Something Like Family Read online

  Tiny cracks appeared in Tuck’s armor. His gaze darted around the room, falling one by one on the empty chairs. “How will I honor them?” The words were so soft, so sad, they broke Rave’s heart because it wasn’t just a question; it was a plea. Honoring the men was one thing, but trying to carry a burden from so long ago was a far different thing.

  Across the room, the wall clock ticked. “Do you wish you’d died instead of them?”

  Tuck opened his mouth, but words didn’t form.

  Rave pulled two chairs from under the table and sat in one. He motioned for Tuck to take the other, but when his grandfather didn’t move, Rave stood and gently coaxed him into the seat. It was quiet for a long time. Off in the corner of the room, Bullet lay sprawled on his dog bed. There seemed to be no breeze outside, and Rave could see the leaves shining with the last drops of the setting sun touching their tips. It was as if the whole world around them waited to hear what Tuck would say. His voice was gentle. “I’m happy I’m alive. And that’s part of the problem. I feel bad because inside I know it could have been me. There’s even a part of me that wishes it would have been. But then I think about the good things in my life, and I know I’ve helped some people along the way, and I start comparing those men—those men who died—to myself. Would they have made the same kinds of choices?”

  Rave understood. “Somewhere in your head you’re trying to justify the why. But you can never reconcile those two things, Tuck. Because we don’t pick the why. All we get to choose is the what.”

  “Explain what you mean.” Tuck’s watery eyes were so penetrating, Rave had to blink to break the intensity before answering.

  “What do you choose to do now? What did you choose after you came home from the war? You found Millie. Made a life, a pretty good one, I’d guess.”

  Tuck smiled at the mention of Rave’s grandmother. “It was a first-rate life, boy. A first-rate life.”

  Rave grinned. “I know it was. And I know my mother caused you a ton of heartache. She had to have. But you got me in the bargain. Took a while, but we found each other. And now I have roots. All because of you. All because you made it back. It’s time to stop letting the war kill you slowly, Tuck. A memorial is a tribute. Not a funeral.”

  All the air hissed from Tuck’s lungs. “I don’t know any other way to do it.”

  Rave squeezed his shoulder. “Tonight, we use water, not whiskey. But I’ll start working on ideas of how we can honor the men.” Rave’s heart was pounding because a renegade thought came into his head and almost shot right out of his mouth before he could stop it. Don’t do it. Don’t go there. It’s not your war. “And Tuck?”

  Tuck looked bewildered, all the things Rave had mentioned dancing like fireflies in his eyes. He looked childlike, and it made Rave want nothing more than to protect him, to put his mind truly at ease.

  “Tuck, I swear when you’re—no longer able to do the memorial—I’ll continue it. For as long as I live, the men will be properly honored.”

  There was the sound of Tuck’s voice, deep in his throat, then a cracking and a release. Old men weren’t supposed to cry, but there at the dining room table with the glasses spread for the memorial, Tuck broke down. His shoulders curled forward, his hands partially covered his eyes and mouth, and his tears flowed freely.

  Rave’s heart broke along with his grandfather’s. For so long, Tuck had carried this pain. Was Rave really able to help? It seemed such a monumental task, and what if he let Tuck down? Maybe he wasn’t strong enough, brave enough to do what he was promising. Rave’s own eyes glistened as he listened to the haunting sound of an old man’s profoundest pain sneaking out from the deepest cavern of his heart.

  Tears were not weakness. Tears were a release.

  Rave scooted his chair closer and draped an arm around Tuck’s shoulder. He stayed quiet, listening to the dragonflies outside kissing the dining room windowpanes as years of guilt and worry and shame fell from Tuck’s shoulders and landed on the floor. Beyond the sliding glass door, the sun was setting, dropping embers of gold on the lake. Rave had never made so bold a commitment. But as time passed and tears fell, he knew one thing. This promise he’d keep. He had to. Through the glass, Rave stared up at the darkening sky. If you’re up there, Grandma Millie, I could use a little help down here.

