A Place to Call Home

by Sharon Sala

Raymond flinched as he spoke the name, for the first time in his life, saying the name of his son aloud.

  “Davie. If there is ever anything I can do for Davie, all you have to do is ask.”

  “Just leave us alone,” she said.

  His shoulders slumped. He walked out of the department, a lesser man than when he’d come in.

  Judd looked at Wade, waiting for him to make the call.

  Wade leaned forward.

  “Judith, you know you need some help.”

  She shrugged. “Once I needed help and no one came.”

  Judd’s belly turned. With that one sentence, he was yanked back to that place beneath the stairs where he’d prayed to God for help that never came. He took a deep breath, fighting the nausea that came up in his throat.

  “That may be so,” Wade said. “But I’m talking about now. Who’s to say you don’t fly off the deep end and do something worse the next time?”

  “There won’t be a next time,” she said. “I accomplished what I set out to do.”

  Judd’s breath was coming faster now. He could feel himself coming undone. Everything Wade was saying to Judith, his captain had said about him. He’d ignored it then, refusing to believe it of himself. But now, faced with the evidence of what suppressed anger could do, he knew his troubles were not over. Not until he faced his own devil as Judith Dandridge had done.

  “I don’t intend to argue about this,” Wade said. “I’m going to recommend that you start some counseling. Only after I’m convinced that you’ve channeled your need for revenge into something positive, I’ll consider the case closed. Do we have a deal?”

  Judith stood. “Since I have no say in this matter, I suppose we do.” Then she began gathering up the remains of Davie’s lunch.

  “Is the picnic over, Aunt Judy?” Davie asked.

  She stopped, staring at him for a long, silent moment, then she ruffled his hair.

  “Yes, dear, I believe the picnic is finally over.”

  Judd couldn’t be there any longer. He needed to move, before he came undone.

  “I’ll be at the house,” he said shortly, and stalked out of the office before Wade could object.

  All the way home, he kept seeing himself as a child, storing away the hate because it was all his father could give him. He thought of Charlotte, and of Rachel’s sweet baby face. Always laughing, in constant mischief. Neither one of them deserved to live with a ticking time bomb, which is what he knew he was.

  By the time he turned in the driveway, he knew what he had to do.

  * * *

  Charlie was still in shock when Judd pulled up in front of the house and parked. Wade’s call wasn’t unusual, but his news had floored her. Not only had he called to tell her that he wouldn’t be home until he was certain the news didn’t start a riot in the streets, he’d felt obligated to warn her that Judd had bolted out of the office without an explanation and was on his way there.

  She heard Judd get out, then heard the car door slam shut. She glanced at the clock. It was just after one. Rachel would nap for at least another hour, maybe longer. That was good. She and Judd could talk. He was obviously upset about something, or he wouldn’t have left so abruptly. She wouldn’t let herself think of the inevitable—that the mystery was solved and he would be leaving. She wouldn’t think about that at all.

  She heard the kitchen door open. She turned. Judd was standing in the door and she could tell by the look on his face that he had come to say goodbye.

  “This isn’t fair,” she whispered.

  “Life rarely is,” he countered, and took her in his arms.

  She clung to him, stifling an urge to throw herself at his feet and beg him to stay, but her pride was all she had left. It would be what held her together when he was gone.

  “Wade told me what happened.”

  Judd shook his head. “It was unbelievable.”

  She pushed out of his embrace and then turned, reaching for a dish towel to have something to hold besides him.

  “I suppose you came to pack your things.” And then her chin quivered. “In a way, I’ve been expecting this,” she said. “Only not quite so sudden.”

  Judd sighed. Of course she was going to misunderstand. If only he could make her see.

  “It’s not what you think,” he said softly.

  She turned, clutching the dish towel against her belly, her eyes nearly blind with tears.

  “Then make me understand,” she said. “Because I’m thinking that I just might die from this pain.”

  He groaned. “God, Charlotte, I need to do this or I’ll wind up like her.”

