Healing A Hero (The Camerons of Tide’s Way #4) (17 page)

Chapter 31

April 2015

Camp Lejeune, North Carolina

PHILIP HUNG UP the phone and stood. The gray walls of his claustrophobic little cubicle made him antsy at the best of times, but at the moment he couldn’t wait to be gone. And there was some urgency to be gone quickly. He stuffed the papers he’d been going over back into a manila file folder.

“Anyone seen the Captain?” He gazed over the cubicle walls toward the other occupants of the room.

Lieutenant Ken Evans looked up from his computer screen. “He’s in a meeting with some brass down from Quantico.”

Probably not a good idea to take off without letting the Captain know where I’m going.
Not that I’ve got much of a choice. If Mark needs me now, then he needs me
right
now.

“Tell Clooney I had something important to take care of. I’ll call in when I can. Maybe I’ll be back before he knows I’m gone.”

Ken nodded, his gaze already back on his computer screen.

Philip pocketed his phone, grabbed the car keys to the Buick, and headed for the door.

Mark had sounded pretty desperate. More desperate than Philip had guessed when he’d assured Elena the corporal wasn’t going to end his life. Now Philip wasn’t so sure.

He was in a rush and barely stopped to notice that he’d unthinkingly unlocked his mother’s Buick using his right hand. He glanced at his hand and the key still dangling in the door, shrugged, then yanked the door open and climbed in. Getting the car started with his right hand didn’t’ hurt either. The twisting, pinching motion that had sent a rip of fiery pain up his arm just a few weeks ago didn’t even cause a twinge. He flexed his fingers briefly, then put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking spot. No time to dwell on his own small triumphs.

When he arrived at the address Dickey had given him, the man was sitting right where he’d told Philip he would be, on the bottom step of an isolated shack on the other side of Route 17. He looked up as Philip pulled into the dirt driveway and parked next to an old Toyota pickup truck.

Philip got out and strode toward the steps. A nondescript mongrel that had been lying at the corporal’s feet got up and came toward Philip with his hackles raised and a low growl rumbling in his throat.

“Friend, Max.” Mark told the dog.

The dog stopped growling and his tail wagged slightly at the sound of Mark’s voice. Then he sniffed at Philip’s trousers. Philip bent to pet the dog a moment, and then moved past him and sat down on the step beside Mark.

“You came,” Mark said.

“You asked me to.”

“I wasn’t sure you would,” Mark muttered. He reached behind himself, hesitated for a long moment, and finally brought out an old but well-kept Smith and Wesson revolver. “I think you’d better hang on to this for a while. Until I lose the urge to use it instead of picking up the phone.”

Philip accepted the gun and set it down by his feet. He noticed the revolver was loaded, but the safety was on. Mark might be tempted to use it, but he hadn’t forgotten his training.

“I’m glad you chose the phone.” He paused. “So . . . you want to talk about why today was any different than yesterday, or the last time I saw you?”

“The bank foreclosed on my house.” Mark’s shoulders slumped further.

“Well, ain’t that a kick in the nuts.”

What else was this guy supposed to lose before fate was done with him? Philip glanced at the dog who’d come back to plant his head on Mark’s knee. “Kind of like those jokes about country and western songs. Only you can’t play the record backward.”

“This place—” Mark gestured to the rotting building behind them. “Is all I’ve got left. That and Max. Gramps left me this relic free and clear, but nothing else. Once I’m discharged, I’ll have no way to fix it or feed Max.”

The dog’s tail thumped once. Philip thought about Elena’s question last night when they were lying in bed, relaxing in the aftermath of sex. A question he’d avoided thinking about in terms of himself.

“What did you do before you became a Marine?”

Mark shrugged. “Before the Marines? When I was in high school, you mean? I worked at a garage on weekends, tinkering with old cars. Not much else. All I ever wanted to be was a Marine.”

“Amen to that,” Philip replied. It was all he’d ever dreamed of being, too. His father had tried to dissuade him, but Philip’s determination had been stronger than his father’s objections.

“Whoever said ‘once a Marine, always a Marine’ didn’t mention this.” Mark slapped his prosthesis. “All the Marines I know who are still out there have two legs.”

“Not all of them.” But most of the unfortunate men who’d lost limbs didn’t stay in. The uphill struggle was just too steep, even for a determined man with an unflagging support team that included a wife and family. But maybe there was a way for Mark to stay in.

“The Marine Corps can always use good mechanics,” Philip suggested. “Probably even more than they need trigger-pullers. Get serious about your rehab, and maybe you can stay in and get signed up for whatever training you’d need to change your MOS.”

“You really think there’s a chance that could happen?” A spark of hope entered Mark’s hazel eyes.

“I can help you look into it if you’re interested.”

Mark looked encouraged for a moment, then his face clouded again. “What’s the use? Without Sharon, what’s to live for?”

