Soul Scars

by Tasman Gibb

  When Adam finished, Mike went to the stage and explained the training program for the dogs and the type of things the dogs could do to help the veterans. Next, Dave and Cody received their graduation certificates to wild applause, and Lulah decided the crowd seemed warmed up enough. “We could skip my bit,” she whispered to Marlo.

  “You’re going to be great. Go on, up you go, you’ll be fantastic, and, Lulah… I love you, brave girl.”

  She pushed back her chair and headed for the steps. Her Everest. She paused at the bottom, trying to talk some strength into her numb legs. When she looked up Adam stood to the side of the podium. He gave her a wink and a grin and suddenly it was only him up there she had to reach. Yeah, she could be brave, for Vince, for the program and all the warriors it would help. The feeling returned to her legs in a rush and she marched up the stairs, surprising herself at the way she managed her heels.

  Adam leaned into her when she reached him. “Rocking those heels, Lulah,” he said, not far enough away from the microphone, so that the ripple of laughter told them everyone heard. He bent to give her a quick kiss on the cheek and said quietly in her ear, “It helps if you remember to breathe, and imagine the entire audience is naked. Now, go slay ‘em.”

  He stayed with her to adjust the microphone and as he turned to leave she covered the mouthpiece. “I’ll kill you later.”

  Beyond her flowed an ocean of bobbing heads. Imagining the audience naked hadn’t worked so she moved to Plan B where she pretended they only understood German, and she spoke English. Here goes, Vince. You owe me.

  She had no idea how she made it through the speech, and when she finished, the room remained silent. Boy, what a bomb. She wanted to crawl inside the lectern, hide until they all went home, but when about to leave her place, applause erupted from the audience.

  They understand. She could see it in their faces and as she walked to meet Adam, who waited for her in the wings, she could barely keep the grin from her own face.

  BACK IN HER hotel room Lulah spread herself the full width of the obscenely enormous bed. The sheets were crisp, the bed meant for more than one. The night was tremendous, and exhausting, but now in the dark in a foreign place, all the insecurity she felt for Vince crept back. She missed him, missed sharing a bed with Joker, Calliope, and her wounded warrior. It had been a while since she’d lain awake and wondered about Vince, if he was safe, physically and emotionally, but here she was right back where they’d started. Except this was worse because she’d deluded herself, ignored instincts and left her heart unprotected, vulnerable to another unreliable man.

  From this moment on I will not allow him to get at me. With the vow to keep Vince at arm’s length, keep him as a friend reaffirmed, she locked down her heart. He’d spoken of moving on. He seemed to have done that and she would move on as well. In truth she’d had plenty of practice and now seemed quite good at it.

  “Goodnight, Vince. Keep him safe, Calliope,” she whispered into the dark room. Many floors below the city fed cars and people through its arteries of streets, and in spite of the luxury of her surroundings, tomorrow and her cabin couldn’t come soon enough.

  Chapter 23

  IT WAS STILL dark when Calliope pulled him out of the nightmare. Vince had put his gear together so quickly when he’d left the barn that he’d forgotten his medication and, like some mean spirit that slips in while you’re not watching, the nightmares came knocking straight away. He sat outside the tent waiting for the first bird to call, wondering about Doc, about his family. Soon he would have to hike down off the mountain and find out when and where Doc’s funeral would be held. He could go and stand in the background. At least they wouldn’t play Taps, would they?

  Two days up in the mountains and he didn’t feel better. Now he knew that even though he thought he’d progressed, Doc’s death dragged him back to the days and mood of the other funerals. At least Doc’s family wouldn’t expect anything from him. There wouldn’t be pleading eyes that begged for stories. Heartbroken families wanting to know what had happened, but also wanting you to tone it down, to make it palatable. And right behind that, the questioning eyes. Why our son, why not you? What makes you more deserving to live? What, indeed?

  It was good to have a plan. He would go to Doc’s funeral before heading south. He had to stay away from Lulah. That was his worst mistake, thinking he could have a relationship with her. Falling in love with her, for God’s sake. That’s what he’d done. But everything he loved, every person he relied on, died on him.

  He’d panicked when they’d called from Doc’s office to tell him Doc had suffered a heart attack while out on a morning run, dying later in the hospital. Someone spoke about rescheduling his appointments, but that was about the point he switched off his phone. Doc couldn’t have been more than fifty-five. What was he doing dying like that, in America, out jogging? Safe, he should have been safe. Everything was so messed up, but he couldn’t live losing another person he cared about.

  When the first glimpse of dawn cracked open the horizon, he packed his gear and, with Calliope, started the trek back to the pickup. The nearest town was about a forty-minute drive, and he really needed a restroom of some sort and somewhere to recharge his dead phone. The only creature enjoying the sojourn was Calliope, who turned out to be both an excellent and enthusiastic hiking companion. He hoped she’d be just as pleased about a road trip.

  The camping ground at the base of the valley had shower facilities available, and the manager charged his phone for him while he cleaned himself up.

