The Good Sister (33 page)

Chapter One

Gretchen Hendricks browsed the produce aisle of the grocery store, seeking some organic fruit that didn’t look unappetizing or rotten. She picked through the pears, trying to find ones that were not too bruised or misshapen. She set a few in her basket and prepared to go down the next aisle. She needed hair gel. Turning the corner, she stopped dead.

Tony? Tony Lindstrom? Her mouth dropped open in shock. Was it surprise? Or rather, complete and utter horror? When did he get back? And when did
that
happen? She swallowed the instant lump that lodged in her throat. Will, her ex-husband and Tony’s best friend, didn’t tell her. How could he not? The tears pricking her eyes were immediate and real. She quickly backed up and hid behind the soda pop display, shaking her head at her cowardice.
She could not hide from him
. She could not, in good conscience, turn and ignore him after she saw him. That would be an awful, mean, and heartless thing to do. That would make her the worst person ever. But… what the hell could she say to him?
Hey, Tony. How are you? How did you lose your arm?
For, of course, she knew how Tony lost his arm, he fought in the war. She didn’t know the particulars yet, but obviously, he got hurt and lost his left arm.

Oh, God! Not Tony. It wasn’t fair. It was horrible. He was a good, decent man. Or was. She hadn’t seen much of him in more than five years; but she’d known him since they were in middle school together. She was married to his best friend and he was the best man at her wedding. He came over and got drunk with her after her divorce from Will was finalized, when he was at home, visiting his parents on leave. He often stayed at her house after he and Will went out drinking or just to hang out.

She knew soldiers went to war, and some soldiers didn’t come home. Or they returned irrevocably changed. But Tony? No. It should not, it could not have happened to Tony. But… it did.

She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin up. If he could go to war and lose his arm, she could muster the courage face him. She wasn’t a bad person. She should have been able to face an old friend, no matter what happened to him.

But the churning of her stomach soon had bile climbing up her throat. Her hands trembled. Could she do this? Could she face him? How could she not?

She stepped down the aisle and came to a stop a few feet back from him. He stood before his cart, staring at spaghetti sauce brands. His right hand, the one that was uninjured, came up as he chose one brand and set it into his cart. She took in a sharp breath when she saw his shirt pinned against his chest.

“Tony?”

He whipped around. She probably should have been louder and not crept up from behind him. It had to be a common thing for any soldier that they did not appreciate someone sneaking up behind them. She remembered Will often was jumpier after he returned from special missions. She hated being married to a soldier. They were gone all the time, although they were heroic. She could not complain about him being gone, because she was not heroic.

She steeled her nerves and clenched her teeth to keep a polite smile of greeting and her eyes directly fastened on his. She would not look down or look away. She would not act as if she and Tony didn’t share twenty years of history between them. Losing his arm didn’t change that.

He was almost unrecognizable. His hair was long and pulled back into a rubber band. He used to be clean-cut, sometimes even shaving his head with his neatness. He had a full beard now that changed his looks completely. It made him look older, harsher, and more disreputable. He had light brown hair and beard, with brown eyes and small scar over his right eyebrow. She remembered he and Will were playing in the woods near their houses when he fell and cut himself on a wayward piece of barbed wire left over from an old fence. She knew a lot about him. Just not how he lost his arm.

He looked much older. Harder. More uncompromising. He wore a flannel shirt over a t-shirt and gray sweats. He used to dress meticulously neat and always appeared well put together. His expression hadn’t changed although his eyes widened only a millimeter in reaction to seeing her. Did he not recognize her? She hadn’t changed all that much. She used to have long hair, and now it was short.

“Hi,” she said directly to him. Brilliant. She was handling this with total class and dignity.

He didn’t answer her. Had something else happened to him? Were his mental faculties still intact? Did he suffer from amnesia or something?

Finally, he nodded and said, “Hello, Gretchen.” His tone was deep and low. She recalled that about him. His voice reminded her of an announcer on nighttime radio. Kind of hypnotic, almost sexy.

Her relief was swift. Okay, he could still talk and he remembered her name.

“Uh, hi. It’s been a long time. I didn’t know you were back home.”

He had piercing dark eyes that drilled into her. “Yeah.”

Oh God, her eyes kept wanting to dart down.
To look.
It was excruciating to resist. It was like having a full grown elephant sitting between them. The absence of his arm was so obvious, but how could she mention it politely? She had no clue. She bit her lip and smiled. “Will didn’t mention you were… home.”

He raised one eyebrow. Gretchen was never able to do that: raising one eyebrow but not the other. She felt like she was losing her mind, grasping at straws, or anything to
not
stare, to
not
let her gaze fall down to his amputated arm. She could not do that without being a complete and utter heel, as well as every other awful cliché out there. It was just really hard for her not to look. But that was as gauche as asking someone at a funeral if he or she was feeling better.

“Will doesn’t know. I haven’t spoken to him in a few years.”

“What? Since when? Why? Why haven’t you spoken? You two were the best of friends. Brothers in arms, soldiers…” Gretchen stopped mid-sentence, wishing she hadn’t mentioned “arms.”

He shrugged and turned his body so his right arm was toward her. “Things change.”

What changed? How could Will ever turn his back on Tony? It was
Tony,
for God’s sake. Will and he were the best friends since forever. Long before Gretchen entered the picture, and after she exited it.

“Holy crap, is that Gretchen Moore?”

Gretchen turned, looking surprised. There, walking up to her, was Donny Lindstrom, Tony’s younger brother. She smiled and allowed Donny to lean down and kiss her cheek while hugging her. Wasn’t that how Tony should’ve greeted her? He used to. He used to smile and crack jokes with her, teasing her mercilessly. He used to be fun and charming. But maybe that was all before he lost his arm. “I can’t believe it’s you! It’s been years! Way too long, in fact.”

