Love of a Marine (The Wounded Warriors Series Book 2) (37 page)

“What do you want to drink?” He hitched up his pants and stuffed the bills in his pocket.

“I’ll have a crème soda. I haven’t had one in ages.”

The minute he left, Graciella dug her cell phone from her bag and tapped the icon for Cluny’s office.

“Veteran’s Plumbing. What’s your problem?”

She grinned at Chief’s terse answer. “Hello, Chief. It’s Graciella. Is Cluny there?” Not sure how she’d open the conversation with Cluny, she gripped the phone and paced.

“He might’ve already bailed for lunch. I’ll take a look. Hang on.” She heard him holler, “McPherson! You still here? Harry, can you waylay him? Hang on, looks like we caught him.”

“Thanks.” The lump in her throat grew thicker.

“Hey, baby.” Cluny, breathless, answered faster than she’d expected.

“I, um, I wanted to talk to you before you left in the morning. Is now a good time?”

“Good as any. What’s up?”

“I didn’t want you to leave town without telling you something…I wanted to, uh…tell you.”
Oh, heck, I’m rambling.
“You know what, amor? It can wait until you get back.”

“No way. Tell me, or I’ll be speculating about it all weekend.”

“I, uh, have no problem with you going to Camp Pendleton to visit your friend, the pilot, but it really bothers me that you’re planning on spending the night in San Diego…with Misty.”

Say something, Cluny. This silence is killing me.

“Cluny? Are you still there?”

“Don’t do this, Graciella.”

“Don’t do what?”

“I’m not him. You’re projecting his infidelity onto me. It’s not fair.”

Is that what she was doing? “I know, but…”

“No, I don’t think you do. You have no reason to distrust me. None. Mis and I have told you about our past. We’re good friends. Don’t tell me who I’m allowed to have as friends.”

Her heart sank. “Oh, no, I don’t mean it like that.”

“Then explain it to me.”

She didn’t know what to say. Her brain told her one thing and her heart told her the opposite. “I admit it, uh, I’m having a hard time, you know, trusting.” That wasn’t what she’d planned to say. She wasn’t sure now what she
had
planned to say.

“What do you want from me, Graciella? Your fears are unfounded. I’ve told you, and shown you how much I love you. What more can I do?” His use of her name instead of his usual endearment said volumes about his reaction to her confession.

“I’m torn, Cluny. I love you. I want to trust you. I do. But your past with her… I can’t help how I feel.”

“We both have pasts. We have to trust each other or we don’t stand a chance.”

Could this have gone any worse? “I shouldn’t have called. I have to go.”

“Oh, no you don’t. We can’t leave it like this. I want an answer. Will you trust me? Or will you punish me for what he did and ruin what we have?”

She clutched her stomach. “That’s not fair, Cluny.”

“Fair? You’re the one not being fair.” She didn’t miss the slow burn of anger in his voice.

Damn him!

“Like I said, this phone call was a bad idea. Go ahead with your plans and just forget I called.” She turned her phone off and stormed out of the studio. When she approached the deli, she slowed her step and took deep breaths. Santos didn’t need to see her fuming. She pasted a calm expression on her face, opened the door to the small deli, and stepped inside.

Santos smiled and waved from across the small eat-in area. Tall drinks sat on the table. “I got your crème soda, Mama. Roast beef sandwiches will be up in a minute. I got mine with extra horseradish and yours with a side of sauerkraut.”

“Perfect.” She hung her shoulder bag on the back of her chair and took her seat. “I’m hungry.” She felt her composure slipping and picked up her drink to mask it. To her horror, tears puddled on her lower lashes. She picked up her napkin, blew her nose, and wiped her eyes.

“Are you crying, Mama?”

His alarm was exactly what she’d wanted to avoid. “Um, no, It’s must be allergies. My eyes started to burn as soon as I stepped outside and locked the door at the studio.”

He was about to speak when the man behind the counter shouted the number on the ticket in the middle of their table. Santos bounced up and went to the register. He paid the check and carried the plates to the table. She had a tight grip on her emotions by the time he returned.

* * *

“Dammit to hell!” He picked up the stapler and hurled it across the room. He slammed the top of the desk with his fist. “Ow!”

