The Lonely Hearts 06 The Grunt 2 (16 page)

Brett got tickled, forgetting his anger all together. “I guess you know what to do during nap time, too?”  He rocked back and forth with her, gazing into her eyes.  “How did you get to be such a beautiful baby?”

As she suckled the bottle, he watched as her steady gaze began to drift and her hazel eyes began to close.  She burrowed her head into his brawny chest just above his heart, where she could hear it beat.  Rhythmic and strong, it put her to sleep like her own special melody. 

So this was love?
Brett stared at her trying to memorize every single feature.  He wondered how many times her precious little face had changed since she was born?  He wondered if she knew who he was, and if she liked him?  Most of all, he wondered if he could live up to what she deserved in a father.

While on tour, he had never stopped thinking about her, but didn’t expect to fall head over heels as soon as he saw her.  She was so amazing, from her tiny little fingers to her fat little feet. 

“Daddy loves you,” Brett said, kissing her cheek. 

Rocking slowly, they both finally drifted off into a peaceful sleep. 

***

Brett had been resting for about an hour without even realizing it, not dreaming of war or even turmoil, when his phone rang interrupting an otherwise peaceful slumber.  Eyes flashing open, he reached for his cell before it could wake up the baby. 

Sheesh
, he had to get used to cell phones again. In Afghanistan, there wasn’t exactly this much communication with the outside world on a continual basis.  One sort of got used to not being bothered but here, this phone never stopped ringing.   

“Hello,” he answered, putting the phone between his ear and his shoulder.

“Brett, how you doing man, it’s Gavin,” the man said in a mid-western accent.

“James Gavin?” Brett asked.
What in the hell?

Brett could hear the man smiling over the phone.  “The one and only.  Hey bro, you at home or what because I’m out in your driveway stalking you like a motherfucker.”

Brett looked down at the baby sleeping. “Yeah, I’m here, but I’m holding the baby and on a bum leg.  The extra key is in the flower pot by the door.  Let yourself in while I try to put her down.”

“Flower pot?  Baby?”  Gavin chuckled.  “Shit, I’ve got to see this for myself.”

“Well, what can I say?  A lot has changed.” 

“Sounds like it.  Alright.  Be there in a second,” Gavin said, hanging up the phone. 

Brett slowly pulled himself off the sofa and hobbled over the bassinet in the corner of the room, where he laid Bella down carefully on her back and pulled a small coverlet over her.  As he leaned over, his dog tags loudly clinked together stirring her from her sleep and making his butt clench tight.

“Don’t wake up,” he begged, freezing in his tracks.  Scared to take a breath, he waited until she fell back to sleep before he finally rose up.  That was a close call.  If she woke up now, she’d be up for the rest of the day with no reprieve for anyone in the house.  Best to let her sleep as long as possible.  

Making his way to the hallway, Brett heard the front door open and close.  Heavy steps moved across the hardwood floors toward him.  

Stepping out into the hallway, he saw his old friend.  There standing like the cocky prick he had always been was the lost member of the once famous three amigos. He, Joe and Brett had served together for years before Gavin was shot in the knee by an AK-47, blowing off his lower right limb.  The Marine Corps had medically discharged him after that and Gavin rode off in the sunset broken hearted about having to leave his dream job.  Communication between the three friends became less and less common, until one day, Gavin was just a memory. 

But he didn’t look all broken up now.  A solid six feet, four inches tall, Gavin had put on at least 30 more pounds of muscle and gotten a lot more ink tatted up and down his arms.  Wearing dark jeans that fit his long legs, brown boots that gave him a few inches in height and a red USMC t-shirt that fit the defined muscles of his broad shoulders and herculean chest, Gavin stood before him now a picture of health. 

“Damn, you look like dog shit,” Gavin joked, radiating almost supernatural charm with his million-dollar smile, California tan, sun-drenched sandy brown hair and big brilliant brown eyes.  Needless to say, he was a ladies’ man. 

Brett laughed.  “Well, I got shot, you son of a bitch, what’s your excuse?”

Grinning ear to ear, Gavin walked up and hugged his old friend, nearly picking him up off the ground.  “Good to see you, bro.  I feel like it’s been fucking forever.”

Brett couldn’t believe his old friend was here, and still had the sewer mouth of the century.  Gavin used the f-word like most people used the b-verbs. 

“Good to see you, too,” Brett said, truly surprised.  He stepped back speechless.  “What are you doing here?  I thought you were off on the west coast somewhere riding your Harley and chasing ass.”

