Chapter 20 - Quietus
The month of April ended without a fuss or a muss.
Several times, Helen went into the office to check the status of the fax machine.
One day, out of sheer concern, she called the number on the machine to ensure the line was active.
Thus far, there had been no word from either of her seraphim nor a meeting request for a face-to-face or even a coffee.
Instinct alone made her check the paper roll in the machine, and much to her dismay, everything worked fine.
“You can’t tell me that in this entire state, there isn’t a single asshole doing some uncouth shit?” She said, sitting, not understanding the quietness of the moment.
By the time Mustang arrived home, they’d shared a quiet meal, and he’d capped off his night on the couch, she’d reached a realization.
In the kitchen, leaning against the counter, she watched him reading a magazine on classroom management.
She wasn’t sure if he liked the job, hated it, or simply went to work each day because it is what a man was supposed to do, but she wasn’t sure if he was happy. As she thought the words, he looked up.
“The last time you looked at me like that, you walked over and loved me with your mouth,” he said, watching her closely. “Is that where that mind of yours is headed? If so, I’m good with it. No? Not that? Sorry to jump the happy gun. Down Colt; down boy.”
She smiled at him, then squinted and smiled again. This reaction from Helen elicited a facial response from him. His forehead furrowed, his eyes narrowed, and his lips tightened.
“I’ve often wondered what it is you see when you look at men, how you are able to read them so well or people in general. Helen, what are you seeing when you look at me?” He asked, suddenly concerned.
“I see your aura.”
“That is something that is visible to you?”
“Yes,” she said softly.
“And how does one go about obtaining such a skill?”
“You have to die, I guess, and come back to life,” she replied softly.
“The veil between the living and the dead is pulled, like a thread in the cosmos, and those who have crossed over and returned are gifted with the ability to point out the ungodly. The Watchers, or the fallen angels who mated with human women, created the descendants who can see the lines, pluck the threads, and bring back those who have work to do on Earth.”
Mustang sat for a minute looking at her with a straight face, then he smiled. “You just made all of that up and are so full of shit. What do you want, Helen? You don’t need any money, a car, or any jewelry... do you want to try something nasty in the bedroom and are scared to ask?”
He burst into laughter, knowing he had ruptured her little manipulation button. She was softening him up for a big ask, and he was invested and wanted to know what it was. “Seriously, wife, what are you seeing when you look at me like that?”
Helen walked over to the couch, seating herself next to him, placing her hand on his thigh. Honesty was her strongest weapon, and she had no reason to lie to him. However, she did manipulate the situation a little to make him more receptive to what she planned to ask him to do.
“Honestly? You have a blue aura,” she said, stroking his thigh. “It varies in hues, and when it is dark blue, like it is now, you are open and receptive to communication.”
“So, what do you want?” He asked, arching his eyebrow.
“I want you to teach me how to move,” she said slightly above a whisper, almost blushing.
He pressed his lips tightly together as he collected his thoughts. His mind went in several different directions before coming back to, “As in dance? You sure as hell can’t dance worth a lick. Is this for our wedding dance as man and wife? You picked a song?”
“Hadn’t gotten that far, but would you like to pick a song for us, or did you have one in mind?”
“Hell yeah, ‘Love Overboard’ by Gladys Knight. I keep hearing the refrain, ‘S.O.S.O.S.O.S.,’” he said, falling over on the couch in uproarious laughter.
“Oh, you got jokes,” she said, looking down at her hands, “and I can dance, a little.”
“Nope. No, you can’t, but baby, I will show you all the sexy moves in my dance cabinet, which I will open and break out,” he offered, sitting up and pounding his chest.
She sighed softly. “Thanks, but I’m talking law enforcement moves.
How to come into a building, how to sweep dark corners in a warehouse, and take down a person three times your size kind of moves.
Passion Fruit uses some Einstein shit that got me socked in the mouth and I came home with a fat lip.
I need more training. Teach me how to move like a professional so when I go out there alone, I can come home to my family. ”
Everything in her husband shifted. The sarcastic, playful vibe going was replaced by a man with a new mission. His job was to train her to survive. Helen had asked for his help as her man, her husband, and her protector. She needed him, and he was ready to lend a hand.
