Читать книгу Paradise Valley - Робин Карр, Robyn Carr - Страница 10

Since moving part of his family’s construction company to Virgin River, business had been good for Paul Haggerty. He was working on a new construction, a forty-five-hundred-square-foot house for a couple from Arizona. It would be their second home; the people were obviously stinking rich. He’d snagged the job out from under the local contractors by promising to deliver the finished home ahead of schedule. With the reputation of his family’s company in Grants Pass plus a little tour of a couple of his completed properties, it was a quick contract. In addition to getting the job, he’d convinced them to talk to Joe Benson, his best friend and architect from Grants Pass, about a design.

Now he had to deliver.

He had a couple of houses and three renovations in production. But business was only as good as his crews. He’d hired some solid, skilled people, and when someone messed up, didn’t show for work or couldn’t follow orders, he didn’t screw around—they were gone. Which meant the hiring and firing was a continual process.

He kept his office in a construction trailer at the big homesite. That was the project that was taking the most time. The weather was warming up a little, but it was still brisk in the mountains in March. He looked up from the schedule on his clipboard to see a man walking toward him holding a folded newspaper. Another job applicant. Well, good. With any luck he’d be hireable.

The man was good-sized and appeared strong. He wore an odd-looking cowboy hat, jeans, denim jacket and boots, looking so much like everyone else up here in the mountains. He was clean shaven and his clothes appeared to be fresh; Paul took that as a positive sign.

When he got up in front of Paul he stopped and said, “Hi. I’m looking for the boss at Haggerty Construction.”

Paul put out his hand. “Paul Haggerty. How you doin’?”

The man accepted the shake. “Dan Brady. Good. You?”

“Excellent. What can I do for you?”

“You advertised for a drywall man and painter. That spot filled yet?”

“I can always use help with that, if you have what I need. Let me get you an application.” Paul turned away to go into the trailer.

“Mr. Haggerty,” Dan said, stopping him.

Paul turned. He was used to being in charge, but he didn’t think he’d ever get used to being called mister by a man his age or older.

“I don’t want to waste your time or mine. I served some felony time. If that’s going to stop you cold, let’s not go through the routine.”

“For what?” Paul asked.

“Farming the wrong produce, you might say.”

“Anything else on your sheet?” Paul asked.

“Yeah. I turned myself in.”

“Any other arrests? Of any kind? Even misdemeanor?”

“That’s it. Isn’t that about enough?”

Paul didn’t respond or react. He’d keep secret the fact that he’d feel better hiring a pot grower than someone who’d had a bunch of DUIs. One thing that could really mess up the works and get people hurt was drinking on the job. “Do you have a parole or probation officer you report to?” Paul asked.

“I do,” he said. “Parole. I was released early, if that matters.”

“How long have you been out?”

“Not long. Six weeks. I checked in with the family and relocated.”

“Why here?” Paul wondered aloud.

“Because Virgin River is known for discouraging marijuana growing.”

“Well, Dan, my business isn’t limited to Virgin River. There’s lots of work around these mountains and I’m willing to take any good bid if I have the crews to cover it. There could be a job in a place that caters to illegal growing, like Clear River. That going to be a problem for you? Or for me?”

Dan grinned. “Old acquaintances of mine aren’t likely to be doing honest work. I think it’ll be all right.” Then he shook his head. “One of ’em might order up a big house, however. I just hope not.”

Paul laughed in spite of himself. He wasn’t going to be doing business in cash. If that ever came up, they’d have to use a bank, and growers didn’t like banks. “Then the next step is your application. I’d like to see what you’ve done in construction, then we’ll talk.”

“Thank you, Mr. Haggerty. Thank you very much.”

Paul got him an application, gave him a pen and clipboard. Dan sat on the steps to the trailer and filled it out. A half hour later he handed it to Paul who scanned it.

“You’ve had a lot of construction experience,” he said, surprised. He looked up. “Marine Corps?”

“Yes, sir. I started working construction at eighteen, Marine Corps at twenty-five.”

“The Corps came kind of late for you. A lot of us went in younger…”

“I thought about it for a long time first. And the military benefits seemed worth the time. Not a lot of benefits in the construction trade.”

“I offer medical benefits for full-time crew,” Paul said.

“That’s no longer a priority,” he said.

“You have an address in Sebastapol.”

“That’s my folks’ place—my permanent address. I haven’t found anything around here yet, but I have the camper shell, so I’m good while I look.”

“You’re a framer, too. I need framers.”

“I could probably do it, but I have an unsteady leg. Since Iraq. I do a lot of other things that don’t go fifteen feet off the ground and that would probably keep your workman’s comp manageable.”

Paul pondered the application for a good two minutes. The guy looked real good on paper. He’d been a felon, but then again, Paul had fought wildfire as a volunteer beside incarcerated felons recruited for that purpose. “What are the chances of getting a letter of recommendation?”

