HAUNTED: A Jenny Watkins Mystery

by Becky Durfee

  “So, what do you say?” Jenny asked hopefully. “You feel like giving her a home?”

  He didn’t reply, simply taking his free hand and scratching her other ear with it. “You’re a good girl, huh?” he asked, once again looking as if he might cry.

  Jenny noticed he didn’t agree to house the dog, but he didn’t refuse, either, which she viewed as a sign of progress.

  Watching the two of them interact, Jenny said, “I’m going to let you guys get acquainted for a little while. I’ll be back in a bit, if that’s okay.”

  Mick didn’t look up at her. “Yeah, that’s fine. We’ll just be in here hanging out, huh Lucy?”

  She smiled and headed back downstairs with the baby, meeting up with everyone else in the lobby. Zack was the first to greet her. “How’s it going in there?”

  “It’s going well, I think,” she replied with a nod. “I’m not an expert or anything, though…which leads me to the reason I’m down here. Have you seen Dr. Lambert?”

  “Maybe,” Zack said. “I’m not sure who any of these people are.”

  “Maybe I should ask someone else, then.” After a quick scan of the room, she added, “No need. I found him.”

  Heading over to the doctor, she began, “Hey, Dr. Lambert. I was wondering if you’d be willing to go upstairs and be a bystander for the next few visitors. I think they’re going to be pretty intense, and I would like to have you and your expert opinion on hand so that you can take charge of the situation if things start to get…emotional. Honestly, I’m not sure what’s a healthy reaction and what would be a sign of trouble.”

  “Absolutely,” the doctor replied. “I’ll try to remain as inconspicuous as possible; I’ll only interject if it looks like it’s necessary.”

  “Thanks. I will feel much better having you in the room. So far I’ve used my judgment about when to call it quits, and I’m not sure if I’m doing the right thing.”

  “I’m happy to help. Does it seem like he’s being receptive so far?”

  “I think so?” she said, more like a question than a statement. “It does seem like things get a little difficult for him, though, and the next few folks are going to be even worse. The last thing I want to do is make backward progress.”

  “I think that’s something we can all agree on. I see the dog has gone up; I bet that helped.”

  Jenny smiled. “I think it did.”

  “A lot of Veterans are given therapy dogs, but for some, the ‘therapy’ part of it is just having the dog around. Animals calm the nerves. I think a lot of dogs are astute enough to recognize when the human is struggling, and they come over and lend extra support.”

  “Well, my thought was that Mick will be more motivated to get up out of bed each morning knowing that he has to take care of Lucy. She needs her share of help, too, considering she was apparently abused, so I have a trainer who has agreed to give Mick some guidance. But I figured if she slept in bed with him, that would help when the nightmares come. Like you said, dogs are calming…especially a timid one like Lucy…so he can cuddle up with her after a bad dream and hopefully feel some relief.”

  “It’s definitely a good call. She’ll probably be able to help him handle his next few guests, too.”

  “That’s why I wanted her in there.”

  At that moment, a much-more-composed Joyce McDonald approached Jenny and the doctor. “Hi, Jenny…I just wanted to say I’m sorry about before,” she said, her embarrassment clear. “It was just overwhelming to see him after so long.”

  Jenny smiled at this mother, who had been through so much. “I understand,” she replied genuinely. “I probably would have reacted the same way.”

  “I hope you never have to find out.”

  That makes two of us. “When was the last time you saw Jeff?”

  “When he moved out of our house.” She shook her head. “Do you know how terrible that was? Kicking out our own son? Especially when he was having such problems. But he refused to get help, you know? I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Jenny placed the hand that wasn’t holding the baby on Joyce’s arm. “He already told me that he didn’t blame you for that at all. He went so far as to say that you let him stay longer than you should have.”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. “It was just such a terrible decision. Nothing we tried at home worked. We thought that if we cut the strings, so to speak, he’d need to get a job in order to get by. I had no idea he’d resort to living on the street.”

