by Liz Durano
A family. A home.
I’m so deep in my thoughts that the knocking on the front door startles me out of my reverie. With Tyler in my arms, I walk toward the door and see an older man standing outside peering through the glass. He’s dressed in a blue collar dress shirt with the words Service Pros embroidered on the left pocket and beige slacks. He steps back as I open the door.
“Can I help you?”
“Are you Miss Alma Thomas?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He hands me an envelope. “I have some legal documents for you.”
I frown as I look at the envelope in my hand. “Legal documents? What for?”
“I can’t tell you, Ma’am, but you’ll find everything inside the envelope.”
When he leaves, I set Tyler on the floor and stare at the envelope, confused. Who would serve me? What did I do?
The moment I open the envelope and pull out the papers, it feels as if the floor opened up and swallowed me whole. I lean against the wall and try to read the words on the page but tears cloud my vision. Still, I know what the words mean. I know they’re intent.
The sound of Sawyer’s truck stopping next to my SUV snaps me out of the haze of legalese I’m trying to understand. By my feet, Tyler calls Sawyer by the same name he’s started calling him since Sawyer went to Hong Kong.
“Da-da!”
Sawyer’s face darkens when he sees me. Normally I’d be running to meet him but this time, I can’t move. It’s as if my feet have turned into lead and if I try to move, I’ll only fall apart.
“Who was that just left? What did he want?”
When I don’t answer, Sawyer takes the envelope and papers from my hand. He flips through the pages and looks at me. “Can they do this?”
I nod. “I guess they can. That means I have to be in LA in three weeks.”
“I can’t believe they’re questioning your emotional stability,” he says, his attention back on the papers. “They’re saying you’re not fit to raise Tyler on your own.”
“I should have seen it coming.”
“What the hell, Al. How can they do this?” Sawyer mutters as I lift Tyler in my arms. “How can Frank and Doreen sue for custody of Tyler?”
Well, they’re doing it, I almost say but I can barely talk. I’m afraid I might burst into tears and bawl right in front of him. I can’t even imagine Tyler and me living back in LA, not after seeing all the possibilities that have opened up for me here in Taos.
“Alma, look at me,” Sawyer says, his fingers tilting my chin upward. “We’ll fight this.”
“I don’t have a choice. If I don’t fight, they get what they want.”
“And they won’t get what they want, Al” he continues. “You’re a good mother. No, you’re an amazing mother. You and Ty are so happy here. You’ve made new friends and even Ty’s schedule is way busier than mine can ever be. You’ve even started a whole new career out here.”
“I don’t mind them demanding visitation rights. I haven’t taken that away from them at all. But I’m also afraid they’ll take off with him,” I say. “They’ve gone against a few of my requests in the past, overrode my decisions and kept Ty for longer than they should have. I should never have let them get away with it then and that’s why I started staying over the entire time they played with Tyler.” I try not to cry, but the tears come anyway.
Sawyer pulls me and Tyler to his chest, my tears soaking through his shirt. “That’s not going to happen anytime soon, Al. We’re going to fight this together.” He stops and pulls away, studying my face. “Why don’t we get married? They can’t pull this move on you if we’re married.”
As I look into Sawyer’s eyes, I realize he’s serious. But then, when is he not serious? The man radiates honesty and integrity in everything he does. Isn’t that why I uprooted everything back in LA to come here, because I knew I could trust him on his word? And he’s delivered on every promise he’s made. A chance to start over—check. A home of my own—check. New friends, new life, new beginning—check, check, and check.
But marrying him to win a custody battle?
“We can’t get married,” I blurt out. “Sawyer, I am more than grateful for everything you’ve done for me, but I can’t marry you. Not for this, not to get out of defending myself against Fran k and Doreen.” When he doesn’t protest, I continue, “If we are going to get married, I want to do it because we’re both ready, not because Drew’s parents are forcing us to. I hope you understand where I’m coming from.”