  Tuck woke up early Sunday morning. Unusual for him because the memorial typically took everything out of him, and Sunday mornings were meant for recuperating. But not today. Through groggy eyes he could see a figure moving from one side of the room to the other. He tried to focus.

  A scent—magnolia perfume and Jergens cold cream—entered his nose. He breathed it in, drawing a lungful of the air that was rich with . . . Millie. He was holding the pillow against his chest, his grip tightening, tightening until he heard music.

  It wasn’t music. Someone was humming. Again, the image passed him and went to the closet door.

  Annie Baker has the same dress as I do, but she says it’s not church-appropriate, so she won’t wear it on Sundays. Can you believe that, Tuck? The woman who prances a steady stream of gentlemen through her house at night is worried about appearances?

  “They’re all hypocrites, Millie.” Tuck’s words were sleep-slurred.

  She stopped at the edge of the bed. With her hovering over him, he could smell the Aqua Net hairspray. Not all are hypocrites. Pastor Keith is a gem. And his wife, LaDonna, she came straight over to compliment me on this dress the first time I wore it. Annie Baker says the split on the skirt is too high. What do you think?

  “The split in the skirt is my favorite part of that dress.”

  She swatted at him, the air moving above his head, filled with the scent that was unmistakably her. Tuck drew it into his lungs. “Don’t go today, Mills. Stay here. Stay home in bed with me, and I’ll see if I can’t effectively change your religion.”

  Tuck Wayne! I swear there is going to be a special place in heaven for women who’ve had to handle men like you.

  “Well, I’d sure like to know the address on that street. Think you can put in a word with the big guy for me?”

  You can tell him yourself. You’re going to church with me today.

  Tuck pushed the pillow away. “Millie Wayne, you made me a promise that you’d never ask me to go again.”

  Oh, I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. Get up. Get dressed. Fix breakfast. You’re taking my grandson to church.

  Tuck opened his eyes to find himself alone. Across the room, a closet door hung open, one side gaping and empty. Millie’s side. He’d never been able to bring himself to fill her space with his own garments, but he’d moved her things—other than a few sweaters and overshirts—to the sewing room.

  Tuck huffed and dragged himself up out of bed.

  Within an hour, he was banging on Rave’s door. The boy opened the door, his blond and brown hair tousled and his eyes still sleepy. He wore a T-shirt and flannel pants, and Lord help him, the boy looked just like he did as a child. Years melted away, and Tuck’s mind had gone back in time, twenty years ago, with his grandson waking up. Tuck tried to turn away. But his feet were lead. He should have told Rave. He should have told Rave the truth.

  Tuck’s chest squeezed. A shaky breath drifted from his mouth.

  Rubbing one eye with the back of his hand, Rave said, “Are you all right?” The words were groggy, as if his mouth hadn’t become fully operational yet.

  Tuck clamped his back teeth together, memories and ghosts from the past flooding his senses, throwing him off. “You need to get dressed.” It was a gruff command.

  Rave shook his head to clear it, eyes focusing in. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. We’re going to church.” The words sounded so foreign, even Tuck didn’t recognize them.

  With a yawn, Rave mumbled, “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. Church isn’t really my thing.”

  Tuck had already started to walk away. He spun on his heel and pointed a finger at Rave. “If I have to go, you have
to go.”

  Rave ran a hand through his hair. “Dude, you don’t have to go.”

  Tuck turned back around and headed for the stairs. “Oh, yes I do. She’s making me.”

  Rave hollered after him. “What? Who’s making you? Trini?”

  “Your grandmother, Millie.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Church bells rang, and Tuck and Rave found themselves sitting stone-faced on a padded burgundy pew. With his back arrow-straight, Rave wouldn’t have thought it possible to straighten anymore, but when he saw Becca walk in, her arm laced around Trini’s, he did just that. His jaw went slack, his mouth fell open.

  She was headed for the center, but when she saw him—and paused in the middle of the aisle to shoot him a winning smile—Rave’s palms grew sweaty. She veered, dragging Trini along and maneuvering around a crowd of people to come sit by them. Trini stepped over Rave to get to Tuck.

  Becca sat down by Rave. She wore a light-blue summer sweater that hugged her shoulders and a darker blue skirt that hit just above her tanned knees.

