by Marta Perry
That accomplished, she headed for two seats together at one side of the room, breathing a sigh of relief when Luke maneuvered the walker to sit down without incident. A young mother sat leafing through a magazine in one seat. The little boy at her feet stopped building a block tower to give Luke a lengthy, unblinking stare, maybe attracted by the metal walker.
Mary Kate frowned at him. He looked four or five—certainly old enough for his mother to speak to him about staring at people. Still, Luke was surely mature enough to ignore a child’s stare.
“Do you want something to read?” she murmured, reaching across to the stack of frayed-looking magazines on the blond end table.
“No.” Luke’s hands clenched the arms of his chair. He couldn’t be concerned about the doctor visit, so it had to be the trio of elderly women sitting opposite them.
They glanced toward him and then put their heads together, whispering busily. Mary Kate felt her own tension mount. Maybe the child’s behavior was understandable, but theirs wasn’t. She could take the walker away, but what good would that do? He needed it, and they’d already seen him use it.
She glanced at Luke. His mouth was set in a straight, hard line that spoke of control clamped down on his emotions. But a tiny muscle twitched along his jaw, and he braced his hands against the chair as if preparing to grab the walker, thrust himself to his feet and walk out.
“Luke—” Her voice was hardly more than a murmur, but he jerked as if she’d shouted at him.
What could she say? That people could behave stupidly, that he had to ignore it? Somehow she didn’t think that would help any.
Before she could speak, before Luke could move, one of the women rose and crossed the room to them. Tiny, almost birdlike, she had to be in her eighties. She came up to Luke and put a frail, blue-veined hand on his arm.
If she felt sorry for him, Luke was going to explode. Mary Kate could see it coming and couldn’t do a single thing to head it off.
“I just want to say, young man, I know who you are.” The elderly voice quavered, and tears welled in faded blue eyes. “And I want to thank you. You served your country honorably, and I’m grateful. We’re all grateful.”
There was a murmur of agreement from across the room. Mary Kate’s throat was so tight she couldn’t possibly say anything.
Luke seemed to find it necessary to clear his throat before he could speak. He sat very straight. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said finally. “Thank you.”
She’d expected Luke to be wiped out after the excursion to the doctor’s office, but she’d also expected him to be, if not happy, at least a little pleased. Not only had the doctor raved about the progress he’d made, but he’d also had the encounter with that sweet elderly woman. Mary Kate had been touched; surely he had, too.
However, Luke didn’t show any sign of either fatigue or pleasure on the ride home. When they reached the house, he thudded across the living room to the recliner that seemed to be his favorite seat since he’d deserted the wheelchair.
“Maybe you ought to lie down for a while.” She ventured the suggestion, half expecting to have her nose bitten off. She wasn’t disappointed.
“Stop treating me like a child. I’m fine where I am.”
“Right.” She sat down on the sofa. “Since you’re so fine, tell me something.”
“What?” His frown didn’t encourage her.
“You managed well getting there—frankly, better than I expected. The doctor gave you a good report. Maybe you got a little more attention than you’d have liked, but at least it was positive. So why are you acting like a bear with a sore paw?”
She didn’t get the smile she hoped for in response. He shook his head, face tight and controlled.
“Luke?”
“Just leave it alone, okay?”
Frustration got the better of her. “No, I won’t leave it alone. Surely you’re not upset because that little old lady wanted to express her gratitude to you.”
His face tightened. “I guess I don’t see it the way you do.”
This was his attitude about the medals, surfacing again in a different way. He was convinced he didn’t deserve credit for what he’d done when his buddies were still over there.
“I know you’re unhappy about being home when your people are still in the line of fire, but no one blames you for getting injured.”
There was a flash of pain in his face—masked, but not quickly enough. She’d seen.
“No, maybe I’m wrong,” she said softly. “I don’t think anyone else blames you for your injury. Except you. That’s it, isn’t it?”
For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t respond. Then his eyes flickered. “You don’t know what it was like.”
“No. I don’t.” She had to force the words out. She didn’t want to know, didn’t want to have images in her mind of how he was injured, any more than she wanted images of her father, her brothers, her husband fighting fire. But denying it wouldn’t help him. “Tell me.”
Luke was silent, staring straight ahead as if seeing something she couldn’t.
Please, Lord. She stopped, not knowing what to ask.
“We were on patrol.” He chopped the words off as if they hurt. Maybe they did. “We came under fire from a building we thought was cleared—peppered with automatic rifle fire. When you’re in a firefight, the reactions become automatic. I didn’t stop to think. I just decided to go in.”
Gabe’s words about Luke and the football team surfaced in her mind. Yes, of course he’d decided to go in. That was his default action, the one he’d always fall back on in tough situations. He’d spring into action.
“Stupid.” His fist knotted on the arm of the recliner. “I was stupid.”
“What happened?” She forced the words past the lump in her throat.
“The building was booby-trapped. The explosion went off when I went through the door. It was my fault. Sheer luck that nobody else was hurt or killed.”
Of course his first thought would be for his team. “Luke, you took the brunt of it. Even if it was a mistake in judgment, surely that’s punishment enough.”
