by Laura Acton
A large garage and a paved area next to it were on the south side of the home. Out back a covered patio opened up to a large grassy area and farther back a pond big enough to use as a hockey rink when frozen in the winter. Dan remembered feeding the ducks and geese that would frequent the pond. He and Sara loved sitting on the bench together and tossing them bread crumbs.
Though somewhat isolated, the general’s home was within walking distance of the park Dan and Sara used to play in as children. Lots of the base children frequented the park because it was the divide between the estate type homes and a more modest base neighborhood. Sara loved the swings and Dan’s favorite was the monkey bars. He felt like he climbed a skyscraper when he sat on top the tall climbing dome. Dan figured they would seem rather little now—he was no longer a small nine-year-old boy.
When they passed the intersection where Sara died, a sharp pain pierced Dan’s heart today. He felt the general’s hand move to his knee and lightly squeeze. Gazing at his father, he saw his own pain reflected in eyes the same shade of blue as his. He carefully scanned Scott and his uncles who were all in the limo with him and realized for the first time everyone lost Sara that day—not just him. Even today, Sara was missed by all who knew and loved her.
Before Dan drifted off, he wondered where his mother was at—he half expected her to meet him in the entryway. It churned up thoughts … maybe she really didn’t want him here, but he was so exhausted from the trip sleep claimed him straightaway.
General Broderick’s Home – Outside Dan’s Room – 6:30 p.m.
Yvonne stood in the doorway and gazed at Danny. She wanted to race to him and wrap him in her arms the moment he arrived, but she refrained. Adam had been the one designated to call her to let her know Danny was exhausted from the trip and was fighting sleep.
She decided Danny needed to rest before they met for the first time in years. Yvonne understood their meeting would be emotionally taxing for both of them and he needed the strength which sleep would provide him. It would also allow Danny time to adjust to home without feeling overwhelmed.
William came alongside Yvonne and put his arm around her. “He’s home.”
Yvonne nodded as her eyes teared up. She turned into William’s chest and held tightly. She whispered, “My prayers have been answered. My boy is home.”
William gently held Yvonne. “Come join us in the library. I need to lay out everything Dr. Larsson has ordered, and we need to make plans for JSTF Recovery.”
A light laugh tinkled from Yvonne. “I can’t believe Jerrell did this for Danny—for all of us.”
“I was as surprised as you, my dear. We have Lily to thank. It was her idea. Sutton will be handling most of the running of Special Forces, so I’ll be able to be here often.”
Yvonne sighed. She took one more look at Danny and said with soft authority, “Let’s get this planning session done so I can return and sit with Danny.”
William grinned as Yvonne took charge. “Yes, ma’am.”
Laughing, Yvonne clasped William’s hand, and they walked together to the library where everyone was waiting.
General Broderick’s Home – Dan’s Room – 7:40 p.m.
William moved one of the comfortable chairs and a small table into Daniel’s room for Yvonne. After the meeting, she insisted on going to his room and requested everyone remain outside. Although William wanted to be in there also, he understood Yvonne’s desire for her and Daniel’s first meeting to be private.
He carried in the tray of food and tea Ann fixed for Yvonne and Daniel. Then he leaned down and kissed Yvonne’s cheek. “I’ll be close if you or Daniel need anything.”
Yvonne nodded. “Thank you. Now skedaddle.”
William left the room and closed the door on his way out.
Yvonne clasped Danny’s hand. She didn’t want to wake Dan—he needed his sleep, but she wanted to talk to him so badly. Yvonne glanced at the table she had William bring in. Several things she hoped would give Danny tangible proof she had always loved him sat on top. Nervous anticipation notched up when she saw Danny stirring.
Dan woke in stealth mode. He listened carefully and knew someone was in the room with him. Inhaling, Dan detected scents of vanilla and cinnamon—warm and inviting. It felt so familiar. Slowly Dan opened his eyes.
Yvonne gently squeezed Danny’s hand as their eyes met for the first time in over seven years. She couldn’t help the welling of tears in her eyes as a warm smile graced her face. Softly, Yvonne said, “Welcome home, my Danny boy. I missed you so very much.” A single tear trickled down her cheek.
