8 comments/  49449 views/  28 favorites

Oregon Coast

By: Thucydides



There's much to be said for knowing rich people, even if you aren't yourself. My best buddy from college, for example, is one of those guys whose family goes back generations, and every one of them invested wisely. Even he doesn't know how much money he has, but it's more than he'll ever need or be able to spend. Not that you'd know it if you met him- he swapped the BMW his parents gave him as a graduation present for a pickup truck.

One of the things John's family has owned forever is about ten acres of beach in what's now a fashionable resort area on the Oregon coast, complete with a huge old house. We used to spend a lot of weekends out there in college, fixing the place up, fishing for salmon in the coastal rivers, and drinking some Scotch in the evenings. I had served a hitch in the Navy before college, and John had spent a couple years bumming around Europe, so the cheap beer and loud obnoxious behavior that the campus weekend scene revolved around didn't do much for either of us. One of us might bring a female if we had one currently available, but they tended to get bored with our focus on tools and tackle. After graduation we moved a little further away, but still tried to get out there on a regular basis. Since would-be fishermen rented the place for $2000 a week when the family wasn't using it, I figured I was still coming out ahead in sweat equity- especially since John brought the Scotch and the drift boat.

This weekend, our plan was to tear out and replace a section of deck that was rotting out, and then see if the salmon were running. When I got there, I found that there had been a slight addition to the plans. John's uncle, who owns a big advertising agency in Portland, had decided to bring the agency running team out for the weekend to bond and look over the route for an upcoming race. In some states companies sponsor softball or golf- in Oregon you have a coed long distance running team. No big deal- it's a big enough house for everyone. The introductions were a blur to me except for Jennifer. She reached about the tip of my nose with a runner's slender build and blue eyes that lit up in a friendly smile that left me weak in the knees. I'm a little over 6' tall myself, so she was what I thought was a perfect size for easy kissing (WHOA! I just met this girl and that's the first thought?) Anyway, she was obviously pretty without working to make a big deal of it, and seemed bright and friendly. I definitely wanted to know more.

After lunch, the runners took off to go over the race course and John and I tore into the deck. By dinner time the rotten boards were in the beach bonfire pit and new ones shone in their place. Dinner was a cooperative effort- a few people took over the kitchen and whipped up huge amounts of spaghetti while the rest of us relaxed. We opened half a case of wine from the vineyard John's family owns a few miles inland, lit the bonfire, and hung out chatting and waiting for the food. The runners were a good bunch and conversation flowed easily. I ended up (yeah, right, I had her in my sights from the start) sitting next to Jennifer in the sand by the fire leaning against a driftwood log talking, drinking some good Pinot Noir, and watching the fire burn. Quite aside from being sweet and friendly, she laughed at my warped sense of humor and held her own in a debate over the future of the Oregon Coast. In fact, she won a small bet with one of the other runners over the names of the original Indian tribes of the area. She was in her second year at the ad agency and her opinions were clearly respected by the others despite her relative youth. 

I was getting more and more enchanted by the minute. I was also picking up some odd looks and vibes from both the male and female members of her team- not so much jealousy as "Who the hell is this guy who's drooling over our buddy?" That's cool- while my intentions may not have been exactly honorable in the old fashioned sense, I did honestly like this girl in a not-just-some-fun-for- the-night way.

Before long, Jennifer was sharing the Gore-Tex jacket I was wearing. The beach in Oregon is cool during the day, cold at night, and windy all the time, and people who sit around cool off quickly. She hadn't gotten her turn at the shower yet and was still wearing nylon running shorts and a sweatshirt. Her light brown hair smelled of jasmine, and that slender, strong runner's body fit perfectly under my arm. My hand was staying carefully in one place- she had way too much class to appreciate a cheap feel, and I wasn't about to have her thinking I was just a creep. We chatted and laughed, and aside from losing my train of thought every time she hit me with that blue-eyed smile I was having the time of my life. I was just starting to think seriously about taking advantage of having Jen in easy kissing range when the dinner bell rang. Damn.

We got separated somehow for dinner, and I ended up sitting with some of the older runners who kept coming back to questions about my background and future. About halfway through I realized I was being sized up for my qualifications to court Jennifer. Not sure it's really up to them, but the whole team was obviously close and seemed to see her as the youngest sister. I had nothing to hide- a couple years out of college, working hard helping run a good sized construction company and vaguely planning to buy out the owner in a few years when he's ready to retire. Maybe I shouldn't have offered a reference from my parole officer, though- I thought I was going to be lynched before they realized I was kidding!

Apparently I passed, because at the end of the meal someone gleefully announced that Jennifer and I, not having helped cook, had cleanup duty. Some time alone with her? Toss me in that briar patch, Br'er Fox! We picked up in the kitchen where we left off, talking, joking and arguing casually about nothing as we scrubbed pots and loaded the dishwasher. Suddenly, as I reached to put away a pot, her hand grabbed my shoulder hard. I turned and saw her pretty face contorted in pain.

"What's wrong?"

"Cramp! Cramp!"

The hand that wasn't holding me for support was grabbing at her hamstring. I picked her up by the waist and set her cute little rear end (yeah, I had noticed) on the counter. Then I grabbed the ankle of the cramping leg, put it on my shoulder, and pushed her knee down until her leg was straight. Did I mention I played rugby in college? Compared to some of the Samoan giants I did the same thing to back then she felt like a bird. Lots easier than those Samoans. Smelled better too.

Anyway, the cramp released and I started massaging the big quad muscle in the back of her thigh while keeping her ankle on my shoulder, all the while trying manfully not to look up those little shorts (black thong, BTW). After a few minutes she smiled in relief.

"I must look really silly."

I looked her right in the eyes.

"You look beautiful to me."

"Well, anyway, help me down?"

I put her leg down, picked her up by the waist again, and set her back on her feet. We just stood there for what seemed like hours but was probably only seconds, staring into each other's eyes with her hands resting on my shoulders and my hands still on her waist. I pulled just a little. She smiled again, moved forward, and slid her arms around my neck as her head tilted and her eyes closed. The kiss started slowly and built fast, her mouth opening to my tongue and holding her own as our tongues wrestled. Her hands moved through my hair as mine wandered up and down her back. As we got more into it, I felt her small hands start to unbutton my shirt and work their way inside. I slid my hands up under her sweatshirt , finding her rapidly stiffening nipples through the Spandex of her running bra and encouraging them to harden further. All too soon she pulled back, moving her hands back to my neck and resting her cheek on my shoulder. She had a confused look in her eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"This is happening so fast. I just met you this morning and now look at us!"

I held her close, my hands back out of her shirt. 

"To be honest, I've never felt an instant attraction to a woman the way I did when I met you this morning. The more I get to know you, the bigger my crush on you gets. We can take this as fast or as slow as you want but I want you in my life!"

Jennifer thought about that for a few seconds and then smiled again and kissed the side of my neck.

"I'm kind of attracted to you too, if you hadn't noticed! I need to slow down and adjust a little, though. I really wasn't expecting this. Can we just call it a night tonight?"

"As fast or as slow as you want. Why don't you go on to bed? There's only a little left to clean up."

"Thanks. I owe you."

"That's easy enough. One more kiss?"

She made good with interest and then slipped out of my arms and out of the kitchen. I enjoyed watching her go but was devastated that I wasn't going with her. I reminded myself that the goal with this girl was long term, not short, and put away the last pots.

John's house had been added on to several times, and the layout ended up pretty illogical. My room had a door into a bathroom that also had a door into the hallway on the other side. I was in bed, trying to settle down by reading a book but still preoccupied with thoughts of long legs, blue eyes and blinding smiles, when I heard the shower start up. After a few minutes the water shut off. Then the door opened and Jennifer stepped in gracefully, wrapped in a towel that was tight around her perky breasts but barely covered that round rear end. She saw me and looked startled.

"Oh, sorry! I must have gotten the wrong door."

"Not a problem at all, believe me. How's the leg?"

"Feels fine, thanks to you. It's also thanks to you that I can't get to sleep!"

"I seem to have the same problem."

We looked at each other for a few minutes.

"Come here."

She walked toward me as reluctantly as a salmon on a hook and stood looking down.

"I'm not about to get in bed with a man the same day I met him...."

"Hey, it's past midnight! Seriously, Jennifer, I know you're a class act. It's obvious to anyone who spends any time with you. You're safe with me."

She smiled.

" And will you respect me in the morning?"

"Tomorrow morning and a whole lot of mornings to come."

Smile. 

"That sounds good..."

I reached out and grabbed her towel with both hands, pulling her toward me. She giggled as she landed across my chest, the towel coming completely adrift. Then she grabbed the headboard and wiggled herself straight. She looked down at me for a second, her hands gripping the headboard on either side of my head. I was a little distracted by her breasts, just big enough to swing as she moved, with their small pink nipples almost but not quite in reach of my tongue. 

Smile.

"You sure it's past midnight?"

"Oh, yeah!"

"Well, all right, then..."

"Tease!"

She giggled again as she pulled the covers completely out from between us and flattened out on my chest, kissing me like her life depended on it. I was overwhelmed by the sensation of warm, jasmine scented, slightly damp female skin all over me. I could feel the muscles in her slender body as my hands wandered all over her. This girl was buff in a completely feminine way. My hands went to her tight butt and kept on going, reaching her thighs and pulling them apart. She was panting and wiggling with her nipples flat on my chest. Then she pushed herself up full astride me. Her lower lips were rubbing up and down my hard cock as I caressed her. I slid a hand between her thighs, rubbing a finger up and down and then between her labia. She was dripping wet. Once she decided to make love to me- and I somehow knew in some remote part of my mind that's what we were doing- she didn't hold back a bit. I found her sweet little clit, rubbing her juices up onto it until it was slick as her inner walls. Gasping, she reached down and guided the head of my cock into position. Then she ever so slowly slid down until I was all the way inside her. God, she was tight. Holding that position without moving her hips, she flattened out and kissed me again. I loved it. I loved her. I was going crazy with all the things I was feeling. 

Slowly, she started wiggling her hips, building until she was sliding up and down me, shallow at first and then almost all the way off me and back down to full impalement again. I found the rhythm and helped out. By this time she was holding the headboard for balance, and those sweet little nipples were bouncing around within easy licking range. I licked. I got a nipple in my mouth and held it there with suction. Her hips bounced frantically. She moaned. 

"Oh, yeah, that feels so..." 

She lost the train of thought as the orgasm ripped through her, leaving her shaking and shuddering and moaning and, finally, collapsing onto my chest. She just lay there for a few seconds with her head on my shoulder. I caressed her from knees to shoulders, both hands running up and down her long thighs, tight bottom, and smooth back. Then she looked at me. 

"That was incredible." 

"We're not done yet."

Smile.

"Goodie!" 

I rolled her onto her back, never breaking the connection, and started slowly thrusting in and out of her. I was close myself by this point, and before long I was moving just as frantically as she had. She had her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist and was holding on for dear life.

"Yes...Yes....OH YESSS...." 

As her second orgasm hit I went with her, nearly passing out with the intensity of the moment. 

For a few seconds I just laid there trying to regain my orientation. Then I flopped onto my back, keeping Jennifer safely in my arms. She threw a leg over one of mine, wrapped her arm around my chest, and snuggled as close as physically possible. We kissed again, this time not hungrily but affectionately.

"Now, THAT was incredible!" 

"Yeah, it really was." 

She laid her head on my chest and we fell asleep that way, both emotionally and physically exhausted.

Jen slipped out sometime that night, not wanting rumors about her bed not being slept in. From some of the looks I got the next day, though, I think there were some suspicions going around. Well, we did get a little loud at some points. I tried to get her away for a walk on the beach that morning, but she was busy with team stuff and, I think, didn't want to make our sudden romance obvious. At least she got the message that I was still fascinated with her.

Jennifer took off with her team that Sunday afternoon, but not without leaving a note with her phone number in my overnight bag. As soon as I got back to Portland I called her and set up a dinner date. 

She shared a rental house in Northeast Portland with a couple college girlfriends. Of course she wasn't ready when I got there- female privilege- and the roommates offered me a beer and sat me in the front room to wait. Before long, I was getting the third degree from them about who I was and how I got a date with Jennifer. I finally asked,

"Hey, ladies, does everyone who goes out with her have to go through this?"

Karen, a small, feisty blonde, answered for them.

"That's one of the reasons we're curious. She doesn't date much and we're wondering what it is about you that has her so excited about tonight."

I took the easier part first.

"She doesn't date much? I would think a girl like her would have to fight men off with a stick!"

"She does! In fact, it's frustrating to go out with her because we constantly get passed off to the wingman! Thing is, she blows off 99% of the guys who try to get her number. She's a little picky about men. Then you show up out of nowhere and she's eager to go out with you."

"What's the deal?"

"Truth is, she's the classic ugly duckling. When she showed up freshman year she was tall, skinny, and not interested in much but books and running. Men didn't take much interest in her either. By sophomore year she had filled out a little and everything kind of fell into place. We and some other girls got her to socialize a little more and taught her a little about stuff like makeup and dressing in clothes that looked good on her. By junior year, most of the guys on campus were competing to go out with her. You know what immature jerks some college guys can be. Then one of the girl's mothers, who works at Vogue, talked her into going to New York for Fashion Week. She made enough money on the catwalk to pay for her senior year, but she was fed up with people who are only interested in her because she's so beautiful."

"Well, that could be a problem for me. I'd much rather date a beautiful girl than a homely one. If you don't mind my asking, why doesn't it bother you ladies? A lot of young women I know would be jealous and/or catty about it." 

The tall black haired Goth type -- Lydia? Dahlia? Something like that- chimed in.

"We've known her forever, and she doesn't have a mean or snotty bone in her body. She's one of the sweetest girls we know. I gotta tell you, hurt her and we're going to hurt you!"

"Believe me, hurting her is the last thing I want to do! I can't tell you what she sees in me, though- you better ask her. I met her by chance and we just seemed to hit it off."

"Does that explain the pregnancy test kits in the bathroom?"

Urk. I didn't know what to say to that, but Karen decided to let me off the hook.

"No fear, Romeo, they were negative. But she's trusting you for some reason, and if you take advantage it will be the worst day of your life!"

I was getting a little irritated with the way this little cupcake kept threatening me. Besides, someone had started dinner in the kitchen, and garlic always brought back that terrible day on the road north of Kandahar and the smell of white phosphorus. I started rolling up my left sleeve.

"On the worst day of my life so far, I took an AK-47 round through my arm and held a good friend's hand while he died. You really think you can top that?"

Eyes got big all around. Karen didn't know whether to apologize, call me a liar, or get angry. She couldn't look at my left forearm and not see that something had caused those scars. She blustered.

"You a war hero or something? That what you're telling us?"

"Not hardly. I joined the Navy to pay for college, ended up a petty officer in charge of a construction outfit. In January 2002 we got sent to Afghanistan to help build airstrips and bases. One day we got ambushed. It was just chance as far as who got hurt, who lived, and who got killed. No heroism to it on my part."

They were looking at each other, hoping that that the other would know what to say next. I guess it was my turn to let them off the hook. 

"Look, I understand your loyalty to Jennifer. She's a wonderful person and I'm sure a wonderful friend. Just try to believe that I want her to be happy too, and you don't need to threaten me about it."

I felt a small warm hand on the back of my neck, and smelled jasmine. 

"Aw, Brian, you say the sweetest things!"

I turned, and as usual got totally tongue-tied when I looked into those smiling blue eyes. Boy, if I thought she looked good enough to eat in her running gear (and I did) I was floored by the way she looked in a little black strapless dress, buffed and fluffed for an evening out at Genoa's. I somehow got her out the door amid a chorus of wisecracks about having her home by curfew and staying out of lover's lanes.

In my truck, she seemed quieter than usual, and I was struggling to get a conversation going. Finally I just asked her what was wrong.

"The last time we were together things got a little crazy. That's not how I normally act. In fact, I've never done something like that before! I don't know what you think of me, I'm not sure what to think of myself, and I 'm not sure I trust myself around you."


Oregon Coast Ch. 02



Being wealthy isn't as great as it sounds. I never tried being poor, of course; when your name is the same as one of Oregon's biggest timber companies that's not really an issue. It was always understood that the family money was just that: there to be taken care of, added to, and used as needed, but not ours to waste. The only thing worse in my family than wasting money was acting superior because of our luck in ancestors. I'll never forget the time my brother (who for a while we actually had answering to "Dumb Dave") tried to impress some airhead girls by making fun of the Hispanic laborers who were building Mom's new formal garden out past the pool house. Dad didn't say much- he never did- but the look in his eyes scared me. A couple weeks later Dad told me quietly that Dave wouldn't be going with us to sail the San Juan Islands when school got out, and we should find another crew member. When we saw Dave again, he had a lot of stories about the fish cannery in Alaska where Dad had sent him to spend the first half of the summer gutting salmon. He had callused hands, some expressions that almost gave our Spanish master a heart attack, and a deep respect for the hard working Mexicans who had shown him the ropes on the fish line.

Anyway, when I finished prep school I had enough money in the trust fund to go to Europe for a while. I had been All-American as a soccer goalie, and figured I should go take the European leagues by storm while I was hot. It took me a couple of years bouncing around the bottom levels of the UEFA to realize that being hot in American soccer was a long way from being a star in European football, and I just wasn't going to make it to the top with the skills I had. I went back to the US to finish college knowing that I didn't have to wonder for the rest of my life what would have happened if only had given it my best shot.

College was a bad fit socially, since most of the students were fresh out of high school and excited to be on their own away from Mom and Dad for the first time. I did my own thing, studied, and ignored the campus partying for the most part. After celebrating Hogmanay with the West of Scotland Football Association, a bunch of kids drunk on Keystone just didn't impress me.

One night I was walking back to my apartment across campus and encountered a bunch of said drunk frat boys who decided to make cracks about my Real Madrid jersey. I was annoyed- Real Madrid is a hell of a team and I had worked hard for that jersey, even though I never actually made the team. I told them to piss off, and they started making cracks about "soccer fags" and getting hostile. I was starting to wonder if I had gotten in over my head when I heard a deep voice behind me.

"Hey, guys, are we going to have a problem here?"

I looked around. The speaker was something over six feet tall and at least half that wide, none of it fat. His voice and smile looked friendly, but his attitude made it clear that if they jumped me he was more than willing to jump in and even things up. Typical loudmouths, they muttered some threats and disappeared. I stuck out my hand.

"Hey, thanks for the help!"

"It's nothing. I get tired of these stupid kids getting drunk and causing problems for people who are here to learn something."

"Well, can I buy you a beer anyway?"

"Sure, why not?"

That's how I first met Brian. We both had seen something of the world and were there to get our educations and move on. Brian never said much about his background, but he didn't appear to have a family that stayed in touch with him and occasionally mentioned dealing with the VA to pay his tuition. I once asked him how he got the terrible scars on his arm, and he mumbled something about "Afghanistan" in a way that discouraged me from probing further. He was a hell of a decent guy, though, and we quickly became friends. He got in the habit of coming home with me for the holidays, and we spent quite a few weekends out at my family's house on the Oregon coast fishing and doing the constant maintenance a beach house needs.

After graduation, he went to work for a good sized construction company and I took the place that was waiting for me in the family timber business. Brian appeared to be doing well, and Dad had already made clear, in his quiet way, that when he was ready to buy out the company he was to come to Dad for the money. Dad got where he is partly by being a good judge of character.

When we got out to the beach that weekend, we found my uncle's company running team already there. They're cool people for the most part, and we had plenty of space. Brian looked a little dazed after the introductions, but I didn't give it a lot of thought. Once we got to work on the deck we intended to fix, the reason became clear.

"Tell me about Jennifer!"

"She's a terrific girl. Sweet, smart, and you obviously noticed how pretty she is already. Toss me that pry bar."

"Catch. Some of those folks seem to think that you and her have something going?"

"Oh, some of those busybodies at Uncle Graham's ad agency think we'd make a good couple. Every time I go over there they manipulate me into taking her to lunch."

"And you don't like her?"

"I think the world of her! We realized after the first couple lunches that we just don't have any romantic attraction to each other. She calls me sometimes when she needs someone to go to some social function with her, and vice versa, but that's as far as it goes. I guess people see us together at those things and jump to conclusions."

"You telling me a girl that looks like that can't find a date? I can't believe that!"

"More like she gets tired of men constantly chasing her. She's got her own life going and she's not man-hungry like a lot of these girls. She doesn't seem that interested in dating."

Brian was grinning.

"And you can't take those weird girls you like to date to high society functions!"

This was an old jibe, and I knew it was a loser for me, but I couldn't just let it go.

"Look, just because I got tired of those finishing school clones I grew up around doesn't mean I date weird girls!"

"Really? What about that one who HAD to show us the tattoo on her butt?"

"It was on her hip!"

"If it's even partly covered by her Pikachu panties she doesn't need to show it to people she just met! What kind of grown woman wears Pokemon panties anyway?"

"Uh... a cute one? What was Doc Miyahara getting so upset for, anyway?"

"He wasn't upset, he was trying not to crack up! He said later he had seen those same characters on the back of trucks in Japan when he was visiting over there."

"Don't tell me..."

"Afraid so. She said it said "beautiful flower" or something like that? Doc says it's actually Japanese for WIDE LOAD!"

I had to laugh at that.

"OK, I give up. That girl with the WIDE LOAD on her hip in Japanese was a little odd. Where's the tape measure?" 

"Here. Yeah, I can just see your mom's reaction if she had decided to show off her butt tattoo at one of her parties!"

"Hip, not butt! I still remember Mom's reaction the time one of Dave's dates tried to show off her pole dancing skills. I don't need to see that again!"

Brian was an adopted son as far as Mom was concerned, and had privileges to criticize members of the family. In fact, I suspect she would have swapped Brian for Dave if she could have.

"They gave up on Dave acting like he had any sense a long time ago, but they still have hope for you. Why don't you pick out one of those preppy girls who won't give me the time of day and give them some grandkids like Mom's always talking about?"

"Seems to me that Bitsy Monroe gave you a lot more than the time of day last New Year's!"

"I'm not gonna confirm or deny that anything happened. Still, when I called her up the next week, she said that she'd had a lot to drink and didn't remember anything, and hoped I was gentleman enough to forget it too."

"Ouch. Sorry."

"I'm not. Who wants to deal with a sloppy drunk? I was just being polite. Anyway, you're avoiding my question."

I took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the deck. 

"You know why those girls like me better than you? They think my last name would look awfully good next to theirs on a platinum Amex card! They figure any girl who marries me will be set for life. That's actually true, but I don't need a woman who's just interested in my money."

Brian sat next to me and popped the lid off his Black Butte Ale. 