Donny was three years younger than Tony and she. He was always the smiling, prankster in high school, evoking laughs from all, and never unkind or malicious. He was probably the nicest person Gretchen ever met.

Still smiling, she stepped back from Donny’s enthusiastic embrace. “It’s Hendricks now.”

“Ahh, shit. That’s right. You went and married the bastard. He was the crazy SOB who let you go, huh? Why’d you keep his name?”

Tony shifted uncomfortably, and Gretchen saw him in her peripheral vision. She felt odd discussing Will in front of him, which was quite strange. Tony was the one with whom she used to regularly discuss Will. He gave a heart-wrenching speech at their wedding reception. He was the one they first called to announce their engagement. He was the first to take them out for a beer and toast the upcoming nuptials.

Now, he scowled at seeing Gretchen simply greeting his little, fun, harmless brother with warmth and affection?

“I kept his name because it’s legally my name now. He and I have long since buried the hatchet.”

Donny nodded. “That’s because you’re the nicest person alive, and the only one I know who would want to remain friends with an ex.”

Maintaining a friendship with her ex was the least of it. She also helped treat Will’s second wife, Jessie for sexual abuse and his sister-in-law, Lindsey for domestic abuse. Lindsey even lived with Gretchen while fleeing her husband. So Gretchen might have been considered the nicest person ever. But no, that was so not true. Look how hard it was for her to look Tony in the eye and say:
What happened? Are you okay? I’m so sorry that you lost your arm.

Instead, she said nothing, but chatted as if they’d just run into each other at the grocery store after a minimally short separation.

Donny grinned as his eyes ran the length of her. “You look as good as always. What the hell are you up to?”

She shook her head, smiling to herself. “You’re still incorrigible. I’m a child psychologist. I work mostly with kids who have learning or behavioral disorders.”

Donny sighed. “That sounds… impressive. Like years of schooling and such shit. What are you?  A doctor or something?”

“Well, yes, I am.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure, a doctor and you look like this. Sure. Uh-huh. Never one to waste your time, were you?”

She rolled her eyes right back at him, grinning at his teasing tone. “What are you up to?”

“Believe it or not, I’m an IT guy.” That he could sit still long enough to type on a computer actually surprised her.

“Donny, we need to go get going.”

They both turned towards Tony, who stood there glaring at them. Donny jumped as if Tony’s reminder just electrocuted him. “Oh, right. Sure. We’ve got to get you to the doctor.”

Not the best thing to say. Tony’s lips curled up and his eyes narrowed in disgust at his little brother. “Shut the fuck up, Donny.”

Donny didn’t notice it, or didn’t care. Heat filled Gretchen’s face, as just witnessing Tony’s impatience and anger, was too much for her. Quickly, she said, “I’m sorry to keep you. It was nice to see you, Tony, Donny.”

Donny rolled his eyes and waved a hand towards Tony. “Ignore his sour-ass. He blames losing his arm for his lack of manners, couth, and courtesy… among other things.”

The ensuing silence felt thick. What could she say to that without making the moment even worse? Leave it to Donny to come right out and say it. She cleared her throat and fiddled with her basket handle. She refused adamantly to lift her gaze from the red, plastic handle she gripped way too tightly.

Tony spun on his heel and walked off, leaving the cart filled with food. Donny watched him go and sighed.

“He isn’t doing too well.”

“What happened?”

“His team got hit. A suicide bomber took out a small section of the base in Afghanistan, where he was stationed. He was knocked over and got shrapnel embedded into his lower arm. He lost three good friends that day too. Of course, he came home, but he hasn’t been well since. As you can probably imagine.”

“Maybe you should be a little kinder about it and give him more time.”

Donny shrugged. “Shit, we tried that. We’ve tried everything. We pussyfooted around him at first. We were all kindness and sympathy. We wept and told him how glad we were he was still alive. We did it all, but nothing penetrates the shield he’s got up now. He’s a dick. All the time. It never stops. It never wavers. It would be easier if he were shell-shocked or emotionally impaired. Hell, it would be nice to know if he had any emotions left inside him. It’s like his heart was ripped out along with his arm.”

She gasped. Donny was too much. Too forward. “It’s got to be excruciating. He lost a limb. The pain. The shock. The helplessness for anyone would be too much deal with. Let alone, a soldier like Tony. He and Will lived primarily to be soldiers. They lived for their next mission.  And for each other, far more than they felt obligated to anything at home. He’s got to have some PTSD.”

Donny nodded. “Sure, sure. We’re not new to this, Gretchen. We, my parents and I, have been through all of this with him. It’s been two years now. And nothing has gotten better. He’s been to the VA for support, as well as counseling. He’s also been in therapy, both mental and physical. None of it makes a difference to him. He’s like a complete stranger. And a shitload of too much to live with.”

“I’m sorry. For him and for you. It must be frustrating to witness on a daily basis.”

He shrugged. “He’s lived with my folks since it happened. He was discharged, of course, since lack of one’s arm pretty much ends your career as a soldier. He hasn’t worked since. He fuckin’ sits around doin’ nothing, and bein’ nothing. It’s hard to watch; but even harder to tolerate his shitty attitude. We all try. Honestly. We do. I come by and hang with him almost daily and take him to his doctors and therapies. As do my parents. But we’re all about as appreciated as shit under his shoes for how he treats us and acknowledges our efforts. It was okay at first. Even understandable. He was thrown a cruel, awful curve ball. No doubt. And we all saluted him for that. But… there’s only so much you can say to people and yourself, before it becomes too much. And people can only be understanding to a point.”

She shook her head, as tears filled her eyes and clogged her throat. “What about Will? Two years ago? How could Will not tell me anything about it?”