by J. M. Madden
Tate finally released his neck but refused to let go of his hand. After collecting the bags they headed for the Yukon, Tate jabbering a mile a minute. It seemed to Tate that all was forgiven. Or forgotten. Dad was back and all was well again. But even his enthusiasm began to wane in the face of Dillon’s icy reserve. At one point he leaned over, whispering to his sister. Harper glanced at them in the rearview mirror. Dillon shook her head, arms crossed over her narrow chest, then turned back to the window.
Harper had no idea what he needed to do. The only thing he did know was that it was going to take time.
Cat reached over to rest her hand on his thigh and he was struck with such a strong sense of nostalgia it almost made him wince. They had ridden together like this too many times to count. Without conscious thought he realized that everybody had taken the same seats they always did when they went somewhere as a family.
He had been the one to ruin it. If he had been better able to deal with the paranoia that had plagued him, if he had sought help sooner, things would definitely be different.
That guilt would be added to all the rest that he carried.
Cat tried desperately to defuse the situation between Harper and Dillon but her daughter was being obstinate. She wouldn’t even look at her father.
Tate had ten million things to tell her about, from the rusted Matchbox car he found on the beach at Grandma’s house to the teacher at school that supposedly didn’t like him. “I’m sure you’re wrong,” Cat murmured. “Teachers have to like all kids. It’s in the job description.”
Tate gave her a squinty eyed look, trying to tell if she was lying or not, but Cat kept her face straight. Within a few seconds he was off on another tangent. Then he wanted food. Then he had to pee. At one point she looked over at Harper and laughed. Obviously he had forgotten what it was like to live with a little boy. He looked more tired than he had the past few days.
After a few stops and starts they made it down the road. They drove down the main strip of Cańon City.
“Mom, why do those signs say not to pick up hitchhikers?”
Cat glanced back at her daughter, debating what to tell her. “Well, there are a couple of prisons around here. There’s a big one just outside of town we’ll pass. They don’t want people picking up criminals.”
Even in the dimming evening light she could see Dillon’s eyes go wide, then she turned to look back out the window. She was probably trying to decide which of the many pedestrians out right now were bad people. Tate didn’t help matters when he pointed out a guy running across two lanes of traffic. “Oh, I bet he just robbed a store!”
Cat shook her head. “I think he’s just trying to cross the road, kiddo. Like a bunch of other people do every day.”
Tate looked a little disappointed but didn’t contradict her. When she looked to Harper for a little parental solidarity though, it was to find his brows furrowed. His gaze scanned the area, head moving back and forth as if he were scanning for terrorists. Cat got a worried feeling in her chest and she reached over to rest her hand on his thigh. Harper jerked as if he had forgotten where he was.
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.
He blinked, nodding. “Yeah. Lost myself a little there.”
“I could see that.”
He gave her a sheepish look. “I think I’m going to be hyper-aware now that the kids are here.”
“I had a feeling you would be. And I don’t mind it as long as it’s within reason. I love you, Harper. We can deal with anything.”
He stared at her for a long moment before jerking his attention back to the road. She thought she could see a shine of appreciation in his eyes though.
When they arrived at the house Tate was ready to explore but Cat put the kibosh on that. “We need to get you guys settled, then you need a bath before bed.”
“Aw, Mom,” he whined.
But she could see the tiredness in his eyes. Virginia was three hours ahead of Colorado so it was technically past their bedtime already. No, they didn’t have school the next day but she wanted to keep them on the schedule they were used to.
And in spite of his protests, as soon as Tate’s head hit the pillow his eyes began to droop. “I want Dad to tuck me in.”
Harper was more than happy to accommodate him. Settling to the edge of the mattress, Cat watched him run his palm over Tate’s dark hair. “You sleep good, buddy.”
“I will. Love you, Dad. Glad you’re back.”
Then he burrowed his head into the pillow and was out.
