This story will be 3 chapters. Chapter 1 was written 2003-ish the rest of the story sat on my hard drive as a lot of random notes. I think this is set somewhere between Book 8 and Book 11, as the Haywood office exists.
It was supposed to be a girl's day out – just Mary Lou and me, doing a little shopping, hanging out together, Mary Lou roasting me over hot coals to get every possible detail of my break-up with Joe. And the rest of my screwed up, non-existent love life. You know, the standard girl thing.
But Lenny had some sort of emergency plumbing deal, even though it was the weekend, and couldn't be home to watch the boys. I could tell by the tone in Mary Lou's voice over the phone that there had been more to it than that, but we agreed to meet anyway and cut back on the shopping and just sit and talk until the boys got too restless. Then maybe we'd go to a park and let them run until they dropped from exhaustion. That was the plan, anyway.
So we were sitting in a lovely little outdoor café, having coffee, basking in a beautiful late summer day. The boys, LJ, 8 and Frankie, 6, were sitting on the grass a few feet away, occupied with some gigantic Lego set. The instructions for whatever they were building had been about 8 feet long when they were unfolded, but the boys had just glanced at them and pushed them away, meanwhile spreading pieces out all over the grass.
I watched the boys out of the corner of my eye. They were normal-looking kids, blue jeans, t-shirts with sports slogans, sneakers on feet that looked about 3 sizes too big in proportion to the rest of them. Mary Lou seemed happy with Lenny, happy with her boys. I wondered if I could ever feel that way. Most of the reasons Joe and I had broken up had been about what was wrong with us as two separate people and why we couldn't make a couple, but some of it had been over the difference in our versions of what "happily ever after" meant. Joe wanted a big family and he wanted a life that was centered around home and family. But he also wanted to be a cop, with the long hours that entailed, so he wanted a wife who supported him and ran the house and kids. A wife who worked, maybe, but had a nice, safe, probably part-time job. He wanted the Burg version of a family, where the responsibility for the kids and the house and dinner on the table at 6pm rested mostly on the wife. I had things I wanted, too, and I didn't see where I fit into Joe's dreams.
And the real trouble started when I tried visualizing myself with children. I'd always thought of my children in the abstract, but I had an opportunity for insight when Joe and I had gone over to his sister's house for a family gathering – without Grandma Bella, thankfully. His sister, Theresa, had five children under ten years old. I think there was a set of twins in there, but I wasn't sure. There were lots of young Morelli-genetics-based children running around, between all of his siblings and cousins, and it was hard to keep who belonged to who straight. After we left that night, I had gone home, troubled and appalled. Instead of wanting to take one or three of the kids home, like Joe did, I wanted to be kept as far away from that menagerie as possible. I'd always thought I wanted kids, some day, but maybe I wasn't cut out for it. I said as much to Mary Lou.
"Well, of course, you don't want those kids," Mary Lou rolled her eyes. "Those are their kids. They have to be your kids before you really want them." She looked over at her boys and her eyes softened. "Other people's kids can be cute, in a sort of puppy-dog way. Especially when you know you aren't stuck with them. But your own kids are different."
"How different? You mean like you think your own kids are perfect?"
Mary Lou rolled her eyes again. "Not hardly. Just like your husband is never perfect, either."
My husband had been way less than perfect. My ex-husband Dickie had been a horse's ass.
"No, you just sort of need to picture your own kids. Like with Joe – picture Joe's best parts on little kids. Those light brown eyes, that curly brown hair." Mary Lou looked at my hair. "You'd probably have to imagine REALLY curly hair."
"Mary Lou…" I started, "Joe and I are over.."
"This is just an exercise, Steph. I read this in a magazine about how to tell which man is right for you."
"What? Where did you read this, "Popular Obstetrics"?"
She made a little annoyed grunting sound. "Play along, Steph! Now, we know which man wasn't right, let's start with him. Close your eyes and imagine what Dickie's kids would have looked like."
I closed my eyes like a good little girlfriend. A vision of miniature, business-suited, prematurely balding lawyers with prominent ears appeared before my eyes. I opened them and rubbed them to get rid of the vision. "Mary Lou! This isn't helping"
She laughed. "That was bad, wasn't it? Okay, let's do Joe."
I closed my eyes again and the only image that came was a picture of the chaos at his sister's, only with me running around after them. I shook my head. And suddenly I had a flash – beautiful, laughing children with mocha skin, black hair and even white teeth. No expensive orthodontia in that family.
Holy shit, where did that come from? I'd lusted after him for months, slept with him one incredible time, was currently avoiding him and now I was daydreaming about his children and no dentist's bills? More likely his children would be born carrying weapons and barking orders at the obstetrician. Good God, Ranger as a father. That might be scarier than me as a mother. I couldn't think of very many men I knew that were less likely fatherhood material. I knew it was physically possible – he already had a daughter – but I couldn't even see Ranger as boyfriend material, let alone husband or father. The words "Ranger" and "boyfriend" didn't go together. Lover, maybe. One time ex-lover, more accurately. I sighed.