Dan stared at emerald green eyes so like Sara’s. He watched them tear up. The mix of her saying ‘my Danny’ which Sara dubbed him and ‘Danny boy’ which she had called him when he was a child made his eyes flood with tears.
His voice was choked and gravelly, “Mom.” He held his arms out wide needing—wanting—hoping.
Yvonne was out of the chair in a flash as she gathered her son into a loving mother’s embrace. She waited for this day for nineteen years.
Dan wrapped his arms around his mom and held on for all he was worth. Deep soulful sobs burst forth as he finally accepted the comforting arms of his mother—something he hadn’t been able to do for nineteen years.
Yvonne held on with one hand as her other hand stroked his hair. Tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked as she lightly rocked Danny as he cried. She softly whispered, “It’s okay to cry. I love you. It was never your fault. I’m so glad you came back to me. I love you. I always have and I always will.”
Neither knew how long they held each other. Both needing the connection so long denied them. Yvonne and Dan embraced until the sobs slowed then stopped and the tears ran dry leaving two sets of eyes that were red-rimmed.
A coughing fit separated them. Dan coughed long and hard and was left gasping for breath and clutching his arms around his broken ribs to prevent damage. When the coughing abated, Dan fell back onto the numerous pillows and concentrated on getting his breathing under control.
Yvonne reached for the oxygen mask. She turned on the flow to the level prescribed by Dr. Larsson and placed the mask over Dan’s nose and mouth. Concern etched on her face as she watched her son struggle to breathe. She wasn’t a vengeful or vindictive woman—normally. But she wanted to go grab one of William’s rifles, shove it into William’s hands, and order her moral and just husband to go hunting for Plouffe and Merrill.
As Dan’s breathing slowed, he reached out for his mother’s hand and closed his eyes. He felt her fingers card through is hair again. A long-buried sensation of being loved clawed its way to the surface. Mom wanted him here, and she loved him. His memories were all minced up—little bits and pieces he tried to put together in the correct order. For now, he pushed that away and soaked up the comfort she offered him like a dry sponge tossed into an ocean.
When Yvonne heard Dan’s breathing return to the regular cadence, which was not normal but better than it had been, she asked, “Are you hungry or thirsty? It’s well past dinner time, but you needed your rest.”
The thought of something other than hospital food made Dan actually feel hungry. He nodded instead of talking.
Yvonne smiled. “I hope you still like oatmeal with raisins, walnuts, and cinnamon. Doctor’s orders to keep it light.”
Dan nodded again. He lifted the mask away a moment. “Favorite … still.” Then let it settle back into place.
Reaching over to the table Yvonne picked up the insulated bowl and removed the cover. Steam wafted up from the still hot oatmeal. She turned back to Dan. “Are you up to doing this yourself or would you like help?”
Not wanting to appear weak—weaker, Dan pushed himself up into a semi-seated position against all the pillows. He reached for the bowl, and his mom handed him a spoon, too.
Yvonne folded a towel and placed it on his lap as she suggested, “Set the bowl down, so you don’t waste energy holding it.”
Dan set it down then scooped a spo
onful. He lifted the mask and inserted the spoon into his mouth. His taste buds zinged with flavor—definitely no flour paste or tasteless, mushy peas. A satisfied, “Mmmmm, tasty,” escaped Dan’s mouth.
Smiling, Yvonne said, “Glad you like it. I have a whole lot of your favorite recipes waiting for you. You tell me what you feel like eating, and I will ensure it is made. Your friend Jim sent some recipes from Jarmal … I think that was his name.”
Surprised Dan said, “Jarmal … sent recipes?”
“Yes, Danny. You’re so very special, and you have many remarkable people in your life. I’m so sorry you lost Brody. He was an amazing man—he brought light to you and reignited the spark in your eyes. When you two visited before you deployed I was so happy to see you smile and laugh again.”
Taking another spoonful of oatmeal—his appetite returning—Dan only listened as his mother talked to him. He ate while she told him about the video call Brody made when Dan was too tired from physical therapy to make the call. Dan decided not to tell her the truth and let her think he was only sleeping—she didn’t need to know the truth of what went on.
