RETURN OF THE WAR GOD - Preview

A Tulsa Immortals Story by Audra Hart

Copyright © 2018 Audra Hart Publications

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Unedited Preview subject to revision

This book is slated for publication by the beginning of 2019

 

  CHAPTER 1 – Molly

“I had that dream again last night,” I shout out to my best friend in the other room between spitting toothpaste into the sink and rinsing my mouth.

“The one about that old boyfriend?” Teresa calls back, even though she knows full well which dream I’m referring to. It’s been the same damn dream for nearly thirty years.  The same damn dream which has left me breathless, panting, and yearning for something I can never have.  It’s the same damn dream I’ve had over and over since my husband Joe passed away two and half years ago with a brain aneurysm.  The same dream which has tortured me nightly since I learned Joe’s secret. 

Yeah, that dream.  The woman glaring at me from the mirror seems to taunt me as I glare back.  I soon realize I really should put my bra on.  Running around wearing only my plain white cotton panties and no bra at my age is not a sight anyone wants to witness, not even my bestie.

“Duh, what other dream do I ever bother mentioning?” I squawk as I struggle to get my bra on over still damp skin and my less than buff fifty-something body.

I can hear Teresa cackling in my bedroom before I even stride out of the master bathroom to gawk at my life long bestie as she tears through my closet like the cartoon version of the Tasmanian Devil.  “Teresa Conti!  It looks like my closet vomited all over my bedroom!” I shriek as I begin to dash around picking up my crazily discarded clothing. 

I am mom to three kids, one of which has been confined to a wheel chair for his entire life.  At seventeen, Caleb and siblings are the center of my universe and I don’t have time in my universe for picking up after my messy best friend.  There’s a place for everything and everything in its place.  It’s simply the only way I can make my life work, especially now that I am Caleb’s only full time caregiver.

“This closet needs to vomit!  Hell, it should be purged from existence!” Tee declares disgustedly from the deepest recesses of my formerly tidy walk in closet.  “Girl, do you not own anything that does not scream professional woman or “I’m a working mom, just ignore me”?”

The dry chuckle which escapes my lips is not a sound of amusement.  “Uh, probably not,” I admit ruefully.  After living twenty-two years with a husband who had no interest in me sexually, except when we decided we wanted another child, and the naturally resulting busyness of raising said children, I haven’t really given my personal appearance serious thought in over a quarter of a century.

“Eureka!” Tee shouts from the depths of my closet.  “This will work,” she continues excitedly as she strolls out of my closet bearing a nearly thirty year old scarf dress which I made back in the days when I had dreams of becoming a clothing designer and living my life as a liberated, independent, and sexually emancipated woman.  I cringe at the thought of feminist me railing against society for using sex and societal expectations to rule over half of the human population.  My smile is pretty wan when I realize that getting knocked up at age twenty-one certainly realigned my priorities.

And yet, for all that, I just can’t tear my eyes away from that dress.  For just a moment, I am transported back in time, but reality instantly reasserts itself.  “Put that back,” I whisper as unwelcome emotions clog my throat, nearly making speech impossible.  Memories of the last time that I wore that dress flood me like a tsunami of regret.   I should have burned that dress ages ago.  The woman who was daring enough to wear such a sexy garment hasn’t existed for ages.  In fact, I think she might actually have died the night she sent Xander Dimitriou away.  Yes, I should have burned that dress on the funeral pyre of the old Molly.  Adventurous, vivacious, always had a smile on her lips, a snarky quip or a joke to share Molly. That one. 

Jolly Molly doesn’t live here anymore.  She doesn’t live anywhere.  The specter who had glared at me from my mirror just minutes before rises in my mind to torment me.  You killed her on the altar of growing up and getting a real life.  You sacrificed her to live a life with a man who was never capable of seeing you as anything other than a close friend and the mother of his children.  You replaced her with a woman who turned her very soul inside out to fit into the image of what you believed was the type of life she should be living.

