Rabbit Hunt
Parenting is a tightrope, a constant balancing act in the center ring of the circus. Enter the clowns… ~From the Mother’s Survival Diary of Melinda D.
The piece of driftwood hadn’t done anything but land on the beach, regurgitated by the Atlantic Ocean. It wasn’t big. The branch that had once sprouted twigs was little more than an eight-inch long stick with rounded nubs and split, waterlogged ends. It certainly wasn’t offensive, wasn’t even in his way. But it was there. And that made it fair game.
Rabbit scooped up the gray-brown bit of wood without slowing his barefoot march across the sand. He weighed it in his hand, assessed its unequal contours, ran his thumb over the smoothness of its surface. Its gentle curves reminded him of a woman’s body. And not just any woman.
His steps faltered and he stopped. For several long moments, he could only stare at the driftwood resting on his open palm. His breaths came in hard gasps, not from exertion but from the rage that was charging through his system.
“Why?” he yelled into the stiffening offshore wind as it tossed waves toward the shore. He curled his fingers around the worn stick, took aim at an incoming wave. With an explosive string of curses, he hurled the driftwood back toward the water. For a split second the wind caught it, and it paused, suspended against the sky. Then the wind loosened its grip and the driftwood plunged into the water, barely making a splash. “Why?” Rabbit shouted again.
Why had he agreed to lead that mission? He’d known the date was bad. Why hadn’t he found a reason to delay?
Why had he approached the kid at the car wash? Or spoken with the lady Greg had disturbed in the middle of the night? Why hadn’t he just let them go their happy way without interfering?
And why… why had he grabbed her back there and kissed those soft lips?
Twisting his head leftward, Rabbit stole a look back along the beach. If Lin was following him…
She wasn’t. She wasn’t even looking in his direction from what he could tell. It didn’t look like she’d moved. She just knelt where he’d left her, staring at the waves.
Good. So he wouldn’t have to explain himself. He slapped the heel of one palm against his temple. What the crap had he been thinking?
He hadn’t been thinking — that was the problem. He’d been hurt and ticked off and nursing his wounds when she’d found him. Scratch that. When she’d tracked him down. After a last look at the solitary, unmoving figure up the beach, Rabbit shook his head and turned on his heel. What had she been grumbling about before he’d assaulted her mouth?
Her mouth…
The embers in his core sparked a slow fuse that edged its way from his center outward, leaving devastation behind. “No!”
A gull near the incoming surf screeched an insult in response to his outburst as it launched into the air.
“Yeah, yeah.” No more thinking about the woman — the mother — he’d left behind back up the beach. The way she’d caressed his ribbons, like she knew how he’d gotten them, what they meant.
She probably does.
Right, her husbands had been in the Corps. Husbands. Plural. She was undoubtedly looking for a hero. Hadn’t she admitted that was her reason for marrying her brother-in-law?
Low blow, man. She also admitted she knew it was wrong.
“Whatever,” he ground out. “Whatever it takes just so I don’t think of her.” Like that.
And when had he begun to think of her as more than a casual acquaintance? A pair of spit-shined black shoes blocked his path. His shoes. Only he’d pitched them off to fall where they would. So someone — she — must have straightened them out, put them together.
“I brought your shirt,” she’d said.
Well he didn’t need her picking up after him. Like a wife might.
“I don’t need a wife to pick up after me,” he told the gull that swooped in front of him. With a low growl, Rabbit bent and grabbed the shoes.
He stepped onto the boardwalk, wincing when his right toe struck the leading edge. Instant pain knifed its way along his foot, past his ankle and into his shin. Hopping, he grabbed for the toe and blasted a string of curses into the air around him.
A light giggle erupted in front of him. “Those are — very bad — words.”
Bella stood several feet away, one hand clutching the handle of a green beach pail, the other planted on her hip the way her mother sometimes did. School was out already? What time was it?
“Are you supposed to be on the beach alone?” he muttered, side-stepping her.