"You think your money is the only thing you have to offer? Maybe some of them just like cocky jerks!"

"Thanks, asshole. How do I know the difference, though? Anyway, come help me carry the lumber from the truck. We're wasting daylight here. Talk to Jen. Like I said, she's a great girl, but isn't a flirt. Don't take it personally if she's a little standoffish."

Oddly enough, Jen came wandering into my room as I finished getting dressed after my post-construction shower.

"Hey, kiddo, what's up?"

"Lots of people around here this weekend. Who's this Brian guy?"

"My best friend from college. Really solid guy."

"Yeah, he looks it. How come I never met him before?"

"Since when do you want me introducing you to new men? Why, you like them big?"

Jen turned a little pink.

"Hey, I was just curious! Don't jump to conclusions."

"Well, Brian's single, sober, solvent, and sane. One of the best people I know, and Mom wants to adopt him. Give the guy a chance if you're at all interested, and you won't regret it."

"Hmmmm...."

Jen looked thoughtful, kissed my cheek, and walked out without saying anything else. I kept my mouth shut- a girl's entitled to a little mystery- but I noticed that the two of them seemed to spend most of the evening deep in conversation. The next morning Jen was glowing and Brian couldn't stop smiling, and the looks they were giving each other when they thought no one was watching nearly set the house on fire. I don't need to know what, if anything, happened that night, but it didn't surprise anyone that they quickly became an item.

We were even less surprised six months later when they showed up for dinner with the gang with a diamond on Jennifer's finger and Brian grinning like the village idiot. All he had been able to talk about since that first weekend was how great Jen is, and while we gave him a hard time about it, the truth is we all liked her and figured he was a lucky SOB.

Brian walked in my back door a few weeks later looking stressed.

"Hey, John, if Jennifer asks I'm not here!"

"Trouble in Paradise?"

"Nothing serious. I'm still so crazy about that girl I can't see straight, and I can't wait to marry her. Getting there is about to kill me, though!"

"How so?"

"You know that apartment complex we've been building out in Beaverton? The roofing subcontractor flaked on us and I've been out there all day with a crew racing to cover the roof sheathing before this next rainstorm hits. Now Jen wants me to go look at china patterns or flower arrangements or some damn thing. I guess telling her that whatever she likes is fine with me isn't good enough. I mean, I lived on MREs out of the bag for nine months straight in Afghanistan and now I'm supposed to care what the plates look like? I just can't do it tonight!"

"Well, there's Guinness in the fridge, although I still say only a barbarian drinks it that cold. SportsCenter will be on in a couple minutes. Grab a beer and I'll call out for pizza."

"Thanks, man, I owe you for this."

"Keeping the groom sane is part of the best man's job. Don't worry about it."

The doorbell rang fifteen minutes later, and I grabbed my wallet and went to answer it. I cultivate a reputation with the local pizza joint as a big tipper, and they take good care of me in return. Instead of a high school Mario Andretti bearing a Meat Lover's Special, though, I found Jennifer on my porch. She had a friend with her- a Gothy looking dark haired girl I had seen around her house once or twice- and steam coming out her ears. 

"Don't even try to tell me that Brian's not here, John! The big jerk's truck is out back!"

The Man Code is strict. If I could save a buddy from having his girl mad at him I had to do it.

"Look, Jennifer, this is all my fault. I, uh, asked him to come over..."

"Oh, give it up! You men and your stupid Code!"

Well, smart women can be a mixed blessing. She brushed past me and found Brian looking trapped on the couch.

"Brian, you knew we were supposed to go look at china patterns tonight! You know how long I've been waiting for you? If you aren't serious about getting married, just say so and we'll call it off!"

The look on Brian's face was painful to see. This had gone far enough. I grabbed Jen's arm.

"Come out on the deck with me. Now!"

She went along semi-willingly. 

"OK, Jennifer, listen to me for a minute. First, he was just telling me before you got here how much he loves you and can't wait to marry you."

She was starting to relax a little.

"Really?"

"Ever since he met you you've been all he can talk about. I've never seen a man so totally head over heels as he is over you. It's almost disgusting."

A smile was starting to fight its way through her angry expression.

"Second, lighten up on the guy! This wedding stuff is a female show; he doesn't care if it's under a bridge or bigger than Princess Diana's as long as he ends up with you. Don't assume he doesn't care about the marriage because the fooferaw goes right over his head!"

The smile was winning out.

"Third, look at where he is. He started from nothing and is well on his way to building a solid future, and he's doing it for you. If he knocks himself out at his job it's because he wants a better life for you and the children you'll have someday. He's showing how much he loves you in his own way."

Now she was really smiling.

"Finally, would you really want a guy who's obsessed with flower arrangements and china patterns? I know some like that, and they wouldn't have kept the satiated smile on your face that you've had since you met Brian!"

Now she was laughing.

"OK, OK, I see your point! I guess all this wedding stuff has my perspective messed up. Now let me go so I can go apologize to the big dope!"

Brian saw her coming and stood up like a man facing a firing squad. She marched right up to him, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him like she was trying to melt his fillings. He looked startled but caught on fast and didn't fight his good luck. Eventually she pulled back and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

"Brian, I'm sorry. This wedding planning stuff has me going nuts. We need to take a break from it. Finish your beer and let's head back to your place. Your shoulders feel like you could use a good back rub!"

I caught Brian's eye over her head. He silently mouthed something like "I REALLY owe you!" He wasn't dumb, though; he grabbed her hand and got out of there as fast as he could. I shook my head and turned back to find the other girl eyeing me with disdain. I put on my best smile.

"Hi, I'm John. I know I've seen you around, but I'm not sure I know your name."

I might as well have said "Hi, I'm Gary Ridgway!" She looked down her nose and spoke flatly.

"Lydia."

I eyed her a little. Under the black spiky hair were big green eyes in a delicate face, and a smoothly curved body under the odd black clothes. A very pretty girl, actually, if you looked past her deliberate efforts to look strange. Not that it looked like it was going to matter to me.

"Uh. Listen, you want some pizza? Looks like I'm not going to have all the guests I thought."

"No. I have to go."

And out the door she went. It was strange- I know I don't look like Brad Pitt, but most women don't hate me on first sight either. A minor mystery at best. I grabbed a slice of pizza and went to check the World Cup rankings on satellite. As soon as I found the channel the doorbell rang. There was Lydia on the porch.

"I just realized that Jennifer took off with the car keys. Can I call a cab?"

"Don't bother. Let me grab my keys and I'll drive you home."

"Well, if you insist."

Nothing seemed to melt her ice. I couldn't see why a girl as sweet as Jennifer hung out with this snob, but I never claimed to understand women. 

When I found my keys, I remembered that Dave had borrowed my pickup and left me his Porsche 911 until he brought it back. Most girls don't mind a ride in a 911, but Lydia obviously wasn't most girls.

"You want me to ride in this?"

"It's what I have at the moment, unless you want to wait until my Rolls Royce gets back from the shop. Sorry if it isn't good enough for you!"

She finally looked a little ashamed of herself.

"Sorry, I'm just not used to cars this fancy. I'm more into bicycles myself."

"It's just a car. My brother's, actually- he borrowed my pickup and left me this."

"So you're more the pickup type?"

"Ever try to tow a boat or haul firewood with a Porsche? It's not easy, believe me!"

Her smile suddenly made clear how striking she really was. She could have given Jennifer competition in the looks department if she had made the effort. That was the only smile I got that night, though; when I pulled up to her place she just said "thanks", got out, and went in the house without looking back. 

It turned out that Lydia was one of Jennifer's housemates and was scheduled to be in the wedding, which was why they were running around together that night. I saw a lot of her over the next few months as the big event started to come together. To everyone else, she was friendly and charming. Me, though, she still treated like something she had to scrape off her Doc Martens. Once I overheard something about "rich smartasses" that might or might not have been about me. The fact that the description fit on both counts didn't explain the whole thing to my satisfaction. She wasn't just a weird chick with a pissy attitude; she was a genuinely kind and witty young woman and smart as a whip. It was only me that she couldn't stand.

Lydia really didn't own a car, and Jennifer kept assigning me to pick her up for all the activities and events that kept happening as the wedding approached. It was easier because I could just toss her mountain bike in the back of my Ram 2500 and drop it at her house when I dropped her off, which would have been complicated with the little Hondas and Toyotas her girlfriends drove. 

One afternoon I had to go to the high school where she taught English to get her. I had been out in the woods all day cruising timber, and was dressed in my dirty boots and Carharts. The sun was out for a change, so I dropped the tailgate and sat on it reading a book as while I waited for class to let out. Pretty soon I was surrounded by a small crowd of teenagers. The faces were every color known to man, but kids are kids the world over.

"Nice truck, man!"

"Thanks. I work in the woods and it's good for dirt roads."

"Whatcha reading?"

"Henry Thoreau. It's a book called 'Walden' about a year he spent living in the wilderness in a cabin he built himself. He was kind of the first environmentalist."

"Cool, I guess. Whatcha doing here?"

"I have to pick up Ms. Lydia. You guys know her?"

That got a big, enthusiastic reaction. Apparently they all had her for one period or another and loved her class.

"So are you her boyfriend?"

"Not hardly. We're friends with a lot of the same people and I'm giving her a ride to meet some of them."

One big red headed kid pushed forward aggressively.

"Well, why not? You don't think she's pretty? Not good enough for you?"

This fifteen year old tough guy was ready to punch me for disrespecting his favorite teacher. I stopped myself from laughing just in time.

"Do I look blind to you? Of course she's pretty, and she seems really smart and kind too." 




Oregon Coast Ch. 02



A lot of murmurs of agreement.

"Let me tell you guys something. When you grow up, smart women get their pick of men. If Ms. Lydia doesn't pick me, what can I do about it?"

That seemed to make sense to them, and they calmed down. I heard a familiar voice from the other side of the truck.

"What's going on here? Do you ladies and gentlemen not have enough work to do? I could assign another book report for the weekend!"

The crowd shrank rapidly. There stood Lydia in full on teacher mode. Even bossing her kids around she looked cute. Damn, this was getting bad. I helped her up into the truck and went around to put her mountain bike in the back. Apparently I enjoyed helping her up into the truck a little too much. There was a whisper from one of the last kids lingering around.

"I saw that look, man! You Hot for Teacher!"

Some of the other kids picked it up and the mutters grew.

"Hot for Teacher! Hot for Teacher!"

I cranked the truck and got the hell out of there before Lydia heard. I thought I caught a little smirk on her face, but she didn't say anything or treat me any better.

The next time I had to pick Lydia up, two weeks later, she ordered me to meet her at a Starbuck's six blocks from her school. She came flying into the lot on her mountain bike just as I settled down to wait, and I met her and tossed the bike into my truck as usual.

"Want some coffee?"

"No, let's just get going."

She climbed up into my truck without assistance and turned to me as I started it up.

"Hey, what did you say to my kids last time you picked me up?"

"Just chatted a little. Why?"

"Ever since then they've been telling me I should go out with you. The girls think you're cute and the boys are impressed by the truck."

"What do you think?"

"If this thing wasn't constantly full of tools, I would think you were compensating for other shortcomings!"

"Nice dodge! I told them that grown up smart women get their pick of men, and you aren't interested in me."

"Not beautiful women?"

"Teenage girls worry too much about that already. I figured it wouldn't hurt to push the idea of brains instead of beauty for a change."

"Maybe you're smarter than you look!"

"As Grandpa would have added, that's a lucky thing! Just for the record, though, I agreed with them that you're very pretty."

"How on Earth did that come up? Not that I'm agreeing with you."

"This one big red headed kid was ready to punch me because he thought I didn't respect you enough."

"Jimmy, that would be. The last boyfriend who hit his mom ended up in the hospital. The doctors said it looked like he was beaten with a 2x4, but everyone claimed he fell down the stairs. The cops figured he had it coming and didn't investigate. I keep trying to convince Jimmy that violence isn't the way to deal with problems, but I'm fighting a lot of bad history."

"At least he knows you care, and that counts for a lot. He obviously worships you."

"You know, if you weren't a rich wiseass, you would have the makings of a pretty good guy."

"I can't be both?"

"Not in my experience!"

And there it was again. She turned to stare out her window and wouldn't speak to me the rest of the ride. After a lifetime of women falling over me because of my money, here was one I was seriously attracted to who couldn't stand rich guys. As I said, being wealthy isn't as great as it sounds. 

When we got to the riverside estate where the garden party was being held (Mom knows all the right people) Lydia hugged Jennifer, had a quick whispered conversation, and disappeared. When she came back she had swapped her baggy jeans and sweater for a form fitting green linen sundress the exact color of her eyes. Damn, she really did have curves when she dressed like a pretty girl instead of a Goth or a straitlaced teacher. She was being her usual friendly, funny self, and I could feel myself turning the color of her dress as she effortlessly deflected the series of men who tried to chat her up.

"Pull your tongue in, John, you're drooling on the floor!"

"Oh, hi, Jen. Does she even realize how gorgeous she is?"

Jennifer cracked up. That's what I get for speaking without thinking.

"You really have it bad, don't you? Does she act like she cares that she's beautiful? I had to talk her into turning on the glamour for this party!"

Having once turned down a large contract with Ford Models, Jen was more than secure about other pretty women.

"I might as well try to punch my way through a concrete wall."

"I bet she'd dance with the guy what brung her. Why don't you go ask?"

To my surprise, she did feel like dancing when I asked her. When I got her out on the floor, the band suddenly switched to a waltz. Jen, no doubt. Lydia looked trapped but gamely stepped up and took my hand, putting her other hand on my shoulder as I put my hand on her shoulder blade. I had hated ballroom dance class as a skinny kid, but I discovered when I got older that it impressed a lot of girls. Lydia fell smoothly into step. Obviously I wasn't the only one who suffered through ballroom dance class. She stifled a yawn.

"Come on, the band isn't that boring!"

"Long week at work and some good champagne. Don't take it personally."

As the music played on, her eyes drifted shut and her cheek- and both her hands- came to rest on my chest. She smelled of Chanel No. 5. I caressed her back, bare almost to her waist, and she made a small happy noise. Her hands slid around my wist and she made herself comfortable up against me. I was struggling not to let her feel how much I was enjoying the moment.

All too soon, the music stopped. She drifted on for a couple more steps. I bent to whisper to her. Even her ears were pretty.

"Hey, sleepyhead?" 

She made a noise of protest and wiggled closer. Then her eyes popped open with a panicked look. She pushed me away frantically.

"What are you doing!"

"I didn't do anything but dance with you! You're the one who cuddled up to me!"

Not the time to let on that I had been about to check if her lip gloss tasted as good as it looked.

"Well...well, knock it off, anyway! I'm just tired! I'm not attracted to you, remember?"

"Like you'd let me forget!"

She stormed off, leaving me to face a hundred raised eyebrows and one knowing grin from Jen, peeping over Brian's wide shoulder. Women! Aaargh!

The next time I was over at the school Jimmy was hanging around out front. 

"Hey, I have to tell you I'm sorry for getting mad at you the last time you were here."

"It's OK to stick up for your friends. Hitting someone should be a last resort, though, not the first thing you think of."

"That's what Ms. Lydia keeps telling me. I'm working on it. You been out logging?"

"Basically, yeah. We're trying to find a way to harvest some overgrown trees without disturbing an eagle's nest."

His eyes lit up.

"You actually see eagles out there? Cool!"

"They're fun to watch. Hey, we're going to be out there working Saturday. You want to come along?"

If he had been a puppy he would have been wagging his hind end off.

"Seriously? Hell, yes!"

"Watch your language, bud, and ask your mom before you say yes."

"Aw, she doesn't care as long as I'm out of the way."

"Ask her anyway. My job site, my rules. And don't say anything to Ms. Lydia about it."

"Why not?"

"I know how she feels about you kids. I'd rather get between a momma bear and her cub than have her think I was using one of you to impress her."

He grinned.

"Yeah, she can be like that. They tried to suspend me once for shoving this junior who was bullying a retarded kid and I couldn't believe how mad she got."

"You see what I mean, then. And you shouldn't call those kids retarded."

"Whatever. I'm not about to stand there and watch someone get picked on when he can't defend himself. You really like her, don't you?"

"That's grownup's business, bud. Get me a note from your mom saying it's OK to go with us Saturday."

"Yeah, yeah, pull the grownup card!"

"You want to go or not?"

"Enough said!"

Jimmy had a great time that Saturday. My crew is mostly big hearted guys who don't have a lot of formal education but know their trade inside and out, and they enjoyed showing a wide eyed city kid the big, noisy machinery they use. The eagles put in an appearance, and a black bear wandered out of the woods and down the dirt logging road at one point. The whole way back he couldn't stop talking about how cool it all was. I told him that he was welcome to come anytime as long as he was caught up on his homework and not in disciplinary trouble at school, and he started becoming a regular out there. I even started paying him a few bucks to do the gofer work around the site. He started catching on that real men respect skill and hard work, not violence. Lydia mentioned the change she was seeing in him, but of course I didn't let on that my crew and I might have had something to do with it. 

When the big weekend arrived, Mom had the rehearsal dinner out at the beach house catered. She figured that we were the closest thing to a family Brian had, and was thrilled to be part of the festivities-especially since (as she loved to point out) Dave and I had horrible taste in women and were unlikely to find a decent female to marry in her lifetime. Jennifer, of course, she thought of as the daughter she never had, and I caught an extra dose of sarcasm for "letting Brian snatch her out from under my nose". Jen and I just grinned at each other- I love her like a sister, but we both knew before she met Brian that that's as far as it goes. 

After dinner, which was accompanied by a lot of wine (we do own a winery, after all) some of the girls started teasing her, asking when she and I were going to get married. Lydia was doing a slow burn, hating the idea but not wanting to say so in front of my parents. Finally she jumped up.

"You clowns are drunk! I'm going to walk down to the ocean- maybe the crabs will have something intelligent to say!"

I called out "Hey, grab a flashlight off the counter!" 

There was a Whap! Whap! sound as Mom and Jennifer simultaneously dope-slapped me.

"Oh, uh... let me grab a jacket and a flashlight and walk with you!"

"That's better, you clod!" came a whisper from Jennifer. 

Lydia didn't wait, and I had to run to catch up with her. She still looked mad when I did. 

"I didn't ask you to come out here!"

"No, but if something happens to you my life won't be worth living. We need you for tomorrow!"

I tried my best charming grin, which wasn't that effective in the dark. 

"Anyway, how can I miss the pleasure of your company? Aren't you in love with me?"

"Jerk! Wiseass!"

She spun and tried to take a swing at me, only to stumble. The seagrass on the dunes creates deep wind-blown pits in the sand where it's thin, and she had stepped into one. I grabbed her wrist, partially in self-defense and partially to save her from falling, and she came around and swung with the other hand. I grabbed that one too and put a foot in the pit myself. We rolled over and over, finally ending up at the bottom of the pit some six feet down with me on top holding her wrists over her head. I saw the look in her eyes and shifted just in time to catch her knee on my thigh instead of where she was aiming. We panted for a second and stared at each other. Her eyes softened a little.

"You going to let me up?"

I released her wrists and slid my hands under her shoulders to cradle her head. There was that smell of Chanel No. 5 again.

"I don't think so."

"What the hell..."

I brushed my lips over hers. She squealed in outrage and stiffened for a second. I kissed her again, about ready to give up if she didn't respond. In the back of my mind I was wondering whether she would punch me or give me the "I just don't like you that way" speech, and which would hurt more. Then she sighed, her mouth opened under mine and I felt her arms wrap around my neck. 

Suddenly we couldn't get enough of each other. It was warm down out of the wind and we started pulling each other's clothes off in a frenzy, stopping as soon as we had clearance for what we needed to do. She wrapped her legs around me and I slid into her in one long, smooth thrust, pausing as I was fully engulfed. I had waited for this for a long,long time, and I wasn't going to rush it. She looked up at me.

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"Don't stop now, dammit!"

I didn't. The surf was roaring, the wind was whistling, and we were moving in time to both of them as the stars wheeled over our heads. Her screams of ecstasy as her orgasm hit were swallowed by the wind, as was my triumphant shout. We laid there for a few minutes, unsure what had happened. Then I picked myself up and sat next to her. She spoke first.

"Oh. My. God. I don't believe we just did that!"

I picked up her hand and kissed it.

"Yeah, that was kind of a shock to me too. Good one, though!"

"Apparently you do have some useful skills. Help me up."

I pulled her to her feet and helped her sort her clothing into some sort of order. Some of it was beyond sorting.

"I guess I owe you new panties."

"Forget it, dude, you're not buying me lingerie! Besides, you can't get those outside of France!"

Huh? Another mystery to think about some other time. She studied the torn scrap of lace for a second and then stuffed it into her pocket and said to herself,

"What the hell, it was worth it."

I took her hand and pulled her up out of the sand pit and we started back toward the house, hand in hand, both deep in thought. She elbowed me suddenly.

"This doesn't mean I like you!"

I pulled her in for a quick kiss that got a little out of hand before we broke apart and resumed the walk.

"I'm going to have to work on that, then. If this is how you treat men you don't like, I can't wait to see what you do to the ones you do!"

She elbowed me again.

"It's not like I do stuff like this all the time, you know!"

"I know. I figured out a long time ago that there's a lot more to you than meets the eye. What I can't figure out is what you've got against me!"

"I swore off rich playboys a long time ago. I'm starting to suspect that there's more to you than that, though."

"Playboy? I work for a living!"

"Yeah, but you don't need to. You're getting my prejudices all mixed up."

We walked silently for a while. She sighed.

"Lord, I have sand in places you would not believe!"

"I have a bathtub in my room."

"I suppose you want to share it?"

"Well, I'm pretty sandy too, and there's a water shortage."

"Yeah, you'd like that."

"Yeah, I sure would!"

"Let's keep it quiet, then. Tomorrow is Jennifer's big day and she doesn't need everyone talking about what other people are doing."

We snuck down the hallway to my room on tiptoe, hand in hand, stifling our giggles like a couple of naughty kids. I filled the clawfoot tub, stripped, and jumped in, and Lydia came in the bathroom a few minutes later wrapped in a towel, which she quickly dropped and joined me. We soaked for a while.

"Wow, that feels good!"

"Sure does... Say, if you're a natural blonde, why the hell do you dye your hair black?"

"Thanks for noticing, you horndog! With blonde hair I look like a country club airhead. Black hair feels more me."

"I think I'd like you either way." 

"Glad to hear it... Hey, glad I missed with the knee!"

She placed a hand on the bruise that was forming on the front of my thigh and stroked gently.

"Not half as glad as I am!"

"Yeah, it would have been a real waste."

Her wrist bumped something, and she explored a little further.

