Taking Connor (8 page)

“Nothing. It looks great,” I assure him. “It’s just . . . a lot.”

“Oh, sorry,” he laughs. “Don’t feel like you have to eat it all . . . or any of it for that matter.”

“Oh, I’m eating it,” I confirm enthusiastically. I love spaghetti. It’s my favorite food. There’s no way I’m not eating it.

“Well, bon appetite,” he smirks.

“Thank you.” Picking up my fork, I start twirling the pasta on it as Connor begins shoveling food in his mouth, like a starved man. I imagine it’s been a while since he’s had to use table manners. I’m sure etiquette in prison is of low priority.

“When do you go back to work?” he manages between bites.

“Next week. It’s only summer school right now, so my days are short anyway. I’ll have the month of August off before the new school year starts.”

“Any plans for August?” he asks before wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“Um . . . not right now, no. What about you? Do you have any plans to catch up with some of your old friends in the area?”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Maybe. I’d like to be busy with work first. That Brian guy stopped by today. He was pretty nice. He said he’ll spread word about me to his friends and family.”

“That’s great.” I smile brightly.

“Thank you for everything, Demi,” he sighs.

“Please stop thanking me, Connor. I’m happy to help you in any way that I can.”

“Well, I ordered the new AC adapter for your car. Should come in tomorrow and I’ll have it fixed for you.”

“Thank you,” I moan. “It’ll be so nice to have AC in my car again.”

We both take another bite of pasta and as we chew my gaze moves to his chest where he has a quote tattooed on his chest.

“Return good for good; return evil with justice”

“Confucius?” I ask around the pasta in my mouth.

His gaze meets mine as his brows furrow in question.

“The quote on your chest. It’s Confucius, right?”

“Oh,” he says, as he looks down at his chest. “Yeah. Got it about eight years ago.”

“May I ask what it means to you?”

Placing his fork on his plate, he wipes his mouth before leaning back and crossing his massive arms. The corner of his mouth lifts as he looks at me. “May I ask what it means to
you
?”

I sit back as well, my gaze never leaving his. “To me, it means be good to those who are good to you and make the evil pay.” I’m so not a philosopher. I wished my wording was more elegant or intelligent, but that’s just not me.

“I agree.” He nods but doesn’t offer more.

“Why that quote, though? I mean, what drove you to put that specific quote in permanent ink on your body?”

His gaze moves down to his plate, and his lips flatten, as if he’s thinking. “Because sometimes serving justice to the evil is paying the good for good. Sometimes evil touches the good, and sometimes you have to become a little evil yourself to right it.”

My eyes narrow slightly as I absorb his meaning. I open my mouth to question him again when the screen door creaks open and slams.

“Demi! Where are you ya dirty whor . . .” Lexi freezes in the doorway to my kitchen, her mouth open.

Rolling my eyes, I stand. “What are you doing here?”

Righting herself and smoothing her hair down, she clears her throat. “I was just stopping by to say hi. I didn’t mean to interrupt this . . .” she motions with her hand, “whatever.”

Dinner?” I offer. “You didn’t mean to interrupt dinner?”

Ignoring me, she slides by me and takes a seat at the other end of the table. “Well, hello, Connor.” She bats her eyes at him. “How are you?”

Connor straightens in his seat a little, my sister’s lustful gaze making him feel uncomfortable. “I’m good.”

“Good,” Lexi answers.

“Do you want a plate?” I huff.

“No, no,” she sighs. “I was only stopping by for a moment. I wanted to borrow your red dress.”

“You still have the black one you borrowed last month,” I point out.

“No offense, Demi, but it’s not like you’re wearing them anywhere.”

I glare at her, but she does have a point. “Go and get it,” I groan.

She winks at Connor before rushing upstairs to scour my closet. “I’m sorry, Connor. I know she can be a bit . . . intense.”

“No worries. I kind of enjoy the back and forth between you two.”

