Walking Wounded

by Lee Rowan

  “Can’t put it off any longer, or I’ll be reporting after the fact.” He left the phone in the cradle and turned, catching his breath at the sight. Fully dressed, John Hanson’s curly mop of dark hair, deep brown eyes, and sensuous mouth were distracting enough. In nothing but snug, rainbow-striped briefs, his slim, leggy body was trouble on two bare feet.

  Kevin pushed him away, holding him at arms’ length. Any other time, he’d have pulled John over to the sofa and to hell with their schedule, but not today. They hadn’t a moment to spare. “I can do it myself, Johnny. For God’s sake, go put your clothes on. The worst the Brig can do is disown me, but if we’re late for this, you’ll never get another meal from my mother.”

  “You know me too well.” John swooped in for a quick kiss, then loped off upstairs.

  “And for God’s sake, change those pants!” Kevin called after him, knowing that even if John heard that order, he’d ignore it. No harm in that, really. John spent much of his time doing crisis counseling; if his silly underwear gave him something to smile about, more power to it. It wouldn’t show under the formal attire anyway, and it would be fun to help him take it off, later….

  Kevin shook his head. He was stalling and he knew it. He’d faced gunfire, terrorists, disgrace, and a very determined murderer, but he would sooner tackle any or all of them at once than make this call. He must do it now, right this minute; he didn’t have time for cold feet. They had to finish dressing, pick up the elderly lady who’d been John’s surrogate grandmother since he’d moved to Portsmouth, and present themselves at the registry office with a little time to spare in case of last-minute complications.

  He picked up the phone again and punched the number one deliberate digit at a time, even though it was loaded into speed dial. What can he do, after all—jump through the receiver and throttle me?

  He might want to.

  The call was answered after two and a half rings. A strong voice, brusque, accustomed to command. “Kendrick.”

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Kevin.” A pause, as though the Brigadier was trying to guess why his younger son had called. “Your mother’s not here. She’s off at the hall, supervising the caterer for your friend’s reception. I’m to meet her there in ninety minutes.”

  Mrs. Kendrick had suggested this explanation, and it was not entirely false; Pat and Tess were tying the knot this morning too. Tess’s mother had never been able to accept that her daughter’s partner was a woman, and she had flatly refused to have anything to do with their ceremony. Kevin’s mother, who liked nothing better than a family wedding, had flung herself into the breach. Since Kevin was the biological father of the very pregnant bride’s unborn baby—their second—the two couples had decided to combine festivities.

  But no one had told Brigadier General Marcus D. Kendrick (Retired) the whole story. He had always been inclined to the Yank policy of “don’t ask, don’t tell” with regard to his younger son’s love life, and did not even—officially—know Kevin was gay.

  “Yes,” Kevin said. “I know. I meant to call you.” Damn it, he had no reason to be nervous. His father was a forceful man, not an ogre, and he was, after all, many miles away. “Dad, I just wanted you to know that John and I are having our own wedding ceremony today, and—” He held the phone away from his ear. He’d never heard anyone make that sound before. “Dad?”

  “You. Are. What?”

  “Getting married, Dad. The law changed a while back. We’re in the twenty-first century. Rainbow over Parliament, remember?”

  Silence. But he could hear breathing. A good sign, very good—the old man hadn’t keeled over.

  Kevin plowed ahead. “I didn’t tell you earlier because it’s not open for discussion, but I’m not going to sneak around behind your back.”

  “But—” Another long silence, then, “Why, Kevin? Damn it, I guessed as much, but why bother? Can’t you just—do whatever it is you do—without—”

  “Of course we could.” Kevin felt a twinge of pain in his hand and realized how hard he was clutching the receiver. “Of course we could, Dad. But do you remember what you told me about this? I couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen. I forgot all about it until just now. Guess it made an impression.”

  “Told you what?”

  “That when I found the right one, I should grab hold with both hands and make it permanent. Make it real, you said. Be a man. Give your word and honor it.”

