Blind Rage: Team Red, Book 4 (19 page)

“Jazz added flap-style handles and hydraulic automatic door openers the same morning you were taken. They were supposed to be a surprise when you came back to the house. There is a two-second delay before the door slowly swings closed. The doors won’t open if you engage the lock, and Jazz added a kick stand, so you can prop the door open if you want to.”

“It sounds like he thought of everything. I’ll be sure to thank—” I started.

“Teresa!”
Red interrupted excitedly, nails clicking a staccato beat toward the tub.
“You need to come and meet my boy, Wes! Tank and I got to play in his blanket fort! Then we played hide-n-seek in the snow—we pretended we didn’t see his footprints. Then, we had a snowball fight. Wes throws worse than you,”
he mourned.

“I’m glad you had fun playing in the fort,” I laughed, mentally weighing, then deciding, the comfort and companionship to Wes was well worth dog hair in the bedding. “It was nice of you and Tank to pretend you couldn’t see his footprints in the snow. And remember, Wes is only nine; his throwing arm will improve as he gets older.”

“Are you guys getting out soon? Umm, this smelly stuff is nicer than the milk and honey you used last time.”
In typical dog fashion, Red leaned over the edge to lap the water.

“Hey, cut that out. I hate when you drink from my tub. There’s perfectly clean water in your bowl. We’ll be getting out shortly,” I answered. “I need to catch up on my caffeine consumption.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t trampled over me yet, to get to the coffee pot,” Bas kidded.

“Go back downstairs, Red. Bas and I will finish our bath and meet you there, okay?”

Red’s nose nudged my arm, and he gave me an affectionate lick.
“I’m glad you’re home. We were so worried.”

Reaching over to scratch his head, I confided, “I’m glad to be home too. You were in my thoughts constantly. I was worried about you.”

After a final head butt, Red wandered away, the hiss of hydraulics signaling his departure from the bedroom.

“Ready to get out? It’s almost oh-seven hundred. That’s seven a.m., Babe,” he teased.

I hugged his embracing arms tightly, “Yeah, thanks. Let’s get a move on. I’m dying for a cup of coffee.”

Chapter Twenty

Bas left me standing in the kitchen, pleasantly dizzy, with the taste of peppermint on my lips, and a mug of coffee in my trembling hand. I could hear the devilish grin in Bastian’s tone as he bent forward to follow up with a second mint-flavored kiss. “Got work to do, Babe. The sooner I start, the sooner I can finish up and spend time with my favorite girl.”

David finished the last of the program code on the plane trip last night. Bas was eager to complete the GUI interface, and run a few test flights with the drones.

Uncharacteristically, I shunned the bacon and potatoes, my stomach still a bit fragile. Eggs and a poppy seed muffin were about all I felt I could hold down. Food in hand, I joined Jim, Wes, David, and Henry at the dining room table. Bastian was right; I fell in love with Wesley during the first five minutes of breakfast. David informed us Marcia was still asleep, exhausted from five hours of plane travel (he finally remembered he was rich, and chartered a flight), therefore, we tried to move quietly about the house.

At my whispered request, Red gave me a few minutes of mind-sight while I met Wes, before dropping the connection so I could relax and enjoy my breakfast. Wes was David, in miniature. From the top of his head with the tousled dark hair, to the wide grin and complimentary dimple. I was no expert on children, but he seemed taller than I imagined a nine, almost ten, year old would be. Rail thin, and a little gawky, he was all elbows, knees, and feet. There were still traces of the infantile hemangiomas. Although many children who exhibit the symptoms as babies will grow out of it by five or six, Wes’ condition had been severe. His disease didn’t start to clear up until he was eight. There was some still disfigurement around the eye and jawline, but David mentioned when he’s older, he’ll have the option of surgery to take care of the scarring.

Wes was an extroverted chatterbox; no detail insignificant. We were treated to a tale about his great adventure
s
, rivaling exotic African safaris, as the little man recounted his morning in the snow with his two canine companions.

