Sixteen

Tom was quiet while he brushed down the horses with Brenda, but it didn’t matter because she was talking a mile a minute. He’d invited her out to see the new baby, just a week old, and she was all jazzed about that. Then they took a quick ride and he listened to her go on and on about the cheerleading tryouts for her senior year that were coming up. He had already agreed to take her to the prom, though it was only February, and she had a million things to say about that. When the horses were put away, he grabbed her hand and led her into the tack room. He sat on the bench, pulled her onto his lap and kissed her deeply, lovingly. And he said, “I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I love you. I know you believe that. And I want you like mad, which you can’t help but believe. But I’m going to do something—even though it might cost me everything. You and whatever I have with you.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I talked to the police,” he said.

She jumped right off his lap. “What?” she asked in disbelief, shaking her head to try to make it go away. “No.”

He tried to pull her back onto his lap, but she skittered out of his reach, the look on her face one of sheer horror. So he stood up and faced her. “Not just Mike. Other police. A special detective unit, as it turns out. I’m going to help them get the guy who gave you the drug—because there was a guy and there was a drug.”

“No,” she said again, shaking her head. “You can’t know that any more than I do.”

“Yeah, we both know. It might even come back on you, but I’m not sure how. You might be asked what you know about it, and you’ll say whatever you want. Maybe you won’t say anything. But I had to, Brenda.”

Tears immediately ran down her cheeks and she stepped back another step. “No, you didn’t have to!”

“Yeah, I did, and I’ll tell you why. Because I want to sleep at night. Because I don’t want to try to imagine that sometime this summer or next year some poor slob like me is holding the girl he loves while she cries her heart out over being raped. I don’t want to think of some poor girl—a good girl who’s saving herself—waking up pregnant when she probably wouldn’t have even scored a hangover! I’m not going to lie awake at night and wonder if there are a couple of kids like me and you, in love and playing it so carefully, so straight, getting ripped up by this asshole. I’m going to try to stop him even if you never speak to me again.”

“But I told you, I don’t know what happened! There’s nothing I can do! And even if I could, I don’t want to! God, Tommy, I don’t want anyone to know!”

“I don’t blame you. I didn’t tell the police about you, but that’s going to be irrelevant. Eventually they’re going to want to hear from every kid who went to every one of those keggers and parties, to know what happened to them. And I’m sorry for that—you’ll handle it however you want to. But I’m not letting this guy do it to anyone else’s girl. I’m sorry you’re mad, but I’m not sorry I did it.”

“I hate you!”

“I had to.”

“I hate you!”

“Yeah,” he said, hanging his head. He lifted his head. “Well, I love you, and I’m sorry this upsets you. I hope someday, like in about a million years, you’ll think back about this and even if you still hate me, maybe you’ll have some respect for me doing the right thing.”

She started to sob, shaking her head until her pretty, silky light brown hair fell over her face. “Why did you do this? Why? Now it’s going to get out. I shouldn’t have told you—I thought I could trust you! Now everyone will think I’m just a slut!” He reached for her and she pulled back. “Don’t touch me! Don’t you ever touch me!”

But he pulled her against him anyway and held her while she cried. And oh, man, she cried so hard he thought she was going to throw up. She started to gag, in fact, but he hung on until she exhausted herself. And he still hung on. “Why?” she kept saying to him. “Why? It wasn’t for you to do—it was for me to do if I wanted to.”

“Yeah? And if it happens to someone else because you didn’t say anything? And if someone dies?” he asked, but he asked gently even as he held her. “I don’t care that you aren’t saying anything about it. That’s your choice. You know what—you go ahead and hate me. You blame me if you want to, when we both know the real bad guy isn’t me. Thing is, I have to live with myself.”

She pulled out of his arms. “Well, I just hope you can.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “I can,” he said. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

The next day after school Tom drove his little red truck over to Jordan Whitley’s house. He ran up on the porch and knocked on the door. Jordan answered and Tom said, “Hey. Got my stuff?”

“Yeah, man,” he said, laughing. “You’re gonna love it.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little baggie and an envelope. When Tom reached for it he said, “Hey, forget something?”

“Oh, yeah. How much did you say?”

“Just a hundy, man. You’re gonna be so happy.”

“What we have here?” Tom asked.

“Roofies, ecstasy, meth. Made to order.”

“I changed my mind about the meth,” he said, and Jordan took back the little baggie. “So, I get a discount right?”

“Sorry, pal. They don’t exactly give refunds.”

“Ah,” Tom said. “You use this stuff a lot?” he asked. “The roofies?”

Jordan shrugged. “Coupla times. Just for kicks, you know.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “Just for kicks.” He handed him a wad of bills, accepted the drugs and stepped out of the way.

