“Hannah, keep up!”
Hannah didn’t argue, but picked up the pace. Trying not to fall behind, she did her best to keep up, but for some reason, her mommy was walking faster than usual.
“When we get home, can Daddy tell me a story?” Hannah asked.
Gloria, suddenly livid, tore into her.
“How selfish of you, and no!” She stopped and angrily yelled at her little daughter right there on the sidewalk.
“Do you have any idea what has just happened?”
Hannah really didn’t, except it probably wasn’t very good since everyone ended up in tears and Uncle Nathan seemed to be hurt.
“How selfish! How dare you, Hannah Gunner, think only of yourself! What is wrong with you that you could be so self-centered, selfish, and stupid at the same time?!”
Shocked, Hannah froze, having no idea that she’d done anything that bad. Cheeks turning bright red, eyes narrowing, for a split second Hannah Gunner thought she might actually burst into tears and cry. Blinking and holding back the water in her eyes, remembering that the Captain had promoted her to his First Matey position, reminded her that she was stronger than a crybaby girl! This here scallywag, Momma or not, was way out of line. Hannah jerked her arm out of Gloria’s tight grip, took a step back, blinked away her tears, and started to march quickly toward the house.
Horrified she was terrorizing her beautiful little girl for no reason at all, and that she had spoken to her in such an awful way, Gloria immediately felt nothing but shame and immediate regret. Catching up to Hannah, she stopped and bent down in front of her at eye level. Taking Hannah by the shoulders and pulling her toward her, Gloria’s tears wet Hannah’s cheeks. Stiffly, Hannah obliged, and that broke Gloria’s heart. Grief had overtaken Gloria; defiance and anger had overtaken Hannah.
“Hannah, baby, I am so sorry! Mommy is upset and very sad about Uncle Nathan, and I’m worried about Aunt Sandy, and even your daddy, but I never should have said such horrible things. I am sorry, and I didn’t mean them. It’s not true, you are not selfish and, of course, you are brilliant!” She couldn’t even bring herself to say the word stupid and was utterly disgusted and ashamed that word had spewed out of her mouth at all while screaming at her child. Kissing each one of Hannah’s cheeks, placing one kiss on her right and one on the left, she whispered in her ear.
“Do you forgive me?”
Hannah looked at Gloria for a few moments, smiled sweetly, and wrapped her arms around her neck.
“Okay, Mommy; I will.”
“I am so sorry, Hannah. I’m grieving, which means I am sad. But that doesn’t make what I said right, and I’m so, so, so sorry.”
Hannah was sad too, but now she was scared. Her mommy was crying, and she didn’t understand why. Aunt Sandy was crying, and Uncle Nathan had been hurt so bad he was gone. Gone. Exactly what did that mean, anyway?
Chapter 6
Hank
Silence this madness; the voices in my head
Guilt talking back to me
Wishing I were dead.
~ Hank Gunner ~
Pending an investigation, a mandatory suspension with partial pay had been dealt from the board until the final judgment could be ruled upon regarding the unauthorized meeting on the docks. Hank had too much time on his hands; between the extra time, grief, and the guilt he wrestled with since the death of his best friend, he grew restless at home. Given the stress that they were under—work suspension, death of his friend, and the funeral—friction between Hank and Gloria was inevitable. Despite their best efforts, the tension was becoming evident to Hannah as well. Hannah learned to stay out of the way, escaping to her imaginary world of pirates, ships, beaches, and vast oceans filled with adventure. Thankfully, Captain Fin was home and often decided to join her! Fleeing aboard a make-believe ship with his beautiful daughter to avoid what was becoming routine confrontations with Gloria, whom Hank had nicknamed the tyrant, was far more appealing than facing his own demons. Hank’s new reality was tearing his family apart.
Hank knocked on Hannah’s bedroom door and in his gruffest, yet kind voice, impersonated Captain Fin.
“Permission to enter ye quarters, Matey.”
Ear pressed against the door, he waited for her giggle and attempt to project her best pirate voice and answer him back.
“Aye, aye, Captain. Enter.”