“Slim. But the sheriff’s department might be willing to confirm that I was a cooperative suspect. I guess my parole officer might step up. I could ask, but you know that won’t guarantee I’d be a good employee.”

“How bad you want a job?” Paul asked without looking up.

“Bad.”

“Bad enough to take a urine test every now and then?”

Dan Brady laughed. “Sure. But I can make that easy on you. I can sign a release to give you access to the parole officer’s random urine test, then you don’t have to pay for a lab. I don’t do drugs. Never did.”

“Then why?” Paul asked, mystified.

“Money,” he said with a shrug. “It was for the money.”

“Do you regret it?” Paul asked.

Dan Brady paused a long moment before he said, “I have a list of regrets about a hundred miles long. That would fall in there somewhere. At the time, I needed the money. Times were hard.”

“Are times still hard?” Paul asked.

“Those times are past. Oh, I still need money, but it’s all different now. Prison changed a lot of things, believe me.”

“Says here you do just about everything—drywall, texturing, painting, plumbing, wiring, counters, roofing—”

“Roofing—there’s that high-up thing again. Sorry, you have to know the truth, my unsteady leg can take me by surprise. I’ll do anything, but you should have the truth about that for both our sakes. One, I don’t want a broken back, and two, you don’t want an injured jobber on your insurance.”

“When was the last time you took a fall from that leg?”

“Well,” Dan said, scratching his chin, “a couple of years ago, I fell in my mother’s upstairs bathroom, and that wasn’t even high beams. I didn’t hurt myself much, but one minute I was standing up, the next I was on my ass. Like I said, I could get up there on the roof, if that’s the price of getting the job, but I’ve made it a policy to stay close to the ground if at all possible. In case.”

Paul laughed. “How’d you like the Marines?”

“The truth? I think I was a decent Marine, but I didn’t love it. I got mostly shit assignments. I went to Iraq right off the bat, when things were as bad as they could get. When I was discharged, it was one of the happiest days of my life.”

“I did my four and joined the reserves and went back to Iraq a second time. One of us was smarter. I vote for you. But that felony thing—”

“I understand….”

“What if I give you a shot? Think I’ll regret it?”

“Nope. I’m good in construction. Before I started doing it for a living, I helped my dad build our house. And I’ll pee in a cup for you. I don’t steal or get in fights. But if I were you, I’d keep me close to the ground. I’ll get a lot more done.”

Paul smiled and put out his hand. “Well, what the hell, Dan. You paid your debt. But I am going to check in with the parole officer, just to get another read on you.”

Dan put out a hand. “Knock yourself out there, sir. He thinks I have potential.”

“Then we’re off to an excellent start. If you have any talent, you’re coming on at a good time. This company is young and growing.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best.”

Dan Brady worked the rest of the week for Haggerty Construction. He was moved around so Paul could see his work. He did some drywall and texturing, hung a couple of big, carved front doors with leaded-glass windows, spackled, fitted countertop, even helped with some wiring. “Do you do everything in construction?” Paul finally asked.

“Just about,” Dan answered with a shrug. “I started when I was fifteen, trained by the toughest boss in construction. The man was a tyrant.” Then he grinned proudly.

“Your dad,” Paul said.

“You work for him, too?” Dan asked facetiously.

“Tell you what, you stay out of trouble, you might work out.” Then Paul slapped him on the back.

Dan worked on Saturday as well; they were pressed for time on the big house. But the crew supervisor told everyone to knock off at two in the afternoon and be back Monday morning bright and early.

Dan had less than forty-eight hours to get a few things done. He had to do some laundry, buy some nonperishable food he could keep in his camper shell, and he should see what he could find out about renting a room, apartment or small house. But first, he was due a beer. He might be able to accomplish more than one chore by stopping in that little bar in Virgin River. The guy who owned the place might know if there was anything to lease in the area. Just on principle, Dan didn’t want to ask his new boss.

He walked into the bar and a couple of seconds later Jack came out from the back.

“Aw, Jesus Christ,” Jack said. “You again.”

Dan took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Nice to see you, too.”

“Aw, man—you’re the one. Paul hired you!” Jack stepped up behind the bar, hands on his hips. “He said he hired a big guy who wore a funny-looking cowboy hat. Guess he doesn’t know a Shady Brady when he sees one.”

Dan just shook his head and gave a half smile. “You hold some kind of grudge or something? What’d I ever do to you?”

“Just seems like when you’re around, there’s some kind of trouble.”

“Yeah, and sometimes when I’m around, someone needs a lift. Didn’t I pick you up off a dirt road in the middle of a wildfire? Jesus, some people have no gratitude. Can I get a beer or are you going to glare at me all day?”

