His family was happy. And while they might be ecstatic over his being home, once they knew the real reason he’d been benched, their happiness would be replaced with worry, which was a great reason to keep his trap shut.
“Dante, I’ve been meaning to ask. Do you know an officer by the name of Jon Kenmore?” Tawny asked.
“Should I?”
“He’s stationed at Newport.” She said it like that the two men should be BFFs.
He sighed. Here they went again, because yeah, sure he knew all three hundred thousand plus people in the navy. Or he would if he wasn’t such a slacker. He was half-tempted to just say yes, but that wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.
“Tall guy, red hair, talks with a Southern accent, right?”
“No, he’s kind of short, pale hair going bald and is definitely a Rhode Islander,” again her voice said how could you not know.
“You’re thinking of Spencer Hill,” Dante said totally serious, enjoying screwing with his sister’s head.
“He told me his name was Jon Kenmore. Why would he give me an alias when he wants me to plan his dad’s retirement party?”
“Tawny, you do realize I don’t know every single person in the navy or even on the base, right?”
“You’re such a jerk, Dante.” She threw her napkin at him. “I thought you were serious. Anyway… I was asking because when I met with him—in person— he mentioned that he’s transferring soon. Guess he’s been here for four years now, which made me think of you. How long were you at your last command?”
Not as long as he should have been.
“A year and a half.” He could lie, but sticking as close to the truth as possible was always best.
“Is that normal?” Dave handed the sippy cup to his daughter and turned back to him. “It seems like it would make more sense to keep you in one place longer if nothing else then for the costs of moving families.”
“Don’t get us wrong, son.” His dad’s hand clamped down on his arm. “We’re glad to have you home and we want you here as long as possible. But we thought you had another year before you transferred and we don’t want you leaving anytime soon.”
Not being honest ate away at Dante, but telling them the truth wouldn’t erase the past and would just make his family worry. What was the point in doing that? Being family didn’t mean it was a person’s right to burden the others with your problems. It did mean being there for each other when asked. However, this was a journey he needed to make on his own whether it led him back to life in the field or condemned to a desk.
“I did, but that’s life in the military. Nothing is set in stone. Change is the only constant and when one place is over-manned and another under, people get rotated.”
It wasn’t a total lie.
His mom’s eyes looked up at him, worry and love filling her face. “You’re okay, m’ijo? From your accident, right?”
“Yep. It was just a scratch and a little bump on the head. Most of the damage was to my ego, being it’s so fragile.”
Tawny snorted and cut up a tamale for the little one, who proceeded to throw the cornmeal pieces at him.
“Glad to hear it, brother,” said Dave. “I’m going to take the princess over to the play set and work some of this delicious food off. Katia, you outdid yourself, as always.”
Tawny helped get their daughter out of the chair and started cleaning up the table as Dave walked away. His parents exchanged a look. He knew it well. They didn’t believe him.
In seconds the world had gone gray and fuzzy. The air weighed heavy on his chest, refusing to enter his lungs. Sand and grit burned his eyes, filled his nose, and ground against his skin. Shouting filled the air. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t tell where he was. His eyes darted back and forth. Where was his team?
A hand, soft and wrinkled, grasped his. “M’ijo, did you hear your father?”
Dante’s vision cleared. He wasn’t in Afghanistan. Nothing lay on his chest pinning him to the ground. No shouts of fear and pain, just shrieks of delight from his niece.
“Baby, are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m sorry. I was caught up watching Catalina.”
“Son, can you tell us what happen—”
The world spun. The past wasn’t through with him yet. “Dad, hold that thought.” He held up an empty water bottle and double-timed it to the house.
He made it as far as the living room before dropping to his knees. Closing his eyes, he breathed in, lifting his chin as Fiona taught him, pushing everything else away.
Again, he silently ordered himself, still reeling from the flashback. Slowly air trickled down his passages and into his lungs. He had to repeat the technique several times to feel any resemblance to normal, yet his hands continued to shake. Anxiety attacks were nothing new at this point, but flashbacks? Oh yeah. That motherfucker was new, not fun, and way too fucking real.
“If you’re in a mood to pray, I’m sure Mama would be happy to have you accompany her to the six o’clock mass,” Tawny said from behind him.
Dante stood and turned to face his sister leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen. They faced-off for several minutes, the look on her face dared him to lie to her. Challenge accepted.
“I’m good,” he said.
“Bullshit. I know a panic attack when I see one and based on the fact that you didn’t even make it to the bedroom or bathroom, I’m going to guess it was pretty bad.”
“I’m fine,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
“Dante, I can see your pulse jumping in your neck from here. It’s a good thing I’m not a vampire or you’d be drained dry.” The mocking tone didn’t override the concern creasing her brow.
“You’re more ninja. I didn’t even hear you come up behind me. Must be losing my touch.” He closed the gap between them gave his sister a quick hug. “I’m fine, hermanita. Rein all that mommy concern back in and save it for the little one outside.”
