The squeal of the screen door opening again saved her from having to answer her father’s questions. Jem stuck her head out and announced, “Dinner’s ready.”
They all sat frozen for a moment, suspended in the wait for Pippa’s answer, the mood tense.
“Mason said if you all are done using bad language you should come and get it.”
The small joke released them, making them chuckle away the tension. Sam stood up and pulled her to her feet while Jack walked to Jem and brushed a light kiss on her cheek before he walked through the door. Her father remained seated, an anguished look on his face.
“You coming, Dad?” Sam asked, following Jack.
Dad put his hand on her arm, raising guilty eyes to hers. “Give us a minute, will ya, Sam?”
With a nod, Sam left the pair of them on the porch.
Her father tugged her until she was seated on his lap with his arms wrapped around her shoulders, the way he had held her as a child when she or her feelings had been hurt. The sensation of being home, and loved unquestionably settled on her like a soft, fuzzy towel, warm from the dryer.
“I’m sorry, Pipsqueak. I didn’t mean to bring up bad feelings.”
“It’s alright, Dad. Those feelings are never far from the surface anyway.”
“God dammit, Pip. I miss him so much.” His voice trembled with emotion. “He was a good man, and protesters like the Battalion tarnish what he stood for.”
Pip shut her eyes against the hot rush tears. “Only if we let them, Dad. People who knew Mark, who loved him, will always remember him in the glow of his patriotism. The Battalion can’t touch the good memories of everyone who has lost someone they love in the service. The protesters are getting a lot of negative press right now.” She sighed, laying her head against her dad’s solid shoulder. “And groups like the Patriot Honor Guard are standing up to them, keeping them in check.”
Her heart lightened as she remembered the Guard standing vigil at Corporal Wright’s funeral. And how Clay had stood up to Dewey in the cemetery when she’d visited Mark’s grave.
“Thank God for them. At least they have a lick of sense.”
“Bruce? Pippa?” Her mother’s voice rang through the screen door. “Are you two coming?”
“Be right there,” he answered, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes. “I love you, Pipsqueak.”
“Love you too, Dad.” She eased off his lap just as her phone vibrated in the pocket of her hoodie. She pulled the device out and glanced at the display. “Tell them to go ahead and start without me. It’s Reverend Crane. I have to take this call.”
She pressed her lips to her Dad’s cheek, before turning away to answer the call. “Hi, Dr. Crane. How are you tonight?”
“Not good, Pippa,” the pastor replied, his voice gruff. “I’m on my way to Sarah Eleni’s house. Roberto…” He drew his breath in sharply. “I’ve just been notified that Roberto has been killed in action.”
“Oh, no! God, no!” Instant, scalding tears rolled down her face. Another good man lost. When would it end?
“I wanted you to come with me. I know you and Sarah are close. Her parents live out of town and she doesn’t have anyone else.”
She leaned against the porch railing and took a deep breath to get her emotions in check. “Of course I will. Do you want me to meet you there?”
“No, I’ll come get you. I don’t want to wait in front of her house. She’ll only worry.”
“I’m at my parents’. I’ll be waiting on the porch for you.”
After she disconnected from the call, she reached for her purse, digging for a tissue. It wouldn’t be good for her children to see her looking like a weeping mess when she went in to make her excuses. She kept her back to the door as it opened behind her, quickly blotting away the evidence of her tears.
A warm hand descended on her shoulder and Jack said, “Dad said Reverend Crane called.”
Shaking her head, she turned and let Jack pull her into a hug. “Roberto Eleni was killed.”
“Aw shit, Pippa. I’m so sorry.”
“Dr. Crane is going to pick me up to go talk to Sarah.”
“She doesn’t know yet?”
She shook her head again. “This minute right now is one she’ll always remember. The brief time before her world shatters.” She stepped out of Jack’s embrace. “I have to go tell Mom. I don’t know how late I’ll be. Mia and Mason will have to stay here tonight.”
