The Lonely Hearts 06 The Grunt 2 (15 page)

Amber’s face changed. That idea had not crossed her mind as she watched the two of them talk from across the room.  Amber was a conceited, self-centered woman and the idea of another woman wanting her, especially in this place, was a good possibility.

“Oh,” she said, shoulders relaxing.  “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

He smiled at her. “I just did.” 

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she smiled.  “Have you been studying the stuff the lawyer gave you?”

Leo ran his hands over the papers. “Got it all right here. I’m going over everything with a fine tooth comb.” 

“Good.  We need that money. I can’t keep supporting you. It’s breaking my back,” she said, keeping her voice low so that no one would hear her real plight. 

“Baby, just hold on with me for just a little while longer and we’ll have plenty of money.”

“And a new kid,” she lamented.

“No,” he said, holding up a finger. “I figured that out too.  See, I told Mrs. Riley that I was accepting an offer to do contract work in Afghanistan and I’d be gone for about a year after the case ended.”

“She bought that?” Amber asked, picking up his glass and taking a sip of his drink.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I’m a convincing man.  Once I get legal and physical custody of the kid, I’ll march him right over to his grandparents, where he belongs, and then I’ll collect the check from the lawyer.  I’ll be able to pay you back what I owe you and we can head down to Miami, like we always planned.”

The idea made Amber giddy.  “We’re so close to being millionaires.”

Leo smiled big at the thought.  “Baby, I’m going to take such good care of you.  You just wait and see.  The best clothes, cars, and a condo off the beach.  You never have to worry about anything again.”

Leo’s promises nearly made Amber forget that she was footing the entire $5,000 a month bill for his expensive lifestyle as she thought about how life in Miami was going to be. She’s always wanted to live there, ever since she was a little girl growing up in the trailer park. But all that was behind her now. She’d found a real live Naval officer and she was on her way to a good life.

She leaned in and kissed him. “Get back to studying. I’ve got about an hour left and you and I can get out of here and go get something to eat.”

“I’m in the mood for lobster.  How about you?” Leo said much louder than the previous more clandestine parts of their conversation. He knew that she could afford it.  She’d amassed a little fortune today dry humping the elderly. 

“Lobster sounds delicious,” she said, kissing him again.  Slipping down off the bar stool, she looked across at Daisy and winked at her. 

Leo watched as Amber frolicked happily back across the floor, just in time to snag a gray-haired gentleman walking through the front door. 
Pay dirt.
 

“Work it, baby!” he said, shimming a little for her to see. 

Amber laughed and grabbed the man by his tie to lead him to the back room, where the more expensive favors were given. 

When she was out of sight, Leo looked back over at the curious little Daisy, who was watching them just out of earshot, and grinned.

Chapter 14

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build…”
                            -
Ecclesiastes 3:1-15 (NIV)

Amidst a collection of over 200 Crayola® Crayons and Markers, Brett rested flat on the floor of the den in front of his coveted 60”, curve television and a room full of toys, while he colored in a very brilliant, extremely large Star Wars coloring book with Cameron. 

Oddly enough, it had been the first coloring book he had used since he was a boy; but somehow, just freeing his mind and doing something simple yet creative with his son was actually calming.  Go figure. 
Therapy was as simple as returning to his childhood
.  He almost laughed. If only, he had known this years ago, he could have cured himself of PTSD. 

Right after breakfast, he sent Courtney away to get some fresh air and not be at his every beck and call for once.  He had figured out early in their relationship that his wife was like a sunflower - in the sunlight, she flourished but in the dark, she wilted.  No matter the situation, the result was always the same.  And considering this was without a doubt one of the darkest moments of their life together, he knew that he needed to tend to her needs now more than ever.

Plus, Court had been working her ass off since they got back from Bethesda. 
Cleaning. Cooking. Washing.  Making calls. Emailing.  Taking care of the kids.  Taking care of him.
 
Running errands.
  Just watching her made him tired, and worse, it made him feel guilty.  She was supposed to be enjoying a fruitful marriage where she was catered to, yet it seemed that all he had brought back home from Afghanistan, despite his promises, was a shit ton of problems.  

Stop feeling sorry for yourself
, a voice whispered in the back of his head. 

“Darth Vader is not red,” Cameron said, pointing a short, stubby finger at his father’s work, like a teacher to a student.

Brett paused, crayon still against the paper.  “Says who?” he asked, repressing his grin. 

“Says me,” Cameron answered flippantly.  After all, if anyone in this house was an authority on coloring books, it was him.  

At that moment, Cameron reminded Brett so much of Courtney.  He could tell that his wife was rubbing off on his son - picking up her sayings and her quick wit, having an answer for everything. 