  “I was talking about a real marriage, boy. A home, children. Not some—”

  “Yes. Exactly. So am I.” God, interrupting his father twice. He didn’t know if he’d ever done that before. “The real thing. I know it’s not what you wanted or expected, and I’ll understand if I don’t see you there. But this is who I am—who I love—and I’m not going to hide it.” He sensed John’s warmth behind him once more, felt stronger for his presence. “That’s all, Dad. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I didn’t think you really wanted to know. Take care.”

  He fumbled as he put the receiver down with an unsteady hand. Adrenaline hangover; he turned blindly into John’s embrace and just held on. Eventually he was breathing normally again.

  “Think he’ll be there?” John asked.

  “I don’t know, Johnny.” Kevin took a deep breath and raised his head, meeting the eyes of the man he loved. Lover. Partner. Husband. He felt lighter somehow, almost giddy. “That’s up to him. If he doesn’t accept you as a son-in-law, it’s his loss. Have you got the rings?”

  “I do.” John grinned in delight. “Just rehearsing my line. Come on, love—get us to the registry office on time.”

  Epilogue

  “SEE MUMMY!” Patricia Kevyn Sullivan-Chalton—named for her biological mother’s wife and her biological father’s husband—was an enchantingly lovely child, with her mother’s red-gold hair and her father’s dark eyes. But it was anyone’s guess where she got her obstinate disposition or her piercing voice, which echoed tremendously in the lift. None of her parents were especially loud, and there was no genetic reason for the stubbornness.

  “Yes, love,” Kevin agreed. “We’re going to see your mummy and your mum, and if you’re very good and quiet, we’ll take you out for lunch afterward and buy you a nice dosa.” The promise of a thin, rolled pancake from their favorite Indian place usually did the trick.

  Not today. “No!”

  “Pattycake, your mummy worked very hard making you a baby brother, and she needs for you to be a good girl and not shout.”

  “Don’t want brother, want Mummy!”

  John had been honored that Pat and Tess had asked him to be the biological father of their child, and thrilled that they’d asked Kevin to pitch in for the second baby. And he was also profoundly grateful that the ladies were doing all the child-rearing. He loved his daughter, even though he was more than a bit uneasy when she was in his and Kevin’s care.

  She was sweet—when she wasn’t trying to rule the world—and it had been amazing to watch her develop from a helpless pink infant to a very small person with a very large force of character. He suspected that when she grew old enough to speak in sentences that did not feature “no!” as a constant refrain, he would feel less stressed by prolonged exposure and the 24/7 responsibility. They had never been able to put P. K. down for the night with any hope that she would sleep more than a couple of hours. He had no idea how Pat and Tess managed day to day, or what unfathomable optimism had prompted them to want a second baby.

  It might simply be that his own disposition was not rugged enough to endure prolonged exposure to very small children—at least not this small child. Maybe it was that he’d had no siblings himself—the upheaval didn’t seem to bother Kevin nearly as much. The past two days that she’d been staying with them, while her mothers were occupied with the birth of their second child, had been two of the most nerve-wracking days of his life since—well, since that ex-mercenary maniac had come after Kevin.

  “Sweetheart—” John was trying to
be the adult in the situation, but his daughter had an uncanny ability to neutralize all his professional training. Somehow or other, she knew he wanted her to settle down before the lift opened on the maternity ward, and she wasn’t having any.

  “Johnny, there’s a reason they call ’em the ‘terrible twos.’” Kevin scooped up the toddler and looked her in the eye. “P. K., you are a very smart little girl.”

  “Yes!”

  “And you know how to behave, don’t you?”

  She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but Kevin gave her a wink and a big grin, which set her laughing, and when the lift opened it showed only a cheery family group.

  John breathed a sigh of relief.

  “And since you’re such a good girl, you can be a good big sister, like your aunt Marian,” Kevin continued, holding the child’s attention. “Can you do that, honey?”

  P. K. nodded. “I’m good. I want Mummy. Want Mum.”

  “Which way, Johnny?”

  John tucked the bouquet of roses under his arm, checked the slip of paper, looked at the plaque on the wall, and pointed to the left. They headed down the hospital corridor, with P. K. softly chanting “Mummy, Mummy, Mummy….”