“You know … Brody … thought you … were abused … by the general,” Dan said between breaths and bites of oatmeal.
Yvonne’s eyes opened wide. “Oh, my, no. No. Never. I tripped on the stairs. Your father would never lay a hand on me. You know that, right?”
Dan grinned and nodded. “Told him. He … thought … you loved me.”
Tears sprung from Yvonne’s eyes again. “I do. I have always loved you. Not a single second has ever gone by since I found out I was pregnant with you that I have not loved you with my whole heart and soul.”
Pushing himself up, Dan reached out and brushed at the tears on his mother’s cheek. His face screwed up with anguish. “I’m sorry … so sorry … I hurt you.”
Yvonne shook her head vehemently. Her eyes were inflamed as she aimed them point blank at her son’s eyes. She spoke with a determined fierceness, “Daniel William Broderick, I never want to hear you say that again. There’s absolutely nothing for you to be sorry about. You were only a boy. I wish I could’ve helped you back then, but you were beyond me … beyond all of us. That isn’t your fault. You have nothing to feel sorry for. Is that clear?”
Dan nodded and didn’t argue. Inside he would always carry the guilt, but he didn’t want to cause his mother any additional pain or anguish.
Yvonne softened at Dan’s agreement. She looked at the empty bowl and asked, “Would you like some more?”
Stomach sated, emotionally drained, Dan shook his head. “Tired … mind if I … go back to … sleep?”
Taking the bowl, spoon, and towel from him, Yvonne softly crooned, “Sleep well, Danny boy. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
Dan moved down and got comfortable. He left the oxygen mask on because he wasn’t sure he was ready for it to come off. Dan closed his eyes and felt his mom caress his head like she did when he was a little boy. A soft sigh escaped as he drifted off to sleep.
Full-Blown Pity Party
54
August 16
General Broderick’s Home – Stairs – 2:25 p.m.
Stopping to catch his breath after he shuffled a few feet Dan looked up the staircase. It took him over three minutes to reach here from his room. He was sick of this. He was tired of the coddling, annoyed everyone kept telling him it would take time, angry at not breathing properly, and incredibly frustrated with his inability to walk without stopping every few steps.
At this rate, Dan couldn’t see himself returning to TRF. Everyone told him to be patient. Almost a month had gone by since he was shot and he still felt weak. The sense of being worthless kept creeping in. He bit off the heads of anyone who offered him the slightest help.
Pissed off and in a foul mood, he yelled at his cousins. Dan knew his mother sent them out on an errand after the last time he shouted at Adam to leave him the fuck alone because he wasn’t a goddamned invalid. The fact that he was a goddamned invalid enraged him more.
Fears and doubts increased daily. He accepted Jon’s challenge, but no progress had been made, and fear of failure permeated his mind. He was tired of being tired, tired of sleeping … tired of only laying in the damned bed. Thoughts of never returning to TRF swirled in his head and fed his fears.
If he couldn’t walk more than a few steps without sucking in a breath there was no way he would ever return to TRF—and no way Lexa would want him. Great had seemed within his reach, but slipped further away with every struggled breath and planted him firmly in FINE territory.
Dan checked to make sure no one lurked keeping watch on him. He didn’t want anyone to witness him attempt this. Showing his weakness still grated on his nerves. Hiding his weakness is too ingrained in him. That he showed his weakness especially around his family only increased his aggravation.
He scowled up at the stairway. Dan gripped the handrail at the base of the twenty-step staircase. He would not be worthless if he had anything to say about it. Dan drew in a deep breath and promptly coughed. His arms wrapped around his chest automatically even though there was only a little pain. When he finished coughing, he leaned heavily against the wall feeling drained.
His grip returned to the railing, and he lifted his foot to the first stair. He checked around him again—he would do this. It’s only twenty fucking steps, I can do this. I don’t need a damned nursemaid hovering over me to climb those.
Dan pushed off the ground with his other foot and lifted it to the first step also. He drew in another breath and fought the wave of dizziness and tried to ignore the shaky weakness of his legs. Nearly a month in bed had a significant impact on his muscle tone.
