Justifying Jack (The Wounded Warriors Book 2) (5 page)

Hoisting himself to his feet, Jack hobbled to the sink and dumped out his now-cold coffee. Rinsing the cup and tucking it into the dishwasher, he thought,
I need to get out of this house.

Elena ran with a natural abandon Jack could only dream of. He had always enjoyed running, but like so many other things, it was now left to his past. He hunkered on a high, backless stool, his injured thigh complaining, as he slowly dragged a paintbrush up and down over some gang graffiti, which had been sprayed across the siding of the church's storage building overnight. Mostly unintelligible symbols, with a few choice words interspersed, it marred the sense of safety and innocence represented by the kindergarten class, playing tag at recess. He smiled at their antics as he obliterated another number 3. The children shrieked as they ran, narrowly missing getting tagged, sometimes tripping and rolling in the grass. They jumped up immediately and began to run again with an admirable agility, if not grace.

“Jack?” A little voice at his ear captured his attention. He turned to find Elena Dominguez standing beside him. “These are for you.” She extended a handful of ditch weeds and clover in his direction.

“Aww, thank you,” he replied, genuinely moved by the little angel's gesture. “That's very kind.”

“Mommy says, if someone gets hurt or sick, we should visit them and give them flowers,” she explained.

“Your mom is a wise lady,” he replied, climbing down and crouching so he was at eye level to the beautiful child. He accepted the grubby handful, watching an ant as it ran onto his fingers before he surreptitiously brushed it away.

“I know,” the girl responded simply, her countenance matter-of-fact. Then, eyeing his leg uncertainly, she asked, “Are you still hurt?”

The frankness of children.
“Yes, honey,” he replied. “It still hurts. I got a really bad cut, but thankfully, it's healing more every day. I'm sure these flowers will help a lot, so thank you.”

She beamed. “God always gives us what we need.”

“That He does, darling,” he agreed.

“Elena!” A disapproving shout came from the playground monitor. “Stop bothering Mr. Nelson.”

“It's all right, Lacey” he called back. “She's not bothering me.”

“Well, we're going in right now,” the older woman snapped, her thin lips set in a line so crinkled Jack could see it from across the playground. “Come here, Elena.”

Elena eyed the grumpy woman skeptically, hesitant to move closer to her, and then threw her arms around Jack, nearly knocking him into the dirt. “I'm glad you're getting better,” she said before running off to rejoin her class.

Jack grinned.
I love kids.
Then his smile faded, disappearing behind the clouds of sorrow shadowing his mind, just as real clouds covered the afternoon sun.

* * *

“Did you see that?” Shonda Nelson demanded, gawking out of the church office's window.

As if I could have missed it.
“Looks like my daughter has a crush on your son,” Marithé commented, trying to sound casual.

“No, I don't think it's that,” Shonda replied, a hint of hope in her voice. She returned to her desk with a gleaming smile, unable to hide her mirth.

And I know what you think, ma'am, but I don't need a matchmaker.
“It's nice they're friends,” Marithé tried to mitigate the connection that was so clearly obvious.

“Hmmm,” Shonda stifled a chuckle. “Are you and my son
friends
too?” Marithé gave her a look of derision, causing the older woman to throw her hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Sorry, it's not my business.”

“I'm not interested in
anyone
. I don't need additional complications in my life, particularly ones that involve the heart,” Marithé stated firmly.

“Uh-huh,” Shonda looked away, feigning interest in something on her computer screen.

No seriously, I don't.
But her heart wouldn't stop pounding from the sight of Elena and Jack together, comfortable as family. And it went into overdrive when Jack entered the room.

“Mom, do you have something I can put these in?” Jack held the collection of weeds Elena had given him towards his mother.

“I think I have just the thing.” Shonda shot a knowing glance at Marithé. Getting up to take the flowers from his hand, she announced to no one in particular, “I'm running to the kitchen, but I'll be back in just a moment.”

Shonda slipped out of the room, winking at Marithé as she did, provoking the young woman's cheeks to flush crimson. Marithé gave the older woman an exasperated look, but Shonda ignored it, leaving the sound of giggles trailing down the hallway.

