Mary Had a Little Problem (2 page)

“Do you sing?” Brock asked, turning up a beer. His hot gaze poured over her like melted margarine, sliding from side to side with no direction, but leaving behind plenty of sizzle all the same.

“Me? Carry a tune?”

“Why sure,” he sang, rolling a thick tongue over his bottom lip. Mary silently prayed she hadn’t sighed as she’d watched the whole act unfold. Lord have mercy, she was acting like a woman in heat.

“No. I’m not the entertainer in the family, per se.”

“Anna here is our local vocal darling,” Brock explained. “She wears the microphone out up there. You don’t expect me to believe one sister has all the talent and the other has all the beauty, do you?”

“Thanks, Brock,” Anna grumbled.

“Don’t mention it.”

“So Anna is a regular here?” Mary asked. “Imagine that. She couldn’t sing a lick back in high school chorus.”

“A crowd gathers when she takes the stage,” Frank said, setting two drinks before them.

“Still can’t hit the high notes,” Anna remarked. “But they never know the difference. I always take the stage late. By the time I’m up there, it’s almost last call. Everyone in the place swears I’m as good as Elvis.”

“Do they?”

Brock laughed. “She can wiggle like the King of Rock-n-Roll. That’s all anyone here cares about by the time the clock strikes three.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” Mary said, taking a sip of her drink.

For a split second, Mary relaxed. She was even having a good time. Brock wasn’t as intimidating as she’d first thought, so she settled down, leaned against the wooden high-back stool, and made herself comfortable. That’s when she caught a glimpse of Tom Tolsen, a Casualty Assistance Calls Officer with the Navy.

Tom was also the man who’d delivered the news of her late husband’s death. He’d provided resources and assistance. He’d passed along useless information, the kind of data the military allowed him to share.

Tom hadn’t supplied a body. He never relayed the Intel a widow needed most.

Mary still didn’t know how or why her husband died. The day Tom visited her home, he’d remained true to his uniform and passed along the information the military wanted her to have. He gave her nothing more.

His words were practiced, fully rehearsed. His speech was short and direct, straight to the point.

Mary’s husband was dead. The military was sorry for her loss. There was nothing more they could tell her. Grief counseling was available and recommended. That was it. That was all. She was a widow and expected to accept the fact.

Anna and Brock must’ve spotted Tom, too. Brock locked eyes with the officer, shook his head firmly, and then swung his sharp gaze toward Mary.

Tom turned to leave.

Mary grabbed her purse. “Tom, wait!” She glared at Brock. Just who did he think he was? Why was he trying to get Tom out of there? Who died and left him in charge?

She gasped at that.

“Tom, please!” Mary leapt from the stool and trailed behind him. “I need to talk to you!”

“Mary, stop,” Anna said, grabbing for her arm.

“I just want to say hello. I’ll be right back,” Mary assured her, shaking off her sister’s grip.

Tom had just stepped outside when Mary rushed to the sidewalk, trying to stop him. “Didn’t you see me over at the bar?”

Tom squared his shoulders and dropped his gaze. “I saw you.”

“Then why didn’t you come over and say hello?”

“You know why, Mary.”

Mary swallowed. Oh sure, she forgot. How stupid of her. She understood protocol enough to realize Tom was trying to show her some measure of respect by avoiding her.

Apparently, the word was out. Mary had become a recluse since her husband’s death. Immediately following his funeral, she was certifiable. Maybe that’s why Tom didn’t want to be around her. Perhaps he thought she blamed him. She did to an extent. As ridiculous as that seemed, she couldn’t help herself.

The day he’d visited her home, she’d opened up her door and greeted the man destined to ruin her life.

“Mary, I know what I represent. It’s hard for us to run into one another without you remembering the reason why we were first introduced. That’s understandable.”

“We could still be friends, Tom. I mean, I don’t want you to run from me whenever you see me.”

