A Soldier's Homecoming

Chapter Six

Connie couldn’t believe she was standing in a store getting a cell phone for her seven-year-old daughter. It seemed surreal. She’d never wanted one for herself, even after the technology arrived in the county, complete with two different carriers to choose from. Of course, she was hooked up by radio to the department, so a cell phone had struck her as just another intrusion.

Not anymore. Now it meant safety. Safety for Sophie. Her daughter would now have an immediate means of calling her mother or calling the sheriff. As Connie scanned the various plans, she started to choose the cheapest one with a minimum of minutes until she realized the obvious: Sophie was bound to use the phone to call friends, at least until the novelty wore off. Like parents everywhere, she gave up the fight before it began and protected herself against sky-high charges by purchasing a plan with more minutes than she thought Sophie could possibly use.

She bought a case to protect the phone, one that would loop fully around Sophie’s belt, not just clip there. Then she got a phone for herself.

She walked out of the store with her plastic bag, feeling that somehow time had slipped its moorings. Conard City—all of Conard County—had always been a safe place for children, as safe as any place could be. She had the strangest feeling that she had switched centuries, that time had warped and carried her into a frightening new world.

Ridiculous, of course. Her time in Denver had exposed her to all this. But Conard County had in many ways escaped the worst of current times.

Climbing back into her cruiser, she gave herself a mental kick in the butt. How many times had she heard someone say on the TV news, “These things just don’t happen in this town”?

They happened everywhere. She knew it then, and she knew it now. The difference, of course, was that her daughter would be the subject of the news story if things didn’t work out.

Her radio crackled even before she pulled out of the parking place.

“Get on back to the office, sweetie,” Velma said. “Gage needs you. Nothing bad.”

A good thing Velma had added that, Connie thought, as she wheeled away from the curb and headed back to the office. Her heart had been caught in mid-slam. Nothing bad.

Five minutes later she was sitting in Gage’s office with the sheriff and Ethan Parish. Ethan’s presence made her uncomfortable in some way. Not fear or anything. Just a sense of discomfort.

“Ethan’s joining the department,” Gage said.

Connie looked at him. “Congratulations.”

He nodded but said nothing.

“I figure it this way,” Gage said. “Nobody knows Ethan yet, so nobody’s gonna know he’s a deputy. So we’re going to put the story out that he’s an old friend of yours from Denver.”

Connie blinked. “Why?”

“Because then he can move into your house and help keep an eye on Sophie.”

Connie’s chest tightened as if it had suddenly been grabbed and squeezed. Her vision narrowed, and the next thing she knew she was leaning forward, gripping the edge of Gage’s desk, panting for air.

She felt, rather than saw, Gage reach her side, felt him grip her shoulders.

“Connie. Connie?”

It was as if she’d been holding it all back, refusing to truly face the reality of the threat to Sophie until this very instant. She’d been scared, she’d been worried, she’d lain awake, but she’d managed to maintain some distance, some control.

In an instant, all that shattered. Reality came home with heart-stopping, mind-pounding force.

“Connie? Do you need medical help?”

She managed a shake of her head. Her voice came out thin, as if she couldn’t get any air into it. “Somebody tried to kidnap my daughter.”

Gage seemed to understand. He squatted beside her, rubbing her shoulder. “Delayed reaction,” he said. “He didn’t succeed, Connie. And we’re not going to let him succeed. That’s why Ethan is going to stay with you. His skills aren’t dulled yet by living here. He’s in peak form. He’ll smell danger before it gets anywhere near Sophie.”

She managed a nod, closed her eyes and fought for control. She wouldn’t be any good to Sophie like this. She had to stay cool. Keep her wits. Finally she began to breathe again and was able to sit up.

The first thing she did was look at Ethan. “Will you?” she asked. “Do you mind?”

His was a face that didn’t smile easily, she could tell, but he gave her a small one now. “Not at all. It’s been a while since I felt useful.”

