Love of a Marine (The Wounded Warriors Series Book 2)

by Patty Campbell

“Do you?” he persisted, impatient for an answer. Her little man was so like the father he’d never known.

  “I doubt it. There were so many Marines, SEALs, and Rangers over there at the time. They all had different tasks.”

  “But Dad was a SEAL sniper, and you told me SEAL sniper teams went to help the Army or the Marines whenever they could.”

  She sighed. “Even so, I doubt they ever met.”

  “He stared at Dad’s picture a long time.”

  Yes, she’d noticed Cluny’s odd expression and brief flash of puzzlement. Not exactly recognition, but she’d noticed it. The tall, dark-haired man with the startling blue eyes had reacted to the photograph in an unsettling way. “I suspect he was taking a long look to answer your question, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” He gazed out the window. “Did you like his dog? She’s like a German shepherd, but smaller.”

  “Yes. Queen is magnificent and well trained.”

  “How do you think she helps him to fall asleep? I can’t figure that out.”

  Graciella chuckled. “You’re full of questions today, aren’t you?”

  “How?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she sleeps next to him, keeps him company. Dogs have a way of comforting those who need it.”

  “I wish we had a dog.”

  He’d often expressed a desire for a dog, but their apartment complex didn’t allow pets, and they wouldn’t be moving any time soon. Her income from the samba school was unpredictable. She’d placed Marvin’s life insurance payout into a college trust fund for her son, and her monthly survivor benefit check didn’t even cover her rent.

  She’d receive her monthly widow’s payment until she re-married. That wasn’t likely because she couldn’t imagine considering marriage until her boy was on his own. Santos’s payments would stop when he reached eighteen, so she conserved as much money for a rainy day as possible.

  “Are we coming back to the beach tomorrow? If we do, I’ll ask Mr. Macfearsome how Queen helps him fall asleep.”

  She smiled. “It’s McPherson, and no, we can’t come back tomorrow. I’ve got a large group of kids from the Boys and Girls Club coming in for a one-time class in the morning.”

  “So I have to stay with Auntie Krystal all day?”

  There was no love lost between her and Krystal. Graciella stayed in California so Santos could have a relationship with his aunt Krystal and his grandparents. Graciella’s family lived in Sao Paulo, Brazil, where she’d met and fallen in love with Marvin.

  “No, Krystal has a photo shoot tomorrow. You can help me teach the samba class. You dance with the girls, and I’ll dance with the boys, how’s that?”

  “I guess so.” His disappointment was quite clear.

  “Oh, come on, you’re one of my best teachers.” She’d have loved to see the expression on his face, but didn’t dare take her eyes off the canyon road. “I taught you to samba before you could walk.”

  “You taught Dad to samba too, didn’t you?”

  Santos knew the answer to the question, but he loved to hear the story of how his parents met. “Yes. He and a few Navy buddies wandered into the samba club where a few of my girlfriends and I went one night in Sao Paulo. We thought they were the handsomest group of men we’d ever seen, especially Marvin, so big and tall and such a happy smile. He had all the girls giggling when he tried to talk to us.”

  “You were the only girl who could speak English, right?”

  “Yes and no. I was the only one willing to try out my English. He asked me to teach him the samba.”

  “And he was a good dancer, wasn’t he?”

  “A natural. Every girl in the room wanted to dance with him.”

  “But he kept coming back to you.”

  She remembered the night clearly. The music, the dancing, and how the level of excitement went up in the club when the group of American Sailors wandered in, laughing and jostling one another.

  “Some of the Brazilian boys were jealous, weren’t they?”

  She laughed. “Oh, yes, but the sailors were well-behaved and respectful, so nobody could find an excuse to ask them to leave.”

  “And you fell in love with Dad.”

  “I tried not to because I knew he would only be in Sao Paulo for a few more days, and I didn’t want my heart broken.”

  “So you pretended not to like him very much.”

  “It didn’t work though, did it? My parents were beside themselves when we got married five days later.”

  “Then Dad shipped out.”

  “Yes. It was very sad. I wasn’t sure I’d see him again, but he called me a few days later and told me he’d started the paperwork for the Navy’s permission for our marriage and before long I was on my way to his base in San Diego.”