“You got clean money this time? I don’t take money that smells like fresh-cut cannabis.”

“Didn’t you get the word? I’m rehabilitated. I work construction, and that’s all.”

Jack lifted one eyebrow. “You went to jail?”

“For a while, yeah. Paul didn’t tell you?” Jack shook his head. “How about that,” Dan said. “He’s a gentleman, too.”

Jack pulled a cold Heineken out of the cooler, remembering the man’s preferred brew, popped the cap and put a chilled glass on the bar. “Listen, he’s a good man. He works hard, he’s honest, he treats people right. He’s a family man and has good friends around here. Real good friends. You better not screw with him.” Jack nodded at the beer. “You need a Beam to go with that?” It was usually a boilermaker—Heineken and Jim Beam.

Dan smiled. “No thanks, this is fine. Look, buddy, all I want to do for your friend is construction. He gave me a job. I need a job.” He put out his hand. “Dan Brady.”

“Brady?” Jack asked with a laugh. “Had to be Brady.”

“Interesting, huh?” He put the hat on the bar. “My signature.”

Jack hesitated a moment before he put his hand out and shook Dan’s. “Jack Sheridan.”

“Yeah, I know. Now, can we move on? No reason we have to go head to head every time we see each other. I’m hoping to live here. At least for a while.”

“Why here?” Jack asked suspiciously.

“I’m not likely to run into any old business associates in here.” He grinned. “The bartender won’t take stinky money.”

“You saying we understand each other?” Jack asked.

“I never had a problem understanding you, pal. Fact is, if this were my bar, I wouldn’t have taken my money either. But that’s all in the past. And I need some information, if you have it.”

“We’ll see,” Jack said.

“First of all, I’m bedding down in a camper shell and it’s fine, but I thought you might know of something to rent around here.”

Jack knew of a number of possibilities. Luke Riordan had six cabins on the river, recently updated. There was a couple in town who let out a room over their garage from time to time. And Jack had his cabin in the woods. But there was a vast difference between giving the man a job and watching him work and inviting him to spend the night. “Sorry,” Jack said. “That’s the thing about these mountain towns. Rentals and property sales come up so seldom, Paul’s company is doing well. People have to build from scratch or remodel.”

Dan watched Jack’s eyes as he said this and he knew he wasn’t getting the whole truth. He didn’t blame the guy. It was going to take a while to prove he wasn’t a low-life criminal. He knew there’d be a price when he made the decision to enter the marijuana trade. Right now he could probably get assistance from someone still growing, but Dan didn’t want to go that route. He meant it when he said that was in the past.

“Okay,” Dan said, “I get that. And like I said, I’m not uncomfortable. I park at a rest stop at night. There’s hot water and facilities. What are your hours of operation? I’m looking for an occasional hot meal and a packed lunch to take on the job.”

“We can handle that for you. I’m usually here by six-thirty and Preacher lives on the property. He has the coffee on by six. We stay open till about nine at night, later if someone asks us to stay open. If you let Preacher know in advance, he can have a packed lunch ready for you in the early morning. If you need any—” The phone rang in the kitchen. “Give me a second. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Dan said.

While Jack was gone, Dan wondered, just curiously, if the till was locked. Would Jack Sheridan leave him alone in the bar with a money drawer open? Did he trust him a little bit, or not at all? He wouldn’t blame Jack if it took him some time to warm up to Dan—after all, this was the first hour of the first day they had a legitimate relationship. But Dan and Jack had history. Lots of history. And it wasn’t all so good.

The first time they’d crossed paths, Dan had to get the local midwife to help him with a birth gone bad at an illegal grow site. That midwife was Jack’s woman, and that whole episode went over like a turd in a punch bowl. The next time they came into contact, Dan had actually rear-ended that same midwife, and she was nine months pregnant. Again, not an auspicious beginning for their friendship.

But then he’d redeemed himself. Dan was in the area when some local men were searching for Preacher’s wife, who’d been abducted by her homicidal ex-husband. It hadn’t been Dan’s plan to save the day, but the rest of these louts couldn’t hack it and someone had to act. So Dan whopped the ex-husband on the head with his flashlight, knocked him cold and facilitated rescue.

Then there was the forest fire last summer. By the sheerest coincidence, Jack was sitting by the side of the road, hurt and dehydrated, as Dan was making his escape from a couple of lunatic growers. He picked Jack up and got him to safety.

Jack had apparently forgotten the good parts. Or decided they weren’t good enough.

Shortly after that fire, there had been a warrant for Dan’s arrest and that’s when he’d turned himself in. By virtue of being highly cooperative, he’d only served six months of a three-year sentence. But still, he was now and forever an ex-con.

