A Chance of a Lifetime, page 19
“I bet everyone does know.” From what he’d heard and seen, they weren’t rude or obnoxious—just a little bit raucous. Whether it was in spite of their losses or because of them, they enjoyed the hell out of each other every chance they got.
He’d been that way once. He was going to be that way again.
“She’s not a little girl anymore,” Jessy said. When he gave her a puzzled look, she shrugged. “Bennie. I know you guys grew up together and were buddies all through school. But she’s not a little girl anymore.”
No, she damn sure isn’t.
“I mean, she’s fabulous and single, and you’re hot-damn and single. You know how often something comes from that—old friends who meet again all grown up and realize they belong together?”
Max dragged his feet, trying to catch a glimpse of the dog barking behind the fence on their right. Calvin coaxed him forward again, then gave Jessy a knowing look. “It’s something genetic, isn’t it? Women and matchmaking. If you’re alone, you’re looking for a guy for yourself. If you’ve got a guy, you’re looking for one for someone else.”
Despite the two dogs who, between them, exceeded her own weight, she looked as if she were out for a meandering stroll. She held both leashes in one hand and fluttered the other at him carelessly. “I don’t match-make. I just state the obvious. You two have a happy shared history. You have interests in common. You live in the same town. She adores your family, and I know you adore hers because I have met Mama Maudene, and anyone who doesn’t adore her isn’t friend worthy.”
Calvin grinned. “Mama’s something, isn’t she?”
Jessy bobbed her head. “I’ve been an amateur photographer for years. I loved taking pictures of places, animals, things, but not people. Long story, too boring for now. But the first time I met Mama, I wanted so badly to spend forever taking pictures of her. She was just so self-assured and joyous at a time when I was a pathetic mess.”
Translating to when I was drinking. And now Jessy was the self-assured one and Calvin was the pathetic mess. Was she passing on some of what she’d gotten from Mama? Would it be his obligation when he was well to pass it on to the next person who needed it?
They crossed First Street and continued at a decent pace to the west. A half-dozen blocks, a turn or two, and they could wind up at his house.
“Does Bennie know you’re in the Warrior Transition Unit?” Jessy asked bluntly.
“No.”
“Does she know you have post-traumatic stress disorder?”
“No.” He didn’t ask how she knew. When her bosses at the shelter had agreed to let a group of WTU soldiers work with their animals, surely Captain Kim had told them the diagnoses. It was only fair.
“I haven’t told anyone, and I won’t.” Her expression turned wry. “Trust me, I know how to keep a secret.”
“Thank you.” He kept his gaze on the street, aware that the conversation wasn’t over yet, not unless he said it was.
“One of the things that contributed to my drinking was guilt. My husband was all excited about coming home from Afghanistan, about buying a house and starting a family, and I…I’d discovered during his last deployment that I liked living alone. I still loved him, but not the right way. I intended to let him enjoy his homecoming, and then a few weeks, a few months later, I’d file for divorce.”
He wished she’d been the only person in the entire Department of Defense who’d felt that way, but he’d known too many people who’d gone home to find their spouses gone, their possessions cleared out, their money all spent. He knew a bunch more who’d found their spouses and their marriages and themselves changed, and no matter how hard they tried, they just couldn’t make things work anymore.
“A couple weeks before Aaron was scheduled to come home, he was killed,” Jessy said. “I grieved horribly for him, but I felt like such a fraud because I’d wanted to be free of him. The guilt was as bad as the sorrow.”
She stopped to pull a sticker from the yellow Lab’s paw, then ran her fingers through the pads and crevices searching for another. From her crouched position, she said, “Anyway, my point is, I thought I was the only person in the world awful and disgusting enough to feel that way. All the margarita girls adored their husbands. They were all ideal wives and widows, and I was…damn. But when I finally told them about my drinking and how I’d felt about Aaron, they all understood, and one of them in particular had been in exactly the situation I was with my marriage. It was such a freeing experience to find out I wasn’t alone.