  “He seems to be under the impression that he’s beyond help,” Jenny explained. “I’m hoping that we can show him that isn’t true.”

  “That’s the depression talking,” Dr. Lambert said. “A lot of Vets feel that way.”

  “Can it be overcome?” Jenny asked.

  “With a lot of help, yes.”

  Joyce shook her head, turning to Jenny. “I’m so glad you found him. I had no idea where Jeff even was these days. Do you know how horrible it is to lose track of your own son?”

  Glancing down at the baby in her arms, Jenny said, “I can’t even imagine.”

  “I could only pray each night that he was safe. I had gone out looking for him, but there were so many places he could have been.”

  As Jenny had seen so many times before, guilt was apparently eating Joyce alive.

  The baby began to fuss, so Jenny shifted him to her other shoulder. Joyce smiled at him, asking, “Is this a boy or a girl?”

  “It’s a boy. His name is Steve.”

  Scrunching her face, Joyce sheepishly asked, “Do you mind if I hold him? I’ve been dying to get my mitts on him ever since I saw him.”

  “No, go right ahead,” Jenny replied. “It will actually be nice to get a break.”

  She handed the baby off to Joyce, who immediately said, “Oh my goodness, it’s like he weighs nothing.”

  “Give it time,” Jenny said with a laugh. “He’ll get heavy after a while. Actually, if you don’t mind holding on to Steve for a little while, I can take advantage of this and go upstairs and keep working with Mick.”

  “I don’t mind holding the baby,” Joyce declared, “but are you sure this is going to be a good thing for Jeff?”

  “Ultimately, yes,” Dr. Lambert said. “It might be difficult while it’s happening, but I think the end definitely justifies the means.”

  With a nervous expression, Joyce nodded. “It can’t get any worse, right?”

  “That’s the way I see it,” Jenny said. Turing to the doctor, she asked, “You ready? Let’s go do this.”

  Jenny knocked on the door, which Mick opened with one hand, holding Lucy’s leash in the other. “How are you two getting along up here?” she asked.

  “Great,” he said with a smile. “She’s a sweet dog. I think she’s warming up to me.”

  “That’s excellent.” Jenny remained in the doorway, asking, “Do you think you’re ready to have another visitor?”

  He drew in a breath. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “If it gets to be too much, remember, you can take a break.”

  With that, Mick nodded and said, “I have to admit, I’m curious to see who else came out here.”

  “Well, why don’t you make yourself comfortable, and I’ll bring her in?”

  Mick returned into the room, apprehensively taking a seat in the chair in the corner. The dog remained by his side.

  Jenny felt herself starting to shake as she gestured to the woman who had been waiting in the hall. She was so grateful to have Dr. Lambert there with them.

  “Mick,” she said nervously, “there is someone I’d like you to meet.”

  The woman rounded the corner, smiling pleasantly at Mick.

  “Mick, this is Maria Rodriguez…Elyon’s mother.”

  Chapter 18

  Mick’s face indicated he wanted to run and hide. Instead, he stood up out of his seat, looking like he was trying to speak, but no words would come out.

  Mrs. Rodriguez crossed the room wi
th grace, reaching out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Elyon told me a lot about you.”

  Mick only nodded in response, appearing too shocked to say anything. Jenny felt relieved when she saw Dr. Lambert sneak into the room behind her.

  “Come, sit down,” Maria said. Despite the fact that she was a good foot shorter than Mick, she had a clear command over the situation. Jenny imagined that she had been an excellent mother, a notion reinforced by the gallant way her son had died.

  Mick did as he was told, uneasily taking a seat next to Maria on the bed. “Elyon spoke very highly of you,” she continued. “He said you were like the brother he never had.”

  Every muscle in Mick’s body appeared tense. He managed to mutter a meek, “Yes, ma’am,” but was unable to say anything more.

  She put her hand on his shoulder, saying, “It’s okay, honey. You can relax.” She lovingly ran her fingers along his freshly-cut hair.

