To Protect & Serve (29 page)

“During our time together at the academy I learned some things about Dustin that I’m sure some of you don’t know. He was really into football for one. He loved the Cincinnati Bengals—although he really could’ve picked a team that wins a little more. I’m sure his wallet would’ve been appreciative.” Smatterings of laughter sounded in the midst of the sniffs of tears. “He made a mean bologna sandwich, and he always carried a comb in his wallet and one in his car—just in case.” More laughter, this time louder. “He was always on time. Well, except for his own wedding, but that really wasn’t his fault.” The nod and smile from Eve told him he was on the right track. “Dustin Knox never knew a stranger. He could walk right up and strike up a conversation with Attila the Hun, and you would never have known they hadn’t been best friends forever.

“And he was always the first to help out when someone needed it. Studying, working, cleaning. It didn’t matter. If someone needed help, Dustin was there. Always with a smile and never making you feel like he’d planned anything else for that moment. There wasn’t a guy at the academy that he didn’t help over at least one or two rough patches. His own rough patches, you rarely saw. Others were always more important to Dustin. Always.”

The breaths were getting shallower, but Jeff pressed forward despite them. “Here’s something else I know about Dustin Knox… there was a certain young lady that took his breath away, and there wasn’t a moment that he didn’t want to spend with her. Not one. Dustin and Eve weren’t two halves that made a whole. They were one. So much so that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began, and that was exactly the way they liked it.”

Jeff sniffed the tears back into his skull and pounded a bandaged knuckle on the podium lightly. He would get through this. For Eve if not even for Dustin. “I can’t tell you why this happened. I don’t have any grand answers. I wish I did. All I can tell you is that Dustin Knox lived every moment of his life to the fullest. He didn’t waste a single one. It’s a standard I think each of us should strive for because we never know…” The tears came then as haunting flames ripped through him. “We never know.” He sniffed, but the tears were overtaking him. “Dustin, buddy, we’re all going to miss you.” There was no escaping from the cold salty droplets as they slid down his face. “May you rest in peace.”

And quietly he stepped away from the podium.

With everything he had, Jeff wished he was the one in the coffin that the pallbearers set over the open grave. It had to be easier than the reality he was now standing in, the one that seemed intent on breaking them all in half. The pressure of Lisa’s fingers grasped his arm gently as the preacher read:

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Thou dost prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; Thou hast anointed my head with oil; My cup overflows. Surely goodness and kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever… May we pray.”

A beat of silence as Jeff prayed only that he would wake up any minute now, that this nightmare would stop, that time would stop and he could somehow just get off.

“Lord, in your infinite love, we know you are with us now as always,” the preacher said. “Please use our grief a means to purify these lives we must now lead. Bless especially Eve and all the men and women who serve unselfishly to protect us all. And take Dustin now to the special place You have prepared for him with You in Heaven. In Your Holy Name we pray.”

“Amen,” whispered across the crowd spread across the breeze swept grass.

The preacher signaled to the two uniformed firefighters who snapped forward and slowly lifted the flag from over the coffin. In its place someone slid a bouquet of red, white, and blue flowers as the other two wrapped the cloth until no red or white could be seen. One of them slid the last of it into place, took it to Eve, and presented it to her. Jeff squeezed his eyes closed to stop the tears but forced them opened because he couldn’t be weak the moment Eve had to be strong.

“From dust we came,” the preacher intoned, holding a hand over the coffin, now stripped bare of the flag, which Eve clutched to her chest like a long lost teddy bear, “and to dust we shall return. Father, we commend our brother, Dustin, into Your hands. May he rest in peace.”

“Amen.”

The first one through the line was the preacher who shook Eve’s hand, said a few words, and moved on to her parents. When he stepped up to Jeff, the pain in the center of Jeff’s chest fought to get to the surface even as he pushed it back down.

“Thank you, Reverend,” Jeff said, struggling to keep his grief in check.

“You did a good job, Son,” the preacher said. “I know that was tough.”

“Yeah, well, some things you have to do.”