She looked at me oddly. "So what did you just see? You had the strangest look on your face."
I groaned and put my head in my hands. "Ranger," I said.
Mary Lou got a far-away look on her face and then fanned herself. "Oh, yeah," she said. "That man would make some beautiful kids. Maybe a little hard to handle, but beautiful. But you guys are over, too, like you and Joe, right?"
Yes, I told myself firmly, he was out of the picture, out of my life. Permanently. He wasn't willing to have a relationship, and I'd be damned if I was going to be some casual sex toy for him to come by and hop into bed with when he felt like it. The sex we shared was emotional and deep, for me at least, but so was the morning-after loneliness and the feeling that I had just made a big mistake. I'd tried to push the whole thing off and think about Joe and I instead, and even though it pissed me off to keep hearing the "work on your relationship with Morelli" thing from Ranger, it was the right thing to do. So now I didn't have any kind of relationship with Joe and the only relationship Ranger was interested in involved selected bits of my anatomy, not including my mind or my heart.
He'd been out of town for a couple weeks after the Abruzzi thing and had even called me when he had heard about Joe and I. Since I knew how much resistance I had to him in the flesh, so to speak, I'd given him my terms over the phone. A real relationship - all of me or none of me.
There had been a long silence on the other end of the phone, and finally he spoke softly and said "Your call, Babe," and then disconnected.
I'd seen him a week later at the office, looking somehow bigger, badder and much, well, grimmer. He'd given me a curt nod but had said nothing at all. Lula and Connie had kept looking back and forth between us like we were a tennis match, without rackets, balls or line judges. When he left, without the usual smiles to them, they both looked at me accusingly, as though I'd caused them to be denied a treat.
I cleared my throat. "Mary Lou, can we talk about something else?"
It was her turn to sigh. "Can't you at least give me some details? Does he look as incredible without clothes on? I bet he's really creative…"
"Mary Lou! Next subject!" Mary Lou didn't need to know that her fantasies about him didn't even come close to the reality.
She fidgeted with her cup some and looked over at her boys. I looked at her. She fidgeted with the cup more. Looked at the boys again.
"What?!" I figured she could keep the fidgeting and looking thing going forever.
She pursed her lips together and leaned across the table. "It's Lenny," she whispered.
Oh, God, I thought, please don't tell me that Lenny is having an affair. Please, please, please. Because I'd have to get my gun out and shoot him, and then I'd have to go to jail, where I'd have an even more screwed-up sex life than I have now.
I made the hand-rolling "and…" gesture.
"He won't sleep with me any more." She looked across the table at me, her eyes huge, anguish plain.
I cleared my throat. "Won't sleep with you like won't sleep in the same room, or… or…"
Mary Lou shot me the look of death. "Won't make love to me," she hissed.
I knew Mary Lou loved Lenny and had just sort of always assumed that Mary Lou was in charge of everything in that relationship, including when and if they had sex, what position they used and how long it lasted. Not that I really tried to visualize it, but I just always thought of Lenny as kind of an accessory to Mary Lou, like a belt or a purse or a really good lip gloss. I ran a hand across my forehead and down my hair. That really wasn't fair to either of them.
"Why not?" I asked in a normal voice.
"Shush!" She hissed again, nodding her head toward her boys. She blinked a few times and her eyes filled with tears. "I want another baby," she said. "I want a little girl."
"Umm, Mary Lou, I don't think you get to pick what it is beforehand."
The mother of two gave me another look. "That's not the point here, Steph! I stopped taking birth control pills and I told Lenny and now he won't make love with me that way anymore."
As always, my attention was caught by the detail in the sentence, not the point of the sentence. "What way does he do it then?"
"Shush!"
Okay, okay, so I needed to whisper. I get it now. "Sorry," I whispered. "So what does he do?" I felt like hyperventilating. I love Mary Lou, I really do, but I wasn't sure this wasn't going to be too much information.
Mary Lou laid her head down on the table and began to sob. Her youngest, Frankie, saw his mother crying and rushed over and began to sob with her. LJ simply glanced over, rolled his eyes, and continued building his Lego set. Ah, for the emotional composure of a third grader.
The harder Mary Lou cried, the harder Frankie cried. The harder Frankie cried, the harder Mary Lou cried. I could feel tears start in my own eyes. Mary Lou was in pain and Frankie and I were going to go down with her. I glanced around desperately. Café patrons were starting to shift to tables away from us.
Help came from the place I least expected.
"Problem, Babe?" His voice was rich, warm and smooth and flowed across my skin like a piece of fine velvet.
I stared up at him for a minute, dumbfounded. His body language said relaxed, his face was calm but serious and he had that almost-ready-to-smile look at the corners of his mouth. He was dressed in black, but casual black, not work-clothing. Black denim pants, black cotton turtleneck sweater, black denim jacket. His hair was tied back into a ponytail and he wore a gold hoop in one ear. And, to my further astonishment, he had been shopping. He carried a small wrapped package in one hand.