"I'm not about to let this go to waste either!"

I was at full attention by this time. 

"Good plan, but let's try to keep the water in the tub."

"Last one in bed has to be on the bottom!"

I let her win. This time was even better, with her moving slowly on top of me, trying to keep bed noises down, while I did my best to make her lose control. It was a game we both won.

"Maybe I do like you a little..." she decided sleepily. It didn't come as a total surprise, since she was curled up against me with her head on my bicep and my other arm wrapped securely around her, that hand full of her bare left breast. Her small hand was lazily playing with my free hand. "Right now, though, I have to go back to my own bed."

My arms instinctively tightened.

"I like having you right where you are. You know how long I've wanted to get you here?"

She turned over in my arms and kissed me gently.

"Of course I know. You think I couldn't tell you had a crush on me? It was easier to keep being mean than to admit that I misjudged you and that the feeling was mutual."

She smiled.

"If I had known how much fun this was going to be, I would have swallowed my pride a lot sooner!"

"What changed your mind?"

"Well, Jen kept telling me what a great guy you are. But it was Jimmy, mostly. You did a lot for that kid."

"Damn it, he promised not to tell you!"

"He didn't! Nothing stays secret for long in a high school, though."

"That why I'm not allowed on campus?"

"You should hear these kids."

Her voice suddenly got ten years younger.

"'Oh my GOD, Caitlyn, have you SEEN that hot guy who's always hanging around waiting for Ms. Lydia?' 'The one with the COOL truck? Have you seen how he LOOKS at her? I hear he told Jimmy that he thinks she's really hot, but she won't go out with him.' 'What is UP with her? A hottie like that drooling over her and she blows him off? She doesn't have a boyfriend, does she? Oh my GOD, is she GAY?'"

I laughed. 

"You're about as far from gay as they get, thank God. Not that I don't respect that, but I have plans that wouldn't work out if you were. So Jimmy gets to keep his job?"

"When he found out that I knew he was working for you on weekends he was really upset and made me promise that I wouldn't say anything or hold it against you."

"He's a good kid at heart. He just needed some help figuring out how to be a real man. Speaking of holding stuff against me, I like what you're holding against me right now."

She snuggled a little closer.

"I like being here, too. You really make a girl feel warm and safe. Thing is, you know as well as I do that if I stay we're not going to get a lot of sleep, and I don't want to be standing in front of everyone we know tomorrow looking like I spent the night doing exactly what we've been doing."

"It sucks, but you're probably right. We'll have other nights."

"You better believe it!"

I reluctantly let her go, and she crawled out of bed and helped herself to one of my old T-shirts. It's amazing how sexy an old Man U shirt can look when it's the only piece of clothing on a pretty woman two sizes too small for it. 

"I'm never going to wash that shirt again."

"I guess I better keep it, then."

"Here we go. It starts with a T-shirt, and next thing you know..."

She grinned.

"Two hours ago I intended to go to bed in my pajamas in my own room instead of naked in yours. You complaining?"

"Not a bit!"

I pulled her back on top of me briefly, and with one long last kiss she was gone.

The rest of the weekend we kept our hands off each other and focused on getting Brian and Jennifer married in style. It worked, too, although I was afraid that Brian was going to pass out when Jennifer appeared at the back of the aisle, a vision in white looking more beautiful than any woman has a right to. We held him steady, he said his lines at the right time, the deed was done, and they took off for their honeymoon looking ridiculously happy.

Lydia wandered over to me as the rest of us were packing up and getting ready to head back to our everyday lives. She looked a little nervous.

"Hey, dummy, remember I lived with Jen for years? Her number is my number now that she's moving in with Brian. I know you've got it, so use it or lose it!"




Oregon Coast Ch. 02



"I'll use it, never fear!"

And I did. I had laughed at Brian for totally losing his head over a woman, and now I found myself doing the same thing. Lydia was the smartest, funniest, and sexiest woman I had ever met, and I felt like every moment I wasn't with her was wasted. Fortunately, she overcame her prejudice against rich guys and appeared to feel the same way about me. I still had that nagging voice in the back of my head, though: I loved her, my family loved her, but was it me or my family name and money that she loved? I sure didn't have any reason to doubt her, but I had been wrong before. 

Things progressed to the point that Lydia's parents were bugging her about why they hadn't met me, and we decided it was time to get it over with. She had mentioned that they lived in Seattle, 150 miles up the freeway from Portland, and we picked a weekend and headed up that way. I was a little surprised when we got near there and Lydia directed me off onto the I-405 freeway that loops through the suburbs east of Lake Washington to rejoin I-5 north of the city. We got off the freeway in Bellevue, and she kept directing me west until we passed the city limits sign for Medina.

Medina, strictly speaking, is not Seattle. Medina is to Seattle what Beverly Hills is to LA: a small, independent town in the middle of the metropolis where the very rich live, on the eastern shore of Lake Washington across from Seattle proper. Medina is houses that get written up in Architectural Digest, yachts tied up to the front yard, and privacy strictly enforced by an oversized and well paid police force that can't afford to live in the actual town. Medina is where Bill Gates bought three adjoining lakefront houses and tore them down to build his mansion.

"Uhh... Lydia? Is there something you haven't told me?"

"Turn in here."

We turned into a small, unmarked driveway through thick woods and went down a hill until it opened out into a huge, manicured lawn fronting a classic clapboard Old Seattle mansion that backed onto the lake. It came complete with a dock with a shiny yacht tied up to it. Northwest reverse ostentation: you keep your driveway small and unmarked, people who have a reason to visit your house know how to find it and no one else can tell from the road that anything's down there. I tried again.

"Lydia? What's going on here?"

"I told you that Dad works in software? When he was fresh out of college he hired on to a small company with about 75 employees. They did pretty well."

"Microsoft."

"Yep. Dad owns about 1% of the company."

I thought back to the last statement I got from my stockbroker, did a rough calculation, and gasped. To her father the price of a house like this was pocket change. It's a familiar story in Seattle: software geeks who got in on the ground floor, took their compensation in stock options, and became incredibly wealthy when the share price took off. Bill Gates is the biggest example, but there are hundreds of others.

"Why didn't you ever tell me this? Why do you share a house in Northeast Portland with a bunch of other girls and teach high school English?"

"Why do you go to work every day when you don't need to? Why do you drive a pickup instead of a Mercedes?"

"Because I want to do more with my life than be idle rich."

"Well, so do I."

I shut up. That was a big pill to swallow, and I had some rethinking to do. Besides, people in the house had noticed our arrival.

One look at her mother and I knew where Lydia got her good looks. Her mom was obviously comfortable as a blonde in expensive clothes, but had Lydia's natural kindness and sense of humor. 

"John? So your Caroline's son?"

"One of them, yes. You know her?"

"We've met a few times at regional DAR conferences. She's a lovely woman."

Mom privately considered the DAR a bit of a joke, but stayed with it because the women in our family always had.

Her dad was another story. One look and you knew that college football had been the high point of his life.

"Hi, Princess! Still dying your hair black, I see? Why the hell does a natural blonde want black hair? And why can't you find a decent stylist? John, don't you think she'd look good as a blonde?"

Even if I privately agreed with him, no one gets my help to insult my girl.

"She looks great to me any way she wants to style her hair, sir. Why, are you an expert on women's hairstyles?"

I hoped the implied challenge to his machismo would sting, but it didn't slow him down.

"And those clothes! Didn't you get the no-limit Nordstrom's card I sent you? Where do you get that stuff?"

"I got the card, Daddy. Didn't you get the notes and pictures from my twelfth grade girls who couldn't afford prom dresses?"

That shut him up for a while. It started up again over dinner, though.

"So you're Caroline's boy? Fine woman. What does she think about you dating a Goth or whatever it's called?"

"Well, sir, she was a little startled until she got to know Lydia. You know Mom teaches seminars in English Lit at Reed once in a while? The conversations she and Lydia get into about sixteenth century poetry sail right over my head, but they have a great time together. She told me the other day that I would be an idiot to lose her."

That seemed to take the wind out of his sails. Maybe the thought that someone like Mom, who both he and his wife obviously admired, thought so highly of Lydia made him rethink his critical attitude. I hoped so, anyway.

"So you work in your family's timber business?"

"Yes, sir. I'm working on developing alternatives to clear cutting and road building that allow us to thin out the forest and keep it healthy while still making enough money to keep it in timber production."

"Helicopters, you mean?"

"We've experimented with that, but the operating costs are pretty high and with fuel prices up and timber prices down it won't pencil out. Lately we've been trying blimps."

Well, this is what I do for a living, and I can talk about it for hours if someone's willing to listen. People don't realize that owning private timberland has ongoing costs, especially if you want to do a good job of keeping it healthy. If it isn't making enough money to cover those costs, it gets sold to developers and subdivided. The key to keeping it safe for endangered species is to make it pay its own way. That's where my unit comes in. 

We kept the talk on business for the rest of the evening until eventually everyone went to bed. I was given a room at the far end of the house from Lydia's, without being offered a choice in the matter. I wasn't going to go sneaking around like a high school kid and embarrass Lydia. As always, though, Lydia thought for herself.

I was sound asleep when the bed shifted under me. I felt a warm body slide under the covers and woke up fully. 

"Lydia?"

"Shhh. Who were you expecting? I wanted to talk."

She wiggled on top of me, folded her hands on my chest, and propped her head on her hands. Classic Lydia talking position. I kissed her nose.

"Just talk?"

"We'll see. I appreciated the way you stuck up for me and put Dad in his place. He loves me, but he can't understand why I don't want to be a trophy wife hanging around the country club. You're my hero for today."

"I think you're terrific the way you are. So if I remember my bedtime stories right the hero gets the girl?"

"I just snuck into your bed naked, you dork! I'd say you've already got the girl!"

I ran my hands up and down her body, conveniently sprawled on top of me. Sure enough.

"I knew something felt right. I'm sorry your dad can't see how great you are, but at least now I know why you hated me on sight."

"You seemed like the type of guy Dad has been trying to set me up with since I turned sixteen. I moved to Portland to get away from all that. Sorry I treated you so badly."

"All's well that ends well. Forget it."

"So the way I remember the story, the hero gets the reward."

"What kind of reward?"

"You'll find out if you shut up!"

I shut up. A half hour later Lydia was back propped on my chest, and I was feeling very well rewarded indeed. I kissed her nose again.

"You have any dragons you need slain? Villains conquered? I could get used to this hero business!"

"I don't know any villains, and dragons are on the Endangered Species List now."

"I guess Mom skipped over that reward part of my bedtime story."

"Mmmm, I wonder why? It's my favorite part! Did she really say that about me?"

"Well, actually..."

I waited a few seconds, feeling the tension in her body. 

"She said that you're a huge improvement on the usual flakes and floozies I bring home, and if I let you get away I'm dumber than Dave."

She poked me in the ribs, the tension suddenly deflating.

"Creep, making me nervous like that! What did you say?"

"I said you weren't getting away if I could help it."

That got me a long, warm kiss.

"So why do you guys always pick on Dave? He can't be that dumb if he runs the company computer systems."

"He's actually a genius. He just doesn't have the common sense God gave a goose. Anyway, I've been thinking about that whole not letting you get away thing."

She slapped a hand on my chest.

"Hold it right there! If you're headed where I think you are, do it right! I want to tell my students a story that's romantic, not X-rated!"

"Is that a yes?"

"You'll never know unless you do it right!"

So I took her for lunch and a walk at Carillon Point the next day and did it right with the whole "down on one knee" thing. Of course she said yes. Even her father was impressed for once, not that I gave a tinker's damn. We picked her out a diamond ring and headed back to Portland full of new plans.

We held hands most of the way back, with hers resting on top of mine on the gear shift. She kept studying the new ring on her finger thoughtfully. It was classic Lydia: not huge or flashy but absolutely perfect quality in a 1930s Art Deco setting. Finally she spoke.

"So what took you so long?"

"How's that?"

"I would have said yes a long time ago. I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to pop the question!"

Being less than honest would have been a bad start to our life together.

"My whole adult life I've been pursued by women who were attracted to my name and money, and some of them damn near caught me. I guess I never believed I would find a woman who liked me just for me."

"And once you realized that my family already has more money than yours and I don't care about it, the only possibility left was that I was honestly in love with you?"

"I guess so. Makes me sound pretty stupid when you put it that way."

"I should be insulted, but I put you through a lot when we first met because of my preconceptions too. Like you said, all's well that ends well."

"I sure like where this is ending."

"Ending? We're just getting started!"

And of course she was right. Mom and Jennifer were thrilled to have another beach wedding to organize. I finally asked Jen why she was looking so smug.

"I knew you'd never fall for a girl who was impressed with you, and I knew Lydia wasn't impressed with guys like you. All I had to do was keep pushing you together until both of you realized that under the surface you're perfect for each other."

"You're lucky I didn't catch you at it earlier. That girl was driving me up the wall! All I can say now is thanks."

"You told me to give Brian a chance, and look how that turned out! I'd say we're even."

She absent mindedly rubbed her tummy for the third time since we started talking.

"Jen, does that mean what I think it does?"

"Shhh, I don't want it public just yet!" 

Jennifer looked more beautiful than ever as the matron of honor, with her bump starting to show and her face glowing. Brian was even more crazy about her, which I wouldn't have thought possible, but he walked me through the ceremony in good order. Lydia decided that she didn't need to rebel any more and went back to being blonde, although no one's ever going to mistake her for a "country club airhead"- she still prefers her Doc Martens to high heels! We finally built a house next to Brian and Jennifer's, and the girls seem to always be together in one house or the other. The other day little Brian pointed over there and told a visitor "That's my other house" and we all cracked up. Dad sometimes makes grumpy noises about Mom spending all her time with her grandbabies, but the truth is he's just as thrilled as she is. As usual, Lydia was right when we got engaged: the fun was just starting!



Oregon Coast Ch. 03



Ever get the feeling that no matter how hard you try, things always go wrong? I've tried to understand women ever since I figured out that they were different from me, and it usually ends in disaster. The worst was the time my brother John and I had some girls over to hang around the pool while work was underway on Mom's new formal garden. I noticed that the workers were talking to each other in Spanish, and I tried to make the girls laugh by doing my best impression of Speedy Gonzales. 

I guess the bikinis and smell of coconut oil made me stupid, and I didn't see Dad walking by. Next thing I knew I was standing in front of the desk in his study getting the lecture about how belonging to a wealthy family didn't make me better than anyone else, and Dad wasn't raising any racist snobs. Then I found myself on a plane to Alaska, and ended up the only Anglo on a fish cannery crew. I learned that those Mexicans were actually really decent guys, and that it doesn't pay to act like a snob.

It took a while to get John to stop calling me "Dumb Dave" after that one. Even then, I lived in fear that it would start up again with some of the things I got involved in. Every time I got around a pretty girl my brain and/or tongue seemed to shut down, and I ended up making a fool of myself. I bought a Porsche 911 hoping that it would make me a little more impressive to girls, and found that the type of girls it impressed weren't the type I wanted. I learned that one the hard way, too.

I met Brandi ("with an I") one day at Washington Park as I was tossing my stuff in the trunk after a tennis match. Brandi was impressed enough by my Porsche to walk up and start chatting with me, one thing led to another and I asked her out. We went out a couple times, and it went well enough that I asked her over to our house one night when Mom was having a party and I needed a date. Brandi had always struck me as a cute, quiet, demure type, and I was really expecting that for once I was going to look like I knew what I was doing with women. That lasted into her fourth or fifth mimosa, maybe fifteen minutes after we arrived. An hour after our arrival, I'm not sure if the caterers or Mom were getting more worried. Then Brandi somehow decided that she had to demonstrate her pole dancing skills on one of the light poles by the pool. The dress she was wearing, while a little short, had appeared appropriate when I picked her up. It was less so when she was hanging by her ankles from a light pole above the crowd's heads. I doubt she remembers what she looked like with her white butt in a leopard print thong hanging in the air like a second moon, but I'm sure no one else who was there has forgotten the sight! Mom was furious and that, I thought, was the last of my relationship with Brandi. 

Then, a couple weeks later, Brandi called me and announced that she was pregnant. OK, there had been that one incident in the passenger seat of the Porsche way out in the woods, but even I know enough to take precautions in that kind of situation. Still, she was claiming that I was the only possibility and demanding that I start kicking in child support. Dad was pissed, but he doesn't let that stop him from protecting the family. Before long, his private investigator reported that "Brandi" (a stage name, apparently) had been snorting cocaine and pulling the train with various alleged musicians the whole time she had been dating me, and that there were, to put it mildly, many possible fathers. John and his buddy Brian went and had a private talk with her, and that was the last of that. Dad threatened to have me gelded if I ever got into a situation like that again, though, and I believed him!

After the Brandi incident I decided to forget about women for a while and concentrate on work. The company computer systems were a hodgepodge of various types of hardware and software, half of which couldn't communicate with the other half, and they badly needed an overhaul. Computers are logical and do what you tell them to, and I get along with them a lot better than women. After nine months of hard work everyone was telling Dad how much easier I had made their jobs, and the productivity figures were way up. I had the Brandi incident pretty much lived down. 

It was during that period that Brian and Jennifer got married. I had known Jen for a while through John and, like every other man she knew, had a small crush on her. Hey, she looks like Cindy Crawford's blue eyed sister and acts like one of the guys- how could I resist? She always seemed out of my league, though, and treated me like a little brother. Frustrating, but there it was. Anyway, after she met Brian, you couldn't have proved by her that any other man in the world even existed. Brian was openly crazy about her, and while she was more subtle, you could tell it was mutual. Besides, as gentle and easygoing as he is, Brian has always intimidated me a little. He's an extremely large individual and carries battle scars he picked up in Afghanistan, although he rarely talks about it. There are rumors that he picked up some medals there, too, although he will only admit to a "purple Talibani marksmanship award", whatever that is. I never had any hope of beating him out for Jen, but I wouldn't have felt safe trying.

Not long after the wedding, John started dating Jen's housemate Lydia. Lydia teaches high school English and tends to dress like a Goth, which doesn't completely hide the fact that she's just as pretty as Jennifer. She's an incredibly nice girl and always seemed interested in how my life- especially my love life- was going. Back to being every pretty girl's little brother, I guess. I could have easily developed a mini-crush on her too, but the Man Code puts my brother's girl as far off limits as it possible to get- as if she would ever have even looked at another man anyway! That situation took its natural course, and before I knew it they were planning another wedding.

One day Jen and Lydia showed up at my office and announced that they were taking me to lunch, no matter how much I protested that I needed to monitor the SQL dump I had running. Lydia always goes straight to the point.

"You know our housemate Karen?"

Of course I knew who she was. Small, blonde, curvy, and extremely cute, with a feisty attitude twice as big as she is. I found her highly intriguing, but I rarely got over there and of course couldn't think of anything intelligent to say when I did see her. 

"What about her?"

"She's going to be a bridesmaid in Lydia and John's wedding. We want you to escort her to the pre-wedding functions."

"When I agreed to be a groomsman, no one said anything about that!"

"What are you complaining for? She's beautiful!"

"Can't deny that. It's just that every time I bring a girl home it turns into a disaster, and if I do something stupid with one of your best friends at my brother's wedding I'm going to get sent to the loony bin once and for all."

They gave each other one of those female looks that would have had any sensible man scrambling for the next plane to Vladivostok. Jen took over.

"Dave?"

"Yes?"

"We think it's time for your luck to change. You're actually a decent guy, aside from the natural male tendency to get blinded by a big set of boobs. Don't look at Lydia like that, big boobs don't automatically mean a girl's stupid."

"I'm not-"

"Never mind. Your problem is that you can't tell a bimbo from a quality girl. We're picking you out a girl we know for certain is no bimbo. Give this a chance."

"Do I have any choice about it?"

In unison:

"NO!"

Well, hell, they had a point: there are worse problems than being forced to escort a cute, classy girl to some elegant parties. Might as well accept my fate like a man.

When I arrived to pick up Karen for the first party, Jennifer looked me over critically while I waited for Karen to finish getting ready. 

"Not bad, not bad...Thanks for getting a haircut like I asked...if you're going to wear a tux, though, we need to work on getting the bow tie straight..."

She made some adjustments to the tie and cummerbund and reached up to straighten my hair a little.

"Jen, come on, I'm old enough to dress my wharble wharble gurk..."

I had just seen Karen coming down the stairs. Maybe a blonde in strapless black silk sounds like a cliché, but if she knows how to pull it off- and Karen sure did- the effect is stunning. Jen glanced over her shoulder.

"Deep breath, Dave! Take a deep breath!"

I did. She looked up at me, amused.

"She's just a girl, Dave!"

"She's a goddess!"

"No, she's not. Just relax and be yourself and things will go fine. Did you think about some stuff to talk about like I told you?"

"Uh, yeah, I've got the list here someplace..."

"Gimme that!"

Karen glided over to us and gave me a friendly smile.

"Hi, Dave! You're right, Jen, he does clean up pretty good!"

"Uhhhh..."

"What my idiot adopted brother is trying to say, Karen, is that you look amazing. Which you do. Right, Dave?"

"Yeah, right, you really do."

Karen put on a terrible imitation of a Southern accent.

"This old rag? Why, aren't you just the sweetest thing!"

We all cracked up, and I got a feeling that this might actually work out.

"OK, you two kids get out of here. Brian's coming by here to pick me up and I want some private time since I haven't seen him all day."

"Newlyweds! Sheesh!"

"Don't knock it if you haven't tried it, Dave! Just go!"

When we got out to my car Karen looked it over casually. 

"This the turbo version?"

"No, normal fuel injected."

"Yeah, my brother had a 911 Turbo for a while. I thought the turbo made it even twitchier coming out of corners, but he liked it."

"You used to race sports cars?"

"He did. I just drove it for fun and helped him navigate for a couple rallies."

"Not any more?"

"He took a job back East."

I opened the door for her.

"Not exactly designed for girls in dresses, are they? Give me a hand here."

Her tiny hand almost disappeared in mine, but I could definitely feel some muscle in it. Not to mention what felt like an electric shock running up my arm. From the look in her eyes when she glanced up after getting safely settled in my passenger seat, she felt something too.

"Thanks."

I thought I heard a slight tremor in her voice, but I told myself it was just wishful thinking.

The conversation kept going fairly well as we drove out to the country club. She knew enough about computers to at least ask a couple intelligent questions about my job, and knew even more about Porsches. At the party, she chatted easily with the older women about their gardens, knew how the Blazers were doing, and complimented Mom on having such polite sons. She fended off one of the older men who had had too much to drink without my help and waltzed smoothly with Doc Miyahara, who she seemed to know from somewhere. Basically, the whole room was eating out of her hand. After dancing with me for a while, she pulled me out on a balcony to cool off and catch some fresh air.

