Her Invisible Soldier: A Military Romance with a Twist

by Grace Risata

  I nestled snuggly in Dixon’s warm embrace and completely relaxed. I had never felt so comfortable with a person in my entire life. Maybe it’s time to introduce him to someone very important to me…

  Chapter Thirty

  I finished wrapping the aluminum foil on my pan of mouth-watering lasagna and told Dixon that we were all ready to leave. After a night of deep sleep and no nightmares, the man woke up in a great mood and told me that we could do whatever I wanted the entire day. I explained that I always see my grandpa on Sunday and invited him along.

  You would have thought I gave him a lap dance and threw hundred dollar bills at him the way his face lit up in excitement. I appreciated the way he wanted to know more about me, but it didn’t seem very fair that he wasn’t opening himself up the same way. Oh well. Baby steps.

  “Do I look presentable?” Dixon asked, checking himself out in the mirror for the third time since he got dressed. There was absolutely nothing to worry about. He sported clean jeans, a navy blue t-shirt, and white sneakers that were so bright they looked fresh out of the box.

  “You’re adorable, okay? Let’s go!”

  I thrust the lasagna pan into his hand and grabbed the grocery bag with fresh Italian bread and a pecan pie. Dixon insisted on going shopping with me and throwing unnecessary items into the cart. Even though I explained that my grandfather loved pecan pie, the man preferred home cooking and not store bought crap. Whether or not grandpa would eat the pie was anybody’s guess.

  We safely secured all the food in the trunk of my mustang and prepared to make the short ten minute drive to our destination.

  “Tell me more about your grandpa,” Dixon urged. “I want to make a good impression. Maybe I should have worn a long sleeved shirt.”

  He was referring to the fact that an arm full of tattoos was difficult to hide on an eighty degree June day in Michigan.

  “Grandpa has tattoos of his own. You need to quit freaking out. It’s not like he’s the Queen of England and you have to bow or curtsy or whatever the hell they do there. Besides, you’re cut from the same cloth. Both ex-military, both stubborn beyond belief, and both of you think the sun rises and sets around my awesome face.”

  He raised an eyebrow at that last comment as though not impressed.

  “Just tell me what he likes so I know what to talk about.”

  “Guy stuff. He follows sports, but mostly boxing, car racing, and baseball. He loathes basketball. Football is fine, but not his favorite. Don’t kiss his ass because he can sense fakeness a mile away. Just be yourself.”

  I realized who I was talking to and then amended that. “Maybe don’t tell him to fuck off though. That might be frowned upon.”

  “You’re no help at all!”

  “Trial by fire, dude. Some things you can’t prepare for.”

  We drove the rest of the way in comfortable silence and finally arrived at my grandpa’s house. I wasn’t too worried at all. Dixon obviously cared about me and I was certain that it would be evident by his words and actions. My grandpa just wanted me to be happy. Plus, I called him while Dixon was in the shower and gave him a head’s up to be on his best behavior. Of course, that meant he would grill my date like it was an interrogation. I looked forward to it immensely.

  “This is my childhood home,” I informed him, pointing out a small white ranch house as we swung into the driveway. “There’s nothing fancy about it, but I had a lot of happy memories with my grandparents. One time the huge tree in our backyard attracted a swarm of bees that decided to build a nest. My grandpa took a stick and knocked it down, really pissing them off. We couldn’t go outside for two days because they kept flying around trying to kill us. That’s where I learned most of my curse words.”

  Dixon nodded in amusement while I loaded his arms with food from the trunk. I couldn’t help but notice the way he was eyeing up the place. The exterior could use a paint job, and the garage door looked pretty shabby, but otherwise it was well-maintained. I wonder if Dixon ever had a house or if he always lived in an apartment. Maybe he grew up in a trailer park or was stuck being homeless for a while. I literally knew nothing about his family.

  “Come on,” I urged while he hung back and stared at the front door like it was going to bite him.

  I knocked three times before I turned my key in the lock so as not to scare the hell out of my grandpa. He was pretty serious about security to the point that I felt sorry for any intruder who might think the house was easy prey.

