The Marine (Semper Fi; Marine)

by Cheryl Reavis

  “What?” she asked finally, because she knew perfectly well there was something on his mind.

  “I was just wondering if you were okay with all this.”

  “All what?” she asked.

  “All these people in your house.”

  “You mean besides Josh and Elizabeth?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m fine with it. Why?”

  “I was just . . . wondering.”

  “So you said.”

  “Actually I was wondering what Trent would have thought about it.”

  “Trent . . .” She stopped, considering what his reaction might have been to a situation like this. He could be gregarious and he could be standoffish. He was a generous man, sometimes to the point of gullibility, and yet he could be cynical, too. She was beginning to understand, now that he was gone, what a complex person he’d been, and she actually didn’t know what his response would have been. Over the years, she had deferred to his judgment more often than not, and she had come to rely on it. No, that wasn’t quite true. It wasn’t that she relied on it so much as she maintained it to keep things running smoothly, just as she had when she’d lived with her Aunt Barbara. She could admit that Goody Two-Shoes had been alive and well throughout the marriage, but she hadn’t been handling this situation with Josh the way she had so many others since Trent had died. She hadn’t been wishing he was still here so he could take care of it or at least tell her what to do. She had made a succession of decisions where Josh and Elizabeth were concerned—not easily—but as if she was used to it, as if she might have a certain confidence in what she was doing.

  “It’s hard to say,” she said. “He and I never had a situation like this to deal with.”

  “No, I guess not. The neighbors aren’t giving you a hard time about the traffic?”

  “Just the Indian,” she said to tease him a little, something that she felt perfectly comfortable doing, she suddenly realized. “I didn’t hear it, by the way.”

  He grinned. “I coasted in. Anyway, I came in here to bring you a message from the grill, courtesy of Peña. He’s the cook, and he wants you to experience the results.”

  “I thought he was a machine gunner.”

  “That, too.”

  “I hope he’s looking better than he did the other night.”

  “He’s getting there. You did a good job, by the way—not worrying about him.”

  “Oh, I worried.”

  “Yeah, but you kept it to yourself. So come get your plate. It’ll break his heart if you don’t.”

  “We wouldn’t want that,” she said, getting up.

  The doorbell rang as they walked into the foyer, and Grace went to answer it, thinking it was one of Josh’s stragglers. It wasn’t. It was Beverly Strayer, without her curious father or his greyhounds.

  “Oh!” Beverly said as Grace opened the door. “Grace! I didn’t expect to see you.”

  “I live here, Bev,” Grace said.

  “I know. It’s—I thought maybe you . . . weren’t at home. Or . . . something . . .” She was looking at Kinlaw, who was still standing in the foyer. It would have been the perfect time to introduce him, to satisfy Beverly’s obvious curiosity and put the entire neighborhood’s mind at rest about the recent activities at the James’ house.

  But she didn’t do it. She stood there and waited for Beverly to dig herself out of her bold assumption that an illicit party must be going on. She clearly thought that Grace had gone off someplace and left Lisa and Allison unattended and running wild in the wake of her departure. But Kinlaw’s presence behind her—and she was certain that he was still there—rather demanded that Beverly rethink her conclusion and move on to Grace herself.

  “We’re not too loud are we?” Grace asked finally.

  “What?” Beverly asked.

  “I asked if we were disturbing the peace.”

  “Oh. No, no. The peace is just fine . . .” She strained to look past Grace, this time toward the kitchen. From the sound of it, someone on crutches had just exited the kitchen doorway and was heading for the guest bathroom.

  “No, tell her,” she heard Kinlaw say.

  Grace glanced over her shoulder, seeing two Marines on crutches. Peña was the one not looking for what she had recently learned was the ‘head’. He maneuvered in Grace’s direction instead.

  “Ma’am,” he said. “Sorry—could I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Yes,” Grace said, leaving Beverly standing.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Peña said again, lowering his voice. “There’s a guy giving your daughter a hard time out on the side street. Sergeant Caven is standing by, but he thought you’d want to handle it.”

  Chapter Nine

  GRACE COULD HEAR a raised voice on the other side of the row of Leyland cypress trees Trent had planted when the side street had become the neighborhood shortcut. The voice was clearly Lisa’s, and Grace crossed the patio and headed in that direction.

  “No, I don’t understand, Jason! Maybe you should explain it to me.”

  “Lisa, what is your problem!”

  Lisa’s reply was inaudible

  “Well, great, Lisa!” Jason said. “Where am I going to get another blonde at this late date?”

  “Try the dog pound! That’s about your speed!”

  Lisa came tearing through the Leylands into the backyard. Clearly she hadn’t remembered that there was a cookout going on, in spite of the grilled meat aroma and the country western music permeating the night air.

  She stopped dead at the sight of the assorted Marines, active duty and retired, Joe-B and her mother.

  “I’m not answering any questions,” she said to Grace.

  “Fine,” Grace said. “I don’t have any, except . . .”