"You know Doc M?"

"Sure, I work at OHSU. Didn't you know that?"

"Somehow no one told me. I should have asked earlier, I guess. What's the story with Doc?"

"What do you mean?"

"He seems like such a shy, quiet guy, but Brian and all the veterans they hang out with treat him like some sort of hero. I asked him once what he did over there, and all he said was that he did his job like everyone else."

"That's what he always says. He saved Brian's life after he got shot, and saved a lot of other lives too. There's a Silver Star hanging in a corner of his office at the hospital."

"A Silver Star? What's that?"

"A medal two steps down from the Medal of Honor. They treat him like a hero because that's what he is."

"Wow. You'd never know it, would you?"

"That's how he likes it."

"So what do you do there?"

"I'm a surgical nurse."

"How did you get into that?"

The conversation flowed from there into our histories and hopes for the future, and before we knew it the catering staff was shutting things down. I tucked her back into the 911 and drove her home. I had to park a block and a half from her house, so I got out and walked her to her porch. The sidewalks are uneven around there, and she was clinging to my arm as she negotiated them in her high heels. I stopped at the bottom of her porch steps, not sure if she wanted me to follow her or not. Her hand slid down my arm and slowly slid through my fingers as she stepped up onto the first step. 

"Well, good night..."

She turned to me. The step brought her eyes up to the level of my shoulders. She reached up to straighten my tie again.

"Dave?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for taking me. I had a great time with you tonight, and I can't wait to do it again."

"Well, there's that garden party in a few weeks..."

"Kind of thick, aren't you? Let me spell it out: if you were to call me up before then and ask me on a date, just the two of us doing something together, I'd jump at the idea."

"That's the best idea I've heard in a long time!"

"Act on it, then."

Her hands slid onto my shoulders and her head tilted a little.

"Here's another good idea for you to act on..."

Her lips were soft and warm, and her small body fit snugly into my arms. If I thought I had ever kissed a woman before, it was nothing compared to this. Way too soon she gently pushed my shoulders back. 

"I'm going to call it a night, Dave. Tonight really was fun. Call me."

She disappeared into the house. My feet must have touched the ground as I walked back to my car, but I felt like I was floating all the way back to my apartment.

The first call the next morning was from Mom.

"Where did you find that lovely young woman you brought to the party last night?"

"Jennifer and Lydia set it up. She's a friend of theirs."

"I swear I'm going to adopt those two."

"One's already a daughter and the other's about to be."

"Not only are two of my boys settled down with absolutely charming girls, they're working on finding another for the third. Daughter doesn't seem like enough."

"Calm down, Mom, it was just a first date. It went great, but don't start planning another wedding yet."

"Went well, please. I didn't raise you to abuse the English language. She's not some awful drunken gold digger, and for you that's a major improvement. You can't blame me for getting my hopes up."

"Are you ever going to forget that?"

"As soon as you're settled down with a girl like Jen or Lydia, I'll stop worrying."

"Fine, Mom, whatever. We still on for dinner Sunday?"

"Of course. Why don't you bring Karen?"

"Because she'll think I'm insane if I bring her to dinner with the family after one date. Don't worry, it's not like I need encouragement to see her again."

"Good, I won't worry. I have to go, there's Jennifer on the other line!"

Great, my love life was being dissected and planned without me. So far, though, the results were looking damn good.

The next Saturday I took Karen for a hike and a picnic lunch at Multnomah Falls. At the top of the Falls, we found a spot overlooking the Columbia River Gorge and spread out the food. Karen had a healthy appetite for a small person, which was a relief. I can't stand women who pretend they eat like birds.

"This is good cheese!"

"Mom has friends who make it on their farm. We swap them for wine from our winery."

"That's where this bottle came from?"

"Yep. Like it?"

"It's really good. Your mom seems cool."

"That's pretty close to what she said about you."

"Really? I passed the mom evaluation already?"

"The last girl I brought to a party turned out to be a stripper with a substance abuse problem. I'm sure seeing me with a sophisticated woman like you was a big relief."

Karen stared.

"You have got to be kidding me!"

"What, you don't consider yourself sophisticated?"

"No, stupid, about the last party. You telling me that before me you were into strippers?"

Oops. 

"Look, I didn't realize what was going on until it was too late! She seemed perfectly normal when I met her!"

She gave me a dirty look.

"You better start from the beginning."

So I told her the first half of the Brandi saga. I figured I was on thin enough ice without mentioning the pregnancy scare. By the end she was howling with laughter.

"I can just imagine the look on your mom's face with your date hanging from the light pole by her ankles!"

"I still have nightmares about it!"

"Well, I go to yoga class with Lydia Tuesday nights, but I've never pole danced in my life! No wonder your mom was so pleased!"

"Mom likes almost everyone, but she loves Jennifer and Lydia like daughters. I think she was glad to see me with a friend of theirs instead of some gold digger."

Karen dried her eyes.

"Well, I guess I can't say a whole lot."

"How's that?"

"No one told you about my failed engagement?"

"What? No, but now you have to."

"I guess I do... He seemed like a really good guy until I got off work early one day three weeks before the wedding and decided to go by his place and surprise him with some fresh cookies. He sure was surprised!"

"Lemme guess- he was with another girl?"

"Another guy! Plus, he was wearing my favorite negligee! I thought Jennifer had borrowed it for her ski weekend with Brian!"

My turn to laugh.

"I could try to picture that, but I don't want to!"

"Is it too much to ask for a boyfriend to think I look better in my lingerie than he does?"

"Well, you're never going to have that problem with me!"

I gave her an exaggerated leer.

"Just to make sure, though, we should play Victoria's Secret Fashion Show one of these nights..."

She punched me in the arm, giggling.

"Yeah, in your dreams!"

I wiggled my eyebrows like Groucho Marx.

"How did you guess?"

At that she jumped on me, tickling me until I begged for mercy. The wrestling turned into making out, until we heard someone coming up the trail. She still kissed like no woman I had ever known.

After we caught our breath, she got a serious look on her face.

"Dave, I want to get something out of the way."

"What?"

"At the hospital, I get hit on regularly by doctors who think I'll be impressed by their money or fancy cars or whatever. It's just part of the environment- in fact, it's why a lot of young women choose to work there! Not me, though. I like my work, and I don't date doctors. If I was looking for a rich man, I've had plenty of offers!"

"So..."

"So my job pays very well. I lived with Jen and Lydia all this time because hanging out with my girlfriends is more fun than living alone, not because I couldn't afford my own place. I don't mind dating a wealthy guy- in fact, I'll let you buy me dinner at the Lodge when we get back down there- but I don't need or want your money. I'm no gold digger!"

"I never thought you were. Just for the record, I'm not even slightly gay, either!"

She laughed. 

"I never thought you were. God, we really know how to pick them, don't we?"

"I think that's why Jen and Lydia are pushing us together. I can't blame them for thinking we need adult supervision!"

She looked me in the eye.

"So far, I'd say they've done damn well."

"So would I!"

I pulled her into my arms for a long, slow kiss.

The next day Lydia showed up for dinner on John's arm. She could hardly wait to pull me out onto the terrace after the servants cleared dessert.

"Well, how did things go with Karen?"

"She's incredible. I can't thank you two enough for setting us up."

"I knew it! She seems to like you too?" 

"That was the impression I got when we were saying goodnight last night."

"What, you saw her again?"

"I took her for a hike and dinner at Multnomah Falls. We had a great time." 




Oregon Coast Ch. 03



She bounced with glee.

"Ooohh, this is so great! My best friends and my brothers! We're going to have SO MUCH FUN!"

"Slow down, Lydia! We've only gone out twice!"

"Yeah, but I knew you two would like each other! I have to go call Jennifer!"

It's their life, I just live in it...

A few weeks later, I was strolling hand in hand with Karen down Waterfront Park. We had met downtown for a hamburger after work. It was one of the many things I liked about her: She appreciated being fussed over and spoiled, but was happy to just hang out without making a big production of it.

"Dave, do you ever wonder if this is too perfect?"

"How can something be too perfect?"

"My last romantic entanglement was a humiliating disaster. You're catching me on the rebound. As much as I like you, I don't trust my judgment these days."

"Remember how this got started? What about Lydia and Jen's judgment?"

"Those two are crazy in love with their own men and want to see everyone else as happy as they are. Normally I'd trust them, but they aren't totally objective these days."

I was getting a really bad feeling.

"What's humiliating about your last relationship? You didn't do anything wrong!"

"I fell for a guy who turned out to be totally different from what he pretended to be. How would you like to have to tell everyone you know that the wedding's been called off because your fiancé would rather be with a man than with you?"

"If he was gay, he was born that way. You know that as well as I do. Using you to try to sort out his confusion was totally unfair."

"It's easy to say that, but it still hurt a lot. I swore I was done with men. Then Jen and Lydia talk me into just one date with their single brother, who turns out to be a sweet, handsome man - kind of geeky, but we can work on that- and here I am falling for him."

"You know the first advantage to dating a geek? We don't have the social skills to pretend to be anything we aren't! What you see is what you get. I have no hidden depths. And you already know this, but all of me is absolutely crazy about you!"

"What's the second?"

"Your computer always works!"

She giggled, but there were tears in her eyes.

"I can't do this, Dave. I can't use you as my rebound guy. You deserve better than that."

"I can't believe this!"

"Don't get mad, please?"

"I'm not mad, I'm frustrated! You're telling me that you don't want to date me because you like me? How the hell does that make any sense?"

"It doesn't have to, Dave. It's just how I feel."

"Look, I don't know what I deserve, but I've never met anyone better than you. I'm willing to risk getting hurt if that's how this turns out."

"I'm not willing to use you. I'm sorry."

And with that she hugged me, turned, and walked away, leaving me dumbfounded and ready to throw myself over the railing into the river. That feeling passed, and after staring out over the water for a long time I made my way home.

The only major decision I could make over the next couple weeks was to trade the Porsche for a Toyota 4Runner. It had gotten me into a disaster with a half-nuts stripper and done nothing to impress the girl I actually wanted- what was the point? The SUV was a lot more practical.

John popped into my office, next to his, about three weeks later. My mind hadn't been on work for a while.

"Hey, man, everyone's asking where this month's production reports are-hey, what's that?"

I grabbed for my mouse, but not fast enough. The picture on my monitor had been taken by some bystander that day at Multnomah Falls. I was sitting on a rock in front of the falls and Karen was sideways on my lap. My arms were around her waist, she had an arm around my neck, and we were both laughing. That had been a truly great day. John's eyes and lips narrowed- never a good sign.

"That little twit really did a number on you, didn't she? Damn it, I'm going to go call Lydia right now and tell her to find someone else to be a bridesmaid. This isn't fair."

"John, hold it!"

He stopped halfway out the door and turned back.

"Don't call Karen names. She didn't do anything wrong- if anything, the problem is that she's too ethical. Anyway, do you really think Lydia would sit still for that? She's a sweetheart, but you know as well as I do she doesn't take orders. She'll call off the wedding before she'll dump one of her best friends as a bridesmaid." 

"Who cares? You're my brother! What am I supposed to do? Make you go through the wedding with a girl who dumped you on your arm?"

A for loyalty, F for tact. That's my big brother for you. Loves to tell me what a dork I am, but wouldn't think twice about throwing away the girl of his dreams to protect me.

"You can't blow your future with her over my problems. We'll figure something out. There's no hard feelings over the situation. Karen's a good person and I can be a gentleman about it."

"Well, damn it, this still isn't right!"

"If life was fair, we'd have a third wedding in the works. What's that your British football friends like to say? We'll muddle through."

"You wanted to marry her?"

"We never really got that far, but the way things were going, I could definitely see us headed that way."

"So why did she dump you? You pull some boneheaded stunt?"

I winced.

"Could you find a better way to say that?"

"Sorry."

"It wasn't anything I did. I never understood what the problem was, but I think she's afraid to let herself trust someone again."

"Well, anyway, this sucks!"

"My sentiments exactly. Let me get those numbers run."

I really wasn't looking forward to seeing Karen again at the wedding. I had called her a couple times in the weeks leading up, and she had been polite but distant. For John and Lydia's sake I wanted the whole thing to go smoothly, so if that's how she wanted to be I would go through the motions without complaint. 

At the rehearsal I got the feeling that she was touching me a little more than necessary, but I told myself it was wishful thinking. We were seated with a bunch of other people at the rehearsal dinner, and spent it chatting with them instead of each other.

After dinner, the people who were staying in the beach house started a game of Charades in the living room. I couldn't have cared less, but I grabbed an armchair in the back so people wouldn't think I was moping around alone. As I was pretending to watch Doc M act out "Body Heat", Karen came in from the kitchen. All the chairs and most of the floor were taken. She looked around for a second and then, to my shock, came over and hopped lightly into my lap. She smiled.

"Hi, Dave!"

"Don't do this, Karen. Seeing you is hard enough. Teasing me is beneath you."

She stretched up to my ear and whispered.

"I'm not teasing. I've been thinking a lot, and we need to talk. I'm in the third room on the left at the top of the stairs. Could you come see me after things settle down?"

And then she kissed me lightly just under my ear. Good thing I was sitting down.

"Uhhhh... Sure."

"Great."

And with that she settled herself comfortably against my chest, pulled my arms around her, and started yelling guesses about why Doc was pretending to sweat. I could sympathize with him.

There was no way I was going to get to sleep until I found out what Karen was up to. As soon as everyone was in bed I padded upstairs as quietly as I could and tapped on her door with one finger. It opened a crack, I saw a pretty eye, and she opened it and pulled me inside quickly. The only light in the room was from a small bedside lamp, and it shone clear through what little she was wearing. I looked at her and gulped.

"Is that the infamous negligee?"

I could see why she liked it. If that last guy thought it looked better on him than on her, he must have been totally gay.

"Like hell! I made that idiot buy me a new one in a different color after I broke up with him. I told him that when I found the real man I really wanted I didn't want any reminders of him!"

She stepped up and slid her hands around my waist.

"And now that I've found you, I hope you like it..."

I could agree or I could kiss her. No contest. We ended up on her bed with her mostly on top of me. She was watching her hand draw random patterns on my chest.

"I've been thinking about what you said about dating geeks, Dave. What I see is what I get, and what I see is a smart, funny, honest, handsome man with a good heart. What more could any sensible girl ask for? You're not a complicated guy, but why would I want a complicated guy? All that's brought me is trouble. I feel terrible that I hurt you because of my insecurities, and if you give me the chance I intend to more than make it up to you!"

"Karen, my heart has belonged to you since that first date. The last couple months have been hell, but I can't blame you for being shaken by that last experience. If I ever meet that SOB I'm going to break his nose for hurting my woman, but I'll forgive you in a heartbeat. In fact, I already have!" 

"Any other day you'd be in trouble for calling me 'your woman' like a caveman, but right now I'm too happy to be back in your arms."

She rolled astride me, sat up, and stripped off the negligee.

"I hope you're going to let me make it up to you anyway!"

"Do your best, and I'll let you know when to stop!"

She punched me lightly, making her breasts do fascinating things. 

"Hey, if you expect me to do all the work, this night's not going to last as long as I was hoping!"

I wasn't watching the clock, but the sky was starting to lighten when we fell asleep in each other's arms. I had discovered several things to add to the long list of stuff I liked about Karen. We were awakened by a tapping at the door.

"Hey, Karen, have you seen Dave? It's noon, the groomsmen need to start setting up and no one can find him!"

We grinned silently at each other. A small hand gripped me in a very private place.

"Well, if I see him, I'll tell him to get out there."

"OK, thanks."

The footsteps moved off.

Karen giggled.

"Think they suspect anything?"

"Who cares? Everyone's going to know we're back on track by the end of the day!"

"I suppose so. You better get out there and get to work."

"Yeah, I guess. I sure hate to crawl out of your bed, though."

"Last night was just the down payment on making it up to you. I'm going to really work at it tonight! Anyway, I need to start getting ready too."

"Don't make it sound like a chore!"

"If you couldn't tell that I was having as much fun as you were, you really are dense!"

I kissed her, one thing led to another, but eventually I was out on the beach setting up.

"Man, did you sleep at all last night? You look like hell. I told you we should have asked Lydia not to bring that little blonde to the wedding!"

"Cool it, John, I'm fine. Better than fine. I'll try to take a nap before we get started."

John studied me and grinned suddenly.

"Well, all right!"

So the time came, we took our places and started the wedding. When I met Karen at the back of the aisle and offered my arm she took it, pulled me down, quickly but firmly kissed me, and started up the aisle. I heard some scattered gasps and mutters from people who had known about our breakup, but I was feeling too proud to care. Those girls must have worked hard to find bridesmaid's dresses that looked equally good on Jen's tall, slender, slightly pregnant frame and Karen's small curvy body. They all looked terrific, and the ceremony went off without a hitch.

Karen never let go of my hand at the reception as we mingled with the crowd. Jennifer grinned at us.

"Glad to see you two back where you belong!"

She leaned in a little and spoke quietly.

"Lydia insisted that a late afternoon wedding was the only way to go. I've always suspected that their romance really caught fire the night before our wedding, and looking at you I see it's happened again. Nice of her to let you two sleep in, eh?"

I was embarrassed, but Karen just grinned and winked. 

"I'm just happy to be back with my man. Thanks for the good advice!"

I whispered in her ear.

"Cavewoman!"

"Get used to it, Dave. I can be possessive when I love something."

Lydia had to tease us too. 

"Hey, can I borrow that negligee for my honeymoon? It obviously worked for you!"

This time Karen did blush a little.

"You can borrow the negligee if you'll let her borrow that dress when she's ready!"

Did I just say that? Lydia and Karen gaped at me in shock. Lydia looked back and forth at us and disappeared, and Karen turned on me.

"If you're proposing, that's a hell of a way to do it!"

"Sorry, Karen, that just popped out. Poor social skills, remember? Let's just forget it and take this one step at a time."

"I didn't say you shouldn't, did I? After last night you ought to know how I feel about you. Just do it with a little more tact!"

I gave her a couple months to get used to the situation, two months full of good memories, sleepless nights rolling around in bed, and endless laughter. Then I started talking to Jen and Lydia about what the perfect proposal would look like. I'm not sure I pulled it off perfectly-the carriage driver was drunk and the horse flatulent- but it went well enough that she said yes.

She also said that being engaged was so much fun she was in no hurry to get married. That lasted until John and Lydia's first baby came along. I think holding her little nephew flipped some sort of switch, and suddenly the Girls and Mom were up to their elbows in flowers, invitations, and other feminine nonsense. I showed up, shut up, and paid up, and now we have our own little one on the way. The Girls are still inseparable, and I wouldn't have it any other way. After all, if not for them I wouldn't be married to my perfect woman!



Oregon Coast Ch. 04



This one is a little personal; my father was a Japanese-American GI in WW2 and there are a lot of echoes of my family in Doc M's family.

The Battle of the Lost Brigade happened in October 1944. Like the Light Brigade at Balaclava, the 442d was ordered by incompetent generals to do a militarily impossible task and did it on sheer courage, at great loss to themselves. For this and many similar feats the all Japanese-American 442d became the most decorated unit in the US Army, including twenty one Medals of Honor.

I used to think that my country had outgrown the attitudes that led to the internment of the Japanese-Americans. After 9/11 I'm not so sure. I've heard way too many allegedly responsible people call for all Muslim Americans to be classified as "the enemy". I'm proud that the Japanese American Citizens League has led the resistance to such stupidity.

There's probably no way to write about racial/ethnic issues without offending someone. I've done my best, so I won't apologize. I do hope my respect for all ethnic groups came through.

I have great respect for veterans, but am not one myself. I don't want recognition I didn't earn.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I grew up looking at the picture of Uncle Ed on the mantelpiece in our living room. There he stood in that old-fashioned GI uniform, surrounded by his identically dressed buddies, grinning and aping for the camera somewhere in England. It wasn't until I was in fifth grade or so that I realized what the flag with the gold star next to the picture meant. In college I figured out that Uncle Ed was only a couple years older than I was then when he and eight hundred comrades in the 442d Regimental Combat Team died in an ultimately successful struggle to rescue two hundred and fifty American soldiers cut off behind German lines. I was never allowed to forget the lesson, usually delivered by Grandma:

"You have a good life in America? People treat you like a real American? All we Japanese have in this country, we owe to your uncle and the 442! After what they did, nobody say that we're not as American as anyone else! Never forget!"

It wasn't until high school, though, that I heard the other half of the story. I came home in shock and asked Grandma if she had ever heard of a "relocation camp". It was like I had struck her. She sat heavily at the kitchen table and motioned me to the other side, and for the first time in my life I saw tears in her eyes.

"Yeah...yeah... I was at the camp when they sent me that Gold Star for your Uncle Ed."

"What camp? Where?"

"Don't ask me about that. It was a bad time. Shikata ga nai."

I knew what that meant: don't complain about things that can't be changed. It also meant that she had said all she would ever say on the subject. Just to be sure Mom warned me that night, in no uncertain terms, that I was never to bring up the internment again. The way their country had treated them, and the loss of everything they had worked for, was just too painful for my proud grandparents to talk about.

When the money ran out after two years of college, I was faced with a bit of a dilemma. The military was the obvious next step, especially for someone who had been raised to idolize the Nisei soldiers who had paid in blood for my generation's opportunities. On the other hand, I had a Buddhist's deep seated revulsion for killing and couldn't see myself as a machine gunner. After talking to a recruiter and a couple of 442d veterans, I joined the Navy as a medical corpsman. 

Being a corpsman turned out to be a good fit with my interests. Fitting in with the other guys was a little harder. Let's be honest here: I'm kind of small, Asian, wear glasses, refused to carry a weapon, and wasn't interested in drinking and chasing floozies off duty. It's not exactly the image of your average Seabee. The guys treated me well enough, especially since I was always willing to quietly fix up injuries and infections they didn't want to explain to the chain of command, but I got more than my share of practical jokes pulled on me too.

Then came 9/11, and the whole focus of military life changed. We had never even seen a map of Afghanistan before then, assuming that a landlocked country was irrelevant to the Navy, but when they needed bases built quickly they hollered for all the construction experts they could find. Within a few months we were in Afghanistan and hard at work.

The guys treated me differently over there. I guess when people are actually getting wounded a corpsman gets more respect. They seemed to think it was a big deal that we had to go to where the wounded fell to help them, which I never understood. A wounded soldier isn't going to get up and run to cover while the corpsman waits for him, so going to him is part of the job if you want to be effective. Sure, it can be dangerous, but the monks had taught me that life's not permanent and it's a waste of time and effort to pretend that it is. Besides, as a Japanese-American serviceman I would rather die than disgrace the proud tradition I had inherited. I had a job to do and I did it.