His beer was long gone. Whoever was on the phone must be important or Jack Sheridan wouldn’t leave someone he didn’t trust alone in his bar. Hell, he wouldn’t even take his money if it smelled like—

His thought was cut off as Jack wandered back into the bar, his face white and his eyes unfocused. He clutched a piece of paper in his hand and he didn’t look at Dan. He didn’t go behind the bar, but stood just outside the kitchen door and stared blankly at nothing.

“Hey, man,” Dan said. “Hey, Sheridan.”

Jack didn’t respond. He was a million miles away.

Dan got up and approached him warily. He looked weird, and weird could sometimes mean unstable. Unstable could mean anything.

“Sheridan? What’s up, man?”

Jack’s unfocused eyes slowly pivoted toward Dan. He licked his dry lips, blinked a couple of times. “My boy, Rick,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

“What?” Dan asked a little frantically. He’d had a boy of his own once. He’d probably worn those same eyes at the time. “What about your boy Rick?”

“Rick,” he said, and lifted the piece of paper on which he’d scrawled notes. Haditha, Al Anbar, hostile, critical, grenade, Landstuhl Medical Center, Germany.

“Shit,” Dan said. “Hey! Snap out of it! What happened?” He gave Jack a couple of pats on the cheeks, carefully. He didn’t slap him; Jack might be reactive enough to coldcock him. “Whoa, buddy.” He grabbed a bottle off the glass shelf behind the bar and tipped a shot over a glass. “Hey,” he said, lifting the glass to Jack’s lips. “Come on, burn it down, buddy. Get a grip.”

Jack’s shaking hand came up to grab the glass. He closed his eyes, threw back the shot and kept his eyes closed for a long moment. When he opened them, they were burning with a feral gleam.

“Something happen to your son, Jack?” Dan asked.

He shook his head. “Rick is like a son. He’s in the Corps in Iraq.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dan said, looking down at the paper. “Haditha, in Iraq. Landstuhl Medical. Been there.”

“He’s wounded. He might not make it.” He shook his head. “I gotta think straight,” he said to himself.

“Jesus,” Dan said. He shot into the kitchen. “Anybody back here? Hey! Anybody back here?”

In a second a woman came through a door into the kitchen. He recognized her. She was the woman who’d been abducted—Paige. The last time he’d seen her, she was pregnant. “What is it?” she asked, confused.

“Gimme a hand out here, huh?”

She followed him into the bar. Jack was leaning against the cupboard behind the bar and a little sanity had crept back into his eyes.

“Somebody named Rick is hurt in Iraq,” Dan said. “Can you find Jack’s wife? Call her or something?”

“I’m all right,” Jack said. But Paige bolted to the kitchen. “I just have to think. I was in his file as next of kin, probably because his grandmother is old and sick. Lance Corporal Sudder, they said. Took a grenade in Haditha. They got him out of surgery in Iraq and transported him to Germany, but he’s not in good shape. They had to resuscitate twice and there will be more surgery,” he said. “I have to think.”

“Whew, have another one. Slow down the brain a little,” Dan said, pouring a half a shot of something, he wasn’t even sure what.

He handed it to Jack, and Jack threw it back. He shut his eyes hard. A single tear escaped and ran down his cheek. He opened his eyes again and looked at Dan through slits. “Black Label,” he said hoarsely. “You act like you own the place.”

Dan laughed out loud. “There you are. You on my planet now? What happened?”

“Gimme some water. I’m getting there.”

Dan poured a water and Jack took a big drink. By the time he lowered the glass, Paige was standing in the kitchen doorway. Dan glanced at her.

“My husband has gone for some supplies,” she said almost apologetically. “The kids are napping. I called Mel at home and told her to come right now. It’s Saturday, the clinic isn’t open.”

“I’m okay now,” Jack said. “Rick was wounded in Haditha. He’s hurt real bad. Legs, head, torso, miscellaneous injuries. They airlifted him to Germany. I have to tell Lydie Sudder and Liz.” He looked at Dan. “Liz is his girlfriend. Then I have to go.”

“Go?” Dan asked.

“I’ll have to get to Germany. This is my fault. Kid never would’ve gone into the Corps if it hadn’t been for me and all my boys, here all the time, making him think it’s just one big goddamn party. Shit.” He swiveled his eyes to Dan’s. “They said he’s bad. He might not make it. That I should be prepared for that.”

“You got phone numbers on this paper, buddy. Once your brain is engaged again, call back and get some more numbers so you can check in at Landstuhl, find out how he’s doing. You had a big shock. You need to get stable.”

“I need a cup of coffee,” Jack said. “I had to think a second who Lance Corporal Sudder was. God, my worst nightmare.”

“Sit down on a stool,” Dan said. “I’ll fix you a cup of coffee.”

Jack looked at Paige. “Try to get Mel before she makes the drive. Tell her I’m just coming home in a little while.”

Without a word, Paige went back into the kitchen to use the phone.