I can fight this… no, I have to fight this, I almost add but I don’t, not when Sawyer already looks hurt as it is.
He swallows and clears his throat. “You’re right.”
“Sawyer, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Al. I understand.” He flashes a half-hearted smile even though his eyes tell me he’s still hurt. He turns his attention on Tyler, taking him from my arms. “Hey, little dude, how was your day?”
As I follow him into the living room, I find myself wishing I could take back my no and say yes. Saying yes would fix everything. It would mean an end to this custody nonsense. But I also can’t allow myself to hide behind a marriage that’s made under the wrong circumstances.
I want to do things the right way. I also need to face this head-on because if I don’t, it will never stop.
16
Sawyer
It’s been three weeks since Alma got served those damn papers. Three weeks spent watching the glow fade from her face as each phone call with her lawyer came and went. It’s like watching a desert rose start to wither and it kills me. I want to punch someone and make them pay for trying to beat her into submission. They won for almost a year after Drew died, when I stayed away from her but I can’t let them win again.
Unfortunately, right now, waiting in a stuffy LA County courthouse is about to do me in as we wait for Frank, Doreen and their lawyer arrive before the mediation meeting can start. At least, it doesn’t go straight into the court hearing which is tomorrow. But no matter how much I hate it, I have to remain positive for Alma.
“You okay?” Alma flashes me an apologetic smile, her slender hand dwarfed in mine.
“Yeah, I’m good. I work security, remember? We usually do a lot more waiting than actual chasing after bad guys, although I prefer the waiting, to be honest.”
“Just not this type of waiting.”
“I didn’t say that.” I squeeze her hand, hating how terrible this is for her. “I just want things to work out for you and Ty.”
While I’m keeping Alma company in LA, Harlow and Dax are taking care of Tyler for us in Taos. It was Alma’s first time to be away from her son and it showed. She’s been miserable. She’s probably already nibbled all of the cuticles of her fingernails by now. Last night at the hotel, she kept a brave front, but after Harlow directed the phone camera at Tyler’s sleeping face, Alma almost broke down.
I want to punch someone so bad for putting her through all this hell but I have to play the game, too… whatever game Drew’s parents are playing. They want full custody of their grandson and they don’t care who they hurt. They’re not just using her abrupt decision to move to Taos and live off-grid which they consider unsafe and populated with unsavory characters, they’re also using a lot of hearsay from Kevin about her emotional and mental state as part of their evidence—flimsy at best and I know won’t stand in mediation. But the damage is done. Even if Alma proves them wrong, the emotional toll it’s taking on her leaves me feeling as useless as I felt when I suggested we get married a week ago.
I’m sure it was a surprise for her just as much as it was for me. I’d never asked anyone to marry me before. Hell, I’d never even thought about getting married before. It was never in the cards, not even a consideration. I like my independence. I didn’t mind seeing friends getting married, always getting asked to be best man but never becoming the groom. I was fine with that. I loved having no commitments to worry about. But people change, and judging from
my recent failed proposal, I certainly have.
Suggesting marriage had come out of the blue but I meant every word. I want to marry her and it’s not only to get rid of this silly custody case, but because I’m in love with her. Being married would mean that Frank and Doreen could no longer sue her for custody of Tyler and that’s a good thing, right? Unfortunately, I never factored hearing Alma say no.
But who can blame her? And so for the past week, I’ve had to swallow my pride and keep myself busy. I’ve had to tell myself that her refusal wasn’t personal. Alma simply didn’t have any other choice, definitely not one she could obviously feel good about.
Still, I wish I could make all this legal bullshit go away. But even if I could—hell, I could pull enough strings with Heath to get her the best lawyer and blow this custody case out of the water—Alma refuses any help. She tells me she’s already got a lawyer in LA. Why she’d already have one, I have no idea but she does. At the same time, I get it. Marine wives have to, at least, know a lawyer to get a power of attorney on behalf of their husband’s affairs. With Drew, it was one thing he was always confident about with Alma, that she ran everything at home without any problems while he was deployed.
