by A. C. Wilson
“Blake, I don’t know what is going to happen. Please just get my sister out of there.” She looked at him with tears brimming on the verge of falling. He reached out and squeezed her hand tightly.
“Let’s go.” He opened his door and Bailey got out on her side. She took a deep breath and steeled her nerves. She could still hear Marty slamming around in the house. She didn’t think he knew they were here yet.
“Wait, Blake, if I distract him, you’ll be able to get Taryn out. Her window is nailed closed from the outside. There may be a hammer in the back of the house. Get her out and don’t stop no matter what you hear.” Bailey pleaded with him to do as she asked. He looked about to argue when glass started breaking inside. The loud crashes spurred them into motion. Blake ran for the side of the house and Bailey headed for the front door. Marty knew she would be coming. She knew he was waiting for her.
***
Blake struggled against every fiber in his body to do as Bailey had asked him and he knew he couldn’t be everywhere at once. She would never forgive herself if Taryn didn’t get out of here and Blake couldn’t secure Bailey’s happiness if he didn’t get it done. Today marked the last hold Marty Green had on his daughters. This was going to stop.
He found a hammer tucked away in an old aluminum tool box on the back porch. It didn’t look sturdy with a crack running through the handle, but it was all he had to work with at the moment. Staying low and sneaking around the edge of the house, Blake found Taryn’s window. Dropping to his knees, Blake let out a long breath as he calmed his nerves. Lifting his body ever so slightly, he considered the window and how best to get her out. Banging and shouting had started inside. Blake knew that Bailey was causing the shouts. Quickly he went to work with the claw on the hammer and dug furiously at the rotting wood of the window sill. He kept his eyes on the project at hand, but his ears listened to the racket. Blake was startled to nearly dropping the hammer when Taryn tapped on the glass.
Blake looked up into a young girl’s tear streaked face. She knew what he was doing and she encouraged him to keep going. She even unlocked the latch and tried to push the window up. The wood creaked as the nails shifted, but not too far. Sweat was already beading on his forehead and he wiped it absently with his wrist. Angrily he slammed the hammer’s claw back into the wood and it found purchase. He pried with all his might and finally the head of the nail lifted enough to be hooked. It was quick work after that. Taryn lifted the window from inside and locked it open. She had her cell phone in hand when she shoved a leg out and he took her arm to help her. She was shaking so badly he didn’t think she was going to be able to run.
“Oh God! Thank you.” Taryn half whispered, half shouted as she trembled like a terrified kitten. Blake wrapped an arm around her waist and hurried her towards his truck. When they got to the corner of the house, Blake had to look twice. He couldn’t believe who had come and it wasn’t the sheriff yet.
“Matt called me.” Garrett’s brown eyes looked hard with confusion and anger. Blake nodded as he handed Taryn over to Garrett.
“Get her to your truck. Bailey is inside and I need to get her out of there.” Blake wondered if Garrett would do as he asked. His half-brother wasn’t quite the cavalry he had expected, but it was good to have someone else in this.
“Be careful. Just get out of that house safely.” Garrett told him and Blake nodded. Turning back towards the front door, Blake half ran. He couldn’t deny that his heart felt ready to explode and his nerves were causing him some trouble. He wished he could still have that calm, cool head as he did when he would go into combat. It was ironic that he didn’t know those enemies any more than he knew Marty Green.
His ears trained on the shouts ahead of him. He slowed his step so as not to scuttle the plan. Without knowing what was going on, he couldn’t storm in there, especially considering Bailey had said the man might have weapons.
“You little slut! Your sister isn’t going anywhere.” A deep, belligerent voice shouted and Blake knew it was Marty. He took exception to the names the man was calling Bailey, but at the moment it wasn’t at the top of his list.
“She’s not safe with you. She’s scared to death of you.” Bailey’s voice trembled as she pleaded her case. Blake thought she was certainly believable.
