by CJ Daly
is long.”
“Hey!” Mikey interjected hotly. “That’s not twue!” I immediately grabbed
his arm, but he simply stepped out of my grasp.
Daddy turned the color of summer beets, smiling like a criminal before
a jury. “Young man, where are yer manners? You do not in’errupt grown-ups
when they’re speakin’.” He looked at Pete as though for support, but Pete’s
face remained unmoved as the Statue of David.
“Anyhow,” Daddy went on, clearing his throat and switching gears. “As
much as we appreciate the offer . . . we don’t need no charity from yer
academy. We take care of our own bills. Always have . . . always will.” He
clamped a hard hand on my shoulder, making me aware that I had an ache
back there. “Katie will pay it back from the money she earns waitressin’. Right,
Katie-girl?”
“Yes, sir.” I nodded my head earnestly up at Pete. “That’s what I was
plannin’ on doin’ anyhow.”
“You see?” Daddy beamed at me proudly like I’d finally hit my mark.
“That’s the way I raise up my children—to be real responsible. I bet she won’t
be so careless next time,” he crowed.
I saw the thundercloud shadowing Pete’s face again, and worried, like
lightening, he was about to strike. His jaw worked back and forth until he
got it together enough to release the tension so he could speak.
“Well, we can get the trivial matter of the bill settled later. For now, the important thing is your daughter’s recovery.” He looked, I thought, a bit too
sternly at Daddy. “She will need full bed rest for forty-eight hours minimum.
After that, if there are no complications, she can gradually add light activities
back—no calf feeding, no heavy lifting—only light housework. I’ll let her
teachers know of her condition.” He addressed Nurse Gloria: “Would you be
so kind as to get a note from Dr. Shaw?”
“Yessir, Mr. Cadet.” Nurse Gloria graced Pete with her gap-toothed smile.
“I see you got this.”
“Thank you.” Pete turned back to Daddy. “In the meantime, go ahead
and get her home. I’ll pick up her prescriptions.”
“I don’t really think that’s necessary, Pete. I think I got a coupl’uh Advils
• 373 •
rollin’ around somewhere in the back of the medicine cabinet . . . does the job just fine when my leg’s actin’ up.”
“No Ibuprofen,” Pete swiftly countered. “Acetaminophen is okay, but a
prescription strength pain reliever is best. She’ll most likely wake up to the
biggest headache of her life in a couple of hours when the morphine wears off.”
“Huh?” My father seemed perplexed by this onslaught of information.
“You sure do seem to know a lot about it. Are you studyin’ to be a doc or
somethin’?”
“No, sir. My father is one of the physicians at The Academy, so I’ve picked
up tidbits here and there over the years. Plus, all cadets are required to take a
six-month course in medical training.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Huh ,” my father said the same time I thought it. I filed that little snippet about his father away for now. I would take it out later to inspect further. But
right now, I was tired, I really was.
“Why don’t you get Kate home and into bed.” It was said as a command.
“No noise, no TV, no anything but rest.” Pete looked severely down at me. I
smiled up at him. Usually I hated being bossed around. And feeling helpless.
Right now . . . not so much. Huh. Must be the “happy shot.” I closed my eyes and must’ve drifted off because the next thing I knew, I was home, and two
vigilant little brothers were helping me walk in, one on each side. I looked
down, horrified, to see I was still in my hospital gown.
The only thing keeping it from gaping open was Pete’s navy IEA jacket,
zipped up over it.
• 374 •
33
SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY
A rap-tap-tap roused me later. I wasn’t sure how much later because it
was dark outside. A presence—too polite to be my father—began
asserting itself behind the door again. Didn’t feel polite though,
reverberating from inside my noggin. Ow. Pain. Coming on stronger every
second. I heard voices.
“Pete, you might wanna just let ‘er sleep it off.” This, as though I were
merely hungover. “She’ll be alright—my Katie’s one tough cookie.”
“Yes, well, sleeping it off is something she can’t do uninterrupted tonight.
Did you read the patient information sheet? . . . I highlighted it in yellow.”
“Uh, well . . . not quite there yet, Pete. Just got the boys off to bed and was
sittin’ down a spell to watch the game. Why don’tja come on in an’ join me?”
“I better check on Kate. She’ll be wanting these pain pills soon . . . maybe
something to eat first. I brought her some—”
“Well now. That sure is awfully kind of you. Above and beyond the call
of duty really.” Daddy sounded almost as disapproving as Pete. “I’ll be sure
to let yer Academy know what a swell job yer doin’ with my daughter, as well as my future cadet.” My Daddy may be uneducated, but he wasn’t stupid.
“Thank you, sir . . . though unnecessary. It’s a cadet’s duty to help out
the host family in any way possible for the duration of our stay. I’ll just drop
off her prescriptions and food, and then be on my way,” Pete said smoothly.
Dang it. Another rap-tap-tap.
