The Seeker: Dreamer Part 4

The room erupted in cheers, tears, and a complete hug-fest. Trina was a soggy mess. In the midst of all the chaos, Megan came over and quietly stood by me, saying nothing and looking too sober.

"Hey, munchkin. What's wrong?" I asked.

She shook her head, so I took her hand. She crawled onto my lap and curled up. "Is Sh.e.l.ly going to have a baby?" she whispered.

"Yeah, sweetie. What's wrong? Everyone's happy." It about broke my heart to see a tear trickle down her cheek. I didn't know what to do or how to comfort her, so I picked her up and carried her into the next room, away from all the noise, tugging Jack's s.h.i.+rt as I walked by him.

He followed us and sat down next to us on the couch in the family room, pulling Megan into his lap. "Hey, what are these tears for? What's the matter?" Megan shrugged. He met my confused gaze as I shook my head.

"Are you upset about Sh.e.l.ly having a baby?" Jack asked. She shrugged again. Then she nodded slightly. "Tell me, Meg."

"Will Aunt Trina still take care of me?" she whispered.

"Of course she will," he said as he rubbed her back. "Megan, sweetie, Trina is excited she's going to be a grandma again. That's all. You don't have to worry. She will still love you and take care of you."

We managed to convince Megan, for the moment at any rate, she was not about to be replaced. Poor thing; she was so young when she was moved to Albuquerque, but she apparently had some deep-seated issues. Jack carried her upstairs to tuck her in while I returned to the party to make his excuses. Once he came back downstairs, we stayed for only about fifteen minutes before I asked him to take me home.

"Well, s.h.i.+t," he said as he settled behind the wheel of his Mustang. He scrubbed both his hands over his face in frustration.

"Hey," I said softly, reaching over to touch him. "She'll be okay, Jack."

"Yeah, I know. It's just...I don't know. It seems like my past keeps sneaking back in to kick me in the a.s.s."

"Jack, it's Megan's past too."

"You think I don't know that?" he yelled. I flinched back in my seat, jerking my hand away from him as if I'd been burned. He let out a breath. "I'm sorry, Ally. I don't mean to take it out on you."

"Can we drive for a while?" I asked, crossing my arms in front of me. He nodded and put the car into gear. He drove us across the Rio Grande river to the West Mesa. We didn't speak until he pulled off to the side of the road on Nine Mile Hill where the view of the middle Rio Grande valley and the twinkling lights of Albuquerque stretched all the way to the Sandia Mountains in the east. It was breathtaking and we spent a few minutes to take it all in. We got out of the car and walked around to lean on the hood.

"I'm really sorry I yelled at you," he said quietly, linking his hand with mine.

"It doesn't matter, Jack."

"It does. You deserve to be treated better."

I turned to look at him and could see he wasn't done beating himself up over his outburst. "You're allowed to have a temper. So am I, and if you don't quit this self-castigating behavior, I'm gonna get p.i.s.sed off."

One side of his mouth lifted, as if he was trying to hold back a smile. "Nice vocab. Okay, let me apologize once more and then I'll be done." He turned and took my chin in his hand. "I'm sorry, querida." He leaned in to kiss me softly.

"That's better," I sighed. "Let's not waste this perfectly lovely scenic overlook with arguing." So we didn't.

He kissed me all too briefly and then turned me around to lean back against him, his arms wrapped around me, protecting me from the cold wind. "Megan was so little when we left Taos-a baby, really. She doesn't even remember our mom and dad. I thought-hoped she would settle in with Trina and Manny, and she mostly has, but every once in a while she has one of these...panic attacks I guess you could call them. G.o.d, it kills me to see her like that."

I turned in his arms and held him tightly. "Jack, you are doing such a great job with her. Everyone has moments of insecurity. She's going to be fine. She has a great family, you know."

"Yeah, I know. I hate to see her so insecure," he sighed. "She shouldn't have to go through this c.r.a.p."

I leaned back against his chest. "You can't fix everything, Jack. I love that you want to try, but this is beyond your control."

He turned me around to face him. "You're pretty smart, you know? You're also pretty s.e.xy."

"You think so?" I teased. "Well, what are you gonna do about it?"

He showed me exactly what he was going to do about it.

The next evening, I took Jack out for his birthday. I picked him up in my VW, refusing to let him drive so it wouldn't ruin the surprise. He managed not to cringe too much at my rough starts out of first gear. He always spoiled me rotten, driving all the time, paying for every date we went on, so I dipped into my savings and splurged on a romance package at a fondue restaurant, The Melting Pot, complete with roses, surf-n-turf, and sparkling cider.

"Ally, sweetheart, this is wonderful, but extravagant, to say the least. You don't eat either surf or turf," he complained. "What are you going to have here?"

"Says the guy who got me a car for my birthday. There are plenty of vegetables and bread I can cook and dip in the fondue. Don't worry about me."

