Page 53 of Inevitably Yours

0960:21.47…and counting.

Those damn flowersfinally stopped taunting him by greeting him each time he walked into Augusta’s kitchen. It was like seeing Jesse sitting there, staring at Augusta all moon-eyed while they shared meals.

Seeing them here, in this setting, and seeing Augusta here and happy, made him thankful she didn’t take his suggestion of burning them in the barbeque pit. She accused him of being jealous, which he denied wholeheartedly. He didn’t get jealous, but as soon as her back was turned, he had thumped a bud.

It was Erika who suggested they bring them to Melanie when they “introduced’ her to Cephina. John had never visited Melanie’s grave; he never had reason to before. But sitting here on a picnic blanket, surrounded by the people who loved her the most, he felt a twinge of loss for not having had the pleasure.

Erika, Tori, and Gus, with Cephina in her arms, were curled up on a blanket of their own right by her headstone. The men stayed back, not wanting to intrude while the ladies talked to her like she was standing right there—tearfully introducing her to Cephina, updating her on the business, and playing some awful techno song they said she would have loved.

John sat back, eavesdropping but strangely not feeling like an intruder. Melanie was loved in life and death, and Tori and Erika seemed to want Gus to love her, too. That was the unidentifiable look on Gus’ face, acceptance. She was finally accepting being accepted and stepping into her place in the Reid clan, and it was beautiful.

“Oh, my God, remember that time she dragged us to that weird karaoke bar?” Tori asked Erika.

“The one that I swore was a front for human trafficking?”

“Hell yes. I was terrified to have a drink for fear I would end up chained to a bed in some third world shit hole.”

John chuckled.

“Wait, wait, wait. Start at the beginning, Gus, you have got to hear this.” And they proceeded, at top volume, to tell Gus a story that was borderline unbelievable.

“Hahaha, it’s true, you know,” Andy said from his position beside John. “I remember that night. Erika called me in North Dakota, it must have been after midnight. She said she wanted to leave the line open in case something happened so I could call nine-one-one. I stayed up all night listening to them drunkenly belt out the standard karaoke staples, over and over, until four in the morning. Through a shitty cell phone connection, no less. By the time they stumbled to a cab, I wanted to slaughter Steve Perry in his sleep for daring to write ‘Don’t Stop Believin’.’”

“Melanie must have been an exceptional person to earn the love and loyalty of those ladies.”

It was Walker who answered, “Yes, she was. She was the parts of all of us that we didn’t embrace in ourselves.” John not only got a rare glimpse of Augusta today, he got one of Walker as well. “But she couldn’t dance for shit.” That was more like him.

Another hour and a dozen more Melanie stories and it was time to pack it in. Cephina was having none of it. She was done for the day.

“John, do you mind giving Augusta a lift back home? We promised Frank and Francis we’d bring our little angel by for a visit.”

“Of course, I don’t mind.”

Goodbye kisses and hugs were exchanged graveside and carside. Now that Augusta felt accepted, it looked like farewells were going to take forever.

Once he had her in his car, alone, it felt…right. They chatted all the way back to her place. She relayed the stories he had just heard, but he kept his mouth shut and listened like it was the first time. In a way, it was; it was more intimate when she shared with him.

They pulled in the driveway only to be greeted by a car blocking it and a familiar punk standing on the porch talking to January, who pointed to them.

Jesse. Part of him felt sorry for the kid but part of him thought he needed to be taught a lesson. Both parts agreed, he needed to be sent on his merry way with the distinct impression that his attention toward Augusta needed to stop.

This was where John’s newly hatched skill of not always being in the driver’s seat was tested. He had all but bolted out of the car and leveled the kid. Not that he was a violent man or a jealous man, as a rule, but it was a respect thing. This punk had to know they were together by now, yet he kept turning up like a bad penny.

“John,” Augusta stopped him with a touch, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say the green-eyed monster has his claws in you.” She unbuckled herself. “But, since that can’t possibly be the case, allow me to let him down gently.”

Her door had just opened when John pulled her back into the car by her wrist. After bringing his lips to her ear, he inhaled her scent—it never failed to make him hard as steel. “If I told you that was exactly the case, would you let him down not so gently?”

That must have been the right thing to say because Augusta grabbed him by his bearded cheeks and kissed him. They had shared kisses she initiated before, but this was the first time she really kissed him and took charge of it, choreographed the dance of their tongues.

And John let her.

It was a rather unexpected pleasure. She ended the kiss, leaving him drunk on her. “Since that’s the case, I’ll let him down hard, if you want.” John really liked this role reversal. It wasn’t something he ever thought to explore before, but damn if he wasn’t thinking about just that as he watched Augusta bounce up the stairs and sent the young buck packing in under a minute flat.

John relished the look of defeat on the young fellow’s face a little too much. He couldn’t resist a taunting wave to him when he exited his car and Jesse entered his.

At least he felt bad about it, a little. Jesse wasn’t a bad guy. Andy never would have allowed him to take Augusta on a date if he were. Yeah, I’m still salty about it, though.

After more than four decades on this planet and more loss than anyone should ever endure, John could say he was genuinely happy for the first time ever.

---