Chapter Six: Thoughts of Dead Children Ran Through His Head
As Meredith's ex-husband, son and fiancé all headed out for gluten-free, alternative milk-based, vegan friendly, organic, non-GMO, frozen ice-cream like substances in recycled containers, back at the hotel, Wyatt picked up the lion's share of the luggage and paused before opening the room door.
"Nothing foolish," he warned before he pulled open the door.
"I told you I'd play the part," Maureen snapped, realizing the lingering fatigue despite sleeping without much stirring. She walked to the SUV; Wyatt close behind as she thought about her comfortable, over-priced orthopedic mattress at home.
Wyatt had to force himself from adding that he didn't want her to 'play' a part but wasn't prepared to answer what he did want her to be if she pressed the issue.
As Maureen settled on the passenger seat, Wyatt loaded the luggage.
Her carry-on bag fell to the smattering of gravel in the parking lot, her planner and wallet spilling out and open, along with a pair of magazines with glossy covers, all boasting better sex, makeup, and exercise tips.
Wyatt's forehead pulled into a deep frown as he collected her day planner which had happened to fall open to the following month. He narrowed his eyes at the last week of the month, where Maureen had written 'Blair's birthday,' with a heart over both i's.
He growled as he shoved everything sloppily back into the bag and slammed the trunk, keeping the splashy, vapid magazines clenched in a large hand as he climbed behind the wheel.
"I'd like to get a lot of driving done today," Wyatt said as he shoved the key in the ignition and started the engine. "Do you want breakfast?" he asked as he navigated them from the hotel's parking lot.
He passed her the magazines as she nodded, "more coffee would be good."
Wyatt knew there was a coffee shop with a drive-through on the way out of town. Earlier when he'd risen before her, he'd mapped out the directions to a hotel about a day's drive away without a lot of traffic and unnecessary stops.
After the quick stop for coffee, bagels, and a windfall of sugar packets, they continued north at a good clip.
Wyatt glanced over at Maureen and the way the sunlight shone brightly on the top magazine cover that was tucked against her thigh.
The glossy cover boasted an airbrushed model with the highest tits and tightest thighs money could buy.
The pages filled with a cornucopia of creams, potions and lotion suggestion for every part, pore, and follicle on the human body.
Maureen looked over when he snorted after reading the title of a featured self-assessment quiz.
"What your sex and dating preferences reveal about yourself," Wyatt read aloud, overly annunciating every word.
"That sounds fun, let's take that," he added as he turned his attention back to the flow of traffic.
Maureen chuckled, "I was going to read these on the flight home, I snagged them in the hotel lobby along with their free breakfast."
"You mean you stole them."
"I'm certain you've done worse," she rebutted with a good-natured jest, her smile quickly froze and wilted when she really was quite certain he had.
Maureen glanced over at him; Wyatt's smile reached all the way to his eyes before he dropped his gaze to the glossy magazine she now held in her hands.
"Question one…..," Wyatt murmured before trailing off into silence.
A small smile pulled at Maureen's lips as she cleared her throat.
"Question one, at the end of a blind date where you really connected and feel like you could share the world with this person. You, A. Invite them in for a "nightcap" and have them in your bed before you can pour a glass. B. Wish them goodnight, arrange a second date, and leave both of you wanting more with a hot make-out session. C. Arrange for a second date and give them a single kiss, after all one night does not make a partner for life, or D. Who said the date ended? Soul mate baby, viva Las Vegas wedding chapel anyone?"
Maureen lapsed into silence after she finished reading the question.
"Well?" Wyatt asked, "which one for you?"
"I read the question; you get to answer first."
"D," he said without further argument.
She reread the choices and set the magazine down, "D, really? Just like that?" Maureen asked as she snapped her fingers.
"Yes, sometimes it only takes one look, and you know that's the person that you can't and won't live without," Wyatt said easily as he glanced over at her.
"Well, that seems fast," Maureen finally said and stared down at the glossy page.
"Your choice then?"
"C."
"Very safe," Wyatt teased and added, "read the next one."
"When you're into someone, where is your favorite place to be kissed or caressed? A. neck, B. chest/breasts, C. back or D. lips?"
"D," he again answered with zero hesitation, "and you?" he asked, anxious to hear her answer.
"I don't like these questions, and besides that's all situational anyway," she deflected.
He glanced over again at her left hand; a fresh wash of gratitude spilled over him seeing again that her fourth finger was naked of any jewelry. "Are you sharing your life with someone?"
Maureen shook her head, "not right now."
