Chapter Six
Concealed Passion
Spring in Beaver was always just the right amount of warmth without being overtly hot.
It was also spring break arriving, which meant she and Melinda could get away from work and studies until the week was up.
Everything was completed in time, the patients said goodbye to the students and interns they'd miss, and others were relieved because of certain attitudes and methods. The girls fell into the first category.
By this time, Mike had been out of the hospital for a while now, having recovered remarkably well and had followed Dr. Jones's orders. Kaleia had seen him just as he was leaving with a man she'd never seen before today, only heard he'd visit his nephew during his stay here; every time she'd learn he was present in the hospital, Kaleia would be elsewhere.
Henry Emily. The other co-owner of the old Fredbear Diner. The man whose daughter, Charlotte AKA Charlie, was murdered outside the location not long after Evan Afton. He was very polite, but withdrawn and hesitant as if haunted by the ghosts of his past that only those close to him were aware of in this town. His auburn beard sported silver and grey sparks, giving it an odd combination of fire and stars, the hair circling his mouth. Kaleia, because she felt a pang of sympathy, had wanted to spend more time conversing with him if not for the fact she was busy.
"Miss Kai," Mr. Emily told her as soon as his attention was on her, smiling. "Looks like we ran into you just in time." Coincidence or not? She couldn't tell, but either way, she was damned happy to see both of them. Mostly the young man in the plaid shirt in burnt orange and different shades of pink and green, the former amusing Kaleia but also thrilling her, since real men wore the most feminine color and pulled it off.
Dare she admit there was a bit of a spark between her and Mike that only she knew of, and that she trusted Melinda with? In the weeks she'd spend going to see him as often as she could, trying her hardest to not make it blatant to prying eyes, because this was like treading around a fire that warmed and melted your body without scorching it to death. Sometimes, she'd be on breaks and have these daydreams, lucky to not be berated and make a mistake or more during work, which involved a deluge of images involving close-ups of Mike's soft, rose petal lips colored like the outside of a peach, followed by his arms around her waist and hers around his shoulders...clothes removed like in a sexy movie scene, their naked skins explored like a new acre of land...
Sadly, it was all it was, a fantasy.
"Best part of this place was you keeping me from going crazy."
Kaleia blinked. He'd just spoken to her, and she'd been staring at him like an idiot! Clearing her throat and folding her arms across her chest, she forced a tight smile. "My job to help everyone, and you'd better be careful to not get another hole in your lung," she warned him teasingly.
He rolled his eyes at her. "Yes, Mom."
Henry Emily clucked his tongue, shaking his head. "None of that now, kiddo. That won't happen again because I'm here. I've talked to your boss, and we've come to an agreement that I'll join your ranks for the foreseeable future. Until I retire, of course."
Okay, he said he was joining Grandpa's garage team, but she had patients who needed her attention and files to update. She wished the two men a good day and hurried off while trying not to look desperate. Anything to get rid of the little case of liquid fire in her blood and muscles.
~o~
"Henry, you sure this won't cause a, what, conflict of interest or something?" Michael asked when they were in the car on the way home, himself in the front passenger seat and the countryside passing by on all sides.
The older man shrugged. "Nah, no preferential treatment or any of the usual worries you're thinking of. Your boss is reasonable enough to understand, and I know you well enough. It'll be okay, and they say the more, the merrier. And the fact one of your old friends works with you," Henry added with a grin. "Mr. Fitzgerald, right?"
"Yeah, Jeremy. Been reconnecting with him." And doing good, but we've yet to go out after work again. I hear that voice sometimes, and thanks to what just happened to me...
"Always thought he was a good boy. I knew the rest of those so-called friends of yours were bad news, but you had to learn yourself. I knew you would have been stubborn and not listen if I said a word then, and when they ran out on you that day, that was it." Michael closed his eyes, nodding once as he remembered Clark and Greg didn't stick by his side, but Jeremy went up to him after everything was over with and the nasty talk about him began despite his release from juvie. Then high school graduation happened, but before that, Clara and Uncle Henry took him from Hurricane, the hatred of the townsfolk, AND William.
"Miss Kai really is a pretty girl, isn't she?"
