Welcome Home (3 page)

A few weeks
after the wounded veterans meeting, Christi loaded the last of the
lunch dishes in the dishwasher and filled the dispenser with soap.
As she glanced out the window, a cool March wind whipped across the
front yard where the buds of a large patch of bluebonnets were just
beginning to open. Within a week or two color would splash brightly
across the yard and down the path to the highway.

Christi slammed the dishwasher door shut and
jabbed the on button. Normally the first colorful Hill Country
spring flowers would have inspired a childlike delight in her, but
today she still felt winter’s chilly bleakness. The reason for the
chill was sitting at his usual spot in the living room, staring
sightlessly out the window—as he had every day since he’d come
home.

At least he was trying to be cheerful and
pleasant around her, she admitted as she retrieved a load of
laundry and started to fold. He was unfailingly polite, never
taking out any ill temper on her, and would make the effort to hold
up his end of any conversation. But that was all an act and she
damn well knew it. The old Tommy would have gone into town more
evenings than not, sought out his friends, shown up regularly at
the café and raised a little hell at the local watering hole. This
Tommy seemed content to sit in front of the window all day and
watch television in the evenings, and was ready with a plausible
excuse whenever Christi wanted him to go into town with her. He was
gracious when his old friends came by but made no effort to seek
them out otherwise. And he had made no move to make love to
her.

Worst of all, however, was his reaction to
the ranch. He completely ignored anything to do with the running of
Reece Acres, leaving it entirely in her hands. He wouldn’t even go
out and visit with Muffin. Which meant, far from getting better,
Tommy was sinking further and further into despair.

Christi felt helpless. She had been tempted
more than once to confront Tommy and call him on the charade he was
putting on, but she was afraid, so afraid, of what he might do if
she did. Tommy hadn’t come home to her yet, not fully, and she was
beginning to wonder if he ever would. If she confronted him, she
might lose what little she had of him.

Collecting a stack of bills, she’d powered up
her laptop for an online bill-paying session when she spotted the
You have mail icon in the window. When she clicked on and read the
email, she smiled to herself. Tommy wouldn’t be able to turn down
this
.

“Yo, Tommy,” she said as she popped into the
living room. “Lisa and Rory are having an informal get-together at
the Iron Stallion tonight to celebrate their engagement. They’re
expecting us about nine.”

Tommy turned around in his chair. “I suppose
you want to go?”

“Well, yes,” Christi said. “Tommy, Rory’s one
of your oldest friends! He’s been out to see you twice since you
got home. You can’t let him down tonight.”

“No, I can’t,” Tommy agreed, clearly
reluctant. “I wouldn’t do that to either one of them. Or you.
You’re looking forward to it, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am,” Christi admitted. “I would love
to get out and d—” Damn, she’d almost said she wanted to dance.
Hopefully Tommy hadn’t caught that. “Have a little fun. So, why
don’t we make an evening of it and have dinner in the café? Gus
still makes the best pork chops.”

Tommy smiled faintly. “Sure, Christi. We’ll
do dinner and the engagement party. No big deal.”

Yes, it is,
Christi
thought. It was in fact a very big deal.

* * *

At the end of the table, Tommy sipped the
beer he was nursing and looked around the rowdy old bar where he’d
enjoyed plenty of misspent evenings in a much happier past. If it
were up to him he would finish the beer, wish Rory and Lisa well
and head out the door, but Christi was having a good time for the
first moment since he’d come home to her, and he would be damned if
he’d cut short this night on the town.

Dinner at the café had not been the ordeal
he’d expected. The pork chops were cooked to Gus’s usual
perfection, and everyone seemed to take his wheelchair in stride,
perhaps because Tommy wasn’t the only wounded warrior in Verde;
they were surely used to seeing Holly and Cathy around town. But
this bar was another matter. More than once he’d seen Christi sneak
a longing glance at the packed dance floor, and the topic of the
night appeared to be the hot and heavy sex life of every other
couple around them, Rory and Lisa included.

“Yeah, Rory’s just as randy as that little
bull of Tommy’s,” Lisa teased. Rory smiled sheepishly and turned a
little red. “Mind you, I’m not complaining any.”

