The Soldier's Valentine--A Clean Romance

by Pamela Tracy

  Oscar set down his fork and stared at Aunt Bianca. Finally, he said, “Wow, I didn’t see that coming.”

  “It’s time,” Aunt Bianca said.

  Oscar nodded. “I agree.”

  “What?” Gary broke in. “You’ve never said a word about our father’s disappearance, not since right after it happened.”

  “Because it made both Hector and Anna cry,” Oscar defended himself.

  Gary leaned forward. “So, you’re telling me that if our father is in, say, Florida someplace with a new wife and kids, you’d like to find him and say, ‘Hey, Dad’?”

  “I’m not saying that at all,” Oscar said. “When he first disappeared, Mom was all ‘Something happened,’ then that changed. I’ve always wondered what. Do you know, Aunt Bianca?”

  “I don’t. I do know that Berto came here for a reason. He was agitated. I tried to get him to confide in me, but he wouldn’t.”

  Gary tried to remember his father. He remembered laughter, and roughhousing, and fart jokes. Most of all he remembered the day his mother told him and his siblings that their father wouldn’t be coming home. Oscar had been all of twelve; Gary ten; Hector eight; Anna just six.

  While Oscar took charge, Gary took to the streets; Hector escaped into books; Anna clung. She might well have saved them all. Every time Gary turned around, she’d been there: following him to the skateboard park, grabbing one of his Xbox controllers, sitting next to him spooning Fruity Pebbles into her mouth.

  Shelley gave Oscar another look—Gary interpreted it as “We’ll be talking later”—and got up.

  Shelley pulled Little O from his high chair, brushed off a few crumbs but left a still-wet orange glob stain. Right now, everyone called the kid Little O because they were trying to differentiate. Shelley tried the “Junior” bit a few times but both Oscar and Gary gave her the evil eye. She’d also tried Ozzie. No better.

  So, little Oscar—better yet, Little O—it was.

  The kid would hate it once he hit fourth grade. No one wanted to be called little. Gary pushed back from the table and started to excuse himself. He needed to get out of here before Aunt Bianca brought up the search for his father again. He’d already half committed. It would take only a nudge for him to completely take on the task.

  “Wait, Aunt Bianca’s bringing the dessert now,” Oscar said, “and we have a favor to ask.”

  “Name it, but not babysitting.” Maybe, though, Gary considered, babysitting wouldn’t be so bad. He’d just make sure he had help. Someone like Officer Leann Bailey. It might be the perfect ploy to get her next to him. He needed to make up for their exchange outside the lawyer’s office. He’d known the minute he’d seen her in that hallway that she was upset. He had no clue why he’d decided to push her buttons.

  Maybe because they were there and could be pushed.

  “It is a form of babysitting, just not Little O. I need someone to watch Peeve while we’re in Sedona,” Oscar said.

  Gary shot a look at his aunt, who was shaking her head and stating, “We’ve got two dogs too many.”

  Goober and Wilma were outside, mostly because Wilma was a beggar and wouldn’t leave the table. She’d poke her nose in a lap, lay it on the table and scold in an indignant “Aren’t you going to feed me?” series of loud barks. Goober, although incredibly well behaved, probably wasn’t above snatching anything Little O happened to drop. Wilma, of course, would get there first.

  “Too many dogs, I know,” Oscar said, “and I wouldn’t ask except we can’t take him on a cruise. He’s not a service animal.”

  “I run a business,” Aunt Bianca reminded him. “Personally, my answer is yes to Peeve and no to the other two dogs. Gary, what are you going to do? It’s time to make up your mind.”

  “I...” What was he going to do? He didn’t want to apply for jobs; he wasn’t staying. And, two dogs made traveling a bit difficult even when you knew what you were doing and where you were going.

  “I should have said no to both Wilma and Goober,” he admitted. “Now I’m stuck.”

  “It’s a good thing someone in the family knows how to make decisions as well as get what she wants.” Aunt Bianca stood, walked out of the room and soon they heard the old rolltop desk in her office open. After a moment, she came back with the big envelope Gary had picked up from her lawyer’s office on her behalf.