Red was no help. His narrative dueled with the little boy, so I was soon hearing two versions of each story in my mind—in stereo, except my radios were set to different stations.

“… and then ‘Wap!’ Tank got splatted with a snowball.”

“… because, as I said, my boy throws worse than you do, Teresa...”

“… ‘n Ralph drew a horse on my cast.”

“… personally, I think it looks more like a llama.”

“… when Red jumped off the deck he went ‘Boomf!’ right on his tummy!”

“… I slipped. It could have happened to anyone.”

“… ‘n Dad came outside ‘n brought me a hot chocolate.”

“… with little itty-bitty marshmallows. They were mighty tasty, maybe we could put a bag in the pantry on my treat shelf?”

“… after that, Red showed me his helicopter collection.”

“Helicopter collection, huh?” I echoed, menacingly.

“I know not of what he speaks,”
Red fibbed, unconvincingly. I could imagine him looking away in casual nonchalance, a stance he’d tried to adopt before in an effort to look innocent.

“You’ll have to show me where they are, Wes. I’d be interested in seeing
Red’s
helicopters,” David added, with a hint of steel in his voice.

“I didn’t jump for them, they were already on the ground. I picked them up. It’s bad to litter, you know. I’m a friend of the environment.”

David asked, “Headache, Teresa?”

“Tired. I keep hearing voices in my head.”

“Uh, oh. I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”
Red deduced, approaching my chair so he could rest his head on my thigh.
“I’m sorry, Teresa. I know you’re not feeling well. I was so excited to tell you about my boy.”

“You’re a good dog, Red.” Ruffling his ears, I indicated acceptance of his apology. On the aside, I directed softly, “I’ll expect all errant helicopters to be transported to the Cave within the hour.” Louder, I continued, “Wes, it sounds as if you had a great morning with the dogs. I’m so glad you’re here to keep them entertained. The men tell me you slept in the Cave last night. Was it fun?”

This innocent question prompted a spirited telling of the ‘way-cool blanket fort’ and spending a night with the soldiers in their top secret basement. The kid was a ball of fire, and would keep us all in stitches with his daily breakfast chatter for months to come.

After breakfast, and copious amounts of coffee, most of my table companions had scattered, leaving me to chat one-on-one with Jim about Spokane versus San Diego weather (yeah, I was avoiding the heavier issues for the moment). Our conversation was interrupted when David informed me Marcia was awake. During their conversation last night, Bastian advised David against revealing mind-sight or mind-speak to Marcia and Wes, but I wanted Red to accompany me so I could have vision for our first meeting. With Marcia’s lowered immune system, I cautioned Red to always stay in the doorway, away from her bed.

“Lights on, Red,” I instructed.

Placing my cup on the dining table, I followed David to the guest room. Weeks ago, we would have walked side by side, hand in hand. My heart stammered at the hurt look on David’s face when I refused his offered arm, but it was important to reinforce we were no longer a couple. Our casual intimacy was a thing of the past.

Marcia wasn’t merely thin, she was gaunt. Even without the benefit of a full color spectrum, it was clear her skin bore a sallow cast which emphasized dark hollows, making her eyes seem larger and deeper, recessed into her sharp-boned face. She had once been a lovely woman, but there were only hints remaining: the confidence in her direct gaze, a delicate elegance in her mannerisms. Her hair, while long and plentiful around her shoulders, was prematurely grey and somewhat lank, an extension of the weary look in her eyes. Through Red, I was also able to catch the assessing looks she speared at her husband. Had David not mentioned I was blind?

