Renegade (2013) (10 page)

“I appreciate the advice, Mulvaney.”

“You’re welcome, and I wish it was easier for you. The way you grew up, Pike, there were a lot of things unfinished about you, a lot of things that you were never shown and that never got done.” Pike could hear Mulvaney take a drag on his cigar. “Do you ever read that Bible I gave you?”

“Cut me some slack. I don’t need another go-to-church speech.”

“I’m not going to give you one . . . but you should find a solid church. A lot of your questions might get answered there.”

Pike didn’t say anything, but he figured that was highly unlikely. Church hadn’t stuck when he’d been in the orphanage, when he’d needed to believe in something. Now he didn’t need anything outside of his own skin.

“You got a long plane flight coming up soon. Pack that Bible. There’s a section you should read. You got a pen?”

“I’ll remember.”

Mulvaney sighed. “Seriously, kid, this is something you should check into.”

“I’ll look. I’m good at remembering things. Don’t bust my hump.”

“First chapter of Philippians. I forget the exact verse, but it goes like this: ‘I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.’ You know what that says to me? Means we’re all a work in progress, Pike. Me. You. Everybody. What you’re going through now? This is just another step in whatever mission God put you on.”

“Yeah, well, if that’s true, maybe he could have made the signposts clearer.”

Mulvaney chuckled again. “See? That’s what you don’t understand. No matter what you do, you’re getting pushed along. You got free will. You can choose to ignore what’s going on in your life, ignore what you’re supposed to do, but you’re still on the path.”

“I’m pretty sure God didn’t intend for me to burn down crack houses.”

“Between you and me, Pike, I think God’s a little more flexible about how some things get done.”

“GO LONG!
Go
lon
g
!”

Sitting on a blanket spread out under a tall oak tree, United States Marine Corporal Bekah Shaw watched her son fading back to pass the junior-size football he held. He was lean and tan and had a shock of thick black hair that heralded back to the Cherokee blood that ran in the Shaw family. Bekah’s brunette hair was lighter in comparison.

Travis’s birthday had been last month. He’d turned seven, and he’d grown taller since Christmas. He was already almost out of the jeans she’d put under the tree. He wore a pair of them now, as well as a bright-orange Oklahoma State University jersey that Heath had gotten for him.

Lieutenant Bridger.
Bekah mentally corrected herself, reminding herself that Heath was her commanding officer. That line had kind of blurred over the last few months since they’d returned from Somalia. She’d gotten the promotion to full corporal, and the friendship she’d struck up with Heath had grown stronger.

Maybe it was even threatening to become something more. Bekah tried not to think about that. She wasn’t ready to deal with someone else in her life. Right now Travis kept her days pretty full. That and the new job as an office administrator for an attorney in Norman, Oklahoma.

She had her suspicions about how that job had come about. In his
civilian life, Heath was an attorney. At one point, she’d asked him if he arranged the job for her, and he’d told her that if she hadn’t qualified, she wouldn’t have gotten it.

Bekah hadn’t been happy with the answer because she didn’t take handouts. She came from poor people who worked hard for what they had. Finally, though, she’d realized that she was working hard in the new job and that she was there because she deserved it.

In the end, she gave those worries over to God. That was one of the other new things in her life: knowing when to leave burdens in God’s hands to let him take care of them while she tended to things as best she could. That insight had come to her while she was over in Somalia, trying to save lives and stay alive herself.

It was something her granny had been trying to get her to learn for years. Bekah had just never quite understood that. When she’d returned from the deployment, though, she’d carried with her a peace that she’d never known.

The commute to the law office was an hour each way from where she lived in Callum’s Creek, but she only had to make the drive three days a week. On Mondays and Tuesdays, she worked from home, making calls, setting up meetings, and billing clients. The work was hard, but it didn’t take her away from Travis too much, and the pay helped her square away her bills.

Now she could sit in the small park in Callum’s Creek under a tree and not worry about her paycheck stretching to the next one. That was a good feeling.

Out on the green grass, in the heat of the day, with a brilliant blue sky above, still dressed in the slacks and dress shirt he’d worn when he went to church with her that morning, Heath Bridger went “long.” The distance wasn’t much over ten yards. Travis’s arm wasn’t that strong yet. But he was improving.