Perched on her bed, fake sword in hand, Hannah waited for her daddy, turned Captain, to say something. Hank stared for a few moments at his innocent little beauty, stuck in the middle of his mess, not knowing if she should come out of her room to play or lay low in her bedroom as he was about to advise. How had it all gone so wrong? A week earlier they were planning a party; today, he was waiting to see if he still had a job and continually getting under his wife’s feet. He had no idea it was about to get worse. No one did. Sitting down on the bed next to her, he gently tapped the tip of her button nose. Carefully he delivered the message, trying to convince her it was for her own good that she try and lay low at this time.
“Stay aboard ship, Matey, and quietly.” He looked around her room. “You know what I mean? Out of earshot, sight, and trouble!”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Hannah replied softly. “Stay in my room, I mean quarters.”
Ruffling her blond hair, Hank scooped her up and hugged her as tightly as he could.
“Tell you what, why don’t you pull up the anchor, and we’ll set sail awhile. Sound good?”
Beaming, Hannah wriggled out of her daddy’s arms. “Right away, Captain.”
“Well then, let’s head out to Treasure Island and hunt for treasure!” Hank smiled.
Hannah’s eyes lit up as she placed her hands, one in front of the other, pretending to pull as hard as she could on an invisible rope, hoisting up a huge anchor off the bottom of the ocean so they could set sail! Helping her, Captain Fin grabbed the imaginary rope out of her hands, hoisted the anchor one last time, and tied it in a secure knot to the side of the ship. Exhausted, the pair mopped their brows and continued to prepare the ship for their journey. Hannah jumped on the bed, off the bed, and scrambled back up again as she pretended to climb into the crow’s nest, where she pulled out her imaginary telescope, looked all around her room, and spouted off fake coordinates. None of what she had said made any sense, but Hank, though he had trouble trying not to laugh, didn’t dare act as if they weren’t the most accurate coordinates in the entire world.
“Go North West 35 degrees and West North 50 degrees, Captain.”
“Excellent coordinates, lass. First Matey, betting we’ll find gold on those.” He wondered how his beautiful little pirate came up with such coordinates in the first place.
Her blond hair sticking to her sweat-dotted forehead now looked like stringy spaghetti, and the smile that she wore, despite trying to look fierce, radiated across her face. This made Hank want to laugh, but he honestly didn’t dare for fear of hurting her wild spirit. Watching her come alive in her make-believe world was a gift, and Hank couldn’t help but wonder if all parents experienced this with their children. If they didn’t, they were missing out. Missing out. Hank’s mind flashed to Nathan, who would miss out on every single thing that his new son would experience. Tragic. Not to mention his unborn son; he would never experience the love of his father, and that sickened Hank. Nathan would have been the best! Riddled with guilt, Hank found it difficult to fake a smile and stay in character. It was just as well that Gloria burst into the room, startling both him and Hannah and breaking up their pirate game.
“Done playing pirate, because there’s plenty of work to do around here.” Her tone was irritable and cold. “Make yourself useful until you hear about work and help me out.”
Hannah shrunk down on the bed; a fight was about to erupt, and she didn’t want to be in the middle of it. Her instincts, for a little girl, were right! Hank jumped off the bed and pointed toward Hannah.
“I’ll help you, no problem, but you could ask nicely.” His eyes motion
ed toward Hannah. “There’s no need to be angry all the time, and certainly no need to be rude!”
“Don’t lecture me. You’re playing, and I need help before I leave for work.” Eyes icy cold, glaring at him, she opened her mouth to say something else, but stopped herself before the words slipped off her tongue.
“What?” Hank demanded to know. “Just say it; not here, out there,” he pointed toward the door. “But spit it out. It will likely make you feel better!”
Spinning on her heels, Gloria left Hannah’s room and stormed down the hall. Hank followed her.
“What did you want to say?”
“Nothing.”
“Now that’s a damn lie, and you know it! Get it over with so we can clear the air.”
Frustrated, Gloria grabbed her purse and keys, and headed toward the back door. “I don’t need to talk. I’m leaving for work, again, overtime since you’re not working at all because of that bullshit stunt that you pulled on the docks that happened to get your best friend killed!”
As soon as the words flew out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back, but it was too late. Hank’s heart jumped into his throat, and his stomach felt as if someone had just sucker-punched him. Furious, he slammed his hand down on top of the kitchen countertop as hard as he could. Gloria stopped in her tracks, and Hannah half-jumped out of her skin from her bedroom when she heard the bang.
