The Marine (Semper Fi; Marine)

by Cheryl Reavis

  “Angie’s truck is parked down the street, but she’s not in it. She’s been drinking all afternoon. We do not want her wandering around drunk in this neighborhood. Allison!” he said, when he caught sight of her peeping around Sandra Kay. “Tell Muley I need her.”

  “Right!” Allison said, disappearing inside.

  “You need to come with me,” Kinlaw said to Grace. “So your neighbors don’t panic if I have to drag her out of somebody’s yard.”

  He turned and hurried down the steps. Grace followed, leaving Sandra Kay still standing in the doorway. Kinlaw headed for the street, and Grace could see a truck parked right in the middle of it, driver side door open. Thankfully, none of Grace’s immediate neighbors seemed to be outside.

  “Wait. Wait,” Grace said suddenly, hearing a noise off to her right. “Listen.”

  They both stopped walking. Someone was crying softly.

  “That way,” Kinlaw said. It was coming from the other side of Beverly Strayer’s row of still blooming forsythia bushes. Grace stepped through the hedge instead of going up the drive where Beverly might see her. Angie was sitting on the ground beside Beverly’s SUV, her head bowed. Beverly’s father hovered off to the side while the curious greyhounds sniffed the top of Angie’s head.

  “I didn’t know what to do,” old Mr. Strayer said. “I just followed her around. I thought she might hurt herself.”

  “Caven!” Kinlaw said sharply.

  Angie looked up at him. And cried harder. He pulled her to her feet, but her legs wouldn’t hold her. Grace went around on her other side to help.

  “Thanks, Mr. Strayer,” Grace said conversationally. “We’ll take it from here.”

  “Sir,” Kinlaw said to the old man, giving him a nod.

  But it required some doing to get Angie back through the hedge.

  “Now what?” Grace asked.

  “I’ll take her somewhere she can sober up.”

  “Your place?”

  “My place is full of old bald VFW guys. They missed the Bald Is Beautiful convention and they’re having one of their own, all while pier fishing.”

  “You lead such an interesting life,” Grace said as Angie’s legs buckled again.

  “Unlike yourself,” he said, trying to keep Angie upright. “We need to get her in the truck before your neighbors get all excited. Is anybody renting the beach house?”

  “Sergeant,” Muley said, approaching them at a run. “What’s the plan?” She stooped slightly to assess Angie Caven’s condition.

  “What about the beach house?” Kinlaw asked Grace again.

  “It should be empty. The fishermen that were there were supposed to be out by noon. It’s probably a mess.”

  “I don’t think she’s in any shape to notice. Muley, I’m going to need you to babysit her for a couple of hours until she sobers up. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” Muley said.

  “Can we get the key?” he said to Grace. He looked into her eyes over the top of Angie’s head, but he didn’t want to.

  It’s not the end of the world, Grace thought. That’s what he’d said, but she wasn’t at all certain he’d meant it.

  Grace relinquished her half of Angie Caven to Muley, then hurried back to the house to get the spare key out of her purse. She could hear guitar music as she approached, then Josh singing “Carolina In My Mind.” He had a good voice and he sang often, unselfconsciously, for himself and for Elizabeth, ever since he’d moved in. But there had been a decided shift in his repertoire. Of late, he’d abandoned quaint hillbilly songs for poignant James Taylor. Clearly this particular song had meaning for him, especially under the circumstances, and for the rest of the guests who were unabashedly joining in on the chorus. Sandra Kay was still standing on the porch.

  “So is that Trent’s replacement?” she asked as Grace hurried up the steps. “Nice butt.”

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” Grace said, ignoring the remark.

  “Oh, don’t hurry on my account.”

  I wouldn’t, Grace thought, if your probable son wasn’t out on the patio singing his heart out. She didn’t know which would be worse—Josh running into a drunken Angie or Josh running into Sandra Kay.

  When she returned to Angie’s truck, Kinlaw and Muley had her poured into the front seat. Muley was going through her pockets.

  “No truck keys, Sergeant,” she said. “I’ve looked everywhere.”

  “Well, what the hell did she do with them? You any good at hot wiring?”

  “No, Sergeant.”

  “Maybe you need Joe-B,” Grace said because he and his hot wiring skills, if real, seemed a logical plan B. “He’s at the party.”

  “Good idea. He’s better at it than I am. Muley, do not let her go wandering.”

  “Roger that,” Muley said.

  Grace went with him because Sandra Kay was still standing on the porch, watching them both with obvious interest.

  “Want to meet Sandra Kay?” Grace asked him. “That’s her. We haven’t gotten to the purpose of her visit yet. She thinks you’re pretty hot, though.”

  He gave her a look, clearly not certain if she was serious. “Does Josh know she’s here?”

  “I don’t think so. And I don’t know if I want to tell him.”

  Josh was singing another James Taylor song and Kinlaw stopped walking.

  “I wasn’t going to come back,” he said, and Grace knew that they weren’t talking about Sandra Kay and Josh anymore. “I didn’t know about Chuck’s letter—about him wanting you to be there. When I asked you to come along, I was asking for me. I needed a wingman. I thought it would help if you were there.”