I wasn't doing anything special when the odds caught up with me. We were on our way to run a sick call in one of the local villages when an IED went off under our Humvee. Must have been a small one, because all it did was break my leg in a few places and tear up our driver with some fragments. Getting her bleeding stopped was the last useful thing I did before the military medical pipeline sucked me up and spit me out again in Landstuhl, Germany.

Once my leg was pinned back together I was off to the US for recuperation and physical therapy. The process left me with a lot of free time, which was good because Grandma was getting old fast. As long as I showed up for roll calls and medical appointments, no one cared if I spent the rest of my time with her at the retirement home. 

I did get a bit of a shock the first time I made it all the way to her room on my crutches. I knew the Gold Star and the picture of Uncle Ed would be on display, but I wasn't expecting the one next to it. Me, in my dress blues, shaking hands with the President on the day they awarded me my Silver Star. Someone had put me in for it without telling me, and while I didn't think I deserved it I wasn't going to turn it down either.

"What's this, Grandma?"

"You make me proud, Emerson. Made the whole family proud. Your uncle would be proud too. You a credit to our name."

Suddenly all the pain and boredom I was going through didn't seem like such a heavy burden.

Eventually the powers that be decided that my leg was never going to be fit for active duty again, and I was discharged with a disability rating and the right to lifetime VA medical care. Between the VA and GI Bill benefits, I also had funding to finish college and go on to medical school.

Internship and residency at Oregon Health Sciences University was one of the hardest experiences of my life, but I always made time for the monthly gathering of the guys I had served with in Afghanistan. Pretty much all of us were out of the service and moving on with our lives, but the things we had been through together were a lifetime bond. I needed those guys to keep my perspective on life beyond the hospital, and they were always happy to see me.

This month the gathering was at a bar in Northeast Portland that someone had heard about. We had spent the first hour or so catching up, and I had gotten up to use the head. On the way back I had managed to get in a conversation with a cute little brunette who was helping her friend celebrate her upcoming wedding, and wasn't in any hurry to get back to our table.

I guess I should mention that I like Asian-American girls just fine, although not as much as some of my white friends. Unlike them, I had grown up around Asian girls and didn't buy into that whole geisha/M. Butterfly fantasy. Besides, their momma's reaction when they heard that I'm a medical resident could be a little overwhelming. I'll go out with a pretty Japanese-American girl any chance I get, but that doesn't mean that I'll pass up a chance with an attractive girl of any other race. This girl was cute and friendly, and I was having a great time flirting with her.

"Hey, gook, why don't you stick to your own kind?"

I turned. Shaved head, suspenders, boots- the whole skinhead package designed to look tough. Not uncommon in Portland, but stupid and usually dangerous only in groups. A couple others were watching off to one side. I tried Plan A.

"You're making a mistake here. Why don't you go hang out with your friends?"

Behind him I could see what he couldn't: the guys I came with had noticed the problem and were getting up from our table. He had too many drinks in him to listen to reason. 

"Why don't you make me?"

The girl I had been flirting with was standing there, wide eyed. I spoke to her quietly.

"Could you stand back, please?"

She promptly did. A deep, Spanish accented voice came from behind him.

"Hey, ese, if you got a problem with the Doc you got a problem with the rest of us. Why don't you maricons go drink someplace else?"

Manny Rodriguez wasn't much taller than I was but he was built like a fireplug. Over a lot of bull sessions in Afghanistan, I learned that he had been a rising star in the East Los Angeles Surenos when he realized that he was attending way too many funerals and was going to be the guest of honor soon if he stayed on the path he was on. The Marine Corps had turned his life in a completely new direction. Now he was an urban planner, wore a tie to work, and spoke without a trace of an accent, but when he got angry the tough cholo rose to the surface quickly. He still had the absolute loyalty to his friends that his early life had ingrained in him, and threatening one in his presence was close to suicidal. The skinhead was starting to catch on. Desperately, he looked up at Brian.

Brian was our petty officer in Afghanistan, and still our natural leader. He's probably 6'3" and close to 300 pounds of muscle. On the inside you couldn't find a gentler, kinder man, but he won't hesitate to use his size to intimidate people who start trouble for no reason.

"Are you really going to stick up for this spic and gook?"

Brian's eyebrows rose. His voice was calm, quiet, and even deeper than Manny's.

"The spic and the gook are my brothers. You've been given two chances to walk away peacefully, and you're not getting another. Now get moving."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw one of the guys open the front door of the bar. What the skinheads weren't realizing was that this scenario had played out in a lot of bars and EM clubs all over the world, and they were the only ones who didn't know what their role was about to be.

"Don't you have any white priiiiiiiiii..."

He didn't finish the sentence before he went flying out the open door without touching the ground to land on his hands and knees in the street. Manny and Brian turned to his two buddies.

"You guys want to be next?"

They had their hands up defensively.

"No, no, we're cool."

"Good. Go pick your friend up and don't come back."

They quickly scrambled out the door. Manny grinned up at Brian.

"You getting rusty, compadre. You almost hit the doorjamb with that pendejo."

"Me? You threw the timing off, you ugly dwarf. I was going to ask someone else to help me throw the next one."

They laughed and turned back to their beer.

I looked around. The little brunette's entire party was staring at me, wide eyed.

"What the heck was that?"

"Guys I served with in the Navy. We're having our monthly reunion. I tried to warn them not to push it, but if they had any brains they wouldn't be skinheads."

"Are those guys always like that?"

"Best people I've ever known, but we didn't survive Afghanistan to take crap from punks like that at home. They would have done the same for anyone else at that table."

I motioned the girl aside.

"Look, I don't want to put a damper on your friend's bachelorette party. Could I call you some other time?"

"Uh, sure. Got a piece of paper?"

One thing medical types are never short of is notepads with the name of some drug or another printed on them. She quickly scribbled down a phone number and handed it to me, and I went back to our table to catch the tail end of Manny's story about his struggle to pass Statistics so he could finish his MBA. Nobody thought the whole skinhead thing called for further discussion. In the scale of things we had seen together, it just didn't signify.

A couple days later I called the number on my notepad. An extremely calm male voice answered.

"Holman's Funeral Service. How may I assist you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Holman's Funeral Service."

"Is this 232-5131?"

The professional calm was wearing a little.

"Yes it is. Do you need immediate services or would you like information on pre-need arrangements?"

"I guess you can bury my love life if you want."

"May I connect you to Alcoholics Anonymous? They may be able to help you more than I can."

"Sorry to bother you."

"Right."

The guy hung up abruptly. 

The next day at lunch I was bitching to Karen about it. She's a surgical nurse. Really nice girl, very pretty, and I sometimes regretted that I hadn't asked her out when she was single. Shikata ga nai, Grandma would have said; she's happily engaged to one of Brian's adopted brothers and considers me more or less another brother.

"Why can't a girl just say no when a guy asks for her number? Here I'm looking forward to talking with what I thought was a cute girl I'd met, and instead some undertaker accuses me of drunk dialing. It's embarrassing."

"It was rude of her, but you have to realize that your crowd can be intimidating. We both know that Brian and Manny are a couple of teddy bears, but it's not obvious to people who don't know them."

Manny wasn't exactly a teddy bear, in my opinion. I once saw him beat a would-be suicide bomber to death with an entrenching tool in a desperate effort to prevent him from blowing up a school, but it wasn't a story I wanted to tell Karen. I had also seen him rendered completely tongue tied and red faced by a little frivolous flirting. Karen's totally in love with Dave, but she still likes being a girl and doesn't see any harm in acting like it. 

"What, was someone going to rough her up for saying she wasn't interested? Oh, who cares, no use worrying about it now. I just get tired of all these games. Why can't I find a pretty, sensible girl like you or Jennifer and not have to deal with all these games any more?"

"Well, the fact that eighty hours of work is a light week for you doesn't help."

Karen thought for a second and smiled.

"You know, it was Jennifer and Lydia who set me up on a blind date with Dave. Let me talk to them about it. This could be fun."

A couple weeks later Lydia called me up.

"Hey, Doc, barbecue at Jen and Brian's place next Saturday! Be there or be square. Plus, I'm bringing a new teacher I want you to meet."

Lydia teaches high school and is married to another of Brian's adopted brothers. One more in the long list of incredibly sweet, pretty girls I met too late. Lydia tends to put on a Gothy persona and is always coming up with odd, outdated expressions.

"I assume Karen told you I was tired of the singles game?"

"She let me in on it. Us boring married folks have to have our fun somewhere."

"I get the impression that you and John cook up plenty of fun."

"No comment. Anyway, Brian said I had to warn you ahead of time that she's Eric Jones' cousin."

I swallowed hard. Eric had been my biggest failure in Afghanistan, a respected member of our unit who had died under my hands during an ambush. I never thought I deserved the Silver Star they gave me for trying to save him, and I never forgave myself for failing. Hearing his name still hurt.

"I'll try to look past that. What time?"

"About two. And don't take that attitude, she's a really nice girl."

"I'll be there as soon as I get off work."

Lydia dropped it and hung up.

Jen and Brian live in an old farmhouse that Brian converted and modernized, with some help from Jen. The farmland's mostly gone, but they have enough left for a big back yard. There were quite a few people there by the time I got away from the hospital, including enough I knew to get started on a couple of conversations. After a while, Brian and Jennifer turned up with a young woman in tow. Eric's cousin, obviously: Eric had been black and this girl was at least part black.

"Hey, Doc, I want you to meet someone. Allison Jackson, this is Emerson Miyahara. Call him Doc like everyone else does."

She gave me a bright smile. Remarkably pretty young woman, really. Kind of like a young Halle Berry.

"So you're the famous Doc Miyahara? Eric used to talk about you a lot. I've wanted to thank you for a long time for what you did for him. Is it OK to hug a hero?"

"Whatever I did for him wasn't enough, and I'm not any damn hero. I want to apologize to you and your family for losing him. And I don't need any damn hug for it, either."

Jen gaped at me, and Brian shook his head with a frown. Allison looked like I had slapped her. She turned and walked away without another word, and Brian went after her. Jen turned on me. She may look like Cindy Crawford's prettier sister, but her temper would have scared my drill instructor.

"Emerson, what the hell is wrong with you? I've never seen you treat anyone like that, especially a cute young woman who obviously thinks you hung the moon. Is this how you're going to act when we try to help you?"

"Look, Jen, you don't know what it was like in Afghanistan. Losing Eric is hard for me to deal with."

Wrong thing to say.

"Have you forgotten that my husband was right next to you during that ambush? Do you have any idea how many nights I've spent holding him after he woke up screaming about it? Maybe I wasn't there, but I sure as hell know how hard it is for you guys to deal with. Brian's finally come to the realization that what happened to Eric Jones wasn't his fault. It wasn't yours either, but it sounds like you're not ready to believe that."

She sighed.

"Because of you Brian's alive and has two arms, and I'll always be grateful for that. That doesn't give you a right to be rude to my guests, though. I expect you to go find that young lady and apologize."

What could I say?

"I guess I was rude, Jen. I just hate being called a hero over that stuff."

"Make that explanation part of your apology, then. Get going."

I found Allison sitting in a gazebo toward the back end of the lawn. She didn't look happy to see me.

"I didn't think you wanted anything to do with me."

"Allison, I was a jerk to you, and I came to apologize."

Her expression didn't soften.

"Yeah, you were. I was trying to be nice to you."

"Look, Eric's death was my biggest failure as a combat medic. I can't accept people calling me a hero over it. You hit a raw nerve."

She turned to me, her expression softening a little.

"Eric was as much a big brother as a cousin to me. I read everything there was to read about that ambush after we buried him, including the autopsy report. Two bullets through both lungs and the aorta? A full team of surgeons couldn't have saved him, never mind a combat medic at the side of a dirt road. You can't blame yourself. My family and I sure don't."

"People keep telling me that, but I can't accept it. It was my responsibility to keep guys alive until the medevac got there and I failed."

"Sometimes there's nothing you can do. Shikata ga nai, Mom would have said."

I looked at her with the obvious question in my eyes. She half smiled, half shrugged.

"Mom was full blooded Japanese. She met Dad when he was stationed in Okinawa. If you know what box I'm supposed to check on those forms you're doing better than I am."




Oregon Coast Ch. 04



"I have no idea, but it sure is a pretty combination."

Her smile proved it.

"Thanks. I had a feeling there was a nice guy somewhere under your bad attitude."

"Eric's a sensitive subject. He sure was a hell of a guy, though."

She kept smiling.

"He really was. In the old neighborhood you'd see all these losers slouching around with droopy pants and do-rags and then there would be Eric with his military attitude and posture showing the little kids what a real man looks like, telling them to stay off the streets and go to school so they could do something with their lives."

"He was obsessed with getting into the Naval Academy. We used to kid him about spending all his time studying for the entrance exams, but the fact is we all admired his ambition."

"He figured that was his best shot at going to college. He would have made a heck of a difference in the world if he'd had the chance."

"Yeah, he would have."

"About two weeks after he died I got a letter from him. One of those that get sent only if a guy's not coming back. He told me that he knew I had the potential to make a great contribution to the world, and he had told his mom to use his life insurance to help me make it through college. I was working on my Master's at Stanford when I found out that all his younger siblings got the same letter."

There were tears in her eyes.

"I hate wars. I hate the way they cost us our best people. I'm sorry if that offends you."

"I've been there, remember? You know what General Sherman said after the Civil War? 'It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, for vengeance, for desolation. War is hell.' I hate war too."

She took my hand, and for the first time I felt that we really understood each other.

"Hey, Doc, why you hiding down here?"

Manny's head popped around the corner, and he saw Allison.

"Pardon, usted con un chica muy bonita."

Allison smiled and replied in perfect Spanish.

"We're just hanging out talking. Thank you for calling me a pretty girl, though. You're not bad looking yourself."

I wish I'd had a camera ready for the look on Manny's face. I laughed and did the introductions.

"Allison Jackson, this is Manny Rodriguez. He's an old service buddy. Allison is Eric Jones' cousin. She's teaching with Lydia now."

"I'm glad to meet you, Allison. Eric was an incredible guy. I'm really sorry about what happened to him."

"Thank you. It's good to hear that people thought so highly of him."

"Look, Doc, Jen was concerned about where you disappeared to. I'm going to go tell her you're in good hands."

"See you later, then."

Allison looked after him thoughtfully.

"In the old neighborhood, when you saw a Hispanic guy with tattoos like that it meant there was about to be a shooting."

"Manny says he's going to have me take those tattoos off when I do my dermatology rotation. He used to joke with Eric about how they would have killed each other if they had met in LA instead of Afghanistan. Instead they became the best of friends."

"He looks like a pretty tough guy."

"He is, but it's not what he's about. He's almost finished his MBA. He and Eric had a lot in common. I didn't know you spoke Spanish."

"Spanish, French, and Japanese. It wasn't my major but I picked it up anyway."

"What was your major?"

"International Business."

"And you decided to become a teacher?"

"I kept thinking about that last letter Eric wrote me, and the fact that his death paid for my education. I felt like I had an obligation to do something more than chase the dollar. I'm already noticing how these high school girls gravitate toward someone in a position of authority that looks like them and came from a place like they do."

"You're the example?"

"I don't know if I can say that. I'm young and not sure where my life is going. At least I'm proof that there are possibilities in life beyond getting pregnant and going on welfare."

She shivered.

"Is it cold out here or is it just me?"

I looked at her bare, slender, cinnamon sugar colored shoulders.

"That's a really attractive dress, but I don't think it was meant to keep you warm."

"I'm still trying to get used to this Northwest weather, too. Let's walk up toward the house."

I got up and extended a hand to help her up. She stood there holding my hand for a second.

"I know you don't want a hug for a hero. How about a hug for a decent guy who did his best?"

"That I can accept."

She stepped forward and put her arms around my waist, and I wrapped my arms around her. She spoke with her cheek on my chest.

"What happened to Eric really wasn't your fault. You have to believe that."

"I'm starting to."

I could feel a lot of old guilt flowing out of me as we stood there. We weren't being romantic-- it wasn't that type of hug—but I couldn't help noticing that I had a firm, curvy, sweet smelling female body in my arms, and it felt damn good. I wasn't in any hurry to let her go, and she didn't seem in any hurry to go anywhere either. Eventually Jen broke us up.

"Doc, I can't find Allison anywhere. If you drove that poor girl away I'll never introduce you to another single woman!"

I could feel Allison rising on her toes to peep over my shoulder. 

"I'm right here, Jen. He's actually a pretty good guy. We just got off on the wrong foot."

For the first time since I met her Jen was speechless.

"Uh, uh, OK, good then. Dinner's ready if you are."

Jen fled, and Allison giggled.

"So I'm being set up here?"

"I made the mistake of telling the Girls that I'm tired of the singles game. Now they're having fun introducing me to their single friends."

"A single doctor? I've met worse, believe me."

"A single doctor with bad manners and a horrible work schedule. They're not doing you any favors."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that? Let's go eat."

Allison was struggling to walk across the lawn in the dark, and ended up taking my arm. I think Jen was a little surprised when we arrived at the deck that way.

"So you decided to forgive this clod, Allison?"

Allison put a friendly hand on my shoulder.

"I'm thinking about it."

"He's got his good points. Can you come help in the kitchen?"

"Sure. See you later, Doc."

Brian caught me watching her walk away and grinned.

"Nice girl, isn't she, Doc?"

"You're as subtle as a Claymore, Brian. Need some help with the grill?"

"Sure, grab that platter and help me get these steaks off."

Allison found me as the party was breaking up.

"I'm still glad to have met you, Doc. Like I said, I read everything there was to read about that ambush, including the citation that went with your Silver Star. You can't blame me for being impressed. If you ever want to tell me the rest of the story, though, call me."

Karen poked me as she walked off with Lydia and John.

"One smart, pretty, sensible young woman as requested, Doc. Anything else we can do for you?"

"Uhh... not at the moment."

Karen plunked herself down across from me at the hospital cafeteria a few days later.

"So when are you going to ask Allison on a date, Doc? Even you couldn't have missed the signal that she wants you to."

"I don't know, Karen. I'm not sure she's what I'm looking for."

Karen gave me a dirty look.

"You have a problem with her being mixed race, Doc? I thought better of you."

"Hell, no! A pretty girl is a pretty girl as far as I'm concerned. Every time I look at her, though, I see Eric. I'm not sure I want that constant reminder."

"Reminder of what, Doc? When are you going to accept that what happened to him was just one of those things that happens in war?"

"These things happen, but they didn't happen to guys I was responsible for except for him."

She pushed a piece of paper across the table.

"The hospital runs a support group for veterans, and you need it. Here's the schedule."

I had intended to blow it off, but I found myself wandering toward the conference room Thursday night. No harm in checking it out, I told myself. Listening to those guys, I realized that I wasn't the only one struggling with memories of bad experiences. I started getting in the habit of showing up to all the groups I could. After a couple weeks of thinking about it, I called Allison.

"Hi, Doc! Good to hear from you."

"How's teaching going?"

"Toughest job you'll ever love. These kids are great. How's the hospital?"

"Still working us to the bone. I have Saturday off, though. Want to go catch the jazz festival?"

"Sounds like fun. Let's do it."

We chatted for a while longer and hung up with plans for the weekend.

I picked her up Saturday morning bright and early. She was wearing a cardigan sweater over what looked like another simple but sexy sundress. I had to like her taste in clothing; one never doubted that she was an extremely attractive woman, but she was subtle about it. We spent the day wandering around listening to the different bands, and around noon she pulled off the sweater and stuffed it in my backpack. Just as I suspected, her dress showed plenty of her lovely skin but stopped short of obvious. I enjoyed the envious looks I was getting as we wandered around hand in hand. Eventually we had enough and I took her home around sunset, stopping for a good dinner on the way.

On her doorstep she turned to me.

"Thanks, Doc, that was a lot of fun. Let's do it again sometime."

"Sounds great."

Her face was so close to mine that it would have been rude to skip the obvious next move. Kissing her should have been a thrilling experience, and it was physically, but it felt off somehow. She pulled back a little and frowned at me.

"What's wrong, Doc?"

"Wrong?"

"Even for a first kiss, I could tell your heart wasn't in it. What's wrong?"

"Allison, I think you're an incredible woman. Exactly what I was wishing for when I said I was tired of stupid games. I can't see you without thinking of Eric, though."

"I know. Every time I see you I think of that Silver Star citation. I wondered for years what kind of man would charge into a kill zone to pull a wounded buddy to safety."

"A terrified man with a job to do? I'm no hero, Allison. That was just ten crazy minutes of my life."

"And I'm not my cousin."

She sighed.

"Damn it, I honestly like you. At least I think I like what I can separate from my hero worship. Why can't we just be two people who like each other without all this baggage?"

"We both have stuff to work through, I guess. I like you enough that I'm willing to do the work, though."

"Good."

She stepped forward into an honest, long, friendly hug and ended it with a kiss on my cheek.

"You're a good man, Doc, and an attractive one. Let's work through this."

"I definitely want to. Call you later?"

"You better."

I spent a lot of my spare time thinking about the situation over the next week or two. Allison was the most attractive girl I had met in years: smart, self-reliant, and not hung up on the idea of dating a doctor. Not to mention pretty, funny, and attracted to me too. I wanted to get the whole Afghanistan thing out of the way and just date her and see where it went. Since I couldn't think it through all the way on my own, I went down to the temple to talk it over with the monk I had learned the most from growing up. He poured me a cup of tea.

"Good to see you, Emerson. How's your medical training coming?"

"Going fine, Roshi."

"What's bothering you, then?"

No use trying to hide anything from him. I explained the whole thing about Eric, meeting Allison, and wanting to get to know her as a person and a woman without all the baggage.

"What have I always told you, Emerson? You can't change the past, and you can't predict the future. Do your best for today."

"But what about Eric?"

"Nothing stays the same forever, and you can't make it so by wishing. Remember the story of the mustard seed?"

"Tell me again."

"One day as the Buddha traveling around teaching a woman driven mad by grief came to see him. She was carrying her dead child and demanded that the Buddha restore it to life. She had asked many others, and they all laughed at her. The Buddha didn't. He told her that he would restore the child to life if she would bring him a single mustard seed from a house where there had never been a death in the family.

Of course, at every house she went to the family was unable to help her. Some relative or other had died. Finally she realized what the Buddha wanted her to see: that death is a part of life and the living can't let it stop their lives from going on. She buried her child and moved on.

You did your best for your friend. You couldn't prevent his death any more than you can ultimately prevent anyone's. Maybe you need to go looking for a mustard seed."

I thought about it.

"I guess I never looked at it that way. All this time studying the Middle Way and I don't apply it to my own life."