Jack sat up at the bar, a place he was never seen. In his usual place behind the bar stood Dan, serving up coffee in a big mug. He didn’t ask any more questions and didn’t need to.

“Ricky turned up when he was thirteen and I’d just started working on the bar. It was a shithole then. I slept in the rubble while I tried to get it straight. He was small back then—his face was covered with freckles and he couldn’t shut his mouth for five minutes.” Jack laughed and shook his head, remembering. “I let him hang around because his mom and dad were dead and he just had his grandma. And the goofy kid sucked me in. He’s twenty now. No more freckles. Six-two. Strong…”

“Gotta remember he’s strong, Jack,” Dan said. “Don’t give up on him.”

“He shouldn’t have done it, joined the Marines, but he was first in every training program, he was good….”

“Is,” Dan corrected. “Get it together, man.”

“Is good,” Jack repeated. He took a deep drink of hot coffee. “I don’t know what I can tell Lydie and Liz….”

“You tell them he’s hurt bad, in the hospital, and you’re going there. That’s what you tell them. You don’t give anyone permission to give up. If the worst happens, then you’ll tell them the worst. You don’t tell them the worst before it happens.”

“You should’ve seen him, man,” Jack said, drinking more coffee, smiling. “I taught him to hold a hammer, fish, shoot. He was such a little nerd at first, all gangles and pimples and that damn giggling, I thought he might stay that way forever. But he grew up fast—turned out to be a little faster in the saddle than was good. Whew. I felt like a father to that kid—”

“Feel,” Dan corrected. “Feel like a father…”

“I do, that’s a fact.”

Paige popped her head back into the bar. “She’s already on her way, Jack.”

“Aw, we shouldn’t have bothered her.”

“She needs to be here,” Dan said. Paige withdrew again, leaving them alone. “She’ll go with you to see the grandmother, the girlfriend. Then you’ll go see Rick. You think you’re together enough to do that? To go to Germany? Because if you’re nuts or in some flashback, you can’t chance it. It wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Jack took a drink from his coffee cup, then slowly raised his eyes. “I won’t let him down. I think I was in shock for a minute.”

“Yeah,” Dan said.

Dan stood behind the bar while Jack sat as a customer. Dan refilled his coffee mug, then pulled another Heineken out of the cooler, but this time he drank it from the bottle. For a few minutes they talked quietly about Rick and what he meant to Jack. About the letter not so long ago that described how dangerous it had been in Haditha lately.

The sound of boots on the bar’s porch brought Jack off the stool and toward the door. He pulled it open and there stood Mel, her eyes wide and her mouth open slightly. “Ricky?” she asked in a breath.

“Wounded in Iraq. He’s had surgery to stabilize him, but I’m not even sure on what. He had leg, torso and head injuries and has been airlifted to Germany, to a military hospital there. Mel—”

“Are you all right?” she asked him.

“I’m coming around. It knocked the wind out of me. Where are the kids?”

“Mike came over from next door—they’re sleeping.”

“I have to tell Lydie and Liz.”

“First Lydie,” Mel said. “Then we’ll go home and while you pack, I’ll get on the computer and find you plane tickets. Then we’ll go to Eureka to see Liz. We’ll go in two cars, I’ll take the kids with me. When you head for the airport, I’ll bring the kids home. Unless you need me with you in Germany. Thing is, I don’t have the kids on my passport. Shit, how dumb was that, with Rick in Iraq! Why didn’t I take care of that? Well, maybe I should come. I can fly to L.A., get the passport handled in a day, and—”

“Mel, stop. You’re not dragging the kids to Germany,” Jack said. “Come on, let’s get going.” He held the door for her.

As she was leaving, she looked over her shoulder at the man behind the bar.

“I’ll—ah—leave a few bucks on the bar,” Dan said. “And help the lady in the kitchen till her husband gets back, if she needs me.”

“Don’t worry about the few bucks, unless you want to pitch in for that Black Label you threw down my throat,” Jack said with a weak smile.

“Thank you,” Mel said.

“Hey—” Dan shrugged “—glad I was here.”

Jack started to leave, but then he stopped again and looked at Dan. “The thing that did it, the thing that knocked me out for a while…When I told the sergeant who called that I’d get right over to Germany, he asked me if I didn’t want to wait until Rick was out of surgery, until they knew his condition, in case he didn’t make it. And I said no, I wasn’t waiting. I was either going to see him or bring him home. Just thinking that? It put me in shock.”

“Well, stop thinking it now,” Dan said. “Get going. Remember, he’s strong.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Yeah.”

“Jack. Remember, you’re strong, too.”

Lydie reacted exactly as Mel expected. She gasped, got teary and twisted her hands, asking questions for which Jack had no answers. But then she straightened her neck and stiffened her spine and began to pray. “I’ll be all right,” she said bravely. “When you get there, tell Ricky his grandma is fine and praying for him. He worries about me too much. I don’t want him to worry when he should be working on getting better.”

