“Sit on the bed and take a few breaths,” she says, removing her yellow gloves. I sit and she takes a seat beside me. “What is it?” she asks.
I breathe slowly and I try to think where to start. I figure the beginning is probably the best place, so I tell her about the visit from the officers this morning. Then I tell her how Ryder came to the door and said he was Thomas. And finally I give her Ryder’s explanation that to him Thomas is dead. By the time I’m finished, her jaw is slack, her eyes are distant and her breathing is ragged.
“Do you understand why I’m having a panic attack now?”
“But, but… Ryder. Thomas…?”
“See what I mean? That was my reaction.”
“You were kissing him! I mean, I don’t know… Couldn’t you tell?” She looks at me with narrowed eyes. Maybe she thinks I’m crazy.
“Don’t you think I’ve been making myself crazy asking the same question? He was different. Thomas was very possessive and unsure. Ryder was soft and sweet. Everything felt different with Ryder. I don’t know what to say. He looks nothing like Thomas. He has a tattoo… His body is more defined. He used different soap… I don’t know, Jenny! Maybe I am crazy. I mean, I never saw his…”
She places her palms on both cheeks. Dave knocks on the door and asks if everything is okay.
Jenny looks at him awestruck and then blurts out everything I just told her. His jaw goes slack and I take Brandon out of his arms.
“Hi, my boy.” I rub the soft baby skin on his hand.
Dave and Jenny are now pacing around me and Jenny’s kids are alone downstairs.
“Dave,” I say. “Ryder could come back any minute. You have to go back down and act normal. Don’t act as if he’s our Thomas. Just treat him as you would treat Ryder on a regular day.”
The minute Dave leaves Jenny asks, “What are you going to do?”
I look down at Brandon—he’s sleeping contentedly. “The only thing I can do, Jenny. To Ryder, Thomas is dead. But to me he’s still the father of my baby and the only man I clearly ever loved.” My voice cracks and tears begin to well in my eyes. “What are the chances? We end up in the same hospital. I bring a stranger home with me… I mean that was crazy—who does shit like that?” I pause, thankful Brandon is asleep.
“It was messed up, I know, but being in the hospital and watching all those happy families leaving together hurt so bad. Then there was Ryder with that low, deep voice and the darkest most beautiful eyes that were so familiar yet distant. I knew he wasn’t Thomas. I knew I was taking a risk.” I look up at the ceiling, thinking how insane this is. I roll my eyes and laugh bitterly. “But I was falling in love with Ryder and now when I think about it, I’m not sure if I was blind or crazy because Ryder is Thomas without all the baggage. I can see it so clearly now. He’s good to Brandon. He’s good to me. He doesn’t worry about his messed-up past and being like either of his shitty parents. It’s nice, Jenny. It’s nice and peaceful. Ryder is at peace. Is it so bad to want him to feel good? You have no idea the demons that Thomas carried around. It was hard on him, but it was hard on me too. I had to wait so long to have Brandon and look what happened when I told Thomas I was pregnant. He left. He left us, Jenny.” As the tears go into free fall, Jenny motions for me to pass Brandon over to her. I reach for tissues on the nightstand and wipe my eyes and nose.
“And now I have him back.” I hold the tissue to my heart because my heart was so broken when Thomas left and divorced me. “He was so messed up when he left—drugs and alcohol and PTSD. He felt he couldn’t be here, that he had to go back. Now the navy is honoring him for his service—he’s a hero and he should be proud.”
“We both know that he could have been proud without going back and fighting more. Like you said, Halo—he has demons that have haunted him throughout his life. What happens if he does get his memory back? I hate to say it, but what happens if he wants to leave you again?” Jenny is practically cringing at the thought.
“Those were my first thoughts too. What happens if he leaves? My gut is telling me that he won’t leave, that the PTSD he was suffering from before got out of hand and made him behave crazy. Ryder is in a good place now. He’s going for therapy and trying to make himself a life. He told me so. We spoke about this, about us…” My cell rings and I pick it up. “Hello.”