“Jem and I will take them home with us. They haven’t stayed over in a while.” Jack tucked his finger under her chin, lifting her face to his. “Let me go talk to Mom and I’ll be back out to wait with you until Dr. Crane gets here.”
Pippa smiled tremulously at him, fresh tears stinging the back of her eyes. Having family around at a time like this helped. She was the closest thing to family Sarah had in Granite Pointe. Sarah’s family lived in northern Ohio. Even if they knew already, they wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow morning. Memories of how her own parents and brothers had stood behind her would give her the strength she needed to face her friend’s grief.
18
She’d sat next to the bed and stroked a calming hand over the silky blond hair as her friend had wept her way to oblivion. When she was sure that Sarah wouldn’t wake for a while, Pippa pulled the bedroom door almost closed, allowing only the smallest sliver of light to paint the carpet to the bed where Sarah slept fitfully, and tiptoed to the living room.
Lowering herself into the corner of the comfortable sofa, she pulled her knees to her chest, laid her head down and closed her eyes, willing away the fatigue and grief. Her heavy heart ached for Sarah. The memory of how devastating it had been to open the door herself six years ago roared to life. Those five little words—we regret to inform you—had splintered the world she knew into an unrecognizable landscape of sorrow, anger and depression.
The low, guttural keening that had come from Sarah while Dr. Crane spoke softly to her still reverberated through Pippa’s head. So like the sound she herself had released upon hearing the news. Sarah’s smile had been broad and welcoming when she’d opened the door, her blue eyes dancing with pleasure at the unexpected sight of her friend on the porch. At least until she caught sight of the pastor standing behind Pippa. Watching the light die in those eyes, knowing how irrevocably Sarah’s life had changed in one small blink, stole the air right out of Pippa’s lungs with a forceful squeeze.
Pain lanced through Pippa, pushing her back hard against the sofa, hands clutching a cushion to her face to drown out noisy sobs. Shoulders shaking uncontrollably, she fought to stay silent, afraid of waking Sarah. Pippa’s grief paled in comparison to the agony she knew Sarah was in. Agony that wouldn’t diminish any time soon, despite what well-meaning people the world over said. The pain didn’t get easier as time went by. That was a load of crap. Anger replaced it, then warped into resignation before it swung back to grief, slapping hard between the shoulder blades when least expected.
Reverend Crane had called Sarah’s physician, who’d come over with a sedative. It had calmed the woman enough to allow her to tell them which number on her cell phone would reach her parents and Roberto’s. Sarah had begged Pippa to make the call—to be the one to tell Roberto’s mother and father in Texas that they’d lost their son.
The post commandant and his wife had arrived shortly after Pippa, and had activated the base phone-tree, alerting the military community of their mutual loss. Other Army wives and friends came as news filtered out through the close-knit group. Each person took a turn holding Sarah’s hand, letting her cry. Pippa answered the house phone when it rang, working out details on the arrival of the elder Elenis. Rides were arranged to get the out-of-towners from the airport in Boston, dinners were organized and a schedule established to ensure someone would always be at the house with Sarah. But the business of life went on, and eventually everyone else had left, their eyes haunted and grateful that their own loved ones were still safe.
Only Pippa rem
ained to stand watch with Sarah.
The storm of her personal grief abated, and she scrubbed shaking hands against her face, removing the last of her tears. Staying busy would keep the tears away. Easing to her feet, she tidied the living room, picking up the last coffee cups scattered on the low table in front of the sofa and carrying them into the kitchen. After loading them into the dishwasher and turning it on, she checked the locks on the back door and shut off the lights. She walked through the house, checking doors and windows as quietly as possible before walking to the front door and thumbing that lock. Leaning her forehead against the cool pane of glass next to the door, she gazed unseeing into the dark before drawing the curtains closed against the night.