  Shelley cleaned up the rest of the table and wiped it down, and Aunt Bianca laid three photos as well as a deed in front of her nephews.

  Gary stared at a picture of slender green trees rising high in the sky, grass that needed cutting and a decrepit cabin in the midst of it all. There was a hole in the red tin roof, two of the beams holding the porch’s roof up sagged, and the rock chimney was missing more than a few rocks.

  “A beautiful mess,” he muttered.

  “Like your dog ownership,” Oscar added.

  At that, Shelley snickered, Aunt Bianca laughed out loud and little Oscar crooned along with them all.

  “I need to make some changes to my will,” Aunt Bianca said. “Not right away, and before I do, I want to see what I have.”

  “You own this?” Gary asked in awe.

  “It belonged to my great-grandparents. I’m ashamed at how I’ve let it go.”

  “It looks pretty good,” Oscar observed, “for being that old and let go. Shelley and I have been out there a time or two?”

  “Where is it exactly?” Gary asked.

  “Just inside city limits, about three miles down County Road 6 and off to the west. It’s a mile from the base of the Jemez Mountain.”

  “Blackgoat land?” Shelley said.

  “They still own over a hundred acres. Our family bought at the same time, not as much, forty acres just behind them. For a while, both families raised sheep.”

  Both Gary and Oscar raised their eyebrows.

  “What?” Aunt Bianca queried. “You mean you didn’t know how long the Guzman family has been in this area.”

  “Guess not,” Gary admitted.

  “The Guzmans were here when this area was little more than a settlement. There’s a rumor that one of our relatives even tried to name the town Dead Bull’s Corner.”

  “Sounds like something a Guzman would do,” Gary deadpanned.

  Shelley studied the photos. “It still has an outhouse. That’s what I remember.”

  Bianca nodded. “Yes, but indoor plumbing was added in the sixties. Until your father disappeared, it was kept up. It’s just been the last seventeen years that it’s fallen apart.”

  “Exactly how long our father has been missing,” Oscar noted.

  “The cabin was left to Roberto and me. When your mother had him declared legally dead, it came to me.”

  “Why aren’t you using it, or selling it, or something?” Gary asked.

  “The last time I saw Roberto,” Aunt Bianca said, her voice quavering, “he was standing on that porch noticing how much work needed to be done to the beams. He was going to fix it up. Oh, he’d talked about it before, but this time he sounded like he really meant it. I don’t know. In the back of my mind, I think I’ve left it be because I kept expecting he’ll show up one day and be glad I saved it for him.”

  “And you no longer feel that way?” Shelley asked gently.

  “He had no intention of coming back,” Gary said.

  Bianca gave Gary a look, one that would have stilled a weaker man, but Gary wasn’t weak. Gary had never believed his father would return. He’d made his little sister, Anna, cry more than once by telling her the hard truth, and to this day, whenever Gary thought of his father, he became angry and often felt frustrated.

  “No,” Bianca admitted. “Not after all this time.”

  Using one finger, Oscar pushed the photos closer to Gary. “We went there as children. Do you remember?”

  Gary shook his head.


  “Your mother didn’t like it much,” Aunt Bianca said. “She got bit by a spider the first time she visited and that ended her forays into the woods forever. It’s time to fix it up. If nothing else, I can rent it out. Make some money.”

  Looking at Gary, Aunt Bianca said, “You should move out there, Gary. Take the dogs, take time to think about your future, and while you’re doing that, fix up the place and see if there’s any hint of what Berto was really doing out there.”

  “I’m out of your price range,” Gary half joked.

  “When you were young, you’d work for kisses.”

  “That was Oscar, not me.” Gary pushed away from the table. He felt a little like he’d just been given orders and would have to head someplace he didn’t really want to go. He’d be all alone out there, and since leaving the military, he’d been wary of solitude.

  Right now, though, he seemed to be a dog magnet, had no place to call his own, and it was starting to drive him crazy. Aunt Bianca, with her infinite wisdom, probably knew that.