  Mick didn’t relax. His stare remained intently fixed on nothing; his body trembled mercilessly. Once again, Jenny looked at Dr. Lambert, who was paying careful attention but chose not to intervene.

  “I know how hard this has been for you,” Maria continued, “but I know my son, and I know he would want you to be happy.”

  “He was supposed to run.” The words Mick spoke were barely audible.

  “What?” Maria said with concern. “I didn’t hear you.”

  Mick raised his sad, blue eyes to meet Maria’s. “He was supposed to run. He told us all to run.” His shaking went from noticeable to uncontrollable. His words began to come out in sobs. “Why didn’t he run?”

  He slid off the bed, landing on his knees on the floor. He placed his head in Maria’s lap, mercilessly crying, hugging his arms around her waist. “I’m…so….sorry.” He seemed to be having trouble breathing. “I…thought…he…was…going…to…run.”

  Jenny shifted her eyes up to Maria. While her sight was blurred from her silent tears, Jenny could still make out the resolve on Maria’s face. The grieving mother sat tall, eyes closed, as she breathed with purpose through her nose. Somehow she avoided crying, even though she was the one person in the room with the most to cry about. Instead, she rubbed her hand across Mick’s back, providing him with reassurance and comfort. Jenny’s respect for this woman multiplied with each passing second.

  Once Mick calmed down to the point where he could listen, Maria said, “Nobody blames you, honey.”

  “He should have run.” Mick remained helpless in her lap.

  “He didn’t have it in him,” Maria said. “That’s not who he was.”

  Sitting back on his heels, Mick revealed his tear-soaked face. “I ran. What does that say about me?” He pounded his fist into his chest. “I ran. I was a coward. I let him die.”

  “Listen to me,” Maria said calmly, cupping his face in her hands. “You acted on instinct, just like Elyon did. You had a split second to react—that’s not enough time to think anything through. He said ‘run,’ and you ran. You shouldn’t beat yourself up about that for the rest of your life.”

  Mick responded with only a deep, shaky inhale.

  “Do you want to make me happy, Mick?”

  Seemingly paralyzed everywhere else, he managed to nod his head.

  “Then listen to me, and listen good. Elyon was my only son. He was my first born. Because of this war, I will never be able to dance at his wedding. I will never be able to hold his children.”

  Mick’s head started to sink, but Maria grabbed his chin and guided his face back to look at her. “You listen, remember?”

  He said nothing, but he focused his eyes on Maria.

  “I have been cheated out of those things. Nothing that happens from this point forward will ever bring those things back to me. But there is one thing that can make it better.”

  Mick hung on her every word, his body still trembling.

  “I may not be able to dance at my son’s wedding, but I can dance at his best friend’s wedding, and that’s the next best thing. I can hold his best friend’s babies. They can call me Abeula, no?”

  A tear dripped down Mick’s face as he closed his eyes.

  “Let me tell you something,” Maria continued. “Elyon’s father and I emigrated from El Salvador before Elyon was born. America gave our family opportunities that we would have never had in our home country. Elyon knew that, and he always said he wanted to fight for his country…from the time he went to kindergarten, he said he wanted to be a Marine. And he was one. A fine one. That was all he ever wanted to be.”

  Jenny’s eyes worked their way back and forth from Mick to Maria; she seemed to be getting through to him better than anyone else had.

  “He died protecting his country. He died protecting his friends,” Maria added. “Now, do you know what the best thing you can do for him would be? The best thing you can do for me?”

  Mick’s eyes never left her face.

  She reduced her tone to a barely-audible whisper. “You can change the world. You can change the world, Mick. Don’t you see? If my son died to save you, and then you went on to change the world…then Elyon changed the world. But if he died to save you, and you went on to do nothing, then he died for nothing.”

  The silence that followed was deafening. Jenny found herself barely able to breathe as she waited for Mick’s reaction.

  “I’ve tried,” Mick said softly. “I’ve tried to move on. I’ve tried to function. I can’t do it.” He hung his head. “I just can’t.”