Chief peeked around the door frame. “Safe to come in?” He bent over and picked up scattered pieces of the innocent, now violated, desk accessory. “Somebody has his skivvies in a knot.”

“What?” Cluny glared. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Female trouble would be my guess.”

Cluny flashed a murderous scowl.

“Yep. Women. You can’t live with’em and you can’t live with’em.” He directed a wry smile at Cluny.

Cluny dropped his booted feet on top of the scarred desk. “You’re full of wisdom, old man.”

“Been married to the same woman for over forty years, jarhead, and I have yet to determine what makes her tick.” He chuckled and dropped the shattered corpse of the stapler in the overflowing wastebasket at the corner of the desk.

“That’s encouraging.”

“Wasn’t meant to be. Had to happen sooner or later, you know. The first big fight. There’ll be plenty more if you two stick it out. Don’t mean you don’t love each other. It’s the way living with a woman is. Can’t be helped.”

Cluny’s chair bounded forward with a painful squeak and his work boots hit the floor. “I’m going to get some lunch before you bestow any more of your
sageness
on me, Chief.” He slammed the ball cap on his head. “Hold down the fort.”

“Don’t I always?”

Cluny went back to his car. He got in and grabbed a handful of Queen’s hair and gave it a good shake. “I didn’t forget you, Queenie. Let’s go get that hamburger.” He turned out of the industrial neighborhood and headed to McDonald’s, gave his order at the drive through, paid, and then parked under a big oak tree.

Queen’s panting increased when she smelled the food. Her tail thumped on the passenger door in anticipation of her favorite not-good-for-dogs treat.

Graciella’s call played havoc in Cluny’s head. He took his time eating. Queen downed her burger in two gulps and was nosing his soft drink. “Hey! Get out of there.” He took the top off the paper cup containing water. “That’s yours.”

Should he have been less quick to react? Spent more time putting her at ease about his weekend?
No, dammit!
She had no reason to mistrust him. She had plenty of reason to feel insecure, he supposed, but not with him. She was irrational. He rolled his eyes and groaned. Graciella hadn’t exactly demanded anything from him; she’d expressed herself, supposing she was safe telling him her feelings, her fear. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and touched her picture on the display. No answer, so he tapped a text:
Sorry. U hav nthng 2 worry abt. I’ll call when I gt bak Sun nt. I luv u. C.

His thumb hovered over Send. He pushed Cancel. He’d give her time to settle down, try her again later. He squeezed his eyes closed and wondered if he’d have a repeat performance of the nightmare tonight. He missed being able to reach across the bed for her, missed pulling her close, missed holding her. Sleeping together once or twice a week just didn’t cut it. Something had to give.

He considered calling Hot Stick to say he’d changed plans, and then going online to cancel his train reservation. Instead he grabbed the trash from lunch and carried it to a big waste can. He watched while Queen sniffed the low, growing junipers at the perimeter, deciding which one to honor with her urine.

“Shake a leg, girl. We got a lot more to do this afternoon.” He clapped. “Car!”

Doubts assailed him on the drive to the warehouse. He immediately plunged into paperwork and returned several phone calls.

“Knocking off, boss.” Chief stood in the doorway wiping his gnarled hands on a shop towel. “Me and the boys are done for the day. Enjoy your trip. We’ll see you bright and early Monday morning.”

“I’ll call the answering service and remind them to call you for emergencies.”

“Already done.” Chief stuffed the towel in his back pocket and waved. “G’night.”

“Give Lu a kiss for me.”

“If I tell her it’s from you, she’ll probably allow it. She’s got her book club this evening. Looks like I’ll get some peace and quiet.”

The old man wasn’t fooling Cluny. Those two were completely devoted to each other. They’d weathered many storms and long deployments, but the love in their eyes gleamed every time he’d seen them together. “Turn off the lights in the warehouse. I’ll go out the side door soon as I’m done here.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

Quiet descended on the warehouse in the lowering sunlight. Against his wishes, he thought of Graciella again and wondered how he could have handled it differently. What more could he do? It was her problem. She’d have to come to terms with his friendship with Mis. If he gave up their friendship to put Graciella at ease, eventually he’d resent her for it.

What a mess.

Were men and women ever meant to live together? Why couldn’t he and Graciella be more like Dwayne and Marla? He gave himself a mental slap.
Grow up.
Nobody ever knew what went on behind closed doors. Every couple had problems.