  “How come you never took me to Brazil?”

  “Aren’t you tired of hearing this story?” She reached over the seat and squeezed his knee.

  “No, because when you tell me the story it makes me feel like I really had a dad.” His words sent a sharp pain through her chest.

  * * *

  “What say we drop in on Gunny, Queen?” Cluny took a right turn on Highway 1, then headed north on Topanga Canyon Boulevard through Canoga Park and Chatsworth. It was a little longer, but he was in no hurry to return to his plumbing business. “My guys are still on vacation.” The answering service would pick up any calls. He’d check in when he got to Big D Construction in Spring Grove, outside Simi Valley.

  Dwayne Dempsey’s truck wasn’t parked in front of the warehouse, so he probably wasn’t in. He’d stop in, grab a cup of coffee, and check his messages all the same.

  He opened the office door and the little Yorkie, DD, came running and barking her tiny head off. She’d be no more than a snack for Queen, but she was fearless. “Hey, DD, don’t hurt my dog, OK? Where’s your daddy?”

  Marla Danaher, Dwayne Dempsey’s wife, called from the small office, “Cluny, come in. I just made a fresh pot of coffee. Dwayne will be back any time now.”

  Cluny grinned, rounded the desk, and hugged her. “I bet Gunny doesn’t go far off the reservation these days.” She looked like she was ready to deliver any minute. “You’re more beautiful than usual, boss lady.”

  Marla kissed his cheek. “Hah. I feel like a beached whale. Have a seat. I’ll get your mug. I’ve been sitting too long.” Stretching her back, she groaned. “I can’t wait for little Dwayne to show up. I’m surprised I can still get behind the wheel of my car.”

  He held up his cell phone. “Do you mind if I check my calls? My place is still closed for a few more days, and I didn’t go in this morning.”

  “Go ahead. I’m here to do payroll. Dwayne went to Miss Emmaline’s to pick up Amber. She’s learning how to knit. Did you ever hear of a baby garment called a soaker?”

  “Can’t say that I have, but my knowledge of all things babies is practically non-existent.” He laughed when she grinned at him and set a steaming mug on the edge of the desk. “This smells great, thanks.”

  “I don’t believe that. You were like a second dad to Amber from the day she was born. What have you been doing with yourself, Cluny? We haven’t seen much of you lately.” She took a manila folder from the desk and put it in a locked file cabinet.

  “Queen and I’ve been going to Zuma Beach every morning. The weather’s been perfect.” He blew on his coffee and checked for messages on his cell. “No emergencies. Good. I’m enjoying my short vacation and wouldn’t relish crawling under somebody’s house or replacing a busted toilet.”

  “Everything tickety-boo?”

  “Yep.” He put the phone back in his pocket. “What do you hear from your sister these days?” Marla’s twin sister, Charlene, had married Dwayne’s younger brother, Donovan. “After two years they must be acting like an old married couple.”

  “Char’s still behaving like a newlywed. They love living in Hawaii, and they’re coming to California for Christmas. Then they’ll go to Wyoming
to spend a few days with our mutual mother-in-law at the ranch. I can’t imagine what the weather is like up there in December. I get chills just thinking about it.”

  “It’s cold.” How well he remembered winter in Wyoming. “Very cold.”

  She walked to the window at the side of the building. “I heard Dwayne’s truck.”

  The entrance door opened, Amber entered, and DD took a flying leap right into her arms. “How’s my little furry sister today, DD-weedie?” She hugged DD, gave Queen an affectionate pat, and put her arms around Cluny’s neck.

  “Are you going to take me to the beach this week, Uncle Cluny?”

  He hugged his tall, skinny, eight-year-old goddaughter and planted a hard kiss on her cheek. “If your dad will let me.”

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi, sweetie. How’s the knitting?”

  “I’m almost done.” Amber hugged her stepmother and rested her hand on Marla’s belly. “Hello, baby brother.”

  “I’ll be so happy when you can say hello to this bruiser in person. My back is killing me.” Marla grinned when Dwayne walked in. “I need a foot rub, Dempsey.”

