by Sharon Sala
Before she could panic again, Jake Lorde had pulled up beside her. She watched as he got out and ran to the passenger side of the truck. She unlocked the door and when he opened it, his presence invaded the space.
“Is she okay?” he asked.
Laurel nodded. “Eight stitches.”
Jake frowned. Laurel was shaking like a leaf. “If you’ll open the front door, I’ll carry her inside for you.”
The relief she felt was huge. Again he’d come to her rescue and just in time. “Yes, okay,” she said, then got out, making sure she took all of their things from his truck as she went.
She stumbled up the steps, unlocked the door, and then held it back, waiting for them to come in.
Jake had seen the blood all over Bonnie’s clothes from the corner of his eye and had done everything he could to focus on something else, but then he had to unbuckle the seat belt. Even though she still had on her raincoat, he saw enough to send him straight back to war. If it hadn’t been for the rain running down the back of his neck, he might have stayed there, but getting caught in a rainstorm in the desert didn’t happen. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he saw the trailer and his dad’s truck, and the panic was fading.
As he unbuckled her seat belt, she began to wake up. “Hi, Bonnie, it’s me, Jake. I’m going to carry you into your house, okay?”
She nodded.
He needed to get her in without getting her any wetter and then thought about the blanket behind the seat. He grabbed the plastic pack it was in, shook it out inside the truck, and laid it over Bonnie just before he picked her up. “Okay, baby girl, let’s get you in out of this rain,” he said softly.
He picked her up and saw the look of trust in her eyes just before he pulled the blanket over her head. It reminded him of how he felt the summer he grew six inches. Like he’d discovered the secret to becoming a man.
He carried her up the stairs and into the house with ease. “Do you want her in her bedroom or down on the sofa?” he asked, as Laurel hovered behind him.
“I think to her bedroom,” she said. “I’ve got to get her cleaned up and in dry clothes.”
“Lead the way,” he said, and then followed Laurel through the living room and down the narrow hall into the first room on the left.
When he laid Bonnie down, Laurel started to remove the blanket to give it back to him, but Bonnie grabbed it with both hands, loudly objecting.
“No, Mama, it’s magic. It will make me get well faster.”
“Now, Bonnie, this belongs to Mr. Lorde. You can’t—”
“Please, let her keep it,” Jake said.
Laurel turned around to argue, then stopped. The plea in his eyes was so similar to the look in Bonnie’s that it made her shiver. “If you’re sure,” she mumbled.
“I’m sure,” he said, and then winked at Bonnie, who was still clutching the blanket with both hands.
He handed Laurel her car keys. “There was a small nail in your tire. It’s fixed, and your spare is back in place. I put the jack and lug wrench behind the seat, though. Having it loose in the truck bed is an invitation to get it stolen.”
“Thank you. How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing. Consider it payback for the ride home the other day.”
She shivered. The keys were still warm from his hands. As difficult as it was for her, she made herself look at him. “You were a godsend today. I owe you.”
He sighed. The wall she kept between herself and the world was still up, but she was peeking over and he knew that was tough. “You owe me nothing, and you are most welcome,” he said.
There were paper and crayons on the desk in Bonnie’s room, and he paused long enough to write the number of his cell phone. “That’s my number. Call anytime you need help. It’s what neighbors do, you know. I’m going to go now so you can get your girl settled. I’ll let myself out.”
Laurel nodded and then held her breath as she listened, tracking the sound of his footsteps through the house, and didn’t breathe again until he was gone. Then it was back to the business of tending to Bonnie, and she got too busy to think about how empty the house felt without him in it.
Chapter 5
Jake drove home through the downpour, thinking he should have said something more, but couldn’t imagine what it could have been without saying too much. There was something about Laurel Payne that seemed as broken as he felt. And little Bonnie had lost the man who had meant the most to her—her father. What irony that he was grieving a similar loss.
The closer he got to his house, the less interested he was in being alone, so he kept driving all the way into town and wound up on Main Street. He’d skipped lunch waiting for Laurel to come back, and the thought of eating something at Granny’s Country Kitchen was appealing. He parked at the curb and ducked his head against the rain as he ran toward the entrance. Once inside, he paused in the small foyer to shake the water off his coat, then carried it in with him.
Lovey was working at the cash register and smiled when she saw him walk in. “Welcome!” she said, and came out from behind the counter to give him a quick hug. “Nothing has changed around here. Sit where you want. The girls know this is on me.”
“That’s really kind of you. It sure smells good in here.”
“Beef tips and noodles on special today. Comes with your choice of cherry cobbler or coconut cream pie.”
“That will hit the spot,” Jake said, and paused a moment to check out the room, then chose a booth against the wall. He was headed toward it when someone called out his name.
“Jake! Hey, Jake! Come sit with us,” Mike Dalton said.
Jake saw Mike and Peanut Butterman sharing a table and gladly accepted the invitation.
Peanut grinned as Jake sat down. “Welcome home, Jake.”
“Thanks, Mr. Butterman.”
“Oh no…call me Peanut, please.”