“Teresa, this is Marcia. Cia, I want you to meet Teresa March.” David’s awkwardness was adorable as he slouched his six-five frame to dip to a comfortable viewing level for Marcia. The special bed Janey ordered was high, but David was extraordinarily tall. Her neck appeared too fragile to hold the weight of her head, but her handshake was surprisingly firm. She held my hand for a little longer than is polite, while she took time to examine the scars on my face, taking particular notice of the deeper one which bisected my eyebrow and came perilously close to taking my right eye. Red may have stayed at a spot near the door, but he had a clear line of sight to Marcia’s face. I do believe Mrs. Preston was jealous. It took a conscious effort not to shake my head in disappointment. How had David been so clueless not to see how much his wife adored him? I wondered if she’d lived in hope all these years he would return to her, ready to be the father and husband I believe she wanted. I felt my first stirring of pity.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Teresa,” she lied to my face—granted, she didn’t know I could see her by proxy, but the insincerity was clearly reflected in her posture. “Thank you for welcoming Wes and me into your home. I’ve been…” she paused, to draw a few lungful’s of air. Even those few sentences left her gasping. “… been wanting to meet you since David told me about you. It’s a relief to know David has such a wonderful group of friends to help with Wesley when… well, when it’s time.” She ended on a vague note, but I was easily able to substitute her real meaning, “when I die.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,”
Red echoed my thoughts.
“She’s not a very nice lady.”

I would have to explain to Red later about pain, and how it makes otherwise nice people unpleasant. Sometimes when someone is hurting, they want others to hurt too. It would only be a partial explanation, because I had no intention of talking with my dog regarding the nuances of jealousy.

David was gazing down at Marcia in concern, evidently unaware of her animosity. I knew he had hopes she and I would like each other, and while courtesy was easy under the circumstances, true affection wasn’t going to happen. This was a smart man, yet he was oblivious to the falseness I could hear in her voice, and see through Red’s vision. David was a perfect example of intellectual IQ not translating to emotional capacity. This was going to be a rough month or so, in many ways.

“I’m happy to see you’re settled in, Marcia, but I won’t stay long. David mentioned you’re still tired from yesterday’s traveling. I simply wanted a chance to welcome you and let you know we will do everything possible to make you comfortable.” Standing, to leave, I added, “Wes is a charming little boy, Marcia. You’ve done a wonderful job raising him.”

“Thank you.” With a renewed breath, she continued, “David told me about the harrowing few days you’ve had; thank goodness you’re home safely.” Surprisingly, her words sounded truthful, although she’d closed her eyes and sunk back into her pillows, so it was difficult to be sure.

“She smells really sick, Teresa,”
Red reported, his emotions broadcasting sadness. Dogs were pretty forgiving. Ignoring Marcia’s disingenuous greeting, Red focused on her failing health and felt sorry for her.

“Rest well. I’ll drop by later when you’re feeling a bit stronger,” I promised, turning away to give David and his wife some privacy. Red stood and slowly swung his head toward the doorway as I approached him. As a result, I was able to navigate easily back to the kitchen to recover my mug and top it off with hot coffee. Surprisingly, I was the only person in the room—a rarity with so many people living in the house.

Red plopped his bottom onto the floor and stared at me intently. “What are you gawking at, furball?”

“I’m pretty sure your nose grew an inch when you told Marcia you’re happy she’s settled.”
My smart-ass dog answered, with a snarky Pinocchio reference. Time to put a halt to Janey’s Disney videos.

It occurred to me, this was probably this first time Red had seen me offer false platitudes in an effort to be polite. I took pride in my straight-forward dealings with people; he’d never seen me deliver a polite fib in place of a well-deserved set down. I may not care for Marcia, but I didn’t want to upset David by being unkind to his wife. He was dealing with enough stress without me adding unnecessarily to it. Rather than put off our conversation regarding how pain can affect people, I added an excerpt on white lies and the reasons humans tell them. What followed was a lively debate on the various forms of subterfuge.

Baffled, Red finally decided,
“People are weird.”

No argument from me.

Sending Red off to do another morning patrol, with “Lights out,” I settled onto the couch to soak up a few minutes of peace.