by Fields, MJ
“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!”
“Night terror,” she sighs out as she pushes my hands away from her hips then pops a chaste kiss to my lips. “Be back when I can. Make yourself comfortable.”
“Can I help?”
“No. God, if she sees you, she’ll never go to bed.”
As I prep for bed, I listen to Laurie attempt to calm Calee down. Once I lie in bed, I hear a familiar tune while surrounded by a familiar scent that feels so right it should scare the hell out of me. I should run away, screaming for help.
I do the opposite.
When I hear her singing that song in hopes of soothing her, help her fall asleep, I fight to keep my own eyes open. The song makes it impossible and puts me immediately into sleep mode.
I have no clue how long I’m out, but it’s still dark when Laurie wakes me.
“Hey,” she whispers.
“Still beautiful,” I mumble, looking at her now with the moonlight cascading through the window.
“I need a favor.”
“Yeah?” I lick my lips as I lean up to kiss her.
“Um, it’s not mutually pleasing. There was a major accident on—”
“Is everyone okay?”
“No one we know, but I’ve been asked to come in. I would call Rosa and ask that they come watch Calee, but—”
“No, no, I can handle this.” I start to sit up.
“I’d rather bring her in here. She’ll sleep in if I close the curtains.” She reaches under the bed and holds up a portable bed rail. “I could put this on, and she’ll be fine. If you could call the man in the SUV outside, maybe he could sleep on the couch and—”
“Let me message him. Bring her in.”
“It won’t be weird?”
“No. But I’m going to need a favor out of you.”
“Anything.”
“I’d like us to go to dinner tonight. Just the two of—”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“Yeah.” I scratch my head and laugh inwardly at myself. “I suppose I am.”
“Then it’s a yes. But I’m driving.”
“I drive just fine.”
“But legally, you aren’t supposed to. You need the all-clear from your doctor and a special license.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“That’s the law.” She leans down, takes my face, and kisses me. “I drive.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“Go get Calee and get out of here.”
“Is that an order?”
“It is.”
22
Breakfast for Two
Titan
Smack, right in the face, the bed moves, a gasp, a giggle, and a whispered, “He’s heya.”
I can’t help chuckling.
“You wake?”
“I am.”
“Wanna play?”
“Play what?”
“Bawbies?”
“How about breakfast first?”
“Can the Bawbies eat, too?”
I roll to my side, trying to hide the discomfort in my leg, and push back a laugh when I see her hair sticking up in all directions.
She grins. I grin back. She laughs. I follow suit.
“They can weetend.”
“I think we should brush our teeth, use the bathroom, get dressed, fix your hair, and—”
“It’s Sataday. Can’t we just eat in owa jammies?”
“It’s Monday.”
She sits up and looks like she’s trying to figure out what to say next. The quiet doesn’t last long.
“Can we weetend it’s Sataday?”
“We can until your mom gets home and has to take you to school.”
She flops back dramatically and groans, “I hate school.”
“How can you hate school? It makes you smarter. And smarter makes you stronger.”
She gives me the side eye. “How does a pwace full of gems and cwying kids make you smata?”
I sit up. “Why are the kids crying?”
She sits up, too. “Bowd to teyas.”
What the hell did she just say?
She grins. I grin back.
“Waya is Mommy?”
“She was called into work.”
She puts her palms up and shrugs. “So we’s alone?”
“We is.” Shit, now I’m doing it. “We are.”
“We can weetend it’s not Monday.”
How the hell do people do this every day? It’s like bartering in a third world country for the best price. Nine times out of ten, you just give up and cave in to their demands.
Tiny terrorists, that’s what kids are.
“We do not negotiate with terrorists,” I tell her, and she looks at me with confusion. “It’s a school day, doll face.”
“But Tanna …” She pouts.
Her little animated face, her sweet little voice, the excitement in it …. I’m going to cave.
Man down. Totally fucked. I mean, who wouldn’t be?
No, dammit, I scold myself. You can do this, for fuck’s sake. She’s a four-year-old kid.
“We need to regroup.”
“Wegwoop?”
Dammit. Think, man.
“How about, whoever gets their teeth brushed, changed into school clothes, and to the kitchen first, gets to pick breakfast.”
She holds up four fingers. “On fwee,”
I push down the fourth, and then we count together. “Fwee. Two. One. Go!”
If I said I didn’t get caught up in the excitement as I listened to her squeal as she ran through the house, I’d be lying. I’d also be lying if I didn’t admit, and only to myself, that I really would like to win … And I know how wong—wrong that is.
It’s the challenge in it.
Never really put thought into what to wear before, something I took for granted, the structure the military gave me. Never had to think, what should I wear today? Now I have to think. What liner do I use? What goes on first? The sock, the shocker, the liner, then the leg? Let alone, what a pain in the ass clothes are. So, until I figure it out, it’s tees and sweats. Which isn’t that different from my normal morning PT wear.
