The Chosen Ones

by Lisa Luciano

  He sank to his knees like a windless kite, then slowly crumbled onto his back. A searing heat ripped through his groin. He’d suffered through torn muscles, broken bones, and two knee surgeries without a word of complaint, but this beat them all. He was stunned by the intensity of the pain as it raced into his buttocks and down his legs. The room began to spin. Brody rushed over and kneeled beside him.

  “Are you all right?”

  Robby tried to sit up, but couldn’t.

  “We gotta get you to a hospital.”

  “No,” Robby begged, grabbing a piece of Brody’s shirt and squeezing it in his fist. “No one can know.”

  “Okay. Okay.”

  The door swung open, casting a beam of light down the stairs.

  “Hey. What’s going on down there?” John Donovan called from the landing.

  “Nothin’. A few boxes fell is all,” Brody yelled back.

  “Well, you visit some other time. Rob’s got work to do.”

  Brody helped Robby into a sitting position. He could see him forcing back tears of anger and pain.

  “Think you can make it past him?” Brody asked.

  Robby nodded as Brody clamped his arm around his waist and lifted him to his feet. His legs had no strength, but somehow Robby summoned the energy to walk. He would do whatever it took. There was no way he would give his father an excuse to make him quit.

  “Where are we going?” Robby asked, struggling to lift his leg onto the first step.

  “I know somebody who can help.”

  He did. The only question in Brody’s mind was, would he?

  Chapter 10

  “Well, look what the wind blew in,” prodded the deep voice Brody hadn’t heard in a good three years, but knew as well as his own.

  The late afternoon sun was setting, illuminating his brother Del in shades of gold and red like some Aztec god. He was the same height as Brody, but a few pounds heavier than he remembered, evidenced by the lack of room at the waist of his jeans which he always used to wear loose.

  Maggie’s cookin’, Brody thought, his mouth watering at the memory of her biscuits and homemade gravy that he relished back when he was a frequent and welcome guest at their dinner table.

  Robby was still hurting, so Brody left him in the cab. No use in making him expend any more energy if they were to be turned away. As he approached Del, he wanted to hug him, but knew that wasn’t going to happen. Even a handshake seemed too much to ask. They exchanged nods. He wouldn’t waste time with false pleasantries.

  “Del, that kid’s got big problems. You’re the best when it comes to this.”

  “Why should I help this guy? He’s nothin’ to me.”

  “But I am. Do it for me. If that ain’t reason enough, then just say the word and we’ll take off.”

  The two men stood with their hands on their hips, mirroring each other like reluctant gunfighters. Brody was suddenly struck by how Del’s cold eyes and stern jaw reminded him far too much of their father. The wind whipped his brothers long-sleeved wool shirt that was the same color as the dry, cracked land beneath his brown leather boots. Del peered into the distance.

  “Let’s go inside and take a look.”

  Brody signaled to Robby. As he climbed out of the car and followed Del, he was hunched over, limping like an arthritic eighty-year-old instead of a world-class athlete in his prime. Brody’s heart sank. Even if there was something Del could do, was there enough time? The Olympics was three weeks away. What bothered him more than anything was the fact that he even cared. He silently chastised himself.

  Come on, man. You used to be tougher’n this. You can’t afford to get involved. You’re not his mother or his babysitter. Whatever happens here, that’s it. After that, you’re out of it.

  He paid the driver, then brought up the rear, hesitating a moment before stepping through the entrance.

  Everywhere he looked inside the single level ranch-style house there was wood. Tables, chairs, and floors were accented with splashes of blue, red, and green from pottery, throw rugs, and pictures of horses on the walls. The scent of apples and cinnamon floated in from the kitchen just down the hall.

  “My office is this way,” Dell said, pointing to the right, knowing full well that Brody knew exactly where it was.

  “You go on,” suggested Brody, heading in the other direction. “I’d just get in the way. Besides, I’ve got to see those two little muskrats of yours.”

