Chapter Three
Miri watched him turn his attention to his pie, realizing that the man who had brought Al home really was as reserved and distant as he had seemed that day. He hadn’t been controlling his emotions in order to carry out his duty to Al. No. This guy never unleashed any real feeling if he could avoid it. Was he that worried or uncomfortable with his emotions? Did he live behind walls on purpose or by conditioning? She guessed she would never know. Sergeant Gil York had no intention of exposing himself.
“I always loved music,” she said, to cover her rather brief response to his question. “I was lucky in that I could play almost any instrument I picked up. Not well enough to claim a position with a band or orchestra or anything, like I said.” Then she laughed quietly at herself. “Maybe because I never focused on one instrument. Anyway, I was lucky to be good enough to teach it. Although when you have to learn your art as a craft, it makes a difference.”
That caught his attention. “How so?”
She tilted her head. “Well, it’s one thing to just play from the heart with joy. It’s another to break all that down into theory and methods and so on. Teaching makes me be more conscious of the process. Sometimes it can be hard to shake off, enough to just play without ever thinking about it.”
He nodded slowly.
“We have a writer in this county, Amanda Laird. She once told me that her writing gets messed up for weeks if people start talking about how to do it. She doesn’t even like to go to the schools to talk to English classes. And she’s death on the idea of themes.”
“Meaning?”
Miri flashed another smile. “She says she hates being asked what the theme of her book is. She doesn’t consciously plan one, and she gets the biggest kick out of the way her readers participate in the creation by coming away with different reactions and interpretations. So I’m a music teacher and that keeps me out of the clouds, because I have to pass along important basics. What I hope is that my students, after we get past the basics, can use their music to fly again.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “I like that phrasing. I hope they fly again, too.”
She dared to ask a question that might turn him once again into granite. “Do you ever get to fly?”
“Only on a troop transport or a helicopter.” Then he resumed eating his pie, leaving her feeling like he’d just frozen the conversation.
Then she considered what Gil did for a living. She doubted he could afford to let his head wander in the clouds at all. Ever. His dreams had become a harsh reality, and now there was no room for dreams anymore.
Al had given her the same feeling on his visits. A realist at all times. He hadn’t even seemed to want to talk about memories of their childhood, although he occasionally made an effort. Effort being the operative word, she thought now.
“Do you guys never think about the future?” she demanded finally.
“Of course. We have to plan ahead.”
And that probably said it all. This far and no further. Not five years down the road, but a few weeks down the road. A very narrow telescope for life.
Yet how else could they survive?
She stifled a sigh, spooned the last bit of melting ice cream from her bowl and sipped coffee that was growing cold. That caught her attention immediately. Maude never let coffee get cold.
She looked around and saw that Maude was nowhere in sight. As uneasiness struck her, she said to Gil, “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Then she ventured into the dragon’s lair of the kitchen that served the diner. There she found Maude on the floor, breathing too rapidly, sweat beading her brow. Miri called out instantly. “Gil!”
“Yo?”
“Call 9-1-1 now!”
“I’ll be okay,” Maude groused, in a voice that was way too weak.
“Sure you will, Maude. But you need someone to look at you. Something’s wrong.”
But she knew what was wrong as Maude lifted a hand and rubbed the center of her chest.
“Never felt it coming,” Maude whispered.
“Women often don’t. Just take it easy for now. Soon the medics will be here and you can yell at them.”
“Call Mavis. Number by the sink. She’s gotta close up.”
“Relax. I’ll get Mavis. She’ll take care of everything. Half the folks in town will probably help take care of everything. You just take it easy until a doc says you’re fine.”
The call to Mavis was unexpectedly easy. As taciturn as her mother, she said she’d come right away. No histrionics.
Then Miri sat on a recently mopped, still-damp floor and took Maude’s hand, watching intently for a change, ready to crawl out of her skin as she waited.
Gil had limped to the doorway and was talking into his cell phone. “Maude at the diner. Yes. She’s gray, sweaty and lying on the floor. Still breathing. Conscious.”
“Dammit,” Maude whispered.
“I agree,” Miri answered. She gave Maude’s hand a small squeeze. “Hang on. You’ll be around to grouse at another generation of customers.”
