by Lori Wilde
“The tops of your ears always turned beet red when you were jealous. Do you remember Gina Watkins who used to wait tables at the Funny Farm and flirted outrageously with me even in front of you?”
Caitlyn scowled. “Yes, I refused to eat there after she gave you a kiss at Christmas when you were standing under the mistletoe.”
He chuckled, reached over to cradle her cheek against his palm. “Caitlyn, you had no reason to be jealous. I had no interest in Gina. I only had eyes for you.”
“Well, Gina Watkins only had eyes for you.”
“Why do I get the feeling that if she were here right now, you’d whip her ass?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Women catfighting over you.”
“It’s just fun getting you riled up,” he teased.
“Gina Watkins is lucky she moved out of town.”
“I tell you what,” Gideon said, wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her closer. “How about we spend the next hour or so making love and then we can get to those pancakes. And then we’ll take you to get your stitches out.”
“You’re on,” Caitlyn said, and pulled him down on top of her.
Chapter Eighteen
Traditional meaning of ambrosia—your love is reciprocated.
For two glorious days they stayed in bed, eschewing their duties at the victory garden. After all, there was more than one kind of victory, and Gideon was long overdue a hero’s proper welcome home, going out only to get Caitlyn’s stitches removed. When the phone rang, they let the answering machine pick up, after they checked to make sure it wasn’t Caitlyn’s father calling.
They fully explored each other’s bodies and erogenous zones. They gave each other massages and took a bath together in Caitlyn’s bathtub. They lit candles, and the air filled with the smell of ambrosia flowers. They raided the refrigerator, for food and for creative sex play, lingering over each and every morsel of food, savoring the flavor. They donned blindfolds and described to each other the different tastes and textures. Sweet and juicy strawberries with fluffy light whipped cream. The sour crunch of dill pickles and potato chips with a turkey sandwich. The spicy hot tang of chicken enchilada soup.
They involved every sense organ in their erotic picnics. Smearing peanut butter and melted chocolate over their chests and then decadently licking it off. Sucking wine through a straw and getting tipsy. Touching lips through a hole in a doughnut and then gobbling up the yeasty treat. And the whole while giggling like the teens they used to be.
It was a magical, carefree two days, and they both clung to it with all their hearts.
And then Danny came home and they went back to being grown-ups, back to Gideon sleeping in the guest room, back to work and back to family life.
And for two beautiful weeks, everything was perfect.
On the first Saturday in April as the seeds began to sprout and reach for the sun-filled skies, Crockett Goodnight came by Caitlyn’s flower shop. He hadn’t been around much since Gideon had moved into her house and he’d stopped flirting with her. And she was glad for that, especially after the last incident with Bowie.
“Morning, Caitlyn.” He greeted her with a wide smile.
“Hello, Crockett.”
“How’s your wrist?” He glanced at the scar that was still bright pink and savage-looking.
“Much better, thank you.”
“Hondo ever figure who set that bear trap in the victory garden?”
“No. There weren’t any fingerprints on the trap.”
He clicked his tongue. “Such a shame to mar such a pretty wrist. I hope they catch whoever did it and throw the book at him.”
“Who says it’s a him? Could just as easily be a woman.”
He shook his head. “Women and bear traps? Not likely.”
“You never know.”
“So.” He clasped his palms together. “Are you and Danny ready for opening day?”
Until Crockett walked in, she’d actually forgotten about promising Danny he could go to opening day at the Ballpark in Arlington.
“I told you no weeks ago. I can’t make it. I have to work.”
Crockett’s face fell like that of a first grader who’d been told he couldn’t have cake for breakfast. “So it’ll just be me and Danny?”
“Actually, Gideon is going to use my ticket, if that’s all right with you.”
Crockett’s eyes narrowed and he pressed his lips tightly together, but then he laughed and said, “Sure, sure, that’s fine.”
“Is it going to be awkward for you? When we first made these arrangements, I didn’t know about the details of the will.”