"However many holy words you read, however many you speak, what good will they do you if you do not act on upon them?"

As usual, he saw right through the problem. I thought about it a couple days and then called Allison again and asked her out for dinner. She accepted cheerfully.

When I got to her apartment to pick her up she invited me in while she finished getting ready. Something looked different when she came out to the living room ready to go. She looked a little worried.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Emerson?"

"I think I'm seeing just you for the first time. Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?"

"No, but feel free to any time."

I went to help her with her coat and ended up with my arms around her. Before I knew it we were locked in a deep, passionate kiss.

"Wow, Doc, that actually felt like a man who finds me attractive."

"Was there ever any doubt?"

"I was starting to wonder if you were just going through the motions to keep the Girls off your back."

"Well, I'm sorting you out from your cousin. He was a hell of a guy, but you're a lot prettier and more fun to kiss."

"You kissed him?"

"Only when I was trying to get him breathing...oh, never mind. Come here."

She pulled back a few minutes later.

"If we don't stop this and go eat we're never going to get out of here."

"How is that a bad thing?"

"It isn't necessarily, but I'm hungry and you promised me dinner."

She came back to the subject when we got to our table.

"You were starting to remind me of a guy I dated at Stanford. It took me a couple of months to realize that he wasn't interested in me so much as he wanted to shock his family by going out with a non-white girl."

"What an idiot. Doesn't everyone have stories of dating some real ding-a-lings, though?"

"True. Everyone probably thinks they have terrible luck in dating until they're lucky enough to find the right person."

She was quiet for a couple minutes.

"How is your family going to feel about you dating me?"

"The younger ones could care less what your ethnicity is as long as we're happy together. Honestly, I'm not sure what Grandma is going to think. Her generation didn't do interracial relationships. She's a really good person, though. I think she'll get used to the idea once she gets to know you."

"I can live with that. It's never been easy not fitting into any one race."

"Ah, the whole thing's silly. Why can't we just be two people who like each other?"

"As long as you and I are comfortable with it, we'll be OK."

I went on to tell her about my visit to Roshi and how he helped me sort out my feelings about her and Eric.

"You're Buddhist? I studied it a lot in school but never formally took the Refuges."

"It's one of those things where you're free to accept as much of it as you find useful. You remember the last words of the Buddha?"

"It's been a while... Something about not believing anything until you analyze it for yourself?"

"Right. Don't believe teachings because the Buddha or someone else said them, or because they're written somewhere, until you look at it for yourself and see whether following the teaching will lead to happiness or suffering. 'Do not seek an external refuge, but be a light unto yourself.' I take it that my being Buddhist isn't a deal breaker for you?"

"Nope, not hardly. Especially since it's helping you see me for myself."

"I like what I'm seeing, too."

"Good, because the feeling's mutual."

Dinner went on like that with the mutual attraction continuing to build like a fire feeding on itself. The kissing started again on the way to the car and stopped only so I could drive her home. When we got there, we barely made it inside before we were devouring each other again. Before long I had her dress unzipped and started to push the spaghetti straps off her shoulders to give me room to keep exploring her lovely body. She pulled back.

"Hold it a second, Doc."

I pulled my hands back immediately.

"We don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with..."

"Don't be ridiculous, Doc. I want you at least as bad as you want me. I'm always preaching safe sex to my kids, though, and I practice what I preach."

I reached into my pocket.

"Good thing I came prepared, then."

"Only three? Pessimist."

"If I was a pessimist I wouldn't have brought any."

"Well, it's enough for a good start. Come on."

She lowered her arms from my shoulders and the straps slipped down, leaving her in nothing but a very skimpy lace string bikini. She grabbed my hand, pulled me back to her bedroom, and turned to me.

"Where were you? Oh, now I remember. That feels good..."

I hope her long nipples felt as good to her as they felt in my hands. A little more fumbling and I had her totally naked.

"Where was that thing? Oh, here."

She pushed me backwards onto her bed and followed, attacking my belt and pulling my pants off. Once we were both naked she stretched out on top of me. My hands were gently exploring her curves and valleys, and she was clearly liking it. She put a hand on either side of my head and kissed me again, causing her nipples to rub up and down my chest.

"Being naked with you feels great. It's about to feel a lot better, though."

She slid down my body and made herself comfortable before gently kissing the head of my cock, giggling at the way it jumped. Then she ran her tongue around just under the head, and up and down the bottom of it. The feeling was amazing.

"Oh, God, Al, you're incredible..."

She blew gently where she had just licked, causing another rush of amazing sensations.

"You're looking pretty incredible there yourself, big guy."

With that she gently rolled the condom on and wiggled back up to face me.

"You comfortable with this now, Doc?"

"No, but I'm about to be."

With that she straddled me and guided me into her hot, ready body. 

"That better?"

""Never better in my life."

She started sliding up and down, very slowly. I loved it but it wasn't enough, so I grabbed her and rolled her onto her back. She quickly adjusted to the faster rhythm and joined in enthusiastically. 

"Oh, this is so good... just like that... YES!!!"

Watching her pretty face as she reached a long, sustained orgasm was the most erotic experience of my life, and took me right with her. After we started to catch our breath I moved to get up.

"Don't move, Doc, you feel too good right there."

"I'm not crushing you?"

"No, you feel great."

Eventually I had to get up for a second, but when I came back I wrapped her tightly in my arms again. She made herself comfortable with her head on my shoulder.

"That was pretty incredible."

"It sure was. You going to spend the night?"

"I'd love to if it's all right with you."

"I'd love it too. Being cuddled up to you like this is really nice."




Oregon Coast Ch. 04



"A warm, curvy naked woman versus my cold bed? Not a difficult decision."

She kissed me again and we dozed off.

My cell phone woke me up the next morning.

"So, Doc, how did your date with Allison go last night?"

"Morning, Lydia."

I pushed some of the young lady in question's hair out of my face as she continued to doze on my chest.

"I'd say it went really well."

Allison stirred, and I put a hand gently over her mouth. She glanced up and I pointed at the phone.

"You're right, Lydia, she is a terrific girl. I owe you for helping get this started."

Allison got a devilish gleam in her eye and slid down my body, scattering kisses as she went. I was more than ready for her when she reached her destination, and she sucked me deep into her mouth, her tongue wiggling.

"Uhh...Lydia, I'm kind of in the middle of something here."

Allison's tongue slid around some, and I suppressed a moan.

"Can we talk later? OK, later then."

I hung up just as I reached orgasm. Then I reached down and hauled Allison up to face me. She was giggling even before I tickled her.

"That was a dirty trick, young lady."

"Well, if you're going to complain, maybe I should stop doing that?"

"I wasn't complaining, believe me."

I checked the time on my phone.

"Al, I'm sorry to say this, but I have to be at the hospital in two hours."

"I know your schedule's crazy, so don't feel bad about it. Want to take a shower?"

"Yeah, I should."

"Bring that last condom, then, you're going to need it."

The second one had been put to good use when we woke up about two in the morning. She rolled out of bed, casually nude, and led me into the bathroom. The shower took a lot longer than I had learned in the Navy, and I did end up needing the last condom.

Allison kissed me goodbye at her door.

"That was the best date of my life, Al. I'm sorry to have to rush off."

"Like I said, I knew that you had a crazy schedule when I agreed to go out with you. It didn't stop me then and it doesn't bother me now. Call me when you have a little free time, though."

"I will."

One last kiss and it was back to the grind. Some of the nurses asked why I had a smile on my face all day, but the older ones just grinned wisely and slapped me on the back.

"Glad you finally found yourself a nice girl, Emerson."

"I didn't say anything about that."

"You didn't need to, it's all over your face. Just don't forget that you still need to sleep once in a while."

That was the start of some of the best months of my life. Work was still crazy, so I didn't get to see Allison as much as I would have liked, but we made the most of the time we could spend together. She was pretty busy herself in her first year as a full fledged teacher and never got cranky about wanting more of my time. Just knowing that I had something—make that someone--to look forward to when I got away from the hospital made an amazing difference in my morale. The wild sex didn't hurt my morale either. Eventually I decided it was time to take her to meet Grandma.

Grandma lived in a retirement home that specialized in Japanese-American residents. She was really old, and while her mind was still sharp she needed help physically. She actually liked the lifestyle where she was: the food was familiar, the other residents understood her, and the activities fit her interests.

Grandma knew I was bringing a girl to meet her, which in itself made it a special occasion. Her eyebrows went up when she first saw Allison, though. I made the introductions, and Al stepped forward and spoke in perfect Japanese. 

"Emerson said that you liked Japanese cookies, so I made these for you the way my mother taught me. It's only a small thing, but I hope they are to your liking."

"Thank you for going to the trouble."

"It was no trouble at all."

In the unlikely event that a Japanese ever gives away the Hope Diamond, he is sure to tell the recipient that it's a worthless trinket and an insignificant gift. The only thing that would be more rude would be showing up empty handed. The fact that Al not only knew the old fashioned protocol but followed it perfectly obviously impressed and reassured my grandmother.

"Please sit down. Would you like a cup of tea?"

Before I knew it they were chatting away like old friends. I had to step in after an hour or so.

"Allison, I have to go to work and I promised you a ride home."

"I'm sorry, but I have to go, Miyahara-san."

"Please, Allison-chan, call me Oba-san like everyone else."

I knew we were going to be fine if she was telling Allison to call her "grandmother" after one meeting. 

I didn't get to see Grandma for any length of time for a couple of months after that. Residency was killing me. I pretty much knew what the first question would be when I did.

"That Allison isn't Japanese, is she?"

"Half Japanese, Grandma. The rest is white, black, and maybe some Native American."

She thought about that a little.

"Some of these folks here get visits from their pure Japanese daughters and granddaughters that act like tennenboke. Always on cell phone, rude to everyone, act stupid and don't know it. Embarrassing for their elders. Allison has good manners. Her mother's Japanese, right? She was brought up well."

In Grandma's world that was about the highest praise possible.

"That's right, Grandma. You know her that well from one visit?"

"You didn't know? She brings her Japanese Language Club from the high school here sometimes. The kids play board games and practice speaking Japanese with the folks here. Sometimes learn Japanese cooking and stuff like that. She wants them to learn Go, but those kusojiji always teaching the boys to play poker instead."

One of the men in question glanced over from where they were watching the Mariners game. Apparently he was used to being called an old fart, since he just smiled, waved, and went back to the game.

"She never mentioned it to me. I guess she thinks I'm busy enough at the hospital."

"Too busy. You look worn out. When I was young nobody dated someone from a different race. These days, though, who knows? Maybe Allison's not pure Japanese, but I'm proud when she comes to visit. Not like those kyapi kyapi pure Japanese girls whose grandmothers want me to get them dates with you. I never tried, neh? Don't need an airhead daughter. Allison is a good girl on the inside, where it matters. Who cares about the outside? Anyway, she's beautiful on the outside too. You going to marry her?"

"I don't know, Grandma. We like each other a lot, but it's early to be talking about that."

"Don't wait forever, OK? If I get great grandkids better sooner than later. I'm going to get old one of these days."

"You're never going to be old, Grandma."

"Oh, go on, you. Get some sleep. You work too much."

There was a stir near the door of the dining room, and I was surprised to see Allison come in. She was obviously popular with the residents, greeting most of them by name and switching back and forth from English to Japanese depending on which language they addressed her in. It was all the more impressive because she did it with no apparent effort. She stopped at a couple tables.

"Yamahara-san, I hear your oldest granddaughter was admitted to Stanford?"

The old lady beamed.

"Yes, she was. We're very proud of her."

Allison reached into the old backpack she usually carried and pulled out a package.

"Please give this to her for me. It's only an old student sweatshirt from when I was at Stanford, nothing important, but I hope it makes her feel that she fits in a little better. Some of my high school girls like this old fashioned stuff."

Mrs. Yamahara couldn't have been more pleased.

"That's very kind of you, Allison-chan. She will like this very much."

"It's nothing. Tell her to call me if she has questions about what to expect."

"I will. Thank you very much."

As she got closer to our table one of the old men called out.

"Hey, Allison-chan, that young doctor of yours still too busy for you? When you going to let me take you on a date?"

Allison laughed.

"Ogata-san, I know your type too well. Always chasing a different girl. I'm a one man woman, and I want a one woman man. Not a playboy like you. Thank you for the offer, though."

Mr. Ogata cackled as she bent over his wheelchair to plant a kiss on top of his bald head. Finally she got to our table.

"Hi, Emerson. I didn't expect to see you here."

She put a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't get up, please. I know you're tired."

I squeezed her hand, knowing it was as much affection as I could display in front of these old folks without causing offense.

"I got a couple of hours down time, so I wandered over. What are you up to?"

"Just going over some language lesson plans with Oba-chan. Never hurts to get a second opinion."

Never hurt to make an old person feel useful, either, I knew. The fact that she was using the affectionate "chan" rather than the formal "san" to refer to Grandma showed that Grandma appreciated it.

"Well, I'll leave you to it. I have to get back to work. Want to walk out with me, Al?"

"Sure. I'll be right back, Oba-chan."

Grandma winked.

"No hurry, Al-chan."

In the stairwell, I grabbed her and did what I had wanted to do as soon as she reached our table. She was more than happy to engage in a little sneaky making out.

"You think Oba-chan knows what we're up to?"

"She's old, not stupid, and she's been young. It's fine, though, she thinks the world of you. You might want to fix your lip gloss."

Al quickly made some repairs and cleaned up my face a little.

"How long have you been bringing the kids here?"

"Since I met Oba-chan. I realized that there's a big pool of native Japanese speakers here with lots of time on their hands, and everyone has fun. Hey, you don't mind what Ogata-san said, do you?"

"Flirting with you? Why should that bother me? Probably the most excitement he's had in months."

"I know you're not jealous of a ninety year old man, Doc. You kidding? I mean about you not having enough time for me."

"Hell, I know I don't have enough time for you, Al. I'd like to see a lot more of you than I can now. The question is, can you stick it out until I finish residency?"

"I've said it before, Doc. I knew being a resident's girlfriend was going to be a tough job when I took it. Just promise that we'll have more time together once you finish."

"Absolutely. All doctors have to pass this initiation but once it's over we own our own lives again. Hey, you're going to be on summer break when I finish in a few months. One of the doctors I work with offered to lend me his vacation condo on Kauai for a few weeks. Feel like going?"

"It's a date. Would you consider Paris instead, though?"

"I'm flexible on it. I have to get going. We don't have to make a decision right now."

I kissed her and ran for the hospital. 

I was hard at work a few weeks later when she called me.

"Hey, Emerson, I've got the day off and I'm in the neighborhood. Can I bring you some lunch?"

"Sure. About an hour?"

"Sounds good."

Now that I thought about it Allison had never seen my office, which wasn't surprising since I wasn't there much myself. She made it, though, and I closed the door and kissed her before she set a fragrant bag on my desk and started pulling out food.

"Any trouble getting here?"

"Not really. I got a lot of strange looks when I started asking for directions, though."

"Believe it or not, I've never been much of a ladies' man. They don't see a lot of pretty girls wandering around looking for me."

"Some of them seemed offended."

"The younger women tend to think they should have first claim on single male doctors."

"Too bad for them, then, they had their chance. You were never tempted?"

"I can't say I've never gone out with someone I met here, but I didn't care for it. Who wants to talk about work after working eighty hours a week? I'd rather hear how my favorite high school teacher is doing."

"Doing OK, really. Final exams are next week."

She went silent suddenly. I looked where she was looking. The picture on the wall was of our unit in Afghanistan. Me, Brian, Eric, and a bunch of other guys perched all over a D-9 Cat, grinning or trying to look tough for the camera. I stepped up behind her and slid my arms around her waist.

"Hard to believe we were ever that young and adventurous."

She touched the glass covering Eric.

"I miss him. Doesn't having his picture here bother you?"

"I'll always remember him and regret his death, but I can't change it. I did all I could."

Her hand moved to the small silver star hanging from its ribbon in its simple frame next to the picture.

"More than most would have. Sounds like you're doing better."

"Yeah, I am."

I nuzzled the soft, sweet smelling skin of her neck.

"You helped with that. Thanks."

I kissed her under the ear.

"Keep that up and you're going to have to lock that door."

"It doesn't lock."

"Well, then, knock it off before you risk a scandal when someone walks in."

"That might actually be a good thing. It would shed my reputation for being too serious."

"And what kind of reception would I get the next time I came to visit?"

She turned, kissed me, and backed away a little.

"Anyway, Al, I need to know your work schedule so I can order our tickets to Kauai."

"What about Paris?"

"After years of overwork I want to just relax for a while. I was thinking Paris would be a better destination for the honeymoon."

"The WHAT?"

"The..."

"I heard you right. My God, Emerson, did you just propose to me? Over a takeout lunch in a dinky hospital office? Are you serious?"

"Yep. Yep, I did. What do you say?"

She was still staring at me in disbelief.

"Nothing. Nothing right now. If you want an answer you're going to have to do a better job than that of asking."

She shook her head and smiled slightly.

"If you do, though, I promise you're going to like the answer. Hey, your lunch break is over."

And with that she kissed me and left.

The Girls chewed me out for doing such a poor job of proposing before they helped me do a better one. Allison's cheerful acceptance was hardly a surprise, but I was glad to make it official. They had all been married on the beach at Brian's family's house, and were more than thrilled to help Allison organize another beach wedding. I almost cracked up at their smug looks and winks as they stood in a row behind Allison in their bridesmaid's dresses, but I kept it together and got the job done. The only bigger smile was on Grandma's face.

A couple days later, in bed at our hotel just off the Champs Elysee, Allison was staring at the ceiling.

"I just wish Eric could have been there to give me away."

"In a way I felt like he was. Manny did a good job standing in, and his tribute to him went over well."

"That was a nice touch. I was surprised he didn't mention the ambush or your Silver Star."

"I told him not to. How many times do I have to tell you, Al, I'm not a hero."

"You'll always be a hero to me, Emerson. I didn't marry a hero, though, I married a damned good man. And I couldn't be happier that I did."

"You and me both. This is going to be fun."

And it is.



Oregon Coast Ch. 05



It all started with a call from my old service buddy Brian.

"Hey, Manny, we're having a beach party in three weeks at John's house. We want to have one last get together before Allison gets too big to go out."

Finals were coming up, but when people are celebrating the impending birth of your best friend's first son, you show up even if it's inconvenient. I don't know why those guys thought that February was a great month for a beach party. Storms blow in all the time, and while it may be fun to watch from in front of a roaring fireplace, it's hell to drive through. That's one reason I bought the Element: while in my younger days I wouldn't have been caught dead in it- and still wouldn't in the barrio- it's a great bad weather vehicle. Lydia came looking for me with another girl in tow.

"Manny, you're heading back early, right?"

""Yeah, I have finals in Marketing and Statistics next week."

She pulled the other girl forward a little bit.

"Listen, Emily here wants to head back early too. She rode out with us. Would you mind giving her a ride back?"

I looked at her. Small girl with red hair and porcelain skin to go with the Irish name, along with a cute little nose.

"No trouble at all. Hi, Emily, I'm Manny Rodriguez."

Lydia looked a little abashed.

"Sorry, forgot you two hadn't met."

"How are you on statistics, Emily?"

"We just met and you're asking for measurements? Lydia, are you sure I should go off alone with this guy?"

"Not your statistics! I was asking if you'd help me study for my finals on the drive back. I'm working on my MBA."

Emily's blue eyes twinkled.

"I figured it was something like that. Sorry, but I'm a librarian. I can help with Dewey Decimals, but that's about the closest I get."

"Well, I may try you on flash cards anyway."

"Sure, no problem."

Lydia spoke up.

"To answer your question, Manny served with Brian and Doc in Afghanistan, and they literally trust him with their lives. You're actually a lot safer with him than by yourself."

"Really? Well, I guess I'll take your word for it. When do you want to leave, Manny?"

"Can you be ready in an hour?"

"I'm pretty much packed already. Let me go say some goodbyes and I'll be good to go."

Emily headed off toward the other end of the house. Watching her go was pleasant. Lydia nudged me.

"Whaddaya think, Manny? Pretty cute?"

"Would you girls knock it off? I've got enough on my plate without looking for a girlfriend right now. She is cute, though."

"Cute, bright, and single. No harm in giving you a chance and seeing what happens."

"I'm going to drop her off at her house, and that's all that's going to happen."

Lydia smirked.

"That's what John said about me."

"John had a crush on you from day one."

"Day two. I was a real bitch to him when we first met."

"Don't talk about yourself that way, Lydia. You're one of the kindest people I know."

"I'm just being honest. The last thing I wanted was another rich preppie hitting on me."

While she tried to keep it a secret, it was common knowledge that Lydia's family was extremely wealthy and she grew up in the ritziest waterfront suburb of Seattle.

"John's not like that. Last time we were in LA he fit in with my homies from the barrio without even trying. Of course, using him as a ringer on their soccer team helped. The other team was baffled by the goofy looking gabacho who stopped everything they threw at the net."

"He's not, but it took me a while to figure it out. Making it up to him has been a lot of fun. Anyway, just get to know her. She's a really neat girl."

"Not giving me a lot of choice, are you?"

Allison Miyahara wandered up.

"Manny, only you would complain about us trying to find you a pretty girl."

Lydia gave her a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek, and I did the same.

"Of course you like the idea. You used to be one of the pretty girls they were trying to fix up, and look at you now. You look beautiful, by the way. How's Doc taking it?"

"I feel fat. Emerson's going nuts, and taking me with him. With all the pregnant women and babies he's taken care of, you'd think he wouldn't be so freaked out about me."

"It's different when you're madly in love with the pregnant lady in question. Maybe Brian and I should take him out and get him drunk one of these days."

"I hate to encourage you bums, but it might do him some good. At least it would give me a break. Call me later."

"Will do. It's about time for another veterans' meeting anyway."

Allison laughed.

"Meeting, my rapidly expanding butt. All you guys do is get half cut and tell lies."

"What's wrong with that? Your butt looks fine to me, too."

Emily came around the corner as I finished the sentence, with Emerson alongside her carrying luggage.

"Manny, you dumb wetback, just keep your eyes off my wife's butt!"

"Chinga te, Doc. You're the one who goes around with his eyes closed all the time, so don't complain about mine!"

Doc dropped the luggage and jumped me, and we wrestled around a little on the carpet before Lydia yelled at us to break it up. I helped him up.

"Seriously, compadre, you OK? You know Al and the baby are going to do great, right?"

"I know they're doing great, but you have to remember that I don't deal much with the easy pregnancies. It's the problem ones that doctors spend a lot of time on. It's hard not to get nervous about it."