  “The food is here,” I shouted, only to be greeted with a massive bear hug.

  “It’s about damn time, baby girl,” my grandpa replied, kissing me on the cheek. “I’m starving!”

  I moved slightly to the side so that attention might be paid to the anxious man waiting behind me.

  “Clifford Wendt, I’d like you to meet Dixon Wade. Please don’t kill him unless absolutely necessary, since he’s a guest in your home.”

  Dixon smiled politely and held out a hand to my grandpa.

  “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

  In response, my grandfather gave him the stink eye and simply stood there staring as though my date was an intrusive door-to-door salesman.

  “Who the hell are you and why is it such a damn honor to meet me?” my grandpa asked, spitting out the words like they left a bad taste in his mouth. For anyone who hadn’t known better, it seemed like the old man was about to start throwing punches. However, I knew it was his way of testing Dixon. Let’s see how he measured up.

  Dixon took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and replied, “I’m your granddaughter’s boyfriend, sir. It’s an honor to meet you because it takes a special kind of person to open their heart and take in a child with no place else to go. I have nothing but respect for you, and appreciation for the fine way you raised this beautiful woman right here.”

  While that was extremely touching and made me melt a little bit, it also bordered on the ass-kissing that my grandfather was not too fond of.

  “Hmm. Anyone that dares to date my granddaughter would be enough of a gentleman to have asked for my permission to court her. Do you think it’s just perfectly acceptable to go around woo-ing single ladies without getting approval first?”

  I forced myself to keep a straight face at his use of ‘courting’ and ‘woo-ing.’ What century is it?

  “What would you like me to do?” Dixon asked, cracking into the barest hint of a smile. “I can perform some feats of strength to impress you if that’s what it will take. Bust out the festivus pole and let’s get this thing started.”

  “You’re a damn cheater, Alyce,” my grandfather scolded. “You must have told him I was a Seinfeld fanatic in order to give him a leg up.”

  “I swear I didn’t tell him,” I insisted, relieved that they have something in common besides me.

  “Go start my food and let me get to know this young man better to see if he meets all my criteria for you, baby girl.”

  “I heard you’re a fan of pecan pie, sir,” Dixon said in an attempt to further suck up to the old man. “We just so happened to bring one with us.”

  “Is it home-made? I don’t eat store bought crap, Dixon. You’re losing all the points you earned with the Seinfeld reference. Let’s go talk sports. If you root for the wrong teams, I will not hesitate to kick you right out of my house and land you on your ass in the front yard.”

  My grandfather led him down the hall to the living room while I got to work in the kitchen. Under normal circumstances, there was no way in hell that I would have been relegated to the womanly kitchen duties like some ‘Leave it to Beaver’ housewife. However, I wanted to give those two a chance to bond. I had a feeling that my grandfather wouldn’t give Dixon too hard of a time, and in return, my stubborn beast would be very respectful.

  On second thought…maybe I should work a bit faster than usual and go see what they’re up to.

  I stuck the lasagna in the oven, turned it to the right temperature, and filled the sink wit
h soap and water to do a pile of dirty dishes from last week. My grandfather hated doing the dishes. He kept up with his laundry pretty well, so I didn’t complain that much.

  Time for a little eavesdropping.

  Quietly tip-toeing around the corner so as to be successful in my spy mission, I leaned against the wall and tried to hear their conversation.

  “So, Dixon, what’s this I hear that Alyce started throwing punches at the race track? Do you always make ladies fight your battles for you?”

  Oh shit. I was just about to march right in there and change the subject, but Dixon replied before I got the chance.

  “No, sir, not at all. I can take care of myself…but…have you ever met your granddaughter? She’s fiercely independent and does not take anyone’s crap. If I would have stepped in and beaten the hell out of that guy, then I might have landed in jail and I’d never hear the end of it from her. I’m not exactly sure what Alyce told you about me, but I have to stay on the right side of the law for awhile.”