"That'll be helpful going forward," Wyatt thought as he passed a slow-moving semi.
Maureen glanced over at him, "question three, when do you start thinking about marriage? A. Love at first sight can equal being married that night. B. When you start doing any of their laundry. C. After you've moved in together and discussed it as adults. D. No one will ever tie me down."
Wyatt looked over at her briefly, "well?"
She shook her head, "these quizzes are so ridiculous, they're all nothing I'd pick but parts of B and obviously talking about it before hand. If you're cleaning up after each other, you've probably seen the other not at their best," Maureen reasoned.
Wyatt nodded, "I could see that," he agreed. "I have to go with A."
She reread question A and pressed her lips together. "Question four," she started in a rush, looking forward to moving past the previous question.
"What is your ideal wedding? A. A traditional wedding with a five-tiered cake and a Hawaiian honeymoon. B. Hop in the car and elope wherever the road takes you. C. A quiet intimate wedding with a handful of friends and nice dinner out. D. I only attend weddings with open bars and endless pastel Jordan almonds."
They were both silent as the mile markers passed, "I have to agree with you that none of those answers truly fit," Wyatt finally said but inside he was thinking the opposite.
"Question five," Maureen said as she scanned the rest of the page. "Good lord, there's still five more questions," she thought as she read the words with the curvy font from the glossy page. "How about children and when is the best time for that conversation? A. Children are created through love, talk about it all the time. B. Kids or no kids, doesn't matter to me. C. I'd have to be financially stable and in a solid relationship first. D. No."
"No, I mean D," she said firmly.
Wyatt tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he thought of his dead children.
Maureen quickly reverted back to her professional self with more rapidity than the turning of tides at the shroud of darkness that fell around Wyatt and the inky blackness that filled his eyes.
"Are you alright?" Maureen asked in an easy tone as she turned down the radio's volume.
Looking back, Maureen would never be able to understand why she reached out a hand and touched his forearm. She'd felt the aftershock from whatever grief he was reliving and wanted to comfort him.
Wyatt glanced over at her, wishing he could stare longer but not at the speed they were traveling amidst five lanes of fast-moving cars and semis.
Maureen pressed her lips together and pulled her hand back as though she'd burnt her fingertips, chastising herself for forgetting herself, having a critical lapse in judgement.
Wyatt was not going to allow Maureen to move past the moment and without taking his eyes off the road, dropped a hand over hers, gently squeezing, feeling her pulse under his fingertips where they came to wrist on the smooth skin on the inside of her narrow wrist.
Maureen stared down at his hand closed around hers, feeling more confused that she didn't try and immediately yank her hand free.
"You want to read the next question?" he murmured as he released her hand.
Maureen was grateful for the distraction as she opened the magazine back to the quiz.
"Question six, you get an unexpected and impromptu three-day weekend. How will you spend it? A. Call pals and/or significant other and take a red eye to Vegas. B. Romantic bed and breakfast with your sweetie. C. Spend the weekend binge-watching tv and eating take-out D. Get to the home improvement store and finally clean out the closets and shampoo the carpets."
"They're not all the worst choices," she added after she finished reading the question. "I'd prefer to stay close to home though, my ideal would be a blend of C and D."
"I could get around that," Wyatt murmured as he couldn't get Blair's name out of his head, thinking of Maureen's answering involving Blair.
He clenched his teeth until his jaw popped as he wondered where she liked Blair to kiss her.
As traffic came to an unexpected, snarled stop, Wyatt had to focus on an upcoming lane closure, nearly across the country, Dr. Singer ended a heated call with the airlines.
She drummed her fingers on the surface of her desk as she looked through her list of emergency contacts for Maureen.
The hotel confirmed that Maureen had checked out.
The car rental agency confirmed that the SUV had never been returned.
The airlines showed that Maureen did indeed her originally scheduled flight but never booked a new flight.
Maureen's voicemail was now full, bloated from the plethora of calls from colleagues, family, and medical reps.
As Dr. Singer paced her office, on the phone with a contact in the Sheriff's Department, far and fucking away, Wyatt steered the SUV into a rest spot with not a lot of people around or accouterments besides doors on the bathroom stalls.
After a short time recharge on metal park benches with no shade overhead, Maureen switched to sitting behind the wheel while Wyatt slid onto the passenger seat, reclining the seat the smallest amount, still unable to read the doctor behind the wheel.
Wyatt's directions were essentially straight on the interstate for a few hours, he wished there was more to say so he could continue staring at her profile, certain with every passing second that he spent in her breathing room, that she had hereditarily connections to the murdered princess.
