Patricia Potter - The Seal's Return

“I’ll try to make sure he doesn’t need to see them now,” Lisa said.

“Good. I’ll expect you and your sister at noon.” The phone clicked off.

Lisa looked at her watch. Nearly eight. She needed to take a shower and dress. She had no idea what to wear in town. Black pants and a short-sleeved fitted blouse would probably do. She would take one of her white coats and drop it off at the clinic.

She went upstairs and knocked on Gordon’s door. He’d been far too quiet since he went to his room last night. He had a backlog of movies on his tablet along with games but...

No sound inside.

She opened the door. He was still sleeping. She looked around. To her surprise there were no clothes on the floor. She closed the door, then knocked. Hard.

Mumbling came from inside. “Just a minute.” Finally, Gordon appeared. His long hair was a mess. He was blurry-eyed as if he hadn’t had any sleep. “Wh-what do you want?” he asked rudely.

“I have to leave to meet with Dr. Bradley,” she said. “I may not be back until noon, and then I’m taking Kerry to look at some dogs. Want to go with us? Maybe help Kerry pick one?”

“You gotta be kidding. We’d never agree. She’ll want some little prissy thing. Besides, I have things to do. Going on a hike with a kid I met.”

“Where to?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t live here. Just going to show me around.”

Lisa swallowed hard. Nothing had changed. “You’re supposed to check in with the police department.”

“Tomorrow,” he said.

“I’ll make an appointment for you.”

“Whatever,” he said, and closed the door.

She wondered if he’d ever forgive her for bringing him here. It didn’t matter that she was trying to help him—help both of them. She’d hated to take them from the house they’d lived in all their lives, but it had become a house of ghosts.

She went back downstairs and took a hot shower, trying to erase all the doubts she had, the failure she felt. She washed and dried her hair and pulled it back, fastening it with a clasp. Not very fashionable or stylish but fast and practical.

She checked her watch again. Seven minutes until nine. The doctor’s office was just six blocks away but she was running late. She grabbed her white coat, the car keys, her laptop and stopped by the living room where Kerry was watching a talk show. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back but I promise it will be before noon. Try the library or maybe just explore this morning, okay?”

She gave Kerry her allowance in case she wanted to go into town. She knew from her own teenage years how important it was to have at least a few dollars for a soft drink or emergencies. She hoped Gordon would find a part-time job as she had as a teenager.

* * *

JUBAL TRIED SLEEPING inside the cabin but woke up drenched in sweat. He’d been in the hut again. No light. No air. Only half a cup of filthy water to drink. His wrists were bound with rusty chain that tore into the skin, and he bled from several gashes inflicted by one of his captors.

Forcing the images from his head, he glanced at the clock. A little after four a.m. He knew he wouldn’t go back to sleep. He stood and walked to the bathroom, turning on the light. He looked at himself in the mirror with disgust. Why in the hell had he bargained with that kid last night? Maybe he wouldn’t show up.

Or, Jubal thought, he could forget about it and leave now. He hadn’t promised Clint anything but a quick visit, and he certainly didn’t owe the juvenile delinquent anything.

He swore as he took a shower, washing away the sweat. He couldn’t take enough showers these days after two years without. When he’d reached civilization six months ago, he had a beard halfway to his chest and layers of dirt.

Jubal was too awake now to try to sleep. He always thought better when running or swimming, and the shock of cold water should clear his mind. He considered skinny-dipping since he doubted anyone was awake. But then Clint was his host; it probably wouldn’t help his job as police chief if his guest was reported for indecent exposure.

He resisted the urge and pulled on his swimming trunks before jogging out to the dock. He plunged into the cold water and his thoughts strayed back to the kid. Even if he did show up, what would he find for him to do?

Hell, he kept questioning himself. Why did he let himself get involved? The kid had a nice house from the look of it. Yet Jubal couldn’t escape seeing himself years ago. He’d lived in a nice house, too, but he’d been filled with resentment and bitterness. His mother had taken him away from the father he adored, the father who died a year later with no one to mourn him but a son who lived two thousand miles away.

Maybe that was why he inserted himself in someone else’s life, something he’d never done before. He remembered his own pain when his father died, the rebellion he felt against his mother whom he’d blamed for his father’s death. Wouldn’t have happened if he had been there, if his father knew he was looking on. This kid had not only lost a father but a mother as well. He didn’t know the whys or hows, but he recognized the hurt and loss inside and the urge to strike out.

It was obvious the boy was headed for trouble.

After returning to the cabin, he did his usual quota of push-ups, showered again, and at eight decided the hour reasonable enough to call Clint.

“Hey,” he said. “I’d like to meet the owner of the cabin.”

“Josh? Sure. He’d like that, too.”

“Can we make it just him and me?” Jubal asked.

“Sure. Either Josh or I will call you back.”

That was one of the reasons Jubal had always liked Clint. No questions. No explanations needed.

The phone rang within minutes. “Jubal? Josh Manning here.”

Short. Jubal liked that. “Thanks for the use of the cabin.”

“Happy to have you there. Clint suggested it was time to meet. How about lunch?”

“I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

“You won’t,” Josh said. “Eleven okay? I’d like you to see the town’s main attraction, then we’ll go to Maude’s. Great diner.”

Jubal had planned to stay around the cabin to see whether the kid turned up early, but hell, it was the kid he wanted to discuss with Josh. “Sure.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up.”

“Thanks,” Jubal said.

Jubal made coffee and toasted several pieces of bread from the full larder. He had more than a few thanks to give Josh Manning in addition to his questions.

With another three hours to kill, he checked his laptop for recent news, particularly about the Middle East. Friends were there. He wished he were there, as well. He felt like a fish flopping on land in this peaceful town in the middle of nowhere.

One website led to another until he heard an approaching vehicle. He closed the laptop and went to meet his temporary host.

The top was down on a Jeep and his visitor was accompanied by a Belgian Malinois. Jubal recognized the breed from his SEAL days. It was the service’s dog of choice because of intelligence and size.

Even if he hadn’t known Josh Manning had been a soldier, he would have instantly recognized him as one. Although there was a slight limp, Manning walked with an assurance that came with being a career warrior.

They shook hands, each sizing up the other.

“This is Amos,” Josh said. “He’s also a veteran.”

The dog lifted his paw politely and Jubal leaned over and shook it. Jubal knew instantly he was going to like both his host and the dog. “Thanks again for the use of the cabin,” he said.

“Glad to have someone here to take care of it.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Jubal replied.