by Syndi Powell
Lewis had been green as a new blade of grass when he’d been assigned to Beckett’s platoon on his last tour, but the time in Iraq had hardened the young man. While he’d been free with his smiles at the first, he’d returned without one of his legs or any of those grins. Beckett had meant to reach out to the young man to see how he was recuperating. Please don’t say it’s been too late. But the doctor had said “attempted.” That meant he hadn’t succeeded. So there was a chance. “Is he okay?”
“At the moment, he’s still unconscious And it could be touch and go for the next few hours.”
“Has his family been notified?”
“No family is listed. Just you.”
The kid probably hadn’t updated his records after returning from Iraq. Maybe Beckett hadn’t reached out to him, but Lewis seemed to be asking for him to come. “When he wakes up, tell him I’m on my way.”
Beckett hung up his phone and stared out at the patches of grass that peeked out underneath snow. The blades were brown, dead from the long absence of sun. Lewis had returned from war like that grass, and there were times Beckett felt the same. As if something inside him had died overseas.
And yet there’d been moments with Andie when he’d felt that piece of him stir, ready to grow and return to its former green glory. Those times thrilled him as much as they scared him. He’d allowed the fear to outweigh the excitement, and he’d turned her away for what he knew was the last time. She would one day become a dream of what might have been.
Ruggirello had allowed his fear and the darkness inside to take over his life until death became the only exit. And now Lewis had tried the same route. As much as Beckett might like to tell himself that he was stronger than the darkness, had his friends thought the same once?
Beckett whistled to Phoebe, and she retrieved the Frisbee before returning to his side. “Looks like we’re going on a road trip.”
* * *
THE ART GALLERY reminded her of a warehouse. Bare white walls. Concrete floors. She glanced around while she waited for the owner. Paintings wrapped in brown paper propped against the empty walls. Boxes and crates scattered around the large space. It had the feel of excited anticipation for something bigger and brighter.
“Andromeda, it’s a pleasure.”
She turned to see Keith Winchester coming up to her. It seemed he had lost what little remained of the hair on his head, since she had last met him, but his unlined face made him look younger than she knew he was. “It’s been a long time.”
He brushed off her words. “Not that long since we were in school. Or at least that’s what I tell myself when I’m reminded of my age.” He reached out and kissed both of her cheeks, then clasped both her hands in his. “I’m glad you could meet with me. What do you think of my new gallery?”
She made a sweeping glance of the open space. “It looks like it needs a lot more work.”
He made a noise that mixed a groan with a laugh that didn’t sound as if he was amused. “The grand opening is in a couple of weeks, and I keep finding more to do as the days go by. I could use an extra twelve hours in the day, but alas I’m only guaranteed the standard twenty-four.”
He motioned for her to follow him to his office. Like the rest of the gallery, it too was in transition. His desk overflowed with papers and books while his bookcase stood empty. He pulled out a chair for her, then took a seat next to her. “Don’t mind the mess. Once I hire a receptionist, this will all be organized.” He paused and looked at her. “How have you been?”
“Can’t complain.” She gave him a smile that she hoped was more confident than her tremulous nerves betrayed. “I see you’re doing well for yourself. Your own gallery. That’s amazing.”
“I figured if I was going to really live my dream, then it had better be now.” He reached over and touched one of her hands. “How is your father?”
“In prison, but then I’m sure you knew that.”
“And your mother?”
“You’ve met Lillian, so you’re familiar with her usual flair. To be honest, she’s doing well, all things considered.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Speaking of mothers, how is yours?”
“You can see for yourself when you come to my grand opening. Daisy wouldn’t miss it, and I hope neither will you.”
Happy for her friend, she nodded. “I’ll be here.”
Keith steepled his fingers in front of his mouth and watched her for a moment. She wondered if he would finally tell her what this meeting was about. She’d spent most of last night wondering this very thing. Was he thinking of hiring her as his receptionist? Or maybe as a sales clerk. She could admit that the thought tempted her. To be surrounded by art every day. She might not be teaching, but it would get her closer to her own dream.
“Tell me, Andromeda, do you still create those wonderful glass sculptures like you did in college?”
She gave a laugh, shaking her head. “You remember those?”
“How could I not? You’re very gifted.”
It felt like she’d done that a million years ago. “I was. Not anymore.”
Keith cocked his head to one side. “You gave up your art?”
“Real life intruded, and I needed to be practical and find a way to pay the bills.” She folded her hands into her lap, hating how they trembled. “I changed my major to art education.”
“So you’re teaching, then?”
She almost winced at how her life had turned out. “I volunteer at the Community Art Center twice a month, but I haven’t yet been able to land a full-time teaching position in a school.” But she would. She had to.
“Then my proposition comes at the right time.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I want to sell your sculptures exclusively.”
She backed away from him. Hadn’t he been listening? “I told you, I don’t make those anymore.”
“Then don’t you think it’s time you start again?”
