Semper Fi (8 page)

Cal took his hand, and they were off.

The smell of bacon cooking was always extremely welcome first thing in the morning, and Cal found himself bounding out of bed. He threw on his dungarees and navy work shirt, whistling to himself as he went downstairs.

Adam sat on the floor in the middle of the kitchen, his toy soldiers hard at battle. He glanced up and did a double take, grinning happily. “Hi!”

“Hey, buddy.” Cal crouched and ruffled Adam’s hair before joining Jim by the stove. “I don’t think he quite grasps that I’m living here now. Still seems surprised to see me every morning.”

Jim laughed softly. “Yeah, it takes a while to sink in sometimes. It’s only been a week. He’ll probably get it in a few days.” He cracked an egg into the frying pan, where five eggs already sizzled in a layer of grease next to the bacon. “Sophie’s in the barn milking Mabel. Why don’t you give her a hand?”

“Ah, speaking of someone who is all too aware that I live here now.” Cal poured himself a mug of coffee. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Things aren’t going to change if you two avoid each other all the time.”

“I’m not avoiding her!” Cal winced internally at his own defensiveness.
Of course I’m avoiding her.
“Come on, Jim. What the heck do I know about milking a cow? I’ll break the damn thing.”

Jim’s lips twitched. “You’d have to try pretty hard to break a cow.”

“Oh, I think I could do it. Farm animals and I are best left to our own devices.”

“Sophie’s never going to get to know you if you don’t talk to her. I know she’s been very rude, and I understand if you’re upset with her, but—”

“Upset with her?” Cal interrupted. “No, no. I’m not holding a grudge against an eight-year-old. I just don’t want to pressure her.”

“Okay.” Jim flipped the eggs over awkwardly with a spatula, seemingly resigned.

With a sigh, Cal gulped down the rest of his coffee. “What the hell. Might as well give it a shot.”

Jim’s face lit up. “Thanks. I just want you two to be friends.”

The sun peeked over the horizon as Cal made his way to the barn. A couple of deer froze in their tracks at his approach before loping away. Normally Cal stopped and marveled at the wildlife, but this morning he was too busy giving himself a pep talk.

She’s a kid. Nothing to be afraid of. You’ve faced scores of bloodthirsty enemy soldiers happily willing to die if it meant killing you. You can handle one little girl.

Taking a deep breath, Cal entered the barn. A lantern illuminated the cow’s pen where Sophie perched on a stool, milking into a metal pail. Her hair in pigtails, she wore rubber boots to her knees and was remarkably small beside Mabel. Finnigan sat nearby, and turned to regard Cal with his tongue out.

As the door closed, Sophie glanced up, her hands freezing in mid-squeeze. “What are you doing in here?”

Cal put on his most winning smile. “Morning. I thought I’d come give you a hand.”

Sophie sat up straight and regarded him suspiciously. “You want to help me milk Mabel?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Have you ever milked a cow before?”

“No, but I’m sure I can learn.”

“Eddie already knew how to do it. He taught me.”

“Well, that makes you the expert now. Maybe you can teach me. You milk her every morning?”

“Yes.”

“You really help out your dad a lot. It’s great.” Cal smiled again, shoving his hands in his pockets in an attempt not to fidget.

She didn’t smile back. “It’s just chores.”

“You want to show me how you’re doing that?”

With a put-upon sigh, Sophie stood and waited for Cal to take her place at the stool. It was very low, and his long legs barely fit in the stall with Mabel. He regarded the swollen udders with trepidation. “I just…squeeze?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How hard?”

“Pretty hard.”

Closing his fingers around the teat, Cal did as he was told, and was rewarded with an outraged screech from Mabel, who almost knocked over the bucket as she stamped. Finnigan barked sharply. “I guess that was too hard, huh?”

“I guess.” There was an unmistakable smirk lingering on the edges of Sophie’s expression. “You’re stronger than me.”

“That I am.” With a deep breath, Cal took hold of the udder again and squeezed gently. Nothing came out. “Is she finished already?”

“No.”

With no further advice forthcoming, Cal tried again, telling himself to keep his temper in check no matter how vexing Sophie might be. He squeezed lightly, increasing the pressure until Mabel objected once more. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he tried again. Surely if a child could milk the beast, he could.

Ducking his head down, he peered under the cow, trying to get a look at what he was doing wrong. He tried squeezing a different teat in his fist, and as Mabel hollered, a sharp pain exploded in Cal’s temple. He toppled onto the wooden floor, hay scratchy under his palms as he scuttled like a crab out of the stall.

The arched wooden ceiling spun in his field of vision, and he felt the planks of the floor
thunk
beneath his head. He’d meant to stand up, but gravity apparently had other ideas. A moment later Sophie leaned over him with eyes so wide he could see white all around her irises.

She vanished, and Cal tried to call to her, but couldn’t make any sounds come out of his mouth. The pain in his temple radiated over his skull and down his shoulder. He could hear Finnigan barking very loudly, and the dog’s breath was hot on his cheek. Cal closed his eyes.

“Cal! Can you hear me?”

He tried to say yes, but it sounded strangely garbled. He looked up at Jim, whose face was pinched. Then it was dark again.

“No! Keep your eyes open. Cal! Focus.” Jim pressed a soft wad of material against Cal’s temple.

It was the sound of Jim’s voice and the warmth of his hand against Cal’s head that kept him tethered to consciousness. Despite the pain, he leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Cal!”

He opened his eyes again. Jim was breathing heavily, and Cal was faintly aware of muffled sobbing nearby. Concentrating, he got a few words out. “Is Sophie all right?”