  “Lot of people wanting to get hold of you there, son. Darn things chirping like a cage full of crickets ever since I plugged her in.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Vince reached for the phone. He scrolled through the messages and missed calls, half of them from Lulah. He knew he was an asshole, leaving her like that, but a clean break was best. She’d understand that someday. A few messages from Adam, and oh hell, Marlo, too…looks like everyone was trying to find him. They’d give up on him soon enough. He continued through the messages and in among the ones from Lulah in varying states of concern and annoyance was one from Butch. Adam probably notified him that Vince was missing.

  It wasn’t until his phone beeped again, when he was having coffee, that he recalled Adam was going to talk to Butch about tracking down Lulah’s father. He scrolled through the messages and found the one from Butch. Sure enough, he had an address. It was too late, now. He shouldn’t be involving himself in Lulah’s business. He could ask Butch to forward the information to Lulah or Adam. By the bottom of his cup he’d decided what to do.

  ADAM ENTERED THE office and swooped in on Marlo for a lengthy kiss.

  “Hello, company.” Lulah waved from the sofa where she sat as part of the dog pile.

  “Oh, sorry, Lulah. I didn’t see you all curled up in the corner there.”

  “Yeah, because that would have slowed you down.”

  He gestured to Marlo. “Look at her, can you blame me?”

  Lulah shook her head. “Go for it, she’s not my type.”

  “I have news of our missing man. Let me grab a coffee and I’ll tell you what I know.”

  “Vince?” Dammit. All this time working on her self-control and at the first hint of news, out gushes his name like Old Faithful. So much for staying detached over this. The three days she’d spent stamping on any piece of anxiety or concern she had for Vince, trying to accelerate through the disappointment stage and get on with her life, had failed. She spent as much time as she could, focused on the upcoming lab by doing prep work with Marlo, who had already gained a similar degree.

  Back with his coffee, Adam perched on Marlo’s desk. “I had a call from the woman who runs Vince’s group therapy because, obviously, he’d missed this morning’s session, and they were concerned about him, given the bad news from last Friday. Turns out Vince’s doctor, psychiatrist, counselor, whatever he—”

  “Doc. Vince calls him Doc.”

  “Well, Do
c had a heart attack out jogging last Wednesday night. He died at the hospital later that evening. They think Vince was told on Friday morning, which makes sense for the timing of his disappearance.”

  “Hell, for Vince, that’s a disaster. He relies on Doc and has made so much progress with him. I mean, he’d really started to pull his life together.” She looked over at Marlo. “This is going to set him back. Right back.”

  “Maybe not, Lulah. Maybe he has enough of a foundation now—”

  “He doesn’t. I know that.”

  “What can we do?”

  “Nothing. He called a break and I have to honor that.”

  “But we don’t have to.”

  “I think you should. It’s important to Vince that his boundaries aren’t crossed. You push him and he shuts right down. He’ll go away, work through this and when he returns he’ll be fine, back to his old self.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  Since Justice had moved from alongside her to one of the dog beds, she’d inspected the piping on the sofa cushion, and when Adam called her out like that, well, it made the piping so much more fascinating.

  “Lulah?”

  “Yes, Adam.”

  “I said, you don’t believe that.”

  “What choice do I have?”

  “We could file a missing person report.”

  “Please don’t, it would destroy Vince’s trust in us. I think we should let him be for a few more days. Anyway, with his skills he’d be hard to find if he didn’t want to be.”

  “That’s true. I hope he comes back soon. There’s so much for him here. I’ve had four people and a gallery call so far, wanting to contact Vince. They all want carousel animals made and the kind of numbers they’re throwing around with regard to what they’ll pay means he could have a serious career out of this.”

  “Really? That’s great.”

  “Add that the media are in touch regularly, wanting to do all kinds of stories that will probably elicit more work for Vince and publicity for the service dog project, means the auction was a success in more ways than we ever thought it would be.”

  “Yeah, the timing sucks.” She pushed to her feet. “Gotta leave you guys, I’m running late for the VA home visits and Joker’s still down at HQ schmoozing a scared little dog.”

  The message on her phone came as she climbed the steps to the home.

  So sorry about the break. Let u down again. U ok?

  Damn. Good to hear from him but she wasn’t certain how to respond. Sure, U?

  Sorting out stuff. Calliope and I fine. On the road for a while.

  Don’t get sucked into it. There were so many things she wanted to say. The urge to phone him back was overwhelming but he probably wouldn’t pick up. She sighed. Have fun.

  L, I’m sorry abt the auction. I miss you. xx

  Miss you, too, buddy, but I’ll recover. Finally she sent a take care, added a smiley face, plastered a smile on her own face, and opened the door to the home.

  Chapter 24

  JUDGING BY THE poor state of the exterior of Lulah’s father’s trailer, Vince was stunned anyone had the gall to charge Ray rent. The place seemed barely inhabitable. He paused for a moment, thinking that if Lulah were here, too, she’d probably want to bang the heads together of the two most annoying men in her life. Now he was poking his nose into business that really wasn’t his. But, Butch had managed to track down Ray’s address after he’d dropped off Lulah’s radar and Vince wanted to do something for Lulah. If he could sort out the problem of Ray and his debt, that would take some pressure off her.

