The Bodyguard & Ms Jones. Susan Mallery
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trailed behind her, shutting the doors of the minivan.
“I’m going out to play,” he said, hovering by the back door.
“Me, too,” Allison added. Her knee was better with only a small bandage covering the worst of the scrape.
“Go ahead,” Cindy said, then laughed as they closed the door. “They’ll do anything to avoid putting away the groceries. Even play outside in the heat.”
“They do that, anyway,” he said.
“You’re right.” She glanced around at the kitchen. “Do you think we have enough food?”
He followed her gaze. The countertops were in the shape of an L. Bags of groceries covered the white surface. There were twelve-packs of soda, cartons of detergent and double packs of cereal.
“Expecting a famine?” he asked.
She chuckled. “It’s triple-coupon day. You should have seen the lines. And soda was on sale, along with a great cut of meat. The grocery store does this a couple of times in the summer. I suppose it’s to get people out in the heat.”
Money was tight. He should have figured that out already. She’d explained that most divorced women couldn’t afford to keep their houses. “How much do I owe you for what I’ve eaten?”
She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. He supposed she was trying to intimidate him, but all she did was draw her shirt tighter over her breasts. He’d already had two highly erotic dreams about her. He looked away and forced himself to think of something else.
“I was making conversation, not hinting,” she said. “I could feed you for a month and not even get close to what your sister has given my kids in snacks and meals. So I don’t want to hear another word about paying me for your food.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He rose to his feet. “At least let me help put the groceries away.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ll fall flat on your butt.” She leaned over the table and pushed on his chest. He was still tired from carrying in two bags, so he didn’t argue. He took the glass of juice she offered and watched her put away the food.
She moved around the kitchen with graceful ease. Her movements were almost a dance, the smooth lifting and bending. She kicked off her shoes and he saw she painted her toenails pale pink. Her shorts were red and her T-shirt had a drawing printed on the front that proclaimed her to be Queen of Everything. Small gold hoops dangled from her earlobes and a red headband held her hair off her face.
He supposed there was nothing unusual about Cindy Jones. In this neighborhood, hundreds of women just like her wore T-shirts and bare feet as they put away groceries. Yet, he’d never sat in a kitchen and observed the ritual.
She pulled three pink-paper-wrapped packages out of a bag and sighed. “Pork roast, roasted potatoes and salad. My favorite meal.”
“Sounds great.”
She placed two of the packages in the freezer and one in the refrigerator, then tossed him the empty bag to fold. “It is. Nelson never appreciated my cooking. He often wanted to go out. But I like eating at home. Which do you prefer?”
Mike was startled by the question. “I don’t cook much.”
“Of course you wouldn’t when you’re with a client or subject or whatever you call them. But what about when you’re off work? Or did you leave that for your lady friends?”
“Sometimes women cook for me.”
She was putting away cereal, raising herself on tiptoe and sliding the new boxes behind the old. As she came down on her heels, she glanced at him and smiled.
“Why is it men can take care of themselves perfectly well when they’re alone, but the first second they live with a woman, they suddenly become helpless?” she asked.
“I’ve never lived with a woman.”
The smile faded as her eyebrows drew together. “Really? I knew you hadn’t been married, but I just assumed...” Her voice trailed off. She reached into the full bags on the kitchen table and drew out canned beans.
Until she questioned him, he hadn’t really thought about it. “My life-style isn’t conducive to long-term relationships.”
“I guess not.” She reached in the bag for more canned goods. “No roommates?”
“I told you I travel light.”
“Ah, yes. Extra baggage weighs you down. Fight hard, fight lean.” She paused and shrugged. “For a long time I blamed the marines when my father left, but as I grew older, I saw that lots of other officers managed to balance a career and family. They were terrific fathers.” She looked in the bags on the table, then picked one up and started folding it. Her green eyes focused on something above his head. “When my father missed an important event at school or forgot my birthday, I used to wish one of the other families would adopt me. My friend Lorraine had a wonderful family. Warm, loving, everything I wanted. I remember thinking it wasn’t fair.”
Mike was startled when he realized he could picture Cindy as a child. She would look a little like Allison, only her eyes would be dark with pain. “Life’s not fair,” he said.
“I figured that one out on my own,” she said. “Although I still thought I could make it fair when I married Nelson.”
She finished folding the bag and slipped it into an open one, then moved to the long counter and started putting away fresh vegetables.
“Why did you get married?” he asked.
“The usual reasons.”
“Which are?”
She looked at him over her shoulder. “You don’t know?”
“I never married. Never saw the need.” Or felt the compulsion. He liked women. Sex was great, but aside from that, he didn’t get the point. Why would anyone want to share quarters with someone else? He’d heard the fights, listened to his buddies complain. It was better to be alone. It was certainly easier.
“You ever been in love, Mike?” she asked.
“No.” He didn’t want to think about the loving part. That was the one piece of the puzzle that eluded him. Without wanting to, he remembered Cindy holding Allison in her arms after the little girl had been injured. The child had clung with the trust of someone who knows they’re loved and will be taken care of. Cindy hadn’t asked for anything in return, she’d simply given. He believed love existed—he’d seen it. It just didn’t live in his world. He hadn’t loved anyone, and no one had ever loved him, except maybe his sister.
She leaned against the counter and tilted her head to one side. “It’s lovely. Your heart beats fast, your palms get all sweaty.”
“Sounds like the flu.”
“Funny. When I first met Nelson, I just knew he was the one.”
“Because you felt all tingly inside?” The question was meant to come out sarcastic, but instead he sounded curious. And he was.
“Actually, no. That should have been my first clue. With Nelson, the love grew more slowly. I was attracted to him because he was so different from me. His family has lived in Houston for three generations. He was stable. Until college, he’d never been out of the state. I thought he was the answer to my prayers. I was wrong on that one.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too, but it’s done. I’m going to do the best I can with my kids. They’re going to have everything I didn’t. Stability, a sense of continuity. A chance to grow up in one place. That’s one of the things I like about living here. I know our neighbors, and they know us.”
Mike had lived in his L.A. apartment for five years and hadn’t known even one of his neighbors. Of course, he was gone a lot, but even