Heart of a Marine (The Wounded Warrior Series Book 1)

by Patty Campbell

  Dwayne dismounted, wincing when a sharp pain shot fire through his stump. He limped to the porch and immediately headed up the stairs to find Marla.

  “Dwayne,” Grace called and handed Amber off to Cookie. She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

  “I have to talk to her.” He couldn’t put off making amends. He loved her and she needed to hear his apology. He needed to offer it.

  Dylan and Donovan walked in.

  “She’s not here,” Grace said.

  “Where is she? Is she hurt? I have to see her.”

  “Charlene drove her and Miss Emmaline to Sheridan to get a flight back to L.A.”

  Donovan sucked in a loud breath. “Charlene left?” He faced Dwayne and glared. “What in hell have you done? I should kick the shit out of you.”

  Grace put her hand on Donovan’s arm. “Your wife will be back tomorrow. Marla and Emma couldn’t get a flight out tonight. They’re staying overnight at the Day’s Inn near the airport.” She linked her hand in his arm and steered him toward the phone. “Call her and let her know everybody is home safe then let’s get you something to eat.”

  The scene had played out in sickening slow motion for Dwayne. He turned and sat on the stairs with a thump and dropped his head in his hands. “Jesus, God, what have I done?” He rolled his head in his hands.

  Dyl sat next to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t speak for several seconds then said, “Everything will look better in the morning. Come to the kitchen and sit down to eat with your daughter. Don’t let her see you like this.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Suck it up, brother.”

  Numb, Dwayne followed his big brother to the kitchen. He arrived in time to hear Amber’s blow-by-blow of her afternoon for the others at the table while Cookie bustled in front of the stove. For the moment, at least, she seemed to have forgotten about Skipper. He slid onto the bench next to her and kissed her head.

  A few minutes into her recitation, Kathleen entered the kitchen and lifted the big, stainless steel coffeepot off the stove. “I’ll take this out to the men in the barn, Cookie.”

  Cookie nodded and said, “I’ll get the other one going pronto. You come right back and eat some supper. Those cowboys can look after themselves.” She turned and set a big plate of steaming cornbread on the table next to a crock of home-churned butter.

  Dwayne’s stomach rebelled at the thought of food. He shifted and rubbed his knee. His vision blurred with unshed tears. Marla had left him. His fault. There was no excuse for the way he’d treated her. His mind flooded with self-hatred.

  All he wanted to do was drag his tired bones and aching leg up the stairs and fall in bed, but he wouldn’t leave somebody else break the news to Amber about Skipper. No. He wasn’t that much of a coward. He stroked Amber’s hair and listened to her chatter away.

  As much as he loved his daughter, and it was immeasurable, he knew to the depths of his soul how desperately he needed Marla in his life. He spoke in Amber’s ear, “When you finish eating let’s go sit in Grandpa’s chair by the fireplace.”

  She yawned. “I’m done, Daddy.”

  He stepped over the bench and lifted her into his arms. The rest of the family stayed put. He was grateful to them for that. In the living room, he sat in his grandpa’s big old recliner and rested Amber’s back against his chest. “Do you know how much I love you?”

  “Uh huh. Me too.” She tilted her head and met his eyes. “Was that skinny, mean lady rilly my mom?”

  He sighed and ran his hand up and down her fragile arm. “Yes, baby. Francine is your birth mother, but she couldn’t be a mom for you. She’s had a lot of problems in her life. Don’t hate her. I’m sure she loved you when you were born, but then things happened and she ran away. I don’t know why she came back now.”

  “You’re my rill dad, aren’t you?”

  A pain pierced his chest.

  “Absolutely, positively.” He hugged her tight and kissed her cheek. “I’m your real dad.”

  “That’s good, because I didn’t want to go with those people and leave you.”

  “Nobody will ever take you away from me, baby.” Her innocence cracked his heart.

  “Skipper died, didn’t he, Daddy?”

  “Yes.”