Tousling the little man’s mop of brown locks, he went back to coloring Darth Vader red to make a point.  “Well, I like him red. So, that’s what I’m coloring him.”

Cameron was dumbfounded. 
Red?  Really?
  “Have you ever
seen
the movie?” Cameron asked, waiting for an answer from his father.   

“Before you were even born,” Brett snickered.

Unexpectedly, Bella giggled as if she were following the conversation.  Resting in the swinging chair beside them in a pink jumper, she beat her yellow raddle against the front tray and flashed her gummy smile.

“Bella thinks he’s not supposed to be red, too,” Cameron argued.

“Do you speak
baby
?” Brett joked.

“No one speaks
baby
, Daddy,” Cameron said seriously.  

“So, you guys are just gonna gang up on poor dad, huh?” Brett said, picking up the black crayon. If they wanted Darth Vader to be colored black, then damn it, he’d color him black.

Cameron giggled too. He thought Daddy was funny. “It’s fun having you back home,” he said, leaning over to kiss his father’s head. 

Brett’s heart instantly warmed. 
If this guy still loved him, maybe everything was going to be alright.  
He glanced at the boy’s brown eyes, blush red chubby cheeks and his frumpy brown locks with pure admiration.  Cameron had been his saving grace through all of this. 

Propping himself up on his elbows, Brett looked at his two kids, feeling undeservedly blessed.  “You know I love you, right?” Brett asked Cameron.  “No matter what.”

There was no question for Cameron.  “I love you too,” he said, coloring his picture again.  He didn’t look up from the paper.  “Is something wrong, Daddy?”

“Why do you say that?” Brett asked heart lurching at what the boy might already know.

“You seem
sad
,” Cameron huffed. For a little guy with a tiny vocabulary, the word
sad
would have to suffice to articulate all of the emotions that he had felt since he was told that his Daddy had been injured.  There was so much more there, so much he didn’t know how to explain. 

However, with all of his experience in life, Brett also found it difficult to find the words to express to a four-year old what was going on.  He blew a breath out of his mouth.  “I’m having a hard time.  Daddy got hurt real bad, and he lost his friends.”

Cameron stiffened.  “I know.”

“How do you know?” Brett asked.

“I heard you and Mommy talking about it in the kitchen last night.  Uncle Joe is dead.  The men from your unit are dead.” Cameron swallowed hard.  Even as a child, he understood the weight of the circumstance. “I’m just glad you didn’t die.”

Brett pursed his lips together. 

Cameron’s voice pitched high.  “Are you glad, Daddy?” he probed innocently. 

“Glad of what?” Brett realized he had been gone too long. His son had grown up…a lot.  These were not the type of questions his son would have asked eight months ago. 

The little boy felt like it was obvious what his question was.  “Are you glad that you didn’t die?”

Brett looked over at the clock on the entertainment center.
What time was it?
He needed a damn beer, but Courtney would kill him, if she came in and he had one in his hand before noon, especially around the kids. 

Rubbing a hand over his head, he looked away and nodded. “Yeah, I’m glad that I didn’t die.” His voice sank. 
Why did he feel bad about admitting that?

“Momma Amy died,” Cameron continued.

God, kid.  You are killing me
, Brett thought to himself.  But he would never cut his son off from expressing his emotions.  After all, he was the one who had left the boy alone to figure things out while he was off fighting a war.  It was only fair that Cameron have an opportunity to talk about his feelings.

“Yes, Amy died, too,” Brett said.  “It was an air plane crash that took your mom.”  He wanted to make it clear that while his men died valiantly in war, Amy’s death was more of a freak accident and nothing commendable.

Cameron put down his crayon and tilted his little head up to look at his father. His little nose wrinkled.   “Where was she going when the plane crashed?”

Really?
  Brett bucked his eyes.
Wow.
  “Hey, do you remember Mommy Amy?” he asked, changing the subject slightly.
How could he tell his son that his mother was leaving them for good for another man
?  That was a conversation he could avoid for the rest of his life, if possible.

“Yes,” Cameron said with a not-so-readable look on his face. “Mommy gave me a picture of her to keep, because sometimes it’s hard to remember her in my mind. She told me to never lose it, and that way I won’t ever forget her.”

That was more than Amy deserved
, Brett thought to himself.  But that small omission made him want to know more. What else had Courtney said while he was gone?  What other morals was she instilling in the little guy that he had forgotten to focus on as a somewhat absentee parent? 

“What was it like here with Mommy by yourself?  Brett asked.

Cameron smiled big. “I don’t know.  It was…happy.  She bakes cookies.  She lets me splash in the tub and play with my boats and rubber duckies.  She reads to me a lot and kisses me before bedtime.  And when I’m sick she rubs my tummy.” 