“Halo,” Ryder greets me. “Is it okay if I pick you and Brandon up in a little while? First I wanted to pay a visit to that older lady I put down as my next of kin.” My heart sinks. I’ve guessed who it is. I only met her once but she used to look out for Thomas when he was a kid. It must be his old neighbor, Miss Randall.
“Yeah of course. We’ll be waiting for you,” I reply. “See you soon.”
“Bye, Halo.”
“Bye, Ryder.”
I end the call and Jenny looks at me, warily lifting her right brow. “What is it?”
“He’s going to see his old neighbor, Miss Randall,” I explain. “She took care of Thomas when he was living with his father. He used to get homework done at her place and she fed him a lot.”
“He’s going for answers, honey.” Jenny voices my exact thoughts.
“I know, and I can’t stop him. All I can do is pray he doesn’t take off again. Brandon needs his father and I need him too. I’m worried, Jenny. Ryder told me that everyone on the team was killed in the ambush except him. When Chris Rover died it completely broke him. If he remembers how close he was to the rest of his team—and they’re all gone too—I’m scared I will lose him forever.”
“Oh, honey.” Jenny places one arm around me—she still has Brandon sleeping tight in her arms.
“I need to be strong. I have to work tomorrow. Brandon is going to Miss Ritter and Thomas…Ryder….” I sigh and my shoulders droop.
“You are so strong, Halo. I have faith in you. I’m pretty sure you must be superwoman.” She laughs.
“Yeah right. I’m clearly with superman since he keeps on leaving to save the world.” I huff out a sardonic laugh.
“You’ve got to hope that things will work out. Like you said, he’s in therapy this time. He’s been injured. He doesn’t walk right and his arm has troubles too. I don’t think the navy would take a wounded vet back to war,” Jenny says, making a good point.
“Yeah, I think you’re right. He will clearly have to be medically discharged. I just hope that life as a paramedic or some other profession will be enough for him. I hope Brandon and I will be enough for him.”
“I hope so too.” She rubs my back. “Let’s go downstairs I’ll make you a tea. It sounds like you have at least a few things worked out in your head.”
“I guess. I’ve clearly learned I can’t control or plan my life. So whatever happens happens.” My lips turn down even though I intend to smile. I follow Jenny out of her room and down the stairs. We head into the kitchen where her three sweet children are all eating chocolate chip pancakes with chocolate-covered faces.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ryder
I’m eager to get back to Halo and Brandon, but I need to make a quick stop first. I’ve had this address sitting in my pocket for about a week. My doctor thought it would be a good idea to talk to this woman—Miss Randall—since I named her as my next of kin. He’s guessing I must have had a good relationship with her considering I have no other family listed. I head to the other side of Rogers Park. This part of the neighborhood is clearly more run down—there are kids who look like they are up to no good on the street corners. I finally reach the address and pull up to the old apartment building. I park the truck and gage my surroundings. It’s an old truck but I would feel like shit if it got stolen.
I don’t know why I am going to see Miss Randall today. Last night being intimate with Halo did something to me. It wasn’t only the sexual chemistry between us. I also love the way she slept so content in my arms. It made me realize that I can’t put off figuring things out about my past. I need to pursue the missing pieces of the puzzle—my family, my e
x-wife, my old friends—more aggressively. She deserves nothing more than the best and she deserves a man who can fully commit to her. I need the closure to really move on with my life, with Halo.
I enter the building and wince at the musty smell and the dirt and trash that litter the entryway. I’m looking at the ancient intercom system, trying to figure out which apartment to buzz, when a guy—a knit hat pulled down over his brow—pushes by me on his way out. He doesn’t give me a second glance when I catch the inner door and head toward the elevator. The controls look ancient and I consider taking the stairs. But Miss Randall’s apartment number is 811 and I don’t think I can make it up eight flights.