“I’ll wait by the front door to wave them through,” Gil said. Miri was glad he didn’t add that every second counted.
Because it did, and this county wouldn’t be the same without the irascible Maude.
* * *
It took only six minutes for the paramedics to arrive. Mavis, a younger clone of her mother, wasn’t far behind. She took over the task of reassuring Maude, while the medics started an IV and took vitals, talking with someone at the hospital over the radio.
“What can I do to help?” Miri asked as the medics finally wheeled Maude out.
Mavis looked almost lost. She shook herself. “Nothin’,” she said. “Mom had most of it done. I just need to take care of the register and lock everything up. Then I can go to the hospital.”
“Okay.”
“Guess I should put the Closed sign up. Whatever, ain’t likely to be serving breakfast by six.”
“No.” Miri studied Mavis, seeing the near panic in the woman’s eyes and the confusion as she tried to absorb everything and make plans. All she wanted to do was follow her mother to the hospital.
“You’re sure I can’t close up for you?” Miri offered.
Mavis shook her head. “You run on home. I’ll do it, won’t take long...”
Then she walked to the front door to watch the ambulance pull away, before returning to the back of the diner. “You run home,” she said again.
Miri couldn’t mistake that Mavis wanted to do this by herself. Maybe needed to do it, just so she’d be busy.
Miri grabbed a receipt book and scribbled her number on it. “You need anything at all, let me know. I mean it.”
“Thanks.” Mavis looked at the pad, but hardly seemed to see it.
Then there was nothing to do but go home with Gil.
* * *
When they arrived at Miri’s house, she was surprised to see how early it still was. Well, of course, they’d left the Baker ranch as it started to get dark and cold, which was early at this time of year. Then the long drive into town, stopping at Maude’s apparently just after dinner hour, judging by how empty the place was.
So Miri shouldn’t have been surprised when she looked at the clock for the first time since morning and realized it was just past eight. Maude would have expected to be open until ten tonight, and to reopen at six in the morning.
Miri didn’t know how the woman kept such hours, even now that she had the help of her daughter. But maybe she’d just seen the effects of having no life except work.
She shucked her jacket and flopped on one edge of the couch, leaving it to Gil to decide what he would do. She was disturbed again, but for a very different reason. Now she was thinking about Maude.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” Gil said. He’d doffed his parka and now settled with evident caution into the rocking chair.
“She’s not my friend. I’m not sure she’s anyone’s friend, but she sure as heck is an icon in this county.”
Gil shifted his weight onto his other side, as if he couldn’t quite get comfortable.
“If that chair’s not good for you, there’s room over here.”
He shook his head. “I’m fine. And I’d venture to say Maude must have had a friend at one time. She has a daughter.”
Miri couldn’t help laughing. “True. And she has two daughters, actually. A few years back, the other one was here for a few months helping at the diner, then she took off. I’ve no idea where. But there was always a possibility that Maude simply cloned herself.”
It was his turn to smile. “Having met Mavis, I’d agree that’s a possibility.”
Miri closed her eyes a moment, remembering. “Do you think she had a heart attack?”
“I’m not a doctor, but that would be my first guess. It could probably be other things, though.”
“If she eats what’s on her menu, it’s probably the heart. But what a delicious menu. Her steak sandwiches are famous. You need to try one.”
Then she heard her own words, implying he’d be around long enough to do that. Hell, she thought sadly, he was probably already on some kind of internal countdown clock, getting ready to move on. Staying in one place for long didn’t seem like a quality that being in the Green Berets would nurture.
“Al got antsy when he was home for more than a week or two,” she remarked, even though it would sound like a total tangent to him. “He’d help his dad with everything, including livestock, and do a lot of visiting, but even so I could tell he wanted to get back to work. You must be miserable.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Gil paused as if choosing his words. “After a while the unit becomes your family. Then we have certain ways of doing things that feel orderly to us for the most part. It becomes comfortable. Being away from it is like...”
“Being a stranger in a strange land?”
“Sort of like that, yes. But that doesn’t mean I’m miserable. I’ve traveled through so many cultures in my career that the worst I could say is that this is just another one. We become chameleons. As for Al...” He shrugged slightly. “It’s harder to come back to a familiar place.”
