by Cecy Robson
Owen in turn keeps cleaning his shotgun, but now he’s laughing, and offers his wife a wink of his own. “That was a nice night, wasn’t it, sugar?”
Landon chugs the rest of his beer, his face grimacing in pain. This time, it’s my turn to laugh at him. He notices and points at Trin who’s adjusting my arms so I’ll actually hold her. “I was watching out for you,” he tells her. “He’s a bartender for shit’s sake.”
“Says the man dating a stripper,” she replies simply.
Landon lowers his hand as all eyes fall on him. Silvie steps away from her basket and closer to her son. “You told us Bernadette was a professional dancer,” she tells him, slowly.
“Oh, that’s her profession, all right,” Trin says.
“You’re dating a stripper,” Owen repeats, appearing equally as thrilled as his wife.
And suddenly, I don’t feel so bad about being a bartender. This time, I’m the one smirking as I drink my beer.
Owen starts throwing his cleaning supplies back in his kit, looking ready to lift his gun and smack his son upside the head.
Landon releases a sigh. “She’s only dancing to put herself through engineering school,” he says.
“That school of hers takes singles?” Trin asks. “Just wondering,” she says upon catching Landon’s death glare.
“You’re dating a stripper,” Owen says yet again.
“With a bedazzled vagina,” Trin throws in.
“How did you―” Landon cuts himself off and clears his throat.
And now, Trin has everyone’s attention. “I went to that gentleman’s club in Charleston where she works,” she says. “Over Spring break when I was home.”
“What were you doing in a place like that?” I ask her, at the same time her father questions the same thing.
“It was no big deal,” she tells, stroking my beard with the back of her hand.
“Yes it is,” I say, my frown deepening. “I don’t want you in a place like that.”
The corners of her mouth curl. “I didn’t go by myself. Hale, Mason, and Sean were kind enough to go with me.”
“Wasn’t that nice of them,” both her daddy and I mutter.
We exchange glances. While I still don’t think he’s fully accepted me, I can’t shake the feeling that we have more in common than our military careers . . . like not wanting any harm to come to this sweet young woman in my arms.
Landon leans back on his heels. “Why’d you go there?” he asks.
The humor fades from Trin’s face. “I didn’t get a good feeling from her when you brought her home for Christmas.” She waits as if unsure if she should say more. But she does only because I think she needs to. “She’s not a good person, Landon. And I’m not just saying that because of what she does for a living. There’re plenty of nice girls out there who dance at those places. But she’s not what of them.”
He squares his jaw. “I’m sorry you feel that way because I asked Bernadette to marry me. And she said yes.”
If a dead body had fallen from the sky and landed on the table, I don’t think the impact would have been any different. For a long moment, no one speaks.
I thought Trin would say something first, but it ends up being Owen. “We’ve been planning this week for a while now, boy. To surprise Trin, and for us to have time with her and her fella’.”
“Yes, sir,” Landon says.
“Then why isn’t Bernadette here? If you’re bringing her into this family, why isn’t she here with us now? This here time’s important.”
I frown, wondering what he means exactly. But as I realize how serious Trin and I have become, I dismiss it as an important next step in our relationship. My attention returns to her brother, recognizing the hurt behind Owen’s anger.
Landon pauses, anger flickering beneath his stance. Somehow though, I don’t think it’s directed at his father. “Bernadette’s busy with school and can’t get off work, sir.”
“It’s summer,” Owen says. “How heavy can her course load be? And if she’s latched onto you, she knows you can take care of her so she doesn’t have to work―especially where she’s working.”
Landon doesn’t have a response for that. Silvie who’s been quiet lifts her basket. “Trinity,” she says. “Be a dear and help me with the potato salad. They should be cooled off by now.”
Trin eases off my lap. “Yes, ma’am,” she says. She walks into the house, but not before sparing me a worried glance over her shoulder.
“Momma,” Landon begins.
Miss Silvie shakes her head. “Not now, son.”
