by Dana Nussio
“Look who’s talking.”
Vinnie reached him when he was halfway down the ramp. “Why’d you call so early anyway? Not that I mind, but this is my day off, and you know how much I need my beauty sleep.”
“Kent’s wife, Tammy, asked me over for coffee.”
“This early?”
“I told her she could call me any time and I would be there,” Shane said.
“Almost exactly what I told you.” Vinnie waited until Shane was buckled into the truck’s seat and then folded the wheelchair and loaded it in back. “Let’s get this train rolling.”
Soon they were on the road again, the scenery brushing by in a continual stream of white and dingy off-white images and an occasional stoplight. Not for the first time, Shane wished Natalie was with him on what would be an emotional visit. He didn’t know why he bothered wishing that.
She’d said everything she could think of to sabotage them, and she’d been more successful than she knew. He didn’t want to be with someone who couldn’t put her trust in him. Certainly not someone who thought he was a coward—even if he was one. But Natalie was as much of a coward as he was. Only her fear had proven costly to them both. It had cost him her.
“I’m surprised that Kent’s wife has time for coffee. Isn’t she busy planning the funeral?”
Shane startled, his friend’s words drawing him back from his painful thoughts. “She said it was something about Kent’s papers.”
“But this funk you’re in is about more than just your friend’s death, isn’t it?” Vinnie said in the calm, steady voice he used when questioning suspects.
“Is that not enough?”
“Sure,” Vinnie said slowly. “But I’m thinking this is about Natalie.”
Shane jerked his head to look at his friend’s profile. “How’d you know?”
But Vinnie only smiled and kept driving.
“I thought we had something there for about a minute,” Shane said finally.
“Sorry, buddy, but I don’t think the minute’s up.”
He shook his head. “We had a huge blowout. She accused me of causing her mom to get shingles.”
Vinnie glanced sidelong at him. “That’s quite a trick, but you’re a resourceful guy. I suppose you could do that if you wanted to.”
Shane shifted as some of Natalie’s other words replayed in his head. Was she right when she’d said he thought he was unworthy of all that Kent had done for him? Many of the decisions he’d made in the years since then supported her theory. His choice of career, for example. But if she couldn’t understand why it was important for him to give something back for all the mistakes he’d made, then she didn’t know him at all.
He squeezed his eyes shut, but her image refused to budge. He’d thought he’d finally found someone who understood him, who loved him for him, but she clearly didn’t. He’d known it was too much of a risk to love her, to believe that he could have the kind of love that other people took for granted. Some people were meant to be alone, and apparently he was one of them.
* * *
“THANKS FOR COMING,” Tammy said as she set steaming mugs of black coffee in front of Shane and Vinnie on her dining room table.
“As I said, any time,” Shane told her.
Tammy stirred sugar into her coffee but didn’t take a sip. Sure, she looked fragile today. Her eyes were puffy, and deep half-moons of exhaustion had formed beneath them. But Shane never doubted her strength for a minute. She would handle these next difficult months with a grace that would make Kent proud.
“You said something about papers,” Shane prompted when the conversation stalled.
“Oh. Right.” She turned to the sideboard behind her and lifted a stack of papers with a smaller pile of photos on top. Twisting back to the table, she set them in front of her.
Again, she stirred her coffee, and, again, she didn’t drink.
“Kent loved it when you came over,” she told Shane. “You reminded him why he became a police officer and why he still had work to do.”
“He was a great guy,” Shane said as he watched the woman who loved his friend. “Great cop. An even better person.”
He sipped his coffee and tried to ignore the heat building behind his eyes. How could he be of any help to Kent’s widow if he couldn’t hold his own grief in check? And he had to be there for her. He owed Kent that much.
“You have to know that you were one of my husband’s best friends,” she said. “You were on the list of guys he wanted me to ask to be his...pallbearers.”
With a shaky hand, she lifted her mug to her lips, took a sip and set it aside. Then she shuffled through her pile. She withdrew a lined piece of paper, written in Kent’s small block handwriting. Sure enough, on the list of possible pallbearers, Shane’s name was listed in the first six.
“He thought you’d be farther along in your recovery when he passed.” She cleared her throat. “He thought...he had more time.”
She pulled a familiar photo out of the stack and handed it to Shane. It was from Shane’s freshman football season, a photo of him in his uniform with Kent standing proudly next to him.
Vinnie, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet, leaned over to get a closer look. “Is that you?”
Shane nodded. “I was fourteen.”
Vinnie pointed to the stack of photos. “May I look?”
Tammy nodded. As Vinnie flipped through the pictures, Tammy reached into the stack of papers once more. She pulled out a small envelope with Shane’s name on it, again in Kent’s handwriting.
She pushed it across the table to Shane. “Here is the other thing. I hadn’t seen this in his papers...before, but Kent wanted you to have this.”