“Is that what you felt at home in Michigan?”
“Not exactly. My parents moved to Lansing about ten years ago, from Traverse City. It wasn’t my childhood home I went back to. I just went back to the same complaints and pressures.”
“I guess they aren’t getting the message.”
“Apparently not.” He passed a hand over his face, as if wiping something away. “They’ll get their wish soon enough, one way or another. Either I’ll be judged unfit to continue on duty, or I’ll retire at twenty. Not long now. But I’m not going back to Lansing.”
“You don’t like it?”
“I’m too old to go back to living near my parents. I can’t be their kid again.”
“Ah.” She thought she got it. Evidently they still wanted him to be the child they remembered, not the man he’d become, and hadn’t adapted to his being grown-up. She guessed he hadn’t been around long enough for them to get used to the changes. She’d seen it from time to time, when grown children had some difficulty carving out a different relationship with their parents. She would have thought it would be easier for someone who was away as much as Gil.
For that matter, coffee and pie hadn’t made Gil look any less weary.
“Gil, you don’t have to stay up on my account. If you’re tired, go to bed. I’m used to being on my own most evenings.”
He nodded, but didn’t move for a minute or so. “Thanks for your hospitality,” he said at last, then pushed himself to his feet, reaching for his cane. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
She watched him limp from the room and listened to his uneven gait as he walked down the hall. The man who had marched so firmly and confidently when he’d been here for Al’s funeral now walked unevenly and with much less confidence.
God, apart from his injuries and the pain he appeared to still suffer, the changes must be hard to live with. She hoped they were temporary.
She’d forgotten to get her laptop and lesson plans from the bedroom, so she flipped on the TV to some program she hardly watched. Maude. Gil.
A lot to worry about for one day. But she was having a serious problem dealing with finding Maude on the floor like that. The woman had seemed indestructible, as if she’d always be a part of this place. Nothing would be quite the same around here without her. Mavis, though she was a lot like her mother, really wasn’t the same.
Swinging around, Miri put her feet up on the couch and leaned back against the padded arm. She felt tired, too. Drained.
She hoped tomorrow would be better. Then she drifted off to sleep.
* * *
It was still dark in the morning when she woke. Gil evidently wasn’t stirring yet, so she made her way to her own room, took a shower and changed into fresh clothes, a sweater and slacks. In the kitchen she flipped on the radio at a low volume to listen to the weather. Not that she really needed it. The heat was blasting in the house, and there was a chilly draft near the window over the sink. The winter cold had returned overnight. Silently, which seemed strange, but it had come.
She would have expected some wind, she thought as she waited for the coffee and made herself some whole grain toast. A little bluster. Almost as soon as she thought it, she heard the window glass rattle quietly. There it was. Satisfied that her weather sense hadn’t flown the coop, Miri stood staring out at the still-dark world while she nibbled her toast, wondering how soon she could call and find out how Maude was doing.
A lot of people would be in for a shock today. Never in the history of the diner had it been closed in the morning. There’d be no coffee, no toast, no scrambled eggs and ham, nothing for the regulars, mostly retired, who camped out there every day, and nothing for the church crowd that occasionally stopped in with their families. The diner wasn’t that big, but on Sunday mornings it could groan with all the people.
None of that this morning. Mavis would be tied up at the hospital, most likely, and there was no one else to keep up the flow. Miri hoped Mavis had remembered to call the dishwasher, Maude’s only regular employee these days, and tell him he wouldn’t be needed.
And all of this was pointless mental buzz, she thought as she took her half-eaten toast and coffee to the table. The diner wasn’t her problem. She was concerned about Maude, naturally, but the rest of it...not her concern.
What concerned her was the man sleeping in her office-slash-bedroom, who’d looked almost hollow-eyed last night. As if he were running on his last reserves. She hoped he stayed a few days to catch up with himself before he took to the road again.
But it wasn’t just that. Uncomfortable as it made her feel, she squarely faced the fact that she was attracted to Gil, had been since the funeral and still was even in his beat-up state. She’d been shoving it aside as totally inappropriate and most likely a waste of energy, but the fact remained that she felt seriously drawn to him.