The moment we see Alma’s lawyer step out of the elevator, we get up and she introduces me to him. Gordon Cromwell is probably in his late fifties, with broad shoulders encased in an ill-fitting suit and a shaved head. When he sees the tattoo on my right arm, he tells me he did two tours in Vietnam. It’s one way to break the ice but we’re not here to trade war stories although I do appreciate him trying to break the ice that way. He turns to Alma and asks if they can speak in private before the meeting starts.
As I pull out my phone, distracting myself by checking my emails, I can hear bits and pieces of their conversation.
“You’ll need to bring it up, Alma,” I hear Gordon say. “They have to know about Drew and what really happened.”
“No, I’m not going to bring it up. I can’t.” Alma’s voice lowers. “We’ll have to go ahead without saying anything about it.”
I hear Gordon exhale. “If that’s how you want to proceed, then we’ll do our best with what we’ve got but I got to warn you, even if the court usually sides with the mother in these things.”
Gordon’s voice lowers and I can’t hear anything anymore. Before long, Frank and Doreen arrive with their lawyer. Behind them, Kevin follows, a smirk on his face.
“I knew it,” I mutter under my breath. All the pictures he was taking of the Willow had been for this case.
“What’s he doing here?” Kevin demands, his hands thrust in his trouser pockets.
Doreen turns to their lawyer. “He’s not joining us inside, is he? This mediation meeting is only for family members, and he’s not family.”
“No, he’s not joining us, Doreen,” Alma says, her voice soft but firm.
“I didn’t ask you,” she snaps at Alma and I force myself not to say anything. Have they always despised Alma this much? I glance at Alma but she avoids my gaze, her jaws clenched tight. This is where I get to wish all over again that she’d said yes to me. Marrying me would have made me family. It would have made all this nonsense of mediation and custody hearings go away.
“Good, because this is not his business,” Doreen adds. “All we want is the best for Tyler.”
“So you ‘re going to take him away from his mother?” I ask. “That’s not what’s best for Tyler at all. That’s what’s best for you.”
Alma squeezes my hand. “Sawyer…”
“You caused all this,” Frank tells me. “If it weren’t for you, Alma would still be living in LA and we’d have no problems seeing our only grandson every week. He’s our only link to Drew.”
Their lawyer clears his throat and pushes the door to the conference room open. “Mr. Thomas. Mrs. Thomas, why don’t we step inside and begin the meeting? The mediator is ready.” He turns to Kevin. “Are you joining us, too? You’re the uncle, right?”
As Kevin disappears inside the conference room, Alma turns to face me. “If you need to go somewhere…”
“I’ll be fine, Al. Don’t worry about me.” I watch her step inside the room followed by Gordon, the door closing behind them before sitting back down on the bench. I pretend to read through my emails but the words on the screen only blend with everything else. I can’t focus.
All I want right now is to be inside that room with Alma. I want to tell Frank and Doreen that what they’re doing is causing more harm than good and that Alma and Tyler are happy living in Taos. Who knew Alma’s enthusiasm over living off the grid would translate itself well on social media? Each day, I check social pages, beaming with pride at the rapidly growing numbers of followers she gets each day and the comments and questions about her life off the grid raising her son. It’s only been a few weeks but watching her feels like witnessing a rose blooming.
Why the hell would Frank and Doreen want to smother that? Have they forgotten how much Drew loved their daughter-in-law, how much he gushed about her every chance he got even before he married her? The guy was smitten with her. He was so proud of her it was ridiculous.
Drew probably set the bar for the woman I’d want to marry one day, even though at that time, I had no idea. All I knew was that I was comfortable with Alma. I trusted her.