“I’m sure we’re very entertaining.”

Lexi flies back into the kitchen and grabs my hand. “Walk me out Demi. Bye, Connor. It was good seeing you again!”

“Bye,” Connor yells as we push through the screen door.

“What?” I snatch my hand from hers.

When she turns on me, her eyes are narrowed. “What was going on in there?”

“We’re having dinner, Lexi.”

“And he’s shirtless . . .”

“He got sauce on his shirt.” I shake my head dismissively. “Is this why you dragged me out here?”

“Things looked . . . cozy,” she notes giving me a wicked smile.

“It’s just a friendly dinner.”

“Riggghhttt . . .”

“Okay.” I mumble and kiss her chastely on the cheek. I know Connor is waiting to finish dinner, and I have no inclination to stand out here all night and argue with her. “Have fun tonight.”

“You too big sister,” she laughs as I stomp back up the stairs.

After we finish eating, we set about clearing the table and the counters. Connor begins washing the dishes as I wipe down the sauce that splattered on stove.

“I made a huge mess, didn’t I?” he snorts as I toss the sponge on the back of the sink. I can’t stop myself from letting my eyes graze over his exposed chest and abs. I want so badly to get closer and inspect each tattoo, trace them with my fingers. But if Connor notices my intrigue with his body and body art, he doesn’t let on, which I’m grateful for.

“Things just got a little out of hand,” I laugh. Yanking a dishtowel out of the drawer next to me, I join him at the sink and begin drying what he’s washed. The jukebox is clicking as the record changes and after a few moments,
Hey, Baby
by Bruce Channel begins to play.

Connor raises his head as he listens for a moment. “
Dirty Dancing
?”

I can’t help laughing. “Yeah, it’s in
Dirty Dancing
. I love that movie.”

“Patrick Swayze was boss,” Connor notes.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” I sigh. “All I ever wanted was to be Baby.”

We continue doing the dishes, and before I know it we’re swaying side to side as we stand next to each other. It’s a moment before either of us realizes we’re doing it. When we do, we both bust out laughing, but Connor surprises me. He grabs my hand with his soapy one and pulls me to him. Warm water drips down my arm, from where our hands are joined, tickling my skin, but I don’t pull away. My back arches as instinct tells me to move closer to him, but Connor holds me steady, preventing it. There’s space between our bodies as we move, but we’re both smiling. I can’t remember the last time I danced. Feels like it’s been a million years. As we move, my gaze follows the thick vein that runs up his arm and the one that runs from his neck to the back part of his jaw. Connor sings the words and twirls me a few times before he lets me go.

Still smiling, he turns back to the dishes. “Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

I like this playful side of him. He looks so dangerous and rough on the outside, but he’s quite funny and easy going. “That was fun. You’re a good dancer,” I note, as I take the dish he’s just washed and dry it. “I can’t remember the last time I even danced.”

“Well, there weren’t many dance offs where I’ve been for the last eight years,” he jokes. “Maybe we need to get out one night, hmm?”

“Maybe. Lexi knows all of the cool places to go. Maybe I’ll make her our escort.”

He smirks. “Let me know. I’ll see if I can pencil you in,” he jests.

Connor joined me for dinner two more times the same week. The first night we grilled burgers, and I taught him how to use his cell phone. On the second night, he helped me rearrange my living room furniture. But other nights he took off on his Harley. I never asked him where he went, but I was curious. If I had asked, I’m sure he would have told me, but I know it was none of my business.

We decide to go into town on Sunday to visit his grandmother, Grams, at her nursing home. Meryl Elouise Stevens is eighty-three-years-old and the life of the party even in her motorized wheelchair. The nursing home has called me a few times over the last few years to discuss her ‘flamboyant behavior.’ Meryl apparently had a gentlemen friend visiting her in her room late at night. They were caught a few times, but the last straw was when the guy had a heart attack.

On top of her.

She woke the whole floor up yelling for help because she couldn’t get out from under him.

