Kitabı oku: «Paradise Valley», sayfa 5

“You live around here?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Exactly. I’m staying in a camper until something comes up for rent. If you hear of anything…”

“Sure,” she said. “If I hear of something, I’ll let Paul know.”

“Thanks. You take care.” He turned to go.

“I never did get a name.”

He turned back. “Dan,” he said. “Dan Brady.”

Four

Rick was just about twenty-four hours post surgical when he was allowed a visitor. Jack and Liz had to negotiate. “Let me go,” Jack said firmly. “Let me see what we’re dealing with. He’s hurting, he’s drugged, the prognosis is good from our perspective, but he lost a limb and that’s gonna be hard.”

“I just want to see him, touch him, that’s all,” she said. “I don’t care about anything but that he’s alive.”

“Please,” Jack said. “I know how you’re feeling right now, but I’ve been down this road before and wounded Marines are unpredictable. Sometimes they’re just grateful to be alive, sometimes they can be real loose canons. If he’s unstable and angry, let him unload that on me first.”

“Will you tell him I love him?”

“Sure, honey. I’ve only got ten minutes with him. Let me get the lay of the land. If he’s mentally stable, you’ll go in next.”

She bit her lip and nodded reluctantly; he could just imagine how crappy that made her feel, but Jack couldn’t be sure how Rick was going to take to either one of them being here. Logically, he should want his closest people near him. But getting blown up and waking up in a hospital ward could skew someone’s sense of logic something fierce.

It was a small ward, only six beds. But six where there should only be four. Hospitals catering to the war-wounded were crowded, even with the number of wounded decreased. He spotted Rick right off—a white bandage wrapped around his head, his face cut and scraped, a bandaged stump where there had been a right leg. He wore green scrub pants, the right leg cut off, no shirt and his sheet was kicked away. There was a surgical bandage on his side; the spleenectomy, Jack assumed. An IV dangled above him; Jack hoped there was plenty of morphine in it.

He looked around; green walls, white linoleum floors, that hospital smell of disinfectant and medicine. There was a guy in a circular bed with pins in his skull, a guy with a thigh-high cast on one leg, another sitting up in bed who looked for all the world to be uninjured, though there was a wheelchair beside his bed, a young man with his arm in an elevated cast level with his shoulder and a man flat on his back, in traction. And Rick. It was clearly an orthopedics ward. Jack nodded at the other patients as he entered and they returned the nod, grim-faced. Right away he knew, they weren’t angry—it was that Rick was the newest patient and they were waiting to see what happened next.

He stared down at the boy and saw the tears on his cheeks and his mouth parted in a dark slit as he took breaths slowly and deeply.

“Rick?” he said softly.

Rick’s eyes opened. “Jack,” he said in a whisper.

“You have a lot of pain, son?”

He winced and nodded, squeezing out another tear.

“Did they tell you about your condition?” Jack asked him.

He nodded. “When did it happen?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

“’Bout a day ago. They got you right up here. You’re out of Iraq, you’re in Germany. You know where you are, son?”

Rick gritted his teeth and nodded.

“Remember anything?” Jack asked.

“I…Ah…I remember someone screaming at me. He kept saying don’t you give up, don’t you quit. Fucker. I ever see him again, I’m going to kill him.”

Jack felt himself almost laugh; at least he had fight in him.

“I brought Liz.”

Rick’s eyes came open instantly. “No,” he said in a breath. “No.”

“If I hadn’t brought her, she was going to try to make it on her own. She needs to see you’re okay, Rick.”

“I don’t want her here! Just get her out of here!”

“Listen,” Jack said, leaning over the bed. “I could no more leave her behind than—”

As Jack put a hand down on the mattress beside Rick, Rick let go a howl of pain that nearly shook the walls. Jack jumped back in shock and fear, but Rick just kept screaming and flailing around. The nurse was beside the bed instantly. “I didn’t touch anything,” Jack said apologetically.

The nurse ignored him and just talked to Rick. “Deep breaths, I’m upping the drip a little. Deep breaths, hang on, it’ll kick in right away. Come on now, just breathe.” Still, it took a moment for Rick to calm down. The howling ended with some soft whimpering that finally gave way to a couple of moans.

The nurse turned toward Jack. “Did you sit on the bed?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I leaned a hand on the bed, but I wasn’t anywhere near him.”

“Phantom pain,” she said. “You probably leaned your hand where the leg used to be. It’s spooky, but it’s the real deal. He felt it and it hurt.”