I get on the elevator, press the button for the eighth floor and, as it rises, I think about Halo. And how she completely broke down when she thought the SEALs came to deliver bad news. A part of me was jealous of her reaction. I mean she must have really loved her ex-husband and any man would be lucky to have her kind of love. The other part of me didn’t know what to make of it, especially since she’s been acting off ever since. Like she couldn’t get rid of me fast enough to go speak with Jenny. My feelings for her are so intense—maybe last night scared her as much as it scared me. I’m hoping that’s what it is and not her having cold feet about being with me because of her husband.
The elevator jolts to a stop and I walk down the hallway, trying not to inhale the scents of bad cooking and old, smelly socks. Finally, I knock on the door of Apartment 811. I wonder if I should have maybe called first. A man opens the door and looks at me warily. He looks like he has Down syndrome.
“I don’t know you,” he says.
“I’m sorry…I’m Thomas Wells. I was looking for Miss Randall,” I say politely.
The man still looks wary but yells, “Mother.”
A moment later a middle-aged woman comes to the door. She has blond, mid-length hair and her eyes are blue and circled with the kinds of wrinkles that come with a hard life. She gives me the same unsure look as her son. “Can I help you?” she asks.
“My name is Thomas Wells,” I tell her. “I uh…had you down as my next of kin in my military file and I wanted to ask you some questions.” I feel nervous and wonder if it was a mistake to come.
“Thomas? You don’t look like Thomas.” She sounds accusing or maybe unsure.
“Ma’am, I was badly injured in Afghanistan. I had facial restructuring and skin grafts. I’ve been burned and broken. I’m also suffering from amnesia and I was hoping you may have some answers for me.” As I say the last words her hand flies up to her mouth and she begins to quiver then she throws her arms around me and embraces me in a strong hug. I’m not sure if I am supposed to hug her back or not.
“Look, honey.” She gestures at the man who answered the door—I’m guessing it’s her son. “It’s Thomas. Oh dear.” She presses her palm to her heart. “You used to be friends—you would watch out for him at school. You know the kids in this neighborhood could get cruel from time to time. Wow! Boy, look at you.” She pauses with a gasp, shaking her head. “A man now. Back from the war.”
“I’m back, yes. And now I have some things I need to figure out.”
“Well, come on in, Thomas. Would you like some hot cocoa?” She’s still pressing her hand to her chest.
I’m not sure the last time I drank hot cocoa but it does sound good. “Yes, please, that would be nice,” I respond with a nod and a slight smile.
“Come in make yourself comfortable. You said you have amnesia. Does that mean you don’t remember who you are?” She looks back at me as I follow her to the kitchen. It’s small and very old with a yellow stove and fridge. Her son follows us into the kitchen with a grin and I smile at him. I wish I could remember him.
“Yes, ma’am, that’s what it means.”
Miss Randall makes hot cocoa and then the three of us sit around the small, white kitchen table. There are three chairs at the round table. Just enough for us. I sip the cocoa—it’s hot and sweet.
“You always did like my hot cocoa, Thomas. You used to come over here after school and do your homework at this very table. You boys would eat dinner together. You sure did love my spaghetti and meatballs.” She smiles, a distant look on her face. She seems fond of the memory.
“Why is that? Where was my family?”
Her blue eyes turn sad. “Well, honey, your mama left when you were two. She was a beautiful woman, but she wasn’t happy in this life. You lived across the hall. I heard your parents screaming all the time. I also heard your mama’s tears. One day she was just gone and your papa had to take care of you. At first he paid me to cook for you and watch over you during the day because I was homeschooling my own son who, as you can see, was born special. You boys got along great and it was extra money for me. Then your papa couldn’t afford me anymore. I think you must have been five by then because you went into kindergarten. You still came to me after school.” She pauses and tilts her head, gazing at me. “Boy, you must have been in a real wreck over there because I would not recognize you walking down the street and I practically raised you,” she says with sadness in her tone.
“I was, ma’am. I was the only one left alive. The rest of the men on my team died.”
She crosses her heart as her eyes fill with tears. “It was your dream to become a SEAL and you worked hard at it.” She twists her fingers together with that same far off look in her eyes. It’s almost as if she’s living those moments in the past again. “You did well in school, got your work done and then you would spend hours training your body. You were quite a looker back then. You had the girls lined up, except they never came around here. You always took off at night. At first I was scared you were getting into trouble, but you were just a teenage boy having his fun.” Her lips tug up at the corners and her eyes grow warm.
