Handle With Care (17 page)

D
ays later, Shane got a call in the
middle of the night. Even though he hadn’t been sleeping, the sound of the
phone at 4 a.m. startled him.

Fearing the worst, he
reached for the phone, his hand shaking and his heart hammering. “Shane here.”

“It’s me, Jake. Sorry to
be calling you at this hour, but we got some bad news.” He cleared his throat.
“It’s Brent. His helo has gone down.”

“Fuck no.” Shane sank
into a chair and rubbed his eyes. “Give it to me straight. Is he dead?”

“All we know is that his
helicopter was brought down by small arms fire.” Jake swore. “Six men were on
board, and Brent and the men are still out there.”

“What do you mean?” He was wide awake now, and
pacing the room.

“Look, Dad just got the
call minutes ago from a senior official in Washington. He said at the crash
site the insurgents were firing weapons at the helicopter in an attempt to blow
it up, but the QRF forces were on them. The Afghans are wiry little bastards,
I’m telling you. Can climb those steep terrains like a pack
of invisible mountain goats.”

The Quick Reaction Force
were the first to be called in a crisis and had been
on the Taliban in a matter of minutes, but couldn’t get near. Since John
Harrington was a retired general, it was not surprising that he’d been given
this information.

“Shit.” Shane sucked in
a painful breath. “I told Brent not to go, but the stubborn jerk wouldn’t
listen.” He continued to stalk the room, his adrenaline fueling his anger.

“I know, Shane. We all
did.”

“Fucking
bastards. Wish we could obliterate every damn one.” Shane gritted his
teeth and snarled, “You know that the Taliban brag about it, don’t you? They
like to take credit for every kill. Even when it’s friendly
fire.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know all
about it. But look, Shane, there’s no sense in getting all worked up right
now.” Jake sounded like the voice of reason, which ticked Shane off. “We don’t
know anything for sure,” he added.

“Good God. He’s your
brother,” Shane cried. “You know he’s either dead or injured. Isn’t that
enough?”

“You’re right.” Jake
made a choking sound, then in a husky voice he spoke
again. “This isn’t easy for any of us, but I’m trying to think positively, and
you should do the same. As soon as I hear anything, I’ll keep you informed.”

“Look, Jake, I’m sorry
if I sounded harsh. I know how much you love Brent, and how your family look
out for each other.”

“That’s all right. I
know how you feel.” Jake had done two tours in Iraq; he knew the dangers for
his brother better than anyone. “I want to get my hands on the bastards too.”

“Dammit. I feel so
helpless!” Shane made a fist with his hand and thumped the table. He closed his
eyes and took a steadying breath. “I can’t believe that our own forces can’t
get to him. Some of these outposts are in really bad positions. They’re like
sitting ducks out there.”

“I hear you.” Jake
added, “But we have to trust our government that they know what they’re doing.
They wouldn’t put our boys in harm’s way.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I have to. The
commanders make difficult choices, but they know what they’re doing, and back
their men. To think otherwise, well, let’s say it would shake my very core.”

“I know, Jake.” Shane
remembered Brent’s last visit. “Hey, your father’s all right? Last I heard he’d
had a stroke and was on life support.”

“You know you can’t keep
a good man down,” Jake said smoothly. “Not only did he pull through, but he’s
getting better every day. Still has partial paralysis on his left side, but
things are looking up. He’s in rehab, but he can speak and feed himself, and
his cognitive skills weren’t affected.”

“That’s great, Jake. Really great.” Shane’s thoughts returned to Brent. “Where
did the helo go down?”

“Happened
in the Alasay district of Kapisa
Province, in East Afghanistan. It was a search and rescue mission, and obviously
the Taliban were just waiting for them.”

“Thanks, Jake, for
calling me right away, and keep me posted.”

“I will. Dad’s already
on it. He’ll get the information before anybody.”

“Give him my best, will
you?”

“Sure
thing.”

After they said their
good-byes, Shane couldn’t sit still. His stomach churned, and he felt as though
he’d burst out of his skin. He began to prowl the apartment, as antsy as he’d
been the first week without a drink.

Just the thought of
booze made his throat dry and his hands shake. He wasn’t going to drink. No
way. No how. He’d made a promise to himself, and Lauren deserved better from
him.

Lauren. He needed to
talk to her. She always understood everything, and just hearing her voice would
act like a tonic. He knew Josh would be in bed, but she’d be certain to answer
her cell. Maybe she would even allow him to come over.

He dialed her number and
it was busy. Called again, and no answer. He called her home number and left a
message. Where the heck was she? He needed her more than ever.

Maybe he’d jump in his
car and drive over. Her welcoming smile, the warmth of her embrace, oh God,
please let that be enough. He didn’t want to slide down this sinkhole again.
This blackness of despair would eat him up. Every minute that he sat there, his
shaking grew worse, and his thoughts turned to the bottle.

He got up and tossed his
cell phone to the floor. No use. Tonight nothing could keep him away from
drowning his fears. Not even Lauren.

There had to be some
booze hidden in the house somewhere. Surely, Brent hadn’t gotten rid of every
ounce of alcohol before letting him move in? If he’d been so opposed, he’d
never have brought over that six-pack. Come on, come on, it had to be here.
Brent was a social drinker but he always had Scotch in the house. And he used
to have a collection of fine wine. Where would he stash it?

Shane looked under the
beds, in the back of the cupboards, closets, storage area in the small guest
room. Like a tunnel rat, he darted one way and another, head swimming, his mind
focused on only one thing. Booze. He needed it now and
plenty of it. Damn near trashed the place looking, and when he came up empty,
he stormed out of the apartment in search of an all-night liquor shop. He found
a convenience store, bought a bottle of Scotch, and didn’t wait until he got
home to taste it.