“I bet you’re not,” Roxanne Pruett said with
a smile. “Kind of reminds me of that hound dog out of Mason I dated
for a few months before I found out the SOB was married. Reminded
me of a bull in more ways than one. Best three months of my
life.”

“Is that the one your brother ran off the
front porch with the shotgun?” Christi laughed. “Good thing Hutch
is a deputy or he would have been in trouble for that.”

“One and the same,” said Hutch, a county
deputy like Rory. “Bastard had the balls to tell Roxanne and me
both he didn’t see the problem. He could keep up with both ladies
just fine, couldn’t he? I, for one, took exception to that.”

“Wasn’t that a little hypocritical, Hutch? I
heard you were hot and heavy with some rich trophy wife in
Horseshoe Bay,” Lisa said.

“Oh, no. My mama didn’t raise no fools. I
made sure that trophy was collecting dust on the shelf before I
partook,” Hutch laughed. “They were separated. I don’t poach on
another man’s lady, trophy or no. And from what I hear, the one who
puts us all to shame is Russ Riley, Judge Riley’s nephew. You know,
Holly Riley’s brother. His reputation precedes him all the way from
Fort Hood.”

The table erupted in laughter and Rory
reached out and pulled his red-headed fiancée close. “Well, folks,
unlike Riley and the rest of the hound dogs out there, I can’t help
being a horny bastard. Just look what I get to go home to.” He
planted a warm kiss on Lisa’s lips. “An angel. A sexy angel, and
she’s all mine. Any man with an angel like this would feel like I
do.”

Wanna bet?
Tommy
thought bitterly. He had a warm, sexy angel in his bed too, but fat
lot of good it was doing him. It was killing him, in fact, hearing
all the jokes and innuendos. He didn’t even know if he could make
love to Christi. Did his equipment still work? If it didn’t, what
on earth kind of future did he have any right to expect with
her?

The jokes continued to fly, and Tommy felt
his spirits sinking even further.

He was just about to ask Christi if they
could make their excuses and leave when a shadow fell across the
table and he looked up into the face of his old nemesis, Doug
Westerman. For reasons that probably made no sense to anyone but
Doug and Tommy, they had been rivals since they first laid eyes on
one another in kindergarten and gone from “frenemies” to outright
foes when Doug made a play for Christi during a month-long spat
between Christi and Tommy the summer after graduation. Christi
hadn’t slept with Doug—she was still a virgin when they reconciled
and Tommy finally made love to her—but it still rankled that he had
made every effort to move in on her.

Tommy forced himself to turn around and nod.
“Westerman. How’re you doing?”

The aroma of expensive Scotch emanated forth,
and Doug looked Tommy up and down. “A little better than you are, I
guess.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

Doug looked around the table. “How’s
everybody?”

“We’re good, Doug,” Roxanne said brightly.
“Here, pull up a chair.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Doug grabbed a seat and
slid it right in between Christi’s and Tommy’s wheelchair. Then he
sat down and signaled the waitress. “I’ll buy the next round for
the entire table,” he said as he got out a credit card. “I’m
celebrating. Passed my orals this morning for my master’s degree.
Woohoo! MBA from the UT School of Business!”

Tommy half-heartedly joined in the hearty
congratulations expressed by everyone else at the table, but this
was yet another sore spot. Mild dyslexia had lowered his grade
point enough that badly needed scholarship money never
materialized, making college for the most part out of reach for
him. This bastard had just earned an advanced degree.

Fresh drinks were soon in front of everyone,
and a return to the ribald teasing that had set Tommy’s teeth on
edge earlier. Doug seemed to feel the need to pontificate on the
pleasures of living in Austin, and in particular on the charms of
UT coeds. “Man, those ladies are some hot potatoes. Whoo-ie, I
remember one little gal barely got inside the door before I was
inside her. Screwed her pretty little butt most of the night.”

“How ’bout the rest of her?” Rory teased.
“Just as pretty as her butt?”

“Don’t rightly remember,” Doug said. “Except
for her butt, she was pretty forgettable. Unlike the ladies here in
Verde.” He leaned a little closer and slid his arm around Christi.
“Speaking of unforgettable, how have
you
been, darlin’?”

