Handle With Care (10 page)

“Don’t worry about me,” Shane said. “If you’re too tired …”

“I’m not too tired,” she said quickly. “Walking around a museum is not exactly an aerobic exercise.”

He said nothing but raised an eyebrow. “You’re not interested then?”

“Just because I didn’t have sex after a couple of dates doesn’t mean I’m not interested.” She sighed. “But I am starting to think I’d prefer to keep Kevin as a friend.”

“One doesn’t necessarily preclude the other.” He looked her dead in the eye.

“Discussion over.” She stalked into the kitchen. “Let’s move on to the important stuff. What did you bring today?”

While he sorted out his books, Lauren made two plates of cheese and crackers and apple slices. She gave one to Josh and set the other on the kitchen table. They hit the books for a couple of hours, and then Shane yawned and stood up.

“Great class, teacher.” He touched her nose. “Thanks again.” He glanced at Josh, who’d moved from the TV to his Legos. “I’ll see you next Sunday,” he called to the boy.

“Okay.” Josh glanced up. “The park was cool. Thanks.”

Lauren walked him to the door. “He really appreciates your taking the time to see him, and so do I.”

He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “As far as seeing Josh, I enjoy it too.” His eyes met hers. “I’m also glad you got out of the house today. I didn’t like thinking about you and him together.”

“Shane …”

“Don’t say it. I know we’re friends, and that’s the way we both want to keep it.”

“Exactly. You’re going to be a doctor, and the last thing you need is a distraction like Josh and me.”

“Right. And you need a solid guy, someone who can give you both what you deserve. Not a basket case like me.”

“You are no such thing,” she said softly.

“Am too. Look, the reason I didn’t call you for more than a week was not because we’d kissed. I was fighting old demons.” His eyes slid away from hers. “I’m a recovering alcoholic, and I had the urge for a drink. It happens from time to time.”

She froze. “You’re an alcoholic?”

“No. I said ‘recovering.’ I gave up drinking a year ago.” He shrugged. “When I got back, I was messed up and hit the bottle much too hard. That was a very black period for me. I was depressed and angry over the whole Iraq mess and in pain because of my stump, and I hated the old prosthesis they had me wear .…” He looked down at the floor. “I was homeless for about nine months and didn’t want help.”

“That was before you got the i-limb then?”

He nodded. “Yes, I got this about ten months ago, and it changed my life around. I don’t feel like a freak anymore, and my quality of life has improved. It’s way more functional than anything else they’ve fitted me with.”

“I have been wondering about that. How does it work? You can grasp things—even throw a baseball with my son.”

He nodded. “There’s an individual motor for each finger which bends at its natural joint. This particular model has 24 different grip options controlled by a Bluetooth softwear app. You can program it for a wider grip or smaller if you’re working on something that needs precision. It can also be controlled by muscle signals as well.” He showed her. “I mean, this baby is stellar compared to what I’ve had in the past. I can type with it, tie a shoelace, open doors with a key. It also allows me to exert pressure, so I can grip heavier objects.”

“Wow—that is unbelievable! What technology. Amazing. So, that’s why you can do all the things you do—like be a medic.”

“Yes. And this flesh-colored material covers up the robotic appearance, so it’s not quite so noticeable when I’m out in public.”

“I see.” She bit her bottom lip. “I also get why you’re so proud of it. But Shane, I know that you’ve sacrificed for your country and have gone through enormous difficulties, but as a parent, I need to ask: Did you drink this week?”

“No, but I wanted too.” He looked down at his feet. “I controlled my urges this time, but what about the next? And the next? It won’t be the last time. It never is.”

She stood rooted to the spot. “My husband was killed by someone with two DUIs. I became a spokesperson for Mothers Against Drunk Drivers.” Her eyes searched his face. “I have little or no tolerance for people who have no regard for themselves or others. Do you go to meetings?”

“I’ve been.” He shifted his feet. “Didn’t like it much.”

“Well, you better start again. You need help, and they provide it. Would you like me to go with you?”

“No. I can control this. Getting into a good med school is too important for me to screw up.”

She stepped away from the door. “I can’t have you drinking and being around Josh.”

“I don’t intend to.” His eyes roamed over her face. “But I’m not whole, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

She didn’t say anything at first. “You will be if you can stay sober. And get help. It takes time, that’s all.”