“She’s not alone,” sang out Trish from farther ahead. “She’s just eager and faster than we are.” She held a toddler’s hand in each of hers, looking like some kind of maternal goddess as she strolled along at their pace.
Rabbit spared a thought for her husband. Somehow, they made things work. But it must be hard… for Major Conway to never really see his wife. To hear and feel, but be denied visions of tender moments between mother and children.
He moved to the right and allowed the distressingly domestic quartet to pass.
“Did you see Lin out here?” Trish paused and angled her gaze in his direction. “Nate said she was walking on the beach.”
JR tilted her head back and sent him a toothy grin of recognition.
“Sorry.” Irritation sharpened the bite in his words. “I have no idea where Mrs. McKinley might be. Excuse me.” Ignoring the pain in his toe, Rabbit stalked off, his feet making thudding-slapping sounds on the wood. He barely felt the stab of the gravel as he crossed the road and stomped into the yard.
Cammie whined a greeting as she tugged on the long rope someone had used to secure her to an old clothesline pole. The dog had already flattened some of Trish’s garden plants and worn a weedy patch of lawn into green nubs. Rabbit dropped his shoes and bent to untie the rope from her collar. As he stood, a splash of orange in the center of the vegetable garden caught his eye. The kayak. Raw emotions had taken over and he’d been pretty curt with Nate earlier. He should have checked his attitude at the gate leaving camp. The kid had only asked him to look at the hole in the kayak and show him how to measure the patch material.
Well, that was two strikes.
Rabbit shook his head as cold washed over him and settled in the small of his back. Trouble tended to come in threes. That left one relationship left to ruin. He kicked at the ground and sent a few pebbles sailing through the air. Cammie yelped and skittered sideways, sending him a look of reproach.
And… strike three.
“Cammie.” He dropped to one knee and held out a hand. “Come here, pup.” The gravel couldn’t have hit her — it had gone in the other direction. But apparently something in her past had left her skittish.
Like Lin.
No. That was wrong. Not like Lin. Like a dog. Cammie was skittish like a dog that had been abused. Nothing more, nothing less, and no one to compare her to.
With her nose stretched as far toward him as it would go, Cammie took no more than a half step. But her ears were pricked forward and her butt swayed from side to side as she wagged her stump of a tail.
“What did happen to your tail anyway?”
She licked his hand and took another step closer. The luxurious brindle fur at the back of her neck slipped between his fingers like silk. The bath and flea dip had worked wonders. He edged closer and ran his hand along one side. Her ribs still stuck out, even though she ate like a horse, but malnutrition would take more than a day to overcome.
She nuzzled his hand then moved closer until she was leaning against his hip, making petting her awkward. Rabbit stilled his hand. It only took seconds for the dog to turn her head and give him a nudge.
With a heavy sigh, he stood. “Sorry to do this to you but… I’m going to have to take you to the shelter.” Why did his heart suddenly sink like lead into his stomach? He was glad he’d rescued her and cursed the low-life that had tied her in that storm drain. But he had no room in his life for any commitments outside of work, let alone for a dog. When he got his act together and did deploy again… what then? Better for them both if he cut the ties sooner rather than later.
A glance around the yard raised a whisper of guilt. Maybe he should tidy it up first. Put off going to the shelter until the next day…
As if she’d read his thoughts, Cammie’s stubby tail twitched hopefully.
“Enough of that. Come on.” He started for the house. “I need clothes and shoes. I’d rather not turn up at the shelter barefoot and half naked.”
The eerie silence of the deserted kitchen left him a little disconcerted. Trish had only stepped out to the beach. Surely she left the house every so often — he just never paid attention. Where had Nate ended up?
As he topped the staircase, the muffled sounds of the TV filtering from the room at the other end of the guest wing answered his question. His hand hovered over the doorknob to his own quarters. Should he apologize to the kid?
Cammie whined.