  “I don’t believe she’s mentioned anything about a criminal past. Fess up and tell me what you did.”

  “I have…I’m suffering from…” Dixon began, unable to finish the sentence. Once again I took a step forward with the intent of barging into the room and changing the subject, but it wasn’t necessary.

  “Alyce told me about your time in the service, son. She explained that you were having a bit of a difficulty readjusting to civilian life. I know what that’s like. We all go through it to some degree, but it’s far worse for those of us who’ve seen death. I’m not going to tell you what I saw, and I don’t want to know your stories. It gets better with time. Trust me on that.”

  Wow. I did not see that coming. My grandpa must like him a lot more than I thought.

  “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your kind words,” Dixon replied, voice cracking ever so slightly. “To answer your question…I made some poor choices before I met Alyce, and I got arrested for driving under the influence of drugs and alcohol. There’s no excuse for that, but I just needed something to numb the pain. I’ve been clean ever since and I vow to stay that way.”

  “Whether you realize it or not, we have quite a lot in common, Dixon. I once got arrested for stealing a car. If you’d have waltzed up in here like some white collar turd that hadn’t worked a day in his life, I’d be handing your ass to you on a plate. I value your honesty and your integrity. You’re good people.”

  “You have no idea what it means to hear you say that, sir. I have a question for you though, if you don’t mind…”

  No, Dixon. Shut up! You’re winning him over! Don’t say something to fuck this up!

  “Yes?” my grandfather asked with a hint of uncertainty.

  “How crazy does a man have to be to let his fourteen year old granddaughter learn how to drive stick shift on a vintage sixty-seven Mustang fastback? I’m cringing just thinking about it.”

  Grandpa erupted into uncontrollable laughter as I smirked in the hallway. Since those two seemed to be getting along just fine, I might as well get back to my dishes.

  As I washed the pile of dirty plates and Tupperware, I couldn’t help but be totally pleased with the way things were going between the two men in my life. Honestly, it was probably beneficial for both of them. My grandpa could use some dude bonding time, and Dixon needed a good male role model.

  I guess I shouldn’t say that, since I didn’t know what his family was like. But if they were totally amazing, then he would have mentioned them by now. I wonder if it’s too soon to pry? Maybe I’ll give him another week and then slowly slip some questions into conversation.

  Just as I was finishing the job, Dixon came into the kitchen to check on my progress.

  “Your grandpa is fucking awesome, sweet cheeks. I might have a man crush on the guy. Did you know he rebuilt the transmission on a sixty-seven Camaro with some of his buddies? Man, I wish I could have been around to help with that project.”

  “Have him take you out to the garage,” I suggested. It was like a car museum out there with poster upon poster of vintage automobiles. The floor was so clean you could eat off it. Ever since I can remember, I was given strict instructions to keep out. Obviously I ignored them.

  “Why?” Dixon asked in awe. “What’s out there?”

  “The Loch Ness Monster. Just go ask him!”

  He ran off like a puppy that just got its first ball, full of excitement and anticipation. It was so cute that I had no choice but to follow as he marched into the living room and confronted my grandfather.

  “What’s in your garage, sir?”

  “Should we show him, Alyce?”

  I nodded my head and led the way, eager to see the expression on Dixon’s face when he laid eyes upon the half restored Chevelle just waiting to be finished. Sure enough, he began to ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ like we were secretly in possession of Elvis Presley and had been hiding him from the world all these years.

  After my grandpa gave his eager student a very lengthy and boring explanation of what was fixed and what still required attention, I informed both men that it was time to eat.

  They pulled themselves away from the garage, got washed up, and we all sat down at the table. It was bittersweet due to the fact that I wished my grandma could have been there to see how happy we were. I suppose she’s looking down from Heaven, but it’s not the same thing as having her here in person.

  “Say grace, Alyce,” my grandfather insisted, reaching out to hold my hand and take Dixon’s as well. I could tell he was surprised at our tradition. We’d avoided the topics of religion and politics, so I had no clue about his stance on either matter.