“What about you? You lost your husband three years ago, but you haven’t fully recovered from that. I see it in your eyes. I hear it in your voice when you speak of him.”

She smiled, but it hurt to do so. “We both have deep wounds to heal, but we’re on our way to recovery.”

“Not sure about that, but we’ve made it out of ICU.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Yes, that we have.” She moved forward and touched his shoulder. “I like you, Shane Dawson. Please don’t screw this up.”

S
hane stopped for a quick bite to eat before he returned home. The second he opened the door, he sensed someone’s presence. “Brent?” He dropped his books on the floor. “Is that you?”

Major barked, and jumped all over the place. He ran back and forth from Shane to the kitchen, peeing in his excitement.

Brent strolled out of the kitchen, a huge grin on his face. “Nobody else better have a key.” He hugged his friend. “See you got a dog. He’s a bit crazed, isn’t he?”

Shane laughed. “He’s in training to be a hero dog, but he’s got issues. Likes people too much.”

The dog wagged his tail and tried to jump on Brent. He knocked him off, but gave him a pat on his head. “I see that.” He straightened up. “So, how the hell are you? Let me see this million-dollar hand of yours.”

Shane held his i-limb up for inspection. “Top of the line. Don’t come much prettier than this.”

Brent nodded. “Damn, that is something.” He wiggled the mechanical fingers. “Do these really work?”

“Sure do. Thumb rotates too. Fingers are controlled by electrical signals from the nerves in my arm. Pretty cool technology.”

“I’ll say. That’s fantastic. Must have taken some training to figure out how to use it, right?”

“Yeah, it was extensive, but they have a great support system and problem diagnosis if I run into problems. So far, everything’s working as it should.”

“That’s great. You look good,” Brent said. “Healthier and happier than when I left.”

“I stopped drinking. Fell off the wagon once, but otherwise I’ve been sober for eleven months and twenty-four days.”

“Glad to hear that.” He lightly punched Shane in the arm, which got Major barking, and jumping around.

Brent was a big man, built like an NFL linebacker. Had to be four inches taller than Shane and outweighed him by at least thirty pounds. He could drink anyone under the table, and Shane had foolishly done his best in their misspent youth to keep up.

“I figured you’d died or something,” Shane said, trying not to let him see how worried he’d been. “Haven’t heard from you in over a month.”

“You’re my nursemaid now?” Brent knuckled his shoulder. “Figured I’d give you a surprise. See if you’ve turned my apartment into your own little love shack.”

“Naw. No time for that.”

“What about this doctor friend? Or Melanie? I figured you two might have reconnected. Girl was the love of your life.”

“If she’d been that, I would never have left,” Shane said a little too quickly. “When I came back all messed up … well, let’s just say whatever feelings we’d once had were long gone.”

“That’s too bad. We had some good times together. Remember that rafting trip? How she fell in and came up without her bikini top?” Brent grinned. “She was some looker.”

“Let’s not go down memory lane. Suffice to say she didn’t want to be saddled with a cripple.”

“I’m surprised. I always liked her.”

“Then you should have married her.”

Brent laughed. “So, that leaves the doctor. Jake told me you’d met someone. Details, man.”

“Nothing to tell. It’s more like a business arrangement. Her husband is dead, and her six-year-old kid needs male companionship. I take him out on Sundays, and Lauren makes it up by tutoring me. Works all around.”

“Yeah?” Brent’s expression was skeptical. “You sure you’re not using the kid to get to the hot mom?”

Shane shook his head. “It’s not like that.”

“Then why do you look a little worked up right now? What aren’t you telling me? I bet she’s real pretty, right?”

“Beautiful. And smart. But she’s not interested in someone like me. Hell no. She can do a whole lot better than me.” He shrugged it off. “Besides, her son is her life, and he wants a dad. That’s all he talks about.”

“You know how that feels. Been there, done that.”

Shane nodded. “Yeah, it was rough growing up without a father around. Funny thing is, when my mom did remarry, it was too late. I was nearly twelve, turning into a snarky teenager, and I didn’t want some new dad telling me what I could and couldn’t do.”

“Yeah, you were kind of snarky,” Brent teased. “But don’t dodge the subject. Have you taken the doc to bed?”

“No way. Lately, she’s been seeing some attorney who’s recently separated. They both have sons who are friends. Convenient, huh?”

Brent cocked an eyebrow. “So, when did that ever stop you?”

