by Fields, MJ
“Not wosa than the time Chelsea had the dia … diawe—”
“Diarrhea?”
“Yeah, the wadda poops.” She laughs.
“Calee Rose O’Neil.” Doc uses a particularly maternal tone.
“Not worse than throwing up,” I add.
“White?” She slaps her knee and laughs. “One time, Evan fwowed up at cucle time and guess what, Tanna?”
“He didn’t wash his hands and you got sick.”
In the mirror, I see her crinkle her little nose, and then she gasps, “It was misgusting.”
“I bet.”
“One time …” She stops talking, looks out the window, and then at Laurie. “Mommy, not home. It’s date night. We go to dinna.”
“How about we do that tomorrow?”
“That doesn’t wok fo me. We missed twee weeks. What kinda wewationship is this anyway?”
“Calee, I’m going to drop you off with Grandma and Grandpa, and then help Tanner get settled in at his house.”
“You gonna let him be by hims self after you cut his leg off?”
“Calee Rose—”
“That doesn’t wok fo him.” She leans forward as much as she can in her car seat and asks, “You wanna go in a date, Tanna?”
“What kind of date?”
“Dinna. And if we bees good, ice cweam.” She nods firmly on ice cream.
“Calee—”
“Mommy.” She uses the same tone Doc used and crosses her arms over her tiny body.
At the same time, Doc says, “Manners,” Calee also says, “mannas.”
“Calee, your mom probably thinks I’m too tired and need to rest, and she’s right. But maybe we could hit a drive-thru, and then grab ice cream after?”
“We can’t eat in da caw.”
I look over at Doc. “Can we break the rules just this once?”
“Are you hungry?”
“I’ve been eating hospital food for over a month. I could pound a few cheeseburgers and some fries.”
Calee claps. “Me, too!”
* * *
We ate, and then I sat in the car as I watched Doc and Calee order ice cream from a beachside stand that Calee described as the bestest ice cweam in all of Nofuck. I glanced at Doc when she said that, and she bit her lower lip to stifle a laugh. When I said I was full, Calee told me I was cwazy and she would owda me a supwise.
She looks like Will—dark skin, dark eyes— but her facial structure is all Doc’s. I’m not sure where she gets the animated facial expressions from, but they’re adorable. I feel sorry for Will that he missed out on meeting her, and Lily, too.
I close my eyes to rest them a bit when I hear Calee whisper, “Awe you shu he’s not dead?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
“He’s tiyad, so we should take him to hims house fust. Then home.”
“Calee, it’s going to take some time to get him settled. This is all new for him.”
“We can sweep on a couch. He would like that, yeah?”
“Honey …” she sighs.
“You can do this, Mommy. Yous a big gul. Plus, we gotta huwwy. His ice cweam is gonna melt.”
“We can take him home first, but we’re not spending the night.”
“If he wants us to, we awe.”
“Calee Rose, what has gotten into you?”
“He’s awe fwend, Mommy.”
“I know that. However—”
“Howeva nothin’, Mommy. Fwends help fwends.”
16
Tripping Hazard
Laurie
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper for what seems like the millionth time since we got him up the two steps and into the front door, this time without the alarm going off.
“You need to stop saying that,” he whispers back, also for the millionth time.
“But I am. This is crazy.” I look at Calee, who is squatting and looking at one of the outlets.
“Mommy, he’s gonna get zapped. Fwid dead!” Calee yells, even though we are only two feet away. “Mommy, you godda get the white things or he’s gonna—”
I palm my face and rub my hand up and down it. “He’s an adult. He knows not to stick his finger in an electrical socket.”
She stands up and turns toward us. “Did you Mommy teach you that?”
“I think she probably did.”
When she puts her hands on her hips, I have to stop myself from laughing.
“Why isn’t she heya when you sick?”
“She lives in Texas,” he answers calmly.
“That’s next to Gemini?”
He nods and smirks. “Pretty close.”
“Well, she needs to come heya.”
“She’s busy, Calee, and I’m a big boy. I’ll be okay.”
She literally looks him up and down before saying, “You can use my mommy if you need to.”
“I appreciate that you’re willing to share.”
She nods, turns around, squats back down, then yells, “Mommy, we godda get him the white things.”
“She gets that from you,” he whispers.
“Gets what?”
“The stubbornness. She’s got a one-track mind.”
I turn around and look up at him. Warmth spreads across me at the way he looks at her. No man has ever looked at her like that.
He’s still looking at her when I notice him lean on the crutches for support.
“You need to sit down and relax.”
“When do you get to?”
“When the sugar high wears off and she sleeps,” I joke.
He smiles as he moves across the living room and sits down.
I force myself to look away from him and around the area, reminding myself of why I’m here. “Do you have a bedroom downstairs?”
“Is there something wrong with the one upstairs?” he asks as he puts his leg up on the couch.
“As your doctor, I’m suggesting you use a room downstairs for the next couple months.”