  “It would take me a couple of weeks to make it livable,” he finally said, aware that everyone was watching him. “A couple of months to make it livable for anyone else.”

  “You can borrow our camper,” Oscar offered. “Live in it.”

  “You never let me borrow your things.”

  “Yes, but I want you to watch Peeve.”

  “Borrow the camper,” Aunt Bianca suggested and gave him “the look.” He had two, no three, dogs to take care of and she had a business to run and complaining neighbors.

  Yup, Oscar—as always—was taking charge of his future, while Gary was being forced to dwell on his lack of one.

  Gary was a loose end that needed to be tied.

  He didn’t like it one bit.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE BOYS’ GRANDMOTHER, Tamara Bailey, opened her front door and ushered Peaches, Leann and the boys inside. The boys weren’t happy. Going to Grandma’s for a sleepover, while Mom worked the graveyard shift, no longer held much appeal. They preferred it when Grandma came to their house and slept in the guest room.

  According to Tim, Grandma coming to their house made total sense. After all, their stuff—think Xbox—was there, and inevitably, they’d forget to bring something when packing for an overnight.

  Peaches, however, was overjoyed. Grandma’s house had different smells and a bigger backyard.

  “Every thing all right with you?” Tamara asked.

  Leann set school backpacks by the front door, checked that school IDs were inside and then stuffed a dollar in each, so that tomorrow, the boys could buy ice cream after they ate their lunch. Straightening, she said, “Yes. Everything’s all right. I’m thankful that Zack’s been hired. You’ve probably heard Oscar is taking a much-needed vacation.”

  Tamara nodded.

  “So, yes,” Leann continued, “There are portions of my life that are going well.”

  An expression Leann couldn’t read passed over Tamara’s face as she stood aside, letting two stampeding boys and one exuberant dog slide by her toward the living room.

  It had to be hard, dealing with an ex daughter-in-law and returning son and not knowing which questions to ask or what to expect in terms of answers.

  “Ten minutes,” Leann called to her sons, “and then be sure to take the dog out.”

  “Milk and cookies are on the kitchen table,” Tamara added.

  The cookies would be homemade. No doubt Tamara would be handing Leann a container of cookies to take to the station, a station that was still so woefully understaffed that Leann had to ask, “With Oscar taking time off, can you watch the boys more often this coming week?”

  “No problem at all. I’m just sad you have to work so much.”

  Leann was, too. It was a constant war within her heart, needing to work and so wanting to be with her boys.

  “When does your shift end?” Tamara asked.

  “In twelve hours, give or take, but Zack has a doctor’s appointment in the morning and is coming in right after. I’ll stay on patrol until he shows up and catch up on my sleep while the boys are in school.”

  “Good, you need to take care of yourself.”

  This was the moment when Tamara held up a hand for Leann to wait while Tamara quickly fetched the cookies. Not this time. Tamara, instead, had a few more probing questions. “I hear Lucas Stillwater turned in his retirement papers.”

  “He turned in the papers this morning. It will be a huge change. He’s been there forever.” He’d also been Leann’s field training officer and had believed in her when many others hadn’t.

  “You still wanting to move up the ranks?”

  “I’m considering it.”

  “Good thing Sarasota Falls is such a safe place to be,” Tamara said brightly.

  Leann knew Tamara meant those words sincerely. Only one officer had died in the line of duty, and that had been Chief Riley’s partner and best friend.

  Ten minutes later, Leann had the cookies and was on her way to work. She wasn’t a real fan of working the zombie shift, but sometimes it worked in her favor. It meant very little sleep but it also meant she was there when her boys finished school. She could supervise homework and stay for soccer practice.

  The cookies disappeared as soon as she set them down on the counter of the break room. Leann didn’t eat any; she needed to avoid any extra curves right now. Fishing an apple out of her lunch box, she checked the patrol car, secured her weapons and began patrol.

