A Soldier’s Family (7 page)

S
ilence passed between Celia and Manny as they wound their way to the front entrance of the restaurant. Celia trembled all over. None of the tough exterior she’d displayed earlier was visible now.

“What do you want to do?” Manny slowed his steps near the entrance.

She stared at the beveled glass. “You mean, besides rip the arms off that kid who gave my son pot? I want to go in and royally pig out. And find out who these kids are.”

Manny thought it perceptive of her that, like him, she didn’t feel threatened by the shorter kid. That she detected the real threat was a credit to her. He’d tell her in a calmer moment. Tremors still controlled Celia’s fingers as the hostess seated them in the corner they requested.

Festive salsa music danced from speakers near the dark ceiling that boasted strings of colorful flags. Traditional Mexican apparel hung on display as cultural decor.

Manny breathed deep. His stomach rumbled. Aromas of hamburger meat, green chili, cheese, Spanish rice and refried beans wafted through the air. “I’m really hungry.”

“Good, ’cause they give you a ton of food here.” Celia pulled antibacterial hand wipes from her purse, offering one.

He studied the velvet oil painting of a matador above their table while wiping his hands. “Did I ever tell you Joel loves art? He won a few awards in school.”

She tilted her head. “Really? I never would have figured that about him.”

“Want to hear something even weirder? C.O. Petrowski encouraged our entire joint task force to take up a serene hobby.”

“What’s a joint task force?”

“A regular quick-reaction force is usually the team closest in locale to any military emergency. They have to be able to deploy on a moment’s notice. The special joint task team I’m talking about is a larger group made up of several smaller Special Forces teams from different branches of the military. Navy SEALs, a few Rangers and Delta guys and some tough-as-mortar Marines. Petrowski commands all of us. Remember Silas from the wedding?”

She nodded, scanning the kitchen area, and took a sip of water from the glass their hostess brought.

“He’s a SEAL, and he knits.”

Celia’s glass clunked down. She coughed out a laugh. “No! For real?”

“For real. Jack Chapman does leatherwork. Dude’s pretty good. Sells it on eBay. Makes a killing.”

“Petrowski wants you productive during downtime or what?”

“Something like that. Says it keeps our concentration on tap and helps us debrief after missions, which he feels is therapeutic.”

A waiter in a red-and-black sombrero and an authentic Mexican vest brought a basket of triangular corn chips and chunky salsa to their table. “Señora Munez!
Es
so good to see you. This you boyfriend,
no?
” The man placed one hand behind his back, bowing a greeting at Manny. Then flashed a toothy grin at her. His black handlebar mustache covered his upper lip completely and twirled out both sides.

A nacho chip cracked between her teeth and fluttered into her water glass. Her face flamed. “No, Sancho, he’s just a-a-a friend.” She smoothed invisible wrinkles from the tablecloth.

The waiter flitted to another table, promising to return to take their orders. Manny regarded Celia carefully. The way she’d answered reflected insecurity, something he never dreamt a confident, self-assured woman like her could be touched by, let alone flustered with. Like she wasn’t sure whether it was okay to call him a friend. If that hadn’t given her away, the fine tremors reclaiming her hands would have.

He bet she wished desperately for her husband to be here to help her deal with Javier’s issues. Manny couldn’t take Joseph’s place in their lives, but he could be a friend to her and try to get through to Javier. Would she let him get that close to them?

Did he want to get that close? Would he fail Javier like he’d failed his own son? He waited for his chest to burn with anxiety. It didn’t.

Celia tightened her grip on the menu. The younger, shorter boy who had been out back with Javier made a wide berth around them with a tub. Never looking up, he cleared dishes from a nearby table in a flurry.

“I bet he holds the record for fastest time to bus a table.” Manny cast Celia a sly grin above his menu.

That elicited a bit of a snicker from her.

After the teen skittered back to the kitchen area, Manny stared at the menu, not really seeing the words. He cast glances at Celia above the laminated trifold. He quelled the urge to reach his hand across the table and hold hers. If his morals were still on trial, that action might be construed as him taking advantage of her in a vulnerable state, something he’d never do.

“We’ll figure this out, Celia. Don’t worry.”