“Take the rest of the day, Connie,” Gage said, returning to his seat. “Get Ethan settled however you want, get Sophie from school, do whatever you need to so you can cope.” For an instant his gaze grew distant. “I know what it’s like.”

He did, Connie thought. He certainly did.

Together she and Ethan stopped by the motel to pick up his gear; then they drove to her house. Julia’s eyes widened when Connie walked into the kitchen with Ethan in tow.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“This is Ethan, Mom,” Connie answered. “An old friend. He’s going to stay with us for a while.”

Julia’s eyes narrowed. “I can smell a fib from fifty feet.”

Ethan surprised Connie by pulling out a chair from the kitchen table so that he and Julia were near eye level. “The truth is, ma’am, I’m here to keep an eye on Sophie. I’m a deputy.”

“A new one.” Julia’s eyes narrowed. “Looks like you’ve seen some grief.”

Ethan shrugged. “The point is, I’ve been hired as personal protection for your granddaughter. Good enough?”

“Better than nothing.”

“Mom!”

Julia looked at her, then back at Ethan. “She hates it when I’m truthful.”

“Well,” said Ethan, “that wasn’t exactly truthful.”

“Why not?”

“Because Connie is protection, too. She’s not nothing.”

At that, Julia cracked a smile. “Okay, then. Go get settled.”

“I have a spare bedroom where—” Connie began, but Ethan interrupted her.

“No bedroom,” he said. “I’ll camp out in the living room. I want to be able to watch the doors.”

“Okay.” At that point, Connie didn’t care. He could perch on the roof if he wanted to, as long as he kept Sophie safe. He tossed his backpack into a corner, out of the way.

“Is it okay if I look around?”

“Help yourself.” Connie dropped her plastic bag on the armchair. “I’m going to have to figure out how to use a cell phone by tomorrow morning.”

“Why is that?”

“I got one for Sophie.”

He nodded. “Good idea.”

“It’s not something I ever thought I’d do for a seven-year-old.”

“Seems smart to me.” Then he gave another small smile. “But don’t look to me for lessons. I’ve never had a cell. I’m a radio kind of guy.”

“I was a radio kind of girl until yesterday.”

She walked him through the house, not that there was much to see. She’d converted the downstairs dining room into a bedroom for her mother. Upstairs, there were three small bedrooms, two with dormers. She used one of those and Sophie the other. The third room, at the back of the house, was cramped, with a low sloping ceiling, but adequate for a twin bed and dresser, if little more.

The house’s only bathroom was downstairs, behind the kitchen. The house had all the earmarks of a place that had been built a bit at a time, the mudroom tacked on like an afterthought next to the kitchen. When the weather was bad, it was the way to enter. Otherwise Connie preferred the side door, between the kitchen and the driveway.

By the time they finished the tour, Julia had a pot of coffee brewing and invited Ethan to join her. He seemed willing enough, so Connie sat with them. She could barely hold still, though. Her eyes kept straying to the clock, counting the minutes until she went to pick up Sophie. Counting the minutes until she could hug her daughter and assure herself that everything was all right.

“What time do we pick her up?” Ethan asked.

“Two-thirty.”

“Okay. When I finish this wonderful coffee—” Julia beamed “—I’ll walk down to the school and scope things out from cover. After I get back, I think we ought to walk back down together to pick her up.”

“Why not take the car?”

“Because if anyone’s watching your daughter, I want to know it.”

“All right.” She wondered how he could be so sure, then decided he’d probably developed a sixth sense for such things where he’d been. It was probably the reason he had survived.

“All right,” she said again. “What if I take a ball and we stop at the park on the way back? Let her get some exercise.”

He nodded. “Soccer ball?”

“I have one, yes.”

“Good. Bring it.” He smiled then, a real smile. “Soccer is an international language. It was a great way to break the ice in Afghanistan. All I had to do was take out my ball and start kicking it around, and pretty soon I’d have a dozen or more kids with me, everyone having a great time. Some of my best memories are of kicking a ball around in that dirt and dust.”

