by Julie Miller
He’d already made an appointment for tomorrow afternoon. He wasn’t ready for an emergency call to one of them yet. Maybe he should ask his brother-in-law where he could find a local gym that wouldn’t require a long-term commitment. He could lift some weights, run a few miles on a treadmill. That was all he needed, a physical outlet of some kind. A way to burn himself out until he was too tired to have any more thoughts inside his head.
It was almost eight o’clock when Harry pulled into the driveway beside Fairy Tale Bridal, the wedding planner business his sister owned. He pressed the buzzer and announced himself over the intercom before Hope released the lock and he jogged up the stairs to the apartment over the shop where she and Pike lived. He heard her warning Pike’s K-9 partner, Hans, to stay before opening the condominium door. His sister had a quiet beauty that seemed to have blossomed with the confidence she’d found in marriage and motherhood. He was happy to see her soft smile when she welcomed him home.
But that smile disappeared beneath a frown of concern before she shooed the German shepherd into the living area of the open layout and locked the door behind her. “That coat is too small for you. You need to get a new one that fits.”
“Guess I’ve filled out a bit since the last time I needed my winter coat. There’s not much call for them in Southern California or the Middle East.”
Although he’d fully intended to put his own things away, Hope took his coat from him as soon as he’d unzipped it. “You’re later than I thought. Did you get any dinner? I can heat up some meatloaf and potatoes in the microwave.” Seven months pregnant and wearing fuzzy house slippers with the dress she’d worn to work, she shuffled into the kitchen, hanging his coat over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “Would you rather have a sandwich?”
Harry followed her, feeling guilty that, even after all these years, she felt so compelled to take care of him. “I’m good.”
“Did you eat?” she stopped in front of the open refrigerator and turned to face him.
Hope was only a year older than Harry, and he topped her in height, and had outweighed and outmuscled her for years. But she could still peer up at him over the rims of her glasses with those dove-gray eyes and see right into the heart of him, as though the tragic childhood they’d shared had linked them in some all-knowing, twin-like bond. Lying to Hope wasn’t an option.
“No.”
“I wish you’d take better care of yourself. It wasn’t that long ago you were in a hospital fighting for your life. Besides getting winter clothes that fit, you need sleep and good food inside you.” She nudged him into a chair, kissed his cheek and went to work putting together a meatloaf sandwich for him. “You found Daisy’s house okay? What did you think of her?”
Harry pictured a set of deep blue eyes staring up at him above purple glasses, in an expression similar to the pointed look Hope had just given him. Only, he’d had a very different reaction to Daisy’s silent request. Yes, he’d reacted to the fear he’d seen there and taken action like the Marine he was trained to be, but there was something else, equally disconcerting, about the way Daisy had studied him in her near-sighted squint that he couldn’t quite shake.
“She’s a hugger.” Surprised that those were the first words that came out of his mouth, Harry scrubbed his palm across the stubble itching the undamaged skin of his jaw.
But the faint air of dismay in his tone didn’t faze Hope. In fact, something about his comment seemed to amuse her. “I told you she was friendly and outgoing. She approached me that first morning in our adult Sunday School class. I’d still be sitting in the corner, just listening to the discussion if she hadn’t sat down beside me and started a conversation.”
Yep. The woman certainly had a talent for talking.
“There’s Uncle Harry.” Pike Taylor strolled into the living area, carrying their squirmy, wheaten-haired son, Gideon, who was decked out in a fuzzy blue outfit for bedtime. Even out of uniform, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, Pike carried himself with the wary alertness of the Kansas City cop he was. But the tall, lanky man who’d been there to protect his sister from both their abusive father and a serial rapist while Harry had been stationed over in the Heat Locker reminded Harry of an overgrown kid when he set his son down and chased him over to his play area in the living room. Even the dog got into the game, joining in with a loud bark and circling around the toddler, which only made the little boy chortle with glee. That muscle ticked in Harry’s cheek as the urge to smile warred with the images of something darker trying to surface. Gideon lost his balance and plopped onto the extra padding of his diaper before using the German shepherd’s fur to pull himself back onto his pudgy little feet and change directions. “Look out,” Pike warned from his wrestling position on the floor. “He’s been asking for his roommate all evening.”
