21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (121 page)

“It’s lovely. I didn’t know you still painted.”

“Only projects like this and for some classes I teach here during the week.” She folded her arms and unfolded them. A part of him wanted to set her at ease, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to act on it. Resentment slithered across his skin like a sand rash.

“Well, it’s good work. I’m particularly fond of my place in it. Walking away.” Was that how she saw him? The man who left?

“Not walking away.” She shook her head and her chin finally came up. “Walking toward the future. Defending our country, and lonely because you had to leave us to do it. Inspiring because it’s not an easy choice and even harder to live with. Brave because no one here can truly imagine what you faced, so we hoped and prayed you’d come home, safe from hate and harm.”

Uncomfortable with how close her description struck, Isaac dragged his attention away from her. She’d matured beautifully. The softness of her features had taken on an aristocratic bearing, but she was too thin, and her mouth too lush.

“It’s good work,” he repeated. So many words bottled up in his throat and threatened to choke him. “I should get going.” He gave her a quick, abrupt smile, the action physically painful, and jogged toward the fence. The sooner he got the hell away, the better for both of them.

“Isaac.”

The sound of his name tripping off her lips locked him in place. He kept his attention fixed beyond the gate. Home for only a few days, he could make this work if he kept the contact minimal.

“Yes?” He canted his head, turning an ear toward her, and refusing to look. Not when he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to kiss her or throttle her. The level of violence shivering in his muscles appalled him, one match away from erupting.

“Hanukkah begins this week.”

“I know. It’s why I came home.” Confusion flickered through him.

Her shoe scuffed on the blacktop. She came closer, and he fought in vain against turning. “I know it’s the first time in years….”

Don’t bring it up.

“And I’m probably the last person you want to talk to….”

For the love of all that’s holy, leave it alone
. His head began to ache from clamping his teeth together.

“I’m expecting a lot of kids are going to be here this week. The neighborhood is full of single mothers, fathers, and their kids who need a place to spend Hanukkah. I’m going to light the menorah for them each evening at dusk. They’d love to meet you. You’re a hero for so many and maybe—maybe you’d like to spend some time here, too. Help out.” Her voice drifted away, and he pivoted slowly.

He wanted to walk the hell away and keep his mouth shut. The hesitation remained in her eyes, yet he also glimpsed hope. Faint, but there, in the liquid dark depths.

“Are you asking me if I want to spend my first Hanukkah at home with your pseudo-children since you gave away ours?”

Once the words were out, he couldn’t take them back and with his attention locked on her, he couldn’t miss the verbal lash striking its mark. Regret filtered through his fury. He wasn’t sure who angered him more. Her for what she did, or him because he never stopped loving her and hating her for it.

Ouch
. The barb sank deep and raked her emotions over the coals. She shouldn’t have been surprised by the strength of the sting, but it didn’t diminish the impact. Zehava absorbed the words and the pain, letting both sink through her until they reached the marrow of her bones. The whip crack of fury from anyone else would be met in kind, however she believed Isaac deserved his pound of flesh. And she’d give him this one. Only the one.

Her next words would need to be chosen carefully. She studied him, the rise and fall of his chest, the snapping anger in his eyes, and the way his jaw clenched and unclenched. His hands curled into fists and released. Rage radiated in the air around him, a simmering, shimmering heat. He said nothing else, didn’t move in her direction or threaten.

The man had a right to his anger, even his hate, though it pained her more than she wanted to admit. She’d found peace with her decision long ago.

“The neighborhood children, the boys in particular, see you as their own personal hero. You made a hard choice. You have seen darkness and you have returned.”

Surprise bled away some of his tension. So much of the boy she’d loved remained in the man before her. Despite his anger, she sensed no danger from him. Every other conversation they’d had on the subject of their child had been over the phone, or via two agonizingly long letters.