She had just reached for her phone when it chirped with an incoming text message from Jem. Letting her know the twins were sleeping and to call if she needed anything. Her brother had gotten lucky with Jem. She was a wonderful person, and well suited to become Jack’s wife and part of clan Kerrigan. The way Mark had been.
Pushing the thought aside, she curled up on one end of the couch and squirmed until she was uncomfortable. Determined not to sleep, in case Sarah awoke, she kept herself alert by scrolling through her emails and text messages, saving voice mails for last. Sam and her mother had also sent messages of love and support, for her and for Sarah. Pippa knew she could count on her mom coming over bright and early tomorrow morning—no, this morning—to help out. Yawning, she opened a message from Clay.
Been trying to call. I’m worried. Are you okay?
Yep, she had missed three calls from him. The last one came in less than ten minutes ago. He might still be awake. Casting a quick look down the darkened hallway, she decided to return his call. She shouldn’t rely on him to provide the sympathetic shoulder she craved, but he’d understand better than most people how horrible her night had been. The fist surrounding her heart eased as she dialed his number from memory.
He answered on the first ring. “Spitfire? Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried.”
“I’m at a friend’s house. Something’s happened.” Her voice trembled as she answered.
“Are you okay?” Concern rang in his rich baritone voice and settled easily on her heart.
“Yeah, well, no. No, I’m not.” Tears scalded as they coursed down her cheeks. Shoving a fist against her lips, she stifled her sobs.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, where are you? I’ll come get you.”
She’d frightened him, but she couldn’t make any words come out.
“Pippa, where the fuck are you? Are the kids okay?”
Gulping down a sob, she answered, “They’re fine. I’m okay. Really. I’m sorry. I’m a bit of a mess right now.”
“Okay, take a couple of deep breaths,” he commanded.
Air wheezed down her throat as she forced herself to comply.
“Now, another. That’s good. Better? Can you tell me what happened? Have you run into Dewey Evans again?”
“No. Oh crap! I didn’t even think about the Battalion. That’s just flipping great.”
Anger at what Sarah and her parents would face from the Liberty Battalion pounced on her lungs with both feet, knocking the wind right out of her.
“What about them? Pippa, start at the beginning please. Tell me what’s going on.”
Heaving a sigh, she explained where she was and what she had been doing all evening. She breathed easier with each word that passed her lips—the very act of sharing her grief with Clay taking away some of the pain.
“Oh, Jesus. Spitfire, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, and now I have to worry about the Battalion showing up to protest yet another military funeral. I don’t know how Sarah and Roberto’s parents are going to get through this. They don’t deserve it. No one does.”
“The Guard will be there. And so will I.” The steel in his words was unmistakable. “I’ll call first thing tomorrow, put the crew on alert until we get dates and times. When do you expect the parents?”
“Not until the day after tomorrow. Wait, tomorrow. Good Lord, Clay, it’s so late. I should apologize for calling so late, but I’m not sorry. In fact, I’m thankful that you answered. You shouldn’t have. You didn’t ask to have this pity party dumped on you. I know I’m just a distraction for you.”
“Hey! That hurts my feelings. You’re more than a diversion. I like you, spitfire.”
“Well, thanks. And thanks again for answering. I should let you go,” she said. “I’m afraid to wake Sarah. And it’s late.”
“Don’t hang up. Let me keep you company. I know you aren’t planning to sleep. Just lower your voice and keep talking to me.”
Pausing, she weighed her options. She could hang up, and face the loneliness of waiting for the next emotional storm that would come when Sarah woke. Or keep talking to the man she’d let into her bed, but was trying hard not to let into her heart.
Her pulse thudded as she acknowledged she’d lost that battle. Her heart swelled with the knowledge and she sighed. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Tell me about Sarah. How long have you known her?”
“We met when Mark and Roberto were in Basic Training together. We’ve been friends ever since. Roberto brought Mark home.”
“God! No wonder this is so hard for you. Aside from the obvious, I mean,” he clarified. “Do they have kids?”