“What the hell is going on?” Johnny asks as he laughs from the living room.
“We’re preparing for the day.”
“What? No trumpet sounding?” he grumbles.
“What’s going on?”
Laurie’s home.
“Your …” Johnny pauses. “Whatever the hell he is—patient, boyfriend, babysitter, Syrian baby daddy—”
“Tanner is fine,” she says flippantly.
“Titan has your kid screaming and running around the house. You should rethink trusting that one.” He walks into the room as I stand, pushing my leg into the prosthetic. “You wanna deal with this now or—”
“I’ll call you later,” I say as I grab the crutches.
He nods, rolls his eyes, and then walks out of the room.
Laurie walks in. “What’s going on?”
Her face is flushed, eyes red. She looks like hell.
“You okay?”
“I’m wedy, I’m wedy!”
“I’ll be fine,” she whispers then turns.
She pushes out a laugh as she follows Calee. “Where are you going?”
“I gedda pick bweakfast! I win, I win!”
* * *
Sitting at the kitchen island, phone in hand, reading over my daily newspapers, I hear the door open and look up as Laurie walks in.
“She okay?”
“She’s bouncing off the walls but should be ready for rest time. What were you thinking?”
I push a cup of coffee over to her as she drops into the seat next to me. “I was thinking, Titan, you’re going to lose a battle to a four-year-old kid who wants to peetend it’s Sataday based on pure cuteness and enthusiasm if you don’t come up with a way to focus her attention on something else.”
She sets her cup down. “It’s a constant battle with that one. An
exhausting one, at that. Are you tired?”
I can’t help smiling when I shake my head. “It’s good to be busy.”
She nods as she looks down.
“Now you. What’s going on?”
She shakes her head.
I reach over and lift her chin with my finger. “You’re not okay.”
She swallows back a lump and looks up at me. “I’m not okay.”
“Talk to me, Doc.”
She closes her eyes, takes my hand, and places it on her cheek. “I think I quit my job today.”
“How do you think you quit a job?”
“You’re going to be pissed at me.”
“Do I have a right to be pissed that you may have quit your job?”
Her confusion mirrors mine.
“Look, Doc, I just spent a crazy morning with this kid who is brutally honest, a tad bit manipulative, but all and all, she’s a straight shooter. You raised that kid, so how about you do what you taught her to do?”
She leans back and picks up the cup of coffee with two hands. Taking a drink, she then sets it down and takes a deep breath. “My contract with the hospital, to pay off my loans after the contract ends, apparently, I didn’t read it well. Because after eight hours of coordinating an ER dealing with a multiple car accident with ten people in critical condition then performing miracles in the OR, I was offered a transfer. So apparently I didn’t read it well.”
She stands up then turns her back to me. “I trusted him! I trusted him like a daughter should be able to trust her father! Every chance he gets, he fucks me over. I should have known better.”
I sit back, feeling pissed that I doubted Johnny, then her, then Johnny again. But I’m relieved because the information he gave me that made doubt spring up like a weed in the middle of a field of wildflowers now makes sense.
She turns. “I told Dr. Ward I wasn’t leaving.”
“Why?”
She looks at me crossly.
“Don’t think about it, Doc. Answer the question.”
“I like it here.”
“California isn’t bad either.”
She steps back and looks at me with fear in her eyes.
“Doc …” I stand.
“Get out.”
I reach out to her, and she steps back, yelling again, “Get out!”
“Care to explain?” I ask, taking another step toward her.
“How do you know about California, Titan?” She walks quickly to the door.
Shit, I think.
“Never mind, you’re no different than the rest of them. Just get out!”
I look at my watch. “I’m going to go to PT, but first, I’m going to tell you—”
“Get the fuck out of my house!”
My heart pounds hard against my chest as it tightens. “I’m going to tell you—”
“Just go, Titan, just go!” Tears begin to spill from her eyes. “I can’t do this again. I won’t do this again.” She bats away the tears. “God, how stupid could one woman be?”
“You’re not—”
“Get. Out. Now.”
I walk quickly to her and grab the back of her head as she pounds at my chest. “You need to remember why you came to me, Doc—you trust me. Then you need to remember what it feels like to have me between your legs and inside of that guarded heart. I know about California because Johnny told me that you contacted your parents. And I know everything else, too. I trust you still. And Doc, I have fallen in love with you. I love you. And I know you feel the same.”
She covers her face with her hands and cries into them as I place a kiss on her head, as gently as I can, considering the need I feel to make her open her eyes and remember what happened the day two broken pieces came together.
23
Broken Pieces
Laurie
I have no idea how I’ve gotten myself into this situation again. Years ago, four, as a matter of fact, I promised myself that, no matter how pretty the face, how strong the man, or regardless of how good he looks in a uniform, I would never, ever, ever date someone in the military, let alone fall in love with him.
“I love you.”
Those are three words every woman in love wants to hear … except me. Not anymore.
