Breaking Free

by Teresa J. Reasor

  ****

  “That has to be the ugliest apartment complex in San Diego,” Clara said.

  Zoe turned the key in the ignition killing the engine and leaned forward to look up at the blocky building with its regimented lines. “Brett’s only here to sleep and eat. All he needs is a place to hang his hat.”

  “I suppose so. Once he finds the right woman, he’ll have to move,” Clara said, a note of forced determination in her voice.

  Would that happen for her brother in his current occupation? Would it happen? Zoe flinched from the thought, shoved her sunglasses onto her face, and grabbing her purse, exited the car.

  She popped the trunk and looked down at the olive drab sea-bag taking up nearly the whole compartment.

  “I think we need a dolly,” Clara said. “Stay here and I’ll go in and ask management if they have one.”

  Zoe lowered the trunk lid, limped around to the passenger side of the car and leaned against the quarter panel to rest her leg.

  She had to deal with these feelings about seeing Hawk back in uniform. He wore it so naturally. It suited his physique. Oh hell! Who was she kidding? It wasn’t the uniform that bothered her. It was caring for the man wearing it.

  Seeking a distraction from her thoughts, she turned to look down the street. Across the street two cars down a man stared at her from his vehicle. She took in blond hair and a strong jaw, though dark sunglasses obscured the rest of his face. His concentrated intensity, the stillness of his posture as he studied her punched her heart into an anxious race. A car whipped past between them. She took the opportunity to turn her back to him.

  “Hello pretty lady.”

  Zoe started at the familiar voice, then smiled, relief easing the tension from her body. “Where on earth did you get that shirt?”

  Flash laughed, his blue eyes alight with humor. “Nice, huh?” He twisted around to show off the bizarre print. His back and torso appeared to have been attacked by a paintball gun, a flowerbed, or both. “I got it in Hawaii. It’s my lucky shirt.”

  Zoe looked over the top of her sunglasses at him. “Does it work?”

  “I was hoping it would,” he said, his grin oozing charm.

  “Why Harold, I thought we already had an understanding.“

  He chuckled. “The other guys will be jealous.” He leaned against the car beside her and folded his arms.

  Why wasn’t she more drawn to this man? He exuded charisma, was funny and sweet. But just didn’t do it for her like--

  “Are you just hanging out here or are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

  “Mom went in to see if the manager had a dolly.”

  “What for?”

  Zoe glanced across the street in search of the car and man. Both were gone. She shrugged off the residue of apprehension.

  “We were going to unpack Brett’s duffle, but it’s too heavy for either of us to lift.”

  He straightened away from the car. “I can take care of that for you.”

  She smiled. “Do you live here?”

  “No, I just recognized Hawk’s vehicle and saw you standing here. I stopped to say hey and see how things were going.”

  She ignored the ‘how things were going’ part to avoid disrupting the carefree tone of the moment. “So, you’re not busy right now?”

  He looked at his watch. “I got a few minutes before I have to be somewhere. I can do this for you.”

  “Thank you, Flash.”

  “I like it better when you call me Harold,” he said as he moved around the back of the vehicle and flipped open the trunk. He managed to wiggle the canvas bag free from the tight space and, grasping the handle on the side, swung it up onto his shoulder.

  Zoe rushed to slam the trunk closed and proceeded him to the apartment complex door. A man with dark hair exited the building just as they reached the entrance. He held it open for them with a nod.

  “May I borrow your cell phone? Mom won’t know where I am and might worry if she shows back up at the car and I’m not there.”

  “It’s hooked to my belt,” he said, raising an elbow to give her access to his waist.

  Zoe dialed her mother’s number and arranged to meet her at the apartment with the key. “You could put that down until we get upstairs,” Zoe said when he continued to balance the bag even after they entered the elevator.

  “I’d just have to pick it up again. And besides it gives me the opportunity to impress you.”

  Eyeing the duffle that had to weigh more than fifty pounds, and how the taut muscles stood out in his arms, Zoe smiled. “Consider me impressed, Harold.”

  He shot her a cocky grin. “Have you ever been to Brett’s apartment?” he asked.

  “No, he’d just moved in when he deployed.”

  “Well, despite how the place looks from the outside, the apartments are okay. I think he got a break on the rent because the units were slow to fill.”

  “It’s really not fair for any of you to have to pay rent when you aren’t here,” Zoe said.

  “Well, it never hurts knowing you have a home to return to. And renting a room by the week can really suck.”

  “Are you saying that from experience?”