“Fine, Doug, now that Tommy’s home.” Christi
turned and edged closer to Tommy, but seeing the expression on his
face she started to stand. “Speaking of, we have to hit the floor
running in the morning, so we need to get out of here.”

Instead of letting go, Doug stood. He kept
his hand on her. “Aw, come on, darlin’. I just got here, and you’ve
got beer you need to drink. Besides, you don’t want to go home with
him.
You want to go home with a real man,
now, don’t ya?”

Christi tried to pull free, but Doug turned
her away from Tommy and tightened his grip. “A
real
man, darlin’,” he continued. “Not a crip in a
chair who ain’t hitting no floor—or anything else—running, if you
know what I mean.”

Christi and the other women gasped, and Rory
and Hutch started out of their chairs. Tommy, before he could stop
himself, swung his right fist up and into Doug’s face. Holding
nothing back, he hit the man as hard as he could, throwing weeks of
anger and sadness and frustration into the punch. Doug tumbled
backward, shattering a flimsy bar table on the way down, and hit
the wooden floor behind him with a thud.

“You’re right, asshole,” Tommy said. “I’m not
the one hitting the floor at the moment, running or otherwise. You
are. If you know what I mean.”

* * *

Doug had held on to her, and Christi gasped
as she felt herself going down with him, but the quick, strong arms
of Rory Keller kept her from tumbling to the ground.

Straightening, she stared at both Tommy and
Doug in dismay, shocked by the behavior of both men. What had
gotten into them? The bar was quiet, everybody in the place staring
at Tommy sitting stone-faced, nursing his bruised knuckles, and
Doug flat on the floor with blood pouring from his nose.

Rory and Hutch quickly moved between the two
men.

Hutch yanked Doug to his feet and held a
wadded-up napkin under his nose. “Here, let me have a look at you,”
he said, switching immediately into deputy mode. He shoved Doug
into a chair and started checking him over, Rory helping by
checking the back of his head.

“I want that red-headed bastard arrested!”
Doug demanded. “He hit me for no reason.”

The bar got even quieter, and Christi cringed
as she heard a siren outside.

“I called the law,” the bartender said. “I
don’t cotton to violence here.”

“Then where were you when this asshole
man-handled me?” Christi demanded. “Didn’t you have a problem with
that?”

“Lady, your two friends and I were all on our
way to help you,” the bartender snapped. “Your boyfriend didn’t
have to slug him.”

Tommy glared. “She’s my girl, and I took care
of it the only way I could. If you want to have me arrested, be my
guest.” He glanced at Rory and Hutch. “You two don’t have to get
involved.”

Rory and Hutch looked at one another and
shrugged.

“All we plan to do is tell the truth,” Rory
said. “Doug here was manhandling Christi and baiting you, and you
sent him sprawling.” Both men eyed the bartender, and Rory added,
“You want to have a genuine American hero arrested for defending
his lady?”

“Bartender be damned, the bastard hit me and
needs to be arrested for it,” Doug growled as he wiped blood from
his nose.

The door of the bar opened, and Deputy Denton
Baxter pushed in through the crowd. He shot a disgusted look at
Rory and Hutch when he saw them, saying, “Should have known you two
were involved.” Then he put his hands on his hips and stared from
Doug to Tommy. “So, what the hell happened here?”

“Bastard hit me,” Doug said. “I was just
horsing around a little and he laid me out on the floor.”

“He was manhandling Christi,” Tommy said when
the deputy turned to him. He spoke quietly. “I can’t very well
stand up and pull him off, can I? I defended her the only way I
could.”

“That was after Doug called him a ‘crip in a
chair,’” Christi added. Her eyes welled up with tears that she
dashed away, and she glared over and snarled, “Yes, Doug, he’s
crippled and he’s in a chair. And you know how he got that way? He
was in Iraq, Doug. He was an American soldier in Iraq trying to
save a little village from a bunch of vicious insurgents and he
caught a sniper bullet in his back. He’s been months learning how
to live without being able to get out of that chair. He’s a
hero,
Doug. He and every other soldier out
there. They defended your right to be an asshole while you were
going to school getting your fancy degree and sleeping with all the
coeds in Austin.”

She turned to Denton. “He called Tommy a
‘crip,’ Deputy Baxter. Do you think that was all right?” She turned
to the bartender. “Do
you?”