  “Soon as we get home, Danaher.” He embraced her. “You ready to leave?” He smacked Cluny on the back. “How’s it going, McPherson?”

  “Good, Gunny.”

  “Amber and I’ll head home, honey.” Marla kissed Dwayne, then Cluny. “I’ve got beef stew in the slow cooker. Why don’t you join us? I made more than enough.”

  Dinner with the Dempsey’s was music to his ears. “When did I ever turn down your cooking? Thanks, I’d love it.” He waved when Marla and Amber left, then gazed at his old buddy. “You are one lucky son of a bitch.”

  “I thank God for her every day,” Dwayne answered. “When she hired me to do that apartment building renovation, heaven smiled on Amber and me.”

  He and Dwayne had been friends since junior high school in Buffalo, Wyoming. They’d served in the same Marine unit in Iraq. Cluny had been there all those years when Dwayne struggled to recuperate from grievous war wounds and raise Amber from infancy as a single dad.

  They’d moved to California together when the senior Dempsey wanted to retire and asked Dwayne to take over his construction company. Cluny had eventually opened his own plumbing business, and they often worked together. “We’ve been through a lot over the years, Gunny. I couldn’t be happier for you.”

  Dwayne eyed him. It was impossible to keep anything from his lifelong friend. “What’s up, soldier? I know that look.”

  “Do you remember that big SEAL who took out the savage with the RPG trying to kill us outside Fallujah?”

  “Marv? Sure. He saved all our asses that day. It’s a crying shame he paid the ultimate price in that shithole.”

  “I’m pretty sure I met his wife and kid today.”

  “What?” Dwayne stared at him like he’d gone off the rails.

  “It sounds crazy, but I was sitting on the beach today and this kid and his mom were there. They’ve been there for the last three mornings. The boy, his name is Santos Jefferson, got curious about Queen and wandered over.”

  “I don’t remember Marv’s last name. Did we ever hear it? What makes you think the kid was his?”

  Cluny shook his head and raised his hands. “They invited me to have lemonade with them, and Santos showed me a snapshot of his dad. I recognized Marv, but didn’t say anything for fear I was imagining it.” His stomach clenched at the memory of the man in the photo. He still couldn’t believe it.

  “Amazing! I’d love to tell his wife what he did for us that day. Do you know where she lives?”

  “No. I helped them load up their car and they took off. I didn’t have the presence of mind to ask her. I doubt she would have told me, a total stranger, anyway. Her name is Graciella. She has an accent.”

  Dwayne shook his head. “Too bad. Maybe you’ll run into her again.”

  “I doubt it. There are millions of people in this corner of California. I’m amazed to have met her in the first place.” Why hadn’t he asked where she lived or where she worked? He could have handed her one of his business cards.

  “We better get home. I need to stay close to Marla.”

  “We finished that extra bedroom and bathroom on your house in the nick of time. When is she due to deliver?”

  “Yesterday.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Fallujah, Iraq

  “Gunny!” Blood sprayed the ground outside the smoking shell of the Bradley. Cluny struggled to his knees, clutching for his weapon, the haze of blood dripping in his eyes obscured his vision. “Gunny!”

  Gunny Sgt. Dempsey, screaming with shock and pain, scrabbled on the ground in a frantic search for his blown-off foot. Cluny raised his weapon and killed the savage aiming the next round at them just as another sprang up to take his place. In a gruesome parody of a carnival midway shooting gallery, enemy soldiers popped up one after the other. “Gunny!” he screamed and kept screaming, but couldn’t hear his own voice, gunfire, anything. “Gunny!”

  In the midst of the insanity, a dog barked. Cluny sprang to a sitting position, eyes wide open, drenched in cold sweat. He had to get help for Gunny before he bled out. How long had he been out? “Medic! We need a medic!” The whomp whomp of helicopter blades threw up a cloud of grit.

  A heavy paw hit him in the chest, waking him from the nightmare. Queen, it was Queen. He pulled her close and fell back on his soaked pillows, gasping and shaking. “Fuck!” He groaned and rolled his head from side to side.