  “When I first came out to California, I had to stay in a dump across town. There’s something to be said for having your own bed and your own stuff, not to mention privacy.”

  Zoe paused a moment in thought. “You don’t have any family out here either?”

  “No. I don’t have any family. Just the guys.”

  Zoe pressed a hand to her stomach as a dropping sensation struck it that had nothing to do with the elevator. So he was alone in the world like Hawk.

  The elevator door opened and they stepped out into a long hallway. Clara stood just a few doors down.

  “I’m sorry, Harold.”

  For the first time his easygoing expression grew serious. “Yeah, so am I.”

  “It’s good to see you, Flash,” Clara said as they reached her. “Thank you so much for helping us.”

  “I’m glad to do it, Clara.” Flash squeezed through the doorway with only inches to spare. He continued through a Spartan living room, with the bare necessities of a couch, two chairs, a couple of end tables and lamps, down a hallway.

  Zoe followed behind, taking in the bare walls with boxes still packed and shoved against them.

  “We’ll have to unpack for him and set things to rights,” Clara said from behind her.

  Her mother’s comment brought the ache of tears to Zoe’s throat. “Not today, Mom. I want to get to the hospital as soon as we unpack his things.”

  “All right, hon.”

  Flash lowered the sea-bag to the floor on its end in front of the bed.

  A bed hastily made. As though Brett were returning in just a few minutes instead of the nine months he’d been deployed. Zoe’s eyes burned with tears.

  The room smelled musty from remaining sealed.

  “I’ll go open the sliding glass doors in the living room,” Clara said, her voice uneven. She pressed a hand to her trembling lips as she hastened from the room.

  “I can deal with this if you need to go see about her,” Flash said, motioning toward the duffle.

  Zoe shook her head. “If I do, we’ll both go on a crying jag that will be counterproductive. We just need to keep moving forward.”

  Flash nodded. “All his uniforms and stuff should be clean. We kind of pulled together to get his gear squared away.” He unfastened the heavy snap hook at the top of the bag. “I can take the uniforms to the base cleaners to be pressed if you like.”

  His kindness undermined her control, and dropping her purse onto the dresser, Zoe turned her attention to straightening the bed until she could regain her composure. “I’ll have plenty of time to do that later. He won’t need them right away. But I appreciate the offer.”

  “I’m sorry, Zoe. I didn’t mean to--”

  She straightened. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Harold. It’s just an emotiona
l time for us right now.”

  “Yeah, I see that. If there’s nothing else I can do to help, I’ll take off.“ He edged toward the door.

  “Come by the house tomorrow night. We’ll be grilling out. I think some of the others will be there.” She hazarded a glance at him and read his discomfort in the stiffness of his shoulders and the taut set of his jaw.

  “Sure, will do. If you need anything just call my cell. The number will be on your mother’s phone.”

  “I promise we’ll be better company then,” Zoe said and forced a smile.

  “No problem, Zoe. I’ll see you then.”

  She drew a deep breath as the sound of his steps retreated down the hall. He exchanged a quick goodbye with her mother. A door closed.

  Zoe tugged open the top of the sea bag and drew out the first layer of clothing. Desert camouflage. Every tag had Brett’s name written on it. Pain stabbed her as sharp as a K-bar. She swallowed back the sob that thrust into her throat and opened the closet door. Grabbing the bare hangers there, she started unpacking for her brother.

  When her mother returned to the bedroom, Zoe had a third of the bag unpacked and struggled to dump the rest onto the bed. Clara rushed forward to help her lift the heavy canvas duffle and give it a shake.

  A mess kit, canteen, and ditty kit tumbled out with a crushed mass of t-shirts and underwear. Clara began sorting socks and pairing them while Zoe refolded the t-shirts and placed them in a dresser drawer.

  Zoe paused in folding a shirt as her mother dragged a sock heavy with something across the bed. Clara shook the white boot sock and a sheathed knife dropped onto the bed.

  “We probably need to put that in Hawk’s gun safe, just in case,” Zoe suggested.

  “Probably so,” Clara agreed and set the weapon on the nightstand.

  Hearing a sound like dice in a cup a few minutes later, Zoe turned from hanging uniforms in the closet.

  Clara held up a small circular stone. “Wonder what these are?”

  Zoe limped to the bed and picked up one of the small cylinder shaped stones. She studied the pictographs on it. “They look like stamps.”

  “Would they be souvenirs?” Clara asked.

  “Most likely. They’d be pretty placed in a shadow box frame. Maybe I can do that for Brett.”

  “We’ll pick up a frame this week. I’ll put them in my purse so we won’t forget them.” She scooped them up and placed them back in the sock.

