Giving It All (2 page)

Chapter Two

The ache in Grant’s back was a continuous throb of misery. Trying to fit his 6’8” frame in an airplane seat was a joke. He should have coughed up the extra cash to go first class, but he just couldn’t justify the expense. Now, with his spine contorted like a pretzel, he could kick himself for being a cheapskate.

Just a little longer and the plane would be touching down. The red-eye flight had been uneventful. He’d slept through most of it, hence the muscle cramps in his back and quads. That reminded him, he’d have to find a new physical therapist and a gym. He doubted Dale had anything that would suit his needs, unless the place had changed a great deal in the last five years.

God, had it been five years since he’d been back to Georgia? He did the math in his head. The last time he’d been on leave, he’d come home with Chastity for a visit. He’d hoped spending time where they’d fallen in love would help their relationship, but looking back, it had probably only signaled the beginning of the end. Their marriage had been on rocky ground before he’d been injured. He couldn’t blame her for bailing when faced with months of rehab and a medical discharge.

She’d married a SEAL. She hadn’t signed on to be a nursemaid.

Damn, he thought he’d moved past the bitterness, but it was apparently still there, waiting to pounce when he least expected it. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to remember what he’d learned from his Wounded Warriors Alumni buddy and let it go. Blaming her for not having the strength to stick with it was unfair and self-destructive. Hell, almost seventy percent of SEAL marriages ended in divorce without life-changing injuries.

Still, he hated the thought of failing at anything. Getting divorced, no matter how common it was in the teams, was a big failure. Now he was coming back to Dale where everyone would know about his injury and divorce, but no one would talk about it to his face. All his mom’s friends from the Garden Club would stop by with cookies and pies and cluck over him, even as they said they knew his marriage would never last behind his back. His dad’s cronies would slap him on the back and offer him a beer all the while trying not to look at his left leg.

His dad. Shit, he’d avoided thinking about his father’s condition the entire flight. When his mom had called him and given the news that his father had had a stroke, he’d wanted to fly out immediately, but she held him off, telling him to wait until his father got out of the rehab hospital. Remembering what it was like during his own stint in rehab, Grant had used the time to get his affairs in order so now he could be home for good.

And he needed to be. Every time he’d spoken with his mother or sister over the last few weeks, he could hear the strain in their voices. There was more going on than just dad’s injury, although how his mother was handling that was anyone’s guess. His father was a big guy, at least as tall as Grant. Helping him to move around with one half of his body paralyzed would be no easy feat, even if his mom was taller than most women.

But beyond that, his mother was worried and wouldn’t tell him why over the phone. Well, they had a two-and-half-hour ride back home where he could grill her. There’d be no dodging the truth when he had her face-to-face.

The plane landed and his fellow passengers bustled around, trying to be the first off. Grant waited, not wanting to fight his way through the crowd when he wasn’t sure his back wouldn’t spasm on him and he’d end up stuck in the aisle blocking everyone else.

As the rows behind him emptied, he worked his way out of his seat, stretching carefully until he was sure nothing would seize up. His quads and hamstrings were tight and the sleeve holding his BiOM prosthesis on chaffed like a bitch, but he’d handled worse. Shit, he’d spent most of Hell Week chaffed and had survived. At least the sleeve was soft and wasn’t covered in wet sand. Grabbing his bag, he headed off the plane in better shape than he expected.
Hooyah.

The airport was crowded, as usual. He tried not to crush the little Asian woman standing next to him on the tram that led to the baggage area. The train was packed and the air conditioning was not up to the job. Sweat trickled down his back and he felt bad for the poor woman whose head was below his armpit. Thank God, the trip was a short one.

He got off with the rest of the sardines packed into the train and headed to baggage claim. Spotting his mom’s bright blonde hair and signature pink sweater, he jogged over to where she waited, thankful that after years of rehab his limp was all but gone.

“Grant! You’re home.”

“Mom.” He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet in a bone-crushing hug. Her familiar scent washed over him and he took a second to breathe it in. “You feel skinnier. Have you lost more weight?” he asked as he set her down.

