessarily approve of her choice. As much as I love him, he has a very one sided view of things. Mark will surely be enlisted, but not an officer and unfortunately in some circles that’s frowned upon.

  “Oh, he’s good!” she snaps. She knows where my mom is going with this and by her tone she’s nipping it in the butt real fast.

  “Mom, let’s go. See you later, Annie. Love you.”

  “K, bye,” she growls.

  As much as I love my mom, she can be a royal bitch. The last few years have not been easy on her, emotionally and physically. She tries, I know she does, but she lost a part of herself when he died.

  No words are spoken as we take the short drive to the cemetery. No matter how many times I drive down here the images and memories never fade. Black cars lined up, flags flying, motorcycles glide by, everyone mourning. I don’t come down here as often anymore, I can’t stand the thought of stumbling on another funeral accidently. The sound of the gun shots, the flap of the flags, the mournful cry of their family. It is just too much to bare.

  Pulling into the small parking lot, my mom puts the car in park and kills the engine. As if on cue we both look at each other, no matter how many times we do this it never gets easier. Smiling and nodding, we both let out a full breath and open the car doors.

  The first time we visited his grave together after the funeral, neither of us would leave the car. We just sat and stared out the window. We sat there for hours, people came and went, people stopped and looked. No one phased us while we had our eyes locked on him. Or what was left of him. Someone obviously saw and raised the alarm, because about three hours into our standoff, Uncle Crass showed up. Pulling my mom from the car, he sat her in his. I sat watching the trade-off. Grandpa drove off with her in my Uncles car, and he jumped in ours, laying a small kiss on my cheek before taking me home.

  No one spoke of that day, it was never brought up, but for my mom and me it was a breaking point. We knew then that we couldn’t go on like this, that walking around like zombies wasn’t helping us or anyone else. The next day, our life changed and we started trying to get back to normal, well, as normal as we could.

  Breath, step, breath, step. It’s our simple mantra. It helps, with each step, we take in a cleansing breath, with each breath, we take one more step. His stone stands in front of us, as shiny as the first day it was laid. I stand for only seconds before a years’ worth of emotion rushes through my body. Falling to me knees, head in my hands, I cry. I cry for all that he was and what he has become. I shed the tears for all that he has missed and all that he will. He’ll never lay eyes upon the woman he swore to love and protect for the rest of his life, as she grows old. He’ll never take these steps with me as I graduate, or maybe even down the aisle. He’ll never hear the pit pat of the tiny feet of his grandchildren.

  I sit and listen as she talks to what looks like a slab of marble to everyone else, but to her it’s him. Standing tall and proud, just like he once did. She tells him all the events over the last couple of months. I feel my eyes roll as she talks about me and my dream to get out of Florida. I can see it now, he’s doing the same thing. The thought brings a smile to my face, we both love my mom very much, but sometimes she can just be so damn overprotective, meddling even.

  Her tale comes to an end just as the sky turns dark and the clouds erupt into a light show. The first drop of rain hits my noise making me shiver with the chill. The wind turned cold real fast, I struggle to keep warm.

  I lay a hand on her shoulder as she kisses his gravestone. The fallen leaves whip and whirl around the base. Broken twigs bounce across the ground, biting my heels while they fly by.

  “Mom, it’s time to go,” I say, grabbing her hand squeezing it.

  As though she snapped back to the here and now, she turns smiles and nods. Tears still stream from her eyes when we lock hands and run back to the car. Once back inside, we both do that verbal shake. You know, where you make some strange noise. Thinking it might actually fight off the cold.

  That’s it, another year has come to an end. I stare through the window as it fogs up, and blow him one final kiss.

  “Visit me in my dreams, daddy,” I sigh.

  Again we drive in silence, on days like this we don’t talk much. We are both sitting at the edge of a blade, where one wrong move will get us hurt. We learned that the hard way, a few years back. It took many weeks before we spoke to each other again. The family held a small intervention and so it began, hours and hours of things that should’ve been said years ago. We grew stronger that day, learned each other’s limits and how to respect them.