He cracked it open in
the parking lot, and without thinking, he closed his eyes and took a swallow.
It burned his throat on the way down, and tears sprang into his eyes.

He wiped the tears away
and poured some more down his throat. After several slugs, he wedged the bottle
under his arm and walked the short distance home. He stumbled over to the
elevator, pushed the button, and collapsed against the elevator wall for the
ride to his floor, still sucking on the bottle.

By the time he reached
the apartment door, he was having trouble focusing. He had to stab at the lock
several times before the key slid in, and he fell through the open doorway. The
bottle slid through his hands, but he managed to catch it with his knees before
it hit the floor.

He slipped down, leaning
against the door, and took another long slug of Scotch. Tears slid down his
face, and he almost gagged, but he didn’t stop. He kept drinking, needing to
punish himself, to hurt until he could stop hurting, to drink until he felt
nothing, remembered nothing, and cared about nothing.

Lauren had been called in to work as
there had been a twelve-car pile-up on the freeway, and ER needed an extra set
of hands. When she returned home at 4 a.m. Julie told her that Shane had called
and left a message.

She thanked Julie, told
her to take the day off, and crept into bed. She slept until seven-thirty when
little hands woke her up.

“Mom?
Wake up. I’m going to be late for school.”

She blinked, stared at
the clock, trying to figure out if it was morning or night. She glanced at her
son. School? Holy crap.

“Mom.
Mom. I’m already dressed. Hurry up.”

“Just a second, honey.
I’m not quite awake.”

“Today, we’re going to
the science museum, remember? It’s a bus trip. You signed permission.
Remember?”

The fog in her brain
cleared. “Yes, yes, that’s right.” She yawned, and sat up. “Can you have some
cereal while I hurry and get dressed? I’ll get you to school on time, don’t
worry.”

“Okay, ’cuz I don’t want to miss it.”

Lauren’s head hurt, as
she swept her legs out of bed and stood up. She was so exhausted she felt like
she could sleep on her feet. Of all days for the museum trip, it would have to
be today.

She stumbled into the
bathroom, splashed water on her face, then turned on
the shower. She stood under the warm water for a few minutes, then stepped out, not feeling any better than she had a
minute before. She squirted some drops into her bloodshot eyes, brushed her
teeth and hair, and put on a pair of shorts and a tee.

Josh was standing at the
door, school bag in hand.

“Hurry up, Mom. I don’t
want to be late.”

Lauren grabbed her car
keys, slipped her feet into flip-flops, and then turned to her son. “You
haven’t brushed your hair or teeth. Do that, and I’ll
get the car running.”

He grumbled but did as
he was told. A minute later they were in the car, driving the five blocks to
his school. She dropped him off with a kiss and a wave, then
returned home to fall asleep for another three hours.

Feeling a little more
human, she made a pot of coffee and checked her phone messages. There was a
call from Shane on the house line and two missed calls on her cell. She called
back and got no answer, then wandered around her place, cleaning up, making
beds, figuring out what they’d have for dinner.

It was only eleven and
she had several free hours before picking up Josh from school. She called Shane
again, not sure if he was at class or working today, but was unable to reach
him. She couldn’t sit around with nothing to do, so Lauren decided to go to the
hospital and check on a few of the patients she’d patched up last night.
Several were on the critical list, and might not have made it through the
night. She knew it wasn’t her job to care, but as a human being with a heart,
she had no choice.

After she made her round
and learned that everyone was still stable, she called Shane’s cell again, but
he never picked up. She pushed him to the back of her mind and hurried over to
the school, wanting to be outside when the school bus returned.

Josh was one of the last
kids off the bus, and he grinned and waved when he saw her. He ran up, jumping
up and down. “Hey, Mom. We had a super-duper time.
Some of the mothers went with us. Too bad you didn’t come. Next time, I want
you to come. Okay?”

She kissed the top of
his head. “Sure, Champ. If I can.”

“Yeah.
I know. You always have to work.”

She felt a nudge of
guilt at the disappointed look on her child’s face. “Next time, if I have
enough notice, I’ll make sure I ask for the day off. Okay? Unless there’s an
emergency, I’ll be there, I promise.”

He didn’t say anything, then his face brightened. “Maybe I could ask Shane. He’d
come, I know he would.”

“He would want to,
that’s for sure.” When they got home she tried calling Shane once again, but
still no answer.

Josh went to his bedroom
to play with his Legos, while Lauren made spaghetti for dinner. He came out a
half hour later and turned on TV. She heard the familiar lyrics of
SpongeBob
, her son’s favorite show, and
watched him for a few minutes as he sat there engrossed with the characters he
knew and loved.

He looked up. “Spaghetti for dinner? Yum. I had a
hot dog for lunch and some chips, yogurt, and a sippy
drink.”

“I’m glad you had a good
day. Who did you sit with on the bus?”

“A new
guy at school. He’s nice.”

“That’s good, honey. I’m
glad you made a new friend.”

He nodded and went back
to his TV show. She called Shane once more and left him a detailed message but
he never returned her call. Her feelings were hurt, and she was tired from
having worked all night, and was not in the mood to chase him down.

After dinner, she bathed
Josh and turned in early, but thoughts of Shane interrupted her sleep. She had
a niggling worry that something was wrong. Why would he not call?

The following day she
didn’t hear from him either, and by nighttime she was quite convinced that her
fears were valid. Shane would not go this long without calling her. Something
had happened and she had to know what.

She called Julie to say
something had come up and could she work a few extra hours?

“Of
course, Dr. Reynolds. You know I’m always happy to stay whenever you
need me.”