Buckingham Nicks-Part II of Fritz Series

A Star is Born

"In all my years as a prosecutor I've never met a defendant more eager to take a plea. I mean he practically tore a path to my office to plead guilty!" the DA and Rosen both break into laughter as they sip scotch and smoke cigars. Ryan, heeded my advice and as soon as he was able he phoned the prosecutor's office to take a deal. Fifty years with the possibility of parole after serving twenty five. By then I'll be too old to make good on any threats, but so will he.

"Luna, caved right after him but at least she negotiated down to thirty" they both laugh again as I sip at my drink. As I predicted after my night at home I was promptly turned out the next morning. But at least it wasn't a screaming match this time around. I replay this morning in my head chewing on the ice in my drink:

The oven timer goes off and the smell of coffee and fresh baked rolls fills my nostrils. Stevie's cooking breakfast, I smile stretching my long limbs across the expanse of our bed only to stub my toe on the edge of the coffee table "Wha..?" looking around dumbly I realize I'm not in our bedroom, I'm asleep in the sitting room on the couch, the morning forecast playing on the television quietly. Someone sets a mug down in front of me, it's Barbra. "Good morning son in law"

I yawn sitting up to rub my sore toe, "Morning" it's six thirty, way too early for Stevie to even contemplate getting out of bed. It's a bit early for me to be honest. I sip the steaming cup of coffee and moan blissfully, I didn't realize how much I missed our coffee. Made in our coffee pot, and I smile recognizing the familiar taste. Just the way I like it, cream and a little sugar. Surprised I look at Barbra happily "You remembered?" she gives me a look I recognize from Stevie's face half incredulous half amused "Of course".

Well, at least she's not mad at me. Maybe she can talk to Stevie about letting me come home, if anyone has any sway over my wife's opinion it's her mother. The two of them as close as mother and daughter can be, practically best friends. She heads back to the kitchen rummaging pots and pans until she finds the one she's looking for. I take my coffee in hand and head to the patio door where Ginny is laying lopsided on her doggie bed.

Her eyes pop open and she rolls over shaking "Hey Ginny" I stroke her silky hair and she stretches into my hand licking my arm in greeting. I open the door and she runs into the yard with me, as I sit on our porch swing. This is right, but at the same time it's all wrong. Stevie should be here next to me, Sara still snoring softly upstairs, the two of us kissing as we watch the sunrise talking softly about our plans for the day.

I miss my wife.

I think about a piece of poetry she read to me once "Sometimes to be near you is to be unable to feel you my love." Maybe it had more meaning than I originally thought...so far 1975 sucks. Ginny runs back to me carrying her squeaky toy and I toss it to her absently while I finish my coffee. Barbra steps out refilling my cup and putting a plate of fresh rolls and jam on the table "Eggs?" I look up expecting Stevie, then shake myself "You don't have to..." she swats the air "It's nothing Lindsey. I know Ruth feeds you enough for two, but I'm no slouch"

Chuckling I accept and she heads back into the house. The sun rises over the edge of our property and I finish off the rolls slathering them with fresh butter and jam. Stevie made this jam...Jesus I'm getting too fucking sentimental. Why do I care if I am? It's not like I'm some girly man who cries at hallmark cards. So much has happened in my life, more than most people will ever experience, probably more than ten people. Poor little spoiled rich boy.

How much do I really know about how she feels about me? I know she loves me, I know I love her. Love doesn't begin to describe how I feel for her. It's a physical ache at times, when we were young I was head over heels in love with her, when she agreed to marry me I thought I could never be happier. Then we had Sara the first time I held both of them in my arms in the hospital was the closest thing to a religious experience I've ever had. It was pure, and wonderful and so beautiful I did cry. I cried like a baby.