“It shouldn’t come as any great surprise to you. They admire you, from your determination to make something else for your life to your dedication to service. Your mother shares all of your accomplishments, and the kids always look for news of you—even if it is only the mention of a Marine in the paper, they always attribute it to you.” Somehow she managed a smile. “We have a whole wall in there covered with different articles and photos. They collect them, and it’s a matter of pride to add one to the wall. So, yes, I am inviting you to spend Hanukkah with these boys and girls. Some have no fathers, some have no mothers, and a few have neither. But here? Here they are all welcome. They are all siblings, and we are all a family.”

A line appeared between his brows, and he took a step toward her. “Zehava, I shouldn’t have said that.” Contrition, not apology, scored under the deep-seated anger in his voice, lancing it like an infected wound.

“Right or wrong, it has been said. You have a right to your anger.” Clasping her hands together kept her from fidgeting. She missed the way his hair used to curl over his forehead and the softness of his eyes. No matter how much she’d expected his reaction, it didn’t ease the laceration to her soul.

“Maybe. I don’t have the right to be rude or to treat you badly.” He shut his eyes against the wintry sun shining down on them. “I imagined how this would go a hundred times.”

Intrigued, she edged closer. They didn’t need to shout this conversation. Too many of their neighbors knew their history—the drawback of such a close-knit community. Secrets didn’t thrive. “How are we doing so far?”

A chuckle rumbled out of him, hard and reluctant, but humorous nonetheless. “Pretty bad.”

Biting the inside of her lip, she fought a smile. “It is good to see you, Isaac.”

He said nothing for so long, she thought he might have to reach to find a similar sentiment. When he opened his eyes, the raw pain reflected in them tore her apart. “I missed you, Z. Thanks for the invitation, but I need to go. Be safe.” And he turned and walked away.

Mute, she blinked back tears. Thankfully no one saw her lose the battle or the hasty swipes of her hand as she tried to keep the dampness from tracking down her cheeks. Nothing about Isaac had been easy. She should never have expected seeing him again to be anything but difficult.

Unlocking the center doors, she focused on opening the blinds, and setting up the tables. When Shabbat services ended, many families would go to lunch. Many more would have to go to work, and their children would come to her.

Activity books, crayons, markers, and blocks went in one room. Sports equipment, some dilapidated and some new, went in another. The center would be open until after sundown when the children would go home. She would teach her painting classes, tutor those who needed help with homework or projects. She would referee games and settle disputes when the hardheads got into it with each other.

All of this she decided as the ritual of getting the community center ready to open helped calm her jangled nerves. She would not think about Isaac, or the choices they made, or the child she’d given up for adoption. Yet, the harder she tried not to think about it, the quicker the thoughts came to mind.

Walking to the front doors and pushing them wide, she used wooden wedges to brace them open and waited for the children to arrive. When their chatter crashed over her, maybe it would drown out the bleak thoughts and too-loud questions banging around in her head.

She couldn’t help but stare up the street toward the Jankos’ where Isaac had disappeared. He was right there—within reach, and harder to reach than when he’d been thousands of miles away.

“Z!” The high-pitched yell of the five-year-old racing toward her drove the melancholy from her mind.

She smiled. “
Shabbat shalom
, Alicia.” Bidding the child the traditional greeting and a peaceful Sabbath steadied Zehava.

“
Shabbat shalom
!” The girl bounced and threw her arms around her. Zehava hugged her close and waved to the little one’s harried mother, who returned the wave before driving off. Like so many single parents in the neighborhood, Alicia’s mother had a job that didn’t allow for the Sabbath off. That was what the center offered—a safe haven for the neighborhood children.

“I’ve already put out the crayons. You can set up snacks if you like.”

“Oh, yay!” Alicia raced inside.

Zehava counted it good luck that the kids liked to be useful. It wouldn’t be long before more children swarmed in, some walking from Temple together in groups and others, like Alicia, being dropped off. With so many voices around her, she didn’t think too hard on Isaac. In her heart, she knew where she wanted to go at sundown. Angry or not, she’d missed him. She had to find a way to convince her mind that was a good idea.