“How’s it going?” Mike asked, as he gave Jake a quick pat on the back. “LilyAnn told me you were back.”
“It’s good to be back. How does it feel knowing you’re soon to be a father?”
Mike beamed. “Scary. Exciting. Nervous.”
“I can only imagine,” Jake said.
The waitress arrived bringing a glass of water and the coffeepot. She refilled coffee cups, filled one for Jake, and took his order before she left.
For the time Jake was inside Granny’s, he could almost convince himself he’d never left Blessings. The people were still as friendly, just a little older, some a little heavier and grayer, but still people from home.
It was well after 4:00 p.m. before he left town. Rain was letting up, and he felt more optimistic about the future than he had in months. He stopped at the mailbox to get the mail before driving on to the house.
The house was chilly when he walked in, and so he turned up the thermostat on his way to the utility room, where he hung up his wet coat and took off his wet boots. He laid the mail on the kitchen table as he went to change clothes, and once he had on dry clothes, began to go through the mail, all of which was addressed to Resident. It was too soon for any forwarded mail to catch up, so he checked messages on his laptop. There was one from a soldier from his unit, and as soon as he opened it and read the first words, his heart sank.
Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but—
Jake read the message, typed a quick reply, and then got up and walked onto the back porch. His gut was in a knot and there was a pain in his chest growing with every breath.
Joaquin DeSosa.
He couldn’t imagine him dead. He’d kept morale up in the unit when everyone was worn down and homesick. He knew dirty jokes and knew everyone’s story—where they came from, who they loved, how many kids the married ones had.
Jake shoved both hands through his hair and felt the scars beneath his fing
ers. Joaquin was the one who’d saved his life.
“Son of a bitch,” Jake said softly, and then stepped off the porch and started toward the barn.
The rain was gone but the air was still damp. The ground sank beneath his feet but he kept on walking. He went into the barn, got an ax, a sledgehammer, and the iron wedge his dad had used to split the logs, and walked out to the stack of logs he’d sawed up. He rolled one out of the stack, set it on end, and went to work.
Tears soon mixed with sweat but he kept on working, using his pain as energy, and hammering the splitting wedge into log after log until he looked up and realized it was getting dark. His arms were aching by the time he had the tools put up and the split wood stacked into ricks.
The sky was still overcast, so there was no brilliant sunset to end the day—just a gray sky to match his mood.
“Rest in peace, DeSosa. God knows you’ve earned it,” he said and mentally marked off one more soldier down.
His dark mood didn’t get any better with the passing of time. The thought of food turned his stomach, and so he took a hot shower, put on some old sweats, and settled on the living room sofa to watch some TV.
Hours later he was still awake and his belly was grumbling. He opted for some popcorn and a cold drink, and ate the popcorn one handful at a time, standing on the back porch in the dark.
The sky had cleared. Stars were visible from every angle. He had vivid memories of summer nights and lying out in the yard, looking at the sky when he was a kid. His mama always said to make a wish on a falling star, and no sooner had he remembered that than he saw movement from the corner of his eye. He caught himself holding his breath as he counted the seconds the star kept burning until it blazed out and disappeared. Even though it felt childish, he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. He thought for a moment and then closed his eyes. The wish was heartfelt although nearly impossible, but he’d already beat the odds once by living through war.
The air was getting colder. It was time to quit stargazing. He tossed the last of his popcorn into the yard and went inside. The warmth was welcome, enough so that he decided to try and get some sleep. He thought about taking one of his sleeping pills and then, again, chose not to do it.
The house was locked tight, the thermostat turned down. Lights were out, bed turned back. All he had to do was get in. Instead, he gripped the posts at the foot of the bed and leaned forward. “You are just a bed, not a fucking time machine, so do not take me anywhere but to sleep. Understand?”
Satisfied that he wasn’t getting an argument, Jake kicked off his shoes and stripped, then crawled into bed naked. He pulled up the covers and then rolled over on his side. Exhausted from splitting wood and heartsick from the emotion of losing a good friend, he said a quick prayer and closed his eyes. Within minutes he was asleep.
“Get up, damn you! Come on, Lorde, you gotta stand up. You’re too fucking big for me to carry and I’m not dragging your ass through this fire. Get up! Get up!”
Jake moaned. He could hear DeSosa’s voice, but the words didn’t make sense. Something was wrong with his head, and his legs wouldn’t work.
“I’m dead.”
DeSosa screamed. “Like hell! You’re not dead until I kill you myself! Do you hear me? Get up, damn it. Get up. You still owe me five dollars.”
Jake sat up with a jerk and threw back the covers. He was on his feet and looking for his friend before he opened his eyes. Then he saw the room, remembered where he was, and was awash with grief all over again. DeSosa was gone.
He glanced at the clock. At least an hour before sunrise. Night was over enough for him.
* * *
Laurel was exhausted. She’d cooked pudding, thinking it would be easier for Bonnie to eat if she didn’t have to chew, but Bonnie was in a mood and cried anyway. She was still weepy and wanted to be held, even after Laurel had given her pain pills, and so she wrapped Bonnie in Jake Lorde’s blue-and-green-plaid blanket, then sat down in the rocker with her.