  She looked at him. “Did it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah,” she repeated, because he was clearly unhappy about it.

  “I miss the son of a bitch, and I’m mad as hell at him for checking out the way he did,” he said, as if that explained everything. And maybe it did. Grace had certainly been in that kind of emotional tug-of-war.

  “I don’t want to drag you into this kind of stuff. When I called your house the night he died, I was going to dump the whole damn mess right into your lap. But you’ve got enough to worry about, what with Josh’s ex-wife and ex-mother. I don’t want—I don’t know what the hell I want. Except . . .”

  “Except what?” Grace asked.

  “What happened in the kitchen—I wanted that. I still want that.”

  “Oh,” she said.

  “Right,” he answered, his tone of voice suggesting it might be the end of the world after all.

  “Mom!” Allison yelled out the front door.

  “Allison, what is it?” Grace said when she reached the porch.

  “Josh is looking for you. He’s . . . kind of . . .”

  “I’m going to get Joe-B,” Kinlaw said, nodding to Sandra Kay as he passed her on his way into the house.

  “So who is that?” Sandra Kay asked. “He acts like he owns the place.”

  Grace didn’t answer her, and she realized what Allison meant the moment she saw Josh striding into the foyer. He was carrying Elizabeth and he was not happy.

  “Somebody said Angie was here. Is she or not?” he asked, handing Elizabeth over to Allison. He was angry, Grace thought, and he didn’t want to upset her.

  “Yes,” Grace said, taking a step sideways so she was between him and the open doorway. She looked over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of Joe-B running toward the truck still parked in the middle of the street.

  “Where is she? She try to crash the party?”

  “Not . . . exactly,” Grace said because Sandra Kay was listening.

  “What, exactly? Damn it, tell me.”

  “She’s drunk, Josh. Muley and Kinlaw are
trying to keep her from getting picked up.”

  He forgot his resolve not to swear in front of his baby girl. Allison immediately headed to the patio with her.

  “Josh, let them handle it. I mean it. You need to finish phase two of Elizabeth’s birthday party.”

  He didn’t say anything. Clearly, he was no longer in a party mood.

  “They’re waiting for Elizabeth at the hospital, Josh. They’ve got everything ready. Go. Don’t worry about . . . anything here.”

  He looked at her, then beyond her into the front yard. “Are you coming?”

  “Maybe later. After I take care of some things.”

  “What? Apologizing to the neighbors? What the hell did Angie do?”

  “Nothing that I know of.”

  “Grace, I don’t want you letting her hang around Elizabeth while I’m gone. I mean it. I want you to give me your word right now you won’t do that.”

  Grace didn’t say anything.

  “I mean it,” he said again. “This is a deal breaker, Grace. I want your word.”

  “Joshua, I am not going to do anything you don’t want done. Now go on to the hospital. Allison is going to be running wild with the digital camera, so try to do something about your face before you get there. It’s a little too . . . Devil Dog, okay?”

  He almost smiled, but the brief venture into a better mood promptly faded. “Man, I can’t believe Angie came here.”

  I can, Grace thought, especially with the kind of courage that came from drinking all day.

  But instead of saying anything, she stood back out of the way as the rest of the guests suddenly came pouring in from the patio and through the foyer. She spoke to all of them, hoping against hope that Joe-B had gotten the truck started. Grace gave Elizabeth and Allison both kisses as they passed by, and then she found herself standing alone with Sandra Kay in the now empty house.

  “Whose baby is that?” Sandra Kay asked, staring out the door at the departing vehicles. “Don’t tell me one of your daughters got caught.”

  Grace continued to ignore Sandra Kay’s loaded questions. She’d been down this road with her before, and she was all too familiar with her modus operandi. She wasn’t going to let Sandra Kay antagonize her into some kind of ridiculous, impossible-to-win argument.

  “You’re still you, aren’t you, Grace?” Sandra Kay said after a moment. “All Goody Two-Shoes, all the time.”

  “Not really, no,” Grace said, not knowing if it was the truth.

  “Oh, please. Or maybe you think you’ve moved up since you’re apparently enabling drunks now. Whatever would Trent say about you turning this place into some kind of halfway house, I wonder?”

  “I have no idea, but I promise you, any ‘enabling’ I’m doing now, I learned from covering for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I got a lot of practice keeping your mother from finding out how many times you came home so drunk, you passed out before you even got into the house.”

  “Oh, sure you did.”

  “I’m the reason you never woke up on the porch, Sandra Kay. Or in the flowerbeds. Or the front yard. Who do you think dragged you into the house and put you to bed, you idiot?”

  “I don’t believe you! And who asked you to?”

  “I didn’t have to be asked, and I didn’t do it for you. I did it for Aunt Barbara, because she was worrying herself to death about you and she was the only real family I had. Oh, I get it. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? You wanted her to worry.”

  “So who does the baby belong to?” Sandra Kay asked, suddenly switching to a more insulting direction. “Allison or Lisa?”

  “She belongs to Josh and Angie.”

  “Angie. The drunk.”