  “I never said it would be easy,” Maria clarified. “You just have to do it.”

  “Short stuff.” The words escaped Jenny’s mouth before she even knew it was happening.

  Maria looked over at her in awe. “Did you just say ‘short stuff?’”

  Jenny nodded. “Actually, I believe your son did.”

  Mick glanced over his shoulder at Jenny before turning to Maria to see her reaction.

  After taking a moment to have the words sink in, Maria smiled and let out a little laugh. “Elyon always called me that. Ever since he got taller than me when he was twelve.” She laughed a little more before adding, “It seemed like he grew three inches overnight, and one morning he was taller than me. He looked at me and said, ‘Hey, short stuff,’ and he called me that ever since.”

  A lightness took over Mick’s face, and he almost appeared to smile.

  Maria continued, “I told him ‘I am your mother. You call me Mom.’ He said he only needed to call me Mom as long as I was taller than him.” She shook her head playfully. “That boy was never serious. All the time in school, I got phone calls from the teachers. ‘Elyon is acting up in class again.’ He was never mean, mind you, but he was always goofing around.”

  “Isn’t that what you said, Mick?” Jenny asked. “He was a funny guy?”

  “The funniest.”

  Maria looked at Jenny, all the levity gone from her face. “He really just spoke to you?”

  “In a way,” Jenny replied. “I heard the words in my head.”

  “Can you talk to him?” Maria asked, looking more choked up than Jenny had seen her. “Can you tell him I love him?”

  With a smile, Jenny remarked, “I’m quite sure he already knows that. I think his biggest concern is to make sure his friend, here, gets on the right path.”

  Maria pointed her finger at Mick. “You hear that? And I bet if he was here right now, he’d be calling you candy ass.”

  Mick lowered his head with stifled laughter as Jenny explained, “He’s already called him that. It was the first message I got from him. It said, ‘Up and at ‘em, candy ass.’”

  “See?” Maria said. Soon she was shaking her head again. “Always with the candy ass. Everybody was candy ass. I swear, I don’t know who raised that boy. No son of mine would call people candy ass.”

  Taking advantage of the break in the intensity, Jenny walked closer to Mick. “So, what do you say? Have we convinced you that it’s worth giving it a shot?”

/>   In a move that Jenny found encouraging, Mick got up off the floor and sat on the bed next to Maria. “I know it’s worth it,” he said. “That’s not the problem. The problem is that I can’t do it. I’ve tried.”

  “Well,” Dr. Lambert began, “this is where I come in. I’m Alan Lambert; I’m a psychologist who specializes in helping Veterans transition smoothly into life at home.” He walked over and extended his hand to Mick, who shook it reluctantly. “You probably don’t think so, but your case is actually quite typical. I know you feel like you can’t succeed, but I’ve seen plenty of people who make that same claim return to a normal existence. I’d like to help you become one of them. But as is the case with any Veteran returning home, you can’t do this alone. You’ll need a support team. Allow me to introduce you to some people.”

  Jenny felt so nervous she could have thrown up as Dr. Lambert went out into the hall. She realized this moment could make or break the whole thing.

  With a hand gesture, the doctor cued the people in the hallway to come in. All in a line, five young men entered the room, each with their own obvious physical disability. The first was a sandy-haired man with a prosthetic leg; the second was an African-American man with an artificial arm and leg, both on the left side. The third man had two prosthetic arms, the fourth was in a wheelchair, and the fifth had facial scars and tapped a white stick while he walked, indicating he was blind.

  Each man stepped into a line and saluted Mick.

  Mick stood and returned the salute, his entire body shaking to the point where he looked like he could collapse.

  As the salutes remained in place, each man took a turn introducing himself.

  “Private First Class James Emerson, United States Army.”

  “Lance Corporal Everett Baker, United States Marine Corps.” With an unflinching face, he added, “Oorah!”

  Mick’s expression also remained unchanged. “Oorah!”

  “Staff Sargent Russell Baumgardener, United States Army.”