I want: I respect you. Or: I will not lie to you. Any of the two phrases would work better than I love you.
He loves me.
Gripping the arms of my seat, I take a deep breath as the plane lands.
As we touch down on the runway, I take my phone off airplane mode and see messages begin to pop up from Tanner. I swipe up, ignoring the ten and counting, and send Frankie and Rosa a group message, thanking them for picking Calee up from preschool and keeping her for the night.
Due to my layover in Denver, I was able to call her and sing to her before she went to sleep. She was confused but excited to be having another sleepover with Lily this time. It still broke my heart.
Ten minutes later, standing outside of the San Diego Airport, waiting for a car, I look down at my phone as it rings again. I send him to voicemail.
When the car arrives, I put my phone on vibrate and throw it in my bag, giving myself the next thirty minutes to prepare to face my father for the first time in over a year, knowing it will probably be the last time I ever speak to him. And because of that, it’s likely my mom and I will not continue the twice a month calls where she speaks to Calee when he’s not home.
* * *
Stepping out of the car in front of my parents’ new home in Oceanside, California, I inhale the scent that is distinctly home but is no longer of comfort.
Not wanting to get any more emotional, I walk toward the front door to face what it is I came here to face.
When my mother opens it, smiling, I’m confused, because she didn’t know I was coming.
“There’s my girl.” She stretches her arms out wide and waits for me to run to her. It was tradition. It’s not anymore.
Her skin looks even more tan than usual in the white tank dress she’s wearing, and she looks thinner than she did last time I saw her, not that she was ever heavy. She looks different.
When I hug her, she begins to cry. “I knew you’d come back.”
“Didn’t really have a choice, Mom, but I’m not here for long.”
“Just a couple days every once in a while would work for me. But, next time, how about bringing that adorable grandbaby of mine?”
Stepping back, I shake my head. “I don’t want to give you any false hope, Mom. I’m here for one reason and one reason only.”
“Laura,” I hear my dad’s voice and look up. “Come in. Let’s have a drink and chat.”
My father, Lee O’Neil, is an intimidating man. At six-foot, two hundred plus pounds of muscle, tattoos, wearing a permanent scowl, even when he smiles, which is rare, he is no doubt the stereotypical jarhead. His silver hair and slightly aged skin are the only things that give away that he is on the cusp of fifty.
“I’d rather not have a drink.”
He crosses his arms over his broad chest, his biceps flexing. I’m not sure if it’s a natural reaction or he purposely does it. Either way, it’s never made me wary of him.
“Well, how about some coffee or tea? You still like tea, right?” My mom asks as she wraps her arm around me and leads me through the foyer and into the sunken living room. “Have a seat. I’ll be but a minute.”
I sit down and look around. The light tan, leather furniture is new, as is everything else in the house. It appears they brought nothing from their old home. Over the fireplace mantel is a huge canvas picture of the four of us when Calee was a year old.
“Nice place,” I say as Dad walks past me, grabbing two rock glasses off the stone topped coffee table before making his way to a built-in bar. “Really nice. Military retirement salary must have increased.”
“I work hard for what we have,” he says, pouring liquor from a crystal decanter into the glasses. “Even went back in as a civilian when we found out you wer
e pregnant fresh out of medical school. Hard enough to have given you twenty grand down on your place in Norfolk.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been paying you back a little each month, as agreed to when you had me sign the note with your lawyer.”
He turns around and gives me a hard scowl. I return it.
“Oh, and by the way, apparently that contract you got me with Portsmouth, with your friend Dr. Stan, had something about relocation per the hospital’s needs. I don’t recall you reading me that fine print.”
He sits down in the oversized leather chair and sets both glasses beside him. “Lesson learned then—always read over a contract before signing it.”
“The only lesson I learned is I can’t trust my own father.”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and stares at me. I mimic him.
“You have something to say, Laura, say it.”
“When I got out of the car, I realized two things.”
He sits back, takes a drink, and then sets it down, never breaking eye contact.
“One, I’m now an east coast girl. And two, I’m done with your help. I don’t want you meddling in my life anymore. I want you to leave me and my daughter the hell alone.”
“One, you were born here, so I don’t buy that bullshit. And two, until the day I take my last breath, I will make damn sure you and Calee are fine. You don’t get a say in that.”
“Can’t we just have ten minutes of peace in here?” Mom says as she comes back into the room.
“Jodi, we’ll have peace as soon as our daughter opens her eyes to the world around her.”
“My eyes are wide open, Dad, and I’m handling my life just fine on my own.”
“Because you were raised to be strong.”
“Maybe I was. But being on my own has made me so much stronger.”
A knock at the door has my mom setting down the tray holding a pitcher of tea and three cups of ice before hurrying toward the door.
I look at my watch. It’s ten o’clock at night. “Who would be visiting at this hour?”
“Estranged daughters,” Dad says on a sigh.