“You aren’t alone, either, Calvin.”
He let that thought rattle around in his brain while they covered the few yards to where the street made a sharp turn to the left. They didn’t follow it but instead circled around and headed back east.
He wasn’t alone. Logically he knew that. Hundreds of thousands of troops had PTSD. Some degree of it was more common than not.
He wasn’t the only one to attempt suicide, either. More than twenty service members succeeded at killing themselves every day. He wasn’t the only one to find himself in such hopelessness and despair, but he’d been given another chance.
If he could just let go of the shame and the fear and the self-loathing.
One day at a time. Right now the good days were outnumbering the bad days, which ironically made the bad days even worse. When he’d lived in a constant state of misery, he’d become accustomed to it. Hell, he hadn’t even been able to remember what good days were supposed to be like. Now, when the bad days came, they hit hard because he not only remembered what life was like before, but was starting to feel that way again. He was seeing improvement, finding reasons to live, climbing his way out of the darkness, and bam, there it was again.
“You can tell me to mind my own damn business,” Jessy said. “It won’t hurt my feelings.”
He believed her.
He also believed that if she cared for someone, their business was her business. She wasn’t the sort to stand back with her mouth shut when a friend needed her.
And she was a friend. The thought made him smile. Who would have imagined that his first new friend in Tallgrass would be a tiny redheaded white girl from the South?
Deliberately he changed the subject. “Why did you stay in Tallgrass after your husband’s death?”
She kicked an acorn that skittered along the street before tumbling into the ditch. “I like the Army community, and I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I was never the daughter my parents wanted, so I left home as soon as I graduated high school. They didn’t acknowledge my wedding. Didn’t acknowledge Aaron’s death. So I don’t acknowledge them.”
“I’m sorry.”
Her grin was bright and quick. “Don’t be. Dalton’s parents and brothers love me, and he adores me. Plus, I’ve got my margarita dolls.” She shook one finger at him. “You can never have too many people who love you.”
The conversation for the rest of their walk was a whole lot lighter and came a whole lot easier for Calvin. They traded the four dogs for four more and took a different route. After a third walk—this time Jessy gave him the leads to two prissy little dogs who couldn’t have weighed more than twelve pounds each while she took two of the biggest dogs he’d ever seen—he helped Angela clean the yard, then finished out his time with a Jack Russell mix who was still in her socializing phase. The dog didn’t know whether to snap and snarl or quiver in the corner hunkered down for a beating.
I don’t know anything about socialization, he’d told Meredith, and the vet had laughed.
Sure, you do. You’re pretty well socialized yourself. Then she’d explained that all she wanted him to do was be with the dog. Sit in the small room with her and talk to her. No loud noises, no physical contact unless she initiated it. Watch his fingers and toes. Oh, and figure out a name for her.
That last part had been easy enough. In her bold, aggressive state, the dog reminded him of Bennie when they were kids. Her world might have been turned upside down, but she’d never let it show, and she’d landed on her feet, spirit intact. Hoping the dog would have the same good luck, he named her Nita.
When he told the staff her new name, Jessy grinned knowingly as she made a note of it for Nita’s kennel. He was on his way out the door for the ride back to the post when he stopped beside Jessy. “You, uh, wouldn’t happen to have…”
“Bennie’s cell phone number?” She flipped through her phone, then scrawled it on a piece of paper, pressed it into his palm, then squeezed his hand. “Think about what we discussed. You should tell her, Calvin. You should trust her.” Her grin grew even bigger. “And don’t forget to have fun. You gotta have fun.”
He wouldn’t even think about the telling-trusting part right now, but Jessy was right about one thing: He did need some fun, and he couldn’t think of anyone he was more likely to have it with than Bennie.