  Del exchanged a long hard look with his brother.

  “Tell Maggie this’ll only take a few minutes. Then we can have dinner,” Del said.

  “Are we invited?” Brody asked.

  “You’re here, ain’t you?”

  Brody waited for his brother and Robby to leave, then followed the distant sound of a child’s ear-splitting screams. He stopped when he heard a woman’s voice only a few feet away.

  “Mary, what did I tell you about hittin’ your brother?”

  He peered into the room. Maggie was leaning out the back screen door. Satisfied that her children had called a truce, she returned to check a pie in the oven. As she took it out and placed it on top of the stove, she nearly burned herself when her eye caught the sight of Brody.

  “Well,” she said, her hand trembling as she turned the oven knob down to 200 degrees. “Just in time.”

  “Yeah,” Brody answered, searching for even the slightest signs of moisture in his mouth, but coming up empty. “Del’s examinin’ Robby. He said they’d be done by the time dinner was ready. Thanks for clearin’ a path with him.”

  She smiled and tilted her head in that cute way she had, dismissing the comment.

  “I didn’t do no such thing. He wanted you to come.” She paused, then averted her eyes. “We both did.”

  Maggie crossed to the sink, grabbed a rag from the dish rack, and wiped her hands.

  “Been a long time,” she said, squeezing the cloth between her delicate fingers.

  Brody nodded as he took a few steps into the room.

  “The kids are growin’ like corn stalks. You seen ‘em yet?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Oh, this is silly. Come here,” she said, rushing to him and hugging him.

  He absorbed her as if for the first or perhaps the last time. His senses exploded. Roses. Her skin was as soft as petals after a spring rain and her hair always carried the slightest scent of a fresh cut bouquet.

  “Mommy! Mommy!” called Del Jr. as the five-year-old rushed into the room, slamming the door behind him.

  They let go of each other, reluctantly. Brody looked down at the boy. He was the spitting image of his father.

  “What is it, sweetie?” his mom asked.

  “Mary punched me,” he said, showing her his arm and pointing a small, dirty finger at the spot.

  She rubbed and kissed it.

  “That doesn’t look too bad. But you tell her I’ll tan her hide if she does it again.”

  “Hey there, partner. Remember me?” Brody asked.

  The boy shook his head and buried his face in his mother’s skirt that covered most of her slim, shapely legs.

  “Don’t be shy,” she told him, stroking his dark brown hair that touched the collar of his t-shirt in the back.

  She wondered if because long hair reminded her husband of his brother, he insisted on her keeping Del Jr.’s trimmed. She knew it was the reason she refused to do it.

  “This is your Uncle Brody. He’s daddy’s brother,” she said.

  He dug in even deeper. Brody squatted beside him.

  “Do you wanna hear about your dad when he was your age?”

  The boy turned to uncover one eye.

  “He was one hell raiser, let me tell you. One time he—”

  “Uh, D.J.,” Maggie interrupted. “Why don’t you take Uncle Brody out back and show him your tree house?”

  “No,” the boy insisted.

  “That’s okay,” Brody said. “Only the coolest kids in the world have tree houses. I
don’t even believe he has one.”

  “Oh yeah?” Del Jr. said, suddenly mustering his courage. “Well, I do. Come on!”

  He marched out the door with his new friend close behind. Maggie grinned at the sight of Brody playing with the kids. He was a soldier. A horse. Anything they wanted. The one thing he was, that his brother wasn’t, was fun. It was too hard to watch. She went back inside to check the roast she already knew was done. As she opened the oven door, a searing heat slapped her cheeks. She was happy to use it as an excuse should anyone walk in and notice her eyes were watering.

  “Clear the runway,” Brody yelled. “Vrrrroooooom!”

  The door flew open as bodies and giggles invaded the room. Brody rushed in holding Del Jr. over his head with the boys arms and legs spread to the sides like wings. Mary, who was seven, pushed against the back of his legs, propelling him forward.

  “Okay,” Brody said. “We’re over the target area. Ready?”

