Giving It All

by Arianna Hart

  “That’s fine.” Ellie had no idea what to say. “When was his last flashback?”

  “I don’t know. He doesn’t talk about it. I think he had a nightmare a few weeks back, because I heard a thump, but he said he’d just fallen out of bed.”

  Ellie remembered that night. He’d come to her apartment and they’d made love three times.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Ellie said. Tears prickled behind her eyes but she fought them back. She’d cried too much already. “I love him so much, but he won’t listen to me. He just said he didn’t want to hurt me and left. He didn’t even look back.”

  “Oh, honey.” Mrs. Anderson brushed off her hands and wrapped Ellie in her soft arms. “Men can be so stubborn and honestly, just plain stupid sometimes. Don’t give up.”

  “But what can I do? How can I get through to him? He won’t return my calls or texts, and I’m not going to chase him around town, I have some pride left.” Not much, but some.

  “Wait him out. Give him a chance to realize how much he misses you. Right now, he’s too busy feeling noble about sacrificing you for your own good. In my experience, that will only last so long. Don’t chase him, but don’t hide out either. Make sure he sees you, knows what he’s missing. I’ll drag him out of his room and give him another talking to as well.”

  “He’s in his room now?” Ellie asked with something akin to panic.

  “No, don’t worry. He took Karen down to the hospital. Greg is getting discharged today, finally. She’s going to be staying with him in his apartment for a while until he gets back on his feet. Again. It seems like he goes from one crisis to another. I’d hoped he’d straightened himself out when he started working at the store instead of getting in trouble with that crowd he used to hang out with, and then he gets attacked. It’s like trouble finds him even when he’s trying to stay on the straight and narrow.”

  “Do the police have any leads on who hurt him?”

  “Not that they’re telling me. Grant has been meeting with the police and someone who’s a brother of one of his SEAL buddies or something. He’s been very closed mouthed about everything. I haven’t exactly pushed for information either. Having Karen here and trying to help her while keeping up with Ed’s regular schedule has been tough. I’m afraid I’ve just left everything to Grant.”

  “That’s not a bad thing. You need to delegate, and he’s better at dealing with the police. You’re better at caring for Mr. Anderson and your sister-in-law. Don’t beat yourself up because you’re not doing everything yourself.”

  “You’re right. I know you’re right, it’s just I—” She was cut off by the ring of the telephone. “Hold on, I need to get that, I’m expecting a call from the insurance company.”

  Ellie thought about how she could put herself in Grant’s way without looking like she was stalking him. Her schedule over the last two weeks hadn’t lent itself to anything but work and short snatches of sleep, but now that the worst of tax season was over, she’d go back to a more normal schedule. Grant couldn’t hide forever. He lived across the driveway from her. Hmmm, she’d have to talk to Peter and Mel. They could probably help her brainstorm devious ways of making Grant crazy. She bet Mrs. Anderson would help too.

  “That was the Canton police,” Mrs. Anderson said, interrupting Ellie’s plans.

  “Oh? Did they have new information?”

  “No, they just wanted to tell me that the store had been cleared of any criminal wrongdoing and can resume business. What did he mean by that?”

  “Uh, I have no idea. Maybe they just meant they were done gathering evidence.” What had Grant found out?

  “I don’t have any idea how we’re going to run the store without Greg and Anita. Ed is getting better all the time, but he still has physical therapy and speech therapy and doctor appointments. He can’t work in the store fulltime.”

  “Grant can help, and now that things are slowing down for me, I can put in some hours too. I need to get the payroll straightened out anyway. I can do that in the office and help Anita with the online orders.” If they had any left.

  “I’ll call Anita and see if she’d be willing to come back to work after everything that happened with Greg.”

  “I’ll go to the office and see if I can get things organized. Why don’t you call Georgia Wholesale as well, and see if you can get a quick shipment of parts? I’ll email you a list of what is most needed and we can work from there.”

  “Oh, honey, thank you. I’ll call Grant and tell him what’s going on. He can help you, and maybe when you’re working in the office together, you can use a crowbar to knock some sense into his thick skull.”

  “Don’t tempt me.” Ellie laughed, feeling a sense of hope for the first time in two weeks.

  “I want to do just that. Don’t give up on him, please, don’t give up on him. He and Chastity never really tried to keep their marriage together. When things got tough, she quit, and he let her. Overcoming struggles is what builds the foundation for a life together. Grant needs to know that you won’t quit on him too.”

  “But what if he’s the one who quits?”

  “He’s no quitter. You’ll win him over, eventually. A smack upside the head wouldn’t hurt though.”

  “So there’s no evidence that he used the business to smuggle drugs?” Grant asked Tony, the Atlanta DEA agent Dingo’s brother had put him in touch with. “I don’t get it. There was money in the account when there shouldn’t have been.”

  They were sitting at O’Malley’s bar, having a beer with lunch while Tony filled him in on the investigation.

  “The joint taskforce has contacts in Mexico. They investigated the parts supplier there and found no drugs. There was nothing in any of the parts in your store and nothing at all in the storage container behind the store. The bean counters at the agency didn’t find any evidence of money laundering, so you’re in the clear.”