"I was just telling Al that Brian and I need to take you out for some R&R. I'll call you in a week or so."

"Sounds good. Be careful driving back."

"You too. Remember that you've got my godson with you now."

I hugged him for real, and then hugged Al. I made sure Doc saw me pat her rear end. He growled and Al punched me, giggling. I turned.

"Ready to go, Emily?"

She was staring at me with a look of disbelief.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so."

Emily was quiet for the first mile or so. I finally asked.

"Something wrong?"

"Is there some reason I shouldn't think I'm driving off into the woods with a lunatic after that little performance?"

"What, you mean Doc and I?"

"Racial insults, fighting, and groping his wife, and you act like best friends? What's going on with you two?"

"Lydia mentioned that we were in the service together, right? I guess we tend to revert to acting young and crazy when we get together. You know I'd never actually hurt Doc, right?"

"It did look like you were holding back."

"Doc M is the bravest man I've ever known, but probably not the strongest physically. The guys used to say that carrying his brains and his, uh, cojones around didn't leave a lot of space for muscles. I don't have anything to prove by outwrestling him, and he proved everything he ever needs to in Afghanistan."

"And the racial stuff?"

"Privilege of brothers in arms. The last idiot who made a racial crack to him in front of me and Brian had to be carried away by his friends. Between us it's just a joke. He really is my best friend."

"You're starting to sound like a violent guy."

I stared out the windshield, thinking about it.

"I guess I've seen more than my share of violence, and it doesn't scare me. That doesn't mean I like it. Look, enough about me for a while. How did you become a librarian?"

"Well, I tried bullfighting, but the red hair screwed up my career. The bulls kept chasing my head instead of the cape. I needed some excitement in my job, and this was the next best thing."

I glanced at her and caught the twinkle in her eyes.

"Why don't I believe that?"

"Because you're smarter than you look? How about I got a work-study job in the library in college, liked it, and made it a career?"

"That I can believe. You know the Girls from college?"

"I used to help Karen find nursing texts once in a while. We ran into each other again after college and started hanging out. A familiar face goes a long way when you're new in town."

"Well, they're all extraordinary women. Being a friend of theirs says a lot for you."

"Back atcha. They wouldn't give you the time of day if you weren't a decent guy at heart."

"I try to be, anyway. Hope I didn't scare you goofing around with Doc."

"You did have me wondering there for a while."

"Anyway, want to try me on some Statistics terms?"

So she found the flash cards and drilled me for a while. Eventually I told her to stop.

"Look, this storm is getting really bad. I need to concentrate on the road."

The wind was getting strong enough to push the truck around on the road, and the snow was starting to hurt visibility. 

"Is this safe?"

"In a few more miles we'll be over the top and things should improve."

We didn't quite make it over the top. As I came around a bend the road disappeared under a mass of snow, rocks, and tree trunks. I carefully stepped on the brakes.

"Looks like a snowslide. We're not getting through here any time soon. I'm heading back to see if we can get through a different way or at least find a place to stay warm until the Highway Department reopens the road."

I did a careful three point turn in the road- getting stuck in a ditch would be a major embarrassment up here- and headed back. We made it about three miles before we found the road blocked by some fallen trees. I got out to take a look and came back with some bad news.

"Those trees are too big to pull out of the way with this truck, I don't have room to get around them, and I don't have a chain saw to cut a way through. I think we're stuck for a while."

Emily was looking a little scared.

"Are we going to be OK?"

"No reason we shouldn't be. I have food and water in the truck, and the Highway Department will be working hard to reopen the road. All we need to do is sit tight until they come through."

"How long will that be?"

"Depends on how bad things are. Anything on the radio?"

She had been fiddling with it.

"All I can pick up is that this is a major unexpected storm. They aren't saying how bad the roads are. How about that side road a couple miles back?"

"Most of those are just logging roads that go up into the hills a few miles and dead end. See, that one's not even on the map. Heading up there will just make things worse."

She shivered a little, looking out at the dark evergreens half hidden by the hard-blown snow.

"Are there wild animals up here?"

I almost laughed before I saw the look in her eyes. She wasn't kidding.

"The same you get anywhere in the woods. Deer, elk, coyotes, the occasional bear or cougar. They're all going to be hiding from the storm and they don't want to go near people anyway. We're fine in the truck."

I drove back until I found a turnout on the side of the road, pulled off, and parked.

"I'm going to have to turn the truck off so we don't burn up all our gas. It may start getting a little cold. If you have extra clothes you may want to put them on."

I mentally slapped myself for looking in the rear view mirror as she bent over the back seat to reach her luggage. She did have an extremely shapely little rear end. Not gentlemanly, maybe, but what was I hurting? She came up with a white cable knit sweater and pulled it on.

"Nice sweater."

"Thanks. It's my old family pattern."

"How's that?"

"Every Irish fishing family had its own sweater pattern. Made it easier to identify any bodies of drowned fishermen that washed up."

She shuddered.

"That's a pretty morbid thought under the circumstances, isn't it?"

"What's the big deal? At worst we're stuck out here overnight. We're not in any danger."

"Easy for you to say. I'm a city girl from Boston. You're an ex-Marine who's been all over the world."

"Former Marine, please. There's no such thing as an ex-Marine. Once a Marine, always a Marine."

"Sorry. With all the Former Marines around Southie I ought to know that."

"Southie?"

"South Boston. More Irish there than in Dublin, and a big tradition of serving in the Marines."

"That's where you're from?"

"My roots are there. My parents moved to the burbs when I was young. Where are you from?"

"East Los Angeles, originally."

"Tough place."

"It could be, but I have a lot of good memories too. Anyway, are you really scared by this?"

"Uncomfortable, anyway. I'm out of my element here."

"Look at it as a chance to learn something new. I promise you won't get eaten by bears."

She laughed.

"I am being a little silly, aren't I?"

"Not for a librarian. You want to work on my tests some more?"

"Sure, why not?"

She helped me work through my finals prep until it got too dark to read. She was obviously a smart girl, and while she didn't know much about business school she was a quick study.

"Let's see what they're saying on the radio about the roads."

I turned the car on and ran it for a while to reheat the interior while she searched the stations. From what they said, we were looking at being stuck a while before the Highway Department came through.

"Anyone expecting you?"

"What could I do if there were? I already checked and my cell phone is out of range."

"Hmm, so's mine. Oh well, you hungry?"

"What have you got?"

I crawled into the back and grabbed the used whiskey box full of supplies that lives back there. Then I folded down the rear seat, creating a fairly wide, flat space.

"Ever had an MRE?"

"Can't say I have. What's that?"

I pulled a flat tan package out of the box and held it up.

"Meal Ready to Eat, AKA Meal Rejected by Ethiopians. I promised myself I'd never eat one again after I got out of the service, but I keep a few in the truck for emergencies. Crawl on back here where we've got some room."

She settled herself cross-legged across from me and picked up one of the packages.

"Hmm, chicken and rice? Is that good?"

I stifled a laugh.

"They all taste the same to a guy from East LA."

"What's so funny?"

"Aw, you don't want to know."

"Sure I do."

"Well, there's this thing called 'Skippy's List' that's been floating around military e-mails for years. Supposedly it's a list of things some grunt was told by his sergeant to stop doing. There's about a hundred of them."

"So?"

"One of them is 'don't use the chicken and rice MRE for a sexual lubricant.'"

Emily's lip curled, and she gave me an old fashioned look.

"I hope you don't think you're going to need that tonight."

"I wasn't suggesting anything! You asked what I was laughing about. I can't look at a chicken and rice MRE without thinking of that."

She glanced at the package and tossed it back into the box.

"Now I can't either. What else do you have?"

She settled on chicken fajitas, and I got out my Swiss Army knife and showed her how to open up and use the contents.

"Does this "flameless ration heater" thing work?"

"It does, but it gives off a lot of gases. It's not a good idea to use it in an enclosed space."

"You really know how to show a girl a good time, don't you? Oh well, here goes."

We ate the MREs cold. Emily grimaced at the finish.

"Well, could have been worse, I guess. Can we check the radio?"

According to the radio there was still major damage and they didn't expect to get the roads open until morning.

"I guess we're stuck here overnight."

I hesitated.

"Look, I only have one sleeping bag in here, and the only sensible thing to do is to share it. That's not a sexual proposition, so don't get mad."

"In for a penny, in for a pound. I just have to warn you that if my brothers hear about this you may find yourself standing at the altar down at St. Patrick's with an Irishman holding a shotgun in the front pew."

"Protective, are they?"

"Don't get me started. I was lucky to go on one date a year in high school because they terrorized all the boys who took any interest in me."

"That must have kept them busy."

"You sure you're not part Irish with that kind of blarney? You wouldn't say that if you knew me in high school."

I wasn't going to push the flirting when she was stuck with me in the middle of nowhere- she was obviously skittish already.

"Well, anyway, let's get settled down."

I pulled out the sleeping bag and started getting it out of the bag.

"Hey, look out the window for a minute."

"What? Oh, OK."

I turned my back and heard her moving around. Suddenly an elbow caught me in the back of the head, and I turned.

"Ouch! What the heck are you doing?"

She finished some odd contortions by producing something white and lacy from under her multiple layers of sweaters, which she quickly stuffed into her duffle bag.

"How hard is it to give me a little privacy?"

"I was fine until you hit me in the head! What are you doing, anyway?"

"Sorry. I can't sleep with a bra on, never could. Don't let that give you ideas."

"Uh, yeah, no problem."

I already had all the ideas I needed, but I wasn't going to admit it and get her even more nervous. I laid down next to her and got us covered with the sleeping bag.

"Want to study some more?"

"Let's save the flashlight batteries for now."

"OK... So tell me how you got to be friends with Brian and Doc."

"My platoon got assigned to pull security for their engineering unit. They had been having a lot of trouble with Talibani types sneaking around at night planting bombs, vandalizing stuff, and sometimes probing in force. Those guys were pretty tough for squids, but they're not trained infantrymen and having to deal with security themselves was slowing down their construction work."

"And you got to be friends that way?"

"Right. Once my guys figured out that trying to pick on Doc would start a major fight every time we all got along."

"That happen a lot?"

"Not after we had been there a few days. Once my guys realized that Doc had absolutely no fear when it came to helping a wounded guy who needed him, they felt the same way."

It was actually fun swapping stories in the dark, but it was getting cold. We were laying there shoulder to shoulder looking at the roof and kept trying to arrange the sleeping bag to cover both of us fully. Emily finally gave a big sigh.

"This is silly, Manny. We're both cold and uncomfortable and there's no reason to be. Would you mind if I put my head on your shoulder?"

"Heck, no."

I put an arm around her, and she settled herself against me. She was definitely warm and smelled terrific.

"I still don't want you getting ideas, but you have to admit this is a lot warmer and more comfortable."

Well, parts of me were getting less than comfortable, but I knew she didn't want to know about that.

"Yeah, it is. This is a real improvement on sharing a Bradley with six infantrymen who haven't showered in two weeks."

"I'll take that as a compliment, I guess. Let's get some sleep."

I was awakened in the middle of the night by a sharp pain in my ribs. I stirred, and Emily elbowed me again.

"Hmphh? Whassup?"

"You mind moving your hand, Romeo?"

Lessee... She was spooned up against me, head on my bicep, that hand out of the covers-no problem there- other hand resting on her sweater with something soft under it- Oh. That hand jumped like her right breast had suddenly glowed red hot.

"Damn, I'm sorry. I was asleep and didn't feel much under all those clothes. Didn't realize what I was doing."

"If you're going to grope me, could you at least not complain that it's an unimpressive experience?"

"I wasn't groping you! Why do girls always get a complex about their breast size, anyway?"

I could feel her giggles as her body rested against me.

"Why do men drool over big breasted women? That's a conversation for another day. I know you didn't mean it. Sorry about the elbow."

She firmly moved my hand to rest on her upper arm.

"Let's just get some sleep."

I pulled her in a little tighter and we went back to sleep, only to be awakened a couple hours later by the sound of chain saws and heavy equipment. I sat up and wiped a clear space on the glass.




Oregon Coast Ch. 05



"Looks like the Highway Department crew is here. You ready to head back?"

"More than ready. I know you did your best, but this hasn't been the most comfortable night of my life."

"Let's give them a little time to work past us."

I got out and stepped behind a tree to take care of a personal issue, and Emily did the same after I came back. We piled into the front seats and started the rest of the trip. When we were most of the way there she pulled out her cell phone and glanced at it.

"Lots of messages, probably people wondering where I am. Here goes a mass text."

She tapped at the thing for a while.

"Let me check yours."

She picked it up and fooled with it for a while.

"Not that many looking for you."

"Most of my friends were out at the beach with us. Is there something there from the City?"

"Yep."

"My boss. Will you call him and let him know why I'm not there?"

She did so in a highly polished and professional manner.

"He says to drive carefully and let him know when you're home safe."

"OK, thanks."

Eventually we made it to her apartment over the garage of someone's Lake Oswego mansion, and I helped her carry her stuff inside.

"I'd offer you a cup of coffee, but right now I really want to take a shower and get some sleep."

"Yeah, I need to get going too."

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"Look, I feel like I owe you a better dinner than some cold MREs. Can I call you after I finish these finals in a week or so?"

She smiled.

"I was just thinking about offering to cook you a good dinner when you finish, since you brought the first one."

"No reason we can't do both."

"True. Call me, definitely. Thanks for taking care of me out there."

"No problem. Thanks for being a good sport about the whole thing. I'm not sure it's been fun, but it could have been worse."

She shuddered.

"It could have been a whole lot worse. Thanks again, and good luck on your finals."

I turned to go, and turned back at the door.

"Hey, if I'm going to call you your phone number would make it a lot easier."

She winked.

"Just look in your phone for 'Emily O'Bannion'. You'll find it."

Ohhhkaayy. She gave me a quick hug and a small push toward the door.

"See you in a week or so."

I tried not to think too much about her the rest of the week, except for having to explain to my boss who the nice young lady using my cell phone was. I liked her, but I had way too much else going on. I did get one call from Karen.

"So, Manny, I try to set you up with a friend and you kidnap and molest her? What are we going to do with you?"

I sputtered.

"Damn it, Karen, is that what she told you? I really did my best with her!"

She laughed.

"She said that would get your goat. Actually, she said that you're an almost perfect gentleman and extremely competent in a bad situation and she'd go road tripping with you again any time. I don't need to know why she said to accuse you of groping her, but you probably figured out that she likes to pull people's legs."

"I don't have time for this right now, Karen, I have a final tomorrow. Emily's a sweetheart and I intend to take her on a date as soon as I have the time. That's all I have to say about it for now."

"Keep me posted."

"I won't, believe me."

I did get through finals with respectable grades, and rewarded myself by calling Emily and arranging to take her out for a nice dinner. She looked even better in a short dress than she did in her jeans and sweater. We went to a Mexican restaurant whose owners were friends of friends from LA. The owner greeted us and I had a long conversation with him in Spanish.

"What was that all about?"

"Mostly asking how his son is doing in Basic. He also asked who you were, and I told him you're a special lady that I'm trying to impress. He says you're very pretty, and he's going to make us a gourmet dinner that's not on the menu."

"Don't try to hide much, do you?"

"Why bother? You're a smart girl. Did you think I wasn't going to try to impress you on a first date?"

"True, but most guys don't admit it up front. Anyway, you already impressed me by saving my neck out in the woods. How were finals?"

"Went pretty well, I think. How's things at the library?"

"We're starting a new summer reading program. All this new electronic stuff calls for a lot of adjustments in how we do things."

My friend really outdid himself with dinner, as Emily and I both told him when we finished. He grinned with sheepish pride, squeezed her hand, and said something to me in Spanish again. 

"What was that last comment?"

"He basically said that you're a charming girl and I better not blow this, since most girls go more for guys who look like Lorenzo Lamas instead of Pancho Villa."

"And what did you say?"

"I said that he had no room to talk, but I agreed with him about you."

"Again, you're pretty blunt. Nice of you to say that, though."

"I don't want you to think I'm trying to hide anything from you. It's pretty rude to talk about someone in front of them in a different language, but Jose there isn't comfortable speaking English."

"I wasn't offended. That offer to cook you dinner is still good, by the way."

Let's plan on it next weekend."

"You got it."

She offered me a nightcap when we got to her place, and I followed her up to her apartment. Just inside the door I pulled her into my arms, and she relaxed into me like she'd been waiting to do it all night. When our lips met I swear fireworks went off. She tasted sweet, smelled even better, and her body felt like it was specifically designed for my arms. My hands smoothed the wonderful curves of her back, and she made a happy noise. When they reached her rear end, though, she pulled back a little.

"Manny, I want to get something straight before this goes any further."

"It better not be that you're really a man."

She giggled.

"If you're still confused about that, I'm kicking you out of here for being too dumb to date. No, I'm 100% female, and 100% turned on. I'm kind of conservative about sex, though. Probably from being raised Catholic. It's not going to happen tonight."

"Well, I'm Catholic too. I like girls who like sex, but I'm not looking to date the town pump either."

"I like sex and I like you, but let's take this slow, OK?"

She disentangled herself and went into the tiny kitchen, and I pulled off my jacket and followed her, rolling up my sleeves. She turned and handed me a bottle of wine.

"Could you open that?"

She was quiet for a couple seconds.

"On second thought, I'm not feeling too well. Can we just call it a night?"

"If you want. You need anything?"

"Just a good night's sleep."

"So I'll call you later?"

"Sure, do that."

She followed me to the door, gave me a brief, light kiss, and locked the door behind me. Kind of a sudden end to the evening, but if she wasn't feeling well she wasn't feeling well.

I called her a couple days later. When I didn't get a call back I emailed her, and didn't get a response to that either. I kept trying for a couple weeks, never getting a response. Finally, when I was out near her library one day, I stopped in. Emily was behind the reference desk. Her eyes widened and dropped, and she refused to look me in the eye.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm researching why a pretty librarian won't return my calls after what I thought was a fairly successful date. You have anything that will help me with that?"

She glanced around. Her desk mate was watching me with great interest. 

"Joan, I'm taking my break. Cover me for a few minutes, OK?"

She came out from behind the desk without waiting for a response and headed for the door, and I followed. She stopped on the far side of a rose bush outside where we were screened from the glass front door.

"Emily, I'm no damn stalker, OK? If you tell me you never want to see me again, you won't. I like you a lot, though, and I thought it was mutual. Just let me know where I stand!"

She sighed and was quiet for a few seconds.

"I guess I should, but I don't have time for it now. Can you meet me here when I get off work at 5:00?"

"Sure, I'll be here."

She came out the doors at 5:05, looked around, and saw me standing there. This time she gave me a tentative smile.

"Hi, Manny. Can we go for a walk?"

We strolled off into the park, in no particular hurry. She spoke after about fifty yards.

"Manny, you ever hear of the Winter Hill Gang?"

"The rappers? Some of the guys I served with liked that stuff but I never got into it. What's that got to do with anything?"

"No, you're thinking of the Sugar Hill Gang. The Winter Hill Gang is the Boston Irish Mob."

"Again, what's that got to do with why you don't want to see me?"

"I'm starting at the beginning. If you Google 'O'Bannion' and 'Winter Hill Gang' I'm related to most of the results. Some of them are in Leavenworth."

"Wow."

"Yeah, I don't talk about it much. My dad is a perfectly honest man who's worked in the same bank for thirty years, and he moved us out of Southie to get away from that life. We're Irish, though, and we don't turn our backs on family even if they do shady stuff. It turned out that it was harder to get away from than he thought."

"How's that?"

"It started with things like not getting invited to other girl's houses because their mothers didn't want to get involved with the O'Bannions. Not fun for a little girl in a new town. It got worse when the FBI cracked down on organized crime when I was a teenager."

"Yikes."

"It wasn't all bad. No one wanted to get on the wrong side of an O'Bannion. I remember one time Dad left the keys in his car and some junkie stole it. Word got out, and the next day it was back in the driveway with a full tank of gas and a note apologizing. Even crackheads didn't want to get my uncles mad at them."

"Still, it must have been hard."

"The FBI came to my high school one day and pulled me out of class to ask if I knew where one of my uncles was hiding out. You can imagine what kind of rumors went around the school."

"What did you tell them?"

"The truth- that I hadn't talked to him in months and wouldn't inform on family if I had."

"Why did they think you would know where he was?"

"They didn't, but they knew he would hear about it and feel the pressure. They play pretty dirty when they want results."

"That is pretty dirty. What's it got to do with me, though?"

"I'm getting there. When it came time for college, my parents encouraged me to go West where my name was just another name. It worked, too. I made new friends and a new life out here, and I'm working on getting my younger brothers to do the same before they get dragged into the mob life."

"So?"

"I may be a librarian, Manny, but I have some street smarts. I know what that '13' on your arm means. I like you, but I'm not going to get involved with you. There's no way I'm going to have anything to do with the gang life again."

"Can you hear me out now?"

"Sure."

It was getting dark, and we sat on a bench looking over the waters of Lake Oswego.

"I grew up in the barrio, I guess the Mexican-American equivalent of Southie. Everyone I knew identified with the Surenos. I thought it was just part of life. When I was in high school, guys I knew started dying in gang wars. I thought that was just the way life was, too."

"What happened?"

"One day one of my cousins got killed in a drive-by. At the funeral, my mother introduced me to an older guy I didn't know. 'Manny, you should listen to this man.' Even as a young dumbass, I could tell that this guy had it together. Smooth spoken, great suit, drove a BMW that looked like a spaceship. He took me for lunch at a private country club overlooking the Pacific."

I could still remember it like yesterday. All the waiters knew who he was and couldn't do enough for him. 

"Manny, your mother tells me that you do pretty well in school when you're not out on the streets. She's worried about you."

"Who are you, anyway? Why do you care what I do?"

"Your father was a good friend of mine before he died. He asked me to look out for you. Maybe I haven't done that too well, but I'm trying now."

He took a drink of his iced tea.

"I used to be just another dumb cholo until I realized that I could do more with my life. I joined a real gang of tough guys."

He pushed back his sleeve and showed me a tattoo. 

"What's that?"

"The Eagle, Globe, and Anchor. Symbol of the US Marine Corps. Earning it was the toughest thing I ever did, but the most valuable too. They taught me a trade and self respect and paid for my education when I got out. I took it from there and got to where I am now."

He replaced his cuff link.

"Manny, the road you're on now has only two ends. Either you're going to be the guy in the box at a funeral like this morning, or your momma's going to be taking the bus to see you on visiting days at Corcoran. That's not what your father wanted for you, and it's not what you should want for yourself."

I pulled up my sleeve to show the identical EGA on my forearm.