Like she needed that.
At last the weather report emerged from the radio. Not surprisingly, the thaw was indeed over. What she hadn’t expected was to hear that the temperature was going to plunge precipitously throughout the morning, reaching below zero around noon. And more snow. While the percentages were far from definite, they faced the possibility of a blizzard later, too.
Great. Well, if Gil had any ideas about hitting the road today, he was going to be disappointed. With sufficient wind, two inches of snow could become a blizzard around here, creating a nearly total whiteout. Sensible people would hunker at home, starting this afternoon.
The phone rang and she snatched it quickly. There was an extension in her office that could easily wake Gil.
“Hey, kiddo,” said one of her fellow teachers, Ashley Granger McLaren. “Looks like the weather is mad at us again.”
“Or decided to return to normal,” Miri answered drily. “So what’s up?”
“I heard something on the grapevine about Maude. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, exactly. She collapsed at the diner and had to be taken out by ambulance. She was still conscious, though. Beyond that I don’t know a thing.”
“Well, that’s going to upset some applecarts around here. I can think of at least a dozen or more men who are going to hate missing their morning at Maude’s. Now they’ll actually have to stay home with their wives.”
Miri laughed. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“That’s because you almost never go over there in the morning before school. I do. I hear it all when I’m buying my coffee. You never heard a bunch of guys with more complaints about everything.”
“They’re all retired, aren’t they? What else are they going to do?”
“Beats me. Well, let me know if you hear anything about Maude.”
“Will do.” As Miri pivoted to hang up the phone, she saw Gil standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Today he’d donned a sweatshirt with loose slacks. She wondered if restrictive clothing bothered him, because not even for the barbecue had he worn jeans. “Come on in,” she said. “Mi casa es su casa and all that. How are you this morning?”
“Stiff but fine. Well rested, certainly.”
That was debatable, she thought as she took in the dark circles under his eyes. “Grab a seat if you feel like sitting. Coffee?”
“Please.”
She went to pour him a mug, speaking over her shoulder as she did so. “I was just debating whether to make breakfast sausage or bacon to go with eggs. Any preference?”
“Either one classifies as manna from heaven.”
Smiling, she brought him his coffee. “Come on, they must serve that in the mess hall or whatever they call it these days.”
“The hospital didn’t believe in fats, and by the time meals reached me they were less than lukewarm. Besides, when I wasn’t on base, I was usually dining on prepackaged meals that astronauts wouldn’t have envied.” He smiled faintly. “On my list of luxuries are hot showers and hot food.”
“Well, you’re welcome to both here.” Reaching into the fridge, she pulled out a roll of breakfast sausage and began to make it into patties. “I haven’t heard anything about Maude yet, and I doubt the hospital would tell me a thing if I called. So I guess I have to wait.”
“Wouldn’t Mavis call you?”
Miri shrugged. “Who knows? She must have much more important things on her mind right now.”
“Very likely, unless her mother’s been given a clean bill of health.”
As soon as she finished cooking the sausage and eggs, Miri put a platter on the table and told him to help himself. He allowed he’d like a few slices of toast, so she made them the easy way, bringing her four-slice toaster to the table and working from there. She didn’t much care for cold scrambled eggs herself.
Gil took over making the toast and buttering it for the two of them.
“Do you have someplace of your own to live?” she asked, watching his dexterity with the toast. “Or do you live in barracks or whatever they call it now?”
“I share an apartment with three other men. Most of the time some of us are away, so it never feels crowded. But yeah, I had my own place, sort of. Just didn’t make financial sense to get an apartment to live by myself.”
“I can see that. Like when I was in college. Three of us shared an apartment. Unfortunately, it didn’t always work well.”
“But they move on, don’t they? Roommates, I mean. A frequent flux.”
As he ate, energy seemed to be returning to him, and along with it the attraction she felt. Somehow she needed to get that this was dangerous. Not that she believed he’d be abusive or anything, but Gil was a man used to being on the go, who probably wanted to return to where his unit was stationed, and who might even manage to get himself back into good enough shape that they’d consider putting him in the field again.
