Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [143]
“My Wurlitzer is dead?” she asked.
He nodded sadly. “Sorry. It’s silent. Enough about enchanted music boxes and evil villains. We need to talk about this.” He opened the drawer on the nightstand and pulled out her EPT test. “We’re going to have a baby?”
“No, we are not. I’m going to have one.”
“No, we.”
“Humph.”
“Humph all you want, but my baby needs a name.”
“Your baby? I thought it was our baby. Besides, names seem to have little or changeable value. Maybe we should let it grow up and then it can tell us its name like Clint did.”
“Silly woman, I love you.” His hand reached out and stroked her cheek.
“Actually, if I have a son we could call him Fitzgerald Mershan.” She sighed sleepily and slid down in the bed.
“Him? A little boy?” He grinned. “I could buy him a little leather jacket and teach him to ride the Harley. How about Colin Samuel Delbert Wurlitzer Mershan.”
“Wurlitzer?” She chuckled.
“I was stuck with Luxovius because my father was a history nut. At least, that’s what mum told me.” He reached out and stroked her chin. “Forgive me, Asha?”
“In time,” she teased him, but then added, “but your brother Trevelyn is dead meat for hurting my sister.”
“Scoot over, lass. I need to hold you. I won’t be able to sleep, but I want you in my arms, to know you’re safe.”
She moved over and snuggled against him, feeling secure once more. Clint walked up her leg and then settled half on her, half on Jago.
Closing her eyes, she drifted. So tired. She feared sleep, thinking she might relive the nightmare of Monty again.
Instead, she drifted in fog.
In her dream, she walked to The Windmill. As she approached, the sounds of “Tell Laura I Love Her” floated through the strange sepia twilight that touched all. Everything glowed, almost as though kissed with faery dust.
She opened the door and paused.
Tommy and Laura sat in the big corner booth—their booth—sharing a milkshake. Laura and Tommy looked up and smiled.
“Can I look now?” Asha was antsy to know what was happening. Jago had blindfolded her and carried her out of the bungalow.
In the three weeks since Monty’s attack, Jago had been busy spending money left and right to put The Windmill back into order. He’d made her rest and keep off her broken foot, while he handled all arrangements. Bothersome man, he wouldn’t even let her see what they were doing to her restaurant. When the bills came in she nearly fainted at the costs. Jago said not to worry, Des was footing the bill as a wedding present. She grinned and said in that case Sam needed a new grill, she wanted her office expanded and the parking lot really needed paving.
Jago set her on her feet and removed the cloth from around her eyes. Delbert, Colin, Sam, Derek, Winnie, Netta and Liam, and many of the regulars were in the booths, waiting inside the restaurant.
She smiled in delight. Everything was new, but it was the same. They hadn’t changed anything, just repaired, and replaced aging parts of her diner to where it now appeared as it must have back in 1964. Her eyes sadly went to where the Wurlitzer had sat. From the shape under the gray cloth she knew it had to be a new jukebox.
She swallowed the tears. It wouldn’t be the same.
Jago nudged Colin who moved to yank the cloth off, “TA DA!”
“But . . . that’s our Wurlitzer.” She nearly cried, touching the nameplate that said The Windmill.
Jago draped an arm around her shoulder. “Colin, our resident genius, repaired it.”
“Yeah, had a good talking to the silly box. Same machine, just a little upgrading. It now plays MP3s. I think it likes the idea of being loaded with nearly ten thousand songs.” He reached over and punched some buttons; it lit up and began to play.
“Everyone’s heard about the bird . . . bird, bird, bird. . . .”
Colin glared at it. “I didn’t play that song.”
“Back to normal, eh?” Asha laughed, and rose up on tiptoes to kiss Jago’s cheek. “Thank you. I love