  Today, she’s the first one to break the silence. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, it’s just one that we need. “Lunch?”

  At the mention of food my stomach growls. With all the anxiety today, I skipped breakfast. Sliding my watch around, its 12:30. Gee, where in the hell did the day go?

  “Sure, Mason’s?”

  “Ohh, Masons, I haven’t been there in years. That’ll be nice,” she chirps

  Just like that, the last few hours have been moved to the back of our heads, because we both know that dwelling won’t get us anywhere. A mother and daughter lunch will, though. She’s right, it’s been a long time since we have eaten at Masons, together anyway. I go there at least once a month, though I have to admit, my time there has steadily become less and less. The crowds are just getting too big. Temptation is right there, staring gawking at me every second of the day. So, I tend to stay away from the local hangouts. I’m good friends will Bill who is the delivery boy. If I’m in the in the mood for some BBQ, but not the predator-like stares, I give him a call and he hooks me up.

  It’s been rumored that he has a thing for me, he’s teased every time we bump into each other. He’s a good kid though, he just lets it roll of his shoulder and unlike everyone else, I know the truth. A truth that very few will ever know, whilst we still live in Florida.

  The rain begins to beat down on the windscreen, making it hard to see the sky through the mass of thunder clouds that have rolled through in the last ten minutes. Just as we pull into Mason’s rear parking lot, a lightning bolt cuts through the sky, setting the wicked clouds alight. It’s beautiful. I love the rain, no matter how hard it falls. I love the feel of the cleansing drops as it rains down on me. It’s refreshing. My mother shoots ahead of me, dodging the drops that’ll hit her anyway. Me, on the other hand, I take a slow walk to the back door. Loving the cool breeze, and the sensation of the rain hitting my face.

  “You might wanna get inside, ma’am.”

  His voice makes me jump. I look around, but I don’t see him. My heart rate jumps up a few beats as I search the parking lot. I can feel him behind me when I turn sharply. I come to an abrupt halt into a strong chest. His body is soaked through, his hair dripping with the ever flowing rain. Suddenly, I don’t feel the drops that were once beating down on my head. I can tell his arm is slightly raised, but I can’t see why. Wiping my eyes with my hands, I get rid of the excess water so that I can look up. It’s an umbrella that shields me from the skies stinging drops.

  “Ma’am,” his hand signals the door.

  I swallow hard, recognizing him. Thomas? Toby? Damn it, what’s his name again? When we reach the door, he pulls the umbrella from above my head, it’s then that I look up at him and man, do I get an eyeful. His eyes are a deep Hershey chocolate brown, and I could’ve sworn his hair was full blond, but up close, maybe because it’s wet, it seems more like a dirty blond. Lines of color seep from the roots. His face is just, damn, it’s perfect.

  Mentally, I scold myself for surveying each of his features with great detail. Way more detail than
necessary.

  “Um, thank you. Uh- the door,” I stumble with my words while I reach for the door.

  Then he smiles, OHMYGOD, get me the hell out of Florida, like right now.

  “Riley, get in here, you’ll catch the death of cold out there. Tanner put the girl down and get that case out of the back will ya.”

  What the hell? He isn’t touching me! Why would Jake say such a thing? My cheeks warm up and I blush. Tanner takes a step back, but never takes his eyes off me.

  “Yes, sir,” he deadpans. Then a small crease lines his face as he smiles at me and walks away.

  “Hi, Jake,” I smile.

  Jake is the owner of Mason’s. He is a funny old guy. It’s a shame that I don’t come here more often, because I love that man. He always knows how to make me smile. It’s like he can read me, like he knows what’s running through my mind. He also has the uncanny idea that ice cream fixes everything from a scraped knee to a broken heart. At the age of ten and with a scraped knee it worked, but at the age of thirteen with a broken heart, not so much.