Fifteen-plus years of experience had to be invaluable, and she had no idea of the extent of his injuries.
“You know,” she remarked, “I always thought it was odd that Al never once had a serious relationship. When we were kids he seemed like the kind of guy who’d eventually want a family.”
“Maybe he did. Women certainly fluttered around the guys. But when you have to pack up and go on a moment’s notice so often...well, I think that ruined a lot of budding relationships. Which is not to say none of us married and had kids. Just that many of us never encountered that most amazing confluence, a woman who could live with our jobs that we could also want to marry.”
Miri smiled faintly. “I don’t think that’s easy for anyone to find, really. Maybe you guys were just more cautious.”
“Meaning?”
“Look at the divorce statistics in the first year of marriage. Seems like most people fly by the seat of their pants.”
She was glad to hear him laugh. Maybe the guy was loosening up a bit.
But she doubted he would loosen up much, if ever.
* * *
With the kitchen cleaned up and the day growing grayer by the moment, Miri glanced out and saw the trees beginning to toss, bearing their message of a weather change.
“I hope you can stand being cooped up for a while,” she said to Gil as she took their coffee into the living room. “Weather’s changing, with snow this afternoon and the possibility of a blizzard.”
“I thought it was getting colder. Do you think Al’s family will still drop in?”
“Probably. There’s time for that.”
“Good.”
Today he skipped the rocking chair for the more upright gooseneck chair. He propped his cane on the arm, the curved handle hooked over it.
“I guess you didn’t get to talk with them much yesterday. And they’re the whole reason you came out here.”
He nodded. “I got to thinking they hadn’t seen him in a while before he was killed, and that they might want to know more about how he was, what he was doing...within the limits of operational security, of course. I know I’d have a lot of questions if I hadn’t been with him.”
“That’s thoughtful of you.”
“Not really. I think it’s what Al would want me to do. The fog of war extends far beyond the battlefield, to the families, who seldom get the straight dope. And I wanted to see you, too, of course.”
She blinked. She hadn’t expected that. “Whatever for, other than that Al was my cousin?”
Gil shook his head a little. “You stayed with me, Miri. You became part of my memories of Al. And there’s another thing.”
“Yes?” Her heart sped up a bit as she wondered what was coming.
“I needed to see you differently from the funeral. You were glued in my mind’s eye, a young woman so alone, grieving, and playing ‘Taps’ so bravely. A sad image. So thanks for some more cheerful ones.”
Over the months since Al’s funeral, Miri’s grief had settled down. It never went away, and could still come in waves, but acceptance had arrived. Now, all of a sudden, she felt her eyes prickle with tears she hadn’t shed in a while. Forever, she thought. She’d miss Al forever, but in her mind and heart her memories of him would now always be wrapped in the sad strains of “Taps.”
“I’m sorry,” Gil said swiftly. “I didn’t want to make you sad all over again.”
She shook her head. “I’ve never stopped being sad.”
“Sorry,” he said again. Then he rose and limped out of the living room. She expected him to go down the hall to the bedroom, but instead she heard him grab his jacket and leave through the front door.
He was going to freeze out there, she thought almost absently. Then she let the tears come. Tears for Al. Tears for his best friend. God, life could be so cruel.
* * *
Outside, hip notwithstanding, Gil did his best to march along the sidewalk. The wind had grown cutting as a knife, but he was used to it and worse from his time in some cold mountainous countries. He tried to keep his pace even and firm, but his damaged hip still wasn’t ready to give him all the mobility he wanted. Of course, the best way to deal with any of this was to push through the pain.
Use it. Loosen up that scar tissue and make damaged joints do their work until he had enough muscle built up to accommodate a full range of motion. At least that was the hope. The docs gave him fifty-fifty at best.
Fifty-fifty was good enough. Gill had faced far worse odds.
He was also beginning to wonder what he was doing here. Sure, he’d felt he might be able to answer some questions for Al’s family. Maybe share a few of the funnier stories they might not have heard. He’d certainly felt it was like an homage.
But there was something else: Miri. He’d never been able to forget her from that day of the funeral. Never been able to forget the way she had stood tall and straight, playing “Taps” for her beloved cousin. That woman had amazing strength.