Gideon toddled over to Harry’s knee, joyfully repeating a phrase that sounded a lot like “Yucky Hair,” which was apparently going to be his nickname for the duration of this visit. Gideon’s little fingers tugged at Harry’s jeans and reached for him, demanding to be picked up. Although Harry was half afraid to hold the stout little tyke, he could feel the expectation radiating off Hope not to deny her son the innocent request. Unwilling to refuse his sister anything that would put a smile on her face, Harry picked up his nephew and set him on his lap. He pushed aside the salt and pepper shakers that Gideon immediately reached for, and let him tug at the buttons of his Henley sweater, instead. Hans lay down close by Harry’s feet, keeping an eye on the little boy as if he didn’t trust Harry with the toddler, either. Harry shifted in his seat, uncomfortable being the center of all this attention. Gideon batted at Harry’s face and he lifted his chin, pulling away from the discomfiting contact. Hell, the dog was better with the child than he was. He needed to distract himself fast, or he was going to end up in a dark place that no one in this room wanted him to visit.
Turning his chair away from the watchful German shepherd, Harry latched onto the first thought that came to mind. “Daisy’s a little scattered, isn’t she?”
Pike tossed a couple of toys into Gideon’s playpen before rising to his feet and crossing to the table. “Scattered? You mean her house? She’s been working on it for three years. I can’t imagine what it’s costing her to redo it from top to bottom like that. Plus, she’s doing a lot of the cosmetic work herself.”
“I meant she rambled from one topic to the next. I had a hard time keeping up.”
“She does live alone,” Pike suggested. “Maybe she was lonesome and wanted to talk to somebody.”
Hope snickered at her husband’s idea. “She’s been at school all day, with hundreds of students. She’s had plenty of people to talk to.”
“Teenagers,” Pike countered. “It’s not the same as talking to an adult.”
Dismissing the explanation with a shake of her head, Hope opened a cabinet to pull out a bag of potato chips. “It’s not exactly like you’re Mr. Conversation, Harry. You’re quiet like I am with new people. Maybe you made her nervous and she was chatting to fill the silence. I do that when my shy genes kick in.”
Not in any universe would he describe Daisy Mega-Hugger as a shy woman. But maybe something about him had made her nervous. The scars that turned his ugly mug into an acquired taste? Not announcing his visit before showing up on her doorstep? Was there something more to those footprints in the snow than she’d let on? The idea of a Peeping Tom had upset her, yes, but now that he considered her reaction, she hadn’t seemed surprised to discover signs of an intruder.
Hope ripped open the bag of chips and crunched one in her mouth before dumping some onto the plate beside his sandwich. “She is one of those women who seems to have a lot of irons in the fire. She’s always volunteering for one thing or another. Daisy has the biggest heart in the world.”
Harry pulled a toddler fist away from the tip of his nose. Was that big hear
t why she’d even considered giving Mr. Rude a place to live as her tenant? “I actually waited there a little while after I left. She had a guy coming in to talk about renting her upstairs.”
Pike came up behind Hope and reached around her to snatch a chip and pop it into his mouth. “Mr. Friesen is the uncle of one of our receptionists at the precinct. I ran a background check on him for her.”
“He showed up before I got out of there. I waited outside for half an hour to make sure he left without incident.”
Hope’s eyes were wide as she set the plate in front of Harry. “Without incident? That sounds ominous.”
Harry ate a bite before breaking off a morsel of the soft bread for Gideon to chew on, in an effort to distract the toddler from grabbing the whole sandwich. “While I was there, she had me check out some suspicious tracks in her backyard. Looked to me like someone had been casing her house.”
