Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Marking Mariah (Kindle Worlds Novella) (6 page)

Terry’s most vivid memory of her growing up—that she seemed to live on nothing but her smokes and carrot sticks, occasionally partaking of whatever roast or meatloaf or baked chicken she’d conjure for the men in the house—stuck with him. Whenever he smelled cigarette smoke he could see her, sitting at the kitchen table, head wreathed in it, her smile bright, a snack ready for him and his brother after school, her late model station wagon ready to cart them to their next soccer practice.

He missed her right then so much his throat ached. He blinked it away as he wandered into the family room, divested of its dark paneling and heavy furniture. The damn room even boasted skylights now, with light colored wood floors, that same cool gray-green paint and a sort of combo mid-century modern-trendy furniture. He didn’t have the energy left to hate it. Besides, what did he care anyway? The couch seemed long enough to accommodate him. He lurched toward it, his eyes already closing.

“Where’s my sweet lady,” a deep voice boomed from the front of the house, making Terry wince.

“What’re you doing here, Mike?” Renee called out, her voice high and strained. He sat, sprawled, waiting for it.

“Thought I’d catch you at home first,” Mike O’Leary said, his low voice hitting Terry’s memory banks like a ton of bricks. “C’mere, gorgeous.”

“Not now. Seriously, Mike, stop.”

“Nope, no stopping. You made me take that pill this morning and I am so pent up I had to leave the office before I embarrassed myself.”

Oh my sweet Lord,
Terry thought, sticking his fingers in his ears and dropping over onto his side.
This is exactly why they say you can’t go home again.

“No, honey, don’t. I need to, hey, cut that out.” He could hear Renee’s voice and giggles through his fingers, so he gave up and pressed two pillows to either side of his face, praying they’d leave for their stupid tee time and let him sleep.

But when something poked his shoulder, he opened his eyes and sat up, meeting his father’s blue gaze. Renee hovered nearby.

“So, what did I do to be so honored with your presence?”

Terry rose slowly to his feet. He’d gotten his height from his father’s side of the family so the two men stood eye-to-eye. “You came to Texas, to the hospital, I’m told,” he said. “Sorry you couldn’t be bothered to stick around to make sure I came out of it all right.”

“Your doctor assured me you would. And based on the way you greeted me when you saw me sitting next to your bed, I figured you didn’t care if I stayed or not.”

Feeling light-headed, he grabbed the back of a nearby chair. “I… I don’t remember anything about that.”

“Whatever,” his father said, crossing his arms. “So, obviously you came out of it all right. What brings you here? Between missions or whatever you call it?” His steely blue eyes remained flat, devoid of emotion. For a split second, he wondered what in the hell Renee had seen in the man.

Terry swallowed hard. When he’d gotten the unwelcome news about his discharge due to the severe concussion and ongoing pain issues, he’d not even given half a thought to telling anyone, least of all his father. The only people he gave a crap about already knew because they’d been with him when it happened.

Standing here, like a little kid trying to explain a broken window, or a teenager, sneaking in and getting caught reeking of pot and sex, made him dizzy with anger. He put a hand to his head, as if that might ward off the headache.

“No. I’m out. Discharged. So, here I am, the prodigal son returned.” He held out both arms, grinning like an idiot.

“Discharged,” Mike said, his eyes narrowing. “Why? You get in some kind of trouble?”

“No, Daddy, I got my bell rung, remember? You saw me with the damn cage around my head in the hospital, remember? After they’d drilled into my skull to release the pressure? Pretty serious shit.” He gulped back the onrushing nausea that usually preceded a whopper of a headache
. Not now,
he thought, clenching his jaw.
He couldn’t show weakness now.

His father looked down at the floor, hands on his dark suit-clad hips. As Terry tried to erase the memory of what the man had said to Terry’s high school girlfriend a few seconds before, his mouth opened and he spoke before his sluggish brain clicked into gear.

“Sorry I interrupted the afternoon delight with your sweetie britches over there,” he said, still grinding his teeth as his vision began to gather fog from the outside in. “If you don’t mind me asking, Daddy, did you give all my old girlfriends a ride on the old pony before culling that one from the herd?”

