Mouse Bk. 07 Ch. 03

She didn't even have children of her own. Paul couldn't even give her that.

She was more alone than she'd ever felt in her life, even more alone than poor Michael.

<8 Success

"Forbidden Romance, Rose speaking."

"Hi, Rose. It's Mona."

"Hi, Boss."

"Don't call me 'Boss.'"

"Okay, Boss."

"Ha, ha. Nice. Don't do it again. Is Mel there?"

"No, but Carla's mother is here, in a panic. It seems Carla is a few month's pregnant, but didn't have the nerve to tell anyone until now. So the gown needs to be resized, and they need it way sooner than they'd planned."

"Oh, great, magnificent. What a twist. Okay, calm her down, tell her I'll make sure it happens. Everyone deserves to have their own, one, perfect wedding, no matter what."

"So you always tell me. I think she wants you to..."

"No! No, not today. I'm seeing Michael later. I mean, I said I'd baby sit. Just take care of it."

"Yes, Boss."

"And don't call me 'Boss.'"

"Mel was in earlier, looking at the books."

"Again? Did you tell her to get lost?"

"I can't do that. She owns the place!"

"I own the place. Quarter own the place. Look, I run the place. It's my place, even if she put most of the money up to start it, which is none of your business anyway."

Rose didn't answer. Of course she didn't. She couldn't. She was just a receptionist and secretary and accountant, all wrapped into one, trapped between two rather strong willed, fiery, female bosses.

"Okay, Rose, look, I'm sorry. Just, the next time she wants to look at the books, tell her I said to call me first. Just as a courtesy."

"Yes, Boss."

Mouse started to chastise her again, then bit her tongue.

"You can close up early today, too. Not too early, but fifteen or twenty minutes. It's a nice day out. Get some fresh air."

"Thanks, Mona."

Mouse smiled. She held baby Michael in her arms, cooing and laughing at and with him.

Some days, most days, she really loved her life.

<8 More Death

Mouse threw the black cap and veil onto the table. She'd felt silly wearing it, and the damn black dress, even if she did look damn good in it, and she'd felt silly pretending to cry. The bastard was finally in the ground and it was where he belonged.

A tear came then. She wasn't being fair, and she knew it. She couldn't believe it had taken her until now to feel like crying. She hadn't cried when he told her he had cancer. She was going to tell him that same week that she wanted a divorce. The bastard made it too hard to leave him, then hung on for two more long years.

She wanted to remember him fondly, to think of the good times, but there virtually weren't any. She'd rushed headlong away from Michael, into Paul, and it had been the one, biggest mistake of her life. It was the only regret she'd ever had.

He'd spent the whole marriage cheating on her, and leaving her alone for weeks on end. He knew he couldn't have children, and yet he'd never told her, knowing the whole time how important it was to her. He was so fucking selfish. Then he traveled around the country, sleeping with who knows how many women, while Mouse slowly died.

Well, that wasn't true. She'd built her business. She'd helped Michael with his girls. She'd become a mother to them at least, and the helping hand that Michael so needed after Kate's death.

And then she was blessed with Michael Jr. Her life turned to magic, in a way, when he came along.

She hoped he was okay with Melanie. It killed her to leave him alone with Mel. She was his mother, for God's sake. She shouldn't be leaving him. But Mel knew what she was doing. She'd done well enough with her own kids. She could be trusted.

Mouse did need the time to get ready. It would only take a short while. She had to change. She had to look beautiful.

She was seeing Michael tonight. It was too soon, but she was doing it anyway. She'd been doing it for a while now, and as of today there was no holding back. She was seeing Michael every night she could, and he didn't know it yet, but soon she was moving in to help him raise his girls, and to give Michael Jr. a father.

8><8 Comfort

Mouse nestled in the warmth of Michael's chest on the bench. Maddie ran giggling after Amelia, who helped little Michael along with a firm, motherly hand. She was going to grow up to be like Mel, Mouse could tell. She smiled at the thought. She was going to have to do something about that, to nip it in the bud.

"Five more minutes, girls. Five more, then we have to go home," Michael yelled to them.

Michael's hand, his wonderful, perfect hand, held her shoulder, keeping her close. They really should be more discreet, she thought. She almost kept forgetting that they weren't married, that the children weren't entirely theirs to the world, and if people had any idea what their lives were like, what Mouse and Michael were to each other when they could get any of their rare moments of privacy, all hell would break lose.