Pike pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat. “Did you report it to KCPD?”
So, he thought the situation seemed troublesome, too. “I advised her to.”
Hope moved a subtly protective hand to her swollen belly. “You checked out the house for her, didn’t you? Her locks and everything are secure?
“She’s got new windows on the ground floor. Dead bolts on the doors.” But he hadn’t checked any of them to see if they were locked. Surely, the woman had sense enough to... The second bite of his sandwich went stale in his mouth. He should have done that for her, at least.
Pike pulled Hope onto his lap, soothing her concern for their friend. “We’ve had a rash of burglaries across the city. Pretty standard for this time of year. Thieves looking for money or credit cards, or even wrapped presents they can pawn.”
Either coveting his meal or sensing Harry’s increasingly testy mood, Gideon squealed and stabbed at the plate, scattering the pile of chips across the table top. Harry shoved the plate aside and pulled the boy back, scooting the chair across the tile floor. His boot knocked against Hans, sending the dog to his feet with a startled woof.
All at once, the dark place inside his mind erupted with a fiery explosion. He felt the pain tearing through his flesh. He heard the shouts for help, the whimpers of pain.
Harry staggered to his feet. “Platz, Tango,” he ordered, mixing the past and the present inside his head. “Hans, I mean. Platz.” Pike’s well-trained dog instantly obeyed the German command to lie down. Slamming the door on the flashback, Harry thrust Gideon into his frightened sister’s arms and grabbed his coat. “I’m sorry. I need to walk around the block a couple of times. Clear my head.”
“Harry?”
“Let him go, honey.”
An hour later, Harry had come in from the cold, apologized to his sister, finished off the meal she’d saved for him and shut himself inside the bedroom he shared with Gideon.
The flashback had receded to the wasteland of buried images inside his head, although he was still having a hard time settling his thoughts enough to sleep. With Gideon snoring softly from his crib across the darkened room, Harry lay back on the double bed, using the flashlight from his duffel bag to read through the stack of cards and letters that normally soothed him on nights like this.
He grinned through Daisy’s account of catching one of her students licking a potted plant in her classroom because the girl had been curious to find out what the sap oozing from the stalk tasted like. The girl had been perfectly fine, but the spate of dumb jokes that had followed would have given a stand-up comic plenty of material. The story had made his unit laugh to the extent that when any one of them made a boneheaded move, they’d teased the Marine by calling him or her a plant-licker.
Gideon gurgled in his sleep, reminding Harry that he was the interloper here. In another couple of months, Hope and Pike would need this space for Gideon’s new little brother or sister. Although he had every intention of returning to his duties with the Corps by that time, Harry acknowledged another stab of guilt. Maybe Hope wanted to redecorate this room. She had talked about expanding their loft into the shop’s second-floor storage area, but a renovation of that scale wouldn’t happen until after the baby’s birth. Maybe he was in the way here, and Hope was too kind-hearted to say anything. Maybe he could camp out in their condo for just a few days longer, then find himself a quiet place to rent until his penance was over and he could report back to Lt. Col. Biro.
Daisy was looking for a tenant.
Harry returned the letter to the thick manila envelope. Nah. He couldn’t. He needed a quiet place to heal for a month or so. He didn’t want to get locked into a long-term lease, and he didn’t want the place to be chaos central, either.
Dismissing the idea, he pulled another letter out of the envelope and turned his flashlight on it.
Dear MSgt. Lockhart,
I’m so sorry to hear about your friend. I know your work is important to you, but it sounds as though you need more time to grieve. Can you take leave for a couple of days? Please talk to someone there if you need to. A chaplain? Another friend? You’re probably not comfortable dropping your guard like that.