“Mom's in a good mood today,” Jack grinned, gazing out the door after his mother.

“Oh, yeah,” Marithé smiled sweetly. “She saw Elena give you the flowers through the window.”
She has grandchildren on her mind.
Marithé felt her face grow hotter with the thought.

“Ah,” he nodded in understanding. “Makes sense. I can tell you, she wasn't the only one whose day was brightened by that precious girl.”

“Elena is a very kind-hearted child,” Marithé couldn't deny the truth.
I am very proud of her.
“She reminds me a lot of Jorge.”

The corners of Jack's mouth turned up, but his eyes looked pained. “Yeah, I can see it too. She's a lot like her father, although you shouldn't discount your influence.”

“I think the only thing she inherited from me was her looks,” Marithé dismissed his compliment easily.

Jack pronounced, “And what beautiful looks they are.”

In that moment, their eyes met and Marithé caught her breath, transfixed by the invisible connection ignited between them. Thankfully, Shonda returned, unknowingly dissolving the moment, allowing her to look away.
What was that?
As her heart beat quickened more than before and she struggled to control her heavy breathing, willing it to sound as normal as possible, Marithé walked over to the printer. She had no need of the machine, but she moved simply to put more space between her and Jack.

“Here you are, honey,” Shonda chimed brightly, handing a small glass vase to her son. She had already shoved the weeds into the opening and added water. “The flowers won't last long, but…”

“No, this is great,” Jack kissed his mother's forehead. “Thanks. I want to display them on my desk, in case Elena comes to check on me again.”
Maybe I can use that as an excuse to stop by his office to see him too?

“Oh, Elena will love that, won't she Marithé?” Shonda drew the younger woman back into the conversation which she'd been trying to disappear from.

“Yes,” she responded shyly.
Ugh! Can Shonda hear my thoughts or something?
Then as if in response, Shonda wrapped her arm behind Marithé, resting her hand on the young woman's shoulder, acting cheery and encouraging. The initial touch shocked Marithé, making her exclaim a brief squawk of surprise, which quickly turned to nervous giggling.

Jack looked confused as he glanced between the two women. “Okay, well, I better get back to it then.”
Oh, thank goodness, he's leaving!
He took a few steps towards the door and then turned around, one last time, to address his mother. “Oh, do you mind dropping me off at the car dealership on the way home this evening?”

“Car dealership?” Shonda asked. “I didn't know you were getting a car. Are you sure you want me to drop you off? I mean, I can stay with you, no problem.”

“Yeah, I've been corresponding with one of the salesmen there and I think we've worked out a fair deal,” Jack informed her. “If you can drop me off then I can handle all the paperwork and drive my new car home tonight, so there's no need for you to stay. Besides, I'm sure Dad will want you home as soon as possible. He's been talking about your meatloaf all week, and he'd be sorely disappointed if you didn't make it tonight.”

Shonda chuckled. “That's true. Will you make it home in time for dinner then?”

“Uh, I don't know for sure,” he replied. “I'll call you and let you know one way or the other, but don't wait on me, please.”

I could offer to make him dinner… for Elena. Yeah, she'd like that
, Marithé thought to herself. She looked up at the ceiling, trying to rest her eyes on something other than the handsome man standing before her, more tempting than any chocolate, more desirable than any sweet.
Marithé, stop it!

“Oh, okay,” Shonda frowned a little, but seemed unconcerned overall. Suddenly, she brightened again, saying, “I'll just save a plate for you in the microwave. That way, you can have something when you get home.”

“Thanks,” Jack blew her a kiss before he waved good-bye and left.
I wish I could say that kiss was for me.

Marithé couldn't suppress the small sigh from escaping. Thankfully, Jack seemed unaware as he continued to exit the room, but Shonda turned her observant brown eyes on her, keen understanding sharp in their depths. Cocking an eyebrow, she pursed her lips, exuding triumph with blatant confidence.

“Don't give me that look, Shonda Nelson!” Marithé scolded once Jack was out of range of hearing and quickly pulled away from the older woman.