“Jesus.”

“Better if you just don’t touch anything. The first forty-eight hours are real rocky, but it’s going to get better. Is this your first experience with an amputee?”

“Yeah,” Jack said weakly.

“I have some pamphlets. Why don’t you take a couple of hours to look through the literature. I think he’s going to rest for a while now. I just gave him a nice boost.”

Jack followed her to the nurses’ station, glad to see someone was willing to be helpful to him there. When Liz saw them leave the ward together, she was immediately tailing them. Jack turned and asked her to give him just a minute with the nurse and continued on, leaving her behind. The nurse handed him some pamphlets and he asked, “You take care of a lot of these guys?”

“Full-time,” she said with a little nod of her head.

“Help me out with something here,” Jack said. “I just told him I brought his girl and he freaked out. Told me to get her out of here. Right up to the injury, there was no problem between him and the girl.”

She frowned. “Reactions like that usually come later, after the reality settles in. This soon after the injury, patients are just being stabilized, they’re struggling with the pain and trying to get a fix on what their condition is. His response might be connected to pain and drugs. But later…Not too unusual, I’m sorry to say. Some men and women adjust so well, it’s astonishing. Sometimes the new amputee is very needy, desperate for confirmation that he’s still worth loving. Sometimes he doesn’t even want to chance it, pushing loved ones away. There are a lot of psychological and emotional adjustments to go along with the physical. Everything from the pain and fear to self-esteem issues. You’re going to have to learn about all this, and be patient.”

“How long does that go on?” Jack asked. “The adjustment?”

“Purely individual. But you should see what you can learn about this for now. And maybe you can help get the young lady through it?”

“Aw crap, what am I going to tell her?”

“I always recommend you start with the truth. This isn’t an easy time for anyone. Try to watch those expectations. But you could tell her most of what the corporal is feeling is beyond his control. He’ll need help getting through it. And yet, he might resist help. It’s a contradictory process for some.”

“When are you going to get him up, out of bed?”

“We had him up, briefly. He didn’t like it. He’s still in a lot of pain.”

“God, I need my wife here.” In fact, he couldn’t remember a time he needed her quite this bad. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll look through this stuff right away.”

He turned to go back to Liz. The second he noticed she didn’t seem to be where he’d left her, he heard the screaming. “Get out! Just get out of here! I don’t want you here! Go away! Get out!”

“Oh, Jesus,” he muttered, running for the ward. He stopped in the doorway and what he saw emptied him out inside. Liz stood beside Rick’s bed, her hands over her face, her beautiful long hair hanging down like a curtain, her shoulders quaking with her sobs while Rick nearly came off the bed, screaming at her. Jack moved quickly, put his arms around her and pulled her away. When they were back in the hall he held her against him protectively while she cried. He’d never felt so helpless in his life. It almost felt as though if he crouched down, he could scoop up the pieces of her broken heart off the floor.

The same nurse was beside them again. “I’m going to give him something to calm him down a little bit. And I’m going to tell him you’ve left the hospital for now. Let’s give him some space. Like I said, the first forty-eight hours are real rocky.”

“No shit,” Jack muttered. “Come on, honey,” he said, pulling Liz down the hall and away.

Jack took Liz as far as the main floor of the hospital where he found a quiet corner in the waiting room. He just held her hand while she cried. She whispered why why why breathlessly, sobbing almost uncontrollably. It was a long time before she could stop long enough to ask, “Why did he tell me to go away? Why?”

Jack squeezed her hand. “We’re not going to talk about what just happened until you calm down and we’re out of here. We need quiet. Privacy. Take your time.”

“I just don’t understand,” she whimpered.

“Lots of things are going to be hard to understand,” he said, giving her hair a stroke. “And if you think I have any inside track on this, you’re going to be disappointed.” He showed her the pamphlets the nurse had given him. “We have some reading to do, and some talking to do. Then we need food and sleep. Can’t stay on top of this emotional roller coaster without those two things.”

An hour later they were seated in a restaurant eating bratwurst, potatoes and kraut. Jack was having a very tall beer, and Liz, a glass of water with her meal. She picked at her food, her stomach upset. She seemed to be barely holding it together and every so often a tear would escape and roll pathetically down her cheek. Her fingers continually wandered to that diamond pendant necklace Rick had given her, the promise diamond.

