Cheryl Wyatt - A Soldier's Family

She smiled. Bradley was the bravest person she knew. “The tree didn’t fare all that well, and it looks like Manny may have broken a limb or two.”

Bradley pulled a lunch box out of his backpack and opened it. Scents of juice, aged bananas and peanut butter swirled around the car. “Will Manny still get to be a PJ?”

Bradley’s words jarred her to the point her foot went lax on the gas. For the first time Celia held a glimpse of what Manny might be facing. According to Joel, being a PJ was Manny’s whole life. It would crush him if he couldn’t skydive again or rescue people.

She offered a tender response to Bradley, feeling the angst. “I don’t know, sweetie. Tell you what, that would be a really good thing to pray about. Shall we?”

Lunch box set aside, he nodded and bowed his head. “I’ll dial and you can hang up,” he said, then started the prayer for Manny.

When it was Celia’s turn, she could barely speak or see the road for her tears. His simple but heartfelt prayer had elicited something in her. Bradley didn’t see Manny in the same light she did. To Bradley, all the PJs were heroes. To her son, too.

Celia ended the prayer feeling even worse for hitting Manny. Maybe God had brought Manny into her life to show him grace. Why did she always make life about her?

In the school lot, a sulking Javier slouched on the curb.

“I hate detention.” Javier huffed out a dramatic breath and slid into the seat.

“Then stop misbehaving, Javier. Buckle up.”

“Don’t want to. It’s a dumb rule.”

Gravel protested beneath her tires as they stopped. “It’s not about rules. It’s about keeping your teeth out of the windshield. Buckle that seat belt and that mouth.”

A scowl darkened his eyes as he darted looks out the side window where a clump of kids huddled near the curb. “Wearing seat belts isn’t cool. I’ll buckle down the road.”

“You’ll buckle up now, hijo, or the car’s not moving.” Javier’s father would somersault in his grave if he heard the tone Javier used with her. Celia bit back an emotional lump.

Why did Joseph have to die young and leave me alone to raise a troubled son who won’t talk to me? At what point did Javier and I lose touch, Lord? Where did I slip up?

Maybe it’s because she’d loosened up on discipline for several months after Javier’s father had been shot while on duty during a DEA drug sting. At the time, it had taken everything she’d had just to pull herself out of bed each day. She’d thought it best to go easy on Javier since he was grieving, as well. Then Javier resented her erecting those boundaries and enforcing discipline again. What could she do besides pray he’d eventually come around instead of continue his descent off the deep end?

Despite her inner turmoil, Celia put on her best “Mommy-Look” and stared Javier down through the rearview mirror.

His brows knit, but he finally shoved the metal into the clasp. He then jammed fingers through his long hair, flipping it off his forehead, revealing the only eyes she knew capable of sullen scowls comparable to her own.

Stringy strands fell back over his forehead.

Her fingers itched as she pulled into traffic. How badly she wanted to get hold of that mess with a pair of scissors. But she needed to pick her battles, and unruly hair ranked low on the totem pole these days.

“Where we going?” Javier asked, munching a bite of granola bar that Bradley had offered him.

“The hospital. Manny had a skydiving accident this morning and—”

The stricken look climbing Javier’s face caused Celia to clench tight the steering wheel.

For a brief instant she saw the vulnerable little boy he used to be. Though his skin was a darker shade of brown than hers, he paled several degrees. Celia realized he waited for her to finish. Apprehension glittered in his eyes.

Choosing her words carefully she said, “He’s alive, Javier. But he’s busted up pretty good. A few hours ago, he was coherent and talking.”

Just not to me.

“He’s having major hip surgery. We’re going by to see if there’s anything we can do, and to support Joel and the team.”

Javier stared at her. Uncertainty replaced apprehension. For a second, she felt a connection when he held her gaze and searched her eyes for reassurance. Just like he had the day she’d had to sit him down and tell him his father wasn’t coming home. Why, Mom? Why do these terrible things have to happen?

The same question hovered in Javier’s eyes now before he averted his gaze to the window, uneaten granola bar abandoned in his lap. The gangly teen with the monstrous appetite was gobbling her out of house and home. If he wasn’t eating, this news had really rattled him. Celia’s heart swelled with love, then compassion for her son. She hoped he’d be okay when he saw the kind of shape Manny was in.

The untouched granola bar rested in the same position on his lap fifteen minutes later when she pulled into the visitor parking at Refuge Memorial Hospital.

They stopped at the nurses’ station to have their temperatures checked. Most of the staff recognized Bradley since he’d been there so often prior to his bone-marrow transplant for leukemia, which had thankfully gone into remission.

Once at Manny’s doorway and peeking through a crack in the ugly cantaloupe curtains, Celia tried not to bite her lip. It tore at her heart to see anyone suffer.

The nurse escorted Bradley and Javier to a waiting room, and then returned to the hall outside Manny’s door.

Though Celia knew doctors rarely gave recovering alcoholics narcotics, she knew from talking to Amber that Manny was only a social drinker. His team had assured her that his behavior at the wedding reception was highly unusual and out of character for Manny. Celia didn’t know whether to buy that. Regardless, she couldn’t stand to see the big oaf hurting.

Celia put a hand on the nurse’s arm. “Can’t you give the guy something to ease the pain a little?” Manny looked beyond miserable.

The nurse eyed Manny’s door. “I’ve tried. He won’t take it. The friend with him is trying to talk him into it. Go on in, if you like.” She waved Celia in and swished on to another room.

Did Manny even want her in there? She doubted it. He’d sulked the entire time she’d been here earlier. She’d stared at water streaks on the glass and studied cars on the street below, trying to get up the nerve to apologize to him, only to have chickened out in the end.

Cluck. Cluck. Cluck. Suck it up, cupcake. Get in there and humble yourself like you know you should.

Celia’s pep talk bolstered her courage a little. She drew in a breath, squared her shoulders and went for it.

Amber stood at Joel’s side, holding one of Manny’s hands. His eyes were clenched tight and his face looked pinched all over.

“Just a little to knock the edge off,” Joel coaxed.

Manny shook his head emphatically, veins in his forehead and neck popping out. “No, dude. I don’t want any narcotics. You know why I have a thing about taking drugs.” Manny opened his eyes, then clamped them shut.

“His wife OD’d,” Nolan whispered behind Celia. She nearly jumped out of her skin. How could these big, bulky guys move around so silently? Nolan must have read the curiosity in her face and felt the need to explain.

Celia removed her hand from her throat. “Pshew! You startled me. Were you lurking back there in the ugly curtains or what?” she whispered. But Nolan eyed Manny.

“Thanks for airing my dirty laundry, Briggs.” Manny shot Nolan a heated glare then flicked an unfriendly glance Celia’s way. She didn’t know what to make of it. Pain could turn a person into a madman. Or it could simply be that he resented her being here. Maybe even hated her. And rightfully so. Who wouldn’t, with all her shortcomings like a short fuse of a temper and an acid-spewing mouth she couldn’t seem to control no matter how hard she tried? She hated herself, too, sometimes.