“We can start this weekend,” he said, watching her closely.
“Michael has a paintball course in his backyard in the woods,” she said. “We went up against your parents and Rebekah, and Naomi took out Mark. Can we set up something like that?”
“Sure; head out tomorrow to get some paintball guns, target sheets, and stuff from the sporting goods store if you have time,” he said.
“I have nothing but time,” she said. “There is one close by your office. Can I take you to lunch tomorrow?”
He smiled and asked, “You, coming to my office and taking me to lunch?”
“If you’d like that kind of thing,” she said, feeling uncertain about making the offer.
“I’d love that kind of thing,” he said. “No one has ever offered to do it before, so I feel really emotional right now.”
He began to wave his hands in front of his eyes as if he were attempting to stop the flow of tears. She loved his sense of humor and ability to lighten the mood when needed. Helen moved on the couch, leaning back against the armrest. Slowly, she lifted the tail of her dress.
“Then show me some appreciation by loving me with your mouth,” she said, sticking out her tongue and licking her bottom lip.
“Make me,” he challenged, arching one eyebrow, a la The Rock.
“I will come sit this on your mustache and ride your chin like your mouth owes me back pay,” she told him.
“Fuck, okay,” he said, leaning back. “Then dance lessons.”
He waved his hands for her to bring it on, and when she didn’t move, he reached one hand over, taking her arm and pulling her to him.
She didn’t know how he managed to move so quickly for a man of his size, but he ended up on his back with Helen straddling his face upside down, her face conveniently in his crotch.
“Well, fine, if you’re going to be that way,” she said, laughing as she felt the heat of his mouth on her lady parts. “Okay, then. Fine. Yes, that is just fine.”
The evening started on the couch but ended in the bedroom wrapped in each other’s arms. There were fine details to settle for the week, but she would take out her planner and go down her list. As hard as she tried to get to sleep, she couldn’t rest. Her mind raced with a sense of unsettling she had never felt before.
To calm herself, she made a mental checklist as she rested in his arms.
? The RSVPs were coming in, and thus far, mostly everyone was coming, and she meant everyone.
? The table assignments were complete.
? Mark wanted to know why there were so many packages arriving at his home since Ruth hadn’t told him why.
? The wedding dress was in the closet; the cranberry embroidery needed to be completed.
? The hotel reservations for Mustang and her were checked off her list.
? The honeymoon had been booked.
? She had a passport.
? The plane tickets were in the safe in her craft room, not the main safe where he would see them.
? The wine tour in Italy was booked.
? The hotel in Italy was reserved through the tour company.
? The honeymoon was paid for.
? Payment had been sent to the hotel for the wedding and reception.
? She had bought a couple of weapons.
Sighing again, she closed her eyes. The fax machine was going to go off soon, and what would be on it was going to take more than she currently had.
Asking him for help was the right thing to do.
In her gut, she felt it. Her gut was unsettled as well.
Whatever was coming would be big, and it was going to suck.
“Train for the unknown; be prepared for what is known,” she said softly, clinging to her man attempting to even out her breathing. Slowly, she found sleep. Her gut would not allow it to be peaceful.
****
TRAINING WITH THE MUSTANG began simply enough: a few targets affixed to trees on the property and the buildings would be used for cover and concealment.
The month of May took a new turn with her man being happy to spend the weekends teaching his wife how to move from covered areas to wide open spaces.
At the end of the month, he wanted to try a new training tactic with her.
“Helen, you will need to tuck and roll,” he told her, but she didn’t really want to tuck, nor did she want to roll on the ground. “You can’t simply walk into a building and say, ‘Hey, here’s my head, put a bullet in it.’”
“Have you seen some of these places where these nasty elements hide out? It is squalor, and you never know what is on those floors,” she spouted, scowling at him. “I may tuck and roll myself into a pile of an unhoused man’s fecal droppings, or worse, his midnight rub out.”
“That is a distressing visual,” Mustang said.
“Again, the inside of these buildings, eewww,” she said, raising the nose of her paintball gun.
“Okay, fine, but next we have to look at takedowns,” he told her. “I am twice your size and nearly fifty pounds heavier. You can use my weight against me.”
“Passion Fruit tried to teach me this, but I got all caught in my head with the calculations.”