His words made her hands tremble even more. She shook her head at the foolish idea. She needed stability. A steady paycheck. Not the dream of creating art that meant something. “Reality is—”
“Highly overrated.” He reached out and touched her hands, putting pressure on top of them to still them. “I’ve got studio space in the back where you can work. You’d divide your time between that and manning the sales floor with my other artists in residence.” He looked her over with a speculative gleam. “What do you say?”
What could she say? Her heart might be interested, but her head reminded her that the starving artist life wasn’t for her. “When do you need an answer?”
“Soon. What is your gut telling you?”
To sign the contract before he changed his mind. But her head kept telling her to get up and leave before he seduced her with promises that he wouldn’t be able to keep. “Keith, I appreciate the offer, but—”
“You have a gift that is being wasted. You can’t tell me no.” He rose out of the chair and walked to the office door. “At least not until you see what I’m envisioning. Let me prove to you how I can make this work. And if you’re still not convinced, I’ll thank you for your time and see you at the gallery opening.”
* * *
AFTER GETTING THE nurse’s approval for Phoebe to accompany him to see the patient, Beckett entered the hospital room. PFC Lewis lay in the hospital bed, tubes and wires plugging him into various machines. A doctor glanced up at him before returning to her tablet and entering notes. The tag on her lab coat indicated that she’d been the one to call him. He reached Lewis’s side and put his hand on the young man’s arm. “Dr. Girard, I’m Laurence Beckett. I came as quick as I could. How’s he doing?”
She gave a nod and returned to her notes. “The toxins in his system have been flushed out, but I don’t yet know the extent of the damage to his nervous system. The next twelve hours are going
to be critical.”
Beckett kept his eyes on Lewis’s still form as he took the young man’s hand in his own. “Has his family been here yet?”
“Like I told you on the phone, he didn’t have any family listed in his medical records. I believe you’re the first and only visitor.”
That surprised Beckett since Lewis came from a large extended family. He had expected to find at least his mother and an older sister or brother hovering over him. He squeezed Lewis’s hand, but there was no response. Had Lewis pushed them away like Beckett had distanced himself from his own brother?
“Is there anything I can do?”
Dr. Girard clutched the tablet to her chest. “I think for now that he just needs to have your presence. He kept your name in his records for a reason, Lieutenant. So talk to him. Let him know you’re here.”
The doctor left them, pulling the curtain around them, and Beckett brought a chair closer to the bedside. Of all the soldiers under his care, Ruggirello might have been his best friend, but Lewis was like a kid brother. So young. So innocent. And so spirited. Beckett had kept an eye on him to make sure he didn’t do something stupid that would get him or anyone else in their squad hurt or killed.
He should have called the kid. Should have made sure he was okay. But Beckett had pushed him away just like everyone else. He’d thought if he was alone, it would be easier. Safer.
Wasn’t that why he’d let Andie go? Because if he let himself love her, she could be taken from him too. And losing her would be unbearable.
But he did love her. And still lost her all the same.
He quickly dismissed the thought. He couldn’t let feelings for Andie intrude. Couldn’t let himself travel down that impossible road.
He took a deep breath and scooted the chair closer to the bed. “Hey, Private. I’m here. So you can wake up anytime now.”
No movement from the kid. Not that he’d expected a miraculous change, but still, he hoped. He reached over and put a hand on Lewis’s shoulder. “I’ll be right here, kid. I’m not leaving.”
Phoebe looked up at Beckett, then settled on the floor beside the chair. They could be here awhile.
Beckett must have dozed off since the sound of alarms woke him. He stood as an army of nurses and doctors surrounded Lewis. One of them pointed at Beckett. “Sir, you’ll have to step outside.”
He stood rooted to the spot until she pushed at his arm. “Please, sir. We need the room to work.”
He glanced at her, realized she was right and left the room. Phoebe followed him out into the hallway. Needing to do something, he paced, the dog matching his footsteps. He should have reached out. He should have checked in with the kid. He should have done more before this.
Please don’t let him die.
Bands wrapped around Beckett’s chest until he couldn’t breathe. Placing his head in his hands, he leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. Phoebe nudged him. He couldn’t breathe. Tightness. Shortness of breath. Pain everywhere.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Sir, are you okay?”
He couldn’t speak. Make it stop hurting. Make it go away.
He heard a voice call for help, but it sounded so far away. The only thing that was close to him was the pain. And he feared that it wasn’t going to go away this time. Despite everything he had done, it wouldn’t end. No drugs. No therapy. No dog could touch this sorrow. Nothing could save him.
Voices surrounded him. A cool hand on his arm. “Sir, you seem to be having an anxiety attack. Concentrate on your breathing. That’s better. Is there anyone we can call for you?”
Yes, maybe there was hope after all. Without a doubt, he couldn’t do this on his own anymore. He needed someone to go through this with him. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, and it fell from his hand. The nurse picked it up and gave it to him. “Take deep breaths, Lieutenant. You’re going to be okay. And so’s your friend. We think he’s coming around.”