She started. His word choice startled him, too.
We.
When had he taken ownership over this family’s problems? Just when he thought she’d shove her invisible wall up again, something interesting happened.

Her shoulders relaxed as did her death grip on the menu. Manny hoped that meant it relieved and comforted her to know he would help all he could and wanted to be there for them.

Celia eyed the kitchen area, then her watch, then closed the menu. “Manny, I hate to do this, but I’ve lost my appetite. Would you mind too terribly if we got this to go?”

“No problem. I understand.” Manny signaled for the waiter who approached rapidly, carrying a tray of food for another table. He leaned close when Manny whispered, “Ms. Munez isn’t feeling well. Could we see your carry-out menu?”

The man cast Celia a concerned glance before gliding his hand down the menu. “Anyting here, we fax to go.” The man heavily rolled his
R
s and chinned short nods at them. His heavy eyebrows lifted once with each consonant enunciated.

Celia chuckled. “
Fix,
Sancho. Not
fax.
”

The man grinned sheepishly. “Oh, jess. Fizz. Right. Fizz. I we delibed dis den be bag to take jew order, no?”

“Yes, that will be fine, thanks.” Celia nodded at him as he departed with the tray to its destination.

Manny hated to eat in front of her if she was so upset, but that food wafting off the tray smelled heavenly.

After ordering and obtaining their foam containers, Manny paid the cashier and held the door open for Celia. She stopped briefly in the door to peer around the restaurant, doing the same thing Manny had since leaving the back lot earlier.

Looking for Javier, who never resurfaced.

On the way to the car, Celia’s steps faltered. Manny saw it, too, and quickened his pace. She stomped in huffs to the precariously tilted car. Her tongue clicked like a pop gun at the flat tire.

Thankfully she set their food on the hood before both arms went airborne. “That’s it. I’m calling the cops.” Celia finished the rant in Spanish, her arms still doing the spastic fling.

Manny knelt as much as his injury allowed. He braced himself against the quarter panel and studied the tire.

A clean slit the size of a knife blade punctured the tread. Roving over the remainder of the vehicle, he saw the rest before Celia did. A silver streak ran the length of the black paint from bumper to bumper.

“Hold this.” Manny handed her his phone. “Wait here and call the cops.” He whisked inside the restaurant and asked to speak with Javier.

Javier approached with apprehensive eyes and slog steps. “Yeah?”

Manny clenched his jaw. “Just ‘yeah’?”

Javier swallowed and scanned past Manny.

“She’s outside. What’s going on, Javier?”

Another swallow and Javier’s eyes turned from apprehensive to imploring. “It’s not what it looks like, dude. You got to believe me.”

Manny tensed his jaw. “No. I don’t
have
to believe you. How do you expect me to when you have stuff like this taking up residence in your closet?” Manny gentled his voice as he extended the pipe.

“She went through my stuff?” Javier looked a mixture of violated, irritated and petrified.

“She found it by accident.” Manny tugged on the material of the hoodie. “Letting me borrow this. And by the way, any good parent will snoop.”

Javier scanned Manny. “I didn’t notice you wearing my hoodie before. Looks cool on you. I wish I filled my clothes out like you. Dude, listen. You have to calm my mom down. Tell her to trust me. Please.”

“Speaking of trust, I’m asking you point-blank. Are you doing this out of revenge?”

Javier tensed at the question, then didn’t answer.

Manny touched his finger to Javier’s chin, bringing him eye to eye. “Let God handle it. Don’t mess with these people. You don’t know the connections they may have. Is this worth putting your and your mother’s life in jeopardy?”

Softness entered Javier’s eyes. “No. I’m not plotting to exact revenge, if that’s what you’re worried about. At least, not anymore.”

“Talk to me, Javier. What’s going on?”

“You’ll tell my mom.”

“Depends.”

Javier studied Manny. “On?”

“Whether you’re putting your life, and hers, in danger.”

“I’m not. You gotta trust me on this, Manny.”

“I will if you tell me the truth.”

Javier cut a glance at Manny. “I will if you promise not to tell my mom.”

Manny sighed. “You fly a hard bargain.” Going totally on faith, Manny sensed it was okay to agree. He hoped he was doing the right thing. “But okay.”