  She stopped by Main Street Church. Even though the dusk of evening had already changed from muted gray to dusty charcoal, the Women’s Auxiliary Club was just now streaming out the doors. Her mother belonged, so did the mayor’s wife, and anyone who was anyone in the small town of Sarasota Falls. Leann didn’t slow down, but before she could make her getaway, her mother waved to her. Leann called in her location, parked and exited the vehicle.

  When she finally stood in front of her mother, Allison Theodora Crabtree, she was made to wait while the last of the church ladies had shut the doors to the vehicles. A few shot Leann sympathetic looks. Either her mother didn’t notice or she didn’t care.

  “You wanted to talk to me?” Leann urged.

  “I did. I understand Ryan will be here next week.”

  “Possibly.”

  “You know,” her mother said coolly, “he’s the father of your children. It wouldn’t hurt you to see if you can’t work out your differences for the sake of the boys.”

  “Mother, believe me, Ryan doesn’t want—”

  “Maybe if you shed that uniform and kept decent hours—”

  Leann bit her tongue. What she wanted to toss out was “And give up helping others? And Ryan respects what I do.” Yikes, she’d actually given her ex a half compliment.

  Her mother tossed one last grenade. “I heard you’ve been hanging around one of the Guzman brothers.”

  Ah, Leann knew where this was going. “I responded on a disturbing the peace call. Nothing else.”

  “What you don’t need,” her mother said, “is to get mixed up with someone with no prospects and little to speak of in terms of a secure future.”

  Leann interpreted that as Gary Guzman had no position in the Sarasota Falls hierarchy. Bianca did, but it wasn’t very high up the ladder, at least according to Leann’s mother.

  “He’s visiting his aunt, Mother.”

  “I saw him coming out of the grocery store. He looks just like his father. It would be the worst kind of mistake for our families to mix.”

  “Mother, Gary and I are...”

  Her mother paid no attention to Leann, never had, and headed for her car, talking loudly as she went. “I do wish you would get control of your life. Your father would give you a job at his investment firm.”

  Stuck in a small room, either answ
ering the phone or checking numbers, emailing clients about changes in their portfolio or following the stock market...no thanks. Leann would rather drive an Uber. Besides, next to parenthood, being a cop was her life.

  Opening the car door, her mother turned to add, “You need to start making better choices. And, Ryan is a better choice.”

  Immediately what came to mind was the image of Gary, whose Sarasota Falls lineage went all the way back to the town founders. Something that her parents couldn’t claim. There’d been Crabtrees in Sarasota Falls for only the last, hmm, Leann didn’t know. Maybe sixty or seventy years, meaning if there really was a ladder, Bianca would be at the top and the Crabtrees would maybe be on rung three.

  So, her mother’s aversion to Gary had to be something else.

  What?

  * * *

  FRIDAY MORNING HAD been a round of packing, cleaning out his room at the B and B and heading to both the grocery store and the hardware store. As for food, man, he was going to miss Aunt Bianca’s cooking every night. As for the hardware store, he bought just enough to get started on the kennels. The dogs, as if sensing something unusual, had barked more—at least Wilma had. Goober just stayed close to Gary.

  Oscar showed up bright and early Saturday morning. Still, it was well after ten when they both left Aunt Bianca’s driveway and hit the road.

  At noon, the Jemez Mountains came into full view. Gary studied the various deep, rich colors of the sloping volcanic ridges. From a distance he saw the valleys as well as the woods. He tried to recall this trip, but he couldn’t. He clutched the steering wheel of his truck and all he could think was, “Wow, this is far from town.”

  The dogs didn’t seem to mind. They stared at the passing scenery, tails wagging, and accepted the ride.

  Just ahead, Oscar turned off New Mexico State Highway 4 and onto a gravel road, which eventually turned to dirt, and Gary was privy to watching the back of the camper bump along.

  Finally, they arrived. His aunt Bianca’s property was marked by a weathered sign that read Guzman.

  “Shelley and I have been out here a couple of times,” Oscar said after stepping down from his truck. “We mostly walked the forest. The cabin’s in pretty bad shape. More than once we found evidence that someone had squatted.”