Six feet four and lean, Heath had light-gray eyes—wolf’s eyes,
Bekah’s granddaddy had called this color. Orange-lensed Oakley sunglasses covered his eyes now, but Bekah remembered how they looked. He moved with poise and speed on an athletic build—broad shoulders and narrow hips. Back in his college years at OSU, he’d quarterbacked the football team with the same laser focus that he exhibited when he commanded Marines in the field. His short dark-blond hair was cut to military length and stood out against his bronzed skin.

“I’m open!” Raising his arm, Heath jogged steadily, looking over his shoulder at Travis.

Her son backpedaled like he was being pursued by blitzing linemen who had sliced through his defenders. He had natural athletic grace, passed down from his daddy, though thankfully he’d gotten none of his daddy’s mean-spirited ways that Bekah could see.

Billy Roy Briggs had been the high school’s star pitcher, and he’d married Bekah right after graduation. She’d loved him, but she came to realize that he’d never truly cared about her.

Travis drew his arm back and threw the football. The pass was a good spiral—Heath had been working with him on that—but Travis’s aim was off. The football was going to sail behind its intended receiver.

Twisting gracefully, Heath somehow managed to plant a foot, find traction, and reverse direction. He stretched and caught the football on his fingertips. He pulled it in and raced a few feet forward, then held the ball up and roared with pride. “Touchdown! And the crowd goes wild!”

“Touchdown! Touchdown!” Travis ran after Heath with his arms spread wide. “The crowd goes wild!”

Turning, Heath leaned down and caught the boy around the waist, lifting him high and performing some kind of victory dance.

“Well, they scored again.” Granny sat in the shade beside Bekah, sharing the blanket they’d brought for the picnic. The older woman was in her late sixties and probably thinner than she should have been.
Her white hair was cut short because she didn’t like having to fool with it. Living on a ranch, with plenty of constant upkeep, Granny tried to keep her life simple. She sipped sweet tea from a Mason jar. Her Sunday dress was neatly arranged around her. “I reckon the two of them are pert near unbeatable.”

Out on the grassy field, Heath and Travis kept up their victory dance.

Bekah shook her head. “They’re dorks is what they are.”

Granny sipped her tea. “They’re men with a ball. They’re not going to be anything other than dorks. Give them fishing poles, they’ll turn into big fibbers. You can’t hold that against them. They just can’t help themselves.”

Bekah laughed at that, then turned her attention back to the picnic basket she and Granny had packed for their lunch. She put out plastic containers of fried chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, a jar of bread-and-butter pickles she and Granny had canned just a few days ago, and a loaf of homemade bread. She added a squeeze bottle of honey because Travis liked honey on his bread.

“You’re leaving on Tuesday, right?” Granny was talking about the order that Bekah had received for her to report to Charlie Company First Battalion, Twenty-Third Marines in Twentynine Palms. They were based out of Houston, Texas, but had Oklahoma divisions.

“Yes.” Bekah still didn’t like leaving her son behind while she went overseas, but she’d gotten better at accepting that. She’d made a difference in Somalia. Rather, God had made that difference through her. Her life was a trade-off. She was a good mom and she was a good Marine. Those roles didn’t overlap, but they were both necessary functions. Dividing her time was what hurt the most, but she couldn’t walk away from either role no matter how hard it got.

She was needed, and she knew it. The hardest part to manage was the feeling of unfinished business in both areas of her life.

“Are you going to be ready for this again?” Granny’s attention was still on her great-grandson and Heath.

“Yes. Better than last time. I don’t have so much hanging over my head.” The last time Bekah had deployed was a nightmare. So many things went wrong.

“You know, if this job at the attorney’s office holds up for a while, you could think about leaving the Marines.”

Bekah took in a breath and let it out. “I’m not ready for that yet. I get insurance through the Reserve.” That had been the primary reason she had signed up with the Marines instead of one of the other branches. Marines were always first in, and they stayed on the federal payroll instead of rotating back to state funding when they weren’t deployed. She and Travis needed the insurance. “And then there’s the matter of Travis’s education. I’m saving a big chunk of my pay for his college now. I don’t have enough to see him through yet.”

Granny leaned over and wrapped an arm around her. For just an instant, Bekah felt like that child she’d been, the one who had been raised by her grandparents after she was orphaned.

“I understand that, baby girl. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t feel like you were getting pressured into this.”

Bekah hugged the older woman to her, feeling the wiry muscle that hard work had put on her thin frame. “I love being a Marine, Granny. And I really feel that this is part of what God has planned for me.”