But over the months they had corresponded, he realized something else was happening. He wanted to see Miri again. Wanted a chance to get to know her. And before his wounding he’d even entertained a few sexual thought about her, although out of respect for Al he hadn’t let them go too far. It wasn’t that Al hadn’t had his share of flings when the opportunity presented, but family was a whole different ballpark.
Miri was a strikingly attractive woman although she didn’t seem aware of it. She had a great smile, almost always ready, and a kind demeanor. He imagined that the kids in her music classes thought highly of her.
His mouth twisted a little as he rounded a corner and felt the slash of wind mixed with ice against his cheek. Reaching back, he pulled up his hood. Miri didn’t need a personal reference from him, although that seemed to be what he was trying to build. Why?
Pointless exercise. He wouldn’t be here long. He had some other people he intended to visit, men and women who’d been wounded and retired for disability, or had just left when their terms of service were completed. People from the history of his own seventeen years in uniform, many of them the kind of friends you could make only when facing danger again and again together.
So today he’d visit with Al’s family, then once this snow blew through he’d hit the road again.
And that meant he didn’t need to figure out anything about Miri. He might feel attracted to her, but that wouldn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. He simply would not allow anyone to get that close to him. Not anymore. Al had closed that chapter of his life by dying. It didn’t pay to care.
Gil came across a park bench and decided to sit for a few minutes. A pretty park, he thought, despite having been browned completely by winter except for a few evergreens around the edges. It wasn’t large, and held only a few playground items. He thought he remembered seeing an even bigger one on his way into town.
Small town, more than one park. Nice. He heard approaching footsteps and looked up to see a face he recognized from yesterday, Nate Tate. The man people had referred to as the old sheriff.
For a retired guy, he didn’t look all that old. “Sergeant,” Tate said, taking a seat at the other end of the bench. “Getting old has certain requirements, probably not so different from you. Gotta keep in shape somehow, although it’s a long way from the old days.”
Gil smiled faintly. “Just call me Gil, Sheriff.”
“Nate. Ain’t the sheriff anymore, but I feel sorry for Gage Dalton, who is. I retired more than a decade ago and they still call him the new sheriff.”
Gil’s smile widened a hair. “I’m not surprised.”
“Things change slowly around here. Except the weather, which seems to be changing fast today.” Nate chuckled. “Good of you to come back to visit with Al Baker’s family. I’m sorry I didn’t get more of a chance to visit with you yesterday, but it seemed like our younger vets had you pretty well in hand.”
“They did.” He wondered if Nate was just being neighborly or if he had a larger point to this.
“Vietnam,” Nate said. “Multiple tours with the Army Special Forces. I hear you all are branching out wider these days.”
“Sometimes,” Gil answered cautiously.
“Didn’t figure you were going to give me any details.” Tate shook his head a bit. “That old French saying ‘the more things change the more they stay the same’ probably fits. I crossed a lot of borders I prolly shouldn’t’ve crossed, but I had my orders. Anyway, I’m not trying to give you the third degree. You ought to come over sometime. I think you’d enjoy getting to know Seth and Edie better, as well as my daughter, Wendy, and her hubby, Yuma. He was a medevac pilot in Nam. And that Edie’s a pistol. She used to fly combat search and rescue. And I guess you know that Seth was a SEAL.”
“He mentioned it.”
“Well, hang around for a while. You’ll find plenty of others in these parts with your kind of background. And now I need to finish my walk before my wife wonders what happened to me. Take it easy, hear?”
Gil watched Nate Tate stride away, recognizing the easy step of a man who’d walked many miles and knew to keep his knees soft and ready for sudden changes in the terrain. Apparently some things never went away.
Gil rose, too, and started back to Miri’s house. He’d heard church bells and decided it wouldn’t be long before the Bakers arrived. He didn’t want to be rude, although now that he faced the conversation he had no idea what he could tell those people. Their son had shown great courage and had died honorably in the service of his country.
That was the long and short of it. The stuff in between? Most of it no longer mattered or couldn’t be shared. A life came down to a single sentence. He supposed a guy was lucky if he got that much.