“Mary, you and I have nothing left to say to one another. I’ve supplied the resources you need. I suggested some counseling. Have you talked to anyone?”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone!” she yelled, immediately ashamed of herself for the outburst. “I
need
to talk to you.”

Tom looked at her with pure pity oozing from his eyes. “Give my best to your sister and Brock.”

“Tom! I just want to know something more! Don’t you understand? Do you know what kind of hell this has been? Do you?” She followed him down the city street, but he wouldn’t turn around. They passed a few soldiers, several officers, but no one looked her in the eye.

When you find yourself in a hole, stop digging.
Mary’s mother’s words stopped her from pursuing the officer. Then again, her mother had been the most foolish of all wise women. She never chased a man, and to Mary’s knowledge, never longed for the things she could not have. She lived with the facts, no matter how grim, and made the most out of a bad situation.

Accepting the things the military refused to change was where Mary had a problem. The Navy took her husband away, and by God, she still believed they could bring him back!

Tears burned the corners of Mary’s eyes. She covered her mouth and stood there watching Tom walk away. She could follow him of course, chase him down, and beat the ever-lovin’ holy hell out of him, but it wouldn’t change things.

What did Mary expect anyway? Tom wouldn’t retract his statement. He wouldn’t miraculously present evidence to the contrary or in support of Luke’s death.

Believing the entire night was set to become a great disaster, Mary glanced over her shoulder. Two people had trailed her from the pub. She looked at her sister, noting how her expression mirrored, perhaps, her own pain. Brock looked concerned, too, even though they’d only just met.

There was something about the way Brock stared at her then that gave her courage, somehow inspired her to press forward. Rather than give up, Mary stalked Tom again, in spite of her earlier decision to leave him alone. “Lieutenant! Don’t you turn your back on me!”

He kept walking. His pace and the way he carried himself reminded her of a deliberate military march.

“Lieutenant, I’m talking to you!” Mary cried out. “Damn it to hell! How would you feel?”

He faced her. Stark determination washed across his face. “I don’t know how you feel, Mrs. Worthington. I never pretended to understand a loss of this magnitude. I’ve offered you counseling, supplied you with information—”

“Don’t you dare hide behind your training to pacify me. I don’t care about the resources for widows and bereaved families. I don’t want your apologies and your excuses. I need to know what happened to my husband! If you were in my shoes, wouldn’t you want to know what happened to your loved one?”

“Your husband was a decorated Navy SEAL, Mrs. Worthington. You should be proud of the way he served his country.”

Mary clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She was getting nowhere, fast. “Have you ever loved someone?”

“Of course I have,” he spat, his restraint coming apart.

“Then can’t you try and understand why I’m so distraught?” When he didn’t answer, she continued, “Luke was my rock, my inner strength, and now he’s become my greatest weakness,” soft cries interrupted her as she spoke. She became more aware of the way his death impacted her life as she talked about his demise. “He was the man I loved and would’ve been the father of my children. Can’t you see? You took everything from me!”

“Mrs. Worthington—Mary—please go home. Take a moment to go through the materials provided to you upon your husband’s death. Seek professional help. The answers you need are unavailable to you, and that’s just the way it is. Whatever it is you think I can supply will never be provided. You will never access your husband’s closed file. Are we clear?”

Mary gulped, trying to regain her senses. She shook her head, sniffed, and then wiped her cheeks. She was a t-total mess, but then something hit her square in the face. She thought of Tom’s most recent words and somehow managed to pull herself together. “What did you just say?”

“Too much,” Tom Tolsen snapped, narrowing his cold liquid silver gaze. “Good day, Mrs. Worthington.”

“Tom! Wait! Just give me another moment. Can’t you see what kind of pain I’m in? Can’t you give me something else?” she wailed, yanking his sleeve as she pleaded with him. “You know what happened to my husband! Damn it, Tom! You look at me!” She practically ran alongside him, trying to keep his pace. “Maybe you weren’t there when he died. I’m sure you weren’t…but you’ve read his files. You’ve seen what it is the military doesn’t want me to know!”