  Both children nodded.

  “Release!”

  All three made a whooshing sound as they circled the simple, square, wooden breakfast table surrounded by four Shaker-style chairs.

  “Mission complete. Time to come in for a landing.”

  As they made one more pass, Del Jr.’s legs nearly clipped his mothers head before Brody placed him back on the brick floor.

  “Now what was that?” Maggie asked.

  “Oh, Ma,” Mary said as she shook her head, her dumpling cheeks flushed with excitement. “We were dustin’ crops.

  “Well, then you must be pretty dirty. Go wash up. Supper’s nearly ready.”

  They turned to leave.

  “Hey,” their mother called. “Don’t you wanna say thank you to your Uncle Brody?”

  He scrunched down. The children hugged him around his neck. He even got a kiss from Mary. Brody brushed back a long strand of chestnut hair that had fallen across her tiny round face as it beamed at him. She had her mother’s eyes.

  “Go on,” he said, encouraging her to chase her brother from the room. “Before your dad gets mad at me for holdin’ up his supper.”

  “Honestly, you’re just as bad as they are,” Maggie scolded.

  “Oh, man,” he said, turning to her. “She’s gonna be a heartbreaker. Just like her mama.”

  The smile disappeared from Maggie’s face.

  “You must be hot,” she said, noticing he was soaked with sweat as he peeled off his denim jacket. “How about some soda?”

  “Thanks.”

  She took a can from the refrigerator and handed it to him. Their fingers touched slightly, sending a shiver through her body.

  “You’re really good with them,” she said, backing away and leaning against the immaculate porcelain sink.

  “Maybe it’s cause I never grew up.”

  As he popped the top, Maggie flinched.

  “It’s not too late. Shelly needs her daddy.”

  Brody pulled out a chair and dropped into it. Maggie watched him mindlessly run his fingers up and down the skin of the soda can that was cool and wet.

  “You been talkin to Dora?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said, suddenly feeling flushed. “She’d kill me for tellin’, but she still ain’t over you.”

  “You could’ve fooled me.”

  “That was the idea. She wanted to hurt you as much as you hurt her.”

  “What was I supposed to do?”

  “Just love her.”

  “I do,” Brody admitted, surprising himself.

  That’s not what Maggie wanted to hear… or maybe it was.

  “Then why ain’t you two together?” she asked.

  He stood and faced her. She ached with desire at the sight of his long legs and broad shoulders.

  “Because I realized she was right,” he said. “She deserves better.”

  “She deserves to be happy. You both do.”

  He nodded, not quite believing such a thing was possible.

  “Are you happy, Maggie?”

  She looked at the floor. It needed a sweeping. The kids had tracked in dirt. There was plenty of time to run as he began to approach. It wasn’t something she considered for a moment. He inched closer until their bodies were separated only by a thin layer of air. The edge of the counter dug into her back. He took her in his arms. They felt strong and warm as they drew her in. Hers were supple and fit perfectly around his neck. They’d waited so long. His lips reached for hers.

  “No,” she said, gently pushing him away using every ounce of self-control she possessed. “This would never work and you know it.”

  Maggie took in every inch of his body as she ran her hands down the length of his arms, sensing the muscles beneath his shirt.

  “I want you. I always have. But we can’t do this. If we do, it’s something we can’t ever take back. I like my life. And you have to find yours, whatever it’s gonna be.”

  “Maggie, I love you.”

  “No, you don’t,” she said, stroking his cheek and noting that it was smoother than her husband’s. “I wish you did. Then I could make love to you knowing you want to be with me instead of wondering if you’re doing it just to get back at Del.”

  “I wouldn’t—”

  “Shh,” she said, placing her fingers on his lips and then tracing them, trying to record their tenderness in her soul. “You know that’s part of it. And I don’t hate you for it. I know you feel somethin’ for me. But it’s not enough. It’s not worth throwin’ everything away.”