Crockett shrugged. “If it doesn’t bother Garza, it doesn’t bother me.”
“It doesn’t bother me a bit, Goodnight,” Gideon said.
Both Caitlyn and Crockett turned to see Gideon and Danny standing in the doorway. Danny had a baseball mitt in his hand and he was grinning like it was Christmas. But the tension between the two men was palpable.
“I was planning on us leaving a little early,” Crockett said. “I have a surprise for Danny. There’s a batting practice clinic before the game starts and I signed us up.”
“Really!” Danny’s eyes shone. “Oh, Crockett, you’re the greatest.” He ran across the shop to wrap his arms around Crockett’s waist.
Caitlyn saw the look in Gideon’s eyes as he watched his son hug another man, and it hurt her heart. “Danny, come here and listen to me a minute. I know you’re excited but I want you to hear this.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He heaved an exaggerated sigh and clomped over to her.
Caitlyn crouched down so they were face to face. “Wear your sunscreen and cap. Don’t eat too much junk, and most of all . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Have a good time.” She kissed his cheek.
“Mom!” He rubbed off her kiss. “Not in front of everyone.”
“I guess I’ll see you when I see you,” she said to Gideon. “I’ll be at the victory garden when I close up here. Probably won’t be home until after dark.”
Their eyes met over Danny’s head. How she wanted to kiss him good-bye. But they’d decided to keep things quiet until they were ready to tell Danny that Gideon was his father. From the way the two had been getting along, not to mention how desperately she wanted to kiss Gideon in public, that wouldn’t be too long.
“Bye.” Gideon winked and followed Crockett and Danny out the front door.
Gideon had been dreading this trip to the ballpark ever since Caitlyn had proposed it, but to his surprise, Crockett acted as if there was nothing contentious between them. He talked mostly of baseball, which was a safe enough topic, except that Gideon had been out of the country so long he knew none of the players.
Danny knew them, though, and it seemed he had every baseball card ever made. His knowledge about baseball surprised Gideon. He hadn’t been that interested in sports when he was Danny’s age. He’d been much more interested in taking things apart and seeing how they worked.
It took over an hour to get to Arlington, to park, and to get through the gate. The air smelled like peanuts and popcorn and roasting hot dogs. Danny was so wound up that he couldn’t stand still. He wriggled and jiggled and talked ninety-to-nothing.
They went first to the field where the pregame batting clinic, taught by former Texas Rangers, was being held. Crockett stepped out onto the field with Danny, but Gideon hung back.
“Come on,” Crockett said, and waved him over.
Gideon shook his head. “Not for me, thanks. I’ll just watch.”
“Hell, you’re a war hero, no one would think twice about it.”
“Nah, you two go ahead.” He saw the way Danny was with Crockett, animated, happy.
For the most part, whenever he was around his son, Gideon felt overwhelmed. He wasn’t scared of fatherhood. In fact, he welcomed the role. He’d played it many times to orphans in Afghanistan. But that wasn’t what bothered him. What crawled under his skin an
d burned like a grass burr was watching the easy way his half brother tossed the ball to his child. The way Danny’s face lit up when he caught it.
Gideon had lost his dominant hand. He could toss a ball with his right hand, but not very well. He couldn’t catch at all with the prosthesis. And as for batting? Forget it. No matter how he might wish it different, he couldn’t give his son the things he needed, and Crockett could.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself. The voice he heard in the back of his head was all Moira’s, bristly and British, taking him to task.
“Good catch, Danny-boy,” Crockett called out. They were pitching the ball back and forth, warming up, waiting for their turn at the bat. “Sling it back, give it all you’ve got.”
Danny cocked back his arm and hurled.
Crockett easily caught it.
“Hey Gideon,” Danny said. “Watch this.”
Those four little words went a long way in chasing off his gloomy mood. He smiled and turned his full attention on his son.