"The car was for Christmas. I feel like a kept man."

I laughed. "Shh. Don't spoil my fun, okay?"

He sighed. "Fine." He poured us each some cider and handed me a gla.s.s. "How about we toast to my beautiful, amazing girlfriend, then?"

I raised my gla.s.s to touch his. Before he took a sip, he leaned across the table to kiss me. "You say the sweetest things," I murmured against his lips. "I want to give you your present now," I said, leaning back.

"All this and a present? We're going to have to set some rules in the future."

"Whatever. Like you'd ever abide by them. All right, I can do this." I took a deep breath and reached in my bag for his gift.

"Are you nervous, querida? Why?"

"Um, yeah. I'm not sure you're going to like what I got you. Do you have any idea how hard guys are to shop for?"

"Of course I'll like it." He rolled his eyes. "I'll like anything you give me."

"Yeah, I'll remind you of that when all I can think of is a tie or an ugly sweater. Okay, here goes." I handed him the box.

I had to practically sit on my hands as he unwrapped the Claddagh ring I had bought him in Galway. I was so nervous. What if he hated it? What if he thought it was too presumptuous of me? If he thought it signified a more serious relations.h.i.+p than we had? But he had said he loved me, right? So, maybe...argh! Oh my G.o.d! Calm down already! "So, the crown stands for loyalty, the hands for friends.h.i.+p, and the heart for love. You wear it on your right hand facing inward to show you're in a relations.h.i.+p, so..." I couldn't continue and I couldn't look at his face.

"Like this?" He took my hand in his, the ring on his right hand ring finger. "You got a matching one?" I had put mine on for the first time tonight. "I love it, Ally. It's really special. Thank you." He got up and came around the table to pull me into his arms and kiss me deeply. "Why were you so worried? It's a perfect gift."

"I don't know. I didn't know if you'd think it was too girly or presumptuous or something."

"It's not girly at all, sweetheart. And what do you mean by presumptuous?"

I couldn't meet his eyes. "I mean, like, if you thought I was presuming too much about our relations.h.i.+p or something."

He raised my chin with his fingers, forcing me to look at him. "Ally, I am completely and totally in love with you. You are not presuming too much to give me a ring announcing to the world we are in a relations.h.i.+p. I wish I had thought of it first, actually."

"Really?"

"Really." He kissed me. "I don't think you realize how much I love you."

"I'm beginning to get the picture," I said and pulled him down for another kiss.

Later, over a dessert of fruit, cake cubes, and white and dark chocolate fondue, I decided it was time to drop the bomb I had been saving for several days.

"Jack, do you remember before Christmas, when you told me about graduating early and joining ROTC?"

He finished chewing and put down his skewer. "c.r.a.p. Is this going to be one of those conversations?"

"Yep. I'm afraid so." I put down my skewer and reached across to take his hand, looking him directly in the eye. "I saw my counselor this week. The short version is I signed up for the same eCademy online courses you did and I'm taking a community college English cla.s.s my counselor signed off on to count for my senior English credit. I'm graduating this May with you, Jack."

"What? Ally, you're not doing this because of me, are you?" he said.

"No, not entirely. I will admit I got the idea from you, but I'm doing it for myself. Jack, I've never made a secret of the fact that I hate high school. And lately, with all this Seer/Oracle c.r.a.p, I think it's a good idea not to be tied up there any longer than necessary."

"What about cheerleading?" he countered.

I looked him in the eye. "Fun, but not nearly enough to keep me tethered to all the teenage drama that comes with it."

He smiled wryly. "Yeah, I understand. Listen, I won't lie-the idea that we can be in college together next year is awesome. As long as it's something you want for yourself. How are your mom and grandmother with this?"

"They took it surprisingly well, actually. Mom showed us an article, which proposes the idea that high school in general should only be three years."

"How did Tara take it?"

"She freaked out, of course. She hurled some truly impressive nasty names at me and then high-tailed it to the counselor's office to do the exact same thing," I admitted.

"So, will Tara be joining us at UNM next year, or is she going out of state, by some miracle?" he asked in a serious tone.

"Be nice." I laughed. "No, I'm afraid she is going to UNM with us. She's trying to talk me into rooming with her in the dorms."

"Sounds fun. Do you want to?"

"I'd rather room with you," I said with what I hoped was a seductive glance.

"Thanks for the mental image. I'm not going to be able to think of anything else now." He put his head in his hands and groaned.

"Good. I think it's a fabulous idea."

"Yeah, and I'm sure your mother would love it too. And I can imagine how hard Manny would kick my a.s.s. Listen, sweetheart." He leaned forward and clasped both my hands on the table. "You will still be seventeen when we start college next fall. How about we shelve any discussion about moving in together until you're at least eighteen, okay? For my sanity, please?"

"G.o.d, you're n.o.ble. Are you sure you're actually human? Do I not tempt you in the least?"