“You’re right,” he murmured, turning the knob and giving the door a push. “Later…”
But when he stepped back into the hallway five minutes later, dressed in his favorite jeans and a faded T-shirt, no sound came from the room at the other end of the hall. Rabbit shook his head. Later it would be.
“Come on, pup.” He started for the stairs.
In the kitchen, he hesitated. The notepad and pen Trish used for messages and grocery lists lay on the counter. He picked up the pen. It wasn’t that he owed anyone an explanation, especially not Lin. He didn’t report to her or take orders from her. But Trish… She’d been unwaveringly straight up with him from the start. And she’d worry if she came back and found him gone without an explanation. Before he could talk himself out of it, he scribbled a quick note across the top sheet.
* * * *
An overly energetic wave splashed across Lin’s ankles and she blinked down at the wet sand surrounding her. When had the tide started coming in? The wind sent sea spray misting over her. Absently, she brushed a hand over her face then jerked, surprised to discover her cheeks were soaked by a cascade of tears raging from her eyes.
“Oh, please,” she muttered, using both hands to scrub at the offending wetness. She was way too old to be shedding tears over a man. Especially over that man.
Nonetheless, she stole a glance down the beach, forcing herself to feel relief that he’d disappeared from view. The last thing she wanted was for him to experience a fit of conscience that sent him back to her. Gathering her feet beneath her, she stood, bringing his stupid shirt with her. It would serve him right if she just left it on the beach to be consumed by the ocean. Obviously he didn’t care.
But she did. She couldn’t bear to leave it behind. But it was just the uniform. She clenched the fabric so tightly her fingers pinched. It had absolutely nothing to do with the man.
Delighted laughter floated to her, drawing her attention. A ways down the beach, Bella danced around her mother, who sat playing in the sand with two toddlers.
“JR,” breathed Lin. She scrubbed her face again and squared her shoulders. Time with her little one was exactly what she needed. Forget the infuriating marine and his angry kiss. She needed no man in her life. It was her children who had to come first. They were what life was all about.
“Hey you!” greeted Trish as Lin drew near. “We’re having a snack picnic on the beach.” She gestured to the red and blue blanket where Greg and JR sat eating apple slices and crackers. “Join us? We have plenty.” Her eyes twinkled. “I might even have brought some more adult fare.”
Lin’s gaze wandered to the soft-sided beach cooler. Chunks of cheddar cheese, circles of some kind of hard sausage, wheat crackers. A long, dark bottle gleamed in the late afternoon sun. Leaning over, Lin read the label. “Cabernet Sauvignon?”
Lifting one shoulder in an elegant shrug, Trish offered an apologetic smile. “Nonalcoholic. I’m all for a nice glass of something to unwind after the kids are in bed, but not when I’m watching them, and definitely not while we’re on the beach.”
“Oh, it’s lovely just to have big-person snacks.” Lin dropped to the blanket between the toddlers, taking a moment to re-fold Peter’s shirt and set it next to her. She sighed, longing to roll her shoulders or climb in a hot shower to ease their ache. “If the wine was real, I’d end up falling asleep, and you’d probably leave me here at the mercy of the gulls.”
Trish’s laugh went a long way to lightening the tension lingering in the air. She lifted the clear plastic lid on the cheese container and passed it to Lin. Then she pulled out a pair of plastic cups and opened the faux wine.
“Ju!” demanded JR, wiggling her fingers.
“I just happen to have some juice too.” Trish rummaged in the cooler and pulled out two boxes of grape juice. “Nathan went up to his room after you left,” she said in a carefully casual voice as she unwrapped the first straw. “He looked drained, so I suggested he just pop on the TV and stretch out.” She passed JR the box with the straw inserted. “If he’s anything like Dan, he dropped off five minutes after he hit the pillow.”
“Mama, may I — go by the — water?” asked Bella.
“By it, not in it,” admonished Trish with a smile. “And stay where you can see me.”
“Okay!” Bella scampered off.