Once the batting clinic was over and Danny had snagged autographs from some of the players who’d come down on the field, they made their way to their seats. The Rangers were playing the Yankees on opening day so the place was packed.
Gideon was alarmed to discover they were sitting in the upper box behind home plate. Ever since he’d been in that first bombing in Baghdad where he’d suffered a concussion and temporary amnesia, whenever he had to scale heights much over a second story, his equilibrium screwed up. He wasn’t afraid of heights. Rather, he got vertigo.
His son was taking the steps two at a time, eager to get to their seats. Gideon was trying to get up the high metal steps carrying the nachos and soft drinks—which Danny had begged for—which was challenge enough without the dizziness.
“You okay, man?” Crockett asked.
“Fine.” Gideon grunted.
“You don’t look fine.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Here, let me take that for you.” Crockett reached for the nachos.
“I said I’m fine,” Gideon growled.
Crockett held up both palms. “This is me backing off, dude.”
Okay, he sounded like an ass, and while he might not like Crockett, could some of his testiness have anything to do with the fact that his half brother had wowed his son in ways he could not? Gideon had to admit it did. Relenting, he said, “Look, heights make me light-headed.”
“Gideon!” Danny called out from the top row of the upper boxes. “I found our seats, aren’t they awesome!”
“I’ll be fine once I sit down,” Gideon said. “And yeah, you can carry the damn soda for me.”
“Hey man, look at you. All asking for help and shit.”
Just when he was starting to like that guy, he had to say something that made Gideon want to smack him.
Once he was seated, as long as he didn’t lean too far over, he could control the vertigo. He tried to keep his mind focused on the game. The weather wasn’t bad. The nachos were surprisingly decent, and Danny was having the time of his life.
By the time the seventh inning stretch rolled around, Crockett and Danny were swaying in the aisles with the other fans to the tune of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” Gideon stayed put.
Then at the top of the eighth, amazingly, a fly ball came their way.
“Catch it, Gideon! Catch it!” Danny yelled.
Not wanting to disappoint his kid, Gideon stood, hand raised, and tried to catch it, but his head swam and he had to sit back down or tumble over the seat in front of him, just as Crockett knocked a couple of people aside to reach up and snag it for Danny.
The crowd around them went nuts. Some cheering, some booing.
Crockett smirked, tossed Danny the ball. “Here you go, kid.”
“Woo-hoo!” Danny and Crockett bumped fists.
Grinning from ear to ear, Danny sat back down, turned to Gideon. “Crockett is so awesome. I wish he could be my dad.”
The house was quiet and dark when Caitlyn came home from working the victory garden with all the members of the gardening club. It was well after nine. Someone had brought a couple of bottles of wine—probably Raylene—and they’d ended up doing as much sipping as they had weeding. She kicked off her gardening clogs in the mudroom and shut the door behind her. During the course of the day, she’d made up her mind to tell Gideon it was okay if he wanted to tell Danny who he was. She’d thought putting it off would make things easier, but it had not. They might as well just do it, deal with the fallout, and get it behind them so they could take the next step.
And what was that next step? Gideon was already living with her. Marriage seemed the next logical progression. But he hadn’t told her he loved her and she surely was not going to say it first. She knew that he did love her. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch, but until he said the words . . . Was she being silly about that? Shouldn’t she just go ahead and tell him she’d never stopped loving him? Would that make her seem needy? She didn’t want him to think she was needy. Was she needy?
Too much wine for you tonight, Mrs. Marsh.
Were Gideon and Danny home yet? They hadn’t come by the garden on their way in. Maybe the game had gone long. Or maybe Crockett just hadn’t felt like stopping. He could be like that.
“Gid?” she called softly.
No answer.
She dropped her car keys on the kitchen table and flicked on the light. The sink was empty, the cabinets sparkling. Gideon had cleaned up. She smiled. He made her feel so taken care of.
“Gid?” She stepped into the living room.