“What look?” Shonda feigned innocence.

“Hmmm,” was her only response as she returned to her desk, busying herself so she wouldn't have to look directly at her colleague, nervous what she might see in the woman's expression.
What look indeed!

* * *

Wanting to see how his friend was doing, Jack reached for his cell phone and dialed Sam's number. It had been a while since he had talked to him and for some reason the man had been weighing heavily on his thoughts.
I wonder what he's been up. He must be busy or he surely would have called by now.

“Hello?” the sweet voice answering the other end of the line caught Jack off guard. It took a moment for his stunned brain to register who it was he was talking to.

“Uh, Amy, is that you?”

“Yes, this is Amy,” she replied, a note of curious confusion in her tone.

“Oh, hey, it's Jack. Jack Nelson. We met at the sport bar?” He hoped to jar her memory, realizing she must be as surprised by him as he was of her.

“Oh, right, Jack. I remember you,” she responded in a neutral tone. “How are you?”

“Good. Good,” he told her before asking, “Is Sam around?”

Amy immediately grew quiet on the other end of the line and as the lull in the conversation grew from a pause to an uncomfortable silence, Jack started to worry.

“Amy, is everything okay? Are you all right?” he tried not to appear alarmed, but his trepidation was increasing by the second and it leaked into words. “Where's Sam?”

Amy sniffled and cleared her throat before she attempted to explain the situation. Her voice suddenly sounded ragged and the almost overpowering desolation of it was heart-wrenching. “He's in the hospital.”

“What?” he was at full alert. “What do you mean? What happened?”

Amy couldn't contain her sorrow as she uttered the story in flood of distress. “I… I don't know. I thought I could help, but I just… I made it worse!”

It was at this point that she became incoherent. She sobbed in great gasps and though she tried, she couldn't seem to get a hold of herself.
Poor girl! She must be crying all the time. No wonder her she sounds so bad!

“Amy, I'm sorry, but I can't understand you. Is there someone else I can speak to?” There was a flutter of activity on the other end of the line. At first, Jack wasn't sure if the distraught woman had heard him so he asked again. “Amy, is Sam's dad there? I just want to know where Sam is so I can go see him.”

After a bout of unintelligent mutterings, a clear voice announced, “This is Janie. Whom am I speaking with?”

“Ah, this is Jack Nelson. I'm a friend of Sam's and I tried to call to -”

“Oh, Jack as in
Sargent
Nelson?” Janie seemed to realize exactly who she was talking to.

“Ah, yeah, that's right.”
Who the hell is Janie?

“Sargent Nelson, I'm Dusty Wallace's girlfriend… you know, Sam's father,” Janie explained.

“Right,” Jack remembered. “You're Sam's step-mom.”

“Well,” Janie seemed slightly embarrassed. “That's not all together true, but…”

“Oh, sorry,” he apologized, realizing he must have made a faux pas. “I know you aren't married to Mr. Wallace, but Sam does consider you to be a mother of sorts. I mean, he said you helped to raise him.”

“That, ah… well… yes, that's true,” the woman conceded.

Getting back on point, Jack made a direct inquiry. “Can you tell me what happened? Why is Sam in the hospital and where is he exactly? I'd like to go see him. He used to visit me in the hospital in Germany before he was shipped back home.”

“Oh, of course,” Janie sputtered, reclaiming the original thread of conversation. “Sam has had a bit of a breakdown and has been admitted to SAMMC until further notice.”

“Oh, wow.”
I can't believe it.

“I really don't know how what to say at this point, but you're welcome to go see him.”

“I completely understand. Thanks, Janie and please, if you wouldn't mind, give Amy a hug for me. She sounds like she could use one!”

“Indeed,” Janie agreed before they bid farewell and ended the call.

Despite the sharp pain radiating from his groin and down his right leg, Jack was thankful to have his new vehicle.
I don't want to ask my parents for more than I have to and I don't want to rely on anyone else to get where I want or need to go.
The public transportation had geographic limitations as well as time constraints and transportation available for veterans had its own issues.
It all comes down to convenience, I guess
, he thought as he climbed stiffly from behind the wheel. Nothing was as convenient or as dependable as having his own set of wheels. There was no way around it.