When my father died so suddenly, I was in shock. It just didn’t seem right that one tragedy should lead so soon to another one. That hurt me worse than Brock’s assault because it felt so random. I could fight Brock, but I couldn’t fight my dad’s heart attack. Fortunately, I had a counselor who reminded me of the different stages of grief. That we all grieve differently, and that there’s no timeline for when you stop being angry about your loss, or you get over feeling so heartsick. I sense that you’re toughing this out. Be kind to yourself. I’m thinking kind thoughts for you.
Rainbows and unicorns and apple pie. Or chocolate cake? Steak dinner? What’s your favorite food to eat or thing to do when you want to have fun and spoil yourself? Let me know, and that’s what I’ll imagine for you.
Despite her attempt at humor, Harry’s thoughts darkened as he thought about Daisy’s old boyfriend breaking into her apartment and attacking her with a knife. No wonder she was leery of someone scoping out her house. Harry swung his legs off the side of the bed and sat up. A few letters earlier, Daisy had said her ex had been sent to jail. How long would a guy be locked up for a crime like that? Was she worried about him returning? Sleep was feeling more elusive than ever as Harry made a mental note to ask Pike to check into her ex’s status.
His breath stuttered through his chest as he forced his concerns for her aside. There were cops for worries like that. He wasn’t in a good place to take on somebody else’s trouble right now.
Harry turned his gaze and the beam of his flashlight down to the rest of Daisy’s letter, needing to recapture the peace and comfort of her words.
If I was there right now, I’d listen to whatever you wanted to say. For however long it takes to get it all out. If the feelings are too private for you to share with me, maybe you could write them down just for yourself. Get them out of your head so there’s not so much you’re holding inside that you have to deal with. You don’t have to send the words to me, but I find journaling like that helpful.
Believe it or not, I’m a good listener. And a good hugger, or so I’m told. If you’re ever in Kansas City, I’ll have a hug waiting for you.
Take care,
Daisy
The hint of a smile eased the tension in him at the hugging part. She hadn’t been kidding. But the smile never fully formed. Because Harry had taken her up on that offer to write down all his anger and grief. He’d sent her a vitriolic letter—three and a half pages of crap that no one should have to know about. And she’d still answered with another note saying that she had cried on his behalf because she understood that he’d never been able to, that Marines didn’t cry.
She’d helped him through that nightmare when all had seemed lost. Forget about his own present needs for a second. He owed Daisy a lot more tha
n a brusque brush-off and the silent blame he’d heaped upon her for not living up to the image of the all-knowing angel of his fantasies.
Steeling himself for a half-formed mission, Harry folded up the letter and returned it to the others before shutting off the flashlight and tying his boots back onto his feet.
Hope was right. He was a man of duty. His brain might have a missing chunk filled with anger and darkness, but he was trained to protect and serve.
Maybe all Daisy needed was a man on the premises to scare off lusty lookie-loos or potential burglars or a crazy ex-boyfriend. She’d be safe. He wouldn’t feel this added guilt. Hope wouldn’t look at him with those big worried eyes and he’d have a roof over his head for the next six weeks.
Hard to argue with logic like that.
Peace of mind and sleep weren’t happening tonight until he dealt with at least one of the problems bugging him.
He picked up his phone, but realized he didn’t have a number for Daisy. Just the Gunderson address.
Harry grabbed his keys and his coat and quietly shut the bedroom door behind him. Pike and Hope were in the living room, snuggling on the couch as he suited up and walked to the front door. “I’m heading out for a bit.”
Hope set aside the book she’d been reading. “It’s late.”
Harry pulled on his watch cap. “It’s not that late.”
She shifted her awkward weight and turned to face him. “Are you okay? Did I say something that upset you earlier?”
Pike had muted the news show he’d been watching and risen to his feet. The taller man was watching Harry very carefully, probably to make sure he didn’t say or do anything to hurt her. Good. Harry was glad that Hope had someone in her life who loved her enough to take care of her like that.
Did Daisy?
I don’t have a big brother or a boyfriend or a dad to call.