Trying to keep his hands from shaking, Shane lifted the envelope and pulled the letter from inside. His eyes filled as soon as he started reading. It was a question he’d always carried in his heart, and his friend had left the answer for him to read.
Shane,
If you’ve ever wondered if I was right to reach out to that scrawny delinquent so long ago, I can tell you that I was. I saw something in you then. Something good. And I couldn’t have been prouder as I’ve watched you prove me right.
Love,
Kent
Shane could picture Kent grinning back at him as he read the note, his hands wide in his trademark two thumbs-up. If only he could see him strong and healthy now, like the guy in Tammy’s photos. The way Kent would want to be remembered. The way that Shane really hoped his friend was, wherever he was now.
Blinking several times, he lifted his chin to fight back the emotion that seared at the back of his eyes and swelled in this throat. But the hurt won out, and tears seeped from the outside corners of his eyes. Shane brushed his fingers on the letter. He couldn’t believe it. Even with pain that had never been fully under control and the nausea from an umpteenth round of chemo, Kent had been thinking of him and wanting to make sure he knew he was proud of him.
Per their unspoken guy agreement, Vinnie pretended not to notice Shane’s tears and continued looking through the photos instead.
But Tammy, whose loss had been so much greater than Shane’s, reached over and squeezed his hand.
“That husband of mine sure did like making a statement,” she said with a wistful smile. “He always used to say he was glad you picked his patrol car for your little adventure in larceny.”
He smiled back. “Yeah, I bet that just made his day.”
“Knowing you changed his life as much as his mentoring changed yours.”
He nodded, but he could never agree with what she’d just said. How could he ever find balance between two things so unequally weighted?
“He was really looking forward to attending your commendation ceremony.” She paused, glancing toward the letter still in
Shane’s hands. “And if it’s all right with you, I’d like to attend in his place.”
A lump forming in his throat, Shane nodded. “I’d like that.” He turned and gestured toward Vinnie. “This guy here will also be receiving a commendation that day.”
“Anything to avoid doing my job,” Vinnie said.
But Tammy patted Vinnie’s forearm. “My husband and I were grateful to you, too, for what you did for our Shane.”
Vinnie thanked her and exchanged a look with Shane before returning to the photos.
Shane read the words in Kent’s note once more. “I’d hoped that Kent would get the chance to see me walk across the stage to accept the award.”
Again, she patted his hand. “Kent always said you would walk again...when you were ready. He fully expected you to return to active duty, too. He never doubted it. And as for seeing you walk on stage, I have to believe that he will see it when it happens.”
After a few hugs and words of condolence, the two men returned to the vehicle. For the first few minutes of the drive, neither spoke, but at the first stoplight, Vinnie cleared his throat.
“Guess I’m not the only one who still feels indebted to another police officer.”
“But our stories are completely different,” Shane told him. “You never owed me anything for what happened in the shooting. You never did anything wrong.”
“It only matters that I feel that I do, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Do you think it’s possible that some debts are never meant to be repaid?” Vinnie asked, still staring at the road. “That maybe all we’re meant to do is to pay it forward?”
“Good thing we have opportunities to do that every day on the job.”
“Yep, we’re lucky guys,” Vinnie agreed.
Shane could only hope that Vinnie would forgive himself rather than carry his need for atonement like another layer of weighted clothing beneath his bulletproof vest. The way Shane had for so many years.
He bent his head to look down at the letter he held between his gloved hands. It was more than a parting gift from a friend who’d already given him too much. If he let it, the letter could serve as a tangible sign that his debt had finally been repaid.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE HOUSE TOO quiet to even be able to sleep in on her first morning alone there in years, Natalie flitted around, straightening already straightened pillows, wiping down immaculate countertops. Finally, she settled with her smartphone and a cup of coffee in a chair near the TV tray where her mother usually took her meals. Used to, anyway. BS—before Shane. Everything before Shane came into their lives was different, and now that he wouldn’t be in them anymore, she and her mother would never be the same. Her most of all.
If only she could find some way to occupy her mind so she could stop thinking about him. She couldn’t even distract herself with worries about her mother’s hospitalization when she’d already been assured it was only precautionary. And she couldn’t go to work without either passing Shane in the gym or seeing him and his new PT in the hall and being reminded of how poorly she’d treated him when he’d first been assigned as her client. She’d had so many preconceived notions about him, and he’d dispelled each one of them.
On her phone, she launched the browser. Why she bothered telling herself she was just wasting time internet surfing, she wasn’t sure. She knew exactly what she was searching for.
It was so easy to find, just a simple search on the name Trooper Shane Warner. The articles she’d avoided reading until now appeared at the top of the hits.
Officer Shot During Domestic Call.
Suspect Dead After Police Shooting.
Trooper in Critical Condition After Shooting.
Wounded Officer Called Hero.
Before she hadn’t wanted to know any of the details beyond what he’d told her. Now she was starved for details, no matter how small. She wanted to know about the dilemma Shane faced when the victim was in danger and he’d had no backup. Even though she already knew the outcome, she braced herself as she read about Shane’s injuries. All of the stories pointed to a man who was self-sacrificing and inherently heroic.