  Why was this nightmare haunting him all these years after Fallujah? He’d dealt with it, dealt with the fact that when his buddies needed him to take out the next killer he’d been unable to respond. He’d covered his roaring and bloody head with his arms and curled into a protective ball.

  “Jesus Christ Almighty. Stop, please stop!”

  Queen nudged him with her nose and whined, crawled up and lay heavy on his chest. Finally he stopped shaking, squeezed his eyes closed, patted her back and took deep, controlled breaths. “I’m good, Queen. I’m good, girl.”

  The bedside clock glowed four-thirty. Cluny rose and staggered to the bathroom. It was useless to try and go back to sleep, so he turned on the shower and stepped out of his shorts. Cold water pounded him like an Arctic blast. Head lowered, he let it lash his head, back and shoulders, punishing him for the recurring nightmare.

  He had to go back to Zuma Beach. Had to find Graciella and Santos and tell them what Marv had done, how he’d saved the lives of five Marines that day.

  Maybe then he could start sleeping nights, have a normal life. Dwayne’s life—he wanted Gunny’s life. A woman who’d worry if he was late coming home from work, a kid who’d run with joy on her face and throw her arms around him when he walked in the door. Why couldn’t he have that life? Why?

  Dressed in sweats, he took Queen for a hard run through the dark and hilly streets of his neighborhood. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a squad car gliding in his direction. The cop put his hand out the window and waved. “Up early again, McPherson? Why would anybody in their right mind be up at this gawd awful hour?”

  Cluny grinned and continued running. “Look who’s talking, pal.” The laughing cop was a familiar face on these dark mornings. Too many dark mornings.

  Queen galloped with him stride for stride. If he stopped, she stopped and stared at him until he decided what to do next. Walk, run, sit—she followed his lead, never distracted by wildlife or a car. Cluny was her only purpose in life. “You’re my best girl, Queenie.” He bent and thumped her powerful chest then jogged down the next street.

  At five-thirty, he dumped kibble in Queen’s bowl and replenished her water. Digging through the refrigerator searching for something to eat, he tipped up the orange juice carton and drank half of it. He flexed his neck and shoulders, took the waxed carton of egg whites, prepared an omelet drenched with salsa, and sat at the table to eat.

  “Shall we go to the beach, girl?
” If Graciella and Santos were there, he’d take another look at the boy’s photo of Marvin, then tell them the story.

  Queen grinned and her tail dusted the floor.

  They didn’t show. He sat on the sand by the Point Dume rocks until noon, then gave up and headed home. He’d probably never see them again. Never see the boy who looked so much like his father and the breathtaking woman, his mother.

  His cell sounded off. “Yo, Gunny. What’s up?”

  “Marla decided to have our boy today. Could you come over and sit with Amber while I’m gone? Brad and Silvia are here, but they’d like to be at the hospital with their daughter.”

  “Tell them I’m an hour away. I’ll take over as soon as I get there.”

  “OK, will do.” Dwayne hung up, and Cluny raced to his car.

  So, today was the day Declan Danaher Dempsey would make his appearance. Dwayne, you lucky SOB. Having a foot blown off in Iraq hadn’t kept him from going after the life he wanted. At least Gunny’s wound was obvious. No explanation required.

  McDonald’s restaurant, Simi Valley

  Cluny and his goddaughter were about to finish dinner at McDonald’s when his phone buzzed. “Yo.”

  “You can bring Amber to the hospital now to meet her brother and visit Marla. She’s worn out but wants to see her before she goes to sleep. Tell her the kid looks like she did, except he has my blue eyes and red hair like his mom.” Relief and jubilation in his old buddy’s voice poured through the phone. “Here’s a picture of him.”

  “You’re a lucky bastard, Gunny.”

  Amber scowled at his use of profanity.

  He reached across the table and pinched her nose. “Want to wash my mouth out with soap?”

  She nodded. “Yes, but I’ll do it later. Let’s go see Mom.”

  “We’re on our way, pal.” He held the phone for his eight—going-on-eighteen—year-old goddaughter to see her baby brother. He grinned and winked. “Let’s go meet your brother.”