Mike’s face flushed red when he looked up. And still Terry kept running his fool mouth, even as his inner smart grown up guy tried to stop him. Even as he saw Renee approach him from what remained of his peripheral vision. “She’s the only one I fucked here, in my old room. You were probably watching, weren’t ya, you old pervert. Just biding your time…”

Renee’s slap came out of nowhere, catching him unaware, and sending him down to his ass on the couch. When his skull jounced against the back, reverberating down his spine, he groaned, leaned over and threw up on the nice, clean floor.

“Jesus,” Mike said, jumping back. “Renee, call nine-one-one. Now.”

“No, no,” Terry groaned, holding up a hand and staring down at the mess of puke—mostly clear liquid since he’d ended up skipping breakfast anyway, in his anxious haste to get on the road and get this glorious father-son reunion over with. He’d not reckoned on the step-mama angle, of course. “I’m fine. Sorry, I’ll clean it up.”

But when he tried to get up, the room did an alarming three-sixty on him. The floor under his feet seemed to warp. Someone grabbed his arm. Someone else was talking, but he could no longer distinguish words from the ringing—the clanging really—in his ears. Someone groaned, loudly, and when he realized it came from him, he let the darkness take him.

“Mama! I don’t
like
it! I’m not going!”

Mariah sighed and slumped back against the stack of boxes still sitting unpacked in her living room. It was hotter than Hades and the A/C was on the fritz so she had some fans running and the sliding door to the outside wide open. Perfect for anyone passing by to hear Cole’s ear splitting screeches.

In the week since they’d arrived, she’d been determined to give Cole all the attention he required so he could adjust, to ease his way into the new life she’d sorted out for them. But he resisted her at every step. He wouldn’t eat, barely slept, and threw at least two breathtaking tantrums a day.

Like now, as they sat in their swimsuits, a bag packed with snacks and towels by the door. All they had to do was walk out that door and down the sidewalk to the condo complex’s pool. There were a few other kids there, she’d noted and when she’d asked him if he’d like to try it, he’d seemed enthusiastic enough. Until now, when it was actually time to leave.

He seemed terrified of anything outside his small realm of toys and familiar DVDs. When he did sleep, he stayed curled up next to her, making them both sweaty and irritable when they woke.

She watched him as if from a long way away, pondering her next move. Deciding to go with the advice a pediatrician friend of hers had offered when she’d called, terrified and desperate in the face of his small boy vehemence, she got up and headed into the kitchen to grab some ice to put against her neck. Sticking her entire face into the blessed cold of the freezer distracted her a few seconds. When she felt something wrap around her calf, she smiled, grabbed a popsicle and closed the freezer. “Here buddy, let’s just sit and have one of these, okay?”

He nodded, his eyes watery, his nose runny, his small hand clutching her leg. And they sat, staring at yet another episode of Sponge Bob, the fans blowing her hair around her face, Cole pressing so close to her their skin stuck together. By the time she finished her popsicle, she realized he’d fallen asleep and his had melted in her lap, leaving a wet puddle of grape juice under her butt.

She cried then, for the thousandth time as Sponge Bob and his Bikini Bottom buddies went about their business on the screen in front of her. She must have slept because the room was dark and the TV off when her eyes opened next. She sat up, alarmed, but not truly freaked out until she saw the open screen door.

“Holy shit.” She lurched to her feet, not caring that her rear end was stained purple and her thighs stuck together. “Oh my God. Oh shit, Cole!” she shrieked like a crazy woman as she tripped over a light saber and impaled her foot on a Lego block before getting to the door. She ran out barefoot onto the sidewalk between the garages for her building and the next one, head swiveling, taking in the small, duck-infested lake in front of her.

“Cole,” she whispered, running over to it, wondering if she could dive in without hitting her head on the bottom.

Her vision narrowed. Heart pounding in her ears, she studied the calm surface of the man-made water feature. Right as she prepared to jump in, convinced he was sitting on the bottom, his tiny lungs filling up with water as he grabbed for the fish and asked them where Patrick Star was, someone touched her shoulder. She yelped and jumped back from the lake’s edge.

“Sorry,” a woman said. “But are you looking for a little boy? Brown skin? About yay tall?” She held her hand down next to her upper thigh.

“Yes,” Mariah whispered, her vision clouding with tears. “Did you see him fall in?”

“Oh no, honey, he’s not in there.” The woman laughed, a tinkling, merry sound that put Mariah at ease. She had to hold herself back from dropping to her knees and grabbing onto to the woman’s legs in relief. “He’s at the pool, with my boy.”