“I know you love her, but if Sharon could dump you at a time like this, then you don’t need that kind of baggage in your life.”

Mark winced and, for a moment, it even looked as if he might weep. He bit his lips hard and looked away.

Philip put a hand on his shoulder. “At the risk of sounding like a shrink, try looking at the things you do have for a minute. You can’t get the legs back, but I’ve been told you have the best prostheses they make. You’ve got a roof over your head that hasn’t got a mortgage on it. And you’ve got Max. That’s more than some guys have.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Nothing’s easy. Nothing worthwhile anyway.”
I
wish I was better at this. I’ve got no idea what I should be saying to this guy.
“Do you go to church?”

Mark shook his head. “Used to.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“When this happened—” He slapped the stump of his right leg. “I prayed harder than I ever prayed in my life. I begged God. Pleaded with him. Promised him anything if only he didn’t take my legs.”

“God didn’t take your legs, Mark. A bunch of murderous fanatics did. And if you finish the job they started, then they win. You can’t let the bastards win.”

Mark’s eyes were still awash with tears, but they didn’t spill over.

Where is the rest of this man’s family?
He looked like a little boy who could use a mother’s hug more than just about anything else right now. But asking might bring up even more losses that were better left for another time.

Presumably, Mark had grown up around here, if his grandfather had left him this old house. Except for Sharon, Mark had never talked about his family. Maybe the Marine Corps were all the family he had.

“Come on, let’s go get a beer and talk about what comes next for the both of us. You haven’t given up drinking, too, I hope.”

“Hell, no.” Mark pulled himself to his feet using the rickety railing for support.

Philip grimaced. If the guy was going to live in this dump, even part-time, something needed to be done to get it squared away.

Mark lurched his way up the short flight of stairs, and called to his dog. “Don’t tear the place apart while I’m gone,” he told Max as he let him into the house.

Philip wanted to help Mark back down the steps, but stood where he could stop a fall if Mark lost his balance instead. “Your truck or my car?” he asked when Mark had managed the descent.

Mark grimaced. “Your car. That truck hasn’t moved since Gramps died.”

Of course, he can’t drive yet. What was I thinking? I wonder how he got here
.

“Hop in, then. I’ll just be a minute.”

As Mark began hobbling toward the Buick, Philip ground his teeth.
When am I going to figure out what not to say!

He bent to pick up the revolver entrusted to his care. What could he possibly say to the disillusioned Marine? Getting his mind off everything he’d lost was going to be a lot harder than getting him off the porch.

Then Philip remembered Elena. It was not only too late to return to his desk, he’d missed his physical therapy appointment, and it looked like he wouldn’t be free for dinner either. He retrieved his phone from his pocket and brought up her number.

The call went to voice mail.

“Hi. Elena. Sorry about the appointment. I took your advice about Mark. I’m not going to make it for supper. Text me if you still want me to come over when I get free. How late is too late?”

Chapter 32

April 2015

Camp Lejeune, North Carolina

“IS THAT WHAT I think it is?” Philip asked as Elena pulled a casserole dish from the oven the following evening.

“Depends on what you think it is,” she replied, grinning at him. He probably didn’t remember telling her his mother’s sweet potato dumplings was his favorite dessert. She’d deliberately chosen to make them to sweeten Philip’s mood while she found the courage to confess her sins of omission and the truth about Julie.

He tilted his head and sniffed appreciatively. “Smells like sweet potato dumplings. Please tell me it is.”

She set the dish on the table and turned to snag the plates and dessert forks off the counter. When she would have returned to her seat, Philip snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap.

“Another reason to love you. If I didn’t already.” He claimed her mouth in a very suggestive kiss.

“If you like them hot, you better let me serve them,” she said rather breathlessly when he lifted his head again.

“Cold is good too.” He slid his hands under her T-shirt and caressed her breasts.

She raked her fingers into his bristly hair and tipped her head back so he could nuzzle her neck. His mouth moved down to the open vee of her shirt, and he exhaled a long breath of warm air. She gasped with pleasure as the heat enveloped her. Her body tingled and her mind scrambled. But then she pushed his face away and slid off his lap. She couldn’t let him sidetrack her. She had to tell him. Tonight. Before the lovemaking started.

“You’re turning my brains to mush.”

He dipped his fingers into her waistband and tugged her close again. “Is that a bad thing?”

Elena pushed his hand away and moved to the other side of the table.

“There’s plenty of time for that later,” she said as she dropped into her chair and straightened her blouse. “How did it go with Corporal Dickey last night?”

When Philip had shown up sometime after two o’clock in the morning, she’d been asleep, and by the time she’d shaken off her drowsy response to his aroused and naked body sliding into the bed next to hers, Corporal Dickey had been the last thing on her mind. Their lovemaking had been swift and satisfying, and they’d fallen asleep almost immediately afterward. He’d been gone when she awoke.