“I’ll come by and check on you later today,” Mel said. “Don’t get upset and forget to test your blood, take your insulin and eat. Promise me.”

“I promise. Now go. Don’t waste your time here. He needs you.”

Liz was another story. After booking a flight and packing a duffel, Mel and Jack drove to Eureka in separate vehicles. Liz met them at the door before they were halfway down the walk. “Is he alive?” she asked before they even told her why they were there. Her eyes were as big as hubcaps and frightened. “Is he alive?”

They couldn’t even get in the door. “He was wounded, Liz,” Jack said. “He’s seriously hurt, but he’s in the hospital. They airlifted him out of Iraq and he should be in Germany soon. I’m going to see him, and when I get there, I’ll call you immediately and tell you his condition. I’ll—”

“Take me,” she said, whirling around and fleeing back into the house. Over her shoulder she said, “I knew all day. I knew. I couldn’t get him off my mind and I was worried all day. I worry a lot, but not like lately. I have a passport and—”

“Liz! No!” Mel said. “Now stop, honey. Let Jack—”

“No, if Jack won’t let me go with him, I’ll go by myself. I’ve never been on a plane, but I’ll figure it out. I have to go, I have to be there for him, I have to—”

“Maybe she should,” Jack said quietly.

Mel tugged on his sleeve to bring his ear to her lips. “Jack, what if you get there and it’s the worst case? You shouldn’t have to deal with all this.”

“It’s not going to be worst case,” Jack said. “And if it helps Rick…Maybe it’ll help Rick.” He looked at Liz. “You have a computer?”

“Of course.”

“You pack. Mel will get you a ticket. You have to hurry. We have to drive to Redding.”

“I knew all day long,” she whispered. “I have almost a thousand dollars saved.”

“Where’s the computer?”

“In here. In my bedroom. Will it cost more than a thousand dollars? Because I could borrow some from my aunt Connie.”

Jack took the baby out of Mel’s arms, hanging on to both children, freeing her. “Put it on the card, Mel. Get her a ticket on my flight if you can.” Mel just looked up at him with a large question in her eyes. “It’s his girl. He loves her. And she knew all day. There’s a bond. He’d probably rather have her there than me. Besides, we have to get it straight, how you act around someone who’s been critically wounded. Liz is up to it.”

“Liz, will your mom be okay with this? You’ll miss a bunch of school.”

“I’ll call her. She’s got her cell phone. It doesn’t matter—I’ll make up school. This is Rick. I have to be there with him.”

“Liz,” Mel said. “What if it’s terrible? What if he’s not okay?”

She threw a soft suitcase on the bed and looked at Mel with clear, determined eyes. “Then I have to be there even more.”

Mel sighed and sat down at the computer.

By the time Mel left Jack and Liz to begin their long journey to Frankfurt, her kids were just about psychotic from waking too early from naps, being hungry, having been transported all over the place. It would make sense to just go home and try to settle them, but she couldn’t. She had to speak to Connie, Liz’s aunt. She should tell Preacher and Paul, Marines who felt close to Rick. She should tell Cameron to look out for Lydie, since he was living at the clinic and Lydie was just down the street.

And after that she would go home to a lonely house and two fussy kids. It wasn’t typical for Mel to feel totally frazzled, but she did. She loved Rick as much as Jack did.

She went first to Connie, but didn’t stay long. Then to the bar where Preacher already had the news from his wife. He wondered if he should close the bar. “The word is going to travel,” Mel said. “And we’re not going to hear anything for twenty-four hours or so. Stay busy. Everyone loves Ricky. If it’s not your fanciest dinner tonight, no one will complain.”

“My dinners tend to get fancier when there’s trouble….”

Next, Mel checked on Lydie, who was doing remarkably well under the circumstances, but by the time she got to the clinic to talk to Cameron, her kids were screaming and tears were running down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, coming down the stairs in his jeans and T-shirt. “What’s going on here?” he asked. He immediately took David off her hands so they could each comfort one child.

“God,” she said, trying to sniff back emotion. “You’ve heard us talk about Rick, right?”

“Sure. Is he all right?”

“He is not all right. He was critically wounded in Iraq. Jack and Rick’s girlfriend, Liz, have rushed off to Germany, where he’s been airlifted for surgery. My kids have been slung around all afternoon so we could get the two of them on their way, and I just realized I haven’t let myself feel it yet. He’s like Jack’s boy. He’s like my boy. And these two are absolutely insane. I need to rock and feed and tell more people who are close to Ricky and I—” She started to cry. “I’m so worried and scared I could just die.”

Cameron put an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, Mel. Let’s rock and feed and cry if you need to. I’ll make you tea or hot milk or—”

“Tea or hot milk?” she asked through her tears. “Great.”