He gave a nod to her, and she returned to Lewis’s room. He took several deep breaths, concentrating as she had directed. In. Out. In. Out.
When he felt as if he’d regained control, he turned on the phone and pressed one of the auto dials. An answering machine picked up on the other end. “You’ve reached the Thorpe residence. Sorry we’re not home right now—”
Right. They were on the cruise. He hung up and tried the next number. Andie’s cell phone diverted straight to voice mail. He couldn’t blame her for not taking his call. She’d asked him not to call her anymore. He didn’t leave a message.
So alone. So isolated. It had been his choice. This had been what he wanted, right?
He’d been wrong. He needed people he loved in his life. Someone to help him through this darkness.
He squeezed his eyes shut and wished he had someone, anyone to talk to. He paused before dialing another number he hadn’t called in years, wondering if he would answer after all this time. If the phone number was even still his. It rang three times before his brother answered, “Larry, is that you?”
Beckett paused, unsure if he was doing the right thing. But his brother had answered the phone rather than ignore the call, so maybe that was a good sign. Beckett tried to smile. “It’s nice to hear your voice.” His brother stayed quiet for a minute, and Beckett didn’t know what to say. Had too much time passed? Was it too late? “I didn’t know if you’d take my call.”
“I wasn’t sure either.” A long silence, then a telling question. “What’s wrong?”
Beckett put a hand on top of his head as he dipped it closer to his chest. “Where do you want me to start?”
Phoebe put her head in his lap as he laid out his troubles to his little brother.
* * *
AFTER THE TOUR of the studios with Keith and listening to his full proposal, Andie knew what she wanted to do. No, what she needed to do. All this time fixing other people’s lives, it was time to fix her own. Time to pursue her own dreams and take a chance. Isn’t that what she had wished for on New Year’s Eve?
After signing the contract, she left the gallery feeling more herself than she had in a long time. She hadn’t been this excited about her life since graduating college and looking toward a future ready to unfold in front of her. She pulled her cell phone out to call her sister with the good news. One missed call. Beckett. Why had he called her? She hadn’t heard from him in two weeks, ever since he had made it clear that he wouldn’t be in her life. And yet she knew if he had tried to reach her, it had to have been important. She hit the redial button.
When he answered, he sounded different. “Thank you for calling me back. I wasn’t sure if you would after that night.”
Wanting to set some boundaries and perhaps to protect her heart, she hardened her voice as she asked, “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”
“This is going to sound crazy, but could you come to Toledo?”
She paused, unsure if she was ready to get pulled back into Beckett’s orbit. What if he let her in only to push her way again? “Beckett, I told you that I can’t keep doing this with you. This back and forth.”
“I know what you said. But please come, Andie.”
“Why?”
“Because I need you.”
The words made her heart start to beat faster. He’d never said that to her before. If anything, he seemed to want to prove that he didn’t need her at all. She didn’t know how to answer his plea. “What for? You made it very clear that you don’t want me around.”
He let out a soft groan. “I was wrong, Andie. So wrong.”
Andie thought of Pattie who had waited for years for Russ to come back to her. This could be her last chance with Beckett. While her heart might be urging her to agree to go see him, her head reminded her that she was already taking one chance with her art. Could she really afford to take another one with Beckett? He seemed to be waiting for
her answer, but she didn’t know what she should say.
“Please, Andie.”
“I can’t always be at your beck and call when you want me around. And then you push me away. Again.”
“That’s not what this is. You’re the one. I know that now. Help me.”
Her heart won out over her head. She glanced at her watch. If she left now, she could be there in two hours. “I’ll see you soon.”
Had she made the right choice? Only time would tell.
* * *
HOURS PASSED AFTER Beckett texted his location to Andie, sitting by the hospital bed without a word from Lewis. A nurse came to let him know that his brother had arrived. Nerves made him pause before he left the room. Had it really been six years since he’d seen Simon? Maybe it was longer.
Would his brother be angry? Hurt? Yet he’d come here at Beckett’s request, so that had to mean something. He took another deep breath before he entered the waiting room. Simon sat in a plastic chair near the window, slouched forward, elbows resting on his knees. When Beckett called his name, he looked up and gave him a smile.
Simon looked so much older than the last time he’d seen him, but one thing that hadn’t changed was his brother’s bone-crushing hug. “Larry, it’s about time you called me.”
“Sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”
They took a step away from each other, looking one another over and cataloging the changes that had occurred since they’d last been together. Then they hugged again, and Beckett held on to his little brother this time. “I shouldn’t have cut you out of my life all these years.”
“It’s okay.”
Beckett leaned back. “No, it’s not. But I plan to make it up to you.”
Simon gave a smirk that Beckett remembered very well. “Good. Because I don’t intend on going anywhere. I don’t care what you say.”
The brothers sat in chairs, side by side. There was so much that Beckett wanted to say, but not near enough time to say it. “Again, thank you for coming down here.”