We watch her disappear down the steps. No one says anything for a long time. After a moment, Landon returns to his seat beside his father. I don’t remember any quiet father and son moments myself. Those few times my daddy bothered to make an appearance, our interactions were loud and fired with resentment. This isn’t what’s happening here. Yet it doesn’t make the moment any less tense.
“I’ll let you two talk,” I say.
I push my seat away from the table. But before I can rise Owen shakes his head. “No. Stay. There’s nothing to talk about.” He looks at Landon. “He’s a man. He can do whatever he wants.”
“Thank you, sir,” Landon says quietly.
“Don’t thank me for this, son,” Owen says. “Not even a little bit. But if you want to stay a part of this family, you’ll have a pre-nup drafted and signed before you slip a ring on her finger.”
Landon doesn’t look at him when he answers. “Yes, sir.”
Owen loads his shotgun, the aggression in his movements reminding me that just because he’s mad at his son, doesn’t mean he’s forgotten that I’m the man sleeping with his little girl.
“You going hunting?” I ask him.
“No. I keep it loaded for intruders.” He lays the shotgun in front of him and levels his stare on me. “And for anyone who tries to hurt my family,” he adds.
This time, I’m the one to meet him square in the eye. “I would never hurt anyone in your family, sir,” I tell him truthfully. “Especially Trinity.”
He leans back in his chair and considers me. When he speaks, I’m caught off guard by what he asks. “Do you hunt?”
I frown, wondering where he’s headed with this, but manage to shake my head. “I used to,” I respond. “But not anymore.” I don’t add that once you hunt people, you don’t look at hunting the same, even though it’s true.
He picks up on what I left unsaid. “I haven’t hunted either . . . not since Somalia.”
I tilt my head slightly so he knows that I understand. Yeah, me and Trin’s daddy have plenty in common.
“Have you picked up a gun since Iraq?”
“Just a rifle I own,” I admit. “But only to move it here. Like you, I keep it around for intruders even though it’s unlikely I’ll encounter one on Kiawah.”
“How are you with gunfire?” he asks. “Blasts, explosions. That sort of thing.”
“Not good,” I answer.
He nods. “It was bad for me, too, and I didn’t go through what you did.”
“Did you ever get over it?”
“Not completely. I can function to a point, pretend like I’m not reliving some of that shit I went through. But no matter how good things are for me, and how much good I’ve had since, some memories stay with you forever.”
“Yes, sir, they do,” I agree.
Trin returns then with a bowl of potato salad and some chips and salsa. She kisses my cheek when I stand and lift them out of her hands.
“Thank you,” she says. “Y’all ready to start grilling?”
“I’ll do it,” Landon says. He pushes away from the table and heads for the grill, keeping quiet.
“I’ll bring out the steaks and corn,” she says, eyeing him closely.
I watch Trin leave again, my need to always know where she is catching Owen’s interest. “You watch her a lot. Don’t you, boy?”
“Sir?” I question.
Owen laughs,
with what I don’t think is actual humor until I see the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Trinity,” he explains. “You watch where she goes to make sure she’s safe. I’ve seen you.”
“Yes, sir. I do.” I pause, debating whether to tell him how I feel. Ultimately I do, because we are talking about his daughter and I mean what I say. “She’s the best thing in my life,” I admit. “I don’t want anything to ever happen to her.”
He quiets, examining me closely. I’m not sure he’s happy to hear how I feel or how serious I am when it comes to Trin. But then I realize he’s been waiting to hear what I have to say.
“I was the same way with Silvie when we first met,” he tells me. “It’s like I had to keep her safe, and whole, and alive. In a lot of ways I still fret. Still worry something will happen to her if I’m not there beside her.”
“I think I know what you mean,” I say, although that’s putting it mildly. I don’t admit how crazy I get if something keeps Trin longer than she expects, or how I can’t stop thinking about her when she’s gone—wondering if she’s okay and if anyone is bothering her. But I think he knows, and for that I’m grateful.