  “We can come back another day and unpack the boxes, Mom. I know you’re eager to do that.”

  “I just want Brett to have a home to come to after he’s discharged from the hospital.”

  Her mother’s vulnerability, the hope she tried so hard to hold on to, seemed dulled today by grief. The emotional rollercoaster they both endured on a daily basis had taken a sudden plunge for Clara.

  Zoe grabbed the sea bag from the bed and, folding it up, took it to the closet. “We’ll have this place whipped into shape before he gets out,” she said as she shoved it onto a shelf. She flinched at her own forced positive tone.

  Clara rose from the bed and brushed a distracted hand through her auburn hair. “I’m a little tired, Zoe. You wouldn’t mind going to the hospital without me for a few hours.”

  “No, of course not, mom.”

  She scanned Clara’s expression. The fine lines around her mother’s eyes seemed to have grown deeper just since they’d arrived at the apartment.

  It was so hard to hold on to hope when there was never any positive news to encourage it. Had her mother hit an emotional wall?

  “Do you want to stay and unpack a few boxes?” Zoe asked.

  “No, I just need a little while to myself.”

  Zoe slid her arms around her mother, her hold fierce.

  Clara clung to her, her arms tight, her body taut. After several moments, her muscles relaxed and she stepped back. She brushed at the tears that glazed her cheeks. Weariness invaded her expression. “Maybe I just need a nap. Let’s go.”

  “Is there somewhere you need to stop before I drop you off at the house?” Zoe asked during the short elevator trip to the lobby.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  As the elevator door opened Clara murmured, “Shit--I forgot the knife and Brett’s souvenirs.”

  Zoe laid a hand against the door to hold it open. “No problem. I can run back up and get them. It won’t take a minute. Why don’t you go on to the car and wait for me.” She leaned against the door to keep it open while she dug in her purse for the keys. She handed them to Clara, accepted the ones her mother offered her, and then stepped back inside the elevator, allowing the door to close.

  Was there any way at all she could make things easier for her mother? She shook her head and raked her fingers through the long ponytail that hung over her shoulder. Frustration clogged her throat and she drew a deep breath. If only they weren’t so damn helpless in all this.

  The elevator door opened and she limped out into the hall. She thumbed through the keys her mother had handed her and selected one.

  The air inside the apartment smelled fresher for having the sliding glass doors open for a time, but there was also an elusive scent hanging in the room. Shaving cream? Suntan lotion? No.

  Zoe strode down the hall into the bedroom. The sheathed knife and sock lay together on the nightstand. She picked up the knife and swinging her shoulder bag forward, unzipped it and shoved it inside.

  Her eyes fell on the chest in which she’d placed Brett’s underwear and socks. The top drawer hung open. Hung open when she’d closed it just moments before.

  Time stopped.

  One beat of her heart shoved into another. Every breath drew the indistinct scent into her lungs.

  Her body seemed frozen, numb, her limbs liquid.

  Silence stretched as loud as a scream.

  Her attention swung to the closet and froze. Was someone inside hiding? Were eyes looking through the slats at her? The louvered doors seemed to bow forward though they didn’t move.

  Her fingertips rested on the sheathed knife. She’d never get the knife out and if she did he’d take it away from her and--

  Feeling light headed, she pressed a hand to the nightstand. The sock filled with stones lay beneath her palm. She wrapped the top of the cotton garment around her hand. As the weighted toe swung upward, the stones rattled, like marbles clicking together. Her lungs seized. Her body shook.

  Move! Move god damn it! Her legs felt spongy and weak as she hedged sideways giving the closet a wide birth. If he came out of the closet would she have the strength to swing the sock? Her shoulder blades brushed hard against the doorframe as she strained away from it and backed into the hall.

  Her joints felt loose, her steps clumsy as, reaching the end of the hall, she turned and ran out of the apartment.

  A few moments later, she hugged the elevator wall, as her lungs worked like bellows. Her leg ached and burned as though the damaged muscle had been ripped apart.

  Had there been someone there? Or was it all in her imagination?

  There had to be someone there? She’d closed the drawer. She knew she had. She wasn’t crazy.

  Had there really been a scent left behind. Or could it have just been Flash’s aftershave? Had she noticed him wearing aftershave? Would it have lingered in the air with the balcony door open? Not likely.

  She had to get the manager to go back up with her and check the apartment.

  They’d be gone by then. Thank God. But how had they gotten in?

  The sock hung heavily against her side. Thank God she hadn’t had to use it.

 

  CHAPTER 6