  “Hi Rave, you look great,” she whispered as the congregation settled into the remaining spots. Her feet were clad in cowboy boots.

  “And you look incredible.”

  She smoothed her skirt.

  He leaned closer. “Are you blushing?”

  She waved him off. “I’m not used to being hit on in church.”

  “I wasn’t hitting on you. Wait, if I was, did it work?”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “Becca, do you want to go out with me?”

  “No.” She flashed him a perfect smile. A smile meant for someone who deserved her. An intimate smile. A smile that could wake you in the morning and kiss you to sleep at night. His thoughts trailed off, and he wondered if it was a sin to have these kinds of images surging through his system while inside a church house.

  Well, sin or not, he couldn’t help himself.

  When the singing and the sermon were over, Becca angled to face Rave. “So, what do you think?”

  “I already told you. You look incredible.”

  “Not about me. What did you think of the sermon?”

  He shrugged. “It was OK. I mean, he kind of hammered that thing about not letting competition get the best of you.”

  Becca folded her hands in her lap. “Well, he had no choice. It’s the one thing he really struggles with.”

  “Huh?”

  “Pastor Keith is our star hitter on the church league softball team. He played in college, so he’s a bit too competitive sometimes. I’m the pitcher. Anyway, we have a championship game today. It was supposed to be a couple of weeks ago—we usually play on Friday evenings—but it got rained out. Now, the opposing team is coming here—a bit of a grudge match for Pastor Keith—it’s a buddy from college who heads up the other team.”

  Rave shook his head. “Are we still talking about church?”

  Becca laughed. “What did you expect? A monk who lives alone and took a vow of silence? That would make for boring sermons, wouldn’t it?”

  His brows rose. “I’m . . . speechless.”

  Trini leaned over Tuck and shook Rave’s sleeve. “You and Tuck are staying for the picnic lunch. Pastor Keith needs all the support he can get before the game. We need to be here when he mops up the field with that poor excuse for a deacon from—”

  Becca leaned over Rave and hissed, “Trini! Did you not hear one word of the sermon?”

  “I hope that Craig Allestaire eats a mouthful of dirt.” She thrust her fist into the air. “The Lord wants vengeance. I don’t care what you say. That’s in the good book.”

  Trini held her Bible up as proof.

  Rave liked how Becca leaned over his lap to reprimand Trini.

  Becca exhaled forcefully. “She’s misquoting.”

  Trini shoved a pointed finger at Becca’s face. “And she’s Miss Manners, obviously.”

  Becca pressed a hand to Rave’s thigh. “I hope you didn’t have other plans. Looks like you two are staying for the picnic.”

  Actually, Rave wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Tuck had to admit, it felt good to be walking with Trini’s arm threaded through his on the way to the picnic. But he knew what this was about. They’d known each other for a few decades, and the way she was acting, well, he knew she knew. “Who told you?” Tuck said.

  She stopped filling her red cup with sweet tea and set it beside the drink station. Her arm tightened around his, and she pulled him away from the group waiting for drinks. “Becca told me. She was there when Sheriff Cogdill pulled over Rave.”

  Tuck frowned. “Rave got pulled over? He didn’t tell me that part.”

  Trini pointed to a shady spot where there was more privacy. “Well, he’d been trying to get up the nerve to go into Sustenance and talk to Becca. Sheriff spotted him. Asked him to wait to talk to Phil before leaving town.”

  Tuck fought back the emotion welling in his heart. “I sure got a lot of people lookin’ out for me.” And now they’d be looking out for Rave. If Tuck could only turn back the hands of time and bring Rave here sooner, back when they would have had years together instead of months. Tuck was all right with the fact of his mortality, but the thought of leaving Rave stabbed at his heart. Too many had left Rave already.

  Trini squeezed his arm a little tighter and led him to a park bench under the giant oak tree in the churchyard. “You sure do, Tuck. But you haven’t let many people in. You’ve been a good neighbor to me. Always there when I need you. But you’ve never really let me repay your kindness.”