Propping my forearms on my knees, I pull up my Photos app and go through my albums. Some of the albums contain photos I’ve uploaded from my previous deployments. First, Saudi Arabia where my unit didn’t get much action, and then Iraq, where we did, and after that, Afghanistan where we saw too much and I almost lost my leg. As I swipe through pictures of friends, some who didn’t return alive and some who did but were broken inside, I feel my chest grow heavy. I shouldn’t be looking at these pictures, not even just to kill time. Have I forgotten how it can bring back the darkness, the threat of their return just a flashback away? I’d worked too fucking hard to get better so why risk one flashback now?
Just as I’m about to turn off my phone, a picture flashes on my screen that makes me pause. It’s of Drew and me in Afghanistan a few weeks before that IED blast killed Smith and Jonas. I peer at the picture, recognizing the scratches on Drew’s face caused by the tree bark exploding next to him from an Afghan sniper’s bullet. If it had shifted a few millimeters to the right, it would have found Drew. To the left? It would have found me as I stood in front of him.
Maybe it was windage. Maybe spin drift. Who knew? What we did know that day was that one of us had been close to getting our heads blown off. That evening, as we sat around the fire with the rest of the guys in our unit, Drew took me aside and asked me to take care of Alma if anything happened to him.
This was more than just visiting his family to express my condolences and maybe share a few things about his service, a few anecdotes of his bravery, maybe. No, this was a promise to take care of a woman he hadn’t even married yet. But what good is that promise if I can’t do anything to stop the people wanting to take Tyler away from her?
Forty-five minutes later, a frustrated Alma steps out with Gordon in the hallway. Frank, Doreen, and their lawyer follow right behind them looking just as unhappy. They don’t even say goodbye to her. They just keep walking toward the elevator.
“What happened? Did you reach a decision?”
“No,” Alma replies. “It didn’t get anywhere.”
“Custody hearing goes on as scheduled tomorrow. One o’clock,” Gordon says before turning to look at Alma. “I seriously urge you to think about what I said, Miss Thomas. It’s something they should know.”
“Something who should know?” I ask. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” Alma replies, avoiding my gaze.
“Nothing?” I frown. “If Mr. Thomas thinks whatever it is could possibly keep Tyler safe from this mess, it can’t be nothing, Al.”
“I told you, Sawyer. It’s nothing,” she snaps as Gordon presses his lips together, clearly not happy with how things are goi
ng. “Can we go now?”
As we make our way toward the car, Alma doesn’t say anything but she doesn’t have to. I can tell that whatever Gordon meant is weighing heavily on her but I’m not going to push it. She’ll tell me when she’s ready—if she’ll ever tell me at all.
With Alma needing to meet her lawyer in the afternoon, I change into something more comfortable and take an Uber to the cemetery. I tell the driver to wait until I’m done and get out of the car. This time I don’t bring any beer. It’s just Drew and me.
I sit cross-legged on the grass in front of his grave. Two bouquets of flowers are arranged on both sides of his grave and a small flag stands right in front of it. I’m guessing they’re from his parents but I don’t look at the card to find out. I’d planned on making this visit during my next stopover in LA, wanting to assure Drew that I’m taking care of Alma just like I promised. I just never counted on having to do it under these circumstances, with his parents suing her for custody of Tyler.
For the next few minutes, I sit staring at the words on his gravestone. Random thoughts pop in my head from funny moments during our deployment when Drew would tell his crazy and morbid sniper stories to the moment I woke up in the hospital in Maryland to find him and Alma sitting by my bed. I’d just gotten out of another surgery to repair my leg, the threat of its amputation leaving me an emotional fucking mess who was convinced life would be over if it happened.
Somehow, out of all the visits from members of my unit, I remember Drew and Alma’s visit the most. They sat with me for three days and cheered me up with silly card games and stories, giving Todd a break from keeping an eye on me.
So I hear you could lose your leg, Villier, he said one day. It’s still better than losing your life, because what about me, man? You can’t leave me here by my lonesome! I’d go straight to hell and drag you back here because it ain’t your time, man. You hear me? Not your time, devil dog.
