Embattled Ever After (Lost and Found Series Book 5)

by J. M. Madden

  There was still no response.

  Duncan walked forward enough to knock on the door of the little barn, then he opened it just a crack and peered in.

  The interior was lit with several bars of florescent lights. It had been modified to be a man’s hangout with beer and tool signs decorating the walls. There were benches lining two sides, cluttered with miscellaneous projects in various states of completion. And in an old leather recliner sitting in one corner sat Hank Fryman, head resting against the barrel of the shotgun propped on the floor in front of him.

  Duncan took in a heavy breath. This was exactly what he’d feared. “There has to be a better way, Hank.” He kept his voice strong but firm.

  The man looked up, face tortured, seemingly unsurprised to see Duncan standing there. He gave a harsh laugh. “The last number I call and someone finally listens, just when I don’t want him to.”

  Duncan stepped over the threshold of the barn and pulled the door a little shut to keep the warmth inside and turned to face the former soldier. “You wanted someone to respond. You just didn’t call me soon enough.”

  The man barked out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  “Why are you doing this, Hank?”

  The man’s face tightened and he swallowed, hard. “I don’t belong here anymore. I don’t know if I ever did.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Hank shook his head and the movement pulled his head away from the shotgun. If he could just keep him talking…

  “I don’t think I should have come home. None of my team did.”

  “Who were you with?”

  Hank sighed, but Duncan could see a glimmer of pride on his face. “Army Airborne, 1st Battalion, 502nd Infantry Regiment. Screaming Eagles.”

  Duncan moved in a little further, leaning heavily on his cane. The cold was seeping into his bones and he really needed to sit down, but he didn’t dare. “You guys saw a lot of action. Weren’t you in Kandahar?”

  Hank nodded, his face falling. “Fucking Kandahar, man. Hell on earth.”

  “But you miss it, don’t you?”

  Hank’s gaze jerked to Duncan, and he held it for a long time. “Yes. Yes, I do. At least over there, I knew what the hell I was supposed to be doing. We had guidelines for everything. They told us when to eat, when to go to the can, when to shoot the bad guys. Now I don’t know anything. I say the wrong thing all the time. I can’t stand people. Other than my wife and daughter.”

  His voice drifted off and his eyes filled with furious tears. “I try to do what she wants, but it almost kills me. We go out and I imagine Taliban everywhere. I’ve drawn my weapon a couple of times. It totally freaks her out. She doesn’t want my daughter around me when I get antsy. Then, tonight, she wanted to go over to her parents’ house, which is fine, but I know it’s going to be madhouse with all the relatives. I told her I didn’t think I could do it and she went off on me. Said I wasn’t thinking about her feelings. I do think about her feelings, but I can’t change my feelings—my anxiety.”

  He fisted his eyes, taking one hand off the shotgun.

  “So,” Duncan asked him slowly, “do you really think your daughter would be better off without you in her life? I don’t think so. I don’t think your wife thinks so either.”

  Hank shook his dark head, but Duncan couldn’t tell exactly what he was responding to. “I know you’re going to counseling. Are they helping you out?”

  The other man nodded, reluctantly. “But they can’t help when they aren’t here. I started having thoughts of offing myself and just being done with everything. I called the hotline and they’re only on duty from nine to five, and not on holidays. Sorry I couldn’t have my breakdown during business hours.”

  He laughed bitterly, and Duncan couldn’t blame him. Hotlines were supposed to be available when regular help wasn’t.

  “Has your wife gone to counseling with you?”

  Hank looked up at him. “No. Says she doesn’t have time between the two jobs she works to support us, plus taking care of our daughter. And you know, I don’t blame her. I try to help out but I don’t do anything the way she’s used to doing it. I was deployed for most of my daughter’s life, so she raised her without me. I’m having to play catch-up.”

  He shrugged uncomfortably and the shotgun shifted. Duncan tried to appear nonchalant as Hank moved the weapon to lean barrel away.

  “That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be in her life, though,” Duncan told him firmly. “And I want to tell you something that I’ve seen many people deal with. The children of parents who have committed suicide are three times more likely to commit suicide themselves.”

  Hank blinked at him as the information began to sink in. “Oh, hell.”

  His eyes filled with tears again and he set the shotgun aside. “I can’t make her life any harder than it already is. And I know my wife would kill me.” Hank barked out an ironic laugh, shaking his head, then settled his head into his hands. “What can I do to make my life better, sir? Because I’m just barely keeping my head above water here.”

  Duncan moved forward, kicking a short stool beside the chair where Hank sat. With a careful arrangement of his legs, he lowered himself beside Hank, resting a hand on the man’s broad back. “I think you’ve just taken a huge step.”

  The shotgun slipped and slid along the wall, then fell to the floor and went off.

  Chapter Six

  Alex saw the car pull in on the street. A small, dark-haired woman climbed out of the vehicle. She was bundled in a tan coat and her expression looked pissed. Alex slid out of the truck and circled it to meet the woman as she headed up the sidewalk. “Excuse me, are you Mrs. Fryman?”

  The woman stopped, eyeing her warily. “Yes. Can I help you?”

  “Actually, do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions about your husband?”