  Around them, the sounds of a church picnic filled the air. Ladies laughing, children running around in a never-ending game of chase, men greeting one another with backslaps and man hugs. For a few moments, Tuck took it all in. The way the sun bounced off the giant cross on the steeple, the scent of fresh baked goods and newly cut grass, the feel of Trini beside him, staying close, keeping a point of contact on his skin at all times. Like a dream, almost; if she were to let go, he’d dissipate like fog. He forced his mind back to their conversation. “I only did what any good neighbor would do.”

  She laughed, and the sound rolled over him, clean water on a wound. “Not many neighbors would show up at all hours of the night, guns blazing and scaring away degenerates.”

  Tuck threaded his hands together on his lap. Trini’s arm was fastened around his, and it felt good to have the touch of female flesh against his rough skin. “Millie made me come today.” He practically whispered the words.

  He felt Trini lean away from him, and when he looked over at her—expecting to see shock—he saw only her sweet smile. “I expect she did. And it’s high time.”

  “I should have—” His throat closed on the words, making them impossible to speak until he swallowed. “I should have come with her when she was alive.”

  Trini patted his upper arm with her free hand and looked up into the swaying leaves of the oak tree. “She’s here, I’d suspect. In the warmth of the sun and the fresh of the breeze. We don’t lose the ones we love, Tuck, we just don’t see them for a little while.”

  When Tuck lost Millie, he’d thought he’d die. Like the best part of him was already gone and what was left was just a shadow. But then, he’d sat on his porch and watched a massive storm front rolling in. He could swear he saw Millie in that vibrant, wild, blue-gray storm that rode the horizon and engulfed his house and the mountains around. Within the curtain of rain spilling over his roof, overflowing the gutters, he felt Millie. Right there. And she’d been with him since, in the softness of a setting sun, in the pristine beauty of a freshly fallen snow.

  Someone was making his way to them. As he neared, Tuck saw it was the pastor. Tuck started to stand, but Keith motioned for him to remain seated. The two men shook hands. “Glad you came out today, Tuck.”

  “Good sermon. I enjoyed it.” Tuck nodded as if the words needed a boost. He actually had enjoyed the sermon.

  “Thank you.” Pastor Keith put his h
ands on his waist. “Millie sure loved a get-together like this. She was always telling me we needed to have more picnics.”

  Tuck nodded. “Millie was a social creature at heart. She loved everybody, and everybody loved her. Sometimes she’d bring me home a plate lunch from the gathering.”

  Keith smiled and dropped a hand to Tuck’s shoulder. “LaDonna and I speak of her often. She was an angel, Tuck. Just wanted to make sure you knew how fond of her we all were. The world became a sadder place when she left it.”

  Tuck rubbed a hand over his chin. “I know my world did.”

  “Well, if there’s anything you need, anything at all, please, don’t hesitate to call me.”

  Tuck turned to Trini. “Blabbermouth.”

  Keith laughed out loud. “Aw, I wouldn’t blame her, Tuck. She told me in confidence so I could pray for you and Rave.”

  At the mention of his grandson, Tuck scanned the crowd for the boy. Off to the left of the picnic, Rave and a smiling Becca sat on a checkered picnic blanket. Keith’s words warmed a place inside him. “You’d do that? Pray for him?”

  Keith shrugged. “Of course, Tuck. That’s what all this is about. We’re family here. We may not be blood kin, but we’re kin just the same. You won’t have to face this alone. Neither will Rave.”

  Thousands of pounds lifted off Tuck’s shoulders right there under the oak tree in the church lot. Just knowing that Rave would have people to lean on made the coming months almost bearable.

  Keith lifted his chin. “Now, what immediate need do you have, and how can I help lift the burden?”

  Tuck was a man who believed in folks putting their proverbial money where their mouth was. He crossed his arms over his chest, not bothering to remove Trini’s hand. “You mean that, preacher?”

  Keith smiled. “With all my heart.”

  Tuck nodded, straightened a little. “Well, sir, it involves whiskey and a memorial to the men I served with during Vietnam.”

  The preacher’s brows went up, his chin went down. He blinked. “Is that right?”