“She’s my daughter and you have no say here. I’m the boss and you better get used to it. No daughter of mine is going to disrespect me in my house.” Marty’s voice was accompanied by another crash of glass. Blake could see brown glass smashed all over the floor. He thought the shards might have been beer bottles once. He looked around for anything to tell him who this man possibly was, but there were no photographs of any kind. The walls were bare of portraits and art.
“Please let Taryn come stay with me. You can’t keep torturing us like this.” Bailey’s words were punctuated by sniffles and sobs. Blake felt his heart twist at the sound and prayed that the man would just relent.
“You’ve always been a meddling bitch. Even your mother knew her place after a couple of good hits. Maybe we should see if it changes your perspective too.” Marty’s snarky threats caused Blake to come around the corner. He tried to keep the venom from his voice as he surprised both Bailey and her stepfather.
“You’ll not lay a hand on her or her sister. This is not worth going to jail over, Mr. Green.” Blake drew himself up to his full height and stepped nearer to Bailey. She widened her eyes when she saw him, but didn’t move. He hoped he conveyed that her sister was safely out of the house. It was one less thing she had to worry over.
“Jail? I haven’t done anything wrong. The police can’t prove a damn thing.” Marty spat as he took another drink from a dark bottle. Blake took in his adversary. The man was thin, wiry, and possibly nearing his mid-sixties although that was tough to say of an alcoholic. His own mother had withered away and looked twice her age.
“This time the police will get the full story. There will be no more hiding at the bottom of a bottle. It’s over.” Blake made sure there was a heavy dose of authority in his tone. He wondered if Marty would back down to a dog with a bigger bite. The man’s complexion turned a distinct shade of green, but his eyes burned with hatred. Marty staggered back a step.
“Everyone thinks they know best. I have a couple of drinks and suddenly I’m the bad guy.” There was a shift in the conversation and Blake was searching for a way to defuse it. His brain was sifting through the tidbits Bailey had told him and appealing to his fatherly duty was out of the question. That logic was fatally skewed. Then when Marty reached for a new bottle, Blake saw the tattoo on the man’s arm. He swallowed hard and prayed he could help. He wasn’t quite sure where the boundary lines were and he would have to tread carefully.
“When did you serve, Mr. Green?” Blake felt Bailey’s eyes on him, but he didn’t swerve his gaze from Marty. The question seemed to shock the old man and then the hard edge softened slowly.
“I was in Vietnam, but that was a long time ago.” The man was uncomfortable with this topic. Marty looked to turn his focus inward. Blake found that interesting and then started to wonder about the drinking, chronic unemployment and bouts of anger.
“When did you start drinking? When you first came home or after you got out?” Blake held his ground, hoping he knew what he was doing. Marty thought about it for a second and shrugged.
“Before I got out, but everyone drinks. It isn’t a crime.” Marty tossed back another swig and Blake shook his head at the logic. Bailey watched the volley of questions and answers between them. Blake was glad she remained silent.
“No, it isn’t a crime. Does the alcohol drown out the voices? Does it help you sleep at night?” Blake asked, his hands tucked firmly to his sides as they started to tremble. He prayed this wasn’t like looking into a mirror.
“It used to. Sometimes it still does.” There was a thoughtfully painful look on his face as he considered the bottle in his hand. Blake swallowed hard.
“I’m exactly where you ar
e. I’m angry and I can’t sleep for hearing the shouts and screams in my ears.” He took a shaky breath and licked his dry lips. “I can still smell the smoke and the blood. Sometimes I would do absolutely anything to make it go away.” Blake’s voice was thick with emotion. He watched Marty make the connection and he watched some of the wall come down.
“No one understands what it is like to come back from a war that is still going on inside your head.” Marty jabbed a shaky, boney finger at his brain. His eyes were lit with anger and hatred. Blake held onto his hope that he could figure this all out. He didn’t agree with how Marty had handled it, but he knew where the old man was. It was a dark, dark place and one that Blake was fighting like hell not to travel down himself.
“There’s more men just like us. There is help for us too. I’m working my way through it and so could you.” Blake stopped short of pleading. The older man wouldn’t take that too well. There was still a code of honor here. His pride mattered.
