Part 33 (1/2)
”You're so dumb, that's what!” She put her fists on her hips. ”How do you think you find meaning in our mundane world? You come to your family-you find your purpose with them.”
”What purpose is that?” he asked, half bemused and half bewildered by her diatribe.
She made a wild gesture that had her purse swinging. ”Teach your nephews how to catch a ball-David's got the bicycle down, but he hates baseball. Get to work glaring at your niece's first dates. Tickle Baby Russ's belly.”
”Tess-”
”And then find a woman who you can value and love every day.”
”Tess-”
”Which bring me to Jane,” his sister said.
His expression must have made some sort of statement.
His sister groaned. ”Griffin. Tell me you haven't ruined what you had with her.”
”We didn't have anything.” Just the greatest s.e.x, the best laughs, the kind of connection he'd never found with another woman. The elevator arrived with a ping. ”Get off my back, Tess.”
They stepped into the empty metal box. ”I thought there was some magic at the cove,” Tess said. ”Seeing you and Jane, I had high hopes, and with Gage exchanging letters with Skye, for a moment I even thought...”
He stared at his sister. ”Gage and Skye?”
Tess waved a hand. ”Forget it. Now I wouldn't wish you and your twin on any woman.”
Magic at the cove, Griffin mused, as the elevator chugged upward. What a crock. And to think he'd sold Colonel Parker on the idea. Colonel Parker, who wouldn't be bringing his darling daughter to No. 9 after all. He thought of Vance Smith, the combat medic who always kept his cool. Could that last during the month at the cove he'd promised to a fatherless girl? Still recuperating from his own wounds, he'd be at the beach house in mere days.
Which got him thinking about the email he'd received that very morning. Vance himself, touching base. Griffin was still confused by it. The man seemed to be operating under the impression that the colonel's daughter, Layla, was a child, when Griffin knew for a fact she was in her mid-twenties-all grown up. Must be me who misunderstood Vance, he decided. Still, he sent the other man a silent message. Good luck, buddy.
When Griffin and his sister found the coot's room, Tess was still muttering about her twin brothers' lack of intelligence, common sense and general good manners. ”That's rich, coming from you,” he told her. ”We never ate food with our feet.”
She ignored him to greet the elderly reporter with a kiss on the cheek, and Griffin could tell she was trying to be cheerful for the invalid's sake. Rex looked pretty d.a.m.n lively for someone ancient enough to be a first cousin to G.o.d, and Griffin told him so.
”They're letting me go home tomorrow,” the elderly man said. ”After fourteen tests and being prodded and poked more than a rodeo clown, they say it was likely dehydration.”
”Well, drink some more water, you irascible antique!” But the news solidified a hazy idea Griffin had. ”Listen, Rex...I'm going overseas and could use somebody to look after Private. Are you up to it?”
”Me? And that flea-bitten, mannerless, mangy canine that either pees on my bushes or tries to dig them up?”
Griffin lifted a shoulder. ”If you're not interested-”
”I didn't say I wasn't interested. Someone has to take charge of that dog. I'll bet I can teach him a little courtesy.”
”You manage that, you should tackle Duncan and Oliver next.”
He realized his sister was giving him a dirty look. ”Hey,” he said, defending himself, ”the curmudgeon scared the s.h.i.+t out of me when I was their age. It could work.”
”It's not about my boys,” she said. ”It's about this new plan of yours to go overseas. This is about Gage's offer, I presume? You're taking him up on it after all, and that's why you had the falling-out with Jane.”
”We haven't had a falling-out.” There'd almost been a knockout, and the thought of it still sickened him-and only confirmed how necessary it was for him to get away from her.
Suddenly that memory was front and center. Even the chatter between Tess and Monroe couldn't prevent what was recurring in blazing Technicolor in his head. In one quick breath, it stopped being something he recalled and became something he was reliving.
He's on the deck at Captain Crow's. Rage is a ball of fire in his belly. Ian Stone is a smug p.r.i.c.k who thinks he's going to get Jane back into his life and back into his bed. Griffin doesn't want to allow him to have another chance to chip away at her confidence. Jane might seem to stand ten feet tall, but a lot of that is wedge heel and ribbon bows. She should be with a man who cherishes her, who will nurture her can-do att.i.tude and spoil her on the days when she's feeling blue.
Ian Stone is not that man. And as Griffin waits for the jerk to get back up and come at him, his fists clench tighter.
Then there's that quick touch. He spins, his arm c.o.c.king back.
Jane's sweet face. Her little jerk of fear. The thudding crash his heart makes when it falls to the pit of his belly.
He came back to the present and realized that Tess was gone and he was alone in the hospital room with his neighbor. Surprised, he looked around him. ”I...”
”She had to get back home to her husband and family. You answered when she said goodbye, but I didn't think you were all here.” Rex waited a beat, then asked a casual question. ”Flashback?”
Griffin stared at the old man.
”You think PTSD is new? We called it something different, but...”
”I don't have that.” Griffin paced to look out the window. It was nearing dark. ”I wasn't at war. I was reporting on war.”
”In my time, I talked to a lot of soldiers and I talked to a lot of other combat journalists. Believe me, Griffin, we're all affected by the things we've seen. I've told you before, you need to describe how that changed you.”
”I put it away. It's better to keep it distant.” And he'd managed that fairly well until Jane insisted he look at the photos and write the words.
He's on the deck at Captain Crow's, and then he isn't. Instead he's in the Humvee, his ears ringing and Jackal's leg...he can feel it right now in his hands, the weight of it, the b.l.o.o.d.y warmth....
”Sit down, son,” Rex said, his voice sharp. ”Griffin, sit down.”
The vinyl cus.h.i.+on wasn't soft, but at least the chair supported his weight. He rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. ”I'll leave in a minute,” he mumbled. ”I have packing to do.”
”There's no place far enough away,” the old man said. ”No place you can go that those memories won't find you.”
”I feel like I'm going crazy,” he heard himself mutter.
”Finish the memoir,” Rex urged. ”Stay stateside and finish before thinking of traveling again.”
”I don't care about the book.”
The coot sighed. ”Do I have to remind you that a life unexamined is a life not worth living?”
”What?” Griffin said. ”Did you read that on the bottom of a bubble-gum wrapper?”
”Socrates, which I'm sure you know.” The old man was silent a moment, then his voice turned softer, kinder. ”Son, you need to deal with your experience. When you put down the ugly memories on the page, you defuse them of their power.”
”Rex-”
”Put them down like you would put Private down if he was sick and he was hurting. Out of kindness, Griffin. Out of love.”