“If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

“Thank you,” Jeff said, wishing it didn’t hurt so badly to smile.

As the preacher walked on, many, many more mourners took his place. Most didn’t know what to say, some hugged him, some didn’t. All said how sorry they were, and what was left of his sanity thanked each of them for coming.

When Ramsey stepped up in front of him, it didn’t even register who it was at first. The dress blues. No smile. He wasn’t sure why, but it just didn’t look like Ramsey. “You did good, man. Nobody could’ve done it better.”

“You heard?” Jeff asked, wondering how the news had reached Ramsey.

“Everyone in Texas has heard by now.”

Everyone in Texas. Somehow that was fitting.

“Thanks for coming,” Jeff said.

“I wouldn’t have missed it.”

Three people further down, and Bridget stepped up. With no words, she wrapped Jeff in her arms. Jeff felt the clap on his back from Craig as he held on to Bridget, fearing he might fall right through the earth if she let go.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Jeff breathed.

“I know,” Bridget said, nodding as the tears slid down between them. “I know.”

Six more people down, and gaze glued to the ground, hands in pockets, A.J. stepped up. “I’m sorry, man,” A.J. said quietly. “I wish we could’ve done more.”

Jeff shook his head as he extended half a smile. “You did everything you could.”

For one moment A.J. stood stock-still and then he put his arms around Jeff. The breath out felt like a car shifting down without the benefit of a clutch. “Thanks for coming.” One more second before with barely a nod, A.J. stepped back and then walked on. The nightmares, the questions, the regrets would now live with them all. One look in A.J.’s eyes told Jeff that much.

Willing the haze to take over his brain, Jeff greeted the next mourner.
Just don’t think, and you’ll get through this.
But on the other side of this, he could see only the abyss that they were all headed for. It was coming, he could feel it rushing toward them, intent on swallowing them whole, and he couldn’t be sure he had the strength to fight it off this time.

Sometime in the middle of the line it occurred to him that if that line just went on forever, they would never have to leave, never have to walk away, never have to say that final good-bye. So it was with an ache in his heart that he saw the members of his own station as they inched their way forward, the line dwindling behind them. People were talking again. The service was over, and life was going on—whether that made any sense to him or not.

“Taylor,” Hunter said, stepping up to him.

“Thanks for coming,” Jeff said, holding out a hand wrapped in white.

Instead of taking it, however, Hunter threw his arms around his colleague, and the bear hug slammed tears into Jeff's skull. “Get better. Okay? We need you back.”

Jeff nodded. As soon as Hunter let him go, Dante grabbed him. If he could just hold onto someone, it felt like maybe he could stay standing, if not…

“You know, Knox must’ve been one smart guy to have you for a friend. I don’t think they come any better,” Dante said. He pulled back with his hands on Jeff’s shoulders. “Hurry back. Okay?”

Again Jeff nodded and was passed off to Gabe.

“I’ve been worried about you,” Gabe said, leveling his gaze at Jeff seriously. “You know that you don’t have to handle this alone, right? We’re all here for you. Every one of us. Don’t forget that. Okay?”

His head was nodding for no other reason than it hadn’t gotten the signal to quit. Slowly Gabe nodded too. “Take care of yourself.” When Gabe stepped over to Lisa, emptiness washed over Jeff. There was no one else. Cars were leaving. People were walking away. Blankly he looked over to Eve who stood by the coffin with one hand slowly rubbing across the top of it.

With a heavy heart he walked over to her and laid a hand on her waist. Her gaze slid up to his, and the anguish in his heart was no match for the agony in her eyes. She laid her head on his shoulder, and the tears came for both of them.

Long after the last car was gone and they had sent Eve in the limo with the assurance that they would just get a cab, Lisa sat next to him in the empty graveyard. He was so alone. She could see it in his eyes. His heart was shattered into ten thousand pieces, and she had no idea how to pick up even a single one. In fact, her presence seemed not to even mark the blank slate of his consciousness.

