Love of a Marine (The Wounded Warriors Series Book 2) Page 6

  Cluny tasted the candy and sighed. “I’ve been completely spoiled here tonight. The first thing I’m going to do when I get home is kick down my kitchen.”

  They laughed at his joke and exchanged inconsequential table talk while enjoying the treat. He noted Graciella had poured coffee for her son, who then added a generous amount of cream and sipped it with aplomb. Must be a Latin custom, Cluny thought. He tipped his head in the direction of the stereo. “Is that samba music?”

  “Mom!” Santos blurted.

  “I’m right here, son.”

  “Mom, why don’t we teach Macfearsome to samba? He told me he only knows the cowboy two-step.”

  “Is that right?” She smiled. “We’ll remedy that cultural gap when we’re finished here. You game, Mr. McPherson?”

  “Oh, I’m game, ma’am.” He was tickled when she got his double meaning. Her cheeks pinked, and he warmed low in his belly. They finished the chocolate with little conversation.

  * * *

  Graciella cranked up the music, and Santos nearly doubled with laughter watching Cluny try to imitate his subtle movements to the rhythm of the beat. “You’re all stiff, Macfearsome. Do it like this.”

  “I would if I could, buddy, but I’m not as loose in the hips as you are.” He shook his hands and tried again.

  He was clumsy in his attempt to follow her son’s lead, but Graciella enjoyed the big man’s effort. Tall, slim, and strong, he had trouble relaxing enough to do the foreign movements with grace. A good sport, he seemed to be enjoying it, wearing a big smile the entire time.

  “Here.” She stepped in front of him. “Let me help. Relax your back and shoulders.” She put her hands on his hips and gave him a good shake, then directed his movements. He loosened a bit beneath her light touch and was making progress when she suddenly stopped and stared over his shoulder. She snatched her hands away from him.

  Cluny turned to see what had startled her.

  A willowy young woman stared at them, shock and outrage on her flawless face.

  “Krystal,” Graciella said, hand to her throat. “I didn’t hear you knock.” She quickly turned down the stereo. “What are you doing here so late?”

  “I came to see my nephew.” Her glare jumped from Graciella to Santos to Cluny. “I knocked, but it seems you were having so much fun you didn’t hear me.”

  Graciella cleared her throat. “Krystal, this is our friend Cluny McPherson. Cluny, Krystal Jefferson, Marvin’s sister.”

  He extended his hand, but Krystal stared at him, her eyes stony and cold.

  “Auntie Krystal, Macfearsome knew Dad. He told me about the war.”

  “Is that so?”

  Cluny’s hand brushed Graciella’s. “Perhaps I’d better go.” He touched Santos’s shoulder. “Good night, buddy.”

  “Mama? Can I go with Macfearsome and say goodnight to Queen?”

  “Yes, you may. Thank you for coming, Cluny. We enjoyed your company.”

  “Good night.” He tipped his head at Krystal. “Ms. Jefferson. Come with me, Santos.” They left the apartment.

  Krystal stared at Graciella. Several seconds passed before she spoke. “Who the hell is the white guy?”

  Stomach churning, Graciella clenched her fists and walked toward the kitchen. The insult stung. Krystal resented her for being of European descent. “I told you, Krystal. He’s a friend of ours. It’s none of your business, but Marvin and his team saved the lives of several Marines in Iraq. Cluny was one of them. I asked him to tell Santos about it.”

  Krystal followed her. “I don’t want him to hear any claptrap about my brother dying to save a bunch of white guys.”

  Graciella whirled on her. “He died saving the lives of fellow American soldiers! Not a ‘bunch of white guys.’ I will not have you poisoning my son’s mind with your racial prejudice and rage. I’ve raised Santos to be color-blind, just like his father and your parents. I will not allow you to teach him otherwise.”

  “He should be educated on the true history of African-Americans in this sewer of a country. Not sold a load of fairytale shit about equality and brotherly love!”

  “I’d like you to leave.”

  “I came to see my nephew.”

  “Leave now! Do not come to our home again unless you are invited.”