Owen stares past me, smiling when Miss Silvie returns to the terrace from hanging her sheets. She winks at him, and nods my way before walking off to help Trin in the kitchen.
As he watches her bustling around preparing supper, he seems to drift off and lose himself in his thoughts. It’s only when I catch his eyes run the length of the shotgun that I realize he’s back in the moment.
He motions to the barrel with a tilt of his chin. “Feels good not to have to use it anymore, doesn’t it, boy?”
I release a breath, remembering what it took to need something so powerful. “Yes, sir. It does,” I say, realizing something else had taken its place.
Chapter Twenty-five
Trinity
Hale’s head pops up as he finishes climbing up the chair. He takes his seat beside me as I adjust my binoculars to check on that couple one fondle away from having sex in the water. “How did it go?” I ask.
He huffs. “Kicked that asshole and his whole family off the beach. Called the others and told them they weren’t allowed back and texted a picture of their faces and the idiot’s license plate.”
“Good. He sounded like an idiot. I appreciate you taking care of it.” The couple starts to move closer to the shore, but now the woman appears annoyed which in a way gives me a sense of relief. There’s nothing worse than having to blow your whistle because someone is getting his blown. I lower the binoculars and replace them with my sunglasses.
“How did Mason take everything? I really hate he had to deal with that garbage.” I’m trying to keep my voice casual so I don’t fire up Hale more than he is. But it’s hard.
“He was mad,” Hale says. “He knows that dick wasn’t listening to anything he had to say just because he’s black.” He shakes his head. “Gotta give Mace credit. He handled it like a pro and as calm as ever. I was more pissed for him. Took all I had not to knock that fucker out.”
“Well, thank you for not punching him. Although, it might have been worth the paperwork.” I check on the kids splashing near the water, counting each one to make sure they’re still there. It’s not until the little girl bounces up to the surface from holding her breath that I’m assured they’re all present and accounted for.
I glance at Hale. He’s quiet. But since I know him as well as I do, I know it’s not because he’s calming down. When Hale’s upset he withdraws and that’s exactly what he’s doing now. “You okay?”
He shakes his head. “Not really. You know, the south gets a bad rep because of shit like this these hillbilly rednecks pull. It’s not right. Here’s Mace, an educated man headed for law school and a genuinely good guy. But that prick couldn’t see past the color of his skin. What got me more though was his kids were watching and learning from him, you know? He was teaching them that anyone who’s different doesn’t deserve to be treated with respect.”
I sigh. “With luck, maybe they’ll learn better when they’re out on their own. Take Emery Madison. For all he claimed he wasn’t racist, he was, terribly so. That boy hated anyone who wasn’t white. But after a year at Columbia, his eyes opened real wide, and he changed for the better.”
“Yeah?”
I nod and lift my binoculars to do another sweep again. “His sister told me he’s marrying a sweet Asian woman next fall and that his best man is a Latino guy he roomed with for four years.”
He shifts, adjusting his weight. “Well, shit. Maybe there’s hope yet.”
I smile as I adjust my binoculars again. “There’s always hope, Hale. You just have to believe.”
We sit in silence for a beat. But it’s okay since I’m comfortable around him, and because I know this silence isn’t due to his anger. All the negative emotions he returned with are fading, just like those flock of gulls heading into the ocean.
“How’s it going with Callahan?” he asks.
There’s that smile of mine. And to think all it took was a name. “Good. Real good. He and my daddy are out deep sea fishing today.” I reach for my bottle of water, but wait before taking a sip. “They’re bonding in ways I can’t with him and I think it’s been great for both of them. Just last week Daddy took him to that veterans group he belongs to while I was at work.”
“How did Callahan feel about that?”
I think back to how he quieted when Daddy first approached him, and how it took some time to convince him. Daddy was really good about it, trying to be supportive and encouraging. I was almost surprised Callahan agreed, seeing how private he is. But ultimately, I think he went because of me. Which is one more reason to love him.
