His eyes widened as I watched his Adam’s apple raise and lower.
“Never, regardless of the circumstances, come in contact in any way with Kace again. Are we clear?” I asked as I stepped in his direction.
He nodded his head.
I tilted my head to the side and rolled my eyes. “Say it.”
“I, uhhm. Yeah. It’s crystal clear. Never again,” he responded.
I turned and walked toward the front door.
“I’ll let myself out,” I laughed as I walked to the door.
As I reached for the door handle, I looked over my shoulder toward the kitchen. Josh remained standing by the countertop, staring down at his feet with his hands at his sides.
“You see, Josh, the entire world can be separated into two groups; those that give, and those that take. Those that give provide something to the rest of the people on the earth. Something useful.” I paused and opened the door partially.
“The takers? Well, their only concern is themselves. They take from society, providing little, if anything, to others. In the future, start asking yourself what you’ve done lately for society. For other people. If the answer is nothing, you’re doing something wrong.”
Ripp didn’t ask for my assistance, but he didn’t have to. I was able to help him out, and I did. It was the least I could do for a friend.
Hopefully my visit to Josh would persuade him to do what was right.
In doing so, maybe I could help save a life instead of taking one.
Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Five
Summer 2014, Austin, Texas, USA
Disappointed I wasn’t there to witness it, Ripp was found not guilty. I was invited to a celebration dinner at his parent’s home, and I eagerly accepted. Upon arriving, I found his mother, father, two sisters, girlfriend, Shane Dekkar, Shane’s wife, Kace, and a friend from the gym, Austin, were all in attendance to celebrate.
I had heard the phrase everything is big in Texas many times. The table, the meal, and the crowd held true to the statement. The table had ten people seated at it and had room for four more. The home-cooked meal of chicken, countless side dishes, bread and iced tea was plentiful and reminded me of meals at home before my mother died.
Mr. Ripton turned toward me and lowered the fork that dangled from the tips of his fingers. “It’s a shame your friends couldn’t make it, Alec.”
My friends from Wichita had all come to Austin to support Ripp throughout the three-day trail, and watched intently as the procedure unfolded. Ripp’s parents were appreciative of the support, and expressed it throughout the trial.
“They just came down to support Mike, Sir. As soon as the trial was over, they had to get back to Kansas. As early as it ended, they were able to get back tonight,” I said, making certain to use the name Mike instead of Ripp.
I had been warned by Shane about Ripp’s parents, and their rules regarding the use of nicknames or cussing at the dinner table.
“I knew it was all over as soon as Vee said Boom! Too late, you made the wrong decision and blew on her finger. That sent chills down my spine. I like you, Vee,” Kace said.
Ripp’s girlfriend and attorney throughout the trial, Vee, chuckled. “Pretty dramatic, I know. And I like you too, Kace.”
The story I had heard regarding the end of the trial, was that Vee had provided an exceptional closing argument. In her close, she asked the jurors what they would have done if the man in question, the deceased, would have pulled a gun on them in a drunken stupor. As the jurors sat and shrugged their shoulders, trying to decide how they’d react, she shouted, “Boom! Too late. You made the wrong decision. You should have reacted differently.” Leaving them all sitting with open mouths, realizing during such a situation, the person on the receiving end of the gun has only seconds to react.
In the end, she made her point and won the case.
“Ma’am, the chicken is fantastic,” I said as I shifted my eyes toward Ripp’s mother.
Ripp’s younger sister, Katie, interrupted. “I cooked it, thank you. Have some more.”
She made eye contact as she lifted the platter of chicken and held it in the air. She was beautiful, blonde, and I would have guessed her age at mid-twenties.
I raised my hand and waved it toward the platter. “I want to make sure everyone gets enough. No, thank you.”
“No, really. There’s plenty, have some more,” she insisted.
I grinned and nodded my head. “Alright, just one more.”
Ripp’s father looked up from a chicken bone he was gnawing on. “Called Bug and told her the news. Told her to get to cookin’ ‘cause we was comin’ home. Glad that mess is over.”
