Meet Me in the Middle

Ellen watched Richard walk away and then looked over and met Miranda's eyes. The women smiled at each other and raised their bottles in a toast.

Miranda and Richard were lying in bed one evening in late August. "The Police and Fireman's barbecue is in two weeks," she said. "Wanna go?"

"Sure. What's it like?"

"Well, a beer tent, a pig roast, a beer tent, a burger and hot dog stand, a beer tent, pizza, a beer ... you get the idea."

He laughed.

"There are some games, mostly for the kids, a couple for adults. I'm in for the Clay Shoot every year."

"What's that like?"

"It's teams of three people. It's like a relay. You shoot until you miss and then the next person on your team steps up. Once all three have missed, you're out. Last team standing wins. A lot of us join in and have a blast."

"Anyone can join, or just police and fire fighters?"

"Anyone over eighteen."

"That sounds like fun."

"Yeah. I'm determined to get second place some year, or at least third."

"Second?"

"Well, first place always goes to this one team, they're just too good, but we got fourth last year. Ed tells me I'm dreaming. I want to make him eat those words! I don't know, though. We got a little lucky last year, and I may have let my trash talking get out of hand. I ended up betting him about this year."

"What's the bet?"

"A bottle of Scotch. If we do better than fourth, I win. If we do worse, he wins. If we take fourth again, we drink it together."

"Ooh. Tasty!"

She laughed. "Mostly I just want to see the trophy at the station. I don't know why; it's just become a thing."

One of her fellow officers walked up to her at the barbecue. "Hey, they're calling the start of the shoot, Miranda."

"Thanks, Jake."

"Hey, hon," she said, walking over to where Richard was chatting with Ed, "the Clay Shoot is starting soon."

"Oh, cool. Let me go get my shotgun."

"What? Oh," she looked anxious.

"What?"

"Uh, Richard. We already have three. Oh God, I'm sorry! I didn't realize you wanted to do this," she said.

"Oh. When you said a bunch of people joined in, I thought ... well, I thought it would be fun."

She was quiet for a moment, and then said, "Look, let's find some other people and make another team. Ed, how about you take my place with Jake and Paul, and I'll go with Richard?"

Before Ed could answer, Richard spoke up. "No, hon, you already agreed to be on their team. They're counting on you, right?" She nodded uncertainly. "Okay then. Don't sweat it. It's no big deal."

She still looked uncertain but he was smiling. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a quiet "Thanks" before going to get ready. She turned back, "Ready to hand me that bottle of Balvenie, Ed?" Ed just waved her off good naturedly.

After a moment, Ed looked at Richard and said, "If you really want to do it, I can probably borrow a gun and we find someone else to do the same."

"You don't mind?"

"Nope. Let's go get your gun and then see who hasn't had too much beer."

They walked over to Richard's car. He unlocked the trunk and pulled out a gun sleeve.

"What is it?" Ed asked.

"A Trap Grade Winchester Model 12. It was my dad's."

"Nice. Nothing fancy but there's a reason they sold millions of them."

Richard grabbed a satchel full of shells. Ed reached in a scooped one out. He looked at it and said, "Reloads."

"Yep, cheaper that way. An ounce and an eighth of #7½ shot," Richard said absently. Then he looked up at Ed, "That's okay, isn't it? I figured that was a pretty standard load. It's what I use in trap."

Ed looked back, "Sure. No rules on loads. Just has to be 12 gauge. You shoot trap?"

"Yeah, it used to be my Sunday activity before I met Randy."

"Every Sunday?"

"Well, I miss a week here and there, of course. But I'd get in at least a case most weeks except when it was freezing outside."

Ed's mouth quirked in a smile. "Five hundred a week? Almost every week? I'm thinking we might have a bit of a ringer situation here."

"Wait! I never claimed not to know how to — "

"Easy, easy," Ed tossed the shell back in the bag and put up his hands. "I'm not saying you did. But I'm also thinking that, from the way Randy talked, you never mentioned that you shot that much, either. Right?"

"Well, we got distracted." Richard smiled to himself at the memory of how they got distracted, and also at the memory of the first time they said they loved each other.

Ed's voice brought him back. "And you don't anticipate a lot of problem here, do you?"

"Hey, I'm no superman at this." Ed looked skeptical, and Richard flushed. "Well, they're throwing from right beside the shooter instead of a trap house. That's sixteen yards closer than I'm used to, which makes this a lot easier. But everyone will have that advantage."

Ed laughed. "You might not realize this but — everyone here? — this is the only time they do this. Other than being comfortable around guns in general, they suck! Handguns? Sure. No problem at all. Shotguns at tiny moving targets? Not so much. In fact, for most folks here this is the only time they fire them other than qualifying every couple of years, and the firemen don't even do that. Youngstown is the only team that has a real shooter and there's just one of him. Oh, I am so going to enjoy this! Bud, promise, not a word to anyone, especially Randy, before the shooting starts. Promise?"

There were two rounds to accommodate the number of teams. Miranda's team was in the first group and made it almost to the end, but not quite far enough to have a chance at placing. She walked up to them and sighed. "Oh well, another bum year for Underwood. Youngstown is in the lead, of course. Might be New Kensington in second, depending on how the second group does."

She noticed the shotgun lying on the picnic table next to Richard.

"Ed and Stu here said they'd give it a try with me," he answered her unspoken question.

"Hey, Stu," Miranda nodded at the other man sitting with them. She turned back to Richard. "I'm so sorry, hon. I wish I had known that you really wanted to try this."

"Don't worry about it. We're fine."

"Yeah," Ed added, "we'll just have a bit of fun till we get knocked out and then call it a day."