Jack slammed the door and double clicked his wireless remote, waiting to hear the chirp indicating the vehicle was locked. Looking up at the multi-story building of the medical complex, he shaded his eyes from the bright Texas sun.
Even in September it's hot. Not as hot as the desert, but… hot enough
. Continuing towards the San Antonio Military Medical Center or SAMMC, as it was known, he groaned as his joints popped in protest. Grumbling to himself, he almost missed the unassuming red-head as he leaned casually against the wall just outside of the hospital's entrance.

“Jack,” Mike called, pushing off from the wall to cross the space between the two men, waving awkwardly. “Hey, man!”

“Oh, hey,” Jack smiled sheepishly. “I almost missed you there.”

“With this hair?” Mike scoffed. “Not likely.” He ruffled the bright orange locks growing out from his head, giving his normally tidy appearance one of disarray. Trimmed, the shock of hair stood out against the desperate pallor of his skin like a beacon.
Wow, I hate to think how that's going to look when it's really grown out.

Jack chuckled, giving a one-armed, sideways hug to his friend. “Well, the sun was in my eyes, you know.”

“Yeah, I'm sure it was the sunlight bouncing off my hair that actually blinded you,” Mike joked and then suddenly turned serious as he inspected his friend more closely. “Say, are you feeling okay? You looked like you were, uh,” Mike cut his sentence off and shrugged apologetically, seemingly uncomfortable about calling attention to his friend's maimed appendage.

“I'm fine,” Jack waved him off, appreciating his thoughtfulness.
Mike would be the one to realize I hate talking about this damn leg.
As they walked into the building together, he asked, “Have you see him yet?”

“Nah, I waited,” Mike answered. “I checked with the desk to be sure I had the right floor and all, but… I didn't want to go up until you got here.”

He nodded in understanding. “I would've waited for you too.”

Mike grimaced. “I didn't realize Sam was so bad off, though I have to admit, I wasn't really shocked when I got your call.”

“I wish I could say that,” he gave his friend a humorless smile.

“What, that you weren't surprised?” Mike clarified as they worked their way through the meandering halls towards the E elevators.

“Yeah,” Jack replied as he pressed the elevator call button. “I guess I was just startled to hear Amy's voice when I phoned Sam's cell… or maybe I thought she was making more of an impact on him. I don't know.”
If anyone could settle Sam, it'd be his blue-eyed angel. Guess fixing himself was beyond his ability… and apparently hers.
The parallel to his own damaged state cut at him, causing him to flinch slightly.

“No, it's weird,” Mike reassured him. “I mean, I didn't notice anything off when we met him for drinks that last time, did you?”

“No,” Jack replied honestly, a note of sadness coloring his voice. “Actually, I thought he was doing better.”
Just like the old Sam. Snarling at Ray and clutching the prettiest girl in the room. I wonder if Amy knows about all the others. Knowing Sam, I doubt it.

“Right,” Mike agreed. “Still… he was the closest to Jorge so I guess it makes sense.”

An image of Jorge's final moments flashed before Jack's eyes and he swallowed hard, not sure whether it was a sob or a gag he was suppressing. “Yeah,” Jack looked across the lobby, tightening his features to hold in his emotion. “That's true.”
Shit. This is going to be more difficult than I thought.
Much to his relief, the elevator rang, alerting them of its arrival before its doors opened. “Should we go on up then?”

“Yeah.”

The two men shuffled onto the elevator and Jack pressed the sixth floor button. They occasionally glanced at one another as a fluorescent bulb flickered above them, but neither made any comments. They stood side-by-side companionably as they were lifted skyward, both anxious and uncomfortable, not really wanting to face the moments ahead. Despite being glad to have the other's support, they were both lost in their own thoughts as they tried to mentally prepare to see Sam in the grasp of his personal demons.