  “It just doesn’t make sense. Someone wanted something from him, or they wouldn’t have beat him up and tried to kill him.”

  “Only he can answer that, and he’s not talking. Maybe your accountant added the numbers wrong.”

  “No. She’s smart. She might not have all the information, but she knows numbers.”

  “Good luck figuring it out. I’m just glad I don’t have to set up a substation out here in no man’s land. Give me Atlanta and her gangs and drug dealers any day of the week.”

  “Hell, Canton is considered the city out here.”

  Tony shuddered. “Take it easy, I’m going back to civilization.” He slipped on his mirrored sunglasses and left.

  Grant signaled the bartender for the check and leaned back to finish his mug of beer. There were only a handful of people at the bar, a few others like him having a late lunch and a couple of older guys were playing chess at a table by an empty stage. There was a poster advertising live music every Friday night and Grant thought Ellie might like to come here after she finished work and listen.

  Fuck!

  It seemed like everything he did brought him back to Ellie. He’d see a woman holding a baby and remember Ellie with baby Emily. A sign for a bake sale reminded him of when they’d gone to the library bake sale together. Shit, even the smell of cut grass reminded him of kissing her on the back lawn. His head was filled with images of her, and each one was like a knife piercing his heart.

  I’m doing the right thing. She deserves better than someone who loses it when he hears firecrackers.

  Why did the right thing always hurt so damn bad? He hadn’t gotten much sleep in the last two weeks. Every time he looked out his window, he could see the light on at Ellie’s place and knew she was working herself into the ground. Who would be there to make sure she had fun? Who would keep her from saying yes to everyone who asked her for a favor? Who would take care of her?

  God, this sucked. She would find someone. She was
beautiful and caring and smart and funny and so damn explosive in bed. There should be a line of guys waiting at her door to pick up what he’d thrown away.

  It’s for her own good.

  But Christ, how the thought of her with someone else hurt. His phone rang and he saw it was his mother. Feeling like an ass, he sent it to voicemail. He just couldn’t deal with her telling him what a fool he was again. He’d listen to the message before he left in case she needed something from Canton. For a second, he worried it could be about his dad, but if it was an emergency, she’d send a text too. Besides, his dad had been doing great lately. Things were going in the right direction everywhere but in his fucked-up head.

  Grant paid the check and was about to leave the pub when Trevor, the former Marine he’d met at the hospital, came in.

  “Hey. How’s the new dad?” Grant asked, shaking Trev’s prosthesis.

  “Couldn’t be better. I just came in to show everyone the pictures of my princess and say thanks for all the cards and baby gifts. What are you doing here?”

  “I had a meeting with someone, it just ended.”

  “Then you have a minute? Let me buy you a beer and we can have a toast to my baby girl and to surviving hell.”

  Grant sat back down at the end of the bar and waited while Trev showed off pictures to the bartender, waitress and even the two chess players. They clapped him on the back and said she was the most beautiful baby ever born. Grant thought she looked like every other newborn he’d ever seen, but he kept that to himself.

  Finally, Trev sat on the bar stool next to him and ordered two beers. “Man, I’m beat. All the books tell you that newborns need to eat every few hours, but until you’re up all night with a screaming baby waiting for the bottle to heat, you can’t know what it’s like. I was so tired at one point, I put cereal in the dog dish and dog food in my bowl. Some days, there just isn’t enough coffee in the world.”

  “I remember what sleep deprivation was like. I can’t imagine trying to care for a baby when you feel like that.”

  “It’s not quite as bad as Hell Week. Plus, me and Becky take turns, so at least one of us is getting some sleep. I’m told it gets easier.”

  “For your sake, I hope so.” Grant clinked his beer mug to Trev’s. He wanted to ask him how he did it, had a normal life, but he didn’t know how.

  “Look, I know I only just met you for five seconds in the elevator, but if you don’t mind me saying, you look like shit.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I know that look. I’ve seen it in the mirror many times. Want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.” Grant heaved out a frustrated sigh. “I haven’t had a nightmare or a flashback in six months. Six fucking months. Then I had both, bam, right on top of each other.”

  “I hate that. It’s like you finally relax, thinking it’s over, you beat it, and then one of those fuckers sneaks up and sucker punches you.”

  “Pretty much. I hurt someone during the flashback.”

  “How bad?”

  “I don’t know. When I came back to reality, she was under me and I had her pinned to the floor.”

  “How’d she react?”

  “She tried to defend me, said I was protecting her, even during the flashback.”

  “You probably were.”

  “But what if I didn’t? What if the next time it happens I snap her neck?”

  “You won’t. Some part of you recognizes her and wouldn’t do that.”

  “How can you be sure? It’s too much of a risk.” Grant gulped down half of his beer.

  “I had screaming nightmares for months after I got back. I’d wake clawing at the nurses, swearing at them and trying to punch with my missing arm. Luckily, my depth perception was so off I never hurt anyone, but I was dead certain I’d never spend the night with another woman, even if I could get one to look past the scars and the whole Cyclops look.”