“Come in,” I croaked, sitting up in bed and immediately wincing from
the spotlight Daddy just turned on. Pete informed my father that bright lights
were a no-no and turned it back off, then came in and snapped on my tulip
lamp instead. A disgruntled Daddy followed, coming up from behind to loom
over us like a giant buzz kill.
• 375 •
“Hey.” Pete stared at my face with a soft, inscrutable look until I couldn’t take it—my lashes fanned my cheeks.
“Hey.” I pulled the slippery hospital gown back over my shoulder.
“How you feeling?”
I shrugged a little, tried a smile. “Head hurts.”
Pete smiled back. “I’m not surprised. I felt the size of that goose egg.”
“Goose egg?” I said incredulously. “Feels more like an ostrich egg to me!”
Pete chuckled lightly. We were both hyper aware we were being scrutinized
by my father. “You must be hungry.” He looked at me for confirmation.
“A little, I guess. It’s hard to concentrate on anything but my throbbin’
head.”
“Well, you can’t take the pain meds on an empty stomach without risking
another vomiting episode.”
“Oh man . . . don’t remind me.” My face heated instantly. “Sorry ‘bout
that again, by the way.”
“Don’t apologize for being sick,” he reprimanded lightly.
I merely nodded, feeling extremely awkward with Daddy hovering. Pete
began unpacking what appeared to be a child’s paper bag lunch.
My father coughed into his hand. “Is there anything I can do tuh help?”
“A spoon would be great,” Pete said, unpeeling the foil from a yogurt cup.
“One spoon comin’ up!” Daddy announced before tromping out the door.
Pete and I shared a couple
of long looks and secret smiles before he came back
in brandishing the proper utensil proudly. “Here ya go, Katie-girl!”
I winced a little at his volume. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“Yer welcome!” He beamed at me and kind of stood around shifting his
feet and snapping his fingers.
“You can go on back and watch the game, Daddy,” I suggested. “I’m just
gonna eat a little sandwich and take my pills, then go on to sleep.”
“That’s a good idea,” Pete seconded. “She’s not supposed to have a
whole lot of stimulation tonight. I’m just going to go over some last-minute
instructions . . . I’ll be back to check on her in the morning and help out with
chores, if that’s okay with you, sir.”
“Well now.” Daddy knocked knuckles against my dresser with a cheerful
nod. “That’s mighty nice of you.” After a little back and forth about the way
tomorrow should go, and after Pete agreed to catch the last half of the game
with him, Daddy finally left us alone—after swinging the door wide. We both
visibly relaxed as soon as he was gone.
“Ready for some meds?” Pete asked when he saw me rubbing the back of
my neck, which was pretty sore, too.
• 376 •
I nodded but not too enthusiastically—the throbbing was getting worse.
He cracked open the RX bottle and shook out two white, oval-shaped
pills. Then pulled out one of his famous dark water bottles and twisted it open
to some zippy steam. I quickly swallowed them down, ready to feel some relief.
“Anything you want to do bathroom wise, you better do it now,” he
advised. “These are going to knock you out pretty good.”
“Would you mind handin’ me the alarm first?”
Pete narrowed his eyes. “You’re not really planning on getting up tomorrow
morning?”
“No,” I said, miffed he didn’t think I was capable of following directions.
“I’m settin’ it for three hours, so I’ll make sure to wake myself up through
the night.”
A certain look, I was starting to recognize, hardened Pete’s features. “You
can’t rely on your father.” He stated the obvious.
My eyebrows slanted down. “Have you met my father?”
He chuckled and patted my leg. This confused me: Was that a love-tap
or a brotherly pat?
“That’s a good idea, but unnecessary . . . I’m already one step ahead.” I
looked up to find eyes that were twinkling, and a mouth with a distinct smirk
upon it. “Trust me,” he said.
I took in a breath, deciding not to ask questions—just trust him. It felt
good to rely on someone else. Besides, I couldn’t remember ever being so tired.
And that was saying something. All I wanted to do was fall blissfully back to
sleep. But first, I urgently needed to use the bathroom.
“Um . . . would you mind leavin’ while I cross to the bathroom?” I didn’t
want to get up with my hospital gown flapping open like a backwards flasher.
“Okay, but don’t lock the door, or stand up in the shower.” The look Pete
gave me was medical-grade stern. “You can’t afford another fall right now.
And don’t take more than ten minutes . . . or I’m coming in after you.”
“Got it,” I said, kinda wanting to give him a sardonic salute. But honestly
didn’t have the energy to spare.
Approximately ten minutes later, I’d sufficiently showered and brushed
my teeth and was back in bed. My eyelids were beginning to droop when Pete
showed up to crown my head with a frozen bag of peas.
“You’re quite the Boy Scout, Cadet Davenport,” I murmured, losing the
battle with consciousness.
He chuckled. “Comes with the territory.”
“Seriously.” I gazed up at him, all the emotions in my heart shining
• 377 •
through now that my defenses were down (not to mention my inhibitions due to the two magic pills I’d just swallowed). “Thanks . . . for everything.”