I’m ripped from my self-evisceration by the sound of my oldest son’s outraged voice.  “Mom!  Put some clothes on, will ya!”  I look up to see Ryan’s lanky back and the way he’s hunched over with his hands over his face, I get the distinct impression that seeing his old mom in nothing but her bra and panties has likely scarred the twenty year old for life. 

“Sorry, Ryan,” I mumble as I scramble to cover my overripe fifty-something body with the odd assortment of my clothing hanging from oddly numb hands.

“Try knocking first, Ryan,” Tee sensibly reminds my son.  “You knew we were getting ready for our night out.”

“Yeah, I knew that… I just wasn’t thinking,” my son moans.  “Don’t worry, it’s not a mistake that I’ll repeat any time soon.”  He mumbles something about eye bleach and nearly naked moms, making me blush an even deeper shade of crimson.

“Ah suck it up, buttercup.”  Laynie, his twenty-six year old sister says from her spot behind him in the hallway.  “No one ever died from seeing their mommy in her granny panties and heavy duty, underwire bra.”  She snickers as she pushes past Ryan to rush to my best friend’s side.  Ryan quietly moves to close the door as though to shut out the horror of Mom in her underwear, before he remembers what he came to my bedroom to ask me in the first place.  “Hey Mom, Caleb wants Chinese food for dinner.  Do you think Tong’s Kitchen will deliver on New Year’s Eve?”

“Sure, why not,” I toss over my shoulder as I shrug into my robe.  “I’m covered now, Ryan.”

He chuckles dryly and turns around.  “Too late, Mom.”  His cheeks are a bit pink when he meets my gaze and quickly looks away.  “I’m sure you are a good looking woman, for your age.  But to me, you are just Mom.  Seeing you in your skivvies isn’t something I want to dwell on.”

“Well, then just drop it,” Tee comments drolly.

Laynie giggles and taunts her brother.  “At least you didn’t burst into our mom’s bedroom to discover her going at it with a lover.”

Ryan snorts at the impossibility of bursting in on such a scene.  “Yeah, like that would ever happen,” he mutters to rub salt in the wound.

“Enough,” Tee snaps.  “Your mom is an adult woman.  A very attractive adult woman who has all of the same needs as any woman her age…”

“TMI,” Ryan bellows before charging out of my bedroom.  “Is the menu for Tong’s Kitchen still in the junk drawer?” he bellows over his shoulder. 

I don’t even bother to reply.  Ryan knows full well that I am a stickler for putting things where they belong.  Where else would the three menus for our favorite restaurants be located?

“I want Mongolian Beef and some pot stickers,” Laynie screeches out at the back of her retreating brother before returning her attention to the dress she now clutching in her hands.  “Mom, you gotta wear this one!”  She scampers over with the brightly colored, hand dyed and hand painted silk garment to hold it up in front of me.  “Mom, this dress is smokin’ hot.  You gotta wear it.”

“No way,” I chuff.  “I doubt that thing even still fits me.  I haven’t worn it in ages.”

Tee and Laynie decide to gang up on me at that moment.  “It will fit,” they say in perfect unison.

Laynie tosses the dress at me and giggles.  “I have a pair of black leggings which will go great with it.”

“And I brought a pair of boots which will transform you from wonder mom to a sexy diva out for a fun night on the town,” Tee throws in happily as she moves to retrieve said boots from her massive duffel bag.  I also notice that she has set out her professional make-up case, and assorted devices of hair torture. 

Ugh, the things most women are willing to do in the name of beauty.

Laynie claps her hands excitedly before chirping; “I have some really cute earrings, and a cool retro choker.  It’s bright and quirky and it will go perfectly with this dress.”  Without waiting for a response, she dashes off for her old bedroom, obviously in search of said earrings and choker.  I can’t help but moan my dismay.  I knew agreeing to a night out with Teresa was a bad idea.