Luckily he survived, but his family moved him to another facility, concerned for his well-being in Grams presence. I decided not to share this tidbit of information with Connor, figuring it might be a little much for him to digest.

Blake worshiped her, and as I watch Connor practically run up to her as she pushes herself up out of her wheelchair, I can see Connor holds her in the same esteem. Watching this giant of a man bend down and hug his practically hobbit-sized grandmother like she’s made of porcelain makes my heart squeeze.

“My darling boy,” she coos as he embraces her gently, her frail, wrinkled arms wrapped around his neck as best she can. “I’m so happy you’re home, boy,” she croaks with emotion, as she pats his back before they pull away from one another.

“It’s so good to see you, Grams,” he beams. The genuine smile on his face is amazing, and Gram’s eyes go teary. He holds her steady as she slowly sits in her chair again, but she doesn’t let go of his hand, which forces Connor to stand a little hunched over, but he doesn’t complain.

“Demi, love. Where’s my hug?” It sounded like a question, but it wasn’t. In Grams language that translates as: Get your ass over here and hug me.

“Hi, Grams. You’re looking beautiful today.” I lean down and close my eyes as she wraps her one free arm around me, loving the warmth in her hug. Her other hand still grips Connor’s tightly. My grandparents passed before I was born and my mother, while overbearing and meddling, was never very affectionate. But Meryl’s love more than made up for it.

So many people talk about purpose. Why are we here? What were we meant to do with our time here? I haven’t quite figured out my purpose just yet, but I know, with all certainty, Meryl Stevens was put here to love those who lacked love in their lives. That saying when God closes a door, he opens a window; well Blake and Connor had shit for mothers—that door closed for them. But Meryl was their big beautiful window. She gave them the love they desperately needed. And even had some left over for the rest of us.

“You look stunning, Demi. Have you lost weight?”

I chuckle as I stand and put my hands on my hips. “Not since I saw you last week.”

“Well, you do,” she states. Then she looks up at Connor. “She’s a real beauty, isn’t she?”

Connor’s smile softens as he looks from Meryl to me, his gaze certain. “Inside and out,” he answers simply. Guess what. My face feels hot. I smile and push some hair behind my ear.

“Well, you two are going to inflate my ego and make my head five times bigger.”

They both watch me for a moment, but it’s Connor I’m looking at. In my peripheral vision, I see Meryl smile and pat Connor’s hand she’s holding with her free hand.

I tear my eyes away and clear my throat. “Shall we play a game today?”

“Oh, yes,” Meryl replies. “I have a good one.”

We spend the next hour in the rec room of the nursing home playing ‘Who am I?’

Everyone writes down a name and passes it to the person next to them, but that person can’t look. They have to lick the back of the paper and stick it to their foreheads. Then you take turns asking questions trying to figure out who you are. Again, I loved watching Connor with Meryl. I never brought Connor up when I visited her. Blake said she became too emotional. The first time I ever breathed his name to her was when I told her I was going to pick him up and bring him home. She immediately fell into a fit of tears. Now I see why. She’s missed him. These boys may have been her grandsons, put upon her by her worthless daughters, but they were her babies and always will be. She lost one baby, now she gets one back. And with that thought, my heart swells a little. There’s no denying that Blake wanted to help Connor, no doubt about that. But bringing Connor home wasn’t all about helping Connor. It was for Grams, too. And because of my beautiful husband, I get to be a part of this. I get to see two people overwhelmed with happiness because they’ve been reunited.

After we finish playing, I excuse myself to give them some time alone. I walk around outside and call Wendy to let her know we’ll be stopping by her house in a bit after we go to Meryl’s storage unit and collect some of Connor’s things she had kept for him.

When I go back in, Connor is gone, and Meryl is sitting alone at the table where we played. I sit beside her, and she takes my hand, squeezing it. “Thank you, Demi. Thank you for all you’re doing for him.”