A Chance of a Lifetime (16 page)

Justin handled the introductions as he got settled on a tall stool and stowed his crutches in the corner behind him: Dane Clark, recently separated staff sergeant; Dalton Smith, the more muscular of the twins; and Dillon Smith, the weary-looking one. Justin gave them Calvin's name, no mention of rank or the Warrior Transition Unit. Justin was forthright with everyone about his own injuries—
they're damn hard to hide with these crutches
—but he'd mentioned as part of his invitation tonight that it wasn't his place to share anyone else's issues.

Calvin took the last stool, ordered a beer, and scanned the menu. It didn't appear to have changed much, if at all, in the years he'd been gone. In fact, judging by the tears and the cracks in the laminate, this could actually be a menu he'd handled before, back when he and J'Myel—

Not tonight.

He ordered steak tacos, sipped the beer, and let his gaze slide around the place. Like the menu, it hadn't changed: tiled fountain in the lobby, small rectangular tables in snug quarters, a fake adobe wall topped with an arch enclosing the bar. Mexican folk music played on the sound system, and the smells of onions, beef, and corn tortillas drifted on the air.

“Uncle Sam bring you here, Calvin?” Dane asked.

With his fingernail, Calvin scraped at the label on the beer bottle. It was a simple question with a simple answer, but simple questions could lead to not-so-simple ones. The next logical one would be,
What unit are you with?
Dane being former Army himself and the brothers, living in an Army town, would know that
Warrior Transition Unit
meant something was wrong with him. Having no obvious injuries, that left the assumption of PTSD.

It was nothing to be ashamed of, the shrinks kept telling him.

They
didn't have it.
They
hadn't tried to kill themselves.
They
didn't have to live in his head.

Realizing the silence had gone on too long, Calvin gave himself a mental shake. “Uh, yeah, they did. From Lewis-McChord. What about you?”

“From Walter Reed, to the WTU. I left my left leg behind in Afghanistan.”

“You from around here?” The Army tried to send troops to the WTU nearest their home of record or their family, though if Calvin had requested it, he probably could have gotten assigned elsewhere. He was glad he hadn't, though the realization took some getting used to. It had been hard coming back here—was still hard—but it would have been impossible anywhere else.

“I'm from Dallas,” Dane replied, “but this was as close as I wanted to get. Then I met Carly and…” He finished with a shrug.

Again, Calvin thought of the woman flirting with Justin on the way in. Lucky men.

And then he thought of Bennie and how there was still stuff between them—J'Myel—but being around her still made him feel…better. More like the man he used to be. Made him think of the man he could become, of the future he could have and the woman who could, maybe, possibly share it with him.

She made him feel like he had another chance.

The waitress brought their food, and the conversation turned to sports. Calvin ate, listened, and even contributed a bit from time to time, although he'd found it hard to find much interest in people paid millions of dollars for throwing a ball while he was in the desert hoping to either go home whole and healthy or to die quickly, without any of the suffering he'd seen too much of.

He had his third taco in his mouth, biting into the crunchy shell, when the football talk came to a sudden halt, interrupted by a very Southern voice. “Hey, guys,” Jessy Lawrence said, resting one hand on Justin's shoulder, one on Dalton's. Her gaze slid around the group, then stopped on Calvin. “Why, Calvin, I didn't know you know these guys.”

Bennie stepped up beside Jessy, her gaze shifting from her to him. “I didn't know you know Calvin.”

His hand was unsteady, causing filling to fall from the taco before he slowly lowered it to the plate. Aw, man, what were the odds that Bennie would be friends with the one civilian he'd gotten to know since coming here?

Fairly good, reason forced him to admit. She'd lived here most of her life, and she was an outgoing woman.
That girl of mine,
Mama used to say with pride,
she never met a stranger.

You mean she'll talk to a post,
Gran had always added before they both burst out laughing.

But how was he supposed to justify knowing Jessy? Admit that he and the shelter were both taking part in the animal therapy program?

Not if he could avoid it. Not yet.