  Her beautiful amber eyes filled with tears. “Poor Marla. I bet she’ll cry forever and ever.” She twisted in his lap to sit sideways. “Can I hug her before I go to bed?”

  He took a shaky breath. “Marla went home. Miss Emmaline went with her to keep her company.”

  She sat back and stared at him goggle-eyed. “Why? What did you do, Daddy?”

  Her childlike perception took his breath away. He dropped his head back on the chair. “I yelled at her. I was angry she let them take you. I’d cut off my other leg if I could take it back.”

  “Don’t you love her anymore?”

  How did this child know he was in love with Marla?

  “I love her very much, but I don’t know if she can forgive me for the things I said.”

  “She has to, Daddy. I want her to be with us.”

  What could he say? He shook his head slowly and closed his eyes.

  Amber slid from his lap. “I’m rill tired. I’m going to bed. Tomorrow we’ll make a plan. I’ll help you fix everything. G’night, Daddy.”

  Dwayne kept his eyes closed and reclined the chair. “See you in the morning, sweetheart.” He couldn’t face going in that empty bedroom and climbing in that cold bed without Marla. No, he’d sleep in the chair tonight. In front of the fireplace. Alone.

  * * *

  Marla’s eyes opened before dawn. She rolled on her side, careful not to wake Charlene, and watched Miss Emmaline asleep in the other bed, Princess Elizabeth curled up close to her. After a few minutes, she slipped from the bed and quietly made her way to the bathroom to use the toilet without turning on the light with the loud, grinding fan. She’d flush in the morning.

  She’d slept, but she’d had troubling disjointed dreams. During the night she sprang to a sitting position when she heard Skipper bark. Tears poured from her eyes. She stared through the darkness at the shoe box on the table where his little body rested inside, wrapped in a tea towel.

  Wrenching pain consumed her. She clasped her hands over her mouth and lay back, pulling the lumpy motel pillow over her head to muffle her sobs. Not just for her precious dog, but for those brutal accusations Dwayne had thrown at her. She hadn’t known the man at all. Charlene snuggled close and put an arm around her.

  When their flight arrived at LAX the next afternoon, Miss Emmaline touched her arm as they reached the baggage claim area. “Look, dear. Those precious brothers of yours are waiting for us. Charlene must have called them.”

  Wearing identical sober faces, Harry and Barry met them and silently embraced Marla then Emmaline. A new round of tears poured from her eyes. She hadn’t known there were so many tears in the world to be shed.

  “Let’s go home, BS.”

  The boys took their luggage from the carousel and led them to the short-term parking lot. Barry drove and Marla took the passenger seat. Harry sat in back with Miss Emmaline, Elizabeth’s carrier on the seat between them.

  Her brothers’ silence comforted her. She knew how much they cared. Words were unnecessary.

  They went to the condos first and the boys escorted Miss Emmaline and her bags to her new apartment. Marla waited in the car until they returned. Other apartments were occupied with returned tenants. Lights winked from several windows.

  When they reached her house, the boys carried her luggage inside. She clutched the shoe box, holding her baby to her chest, unwilling to let anybody touch it. “You don’t need to stay, sweeties. Thank you for meeting us. I’d really like to be alone, if you don’t mind.”

  “Dadley and Sil wanted us to call when you got here so they could come over.”

  “No. Please, I don’t want them to do that. Tell them I’m fine by myself. I’ll go to their house tomorrow. OK?”r />
  “OK.” They hugged her and left.

  Marla locked the door behind them then closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cool, smooth wood. Swallowing back tears, she headed for her bedroom. Skipper’s dishes sat on the floor next to the kitchen sink. A stab of pain pierced her stomach when she averted her eyes and kept walking, switching lights on in every room as she passed them on her way.

  For some reason, as exhausted as she was, she needed light. Every light. Every room. She sat on the edge of her bed with the box in her lap and stroked it lovingly. Anguished cries escaped her throat so fast she didn’t recognize her own voice. How long would it take for the pain to ease?

