Promises to Keep (15 page)

“So
what happened with the woman of your dreams?” she asked, thankfully changing
the subject.

He
cleared his throat. “You have to understand. I was blindly in love in that
weird
do or die
way only teenagers experience. It was obsessive and all
consuming. I'd have given up Christmas for the rest of my
life just to see
her breasts.”

Laura
cracked up laughing.

The
sight and sound of her uninhibited, irrepressible laughter, filled Jack’s
senses. For a long moment he just watched her, enjoying seeing her so happy.

Wiping
her eyes with both hands, she said,
“Sorry for the
interruption.”

“No
problem.”

Her
breath hitching in short gasps, she added, “That just really tickled my funny
bone. I can see the whole scene so clearly.” She flashed a huge grin at him.
“Did you get to see her breasts?”

“I
sure did—
Gabriella Kowalowski wa
s buck-naked.”

Laura
smiled and nodded expectantly.

“So,
there I was with all of my dreams coming true. She was an experienced sort of
girl, a woman who utterly embodied my every fantasy. I'm lying in her bed and
right off the bat, she goes down on me.”

“Good
for her.”

He
chuckled ruefully. “Oh yeah. I lasted all of thirty seconds I think.”

This
pronouncement finished them both off.

Together
they giggled and sniggered like loons. Hysterically laughing, Laura’s
shit-eating grin only made Jack laugh harder, and then she laughed because he
was laughing.

It
took a long time for them both to settle down. By then Jack’s stomach muscles
were aching.

Finally,
Laura choked out, “So ah… the thirty second thing
—
”
She sucked in deep gasping breaths, evidently still trying not to snicker. “
—
was
that a problem for Ms.
Kowalowski
?”

Jack
shook his head, frowning thoughtfully. “I was embarrassed to come so fast, but
it didn’t seem to bother Gabriella. In fact, I think she was pleased. I’m lying
there, feeling all loving and loved. A happy man, you know? The woman of my
dreams smiles at me and I feel like a god. Then she looks at me with her big,
dark eyes and do you know what she says?”

Laura
shook her head. Clearly captivated, she was following Jack’s every word.

“Gabriella
says to me, 'So Jack,
now
will you introduce me to your brother?'”

“No!
She didn’t!” Laura laughed, probably more from shock and horror than humor.

Jack
was laughing too. “She did.”

“I
don’t believe it!”

“True
story. I swear.”

“What
a terrible blow to a young man’s ego.”

Jack
shrugged. “I got over it. I only told you that so you’d understand the unusual
relationship I had with my older brother. Tommy’s OK. He just had too much
given to him too young. The world was too easy for him. So when he was
confronted with his first real challenge, he wasn’t prepared, you know? He
suddenly had to face the cold, hard fact that life can be difficult and doesn’t
always go perfectly. He wasn’t as special as he’d always been led to believe.
He couldn’t walk on water after all. I think it broke him.”

“Why
do you say that?”

“Because,
now he’s an alcoholic.”

“Bummer.”

“Tell
me about it.”

“Well,
he can always change,” Laura said. “But there’s a lesson to that tale, you know
that, right?”

“Oh?”

Spreading
her arms to include them both, she said, “Just look at us. We’ve been through miles
and miles of crap.” She slapped the table loudly, making their desert plates’
jump. “Forget miles, we’ve been through acres. Maybe when you measure it all up,
I bet we’ve been through
entire continents
of shit.”

They
both bent forward, holding their stomachs and giggling madly at her highly
illustrative parallel.

“To
my way of thinking, with all that experience, you and me—we should be able to
handle anything that comes at us from now on, know what I mean?”

“Amen
to that,” Jack said and raised his glass for a toast.

“Amen.”
Her grin beguiled him as she clinked her glass against his, toasting him back.

Jack
couldn’t recall ever speaking so candidly to anyone before that night with
Laura. He'd even spoke to her about the war and his life overseas. By the end
of their dinner, they talked about everything except the details of Bob’s death
—
and
whoever the Hell that man back in the street was.

During
their walk back, Jack was on high alert, but didn't see anything out of the
ordinary. At her apartment, he politely declined her offer to come in for a
drink.

Laura
just smiled, a mysterious, incomprehensible female sort of smile. Pulling him
in for a quick hug, she gave him a chaste peck on the cheek.

When
he left her building, Jack stopped and pulled on the front door, to make sure
it latched firmly.