Jessy flashed a brilliant smile as she slid her arm around Bennie's waist and hugged her close. “He came by the shelter to look at the dogs the other day. I tried to convince him to take eight or ten of them home with him, but no luck. How do you know him?”

“His parents live down the street from us.” Bennie focused her gaze on him. “I thought you didn't like little furry things.”

Calvin was grateful for Jessy's quick answer at the same time he wondered if he should take offense at Bennie's own response. That was twice she'd minimized their knowing each other, first with Marti and now Jessy. His parents living down the street sounded a whole lot more superficial than the truth that they had been best friends forever.

Aiming for careless with his shrug, he said, “I like dogs just fine. It was Gran's cat that tried to kill me.”

The smile that lit Bennie's face was a wondrous thing, like the sun breaking through dreary winter clouds to light the day. “You should have seen how he tried to hide from that cat. Poor thing had only three legs and was blind in one eye and deaf in one ear and was the sweetest animal you ever saw.” She sighed dramatically. “I do miss little Buttercup.”

Teasing sounds of derision came from around the table. “You were terrorized by a crippled cat named Buttercup?” Justin asked before joining the others in a laugh.

“Hey, cats are never innocent,” Calvin protested before a faint chuckle of his own slipped out. God, it brought back feelings he hadn't experienced in way too long. Sitting at a table with friends, joking, laughing…it was so damn near normal that it made him ache inside. And even though it did stir that ache, it felt so good that he did it again, a serious laugh that released tension he hadn't known he held, that set his muscles free and practically brought tears to his eyes.

The shrinks were right. Life could be better. Not the way it used to be. Everything had changed too much for that. But better than it had been.

Then he caught Bennie's gaze as she smiled at something Dane was saying, and heat, affection, and yearning curled inside him, amending that thought.

Life could even be good.

He'd damn well missed good.

 Parades were a big thing in Tallgrass. The first one of the year was for Memorial Day, then there was the Fourth of July, Homecoming for the high school, Veterans Day, and Christmas, and Bennie and Mama hadn't missed one in the entire time Bennie lived there.

Monday was a perfect day for a few hours outside. The sun was shining, the temperature in the seventies, and flags whipped in the steady breeze down Main Street. Bennie and Mama, the margarita girls, and their families gathered on the sidewalk outside the second-floor apartment Jessy used for a photography studio even though, for all practical purposes, she was living at Dalton's ranch.

Bennie had dressed in red shorts and a navy and white striped shirt, her curls held back from her face with a headband in the same colors. Her lawn chair was set up between Mama's and Ilena's, and she held little John on her lap, bouncing him on her knees and making cooing sounds to draw a laugh from him.

“You're so good with him,” Ilena commented as she reached across to wipe drool from the corner of his mouth. “You should definitely work with kids when you finish nursing school.”

“She should definitely work on getting me some babies of our own.” Mama emphasized her words with a raised brow. “If she hurries, our baby and John here can grow up together and be best friends.”

“Wouldn't that be lovely?” Ilena's cheeriness was infectious. She was the role model all the margarita girls strived to emulate. She'd loved Juan dearly, and still did, but she'd made peace with his passing, and she woke every morning with joy and hope and the unwavering belief that life was to be celebrated, not mourned.

J'Myel had been gone longer than Juan, and Bennie hadn't dealt quite as well as Ilena. Ilena, though, would be the first to point out that time meant nothing, that she'd had the best reason in the world to push on in the baby she'd carried. If Bennie had been pregnant when J'Myel died…

Heart clenching, she shied away from that path. Losing a husband was tough enough. Being cheated of the homecoming they'd deserved, the everyday life they'd never gotten to share, and the future they'd wanted was enough of a wound. If she added in regrets for the babies they'd never had, she might just retreat into her room and wallow in her grief, the way she had the weeks after his death.

Damn it, life shouldn't be this hard. J'Myel should be there to share it with her.

She drew a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. And Juan should be with Ilena, Paul with Therese, Jeff with Carly. Mike and Joshua should be hanging out with Lucy and Marti, and so on. But Carly had found Dane, Therese was snuggling with Keegan, and Jessy was so in love with Dalton that she could hardly stand still.

