“Of course.” Why wouldn’t I say yes?

“Great.” She smiles, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder as she passes behind me. “See you later, Effie,” she calls over her shoulder as she opens the front door and exits the bar.

I turn back to Effie with a smile. “Effie, is it?” I ask, raising my glass to her. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh, no thank you, sugar,” she gushes. “I just wanted to meet the handsome soldier who bedded our little Shannon.”

I almost spit out my beer. My eyebrows shoot up toward my hairline and I quickly put down my glass as a coughing fit overcomes me for a moment. “E-excuse me?” I ask. My chest burns and tears fill my eyes as I continue coughing.

“Oh, come on now, honey,” Effie says, ignoring my discomfort. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. We’re all friends here.”

I reach desperately for my glass and swallow a few mouthfuls of beer. By the time I pull it away from my mouth, I’m gasping for breath, but the coughing has stopped. “I’m not sure it’s really any of your business,” I tell her, still gasping.

Effie grins. That damn lipstick stain is so distracting. “Well, see, that’s where you’re wrong.”

I don’t particularly like the way she says that. “What do you mean?”

“We’re a small town,” Effie says, leaning forward conspiratorially. “News travels fast around here. Now, what you do in your own home is your own business, but word is you have a wife and a brat. Let’s face it; Shannon’s ex-boyfriend left a bad taste in all our mouths. She’s a pretty little thing, but not exactly the brightest crayon in the box, if you know what I mean.”

If this were a cartoon, steam would be coming out of my ears, I’m that angry. I slowly rise from the table, being careful to keep my voice low as I lean over it, looking her straight in the eye. “Listen,” I start, enjoying a brief moment of satisfaction as she recoils from my venomous look. “You’re right. What I do in my own home is my own business. My personal life is just that - personal. So I’ll thank you to stay out of it.”

“Well,” Effie sputters indignantly, getting clumsily to her feet. “There’s no need to be rude about it. Just remember, it’s not just your reputation at stake here. Maybe you should ask Shannon about her father.” I watch as she makes her way out of the bar, my hands clenched into fists by my sides.

“Are you okay?” Keets asks, magically appearing next to me, a new beer in his hand. I gratefully accept it and take a long swallow before I speak. “Is she always like that?” I ask, slowly sitting back down, shaking my head in amazement.

“Pretty much.” Keets laughs, sitting backwards on the seat opposite me, leaning his forearms on the back of the chair. “How’s Shannon feeling?”

I groan and swallow another mouthful of beer before placing the glass down on the table. “I don’t know,” I state, my brow creasing. “I can only assume she wasn’t exactly pleased by the situation.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Keets says with a grin, picking my beer up and swallowing a mouthful. I wait for him to place it back on the table, but it remains in his hand as he sits there staring at the wall behind me, seemingly deep in thought.

“What?” I grumble, staring at my beer. My fingers itch to snatch it back, and I curl them into my hand hard enough to feel the nails pierce the skin of my palm.

“I need to ask you something, but you have to promise not to get upset or hit me.”

I raise my eyebrows, a small smile appearing on my face. “Go on.”

“Why didn’t you sign the divorce papers?”

I let out a loud sigh and slump against the table, resting on my forearms. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I wish I did, but . . .”

“But?” Keets prompts.

“I guess I was just so angry that I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time. I kept telling myself it wasn’t true, that my wife wouldn’t leave me just for trying to keep my country safe . . . for trying to keep her safe.” I swallow past a sudden lump in my throat, and Keets finally hands back my beer. I gulp a mouthful and put the glass down on the table, clearing my throat.

“I guess she didn’t see it that way. I tore the divorce papers up and promised myself I’d work on my marriage when I got home.

“And you never saw her again, until yesterday,” Keets says.

“Until yesterday,” I repeat miserably, lifting my glass once more, draining the last of the beer.

“So, what are you going to do now?”

I let out a whoosh of air between my teeth. “I wish I fucking knew. But I’ll start with another beer.”

“Well,” Keets says, standing up and turning the chair around, tucking it back in under the table. “I don’t know what to tell you about Shannon, but I do know that another beer won’t make the issue go away.”

“Keets,” I warn with a low growl. “Don’t start.” I’m not in the mood for his shit.

“Look.” He presses his palms flat against the table top as he leans over it to glare down at me. “All I’m saying is don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

I nod mutely at him.

“Good.” Keets smiles, pushing himself away from the table. “I’ll go get you that beer.”

I smile weakly and watch him walk away. I know he’s right, of course. Getting drunk will solve nothing. But at least it’ll help me forget . . . for a while.

 

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Ruth asks for the hundredth time.

We’re sitting in the living room of Stone’s house after she found and helped me. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how hilarious it must have been for her to walk in and find me face-down on the carpet. At least I managed to hold back wetting myself before she arrived.

“Yes,” I grin, lifting the mug of tea she’d made me to my lips. It’s sweet and hot, just the way I like it. I make a small sound of satisfaction as I close my eyes and savor it.

“You’re sure?” Ruth repeats, hovering around like a mother hen.

I sigh as I open my eyes and put the cup down on the coffee table. “I’m fine,” I promise her.

Ruth stares around the living room, a grim look on her pretty face. “How can someone stand to live like this?” She asks.

“I don’t know,” I reply, shaking my head. I glance up as the front door opens and Zeke walks in. He seems surprised to see us.

“Zeke,” Ruth calls him over. I hold my breath as he looks back and forth between the two of us. He hasn’t spoken a word to anyone since Grace left. My heart aches for him; I know all too well what it’s like to say goodbye to a parent for the last time. He finally sits on the opposite couch, and I let the trapped air out of my lungs in a rushed whoosh. It’s a small step.

“Would you like some tea?” I ask gently. He shakes his head.

“Tea?” Ruth laughs. “What are you, seventy?” To Zeke, “There’s a can of Coke in the fridge with your name on it, sugar.” She smiles.

He gives her a small smile and slips off the couch, disappearing into the kitchen. He returns a moment later with a cold can and sits back on the edge of the couch, his head downcast, eyes hidden from view. Ruth and I glance at one another, clearly thinking the same thing. How the hell are we going to get through to this kid?

“Seen any good movies lately, Zeke?” I ask desperately, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement that he even heard my question. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. I sigh in frustration and rake a hand through my hair as I hear a car pull up outside. I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s late.; it must be Stone. I jump as the door slams open, hitting the wall behind it with force. A figure fills the doorway and immediately stumbles, falling against the door. Stone.

Ruth jumps to her feet and hurries to his side, trying to help him, but he pushes her away and looks over at me, a slow grin curling one side of his lips up into a sneer. A half-empty beer bottle hangs from his fingertips as he stretches out a hand to me. I can smell the alcohol from where I sit on the couch, and I wrinkle my nose in disgust. “Hey, kitten,” he says in a low voice.