“Why didn’t I bring my friends around?” I ask, curious about her comment. Her eyes turn sad again as she gazes at me. She doesn’t answer. “Please, I want to know,” I urge her.
“Well, there was one young girl I remember. She came by to see you, but that father of yours…” She pauses and her aged eyes look back at me with anguish or maybe guilt—I’m not sure.
“Who was she?” I ask, because she must have been someone important if she is the only one I brought home.
“She was special to you, Thomas. A young, beautiful girl with the biggest, roundest brown eyes that I’ve ever seen. You were dating her and she came to see where you lived,” she says, then purses her lips.
It almost sounds as if she’s describing Halo because she has the most beautiful big round brown eyes I’ve ever seen. The thought makes my stomach drop, but I know the connection my mind is making is impossible.
“What happened when she came?” I ask.
“Thomas, your father was an alcoholic. It made him mean. And I think his heart turned cold when your mother left. He was a cruel man and he beat you, honey.” A tear slips down her face. Her son gets up and places his arms around her shoulders.
“I’m okay, dear.” She pats him. He nods and eyes me warily then sits back down.
“He beat me?” I ask. How could that even be possible? I don’t feel anything, it couldn’t have happened to me. Could it? I look at Miss Randall in a new light. She must have done so much more than feed me and babysit me. It’s likely she protected me and very possibly saved me. “Do you know what happened to the girl?” I ask. “Did we stay together?”
“Yes, Thomas. You told us that you met a girl—you loved her and you were leaving to take care of her. You said she was your ray of light. You mentioned that her parents had been killed in a drunk driving accident and you would be taking care of her. You said your goodbyes and we haven’t seen you since. It’s been about eight years now.” Her voice is matter-of-fact but I notice the sadness still rimming her eyes. Maybe I didn’t stay in touch.
My heartbeat is racing and I swallow hard, knowing I have to keep asking her questions. “Did you know the girl’s name?”
; As I wait for her response, my insides churn and I fidget on the uncomfortable chair. I feel like I’m about to find out a huge piece of the puzzle—
“I think her name was Halo.”
As she says Halo’s name all the blood drains from my face. Halo? I yell it in my head, as I desperately try to keep my cool. I rise to my feet abruptly. I can’t get out of here fast enough. I feel like breaking down, kicking a wall, maybe screaming at the top of my lungs. But I can’t do any of that right now. Processing this will have to wait because I have one more question. “Miss Randall, do you know where my father is?”
“Yes, hon. He still lives across the hall.” Her face scrunches up in disgust and I am beginning to understand where I came from.
“Thank you for your time. The cocoa was real good.” I try to smile. I need to hold it together and be kind to this woman, because it’s obvious she’s been nothing but kind to me. She has clearly had a hard life but she managed to open her heart to a boy who was basically alone and abandoned by his family. I’m thinking I probably made it through childhood because of her. She and her son follow me to the door.
“Will you come visit us again?” she asks with hope in her eyes.
“Yeah, you know what? You should take my cell phone number. We can stay in touch for sure.” I smile. I give her the number and she writes it on a paper.
“I’m glad to see that you made it through the war, Thomas. I can see that you’re still hurting, but you’ve always been a survivor, kid. You’re going to be okay. If you need to talk more or need to know anything else just call—we’re here.” She gives me a hug and something deep inside me pulls a little bit. I almost want to cry. I’m not sure why.
“Thank you, Miss Randall. It was nice to see you again too.” I smile at her son.
“Yeah, Thomas.” He smiles back and waves.
They shut the door and for a moment I stand in the hall, staring at the door across from Miss Randall’s. The apartment where I grew up and where my father still lives. A part of me wants to knock and see the man who created me. My body feels warm and my heart is still pumping fast from all the new information in my head. I think of Halo and Brandon and I turn to leave. I don’t need to waste even a second on a man who beat his own child.
Halo Page 21