  “The baby’s name is Elizabeth,” Grace said, still trying not to take the bait. “She and Josh are living with us.”

  “He . . . lives here,” Sandra Kay said as if she found it beyond unbelievable.

  “Yes. But only because he thought I was his mother.”

  Clearly startled, Sandra Kay looked at her, then away.

  “Why did you do that?” Grace asked bluntly. “Didn’t you realize how much it would hurt him when he came looking for his real mother—for you?”

  “I didn’t . . .”

  “You did! You took my wallet and you used my ID.”

  “Yes, all right! But it—I didn’t—”

  “Stop!” Grace cried. “I don’t care and I don’t want to hear it. You’ll be happy to know the joke you played on me came off just fine—except that Trent was dead. He missed all the fun, but Allison and Lisa were there. They got to see the pain you caused Joshua Caven, firsthand. Now get out.”

  “You can’t keep me from talking to Josh.”

  “I don’t want to keep you from talking to him. I want to keep you from talking to me. I’ve got things to do, and when I come back in here, you had better be gone.”

  Grace turned and walked away, through the kitchen and out onto the patio, urgently looking for something to straighten or toss, trash bags to carry to the garbage cans—anything. But Josh and his crew were as efficient as ever. There was nothing that needed doing. Everything had either been put away or taken along to Elizabeth’s second party.

  Grace sat down heavily in the closest wicker chair, pulling her feet up under her. She stayed there for a long time, wondering what Sandra Kay was doing, wondering what was happening at the beach house.

  The beach house. Maybe hiding away was a better plan after all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  GRACE COULD HEAR her cell phone ringing, but she couldn’t find it. She finally located it in the pocket of the jacket hanging on the back of a kitchen chair, just about the same time she looked out the window and realized that there was still one unfamiliar vehicle left on the street—the one parked in front of Beverly Strayer’s mailbox.

  “Hello?” she said into the phone as she walked to the front door and opened it for a closer look. Sandra Kay was sitting on the swing.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Grace said in response to whoever was on the phone.

  “This is Muley, Mrs. James. I’ve been called in and I can’t get Sergeant Kinlaw. Somebody needs to keep an eye on Angie.”

  “Oh. Okay,” Grace said, but that was the last thing she meant. “How is she?”

  “She’s . . . coming around. I don’t think she should be by herself, though.”

  “Okay,” Grace said again. “I’ll take care of it. And thanks, Muley.”

  Grace ended the call wondering just how she was going to do that.

  “Now what’s wrong?” Sandra Kay asked from her perch—as if she herself didn’t have a premier spot on Grace’s Things Gone Wrong list.

  Grace stood for a moment. She did not want to deal with Sandra Kay.

  “Angie’s keeper had to leave,” she said anyway.

  “So is she sober yet?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “This just gets better and better, doesn’t it?”

  “I’ve got to go,” Grace said.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Yes, Grace, I will. I’ll either ride with you or I’ll follow you, but I’m going. I am an interested party, you know, and you may need some help.”

  “Somehow I don’t see you being ‘helpful.’ As for being an interested party, it’s a little late in the day for that. What are you still doing here, anyway?”

  “I don’t have any place to go,” Sandra Kay said. “Well, what are we waiting for? I thought this was another crisis.”

  Grace gave a sharp sigh and went to find her purse, wandering aimlessly through the house until she remembered that it was on the desk in the den. She found it nex
t to a scattered pile of photographs Allison had printed earlier, and she stood looking at them, at the faces of the Almost Never On Friday dinner group and the many shots of them behaving like family. She couldn’t keep from smiling when she saw one of Kinlaw. He was quietly amused about something—some joke made at his expense more than likely. And there were several of Josh and Elizabeth with Allison and Lisa. What a completely different life all of them suddenly had—again.

  Grace picked up her purse and headed for the front door. Sandra Kay stood waiting halfway down the sidewalk.

  “So what have you done to it? My beach house?” Sandra Kay asked as they walked to the car.

  “I haven’t done anything.”

  “No improvements? What are you doing—keeping it as a shrine? Oh, my god, you are, aren’t you? Grace, you are one more trip, you know that?”

  “I wouldn’t talk if I were you,” Grace said, getting into the car. If she’d been so inclined, she could have not unlocked the passenger side door and just driven away in a cloud of dust except that Sandra Kay would probably have been hanging onto the bumper.

  “So what is she like?” Sandra Kay asked as they rode across town.

  “Who?”

  “Angie.”

  “Apparently she’s a lot like you.”

  Sandra Kay laughed. And made another of her conversational U-turns. “Did old Trent leave you well off or not?”

  “Why? Are you looking for a loan?”

  “Well, not today. Did he?”

  “Sandra Kay—”

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s none of my business. Did you have to get a job after he died?”

  “Trent sold insurance,” Grace said. “He also bought it. I don’t have to get a job. Yet.”

  “Well, that’s the least he could do after you put him through school. It’s not like you know how to do anything. He’s the one who got the big education. There’s not a man on the face of this earth I’d do that for, except . . .”

  “Except who?”

  Sandra Kay didn’t answer. She stared out the window at what must now be unfamiliar scenery to her.