“I’m not sure the best way to handle this,” Jack said. “Here’s my idea. See if you agree with it. I’ll go back tomorrow and spend some time with him. I won’t mention what happened until he turns the corner on the pain a little more. We can’t take too much personally while he’s on such heavy drugs. Might be he comes out of that drug haze and feels a little more in control.”

“And if he doesn’t? What if he won’t see me?” she asked, and as she spoke, her eyes filled up with tears again.

“Like I said, we’ll get through the influence of anesthesia and pain drugs before we revisit the issue. We can’t really judge his feelings while he’s on that morphine planet. But he’ll get used to the morphine pretty quick and it won’t make him insane anymore. Then he’ll see you. He will. The nurse said this sort of thing happens a lot, but usually later on. Some patients get real clingy, need a lot of reassurance that they’re still lovable, some actually have such an inferiority complex about their body image, they push loved ones away. Like they don’t deserve love even when it’s offered.”

“Why couldn’t he be a clingy one?” she said softly.

Jack actually laughed. “Rick? We both know why. Because he’s too damn proud for his own good, that’s why. Liz, honey, there’s no reason Rick can’t have a completely full, productive life. There’s almost nothing a guy with a prosthetic limb can’t do. I’ve seen news stories on guys with fake legs running marathons. And Rick will learn, he will. He’ll do whatever he wants…eventually. But if I know my boy, he’s going to be a giant pain in the ass getting there.”

She laughed through some tears.

“Mel told me this story. She said it was too soon to tell Rick, and she didn’t know the half of that. She said she worked with a doctor in the emergency room back in L.A. for a year before she realized he had a prosthetic leg. She never did say how she found out. I don’t know what you know about big-city trauma centers, but those docs have to be fast and strong and steady. And I don’t know how well you know Mel, but she’s demanding as all hell. If she worked with a doc who didn’t pull his weight in any way, she’d be all over him.” He took a drink of his beer. “Yeah, she didn’t know about the guy’s leg for a year. What does that tell you?”

“There’s hope?”

“You bet. But, Liz, it isn’t going to be easy on Rick. He’s dealing with way more than just the leg—he’s been to war. And if it’s not easy on Rick, it’s not going to be easy on us. What do you think of my idea? We give him a little time to settle down? Get through the drug haze before we push on him? We don’t need another crazy outburst.”

“I guess that’s okay,” she said. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m so disappointed.”

“Aw, honey, I know. Believe me, I never saw that coming.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help by being here. I thought he’d be glad to know how much I love him.”

“I bet when we’re through the worst of this, he will be.”

She was shaking her head. “I don’t know.”

“My idea?” Jack pushed. “You’ll have some time on your hands. I don’t think you should try to see him until the timing is better. Not just for him, honey. For you, too.”

“But I want to go with you. I won’t go in his room until he says it’s okay, but I want to be there. In case.”

“You sure the temptation won’t be too strong?” he asked her. “Because I think until we get a little stability here, you shouldn’t even peek in the room.”

“I’ll stay in the waiting room downstairs. I brought my backpack with school stuff. And they have a TV—I saw an English news program on it. I’ll try to be patient. I promise.”

“Good for you. You done eating? We can share this reading material. And I want you to get some rest so you can deal with these ups and downs.”

“Okay,” she said with a small smile.

Two hours later, Jack stepped outside the hotel and used his cell phone to call Mel. It was nine hours earlier in California and she was at the clinic. When she answered, he just said, “Baby.”

“Jack! Did you see him?”

He took a breath. “Mel, he’s going to recover. But it was the worst experience of my life. I shouldn’t have brought Liz. He took her apart. Ripped her heart out.”

Over his thirty-five-year military career, Walt Booth had seen hundreds of injured soldiers. He’d made dozens and dozens of goodwill visits to hospitals; he’d attended many wheelchair-basketball games and races. He had nothing but respect and admiration for the men and women who turned their physical disabilities into productive lives.

But something about Rick Sudder’s injuries got to him. He didn’t even know Rick that well. It was probably all about the timing. Walt’s son was army now. Rick and Tom were only a year apart in age and had become friends. Sometimes when Walt thought about Rick coming home with one leg, he got confused in his mind and pictured Tom. He hated that. It cost him sleep. There was no logical reason for it. Tom was tucked away at West Point, working his butt off, studying day and night, not in a war zone.