Crack! Just as it had for the last half hour, the crowd watched the little orange disk vanish into a puff of dust.

Pretty much everyone had gathered around to watch and the cheering was loud. The announcer's voice cut through the noise. "Alrighty, folks. That's a hundred straight. Rules say that, if we're still tied at this point, we switch to doubles and it's sudden death."

"What rules are those, Pete?" someone yelled.

"The rules I just made up. This could go on forever and I want to eat," Pete yelled back smiling.

Miranda's mouth was still hanging open figuratively as she watched the two orange targets go flying from the machine. Less than second later the first disappeared simultaneously with the crack of the gun, and she saw Richard's shoulders pivot smoothly while his left arm racked the slide, steady and track for a split second, then the second target vanished.

Ten minutes later it was over. Ed patted the trophy and said, "Yep, this is going to look great in the station house." He looked over at Miranda and grinned slyly. "Mmm, Balvenie! Us guys are sure gonna enjoy it!"

"What? It's not yours. First place is better than fourth place, you moron."

"Oh no you don't! The bet was if Underwood won. Stu and I never even stepped up to the line. Underwood PD had nothing to do with this win. You lose, Miss Fifth Or Sixth Place, and I don't want to hear any weasel words."

"Hey, Ed," Richard interjected, laughing, "seeing as how I'm okay with the trophy going in the station waiting room, maybe you could let her have a taste?" He added in a conspiratorial whisper that everyone could hear, "Please, man, I have to ride home with her."

She stood there with her hands on her hips, trying to glare at Richard but failing rather miserably. "You have some 'splaining to do, Mister!"

"Me?"

She continued to fight her smile.

Richard's opponent walked up. "Nice shooting, Richard."

"Thanks, Carl. You too."

"See you around the club?"

"I'll try to make it this week."

Richard looked back at Miranda. "Well, I may not have mentioned that I've been shooting trap since I was a kid."

"Yeah," Ed chimed in, "and you did tell us he was decent with a gun, Randy. I just didn't realize that wasn't a euphemism."

She whirled on him in outrage and everyone burst into laughter.

"You're in the dog house, Mister!" she said, putting her nose up in the air snootily, an effect somewhat spoiled by the grin twitching the corners of her mouth.

"Dog house! You specifically told me you were dying to have that trophy. Like any dutiful boyfriend, I went out and laid what you wanted at your feet."

"You didn't lay it at my feet because Ed wouldn't let it go. Still," she reflected, "you did give me what I want, which is good."

"The path to any woman's heart is giving them exactly what they want as fast as humanly possible," he said with a straight face.

"You just love treading on thin ice, don't you? That crack's gonna cost you. Let's see," she pretended to think, then flashed a dirty grin, "I think you're going to be living on your knees tonight."

He grinned back.

"I planned on it."

"What?"

"You said I'd be on my knees tonight. I planned on it."

"Oh my God! Yes. Yes, of course I will!"

Ellen looked out across the sea of expectant faces.

"It's not very customary for a bridesmaid to stand up to make a toast. That's the job of the best man and the maid of honor. Our usual job is to look gorgeous and to dance with the groomsmen, if you can call what they do dancing." The audience smiled.

"However, it's probably pretty unusual that a bridesmaid has made out with the bride, had a child with the groom, and is sleeping with the best man, so this is a special circumstance." The room erupted in laughter and she waited for it to die down.

"Seriously though ..." she paused to look around the room at all their friends gathered together.

"Miranda, I've been watching you with intent interest, almost stalker-like interest — "

The room laughed and one of Miranda's friends yelled out, "Restraining order!"

" — for the last year. You see, for over a decade your husband has been one of my very best friends, even in moments when he didn't realize it. He always will be. I love him dearly to this day and, I confess, I care so much about what happens to him that I can't stop feeling a little protective even though he doesn't need it.

"Or want it!" she added with a smile as Richard made a face at her.

"I wanted something for him, something very simple: a person who was the kind of woman that he was a man. She didn't have to be intelligent or nice or thoughtful or independent or loving or pretty."

She paused while people looked puzzled.

"She had to be intelligent and nice and thoughtful and independent and loving and pretty.

"I wasn't certain when she would come along, but I had faith. There were moments of worry where I wondered if he would settle for less than he deserved, but I kept my mouth shut because it wasn't my business and, besides, I had that faith in him.

"And then he met you, and right from the beginning, it seemed like the real thing for him. And so, I watched you: all those Sunday visits to the restaurant for brunch; the times Richard disappeared into his office for a phone call and how he looked when he came out. I very carefully watched how much Charlie liked you. More recently, the get togethers we've had and how our friends thought of you.

"All I can say is, thank God he met you; thank God you said yes when he asked you out; and thank God that, when a bump in the road happened, you stayed on course.

"You've left no doubt that everything, and everyone, including me, that came before were just amateur warm-up acts for the real deal, which was you."

She turned.

"Richard, it's only recently that I feel I can say what has been in my heart for years. Thank you. Not only for friendship, and happiness, and Charlie, and ..." Her voice caught for a second. "... and for Mike, but because you have treated me with more dignity, more courtesy, and ... yes ... more love than I ever had any right to expect.

"A year ago, I was facing a man with a gun pointed at me, thinking it was one of the worst days of my life. Little did I realize that, when all was said and done, it would have been one of the best days of my life because it brought you two together. Because of it, you have a woman who deserves you and whom you deserve.

"I love you both dearly and I know you'll be very happy."

Amid the applause and cheers, Richard leaned over to Miranda and whispered, "This is perfect."

She whispered back, "Wait until this shindig is over and I'll show you perfect."

He laughed, "I hope you're not starting to lie to me now."