“That’s frigging low, Gloria, even for you!”
Taking a deep breath, embarrassed by what she’d said, Gloria tried to backtrack as fast as she could. “I didn’t mean that, Hank. I shouldn’t have said that about Nathan, and that’s not what I meant about the meeting—”
Hank cut her off. “Yeah, I kinda think you did, all of it!” His hands were trembling, and his voice was shaky at best. “Pretty sure you’ve felt like this for a while, but this is the first time you’ve voiced it.”
“That’s not true. I meant to say the stunt that was pulled on the docks, not that you had pulled the stunt on the docks. Not just you.” Setting her purse and keys down on the kitchen table, Gloria pulled out a chair and sat down. “Honestly, I really did mean to say collectively, and not just you. I know this isn’t your fault.”
Hannah jumped overboard the ship, her bed, landed in the make-believe water, and pretended to swim by herself all the way to Treasure Island—her closet—and locked herself in. Sitting in the dark, knees tucked against her chest, head buried on top of her knees, and hands placed over her ears, she hummed as loudly as she could to drown out the sound of her parents yelling at each other. Let the storm die down and hunt for treasure later, she told herself over and over again. Let the storm die down and hunt later. Storm die down and hunt later. Storm die down and hunt for treasure later!
“Hank, please, I’mmmm so sorry! It’s been rough on everyone, but I really didn’t mean that.”
“But you said it.” His voice was cold and monotone. “I asked you nicely for Hannah’s sake, not mine, that we talk about it out here and not in Hannah’s room.” He pointed down the hall. “And you had to turn that into this!”
Frustrated, late for work and upset, Gloria broke down in tears. Head in hands, she begged Hank to listen to her.
“None of this is easy on anyone, Hank. Not you, Sandy, Hannah, and yes, even me. Sandy is my best friend, and she lost her husband, your best friend.” Wiping her hand across her face, she smeared her mascara with tears. “But I shouldn’t have said what I said. I was wrong. I am sorry, but I didn’t mean it!”
Gloria walked toward him and held out her arms. “Are you going to forgive me or hold it against me forever?”
Pulling her toward him, Hank kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to hold it against you forever, but love you anyway.”
Managing a smile, she kissed him. “You are such an ass! I’m going to find someone to cover my shift. I just can’t tonight.”
Hank nodded. “Good idea, but I need some air.”
She didn’t try to stop him from leaving; though she knew he had forgiven her, she had still hurt him and she knew he needed time to cool down. Gloria called Sandy and they visited for a while, confiding to each other their pain, regrets, and fears. Consoling each other as girlfriends do, they said their goodbyes and promised to check on each other within the next few days. As Gloria waited for Hank to come home, she couldn’t stop her mind from racing; it was overloaded. Worried about her husband and fretting over his suspension at the docks, grieving over the loss of her best friend’s husband, Nathan, and her husband’s best friend. Worried about her best friend, Sandy, and the new baby. On top of all of that, she didn’t know if Hannah was really dealing with any of it or how she was doing after their fight. Hanging up with Sandy, Gloria poured herself a glass of wine, changed into her sweats, and peeked in on Hannah.
“You must be starving, baby. You ready to eat?”
Hannah didn’t answer. Gloria looked around the room, but she didn’t see Hannah anywhere. Gloria checked the closet and found her daughter tucked away in the corner—fast asleep. Trying not to disturb her, Gloria picked Hannah up and laid her on the bed. Covering her with a blanket, she kissed her forehead and whispered in her ear. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
Hannah opened her eyes, murmured something, but closed them again. “Mommy and Daddy didn’t mean to fight; we love you so much!” Stroking her long blond hair, Gloria bent over and kissed her cheeks, leaving her lips on her little angel longer than usual, left cheek and then the right one. A true combination of them both, Hank and Gloria, stubborn as her daddy, but a sharp wit like him as well, and everyone said she had Gloria’s eyes. She looked so beautiful sleeping there on the bed that Gloria felt ashamed for finding her tucked away, afraid, in her closet.