Isaac wasn’t proud of his behavior. He spent the rest of the day turning their encounter over and over in his head. Zehava had behaved like a lady, absolutely classy, filled with poise and determination. Meanwhile, he’d been an ass. After sundown supper, he managed to extricate from his family and headed north to Allen to check out Mike’s Place. Not a lot seemed to be going on for a Saturday night, but he headed there again on Sunday and Monday.

He didn’t plan on avoiding her.
Oh, who am I kidding?
Everywhere he went at home on leave, she was there. Friends brought her up, his mother mentioned her. Even his father brought up the subject—he volunteered every Monday at the community center to teach some of the boys about vehicle mechanics although his best student turned out to be a fourteen-year-old girl who’d already begun rebuilding a transmission on a donated car.

Instead of dealing with it, Isaac took off like some petulant teenager and parked himself on the edge of an empty ball field. The only thing missing: a case of beer and a good, solid drunk.

“Who pissed in your Wheaties?” Zach Evans strode along the front of the bleachers, and Isaac rose to clasp his proffered hand by way of greeting.

“Hey, man, how are you?”

“Better than you, from the scowl on your face.” The blond Marine’s ready smile warmed his expression. He motioned for Isaac to sit again and dropped onto the bench nearby. “How long have you been in town?”

“Couple of days. Visiting family for the holidays and thought I’d come check out the work in progress that is apparently a heck of a lot bigger than I expected.” He motioned to the field.

Mike’s Place occupied a huge campus. From the medical buildings, to the parks to the apartments, it reminded Isaac of an idealized military base. The facility’s reputation continued to grow, and he’d heard more than one mention of it from others in his unit and on his assignment. Apparently everyone knew someone who had been helped or was being helped here.

“Well, hell, you need to come by later and we’ll head out for drinks.” Retirement sat well on Zach. Always easygoing, he had an air of relaxed contentment about him. He’d found a life, a purpose beyond the Corps, and it seemed a good one.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Not sure I’ll have time for it on this trip.” He didn’t have to report until well after Hanukkah. He’d accrued a hell of a lot of leave and had to report before the first of the year, but he kept that information to himself. Unwilling to create expectations, he’d told his family his leave had been limited and currently wished he’d chosen a smaller window of opportunity.

Zach’s hard, perceptive blue-eyed gaze locked on his. “Hey, Isaac, what the hell is eating you?”

Isaac sighed. “How do you do that?” It irked him since most would not push past the front he showed the world. Evans wasn’t most, and proved it repeatedly.

“Because you have a crap poker face and Logan mastered the
nothing’s-wrong
look a long time ago.” He stretched his legs and leaned on his elbows, adopting an air of ease and relaxation. “I know how to read between the lines. So, what’s got you stewing?”

“You’re not going to leave it alone are you?” He appreciated his friend’s patience and observance, even if it irritated.

“Nope. I can be a real pain in the ass.” And too cheerful about it by half.

Reluctant laughter eased the boulder sitting on his chest. While they’d never served in the same unit, he and Zach pulled several training details together and discovered an easy camaraderie they’d been able to maintain over the years. Perhaps talking to someone completely unaffected by the turmoil seething in his heart would help.

“Just remember, you asked.” He scrubbed a hand over his mouth and struggled with where the hell to start. Never having been a beat-around-the-bush kind of guy, he exhaled a hard breath and stared at the field in front of him. “I avoided coming home for years because I knew the day I did, I would see my ex.”

“Okay.” No judgment, no question, simply acceptance from the Marine.

“When I was in boot, she found out she was pregnant. She called, let me know. We talked, and I asked her to marry me.”

A grunt of acknowledgment only. Considering Isaac labeled her his ex, Zach should be able to read between those lines.

“Yeah, stupid, but it’s what you do when the girl you’ve dated for years tells you she’s pregnant. Zehava didn’t want to get married and pretty much called bullshit.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t want to get married, either.”
Observant, too
.

“No. I wanted to be a Marine and I loved her.” The past tense sounded wrong. “And like I said, the right thing to do.”