Page 38 of Stella's Christmas Rescue
“Of course, Dearie,” she passes it over.
The afternoon becomes a chance to show off, using Mrs. Black’s arsenal. We all take turns, and the ladies clap when I shoot each can. When it’s Stella’s chance, she gets closer with each shot, until she finally hits a can with a handgun. Shesqueals, “Woo!” Then she takes my face in her hands and kisses me.
Mrs. Black teases, “Why ishethe one getting a kiss? You’re the one who improved.”
“Exactly. He’s my reward.” She grins up at me and I can feel it in my bones.
—
By the end of our practice, Stella selects a Sig Sauer p220. “It just feels right in my hand. Is that weird?”
“Not at all,” Mrs. Black assures her with a pat to the back of her hand. “All my guns feel right to me, but Beulah feels right to my soul. Sometimes, a lady bonds with her guns. You keep practicing with your Sig, and you’ll get as good as me.”
Stella shakes her head, “I don’t think so. You outshot Jordan.”
I laugh. “And I think Mrs. Black has been going easy on me.”
The old woman giggles and says, “Well. Maybe a little.”
We bid her a fond farewell, then head on inside. It’s been a long day, and we’re both spent. I pour us two bourbons, then we take a seat on the couch. I pull her closer to me and she leans onto my chest. Even after all the time outside, she still smells like birthday cake and jasmine. I breathe her in, then kiss the top of her head. “So, what do you think of shooting?”
“It’s hard. Exhilarating. And it takes way more skill than I ever thought. I’ve been rethinking every action movie I have ever seen, because oh my shit, they’re just chock full of lies, aren’t they?”
I laugh. “Yeah, they are. Same story about fighting, by the way.”
“What do you mean?”
“In most shows, the hand-to-hand combat is hogwash. The fights are choreographed for ease of camera work, not for effective combat. So, when you see a fight, it’s usually a punch is thrown, then the actors reset, the next blow is thrown, then the actors reset, and so on. Unfortunately, a lot of guys get into the Marines, thinking that watching kung fu movies is enough training for hand—"to—hand. It’s kinda funny now, but back then, it was detrimental.”
She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I know you need to get back to your life, Jordan. Doing everything you do normally, so I hate to ask?—"
“Don’t ever hate to ask anything of me, Stella.”
She holds her breath before she asks, “Would you train me to fight? I mean, maybe like an hour a day or something? I don’t want to interrupt your usual routine, but I think it might be useful for me to know how to defend myself.”
“That sounds like a smart idea.”
“Are you sure? You don’t think it sounds stupid?”
“No, I think you should know how to handle yourself, if the need arises. In fact, I’d be a lot more comfortable about leaving your side, if you know how to defend yourself.”
Stella nervously says, “Leaving my side?”
“To go to work.”
“Oh. I see.”
I ask, “Is that okay?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because you tensed up like a bobcat in a tree being chased by a large man.”
She looks up and says, “That’s oddly specific.”
“Why did you tense up?”
She sighs, “I don’t want to say it. It’s selfish.”