His face didn’t change. “I charged in without thinking. I was responsible for my people, and I acted on instinct instead of planning.”
“I don’t know much about it.” She picked her way through the words. “But it seems to me that if you were under fire, you didn’t exactly have much time to analyze the situation. You did what’s in your nature to do.”
“My nature, right.” At least there was some expression in Luke’s face now, even if it wasn’t very pleasant. “I’ve spent my life depending on my strength. That’s what I did that day. Now I don’t have it to rely on.”
She didn’t know how to respond. He held on to needless guilt for the way he’d been injured, and he didn’t seem to see he had other things going for him besides physical strength.
“Luke—”
“Don’t bother, Mary Kate. I know where I stand.” He shrugged. “Or sit, I suppose.”
“There are different kinds of strength. You must see that. Physical strength isn’t the only way you can be strong.”
“It’s the only way I know.”
“No.” She leaned forward, wanting to reach out to him, but wary, remembering what had happened the last time they got too close. “That’s not true, Luke. You have as much strength of character as anyone I know. That’s what makes you a good person, a valuable person, not how fast you can run or how much weight you can lift.”
The lines deepened in his face. “That’s not how the police department is going to see it. I can’t be a cop any longer. Or a soldier. So what does that leave?” He slapped his hands down on the chair arms. “It doesn’t matter what the doctor says about my progress. I’ll never be who I was before. There’s nothing left for me.”
Her heart ached for him. “You can’t believe that.”
“Can’t I?” His gaze focused on her finally, dark and intense. “I don’t see anything els
e in my future. And maybe that’s what I deserve.”
The doorbell rang persistently, pulling Luke from an uneasy sleep. He pushed himself upright, wincing as he swung his legs from the sofa. He should know better than to fall asleep there, especially in the daytime. It was inevitable that he’d wake with a crick in his neck and a fogged brain.
He reached for the walker. The doorbell was still buzzing, so that meant it probably wasn’t Mary Kate. She’d have used her key by this time.
That was just as well. He’d been making too many mistakes with her lately. He shouldn’t have kissed her, shouldn’t have taken out on her his fears about leaving the house and certainly shouldn’t have told her about what happened when he was injured. He only made her share his unhappiness, and given Mary Kate’s personality, she’d feel she had to do something to make it better.
He muscled his way across to the door, leaning heavily on the walker. That trip to the doctor had tired him more than he’d expected it to. He’d be lucky to manage a peanut butter sandwich for his supper.
Reaching the door, he flung it open, ready to blast the person making such a racket with the bell. But the words died on his lips. It was Gabe, the golden retriever at his heels, and he carried a flat white box that was giving off the irresistible aroma of pizza.
Gabe held up the box, raising his eyebrows. “My wife and daughter are at a birthday party, and I didn’t feel like baching it tonight. How about sharing a pizza?”
Somehow Luke couldn’t help but grin, as Gabe’s fondness for pizza took him back fifteen years or so. “That better be pepperoni.” He stood back to let Gabe and the dog inside.
“What else would it be? Would you believe my wife likes pineapple on her pizza?”
“Hard to understand.” He followed Gabe, who was already making his way to the kitchen with the familiarity of long ago. “Be honest with me. Did your sister set this up?”
“Nope.” Gabe rummaged in the refrigerator and emerged with a couple of cans of soda. “Much as Mary Kate likes to run things, I managed to figure this out all by myself. I’m glad I caught you home, or I’d have to eat the whole thing.” He slid onto a chair and flipped open the pizza box.
“It’s a safe bet I’d be home. I don’t go out much. Unless your sister makes me, that is.” His mind flickered to the day’s outing as he picked up a pepperoni-laden slice of pizza.
“I’ll tell you something.” Gabe spoke thickly around a mouthful of cheese. “If Mary Kate wants you to do something, you may as well just give up and do it. She’s relentless.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You sure coming here wasn’t something she wanted you to do?”
Gabe shrugged. “Oh, she hinted around that maybe you could use some company, but I’d have come anyway.” He glanced down at the dog, stretched out next to his chair. “I guess we have a lot more in common now than we have in a long time.”
Luke couldn’t argue with that. He concentrated on the pizza, remembering how much he enjoyed it and wondering why it hadn’t occurred to him to do a simple thing like ordering in a pizza. He really had been living in a cocoon since he got back.
“Funny, how people drift apart after high school,” Gabe went on. “One minute you have everything in common, and it seems like the next, you don’t have anything to say to each other.”
“True. When I came back to Suffolk the first time, after my stint in the military, the people I knew from high school were already busy with their own families and jobs. My friends became people on the police force.”
And now he didn’t have that any longer. He shouldn’t have spilled his guts to M.K. that way, but everything he’d said was true.
“It’s tough, giving up something you feel you were meant to do.” Gabe seemed to be following his thoughts.
“You still have regrets about the fire department?”
Gabe nodded. “It’ll always be part of me, even if I’m not fighting fire. You can’t change who you are. But I’m content with what I’m doing now.”
“Teaching instead of doing?” He couldn’t suppress the bitter edge to his voice.