  The hatred in the woman’s eyes frightened Graciella, and not for the first time. At a loss for a solution, she thought again about taking Santos and returning to Brazil. Her son was an American citizen, but she had never completed the process. If she left the U.S. she didn’t know what would happen to her veteran’s pension or her son’s benefits, and she might never be able to return with him to his country of birth.

  “I’ll leave, but I’m warning you—don’t think you can get away with keeping him away from me or my parents.” She stormed from the apartment, slamming the door hard. Marvin’s parents were nothing like their daughter. They were decent and kind. They never spewed racial vitriol. Leaning heavily against the sink, she trembled and pressed palms to her chest to calm her racing heart.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Cluny dumped Queen’s water pan in the gutter and snapped on her service vest. She crawled over the console into the front seat while Santos watched with interest.

  “Is she working now?”

  “Yep. She’s back on the job.” He shook Santos’s hand. “It was good talking to you, sailor. I hope to see you again before too long.”

  “When I grow up I’m going to be a Frogman like my dad.”

  “Good for you. He’d be proud. So would I.”

  “We might go to the beach again this week. Can you and Amber come?”

  “Sure. I have a few vacation days left. Have your mom give me a heads-up. I’ll see if I can talk Amber into joining us.” As if he’d have a chance in hell of going to the beach without her.

  The smack of angry footsteps heading in their direction caught the boy’s attention. “Uh- oh, Auntie Krystal and my mom must have had another fight.” He took an unconscious sidestep closer to Cluny.

  Krystal stopped and grabbed Santos’s arm. “You’re coming with me.”

  “No!” He yanked away from her grip.

  “Do as I say!” She reached toward him again. Cluny intercepted her hand.

  She gave him a murderous look. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

  “Santos doesn’t want to go with you. If you’d like to return to the apartment, we’ll ask his mother’s permission first. Until then, don’t put your hands on him again.” Every muscle in his body tensed with anger at the woman’s rough handling of the boy. There was no way he’d stand by and let her continue to scare him. He faced Santos. To give him credit, he looked more angry than frightened with his narrow shoulders thrown back and chin thrust forward.

  “You’ll be sorry you ever got in the middle of our family business, white boy!” She stormed past them to a dark sedan where a big man stepped out of the driver’s side door. Cluny watched over the roof of his Pontiac as he held Santos to his side. The boy didn’t see the unfolding drama. When Krystal got close to the guy’s car, he opened the passenger door, grabbed her by the hair and thrust her inside. In seconds the car roared down the street.

  “Whoa.” He blew out a breath and shook his head. “What’s with your aunt? Why is she so steamed up?”

  “I dunno.” Santos hung his head and fell back against the car. “I want to go inside with my mom.”

  Hand on the boy’s shoulder, he said, “Come on. I’ll walk with you.”

  Santos trudged along beside him. Cluny accompanied him to the apartment where Graciella stood in the open doorway. Her face was full of stress lines, and she wrung her hands.

  He stopped in front of her and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Anything I can do?”

  “No. I’m horribly embarrassed you were caught in the middle, Cluny.”

  The glimmer of pending tears wrenched his heart, so he joked, “Don’t worry about me, ma’am. I’m a Marine.” He embraced her in
a brief hug and grinned when she pushed back and slapped his shoulder. “I can see you’re OK.”

  She blushed and drew Santos to her side. “We’re fine. Thanks for your concern.”

  He tipped a small salute at Santos. “See you around, bud.”

  Behind the wheel, he scratched Queen’s bony head. “You missed all the fun tonight, girl.” There had been fun, but that last ugly scene left him unsettled. Graciella had understated her sister-in-law’s personality when she’d told him Krystal was a pain in the ass. If he were a betting man, he’d bet she wasn’t shooting with a full clip. The woman looked a good ten years younger than Graciella. That meant Krystal Jefferson had been a kid about Santos’s age when her big brother, Marv, went off to war for the last time.

  It was hard to imagine Santos full of such anger and resentment. A normal, happy kid, it had to be a full time job for Graciella to shield him from Krystal’s radical attitude.