“My bed’s really comfortable, Doc.”
“And it will be okay to move back to it when you’re steadier on your feet. The only reason I would suggest otherwise was if there wasn’t a bathroom on the upper floor. It makes it difficult for you to use the bathroom in the middle of the night when needed.”
“There is a bathroom up there, Doc. Remember?”
I look back at him and answer, “I do remember.”
He looks me over. I do it back. Then I hear Calee’s little feet tapping across the wooden floor.
I turn to see her walking around like she owns the place and watch in almost horror as she opens a door without first asking. “Calee—”
“She’s fine. It’s the bathroom.”
“Mommy, some help please.”
“Go.” He nods toward the door. “I’m good.”
After helping Calee, we walk out into the living room to see Tanner already asleep on the couch.
“Can ya cawwy him to bed?”
“No.” I scan the room for the remote and find it. “You want to sit with Tanner and watch some TV?”
She nods then carefully climbs on the couch. I don’t even have to tell her to be careful. I make a mental note as to how stealthy she has become as I turn around and scan the room to see where I should start first. The area rugs will be the first, since they’re tripping hazards.
“Mommy, can you tune on the TV?” Calee whispers.
“Of course.”
After turning on her favorite—Looney Tunes—I set about getting things done.
After the rugs are all rolled up, I walk back in and see Calee fast asleep, curled up next to him, her hand on his bandaged leg. It melts my heart a bit to see her like that. She’s always been affectionate, but the fact that she doesn’t bat an eye at what most would be bothered by gives me a great sense of pride in the little girl I am raising. It also springs on thoughts of our little Syrian friend. But I try to erase it from my mind so I can focus on the task at hand.
Walking around, tryi
ng to figure out where best to set up a bedroom downstairs, I open a closed door that is just off the formal dining room.
I look around the dark, navy-blue room with gold accents—US Navy colors—and see pictures and trophies on shelves lining the far wall, behind the large oak, executive-sized desk.
Most of the trophies are from his high school football days. They range from MVP awards to towering state championship ones. There are some from his football days at the Naval Academy as well.
My eyes fall on a picture of William Cruz, Tanner Titan, Jaxson Irons, and Jeb Shadows. All beautiful men, all look ready to change the world, and all changed by it. One made me believe in love, and then was taken away. Another is slowly and cautiously allowing me to believe in it again.
Focus, I remind myself as I look around, ready to set my plan in motion.
* * *
“What in the hell are you doing?”
I look up from the king-sized mattress that I’m sliding across the wooden floor to Tanner, who’s lying on the couch, his arm around Calee.
“Shh … If she wakes up—”
“Doc.” His voice is a warning.
“Don’t Doc me. I am capable of putting it back together.”
He scowls. “You took my bed apart?”
“I’ve been a single mother for four years, Lieutenant; this is actually relaxing.”
“You trying to make me feel less than?”
I push the mattress that’s on its side and tell him, “You can change my oil when you get better.”
Ten minutes later, I look up and see the man I simply know as Johnny smirking at me from the office doorway.
“Need some help?”
“I got this,” I grumble as I begin to screw the headboard to the side rails.
He chuckles. “Power tools work a lot faster.” Then I hear his footsteps coming toward me.
“As I said, I got this. My question is: why haven’t you all—his friends—done this already? There should be a ramp to get into the house, not stairs. There should be—”
“He’d have rained hellfire down on us. He’ll learn to manage.”
I look back at him and scowl.
He scowls back.
“Marine?”
He narrows his eyes. “Former Marine.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be finding out about the Syrian girl?”
He squats down and takes the screwdriver from my hand before moving to the other side of the side rail and begins screwing it into the footboard.
“Why aren’t you?” I demand.
“Takes a little bit more than simply flying into a lawless country full of corruption and armed civilians who hate us because they’re being fed bullshit, not only by terrorists, but by our own western liberal media and snatching one of the thousands of kids who needs a meal and a home.”
“Do you know where she is?” I ask firmly, standing with a handful of screws as I walk toward him.
“I know you ask a lot of questions.”
“Honor. Courage. Commitment,” I say, and he looks up at me. “When you left the Marines, did you leave that behind?”
“My core values haven’t changed, but a Marine thinks, acts, and then fights. Right now, we’re in the thinking stage. This isn’t as easy as cutting off a leg or putting a bed together, Dr. O’Neil.” He moves to the other side of the bed and quickly attaches the footboard and side rail. Then he stands and steps toward me, invading my personal space, studying me, scrutinizing me. “I suggest you continue worrying about getting the good Lieutenant in bed and let me worry about where my honor hangs, what kind of courage I still hold, and where my commitment lies, Doc.”
I step closer to him, invading his space. “I suggest you save your intimidation tactics for someone other than me. I don’t scare easily.”
Lifting his chin in a nod, he turns, silently chuckling as he bends down and grabs one of the crossbars. “You think you can handle this while I go grab the box spring?”