Bonnie clutched the edge of the blanket as Laurel rocked, and even after she fell asleep, the blanket stayed. Laurel put Bonnie in bed and then went to the kitchen and sat down in the warmth and the light to call her mother. In all of the chaos, she’d forgotten to let her know about Bonnie.
The call began ringing, and Laurel knew her mother would answer on the third or fourth ring. Even if she was sitting beside the phone, Pansy Joyner believed if you answered a cell phone too fast that the call would stop, and there was no way they could convince her she was wrong.
Sure enough, when Pansy answered, it was on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“Hi, Mama. Are you and Dad staying dry through all this rain?”
“Oh yes, we’ve been inside all day, although it’s driving Benny crazy. Are you all okay?”
“That’s actually why I’m calling,” Laurel said. “I got a call from school today that Bonnie had a fall and cut her chin. She had to get stitches, and she’s pretty unhappy right now. I’m a wreck, as you can imagine.”
“Oh no! How many stitches did it take?”
“Eight, and the cut was deep. She’s going to heal okay, but it’s going to be a cranky few days ahead.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. That just makes me sick. Is she awake? Can I talk to her?”
“She’s asleep, thank goodness. I had to rock her to get her easy, and she won’t eat, I guess because it hurts to chew.”
“Maybe some soup?” Pansy said.
“I cooked pudding. She didn’t even want that.”
“Well, well, I’m sure she’ll be some better tomorrow. You’re keeping her home from school?”
“Yes.”
“Do you need me to come stay with her?”
“No, but thanks for offering. This is her first big injury, and I feel like I need to be with her.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Well, you know we’re here if you need us. Love you both.”
“Love you, too, Mama. Good night.”
She hung up, wondering as she went through the house, locking doors and turning out lights, why calling her mother always felt like a duty. Probably because Pansy was so critical about everything. She loved her parents very much, but they weren’t always the easiest to deal with.
The house was dark except for the night-light in Bonnie’s bedroom as Laurel crawled into bed beside her daughter and covered them both. She’d already canceled her cleaning jobs tomorrow and would call school in the morning to let them know Bonnie would be absent. The only important thing in her life was getting her baby well. She rolled on her side, snuggled Bonnie close against her, and closed her eyes.
When she fell asleep, she dreamed in increments, seeing only the darkest bits of the past and watching it all unfold as if she was an observer, not a participant.
Something exploded inside the house. Laurel dropped the laundry she was putting into the washing machine and ran, screaming Adam’s name. Once she reached their bedroom, she realized it wasn’t an explosion but a gunshot, and it was obvious why he hadn’t answered.
The gun was lying on his belly with two of his fingers still curled around the grip. The blood. The blood. It was everywhere. How did one small piece of lead do so much damage to a body?
Someone was screaming and begging God to take it back. She didn’t know until she grabbed the phone to call the police that it was her.
People are everywhere now, walking through her house with plastic footies over their shoes, so they won’t contaminate the scene. When they swab her fingers for gun residue, as if they believe she would have done this to someone she loved, she can’t quit sobbing.
Someone called her parents. They arrived in obvious shock. She could see their lips moving but didn’t hear a word. Her mother dried the tears from Laurel’s face, and her daddy wrapped her in his arms and held her while the people kept going in and out of the trail
er, carrying things away in plastic bags, as if they’d been shopping at the mall.
Sometime later, a doctor gave her a pill even though she wasn’t crying anymore. She handed it back and told him Adam needed it more, so they could put him back together.
Then two men emerged from the shadows in her dream pushing a gurney into the living room and then pushing it in circles because it was too wide to get down the hall. They carried the body bag with Adam’s remains to the gurney, but it didn’t register that her husband’s body was in it. She was standing in the doorway, watching the ambulance and the police cars driving away when she heard someone crying.
She turned to look and saw Bonnie. She frowned. Bonnie wasn’t there. Where had she come from?
It was Bonnie crying out in her sleep that woke Laurel from the nightmare.
“You’re okay, baby,” she said softly and pulled her close and tucked in the covers.
Bonnie settled, but Laurel was afraid to close her eyes again for fear sleep would take her back to where she’d been. She didn’t often dream that anymore and guessed it was Bonnie’s accident that had resurrected the memories, just like she knew Bonnie’s tearful state had less to do with pain in her chin and more to do with the pain of all her losses.
She’d tried talking to Bonnie about death when Adam died and then when Mr. Lorde passed away. Bonnie became afraid her mother was next. It had taken weeks for that fear to fade, and now, it had all come back with the pain of the accident.
A tear rolled down Laurel’s cheek as she kissed the top of her daughter’s head.
Poor little girl. You’ve seen the dark side of life at a very young age. I pray the future is kinder to the both of us.
In spite of her determination not to go back to sleep, Laurel dozed. It was almost 8:00 a.m. when she woke up again, and it was because Bonnie was trying to crawl over her to get out of bed. “What do you need, honey?” Laurel asked.