Obviously, word had gotten around.  “Normally, I am, when I’m not running my business, but I flew back in for the funeral.” Gavin’s face changed. No matter how long it had been since they had seen each other, Joe had been one of his dearest friends.  It still didn’t seem real to him.  They had been the three fucking amigos.  Now they were two gimp legged veterans.  “Went by to see Judy earlier today. Her folks are there; said she didn’t feel like visiting with anyone just yet. So…” He shrugged it off. What else could he do?

“Yeah, I tried to go and see her too. She told me the same thing.”  Brett felt better knowing it wasn’t just him that she had brushed off.

Pivoting from the obvious discussion, Gavin looked around the house.  It was nice and warm, clean and welcoming.  An extreme cry from the days of old when he was married to Amy’s crazy ass.  “So, I know you’re all domesticated and everything now with the new wife and the new baby, but you must have a beer or some whiskey hidden around here somewhere.”

“How did you know about Court and Bella?” Brett asked.

“Last time I spoke with Joe he told me.  He sent me a picture of the wedding to my cell.”  Gavin wished that he could have been there, but he was out of the country on business.  Plus, he swore the only time that he’d ever come back to this place was if someone he really cared about died.  “So you got something to drink or what?”

Brett shook his head.  Gavin hadn’t been here five minutes and already was working on getting him in trouble, but at least it was closer to noon than it was when he first thought about having something to drink. 

“Yeah, I got something.” He turned and headed toward the kitchen. “No whiskey but I got beer.”

“Well, if we’re going to get all caught on up on the last five years, then I’m going to need something.  Beer will do,” Gavin said, following behind Brett. “Lead the way.” 

Chapter 15

“If you bungle raising your children, I don't think whatever else you do well matters very much.”

-
        
 
Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis

Courtney punched in the code to the security gate as if she was punching Sharon Riley right in the face.  As the wrought-iron double gate swung open, she barreled up the long, paved drive way lined with palm trees and parked in front of her parents’ house. Jumping out of her little car, she slipped on her shades to hide from the bright afternoon sun. A cool breeze from the coastline blew through her hair as she hiked up the stairs to the large porch and opened the front door. 

“Hello,” she said, wiping off her feet on the welcome mat. 

“In here,” her mother said, voice echoing through the foyer.

“In here where?” Courtney said, looking for the dog. 

“The reading room,” Diane answered.   

Courtney found Diane in the study standing at the top of a ladder, cleaning the tall wooden bookshelves embedded into the wall.  She looked down from her chores and smiled at her daughter.  “What a surprise!” she said, glad to see her.  “I figured you’d be holed up in the house for at least a few more days with Brett before you came up for air.” 

“He told me to get out and stretch my legs,” Courtney said, leaning against the doorway.

Diane instantly heard something in her daughter’s voice that didn’t sound right.  “What’s wrong?”  Putting down her duster, she held on to the sides of the ladder and made her way down. 

Courtney rolled her eyes before stepping into the airy bright room. “Sharon Riley is behind the custody case.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Diane pulled off her vintage polka dot apron and picked up the mint julep drink she had been nursing on the end table.  Taking a sip, she wiped her brow.  “Want one?”

“Sure,” Courtney said, taking a seat on the white tufted leather sofa facing the large bay window overlooking the Bogue Sound waterway. 

This room had always been so peaceful to her with its sea blue walls, expensive paintings, white crown molding, dark hardwood floors and maple ceiling-to-floor bookshelves. Her mother had turned the room into a reading haven with a perfect little bar in the corner and surround sound speakers to blast Cuban jazz and Al Green.  

She stared at the blue water and boats sailing with envy.  She’d much rather be out there catching a wave then dealing with real life right now.  “Why are you cleaning so hard?” Turning from the picturesque view, she watched her mother tend bar like a professional. 

“Your brother is due to arrive home tomorrow.  I want the house spotless,” Diane said with a spark of excitement.

Courtney was glad that David was coming home, but she also knew things would change dramatically when he got here.  She couldn’t explain why, it just always did.  David had a knack for polarizing any situation.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I doubt that he will notice the dust on the bookshelves,” Courtney said, kicking off her loafers. 

“He might not notice, but I will,” Diane said quickly. 

“You work too hard, Mom.”  Courtney knew before she said it that those words were lost on her mother, but she still had to say it. 

