Lyrics from the following Taylor Swift songs are woven into this chapter: 'tis the damn season and The Bolter.
I stood frozen, unable to move. I wanted to run, hide, or do anything but have to look at him. I knew my emotions were flashing across my face, and I was wearing my heart on my sleeve while he watched, seemingly completely detached. I knew it was an act. While he could hide from most people, I knew. I knew seeing me brought up feelings for him, hurt, longing. I knew there was an ache in him, put there by the ache in me. I hate that I knew that. It made me feel sorry for him. I didn't want to feel sorry for him. I wanted to hate him. No, I wanted to be indifferent, but I knew that would never happen. I would never not love him.
A part of me wished I'd had the strength to leave the night I told him how I felt; walked out and driven straight out of town and out of his life. But oh no, not me. I wasn't smart enough to do that and didn't have strong enough self-preservation instincts. So what did I do? I stayed. I stayed another 4 fucking months, trying to put my life and my heart back together, subjecting myself and him to more torture. Both were unable to fight the pull between us, causing each other greater harm as neither was willing to compromise. I refused to settle for less, he refused to give me more.
I was saved from the intensity of his gaze by none other than my childhood hero, my dad. Frank Plum came through the door, larger than life, stomping his boots and shaking the snow off his shoulders. Not seeing him in a year made my heart squeeze tight. My dad was the best. His eyes settled on my mom talking with Ranger and he moved to greet them. After a kiss on Mom's cheek, he turned to Ranger, shaking his hand. What the hell was that about? It was not a, 'Oh hey, I remember you. My daughter brought you to dinner once 4 years ago.' This was a greeting for someone you're familiar with, someone you knew. What the fuck? When did this happen? Did I leave Trenton a year ago only to return to an alternate universe?
My mom joined their conversation and then turned her head in my direction. Dad followed her gaze, his eyes settling on me as a big grin crossed his face. He excused himself and made a beeline for me, pulling me to his chest, and hugging me tightly. "Pumpkin, What are you doing here?" He placed a kiss on top of my head but didn't let go.
"Surprise!" I choked out, again overwhelmed with emotion. I felt him chuckle and he pulled back. "Don't you know you're not supposed to surprise an old man like me? You could give me a heart attack." Mentally I snorted. First of all, my dad was strong as an ox. Secondly, I doubted his surprise at my arrival two days early compared to witnessing my parents' interaction with Ranger and what it all meant.
I hit him playfully on the arm. "You're not that old Daddy. Besides, if anything gives you a heart attack, it's mom's cooking."
He laughed again, his face full of joy. "True, but it's a little late to change that. Besides, your mother's cooking is one of the few joys I have left in my old age. If it kills me, it'll be worth it." His eyes twinkled. I guess it wasn't hard to see where I got my love of food. I couldn't get over the change in both my parents, aside from the shocking interaction with Ranger, they both seemed happier, more animated, and open. Weird. Did the two things have anything to do with each other? Whelp, better make room in that storage box in the back of my mind because it was nothing I had the energy to deal with now.
Before we could chat anymore Mary Alice came running over, obviously sent on a mission. "Grandpa, Grandma needs you. The old man with the wart on his nose broke his hip and you need to find a replacement driver." Ahh, old man Baronni. My dad had been in charge of the delivery side of the operation for the last ten years. It was a responsibility he took very seriously. Daddy kissed me on the forehead before allowing his granddaughter to drag him off to fix the problem.
In his wake I saw Ranger headed my way, his long strides eating up the distance a little too quickly for my liking. Some of the blankness on his face faded, a look of determination replacing it. Gulp. I wanted to make a run for it. I was thinking it would be nice to be anywhere but here right about now. If that look had anything to do with me I wasn't sure I was ready to deal with it. I glanced to the left and the right, but there were too many people and not enough escape routes. I'd always preferred to run from my problems rather than face them head-on. At the first sign of trouble, I physically ran and mentally checked into Denial Land. I did it so often that my friends nicknamed me the Bolter. It was a little embarrassing, but I couldn't deny the truth of it. My relationship with Joe was a prime example. If there was conflict, I'd run from it. Hell, if there wasn't conflict, I'd panic, looking for cracks in the relationship, picking away at them until there was space enough for me to escape. But as I was leaving, it felt like breathing. It carried over to my relationship with Ranger. If I didn't like the orders he gave me, I'd run headlong into trouble. Hell, I couldn't deal with my feelings for him and I'd run as far away from Trenton as I could and still stay in the Continental U.S. I Guess I'll stuff that away in the brain box too.
Just as I squared my shoulders and resigned myself to facing him, I was blindsided from the right, a blur of black entered my peripheral vision as I was lifted off the ground, my body squeezed tight. "Beautiful," Lester exclaimed with delight before Tank wrenched me from his arms.
"Little girl. You're a sight for sore eyes." I was passed around, each Rangeman taking a turn squeezing the stuffing out of me, greeting me with their variations of my many nicknames: Wifey, Bombshell, Bomber, Hot Stuff.