Brett was relieved at Cameron’s response, but what did he expect?  Courtney was the same no matter what.  “You like that, huh?” Brett asked.

“Yeah, especially the cookies.” 

Brett chuckled.  He liked Court’s cookies too.  “Do you like…” He cut himself off.  How did he ask this?  “Do you like Mommy being here more than…” Then it hit him. He didn’t need to ask that question.  Of course the boy did. 

Cameron was curious now that his father had stopped mid-sentence.  “Do I like it more than when we were alone?” he asked his father. 

That wasn’t what Brett was going to ask, but he nodded. “Yeah.”

“I do like it.  She’s the best mommy in the whole world.”

Cameron’s conviction was without bias.  He had no reason to choose one woman over the other.  He had loved both, but he loved Courtney more, because she actually gave a damn about him.  And without knowing it, Cameron had answered Brett’s unspoken questions.

“I think we’re pretty lucky to have her,” Brett said to Cameron.   

The alarm on Brett’s phone that Courtney had set sounded, which meant it was time for both children’s naps.  He reached over on the table and turned it off.  “You know what that means?”

“It’s time to take our nap so that we can grow big and strong,” Cameron answered, standing up. 

“Alright, let’s do this.”  Brett struggled to raise himself from the floor.  Working with one leg wasn’t exactly easy, but he tried not to make a big deal about it, especially in front of his son.  

“Don’t get up,” Cameron said, putting his hand on his father’s shoulder before he could get up off his knees. “I can go upstairs by myself.  Mommy taught me what to do.  Take off my socks, turn off the light and get under the covers and go to sleep.”

Brett used the table and sofa to prop himself up and stand all the way up, just to show Cameron that he could.  He looked down at the three-foot terror.  “You sure you’re good to go?” he asked, his deep Texas baritone echoing around the room. 

“I’m sure,” Cameron said, walking to the door. 

Brett remembered a time not long ago when the mention of a nap would have immediately been met with crocodile tears and a tantrum.  Now, Cameron did so without the slightest argument.  Impressive.  “Hey, how did you get so grown up?” Brett asked proudly.

Cameron smiled as though the answer was simple. He shrugged his paper thin shoulders and lifted his little hands.  “I take my naps.” 

Disappearing down the hallway with little footsteps echoing against the hardwood floors, Cameron headed to his bedroom for his afternoon nap.  

Brett dragged a silent, deep breath into his lungs. If he lost Cameron, it would kill him. And more than that, it would kill Cameron. That boy would feel abandoned and alone. Cameron would think that he had failed him, that he didn’t love him.   So no matter what, Brett couldn’t lose him.  He would fight this custody case with everything and every dime that he had, but he would not lose another person that he loved.

Looking down at his hands, he realized that in his rabid thoughts of what he’d do to this Leo Tabor person if he got a hold of him, he had balled up his fists to the point of his knuckles turning sheet white.  The large veins in his arms and neck protruded.  His heart was racing, booming in his chest like an angry drum, and heat was starting to form at the tip of his ears, turning his face beat red.  Trembling uncontrollably, he stood staring blankly through the doorway, body stiff as a board, blinking hard and ready to scream.

God, he just wanted to scream!

But he couldn’t…or maybe it wasn’t that he couldn’t.  It was more that he shouldn’t. 

Calm down
, he spoke to himself barely above a whisper.  He couldn’t lose his cool…ever.  It was apparent to him, though maybe not to everyone else because of his sheer will and determination not to show emotion, that he was Mount St. Helens on the verge of violent eruption, but if he did erupt, he would annihilate everyone and everything around him. So, he had to
just
calm down. 

In jerky movements, he turned from the door way and quieted the rage boiling inside.  The sounds of the television re-entered the atmosphere, and he could finally breathe through his rock-hard chest, knotted up with tension and hurting from an impending panic attack. 

Brett caught a disturbing glimpse of himself in the mirror on the wall as he went back to check on the baby.  His face was dark and twisted in the anger that had accidently found its way to the surface.  Pushing it back down as far as he could into his subconscious, he focused on releasing the emotions for the time being.

Alone with Bella, Brett sat on the sofa and carefully pulled the chubby little baby out of the swing.  She was so warm and soft until just being close to her was like a mild sedative, one that he badly needed.  Wrapping her in his embrace, he picked up her bottle off the coffee table and slipped it into her mouth. 

Keeping her eyes on her father, she lifted her small hands and ran them over his dog tags and then cradled them around his large hand and the bottle.  Sucking quickly and breathing heavily out of her nose, she scarfed the bottle down.