  Monday

  Cluny drove to his closed plumbing warehouse the next day and checked his large shop white-board calendar for the coming ninety days. He noted two big new construction jobs he and his crew would be working on with Big D Construction. Those sweet contracts would get him through to the fall with a fat bank account. It was time to hire another plumber to handle the steady stream of small re-models and repair jobs.

  He started the computer and signed in to a couple of his favorite websites, VetJobs and JobsMission, posted the help-wanted ad, and then picked up the phone. Marla answered, “Big D Construction.”

  “Did that slave driver put you back to work already? I’ll be happy to come over there and smack him into shape for you, boss lady,” he said as Amber chattered and the baby wailed in the background. “Sounds like a circus.”

  Marla laughed. “We were just leaving. I already had one foot out the door. What’s up, Cluny?”

  In the background, Amber asked, “Is it Uncle Cluny? Can I talk to him?”

  “Here, hand Declan to me and take the phone.” Shuffling and squalling noises assailed his ears.

  “Hi, Uncle Cluny.”

  “Sounds like you got your hands full over there.”

  “Declan is cranky, and I’m getting rill tired of all his crying. Can you take me to the beach?”

  “Where’s your dad?”

  The baby stopped crying amid murmuring and snuffling sounds.

  Amber spoke away from the phone, “Thank gunness.” Back to him, she said, “He went to bid on a big job over in Simi Valley. He wants to do a bank job.”

  Cluny chuckled. “You mean build a bank?”

  “Yes. I said that dint I? Can we please go to the beach?”

  “Not today, honey, but maybe tomorrow or Wednesday.” He had a few things to get done before his men came back to work. And he wanted to wait until Graciella called him before committing to a specific time with Amber.

  “I hope Santos and his mom will be there. I had fun teaching him the belly board.”

  “We’ll see. Do me a favor, sugar. Have your dad call me when he gets back. I need to verify the next job Gunny needs me for. Got that, Madame Secretary?”

  “Got it. What? Mom says we got to take Declan home so she can get some rest and put her feet up. I’ll tell Daddy.”

  Cluny locked up the warehouse and moved his 1967 green Pontiac GTO from the carport. Queen claimed the passenger seat next to him. He needed to get to the machine shop to pick up the rebuilt motor for his old power snake.

  He turned the music up and patted the steering wheel in time with the beat. After a couple of blocks he pulled to the curb and parked. “Ah, hell. Who am I kidding?” He took his cell out of his pocket and tapped Graciella on the contacts list. After several rings it went to voicemail. “Uh, hello, Graciella. Uh, I just wanted to call and make sure you…and Santos were OK…and uh…to thank you for dinner last night. I’ll…uh…call you later. Oh, uh…this is Cluny.”

  What a dope! Of course she knew it was him. Who else had been at her house for dinner last night? Inspiration hit him. “Let’s find that damn dance school of hers, Queen. If they didn’t go to the beach, she’s probably working today.” He tapped the Google icon and looked for samba schools in the west end of San Fernando Valley. There was one samba school in Chatsworth. He tapped the number.

  “Good morning, Rio Samba.”

  “Santos?”

  “Macfearsome?”

  “Yeah. Hey buddy, is your mom there?” It made sense, school was out and she’d have the boy with her. Lively Latin music sounded in the background, reminding him of the fun he’d had with them doing their best to teach him how to dance last night.

  “She’s here, but she’s teaching some old people how to samba. You want to come here and get another lesson?”

  There was nothing he’d like more than Graciella’s hands on his hips and Santos’s happy laughter at his two left feet. “I don’t know, maybe I’m too old for the class.”

  “No. I said she was teaching old people. Like you.”

  Kids. He shook his head and chuckled. Everybody past their teens was old. “OK. It’s a deal. I’ll be over in about half an hour. You might want to tell her I’m coming in case she’s too busy to see me.”

  “I can teach you if she’s busy. She lets me do the beginner class sometimes.”

  “OK, I’m on my way, pal.” He disconnected, restarted the Green Monster, and scratched Queen’s chin. “Wanna learn to dance, Queenie? Yeah? Well, let’s get going then. Maybe we can get a date at the beach out of this.”