Nate… Lin sighed. She’d really let him down earlier, stalking off to tell Pete Kincaid what she thought of him when she should have stayed with her son and helped him tidy the yard.
It would have saved her some emotional turmoil if she had. She squashed the urge to touch her lips. Could Trish tell she’d recently been kissed? What must she think? Lin had left her children behind and run off chasing the man without looking back, like some kind of — slut.
“He’s been through a lot,” murmured Trish.
Lin returned to the present with a jolt. “Peter? So you’ve mentioned.” She covered her discomfort by taking a bite of sausage. The sweet spiciness erupted over her palate.
With another soft laugh, Trish shook her head. “Well, yes he has… but I was speaking of Nathan.”
The meat lost all flavor as Lin choked it down and reached for her drink. “I know. I tried to keep him mostly out of it to pro— ahh… protect him a little from the crap that was going on.”
“I think kids pick up on more than we give them credit for.” Trish nibbled on a cheese and cracker mini-sandwich.
A sigh eased past Lin’s lips, and her shoulders sagged. “I know. I wish — I wish I knew how this will end, and when…” And hopefully that would be before the pitiful remnant of the rest of her son’s childhood disappeared. But that was looking more and more unlikely.
“For what it’s worth, I think you made the right decision…” Trish laid a gentle hand on Lin’s arm. “Coming to Montgomery House. We can help.”
Lin turned her gaze to the sparkling Atlantic. A seagull dipped low and then soared upward, repeating the process with each wave that rolled toward the sand.
“He’s hurting,” murmured Trish.
Startled, Lin blinked and turned back to her companion. She’d tuned Trish right out, so she had no idea how to answer. “Nathan?”
Trish sipped her drink, watching Lin over the rim of the plastic cup. When she finished, she shook her head. “This time I meant Peter.”
“Oh.” Keep up! She’s going to think you’re looney!
Trish finished her cheese and cracker before she spoke again. “Peter probably won’t be able to go back to the active duty that he thinks he wants.”
Lin angled a querying look at Trish but said nothing.
“Remember what I told you about him being damaged?”
“Yes,” whispered Lin.
Shaking her head, Trish shrugged. Her forehead pinched together and her eyes shimmered with sadness. “Dan seems to think it’s likely he’ll have to pull some stateside duty — at least for a while, if not permanently.”
Understanding dawned. “So you think he got bad news today?”
“I think it’s likely.” Trish selected a slice of sausage. “And I think your son unknowingly walked into a mine field when Peter drove up.” She took a tiny bite and chewed, shaking her head. “Peter snapped, but I’m pretty sure he regrets it. Probably regretted it five seconds after the words were out of his mouth.”
“Snapped!” Ire rose along with the bile in the back of Lin’s throat. “I know Nate can be persistent to the point of pest, but what Peter did… trashing the work on the kayak like that…” She shook her head. “It’s — he was wrong.”
Trish tilted her head and studied Lin. “You think Peter trashed the yard?”
* * * *
It was an ugly building, depressing, hopeless. Dark brown brick trimmed with walnut-stained wood. Rabbit backed into a spot beneath a sycamore tree, grateful for the shade. Summer might, for all intents and purposes, be ended, but the heat hung on. A bead of sweat formed between his shoulder blades, tickling as it rolled slowly toward his waist.
The double glass doors flashed and a middle-aged couple emerged. Wearing an expression of utter peace and contentment, the lady with chin-length dark hair cradled a calico cat in her arms. A white cardboard box with handles dangled from the man’s hand. The way he swung it with each step, Rabbit could only hope it was empty.
Sitting upright in the seat next to him, Cammie whined with obvious angst. Her shoulder muscles quivered as she regarded him with her chocolate brown eyes. Forgiving eyes, his mother would have called them.
He reached out and buried his fingers in the luxurious fur at her neck. “It’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay now.”
Cammie laid one paw in the crook of his elbow, a soft whimper rising from her throat.
With a heavy sigh, Rabbit switched off the ignition.