Bonds Of The Heart Page 7

  Blake shrugged and took a grape from the container Erika had just opened. He thought back to where he used to live. Washington D.C. wasn’t much of a city for picnics. “Just never had the urge to go on one or been invited to one. You go on them a lot?”

  “No, this is my first.”

  “Now we have two things in common.”

  “Two?” Surprised and confused, she looked at Blake as he popped another grape in his mouth.

  “We both lost somebody recently.”

  Erika relaxed her shoulders and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  Blake nodded and stared off into the meadow at the boys fishing. They seemed to have caught something and were inspecting it. He remembered how he and Jared would do the same in those lazy summers many years ago. He’d have to take Robbie out fishing sometime and tell him stories of his dad.

  “Was it someone close?” Erika asked. She opened the wine and poured two glasses, then handed one to Blake.

  He accepted the glass from her and stared at it. “Yes.”

  He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t talk about his feelings with his mom or anyone. He only talked to Robbie and that was only when Robbie needed to remember his dad. He wasn’t ready to just start opening his heart to anyone.

  “My father was a Sergeant Major in the Marines. He was killed in action, in Afghanistan, a few months ago. An IED exploded, killing him and some of the men from his unit. He shouldn’t have been there. He should have been home with my mom. He should have been home waiting for me to come visit them this month for the carnival. He should have…” Her voice cracked at the last words as they drifted in the air, unfinished.

  Blake remembered the carefully folded flag in its case on the shelf in her living room. His brother had died in exactly the same way as her father; as he supposed most had during this ongoing war on terror. There were always stories on the news about similar events. He turned to Erika and saw her twisting her fingers in her lap. His voice was gentle. “You don’t have to talk about it with me. You don’t have to talk about it at all if you don’t want to.”

  “No. No, it’s okay. I’m still trying to…adjust. Of course I’m sad, but I’m angry too. I don’t want to be angry.”

  “Why are you, then?”

  “Because he had no right to love the Marines more than his family.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” she murmured and took a sip of the wine. Too bad she couldn’t even taste it.

  He wasn’t angry for his brother choosing to join the Marines. He was proud of him. Blake knew that was what Jared wanted. And he knew the consequences. They had talked for hours, days, at length about what those consequences were. But anger never entered into the picture when he got the call from his mother that Jared was never coming home. “You’d be surprised what I understand.”

  Something about the tone in Blake’s voice made Erika turn to look at him. “How could someone go off to war knowing that there was a chance that one day they’d never return home? And that they would never return to their families? The people they claim to love so much? I loved my father with all my heart. I know that he loved me just as much, if not more. But when he was offered retirement just before his last deployment, he declined it and opted to add more time to his service.”

  After a moment of silence, Blake spoke. “Some people fight for this country because it’s their duty. Some people fight because generations before them fought in countless battles through the years. Some people fight because it’s the only thing they know. It doesn’t mean they love any less.”

  “My mother told me something similar.” Erika took another sip of wine and remembered when her mother had tried to calm her down during that first month. Back when she couldn’t even get out of bed some mornings. “I wanted him to be proud of me. I wanted him to be there when I got married, to walk me down the aisle. I wanted him to be there when my first child was born. I wanted more time…”

  He brushed the tear from her cheek. “Just because he isn’t here in person, doesn’t mean he isn’t here.”

  She trembled at his touch, so gentle, but with such strength behind it. His hands were rough against her skin. He pulled her into him. She nuzzled into his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin our picnic.” She sniffled.

  “You didn’t.”

  “I’m sitting here crying, talking about my dad.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Blake brushed her hair. So soft under his fingers.

  “You can be very sweet when you want to be.”

  “Don’t get used to it.”

  “I think I’ve already known that from the day we first met.” She laughed and pulled free from him. She handed him a small plate with some sandwiches.

  Blake nodded, though Erika didn’t notice.

  Since the death of his brother, Blake had pushed most people away. He hadn’t talked to anyone back in D.C. since he moved to Emberton. When Phil would call, Blake spoke only of current events, never his brother. He didn’t give much thought to the others he once called friends. He shut everyone out. Everyone except Robbie. So why did he feel the impulse to talk to Erika? What was it about her that made him want to open up? He pulled the control back into place and switched topics. He hadn’t opened up and he wasn’t going to start now, no matter how good the woman smelled, looked, or tasted. Or that what she had been through was exactly the same as what he’d been through.

  “Do you cook?” he asked, taking a bite of the small sandwich. He’d never had turkey, Swiss cheese, and avocado before. It surprised him how tasty it was.

  “Not really. Back home I have a vast collection of take-out menus. You name the food you want and I could find you a place that can deliver it to you.” She smiled.

  That smile. It could be the end of him.

  “My mom has been desperately trying to teach me though. Maybe one day she’ll be successful.”

  “Home? I thought here was your home.” He frowned at her and cursed himself for feeling annoyed that this wasn’t home to her.

