Angel Smits - The Marine Finds His Family

The jangle of metal and leather told DJ that Wyatt was cleaning tack. DJ stopped in the doorway of the small room and watched Wyatt rub the glycerin soap onto the leather.

“What’s up?” Wyatt asked.

DJ took a deep breath and stepped into the room. He hadn’t planned what he was going to say, but he had to tell Wyatt the truth. Had to let him know about the decision he’d made.

“The other night I caught Tyler sitting up in the old cottonwood,” DJ began. “I don’t think it was the first time.”

That made Wyatt whip his head up and his hands stopped moving. “What was he doing?” Dread filled Wyatt’s voice.

“Just sittin’, staring at the stars.”

“You know why?” Wyatt relaxed a little, returning his focus to his work.

“I think so. He eventually came down and we talked.” DJ tried to wrap his brain around the information, or rather, lack of information, Tyler had shared with him.

Wyatt waited.

“I’m worried,” DJ finally admitted.

“About Tyler?”

DJ paused before shaking his head. “No. About Tammie.” Wyatt’s frown reflected his confusion. DJ moved to sit on the bench near Wyatt. “I know she’s in trouble. Big trouble. She made Tyler swear not to tell anyone anything, and he’s sticking to that promise.”

Wyatt paused, thinking for a long minute. “I’ve wondered why he doesn’t say much.” They had both tried to get info out of him, with no luck. “You think he’s afraid?”

DJ pondered the question. Sitting still was killing his back and legs. His muscles were tight from lack of sleep lately. He needed the rest, but the stress of his worry was eating him alive. He gave up and paced.

“I need to find her,” he finally said. He didn’t have to wait long for Wyatt’s response.

“And do what? Let her have Tyler back?” Wyatt’s anger was controlled, barely. “Emily said you’d mentioned doing that. What if there’s nothing to find? Sounds like she doesn’t want to be found.”

Wyatt watched him, waiting. The silence was deafening. DJ gritted his teeth. “No. Tyler’s my son. Her wishes aren’t what’s important. But Tyler is.”

Wyatt shook his head and resumed his work. “What makes you think you can find her? The private investigator didn’t discover much.”

“Tyler knows something. I just have to get him to talk.”

“How? I don’t think the bribery you had planned will work.”

“No.” DJ paced back and forth a few more times. “That’s what actually made me realize I have to do this. His loyalty is solid. Too solid for a kid not wanted by his mother.”

Wyatt didn’t respond. The sound of his work and a stray whinny from the direction of the stalls filled the heavy silence.

DJ couldn’t take it anymore. “Okay, get it over with.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Yell at me. Do that whole older-brother thing. Tell me I’m making a mistake. Something!”

Wyatt remained silent, staring down at his own hands for a long minute. DJ tried to guess what he was going to say. Then Wyatt looked up.

DJ barely remembered their father, who’d died when DJ was six. But while he didn’t remember the man that much, he remembered that look. DJ swallowed. Why had he started this whole conversation?

“Deej, I can’t tell you what to do this time. I wish I could.”

DJ cursed. He’d been counting on Wyatt to guide him.

“I’ll admit I’m not happy about this.” Wyatt’s voice shook. “I’ve watched you work too hard to recover, and to build your relationship with Tyler, to just—”

“Just what?” DJ asked after several seconds of quiet passed.

“Risk losing it all for a woman you don’t even know.”

That’s where Wyatt was wrong, and where DJ had to admit he’d been wrong, too. “I knew her once,” he whispered. Contradictory memories filled his mind. “I can’t put that woman together with someone who’d abandon her son.”

Wyatt nodded, and DJ wasn’t sure if it was in agreement or submission.

“When will you tell Tyler?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure how.” This was a new role for him. Here at home, he’d always been the younger brother, taking orders from half a dozen wannabe parents. In the military, his commanding officer and the mission told him what to do. He looked over at Wyatt, hoping he’d give him some direction.

“When your commanding officer called, it nearly killed me to think of you hurt. But it was worse knowing I had to tell Tyler. Deej, that’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” Wyatt looked down and DJ turned away, looking out over the row of stalls instead of at his brother.

“Sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“That’s not what I meant.” DJ heard Wyatt’s footsteps behind him. “What I’m trying to say is, I understand. I—” Wyatt swallowed. “I hate to admit it, but I agree. He’s a tough kid, but he needs this done.”

“Yeah.” DJ knew both those things.

“And so do you.” Wyatt’s big hand clamped DJ’s shoulder reassuringly. “You need this, too.” DJ didn’t even want to think about that piece of the screwed-up puzzle.

“Dad! Uncle Wyatt!” Tyler’s voice broke the quiet of the barn. DJ looked back at Wyatt. He hoped that Tyler hadn’t overheard what they were talking about—he wanted a little more time to formulate the words.

“In here,” DJ called, watching as Tyler came running into the tack room, his too-big cowboy boots clumping against the packed dirt. Tyler was out of breath and tried to talk and breathe all at once. “Slow down, buddy.”

“I... A...hawk. It just—” Tyler flapped his hands in the air, imitating a bird. “Swooped down. Like this. It got one of the doves!” His voice cracked. “It was cool. But—” The boy struggled with the contradiction between the wonder of life and death.

Wyatt didn’t speak, staying quiet, letting DJ take the lead. While it thrilled DJ to be able to deal with his son...it also scared the hell out of him. What if he messed up? What if he said the wrong thing? He tried to remember being eight.

“It’s cool and creepy all at once, huh?”

“Yeah.” Tyler nodded and settled on the bench next to Wyatt. “Whatcha doin’?”

Wyatt glanced up at DJ, then back down at the boy. “Cleaning tack. Want to help?”

“Sure.”

Carefully, Wyatt explained what to do. Tyler was awkward, but eager. And Wyatt simply waited and guided. DJ wondered if he’d ever have his brother’s patience and skill with the boy. He shook his head. “Ty?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“The other night, when we were talking on the porch, I know you were tired. But you remember what we talked about?”

Tyler didn’t speak or look up from the strip of leather—it looked huge in his small hands.

“Well, I was talking with Wyatt about it.”

That made Tyler look up. The panic in his eyes tore through DJ, but instead of making him rethink his decision, it only strengthened his resolve.

“Do you remember what I said?”

Tyler nodded and looked down. DJ heard him sniff and almost changed his mind. Wyatt held back, which he knew was killing his older brother, but DJ appreciated it. Slowly, painfully, DJ hunkered down beside his son. The dirt dug into his injured knees but he endured the discomfort. “I can’t ignore what you told me.” DJ settled his big hand on Tyler’s leg. “I just told Wyatt that I’m worried about your mom. I bet you are, too, right?”

Tyler simply nodded and shoved a fist across his eyes before looking up, his gaze bouncing back and forth between the two men.

Wyatt remained quiet, his jaw clenched. DJ wished he could be the silent one. Dread washed over him.

“I was hoping you’d help me find her.”