  “How can it still be terrible twos?” John asked under his breath. “She’s nearly three!”

  “She got a late start with the diva act. Making up for lost time.”

  They found the room, whisked her inside, and got the door shut before she shrieked again, as they knew she would. But she listened to her mum, Pat, and settled down enough to be lifted up to get a hug from her mummy, Tess, while the adults exchanged their own greetings and John handed over the flowers. It had been well worth the extra expense, which he and Kevin had insisted on paying, to have this private room for the day or two Tess would need it.

  “Has she been much trouble?” Pat asked, as Tess reassured the little girl that, yes, Mummy loved her and she was Mum’s very favorite daughter.

  “No more than usual,” Kevin said. “I think the cats are a bit overwrought, but they’ll recover.”

  “Where’s the baby?” John asked. “In the nursery?”

  “No, if the baby’s healthy, they stay in the room now. Over here.” She led them around to the crib behind the pull-away curtain. “We thought we’d give Peek a few minutes with Tess first. He’s sleeping. Isn’t he just the most beautiful little boy you ever saw?”

  Douglas John Sullivan-Chalton was a tiny, red-faced creature who bore no particular resemblance to his handsome father. He looked as squished and homely as any normal newborn. But looking at the pride and happiness on Kevin’s face, John saw beauty enough for a thousand babies. “He’s gorgeous. Is Tess all right?”

  “I told you on the phone, John. She’s fine. A little tired, still—thanks for waiting till this afternoon to come by. It was easier than with P. K., actually. Just a couple of hours in labor. The midwife was thrilled.”

  “He’s so tiny,” Kevin said, running a finger along the back of the little pink fist that rested on the flannel blanket. “Are you sure he’s all right?”

  “Seven pounds, seven ounces. He’s a fine, healthy boy.” As if in confirmation, the baby’s eyes opened, and he waved the little fist and kicked at his blanket. “Would you like to hold him?”

  Kevin, with considerable experience as an uncle, had been perfectly at ease with P. K. when she was an infant. But this time he hesitated. “Are you sure?”

  “Pick up your son, Kevin,” Tess said from the other side of the curtain. “John, can you push this thing back? Pattycake, would you like to see your new baby brother?”

  “Mine?”

  “Yes.” Pat scooped up the baby and transferred him carefully to Kevin’s arms, then went over to hug her daughter and give her wife a kiss. “Yours, and mine, and Mummy’s, and your daddies’ too. He’s all of ours. And we’re his family.”

  “Can he play ball with me?” P. K. asked.

  “He’s got to grow bigger before he can play with you,” John said. “Give him some time. But we’ll take you out and play ball in a little while.”

  “He’s awfully quiet,” Kevin said, still staring at little Douglas as though he expected the baby to do something bizarre.

  “A woman in our Lamaze class said the second baby is always the complete opposite of the first,” Tess said with a huge yawn. “I hope she’s right—a restful baby would be wonderful.”

  P. K. was watching the new baby, and her mother, and Kevin. She said tentatively, “I’m wonderful, too?”

  “Sweetie, you were a wonderful, exciting baby,” Pat said. “Full of surprises. We hope Dougie will be a wonderful, calm baby.”

  “Hear, hear,” John agreed. “Ladies, he’s beautiful. You do good work.”

  “Couldn’t have done it without you,” Tess said, smiling at Kevin.

  “I’m—thank you for asking me,” Kevin said. “Both of you.” He had been so surprised when they’d asked him to be the father of Tess’s second baby and completely devastated when the pregnancy failed. He hadn’t expected them to ask him when they were ready to try again. But the same thing had happened with their first attempt, so the ladies simply persisted. John didn’t understand the drive for parenthood, but seeing Kevin this way, he was glad they had carried on.

  “It was too perfect,” Pat said. “Since my dad’s name is John, too, we could get both your names and Tess’s dad.”