  “Mom! I don’t want to talk about it!” She looked down because Elizabeth had maneuvered to hang on to her knees. It was the only thing that kept her from bolting.

  “I was going to ask if you wanted something to eat.”

  That remark seemed to give the Marine contingent just the opening it needed. Conversation started anew, and someone handed Lisa a plate with a hot dog and some chips on it.

  “What do you want to drink, Lisa?” Joe-B asked easily, handing her an ice cold can of soda without waiting for her to actually say. She stood there, looking at the plate and the can as if she had no idea how she’d gotten them. Elizabeth still clung to her legs.

  “Let’s go, Spike,” Josh said, whisking his daughter up. “Diaper time,” he said to Lisa, who managed the barest of smiles in response to Elizabeth’s “Can’t help it, Dad” grin.

  “Come sit over here with us,” one of the female Marines said, the one Grace remembered from the hospital when Elizabeth was sick, but whose name escaped her, the one she thought admired Josh more than perhaps she should. The Marines made room for Lisa at the picnic table.

  “Was that guy thinking he could pull off some kind of group date for the prom? How many girls did he ask?”

  “Five,” Lisa said, her voice a little shaky.

  “Works for me,” one of the young men said.

  “Shut up, Crawford,” the women said more or less in unison.

  “He’s got to be a jock, right?” another of the women said.

  “Right,” Lisa answered.

  “Oh, man. Why are they all like that? You know what one of those suckers told me one time? I’m not lying, he said this with a straight face. He said, ‘Muley—”

  “He said what?” Lisa asked, clearly trying hard to hang onto the lifeline the Marines had thrown her.

  “Muley—that’s what everybody calls me—” She swept the Marines seated at the table with two extended fingers. “And anybody that tells her why is going to be sorry. Anyway, he said ‘Muley,
you are too beautiful to ever eat fast food.’”

  “So where were you?” somebody asked.

  “Mickey D’s,” Muley said, and everyone roared with laughter. “He’s like, spoutin’ crap like that because he actually thinks I can’t figure out he’s treating me like I’m the world’s dumbest cheap date—and I had my BCG’s on!”

  Grace had no idea what a BCG was, and she couldn’t hear the next comment, but the response made everyone within earshot laugh again, even Lisa.

  “So who are you going to go with?” Joe-B asked.

  Lisa looked surprised. “I . . . nobody. I’m not going.”

  “What, your senior prom—the event of a lifetime for somebody like you—is all about Jason?”

  “I don’t want to go.”

  “Yeah, I’m getting that. I guess you’re going to let that guy walk all over you.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You are if you cave. Am I right?” he asked the women.

  “Totally right,” one of them said.

  “You got to act like you are somebody,” Peña the cook said as he put another platter of hot dogs on the picnic table.

  “I don’t know what that means,” Lisa said.

  “It means you don’t let what some jerk does get to you, no matter what. You be happy anyway. You got to sing in the lifeboat even if it’s full of holes. Have a good time, even if—”

  “It kills you!” the women said in unison, suggesting they’d heard Peña’s axiom for happy living before.

  “How pissed off do you think old Jason would be if you went with me?” Joe-B asked mildly.

  “What?” Lisa said.

  “You heard me. See, I don’t care about football, and I’m not scared of football players. And our friend, Jason, he knows it. If you want to rattle his cage, I’m your man.”

  “He cleans up good, Lisa,” one of the women said. “If he’d let Muley cut his hair, he’d be totally, totally M.”

  “What does that mean?” Kinlaw asked quietly at Grace’s elbow. “M?”

  “It’s a magazine,” Grace said. “Full of teenage girl heartthrobs.”

  “It’s a good thing, then.”

  “Depends on whether you’re the mother of a teenage girl,” Grace said, and he smiled.

  “I see your point.”

  “So what’s a BCG?”

  “BCG’s—Marine issue eye glasses. They’re thought to be a serious deterrent.”

  “To . . . ?”

  He gave her an arch look, and she grinned.

  “That ugly, huh.”

  “And then some.”

  But Grace was missing the conversation at the picnic table, which now seemed to be over. Everybody was either eating or admonishing Peña to keep the dogs coming. Grace didn’t know that she wanted Lisa going anywhere with Joe-B, and she hadn’t heard whatever Lisa had said to his offer. But it was too late now. Lisa was busy talking to the women, and Joe-B had wandered away.

  “Eat,” Kinlaw said. “You can interrogate her later.”

  Grace gave him a look, but didn’t say anything.

  “Joe-B’s a good kid,” Kinlaw said.

  “He’s on probation.”

  “Well, yeah, there is that. I told you what his deal was. Mostly he’s trying to get his old man’s attention. But, with any luck, he’s going to realize it’s a lost cause and move on.”

  “You think it’s a lost cause?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Because his old man was a son of a bitch before he got PTSD. Joe-B is a smart kid. I think he’s getting the big picture.”

  “Which is?”

