Kathleen Creighton - One More Knight

“Naw,” he said, brazening it out, “Jimmy Joe’s a whole lot smarter’n I am. Sweeter, too.” He grinned at her, showing all his teeth. “But I’m cuter.”

She laughed again, but this time he couldn’t hold her eyes. She looked away, reaching abruptly for her drink.

He watched her lips close around the straw, watched her throat move with her swallow, thinking of all the things he could have said then, all the things he wanted to say…wondering what was in her mind, and if it was anything like what was in his. Because he was thinking again of making love with her, not the way he already had, but the ways he’d like to.

And it occurred to him that in a way, having sex with somebody made it even harder to get to know them. Kind of like two different radio signals trying to come in on the same frequency. Sometimes it was tough to make sense out of either one.

“So,” said Charly, taking a breath, “you don’t know what you want to do? Now that you’re out of the navy, I mean. I thought the service was supposed to train you for something.”

“Oh,” Troy said dryly, struggling to get his thoughts back under control, “they trained me for a lot of things. Most of which aren’t much use in civilian life. It’s not like I was a mechanic, or a chef, or a computer engineer or a pilot or something. SEALs…” He let it trail off.

“You never did anything else?”

“Oh yeah, sure-for the last few years I’ve been training other SEALs. And for a while I was Master-at-Arms.” She raised her eyebrows. “Law enforcement,” he explained, and waved it off with a gesture. “Look, it’s not that there’s nothing I can do. It’s more a matter of finding something I want to do.”

“And…?” She was giving him her undivided attention, her eyes sharp as sherry wine.

“Don’t know that yet.” He shrugged and shifted around in his chair, he was finding it unnerving, having all that passion and intensity focused on him for a change. “The navy-being a SEAL-that’s a tough act to follow. I don’t know how to explain it, except that there’s an edge…kind of a high you get, being in dangerous situations. You can get used to it, you know? Makes normal life seem pretty tame by comparison. Flat.” He was quiet for a moment, turning his paper iced-tea cup around and around, watching it make wet rings on the plastic tabletop. “I just don’t want to wind up like these guys you see-you know the ones I’m talkin’ about-they hit the high point of their life back in high school, making the winning touchdown in the big game, and nothing ever gets quite that good again.”

“Like Kelly Grace,” Charly said softly. “High school was undoubtedly the high point of her life. And Bobby Hanratty and Richie…”

Richie. It suddenly occurred to Troy to wonder if the handsome, strapping football player in the photograph he’d seen was the one who’d gotten Charly pregnant, all those years ago. Somehow, though, the kid hadn’t struck him as the sensitive type, definitely not the type to commit suicide. And there was something missing in Charly’s voice when she spoke of him…

He died.

He remembered now. There’d been the other one, the slender, sweet-looking boy wearing the band uniform. Colin, that was his name.

A little chill of intuition shivered down his spine.

“Anyway,” he said harshly, “I don’t want that to be me.” He got up, gathering trash. “You want to go back to the motel and change, or anything? Or you want to go straight back to the hospital?”

Charly got up, too. “I think I should get back to the hospital,” she said. “If you don’t mind.”

“No problem.”

Their gazes intersected as she came around the table, held for a moment and then parted almost like old friends. Troy wondered if he was imagining it, or if there was something new between them…something warmer, maybe. A little less edgy.

When they pulled into the hospital parking lot the sun was setting behind a black pile of thunderheads. The breeze had sprung back up, too, warm and brassy with the smell of distant rain.

Charly took hold of the door handle and turned to him, her face pale and tense in the twilight. “You can just let me out here, if you want to. No need for you to wait around.”

Okay, maybe he had imagined that things had changed a little bit between them, that she was finally starting to consider him a friend instead of just a kind stranger. He was surprised by how much it pained him, having her keep shutting him out again and again. What kind of person did she think he was, for God’s sake, that he’d just drop her off on the hospital steps, when for all either of them knew the worst possible news might be waiting for her inside?

Then he remembered her eyes, and the hopeful, lost little girl he’d seen locked away inside them. For a moment his throat seized up on him. “Oh,” he said, forcing words through so they sounded scratchy as burlap, “I b’lieve I’ll come on in with you for a while, if you don’t mind. Just let me get my dog squared away.”

She nodded, and he noticed she didn’t seem inclined to argue with him anymore about facing whatever was waiting for her in that hospital all alone.

Since he didn’t have the sun and the heat to worry about, he was able to park a little closer to the hospital. He left Bubba tied to the Cherokee’s door handle and walked Charly in through the emergency entrance and down the long hallway to the CICU, one hand casually on her waist, as if it belonged there.

They found Dobrina alone in the waiting room.

“Asleep,” Charly whispered, pausing in the doorway. Troy could feel her body relax.

“That seems like a good sign,” he offered.

She nodded. “I can’t believe she’s still here.” Troy gave her a quick look but didn’t say anything. She let a breath out softly, shaking her head in wonderment. “She’s been with him since I was born, you know that? Thirty-six years. I don’t know how she’s stuck by him all these years.”

“She got any family?” Troy asked.

“She had a husband once. I think he was killed in Vietnam, or something.” She paused, her head tilted to one side, thinking about it. “You know, I really don’t think I ever asked. I was a kid, you know? And as far as I was concerned, she was my family. And then…” She gave herself one of those little shakes that was more like a shudder and turned away, but not before he saw the sadness in her eyes. Such terrible sadness, it made his whole face hurt just to look at her. “I sure never thought she’d still be with him,” she said in a light, brittle voice. “I guess that’s loyalty.”

To Troy it seemed pretty obvious that it would take more than loyalty to keep that proud, elegant woman at a man’s side for thirty-six years, but it didn’t seem like the time to point that out. He’d noticed that it didn’t seem to matter how old people got; when it came to their parents’ love lives they were blind as bats.

At the ICU nursing station, they were told that Judge Phelps was in stable condition and resting comfortably.

“Can I see him?” Charly asked, her voice tight.

“He’s asleep right now,” the duty nurse told her, “but you can go in for a few minutes.” She gave Troy a warning look. “Family only, one at a time.”

“It’s okay,” said Troy, “I’m just with her.” To Charly he said softly, “I’m gonna go make a phone call. You be okay?” She nodded, her eyes unfocused. “Be back soon,” he said, and then he did something that surprised them both. He leaned over and kissed her.

He left her there and went off, jangling like an old jalopy, to find himself a phone and some badly needed privacy.

Charly had been in ICUs before, in her professional capacity, but never when the person hooked to all the tubes and wires was someone to whom she had an emotional connection. She had expected it to be an upsetting experience; she’d prepared herself for fear, helplessness, even pity. What she hadn’t expected, as she stood just outside the glass partition gazing at the man lying so inert and pale and stripped of every shred of dignity, was to feel angry. Especially since she had no idea who it was she was angry with-him, herself or God.