  The shorter woman rolled her eyes. “Oh, God. What’s he done now?”

  Alex cocked her head, curious at the dismissive way she referred to her husband. “Your husband called my partner. He was having some issues.”

  Mrs. Fryman snorted. “He’s always having ‘issues’. I can’t walk through the house or read a book without him having something to say about what I do. I’m tired of it, damn it. Tired of him creating these things in his head. He thinks the Taliban are going to come get him—and us.”

  Frowning, she looked at the woman incredulously. “Your husband has been diagnosed with PTSD, correct?”

  “Who the hell are you, lady? Why are you questioning me like this?”

  “My name is Dr. Alex Hartfield and your husband is apparently having a psychotic break because you walked out on him.”

  The woman’s mouth opened in disbelief and she started to shake her head when the report of a shotgun blast echoed through the neighborhood. Fearing the worst, her heart in her throat, Alex took off running around the side of the house where she’d seen Duncan disappear several minutes before. She ran straight to the little barn in the back yard, then had the sense to take cover behind the wall. “Duncan?” she called.

  No response.

  “DUNCAN!”

  There was some scrabbling inside the barn, and then she heard him call out that he was okay. Alex left her position hunkered in the snow and went around the corner. Duncan stood leaning heavily on his cane.

  A bearded man stood shamefaced behind him in the doorway of the barn. “That was my fault. I’m sorry.”

  Mrs. Fryman came barreling into the back yard, slack jawed. She saw the shotgun in the man’s hand and stormed up to him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing Hank? It’s Christmas Day.”

  The man blinked at her and he looked down at the weapon in his hand. “I know. I was going to make your life easier today, but I just couldn’t do it.”

  Alex heard the words fall like hammer blows, and apparently his wife did as well. Her face crumpled into horrified understanding and she reached out to him with shaking hands. “What the hel
l are you talking about?”

  Hank took a deep breath and cupped her cheek. “Tanya, if I wasn’t here you could get on with your life and raising Alicia. And I could get away from all these ghosts that are after me.”

  Her face clouded in confusion. “Is that really what you feel, like they’re after you? And that we would be better off without you?”

  He blinked, then nodded firmly. She gave a keening cry. Great racking sobs began to shake her body and she collapsed to the ground. Hank followed her down and there was a lot of harshly whispered conversation, but then they both pulled back and looked deeply into each other’s eyes. Then, as if in perfect sync with each other, they kissed.

  Alex blinked at the scene, wondering what the hell kind of world she’d stepped into. She looked at Duncan. He stared down at the couple as well for a moment, then looked up at her and gave her a tired smile. Slogging through the snow—just now beginning to feel the cold—she stepped in close to Duncan. “Are you all right?”

  Sighing, he looked around the snowy back yard. “Yes. I’m fine.”

  * * *

  It was very strange celebrating Christmas with Lora and Mercy.

  Chad had come from a big family. And he’d enjoyed his fair share of wild Christmases, but he’d never had a kid so appreciative of everything she received.

  There was no screaming, or wild ripping of the paper. No squeals of delight at what was revealed. No, Mercy contained her excitement much better than that. Carefully wedging a finger under the tape, she peeled the Christmas wrap away, sometimes even folding it over on itself. It took him a while, but he finally realized that Lora was taking the paper from her daughter and also carefully folding it away and saving the bows. Had money been so tight for them that they’d had to preserve all this stuff for later use?

  No, surely not.

  Lora glanced up and caught him watching her. She blushed prettily, one of the most amazing things she’d started doing, and shrugged lightly. “The less we went out the less chance he had of finding us.”

  The ‘he’ was Derek Malone, the asshole who had made their lives hell for so many years by trying to abduct his daughter. Lora had done her best to keep them separated, but she’d been working against a lot of old money and smarts. It wasn’t until LNF had been hired to watch Lora that things had started to change for them.

  No, he thought, it was when Lora decided to take back their lives that things had changed.

  Chad ran his hand down Lora’s back, loving when she leaned into his touch. They were still a work in progress, but he believed she was a wonderful woman and mother, and that after the mess they’d dealt with in Texas, they could get through just about anything.

  Reaching under the glittering tree, he drew out a slim, crookedly wrapped box and held it out to Lora. “There’s no saving the paper after I butchered it, so you need to just rip it.”

  Her eyes shone as she took the present from him, but before she would open it, she had to get him his present. Her face glowed with excitement as she handed him the box. “I hope you love it,” she breathed.

  Chad shook his head and leaned forward for a quick kiss. “Just seeing this excitement on your face is better than anything.”

  With a shared glance they seemed to agree to open them at the same time. It was amazing how they did that. Though they’d only been together a short time they understood each other like a couple who had been together for decades.

  Lora gasped as she flipped open the lid of the box. “What is this?”

  Chad grinned, loving the way she looked at him with her brows twisted. “Well, it’s a gold chain. And it seems hokey now, but the little tiny key is meant to represent the key to my heart.”

  Her expression melted into an ‘aw’. “I love it. I really do. Thank you so much.”