Connie felt herself smiling with him. She could see the pleasure the memories gave him, and she felt relieved to finally see a softer side to him.

But then her eyes strayed to the clock again. The minutes couldn’t possibly move any slower.

Ethan and Connie left early to pick up Sophie at the school. Ethan carried the soccer ball under his arm, and they strolled along as if they had all the time in the world.

Ethan wanted it to look exactly that way. His eyes moved restlessly, noting every detail of the streets, the cars, the houses that lined them. Connie found herself doing pretty much the same thing, seeking anything that seemed out of place.

Ethan spoke. “It must be hard, being a single mother.”

“Easier than being married to an abusive jerk. Safer for Sophie and me both.”

“I’m sorry. What happened?” He paused. “I guess it’s none of my business.”

“I don’t mind discussing it. I’ve given some courses in anger management, and I’ve used my personal experience to illustrate. My ex beat me. As in most cases, at first he was just controlling. It didn’t seem too bad. Then he started to object to my friends. Classic. Cut me off from my support network.”

Ethan nodded.

“But even though I was a cop, I couldn’t see what was happening to me. It’s odd, isn’t it, how you can see something happen to someone else but not see the same thing happening to you?”

“I think that’s pretty much normal.”

“Maybe. Anyway, he undermined my self-confidence, made me feel responsible for everything that went wrong. Then he hit me a couple of times. He always apologized and swore it would never happen again. I was too ashamed to tell anyone. Cop as abused wife. Sheesh. Talk about humiliating.”

“So what got you out?”

“When he knocked me down and started kicking me. I was pregnant. That’s standard, too. It’s like they resent the intrusion, the loss of control. Regardless, I had someone to think about besides myself. That time I didn’t take it.”

“Good for you.”

She shook her head and sighed. “It wasn’t pretty. After I managed to get to my feet, I knocked him down and got my gun. After that it was a restraining order and divorce. I never saw him again.”

“He couldn’t stand up to the gun, huh?”

“I don’t know. I mean, it was a dangerous time. Thank God for my buddies on the force. They got me out of the house and into a shelter, and for a long time I never went anywhere alone.” She looked over at him. “That’s the time when most women get killed. After they stand up to their abuser and decide to get out. I’ll forever be grateful to my fellow officers.”

“That’s the way it should be. If we don’t take care of each other, who will?”

She figured he was thinking about his own unit and a very different set of circumstances. Sometimes one’s own scars ached in response to similar scars in others. It was as if like recognized like.

“You’re a strong woman,” he remarked.

“Sure. That’s why I’m coming apart. Sophie needs me, and I’m coming apart.”

He touched her arm tentatively, as if afraid of her reaction. “You have to allow those feelings,” he said. “The important thing is that you allow them when it’s safe to have them. That’s what you did in the office this morning. Sophie was safe at school, you were in a safe place, and it hit you. Good timing, actually.”

“Yeah.” She gave a short, mirthless laugh. “There’s this level I was operating at, where I was in control and focused on doing what I needed to. Then, bam, I lost it.”

“That’s okay. Now you’re back in control.”

She glanced at him. “I guess you know about this stuff.”

“Too much about it.”

Surprising herself, she took his hand, feeling its strength, size and power. It was a toughened hand, callused and firm. She squeezed it gently. “Thanks, Ethan.”

He didn’t pull away. “Nothing to thank me for. There have been times when I wanted to beat my head against a wall until it hurt so bad I couldn’t feel anything else. I never gave in, but I think you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

All of a sudden she felt a whole lot better about things. She had an ally. An ally who understood. “So Micah is…your father?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, but I never heard about you before.”

“He didn’t know about me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Can’t say that I am.” He shrugged. “I never knew him, so I never knew what I was missing. A few times when I was a kid I got angry at my mother for never giving us a chance, but I finally understood. She was scared.”

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