The Marshal Pt. 06

"Get away? What do you mean? Where?"

"I did some looking while at work today. There's a place a couple of hours from here, in Lincolnville, on Penobscot Bay. I think we should go. It's an eighteenth-century house that's been converted to a bed and breakfast. I'll take a Friday and Monday, and we can make a four-day weekend of it. It'll help take your mind off things."

She smiled, the first real smile he'd seen since he told her about her father passing. "I think I'd like that. When?"

"They're booked through Labor Day, but how about right after? I'll make the reservations for the first weekend that's available."

She nodded. "That sounds lovely. I could use a break from planning the wedding too."

"Good! It's decided."

She watched his eyes for a long moment and pulled his lips to hers. "Thank you," she murmured after the kiss.

"For what?"

"For taking care of me... for being you."

"I wish I could do more."

"You're doing enough. Today was better than yesterday, and tomorrow I'll be in Bangor. I'm not the first person whose dad has died. I'll survive."

He could see the creeping sadness trying to take her again. "Try not to think about it too much, okay?"

"I just wish I could see him," she said and coughed out a sob before gathering herself.

"I know. I wish you could too."

"There's no way?"

"No," he replied softly, shaking his head. "I wish there was, but there isn't."

Her lips thinned. "Afterwards? Maybe I could just visit his grave?"

"Britney..." he began softly.

"Dammit! Am I going to be stuck in his godforsaken place the rest of my life?" she snapped before she leapt to her feet and stomped to the bedroom.

He knew she didn't mean what she said. He rose to follow her, pausing with a wince as she slammed the bedroom door. He sighed. This was the second time they'd fought, unless you counted the time in Fort Smith where she took a swing at him before they ended up fucking their brains out in a contest of wills.

Discounting Fort Smith, since he didn't consider that fighting as much as them giving in to what they both wanted, the only other time they'd fought was when they found out he had to return her to New York for Kwang-hoon's trial.

He tried the door. It was locked. It'd take him less than five seconds to open the door, but he didn't try. He rapped softly. "You okay? You want to talk about it?"

"Just leave me alone," her voice answered.

He sighed again, wondering if this was going to be their normal... where something would upset her and she'd stomp off. The last time she'd stormed into the bedroom she'd reappeared and apologized an hour or so later. He considered opening the door and taking her into his arms, holding her until she realized he was only trying to keep her safe, but he decided to give her space. At least until bedtime. After that, she could either sleep with him or go to the other bedroom because he'd be damned before he let her drive him out of his own bedroom.

He turned away. It was still early. She had several hours to cool off before he opened the door and presented her with a choice to make. He thought about waiting for her to come out but decided if she wanted to lock herself in the bedroom, he could find something useful to do while she pouted. He put his shoes back on and went to the barn.

Britney was spending her free time using the rough-cut rotary mower, saw, and stump grinder to partially clear the land around the lake. Even without taking down the larger trees, it was amazing the difference her efforts on clearing the undergrowth was making. All she did was drive the tractor. He made sure the equipment was serviced, the proper implement was attached, and the tractor was fueled.

He pulled on a pair of blue disposable gloves from the box he kept in the barn and checked the fuel on the tractor, side-by-side, and lawnmower. The tractor was getting low on fuel, so he attached the electric pump on his portable fuel tank to the tractor and topped everything off. As soon as fueling was complete, he checked the level of the tank. It was getting low, and he'd have to take it into town soon to fill it up again. A fifty-gallon tank of diesel used to last all summer, but with Britney doing so much work with the tractor, he was making regular trips into town to replenish his supply.

Fueling complete, he checked the engine oil on the equipment. Everything was in order. He'd just pulled the inspection plug on the rotary cutter's gearbox when Britney appeared in the door. He saw her, but he was almost finished, so he shined a light into the hole. The oil level was fine. He began screwing the plug back into the hole, glancing over his shoulder as he did.

"Hey."

"Are you mad?" she asked.

"Should I be?" he asked as he gave the nut a firm twist with the wrench to make sure it was tight.

"I don't know."

He rose. "No, I'm not mad."

"I'm sorry. I know you're right. It's just so... frustrating. I didn't realize everything I was agreeing to, what I was giving up, when I accepted witness protection."

He removed the plastic gloves and tossed them into the large plastic trashcan. He tugged her into a hug, and she wrapped her arms around him as she melted into his chest. "I know it's hard."

"I'm sorry for taking it out on you," she said softly. "I know it's not your fault. It's just that I get so frustrated. Kwang-hoon has fucked up everything in my life. Dad and I were finally connecting when Kwang-hoon lost his shit, then I didn't get to see Dad during the last year of his life, and now I can't even go to his funeral, and it's all because of Kwang-hoon!"

"I know."

She sighed. "Thank you for being so patient with me."

"I know you sometimes need your space, but let's try not to make a habit of this, okay?"

"Please don't give up on me."

"Never."

"Can we go back inside?"

"Let me grease the cutter first. I'm almost done."

"Need some help?"

He grinned. He knew she didn't want to help and was trying to make up. She liked driving the tractor and lawnmower, but that was all.

"No, but you can stay and watch if you want," he said, letting her off the hook.