* * *
Bennie didn’t often take an entire evening off to do nothing, and she rarely did it twice in one week. Between work and school and now the holidays coming up, it seemed she needed every minute and then some just to get the essentials done. But when she’d got home from her shift at the hospital, she’d brewed herself a cup of amazing Kenyan coffee—Mama’s latest online find—and curled up in the porch swing to watch the sunset and debate the best use of a free Friday evening. Did she want to call one of the girls and go out to celebrate? Get a dose of maternal feelings by offering to babysit John and let Ilena go out and have some fun? Stay right here on the porch swing until the chill chased her outside, or maybe go to bed early? She could always use more sleep.
The screen door creaked as Mama stepped outside, a quilt in her arms. “I was cold, so I figured you could use this.” She spread the cover over Bennie, her gnarled fingers smoothing and tucking. “Can I get you another cup of coffee?”
“I can get it.”
“Of course you can, but you’re already cozy there. Stay. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Snuggling into the quilt, Bennie breathed deeply. It smelled of fabric softener and detergent, age and love. Mama’s grandmother had made the blanket as a wedding gift for her oldest daughter, who’d given it to her first daughter. Technically, it belonged to Bennie now, though it resided at the foot of Mama’s bed and would until she passed.
Would its history end with Bennie? If she didn’t have any daughters of her own, who would claim it when she passed?
Some cousin somewhere would take it and love it. It wasn’t the same as passing it to her own little girl, but it was something.
In her pocket, her cell phone began to ring, the closest thing to an old-fashioned ring-ring she could find. She fished it out, glancing at the screen, and a wide smile curved across her face as she greeted, “Hey, Squeaky.”
“Don’t make me dig up some of your old nicknames,” Calvin said.
“I didn’t have nicknames. I was above that.”
“Yeah, but J’Myel and I weren’t, Shorty.”
Shorty was probably the most flattering of the names they’d given her, but she’d answered to every one of them. Sometimes with a fist to the nose.
“Are you busy?”
“I’m watching the sun set.”
“Unless the earth curves sharply between here and there, it’s already set.”
“Yes, but the colors in the sky are still beautiful.” At the creak of the screen door, she said, “Hold on a minute.”
Mama came out, balancing a mug of steaming coffee carefully. She set it on the wood table beside the swing, then said, “Tell Calvin hello for me.”
“How do you know it’s Calvin?” Bennie asked.
“Because those two boys are the only ones ever made you smile like that. Don’t stay out here too long. You don’t want to catch a chill.”
“Thanks for the coffee, Mama.” Bennie warmed her fingers on the mug before tucking her hand beneath the quilt again. “Did you hear Mama’s hello?”
“Yeah.” A teasing note entered his voice. “She’s right, you know. We could always make you smile.”
“Because you were both such clowns. How was your week?”
He was silent a moment, as if seriously considering the question. “It was okay. Not bad. How was yours?”
“Always busy. One of my regular patients died this week.”
Another silence, followed by, “I’m sorry.”
“She was ready to go. She’d been terminal a long time. She told me that her affairs were in order, things were right between her and her family and between her and God, and she really wanted to spend this Christmas in heaven with her husband.” J’Myel’s first holiday in heaven had been Christmas, too, reuniting with his grandparents and all his buddies, his mama had said; cracking up Saint Peter and Saint Gabriel with his jokes; and adding his off-key voice to the carols.
Golda had wept at the thought, and now unbidden tears filled Bennie’s eyes. She cleared her throat and hoped she didn’t sound sobby. “I’ve seen a lot of people die, but never anyone as serene and peaceful as Mrs. Wagoner. That’s a gift, you know. To be at peace with death.”
Swiping her eyes, she abruptly changed the subject. She’d forgotten for a moment that Calvin had seen too much death to discuss it casually. “So what is it you do these days? Job-wise, I mean.”
“I save the world.”
The memory of him and J’Myel leaving for basic, chests puffed out like superheroes, made her laugh. “Uh-huh.”
“Seriously. I keep mankind safe from itself.” Then he chuckled. “Well, that, plus I spend a lot of time scratching Sarge’s belly.”