The elevator doors slid apart, revealing a small pale green lobby, a shade a bit lighter than the retro avocado color which had made a brief come back in popularity when Jack's parents had gotten married. An even smaller reception desk was tucked away in the back corner, manned by a petite female in her Advanced Combat Uniform, or ACUs, as Jack knew them. He made his way towards the clerk while Mike stood, transfixed by the huge double doors which would lead them onto the secured unit.

“Good morning,” the cute young woman in ACUs smiled in greeting, her large almond-shaped brown eyes friendly and alert. “How can I help you?”

Jack couldn't help responding to her welcome with a smile of his own.
She's a petty girl. Her flat nose and the little mole beside her eye actually work, giving her character. I wonder how long her silky hair really is…
“Uh, hi, we're here to see a friend of ours, Sam Wallace.”

After clicking the keys on her portable computer where it was plugged in on the desktop, she glanced up and inquired, “Do you mind having a seat? I'm not sure if he's been cleared for general visitors yet, but I'll go check. It'll be just a moment.”

“Oh,” Jack was stunned.
No visitors?
“Sure, no problem.”

“Thank you,” the girl voiced before slipping away.

Jack turned and slowly hobbled across the pale tan linoleum and sank into one of the brown armchairs covered in upholstery decorated in a pattern of leaves and vines. Regarding Mike, he noted his friend seemed visibly fraught.
I can't blame him for looking a bit distressed, this place is making me feel unsettled too.

“What was that all about?” Mike asked, claiming an olive chair positioned at right angles to Jack and carefully avoiding his friend's injured leg, which he had stretched out in front of him.

Jack shrugged. “I guess we might not be seeing Sam after all.”

Mike sighed and began to fidget and Jack couldn't resist grinning.
Never could hold still, could you?
Watching Mike sometimes made Jack tired.
Shit, life makes you tired,
he thought to himself with a sigh of his own.
You're getting old before your time, man.
Tucking his arms behind his head, Jack leaned back in the seat, using the wall for support and studied the precise placement of square lights inside the larger squares of the ceiling tiles.
This might be a long wait.

But that wasn't the case. It was only a few brief moments before the young soldier reappeared through the double doors, beckoning the two men to follow her. Jack rose with a groan, regretting his decision to sit as the fiery pain burned down his angry leg. He realized too late that it probably hurt worse getting up than anything and it definitely made his limp more pronounced as he followed the girl.

The tiny clerk led the men onto the medical unit to a day room located across from the nurse's station, leaving them with the parting words, “Airman Wallace will be out shortly.”

“Thank you,” Jack replied as Mike nodded in acknowledgment. When the girl finally left, he asked, “Have you ever been to a place like this before? I mean, is this normal?” He gestured at the open bay with its ring of chairs in the center. It reminded him of group therapy sessions he'd seen on TV.
Guess there was more truth to those shows than I realized.

Jack tried to imagine a collection of mentally traumatized soldiers sitting in those chairs, chatting about their feelings… and failed. Still, the concept of it all wasn't lost on him.
So they break us down and build us back up to make us a unit, and then they have to undo it all to fix the damage. The psychology of the military baffles me.
The thought occurred to him that perhaps some kind of emotional support might help him adjust to his disability… and he immediately dismissed the thought.
Not so easy to ask for help, is it? Sam must have really fallen apart.

“No,” Mike shook his head. “I take it you haven't either, huh?”

“Nah,” Jack answered. “And I'm glad for that.”
God knows I've spent my share of time in a hospital ward.
“If I never saw a hospital or clinic again, it would suit me just fine.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Mike frowned, understanding the deeper implication behind Jack's words. Clearly trying to redirect the conversation away from darker topics, he asked, “Isn't it weird to be in this place now that we're not military anymore… Seeing so many people walking around in uniform and then having to go through the gate security, showing military identification to get onto the post?”

“Beyond weird,” Jack agreed, grateful for the turn in subject. “Weirder yet is how odd it is to feel so comfortable. Who'd have thought a psych ward would seem more like home than my parents' house.”

“My mom's house – or I should say my grandparents' kooky hippy compound - has never felt like home,” Mike commented tersely. “So really,
any place
seems more comfortable by comparison.”