“You know if you shared with us what happened, it might make it easier to handle.” She took one of his trembling hands in hers and studied it. “Families help each other out during the good and the bad, you know.”
“My missions and what goes on during them are classified.”
She pulled back, anger coloring her cheeks red. “Save it for the general public.”
He was about to protest when she held up her hand and looked over her shoulder.
“I’ll bring it out in a minute, Mama.”
Turning back to him, she poked her finger in his chest making Dante step back. “I’m not suggesting you leak sensitive information. There’s nothing in that rule book you love so much that says you can’t tell your family what really happened to you or how bad your injuries were. You suffered more than a flesh wound, big brother.” The smug look suggested she wasn’t fishing for information, but already knew the details.
“Are you psychic now?”
She snorted in reply. “Don’t I wish. It would have saved me a couple hundred dollars on new flooring after your niece and Gavin flooded the toilet. Let’s just say I meet a lot of people in my work and Newport really is a small base.”
He clamped down on his jaw to keep from swearing. He loved his family, he really did, but this was one of the reasons why he’d left in the first place. They were always in each other’s business, crowding into your thoughts and spaces, and dishing out unwanted advice. He could recall multiple times one of his siblings had walked in on him in the bathroom or bedroom when he least wanted company. Well, their company. If he’d wanted a moment alone he’d have to go for a run, which always led him to the park. It didn’t get any better when George had moved out. He’d hoped going to college would work, but it hadn’t been far enough away.
Not even the navy and thousands of miles could cut the cord, but it had given him some control over their intrusions. Now he felt
like he was back at square one.
“I need to ask you a favor, Tawny. Don’t tell the others. They’ll worry, which is pointless because there’s nothing that can be done.” Although, he was trying his damnedest to prove the doctors wrong.
“I hate keeping secrets.”
He laughed. “Now, I’m going to call bullshit. Want to talk about the bank manager?”
She shot him a look that told him exactly what she thought of that topic. “They have a right to know.”
Before he could reply, Dave stepped in the room with a sleepy Catalina in his arms. “Hey, babe, she’s ready for her nap and wants you. If you take her, I’ll get the cake.”
Tawny took her daughter who snuggled into her arms and closed her eyes instantly. Before his sister could leave, Dante stopped her.
“Tawny?” he asked.
She let out a deep sigh, clearly not happy with him, but then it wasn’t the first time so he could live with her disappointment. “Fine, but I think you’re wrong.”
“Not the first time,” he said to her back as she retreated down the hall.
Dave looked between the two of them. “You guys okay?”
“Yeah. She just doesn’t like losing an argument.”
Dave slapped him on the back and propelled him toward the kitchen. “Tell me about it.”
* * * *
Fiona walked into her parents’ house from the garage to find her sixteen-year-old twin nephews spread out on the couches with the TV on.
“Hey, Aunt Fee.” Braden, the baby by two minutes, looked up from his phone and flashed her a smile complemented by dimples. “Is Dylan with you? He’s got to try this new game. It’s solid.”
Right. What the heck did ‘solid’ mean? She smiled back.
“Great. He’ll love that. His dad should be dropping him off anytime now.” At least they’d ditched the piercings and chains they’d been wearing last time she’d seen them. “Are you playing it on your phone?”
“Nah. I’m texting my girlfriend.”
“More like sexting,” Keaton murmured.
Fee raised a brow and looked at Braden who refused to look her in the eye, but shook his head. How sad that it wouldn’t surprise her if that were exactly what he was doing? The two of them had taken a serious wrong turn in the last year.
“Hey, buddy, how goes it?” she asked Keaton, who was watching… cartoons. Well, that was better than the other.
In response he gave her a listless wave and grunted.
She headed up the stairs of her parents’ split-level house and stopped at the top. Angry whispers floated down the hallway. Great. Justin and Amber were fighting again. The living room was empty, but she followed her nose and the wonderful smell of cookies baking to the kitchen. Her mom stood at the counter spooning batter onto a tray. Fee sidled up next to her, gave her a hug with one arm and with the other hand swiped a scoop of cookie batter.
Her mom swatted her hand and laughed.
Fee nodded toward the hallway. “What’s that all about?”
“Oh, nothing new. Your brother’s been working a lot of overtime lately and Amber feels like everything is on her.” She slid the tray into the oven and peeked into the other room. She motioned for Fiona to follow her to the other side of the room. “Braden lied about where he went the other night. When they found him the next morning he was at a budget motel with that girlfriend of his.”
“What? No way. He’s just a baby.”
“With raging hormones.”
“Mom!” Fee covered her mouth to keep from laughing. What Braden did wasn’t funny, just the way her mother said it, as if she’d never been a hormonal teen herself. “Well, he’s still alive so neither Justin or Amber must be too upset about it.”
“That’s because each of them expects the other to handle it.”
“Ah, got it. So that led to the discussion going on right now.” Thank goodness Dylan was only ten and had zero interest in girls.