“On behalf of the—”

“Don’t you start with the same damn spiel you gave me the day you stepped into my home and tore my world apart!”

“Mary! That’s enough!” Anna yelled from behind her.

The clickety-click of high heels beat against the sidewalk as Anna hurriedly tried to catch up with them. Mary wasn’t stopping now. Tom had said too much, supplied something—hope, some measure of reassurance, perhaps—but it was much more than what he’d given her in the past.

He continued rambling as he walked, quietly reciting the same speech he must’ve repeated over and over again as he met one widow after another. Approaching his vehicle, he finished with a firm, “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Worthington.”

“You’re sorry,” Mary said, slapping her hand over his wrist before he opened the car door and disappeared out of reach. “You’re sorry? Lieutenant Tolsen, I’ve had enough apologies to carry me through this
sorry
life, and I’m here to tell you those words will never comfort me at night.

“Regrets don’t ease my pain. I don’t know for certain that the husband I loved and married really isn’t out there somewhere. You didn’t even bring me his body! You just showed up on my doorstep and told me he was dead. Then, you directed me to some fiasco where you assured me I’d find support, reminding me that my husband gave his life up for a damn good cause!”

“Mary! Dear God, that’s enough!” Anna screamed.

Fury spun through Mary’s veins. Any compassion she wanted to feel for Tom was long gone. Yes, he was only doing his job. True, he’d been kind and compassionate, more so than most of the other Casualty Assistance Calls Officers, but that didn’t matter now. Tom knew something more, and he wasn’t telling her. What kind of man kept another man from his wife? What kind of monster was this Tom Tolsen character, and what kind of country had her husband served?

She shook off that thought. She was a proud American. She just didn’t agree with the military policies concerning bereavement issues.

Tom took a deep breath. “Mary, your husband is not coming back. The man you loved and married is gone. You have to accept that.”

“Then why didn’t I see a body?” she asked, shoving him. “Why didn’t you tell me where or how he died? What kind of people do you represent if you can’t look a soldier’s wife in the eyes and tell her some measure of truth when she loses the only man she’s ever loved!”

“Please, Mary! Stop this!” Anna intervened right as Mary drew her fists tightly together. She might have struck Tom if it hadn’t been for Anna stepping between them.

She’d had time to think about the way Tom delivered the news that most definitely changed her life, and she wanted to grab his attention. Unfortunately, Anna did a better job there. Tom couldn’t take his eyes off her sister, and it was the first time Mary could recall seeing Anna blush. Funny how she noticed that in the midst of her anger.

“Tom, this has been a tough time,” Anna explained. “You’ll have to overlook Mary. She hasn’t come to terms with Luke’s death.”

“Don’t you apologize for me!”

“No need to explain. I understand,” Tom said, talking around her.

“Do you think any of this is fair, Lieutenant? I mean, I had nothing returned to me, nothing at all. Is that the thanks my husband received for serving his country?”

Tom kept a blank expression, and Mary saw right then, she’d hit another brick wall. Tom couldn’t give her what she needed most.

“I had the world at my feet, a man who loved me with everything he had to give, and now what do I have? Nothing, and that’s all. Don’t you see? I just want peace. Is that too much to ask? I need closure!”

Tom kept a stiff upper lip, said his farewells, saluted a soldier in passing, and disappeared inside his Humvee. Mary watched Tom’s taillights until the military vehicle rounded an old mercantile building, driving out of sight.

Mary took a deep breath. The tears staining her cheeks had long since dried. Anna’s lips thinned, and she stormed back inside. Apparently, her sister knew better than to pick a fight.

The noisy bar was alive with activity now. The last thing Mary wanted to do was return to her barstool and act as if she were enjoying herself. Pretending she was having the time of her life would be like faking an orgasm. What was the point? She wouldn’t get anything out of it.