He knew he was affected, that it showed on him. Vanni had asked him if he was all right and he admitted the truth—thinking about that strong and vital young man dealing with an injury like this was working on him, grieving him. Muriel had asked him what was wrong in one of their phone calls and he laid it out for her—Jack and Liz had gone to Germany to be there for Rick when he was waking up after surgery and he worried about all of them. “This war is a hellish business,” he had said. “And, Muriel, there’s always a war somewhere. That was my life’s work, staying on top of the wars. And Rick, he’s such a nice young man. So proud and dedicated. I hate to think of his suffering.”

She’d been so lovely in her response, consoling him, praising his sensitivity. But what he really wanted was to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. He had no idea how long it would be until he could do that again.

They didn’t even talk every day. When he called her, he almost always got her voice mail; when she called him, it was usually very early or very late. Sometimes she called him while she was on the treadmill, killing two birds with one stone, and the huffing and puffing was too annoying for him to listen to.

He soldiered on. It was what he was trained to do. The bar in Virgin River was a little sparse and quiet these days, but he dropped by to see if there was any news from Jack. Sometimes he had dinner with Vanni, Paul and Abby at their house. And he tended Muriel’s horses twice a day, letting them into the corral after feeding them, mucking their stalls, brushing them down, checking their hooves.

On this particular night, he ate a sandwich and headed for Muriel’s with the dogs in tow. They seemed to love going home. He drove up at dusk and noticed there was an old car parked in front of the porch and all the lights were on inside the big house. The dogs immediately started barking at the front door. He thought about calling Mike V to tell him Muriel’s had been broken into, but instead he fetched a pitchfork from the barn and used his key to let himself in. He knew the dogs would let him know where the intruder was.

They ran right up the stairs. He followed at a distance and then heard a squeal he definitely recognized.

He appeared in the bedroom doorway, pitchfork in hand, clad in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, and looked at the woman in the bed. She was struggling to keep the sheet over her naked breasts, laughing, petting her dogs. “Well!” she said. “About time! Maybe I should get a better caretaker. I thought you’d never get here.”

“What in the world are you doing here?” he asked, leaning the pitchfork up against the wall.

She grinned at him and pushed her dogs off the bed. “Bringing comfort and joy.”

“How long have you been here?”

“A couple of hours. Completely naked and getting cold. Did you close the front door?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, a state of shock overwhelming him.

“Then, Walt, what say you close it. So these dogs don’t have free run of the property.”

“Muriel,” he said. “Holy damn, are you a sight for sore eyes.”

“So are you,” she said softly. “Now, get that door closed for me. Hmm?”

He grinned largely. “You got it.”

“Thank God. I’m in no condition to take care of that. But I am in a condition.”

He was downstairs and back upstairs in short order. He closed the Labs out of the bedroom and stood at the side of the bed. He looked down at her and his eyes glowed. “You look a little different,” he said.

“I’ve had my hair colored several times. They don’t think I have it right yet.” She held out her hands. “Nails. I have nails again. And I’m wearing makeup for a change. But I have the same body. I don’t know if that’ll come as good news or bad.”

He grinned at her. Then he pulled off his boots and clothes, dropped everything on the floor and crawled in beside her, taking her into his arms. “Good news,” he said. “God, Muriel. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you more, I think.”

“We can’t even have a goddamn conversation.”

“Insane, isn’t it? I hate the schedule. But I tried to tell you—it’s not about being a star, it’s about working your tail off. There’s never a break.”

“And yet you’re here.”

“I had a small fit. I’m entitled once in a while. I know all about when and how to do that, you know. A couple of our wannabe stars were missing all sorts of fittings and readings and I finally said, Hey, I have property, animals and a boyfriend up north and I’m not feeling happy about wasting time here, waiting around for people to get it together. I need a day off! So one of the producers rounded up an airplane and gave me a little time off.”

“Is there a Lear at that little airport?”

“There is.”

“Whose car do you have parked outside?”

“Something left in long-term parking by an airport-tower guy who’s out of town. I have permission.”

“And how much time do you have?”

“A night and long morning. I’m sorry. I’m not that good at tantrums. But I wanted to see you.” She ran her fingers through his silver hair. “How are you, Walt? I’ve been a little worried.”

“I’m better now.” He lifted the sheets. “I’m getting better by the second.” He ran a big hand down over her shoulder, her breast, all the way to her hip. “You’re the same here. Your skin may be softer.” And then he covered her mouth with his. He kissed her deeply and thoroughly. “I haven’t fed the horses yet.”

“I fed them. I didn’t want us to be interrupted,” she said. “Ohhhh. I’m really glad I showed up. Do you have any idea how wonderful your hands feel on me?”