  “I didn’t care about the name,” John said. And he meant it, even though he was absurdly pleased at P. K.’s middle name, despite the silly spelling. “This being Kevin’s baby—I couldn’t ask for more.”

  “I’m afraid I can, though,” Tess said. “I’m just about ready to have a kip, but I have to feed the baby first….”

  “And we need to feed his big sister.” John held out his arms for P. K. “Come on, young lady.”

  She launched herself into his embrace and leaned over toward Kevin. “That’s my baby!”

  “Your baby brother. Yes.” He took a couple of steps closer so P. K. could get a good look at the new arrival, hoping sibling rivalry wasn’t going to rear its ugly head.

  But she behaved as well as anyone could expect of a toddler a month shy of her third birthday. She patted the little hand, much as Kevin had done. “My baby brother.” Then she patted Kevin’s face. “My daddy.”

  “Hey,” John said. “What about me?”

  More pats. “Daddy too!”

  “That works.” Kevin leaned over and gave John a kiss, light and sweet. P. K. laughed and patted them both. Then she had to give Kevin a kiss, and John as well—she had learned that adults really didn’t like a big sloppy smack on the nose, so she delighted in giving them—and then both her mothers, and then the baby. And then Kevin handed the baby over to Tess for his midafternoon snack, and they left young Dougie to lunch with the ladies.

  “I was good!” P. K. announced. And she had been, for such a little girl, so they played the game she took such delight in—holding on to either hand and assisting her in taking long, leaping steps along the pavement as they strolled off to find some lunch on a bright April afternoon.

  “This is how you’d step if you were walking on the moon,” Kevin told her. “If you were an astronaut.”

  “Careful what you ask for,” John cautioned.

  “Well, she could be an astronaut. Why not? She’s strong and smart—aren’t you, Miss Peek?”

  “Yes! I can count to a hundred!” And she began to demonstrate. “One. Two. Three. Four….” She couldn’t really reach one hundred—she just knew it was an important number. She was pretty accurate up to twenty, though. “Nine. Ten. ’Leven. Twelve….”

  “I’d be scared out of my mind, that’s why not.”

  “Ah, Johnny….” Kevin looked as happy as John had ever seen him. “We could have grandkids living on the moon, did you ever think of that? Sometimes things work out. Look at us. You’ve got your practice, I’ve got the translating and the books—we’ve got our house and the kids…. Four ye
ars ago, did you ever imagine life could be this good?”

  John looked over at his lover—his husband—above the bouncing head of their little girl, who had just transposed twenty-six and twenty-seven. His thoughts flew back to that cold, bleak day in November when he picked up the telephone and sunlight came back into his life.

  Before he’d met Kevin, he had lived on autopilot, and his best friends were those he found on the library shelves. Now he had the love of his life, a reason for living, and a family he had never even thought to wish for. This wasn’t anything like what he’d imagined. It was a hundred times better, maybe a thousand.

  “No, love. No. I never did.”

  Kevin smiled back, and John could see the promise of their next night alone together in his eyes. “You know something, Johnny? Neither did I.”

  Afterword

  IN EARLIER editions of Walking Wounded, I left hints about John and Kevin’s previous incarnation together. Dreamspinner decided that they should come out of the closet, so… as those who’ve read the Royal Navy series may have guessed, these two souls were once known as David Archer and William Marshall, and they earned the right to a lifetime where they could be together openly, without fear.

  Or—if reincarnation seems a bit too far-fetched for you—just think of it as a story about two young men in the early years of the twenty-first century who coincidentally happen to live in Portsmouth, England.

  The references to past-life regression work are real—I’m a certified hypnotherapist myself and have taken training in the specialty. If you’re interested, I’d be happy to share a list of the books I’ve read and learned from. Just write to lee.rowan@yahoo.com.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from

  Ransom

  Royal Navy: Book One

  By Lee Rowan

  An officer, a gentleman... and a sodomite. The first two earn him honor and respect, the third may cost him his life. David Archer realizes how hopeless his attraction to his fellow midshipman is from the moment a newly-arrived William Marshall challenges a sexually abusive shipmate to a duel—and shoots him dead.