“Yep.” She frowned, her eyes on the entranceway. “Did Keaton talk to you when you came in?”
Oh no, there was more? “Only if you call a grunt talking. What’s up with him?”
“Not sure,” she whispered. “For the past month he’s been a walking black cloud. He barely eats, is angry all the time, does nothing but sleep and won’t talk to anyone.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because I don’t want him to hear and think we’re talking about him.”
“But we are and don’t you care if Braden hears you?” Sometimes her mom’s logic baffled her.
“No, he needs to know someone in this family doesn’t approve of what he did.” She held up her hands. “I know ‘hooking up’ is all the rage with your generation and theirs, but it doesn’t mean I have to approve. What if he’d gotten that girl pregnant? They’re both too young to deal with those kinds of consequences. And you can bet that if he did, he and this family will stand by and support that girl. Hang on.”
Her mom checked on the cookies and then the hall and stairs.
“Gram, are the cookies ready?” “Romeo” called from the basement.
“No, and even if they were, you’re not having any until after dinner. Now, put that phone away and go help your grandfather outside,” she snapped.
“But I’m talking to Madison,” Braden called out.
“Dude, shut up. I’m watching something here.” Well at least Keaton was talking to someone, although his tone could use some improvement.
Her mom walked to the top of the stairs. “I think you two did enough talking last night to last a couple of days. Now get your butt outside and help because that’s not a suggestion.”
A couple of seconds and a whole lot of grumbling later they heard the lower door slam shut.
“Do either Justin or Amber have an idea of what’s going on with Keaton?” Fiona asked. Truthfully, she was more worried about him than his brother’s antics.
“Nope. He says he’s fine when they ask. Personally, I think he’s doing drugs and they should haul him in to be tested.”
“Mom.” Fiona rolled her eyes at the comment. Her mom had two standard answers for kids misbehaving. She should know. There wasn’t a week that went by in high school where she didn’t hear how she was letting her hormones rule her brain or been asked if she was high. “Maybe there’s a problem at school, like a teacher riding him or he’s having trouble with a class. Failing is not something Keaton would take lightly and he’s never liked to ask for help.”
“He’s got As in every class.” Her mom pulled the tray from the oven and set it on top of the stove. “You can’t parent with your head in the sand, Fiona. Do you know there were over 400 deaths during the first half of the year from heroin overdose in our state?”
The number staggered her and as a mom, scared the life out of her. It made her want to lock her baby up and never let him out of her sight. With every nightly news report she had to fight the urge to search his room and backpack even though he showed no signs of using. There was a fine line between good parenting and paranoia and most parents walked it like a tightwire act. Despite Dylan’s recent behavior, he was a good kid and so were her nephews. Most of the time.
“Mom, none of those symptoms sound like heroin use. I think it’s safe to say, that’s not what’s going on with Keaton, but they do sound like he might be depressed. Either way, they should get him into a doctor. And I’ll let you make that suggestion, because if I do, both Justin and Amber will ignore me.”
Her mom wiped a tear from her cheek. “You’re so lucky you have Dylan. He’s an angel.”
Not so much.
“Well, your angel got into a fist fight last week.”
“It’s probably puberty setting in.” Her mom waved a hand and started scooping out cookie dough again. “I’m sure the other kid started it or it’s just a ph
ase with Dylan. He’s such a sweet boy.”
And has always been a soft spot for his grandmother. But her mom was right and up until recently he’d been a great kid. The front door opened and feet pounded up the stairs.
“Mom, we’re here,” said her darling angel-turned-demon.
“In the kitchen.” She held out her arms for a hug and continued to stand there as her son ran right past her to his grandmother.
“Cookies,” he said.
“Not until after dinner,” Fiona replied.
“Don’t be such a spoilsport, Fiona,” said Sal from the kitchen entrance. “Elaine, I bet you still make the best cookies on the planet.”
“According to your son, I do.” Her mom passed one to Sal.
He took a bite, rolled his eyes and moaned. Here came the charm.
“Elaine, you need to open your own bakery. I’d be your best customer, there everyday.”
Her mom thanked him and turned back to her task. In shock at seeing her ex, Fiona didn’t say anything in response. Normally, he dropped Dylan off in the driveway and was gone in the blink of an eye.
“Salvador.” She blinked waiting for him to explain his presence. After several moments of stone silence and him standing with an expectant look, she forced herself not to roll her eyes or sigh. “Is there something you needed?”
He looked to her mother and back to her. “Yeah, can we talk… outside?”
Chicken.
Her mom nodded and put a hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “Go wash your hands, honey, and then you can help Grammy make cookies.”
Fiona left her son and followed her ex-husband, the lying, cheating dog out to the front steps, fully expecting to hear why he couldn’t take Dylan next time or couldn’t pay child support again.
Sal stuck his hands in his front pockets and looked down on her from his six-foot frame. “Dylan told me he got in a fight last week.”
Darn it. She had hoped her son wouldn’t share with his dad. “It’s been dealt with.”
Disarmed by Love Page 6