“Maybe a little, but I’ve gained muscle. I’ve been doing some of your dad’s exercises with him and I’m getting ripped. Give me another month and I’ll be able to take you in arm wrestling.” She flexed her biceps.

“We’ll see about that. Wait here. I’ll go grab my bags.” He spotted his two sea bags and hauled them up. In no time, they were headed into the parking garage. The heat and the humidity sucker punched him the second he set foot outside.

“Damn, I forgot about the humidity. This is going to take some getting used to.”

“San Diego got hot too.”

“Not in March, and it was never this humid. I’ll adjust. I’d just forgotten how bad it can be.”

He stowed his gear in the trunk of his mom’s Camry and pushed the passenger seat back as far as it would go. “Thank you for getting a car with leg room. I swear I spent the last six hours with my knees in my chest.”

“I bet. I have a bottled water in the cooler behind you if you need to take any ibuprofen. I know how tight my muscles get after a cross-country flight, and I’m a foot shorter than you.”

“Thanks, but I can handle it.” He’d had enough pain killers to last a lifetime. He avoided taking pills whenever possible now.

“You always were stubborn.”

“Not me. I was the good one. Jenny is the stubborn one, remember?” he teased.

“Neither one of you will ever win points for your ability to compromise. She said to text her when you get home, by the way.”

“Will do. I can’t believe she’s almost done with college already.”

“I can,” she said wryly.

“Not used to having a child of legal drinking age in the house?” he guessed.

“Not just that, you realize she knows so much more than me with her almost four years of college.”

“Ah, yes, the I-know-everything virus. I know it well. I can talk to her if you’d like.”

“As I recall, you had your own outbreak of that disease. What makes you think she’ll listen to you any more than to me?”

“I’m young and cool.”

“There is that. Go ahead, knock yourself out. Who knows? Maybe she’ll actually listen to you.”

“So how are things with Dad?”

“We’re taking it day by day. Some are better than others.”

“The only easy day was yesterday,” he said, giving her the motto that had gotten him through BUD/S.

“Amen. He’s looking forward to seeing you. It’s good to have you home.”

Before he could respond, his mom’s cell phone rang.

“You want me to get that?” he asked.

“No, I have a hands-free thingy, hold on.” She fumbled around with buttons on the steering wheel. “Hello? Hello?”

“Mrs. Anderson? It’s Ellie.”

“Yes? Is something wrong? Is Ed okay?”

“Yes, yes, he’s fine. I had to call you though—” excitement tinged the woman’s words, “—Mr. Anderson lifted his arm. By himself. At least two, three inches.”

“What?”

“I was giving him some water when Charlie jumped on his lap and started rubbing against his right arm, and he lifted it like he was going to pet him.”

“Oh.” His mom started crying. “I wish I was there to see it.”

“He’ll do it again. Don’t you worry. He’s gonna get better and better, just you wait and see.”

His mom sniffed and wiped her eyes with a tissue. “Thank you so much, Ellie. We’re still about two hours away, but we’ll be home as soon as we can.”

“Don’t rush. I’m not going out until tonight. I can stay with Mr. Anderson as long as you need me to. Drive safely.”

“I will. And thanks for calling. You made my day.”

“Glad to do it. Bye now.”

“Who was that?” Grant asked as soon as he heard the click ending the call. Seeing his mother cry tore him up inside, but at least they were happy tears this time.

“Ellie Hall. You remember her, she lived next door to us with her grandma, God rest her soul. She’s been a huge help since Jenny left.”

“Gangly, brown hair, kind of quiet?” Grant tried to put a face to the name. He vaguely remembered huge eyes in a tiny face covered by lots of hair. “She was a few years behind me in school, right?”

“Yes. She rented the apartment over the garage after her grandma passed and she had to sell the house.”

“And who’s Charlie?” he asked.

“Charlie’s a stray cat we inherited. He’s the laziest darn thing, doesn’t do much but lay in the sun all day, but he’s gotten into the habit of sitting with Dad. The therapist said it was good for Dad and he seems to like it, so we kept him.”