  He slowly backed away and retreated to his chair like a naughty schoolboy serving detention.

  “So I lose again.”

  “No,” she said, gripping the edge of the sink behind her so she wouldn’t run to him and kiss away his pain. “You only lose when you stop tryin’. Don’t take the easy way out. I did. You deserve better’n that, Brody. You just have to start believin’ it. Once you do, it’ll be right there waitin’ for you.”

  Brody looked up. Del had entered the room. How long he had been there and how much he had heard, neither he nor Maggie knew. She spun around, opened the cabinet above her head, and began taking down plates. For a few seconds the scraping of one against the other was the only sound in the room.

  “Well?” Brody asked.

  “It’s fixable,” his brother responded, giving away no sign of emotion. “Mostly strained muscles. Don’t think anything’s actually torn. Just needs rest and some non-invasive treatment.”

  “Can you do that here?”

  “Yeah, but he could get that anywhere. Wouldn’t he be more comfortable back home?”

  Brody got the message. Clear out. But he’d already swallowed his pride in coming. He’d be damned if he left without at least getting Robby the help he needed.

  “He doesn’t want anybody to know he’s injured,” Brody said.

  “I know somebody in New York who’s discreet and who’ll let you use his equipment. “I’ll call him in the morning and arrange it. I can show you how to do it. Then you can both go back.” He fixed his eyes like two laser beams on Maggie. “Dinner ready?”

  She nodded. Without looking at his brother again, Del walked away.

  The house rumbled as a storm settled in. Rain pelted the roof, then stopped almost as quickly as it had begun. Everyone took their places at the massive oak dining room table. There was no question who would sit at the head, but Del’s supremacy was quickly usurped by a border dispute when to his annoyance his children began fighting for the privilege of sitting next to Uncle Brody. Their mother interceded and placed one on each side of him.

  It was only a single table setting, but the gap between the two brothers might as well have been the size of the Grand Canyon. A grandfather clock in the corner cranked out a steady rhythm, reminding Brody only a few hours remained before he would be on his way and alone once again.

  The atmosphere was cordial. Mostly, Del talked about his thriving practice. Maggie asked Robby about life as a world-class athlete. Brody was noticeably silent.
Though she tried, Maggie couldn’t prod more than a few words from her brother-in-law. She missed his bad jokes and tall tales. But he had no career and no personal life. What was there to say? He was in no mood for conversation anyway. It would only lead to a fight as it had time and time again with his father.

  As Del poked each hunk of meat with his fork and jammed it into his mouth, Brody could sense his disgust at being forced to share the same air, much less the same name and bloodline. Del felt the disappointment more than anyone other than Brody himself. His brother was his hero. A large house, a brand-new pickup truck, and money in the bank. Everything he had today, he owed to Brody. If Brody had fallen on a live grenade, he couldn’t have made a bigger sacrifice in Del’s eyes. And if Del had been stabbed through the heart, he couldn’t have felt more betrayed than when he had to watch Brody leave the paper under a cloud of scandal.

  After they finished, Del rubbed his stomach and retreated to the living room to watch his large screen television. He didn’t invite anyone to join him. Robby went outside to get some air. Brody offered to help Maggie clean up, but her look indicated it was not a good idea. He found Robby out back, staring at the expanse of open land surrounding the house.

  “You okay?” Brody asked.

  “I used to think so. I’m not so sure anymore,” he said, digging the toe of his sneaker into the mud, dislodging a lump of brown goo, then stomping it back into place. “All my life everybody’s treated me like I’m a lump of clay. They all wanted to mold me. The judges didn’t like my costume or my hair. Change it. Federation officials told me I was too fat or too thin. Do something about it. Even Carol got me to rearrange the program to give them what they want. She won’t admit it, but she did. I know she meant well, but damn it. Why did she have to give in? Then there’s my dad. I think he’d cut off one of his balls and hand it to me if he thought it would make me straight.”

  “But you are… straight. Aren’t you?”

  Robby stared at the horizon.