  She frowned. “Like who?”

  “Judith. Judith Dandridge. If I don’t get rid of the hate that’s inside me, I’m afraid that one day I’ll explode as she did—only you and Rachel would be the ones who would suffer.”

  She blanched. Suddenly, things were starting to make sense. This wasn’t about him leaving her. It was about finishing the journey he’d started before they met.

  She swiped at her tears with the flats of her hands.

  “I have a request to make of you.”

  “Ask,” he said.

  “Go bury your demons and lay all your ghosts, Judd Hanna, but when you’re through, will you come back to me?”

  “In a heartbeat,” he said, then pulled her back into his arms. “Now I have a request to make of you.”

  “Ask.”

  “Lie with me, love.”

  “Always,” she answered, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  * * *

  Two hours later, he was gone. Charlie was still crying when Rachel woke up from her nap. She toddled into the room, dragging her blanket behind her as she went and crawled into her mother’s lap.

  “‘Mallows?” she asked, and then laid her head on Charlie’s breast, uncomfortable with the tears on her mother’s face.

  Charlie hugged her close, struggling to remember where her priorities lay.

  “Okay, sweetheart,” she said. “We’ll go get you some ‘mallows.”

  Rachel grinned, pleased with the answer. “Judd have some, too?”

  Charlie stifled a sob. “Not today, honey. Judd went bye-bye. He’ll have to eat his ‘mallows somewhere else.”

  Chapter 14

  More than a week had passed since Judd’s exit from Call City. He’d stopped in Tulsa on his way through and tied up the last of loose ends. The news that they’d arrested the perp who’d killed his partner was a huge relief. Everyone at the police department had seemed genuinely glad to see him, but he’d already felt the mental distance between them. He’d abandoned them. They’d gone on with their lives. It was the way things were.

  After that, it had taken him a couple more days to pack up his apartment and put the stuff in storage. Now there was nothing standing between him and Charlie but the laying of ghosts.

  The next day, he’d packed up his car and headed east, telling himself that the anxiety he felt was all in his mind. Yet the minute he crossed the border into Kentucky, his belly started to knot. He couldn’t see the rich green of the mountains or the deep, endless valleys for the memories that came flooding back. It had been fifteen years since he’d gotten on that bus in Paducah, determined that life would not turn him into a replica of his father. And in a manner of speaking it had not. But something had happened to him along the way that he hadn’t expected. His father had given him up, but Judd had never given up the hate that bound them. Normally, one would expect the years to fade a child’s memories, but not so Judd’s. Some of the foster homes he’d been put in were good, some not so good. But nothing had ever come close to the hell of his first ten years.

  He stopped at a gas station along the highway to refuel. And as he waited for the car to fill up, his gaze fell on a telephone booth beside the store. Immediately, his thoughts went to Charlie. Was she okay? How long would it be before Rachel would forget him? He sighed. The deputy was probably back from his honeymoon by now. Oh, God, please do
n’t let Charlie have second thoughts now that I’m gone.

  The pump kicked off and he replaced the nozzle before going to pay. The day was warm, the wind, gusting. When he got inside, he went to the cooler to get something to drink, then strolled past the small grocery aisle to pick up a bag of chips. As he did, a display of marshmallows caught his attention and he immediately thought of Rachel. She was quite a charmer. If they had a houseful like her it would be great.

  Then he stopped, overwhelmed by the idea of family, and of knowing that he would always be loved. The concept was staggering to a man who’d never known it before.

  “Will that be all, mister?”

  Judd looked up. The woman behind the cash register was waiting. He set his purchases down on the counter, then pulled out his wallet. A short while later, he was back on the road. If he’d figured correctly, he would be in Boyington by midafternoon. Soon enough to find a motel—and call Charlotte. He just needed to hear her voice. After that, he would take it one day at a time.

  * * *

  Wade sat at the kitchen table, helping Rachel eat a bowl of spaghetti, while eyeing Charlie’s every move. He knew she was worried. It had been a week since Judd’s departure and they had yet to hear from him. But every time he brought up the subject, she gave him the same explanation, saying Judd would be back.