“No nicknames at the table,” Ripp interrupted.
His father reached for his fork, pointed it at Ripp, and waved it as he made his point. “It ain’t a nickname, and you know it. We been callin’ her Bug since she was a baby. Katie Bug. It’s her god damned name, Mike.”
“No cussing at the dinner table,” Mrs. Ripton said without so much as looking up from her meal.
It was apparent she was used to the shenanigans of her son and husband.
“It ain’t her name, Pop. Her name’s Katie. It’s funny. If I say a nickname, you and Mom get all over me. But you guys say Bug all the time like it’s her name; and it ain’t her god damned name,” Ripp complained.
“No cussing at the dinner table, Michael,” his mother said.
Sitting at their dinner table was like being a part of a television sitcom. My eyes, for the entire meal, darted back and forth across the table, listening to the playful banter between Ripp and his father, often wondering just how much of it was intentional on Ripp’s part. His father wasn’t much better, constantly teasing and taunting Ripp.
“Her name’s Bug, and that’s the end of it. I ain’t got to be nice to you, Mike, the trial’s over,” his father said as he pulled the fork from his mouth and pointed it at Ripp.
Ripp finished his piece of chicken, licked his fingers, and glanced around the table.
“After we eat, Dekk, Shorty, Vee, A-Train, The Kid and I are going to go out for a drink,” he said.
His mother, without looking up from her plate, condemned Ripp for his use of nicknames. “No nicknames at the table, Michael.”
“I don’t like it when you call me Kid,” Austin said.
Ripp shifted his eyes toward Austin and glared. “Shut up, Austin. Feel lucky you’re even invited. You’re still proving your worth.”
Without looking up from her plate, Ripp’s mother once again chastised him. “Don’t say that word Michael, it’s a bad word.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he responded.
“I want to go,” Ripp’s sister said.
Mr. Ripton glanced up from his meal. “Go where?”
Katie turned toward Ripp and smiled. “I want to go with you guys tonight.”
“Bug, we’re going out drinking and acting like fools. It ain’t a place for you,” Ripp responded.
I shifted my eyes toward Katie. She was the sister who had been abused by the man Ripp later confronted – and subsequently killed – and although I didn’t know the extent of what was done to her, it was apparent the assault was nothing short of savage. As I sat and admired her beautiful looks and calm demeanor, I wondered what type of person would ever be able to do anything to such a woman, or any woman for that matter.
She shrugged her shoulders and widened her eyes. “Well, Vivian and Kace are going. So girls can go, and I want to go.”
Ripp shook his head. “Bug, you’re just a kid, you can’t…”
She shook her head and narrowed her eyes. “I’m not a kid. I’m old enough to drink. I’m four years younger than Kace, basically. So kiss my ass, Ripp. I want to go.”
“No cussing, Bug,” Ripp’s mother said flatly.
Katie glanced toward her mother, grinned, and as she shifted her eyes toward Ripp, locked her eyes on mine for a moment. I had been blankly staring, but not out of anything but slight ad
miration and wonder. I grinned as our eyes locked, and she quickly broke my gaze.
“Let her go, Ripp,” Austin said.
I wanted her to look at me again, and felt slightly guilty for desiring it so deeply. Her eyes were a translucent blue and not only complimented her well, but were rather difficult not to become fixated on.
“Bug, Austin, no nicknames at the table,” Mrs. Ripton said.
“Sorry, Ma’am,” Austin said apologetically as he turned to Mrs. Ripton. He turned toward Ripp’s father and nodded his head. “And, sorry, Sir.”
“Ain’t nobody asked your opinion Austin, shut up and eat,” Ripp complained.
Kace grinned and turned toward Ripp, undoubtedly recognizing his use of the word shut up. Shane, who hadn’t said a word all night, also shifted his eyes toward Ripp.
“Michael,” Kace said playfully.
“Michael, that’s enough,” Ripp’s mother said, reminding him of the bad word he had used.
I shifted my eyes from Ripp’s mother toward Ripp, and met Katie’s gaze half-way across the table, stopping me from looking any further.