“Tell me,” he said, kissing her cheeks, neck, shoulder, breast.

“Mmm. Well, almost as good as your lips….”

He chuckled. “Muriel, did you just come back for sex?”

“Certainly not,” she whispered, her eyes closed, her body straining toward his. “I’d like to talk.” She sighed deeply. “After.”

He laughed at her again. “If I’d said that to you, you would have been highly insulted. But a man is almost never offended to learn he’s needed for sex.”

“Oh, good,” she said, smiling. “You don’t mind, then.”

“Mind? I’m flattered.” He positioned himself over her. “I hope you’re not in a big hurry. I’m planning to take my sweet old time.”

“Jesus,” she whispered. “Thank you, Jesus.”

“Muriel,” he laughed. “Thank me.”

“Let’s see what you’ve got first. Then we’ll see if thanks are in order.”

He didn’t laugh, though he thought she was funny. Instead, he worked her body. He stroked her, kissed her, licked her, entered her and rode her, remembering those wonderful sounds she made when she was getting close. When she came apart on him, boiling over in a fantastic climax, he gave her a moment to thoroughly enjoy herself, and when she was no longer preoccupied with her own pleasure, he took his. He wanted her to feel it deep inside her. And she moaned deliciously, holding on to him, kissing and sucking his shoulder.

With his hands on her soft bottom, her lips on his neck and shoulder, he struggled to catch his breath. She probably wouldn’t understand how much he had needed a connection like this with her. He’d been lonely in general, but specifically for Muriel, the woman he’d begun to think of as his other half. Talking to her, touching her, got him past the edge of despair, but it was like this, deep inside her, loving her man to woman, that fed the part of him that was so hungry.

“Thank you, Walt,” she whispered. And he laughed.

“I think I can squeak in a couple more of those before the landing gear goes up on that Lear.”

“Oh, my heavens….”

He rolled onto his side and took her with him, holding her against his body. “Is this normal?” he asked her. “Are we supposed to be having wild, insanely satisfying sex at our age?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Someone should have told me,” he said. “I’d have taken better care of myself.”

“You’re very well cared for. I have no brain left. You drove it out of me. I can just see the tabloid headlines. The famous Muriel St. Claire found with her brains screwed out in her old farmhouse. Only one suspect comes to mind….”

“I thought people, especially men, petered out as they got older….”

“Didn’t you have regular checkups in the army? Didn’t your doctor ever ask you how things were working?”

“Yeah,” he said. “My heart, my ears, my eyes—”

“What about that god-awful prostate exam I’ve heard tales about?” she asked.

“Yup. That was part of the drill. No pun intended. But the closest he ever got to my sex life was asking me if I could still pee over a jeep.” He heard her giggle. He ran his hand along the hair at her temple, brushing it back. “I needed to be with you like this, Muriel. For a while after you left I was afraid I’d imagined the whole thing—our relationship. Thank you for coming back to me. I was starved for your body, your laugh.”

She locked her fingers together behind his neck. “I know,” she said. “I wanted to be there for you. But I have to be honest, darling. I needed you. Just as damn much.”

“What’s it like? What you’re doing now?”

“The movie?”

“The movie.”

“It’s barely begun. We haven’t started filming, but for me it’s well under way. It’s like giving birth—it’s a creation for me. I become another woman. I feel her, channel her, give her the space to grow. And when we’re finished and if the editing is good, I’ll see something I made as surely as if I gave it life. She won’t be me, though the character is about as close to my own as I could get. She’ll be a completely new being that I shaped. It does something for me that’s really close to my heart. My soul. To you it will be just a seven-dollar ticket and two hours of your life you’ll never get back, but to me it’s conception, gestation and delivery.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Then you can’t ever stop doing it,” he said.

“I don’t know about that. I was a full-time actress for forty years and I worked whenever I could get work, which, fortunately for me, was very often. Now if I work, it will be for something I consider very important, very much worth my personal investment. I put a lot of myself into these roles, it’s not just showing up on the set. I’m lucky—I like this life I have here and I no longer have to work full-time to make ends meet. For someone in my business, it’s a huge luxury.”

“I hope the way I say this doesn’t come out wrong,” Walt said. “I hope you have lots of chances to do something that fills you up like that. And I hope you don’t.”

She smiled. “We’re going to work this out, Walt. There are lots of options for us. You can always travel, too. Come to me.”