Harper sat next to him for another minute and Cat rested her hand on his broad shoulder. He covered her hand with his own, then drew it to his mouth for a kiss. Holding on to her fingers he led her out of the room.
Dillon was in the den curled into the chair Harper normally sat in, ear buds plugged into her iPad as she swiped. She glanced up when they entered the room but didn’t say anything, continuing to play. Or she at least pretended to. Cat noticed that her movements began to slow.
Cat and Harper sat on the couch and flicked on the TV. As Harper flipped channels she curled into his side, legs out beside her. She closed her eyes and rested her head in the crook of his arm. “I think I’m more tired now than I have been for the past two weeks.”
His heavy chest rumbled under her ear as he laughed. “I have a new appreciation for what you’ve had to do while I was gone. The kid just doesn’t stop.”
“Until he gets tired. Then he crashes hard. Kind of like somebody else I know.”
Harper was like that. He could stay up for days if he needed to, but as soon as his head hit the pillow he was out. He ran his hand up her arm. “I’m not like that anymore. I like my sleep.”
Cat didn’t contradict him outright, but she squinted up at him. They’d slept together the last few nights—he had actually moved his stuff into her room—and she knew he wasn’t as sound a sleeper as he suggested. Several times she had woken up to find him gone. He came back toward morning, then he crashed. But she wasn’t going to complain. They were on a much better track.
They watched a couple of semi-funny sitcoms. Cat was very aware when Dillon took out her ear buds and began to watch TV with them. But within a few minutes she claimed she was tired and headed to bed. Without a kiss or hug for either one of them, Dillon left the room.
Disappointment swelled but she forced it down. She couldn’t expect the kids to welcome Harper within just a few hours.
Harper loved her a little more fervently that night, then cradled her in his arms. “How do I reach her?” he whispered.
Cat shook her head against him. “I’m not sure. It may take a while.”
He heaved a sigh as if he had already assumed the answer.
As she was drifting off to sleep she felt Harper leave the bed to go do a check.
The morning sun had just cracked the horizon when Harper conceded he was tired. The worry about the safety of his kids weighed on his mind and he craved the feel of a rifle in his hands. No, not a rifle. His rifle. His security. Chad had taken the customized Barrett rifle back to Denver with him when Harper had been injured. Harper wanted to get his hands on the stock and scope to see how bad the damage was.
The kids’ comments about the hitchhikers had roused his fighting instincts. He wanted to go out and slay every criminal in a fifty-mile radius whether they were a threat or not. Intellectually he knew the urge was unrealistic, but he still felt it. He settled for staying up and protecting his family through the night.
Heading toward the bedroom he stripped off his t-shirt. After a shower he’d hit the sack.
Dillon came down the hallway from her room and stopped dead when she saw him reaching for the door handle. Harper paused too, unsure of the reception he would get if he told her good morning. He was a little shocked when her mouth dropped open and tears filled her stormy eyes. Walking forward slowly, her eyes roved over his chest in horror.
“What happened?”
Harper swallowed, unsure what to
tell his daughter. What had Cat told her?
“I was shot a couple of weeks ago.”
Her eyes flashed to his as if to see if he were telling the truth. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “But I’m okay. No big deal,” he assured her.
She shook her head, stepping closer. Her hand lifted as if she wanted to touch the wound but she stopped. “Does it still hurt?”
“Not much. I’m kind of used to it.”
Crossing her arms, she looked up at him, considering. “Mom told me you had been hurt but she didn’t say how or why. I thought she was lying to me again.”
Harper winced. “She wasn’t lying. I was shot in the chest and I was hit by glass when my scope was hit. I lost the vision in my right eye.” He rubbed at the scars on his face a little self-consciously.
She blinked. “Isn’t that your shooting eye?”
Harper looked at her, considering. Damn, she was sharp. “Yes, it is. I’m going to have to teach myself to shoot again. I don’t really shoot much at work, but it’s a skill I need to keep.”