  She removed the chain from the box and put it over her neck. She smiled at him and laughed, “It sure dresses up my bathrobe, doesn’t it?” Lora making jokes… Chad would give her a thousand keys to see her so relaxed and happy.

  Lora pushed Chad’s box toward him. He didn’t even hesitate. Ripping the paper away, he popped the lid on the box. Inside was a framed portrait of Chad and Mercy. They were both on horseback—Chad on one of his father’s geldings and Mercy on Taco the pony—but they were both posed in a way that said they were buddies, looking off into the setting sun. Actually, it looked like Mercy was trying to impersonate what Chad was doing naturally, and hanging over the saddle horn, but it was still a gorgeous photo.

  “Harper took that at some point and thought I’d like a copy.”

  Chad shook his head. “This is just amazing. She looks good on the back of a horse,” he laughed. “And she almost looks like she could be my child.”

  Lora nodded, happy he had seen what she had. “Yes. Exactly. In every way, you already are more of a father than her biological father ever was.”

  His bright smile wavered a little then as her strong cowboy got choked up. “Thank you, Lora. I love her with every beat of my heart, just as much as I do you.”

  He pulled her into his arms and held her as they watched Mercy open the rest of her gifts. It was the best Christmas he could ever remember having.

  * * *

  The four of them ended up sitting in the Fryman kitchen sipping coffee and talking quietly. Alex watched Tanya’s demeanor completely change over the course of an hour. Duncan was basically giving them a class on PTSD, and though she frowned many times, she seemed to be absorbing the information.

  She looked at her husband, then down at their clasped hands. “You told me some of these things but I guess I just didn’t get it. I didn’t realize they were so real to you.”

  Hank sighed. “And I admit I protected you from things, too. I mean, you do so much. You take care of this family. I want to be the man you married, the guy I was before I deployed, but I just can’t do it anymore.”

  The tears started again, and Alex was actually glad to see them. It meant the information was actually having an impact on her.

  “And men, in general, find it hard to admit to issues like this,” Alex told her softly. “They’ve been raised to be the breadwinners and the protectors. But it takes an especially strong man to admit that he’s having issues. Your husband did the right thing by reaching out to Duncan today.”

  Alex reached across and cupped Tanya’s shoulder, rubbing her softly. The woman seemed to almost be in shock. She kept shaking her head, as if she couldn’t believe she’d been so blind. Alex could see that they loved each other and Hank would have sacrificed himself to make their lives better. But there had to be another way to go about it.

  Duncan was writing on a pad of paper. “I don’t know how often you’re going to counseling, but you need to do more. This lady is very good about treating couples who are going through situations like yours. A couple of my guys have used her and been the better for it. She’s also very accommodating when it comes to scheduling and she will get you in around your work hours.”

  Tanya nodded as she took the slip of paper. “I thank you so much, Mr. Wilde. If you hadn’t come, I don’t know what would have happened.”

  Duncan turned to Hank. “You need to get in to a doctor tomorrow to talk about medications. I don’t care if it’s a VA doc or not, but you need to talk to someone. Do you have a family doctor?”

  Tanya nodded. “We do.”

  “Then you need to tell him what happened this weekend and that you need help. Get your blood drawn and get your baseline, then you can figure out if you need counseling or chemical help. Or both. Either way, do it. Don’t go all Airborne and be a hardass. You need to get better so you can take care of your family. Do you understand me?”

  Hank nodded, his eyes filling with tears again. “Yes, sir.”

  “Then, if you don’t mind me being in your shit, call me and tell me how you’re doing. I’ll be your new battle buddy. You have my number.”

  Alex reached over for the paper Duncan had written the information on. �
��And though I’m not local, here’s my cellphone number. Call if you need clarification on something the doctor says, or even a second opinion. I don’t work with veterans much but I can give you a common-sense answer.”

  They both nodded in unison and it would have been funny if it had been any other situation.

  Duncan stood up from his chair, using his arms as much as his legs. Alex watched him closely. He was in serious pain right now.

  When he stood though, his carriage ruled out any sense of weakness. You could tell he was the man used to being in charge.

  “Do I need to worry when I leave this house?”

  Hank stood as well and shook his head firmly. “No, sir, I swear. I just…” he paused, looking for words. “I just didn’t know what to do. Thank you.”

  Duncan worked his way around the table and gave the man a surprisingly long hug, not one of those lean in and back-slap things, then he headed to the door. His hand trembled on the cane, but Alex thought she was the only one who noticed.

  Leaning in, she gave them each a hug, then followed Duncan out of the house and toward the truck. She wanted to offer to drive, but had a feeling he would only growl at her. She circled the truck and climbed inside when the locks clicked.

  Once inside, he started the vehicle, then leaned back in the seat as much as it would allow him.

  “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

  With a grimace, he nodded. “We both hit the deck when that shotgun went off. It’s been a while since I did that.”

  She winced in sympathy. “Do you have pain medication you can take?”

  “I do, but I can’t take it right now. Not safe to drive when I take it.”

  Damn. Must be a serious dose for that kind of pain. “Well, let’s head back. You’re not going back to your parents, are you?”

  He shook his head. “No, but I should call them real quick just to let them know I’m okay. My mother tends to worry.”