“The…the pool?”

“Yep. We found him wandering around the outside of the fence, looking lost. He said his mama was taking a nap and he wanted to swim. I could tell he was on the verge of a fit, if you know what I mean, so we brought him in, stuck some floaties on him and he’s over there splashing away with my Henry.”

Mariah swallowed, speechless in the face of the woman’s kindness.

“You look done in, hon. Want some tea or something? Or something harder? It’s almost five o’clock and anyway it is still officially summer.”

When Mariah remained dumbstruck, her mind racing to catch up to the woman’s words telling her that Cole was all right, that he was swimming and having fun and not pitching some kind of massive fit—or drowning in the tiny lake next to her—the woman patted her arm. “My name’s Lindee. What’s yours?”

Mariah had the sense that the woman was humoring her, as if sensing that she was addled, or maybe some kind of a meth head, unable to take care of her own child. “Mariah,” she said, trying to gather her wits and shreds of dignity around her. “Mariah Bailey. We just moved in a week ago. Cole…that’s my son…he’s having a tough time adjusting.”

“Mariah. What a beautiful name.” The woman—Lindee—narrowed her eyes at her, then widened them and put a hand over her mouth. “Now I know where I saw you,” she said, grinning widely now. “You’re Mariah from The Singer show. You won, didn’t you?”

Mariah winced and nodded.

“Well now, honey I’ll have to admit I’m a little surprised to see you here in Lucasville, Kentucky of all the places on earth. I figured you’d be out in California recording your first hit song. You were amazing. I guess you hear that a lot. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” she said, running a trembling hand through her hair. “I couldn’t stay. You already met the reason why.”

Lindee nodded. “I did indeed and I’d say it’s the best reason on earth.” Mariah tried not to hug Lindee to her, to thank her not only for saving her kid but also understanding why she couldn’t live the glamorous dream life of a pop star. It was too long of a shot anyway, and she knew that. This was her life. She’d wanted a child. She’d gotten one, but somehow as part of that deal, she’d lost her marriage. Which made Cole her sole responsibility.

“Come on. Let’s go make some wine spritzers. We can pack them in plastic bottles and run back up to the pool.”

Mariah hesitated. Lindee looked to be a few years older than she but “her Henry” must be much older than Cole. She was a tall woman, thick around the waist but otherwise fit looking with strong-looking arms and legs, a blonde with a short, practical haircut and bright orange nail polish on her fingers and toes. Her skin was tanned and a little leathery, as if she’d spent one too many summer days with spritzers by the pool.

Cursing herself for being judgmental, Mariah smiled and nodded then followed her new friend back to their building. Lindee and Henry’s place was identical to hers and Cole’s, the mirror image on the opposite side of the hall. It was cluttered, teenager style, piled high with computer tablets, laptops, and video game paraphernalia. A stack of big textbooks sat on the corner of the small table, alongside an electronic keyboard. “You play?” she asked, unable to stop herself from trying a few chords on the cheap device.

“Oh no, honey. Henry does though. He’s got some talent, but of course I’m biased.” She handed Mariah a water bottle. “Sip this, I made it kinda strong.”

“Thanks,” Mariah said, taking it. “For everything.”

“Don’t be silly. That little boy is just about the cutest thing I’ve seen in a while. And Henry’s bored. He even said the other day he was looking forward to school starting. Can you imagine?”

“I can, actually,” she said, taking a sip of the overly sweet but refreshing spritzer.

When Cole caught sight of her walking onto the pool deck with Lindee, he climbed out and ran to her, arms wide, smile even wider. She grinned back, so grateful to see a happy face she could hardly bring herself to berate him. But she forced her expression into stern lines and crouched down, gripping his arms tight.

“Cole Bailey Jackson, you look me in the eyes right now and promise me you will never, ever, ever do that again. You can’t just leave the house like that and not tell Mama where you are. I was so worried.” Tears filled his eyes. But a point had to be made. “You don’t leave our home without me, understand?”

“Yes, Mama.” He lowered his head, letting the tears plop onto the hot pavement, evaporating almost before they hit. “Sorry, Mama.”

She caught Lindee’s eye over the boy’s shoulder. The woman was nodding and smiling sympathetically. Mariah sighed and tilted Cole’s face up. “Mama’s not mad anymore. But you promise me, okay? Promise me right now?”