Dillon shook her head again, her expression forlorn. “Where do you work now? Mom didn’t know. And we haven’t heard from you in so long. It was like you disappeared off the earth. And now you’re hurt.” Tears filled her eyes again and one slipped down her cheek. She swiped it away angrily, but more began to follow.
“Oh, honey.” Harper dared to take a step toward her, heartened when she didn’t bolt. “I’m okay. I really am. And I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you. Believe it or not I’ve missed you too—I just didn’t feel like I could be at home with you for a while. Not because of anything you did, but because of things that were going on in my head. I had to get them straightened out so that I could be with you guys.”
Dillon didn’t look like she believed him, but at least she was listening.
“I swear to you I wanted to come home, but I couldn’t risk you guys. In my old job with the SEALs I had to go to war in bad places.”
“Afghanistan?”
He stopped, surprised. But then, why was he surprised? Dillon was damn smart. “Yes. I was there for a good while. And a bunch of other places. And when you get used to doing something, like fighting in a war, it’s hard to change when you come home. I had problems getting used to not fighting. Do you understand?”
She nodded, arms still wrapped around herself.
“So rather than run the chance of maybe waking up one night and hurting you guys I moved out. It wasn’t because your mom and I had problems, it wasn’t because I didn’t love you and it definitely wasn’t because of anything you kids did. It was just me. Fighting myself in my head. And I worried that if I talked to you guys I wouldn’t be able to stay away.”
Tears were still dripping down her cheeks. Harper dared to reach out and tuck a mussed strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “But I promise you I won’t leave you again. Not like this. And I promise I will always talk to you. Okay?”
She nodded and took a step forward, as if seeking reassurance. Harper opened his arms for a hug and she folded into him, sobbing. “Oh, baby girl, I love you so much. I’m sorry I hurt you but I really did think it would be better if I just disappeared.”
He ran his hands down her long hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Do you think you can forgive me? I really miss talking to you.”
She nodded her head against him and wrapped her arms around him to squeeze, then pulled back with a gasp. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Harper smiled. “Nope. Not enough to notice.”
He pulled her back for another hug and another kiss on top of her head. “Wanna grab some breakfast?”
Dillon nodded and they headed to the kitchen, his arm around her shoulders.
Cat woke to giggles and a jiggling bed.
“Mom,” Tate singsonged.
She cracked an eye open, smiling. “Hey, little man.”
Then her eyes widened. Both kids and Harper were standing over her. They were all grinning and Harper held a wooden tray with food on it. Cat pushed herself upright in the bed, glad she’d slipped on a t-shirt at some point.
“What’s going on?”
“We made you breakfast,” Dillon told her.
Cat’s brows lifted in surprise. “Really?”
The more amazing thing was that Dillon was grinning up at Harper like she used to. Cat met Harper’s gaze and he gave her a little nod. Huh. There was a story there she’d have to get later.
Cat dug into her dubious breakfast but loved every minute of it because her family surrounded her, looking on with fun and enjoyment. For a moment her eyes filled with tears as she looked at their dear faces. “I love all you guys,” she told them softly. Harper leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her lips.
“Hey, Mom? If you love me can I have your last piece of bacon?”
She pulled back, laughing. “Yes, my little dispose-all, you can have my last piece of bacon.”
Cat made a concerted effort to keep Tate busy while Harper and Dillon got reacquainted. When the kids left to clean up the breakfast dishes he whispered to her about the incident earlier that morning. Her eyes had filled with tears. Dillon needed her father and vice versa. They were so similar it was eerie at times.
As they began to leave the yard on a hike a few hours later, Harper glanced back at her. Cat waved to affirm she’d seen what he was doing and went back to Tate.
When Harper and Dillon returned it was obvious they had talked a lot. The tension that used to stretch between them was completely gone. Dillon hung on her father like she’d used to.
When Harper suggested they head in town for an early dinner she looked at him in surprise. “Are you sure?”