  The small studio was located in a strip mall on Devonshire Street in what old-time residents called the Roy Rogers part of Chatsworth. The weathered center had a large parking lot, and Graciella’s school, Rio Samba, occupied space between a Mexican restaurant and a dry cleaner.

  Several laughing middle-aged women exited the studio as he parked his beloved muscle car. Graciella stood in the doorway smiling and chatting as they left. When Cluny closed his door, she waved.

  “Bring Queen in. She doesn’t need to wait in the car while you’re here.”

  “Thanks.” He nodded and opened the door again and motioned Queen to accompany him. “Come girl, you don’t have to wait here for me.” He grinned and approached Graciella.

  “So, you want a samba lesson?” The wry expression on her face told him she didn’t believe it for a minute. “Come in. We’ll see if we can get those hips loosened up, although I might have more success with Queen if I recall last night correctly.”

  “You may be right.” He suppressed a strong desire to touch her as he passed her in the doorway. “I’m game to give it another shot.” His gaze swept the room. One side sported mirrors and the other a large gallery of photos and posters depicting Carnival in Rio. Scantily clad women wearing massive and intricate headdresses took up most of the space. “Any pictures of you on that wall?”

  Ignoring his comment, she rolled her eyes and smiled.

  Santos rushed into the large space from the back of the studio. “Macfearsome, you brought Queen!”

  Cluny grinned and bumped fists with the boy. “Yep. My best girlfriend goes everywhere with me.”

  “Can I play with her?”

  Graciella laid her hand on her son’s shoulder. “It’s best if Cluny leaves her vest on while she’s here. We don’t know who may pop in unannounced. I don’t want to scare anybody away.”

  “She wouldn’t hurt anybody! Would she, Cluny?”

  “No, but your mom is right. We’ll find a time for you to play with her. Maybe we’ll go back to Zuma Beach one of these days.” He glanced hopefully at Graciella. “Amber’s been asking me when we’ll go again.”

  Santos bounced on his toes. “We’re going tomorrow, aren’t we, mama? You said we could.”

  “Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?” Eyebrows rising, she asked Cluny, “Would you and Amber like to join us?” The ironic tone of her voice didn’t escape his notice.

  He didn’t hesitate for a split second. He’d barely been there five
minutes and he’d already accomplished his goal. “Absolutely. I was planning to ask if you’d be going this week. I don’t have many vacation days left. I promised Amber we’d get in a couple of trips this week.”

  “Well, it’s settled then.” Graciella flipped on the music. “Ready? Let’s see if I can eek a little Latin rhythm out of those gringo hips of yours. Santos, stand with your back to Cluny so he can copy your moves.”

  A couple minutes later, Graciella threw up her hands. “I’m beginning to think you’re hopeless. Change places with me, son. Watch us and see how Cluny does.” She turned her back and reached behind. “Give me your hands.”

  She placed them on her hips. He couldn’t breathe. Hands trembling, he coughed.

  “Relax, think of it as an exercise in feeling the beat. Close your eyes and sense the music. Let it take over your chest and legs.” She moved beneath his hands. “Follow me. Take a deep breath and let go.”

  The last thing he wanted to do was let go. With the music—he’d try—with his hands, no way. He did his best to concentrate on her quiet reassurances. If he wanted this to last, he had to control his libido, which seemed to have a mind of its own. He pressed his hands against her and breathed.

  “He’s doing it, Mama. Macfearsome’s doing it.”

  “Good, good. See, Cluny, it’s not hard.”

  Not yet, due to my amazing willpower. “I’m trying to concentrate on the music. I’m feeling it.” Then he relaxed and smiled past Graciella’s shoulder at the grinning boy. “Hey, buddy, maybe I’m not a hopeless white boy after all.”

  She stiffened. “I think we’ve made a good start. That’s enough for today’s lesson.”

  He’d have given the world to take back the words. “Graciella.”

  “Santos, would you fetch my handbag from the back? It’s time to go home for a lunch break.”

  “OK.” He scampered to the back of the studio.