It occurred to him as he walked the last block to Miri’s house that this town was almost trying to wrap itself around him, to welcome him. An odd sensation, but he was having it, quite a contrast to the many towns he’d walked through with the certainty that death might be hiding behind any door.
There was absolutely no reason for this town to give a fig about him one way or the other, good or bad. Maybe he was the one looking for something and projecting it onto the people he’d met. Sure, they’d all been nice, but so what. Common courtesy, was all.
Inside, he doffed his jacket, grateful for the warmth of the house. Miri popped her head out of the kitchen, asking, “Hot drink?”
“Whatever you’ve got. It’s getting really cold out there.”
“I wondered if you’d notice,” she said lightly. “Local weather has us down in the single digits now, with more to come. Some reports of sleet.”
“I’ll second that report,” he said as he limped his way to the kitchen. “Felt it sting me on the face once while I was out. Ran into your old sheriff, too.”
“Nate? He walks every morning, but usually there’s a stop at the diner along the way. I still haven’t heard about Maude, by the way.”
Gil pulled out a chair at the table. “Surely there’s some way to find out?”
“It’ll get on the grapevine pretty soon. All it needs is for Mavis to tell one person. Oh, and I’m sorry, but Betsy and Jack won’t be coming this morning, after all. Jack was worrying about the weather, and I can’t say I blame him. It’s a long drive back to the ranch, and just about impossible if there’s a whiteout. The wind’s already strong—I guess I don’t need to tell you that,” she said with a little laugh. “Anyway, once snow starts to fall it won’t be long.”
“I’ve been in a lot of weather like that. Better safe than sorry.” True as that was, he wondered again if he should have come here. Maybe he was rocking a boat and the Bakers were trying to avoid it. Maybe it wasn’t just the weather. “Miri?”
“Uh-huh?” She placed a teakettle on the stove and lit the burner.
“Did I make a mistake coming here?”
That seemed to surprise her. She turned from the stove to frown faintly at him. “Why would you think that? Because Jack and Betsy decided they needed to get home before the weather got too bad?”
“Not really.”
“I hope not. I haven’t seen Betsy this animated since she got the news about Al. She had a truly great week with planning the barbecue. It eased my heart to see how excited and happy she got. So why should you think coming here was a mistake?”
“Because I’m not sure what I’m doing. I thought I’d come and share stories of Al with them, but there isn’t a whole lot I can or should share, and there’s probably a lot they wouldn’t want to hear.”
“Then how about you just let them ask questions whenever we get together. There are probably a lot of things they want to know, and I’d bet most of them are very small.”
He regarded her steadily. “Small how?”
She shrugged a little. “I’m not a parent, but I somehow don’t think I’d want to hear much about my son’s war adventures. I’d want to know the little things, like did he often go hungry, did he suffer from the cold...things like that. His comfort. Whether he seemed content with what he was doing. Basically, the one thing he might never talk about with me—did he have regrets?”
Gil stood abruptly. From time to time he had serious problems being indoors. He felt confined, nearly trapped. “I’m going to step out onto the porch. I won’t be long.”
“Do you still want that hot drink?” she asked.
“Please,” he said over his shoulder, and repeated, “I won’t be long.”
Because the pain was crawling up and down his side again, burrowing like an auger into his hip. His spine raised a bit of a ruckus, too, reminding him it wasn’t perfectly straight anymore, and oh, by the way, did he have any idea how much everything else hurt from his continual limping?
Yeah, he knew, and willed his screaming body to silence.
* * *
Miri stood chewing her lip while the teakettle behind her began to whistle. Something was going on with Gil, although to be fair she really didn’t know him that well. He seemed reserved even now, although she’d wondered if that tower of granite at the funeral had been a man trying to contain a whole lot of pain.
But there was still some of that about him. He hadn’t opened up in any really significant way. Maybe self-control of his inner workings was necessary to his survival. Maybe living in a steel tower was a necessity. How would she know?
But watching him now, hearing him wonder if he should have even come to see her family...that seemed somehow sad. And it wasn’t because he didn’t want to talk about Al, as near as she could tell, but because he was concerned he might cause others pain.
Somehow he’d seemed to need to come out here, and now that he was here, he was having second thoughts. Why?