The sobbing grew in intensity. Cal tried to sit up, but Jim held him down with firm hands.

“Just stay right there.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Sophie, you have to get Adam. Mrs. O’Brien should be here soon. You and Adam wait for her by the house, all right? It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Sophie’s footsteps faded, Finnigan barking after her. There was something wet dripping down Cal’s neck. His fingers probed his temple and came away bloody. “Huh.”

Jim took Cal’s hand, squeezing. “Don’t.” He applied pressure once more to the wound. “Looks like Mabel got you good. Don’t worry, you’ll be right as rain in no time.”

“’M not worried. You’re here.”

Brushing back the hair from Cal’s forehead, Jim exhaled, his voice tight. “God, Cal.”

“Mmm.” Before Cal could organize his brain to tell Jim everything was fine, Mrs. O’Brien bustled in.

“I hear someone’s had a wee accident.” She bent over Cal, clucking her tongue.

“We need to get Gerald. Has he left for work?” Jim asked.

“You know if you’d just get a telephone, we could call him. He said he didn’t have any early appointments, so I might be able to catch him. I’ll ride back straight away.”

“Take my truck. The keys are in the ignition.”

Mrs. O’Brien frowned. “Dear, you know I can’t drive.”

“It’s just down the road. Please, we have to hurry.” His voice rose in agitation.

“All right. I’ll be careful. Gerald can drive back.”

Jim nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. O’Brien. I’m sorry to put you out.”

“Don’t be silly, boy.” She bent and gave Cal’s arm a squeeze. “Good thing you have a hard head, eh? Back in a jiffy.”

As Cal waited, flitting in and out of full awareness, Jim kneeled at his side, touching him every so often with fleeting movements—fingertips on his cheek, a palm on his thigh. Some of the fuzziness began to recede from Cal’s mind, and the urge to sleep lessened. He cleared his throat. “Don’t worry.”

Jim huffed. “Of course I’m worried. It could kill you. Lord. If…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

Small footsteps approached, and Cal winced as he turned his head slightly. Holding Adam’s hand, Sophie stood in the doorway. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Uncle Cal will be just fine. How are you, sweetheart? You’re very brave.” Jim went and hugged his daughter close, Adam clinging to his legs.

Sophie met Cal’s gaze for a moment. Then she buried her face in Jim’s shirt and wept.

A few hours later, Cal was ensconced in the guest room, propped up on pillows with a bandage wrapped around his head. The good news, as Dr. O’Brien had seen it, was that he suspected only a mild concussion. The bad news was the splitting headache would take days to go away.

As Jim peered around the half-open door, Cal chuckled. “I’m still alive. Don’t you have some work to do?”

He shrugged. “It can wait.” Perching on the side of the bed, Jim asked, “You still remember who the president is?”

“I do believe it’s Mr. Harry S. Truman of Missouri. At least it will be until November. I don’t like his chances, personally.” Movement in the doorway caught Cal’s eye. “I think we have company.”

Jim called, “Sophie, is that you?”

After a pause, she appeared with a plate of cookies in her hands.

“Come in and say hi to Uncle Cal.” Jim beckoned her. To Cal he added, “She was too upset to go to school.”

Sophie stepped just inside the room with eyes downcast.

“I promise I won’t bite.” Cal kept his tone light. “I thought I smelled cookies baking. That’s real nice of you to bring some up.”

In a rush, she placed the plate on the bed by Cal’s feet and backed up.

Jim frowned. “Sophie, it’s all right. It was an accident.” He went to her and dropped a kiss onto her head. “You’re not in trouble.”

“But…” She trailed off, glancing at Cal, guilt written large all over her face.

“But what?” Jim’s frown deepened and he eyed her carefully. “Sophie, you showed Uncle Cal the right way to milk Mabel, didn’t you?”

Cal jumped in. “She did. It was all my fault, squeezing too hard. Couldn’t get a drop out. I don’t think I’m suited for milking. I’ll stick to the apples.”

“Sophie.” Jim’s tone was razor sharp. “Did you show Uncle Cal how to do it properly?”

Head down, she mumbled something.

“Look at me.”

Tears swimming in her eyes, Sophie did as she was told. “I thought it would be funny. I didn’t think she’d kick him like that! She’s never kicked me.”

“Because you milk her every morning and you do it the right way!” Jim’s nostrils flared. For a moment, he just stared at her with his jaw clenched. Then he pointed to the door. “Go to your room. We’ll discuss your punishment later.”

A sob echoing in her wake, Sophie ran.

Cal’s head throbbed. “Hey, don’t be too hard on her. She didn’t mean any harm. I probably would have done the same thing at her age. It was only meant to be a joke.”

Jim shook his head. “I taught her better than that. I don’t understand why she’s acting like this.”

“Hell, she’s a kid. Why do kids do anything?”

“You could have—” Jim paced to the window and blew out a sharp breath, his eyes on the horizon. “You could have really been hurt.”

“I’m fine.” Cal couldn’t help but be warmed by Jim’s concern.

“If something happened to you, I…”

Cal’s heart fluttered. “What?”

Jim was stock still, looking out the window. After a long moment he straightened up and cleared his throat. “After all this, if you’re having second thoughts about…” He waved his hand. “This whole thing. I’ll understand.”

“What, you think I’m going to call it quits because of a little love tap from a bovine? You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Bennett.”

Smiling softly, Jim turned. “You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. It’s nothing.”

Jim sat on the side of the bed again. “Thanks.”

“Hey, in case I ever have to milk a cow again, was I not supposed to squeeze?”

“You have to pull down as well. Gently, though. Or else they get testy.”