It was empty. The television turned off. There was a baseball program on the coffee table, ticket stubs, an autographed baseball, and a little boy–sized Texas Rangers ball cap. That made her smile too. Looked like Danny had a very good time.
She hadn’t meant to stay out so late, but she’d been having such fun and they’d gotten a lot of work done in spite of—or maybe because of—the wine sipping. She felt tired, but it was the good kind of tired, obtained from hard work and camaraderie.
She opened the door to Danny’s bedroom, but his bed was empty, the covers turned back. She looked into the master bedroom. They weren’t there either.
A soft uneasiness slid over her. Not alarm, not concern, but the slight tugging that something was different. Off. Then she turned the knob of the guest bedroom and stepped inside.
Gideon lay on his left side with Danny curled against his belly. They were both fully dressed and sound asleep.
Her heart lurched and a third smile tugged at her lips. They looked so happy, so peaceful together, this father and son. For the longest time she simply stood in the darkness, the only illumination coming from the kitchen light.
She watched them and realized their chests were rising and falling in tandem breathing. They looked so much alike with their dark hair and tanned skin and identical noses. Finally, she crept forward, intending on easing Danny away from Gideon without waking him. She leaned over, slipped an arm under his little shoulder, and then suddenly, there was a gun in her face.
She didn’t know where it had come from. Hadn’t even felt him move. One minute it wasn’t there, the next it was.
It must have been under his pillow, that’s all she could figure. The barrel was at her nose and her heart was thumping like a piston. Her knees were water.
“What the fuck are you doing,” Gideon snarled. He stared at her but his eyes were unseeing, his hand wrapped around the pistol grip. He was in the throes of another nightmare.
Fear was a living thing in her chest. He wasn’t awake, she realized. In his sleep, he’d pulled a gun on her.
She stayed frozen, terrified to move, terrified to set him off, terrified to even try to wake him. Sweat dripped off her forehead, rolled down her nose. She couldn’t stay like this. The gun in her face, Gideon’s vacant expression sending her gut into spasms.
“Gideon,” she finally whispered. “Wake up, it’s me, Caitlyn.”<
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“Mom?”
Oh Jesus, Danny was awake!
“Shh, honey, don’t move.”
“Mom.” His voice was high and reedy. “How come Gideon’s holding a gun?”
“He’s asleep. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.” Fear was a metal taste in her mouth. Her bones were like rubber.
“Gideon,” Danny said sharply, “wake up.”
Caitlyn gasped, sucked in her breath, held it.
Gideon’s eyes snapped fully open. He stared at her, stared at Danny, stared at the gun in his hand. His mouth fell open. Realization dawned in his eyes.
He flung the gun away from them. Leaped from the bed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh Caitlyn, I’m sorry.”
“Get it out of my house. Get it out now!” she commanded, pointing at the gun lying on her rug.
“I’m going, I’m going.” He stabbed his feet into his shoes.
Danny sat on the bed looking nervous.
“You don’t have to go, just get rid of the gun. Why do you have a gun?”
“I’m a soldier, Caitlyn. Soldiers have guns.”
“Not anymore you’re not. You’re a carpenter and artist with wood. You don’t need a gun.”
He snatched up the gun, stuck it in his waistband. Shadows covered his face. He looked as gaunt and haunted as she felt. “I’ll come back later for my things.”
“Where are you going in the middle of the night?”
“I’ll find a motel, don’t worry.”
“You don’t have to go.”
“I do. I can’t believe . . .” He swallowed, paled. “I can’t believe I did that to you.”
“I wasn’t hurt. You didn’t hurt me.”
“No, but I could have . . . I—” He had no words left. She could see it in his face. He was torn apart by what he had done and he’d had no control of it.
Then he turned and was gone, fleeing out into the night. After the kitchen door slammed behind him, she heard his motorcycle roar to life, drive away.
“Mom?” Danny said. “What happened?”
She sat down beside him, put her arm over his shoulder, and quietly told him as best she could in language he would understand why Gideon was the way he was.