Javier tilted his chin toward the back kitchen area. “The pipe is the short kid’s. Name’s Enrique. His dad killed mine.”

Blasted by surprise, Manny ran a palm over the back of his head and whistled. “Wow.”

“At first I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t. He’s really hurting. He’s way worse off than me with everything that went down with our dads. Mom would never understand my need to get through to him. I don’t even know why I need to, but I do.”

“Wow. Javier, come straight home after you get off. I’ll drop by. Let’s talk more about this then. Okay?”

He shrugged. “I’ll talk to you. But not Mom. She never understands.”

Manny didn’t believe that, but he didn’t want to lose communication with Javier in this critical time. “Okay. But I’m serious. Don’t mess with the tall guy. He slashed your mom’s tires and raked a key or a knife along her car.”

Something brutal flashed in Javier’s eyes. His entire body clenched and he glared toward the kitchen. “Mom worked hard for that car.”

Manny braced a hand on the counter. “Don’t even think about doing anything about it. Promise me.”

Javier tilted his chin up. “Take me skydiving, and I’ll promise you. Otherwise, I’m punching his lights out for keying our car.”

“How would your mom feel about you skydiving?”

“Same way she’d feel about me beating someone up or taking drugs, which I hate by the way.”

“You put me in a compromising position.” Manny rubbed a thumb and forefinger over each side of his mouth.

Javier shrugged. “I’ve skydived lots of times before, only Mom doesn’t know it. I want to learn how to do it right.”

“How many times is lots of times?”

“Seventeen.”

“Seventeen?” Manny didn’t feel good about this. Joel took over managing the Refuge Skydiving Facility months ago. No way would ultra-safety-conscious Joel let Javier jump without his mother’s consent and knowledge. “Javier, when you’ve jumped seventeen
hundred
times,
then
you can say you’ve done it a lot. Until then, you’re a beginner. Who took you?”

Javier stared at the floor. “I don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

“Did you jump at the Refuge facility?”

Javier averted his gaze. “No.”

Manny shifted to a straighter stance. “Have you been BASE jumping, Javier?”

Guilt wisped across the kid’s face. “Here and there.”

“It’s very dangerous. Not to mention illegal.”

“I know. Well, I knew it was dangerous. That’s the whole point of doing it.”

If this hadn’t been such a serious situation, Manny would have laughed. A kid after his own heart. One who thrived on danger and adrenaline and anything extreme. Anything to push the limits and give his mom ulcers.

For the first time since their discussion, Javier made eye contact with Manny. “I didn’t know for sure it was illegal. So, will you take me or not?”

The stubborn set to Javier’s jaw told Manny he would skydive whether anyone liked it or not. The last thing Celia needed was for her son to end up a splat on the concrete beneath a building or bridge or a cliff or whatever surface they BASE jumped off around here.

Celia would probably hate him for keeping secrets of this magnitude, but choosing between the casualty of Javier’s life, or Celia’s trust in him was a no-brainer. He volleyed the decision in his conscience. If he kept Javier’s confidence, he’d likely burn any bridge of friendship he’d built with Celia. Especially if she discovered it before they told her. Not to mention bomb her trust to smithereens.

What do I do?

He stared into Javier’s eyes. Windows of a grieving child trying to be a man but having no father figure to steer him to manly things stared back at him.

Desperate. Beseeching. Imploring. Trusting. Begging.

Celia may be overprotective yet she was his mother. Manny recognized the extreme adventurous spirit within Javier. He also recognized Celia smothering it. Which wouldn’t work with a titanium-willed, militantly determined kid like Javier. He’d just wait until he was on his own, or do what he was doing now—sneak around behind her back.

The fact that he confided in Manny had to be handled with extreme care and wisdom.
Help. I know You see all this and know what will be best in the long run.

He slanted a stern look at Javier. “Fine. But only for a season. If you don’t tell your mother within four months that you’ve BASE jumped, I will. Until that time, I want you to promise me you won’t do it again. Not once.” He also hoped Javier would tell her he worked with Joseph’s murderer’s son before she discovered it on her own. And knowing Celia’s bulldog determination, she
would
discover it.