  “How do you know?” Wade had asked, and her answer was always the same. “Because he said.”

  She was running on nerves and he could tell it, but there was nothing he could say to make it better.

  A short while later, they were just sitting down to their supper when the phone began to ring. Charlie jerked, dropping a fork she’d been about to put in the salad, then turned, staring at the phone as if she could will it to be Judd.

  “I’ll get it,” Wade said, and reached for the phone. “Hello, this is Wade.”

  “Is Charlie there?”

  Wade let out a sigh of relief. “Breathing down my neck. I suppose you want to talk to her instead of me.”

  “Sorry,” Judd said. “But you just don’t have what it takes.”

  “That’s not what the new waitress at the Call City café thinks,” Wade said.

  Judd laughed in his ear. Wade grinned as he handed the phone to Charlie.

  “For you, sis.”

  “Hello?”

  “Charlotte, is your brother still listening?”

  Weak with relief, she leaned against the wall and cupped the phone against her ear.

  “No.”

  “Good,” Judd said. “Because what I have to say to you isn’t fit for other ears.”

  She grinned. “I’m listening.”

  Moments later, her eyes widened, and then her heart skipped a beat.

  “Is that possible?” she muttered.

  “Oh, yeah,” Judd said. “And after that, I’m going to…”

  Charlie moaned beneath her breath.

  “Are you all right?” Wade asked.

  She nodded, then laughed out loud. “I am now.”

  Judd smiled to himself, listening to the joy in her voice and knowing that he’d made the right decision to call.

  “I miss you, Charlotte. I miss seeing you, and touching you. I miss your smile, and the way you chew on your lower lip when you’re bothered.”

  “I miss you, too,” she said, echoing his sentiments. Then she added, “Are you okay? I mean…have you found what you were looking for?”

  He glanced at the phone book, and the name he’d circled in red.

  “Not yet, but I’m close.”

  She sighed. “Take care and hurry home.”

  The words wrapped around him. Home. Hurry home.

  “Keep the bed warm for me,” he said softly.

  “Always,” she said.

  Moments later, he was gone.

  Wade was grinning. “So he called. So I was wrong. So sue me.”

  Charlie sat down at the table, then sighed. She wasn’t going to relax until he was back in her arms.

  * * *

  Morning was a long time coming. Judd had walked the motel floor until long after 1:00 a.m., psyching himself up. More than once he found himself standing in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection.

  He was a big man—well over six foot tall. His shoulders were broad, sometimes too broad for the clothes on the racks. He’d been shot once and broken his leg twice. Once while running down a perp, and the second time, falling off a dock at Lake Tenkiller while fishing for crappie. He’d had two partners in his law enforcement career, and both were dead. One of natural causes, the other died on the job. Both times, he stood at the gravesite, dry-eyed and stoic. He was the iron man. The man who never gave up.

  Finally, he turned away from the mirror, unable to look at himself anymore. If he was so damned tough, then why was he scared to death to go face the bogeyman down? He wasn’t a kid any longer. On a daily basis he had arrested worse men than Joe Hanna and had never flinched. But Judd was overlooking one very important fact. His only knowledge of Joe had come when he was a child, too small to fight back. There were no mental boundaries for the man Joe was today.

  He reached for his jacket and started to put it on, then decided against it and tossed it back on the bed.

  “Just get it over with,” he muttered, and headed for the door before he could talk himself out of the trip.

  * * *

  An hour later, he was cruising through the streets, checking addresses and looking for something—anything—that might prove familiar. But it had been a long time. Things change. People move. Houses get remodeled and some even burn down, which was the case with the house he’d just passed. He slowed, leaning forward and peering out the windshield as he checked the house numbers for 122. And a few minutes later, he saw it, then tapped the brakes and wheeled up to the curb.