Granny kissed her on the cheek. “I’m glad to hear you say that.” She released her. “Now why don’t you call those two dorks over here so we can eat.”

Travis, on his knees on the blanket, his hands clasped before him, said grace before the meal. When he finished, Bekah squeezed his shoulder and told him he’d done a good job. Then she passed out
paper plates while Granny poured sweet tea into Mason jars and handed them around.

Heath sat cross-legged with his plate in his lap. He was fastidious when he ate, making sure he didn’t get food on his clothes. She felt a little uncomfortable watching him. Heath’s father was a rich attorney in Texas with multiple offices, including two in Oklahoma. Heath worked at one of them. He was used to dining in five-star restaurants.

Yet, here he was.

Over the last few months, he’d called regularly, asking about Travis, about Granny, about the new job, about things on the ranch, and about how she was doing. Sometimes, after they’d talked for an hour or more, she couldn’t remember everything they had talked about. He didn’t talk too much about his caseload, but her experience in the attorney’s office gave her a better idea of the stresses Heath was constantly under.

And she knew there was one case that was troubling him something fierce. Bekah had politely tried to drag it out of him, but Heath had blocked her every attempt, always a gentleman, always with a smile.

“What are you thinking about?”

Bekah suddenly realized Heath was talking to her. “Nothing, really.”

“
Nothing
must take a lot of concentration.”

She smiled at him. He wasn’t the only one with a killer smile. “You’d be surprised.”

“I appreciate you asking me along today.” Heath looked out at the park. “It’s pretty here. And quiet.”

“It’s pretty because you haven’t seen it all your life, and it’s quiet because everybody else in Callum’s Creek is sitting in the air-conditioning.”

“Air-conditioning’s overrated if you ask me.” Granny blotted per
spiration from her neck with a tissue. “Makes folks soft. If you want to enjoy the world, you got to get out in it. That’s what I think. Staying home under the air conditioner ain’t gonna cut it.”

Heath grinned at the woman and bit into a sweet pickle. “The places they send Bekah and me to don’t have much air-conditioning.”

“I suppose not.” Granny paused. “I was just talking to Bekah about the two of you taking off on Tuesday.”

From the corner of her eye, Bekah noticed Travis’s sudden frown. He wasn’t complaining about her leaving, but he didn’t much care for it. They usually didn’t bring it up. As hard as the separation was on her, Bekah knew it was harder on her son. If he had a father in the picture, it might be different. Going to school, knowing you didn’t have a parent to call on if you got sick or scared, was hard. Bekah had grown up with both her grandparents only minutes away. Sometimes weeks passed before she could get a phone call to Travis.

From the way things were looking in Afghanistan, Charlie Company might be in the mountains, well away from the cities and phone service. At least there were letters. Travis had gotten a lot better about writing.

Granny went on. “I was thinking I might take Little Travis fishing this afternoon, leave the two of you some time to relax.”

Since Bekah had named her son after her grandfather, they’d called him Little Travis. Even though her granddaddy had passed on, they still sometimes called her son Little Travis out of habit. Travis looked a little happier than he had, but Bekah knew he wasn’t. He loved his great-granny and he loved fishing, but he didn’t want to be away from his mother.

Or Heath.

Bekah wished she knew whether she should nip that relationship in the bud. When Heath moved on—and she was pretty sure he would because there was no comparison between her and the
sophisticated women she figured he was out with when he wasn’t slumming in Callum’s Creek—Travis was going to be devastated. She knew she wasn’t going to be any too happy about it herself.

She also wished Granny would have talked to her about fishing or about spiriting Travis away. That came out of left field and made Bekah feel really uncomfortable. Though they’d had some one-on-one time in Somalia, she and Heath hadn’t really spent any time by themselves stateside. She didn’t think she was ready for that with him, and from the pensive look on his face, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea either.

Then why did you come out here today?
Bekah felt confused and hurt and mad all at the same time.

“Actually, much as I would enjoy that—or even the fishing—I’ve got to take a rain check.” Heath picked at his plate. “Since we’re getting activated, I’ve got a few matters to attend to.”

“Gotta get your ducks in a row.” Granny nodded. “I totally understand.”

Heath hesitated a moment longer, then evidently came to a decision. “One of my clients is on death row. I’m trying to get that sentence commuted to life imprisonment.”