CHAPTER 18: Danielle

When I opened the trailer door, Davy wasn’t on the couch. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. I stood listening for a moment. The ancient air conditioner rattled in the window. I could hear water running in the bathroom down the short hallway to the back bedroom.

“Hello?” I called out as I came down the hall.

The bathroom door was closed.

I could hear the shower running.

Davy Boone was naked in my shower.

What the heck was I waiting for?

My fingers went around the doorknob but froze there.

No. I couldn’t just step into the shower and expect us to be back where we were six years ago.

We had both grown up.

We had both changed.

I didn’t even know if Davy was home to stay or simply stopping by.

I let my fingers drop from the doorknob and stepped quietly back up the hall. I went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and wait for Davy to come out.

* * *

I heard the water in the shower shut off. A few minutes later I heard the bathroom door open. Davy appeared from the hallway.

He was wearing jeans but no shirt or shoes.

His muscled shoulders and biceps were covered with tribal tattoos.

The SEAL logo was tattooed on the right side of his chest.

There were scars with the tattoos, faint lines that webbed across his left shoulder and down his side like a roadmap.

His short hair was wet, standing on end. Drops of water dripped from his shaggy beard onto his bare chest. A towel was draped around his neck. He dabbed it at his beard when he saw me and smiled.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were back. I hope you don’t mind. That’s the first real shower I’ve had in months.”

“No. It’s fine,” I said. I held up the coffee pot. “Do you drink coffee?” I realized what an odd question that was. I didn’t know Davy at all now. Do you like coffee? Do you eat meat? Do you like movies? Do you like to…

I didn’t know him at all. The thought made me sad.

“I do like coffee,” he said.

“Sit down. I’ll pour you a cup.”

There wasn’t room for a table in the tiny trailer. There was one stool on the other side of the bar. He slid onto it and rested his thick forearms on the bar.

“Would you like something to eat?” I asked. “I can make you some eggs or toast.”

“Black coffee is fine,” he said. I set the cup in front of him and poured one for myself.

“Still working at your dad’s diner?” he asked.

“It’s my diner now,” I said. “I bought him out a year ago. He said he wanted to retire so he could fish all the time. That lasted about a week. He runs the kitchen now. Still cooks everything.”

“I remember his gumbo,” Davy said, humming his approval. “What was it he always said about his gumbo? Hot as fire…”

“Going in and coming out,” I said with a smile. I took a careful sip of coffee and stared at him for a moment. Davy had grown into a beautiful man, but he had the saddest eyes I’d ever seen.

“I’m sorry I didn’t write or call,” he said quietly. He held the cup between his hands and stared into it, like he was reading tea leaves.

“Just tell me what happened, Davy,” I said, reaching across to put my hand on his arm. “Where did you go?”

He stared at my hand for a moment and then blew out a long breath and gazed into my eyes as I pulled it away.

“I went to basic training in Illinois when I left here,” he said. “I wrote you a letter from there.”

“The only letter you sent,” I said. I shook my head to drive the anger back down. “Then where did you go?”

His big shoulders went up and down. “I guess I stood out in basic training, because they wanted me to join the SEALS. It was an honor. I couldn’t say no. So, I shipped out to California for the six-month training program. Honestly, it was the toughest thing I’ve ever done. I kept meaning to call and write, but, shit, I just didn’t. After training I was assigned to a SEAL team in Iraq. After I got there, I didn’t even have time to think about writing.”

“Why not?” I asked, struggling to keep the anger out of my voice. “Surely the other SEALs found the time to write letters home.”

He looked at me with tears in his eyes. “Because I didn’t know if I was gonna make it back,” he said, brushing the tears away with the back of his fingers. “Every day was a total shitstorm, and I didn’t want you wasting your life waiting on me. I guess I figured not writing was better than breaking up in a letter.”

“Well you figured wrong,” I snapped. “I’d have much rather had a letter telling me to carry on with my life than to spend years wondering if you were dead or alive.”

“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “I was an idiot. Then I got hurt.”

My eyes went to the scars on his shoulders. The anger melted from my tone. “What happened?”

“Which time?” he said with a chuckle. He ran his fingers across the scars. “This was a bullet from a sniper rifle. This was shrapnel from a roadside bomb. These are burn marks from a Humvee fire.” He smiled at me. “This was from a knife fight with a drunk sailor in a Kandahar bar.”

“How can you smile about those scars?” I asked. I rolled my fingers into fists at my sides to keep them from reaching for him. “Davy, you could have been killed.”

“It was my job, Danny,” he said, the smile fading. “And I was good at it. They sent me all over the middle east, wherever I was needed. I was a SEAL. I had to go.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “Then what are you doing here?”

“I’m all out of steam,” he said quietly. He stared into his coffee cup. “When it came time to re-up this time, I told them I’d had enough. I wanted to get back home and have a normal life.”

“Home to Bellegrade? The armpit of the world?”

His eyes came up to meet mine.

“No, silly. Home to you.”