  “Whatcha doing, little lady?” he asks, leaning against the bar, flapping those big eye brows of his. I love this man, just being around him makes me smile, and today is no different. The look in his eye though, I know what he’s after.

  Walking up to him, I place my hand on his (he’s such a sucker) and he leans in closer so I can lay a small kiss to his cheek.

  “Aw, thank you, sugar. Now you stay away from my boy, ya hear. I don’t need your Uncle Crass over there knocking him around.”

  I follow his eyes, and seated next to my mom, arm around her shoulder, smiling is my Uncle. I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks because he’s been gone on some sort of ‘training mission’. Uh-huh… hey, news flash guys: I’m not five. As much as I regret ever learning what both he and my father did for a living, I know and try not to think about it. I just pray he comes home alive.

  “Your boy?” I question innocently.

  His boy? In all the years I’ve known Jake, he has not once mentioned having a son, or a grandson. If I’m being honest, I can’t recall him ever talking about his family, at all. From the look on his face, he seems slightly amused by my question. Hmm, well, this isn’t odd at all or anything.

  “Riley!”

  Uncle Crass hollers at me from across the small bar. His voice echoing through the room. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he’s furious, but behind that strong-toned man is the sweetest person you’ll ever meet. He stands around six-three, six-four when he is in full gear, his head shaved to skin. And he always takes good care of himself. He never married, which makes me sad. Such a great man, with so much love to share should have someone close by him.

  Giving him a small wave, before I move I take one final look at Jake. A smile creeps across his face.

  “Yes, my boy. Tanner is my son from my first and thank god, only marriage. He is here visiting me and his sister before he heads out of town for a while.” As he speaks his expression changes. Again, just one of those sayings that mean something else.

  Out of town in these parts along, with training missions, generally mean that the person’s deploying. See, just one more reason I shouldn’t be here. Even if I was remotely interested in him, which I’m not, I couldn’t even be with him. It goes against the one thing that I swore I’d never put myself through. I step away and his hand lands on my arm.

  “He’s a good kid, Riley.”

  That’s all he says, before he turns and walks away. I’m frozen to the spot. Whatever could he mean by that?

  Come on, Riley. You know exactly what he meant by it, I scold myself.

  The room has fallen quiet, or so it seems. I can hear the rain beat down on the roof above me. Mom and Crass are looking right at me, making me wonder whether they heard the exchange. I hope not.

  Sliding into the booth, I catch Tanner’s eyes. There is humor behind them. He knows what he’s doing, he thinks he is the man. Yeah, right buddy. You’re anything but. Can you imagine how the last seven years have been for me, besides losing my dad? And now I have this oaf standing beside me. No one dares to mess with Crass’ niece. The single moms at school tried to get his attention for years when he’d come to pick me up. I smile at the memory of him dodging them like the bullets out of a gun.

  He always said that he’d rather stand in the middle of a firing range than face the school yard every day. So, he stuck to his car and I had to walk to meet him. Wimp! Anyway, his pure size and dominating voice, scared the boys for miles. I swear, they know all about me three towns over.

  “So, Ladybug, who was that?” sarcasm flows from his lips.

  I glare at him. He knows, he’s just pushing my buttons. This’s the last thing I needed to deal with today. His face’s annoying me, I know that sounds weird and maybe a little spiteful, but I’ve been here a thousand times before. He’s one of those who thinks my military boy ban is insane and unrealistic. ‘Just look at where you’re from, Riley.’ His words, no matter how true they may be, just define my reason more for not having a military relationship. I don’t want to relive my life, I want a new start and a life that won’t be shadowed by the military. There’re so many opportunities for me outside of these invisible walls, and I will find one.

  Suddenly, I’ve lost my appetite.

  “No-one! Did you order?” I throw back at him, snarky.

  We stare at each other for a couple of seconds, before he lets out a comical snort. Mom’s looking out the window at the rain. It’s getting heavy. Grabbing my bag, I begin to slide from the booth.