Steps two, three, and four were completed in the same agonizingly slow method. By the fifth, his legs shook so badly he had to lean against the wall and grip the handrail with both hands. Fatigue set in, and that made Dan angrier. Only five damned stairs and I need a bloody nap.
Lifting his foot again, Dan set it on the sixth. He faltered and almost fell as he brought his other foot to the sixth tread. Dan forced himself to take the seventh and eighth ones as he dug deeply for every bit of his reserves. This stairway will not defeat me. I can do this.
Anger surged through him as his body forced him to stand on the eighth and catch his breath. The dizziness from lack of oxygen hit him full force. Dan swayed as grayness edged in at the periphery of his vision. His legs gave way, and Dan landed on his knees on the ninth step. An angry growl from deep in his throat slashed the air.
Dan knelt on the stairs breathing and tried to will his body into compliance—he was almost empty. His hands released the rail. They landed on the tenth tread. Defiance and stubbornness reared up for one last hurrah as he crawled up onto the tenth step.
He sat on the tenth one and leaned against the wall. For several minutes, all he managed to do was move air in and out of his lungs. His legs would no longer hold him. The tears couldn’t be held at bay any longer. I’m a failure, I’m less than worthless. I can’t even climb a goddamned flight of stairs. Lexa will never want me like this. Why does it always hurt so much? Why is everything always dangled barely out of reach to tempt me into believing that my life might be more than just crap?
Anger, fear, and a whole host of other negative feelings crushed down on Dan. His mind stacked failure upon failure onto his chest crushing the air from his lungs and dragging Dan down into a dark pit of despair.
General Broderick’s Home – Outside – 2:55 p.m.
Jeff strode towards the house from the pond lost in thoughts. He, Adam, and Scott had a long conversation after Dan bit Adam’s head off for catching him before Dan face planted when he tried to push too far too fast. Scott was still talking to Adam to calm him down. Kyle and Zach were sent to the store to buy more walnuts—a ploy Jeff knew Aunt Yvonne used to give Dan some space and let them all calm down.
The entire family worried about how Dan withdrew and the depression he exhibited. Jeff
had seen this in recruits before. Not exactly the same thing—his recruits were hale and hearty and didn’t struggle for every goddamned breath like Dan did. But he witnessed enough depression in recruits he recognized the symptoms.
If they didn’t snap Dan out of his bad mood soon, Jeff worried there would be nothing any of them could do to help him. Zach and Kyle tried to help, but their lack of life experiences had them stepping in and helping Dan when they should back off. They didn’t comprehend their help only pissed Dan off further. Everyone in the family stepped in when Dan should be doing things for himself.
Jeff knew he was also guilty of doing that too. They were all so glad Dan came home, and he was back in their lives. They wanted to do all they could to show him he was loved and cared for. Unfortunately, that was having an adverse impact on Dan. The more they did, the deeper Dan sank into depression.
Aunt Yvonne started searching for psychologists again. Jeff didn’t think that would help. Now, as adults, they were included in discussions. They knew a lot about what their aunts, uncles, and their parents tried to do when Dan was young. A shrink didn’t work back then, so he didn’t believe counseling would work now. Though they needed to do something, so he kept his thoughts on the matter to himself.
Jeff opened the back door as he let out a frustrated growl. Runt needed help, and Jeff was none too sure they were equipped to help him. But he was not giving up on Dan … he would be here for him through thick and thin. Never again would he allow Runt to slip away if it was in his power to do something about it. They lost too many years. Jeff would not lose anymore.
General Broderick’s Home – Stairs – 2:55 p.m.
In the midst of a full-blown self-pity party, Dan sat on the tenth tread angrily crying because he couldn’t climb up more than ten of the twenty damned steps. So exhausted he couldn’t go up or down by himself. He sat waiting for someone to rescue him from his ill-fated attempt to scale the staircase.
He considered throwing himself down the ten stairs, hoping the fall would kill him. But with the way fate liked to screw with him, he would end up paralyzed. A worthless blob who couldn’t move.