A brand new arrow of grief pierced her heart. “No, they’ve tried for years, but Sarah was never able to get pregnant. Roberto was due to get out early next year and they were going to try again. Sarah’s been saving all the money she could, in case they had to go the in-vitro route.”
“Shit, next year? So damn close.”
She nodded, then realized he couldn’t see it. “Yeah, it does suck. I don’t know which is worse. Losing your husband, or losing him knowing now there will never be babies to help ease the grief. I guess I was lucky that way.”
“Tell me about Mark.”
That drew her up short. Why would he ask about her husband? He was probably trying to distract her, and didn’t have an ulterior motive. She didn’t know if she could share memories of Mark with Clay tonight. Her emotions were too raw, too close to the surface. She snorted and deployed a diversionary tactic. “Wouldn’t you just rather have phone sex?”
Surprised laughter floated through the phone. “As tempting as that sounds, spitfire, I have to, regretfully, say not tonight. I want your undivided attention for that. Tell me about your husband.”
“Clay, you do not want to hear about him.”
“I do. Really.”
Could she do this without feeling disloyal to Mark? Would talking about her deceased husband to her lover, for want of a better word, be any more disloyal than sleeping with the man? She wasn’t prone to guilt, and hadn’t felt unfaithful in the past when she’d had sex with men who weren’t Mark. But neither of the other men had asked about her past. Neither had lived in Granite Pointe. One of them didn’t even know she had children. What she’d had with those two other men truly was just about sex—no strings attached, emotionless physical interaction.
Everything was different with Clay. He knew her children and liked them. She could run into him at the grocery store. He’d been to her house for dinner, for Pete’s sake. She had feelings for him—feelings she was afraid to explore too closely. It helped to remember that he’d leave as soon as his mother recovered. Shoulders that had relaxed when she first heard his voice tightened up.
“This isn’t a good idea, Clay.”
“Tell me about him. What kind of man was he?”
She squashed the guilty sensation swirling in her stomach and lowered her voice, careful not to let it carry down the hallway to Sarah’s room. “He was the best. A considerate husband, a loyal friend, a good son. He was a man who stood proud for his family and country.” Her husband and her lover had a lot in common.
“Was your marriage good?”
His question made her think. “What makes a ma
rriage good? Is it the right combination of physical and spiritual? How long it lasts? We’d known each other since high school. Does time together before the wedding count?” She sighed. “Our marriage wasn’t perfect. We argued about the same things other couples bicker about, I suppose. But the fights never lasted and we always made up. We trusted each other, protected each other. We planned a future together and had a map to take us there. Even through multiple deployments, we stayed united. So yeah, you could say our marriage was good.”
“Did he know he was going to be a father?”
She smiled at the memory of how excited Mark had gotten when she told him he’d be a dad. “He did. He’d have been a great father too. His heart was big enough for us to have ten kids. He had just returned to Afghanistan when I found out I was pregnant. After my first ultrasound, when I learned we were having twins, oh, God, he was over the moon. He picked out their names the day I told him.” Her tone flattened out. “The Army Chaplain knocked on my door two months later.”
“I have a friend who is a chaplain. He said there’s no harder job than bringing news to a family. The military is more sophisticated now, but it still sucks. No more impersonal telegrams. The commanding officer always makes an appearance when bad news is delivered.”
“Colonel Davis came over with his wife tonight. I could tell it wasn’t any easier for him than when he showed up at my house six years ago. Losing men under his command takes a piece of him too.”
“Are Mark’s parents still alive?” Clay asked, steering the subject back to their original topic.
“His mother is. She just moved to Florida. We all miss her.” She took a detour on her trip down memory lane. “It was so hard for Mark’s mom when he died, but she held up like a Brigadier General. I don’t know how I would have made it through without her. She handled all the details, but made sure my wishes were honored.”
Hearts in Harmony Page 16