Damn it, not now. Not when I have to get home and worry about going back to work. "I haven't noticed."
And it was just like Henry to guffaw and see through. "Michael Schmidt, don't give me that bullshit. I've seen the way you looked at her, and I saw how she looked at you, too. Now that you're out of the hospital, that means you got some time if you wanna make a move on her."
"Uncle Henry," Michael said through his teeth, resisting the urge to laugh because of his treacherous body. "Just stop. I don't know if I can do this."
"Since when? Mike, you've never brought a girl home all these years, you never once tried dating, and I understand that. Your mother does, too, and while she never said it aloud, she worries. We're proud of you for getting this job, you got people who like you even if they don't know everything about you, but now there's this girl. It's all happening in a short period of time; that doesn't happen a lot. Maybe you should ask her if you two can go out for a coffee, talk, take it slow, or perhaps if her grandfather invites you for a company get-together." Henry's eye twinkled the way it did when he knew exactly what he was talking about.
~o~
The smallest things would make the interior of the house, but the people living inside its walls made the home.
Clara had help from a few of her students in creating this dinner which was now on the stove and ready to be taken to the table. Henry had his hands full with getting that boy here where he belonged. She could hardly contain her excitement, so she distracted herself for the next last few minutes by looking at the curio decoration in the corner of the dining area not far from the table. Within the five shelves, the bottom empty and opened for a new surprise, were treasures she acquired from local antiquities, the mall, and a couple from the home which had been tarnished a long time ago.
The top shelf consisted of what Clara considered one of two crown jewels, in that it was a clock constructed in the form of Christ's Last Supper, the paints jewel-toned, and the clock itself within Gothic walls. Could very much be mistaken as something from the past that withstood the test of time, based on some chipping of the paint in places. Beneath it was emptiness, since she'd wanted the arrangements a certain way, and had changed her mind about what came next once everything had come together in the end, and to this day, nothing good came along for this blank spot.
At the center of it all was a gilded, gold-finished three-part frame with the lights of her life - her children. All of them and unable to get enough of them, as a mother should. Her heart and soul. All of them sweet in their own way, with angelic Elizabeth at one, almost two, within the heart shape on the top, below being a barely-month-old Evan caught in the moment happily rolling about, his toothless smile eternally captured within the rectangle that bore the entire body shot. That left Michael in the oval, five years old and at his happiest before everything fell apart. My children the central attraction of this collection, just as they are my body's focal. Clara put her palm, the hand long devoid of her old wedding ring she hoped to give to Michael if he ever found the right girl, over that part of her body, her heart.
Beneath was an eclectic fusion of bejeweled and natural. A couple of gray-white marble vases filled with faux succulents that looked real. An adorable, magical snow globe with the base crafted to look like peeling birch, within the globe being holly and cones and a pair of cardinals. A crystalline jaguar on the prowl, transparently showing flecks of gold like the surface of a nugget. And an Eiffel Tower figurine of pewter studded with some gems.
Last of all, at the very bottom, was an iridescent glass vase with enriching gold going down to warm, loving red. Purple reminded them too much of William. Speaking of which...
And as she returned her attention to the food cooking, she recalled a certain phone call she made as soon as everything began roasting and boiling.
"The devil is calling me at this hour?"
"Well, is that any way to talk to an old friend?"
"...Clara. What the hell do you want?"
"Heard what happened."
"You'd be lying if you said you were concerned for me and checking in on my health, woman. If that's all, then I have to get back to -"
"To work? William, what now, now that everything you built is out of your hands? The robots that killed two of our children?"
"Oh, there you go again. Henry, you, and all these damned fools. I don't hear from any of you since the last six years when you took Michael away and left me alone, and now you call to mock my failures."
"Which you blame everyone for but yourself, as always. Why am I not surprised?"
"You don't get the right to lecture me, Clara. God knows I had enough of that in all the years we've been married, when for barely twenty years, I bust my ass to make sure we had food on the table, a roof over our heads, and the kids had everything they needed, but it was never enough, was it?! It wasn't my fault it was never good enough, just as it wasn't my fault Freddy's failed because a few brats went missing!"
"...you're still a heartless bastard as ever, Will."