  “It was home when my dad got stationed at Quantico. He made a promise to my mother and me that it would be the last time we moved anywhere.”

  “So where is home now?”

  “Los Angeles. Warmer winters.” She shrugged and let out another small laugh. “I got a great job offer out there and snatched it up without thinking. My dad must have thought I was crazy but I love my job.”

  “I’m sure he was very proud of you.” He bit off the words and fought to put sincerity behind them. Now he remembered her mom talking about the picture of Erika next to her Jeep on her way to California.

  “Yes, I like to think he was. So have you always known you wanted to be a mechanic?”

  “I wanted to be an accountant.”

  “An…accountant?” She chuckled and popped a grape into her mouth. “Surely you’re joking.”

  “Nope. But life has a funny way of changing your plans.”

  “I guess so.”

  There was that damn smile of hers again.

  He didn’t know why, but he began talking and couldn’t stop himself. “I was always good with numbers in school. It just came easy to me. Like people who can cook with ease and become chefs or people who can write a story and then come out with a bestselling novel. I went to college for it, too. It was my brother who had the idea for the garage. He worked hard and made it become a reality. The day he opened Blackie’s as his own, I thought he’d just about piss himself with happiness. Jared had this dream to start something and make it last. He was good at that. Making things last.”

  Erika just listened. This was the most Blake had talked to her and he wasn’t being rude, he was being… friendly.

  “When Blackie’s went on the market,” Blake continued, “Jared jumped at the chance. Mom and pop gave him the money to buy it. I ran the business end since I was good with numbers. He was the one who liked to get his hands dirty.”

  “So you’re brother o
wns the garage and you just help out when needed? Is he on vacation?”

  Realizing he just spoke more to her than to anyone else, Blake shut down. “No.” He pushed the plate away from him and stood up. He turned away from her, hands fisted tightly in his pockets. Idiot! He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to just start opening up. Yet she had made it so easy to just talk. He had let the control slip and when the conversation eased, he opened up the wound he had fought hard to let scab over.

  Erika knew the pain and she knew how she felt when she got the news about her father. Maybe Blake had a fight with his brother. She knew there was more than what he was telling. She stood and went to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, between his arms where his hands were in his pockets again, and said the only words she knew to say. “Maybe you can introduce me to him sometime.”

  “No.” Blake took a deep breath when he felt her arms reach around him. He sighed and relaxed enough to turn around and face her. “Let’s just finish this picnic.”

  Eleven

  ***

  Pulling into her driveway, Erika knew something had changed with Blake. Since his shift in mood over her questions and his open and closed topic about his brother, she tried to sway the rest of the afternoon to more light conversation. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to soothe Blake as she had been soothed when her dad died. She wasn’t a part of the small town gossip mill so news didn’t travel to her. She wanted to ask her mom, but how would she do that without it looking like she was interested in Blake?

  Was she interested in Blake? She barely knew the guy and now she wanted to help him. Yes, she told herself. Yes she was interested in him. Okay more than interested. She was falling for him, she could feel it. And it was going to be a nasty fall if she wasn’t careful.

  On the drive back from the picnic, they sat in silence. Blake had turned up some country radio station to drown out any chance of conversation. A man was singing about Springsteen, though she couldn’t place the voice of the singer. Blake was tense. Had been since his shutdown. He had both hands on the wheel and kept his focus on the road. When they reached her house, he parked in the driveway but didn’t shut off the engine. She reached for the handle of the door to let herself out, but was surprised when he stopped her with a light touch of his hand on her arm. She turned to look at him and saw a flood of painful emotion in his eyes. It tugged deeply at her heart.

  “I had a nice time today,” she said softly. She forced a smile she hoped would put him at ease.

  He nodded but didn’t say anything.

  O…kay, and we’re back to being rude. “Blake—”

  “I did too. Have a nice time, that is. Look, I have to be somewhere, otherwise I’d walk you to your door.”

  “You don’t have to. It’s all right.”

  He sighed, “I want to, but I—”

  “I understand.” She bit off the words as politely as she could, knowing he was hurting. She rested her hand on his.

  With a small pat, she turned and exited the truck. She grabbed the basket from the truck bed and walked to the door. She turned and waved to Blake as the truck pulled out onto the street. He didn’t wave back. Just tore out of her driveway and down the road. The man she thought of as rude and arrogant was quickly becoming an enigma she was drawn to. She wanted to help him, she told herself. But how could she get through to him? He was holding pain and hurt inside him, that much she knew. But he refused to let it out.

  Erika found her mother reading the book of the month from her book club when she walked into the house. She took the basket into the kitchen without a word and came back to the living room with a glass for herself and the pitcher of sweet tea to refill her mom’s empty glass sitting on the coffee table.

  “How’s the book?” she asked, pouring the amber liquid.

  “Long. I’m not a fan. I don’t think I ever will be of fantasy. You know I prefer nonfiction. Why do people write about vampires and werewolves?” Her mother laughed as she closed the book and turned to her daughter. “How was your picnic?”