Damn, your eyes are beautiful.
“So, you were a Marine?” she asked.
I had every intention of looking away when I responded, but failed to do so.
I nodded my head as my mouth went dry. “Once and always.”
She continued to stare into my eyes, all but hypnotizing me to return her stare. “What’s that mean?”
With my eyes still locked on her, I grinned at her curious nature. “Well, it means once you’re a Marine, you’ll always be a Marine. What is instilled into you lasts a lifetime. Once a Marine always a Marine.”
“He’s teaching me hand-to-hand combat and self-defense,” Austin said.
Katie broke my gaze, turned toward Austin, glared at him, and quickly shifted her eyes to meet mine.
“So, you were in the war?” she asked.
“Bug, don’t be rude,” I heard Ripp’s father say.
I turned toward Mr. Ripton. “It’s alright, Sir. No offense taken.”
“I was over there for roughly ten years, yes,” I said.
With her eyes still locked on mine, she blinked a few times. “Did you kill anyone?”
“Bug!” Ripp’s father complained.
His mother repeated the complaint. “Bug!”
“It’s quite alright, Ma’am,” I said as I nodded my head toward Mrs. Ripton. “And, Sir,” I said as I shifted my eyes toward Mr. Ripton.
“I’m not ashamed. Yes, I killed people. It was my job. In a perfect world, a Marine mission is complete without anyone dying. My battalion was reconnaissance, like Navy SEALS on land. We gathered intelligence through interrogation. In that war? Well, it was different. There was nothing to gather and no one wanted to talk. So, we killed most of the people we encountered before they killed us,” I explained.
“How many?” Katie promptly asked.
The sound of Mr. Ripton clearing his throat was followed by his complaint of what I expected was his opinion of her inconsiderate nature. “Bug. Damn it,”
“Again, Sir, no concerns here. I have no shame,” I said over my shoulder.
It seemed I had become incapable of prying my eyes from Ripp’s sister. I told myself as I sat and admired her throughout the conversation that I had no business doing so, as she was not only the sister of a friend, but young, and, above all things, a woman.
My eyes and mind, however, argued.
She was a beautiful woman, there was no doubt about that.
“I don’t know how many. I never counted. More than most, I’d guess. I was either in the right place at the right time, or the wrong place at the right time. I was wounded several times, and each time it seems death followed. I don’t know,” I said, although I did know exactly how many.
“We had to rescue some trapped Army Rangers on hill 571 in late 2005. I remember on that night there were eight. I didn’t think it would ever end. I got shot as soon as my boots hit the dirt. Took a round in the thigh. I knew it happened, I just don’t really think I cared. I’d been shot in the leg twice already, and I knew immediately this was superficial. I had a job to do, and there were Rangers that were pinned down. We were all they had. Well, it was us and a hand full of SEALS. We got them out of there. That, I suppose, is what was important. But a count? Like a total number? It’d be a guess,” I said.
I broke her stare. As I glanced around the table, everyone sat quietly and stared.
I shifted my eyes back to Katie and continued. “But every one of them? Every one? They had one thing in common. They were trying to kill me, I just got to them before they got to me.”
Still staring directly into my eyes Katie grinned and batted her eyelashes. “I like Marines.”
“You don’t know any fuckin’ Marines, Bug. Leave the man alone,” Ripp growled.
“Michael Allen Ripton!” Mrs. Ripton snapped.
Mr. Ripton scowled at Ripp, turned his head in my direction, and nodded his head. “I like ‘em, too, Bug. Thanks for your service, Son.”
“Shut up, Ripp. I do too know Marines. Well, I did.”
“Bug,” Mrs. Ripton said.
“Just stop, Bug. You don’t know any Marines. Leave it alone. I’m sorry Alec,” Ripp said.
“He was a senior when I was a freshman. I’ll never forget him,” Katie explained. “You knew him too, Ripp. He came here for dinner once. He joined the Marines and went to Iraq. He was some special Marine. Like Special Forces. He got killed, I remember reading it in the paper and they talked about it in church and at school. If you ever went to church, you’d remember.”