If she let him distract her now, she’d never find the courage to tell him about Julie. But still she hesitated, looking for something else to discuss first. Besides, she really was concerned about what had been so urgent that Philip would cancel their date, and leave her praying that things were going to be okay for the young man.

She scooped several dumplings onto Philip’s plate, added a spoonful of ice cream, and handed it to him. Then she served herself and sat down.

“He must have been pretty upset. You were gone for hours.”

“It’s Dickey’s story. Not mine.” Philip took a bite of the first dumpling and sighed with pleasure.

“So, you’re not going to tell me anything? Like why he called you in the first place?”

“He needed someone to talk to, and I’d given him my number. These are great. As good as Mom’s, but don’t tell her I said that.”

“It’s her recipe,” Elena confessed. “Meg gave it to me.”

“She did?” Philip lifted one eyebrow, as he shoveled in another mouthful.

“She was happy to when I told her why I needed it. But back to Dickey. His therapist is worried. Should he be?” The young amputee was Rob’s patient, and Rob had asked her to keep him in the loop if she heard anything that might be important.

“I’m not a doctor or his therapist or anything even close, but there’s a level of confidentiality even so. Mark shared some pretty heavy stuff with me because he trusted me.”

“But if there’s something that might help his therapist understand better, wouldn’t that be good for Mark?”

Philip put his fork down and pushed his plate away. “That was great, but if I eat any more I’m going to burst.” He rubbed his stomach, then ran a hand over his short, freshly cut hair. “How about you tell Rob that if there’s anything he really needs to know, I’ll come see him. In the meantime, I’ve talked to Mark about his rehab, and I think I gave him a few things to think about and a reason to get serious and work harder.”

Philip got up from the table and carried his dishes to the sink.

“You didn’t reek of alcohol when you crawled into bed and got it on without any foreplay, and I don’t think you are a drinking and driving kind of guy anyway, so I’m guessing the night was so emotionally draining you didn’t have any energy left for talking.”

“Making love to you wipes me out.” He made a face at her.

“You were already snoring when you rolled off,” she snickered. “That’s not normal.”

One fine blond brow rose as he glanced at her over his shoulder. “We haven’t been together long enough for there to be a normal yet.”

“Ya, well . . .”

Elena pulled a plastic container from the cabinet and spooned the remaining dumplings into it. Tonight wasn’t likely to be normal either.

She snapped the lid into place and put the container in the refrigerator. When she turned back, Philip was standing right in front of her.

“You’re awful quiet all of a sudden. Is something bothering you?”

She shook her head. But that was a lie. She knew it and so did Philip.

“You’re upset because I won’t replay everything that’s gone wrong in Corporal Dickey’s life for you?”

Again she shook her head. Not a lie.

Philip placed his hands on her shoulders and peered down into her face. “Then what is it? Are you worried about what we’re going to tell Julie tomorrow?”

More like she was worried about what he was going to say tonight. “Partly, but—”

Philip’s cell went off. He’d set it on the counter by the door, and he had to let go of her shoulders to answer it. He kissed her briefly and reached for the phone.

“Hey, Ben.” Philip greeted his brother with a smile on his face. The smile faded quickly. “How?” he barked. “Is he going to be okay?”

Elena listened to the one-sided conversation with growing dread.

“Are Mom and Dad there yet?” Philip looked at his watch. “It’ll take me about two hours. I should be there by nine at the latest. Call me if anything changes.” He waited, then, “Of course, I’m praying.” Then he clicked the phone off and looked up.

“My brother’s been shot. I’ve gotta go.” He reached for the jacket he’d left hanging by the door and shoved his arm into it.

Elena’s heart lurched. Philip’s brother Will was a state trooper. “How?”

“All I know is he was at a convenience store when it got robbed. He was off duty, but, knowing Will, he got involved anyway. He’s in surgery, and they think he’s going to be okay, but he lost a lot of blood. I’ve got to go.”

“Of course you do. You want me to go with you?”

Philip hesitated, looking torn. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, and you have to meet Julie’s plane tomorrow down in Wilmington.”

“Where is he?”

“Raleigh. I’ve got no idea why he was up that way, but that’s where it happened.”

He pulled Elena to him and hugged her hard. She pulled his mouth down to hers and kissed him just as hard. “I’ll be praying for him too. Drive carefully, okay? And call me.”

Philip reached for the door. “I’m sorry about last night, and I’m sorry I won’t be making it up to you tonight.”

His eyes reflected his worry. He was torn, needing to be with his family and wanting to be with her.

“It’s okay.” She tiptoed to kiss him, then turned him toward the door and gave him a little push.

He vaulted down the stairs and around to the driver’s side of his mother’s stylish blue Buick. He blew her a kiss before folding himself into the seat. A moment later, he pulled away from the curb.