“People would just think I was damaged. Someone to be pitied and locked away. There is no way in hell that is going to happen to me!” Marty’s agitation was coming back. Blake took another breath and shifted gears.
“Your daughters don’t think you are damaged. They need a father and not a drunk one. They need the support of a family and future with a man who cares.” Blake tasted acid in his mouth as he said these things. After years of abuse, there was no way the girls would want anything to do with Marty. Blake just hoped the man was still drunk enough to think it made sense.
“Bailey, what do you say? Does your old man need help? Haven’t I been supportive?” Marty asked Bailey and she looked completely out of her depth. Blake could see her swallow hard and then look his way. He nodded his head slowly at her. She swung her gaze back to Marty.
“You’ve been here since I was ten. You’ve been drunk most of the time that I can remember. But I do think you could change and have the family you’ve always wanted. Mom would want you to be happy and to take care of her daughters.” Bailey struggled with some of the words, but her voice was dripping in sweetness. Blake knew it was false, but he hoped she was a good actress. Marty looked back to the bottle and when he looked up, shame was firmly fixed on his face. Blake knew the wall had come down. Now was the time to move it and get out of there.
“You’re right. She wouldn’t be happy with me.” Marty gulped air. “I did love your mother.” The house was quiet all of a sudden and Blake knew he needed to get them out of there. The man had a volatile streak and he could change at the drop of a hat.
“I need to get Bailey home. She doesn’t look well.” Blake shifted closer to Bailey and held out his hand for her. Marty sadly considered her and then nodded slowly.
“She doesn’t. Better make sure she sees a doctor.” Marty turned his back as Blake stepped backwards out of the living room to cover Bailey. They were out the door when the sound of sirens grew louder and louder until there were three sheriff’s cars stopping out front. Blake couldn’t see Garrett’s truck anymore, but his brother was just standing on the other side of the deputies. The lights flashed around them as uniformed men got out of their cars. After that it was a bit of blur. Deputies were nearly to the front door when a gunshot shattered the world around them. The blast pulsed in the middle of nowhere and it was clear to Blake what had happened. He fumbled for Bailey, pulling her into his arms and wrapping her tightly against his chest. Shouts from the officers came and so did the “all clear” signals.
Marty Green had committed suicide with his shot gun placed under his jaw. It was the ending Blake feared would happen, but his prayers had been answered that no one else had gone with him. There was something distinctly strange about knowing what kind of peace the man had finally found.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Blake watched as Bailey hugged her sister and they both sobbed in relief and sorrow. Garrett stood next to him as they watched the sheriff’s department tape off the house and wait for the coroner to show up. The suicide had been quick and there was no suffering for Marty Green anymore. Still Blake couldn’t help but feel sorry for Bailey and Taryn. Now they had lost both parents and all they had left was each other.
“This wasn’t exactly how I thought I’d be spending my day.” Garrett whispered to Blake as they kept watch on the scene unfolding. Blake furrowed his brow as he tried to read Garrett’s tone. He sincerely hoped his newly found half-brother wasn’t being a jerk at a time like this.
“I doubt anyone did.” Blake made a point to look around him and then end by meeting Garrett’s brown eyes. There was a flash of pride and then a brief smile.
“I wanted to talk to you, but I’m not very good at explaining myself. Matt has quite a bit more charisma when it comes to dealing with people.” Garrett rubbed the back of his neck. He was obviously out of his depth with the topic.
“I see.” Blake commented carefully.
“I don’t want you to think that you aren’t welcome here in Hot Springs. I was out of line treating you the way I did and well…I’m sorry.” Garrett took a deep breath waiting for Blake to say something. Blake met his anxious gaze and nodded, extending his hand.
“No harm done.” Blake shook Garrett’s hand and his brother looked more relieved than anxious. Their small moment was quickly pushed aside when Bailey moved towards them. Taryn was rubbing her bare arms as if she were cold even though it was getting quite hot outside. Bailey’s brown eyes held no warmth or smile, her brilliance was dulled with sadness and shock.