Nodding firmly, he tilted his head toward the kids. “It’s one thing for me to hang around like an invalid but they need to run. We’ll just go in for dinner. Maybe bum around a bit.”
Cat thought it was a cool idea so she left to clean up. Harper wouldn’t have suggested it if he didn’t feel ready, right?
They turned on SR 50 when they left the house and Cat was struck by the beauty of the unforgiving landscape. It was a little hypnotizing. After a few miles they rounded a bend and came upon the huge prison.
“Wow,” Tate gasped. “What’s that place?”
“It’s a great big place to keep bad people.”
Tate’s eyes widened. “Really?” He craned his neck as it slid behind them.
Cat motioned to the left. “If you turn here you can see the old prison. I remember catching a glimpse of it when we came through town a few days ago.”
The coasted past the old building with the huge guard tower at the corner.
“Can we go inside?” Tate asked.
Cat frowned. “I think they have tours but I’m not sure we want to spend the last of our time there. Besides, I think it’s too late tonight.”
Once they arrived in downtown Cańon City Cat was delighted by little artist shops scattered here and there downtown.
Harper must have seen the enjoyment on her face because he pulled over into an empty parking spot. Cat grabbed her cell phone from the charger and leaned over for a quick kiss, then slid out of the truck. “I’ll be right in here in this downtown stretch.” She indicated the area where they were, populated with unique little art stores.
Dillon unsnapped her seat belt. “Can I go with you, Mom?”
Cat nodded and waited while the girl hopped down out of the truck.
“We’re going to go get gas,” Harper told her, “and see what there is for us men to do.”
Tate grinned at being included in ‘men’ and Cat laughed. “Okay. There was a Sears on the other end of town. I think we’ll be here for a while but if we move I’ll let you know.”
Cat and Dillon wandered through shop after shop of beautiful handmade artwork. There were pottery shops, leather shops and others that kept a little bit of everything. Her creative side luxuriated in all of the brilliant ideas and colors.
Dil
lon seemed to enjoy the outing as well. Cat bought her a set of watercolor pencils, explaining how they were used to create the stunning paintings on the walls. She seemed intrigued and happy.
One shop they wandered into held bone-handled knives.
“Do you think Dad would like one of these?”
Cat looked at them in consideration. Though Harper usually carried a different style, she thought he would enjoy something unique.
“I like that one.” Dillon pointed to a blade set on a little stand. “Why does it look like that though?”
“That’s a Damascus blade. It’s a way of treating the metal and it’s extremely strong,” Cat told her. “Kinda looks like flowing water on the blade, huh?”
The clerk, obviously sensing a sale, pulled the blade from the display case and held it out to Cat. “You are absolutely right, ma’am. This is a Damascus steel blade made by a local artisan, a Master Smith in blade making. Be careful. It is very sharp.”
Cat took the knife and tested the fit in her hand. It was too big for her, but it would fit Harper’s grip perfectly. The blade was straight and strong. When the clerk took it back he showed her how sharp it was by skimming a piece of paper over the edge. It split into two halves immediately.
She had to admit she was impressed. “Maybe this could be a late Christmas present?”
Dillon nodded, wide eyed. “He would love it. He would appreciate that the guy that made it is a Master.”
Cat grinned, wondering if Dillon even realized what that meant exactly. Though it was expensive, she nodded to the clerk to wrap it up. It also came with a handmade leather sheath by another local artist.
They were grinning when they left the store, the knife securely wrapped and snugged in her purse. Cat refused to think about the money she had just spent. It would be worth it just for the expression on Harper’s face. They could give it to him over dinner.
Holidays had always been difficult because they never knew if he was going to be home or not. Over the years Cat had bought many Christmas and birthday presents that were never gifted on time. He would get them eventually. She had a boxful at home now, just waiting to be unwrapped. It was another little disappointing tradition she would like to be done with.