“When you wake up, you’re going to be starving,” she whispered. Hannah didn’t answer. “Wake me up if I’m asleep. I’ll fix you your supper.” Creeping out of her room, Gloria looked back at her one last time. What were they doing to their little girl? This nonsense, the bickering, it had to stop!
Gloria sat half-dazed at the kitchen table waiting for Hank; she was exhausted from the hours she’d already put in at work, fighting with Hank, stress over their current situation, not to mention worrying about why he still hadn’t come home. He should have been back hours ago, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that he never should have left that night. It had been hours since Hank had walked out the door, and it was already dark outside. Resisting the urge to call or text him, allowing him his space, Gloria felt as if she were about to jump out of her skin as her mind rehashed the events from earlier that day. The wine was good, but it wasn’t enough; she still needed to relax. Running a hot bath, fighting back her tears, she wished more than anything in the world she could have a do-over day! What she would have given to have done things differently that day: if she hadn’t burst into Hannah’s room and broken up their pirate game, if she hadn’t said such hateful things that she didn’t really mean or believe to Hank, and most of all, if she hadn’t agreed to let him leave but asked him to stay, have a glass of wine and talk it through, and even have dinner as a family with Hannah that night. Gloria knew with all of her heart that Hank loved his family and he would have stayed! Why hadn’t she just asked him to stay? Why did she let him walk out that door? And why wasn’t he home yet? Sinking into the hot bathwater, pondering the questions she had asked herself, Gloria had no idea that her gut instinct was right; she never should have let him leave that day. Her world was about to be turned upside down and the Gunners were about to be pulled into a nightmare they couldn’t possibly have imagined. Hank, with Nathan’s funeral still fresh in his mind, ended up at his local pub, the Shamrock, for a pint. Going out to clear his head that afternoon would be the biggest mistake of his life. That simple decision cost him everything!
“Pete, if you don’t mind, I’ll have a shot of Jameson with that next pint.”
“Sure, Hank, think I’ll join you. You know, Nathan wasn’t just a regular
, he was my friend, too. Plus, I’m the owner, as well as the bartender.” Pete winked.
Hank nodded. Grateful someone was there to drink with him and who knew Nathan. Nathan didn’t have to die, not like that, and with Sandy about to have a baby, the whole situation seemed a hundred times worse, not that it could possibly be worse than a young man in his prime being shot down for no reason.
“Well then, to Nathan!” Pete raised his glass.
“To Nathan!” Hank raised his glass, could barely say the words without choking up, and slammed back the whiskey. “Another one, Pete, please.” He wasn’t paying attention to the other patrons wandering into the bar. Minding his own business, lost in grief and regret, Hank had no idea that trouble had walked into the Shamrock.
A sharp voice shot right through him, quickly bringing him back to reality. Tom O’Halloron, a big guy—mouth and physique—had slipped into the bar unnoticed. He had worked for Nathan, one of his crew. Tom was argumentative all the time, purposely taking the opposite side of what the majority of Nathan’s crew voted for or against, wanted, or said, and it made things difficult for Nathan and everyone around him. Tom wasn’t afraid to cause a scene, talk too loudly, or be obnoxious in general. Nathan didn’t like nor dislike Tom, but Hank didn’t care for him on any level. Tom, on the other hand, liked Nathan, but everyone loved Nathan. Nathan was fair, kind, and always had a smile on his face. It was no wonder he was so missed by everyone who knew him. Raising his hand, Tom hollered across the bar to Pete, the bartender.
“A full round here, Pete, whiskey and pints. We’ll have a toast for our Nathan!”
The sound of his best friend’s name rolling off Tom’s tongue made Hank cringe. Sitting at the bar, head down, sipping on his beer, Hank tried to block out the sound of Tom’s loud mouth shouting across the room. The waitress set a shot glass and a beer in front of Tom and each one of his friends. Quickly, as if knowing he was going to be an ass, she turned and scurried away. Tom didn’t disappoint. Making an ass out of himself was what he did best. As soon as Hank heard a bar stool scrape across the wooden floor, the banging of a hand on the bar, and that voice that cut through him like a knife asking for a moment to say a toast to his best friend, Nathan, Hank had to bite his tongue. Tom’s loud public toast went on, and on, and on!
Captain Fin Page 4