Jack didn't respond, not entirely sure the comment was meant for him. Even if it was, he wasn't sure what to say.
I think it's best if I just don't saying anything,
he thought, looking around until a few staff members caught his eye. “Kind of seems like we're in a fish bowl.”

Mike's expression turned to one of confusion until he followed Jack's gaze over to the nurse's station. The two women behind the counter made no attempt to mask their scrutinizing observation of them. “They do seem to be watching us, don't they?”

“Yeah,” Jack confirmed. “I didn't expect that either. I get it, but… I probably should've asked my dad about it. You know, so we'd have had an idea of what to expect at least. Maybe it would have made it… I don't know, easier?”

“Ah, it'll be fine,” Mike said trying to sound nonchalant, though his stiff body betrayed his continued discomfort. “Weird, but… you know, fine.”

The two men chuckled softly as a bug-eyed patient stared in from the hallway at them. They looked back, unblinking, which seemed to unnerve the young man. He scampered away, heading back down the hall, and disappeared into a room without uttering a word.

It was at that point when Sam appeared at the dayroom entrance, looking exhausted and glassy-eyed. His movements were slow and deliberate, somewhat sluggish. He didn't appear to be interested in anything, as unfocused as he was.

“Hey,” Sam lifted his chin slightly in greeting, and his voice sounded hollow. He dully added, “I didn't expect to see you guys here.”

“We didn't expect to see you here either,” Mike replied, sticking his hand out to shake Sam's. Sam just looked at it for a moment before he grasped it. He shook it one time before he released it again, seemingly disconnected from the action.

Damn, he looks like a zombie,
Jack thought, eyeing his friend with growing concern.
He lost his shit all right.
In an attempt to seem normal, Jack smacked Sam's shoulder affectionately, saying, “Hey, man. How are you doing?”

Sam shook his head. “I'm fucking tired, Sarge. They put me on a bunch of shit and it has me draggin' ass.”
Poor guy.
Jack remembered the narcotics he'd been given after surgery and shook his head.
I know what that's like.
Then Sam smiled weakly, apparently trying to make his comment less serious by saying, “It's worse than the time we stayed up over 36 hours straight.”

“That was horseshit,” Mike exclaimed, jumping at the thread of humor. “Sleep deprivation training did nothing to prepare me for that shit.”

“Or this,” Sam remarked, scratching the side of his head absently with one hand and motioning towards the room with the other.

Trying to ignore the elephant of Sam's mental break, which threatened to fill the whole room, Jack requested, “Sam, don't call me Sarge, okay? We're not in the military anymore, man.”
And I don't want to be reminded of what I've lost.

“Wait, what?” Sam's eyes opened wide. His sudden reaction, dramatic by comparison, was unexpected, putting the duo on alert. Mike and Jack glanced at each other with concern, misunderstanding Sam's behavior, worried he was about to explode again. “What do you mean?”

“We were all discharged, remember?” Mike asked Sam nervously.

Sam rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. “No, man,” he informed them. “I was retained. I won't be discharged until the doctor says I'm 100%.”

“Wait, you're still enlisted?” Mike looked askance at Jack and then turned back to Sam. “Why?”

“Major Hansen said they don't release troops unless they're cleared medically,” Sam yawned, flopping onto one of the hard plastic chairs with rounded corners. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“Hmmm,” Jack shrugged. “I guess I'm a badass then because they discharged me on a medical.” He caught himself rubbing his thigh and forced his hand to stillness, crossing it over his chest to keep it out of trouble.

“Yeah, but how long were you in the hospital overseas? Three, maybe four months, right?” Sam inquired. “Am I remembering that correctly?”

“He's got a point,” Mike agreed. “I mean, while we were finishing our enlistments, you were in the hospital, recovering.”

“Okay,” Jack acquiesced, “but I'm not 100% either.” His thigh twitched in protest from standing so long. Jack ignored it, suspecting if he sat again, they'd need to bring him a wheelchair.

“Yeah, that's true,” Mike concurred. “But maybe that's the difference?”