“I have a beer in the refrigerator,” he offered, wiping her cheeks with his thumb.

“Better,” she sniffed. “I came for a reason, not just to cry. I didn’t plan that part. Lydie Sudder, down the street, that’s Rick’s grandma. His only living family. And she’s—”

“I know all about Lydie. Diabetic, failing vision, high blood pressure, and her heart—”

“I just want you to be alert to her. It’s not as though pounding on her door at two in the morning to see if she’s all right is going to help. But I checked on her and told her to call one of us if she had any problems related to this scary news. I told her to call a pager. I can’t go home yet. I still have to call on Vanni and Paul.”

He led her into the clinic’s kitchen and deftly pulled a couple of the prepared bottles she kept there out of the refrigerator. Emma was almost a year old, David two, and both of them were happy with the cold milk. Then he handed Mel a beer with a smile.

“How about dinner for these two?”

“Right now they’re just tired to the bone and need some calm. But I can’t sit around here too long.”

Cam had David in his arms while Mel held Emma. Both children settled down quickly with their bottles and some warm, calm arms holding them. Mel sniffled a couple of times, but having her children under control and a quiet place to sit calmed even her.

“You should have seen Liz,” she said softly. “She’s never been on a plane before, much less to Europe. She packed in ten minutes. She kept asking me questions while I was trying to get her a ticket on the computer. She’d ask, ‘Hair dryer?’ and I’d answer yes. ‘Cold or warm there?’ and I said cold. Ten minutes and she was ready to go. She’s loved him since she was fourteen.”

“Do you know anything about his injuries?” Cam quietly asked.

“Not a lot, no.” She repeated what Jack had told her. “I wanted to go with him, but I have a passport problem and two small children. I still wanted to go. In the end, Liz went. Seventeen-year-old Liz. And I was jealous.”

He laughed at her. “It was probably good that she went, if it’ll help the boy.”

“That’s what Jack said. But suddenly I feel abandoned. I know it’s stupid, but I still felt it.”

“It’s not stupid, Mel. It’s the real deal. Thing is, there’s just no help for it. Why don’t you leave the kids with me while you make your calls to deliver the news.”

She shook her head and laughed hollowly. “That makes perfect sense, but because of this I just can’t be separated from my kids. I have to have them near.”

“I see,” Cameron said. “Tell you what—I’ll follow you out to Haggerty’s, then to your place. I’ll help you with the kids, get them fed and settled. We’ll make a sandwich. And when all is calm and quiet, I’ll take off.” He grinned. “I didn’t have plans for tonight anyway. And I’m wearing the pager.”

“I have baby food,” she said. “I don’t know what grown-up food I have.”

He laughed again. “You’re hopeless. Fine. I’ll make us a couple of sandwiches here, pack them, and we’ll go get the job done. Do you have chips?”

“I don’t know,” she answered.

“Is Jack completely in charge of the food at your house?”

“Pretty much,” she admitted, taking a drink of her beer. She snuggled Emma, calmed down, sniffed back her tears, and thanks to Cameron’s offer of help, felt a lot better about the rest of her mission.

“I have chips,” he said.

She smiled at him. She’d spent so much time being grateful to Cameron, the doctor, for practicing medicine in her town, she hadn’t realized how great Cameron, the person, really was. “You’ve turned into my good friend,” she said. “Like Doc.”

“That’s very nice,” he replied. “Thank you.”

It was a very long night and day before the phone rang at the Sheridan house and Mel lunged for it. She said hello and heard Jack’s gravelly voice. “Baby.”

“Jack! What do you know?”

“He’s going to be all right. He cracked his head, lost a spleen, is scraped up all to hell, but the injuries are apparently not life threatening at this point.”

“Was he burned?” Mel asked, thinking about a grenade and the heat.

“No. Pitched through the air, though. But not burned.”

“Oh, thank God!”

“Mel, he lost his leg.”

“Was the damage too severe? Was it inoperable?” she asked.

“He lost it in the explosion. There wasn’t a chance. Losing the leg was what almost killed him. He lost a lot of blood.”

“Oh, poor Rick. Where’d they amputate? Above or below the knee?”

“Above. But they saved a lot of thigh and femur. He’s still in recovery. We haven’t seen him yet, but he’s going to be all right, Mel. Mel,” he said, then paused. “This is rough. We’re not family. Liz isn’t a spouse and I’m not his father. We’re not getting a lot of help, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

“I don’t know if they’re going to let us bring him home. He might be transferred to some military medical facility for rehab. If I was his father, I could probably bring him home and take him to the nearest hospital for rehab. If I’d just worked with Lydie to adopt him legally before all this—”

She heard the regret in his voice. Jack felt as if he’d let Rick down. “Jack, just see Rick, let him know you’re there, find out how he’s doing medically, with pain and trauma. Decisions about where he’s going next will come when they come.”