"Ally," he said, sounding a bit dangerous. "If we were not in a public restaurant right now, I would show you exactly how much you tempt me. Now behave yourself. Besides, Mat is nagging me to move into an apartment with him as soon as I graduate."

"I know! Tara can move in with Mat and I'll move in with you. It's the perfect solution!"

"You're hilarious. It's not happening." He released my hands and sat back. "You know, Ally, sweetheart, I smell a rat. I think you totally distracted me from the main discussion by bringing up living arrangements. Confess, you little manipulator!"

I tried my best to look innocently down at the table, but couldn't keep from laughing and was relieved when he joined in. "I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't mean to be manipulative. Sorry for my pathetic seduction attempts."

"Your seduction attempts are anything but pathetic. But seriously, is graduating early really your decision?"

"Yes. Please stop worrying about it. I am absolutely sure about this. I am beyond ready to be done with high school. If you were to dump me tomorrow, I would still stick with my plan," I a.s.sured him.

He smiled. "Fine. I'll stop worrying. I'm really glad we are going to be graduating at the same time. And I have no plans to dump you tomorrow or any other day."

Sunday morning, as we divided up the ch.o.r.es for the weekly top-to-bottom housecleaning torture my grandmother had devised years earlier, my mom dropped a small bomb of her own.

"Oh, by the way," she said with studied casualness, "I'm having a friend over for dinner this evening. I would appreciate if you were both here and on your best behavior." She didn't even look up from her ch.o.r.e list.

Grams and I met each other's surprised gaze, which quickly morphed into evil grins. "So, we finally get to meet your boyfriend, Mom? It's about time," I said.

"Yes, Jen. I was beginning to think you had invented him," Grams said breezily.

"Or maybe," my mother said as she ripped off the list of ch.o.r.es and handed them to each of us, "I wanted to make sure I was serious about him before inflicting you two on the poor man. Don't embarra.s.s me tonight." She pinned each of us with a sharp look that probably scared the c.r.a.p out of the little kids at the school where she was the princ.i.p.al.

Grams and I howled with laughter as Mom gathered her list and left the room.

"Well, Grams, as tempting as it is to devise ways to have fun at her expense tonight, I really think we should be on our best behavior. She's never brought a guy home before and we don't want to scare him away." I looked at her sternly. "So, no wigs, tea parties, or anything else weird. I need you to be normal, or whatever pa.s.ses for normal around here, all right?"

"Fine. Spoilsport," she muttered.

"Grams, did she really say she was serious about this guy? I don't know what I think about this. Have you seen him yet?"

"Nope. She's been keeping him on the DL for sure." Only my grandmother could pull off such a comment. "I'm going to go pump her for some more info so I can cyber-stalk him before he gets here."

When the doorbell rang promptly at 6 p.m., Grams and I were in place, both looking normal, but armed with the 411, as Grams put it, on one Brian Keller, 20-year decorated veteran homicide detective with the Albuquerque Police Department. I think she was actually disappointed not to find anything juicy about him.

Mom led him into the living room to meet us and I had to hand it to her: he was pretty cute for an older guy. He looked to be somewhere near 40, but I have to admit I'm not good with ages of people older than about 25. They all kind of look generic middle-aged. He was a lot taller than my mom and had light brown hair with a hint of gray around the temples. He had bright blue eyes that crinkled at the edges when he smiled, like maybe he knew how to laugh. For his sake I hoped so, since his day job was dealing with murderers. He shook hands with both Grams and I, looking us in the eye and not seeming awkward or stand-offish. So far, so good. He seemed nice and I got decent vibes from him, so I relaxed and decided to see how the rest of the evening went. Mom had prepared a great dinner of her signature pasta Puttanesca, making a special dish of it for me without the anchovies, capers, or olives, all of which are disgusting and which pretty much left tomatoes and garlic, but Brian seemed to be enjoying it.

"This is delicious, Jennifer. What's it called?" he asked. It was strange to hear someone call my mom 'Jennifer.' Everyone else called her Jen.

"It's called Puttanesca," Grams jumped in, "which means 'streetwalker.'" She watched him carefully for a reaction. "One story goes that the ladies of the evening would put it on their window sills to entice clients in with the smell."

"My favorite story is the one where the 'ladies' would fix it after a busy night at work to replenish their energy. Carb-loading, you know?" I added.

Brian smiled and said, "Well, it would definitely entice me. I don't think I'll even attempt to address your story, Ally."

Grams and I both laughed. Mom rolled her eyes. "What did I say about not embarra.s.sing me? Honestly, you two!"

"So, Ally, your mom says you're a cheerleader. That's great. I played football in high school." Brian was definitely trying to change the subject for my mother's benefit.

"Did you go to high school here in Albuquerque?"

"No, I grew up in southern California, in Anaheim, actually."