This was the same man she’d resented on principle, just because he was a cop, and continued to hold at arm’s length because of the job he did and the risk he represented to her heart. It sounded so ridiculous now, as nonsensical as hating all cops based on the choices of only two. Shane had said that even those officers had just been doing their jobs, just as he’d been doing his when he was shot. And for the first time, Natalie recognized that he was right. Both situations had involved risk but had been in the service of others.
Natalie clicked on one of the most recent follow-up articles. The victim had come forward to thank Shane several weeks after the shooting. The victim had called him “my guardian angel,” saying that she would have been dead if the officer hadn’t “risked his life for mine.”
A guardian angel and a knight in shining armor. He’d been both of those things for Natalie as well, coming to rescue her from her well-insulated house of half-truths. He’d encouraged her to take charge of and responsibility for her own life—and she’d thought she was the one taking care of him.
It didn’t seem possible that a man like Shane could still be running on a treadmill, trying to prove to others and himself that he was good enough. Well, he was good enough. He was worthy of every bit of help his mentor had given him and of all the respect he’d earned as a police officer. She needed to tell him that, too, even if he could never forgive her for the things she’d said. And she needed to tell him that she forgave him, but most of all she wanted to thank him for telling her the truth.
Natalie set her phone on the end table and stared at it for a few seconds before grabbing it again. Her mother had mentioned that Shane’s mentor had been in declining health. Now she wanted to know more about the man who’d taken a chance on Shane. It took her a few seconds to recall his name, but once she did, she launched the browser and keyed in his name.
Several hits appeared, but when she read the one at the top, her breath caught. It read Obituary for Kent Sawyer. Her stomach dropped as she discovered that the same morning she’d accused Shane of making her mother ill, he’d been reeling from such tragic news.
He hadn’t told her any of it. But had she really given him a chance? Just when he could have used the support of the woman who claimed to love him, she’d been shouting at him in front of a crowd of strangers. It was just one more thing that he would never be able to forgive. But it was also one more reason she had to try.
* * *
SHANE’S HOUSE WAS dark when Natalie pulled into the drive three days later, though the gunmetal sky would have required lights even in the middle of the day. She parked anyway and hurried up the ramp to his front door. That no one answered didn’t surprise her, since he’d ignored her calls and messages for days.
She rapped several times, waiting for sounds between each series of knocks, but only a hollow noise emanated from inside. Her mother had suggested it would be harder for Shane to turn her away once she was standing on his front porch, and Natalie had agreed. Now she guessed that either Shane was more determined to avoid her than she’d thought or he really wasn’t home.
Where could he be? Not at an appointment at the clinic. He’d already canceled one this week, and according to the schedule, he wasn’t due in for another two days. If their basketball season hadn’t ended, she could have counted on seeing him at practice or a game, but now she couldn’t rely on that, either. If she couldn’t see him, how would she ever apologize to him? Of course, there was the possibility that he was ignoring her, but she intended to make it as hard as possible.
“Wait a minute,” she said and took her phone from her pocket. She pulled up Kent’s funeral information again. Of course—he
was there. The past few days while she’d been caught up with bringing her mother home from the hospital and figuring out a way to convince Shane to talk to her again, Shane must have been dealing with the business of saying a formal goodbye to his friend. She couldn’t imagine how difficult that must have been for him.
Natalie glanced once more at the funeral details and noted that the service had started nearly an hour before and should be ending soon. She was down the ramp and back in her car before she’d even worked out the details of her plan. It was selfish for her to go to him today of all days when he had so much gratitude to bury along with his friend. But she needed Shane, and whether he realized it or not, he needed her, too.
Especially today. He needed someone who understood just how much he’d lost. Just how indebted he still felt, even after all of these years.
She tried not to speed as she drove toward the cemetery listed in the obituary. As she’d hoped, she arrived before the funeral processional did, and the pair of patrol cars parked near the cemetery entrance confirmed she was in the right place. She drove in a secondary entrance and parked off to the side, away from the area already marked with a tent.
She’d expected a larger funeral procession than normal behind the hearse and the limousine. But nothing could have prepared her for the line of patrol cars from different agencies that entered the cemetery gate, their lights flashing, sirens muted. They kept coming. And coming. And coming.
They parked in rows three deep like the starting line of the Belle Isle Grand Prix. There were probably personal cars in there somewhere as well, but they were hidden in a wash of red-and-blue flashing lights. Police officers in dress uniforms spilled from the cars and approached the burial site en masse.
In the past, the display would have made her so uncomfortable that she couldn’t sit still, but now she watched them in awe. She’d never seen such brotherhood as the officers of different agencies stood shoulder to shoulder in a solemn display. Surrounded by all of these officers in blue, Natalie expected that disdain she’d long felt for all police officers to resurface, but she discovered that it was gone.