  He’d left Calliope in the pickup, worried the dog would hurt herself nosing in the trash that littered the dusty yard. The address Butch sent turned out to be that of Ray’s landlord, and Ray’s accommodation—as the landlord so optimistically described it—was a mile farther up the road.

  Two steps from the pickup and he sensed something was off. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, the base of his spine, the involuntary contraction of his muscles. Without a weapon he was exposed, but the woodpile had an old crowbar that could be useful. He grabbed it, and eased open the trailer door. From the doorway, a quick scan of the dim interior had his heart pounding. Either Ray was a lousy housekeeper or the place had been ransacked. He called out, his voice sounding loud and thin, the sort of voice that didn’t expect a reply. Once he stepped inside he was committed to following through whatever the hell had gone down here, and every instinct screamed at him to turn, walk across the yard, climb in the pickup and drive the hell out of there.

  This wasn’t his problem.

  Except, it was. Finding Ray was something he’d set out to do for Lulah. Sure, she had no idea he’d taken on this mission, and she certainly hadn’t asked for his help, but he knew if he backed out now, he might as well start driving and never stop. The immediate sense of danger pulled him to a place in his mind he didn’t want to visit, but when he shifted into the trailer, the metallic smell of blood overwhelmed him and he started to shake. Jesus, not now, please. He turned to the door, faced back into the yard and saw Calliope sitting on his seat in the pickup. His entire focus he aimed at the dog, imagining the weight of her head against his knee, the warm reassurance of her gentle tongue, her soft coat and dense muscle beneath his palm. Gradually he came back to a state where he could function better and he stepped properly into the trailer.

  Vince saw a man sprawled across a bench squab, beaten. He froze. Recognizing his stillness he gave himself a mental kick. Not fucking trained to keep still. This place is secure, move it. With that, he was at Ray’s side, checking for a response, a pulse, something. The pulse he found weak, the blood loss increasing, coming from a wound on Ray’s head. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone and found the charge good and the signal strong. “Hang in there, buddy,” he said to the unconscious man. “I’m calling for some help.”

  With the call made for an ambulance, he set about checking Ray. His head wound bled profusely and he rummaged around for something clean to use as a compress. “Stay with me, Ray. There’s someone who needs you.” The scent of blood, mixed with the smell of the dust outside, threatened to take him to a place where he would be of no use to Ray at all.

  It seemed to take an age for the ambulance to arrive and during that time, he sat there holding the compress to Ray’s head, telling the unconscious man about his daughter. How proud he’d be of her, how he had to hang in there to see her. As he looked around the trailer, trying to keep his focus on staying in the present and not slipping into a flashback, he saw through the chaos that Ray appeared to have taken up painting again. And his talent was obvious. As he kept his study on the paintings he noticed the young girl with the Nordic-blonde hair who appeared somewhere in each creation. Lulah. He needed to call Lulah, but he didn’t want to risk leaving Ray.

  Finally he heard the arrival of the ambulance and met them outside. He was no longer required in the trailer and there was no room for him there, anyway, so it was time to make the call to Lulah. All the ways he’d practiced the story he would tell her, forming the words into an order that would make sense without causing too much alarm fled when he dialed her number. His heart sank as the call went straight through to message. He left a message, trying to keep some measure in his voice, asking her to call as soon as she could.

  One of the medics was beside him, asking questions he couldn’t answer. “I’m sorry, he’s a friend’s father. I turned up to visit him as a favor and this is what I found. I’ve sent a message through to his daughter. How is he doing?”

  “His condition is serious. I’ve called in the helicopter, but we’ll start on our way and rendezvous on the highway to make the transfer.”

  “Where are you taking him?”

  “UMC Southern Nevada, it’s a Level One trauma center.” The medic looked over his shoulder, out to the road. “The police are here, stick around, they’ll want to talk to you.”

  Vince nodded. He expected that would be the
case, and even though he knew he hadn’t done a thing wrong, the tight knot in his gut wouldn’t ease. He had a lot of blood on him, on his hands, the front of his shirt, and, oh, Jesus, the intense dry heat and the smell of Nevada dust were messing with him again. He made for his truck, to release Calliope as his last hope to help him hold his shit together. But now someone yelled at him to stay where he was, and with that he lost sense of what was safe and who needed to be saved.

  The violence of the flashback took him to his knees, and the sharp rock that dug into him where he knelt was a different rock; the person shouting, a stranger; the blood he could smell someone else’s. The next thing he was aware of was Calliope against his chest, licking his neck and nudging under his chin. She had worked at the door handle releasing herself from the pickup, and in the process added to the confusion for the police, who thought she was attacking him. After several minutes he’d convinced himself and the police that he was okay, but he had to convince them that he had no clue as to what had happened here, even though he had an exceptionally good idea. Vince wanted first go at the thug who had done this to Ray. Then the cops could have their turn.

  Finally they let him go. After giving Calliope a drink, he refilled her water container, and set off for the hospital in Vegas.

  VINCE WAS ABOUT to take Calliope for a break when Lulah appeared at the door of Ray’s hospital room where he waited. It was her short sob, choked into submission before it overwhelmed her, that signaled her presence. Her eyes were fixed on her bruised and broken father.