  “Where are you going, honey?” she calls, never taking her eyes from the window. With each breath she takes the window fogs up slightly. I feel a pang of guilt for wanting to leave. Maybe some fresh air will help.

  “So, what can I getcha?” Jake pipes in before I can say anything.

  Facing Crass, I smile and he smiles right back at me. I love this man so much. He’s always been more of a big brother to me than a father figure. I wonder sometimes if that’s why I get so aggravated with his slightly childish ways. He is a big kid in a man’s body and he knows it. I could never stay angry at him, but the look in his eyes tells me he knows he’s upset me. We can read each other, just as my father and I once did. Knowing how the other felt before words were spoken. It was a gift, one that used to irritate the hell out of my mom, but one that has become useful, especially with Crass.

  “Mom, I’m going to head back, I have an assignment I need to finish.” Each word is a lie, but I don’t look at her. My eyes stay fixed on his. If anyone would rat me out, it’d be him. The annoying, brotherly thing to do, but he doesn’t. Instead he just smiles when I push my body out of the booth, laying a small kiss on Jake’s cheek as he watches the exchange.

  She doesn’t speak, but then I didn’t expect her too. Each year that passes takes something out of her. She just needs some time to process and then she’s back in the right place. Crass will stay with her and having the forever smiley Jake nearby will surely ease her mood.

  “Take my truck, Ladybug, its parked round back.”

  “Yes,” I whistle through my teeth, just a little too loud.

  His eyes shoot to mine and I smile, the biggest grin you could imagine. The pearly whites are on full display, even my lashes are flicking at the speed of light. Let it be known that I’m a truck girl. I always have been and always will be. I don’t want some small economical car, I want a big ass truck. He snatches back his keys, but only for a second. I smile brighter and harder. My uncle can't deny me. He never could.

  Leaning in past Jake, I place a small kiss on his right cheek, whispering thank you.

  Time to let off some steam in the truck. With a skip in my step, I head towards the door.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The rain soaks me to the core as I run across the parking lot. I struggle with the lock on the truck, my fingers slipping a couple times. I think I may have keyed the door a little a bit, but I can’t be sure,
and I’m not standing here to check it out. Finally I pull the door open, jump the two feet into the cab and breath. My warm breath fogs up the window, making it impossible to see out the front.

  I’m soaked, right through to the bone, goose pimples covering my skin. Turning the key, I slide the heat right up, in an effort to get warm. I won’t be out long, maybe just a quick drive. I need to get back to my room and get changed. Pajama’s and a hot drink are in order after a night like this. Sliding the gear into reverse, I pull out slowly from the parking spot. Knowing he’s probably watching me, I feel the urge to peel out of the parking lot. That little rebellious side of me, seeps through. So I do, with a skid and a spurt. Smashing my foot to the floor and I’m off, while the radio blares country music and the heater kicks out a scalding heat on my legs.

  I know where I’m going. There’s a small dirt road about ten minutes from here. I can’t wait to throw this truck into the puddles that will surely line the road and watch the dirt fly up from the tires. Just thinking about it makes me smile.

  With each mile that passes, the closer I get to freedom. I smile wider. I can’t wait to let go for just a few minutes. One more light. YES! One more light. I’m eager, even school girl giddy, to let these horses out on slick mud. Pushing the gas, I floor it in to the small opening.

  Within seconds I react. If I could, I’d have the windows down, screaming as loud as I can while the truck slides and swerves. Taking a deep breath, I press my foot firmly on the pedal once more, I feel the tires react instantly, they spin out of control. My heart races with each turn, blood rushing through me as I grip the wheel tighter. I hear the spray of the wet slick mud slap against the truck. I have a whole road ahead of me, I miss this.

  I press just a little harder on the gas, turning the wheel sharply to the left, making the truck spin almost out of control. Feeling the slide and spin of the truck, I feel sated. I feel free. Dad and I used to come down here all the time during rainy season, it was one of my best memories. The truck bumps slightly below me, signaling my time to give in. I have churned up the wet sticky mud beneath me enough to make it dangerous now.