"I was at the recruiting office the next morning. As far as I'm concerned the only gang I belong to is the Corps, and I'm pretty much out of that now. I'm sure as hell no criminal. Doc's going to take that Surenos crap off as soon as we both have time."

"I guess I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

"You think?"

I stared out over the water.

"The more I think about this the more it pisses me off. I've never tried to hide anything about who I am, where I'm from or where I'm going. You know I have an honorable discharge from the Marines, a college degree, and a good job, and you don't even ask before you decide I'm some sort of gangbanger? Should I be ashamed to be Mexican? That's never going to happen. I was born what I am and I'll still be Mexican when I die, and if I'm not good enough for you, vete al diablo. I don't need this and I don't need you."

I walked off without responding to her calling my name.

Lydia called me a couple days later.

"Manny, what's going on with you and Emily? I asked her and she started crying."

I ignored the sick twist in my guts.

"Nothing happened, nothing's going to happen. Do you know any other single girls?"

"Not so fast. I thought you liked her a lot."

"I did before she jumped to the conclusion that I'm a gangbanging thug. I worked my way from the barrio to a professional career. Along the way I've sweated a lot, bled some, seen friends die and killed people myself, and worked my ass off. Just because I have brown skin and an old '13' tattoo she still assumes I'm a criminal. I've worked too hard and done too much to have to prove that again."

"Sounds like she hit a sensitive spot. Aren't you being a little hard on her?"

"Am I?"

"Did she tell you about her family?"

"Yeah, she did."

"We were friends for years before she said anything to me about the Winter Hill Gang. I think it's been a lot harder for her than she admits."

"Still, she could have asked me."

"True, but she's had some bad experiences with men who say one thing and do another. The most charming men she knew as a kid buried their competitors at sea tied to concrete blocks."

"And why should I work to convince her otherwise?"

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself? She's a heck of a girl, Manny, and whatever man she decides to trust is going to be very glad she did."

"She is a neat girl. I'm just not sure she's the neat girl for me."

"Give it some thought, OK?"

I tried to, but every time I did I got pissed off again. Why should I have to prove myself again? I just didn't need this. On the other hand, her cute smile, funny attitude, and mind-bending kissing technique kept popping up in the back of my head when I forgot that I was mad at her. One of the girls at work wore the same perfume she liked, and I found myself taking the long way around the office just so I wouldn't have to smell her and have a flashback to Emily happily snuggled in my arms.

When Doc and Al's baby was finally born, John and Dave's mother threw a big party to welcome the new addition. Caroline is an incredibly warm, friendly woman, and she tends to unofficially adopt all their friends as members of her family. Al and little Eric were fine, of course, and Doc couldn't stop smiling proudly. After congratulating them, I wandered out onto the terrace of Caroline's family mansion to get some fresh air. At the end, a small redheaded figure was leaning on the balustrade and looking out over the rose gardens. I started to turn to go back inside before she saw me and ran smack into Lydia and Karen.

"Not so fast, Manny. You have to talk to her sometime."

"Why?"

"Just do it, dumbass."

Even a former Marine knows when he's beaten. I took a deep breath, walked out, and leaned on the rail next to her.

"Hi, Emily."

"Manny. How are you?"

"Not too great, frankly. I did get that stupid tattoo removed, finally."

I showed her.

"Doc says it's going to fade more with time."

She was silent for a while.

"Manny, you're a real idiot, you know that?"

"That seems to be the general opinion. I was thinking about getting one of those take-a-number things for the line of people who want to tell me that."

"How the hell could you think I have a problem with you being Mexican? I didn't hesitate to go out with you, and I vaguely remember pretty seriously kissing a man who looked a lot like you. That wouldn't have happened if I didn't like your color."

"Maybe I shouldn't have taken it that way, but I've been through so much of that crap..."

"I've been there too, you jerk. Not everyone in Boston likes the Irish, even if they aren't related to the Winter Hill O'Bannions. This is my natural hair color. I've never tried to hide who I am or where I'm from, and I'm proud to be Irish. Vete al diablo, huh? If you think I'm racist you can pog ma thoin!"

"I can what?"

"Kiss my butt!"

The image, combined with all five feet of her spitting fire, brought a smile to my face before I could catch myself. She got even angrier.

"What's so funny, you eejit?"

"It's cute enough that I'm tempted, but I'd rather start somewhere else and work my way to it."

She tried to stay angry, but her face kept twitching and she finally gave up and started laughing. I extended my arms, and she stepped into them without hesitating. I just held her like that for a while, letting the laughter and relief wash over us.

"I'm sorry, Manny. I should have asked before I panicked about that damn tattoo."

"I'm sorry too, Emily. I overreacted."

The hug tightened.

"So where would you like to start, then?"

I kissed her temple.

"Here's a good start... and here... and here..."

When I got to her mouth her arms went around my neck. As I settled into the kiss I saw a curtain fall back into place inside the house. The Girls were still on the job. Eventually she rested her head on my shoulder.

"Manny, could I tell you something?" 

"Sure."

"Even when we were stuck on that stupid road, I really liked having your arms around me. It made me feel safe and warm in a cold, scary situation. I hated the thought that I would never be in your arms again."

"Well, my truck's right around the corner if you want to try that again."

"Real charmer, aren't you? What would a girl have to do to rate an actual bed?"

"Uhh, grab her coat?"

"Meet you at your truck in two minutes."

Somehow all our stuff was ready and waiting as we headed out the door. It was almost as if someone anticipated that we might want to make a quick getaway together. We hit the door of my house at a run and didn't stop until we got to the bedroom, and barely left it again for the rest of the weekend.

At one point we were curled up in Emily's favorite spoon position, temporarily worn out. Emily naked was a huge improvement on her in the same position wearing three sweaters. She wasn't kidding about being a natural redhead, either.




Oregon Coast Ch. 05



"So why did they name the baby Eric? No one seemed to want to explain it but it sounded like it meant something."

"Eric Jones was Al Miyahara's cousin and my best friend in Afghanistan. They named the baby after him."

"Will I get to meet him sometime?"

"If we're ever in D.C. I'll show you his grave at Arlington."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be. Doc was broken up about it for a long time. He ran sixty yards through a kill zone like a duck in a shooting gallery to reach Eric after he got hit, and dragged him all the way back. It's a thousand to one miracle that Doc lived. Eric was just too badly injured to survive. It wasn't until he met Al and fell in love with her that Doc faced up to the fact that it wasn't his fault. I think people are still nervous about saying much about the whole thing around him."

"That's why you guys respect him so much?"

"That was just one incident. Doc did things like that all the time."

"My God. I've known him for a couple of years now and never suspected."

"Whatever you do, never call him a hero to his face. He'll never admit that he did anything more than his job."

"What were you doing while that was going on?"

"Manning a grenade launcher mounted on a Humvee. There was a traffic jam and we didn't get there until after the artillery had broken up the ambush. All I did was help mop up."

She thought about that for a while.

"Hey, Manny?"

"What, sweetheart?"

"Can we agree that from now on we'll tell each other when we're letting our pride get the better of us? I'd like that a lot better than fighting and being apart."

"Honey, this is one hell of a lot better than being hurt and angry."

"It sure is. Hey, what are you poking me with?"

"You want three guesses?"

"No need."

She lifted her leg and guided me inside her without shifting any further. 

"Oh, this is nice. Keep doing that..."

Somehow the slow, gentle lovemaking made the final mutual orgasm even more intense.

"I could get used to having you here."

"You might as well, because I plan to be here a lot. Let's get some sleep."

She firmly moved my hand from her upper arm to her left breast and dozed off.

Once we worked that problem out, the relationship just seemed to flow. We had fun together, supported and respected each other, and the sex was great.

Later that year two of her brothers came out to visit and, she hoped, look at moving to Oregon permanently. She invited them to my house for a barbecue the first weekend they were there, since there wasn't room at her place. Emily was glowing with happiness at being around her family again. They seemed like decent enough guys, if a little inarticulate. After dinner Emily carried the dishes into the kitchen, and I moved to follow her in from the deck. Patrick stepped in front of the door. He was the smaller of the two but still towered over me.

"Hold up, lad, we'd like a word with you."

"What's up?"

"We see what's going on with you and our sister, and we're not entirely happy about it."

"If it's me you've got a problem with, I can't do a lot about that. I'll fight every Mick in Boston for her, but I'd rather not put her in the middle."

"It's not you, lad. We've checked a bit and you seem a decent man, and we haven't seen her so happy in years. It's her sleeping in your bed more than her own that's the problem. When are you going to make an honest woman of her?"

They both looked more than serious. My mind was racing as I thought the issue through. Sure, I saw us headed that way, but I wasn't ready to have it shoved in my face like this.

Seamus, the other brother, scowled at me.

"Theah's only one correct ansah to that question, lad. What do ye need to think about?"

"I'm hopelessly in love with Emily, and I like the idea of marrying her. I don't want her thinking that I'm doing it because you guys are making me, though. Hell, you know her better than I do. She'll refuse to do it just to make a point. Step back a little and I swear I'll marry her if she'll have me."

Actually saying that out loud suddenly made the whole situation make a lot more sense. Patrick smiled and slapped me on the shoulder, almost knocking me over the railing.

"Good lad. We'll not tolerate anyone treating our sister like a plaything, but you strike us as an honest man. We'll be watching you, though."

Emily popped back out the door.

"Damn it, Patrick, I'm way past high school. Ah you trying to intimidate my boyfriend still? I'll end up in a convent if you lads have yoah way!"

It was funny how she fell back into Irish speech patterns and didn't pronounce Rs when she spoke to her family. Seamus wrapped a huge, friendly arm around my shoulders.

"I don't think this lad scaeahs that easy, Emmy. Something tells me yoah not going to end up alone, eithah. Is theah any moah Guinness in theah?"

"God forbid I run out with you lot around, although you shoah do your best! Ah, go on with you and watch the damn Celtics game."

She kissed both of them on the cheek, kissed me lightly, shooed all of us into the living room, and brought a round of beer. The love in her brother's eyes as they watched her walk back to the kitchen lit up the whole room.

"She's a girl in a million, Manny. I hope you know how lucky you are."

"She sure is, Patrick, and I do know it."

When the Celtics finally won the game, her brothers said goodnight and trooped out, shaking my hand and kissing her on the way. As soon as the door closed behind them she turned and jumped into my arms, kissing me hungrily.

"I've wanted to do that all night. How do you like my brothers?"

"Good guys, and anyone who loves you that much is OK with me. I can see how they scared boys off, though."

I carried her over to the couch and laid down with her mostly on top of me.

"They obviously didn't scare you off."

"I'm yours as long as you want me, Emily. As long as my pretty girl loves me, all the giant Irishmen in the world won't scare me away."

"I do love you, Manny."

"I love you too."

"Of course, but you're easy."

I got the same response every time I said that. She giggled and kissed me.

"Did you lock the front door?"

"Of course! You think I want those guys back in right now?"

"It would be worse about five minutes from now."

"Why?"

She sat up and pulled her dress off over her head. The modest size of her chest made it easy for her not to wear a bra most of the time, and I encouraged that as much as I could by repeating and trying to demonstrate that anything bigger than a mouthful is a waste. If her brothers had caught her fooling around with me with nothing on but a bright green thong, I'm sure the commotion would have been heard all the way back in Boston.

"Because of what I'm about to do to you."

She leaned down and kissed me again, and started working her way down my chest unbuttoning and kissing as she went. Within five minutes she was on her knees next to the couch, and if her brothers had caught their conservative little sister doing what she was doing then I'm sure the Trinity explosion would have been dwarfed. Whatever sexual inhibitions she had vanished as soon as she decided to go to bed with me. Of course I was impatient to return the favor, and one thing led to another from there. I think we finally made it to my bed about 3:00 AM.

Once I was confronted with it, it was pretty obvious that I was being stupid by not proposing to Emily. I couldn't imagine loving anyone else the way I loved her, and she seemed more than willing to put up with me. When I asked her if she wanted to do it for the rest of her life, she jumped at the idea. The Girls loved beach weddings, and had ours down to a science. 

We did get a slightly raised eyebrow from the priest who baptized little Diarmuid Rodriguez a couple years later, but what the heck, we make it work. Emily cooks a mean pollo en mole, and I've developed a taste for drinking Bushmills with her brothers when they aren't drinking tequila with me. 

The key, of course, is that my little redhead has to be handled like dynamite: carefully, but when you do, the results are amazing! 



Oregon Coast



I pulled the truck over so I could look her in the eyes.

"You don't have to wonder what I think of you. Under this suave and debonair exterior (unladylike snort from the passenger seat) I keep reacting to you the way my Black Lab reacts to a piece of bacon. I'm only holding myself back because I don't want to scare you off. I'm secretly wagging my tail and panting, and I'm about ready to sit up and beg!"

"Oh, so I'm a piece of bacon? You call that saying sweet things?"

We were both starting to crack up.

"But I love bacon! Lemme finish... Show me a guy who looks down on a girl because she had incredible sex with him and I'll show you a snobby, uptight loser. I have my faults, but I'm not that stupid. I meant what I said that night. You're a lovely, refined lady, and nothing that happened at John's place changes that. Stop beating yourself up over it. Let's just say that what happened out there stays out there, and have a fun first date."

She grinned, leaned over, and kissed me thoroughly.

"Thanks, I feel a lot better. But since this is a first date, that kiss will have to last a while. Keep your hands to yourself, buster!"

"Aw, damn! Is it too late to think twice about this?"

I don't think we stopped laughing until I kissed Jennifer goodnight on her front porch, way past her alleged curfew. I made a half hearted attempt to talk her into spending the night at my place, but she wanted to treat it like a first date and I wasn't going to push her.

Naturally, she had questions the next time I saw her. It started on a picnic in the International Rose Test Gardens that are the pride of the city. There was usually a jazz band playing in the park, and I had hoped for a relaxing, romantic Saturday, but it sure didn't start that way.

"Why didn't you ever tell me you were wounded in Afghanistan?"

"In the first place, it was an ugly, scary experience that I don't like to relive. In the second place, I don't care for loudmouth veterans- most of them never did even a quarter of the stuff they brag about. Third, this area is full of anti-war liberals, and I get tired of being looked down on for having done a hard job that no one asked me if I wanted."

Now those blue eyes were spitting fire, and I was almost missing getting shot at.

"Have I ever given you any reason to think that I would judge you for serving in the Navy? I told you about Grandpa serving on a PT boat in World War 2! Look, I trusted you with my body and my heart, and I haven't regretted it until now. If you don't trust me, I'm not wasting any more time on you!"

Okay, parts of that sounded promising, but I had some fast damage control to do. I grabbed her hand and she stiffened but didn't quite fight for it back. 

"It's not that I don't trust you, believe me. I've heard your pride in your grandfather. I just hate to sound like I'm trying to impress you over something I don't feel particularly proud of. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and caught a bullet. It's not my favorite memory and it's nothing to brag about!"

Her hand was relaxing, and the other one came up and started playing with the buttons on my shirt. 

"Okay, Brian, I understand how you might feel that way. But I'm really starting to care about you, and if something's bothering you I don't want you to shut me out. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't already convinced that you're a good man. Just accept that I'm on your side!"

"You got it, sweetheart."

My favorite smile was back, through some rather misty eyes.

"Sweetheart? I like the sound of that..."

"You better get used to it, then."

Then her arms were around my neck, and in the kiss was a promise of a bright future with this lovely woman. A long time later, she pulled back and dragged me to a bench overlooking the city.

"So what are your favorite memories?"

I started talking about the guys in my unit and the goofy stuff that went on while we were stuck in the middle of nowhere together. The dares to eat the local goat curry, the time someone managed to smuggle a bottle of Jack Daniels all the way back from the World and we treated the locals to an American war dance performed by a bunch of drunk, hairy, smelly guys in their skivvies, the obnoxious new ensign who spent a whole night in a Sani-Can when someone- no one ever said who- parked a bulldozer up against the door and walked off. Jen sat there holding my hand, laughing at the stories, and occasionally running her fingers over the scars on my arm. I was starting to feel a burden lifting that I had carried, without knowing it, since I woke up in the hospital in Germany bandaged up to my shoulder. Sometime around sunset she asked the question I had known was coming.

"Tell me about the ambush?"

I couldn't hold back if I wanted a future with her. I was looking out at the sunset turning the glaciers of Mount Hood red and gold, but I was seeing the dry rocky hills of Kandahar Province.

It had been just another chore, a convoy load of equipment and materials that had to be moved to the site for the next base forty klicks up the valley. My driver that day was Eric Jones, a black kid who had joined the Seabees to get away from the drug dealers and gangs of South Central LA. He worked hard, sent most of his pay home to help his younger siblings, and spent his off hours studying for the exams that might, if he scored high enough, win him an appointment to the Naval Academy. Most of us thought he would probably make it. 

With us in the truck was Emerson Miyahara, our shy, quiet little corpsman. The teasing he got Stateside stopped abruptly our second day in country, when he ran through the middle of a mortar barrage that had the rest of us cowering in the bottoms of slit trenches to reach a Marine with shell fragments in his belly. Doc M was literally fearless when an injured sailor or Marine needed help, and the rest of the unit treasured him for it. 

As usual, Jones was bugging Doc M to quiz him on whatever he was studying that week, and the rest of us were telling him not to bother since enlisted men have to get a lobotomy before they qualify for a commission anyway. We had repeated the same jokes so many times we could recite them in our sleep. The THUD of the roadside bomb up ahead made us all jump, as did the THWAP THWAP THWAP of AK-47s from hidden positions along the road. It always started with disabling a lead vehicle to block the road. Those Talibanis were generally crappy shots, but our trucks made big targets. Following the drill, we piled out, got behind the trucks, and started shooting back with our M-16s. Jones knew enough to pull to the side to clear space for our escort Bradleys and Humvees with the heavy weapons. Some idiot further back had panicked, though, and it was causing a delay while the escort worked around the truck in the middle of the dirt road.

"HELP ME!"

I looked around the other side of the tire I was behind and there was Doc M, out in the middle of the road, dragging Jones by the collar with bullets hitting all around him. Jones had bailed out the driver's side, and one of those SOBs had caught him with a lucky burst. Just the day before I had been chewing him out for unfastening his ballistic vest while he drove- tempting in hot weather but strictly forbidden for just this reason. He had it closed now, but they don't cover everything. I ran around the back of the truck in time to help pull Jones the last couple feet to safety behind the wheels. Doc's hands were flying as he stripped off Jones' vest and BDUs and started trying to stop the bleeding. Even I could tell that it was bad. Jones kept getting his hands in Doc's way, so I grabbed them and tried to calm him down. It was about that point that I noticed my left hand wasn't doing what I wanted, but I was too busy to worry about it. 

A loud BOOM BOOM BOOM from the other side of the truck jerked my head around. I found out later that the escort commander, still struggling to get past the trucks behind us, had hollered for artillery. The gun bunnies reacted by plastering the Taliban positions with white phosphorous. The stuff smells like garlic, generates blinding clouds of eye-stinging smoke, and if a bit of it lands on a living body it burns down to the bone. The incoming fire stopped abruptly- they couldn't see anything to shoot at and were busy trying to avoid the burning WP. By the time the smoke cleared the Bradleys were up to us and any Talibanis who survived were long gone. I pulled my head back and saw Doc M crying. Then I noticed that Jones' hands had gone limp. He was gone. I put a hand on Doc's shoulder.

"Hey, Doc, you did all you could and more. You can't expect to save them all...."

He looked up at me and his eyes went wide. He grabbed for his bandages and I looked where he was looking and saw a big chunk of my arm missing. A wave of pain hit me, and that's all I remember until I woke up in Landstuhl.

When I looked at Jen she was sniffling a little. 

"What happened after that?"

"By the time I was fit for duty again my enlistment was up. They asked me to re-up, but I had seen and done enough. I took my benefits and finished my degree. Doc M got a Silver Star for that day, and last May I watched him graduate from medical school."

"Thanks for telling me."

"Thanks for listening. It's not a great story."

"Just remember what you told Doc M."

"How's that?"

"You couldn't expect yourself to save them all either."

Wow. Beautiful, smart, and wise. I had been subconsciously carrying the burden of losing Jones ever since Afghanistan, and she had seen it and given me the clarity to set it down. I was so in love with this woman it wasn't funny. I thought it might be a little early to say so, though, so I settled for hugging her tightly and holding her like that for a long, long time.

Then it was my turn. 

"Why didn't you tell me that you were a model?"

"Calling myself a 'model' makes me sound like a self-impressed airhead wannabe. I just used to do a little modeling to pay for college. It made me the contacts that got me my job at the ad agency, but I never felt comfortable with the high-fashion lifestyle. The neurotic models and designers, sleazy men sniffing around, and drugs everywhere got old really fast. I still pose for catalogs and stuff once in a while if a photographer I know asks, but I have no interest in getting any deeper into it than that. Portland's not exactly the center of the fashion industry!"

"So you're just like me."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't want to be defined by something you used to do for a living."

She was quiet for a few minutes, and then she suddenly tossed herself back into my lap.

"You're right! I just never looked at it like that. I was really being a jerk, wasn't I?"

"Not really."

Her hands were back to fooling with my shirt.

"Yes, I was, and you're just being nice about it. Know what the good thing about it is?"

I was really starting to like the look in her eyes.

"What?"

"I've got some really great ideas about how to make it up to you. Take me home!"

"To your place?"

"No, to yours!"

By the next morning, I would have forgiven Jen anything. The sight of her wandering around the big old farmhouse I lived in and was fixing up, holding a cup of coffee, wearing one of my old button-down shirts and nothing else, was the perfect icing on the cake. It hit me hard how right it felt to have her there, and how perfectly she belonged.

Before long Jennifer was spending most of her weekends at my place. Sometimes we even got out of bed long enough to get some work done! Jen was a kick to work with- still totally feminine but not at all afraid to swing a hammer or run a chop saw. She got a little unladylike one time when she whacked her thumb with the hammer, but even Emily Post would have given her a pass on that!

When she started picking all the paint colors I knew my plan was working. I had decided within a day of meeting her that she belonged as the lady of the place, and I was just waiting for her to figure it out too.

A year after that first weekend her entire running team gathered again on the beach at John's house. Karen and Dahlia were there too- they're actually very sweet girls once they decide to trust you, and the way John followed Dahlia around all weekend, I think he thought so too. John was next to me, with one hand gently holding me steady. They all grinned at me as I watched the prettiest girl in the world walk toward me in a white dress and bare feet, smiling that dazzling blue eyed smile. They knew the truth: she still left me weak in the knees every damn time I saw her. She still does, five years and two kids later. Those ruggers and ex-squids on my side of the aisle cost me some repair work after the Mother of All Receptions, but I didn't really mind. I'm only getting married once- I hit the jackpot the first time!