I walk over and take it from him. “I know I can.”
We work silently putting the bed together, and when I leave the room to go upstairs to get fresh linens, I see Tanner and Calee still snuggled up on the couch, but this time, she’s between him and the couch, with his arm wrapped around her.
When I walk back down the stairs with fresh linens from his closet, he’s awake and looking at her, pushing her fallen hair from her eyes.
When one of the steps creak, he looks toward me.
“How’s your pain?”
“Been better, been worse.”
“More specifically, it’s been enough time between doses. Would you like your pain meds?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“So, you like pain?”
“I don’t like not being in control.”
It’s wrong to think about handcuffs and the first night we were together here, but I do. Then I quickly remember what role I’m in at this moment.
“Think of it as controlling your pain.”
“I’m okay.”
“You need to sleep to heal.”
“You’re pushing this, huh?”
“Honestly, I’m concerned that you’ll wake up in pain and possibly fall trying to get to your medicine.”
“I’m more concerned with her waking up and wondering where the hell she is.” He looks down at her.
“Let me make your bed, and then we’ll be out of your way.”
“You look outside in the last couple minutes?”
“No. Why?”
“It’s pouring.”
“We won’t melt.”
“I say I’ll stay put and you two take the bed.”
“But—”
“I’m familiar with my surroundings, Doc. I’ll even let you drug me.”
“She doesn’t have pajamas.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“We have to be up—”
“It’s Saturday, and I already know you’ve got the next four off.”
“What will everyone think?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. Do you?”
I shrug. “I suppose not.”
“Good to know.”
I look at him, then at Calee, and then back at him. “We’ll stay, but we’re taking the couch.”
“I’m not having you two sleep on the damn couch, Doc.”
“Your bed is high and not snug against a wall, and there are no bed rails. I’d feel better out here.”
I don’t wait for an argument. I hurry into the bedroom and start making the bed.
After a few minutes, I hear slow movement in the living room as I pick the pillows up off the floor and put them on the perfectly made bed.
Walking out, I see him using the crutches, making his way into the kitchen.
“You’re a stubborn man,” I say as I follow him out.
“I can get my own drugs. Probably even swallow them all by myself, too. I’ve been enough of an imposition.”
I watch him read the label on the pill bottle, open it, and then pour one into his hand. He then tosses it into his mouth and swallows it down.
I notice him visibly cringe.
“Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine. I read the paperwork about phantom leg pain. It’s expected.”
“When did it start?”
“Right before the rain.”
“Barometric pressure,” we both say at the same time.
“Has it happened before?”
“Not this intense.”
“The meds should help, but if you’re opposed to them, there are a lot of other things we can try. Anti-inflammatory and the shrinker that goes on before the prosthetic leg is helpful, but it shouldn’t be used when sleeping. Acupuncture.” I stop when he cocks an eyebrow. “Right, you don’t like needles.”
“I’d like to try imagery. Maybe a beta blocker if imagery doesn’t work.”
“How often does it happen?”
&nbs
p; “Only when it rains.”
“I know you may not feel like it, Tanner, but you’re pretty lucky in that regard.”
“I know I don’t seem grateful, Doc, but I am.”
“Let’s get you in bed, turn on some music, and I can try massage.”
“If I wasn’t in pain and exhausted, I’d think you were trying to seduce me.”
I smile as I fill a glass of water from the tap. “You’re going to have to try and restrain yourself. I’ve been told my hands are magic.”
“I don’t doubt that one bit.” He takes the glass and drinks down half the cup. When he sets it on the counter, he watches the water settle before looking up at me. “Doc, what are we doing here?”
“I think they call it hydrating.” I lean back against the counter and let my eyes meet his. After a few moments of silence that would ordinarily seem awkward but just isn’t with him … ever, I push off the counter. “Let’s get you in bed.”
“Seems to be a running theme with you.”
“Yeah, well, I promise not to take advantage of you while you’re healing.”
I stand beside him as he uses the crutches and moves with ease toward the bedroom.
“Your balance is amazing.”
He chuckles.
I glance out of the corner of my eye at him. “What?”
“Balance?”
I shake my head. “You haven’t tried the prosthetic at all.”
“I’m wearing the damn rubber, aren’t I?”
“It’s called a shrinker,” I correct him.
“You know, Doc …” He stops mid-sentence, and I see him cringe. Then he hisses under his breath, “Fucking rain.”
“On a scale of one to ten, Tanner?”
“One,” he says, continuing toward his office, this time faster.
17
Some Sort of Hell
Titan
One, my ass, I think as I do my best to push it away, but this pain is almost the worst I have ever felt. Actually, scratch that, it is definitely as painful, if not more so than the crash. It’s some sort of hell.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, now in my office, I look down at the shrinker. It’s designed to help shrink the swelling of my residual limb so, when I get a permanent prosthetic limb fit, it will be as close as possible to the size my leg will be.