"Heartless as the little shit who put OUR son up to Fredbear's jaws and killed him?"
"We're not having this conversation. I mourn him and Lizzie to this day, but I'm also living because Michael is still alive, and we're both going forward. I pity the man you've become because of all this...and the man I'm sure everyone in Hurricane knows you are, even though they can't prove it. Neither can I, but I know."
"I'd be careful if I were you, Clara."
"Don't worry, I won't bother you again after this. Just checking in how you're faring compared to us. Mikey's got a life at last, a nice girl, and some friends. If only I could see your face to that, but I can just imagine. Have a good one, William."
She hung up then and there, not giving a damn about his responses and excuses. As usual, he faulted everyone else around him without taking responsibility. She should have unleashed more profanities but didn't have the strength, but no matter. She'd said her piece, he said his and dismissed her, ending with an ominous warning she should heed since her gut was right in terms of the five missing children. No way to prove it, no matter how much she wished it.
~o~
"Mom, you went all out," Michael stated when he took in the display of Italian goodness in the kitchen/dining room. Right on top of the sumptuous, beach-hued marble tabletop with four brown leather cushioned seats and sitting atop a rug of grapevines, beyond the wall plaque which spoke of what family truly was about - "In Our Home and Family, We Have Faith, Trust, Say Please and Thank You, Always Pray and Believe, Forgive As We Have Been Forgiven, Work Hard and Dream Big, Give Second Chances, Love One Another" - was the best arrangement he'd ever seen that it made his mouth water.
Damn, she'd done the ravioli this time with Alfredo sauce and mushrooms, and he looked forward to that. That was joined with a good old block of cheese they would distribute easily, as well as Fiorentina beef steak, and finished with vegan minestrone soup bowls for each person. "Wanted to do my special spaghetti and sauce," Clara said after hugging him and kissing both of his cheeks, "but decided oh, hell. My boy's home and deserves a feast after having a little less than this."
Yeah, they fed him at the hospital, but he missed Ma's cooking.
On the other hand: he missed Kaleia being there sometimes during his lunch hours.
~o~
"You're absolutely sure you two aren't too old to spend time with the old man?" Mason asked one day during the summer that followed - two days before the Fourth of July.
"Nope, we're too grown to think that," Melinda answered for both of them as she brought an armful of the sandwiches Akela made for them for the little two-day trip, ready to go into the cooler. "This is something we do as a family every year, remember?"
Kaleia did her part in bringing all their favorite sodas to join, to be put in a cooler of its own, and some beers. Thank God she and Melinda were now legal to have some alcohol, since barely a month after returning from Iraq. Coke, Pepsi, Sprite - got it all. And the best of Miller's Light. The guys are gonna love this.
The guys she referred to were the boys from the garage.
And that included Michael.
She was excited to see him most of all but also pitied her sister figure.
Jeremy had suffered a chemical injury a year ago, well before the Gulf War, in which he'd been accidentally set on fire to his back because a fuse had gone faulty, and he was damned lucky to be alive if severely injured. Melinda and her mentor had been on the call when Mr. Fitzgerald was wheeled in, the flames on his back put out with the help of her grandfather and two others; that had been old Mr. Sean O'Brien and his son, Junior. The elder had retired some weeks after that incident, so the son himself was still at Grandpa's garage.
Melinda was psychologically sensitive to burns because both of her parents had been killed in a fire she'd barely escaped. Sometimes seeing the wounds on another human being triggered those memories. She came close to botching the surgery to remove what she could of the burns after the trained doctors did everything they could, as third-degree burns could not just simply be peeled and tended to without careful means.
It was what Melinda had called "resting bitch face" that made her reject him after he recovered and lay in a hospital bed until he was deemed fit to go home, then back to work. Said he had the nerve to give her that look and make smartass comments all because she was trying to help him in recovery, quote "I'd appreciate it if someone highly trained took care of my sorry ass". Oh, Kaleia wished she'd been there to sock him, but Melinda could handle herself. Hell, she'd have gotten disciplinaries for violence towards the patient, even if it was just a minor slap.
"That douche won't be worth my time," her girl had said, and that was it.