He blew a resigned sigh, straightened-up the desk, and grabbed his keys.

Saturday afternoon ballgame

Graciella and Marla handed out treats during the seventh inning stretch while Lillian walked back and forth behind the bleachers with a feverish, fussy Declan.

“Poor baby, he’s trying to cut teeth already,” Marla said. “He’s an overachiever just like his daddy.”

“I remember those days. I spent many a night pacing the floor with an inconsolable Santos in my arms. Before long I was doing as much crying as he was. It wasn’t post-partum depression. It was exhaustion, pure and simple.”

“Ouch. At least I have Dwayne to take turns with me. Last night he wouldn’t let me get up. I heard him in that squeaky rocker in the living room, trying his best to let me get some sleep.” Marla buttoned up the canvas bag holding what was left of the energy bars and apples. “How are you doing with Cluny gone?”

“I screwed things up by calling him Thursday to say how uncomfortable I felt about him spending two days with you-know-who. All I accomplished was getting his back up about trying to pick his friends. We were both mad by the time I hung up on him.”

“Uh-oh. Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later.” Marla sat next to her and squeezed her arm. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“I should have known better. He was offended that I didn’t trust him. I’m sure we’ll get it smoothed over when he calls me tomorrow night.” She fanned her face and neck against the afternoon heat.

Sunday night, Beachy’s car

Beachy angled her head and said, “I want to know why you’ve been down in the dumps all weekend. And you might as well tell me,” she warned, “because I’m fed up with your lousy mood and long face. Either open up or walk back.”

Cluny tried to make a joke of it. “You’d make Queen walk all the way home?”

“Cut the crap, Mac. What’s going on? Did you have a fight with her?”

“You mean Graciella?”

“God, you’re such a smartass. I wasn’t talking about your dog.”

Was that what it was? A fight? He didn’t think it met the level of a fight, but emotions had run high on both sides of their conversation. How much would he reveal to Mis, if anything? He changed the subject. “What do you think of Hot Stick?”

“He’s a jerk. Don’t try to change the subject.”

“Why’s he a jerk?”

“He just is. Ever since the first time I met him ten years ago in the sandbox, he’s made it clear he doesn’t think much of women in the military. He keeps it under wraps, but it’s always there, just beneath the surface. His attitude hasn’t changed.”

He chuckled inwardly at her sour expression, but knew better than to get her started, so a brief smile was the only thing that could give him away. “He’s a little old school. Give the guy a break.”

“Old school? He can’t be more than forty-two, forty-three at the most.”

“I wasn’t referring to his age. He’s got no wife and a teenage daughter. I get the impression she’s a handful.”

“Where’s her mother?” She glanced quickly at him then turned her eyes to the perpetually jammed freeway.

“She bailed on them about three years ago. Said she never liked being a military wife, so she divorced him and a year later married another grunt and followed him overseas. Face it, Mis, your species has always been a mystery to us lesser beings.”

“No kidding. You’re about the closest to a girl of any guy I’ve ever known.”

“Wow. What a compliment, I love being your girlfriend.” He tinged his remark with sarcasm.

“You should. I’m very choosy, Mac.” She stared straight ahead with a wide, feisty grin on her face. He reached across the seat and tugged on her earlobe. “Ouch.” She laughed and pulled away.

Maybe she was on to something. Cluny had always sought the company of women. It must have been his craving for the softness of his mother’s love. When that love was ripped away at such an early age, he gravitated to the girls in the foster homes and to the foster moms who had a little bit to spare for their temporary children.

His dating history was steady and spotty. He loved to laugh, loved fun dates, and when he could manage it, good sex. Even mediocre sex was good sex. He’d just never connected on a level as deep as he’d achieved with Graciella. She was the first—scratch that—only woman he’d ever met who he’d thought of spending the rest of his life with. He’d tell her when they patched things up.

“Enough stalling, Mac, did you have a fight with her?”

He gave up. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a fight. I saw a side of her I hadn’t noticed before and had a knee-jerk response. I suppose it was inevitable.” He had no intention of telling Beachy about Graciella’s history with Marvin. Considering how long it had taken her to confide in him, no way would he further complicate things by violating her trust.