“So you’ve started adopting stray cats and stray girls? Anything else I should know about before we get home?”

Her face fell and she gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles whitened. “Your daddy isn’t the man he was. I want you to be prepared. He still can’t talk, and the whole right side of his face droops. It can be something of a shock when you see him for the first time.”

“I’ve been researching stroke patients. The most recovery is in the first three months. It’s already been six weeks.”

“I’m just thinking about today. If I worry about what’s going to happen next month or even next week, I start making myself crazy.”

“I get it. Have you joined a support group?” Grant wasn’t much for support groups, but the Wounded Warriors Project Alumni groups had kept him sane during a time when he hadn’t known what to do with his life.

“Yes, the social worker at the rehab hospital practically forced me to go to a meeting before she’d release Dad into home care. I didn’t think I’d get anything out of it, but I did. I’ve made some friends who I see at physical therapy too.”

“I’m sure you have. Pretty soon you’ll be organizing them into fundraising groups and having bake sales.”

“This isn’t the Garden Club. We’re all too busy going to doctor appointments, physical therapy, occupational therapy and taking care of our spouses to worry about much else.” She shook her head.

“Hey, I’m here now. I can help. What do you want me to do? I can take over the physical therapy part if you want. I need to find a gym anyway.”

“We’ll figure that out when we get home. Mostly, I’m going to need you to help out at the store. I just can’t keep up with the business too.”

“What about Greg?” he asked, mentioning his cousin. “Didn’t he take over after Uncle Tom died a few years back?”

“Yes, but he’s not the salesman Tom was. Your dad had taken on more of the business before his stroke, now Greg is floundering without him.”

“I’ll go down tomorrow to check things out, look over the books.”

“Take Ellie with you. She’s our accountant. She told me she’d help me with the books if I needed it, but I just haven’t been able to face it with everything else going on.”

“I’ll handle it.” And he’d make sure Ellie wasn’t screwing over his softhearted mother. “You said she’s renting the apartment over the garage?”

“Yes. After her grandma passed, I told her she could stay there for as long as she wanted, but she insists on paying rent. Drew up a lease and everything.”

“Huh.” He grunted. “If I remember, there wasn’t much to that place, just a little kitchenette, bathroom and one bedroom. What is she paying for rent?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, Grant Edward. She’s been a huge help to me, and I won’t have you trying to intimidate her.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I know that tone. I’m not a fool, despite what you or your sister believe. Ellie pays her rent on time every month and helps me with the yard work as well as with your father. She more than pays her own way. Leave her alone.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He’d keep his concerns to himself, for now.

It seemed to take forever before they escaped the city sprawl and began to see the rolling hills of home. After being in Afghanistan, he really didn’t think of them as mountains anymore. The town of Canton, where he’d gone to high school, had gotten bigger. Some of the places had changed, but a lot were still the same as when he was a kid.

The last time he’d been in Dale, the place had been two steps from a ghost town. His mom said things were improving though. A horse farm had opened a trail-riding business in town and some of the locals worked there, leading tours through the woods and taking care of the horses. There was even talk of someone opening a new restaurant to replace Sonny’s Barbeque.

As they wound their way through the hills, Grant felt his anxiety about coming back mix with warmth he never thought he’d feel. There might be some awkward moments when he ran into some of his high school friends, but he’d get through them. What mattered was he was needed here, and it had been a long time since he’d felt needed.

They turned into his parents’ drive and his heart leapt at the sight of the old farm house. Yellow ribbons were on all the trees in the front yard and a hand-drawn sign with
Welcome Home Grant!
was taped to the front door.

“When did you have the time to do all of this?” Grant asked as his mom parked the car near the mudroom door.

“I’ve had the ribbons up, but Ellie must have done the sign while she was watching Dad.” His mother sounded distracted. Grant realized she just wanted to get in to see his dad but didn’t want to rush his homecoming.

“Go on. I’ll grab my gear. Am I in my old room?”

“If you want. You can use our room if having a bigger bed is more comfortable for you. We have a hospital bed in the den and I’m on the sleeper sofa in there so I can be close to your dad if he needs me.”