Aw, heck, she didn’t know, and had no way to know what was going on inside that steel box.
She turned down the kettle enough to keep it hot without boiling, and opened her pantry to root around inside. Since her aunt and uncle weren’t coming by with the promised rolls from the bakery, she had to figure out something for lunch. Since Gil had been out walking in the cold, preferably something warm and filling.
Just about the time she settled on grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup, a childhood favorite turned into a comfort food on cold days, the phone rang.
She reached for it, expecting to hear the voice of one of her friends. She almost didn’t recognize Mavis, who had never called her before.
“Mom’s gonna be okay,” Mavis said.
“What happened? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said almost irritably. “It was a heart attack. Not real bad, the doc says, because she got help quick. Thanks.”
“I’m just glad I found her. So what’s next?”
“She’ll be coming home tomorrow, supposed to take a few days off and start a lot of medicines. She don’t like that idea, but too bad. Anyway, she wants me to open the diner this afternoon in spite of the weather. Might do short hours until she gets back on her feet.”
“I’m sure that’s wise. And everyone’s going to be so happy to hear that Maude is all right.”
“I know I am.” Without another word, Mavis disconnected.
Miri took the receiver from her ear and stared at it until she heard the dial tone. Shaking her head, she hung it up on the wall base. Those two women were something else. She supposed she ought to be glad Mavis thought to call her. And it was good news, too.
Wondering if Gil was going to stay outside long enough to turn into an ice sculpture, she opened the fridge and pulled out Havarti cheese for the sandwiches. That cheese was a bit of an extravagance, but sometimes she refused to cut corners. The market had sliced it for her, making it ready to go on sandwiches.
Then she pulled a couple cans of tomato soup out of the cupboard.
This might turn into a very long day.
* * *
Gil hadn’t pulled on his jacket. Standing outside in nothing but a sweatshirt and camo pants was a fierce punishment as the wind and temperature became more dangerous. It was also stupid.
Like it or not, he’d have to go inside soon, but for now the threat of freezing at least quieted the rest of his body’s complaints. Somewhat, anyway.
It had struck him, when Miri had told him that the Bakers wouldn’t be able to come over because of the weather, that he really had no idea why he’d come here. Sure, his parents drove him nuts with their constant pressure on him to leave the army. They should have gotten the obvious by now: he wasn’t going to quit. He wasn’t a quitter. Period. He felt he still had more to offer, although that was up in the air, given his physical state.
But all that aside, he’d come here ostensibly to talk to Al’s family about his friend. But what could Gil really share? A few possibly amusing stories. Probably very little that would ease their loss one iota. But he hadn’t thought that through clearly, a fact that troubled him.
He wasn’t a man given to self-reflection, probably a good thing considering what he did. But now he was reflecting. It had begun just a little after he’d started to recover from his wounds, but he’d pretty much suppressed it. Why? Because it was uncomfortable? What the hell about his life was comfortable?
He sighed and watched the cloud of his breath blow away. His ears were beginning to feel pinched. Time to go in.
The cold had stiffened his hip. He should have kept moving, pacing the porch maybe. Leaning heavily on his cane, he started to take a step toward the door when he was struck by a moment of piercing self-understanding.
He needed more. Al’s death had awakened that need in him. Life was too damn short, and his army career might not be enough for him anymore. He wasn’t going to quit, no way, but maybe it was time to admit that something was lacking.
Maybe he’d come here to check that out. Unlike him, Al had often mentioned thoughts for the future, had looked forward to returning to work on the family ranch. Gil had never allowed himself to look beyond his eventual retirement. Instead he’d listen to Al spin an occasional dream and tell him he’d make Gil part of it. Not that Gil had ever been sure he wanted to go that way, but maybe Al had been viewing the future for both of them.
Then Gil had had a near-death experience. That might be all that had him unsettled. He could have been killed, and his body had been wrecked. He didn’t want to leave the army, but now he had to face what it meant when eventually he’d have to, now or later. He had too much time on his hands to ignore it any longer.
He muttered a curse under his breath and opened the door. Not only had his body been messed up. His brain felt as if it had been put in a blender.