“I’m not that guy any longer,” Shane said, and ran a hand through his hair. “I haven’t got the time to date, and hell, if she’s interested in remarrying, the hospital’s loaded with doctors. She could have her pick. Why would she waste her time with me?”

“Maybe she likes lawyers better.”

Shane turned away from Brent to pick up his books. “Why are we talking about her? I want to know about you.” He walked across the room to the dining table, which he’d turned into his desk. “Still having fun hunting down the Taliban?”

“This conversation needs a beer. I bought a six-pack on my way here. Now that you’re not drinking, will it bother you if I have one?”

“No problem. I’ll take a soda, though.”

Brent returned from the kitchen with a German beer and passed him a soda. Sitting on the couch, he put his feet up on the coffee table. Major sat down on the carpet under his legs.

Brent drank most of his beer before he started talking. “The Taliban have been testing our new battalion with repeated ambush attacks, so we stepped it up a notch. Believe we killed a top commander in Sangin in a drone strike.”

“No shit. That’s great news.”

“Yeah, but we lost twenty-four Marines in one weekend, plus hundreds more who were wounded.” Brent stretched his arms over his head, flexing his shoulders. “Where I am, it’s constant warfare. They’re out to kill us, and we’re doing our best to return the favor.”

“Ah, the joys of war.” Shane tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “Nope. Don’t miss it.” He leaned forward and looked directly at his friend. “I don’t like what’s going on over there. Kids are getting beaten up bad. What about you flyboys? Holding your own?”

“We lose a few, but we’re hanging in.” He shrugged and reached for his beer. “What can I say?”

“You haven’t told me how you got away. Go AWOL?”

Brent gave a short laugh. “No. Dad had a stroke a few days ago. They gave me a week’s leave.”

“Damn. I didn’t know.” He got off the chair to give Brent an awkward hug. “He was like a dad to me, too. I spoke to Jake not long ago, and he didn’t say anything.”

“It only happened on Thursday, and I flew home straight away. He’s a tough old bird. I expect he’ll pull through.”

John Harrington was a retired general who’d seen many battles, raised three sons, survived the death of his first wife, and at seventy could bench press darn near twice his age.

“You bet he will,” Shane said. “He still has Bambi taking good care of him, doesn’t he?”

Brent made a face. “Her name’s Tiffany, and yes, she’s still hanging around.”

A year after his wife passed away, John had taken a new wife, a woman only a few years older than his eldest son.

“Too bad,” Shane muttered.

“My thinking too.”

They talked for hours, catching up on the year they’d spent apart, rehashing the good old days when their troubles had been relatively simple. War had changed that for both men, and they knew they’d never view the world in quite the same way again.

“So, I guess I’m sleeping on the couch tonight,” Shane said, getting up to search for sheets.

“No. I booked a room at the Hilton down the road.”

Shane turned to him in surprise. “You shouldn’t have done that. This is your home. You can come here anytime you like. Besides, I want you to stay. Who knows when we’ll see each other again.”

“I know, but I’m heading back overseas tomorrow.”

“What about your Dad? You said you had a week.” Shane didn’t bother to hide his disappointment. They’d been friends for so long, they could be honest with one another.

“It got cut short. My CO said I’m needed. Dad’s stabilized and there’s nothing I can do. No point in sitting around staring at walls.”

“I hate to see you go back so soon. You just got here.” Shane stood there, looking at his one and only true friend, closer than any brother could be. “At least stay the night.” He didn’t want to say good-bye. There was too great a chance he’d never see Brent again.

Brent stood up. “You know how it is. It gets in your blood. My squad needs me, and I can’t hang around here while they’re getting shot up.”

“You should never have enlisted. This was my war, not yours.”

Brent’s jaw clenched. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“It might be stupid, but it’s true. If I hadn’t been captured, you’d never have joined the military. You did it because of me.”

“Don’t be an ass. You’re not that important.” Brent glared at him. “I have my own reasons too. I’m sick of this terrorist bullshit and what they’ve done to this country. Got everyone running around scared. It needs to end, and it needs to end now. Before they do something really stupid and blow us all up.”

Shane looked down at the floor. He was sick of it too, and so tired of seeing other young men returning from the battlefields without legs and arms and other body parts. But the physical disabilities were the easier wounds to heal. The heart and the head were the major casualties of this war.

“Whatever you think,” Shane glanced at his friend and was afraid for him, “be careful, you hear?”