  The house was old, like the one they’d lived in when he was a kid, but it was different. He didn’t recognize anything about where he was—not the neighborhood, not the landscape, not any of the nearby businesses he’d passed. Maybe he had the wrong man, or the right man and the wrong address, or maybe he was just delaying the inevitable. He sighed. Most likely the latter.

  He got out, slamming the door shut behind him, then stood for a moment, his hands on his hips, his Stetson pulled down low across his forehead. Even though he had parked in the shade, the air was already hot. He was glad he’d left his jacket behind.

  The house at 122 May Avenue was in need of paint. The screens on the windows were rusted, giving the gray, peeling house the appearance of having black eyes. Large trees shaded the small, postage-stamp yard, and tall, overgrown bushes in desperate need of trimming bordered the old concrete porch. There was a narrow opening in the bushes that led to the steps, and then the front door. He fixed his gaze and started toward it with purpose in his step.

  By the time he got to the front door, he was sick to his stomach. He kept picturing a large, angry man looming over him in the dark. He made a fist and started to knock, when he was startled by a voice to his left.

  “What’s your business?”

  He jerked, his hand automatically going for a gun that wasn’t there. He squinted, peering into the shadows, and could just make out the silhouette of an old man in a chair.

  “I’m looking for a man,” Judd said.

  The old man snorted. “One of them kind, are ye?”

  Judd frowned, ignoring the allusion to homosexuality.

  “His name is Joe Hanna. Do you know him?”

  This question seemed to set the old man into hysterics. He slapped his leg and guffawed until he made himself cough. Then he hacked for another minute or so until Judd thought he was going to have to call an ambulance.

  “You all right?” Judd asked.

  The old man pounded his chest, wheezing and gasping as he shook his head.

  “Hell, no, I ain’t all right. I’m dying,” he muttered.

  “Still got your sense of humor,” Judd said.

  The old man grinne
d. “Well, I ain’t dead yet.”

  Judd started all over again. “About Joe Hanna. The name in the phone book lists him at this address. Do you know how long he’s been gone?”

  The old man laughed again, slapping his leg and rocking back in his chair.

  Judd rolled his eyes, waiting for the mirth to subside. Obviously, the old fellow knew something that Judd did not.

  Finally, the old fellow calmed. Judd asked him again.

  “Please, mister. It’s important to me. Do you know where I can find Joe Hanna?”

  The old man leaned forward, pointing at Judd with a long, bony finger.

  “Who wants to know?” he asked.

  Judd pulled out his ID, wishing at the moment that he still had his badge, but he’d already turned that in to the captain back in Tulsa.

  The old man waved Judd’s wallet away.

  “I can’t see nothin’ anymore. Talk to me, boy. I ain’t in the mood to read a book.”

  “I’m a cop. My name is Judd Hanna, and I’m looking for a man named—”

  “Joe.”

  “Right,” Judd said. “Joe Hanna.”

  The old man’s expression was suddenly haggard. Judd wondered what it would be like to accept the imminence of death, to take each breath knowing it could be the last. He watched as the old man dragged himself to his feet, then began an odd little scoot and sidestep toward where Judd was standing.

  But the closer he got, the more tense Judd became. He didn’t know when he finally realized his search was over, but as he did, a bonus came with it. The fear he’d been saving for all of these years wasn’t there. Joseph Hanna, the snarling demon who’d plagued his life and his dreams, didn’t even have his own teeth anymore. Judd took a deep, cleansing breath, then looked down into the face of his father.

  “I didn’t figure on ever seeing you again,” Joe said.

  “I didn’t plan to come.”

  The abruptness of his son’s answer wasn’t what Joe expected. Like Judd, he didn’t know how to relate. This wasn’t the little snot-nosed kid who’d caused him so much trouble. This man was tall, much taller than Joe had ever been, and there was an edge to his manner that Joe envied. A “like me or leave me alone” attitude he’d never been able to cultivate. In that moment, he would have sold his soul for the ability to stand straight once again. And then he amended the thought. Hell, he couldn’t sell something he’d already lost.