Close Match by Jerald Tracey

Author:Jerald, Tracey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tracey Jerald
Published: 2019-10-02T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

I didn’t notice any discernible change with Monty that night or the next. All I could hope was that he was thinking about the things I said and taking them to heart.

It wasn’t until three days after we got back from DC when I walked into my room and I found a bouquet of the wildflowers that I remember grew at the top of the hill where he first took me riding that I knew he was thinking about more than just what I said.

He was thinking about me.

Thirty-Six

Montague

In the middle of the night, I’m sipping a large tumbler of bourbon while I stare out the windows over the vast darkness. I can’t see the moon or any stars tonight. Fortunately, there’s the small ember of one that’s been lighting the house for weeks.

The dream woke me up again tonight, but instead of my hesitation waking me up screaming, I woke up with tears on my face. Rubbing my hand across my chest, I remember the words Commander McMann hurled at me: “You’re a disgusting representative of your badge and this Navy. You should have taken the shot! Maybe my son would still be alive!” My breathing speeds up as I try to reconcile that with Linnie’s soft but resolute “That’s someone else lashing out in their grief.”

Could it be that Linnie was right? Was Commander McMann lashing out in her grief? Which should I believe? What am I? Someone who was caught up in circumstances or a disgrace of a man?

Even as I lift the tumbler against my lips, I feel the liquid warmed from my hands slosh over the side. Taking a few short breaths, I steady myself before I throw back the rest of the drink. Sucking in a tight breath, the burning down the back of my throat causes a soundless whistle.

The hand holding the tumbler falls to my side as I lean my head against the glass. If I squint just hard enough, I can make out Linnie’s studio. God, if there was ever someone I’d taken at face value, it was Evangeline Brogan.

I likely can’t see the stars because she’s dulled them out, I think whimsically. I’ve never met anyone so incredibly beautiful as the woman who’s safely bedded down just a few doors away. I wonder if she lies awake as I do. What does she think about in the middle of the night? Turning, I begin making my way to the door to find out when I realize I’m more than a little unsteady on my feet. I slam into the side of the wet bar with such force, I send the bottles rattling.

Well, since I’m here… Lifting my glass onto the counter, I pour a quick refill. Resting against the back, I sip the drink and think about long dark hair and bright green eyes.

How on earth did she not hate her mother? I wonder. How did she know she wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps? Do her

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