Gabe didn’t seem offended at the gibe. “I like feeling I’m training a new generation of firefighters. Even more, the work Nolie and I do with the service animals—” He shook his head. “Never let my father know I said this, but it’s even more worthwhile than being a firefighter. We’re giving people back their lives, in a way.”
“You’re lucky. You found two jobs you really cared about.” All he’d ever wanted had been the active life he’d had in the military and the police force. He’d told Mary Kate she couldn’t understand that, but Gabe could.
“If I hadn’t met Nolie, I wouldn’t have anything. She saved my life. Literally. If I’d had my way, I’d have gone back onto the fire line even though my seizures weren’t under control. Probably killed myself doing it, or worse, another person.” Gabe gave him a long, level look. “You’re thinking you won’t find another job you can do.”
Luke stared at the pizza, because that was easier than looking at Gabe. “Maybe I’m not as talented as you. There’s nothing else I know how to do.”
“You think I knew what I was doing at first?” Gabe grinned. “I made plenty of mistakes, but I learned from every one. You’ll figure it out.”
Somehow it didn’t irritate him as much, coming from Gabe, maybe because Gabe had the credentials. But it didn’t convince him.
“Maybe.”
Gabe must have heard the rejection in his voice, because he laughed and held up his hands. “Okay, I give up. I won’t preach anymore, or you’ll think I sound like Brendan.”
There’s nothing to figure out. That was what he wanted to say, but he didn’t. Gabe had nothing but good intentions. He wouldn’t return the favor by arguing.
“Well, anyway, that wasn’t what I came here for.” Gabe took a bite that demolished half a slice.
“You mean you had a motive other than pizza?”
“In addition to pizza,” Gabe corrected. “Since you’re getting out now, I wanted to invite you out to the farm. Come anytime to take a look around. Come Sunday afternoon. The family’s always there for a picnic when the weather is nice. They’d love to see you.”
He shook his head. “I’m not much for crowds these days.”
“It’s just family.” Gabe scooped an errant piece of cheese from the tabletop and popped it in his mouth.
“Just family? Come on, Gabe, that’s always been a crowd. And now that most of you are married—”
“We’ve turned into a horde. I know. But think about it, okay? You’re welcome anytime. I’ll come and pick you up—just give me a call.”
“I don’t think so, but thanks.”
Even as he said it, he realized that the invitation held some appeal. He wouldn’t go, but it didn’t seem as terrifying a prospect as it would have a few weeks ago.
Maybe that was because being with Gabe felt like old times. Or maybe it was because of Mary Kate and her persistence. Either way, he felt more normal than he had in a long time.
Chapter Ten
“Good shot, Michael.” Luke turned his wheelchair and caught the basketball Michael tossed his way. Somehow he’d let the kid talk him into coming out into the driveway for a little one-on-one after they’d worked on the model car.
He tossed it back, and the boy glowed with pleasure when he caught it. “I want to play basketball like my dad did.”
“I remember when your dad was on the team in high school. He was a good player.” Kenny hadn’t had the competitive drive to be a starter, but he’d been solid.
Michael tossed the ball back. Luke dribbled, finding it was actually possible to dribble with one hand and spin the chair with the other.
“Shoot it!” Michael demanded, dancing in front of him, arms flailing in an attempt to guard.
This wasn’t quite the excitement he used to have when he pounded down the floor toward the basket, but he took the shot, finding himself grinning as the ball swi
shed through the bent old hoop above the garage door. He mopped his face with the tail of his T-shirt. The sun glared off the cement driveway, adding an extra level of heat, and Michael, with his fair, freckled skin, was red.
“Let’s take a break,” he said. “I’m getting pretty hot. Is there any water left in the pitcher?”
“A little bit.” Michael rushed to the picnic table he’d helped his mother pull out from behind the garage. He poured a half glass of water and brought it to Luke, holding it carefully in grubby hands.
“Thanks, buddy.” He drained it in a long gulp. “I needed that.”
Michael hoisted himself onto the bench, apparently ready for a break, too. “We’ll be finished with the car pretty soon, won’t we?”
He nodded. “A couple more times should do it. I guess you want to take it to school for your project.”
Michael shot him a glance and then looked away quickly. Evasively. “I s’pose,” he mumbled.
So there was something else on the kid’s mind where the car was concerned. Luke pushed himself a little closer to the table and set the glass down. Well, it wasn’t any of his business why Michael was so eager to finish the car. Mary Kate would undoubtedly be the first person to resent it if he tried to pry into whatever was bothering her son.
Not that he would in any event. He didn’t mind chatting with the kid about what his dad was like in high school, but he sure wasn’t qualified to get into grief counseling, or any other kind of counseling, for that matter.
His mind flickered briefly to his squad, to the long conversations in the quiet of the desert nights about everything from women to jobs to faith. Maybe he’d thought he was helping them, but even if he had, he’d let them down in the end.
Mary Kate and her kids might need help, whether she’d admit it or not, but he was the last man who could provide it.
Michael’s feet didn’t quite reach the ground, and he swung his legs. He watched them for a moment, and then glanced at Luke. “You’re getting better, aren’t you?”