“You’re seriously welcome.” He gave me a strange smile before drifting to
the window to peer out.
“Not much of a view, I’m afraid,” I said around a yawn. “Why I hung the
pictures on the wall . . . dream about Paris . . .”
He clicked off the lamp and leaned over to brush his hand over my hair.
“See you soon . . .” I thought I heard him say before I was out like a light.
Little boy soldiers in plumed hats were lined up in arrow-straight
rows. Raising their swords in a Hitler-like salute to a navy and gold flag,
with a roaring lion head on it. Everything was pristine and sparkling
under the sun. Even the horses were decked out with gold buckles and
ribbons, their tails swaying in the wind the only movement. The pageantry
of the moment seemed out of place with the flag, which slowly dripped
blood—from the lion’s open mouth. Nobody seemed bothered by this
except me. I was desperately searching a sea of blank faces for Andrew.
Couldn’t find him anywhere.
I noticed a boy up front. Smal er than the rest. Something about
the block shape of his head looked familiar to me. I could see he was the
only one with real features on his face. Fighting my way through lines of
robotic boys, I frantical y ran to him and grabbed his shoulder. When he
turned around, it wasn’t Andrew . . . it was Mikey.
I cried out, and a low voice soothed me. Sure hands stroked my arm in
rhythmic caresses that melted my fear. Must be dreaming. This dream is better.
I drifted off again.
I was awoken, not by the nerve-jangling sound of the alarm, but by the
same soothing voice from my dreams murmuring words of encouragement.
I was at the bottom of a deep well. With a wall of concrete pressed against
my chest. I couldn’t push it off. It was ten times—a hundred times—heavier
than me. I wanted to cry for help but felt like it would be muffled and not
worth the effort.
Warm hands stroked my back. Strong, capable hands helping me. Calmer
now, I was still in deep though not alone.
“Kate, you need to open your eyes for me,” that same velvet voice
exhorted me.
I felt like I might could do it. With his help. A dim light went on. A
• 378 •
pinprick really, from the bottom of the hole, but it was something to focus on besides the darkness. I wasn’t so lost now.
“Kate, wake up.” Ow. A slight stinging sensation on my face. “Kate!”
The voice was no longer velvet but insistent now. I groaned. Coming up was
hard work. I needed a minute. “Open your eyes.” The voice thought I was
being lazy. I would try harder. As I drifted up to the surface, little flickers of
involuntary reflexes were going on.
“Hmmm.” There. That was good. I needed praise for that.
“Come on, honey . . . open your eyes.”
Awareness slowly settled in. The pain helped, a reminder. The flickers
I could control with some regularity now—my fingers, then my eyelids. At
last, I pried my eyes open to see bottomless black pools staring down on me.
Relieved.
“Welcome back . . . again,” Pete said.
I felt warm just from his smile. Now that I saw him, sitting on my bed, I
was sure I was out cold again. Or in a d
rug-induced hallucination. No matter.
I wanted to fall back to the darkness and bring him with me. My eyes drifted
closed again.
“Oh no you don’t!” He patted my face again.
How could he do that to me? He was a gentleman—nothing gentle about
that. I halfway tried to cover my face with my hand, but it was too much
effort. “Stop,” I pleaded.
“I’ll stop if you open your eyes again.”
“Deal.” I drew in a deep, drugged-up breath and willed my eyes open.
Flashy teeth greeted me in the darkness. “Remind me to only give you
one of those pills next time.”
I gave him a loose, groggy smile. Now that I was awake, I wanted to talk
all night. Settled for staring at the moment.
“Whew!” Pete blew out some air. “You had me worried there for a minute,
Katie-Kat.”
My smile gained momentum. I liked the way my nickname sounded
coming from his mouth. Oh God! That mouth. I focused solely on it. Sexiest mouth I’d ever seen. My hand fluttered up, but Pete caught it midair, shaking
it a little, as though a reprimand. This wounded me more than my wound.
“Thirsty?” He held up a bendy straw, bobbing from one of those dark
water bottles.
I took a couple of sips, surprising myself by not dribbling it down the front
of my shirt. During this exchange, I had a chance to inhale him and almost
swooned in ecstasy. If he wanted to wake me up, he should’ve just leaned
• 379 •
over—woulda worked better than smelling salts in bringing me round. That scent could raise me from the dead.
“What’s that smile for?” Pete wondered, eyes warm and teasing.
I shrugged a shoulder. “You smell nice.” I finally spoke, and it was to say
the biggest understatement of the year. Maybe second only to: you look nice.
“She speaks!” Pete broke into a grin. “And even better—to give me a
compliment.”
I huffed out an embarrassed chuckle. “What are you doin’ here?” I
mumbled, thick tongued. “If my father catches you in here, he might send
you packin’ back to California with his shotgun pointed at your back.”
Those lips, I was staring at, quirked up. “Your father is currently sawing
through some pretty thick logs, and won’t be getting up too much before . . .
oh, say noonish tomorrow.”