Forget Me Never by Sable Hunter (books successful people read txt) 📗

“Damn!” Cato was leaning over her shoulder.  “They all look good enough to eat.”

“I want this one,” Fresca touched one of the figures.

“Which one?” Savannah teased.  “You’d better keep your sticky fingers off my Patrick.”

“Chief Frownsalot makes my pulse jump,” she turned the photo around and pointed at her choice.  “I want to walk down the aisle with him.”

“That’s Philip Hawke, and this one is Jayco and the handsome one in the middle is mine, of course.”

“Damn, Vannah!” Cato croaked.  “You’re guy is ripped!  I bet he’s hung like a horse.”

Tammany covered Cato’s mouth and laughed.  “We’ve got to get her a muffler.”

“I don’t know, Cato.  I haven’t got to investigate his equipment, yet.”  Trying to change the subject a bit she focused on Fresca’s comment.  “So, you think a man like Hawke could change your mind about marriage?”

“Heck no,” her friend quipped as she scraped the last bit of cherry juice from her bowl.  “I will never enter into the bonds of holy matrimony.  But I will be one of your bridesmaids and Hawke is who I want to be paired with.  I bet he’s good in bed.”

“Give me that,” Savannah took the photo back, a little unnerved.  “Nobody said we were getting married.  I’ve only had one date with him and that was just lunch.”

“Ha!  Nana Fontenot said you’re getting married and that makes it gospel.  Besides, you’ve been talking to him nonstop on the computer.  I bet you two know everything about one another by now.”

“Maybe,” Savannah mumbled.  “I want some crawfish.”  She waved her menu around hoping to catch the waiter’s attention.

Tammany pushed the menu down and snapped her fingers in Savannah’s face. “What’s wrong?  Has something happened to make you feel uncertain about Patrick?  I thought everything was going great.”

“It is,” she looked from one friend to another.  “The problem is me.  I’m just not used to good things happening to me and I keep expecting something to happen to spoil it.”

Fresca and Cato hugged her on either side.  “Everything is going to be okay,” Cato whispered in her charming lilt.  “I shall pray for you.”

“Thank you,” she kissed Cato on the cheek.  Cato’s prayers were pure and God probably gave them first priority.  Looking at Tammany’s somewhat distracted expression, Savannah remembered the earlier puzzling reference.  “What third world country are you going to?”

“Jamaica, I’ve joined the Peace Corp.”

“Really?” Savannah stared at her with mouth agape.  “The last time you went to Jamaica was on a cruise.  Where did this come from?”

“I’m tired of my life, Savannah.  I want to do something real.”

Their server came to take their order about that time and everyone paused in their conversation, but as soon as possible, Savannah picked it back up.  “Tammany Benoit, what are you talking about?  Your life is meaningful.  I think you are the best teacher a child could ever have.”

“But I don’t really teach, Savannah.  That’s the problem.  I’m a private tutor.  That’s as close as my family would let me get to actually working.  And my dad only allows me to tutor ‘certain’ people’s children.” She made quotation marks in the air.

“And your answer to that quandary is to up and move to Jamaica?” Fresca asked as she waved a longneck beer bottle in the air.

“Yes,” Tammany answered in a way that made them all realize the conversation was over.

“So,” Cato patted Savannah’s hand maternally.  “When is hot, hard and hung coming home?”

Savannah laughed all the way home at Cato’s habit of getting them all in trouble.  At the very moment she threw her 3H (hot, hard and hung) question out into the air, the restaurant’s noise level had been at a lull.  A few ‘well I nevers!’ had been gasped from the Baptist ladies WMU group as they sat to the left and a few snickers had sounded from the college group to the right, but Cato had not been fazed.  To the delight of her companions and the chagrin of the staff - when Savannah hadn’t answered, Cato had just repeated herself – louder.  But Savannah didn’t really have an answer to her question, all she knew was that it couldn’t be soon enough to suit her.

*****

Fall changed to winter and Savannah and Patrick drew even closer.  The days she didn’t hear from him were torture.  She kept up with her work and ost hunted fairly often, but the highlight of her life was the time she spent online with Patrick.  Afghanistan and the war meant something different to her now than it did before.  It was much more real and much more important.  She kept her TV on CNN now and anytime she heard that a Marine had been killed, she was glued to the computer until she heard from him again.  And during the times they couldn’t contact one another, she consoled herself by reading their emails.  A folder labeled LOVE in her online mailbox was where she kept them stored, a modern day woman’s love letters.  Soon, she promised herself, she would print them out – just in case.

Now she needed her Patrick fix, so she pulled up one that made her heart race every time she read it.

Hey, Baby. I know we talked earlier, but you’ve been on my mind constantly.  I’m so damn lonely for home.  Every time I sit still my mind wanders right back to you.  Do you reread our emails?  I do.  Sometimes at night, I lay here and imagine you reading them and touching yourself.  I keep dreaming about what it’s going to be like when I’m with you again. 

In my favorite fantasy, you're lying on the couch when I come home.  You’re on your back, sleeping. I'm tired and sweaty and the only thing on my mind is washing the war off and relaxing, but you look so damn good asleep on the couch in your sexy little blue and white dress. I sneak up beside you