He held out his pinkie finger. She hooked hers solemnly to it. They shook, then he kissed her pinkie and she, his. “Now go on and play. And way to go not using floaties.”

He grinned wide again, almost breaking her heart into a million pieces at the sight of it. “Henry’s teaching me to dog paddle.”

“Hope that’s okay,” a tall, good-looking kid, probably about fourteen said to her. He had a mop of jet-black hair that flopped into his forehead, and a spray of adolescent acne across his nose and cheeks. He frowned as he looked at her, then his eyes widened like his mother’s had. “Oh shit! I mean, crap…um…I mean wow, you’re … her!”

She smiled. His blush rose from his neck into his cheeks, making his zits flame even redder. “Yes, I’m Mariah Bailey. And it’s more than okay that you’re teaching him to swim. You’re Henry, right? I saw your keyboard.”

He took Cole’s hand to keep the kid from poking his leg. “Yes ma’am. I play some.”

“Do you go to Lucasville High?”

“Yeah…um yes, ma’am. I sure do. It’ll be my second year there. I’m a sophomore.” He blushed a brighter red at his redundancy.

“Great,” she said. “Then I’ll see you there next week—not that I won’t see you here, with this guy. You’re gonna have a heck of a time untangling yourself from him now I’m afraid.”

“It’s cool. I like little kids. I’m a camp counselor, or I will be next summer. This summer I just trained. Are you a teacher or something?”

“Yep, I’ll be the music teacher.”

“Kick ass,” he yelped before slapping a hand over his lips.

She chuckled. “It’s okay. He’s heard worse.”

“Kick ass!” Cole piped up. She shot him a stern look. He grinned, shrugged and tugged on Henry’s hand. “Come on, show me more dog paddling.”

A couple of hours later, Cole lay across her chest, snoring so loud the people around them chuckled. She felt drowsy, content to drift and listen to Lindee chatter with the woman on her other side, watching Henry watch a couple of teenaged girls in way-too-skimpy bikinis primp and preen and pretend not to notice him.

Teenagers, she thought. Her life would be one big teenaged drama in a few short days. She’d always imagined herself teaching at the college level. Then, of course, she’d imaged herself as the next big pop star. Now, she was thrilled to have a real job, with real benefits, in a town far enough away from her mother to give her some breathing room. Plus, bonus, now she had a friend.

“Hey, I was telling Patty that I’ll bet you’d be a real ringer at Karaoke Smackdown,” Lindee said, jarring her out of her half-doze.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I would,” she said, shifting Cole so he lay beside her. “Never thought about that.”

“Well, good, that’s settled,” Lindee said in what Mariah would come to know as her presumptive way.

“What’s settled?” She sat and stretched her arms up and back, noting that the sun had disappeared behind one of the condo buildings. It must be almost seven by now. An hour before Cole’s usual bedtime, not that they had anything resembling a normal schedule anymore.

“Henry can stay at your place while this little man catches some Zzz’s,” Lindee said, getting up and packing away her novel, a magazine and the now empty water bottle. “You grab a shower, get yourself prettied up and we’ll hit karaoke night over at Love’s.”

“The… what?” She felt sluggish, and hungry, and not at all like getting prettied up and going out, karaoke or not.

“The Love Pub,” the other woman said. She was the opposite of Lindee—slim to the point of scrawny, with dark brown hair and eyes and the palest skin Mariah had ever seen. “It’s downtown. Used to be a brewery until they moved that to the outskirts. Now it’s the best BBQ and pizza in town. An on Thursdays,” she said, with a finger snap and a hip bump. “It’s the Karaoke Smackdown.” She high-fived Lindee. “And we are gonna kill it tonight. Just wait until Hallie and them get a load of our ringer!”

Mariah tried to protest but no excuse sounded good enough to balance out what Lindee and Henry had done for her and Cole today. “Oh, right. Okay. Uh, give me about thirty minutes. I’ll be ready.”

Lindee laughed and patted her shoulder. “I need at least an hour, hon. Perfection takes time.” She passed her hand down her front. “I’ll send Henry over—you’re okay with leaving him right?” She nodded down at Cole, still passed out on the lounge chair.

“Sure,” Mariah said. “See you in an hour.”

If she’d known how drastically her life would change with a simple decision to accompany her new friends out for karaoke, she might have refused the offer.

But then again, maybe not.