Things had never gone the way they were supposed to for her, ever, or for Michael, either. Or maybe that was wrong. Mouse let one hand slip into the crease of Michael's shirt. She spiraled one finger, gently twisting Michael's chest hairs around it. When he didn't react, she tugged at it, making sure that it hurt. Michael's large, beautiful hand squeezed Mouse's shoulder firmly in response.

Maybe this was always exactly the way things were supposed to be.

<8 Peace

The air was dry, but cold. A low ceiling of mottled gray hurtled by overhead. The wind gusted strong and hard, not biting or bitter, but not comfortable, tearing brown leaves from sleeping trees and whipping them about in crazy, twisting dances. It was a dreary, lively day, made for staying indoors, reading and resting and thinking. It was the sort of day that Michael and Mouse loved to spend together.

The foursome stood before the grave. The adults, and the younger children, quite a large crowd, actually, had all moved on. These four, still in college, had a special bond with her. They'd been close as kids, to each other and to her, and they wanted to share one long, sorrowful moment talking about her in her presence, making her time in their lives important for one last, fleeting moment.

"Yes! I swear it."

"Grandma Mouse said that?"

"She knew a lot about sex. A lot."

"How? She was so old..."

"She wasn't always old, dimwit."

"It's just hard to think of her like that. Ewwww!"

"Well, she said that she'd done things we'd never believe, sex on a beach in Mexico, sex with someone watching, sex with her folks right upstairs, and one thing that no one would ever believe."

"What was that?"

"I could never get her to say, no matter how much I asked."

"Well what else did she say? What did she tell you?"

"Oh, lots of things, like what guys really like, what to do to get them aroused, what to do when they're not doing it for you, how to tell what you really want from a guy, that kind of stuff."

"Ick. I can't imagine talking to Grandma Mouse about stuff like that."

"I can. I can imagine those twinkling little eyes, and that mischievous smile, and just the feeling that she knew way more than she was saying."

"She was always like that."

"But not about sex!"

"Yeah, but I can imagine it being about sex."

"She absolutely did, about sex. She knew a ton, and shared it all. Well, almost all."

"I wonder what she'd done that was so secret."

"I don't know. All I know is that when she clammed up about it, instead she told me 'Whatever you do, make sure you have no regrets. Not with love. Not with sex, or lust, which are just as important. Forget everyone else. Forget them all. To hell with them. Do what makes you happy. Sometimes you have to do what's wrong to make things right. Do what makes your heart thunder and your head light and your body tingle and your eyes smile. Just do it. No regrets. No damned regrets.'"

"That sounds like Grandma Mouse."

"Shit. If Mom heard her say that to me she'd have a fit."

"I rather expect that she told Mom the same thing when she was our age."

"Ick. That's not something I want to think about."

The four of them stood in silence, looking at the twin stones where brother and sister were buried, side by side. A small picture of a mouse was even carved in the midst of her name on the headstone. They both would have liked that. Michael had died more than a decade ago, leaving Mouse alone, for a long while, with only the children, her son and two nieces, and their own many children, all "grandchildren" to Grandma Mouse, to keep her company.

Now they rested, Michael and Mouse, side by side, as was Mouse's wish, for an eternity.

The four held hands, and hung their heads. Katherine sniffled and sobbed quietly, suddenly overcome with a resurgence of emotion. She'd thought she was past it by now.

"Come on. Grandma Mouse would die if she heard you crying. She'd say it wasn't right."

That got a chuckle from all of them, even sniffling Katherine.

One by one they released their hands, said goodbye one last time, and drifted away, leaving Michael and Mouse alone together for eternity.

Her entire life, Mouse had done everything wrong. What she'd done was wrong. Ask anyone, and they'd tell you, if they had known, that what Michael and Mouse had done, how they had lived, was wrong. Yet in the end, somehow, in spite of them all, Mouse had gotten it all, every bit of it, right.

* * *

— From the author —

And so it ends. If I made you cry, I'm sorry, but I'm not, it's what I wanted to happen.

First, let me mention that, whatever you choose to read into the ending, I don't either condone or disapprove of any illegal sexual acts. What other people choose to do is their own business, with its own right or wrong, and always with repercussions, for them, and for others. Read into Mouse's story, and the ending, whatever you choose, knowing that your interpretation is precisely your own, and not necessarily my intent. Simply know that the story is and says more than appears on the surface, and more than is obvious without considerable thought.

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—O8><8O—

^^^^^^^^^^ (For those that missed this in an earlier book, this is two mice, kissing.)