  “Then you fell in love and that cured you?” Grant said, sarcastically.

  “No, then I started drinking myself unconscious for about a year. Finally, my folks dragged me into rehab. While I was drying out, I got hooked up with a doc who specializes in PTSD, and as part of my discharge plan, I had to attend therapy.”

  “I did some of that with the VA.”

  “Yeah, I did too, but this guy, he knew his shit. He’d been a Ranger, had gone through all of the same crap, you know? It wasn’t some guy who’d studied battle trauma and thought he knew everything. He’d actually lived it.”

  “Do you still have them? The nightmares?”

  “Sometimes. I haven’t had a flashback in over a year, but I taught my wife what to do if I have one. It’s just like living with a diabetic or someone who gets seizures. If you have a plan in place, it doesn’t necessarily make it any less shitty, but it’s not as scary if they know what to expect.”

  “Aren’t you afraid you’ll hurt her? And now the baby?”

  “I had a few bad moments thinking about that after we found out Becky was pregnant. I went back to the doctor and he said he had no worries about me. I can’t say as I believed him, but then he said something that made me think.”

  “What?”

  “He asked if I let my wife drive to work.”

  “What does that have to do with PTSD?”

  “He said I had one episode in eight months. There are close to 1200 traffic fatalities in Georgia a year. That’s roughly three deaths a day, every day of the year, and if I really wanted to protect her, I should make her stop driving.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Exactly his point. So this girl you’re worried about hurting has more of a chance getting hurt driving than being with you.”

  “But I don’t want to be the one who hurts her.”

  “You won’t. It’s not like you were a killing machine who operated mindlessly. You operated under orders, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I doubt you’d suddenly get the urge to go berserk and kill everything during a flashback.”

  Grant sat back and thought about Trev’s words. He wasn’t sure he believed everything, but some of what he’d said made sense. Obviously, it worked for Trev or he wouldn’t be here showing pictures of his new baby.

  “It’s something to think about. Thanks.”

  “Anytime. Remember, we regularly meet here the third Wednesday of every month. It helps to be around guys who understand.”

  “I might just swing by.”

  Grant waited until he was out of the pub before listening to the message from his mom.

  “Hey, Grant, everything’s fine here. I just wanted to let you know that the police called and said we could reopen the business. Ellie’s gone to the store to try to figure out what Greg did and I’m calling Anita to rehire her. I’m going to need your help getting everything straightened out. We’ll talk more at dinner.”

  “Shit!” Grant swore so loudly, an older woman crossing the street gave him a dirty look.

  What was Ellie thinking? She knew there was more to the story than they’d told his mom. She shouldn’t be going to the store alone. They didn’t know who’d beaten up Greg. What made her think they wouldn’t come after her now that the police were out of the store?

  He jogged down the street, glad O’Malley’s was on the same road as Anderson’s. Sure enough, Ellie’s beat-up Nissan was parked right there in front of the store. Why didn’t she just take out an ad that said, “Vulnerable female, come and get me!”

  The front door was locked at least, so he ran around back instead of unlocking it. He knocked on the door and waited until Ellie opened it.

  “What the hell are you thinking coming here by yourself?” he shouted. “Do you want to end up in the hospital like Greg?”

  “I was thinking someone had to clean this mess up for your mom. Now do you
want to see what I’ve found or yell at me for coming to a store in broad daylight?”

  “Greg got smacked around in broad daylight, if you remember.”

  “Do you want to see this or not?”

  Grant grunted and followed her into the office. His gaze took in everything about her from her cut-off shorts to the pencil shoved behind her ear. She’d lost weight and looked more fragile than normal. Damn it, that wasn’t his fault. He was trying to do what was right for her.

  “What did you find out?”

  “I finally figured out why the numbers didn’t match. He wasn’t paying the bills.”

  “What do you mean? The lights are still on, and as far as I know, Dad still has his insurance.”

  “Yes, but he liquidated all that extra stock he bought, that’s why the warehouse was empty. He sold off the good auto parts, cut his salary, Anita’s salary and benefits plus your dad’s salary, and he hasn’t paid for the last shipment of parts from his new distributor. All of that equals extra money in the account over the last two months.”

  “I don’t get it. Why is he doing that?”

  “I have a theory.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “He’s trying to hide something. He stopped paying his salary from the store bank account, but he’s still making a deposit to his personal account that’s only a few hundred dollars more than his regular weekly paycheck.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “I happened to look at his bank account.”

  “Is that legal?” Grant asked.

  “I didn’t hack into the account. He has the password saved on the computer. A few weeks after your dad’s stroke, he made a deposit of 9999 dollars. Every week after that, he made a deposit a little more than his regular paycheck. In total, he’s probably deposited close to a hundred thousand in the three months your dad has been gone.”

  “Where is he getting this money? Tony said there were no drugs in the parts either here or in Mexico. The forensic accountants at the agency didn’t see anything unusual in the store’s bank account either.”