“I should have said he liked trees,” Jeff said softly, and Lisa’s gaze went to his face. “Pine trees were his favorites. Pines and firs. Something about their needles.” He squinted into the thought. “I don’t really remember why.”

“You did all you could,” she said gently. “I’m sure he was totally amazed you got up there at all.”

“I didn’t want to.” It was the first time he had admitted that. “I thought I was going to lose it there for a minute. Man, that was hard.”

“But you did it.”

“I just wish I could go back and do it all again,” Jeff said. “I think we missed so much.”

“No,” she said with a soft smile, “I think you got all the important stuff done.”

His gaze swung to her face. “You think?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Under her hand the bandages lifted, carrying her hand right up with them to his lips which he laid softly on the smooth skin. “I couldn’t have gotten through this without you.”

Gently she laughed. “Yes, you could have, but I’m glad you didn’t have to.”

Their hands dropped back into his lap as he took a ragged breath in. “Well, I guess it’s time to go.”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

When he looked at her, she knew the words before he spoke them. “I’ll never be ready.”

“Me either.”

In the next second she was in his arms, and for as safe as that should’ve felt, in this place, it felt anything but. For here, there was no denying that one day instead of holding him, she could be the one left holding only a flag and pleading with God for just one more chance to hold him again. It was the most sobering space she had ever occupied in her life.

He was lucky. That’s what the doctor said when Jeff went in on Thursday. Five weeks and he could be back on active duty—good as new. Another week and he would be able to go back on light duty. And although the doctor went on to explain how easily the damage to his hands could have been much worse, Jeff still didn’t feel all that lucky. Numb was a better word for it. Tired and numb. When he crawled behind the wheel of the GTO, a thousand memories were there waiting for him. None of them were good, and none of them understood that he just wanted to be left alone.

As he drove down the streets, he thought about going by to see her, but he knew how overwhelmed she must be with all the work that would’ve piled up in her absence. That was part of it. The other part of it was that he hated the pity in her eyes. He hated when she hesitated, trying to find the right words so he wouldn’t be reminded. It didn’t matter. The reminders were everywhere. In fact, they were attached to his own body. How much more reminder did he need?

Thoughts swirled inside him until he was surprised his brain didn’t just shut down from the overload. He needed something. Someone to talk to. Angling his car off the freeway, he turned up the station’s street. Days and shifts crisscrossed in his brain so that he had no idea who would be there when he walked in. Anyone. Anyone who understood would be a blessing. The trucks sat on the driveway pad, the water dripping along the sides as Jeff walked up the sidewalk toward them.

“Heads up!” the voice yelled from the other side of the truck, and Jeff smiled as the sponge hit the bucket of suds, sending a fountain of them into the air.

“You know, you’re going to have to show me how you do that sometime,” Jeff called.

Instantly Dante’s head appeared at the top of the truck. “Jeff? What in the world are you doing here?”

Jeff shrugged. “Where else am I supposed to be?”

With one leap Dante was on the ground. “You’re injured, boy. Injured. That means you can stay at home and watch soap operas all day and eat bon
-bons if you want to.”

“Bon-bons, huh? Are they any good?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never gotten the chance to try them. You on the other hand have a perfectly good excuse, and what do you do? Come here. Now tell me in what realm does that make sense?”

“Taylor?” Captain Hayes said, emerging from the dark station. “What brings you by?”

Jeff held out his hand, which the captain shook very carefully. “I was hoping Captain Rainier would be in. I wasn’t sure what shift it was today.”

“C-shift today, but Rainier’s upstairs anyway. Paperwork, you know. Come on.”

The clock couldn’t go fast enough for Lisa. At 4:42, she could’ve sworn it had actually stopped. It wasn’t until she watched it for a full two minutes before she decided it hadn’t.

“The Chronicle ads came out today,” Sherie said, walking in as Lisa stared at the clock. “They turned out pretty good.” She laid them on the desk.

“Huh, did you know that if you look at it real closely that clock hand looks like it’s bent?”

“B…bent?” Sherie asked, glancing back at the clock. “No, can’t say I’ve ever noticed that.”

