Accidental Sire(41)

But I was probably going to be stuck with Ben for a while, and he was probably going to hear something from Jane eventually, so I pursed my lips and said, "My dad was stationed at Fort Campbell. My mom was working at a gas station, earning some extra money while she took nursing classes at the community college. He came into the station to fill up his truck, and bam. He said it felt like he'd been hit by lightning the first time he saw her. He said, ‘Twenty-five dollars on pump twelve, a Slim Jim, and how do you feel about dogs, kids, and men who leave their socks on the floor but are otherwise pretty damn charming?' Mom was laughing so hard she could barely write down her phone number."

"So there's a family history of being approached by extremely clever men?" Ben suggested.

"If the last few weeks are any indication of your ‘approach' technique, you have a lot to learn about ‘clever,' buddy," I told him.

Ben pulled a face. "Good point. Please, on with the story of your much smarter and socially savvy father."

"Dad apparently came from one of those old horse-farming families, the people who train racehorses for Churchill Downs? Well, they weren't thrilled with their son joining the military in the first place. They were even less thrilled when he started dating a girl who worked at a gas station, a girl whose parents were . . . Mexican," I said, whispering the last word dramatically. "I guess that's the way they said it, because every time my mom told me the story, she whispered, ‘Mexican.' Also, my mom's parents were Guatemalan, so the Keenes weren't even accurately racist. Anyway, they ran a background check and found out about Mom's brief stint working as a waitress at Cheekies-you know, the sports bar where they wear the short shorts? Mom only worked there for a month, but they called her ‘that stripper' after that, which made for a very awkward toast at my parents' wedding. They were not the type of people who were so charmed by their new grandchild that it changed their hearts. He called to tell them I'd been born, and they actually told him he'd ‘never be free of that stripper now.' He didn't want me to hear them talk about my mother that way. He didn't know what they would say to me, how they would try to manipulate me with gifts and money, like they'd tried to control him growing up. He did know that they would treat my mom like crap while he was deployed in Afghanistan, and there would be nothing he could do about it from thousands of miles away. So he cut them off entirely. They made a big scene at his funeral, called my mom some names, scared me until I cried. I thought that rich people were supposed to be above that kind of behavior. But I guess rednecks are rednecks, no matter how big their house is." 

"How old were you?"

"I was four. It was rough, but my mom got us through it. She just refused to give up. She worked so hard, gave up a lot. And there were some army friends of my dad's who helped us sometimes when the car broke down or the roof leaked."

"And you're speaking of her in the past tense," Ben noted sadly.

"I was fifteen. She was driving home from her second job and fell asleep at the wheel. Even though I had heard all the stories about my grandparents, I still kind of hoped that they would have a change of heart, would want to take me in after my mom died. But they told Family Services that they had no interest in me. They only wanted to know where they needed to sign so they wouldn't have to take responsibility."

"What about your mom's family? Couldn't they help?"

"Her parents were almost seventy by the time I was born. They were great, just good, sweet, loving people. They died when I was around ten, within a month of each other. When Mom died, it would have been possible to send me to the extended family back in Guatemala. But I'm pretty damned American. I didn't think I would do well over there, so I went into foster care."

Ben didn't say anything. He just looked mildly horrified.

"Yeah, I know, I'm the saddest sad sack who ever sacked."

He shook his head. "It just sucks that you've lost so many people."

"It's safe to say I have some pretty significant abandonment issues. Also trust. And impulse control, on occasion, but that's only if a pumpkin spice latte is involved. Which I don't think applies anymore, since I'm dead and can't have pumpkin spice."

"It does explain a lot about how you've reacted to Jane. Her trying to mother you."

"Yeah, I don't think you're qualified to analyze all of this," I said, waving a hand at my head.

"I won't try," he promised.

"So can we start over?" I asked. "Meagan Keene. Total stranger and your sire."

"Yes," he said, reaching out to shake my hand. "Ben Overby, occasionally judgmental doofus."