“I have no idea who you’re talking about,” Ripp said.
A Marine dying in the line of service was something I was compassionate about, and I was willing to listen to whatever she had to say about it.
She shifted her eyes away from Ripp and once again met my gaze. “I went to that house party, the one I got in trouble for. And Greg Shook was grabbing me. He said I filled out young. He was being a dick. And Billy pushed him and told him to stop. But he didn’t stop - he kept saying stuff - suggestive stuff about me. Billy took him outside and beat him up, and then came in and apologized for Greg being a jerk. I remember his knuckles were all bloody. And he came here for dinner a few weeks later.”
I shifted my eyes toward Ripp.
He shrugged his shoulders.
“And he got married. And his wife had a kid while he was gone. And he never came back,” Katie said.
“Cunningham,” Mr. Ripton said.
A chill ran down my spine. There was no way.
Lance Corporal Cunningham.
Longhorns.
He was from Texas.
Mr. Ripton nodded his head. “I remember him. Big kid. Tall. Bug made a big deal of him kickin’ that Greg’s ass. Billy Cunningham. Yep. He was a nice kid.”
My body went numb. I stood from the table and stared at Mr. Ripton. “Billy Cunningham? Billy Ray Cunningham?”
“Yeah. That’s him. Billy Ray Cunningham,” Katie blurted.
“You went to school with Billy Ray Cunningham?” I asked.
The man had saved my life on a rooftop one day, killing an insurgent who would have shot me had he not stepped in between us.
“You alright, Bro?” Ripp asked.
I stared at Katie, recalling the events of the day on the rooftop. “Billy Ray Cunningham saved my life.”
I turned toward Ripp. I shared the story with him while his trial was preparing to start. I felt if he could understand the process I went through in dealing with death, he could deal with the death of the man who pulled the gun on him.
“I told you about him, on the roof. Remember?” I asked.
He nodded his head and stared.
“Hold on,” Katie said as she jumped from her chair.
“Excuse me,” she said as she ran from the room.
“What’s going on?” Ripp’s other sister asked.
Ripp’s mo
ther shook her head as she glanced toward Manda. “Leave your sister alone, Manda, she’s been through a lot.”
Katie walked back into the room, holding a book in her hands. As she flipped through the pages, she glanced upward. “Here. Come here, Alec. Look at this.”
I walked around the table. As I stepped to Katie’s side, I inhaled the soft fragrance of her perfume. As my eyes focused on the page, goosebumps rose along my arms. Staring back at me, was Billy Ray Cunningham, the man who saved my life.
I swallowed heavily as I stared blankly at the page.
“That’s him. That’s Lance Corporal Cunningham,” I said with a nod.
“What happened? You said he saved you,” Katie asked.
Ripp’s father interrupted. “Bug!”
“I’m squared away, Sir. It’s all right,” I said.
I reached for the yearbook, accepted it as she handed it to me, and held it gingerly in my hands as I looked down at his photo and recalled the day he died. I felt my lower lip begin to quiver as I considered where I would be in his absence.
Although I had no intention of doing so, I began to speak.
“We followed two of them onto the roof of a building. They’d shot one of the Marines on my team as soon as we’d entered the building. It was Cunningham and I who followed them. I had a feeling. You know that deep down in your gut feeling?”
For some reason I paused and turned toward Mr. Ripton. He nodded his head once as if giving me permission to continue. With glazed over eyes I continue to stare down at the page and recite the events of that awful day.
“Well, I was right,” I said. “One of them stepped out from behind a structure on the roof they were using for cover, I missed him. Didn’t see a thing. Billy Ray stepped in front of me and…”
“Lance Corporal Cunningham was struck by enemy fire, and I returned…”
I paused, realizing I was reciting the words that had been written on the daily report. Words that had stuck in my head for years. I took another slow breath, regained my composure, and continued. I needed to tell the story. I owed it to him.
“He acted like it didn’t faze him. I imagine it was adrenaline. Either that or desire. You know, in hindsight, it was probably courage.”
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