  Hand under her bed pillow, she dragged out Dwayne’s T-shirt, the one she loved to sleep in, clutched it to her face and curled on her side. Please, she wanted to stop loving him, stop loving Amber.

  Some time later, she rose from the bed and went to the garage to find a shovel. Stopping at one of Skippy’s favorite spots at the edge of the flower bed, she dug a deep hole. The monotonous action of stomping on the back edge of the shovel and lifting the heavy, wet soil out of the ever-larger gash increased her breathing and eased the ache in her heart. She slumped on the grass to rest.

  On her knees, Marla untied the knotted string then lifted the lid on the shoebox to stare at the wrapped bundle that a day ago had been her lively pet. She lowered the box in the little grave and sat back on her heels.

  A sad smile cracked her face. Remembering Charlene’s words, “You and that dog,” she used her hands to scoop and push the dirt back in place. “Sweet dreams, baby. Mama loves you.”

  Instead of returning to the house, she lay on her back on the damp lawn and stared at the cloudless Southern California sky. So many fewer stars were visible here than in Wyoming. Were Dwayne and Amber looking at the stars tonight? She raised her hand in a silly, futile wave. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

  Get up, Marla.

  She carried the shovel back to the garage, removed her muddy jeans and shoes, and dropped them on the floor in front of her car. After a long, hot shower, she pulled Dwayne’s shirt over her head and went to bed. The phone rang as she reached for the switch on her lamp.

  “Hello, Char,” she answered.

  “Hi, hon, how are you?”

  She fell back against her pillow and sighed. “I’m OK. I was about to turn out the light. Please tell me Amber was unhurt.”

  “Yes. Kids can be so resilient. She’s fine, but very sad that you weren’t here and Skip was…”

  “Killed. It’s OK to say it. Don’t worry about me. I know you and Donovan are scheduled to leave on your honeymoon in the morning. Go, have fun.”

  “We want you to fly over there, sis. You can help me move in. I’ll have to buy tons of stuff for the house. We can have fun shopping in Honolulu and lounging on the beach.”

  “That sounds wonderful, Char. Please give Amber a hug for me and thank Kathleen and Cookie and the rest of the ranch people for their hospitality.”

  “I’ll see you when we get back to Spring Grove. We’ll be staying a couple of days at Mom and Dad’s before we fly to the islands. Good night, sis. I love you.”

  “Love you too.” She turned the phone off and turned out the light. She dreamed she was in Dwayne’s strong arms, felt his hands and lips on her face and body, Skip snoring between them.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Dwayne called Marla several times during the last two weeks he and Amber remained at the ranch. She had to be screening his calls. He could never get past voicemail. He had no intention of leaving a long, incoherent apology on her phone. He needed to speak to her in person. When they returned to California, he’d find her and get down on his knees if he had to.

  “She still not answering?” his mother asked.

  “She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

  “I don’t blame her, do you?”

  “No. I’m the worst kind of jackass.” He raked a hand through his hair.

  Kathleen stood behind his chair and put her arms around his neck. “Not quite, I was married to the worst kind of jackass—your father.”

  “Yeah, guess who I got it from.” He leaned back against her and smiled, loving the soothing sensation of her hands on his cheeks. “Do you hate him?”

  She chuckled and sat across the table. “Heavens, no, I wish I did. I’ll always have a soft spot for John Dempsey. He’s impossible to hate, but I was very angry at him for a long time.”

  Dwayne leaned on his forearms and re-arranged the condiments on the table. “How come you never re-married, Mom?”

  He thought of the look of longing in the sheriff’s eyes the night they arrested Francine and Luke. Kathleen was a good-looking woman, still barely into her mid-fifties.

  “Oh…I’m not really sure. Living way out here, I got lost in the work of running the ranch, helping Daddy. Don’t forget, you came with me and lived here for almost five years, and your brothers stayed most summers.”

  “Yeah, well, I was mad at Dad too.” He pushed himself to a standing position. His leg still tender, he winced.

  “Is your leg still bothering you? Let me take a look at it.”