“And that little peggy thing in the middle, how do they get it so that it holds the hands where they’re supposed to be but still lets them move?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Hmm, somebody should look into that. Surely there’s a grant out there for something like that. Wouldn’t you think?” Sherie’s blank look and utter silence brought Lisa back. “What?”

“Nothing.” Sherie stood there for one more moment and then pointed at the desk in front of Lisa. “The Chronicle.”

Lisa nodded and looked down dutifully although she never saw anything. Life itself was a blur of worry and fear. When she looked up again, Sherie was gone, and Lisa thought it was probably for the best. She couldn’t hit rational with a two-foot pitch. The clock tugged her gaze back to it, and she stood in surrender. He would need supper.

Taking a shower with only elbows was one of the hardest things Jeff had ever tried to do. How he had managed to accomplish it prior to this he was sure was a question only the haze surrounding him at that time could answer. The plastic bags and rubber bands covering his hands helped, but not nearly enough. His fingers felt like immovable sticks, and pressure on the palms felt like a million tiny needles jabbing into every nerve ending. He couldn’t hold the soap. It ended up on the floor, and the little bit of shampoo he managed to get out seemed to go everywhere other than his hair. It was the epitome of frustration.

Finally he leaned an elbow against the faucet to shut off the water. That would have to be good enough. Another week in these infuriating bandages would be a real test of his aggravation tolerance. He pulled on sweatpants over his boxers. Jeans were out. A T-shirt would have to work too. Buttons and zippers were enough to make a monk curse.

When he stepped to the bathroom mirror and worked the sink drawer open carefully, the top edges of his fingers delicately worked the comb upward. This had always seemed so easy before. Everything had seemed so easy before. Halfway to his head, the comb slipped from his grasp and bounced across the floor. With a frustrated kick he sent it crashing into the cabinet. What had he done to deserve this? Any of this?

He heard the knock out front, but it like the phone would have to get itself. Doorknobs were now the bane of his existence. “Come in,” he called angrily as he trekked through the living room.

Three brown bags of groceries in hand, Lisa walked in. “Don’t ever go grocery shopping at five o’clock. It’s a madhouse.”

“When should you go?” he asked, bewildered by her entrance.

“Midnight. It’s much saner.” She set the bags on the counter and started unloading them.

Watching her, he leaned on the cabinet. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

Incredulously she looked at him. “Of course I was coming. Didn’t I tell you that?”

“Not that I remember.”

“Well, who did you think was going to change your bandages?”

He glanced down at his hands now free of the plastic bags. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Well, it’s a good thing one of us did. We don’t want those things around any longer than they have to be.” She put three things in the cabinets. “So, what’d the doctor say?”

“Oh, he said I was lucky. Next week I can go back to light duty,” Jeff said as if that was the most natural news in the world.

The whirlwind of action around her slowed. “Next week?”

“It’s a good thing, too,” he continued, oblivious to her unspoken concern. “Sitting around here is going to make me nuts in like ten seconds.” Her motion resumed although not nearly as fast as it was before. “I went to the station today. Dante was washing the truck. He’s insane.”

Barely moving she put the cheese in the refrigerator. “I didn’t know you were going back in today.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” For a moment there was only the sound of the last two things in the bag being put away as he struggled to find a topic. “So, how was work?”

“It was there. Problems and more problems. Same old thing. Liver?” she asked, holding up a small plastic container.

“Whatever. I think I’m going to sit on the couch and put my hands up a little. The doctor said I’m supposed to.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding.

When Jeff walked out of the kitchen, it was all Lisa could do to keep the exhale quiet. He didn’t need to know how hard this was for her, how her stomach turned when she worked to redress the swollen, red and purple wounds, how every small gasp of pain he sucked in went right through her like a knife, how tired she was from sleepless nights spent worrying about him and about Eve. She had tried to call Eve earlier in the day, but she wasn’t home.

Lisa wished she knew the number for Eve’s parents. Somehow she thought after the funeral Eve would’ve ceased the campout at her parents’ house, but apparently that hadn’t happened yet. Not that Lisa blamed her. She just would’ve liked to know Eve was okay.