“I know.”

“And Jack? You might want to sleep. I hear the exhaustion in your voice. You have to be strong for Rick. Very strong. You can’t cave in to things like pity, worry…”

“I’ll be strong.”

“How’s Liz holding up?”

“Better than me. She was so relieved to hear he’s going to be all right, she started to cry and laugh at the same time. She doesn’t quite get it, that she’s not getting him back right away. And when she does, he won’t be the same.”

“You both just need to see him. He’s not going to be himself for a while.” She paused. “I wish I was there with you, Jack. I could help. And I miss you so much.”

“Are the kids okay?” he asked.

“They’re fine, Jack. We’re all fine. Just missing you, that’s all. But you’re where you have to be.”

“Really, if I could just get him home, with our family, I’d feel so much better.”

“That will come.” She took a deep breath. “He needs to finish this journey. He needs the rehab, a prosthetic leg. Some counseling.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Yeah, I know.”

“Would you like me to tell people? Or would you like to make calls yourself?”

“Will you do it, Mel? Lydie, Connie and the boys? If you can call Preach, Mike and Paul, they can call the squad. Are you up to it?”

“Of course, darling. I’ll make the calls right now. Everyone is waiting. Will you do something for me?”

“Anything I can.”

“When you see Rick, please tell him I love him. And I’m proud of him. Tell him I’ll do anything in my power to help him. And tell him…No, it’s too soon for that….”

“For what?”

She took a breath. “When I lived in Los Angeles, I worked with a doctor in emergency for almost a year before I learned he wore a prosthetic leg. He was quick, confident, strong and very talented. It’s not only possible, it’s probable. It’s just that…I’m sure getting there’s a real bitch.”

Blessedly, Mel had a very slow Monday morning in the clinic. Cameron had a couple of walk-ins, but Mel busied herself with paperwork and the children. It was lunchtime when a familiar guy walked in. He pulled off his Shady Brady inside the door. “Hi,” he said.

She rose from the desk behind the reception counter. “Hi. How are you?”

“Fine. Good. Um, I was just wondering if you’d heard anything from your husband. About the kid. Rick.”

“Yes,” she said, walking toward him. “He’s going to be all right. He has multiple injuries, all treatable. He’s got head injuries that aren’t a threat, he lost a spleen, is scraped up real bad but not burned, and he lost a leg in the explosion.”

The man’s eyes grew wide and shocked at that last. Then, when he collected himself, he asked, “Above or below?”

She knew exactly what he meant and wondered about his association with amputees. “Above the knee. Sounds like you know something about that.”

“In fact, I was sent to Landstuhl after an injury and got cozy with a lot of guys who lost limbs. Below the knee was easy compared to—Well, you know.”

“He’s got a lot of rehab ahead, but the outlook is potentially positive. He’s safe for now.”

“Hmm,” he said, dropping his gaze, shaking his head. “Good. He made it through. Poor kid. What did your husband say—that he’s twenty years old?”

“Just barely. And the sweetest kid you’ll ever meet. Nice of you to inquire.”

“I’ve been thinking about that whole scene. Shook old Jack up pretty good. I haven’t seen him very often over the past few years, but I’ve never seen him shook up like that.”

“Rick’s pretty special. Listen, speaking of the past few years—I think about that woman and baby a lot.”

“Listen,” he said. “I’m sorry I had to lie to you, but that baby had nothing to do with me. I knew about the woman—I knew her man left her out there, ready to pop. I checked on her a couple of times and knew she had a sketchy past, like a lot of us, and she refused to go to a clinic. She said it would be all right, but I found her in a mess.”

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth? Why’d you let me think it was yours?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know if you’d help otherwise. And I did get her on a bus. If she didn’t run out on that sister, they were willing to take her in, help her. Sorry, that was about all I could do.”

“You could have done nothing,” Mel said. She smiled. “If you’d done nothing, it would’ve been a disaster. She and the baby—”

“Yeah, well, I gave it a shot. Glad it worked out. Hope things work out for Rick, too.”

“So how come you’re around here twice in the same week?” she asked him.

It brought a grin out of him and she remembered, way back to that scary night, when he’d said, Tough little broad, arentcha? He had grinned just like that. “I got a job with the construction company. Haggerty’s.”

“A real job?” she asked, eyes wide. “Where they take taxes out of your check and everything?”

“And everything,” he said, smiling.

“You live around here?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Exactly. I’m staying in a camper until something comes up for rent. If you hear of anything…”

“Sure,” she said. “If I hear of something, I’ll let Paul know.”

“Thanks. You take care.” He turned to go.

“I never did get a name.”

He turned back. “Dan,” he said. “Dan Brady.”