He stiffened in shock. “Muriel, can you honestly see me on a movie set? With two dogs following me and a pitchfork in my hand?”

It made her giggle. “I can see you almost anywhere.”

In only a couple of days, Rick’s pain management was greatly improved. As long as he didn’t get behind on the drugs, he’d be relatively comfortable. And while he wouldn’t get his final prosthetic leg for two to three months, he’d begin rehab immediately and have a temporary limb he could work with in a few weeks. They were going to ship him out to the Naval Medical Center in San Diego to at least start his rehab until they could find a facility closer to home. But he didn’t necessarily want to be closer to home.

“If it can be worked out,” Jack said, “I’d like to bring you home to Virgin River to stay with me and Mel. We can get you to rehab several times a week—”

Rick looked down into his lap. Every time he did that, the stump shocked him. “Listen,” he said quietly. “I appreciate it, I do, but I already told the caseworker I didn’t care where they sent me for rehab. Because I don’t want to go home with a walker or crutches. Without a leg.”

Jack was mute for a second, staring at him. This was the first he’d heard of this. He grabbed a chair from across the room and pulled it right up to Rick’s bed and spoke quietly so as not to be overheard by the other patients. “That’s not necessary, Rick. It’s not as if you can keep this a secret. I called Mel, told her your condition so she could tell all those people waiting to hear. It had to be done.”

“I know. I’m not trying to keep it a secret. I’m alive, that’s enough. But if there’s going to be a struggle, I don’t need everyone watching.”

“You sure you want to take that route?” Jack asked. “Because I don’t see a lot of watching, but maybe a lot of supporting. We’re on your team. You can’t be as happy to be alive as we all are to have you alive.”

“Listen, can I just do this my way? This isn’t going to be simple. Do you know how much is involved in getting a leg? Learning to use it? I just heard a little about it this morning and it sounds like—It takes a long time, it hurts, it’s hard to manage, do you realize that?”

“I absolutely do,” Jack said. “Me and Liz, we’ve been reading up. Talking to people. Learning the ropes. So we can do whatever you need us to do.”

Rick looked away. “I need you to leave me alone.”

Jack was speechless for a second. Then he gathered himself up and spoke. “Okay, I’m done screwing with this. You have to see Liz now. Today. A couple of days ago you—”

“I know,” he said, not making eye contact. “It was the pain. I know I overreacted. I’ll see her. I’ll tell her I’m sorry about how I acted.”

“Look at me,” Jack said sternly. When Rick met his eyes, Jack said, “I know you’re not in a good place right now, but this will pass. I’m going to send Liz in. At the least, tell her you didn’t realize you were being mean and that you appreciate her coming all this way and sitting in a hospital lobby all alone, scared to death to show her face around you.”

“Listen, Jack,” he said, meeting his eyes. “Don’t you get it? I’m bad luck. I’m not good for people.”

Jack’s head jerked to attention. “What?”

“Bad things happen to me, around me. Things don’t go right when I’m around. It started when I was two.”

Jack was astonished. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Rick shook his head. “My parents died. My grandma got real sick. One strike and I got my girl pregnant. Her baby died. I went into the Marines and the squad clearing the street for us died. I got blown up. Come on. I’m a walking disaster.” He laughed unkindly. “No, I’m a disaster who can’t even walk.”

Jack leaned toward him. “You’ll get a new leg that will work almost as good as the one you lost and you can get on with your life. It’s the stuff of life, we have some shit to deal with and we move ahead. You’ll move ahead, too.”

“Did your parents die when you were barely two? Did your first baby die? Did you get blown up in the war?”

Jack had a tempting moment. He never focused on the things that had gone terribly wrong—it was hard enough to put them away when you didn’t think about them all the time. It was a horrible trap, letting yourself list the stuff in the negative column. He’d always stayed away from that. But Rick’s questions were like a challenge and he wanted to stand up, bear down on him with a glare and shout, Yeah, I held more than one Marine while he was fucking dying and there was no way to save him—it gets me screwed up sometimes. I couldn’t find a woman to bond with till I was forty! My mother died too young! My baby sister was raped and beaten! My wife, my heart, almost died of a hemorrhage! My boy Rick got blown up in the war. It wasn’t the same stuff, but it was nasty stuff that made me weep. Instead, Jack calmly looked at Rick and said, “A lot of what happened to you—it happened to me, too. Because I was there with you. Someday you’re going to find out that when someone you care about suffers, you suffer right along with him.”