And Ilena had John, and Bennie had the best bunch of friends in the whole universe, even if she was, at the moment, lonely and blue in a way her friends couldn't fix.

Then a shadow fell across her, and John lunged forward, arms outstretched. She tilted her head back to smile at Calvin and Diez, standing in the street, one holding two to-go cups from Serena's Sweets, the other balancing three.

She held on to John, wriggly as a worm. “Hey, guys, I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

“The Sweet family never misses a parade.” That came from Calvin. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt with dark shades and a black-and-gold Army ball cap, and he looked about eighteen. How did he manage that when she usually felt every one of her twenty-nine years?

“Neither do we,” Mama said. “Where are you sitting?”

He gestured across the street, and his parents and Gran, all settled in their own lawn chairs, waved in greeting.

“I'm gonna go say hello.” Mama set her bottle of water on the ground beside her chair, then maneuvered carefully to her feet. “Diez, hon, if I help you carry those soda pops over, will you walk with me?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She took the two extra drinks from Calvin, then she and Diez headed across the street. The police had already blocked off traffic, so there was no rush, thankfully, because Mama was taking her time.

“You want to sit for a minute?” Bennie asked, gesturing to the empty chair.

“Sure.” He lowered himself into the chair but didn't sink back, all comfy like her and Ilena. His spine remained erect, his hands loosely gripping his drink, his feet slightly under him as if he might push back up any second.

“Ilena, this is Calvin. Calvin, my friend Ilena and her little sweetie, John.”

The petite blonde leaned forward to flash a smile and wave. “I was wondering when I would get to meet you. Marti and Jessy already have, so I was feeling left out.”

He didn't seem to know how to respond to that. All he managed was a faint smile and a murmured, “Nice to meet you.”

When John had lunged a moment earlier, Bennie hadn't known which of the two guys he was reaching for. Now he stuffed one hand into his mouth and chewed on it while cocking his head and giving Calvin a measuring look. Must have been Diez who excited him.

Ilena scooted to her feet. “Bennie, if you don't mind holding on to Hector for a few minutes, I'm gonna go get some hot chocolate.”

“Are you crazy? This isn't hot chocolate weather.”

“It's November.”

“And seventy-four degrees.”

Ilena dug her debit card from her huge purse–diaper bag before stuffing it back under her chair. “You drink coffee year round: hot, sweet, caffeine. I do the same, except with chocolate. Want anything?”

“No, thanks. Wave bye-bye to
mamacita
, John.” Bennie waved his pudgy little hand, and Ilena blew him a kiss before weaving her way through the crowd to Serena's.

After a moment, Calvin touched the baby's hand, stroking his finger over his soft, soft skin. “Hector?”

“It's one of his middle names. She called him that the whole time she was pregnant, even though we tried to stop her. She thinks because he's her son, she has some say in the matter.”

“Imagine that. When you have kids, you'll probably want some say in what they're called, won't you?”

Her heart twinged. “If I have any, you can bet I'll have the only say in it.”

John took his hand from his mouth and wrapped it, slobber and all, around Calvin's finger. “I saw that wince,” Bennie teased. Reaching into Ilena's seat, she took the always-handy pack of baby wipes and passed it to him so he could clean first his finger, then the baby's hand. John responded by sticking it right back in his mouth.

“How's it working out with Diez?”

Calvin shrugged.

“How long is he staying?”

“I think Gran might have taken him to raise,” he joked, then went serious and shrugged again. “I haven't really talked to Mom and Dad about it. They can't just let him stay forever, but he apparently doesn't have anyplace to go, and…they're enjoying him too much to put a damper on it.”

“He can go to a foster or group home,” she quietly pointed out. “He did go to one. He just didn't like it.”

“Can you blame him?” For the first time since he'd sat down, Calvin took his sunglasses off and met her gaze. “What if your family hadn't wanted you when your dad died? Would you have wanted to go live with strangers on a temporary basis, knowing they could return you to the state for any reason, and that the day you turned eighteen, you were going to be put out on your own?”