Diane ignored her daughter’s pleas.  “You can only have one these since you are driving home,” she said, pouring the pre-made contents out of a pitcher into a crystal tumbler. 

“In that case, please make it a big one.”

“I made this pitcher of sunshine to get me through the day, especially with your father gone to play golf.  I have the house all to myself.”  Diane threw a little mint on top just to make it pretty and then walked over to the sofa.  “There you are, my lady.”

“Thanks,” Courtney said, folding her leg under her and taking the glass.  “Dad finally got out and did something outside of tinkering in the shed like the Unabomber?”

Diane sat beside Courtney and decompressed after a long afternoon of deep cleaning. “Yeah, I know. It surprised me too.  He got up, grabbed his golf clubs and said he was going to play 18 holes.”  She ran a hand over her side ponytail.  “I did not protest.” 

Courtney noticed the sweat coming down her mother’s forehead.  “You need a maid,” she joked.  “It’s not expensive to get a service.  They can come in and do this for you once a week.” 

Diane wiped her head again.  “Jeffery said the same thing. But you know, I would never feel comfortable with anyone else cleaning my house, and going through all my things.”  She dismissed the idea completely. “I’ve done it all these years.  Why stop now?”

“Falling off that ladder and breaking your hip could be a reason. It’s not like you don’t have the money.  And what if you did fall and no one was here?” Just the thought sent chills up Courtney’s spine. 

“Enough about my cleaning habits.  Tell me what is going on with Sharon,” Diane said, resting back on the large comfortable pillows. She would hear no more about this maid business.  It was worth the risk of falling off a ladder to keep some woman away from her unmentionables.  

“Well you know we were served with papers saying that we have to be in court to answer a paternity suit case by a man who claims to be Cameron’s biological father, and then today, Sharon called throwing a fit about why she hadn’t seen Cameron.”

Diane eyed her daughter.  “Why did she call you?  Doesn’t she know that Brett is home?”

“No, Brett doesn’t like for me to tell her anything at all.” 

Diane pursed her lips together.  “Well, it would not have been out of the question to tell her that, but never mind…go on.”

“If you knew how Brett felt about them, you would understand.  Anyway, we both had some choice words for each other as usual, but this time she really showed her butt. She said that she was not about to throw a rock and hide her hand.  Then she said Cameron had no business in the house with us because he was her blood.”

“Let me guess, she was implying that you being African-American were a bad influence on her poor grandson,” Diane said, rolling her eyes.

“Exactly.”  Courtney shook her head in disgust.  “She was overtly racist today and it took everything in me not to go off and curse her out.  She said that she couldn’t wait for this Leo guy to take Cameron away from us.”

Diane rubbed her temples. “That woman is a bane to the human species.  And there is no doubt that she is a racist hick from the back swamps of rural North Carolina, but you will not lower yourself to roll around in the mud with her.  Trust me – that is what she wants.”

“I know how you feel about that, but Mom, trust me, there is only so much that I can take.”

Diane found the solution to be simple.  “Block her number from your phone and ignore her.”

“Ignore her for how long?”  Courtney’s impatience began to show. 

Diane reached over and touched Courtney’s hair.  “Until the court appearance.  Then you can paint her as the confederate flag that she is.  You can explain to the courts why you will not put your son into a negative environment where his morals can be irreparably warped.”

“I told her that she couldn’t see Cameron now that she said all that until after a judge orders it.  Do you think that was right?  Can I do that?”

There was no question in Diane’s mind. “Of course you were right.  Of course, you can do that. Sharon should be kissing your ass for all that you do to make sure that Cameron still knows Amy’s family, but make no mistake about it, they have no legal precedence.”  She took another sip of her drink casually as if all of Courtney’s dramatics were for nothing.  “Do you know how many grandparents would be in court if they knew that they could just demand through a judge to see their grandchildren?” The idea that Sharon had actually threatened with such a baseless threat was preposterous to her. 

“Maybe you’re right.  I’m just worried.  Brett hasn’t left the house at all but to go to the bank and to go to have his cast checked at the Naval Hospital.  He’s turning into a hermit. Plus, we haven’t even gotten a lawyer yet.  You would have thought that he would have done that immediately.  I mean, we’re talking about our son.”  She clenched her jaw tight.  “Something is wrong with him. He’s so unresponsive.”

Diane knew exactly what was wrong with him, the same thing that was wrong with Jeffery.  “Give him time.  He’ll come around.”