“Can we go? I don’t want to be here when they bring him out.” Bailey’s voice cracked and she blinked rapidly to keep the tears from streaking down her cheeks again. Blake pulled her firmly into him again and tried to will some of his strength into her.
“I’m not sure if they will let us take Taryn.” Blake bit his tongue knowing that what he was going to say would help no one. Still the chain of custody was something he didn’t know much about. Garrett touched Blake’s shoulder and weaved his way between bodies and cars. They watched Garrett talk to a man who looked to be in charge of the operation. A couple minutes later, Garrett came back and waved them towards their trucks.
“Sheriff says we can take Taryn to my, eh, our parents’ house. Someone will have to come out and take our statements.” Garrett and Blake herded the girls to Blake’s truck. Garrett helped Bailey up and then Taryn.
“Thanks, Garrett.” Blake said as he rounded the front of the truck and opened his door.
“No problem. I’ll see you there.” Garrett moved back and got into his truck. The cab was all quiet except for the engine and the sound of the tires on the road. Blake looked at the sisters beside him and knew they were in shock. Today was not something they would ever forget and he felt badly about that. It wasn’t the way he wanted it all to happen. He knew what it was like to lose someone, even if only loosely related. Now Bailey and Taryn were truly orphans. Blake found that somewhat ironic considering he had just found his father and his own family.
***
Bailey felt as if the ground had crumbled from underneath her feet and she was madly falling into a shrouded oblivion. She struggled to right herself, even if only for Taryn’s sake. Her sister was sad, but she had taken the majority of her feelings and locked them down. Bailey almost wished she could do that too. What was going to happen to Taryn now? It all just seemed like too much to contemplate. She sat out on the porch after the deputy had left from taking their statements. It all was rather straight forward and it hadn’t taken long. Bailey had a feeling that the Johnsons made sure it was as expedient as possible.
“You want to come inside? Lacey made some sandwiches.” Blake asked as he stepped outside of the house and closed the porch door. It was hot outside, but she couldn’t bring herself to brave the cooler air and be confined in the house. Even just sitting here was something of a challenge.
“No, thank you.” Bailey heard the scratch of her voice and she swallowed past the lump in her raw throat. The pain threatened
to well up and overwhelm her again. Blake sat down in the rocking chair next to hers. Thankfully he didn’t move to touch her. They both looked toward the barn and rocked-Blake more sedately than her own erratic pace.
After several minutes passed of listening to the cows bellow in the distance, Bailey blinked back more tears and furrowed her brow. Her hands trembled and she gripped the rocker’s wooden arms. She sniffled loudly, using her shoulder to wipe a wayward tear.
“How did I not know?” Her question sounded hollow as she finally voiced the question she was rolling around and around inside her head. “How did I not see it, Blake?” She couldn’t keep it together. It was guilt that gutted her so deeply.
“You couldn’t have known, Bailey. It was something even Marty didn’t understand.” Blake’s smooth, careful voice was something she could anchor to if she tried. She focused on it and continued to rock.
“I work with soldiers dealing with the very same things. I should have been able to see the signs and once you started to point them out, it was very clear!” Her voice rose as she continued her rant. Bailey didn’t dare look at Blake. She didn’t want to see pity in his eyes.
“I probably wouldn’t have had I not seen his tattoo. Lots of vets get them and I just happened to be in the right spot at the right time.” Blake stopped rocking and leaned forward in his chair. “You can’t blame yourself for him. His actions were his own and there is very little anyone can do if they don’t want help.” She could see that he was seriously invested. His blue eyes were clear and firm in their mission. He was suffering himself and he had known exactly what her stepfather was going through. It had literally taken one to know one.
“That’s just it, Blake.” She sighed and reached for the ache inside. “I didn’t want to help him. I wanted him to go away and leave us alone.” Sobs broke in her chest and she struggled to get a proper breath. The sorrow she felt was only magnified by grief. She covered her mouth to keep the ache confined but it was something that weighed on her soul.