Then
he walked over to his Jeep and got into the driver's seat, where he intended to
sit all night long, keeping watch.

~~~

Jonah
stood watch, too.

This
new guy, another serviceman by the look of him, was a snag he didn't anticipate
or need. He really didn't have any actual plan of action.

What
he'd said to Chet back in the abandoned farmhouse had been an unmitigated pile
of bull shit that he'd pulled out of his ass in desperation.

That
had gotten him a bit of a reprieve—bought him some time, but that was all. It
didn't change his situation much. He knew that if he didn't deliver, and
deliver soon, he'd be right back in that old run down house, sitting at that
table.

He’d
likely not leave there in one piece.

Jonah
knew about the money.

Hell,
life insurance for servicemen was all over the papers. They said that the
starting
—
starting
—
payout
was a quarter of a million. He'd been watching Laura. She hadn't made any big
purchases since that idiot had gotten himself killed. She worked the same hours
at the same crappy job. Not like any other normal woman would do, if they'd
come into some big money.

Stupid
bitch.

No
new house or fancy new car—Hell, she didn't have any car, nothing was any
different. That told him that she was holding a big, fat wad of cash somewhere
—
in
the bank, most likely. That presented a problem in and of itself.

Jonah
knew he couldn't talk her into handing over money to him. He knew she wouldn't
buy any sort of excuse or pleading.
Please, can you just hand over your dead
husband's life insurance? I really, really need it.

Nope,
he intended on beating it out of her. It was his only option.

Maybe
he'd take her on a ride to the abandoned farmhouse or one just like it. That
way, he'd have the time and privacy to go at her and go at her until she'd give
him anything, just to make it stop. He hadn't exactly hashed out a way to get
her to withdraw it either, without her going straight to the cops as soon as he
let her go.

Get
her to sign a check maybe, and hold onto her until it cleared? Then, it didn't
matter what he did with her. He'd give half of it to Chet to get him off his
back and then take the rest of it and get as far away as he could as quickly as
he could
—
maybe Mexico or further even.

But
this new guy was a problem. Jonah was surprised at how fast Laura had found
herself a new beau hunk. This guy was older, bigger and taller. A real tough, no-nonsense
type.

Jonah
followed them as they'd walked down the street, but had been spotted by the
faggot. It was stupid, a rookie mistake. He walked too close and too fast and
then he'd stepped where he shouldn't have, just as the new guy looked his way.

Jonah
pretended he was just out for a walk and turned away from them, but he knew
he'd been spotted, so he doubled back to Laura's apartment building. There he'd
waited until they returned and then until the new guy came out and got into his
SUV.

At
first, Jonah thought the guy was leaving and he'd have his chance, but the guy
just sat in his car and watched the building, as Jonah watched him.

Jonah
contemplated sneaking up on the man while he was alone in his Jeep, but the
jerk never seemed to get tired. Jonah waited, but after an hour he’d lost
patience. He had better things to do.

He
gave up and started walking toward a different local dealer. One who wouldn’t mind
giving him something on credit.

No,
he’d find another way to get at Laura.

Jack
spent a restless night in his Jeep. He did sleep, but very lightly, alert and
aware of sounds nearby. It was a learned ability, a soldier’s skill to get
adequate rest this way.

He
left his post only after daylight brought activity to the neighborhood. With
the sunrise, he found new vitality.

Turning
the key in the ignition, Jack put his jeep in gear and went foraging.

When
he arrived back at Laura's apartment later, he had two piping hot lattes in
hand and two surfboards strapped to the luggage rack. The double shot coffee
had him spooled up and he was "on mission" as the Marines were always
saying.

Jack
strode up the walk and buzzed Laura's apartment.

"Yes?"

"It's
me, Jack. I brought coffee."

"What?
Why...what time is it?"

"Half
past seven. Come on down, I've got a surprise for you."

"I
really..."

Laura
seemed hesitant, so Jack turned it up a notch. "You said you needed a
little fun in your life so I brought some, with bells on."

"OK,"
Laura sighed, her voice sounding almost robotic over the intercom. "You
really have coffee?"

"Gallons
of it." Jack tapped the buzzer several times, prodding her with the
disagreeable sound. "C'mon, c’mon down and bring your swimsuit."

"Oh,
alright I'll be
—
wait, swimsuit?"

"Just
do it. I promise you'll have fun."

"I've
got to go to work later."

Laura
sounded hesitant again, but Jack wasn’t about to let her out of this.
"Screw it. Call in sick. Momma needs to play herself a little hooky."

This
made her giggle. "OK then, Dudley Do Wrong. Just hold on to your
drawers."

A
few minutes later, Laura appeared at the front door, in blue jean cut-offs and
a halter, with the strings of a bathing suit looping around her neck.