Trying not to think about what the raw liver looked like, she used a dishtowel to cover it while she cut it into thin strips. Meat. Good red meat. Food to make him strong again. Food to help his body to heal. She only wished there was a food that could make the slices in her soul heal as easily.

Jeff noticed the small chunks of meat in the gravy. He noticed that even he could pick them up. The plastic glass she had put his water in had ridges in all the right places so it wouldn’t slip from the bandages. He wondered how much she had thought about those things and how many were mere coincidences, but he didn’t ask. Asking would ensure a conversation that he wasn’t ready to have. So what little they talked, he focused on telling her about all the things the guys were doing at the station during his visit and how he couldn’t wait to get back there—back to life.

A life that didn’t involve sitting around with his hands above his head for hours. A life where he didn’t even think about the difficulty of picking up a comb or a simple glass of water. A life where he could choose what to eat by what he was hungry for rather than by what he could conceivably get out without making a total mess.

“This is really good,” he said as the food on his plate disappeared.

Her fork pushed one mound of liver around. “You sound surprised.”

“No, not surprised really.” Then he caught himself. “Well, a little. I thought take-out was more your style.”

She shook her head. “Too much grease. You don’t need that… right now.” Her face beat that comment back. “So, what’d you do for lunch today?”

He pushed his plate over so she could put more liver-gravy on it. “Some little TV dinner thing I found in the back of the freezer. It was Chinese food I think.”

“You…?” she asked, stopping in mid-scoop and not even being able to get to the last word out. She took a breath. “I’ll make you something tonight— for breakfast tomorrow and lunch. What would you like?”

“For breakfast?”

“Yeah.”

He raised his eyebrows. “How would I know that now?”

“Because I’m going to make something for you now, and making it without knowing what I’m making is going to be rather difficult. So, what do you want for breakfast?”

He wished he knew— if for no other reason than to calm the frustration in her voice. “How about a bacon sandwich?”

“Good. Then I’ll make a bacon sandwich.”

They were like two robots getting through one task just to get to the next. After supper Lisa did the dishes, made his bacon sandwich, and put the leftovers from supper on a plate draped with plastic. The fewer fine motor skills he had to use, the better. Then she walked into the living room. “You ready to change those?”

“Do I have a choice?” he asked, not fully kidding.

“No, but I thought I’d ask anyway.” She walked over to the couch. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

That night as he lay in bed alone, looking up at the ceiling, his thoughts drifted over her. For one brief moment in time she had let the business side of her down to reveal the woman underneath. Now the business side was back in full force. Even when she kissed him goodnight, it was more about her duty than her desire. He felt it, and he wondered if she did too.

On Friday Murphy’s Law kicked into full force in Lisa’s life. There were the ads that said, “Kamen” instead of “Kamden.” There was the whole “I think my computer’s got a virus” thing from Sherie which took a full two hours to fix. Then there was the call from Tucker, who Lisa simply didn’t have the patience to deal with anymore.

“Why do you keep calling me?” she asked furiously as the end of her rope sailed away somewhere high above her. “I thought you had decided…”

“I told you I’d call back,” Tucker said uncomprehendingly. “That we’d talk. Don’t you remember?”

She couldn’t remember anything before she’d heard the words: “Jeff is in the hospital.” Everything before and since was a solid blur.

“I tried to call, but Sherie kept saying you were out. I thought you were avoiding me.”

The sigh escaped her before she knew it was there. “I was out of the office the first part of the week.”

“Out? On vacation?”

“Funeral,” she said levelly.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Like water seeping from a barely opened drain, she felt the energy ooze from her body.

“So, you haven’t done any more on the leadership conference then?”

“No.” It was all she could muster.

“Good because I talked to Grandpa, and we’ve decided we want to include some of our own factory workers and supervisors. You know, get them in the game too.”

In the game. She had never felt more out-of-the-game.

“I can give you their names if you want,” Tucker said.

“I don’t have time to meet with you.”