“He didn’t want to go at first,” I admit. “When he first came back from war, he was encouraged to be part of a veteran’s association, but he was still raw from the experience.” I shrug, not wanting to say too much. “It wasn’t a good time for him to connect with strangers even though they were already connected by war.”
“I can understand that,” Hale says. He reaches for a bottle of sunscreen to add another coat to his legs. “Did you tell him you’re leaving in September?” My fading smile is enough of an answer. He tosses the can back into the bag. “Shit, Trin. Why haven’t you told him?”
“It’s never been a good time.”
“What the hell do you mean by that? Y’all have been inseparable.”
I reach for a towel to wipe the binocular lenses, giving me a moment to form my words so they don’t sound like the pitiable excuses they are in my head. “At first, I was just working on getting to know him. He had such a wall up, I was worried if I told him I was leaving soon, he wouldn’t give me a chance to know him.”
“And now?”
“Now, it’s almost worse,” I confess. “He talks to me a lot, Hale. Tells me things he’s gone through that I don’t think he’s ever shared with anyone else.”
“You mean about his time in Iraq?”
“Among other things,” I answer quietly. “He’s had a hard life. When he talks about his past . . . I don’t know. It’s like it leaves him worn. It’s therapeutic, I’m sure. But it’s no less exhausting emotionally. I don’t want him to shut down—not when he doesn’t seem to have anyone else to share these memories and feelings with. That’s why I’m so glad, he’s connecting with my Daddy, and some of those vets he’s met, too.”
“But they’re not you,” he points out. “Have y’all even known a night apart yet since your first?”
I shake my head.
“Damn, Trin,” he says quietly. “You need to tell him.”
“I know, and I’ve wanted to—believe me I have. But it’s like every time I see him, he’s so happy to be with me, like I am with him. I wait, promising myself I’ll tell him once we’re settled. But then we’re talking or well, doing other things, and the moment never comes.” I pull out my ponytail and shake out my hair, more to relieve some of the tension I’m feeling. I try to
gather it again, only for my hands to fall to my sides, my frustration growing under Hale’s scrutiny. “How do you tell someone who’s become everything to you that you’re leaving soon and won’t be back for two years?”
“I don’t know, Trin. But you have to find a way.” He leans over the rail. “Excuse me, sir?” he calls down. “Would you mind setting the blanket a little farther from our station? Thank you, sir. Much obliged.”
He resumes his pose next to me, but it’s that stiff one that demonstrates he’s disappointed in me and all I have to say. I can’t say he’s alone.
“I’m not going to pretend that what you have to do is easy,” he continues. “And I’m not going to tell you things will be fine because I don’t know if they will be. But regardless of the outcome, you owe Callahan the truth, and you owe it to him soon. How good he treats you? That man is head over heels for you.”
My lids close briefly. Hale doesn’t realize how in love I am with Callahan. For the life of me, I don’t know how I’m going to survive without him. But when I say I’m stuck, I mean it. He’s never leaving the U.S. again, not after the trauma he experienced during his time in the service. He’s finally home. How can I ask him to leave the security and peace he finally has to follow me to an impoverished country somewhere across the globe?
“I have to tell you, even though your situation is far from perfect and less than ideal. It’s good to see you with someone,” Hale says, interrupting my thoughts. “’Bout time you picked a decent one from the bunch.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, my brows lifting over top of my sunglasses. “What do you mean from the bunch? There was no ‘bunch’. There was one. Unless you count seizure boy and eraser dick.”
He laughs, I assume because he nicknamed the latter. “You don’t get it, Trin,” he says, shaking his head like I’m the crazy one here. “You never have.”
I stand and blow my whistle. “Sir, back away from the ropes. The ropes! Thank you!” I say when he releases the buoy. I sit back down. “Okay. What exactly don’t I get?” I ask Hale.