God, I hope they don't get into it while we're there.
"And that should be it," Mason announced, closing the last cooler once the ice and food were all in. "Let's go, girls, but your grandma will have my sacks if we don't kiss her goodbye."
"OH, GOD, GRANDPA!" Kaleia screeched, Melinda shrieking behind her hand and bowing at the waist, doubling with laughter. But hey, he and Akela told them both that if anyone couldn't do the deed anymore, at least let them talk about it.
~o~
"Personally, I could live nowhere else," Sean O'Brien said to them from behind the wheel he was driving all four of them in - Michael himself, Jeremy, and Sean, Sr. "And you wanted to live out here, Pop."
"If it were possible," the elder grumbled, smiling at the blissful horizon of trees passing them by. "Would love to get more privacy, but turns out that this town got everything in spades. It is what it is." He grinned then, turning over his left to give Michael and Jeremy the expression. "But hey, boys, trips are worth it. Helps keep the balance."
Michael had been out here with Henry sometimes during summer, in between finding a job before this one, because it was good for both of them. Just fish all the time happily, sit on the lake shoreline for a beer or something. Living in the waters primarily were brown and rainbow trout, and if they got lucky, Clara was gonna be one happy chef when they brought catch home. Little Reservoir was ten miles away from Beaver, so it wasn't that bad of a trip. The lake water was gray-green, silvery on the brightest, cloudless day, and it was a good breeze only because the windows were rolled down so that your hair was blown in your face. Hell yeah, this is paradise without the need to go to a tropical island...but that'll be the day if any of us got lucky. Mason did say anything was possible.
An abundance of birds soared the skies, signaling they were almost there. They passed by a couple of elk on the way and some deer. The men could only hope they wouldn't see any black bears while they were here.
When they arrived at a certain spot that overlooked the lake on a small rise of ground, there was Mason's soft yellow Cadillac which had been in his family since the early seventies, since before Kaleia had been born, he said. And there the man was in an aqua blue t-shirt without decoration, his dark blue denim shorts ripped at the ends. He was joined by a young African American woman - Melinda Warner - who helped him bring out a cooler while he slung one beach chair over one shoulder and carried the other two without trouble and a mild, stubborn grimace on his face. Her dark, gold-tinted hair was in thick curls and bounced around her ears. An ebony peasant skirt flounced without a care around her shiny chocolate legs, the waist covered by a knotted pink blouse which was opened to show a fern green swim bikini top, the bust knotted in the center. Seeing this, stopping with him, Jeremy sucked in a breath. "Damn," was all he could say. Michael turned his attention to his bud.
"You gonna be nice to her unlike that time you said you were at the hospital?"
Jeremy flinched. "Y-yeah, an understatement, Mike, but I was a jerk to her. Hurt like a bitch, but I guess it was because that was the first time something like that happened to me, and not a lot of people trust students and interns if they're new to this. Didn't know better at the time, but she's damned good. I owe her a lot more than an apology." He shook his head, rubbing the back of it. "Gotta be a point in time where enough is enough and water's under the bridge."
"Mace got the good stuff, his wife's handmade sandwiches," Sean Sr. said with a chortle, coming up behind them and interrupting the private conversation, and hauling out the beer and wine cooler. "Akela's always been a godsend, boys."
Junior whistled from the window as he turned off the minivan. "Look who else is coming, Dad."
His father frowned at him over his shoulder. "Junior, don't do it again. Be respectful and remember you had your chance." The son scowled like a testosterone-ridden teenager.
Michael turned back around and felt his lungs and heart close in on each other at the sight of the other beauty who came onto the scene.
Michael in the orange and pink shirt - it's colored that way based on the Color Wheel Meanings as listed:
-Orange symbolizes optimism and enthusiasm, the uplifting color that it is. :) Its positive effects are warmth and creativity, but the downside is impatience, superficiality, and attention-seeking.
-Pink is feminine as stated above, but then again we all know that. It's playful and compassionate, garnering sympathy and nurturing, though while it's kind and romantic, it can also negate confidence and maturity. :(
The wall plaque in the Schmidt household is based on the "In Our Home Wall Plaque" from Midnight Velvet.
R and R! :D