Finally, the golden retriever of the group, Hal, set me on my feet with a quiet "Miss Stephanie," his cheeks tinged pink. I was grateful for the Merry Men sweeping in to rescue me, no doubt that's what it was, but it was all for naught because Hal was so flustered he set me down directly in front of the man himself, Ranger. Surrounded by a wall of black-clothed bodies, we were cut off from the rest of the room as he assessed me, not sure of how to proceed. I'm not sure what emotions flashed across my face but once he determined there was little threat of me slapping him across the face or kneeing him in the balls he stepped forward to wrap his arms around me, pulling me to him. At first, my arms hung by my sides, utterly stunned at his embrace before I thought, well hell, and slid my arms around his waist, returning the hug.
I breathed in his scent, which comforted me and sent a zing through my body to parts that had been in hibernation for nearly a year. At the same time I felt him take a deep breath before whispering in my ear, his body and voice betraying him, "Ba-" he stopped before correcting himself, "Steph, it's good to see you." It was a stab to my heart hearing him correct himself, fighting the instinct to use the nickname reserved for him. Then again, it was my own fucking fault. I was the one who revoked his right to call me that. While I knew I should be pleased he was respecting the boundaries I'd set, instead I just felt sad. My heart was caught in my throat and I thought if I spoke I might cry so I chose not to answer. Besides that, I didn't want to say it was good to see him, because whether it was or not had yet to be determined.
Instead, I gave him a final squeeze before pulling back when it felt like he'd held me too long. He released his hold and we both took a step back, the awkwardness of the situation not lost on anyone. I didn't know what the Merry Men knew about what went down between us, but they knew something had caused me to uproot my life and move clear across the country. Yet again, I was saved by a man in black as I heard low grumbling in Spanish and our little circle broke as some of the men were shoved to the side by Hector as he muscled his way in. Scooping me up in his arms and spinning me in a circle, he whispered in my ear in broken English, "Estefania, you are back." I gave him a grateful look as he set me back down, subtly placing himself between me and Ranger.
"Thank you." I mouthed. He gave me a subtle nod in return. With Hector's entrance, the tension was broken.
Before the Q A session about my life for the last year could begin we were interrupted. The strong, confident voice of my niece Angie broke through. "Aunt Steph, Grandma says you, Mr. Ranger, and your friends need to come to get something to eat." Angie may be 10, but she was going on 30, possessing more characteristics of the perfect Burg hostess than I ever would. Mr. Ranger? What the hell was that about? Did Angie know Ranger or is that what my mom told her to call him? What the hell happened this last year? To say I was stunned to see the Merry Men here today was an understatement, Ranger's interaction with my parents added another layer of weirdness. Being taken off guard by the surprise reunion was probably for the best since I didn't have time to worry myself sick over it. I didn't know what to make of Ranger's reaction to seeing, more or more accurately that he allowed me to feel his reaction at all. Best to pack that quandary into the brain box for Future Stephanie to examine after the holidays, one day back and that box was filling up fast.
The whole herd of us dutifully followed Angie to the serving line, all of the men enjoying the older women making over them as if they were their own grandsons. Plates were heaped with mountains of food, the servers claiming growing boys needed the nourishment. I laughed, as if every one of them wasn't at least 10 years out of puberty. Some of the guys enjoyed the attention paid to them by younger, unattached women which was not familial in the least. While Lester, Ram, and Vince flirted right back, Hal turned completely red and became so flustered he nearly dropped his plate. Angie seemed to have developed her own crush on Hal and had stayed close by. She took the opportunity to swoop in and pick up Hal's full cookie plate so he could keep both hands on the plate that held his supersized lunch. Leading him to an open spot she got him settled and then proceeded to wait on him hand and foot. The whole thing was adorable. The other guys were even kind enough not to tease him about it.
While Hal appeared to be Angie's hero, Hector was currently mine. He effortlessly kept himself between me and Ranger. I got the feeling that Ranger wanted to talk to me, alone, and it wasn't something I was capable of just yet. Grateful for Hector's assistance, I held up my half of the partnership, helping to cushion his interactions with folks from the Burg. I was guessing most of them weren't used to having lunch with a former gang member sporting two teardrop tattoos on his face. In deference to the Burgers I noticed that all of the Merry Men had left their utility belts in their cars, although I'd bet dollars to donuts they each had a gun in an ankle holster, another tucked into their back waistband under their winter jackets. And then somewhere else was probably stashed a knife, or two.