Courtney looked into her mother’s eyes with a plea for help.  “I don’t have time to wait for him to come around.  Things are happening now.”

Diane put her hand on her daughter’s hand and soothed her.  “Things will always be
happening
,” Diane said, nodding her head.  “Trust that he will be there when you need him, but give him time to process everything in his own time.  I know that you love Cameron but there is more going on in Brett’s life than just this paternity case.  Jeffery said that looking at the damage to his leg; he’ll be moved out of Recon.  Plus, he lost his entire unit.  Now, this man wants to take his son away from him.  Even $2,000,000 can’t fix that.”  Diane truly felt for the young man, but more than that, she felt bad for her daughter.  “I’m going to tell you something that you might not understand.  Brett’s unstable right now.  Let him get settled and in control of the situation.  Trust me, you don’t want him to lose control and do something that he can’t take back.” 

Courtney didn’t like her mother’s answer. It took too much control from her.  “It’s not like we can’t afford a good lawyer now,” she lamented. “I would feel better if we at least had that ironed out.  The rest of it I can see giving him time on.”

Diane could appreciate how Courtney was feeling inside but the truth of the matter was that it wasn’t her daughter’s call. “Brett will do what’s best for you and Cameron.  I promise you that.  He always does.” A question hit her. “Does Sharon know that you adopted Cameron before Brett left for Afghanistan this last time?”

“No, Brett said not to tell her.”

“Good.” Diane’s smile became smug.  “And no one outside of this family knows that Brett is not his biological father?”

“No, I’ve never said one word to anyone, not even to the pediatrician.  It’s such a sore subject for Brett.  Even when he’s alone with me and he brings something up about it, he whispers like the universe might hear him. Why do you ask?” Courtney hoped it was because that would carry some weight in the case.

“I read something interesting in the newspaper a few months ago about establishing parentage after being away from the child after a long period of time. It wasn’t exactly your situation, but it was damn close.”

“Was the person able to establish it?” Courtney asked hopeful again.

“No, the judge ruled against it, which is good for you.”

“I can’t even imagine us having to turn over Cameron to someone else after all this time.”  Courtney felt a headache coming on.  “What if he’s some undercover drunk, or a druggy or a pedophile?”

“You’ll wear yourself out thinking like that.  Right now, you just need to focus on winning the case.  Who this man is will come out during the trial.”  Diane hated to admit it but she had had the exact conversation with Jeffery after Courtney had called her the other day.  And he, in turn, had told her the exact same thing she was telling her daughter now.

“What if we lose?”  Courtney’s eyes began to water.  “I can’t even think of our lives without him.”

“It’s important that you start to speak victory over this situation now.  There is no “what if we lose”. You can only speak the positive. You have to stand in the gap and start to pray.  You have to believe that God will deliver you from this.”  She rubbed her hand over the small golden cross on her neck.  Lord in heaven only knew the number of times that she had had to do the same over the years. 

“I’m trying Mom,” Courtney said, wiping her eyes quickly.  “It just seems so hard to do lately.  Not just to pray, but to be positive.  My husband is a mess.  My son…” She swallowed down the doubt that she was about to speak. 

Diane patted her daughter’s hand.  “In this day and time, anyone can take anyone to court over just about anything, but that doesn’t mean that they will win.  The laws are still written to protect the parents who are taking care of the child, not the parent who abandoned him.  Brett will win the case.  Your husband will be restored.  You just have to believe that and stand on it like you believe it.  You are the mother and wife of your home.  It’s up to you to stay strong, to help guide your family and rejuvenate them.  You can’t do that if you don’t believe it in the first place.  But I know that you can, Courtney, because you’ve always had that gift.  God made you special, and He made you strong.” 

Courtney was amazed.  She came here empty and she was suddenly full. “How do you do that?” she asked her mother sincerely.

“Do what?” Diane asked, putting the glass back up to her mouth to take a drink.

“Make everything sound likes it’s going to be okay?” She wiped another tear. 

“Because it is going to be okay,” Diane said lovingly.  “I tell you what. Go home and tell Brett exactly what Sharon said, and then give him a day to get himself together.  If he hasn’t done anything in two days, then start to nag him about getting a lawyer.  But I’m willing to bet that you won’t have to do that.  In fact, I’m willing to bet, he’s already doing something about it.”

“I hope you’re right,” Courtney said, gulping down the last of the mint julep.  “Thanks for that.”  She put the glass down.  “Thanks for everything.  I really needed it today.”