  I recited a brief ‘thanks’ for the food, our health, and the nice weather, and we got down to the business of eating my lasagna.

  “Baby girl,” my grandfather began, “I’ve been paying so much attention to your gentleman friend that I haven’t had the opportunity to catch up with you. How’s life been treating my favorite lady?”

  “I’m fine,” I mumbled, instantly staring at my plate and taking a giant bite of food. I had yet to tell him about my lack of employment.

  Grandpa looked across the table at Dixon, and then glanced back in my direction.

  “You two appear to get along like peas in a pod, so I don’t think you have any problems there. What are you hiding, Alyce?”

  Damn it. He could read me like a book.

  “We’re not here to talk about me,” I replied in an effort to change the subject. “Dixon got a new job. He’s doing landscaping and outdoor stuff.”

  “That’s nice,” Grandpa casually remarked. “You’re not pregnant are you? Is that why you brought him over? Is he going to man up and make an honest woman out of you, Alyce?”

  Dixon began choking on the large bite of food he’d just inhaled, while I literally spat out an entire mouthful of water that I was attempting to swallow.

  “What the hell?” I screamed, once the fluid was safely down my throat and no longer a death hazard. “Where did that come from? No, I am not pregnant! And you wonder why I never bring boys home! This is why!”

  My face flushed so hot I thought I might burst into flames and I had to physically stand up and pat Dixon on the back to get him to breathe again.

  “I’m okay,” he sputtered, clearly not resembling anything close to ‘okay.’

  “For Heaven’s sake, Grandpa, you’ve nearly killed the man. No one is having a baby! Damn. All I’m hiding is that I quit my job.”

  “Well, that was easy enough,” my grandfather stated, appearing quite pleased with himself. “The way you were hemming and hawing over there, I figured it must be something pretty serious that was bothering you. Quitting your job is nothing near as life-changing as bringing a baby into the world.”

  Dixon cocked his head while trying to keep up with the conversation.

  “So, basically, he just brought up a frightening scenario in order to prove that whatever was going on with you could always be worse?
”

  “Yes, he’s good at that,” I replied.

  Dixon got up and shook my grandpa’s hand.

  “You’re very impressive, sir. I might need to take lessons on how to deal with her half as well as you do.”

  “I like this boy, Alyce. You can keep him.”

  I rolled my eyes and tried to finish the meal without killing either one of them. It was very difficult.

  Once dessert was served, my grandfather ended up eating two large slices of pecan pie. He left me no choice but to take the rest home, since I didn’t trust him not to eat it all and mess up his stomach.

  “I thought you don’t eat store bought crap?” I chastised.

  “If it’s good enough for Dixon, then it’s good enough for me,” the stubborn old man insisted. I swear that both men stared at each other with a googley-eyed reverence that I’ve never seen before.

  When it was time to leave and we were saying our goodbyes, my grandfather gave me a much needed reminder.

  “Hey, baby girl…ever since you confessed to being unemployed, it got me to thinking. Why don’t you go work for Wayne Larson again? It’s his busy season and he still talks about your record-breaking amount of lures made in one day. He’d hire you back in a second. Might even give you a raise, seeing as how he was just telling me that they got a bunch of new orders and were short on help to fill them.”

  My eyes grew wide and I mentally smacked myself for not thinking of that. I needed money and I needed it yesterday. Working for Wayne would be the perfect temp job until something better came along.

  “That’s a great idea,” I shouted, throwing my arms around the wise man and giving him a giant hug.

  “I’m a bit lost…” Dixon admitted. “Who are you luring to this Wayne guy’s place?”

  I guess that might have sounded a bit strange if you hadn’t known what we were talking about.

  “Wayne Larson is an old family friend,” I explained. “Have you ever heard of Larson’s Lures? The world famous fishing lures? Wayne patented a special jointed lure and he makes them in a big warehouse on Duncan Street. I used to help out in the summers and made a ton of money. The pay was based on an hourly wage plus productivity. You’re looking at the record holder for most lures made and packed in one day.”