A detective came around from each side of the house, plainclothes, badges out and aimed at Jordan. One was a young woman in a ball cap with a ponytail strung through the back—she looked not much older than Tom. She could have passed for a college girl, young looking and petite. The other undercover cop was a great big guy in jeans and a jacket. Both had guns, cuffs and tasers on their belts. “Police!” the girl said. “Jordan Whitley, you’re under arrest. We have a search warrant. Turn around, hands up against the house.”

The look on his face was priceless. It almost made Tom smile. Pure, horrified shock. “Hey!” he yelled. “Hey, what’s up with this!” But before he could even finish his sentence this little bitty girl had him whirled around, his legs kicked apart and was patting him down while the big guy stood over him, daring him to move.

While they cuffed him, he looked over his shoulder at Tom. “You’re gonna be so sorry, man.”

“Yeah, probably,” he said. “But I’ll never regret it.” Then he handed the envelope to the big detective and walked down the porch steps to his truck just as a patrol car pulled up and a uniformed officer got out. Down the street was a dark SUV with tinted windows, an unmarked police vehicle. Inside, watching the arrest, would be Detective Delaney and Mike. Tom went home to tell his family what he’d done.

Paul’s fifth wheel was hooked up to the back of his truck, and his bags were packed and sitting out on the front walk of the general’s house. Before going outside to leave, he put his arms around Vanessa and drew her against him, baby and all, and kissed her cheek. “Please come back very soon,” she whispered. “I could never have gotten through this without you.”

“I couldn’t have gotten through it without you, too,” he said. “You’ll be okay now, Vanni. If you need me, you just call.”

“I’m going to miss you more than you realize. You’ve been like one of the family,” she said.

“I know,” he said, and he thought, that’s why I have to go now. Because I can’t be like that to her anymore. Like a brother. It’s killing me. “Thank you for making me feel so welcome, so much a part of everything.”

“It was natural, Paul. It felt right, having you here. Now that the house is done, I’m afraid you won’t be around too much, and that’s gonna be awful.”

“Nah, I’ll be around. I come down regularly to meet up with the boys, to hunt or fish or play poker. Even if there’s no building to do here, there’s always that.”

“I’ll be taking the baby up to Grants Pass to see Matt’s folks. I’ll call you, okay?”

“You’d better,” he said. He kissed her forehead, then leaned down to kiss the baby’s forehead. “I’ll talk to you soon, I’m sure.”

He went out front where the general and Tom waited, and Vanessa followed. He shook Walt’s hand. “Thank you for everything, sir.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “We’re in your debt.”

Paul gave his hand to Tom, then pulled him in for a hug. “I’m damn proud of you, son,” he said. “It was a hard thing, what you did. I hope it all works out okay.” And as Paul said that, the general patted his son’s back.

“Thanks,” Tom said, but he looked down when he said it. Then, raising his head, he said, “I’m going to miss you, man.”

“Yeah, me too, bud. Maybe I’ll get down here for graduation or something.”

“You know you’re welcome anytime. Standing reservation,” Walt said.

Paul nodded, picked up his duffel and suitcase, walked out to the road and threw them in the backseat of the extended-cab truck. He gave a wave and a toot of the horn as he drove off. He watched in the rearview mirror as Walt put an arm around Tom’s shoulders and led him away. But Vanessa stayed, patting the little bundle she pressed to her shoulder, watching as he drove away.

Maybe someday, he thought. Maybe someday.

Jack put the last of the boxes from the cabin into the back of his truck and leaned into the cab to blow the horn. Mel came out of the cabin and just stood on the porch, turning in a circle. She brushed a little imaginary dust off the arm of one of the Adirondack chairs. He shook his head and smiled. She was having a really hard time leaving, even though the new house was big and beautiful.

“Mel, come on,” he called.

“Coming,” she said. But she stood there a while longer. She was getting a nice little tummy on her now. She wore jeans, boots and a yellow sweater pulled down over her belly, her golden hair falling in thick curls over her shoulders and down her back. She was such a little thing; she could look like a pregnant teenager, standing up there like that. But as Jack knew too well, this was no girl. His woman was all woman.

He went to her because she wasn’t moving very fast. He took the porch steps in one long stride, lifted her chin and saw that she had tears in her eyes. “You going to cry again?”

“No,” she insisted.

He chuckled. “We own the place now, Mel. You’re not giving it up.”

“I’m just remembering,” she said. “Remember that night you brought me home and put me to bed after I’d had a couple of whiskeys on an empty stomach?”

“I remember.”

“And you left fishing gear for me to find when I woke up in the morning?”

“Yes,” he said, happy with the picture in his head of her wearing her brand-new waders and casting into the yard from the Adirondack chair. “I really thought I was going to get lucky that night.”

“You got lucky in that cabin more times than I can count,” she said. “David was born in that bed,” she said.

“Talk about getting lucky.” He laughed and pulled her into his arms. “Anytime you want to sneak out here and revisit the past, I’m your man.”