Renegade (2013), page 10
part #2 of Called To Serve Series
Mulvaney prompted him. “Anyway, this diner. Keep going.”
“I was there last night helping Hector with his math homework.” Suspicious, Pike hesitated. “You know about Hector, too?”
“Yeah.”
“I talk about him?”
“More than you talk about Monty, if you want to know. Thing that surprises me is that you can help the kid with his math homework.”
Pike ignored that. “So I’m helping him with his homework. The server comes by, checks on us. She knows my name.”
“Your whole name?” Mulvaney sounded a little worried for a fleeting instant.
“No. Just Pike.”
Mulvaney chuckled. “Doesn’t take a detective to figure that out. She knows you because you go in there so much.”
“Yeah. And that bothers me.”
“What bothers you?”
“Her knowing my name bothers me. I didn’t know hers till last night.”
“Pike, I’m gonna tell you this and you’d better not bust me for my man points for saying so, but you’re a good-looking guy. Women are gonna notice you, and once they’ve noticed, they’re gonna remember you. Especially if you’re polite. She probably knows your name and how you want your burger, whether you like mustard or mayo. I don’t see a problem.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You don’t like what?”
Thinking about how to best put it, Pike shook his head in disgust. His reasoning sounded foolish even to him. “People knowing me. Knowing my business.”
“Anybody know you’re in witness protection?”
“No.”
“Then they don’t know your business. They just know your name. Only your first name at that. They don’t know you.”
“They know me more than I want them to. There’s a police detective who knows me now.”
“That’s your fault. You don’t want to be noticed by the police, don’t break the law. Or at least have the decency to cover it up.”
Pike ignored the interruption and continued his list of things that bothered him. “Hector comes to me for homework.”
“Because he’s got nobody else and he figures you’re safe. It’s your fault for being somebody he trusts. Man, that’ll teach you.”
“Now this diner knows me because I punched out the server’s ex-convict ex-husband.”
“That’s what landed you in jail last night?”
“Yep.”
“They should have hung a medal on you.”
“I’m thinking around Tulsa they run shy on medals for beating the snot out of ex-husbands. From what I’ve seen, could be a full-duty detail if somebody wants to take up the cause.”
“For them to put you in jail, you must have beat the guy pretty good.”
“He pulled a knife. He had friends. When I beat him down, I wanted to make sure none of that was going to be a problem. He hit the floor and stayed there until they carted him off.”
“I see. But you’re not worried about the ex-convict?”
“He’s gonna be a convict again. Violating his parole. They’re sticking him back in the big house with new charges pending.”
“Then he’s not the problem. The problem is that you’re not invisible in the neighborhood.”
“Yeah.”
“Why does that bother you?”
Pike was quiet for a bit, thinking about it. “Because I don’t like to run a high profile.”
“Usually you don’t hang around one place to get a profile. Do you realize you’ve lived in that neighborhood for almost three years? Except for the time you’ve been on active duty.”
Actually, Pike hadn’t thought about the time involved. “Hector used to be a lot smaller.”
“I’ll bet he was. I also think Hector’s part of the problem.”
“Hector’s not a problem. He’s just a kid.”
“Right. A kid that you help with his math homework.”
“So I fix a few kids’ bicycle flats. I like working with my hands.”
“Bet it doesn’t take as long to patch a bicycle tube as it does to do long division.” Mulvaney was laughing.
“You think something is funny?”
“Yeah, I do. You. I think you’re funny. But it’s sad, too, because what’s going on is that you’re starting to notice how much you like it there.”
“I don’t like it here. It’s just a place to hang until we put the Diablos away.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“I will.”
“Because I think what’s really going on is, after three years—longer than you’ve lived in any one place since you got out of the orphanage—you’re figuring out that you like living there and you’re starting to get afraid that somebody’s gonna come along and take you away from all those people.”
The uncomfortable feeling squirmed through Pike again, and he suspected Mulvaney was closer to the truth than he wanted to admit. “These people will do just fine without me.”
“Really? Hector gonna learn math on his own?”
“He’s a smart kid. I think he’s deliberately having problems with his math so he can get me to help him. I sit down with him, he’s awesome, and I’m not a teacher.”
“Don’t sell yourself short as a teacher. The kid wants somebody he can look up to.”
“You and I both know I’m not the guy for that.”
“Probably not, but you’re all he’s got right now. Another thing: if you leave, is the crack house gonna burn itself down?”
“Detective Horner’s gonna be looking into that now.”
“Detective Horner, huh? Haven’t made it to a first-name basis yet?”
Irritated, Pike frowned. “Maybe now isn’t a good time to talk about this.”
“I’m fine with it. You’re not bothering me.”
“It’s bothering me. Talking to you isn’t helping.” Pike shifted against the wall, trying in vain to find a comfortable spot. The conversation wasn’t going the way he’d thought it would.
“I wish I could fix this for you, kid, but this is something you gotta figure out for yourself. Once you think it through, get it set in your mind, you’ll know what to do.”
“I’m thinking it would probably be better if I let the marshals move me.” The words sounded hollow and wrong to Pike, but he didn’t take them back.
“After you fought with them to stay there?”
“If I change my mind, they’ll be happy.”
Mulvaney’s voice lowered and grew more serious. “Yeah, I think you’re right about that. But what about you, Pike? Are you gonna be happy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, if you want some advice—”
“That’s why I called, but you’ve made everything confusing.”
“You were already confused. If I was you, I wouldn’t do anything until I was sure what I wanted to do.”
“I don’t like waiting. I want to have a plan now.”
“You’re getting reactivated. You can’t move anyway. A few days, you’ll be out of there. Moving will mean a new identity, and it’ll mean Lance Corporal Pike Morgan will no longer be a Marine.”
“Private.”
“I thought you made lance corporal during the Somalia mission.”
“I did. It lasted till I got back to the States. Didn’t make it through my first week before a shavetail second lieutenant with an attitude busted me back down.”
“You’re sure the lieutenant had the attitude?”
“That’s how I remember it.”
Mulvaney sighed. “The bottom line is this: are you ready to leave the corps? Because that’s what you’ll have to do if you let WitSec move you. The military will have your fingerprints on file. You won’t get back in under another name.”
“No. I don’t want out of the corps.” That was one thing Pike was certain of. He enjoyed being a Marine even though he didn’t care for the authority so much.
“Then go. Be safe. Wait to see how you feel when you get back.”
Pike watched the kids on skateboards in the alley and wondered if Hector knew them. Then he wondered if those kids would be a good influence or a bad influence on Hector. Realizing he was even thinking about that bothered him a lot. Hector had his mom to worry about him. The kid’s upbringing was none of Pike’s business.
“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.”
13
“GO LONG! Go long!”
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.