The food was fantastic and so was the company. The guys laughed and teased each other, talked about their plans for the holidays, and even told me a few embarrassing episodes that had happened on takedowns recently. A sense of belonging overcame me, my whole body warming at the thought. I didn't realize until now, how lonely I'd been in my new life. I had work friends, and friendly neighbors but outside of that, I spent a lot of my time by myself. The realization hit me that I'd left not only the family I was born into when I left, but also the one I'd chosen, or who had chosen me. The thought instantly sent a wave of anger through me. Just another thing I'd lost because the man in black couldn't pull his head out of his ass. I'd felt Ranger's gaze on me from his seat a few spots away throughout the entire meal. Before I could stop myself I turned towards him and shot him a dirty look. If he'd been sitting across the table from me I'd have kicked him in the shin. During lunch he'd put away his blank face, not joining in per se, but seemingly enjoying the camaraderie just like I was. Well, at least until I remembered he was the reason I wasn't a part of any of it anymore. Once my glare settled on him the blank face returned. Damnit. I wasn't supposed to let him get the better of me, I berated myself. The plan was to show no reaction, no emotion. I'd promised myself I wouldn't let him see what a wreck I still was.
Hector nudged my leg under the table and made a big production about asking me to explain what some of the Christmas cookies were on his plate. He picked up a pizzelle, a flat crispy traditional Italian cookie. He cocked an eyebrow and said something in Spanish that I didn't understand, but could tell it was a question by the inflection. I raised both eyebrows in response and he carefully enunciated, "Tostada? Waf-fle?" I laughed. Happy to have the distraction and even happier to share my love and knowledge of sweets, I explained in English that the pizzelle was the oldest cookie in the world and that my Grandma Plum made the best ones ever. Taking care not to speak too quickly, but also not slow enough to be insulting, I explained how they were made and what the different flavors were . He was not too far off. The cookie batter was pressed between two iron plates with raised designs on them and fried. So it did resemble a waffle someone had sucked all of the air out of and then fried like a tostada. In my mind, Grandma's were the best because she never forced me to help and therefore ruin the experience. I was only in charge of the powdered sugar that was sprinkled on them after they were fried. She always said I put on just the perfect amount, no matter if it was just a dash or a quarter-inch thick layer.
I don't think anyone at the table was surprised by my vast knowledge of Italian baked goods but they let out a collective gasp when Hector brought the cookie to his mouth after my recommendation. Their shock wasn't because he was going to eat the cookie, Hector loved sweets almost as much as I did. What left them stunned was as he took his first bite I leaned in and blew a puff of air at him like I was blowing out a candle. This particular cookie was made by my mother and I was 100% sure Mary Alice had held the powdered sugar shaker. While it wasn't thick enough that you couldn't see the designs, it wasn't just a sprinkle. In my opinion, it was perfect. My puff of air sent powdered sugar out in a cloud, coating his face with the sweet white stuff. The table went silent, obviously horrified and certain they were about to witness my gruesome death. I was grinning at Hector and I'm sure they all thought I'd lost my mind. He remained calm, with no expression on his face as he chewed the bite he'd taken while placing the cookie back down. He then chose a cannoncini, a cream-filled puff pastry horn from the plate. Without pausing he raised the open end to me, offering me a bite. Without hesitation, I opened up and he proceeded to smash the entire pastry into my face, some hitting my mouth, but a fair bit of cream covered my nose and cheeks. These were Mrs. Morelli's specialty and I adored them. Hector's deep chuckle rose up from his chest before he broke out in a full-blown belly laugh. I grinned at him and wiped up the cream from my cheek and sucked it into my mouth.
It was a beat before the rest of the table was assured the danger had passed and then they all started laughing too. Well, most of them were laughing, Ranger's eyes were focused on my mouth as I sucked the cream off my finger. A little zing went through my body at his look. Once I remembered I was still angry with him I slid my pointer finger out of my mouth and moved my hand to the right side of my face, folding down that finger while raising my middle finger, subtly reminding him what I thought of him. At that, he let out his own bark of laughter. The tightness in my chest eased a bit as Angie handed me a package of baby wipes she'd retrieved from Lisa's diaper bag. She didn't say anything but she gave Hector and me that disapproving look that she usually reserved for her younger sisters. I just grinned back at her, resisting the urge to explain that 'pizzelle in the face' was a trick I learned from her saintly mother. We gladly accepted the wipes and cleaned ourselves up, laughing the whole time.
Ranger had stepped away during our clean up and when he returned my father was with him. Daddy took one look at the powdered sugar that still clung to Hector's eyelashes and the dash of cream that I was swiping off my nose and chuckled, "I thought you outgrew playing with your food Pumpkin." I just grinned at him. He gave me a head shake and a smile before addressing the table. For the first time I could see shadows of the soldier he once was, "Gentleman, all of the vehicles have been labeled with numbers that correspond with organized piles. All hands on deck to load." The Rangemen sat up straight and gave a quick nod to indicate they understood. "I have the list which partners up one Rangeman with an," he stopped to cough for effect, "older veteran." He gave them a look daring anyone to suggest he was in the latter category. Again with the nods. "I need to take over for Old Man Baronni, so Lester you're with me." Lester looked like he might salute. Turning his attention to me I got my marching orders, "Pumpkin that means I need you to take my spot. You're riding with Ranger."
Son of a Nutcracker!