  “There’s the father you want and there’s the father you’ve got. The sooner he learns to deal with the reality of his situation, the better off he’ll be.”

  “You sound like the voice of experience. What was your father like?”

  The question was far too personal and she didn’t expect him to answer it, but he didn’t hesitate. “He was the kind of man who’d take out a life insurance policy on all his kids and then spend his free time not minding if one of them died.”

  Grace looked at him, but she didn’t say anything. She wasn’t allowed to feel sorry for a Marine.

  “It is what it is, Mrs. James,” he said as if he knew what she was thinking. “And it’s maybe the reason I can put Joe-B on the right road. Eat. We’re trying to build up Peña’s confidence, okay?”

  Kinlaw went to talk to some of the walking wounded, likely the ones who were having surgery. Grace ate her hot dog in the kitchen, then delivered her compliments to the chef, who was clearly pleased. She looked for Kinlaw when she went out but she didn’t see him.

  “Sergeant Kinlaw had to go see about one of his flock,” Josh said, apparently because he realized who she was searching for.

  Grace didn’t say anything. It didn’t surprise her that Kinlaw would leave to go meddle, but it did surprise her that he’d gone without saying goodbye.

  She went back to the den and her book, but she couldn’t read. She sat considering this latest problem looming on the horizon. If Lisa had said yes to Joe-B’s impromptu invitation, then Grace needed to talk to Josh. She needed to know if he had the same good opinion of the boy Kinlaw had, and she made a mental note to interrogate him, too, while she was at it, before this prom thing got out of hand. Regardless of Kinlaw’s endorsement, the boy had problems. If Lisa had said yes, she had done it purely on impulse—because she couldn’t resist the lure of “living well,” as Peña had put it. She might have meant it at the time, but Grace knew her older daughter. It would be a different story in the cold light of day when she would factor in public opinion.

  And then what?

  Grace could hear Allison bouncing down the stairs.

  “How come Lisa’s at the party?” she asked, plopping down on the ottoman near where Grace sat. “I didn’t think she wanted to be fed.”

  “It’s a long story,” Grace said.

  “Yeah, well, it’s not like I’m busy or anything.”

  “How . . . do you think Joe-B is doing these days?” Grace asked instead of giving Allison a recap.

  “Doing? I don’t know. Why?”

  “I just wondered if you’d formed any kind of opinion.”

  “No. Except I guess he’s somebody I’d want in the lifeboat.”

  “What lifeboat?”

  “The assessment tool lifeboat—not Peña’s lifeboat. That’s the one you’re supposed to sing in.”

  “I have no idea what that means.”

  “Me, either. Not really. Anyway, when we were studying group dynamics, we had to try to decide what we think of somebody by whether or not we’d want them in our lifeboat, if we were all on a cruise ship together and it was going down. Like the Titanic.”

  “So you think Joe-B would be a help in that kind of situation.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Because . . . ?”

  “Because he knows stuff.”

  “Like hot wiring cars.”

  “He could probably get a lifeboat motor started if he had to or fish with a safety pin or find which way was north. Stuff like that.”

  “You like him, then.”

  “Mom, you’re not getting this. He’s a skateboarder. They’re hard to like.”

  “Tell me why.”

  “Skateboarders . . . don’t care if you like them or not. They’re always in their own heads, even if they don’t use drugs. It’s just them against the half pipe.”

  “You think Joe-B uses drugs.”

  “No. But I don’t think he minds a bit if people think he does.”

  “What about Jason? Is he lifeboat material?”

  “Not unless you’
re ten feet from the shore and you want to look good for the paparazzi.”

  “Arm candy,” Grace said.

  “Yeah, Mom. Why are you asking me all this?”

  “Just trying to wade my way through the murky waters of teenage angst.”

  “Hey, wait a minute. What did Lisa do?” Allison said, suddenly realizing there were some big blanks in her understanding of the situation.

  “Nothing that I know of. She’s just not going to the prom with Jason after all.”

  “What! When did that happen! I miss everything!”

  “Now don’t go asking her any questions. She’ll tell you what she wants you to know.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. Man! Go work on your science project and look what happens.”

  The party ended before midnight with everybody leaving as if by prearranged design. As far as Grace could tell—except for the drama with Lisa and Jason—the gathering had been a success. The trash had been carried out, the dishes washed, and Elizabeth had long since been put to bed. As Grace was making her rounds to check that the house was locked up tight, she realized that Josh was talking to Lisa in the kitchen.

  “You want to bail on the prom thing,” Grace heard him say.

  “I guess. Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Lisa didn’t say anything, and Grace stopped where she was and backtracked down the hallway to the bottom of the stairs, where she could still hear the conversation if she was so inclined.

  “I’m proud of you for not letting that Jason guy get to you. That was good what you did, sitting down with everybody like that and toughing it out. It’s what I’d want Elizabeth to do if she was ever in that situation. You’ve got what it takes.”

  Once again Lisa said something Grace couldn’t hear.