  “It was…”

  How could she explain it to her mother? She couldn’t tell her about Blake’s shutdown, because that’s what it was.

  She thought of the warm day and bright sunshine and found the word she was looking for. “It was a lovely day for a picnic. You were right.”

  Brianne smiled and nodded. “Maureen is coming over later. We’re swapping recipes. She wants me to teach her how I make my sweet tea and I have been dying for her cherry cheesecake recipe since last Fourth of July. Though it goes right to my hips.”

  So Blake would be home, alone. Maybe she should go see him. See if he wanted to talk. She frowned as she thought about his mood. How closed up he had become. Would he want to talk to her?

  “Everything all right dear?” Brianne noticed the change in her daughter’s eyes.

  “Yes. I was just…thinking.”

  “Oh?”

  “Work has just been on my mind,” she lied.

  Brianne knew there was more on her daughter’s mind than work. “I tell you what, since it’s just going to be the two of us old hens here tonight, why don’t you take my leftovers to Blake?”

  “Sure mom.” It was the perfect excuse to go see Blake, Erika justified to herself.

  ***

  Blake drove past the cemetery and turned into the old, dirt field. He should have gone home to change his clothes, given how much dirt and dust would kick up from the tires when he gunned the engine across the deserted field. He cranked the wheel and red dirt spit from below the tires. Rocks tolled against metal. Red clouds of smoke billowed behind him, in front of him, all around him, swallowing him and his brother’s truck. The dog tags swung from the rearview mirror, a half empty bottle of sports drink rattling along the floorboards on the passenger side.

  He cursed himself for letting go, for opening up to someone he didn’t even know. He swore at himself as a tear fell down his cheek. He brushed it away with the back of his hand. Jared would laugh at him if he could see him crying now. Hell, he’d probably punch him. He turned the wheel again. More rocks and dirt pelted the underbelly of the truck. More dust and clouds. He cursed and asked God why. Why He’d take his brother from him? Why He’d leave Robbie without a mother and now without a father? Why’d He’d taken the one person in his life that he could talk to about anything?

  He remembered the day Jared left. They stood in the hanger at Quantico. Blake had taken the day off from work to see his brother off to his last mission.

  “Don’t you get tired of doing this?” Blake joked.

  “Never.” Jared smiled. “You should see some of the places I’ve been. And the food? It’s a real good thing they keep us fit.”

  Blake shook his head. “I’ll leave that all up to you. I’m fine just where I am.”

  “Behind a desk in a stuffy suit all day. You don’t even get sun. You’re so pale.” Jared poked at his brother.

  “I am not. I get out.”

  “And do what? Run on a treadmill inside a building? Then walk upstairs to your apartment to change into your suit and tie?” Jared tugged on Blake’s tie, “before heading into the office and spending another eight to ten hours there before going home?”

  Blake narrowed his eyes at his brother for precisely describing his daily routine.

  “I bet you even get a manicure.” Jared laughed. “You need to get your hands dirty, kid. You should take some time off and come spend it with me at the shop. It’ll serve you well.”

  “Yeah, serve me well to scrub oil from my hands for a week.”

  The overhead PA system called for all units to report to their assigned planes.

  “That’s me.” Jared smiled.

  “Tell you what, when you get back, I’ll take that week off and help you out at the shop.”

  Jared’s grin was wide. “That’s more like it, bro. Love ya, little brother.” Jared slapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder before bringing him in for
a hug.

  “Love ya too, bro. Now get your ass back here in one piece.”

  “Don’t I always?” Jared smiled as he walked away.

  After two hours, tired from his own emotions, Blake came to a stop in the middle of the field. He banged his fist on the wheel once before getting out of the truck and slamming the door. Leaning over the open window of the truck, he stared at his brother’s belongings: the dog tags, the boots, the shirt with the usmc logo, the faded picture of his brother and him hanging from the visor.

  The memories haunted him. He knew they always would. Time, he’d been told, would heal and make things better. He didn’t want time, he wanted his brother back.

  Turning around, Blake kicked at the dirt before sitting on the front hood of the truck. It had been three months and he still couldn’t shake the pain. His own parent’s couldn’t understand how much he had changed since his brother’s death. They would try to confront him, at first, thinking that if they used “tough love” to bring him back to easy-going Blake he once was.

  He’d said his goodbye at the funeral. He prayed for answers, for something to help him through it all. He prayed that he’d be able to finally let out what he’d been holding in. When he didn’t get the answers, when the goodbye wasn’t enough, and when he still couldn’t bring himself to talk to anyone, Blake would just drive his brother’s truck, like he had today.

  For three months, he didn’t talk to anyone about his brother. When Jared’s name came up in conversation he found a way out of the discussion. When customer’s talked about how his brother had worked on their cars or trucks, Blake nodded but never spoke a word. When they offered condolences or words of sympathy, he turned them away as politely as he could.