He saw me staring at the package and inclined his head to the left. "Book store." I looked to his left. Yep, a book store, one of those smallish places absolutely crammed with books.
"Ranger," I said, my voice high and squeaky with unshed tears. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Ranger." Much more reasonable. I did need help, but I was completely stumped for what kind. I looked around me, somewhat wildly, and saw the answer, across the street. I smiled up at him. "Ranger, could you take the boys for ice cream while I.." While I … while I do whatever the hell it is I have to do to get Mary Lou to stop crying.
Ranger's right eyebrow rose smoothly as he looked from me to Mary Lou to the boys. LJ was staring at him, clearly impressed.
"Are you one of those pro wrestler guys?"
I saw a very fine shudder pass over Ranger. "No," he said, in a final tone of voice. I had to put a hand up to my face to hide my smile. I snuck a peek at Ranger's face and his eyes told me he had seen the smile.
"Are you in the army?"
Ranger inclined his head slightly. "Was."
"Were you like a general in the army?"
"Captain. Army Rangers."
LJ's eyes widened. "Cool!" he said, his estimation of Ranger clearly jumping up a couple of notches.
I looked over at Ranger. Was it really this easy to find out things about him? "LJ, ask him where he lives." LJ looked at Ranger. Ranger looked at me.
Ranger smiled his small, tight smile. "In Trenton." I rolled my eyes.
LJ took a step forward to Ranger and held out his hand. "LJ Stankovic, sir."
He got the full-wattage smile. Ranger took his hand and shook it once, firmly. "Ricardo Manoso."
LJ tugged at his brother's shirt. "Frankie," he said in a kind of stage whisper that could probably be heard in Philadelphia. I think he was trying not to disturb his crying mother. "Frankie, this is Captain Manoso."
"Just "Mr. Manoso" will do." Frankie blinked warily up at him. Ranger dropped down to Frankie's level and squatted, knees tightly bent, balancing on the front of his feet. "Frank," he said and held out his hand. Frankie wiped his eyes and then his nose on the back of his hand and then held it out and shook Ranger's. Ranger didn't even flinch. Give that man a point for courage in the face of boy snot.
Ranger stood back up and slid me a quick sideways look and then turned his attention back to the boys. "Ms. Plum suggested ice cream. With your mother's permission, would you like ice cream?"
The boys looked at Mary Lou, who was wiping her eyes and blowing her nose vigorously. They nodded. Also vigorously.
Mary Lou raised her head, her eyes huge and red from crying, her hair wild, her face tear-streaked. Ranger took a small step backward. Hmm, I'd never have thought to use tears as a weapon, but Ranger seemed pretty stumped.
"Mrs. Stankovic," he began smoothly, as though Mary Lou wasn't staring at him like he had ridden down out of the sun in a chariot. "May I take the boys for ice cream?"
"It was Stephanie's idea,… " LJ started.
"Ms. Plum's," Ranger corrected. I raised my eyebrows at him. I can do both eyebrows, just not one at a time, like Ranger and Joe can do.
LJ started again. "It was Ms. Plum's idea, Mom. Can we please go with Mr. Manoso?"
Mary Lou looked stunned. I'm not sure if it was because of Ranger or because her son was using titles for adults. She nodded. "Umm. Thank you for offering, um… Mr. Manoso," she said. She was still sniffing.
Personally I thought it made Ranger sound like my 11th grade English teacher. The men turned to leave.
"Hang in there, Mary Lou," I said and got to my feet, taking a couple of steps after them. "Ranger, wait!" He and the boys stopped and Ranger took a step back toward me. "Look, ..um.. Ranger, thanks for offering and all, but – but are you sure you can do this?"
He grinned. "Babe, I trained Special ops teams. I can handle two kids."
I scowled at him. "Well, just take them for ice cream, don't teach them how to take out machine gun nests, OK?" He laughed at me and walked away, the boys falling in behind him obediently.
I got back to the table and sat down. We watched as Ranger and the boys walked to the stop light and waited to cross the street. I'd never seen Ranger actually bother to wait for a green light before. Usually he just figured that if he wanted to cross the street he would, cars and lights be damned.
Just before the light turned green, I saw Frankie tug on the leg of Ranger's pants. Ranger turned to look down at him and Frankie held up his hand tentatively. Of course. Frankie wasn't old enough to cross busy streets without holding hands. Ranger gave Frankie the smile that made waitresses drop entire trays as he firmly clasped Frankie's hand. Frankie gave him back a pretty good imitation of that smile.
Ranger turned to his right and put out his hand to LJ, tucking the wrapped book high up under his elbow. LJ hesitated a moment and then took Ranger's hand. The light turned green and they walked across the street, LJ dropping the hand as soon as possible but Frankie holding on. I smiled.
I looked over at Mary Lou. She was fanning herself. I had to agree. Though I felt a little nervous at foisting the boys off on Ranger. But then, what could go wrong in an ice cream parlor in Trenton, New Jersey?