  He shook his head and grinned. “Nah, Nurse Amber takes good care of me. It’s barely red now.”

  “Dwayne, your care is not Amber’s responsibility.” She raised a hand. “Don’t glare at me like that. I’m not telling you how to raise your own child. But it strikes me she’s a bit more sober than a six year old should be. You’re responsible for her, not the other way around.”

  “I know, Mom, but it’s been just the two of us since the day she was born. It’s all she knows. She thinks of herself as the woman of the house.”

  “Have you ever given any thought to how your tight, exclusive relationship with your daughter appears to others? Marla’s place in your hierarchy of values was quite obvious to her, and the rest of us, the day Amber went missing.”

  “I’m still coming to grips with why I went off like that, behaved like such a jerk that day. I love her. Amber loves her. I want her to marry me.”

  “You mean marry us. Amber will be smack in the middle of any relationship you have with any woman—regardless of how often she declares she wants Marla in your lives. Power struggles and vying for your affection and attention are inevitable.”

  “I fully intended to avoid any thought of marriage or a serious relationship with a woman until after Amber went off to college.” He huffed and clawed at his hair again. “I wanted to sleep with Marla, not to fall in love with her.”

  He paced the kitchen. Stopped and stared out the window. “I want her back, Mom. I can’t see living without her.” He raised his arms and gritted his teeth. “God! She’s so…I can’t explain…what…she means to me.”

  Kathleen joined him in front of the window and put her arm around his waist. “There’s a phrase in the wedding vows about ‘forsaking all others.’ That means if you truly want to marry Marla, she must come first in your heart. I don’t think you’re ready for that reality. You certainly gave your true feelings away the day her dog got killed.”

  He swallowed and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do. How can I choose between them?”

  “That’s the thing, son. You don’t have to choose between them. You choose them. It’s a package deal.” She reached up and smacked him affectionately in the cheek. “Now get on out to the barn and start shoveling horse shit!”

  He kissed her forehead. “Yes, ma’am.”

  On the three-day drive back home he and Amber visited Zion Park and stayed overnight in Salt Lake City to take in a performance of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They dressed in the outfits they’d worn at Donovan’s wedding, and after the music, he took her on a date to Franck’s where she sipped lemon soda from a champagne glass like a proper lady and tasted her first escargot. She loved it until he confessed it was snails. Her glare of disgust could have stopped a runaway train.

  On the last day of
the road trip, she watched the monotonous scenery flying by the truck windows. “Daddy, when we get home can we go see Marla?”

  “She doesn’t want to see me.”

  “You have to do something.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “You better.”

  “You know something, squirt? If I ever get Marla back, you’re likely end up low man on the totem pole.”

  She squinched her eyes and forehead. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It means that if Marla decided to forgive, even God help me, marry us, I’d be giving her permission to discipline you, set rules, and be lady of the house.”

  She mulled over the information for several seconds. “She’s rill bossy.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well I’ve got news for you. You’re rill bossy too.”

  She glared, her chin trust forward. “I am not!”

  “You just proved my point.”

  She harrumphed and crossed her arms. He bit the inside of his cheek and they drove several miles before she spoke again.

  “Am I, rilly?”

  “Really.” He squeezed her knee. “But guess what? I think you’re perfect, and I love you this much.” He took his hands off the wheel and threw his arms wide.

  “Daddy! Pay attention to the road!”

  A deep laugh rumbled from his chest. “Yes, ma’am, Sergeant Bossy, ma’am.”

  Late that night, he carried her in the house, removed her sneakers, and tucked her in bed in her traveling clothes. He checked his bulletin board in the kitchen for any important messages from Cluny, who’d been keeping an eye on his house and business for the past month. The only thing on it was a handmade Father’s Day card from two years ago.

  He punched Marla’s number into his phone and waited for the inevitable toneless, machine-recorded voice. “Shit!” He tossed it on the coffee table and reclined for a quick rest. When he woke it was broad daylight, and Amber was poking his chest.