Bennie choked in the act of sipping her coffee. Once her sputtering was under control, she said, “I hear that keeping the people who work for you happy is important, but isn’t that taking it a little too far?”
“He doesn’t mind. Throw in a cookie, and he’ll be your best bud for life.”
“So the Army’s accepting some real dogs these days.”
“Hey, Sarge has earned every one of his stripes.”
The last of the muted purples and blues in the western sky faded into the inky night. Bennie’s cheeks were cold, but thanks to the quilt and the coffee—and the pleasure of talking to Calvin—she was snuggly warm. It was a lovely thing, feeling the chill air, smelling the autumn leaves and wood smoke, surrounded by the quiet night, and hearing Calvin’s voice. It was like all was right with her world.
Lights glimmered down the street, marking the houses of neighbors she’d known most of her life. When her gaze picked out the Sweet house, she said, “I saw Diez with Gran yesterday. They were walking and picking up pinecones.”
“Aw, man, I hope she’s not planning some craft project for Thanksgiving.”
Gran’s crafting skills were as legendary as her cooking. The problem was she’d given up cooking years ago. She kept doing the crafts. “You know Emmeline. She’s probably going to build a turkey centerpiece out of pinecones.”
“And light it with candles, like that wreath she hung on her front door when we were in middle school.”
“It only took about fifteen minutes to put the fire out,” Bennie protested. “And while it was burning, it looked pretty spectacular.”
He snorted. “I had to paint that door five times to cover all the scorch marks.”
“Better you than me. She still gets a wicked smile when she tells that story.” Bennie shifted on the swing. Her front side was still all warm, but the wooden slats of the seat were letting cold air in to her backside. She should dash inside, grab another quilt, and wrap herself up like a pig in a blanket to trap the heat.
Instead, she asked, “Have your parents decided what they’re going to do about Diez?”
She swore she heard Calvin’s shrug through the phone. “Mom says the kid’s never had a traditional Thanksgiving, so they’re going to decide after that. Of course, then they’ll need to wait a little longer because he’s never had much of a Christmas. I think they want to keep him.”
The news didn’t surprise her. Elizabeth and Justice had always had enough love for a dozen kids, and they couldn’t help needing someone who needed them back as desperately as Diez did. They could make a tremendous difference in the boy’s life if the courts would allow them…or they could be setting themselves up for heartbreak.
“How do you feel about that?” Bennie still recalled Calvin’s outburst the day Diez had shown up. She’d never seen him get so angry so fast. It had surprised her and made her way too curious about how he and Diez had met.
“When did you get all touchy-feely?” he asked, his tone all but shouting evasive technique in spite of its lightness.
“I am the queen of touchy-feeliness,” she retorted, then waited. She was also the queen of wait-him-out. It had been rare that she couldn’t get an answer from either of the boys simply by being patient.
She hadn’t lost her touch. After a moment, Calvin sighed. “He could use a good home. And Mom and Gran could use a project.”
“Ha! You were always more than enough of a project for them.”
“Yes, but I’m grown up now. I don’t need to be anyone’s project.”
There was a tone to his voice, Bennie reflected, something…not bitter. Not resentful. Maybe regretful. Of course he had regrets. They all did. But his seemed more regretful. More hurtful. More difficult for her to grasp because he’d always been strong and capable and confident. What had happened to him during those four combat tours?
She didn’t want to know. Didn’t want ugly images and ugly feelings in her head. She knew war was hell, and that was enough for her. With sincere apologies to Calvin, J’Myel, Justin and Dane and Keegan and Avi and every other service member, she didn’t want to know details.
What if J’Myel had survived and needed to share details? What if Calvin needed to share details?
She was Maudene Pickering’s granddaughter: also strong and capable and confident. She could do whatever needed doing. If Calvin needed to talk, she could listen. If he needed to share, she could shoulder part of his burden. If he needed to cry, it would break her heart, but she would hold him as long as it lasted. That was what women did for the people they loved.