She nodded. He pulled on another pair of the disposable gloves before he took the grease gun off the shelf and quickly went around the cutter and tractor, greasing the machine with one or two pumps of the handle. While he had the gun out, he greased the lawnmower as well. It took less than ten minutes, and he was done. He wiped up the extra grease from the gun and put it back on the shelf.

"Done," he proclaimed as he peeled off the gloves.

He tossed the gloves before they stepped out of the barn, Britney huddling under the eve to stay out of the rain as he closed the big equipment door and locked it. They dashed across the graveled parking pad to the house before shaking off water in the small mud room.

"You should have stayed in the house," he said as he wiped water from his hair.

"I wanted to make sure you weren't mad."

"No, I wasn't mad."

"Will you hold me?"

"Let me wash up."

He went to the bathroom and washed his hands. The gloves did a good job keeping his hands clean, but they left them feeling clammy. Britney was sitting on the couch when he returned, and he sat down beside her. It was twilight, and the heavy rain clouds made it darker than it otherwise would be. August was typically Maine's driest month, so the rain was welcomed. She snuggled into his side as he wrapped his arm around her. They sat in companionable silence for several long moments.

"I have a thought," he said softly.

"What?"

"You can't go to your Dad's funeral, but I think we can manage a trip to his grave."

She twisted around to look at him. "Are you serious?"

He nodded in the gloom. "Yeah, with some caveats. We'll have to give the circus some time to die down. A couple of months at least. And it'll have to be quick visit. Most important of all, we need to make sure nobody else is around to see you or see which grave you visit. We may have to wait until winter so you can bundle up in a coat and not look out of place."

"Yes! Yes! Whatever you want me to do! Thank you, Rob! Thank you!"

He pulled her into a quick kiss. "I know it's important to you. As long as we can do it safely, I want you to have some closure."

"Thank you," she said again, her voice thick. She sniffed. "You're going to make me cry again."

"Come here," he said, pulling her into his chest.

He held her as she wept. It wasn't the shoulder-shaking sobs of yesterday, though he could tell she was crying by her occasional sniff, but he didn't know if that was better or worse. He had no experience dealing with the type of loss she was coping with. The biggest loss in his life thus far was having a girlfriend telling him to go fuck himself because she was tired of his shit. That was nothing compared to Britney's loss because he hadn't cared deeply about those women.

He held her, trying to lend her what strength and comfort he could from his touch. After a moment she sat up and wiped at her eyes. "Ah..." she gasped as she sniffed and wiped her eyes again. "You must get tired of me crying all the time."

"No. If you need to cry, you go right ahead."

"I hate feeling like this."

"How?"

"Out of control. Like I can't believe he's dead even though I know he is, and when I think about it, I get angry. Angry at the world, angry at Kwang-hoon, angry at Dad for not dealing with Kwang-hoon so I didn't have to go into hiding and could have been there with him."

He nodded. "That seems pretty normal to me. Isn't there supposed to be five stages to loss? I don't remember what they all are, but anger and denial are the first two, and acceptance is the last. It's all part of the healing process."

"I don't want to feel this way! I hate it!"

"I know, but there's nothing you can do. You just have to get through it. I'm here if you need me, and there's still the offer of counseling from the Marshal Service. I'm sure I can--"

"No," she said softly as she shook her head. "No," she repeated. "I just try not to think about him too much."

"Don't try to hold it in. I don't know much, but I know that's not a good idea. If you don't grieve, you can't heal."

"I don't like biting your head off for no reason."

He kissed her quickly. "I can take it."

"You shouldn't have to."

"But I can." He paused. "Look, if you need to burn off some anger, do what I do. Go outside and do something that requires hard work. I split wood or pick up rocks. The rocks and wood don't care if I throw them around. After a while you're too tired to be mad anymore, and if you're still mad the next day, do it again."

She looked at him, her face in shadow. "You're not saying that just so I'll go around and pick up all those damned rocks and haul them to the lake for you, are you?"

He barked out a brief laugh. She was already picking up rocks before she mowed an area for the first time, hauling them to the lake's edge, and dumping them in with all the others that were there naturally. He did it with the side-by-side because it was faster, but she did it with the tractor's bucket so she didn't have to lift the rocks so high and could use a shovel to help muscle the bigger rocks around.

"No, but you'd be surprised how well it works."

"I'll take your word for it."

"I told you, we'll get through this together."

She sighed. "I know. I didn't sleep good last night, despite your best efforts. Are you ready for bed?"

"Right behind you."

He followed her into the bathroom. He wanted her. He wanted to hold her and kiss away her grief and pain, but he didn't try to seduce her. Like last night, she'd have to come to him if she wanted him to make love to her.

They brushed their teeth and he shaved, just in case, and then followed her into the bedroom. She was already in bed as he undressed in the darkness. He slipped into the bed and she snuggled into his side, offering a kiss before settling in. When she became still, he kissed her on the head, but other than the slow caresses of his fingers on her back and shoulder, and the gentle holding of the hand she had resting on his chest, that was all. After a moment he felt the drop of a tear on his chest. He pretended he didn't notice, briefly squeezing her tighter in a quiet show of support.

He held her, wishing he could do more to take away her pain, until the darkness of sleep took him.