Jack
bit back a moan.
She’s so damn cute.

"What's
your plan?” she asked. “I hope we're not going anywhere close because I just told
my boss that I wasn't feeling well. It wouldn't be cool if he saw me running
around town."

Jack
handed her a latte and she cupped the cardboard container as if warming her
hands. "You tell him you got a cough or something?"

"Nah.
I said it was
ladies problems
and he just told me to keep it to myself
and come in when I feel better." Laura laughed. "Old guys don't want
to hear about it. Even hint at menstruation, and they run for the hills."

"Smart
and
devious. I like it. C’mon."

As
he led her to the car, his plan for the day's activities became immediately
apparent.

"Jack,
I don't know how to surf."

"You
will after today. I'll teach you. It's easier than riding a bike." Jack bowed
and gestured as he opened the car door for her. “My lady.”

Laura
laughed.

"I
checked out the surf report," he said, as he got in and started the
engine. “The waves should be perfect.”

Laura
looked at him, while sipping her coffee. “That sounds good.”

A
single errant strand of her hair had escaped from her ponytail and draped
itself over her cup as she lifted it to drink. She casually blew it away from
the corner of her mouth.

Just
that simple gesture made Jack feel warm inside, much warmer than any overpriced
coffee could ever hope to achieve.

"Atlantic
Beach has a gentle swell between three to five feet max, with a long break
—
perfect
for beginners. It's not so light that you won't be able to get a ride in, but
not so rough that you'll get beaten up by the waves
—
perfect
in a bowl, baby."

Laura
rolled her eyes. "OK, Moon-doggie, I dig it. Let's go."

He
laughed. "You know it, sista."

They
took off with a squeal of tires. Laura screamed, then laughed.

Opening
the sunroof, Jack picked up route 70 and headed east to the barrier islands. He
cranked up the stereo and the raspy voice of Bon Scott filled the Jeep. Laura
and he found themselves dancing in their seats and singing along.

Jack
couldn’t help it
—
he couldn’t stop looking at
her. Feet on the dash, hair entirely escaped from the now useless scrunchie,
floating all around her in the slipstream like stalks of wheat in a tornado. Laura
mesmerized him more than any woman he’d ever known. She took his breath away.

There
was something healthy and natural that drew him to her. Was it her lack of
pretense? She had a “what you see is what you get” vibe. There was nothing fake
about Laura.

It
was as if the crap she’d suffered in her life, hadn’t weighed her down with baggage,
as it would have for most people. Instead, it seemed to have burned away all
the bullshit, simplifying her life and leaving her with just the important
things.

Her
smile flashed as she sang about rocking people all night long. Laura laughed
when she saw that he noticed her playing air guitar. She looked happy to him
—
really
and truly happy—and this made him happy too.

The
highway followed the Neuse River as it gradually widened and deepened, turning
from the tea brown color of the river to the deep blue of the bay and the
ocean. When they reached Morehead city, after about a half an hour, a single
right turn took them over the long suspension bridge that spanned the
inter-coastal waterway and deposited them right into Atlantic Beach.

It
was a beach town, just like any other in the southeast with boardwalks and
piers and summers only “hotdog” and “custard” places.

Jack
made a left turn. "The internet said that the waves were best at the
northern tip of the island, at the state park."

"Well,”
she snickered, “if it's on the internet, it must be true."

Jack
shot her an admonishing look. "Give me a break, this isn't my territory. A
guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do."

"I’ve
heard that before," Laura said with a sly smirk, and resumed dancing to
the stereo.

They
drove up the road that bisected the island. Pastel painted beach houses on
stilts lined the street until giving way to scrub pine and sea oats at the sign
that marked the entrance to Fort Macon State Park.

After
a few minutes they turned down an oyster-shell paved road that led to the
public beach. The shells cracked and crunched under the Jeep's tires. It was a
weekday morning, so they found a parking spot easily.

Jack
immediately unstrapped the surf boards and pulled them off the roof.
"Here," he said as he handed Laura the larger of the two.

"Why
make the girl carry the bigger one? That's not very gentlemanly,
Sirah,
"
she said, putting on a southern belle, “Scarlet O’Hara” accent.

"Everybody
carries their own boards. That's rule number one. Yours is a long board. It's
big because beginners need a more stable platform. Mine's a short board. It's a
lot smaller and thinner so I can turn it faster, but it's not as stable. It's
not for beginners."

Laura
poked him on the leg with the nose of her board. "What if I want to ride
your board instead?"

"Rule
two
—
have
patience."

"Don't
go all Zen on me, now."

"Hey,
surfing is meditation
—
it's all Zen. C'mon."