Deep (Luna's Story Book 3) Page 4

  Luna said, “That’s not—”

  He turned on her. “I asked you over and over, are you okay, and you never mentioned you were pregnant, not once.”

  “I'm sorry, it seemed like the right thing—”

  “Yeah, but here’s the problem: you, my aunts, you’ve all been lying to me for months. Lying to me, everyone of you, so who here can’t be trusted? That’s what I want to know.”

  Luna said, “Oh Beckett it’s not like that.”

  “It’s exactly like that.”

  Chickadee stood taller. “Beckett the facts on the ground were such that we needed to help you get on the bus and go. We made a decision. It might not have been the best—”

  “What if something had happened to Luna? To the baby? To me? Ever think of that?”

  Dilly said, “Every day, we thought of it every day.”

  “But still. Lied.” He looked down at the ground. He gulped his anger down, attempting to calm himself. Then he looked up, squinted. “Did any of you ever once think, hey, maybe if we tell Beckett, tell him Luna’s going to have a baby, maybe he could apply for an early discharge, or I don’t know, a not-on-the-front-lines-praying-and-reloading-and-holding-my-nut-sack-begging-the-universe-to-keep-me-alive deployment? Maybe Beckett could apply for a desk job — ever consider that?”

  Chickadee dropped her hands to the side. “You could have done that?”

  “Yeah, the Department of the Interior doesn’t usually put new fathers on the front lines. It’s the one nice thing they do, but you would have known if you would have been honest with me.” He put his hands on his hips. “I can’t believe this bullshit.”

  Luna said, “Beckett you’re scaring me.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure I am. You know, fear is rampant. It’s one of the things we all get to live with.” He ran his hands over his face and up and around his head.

  “Come inside, we’ll talk this all out, explain.” Chickadee put her hand on his arm again but Beckett brushed it off.

  “No, I don’t want to be here. Not anymore.” He shoved past Luna and Dilly and trudged down the gravel drive. What were they doing crowding him in up against the side of the house, anyway?

  Dilly said to his departing back, “Beckett, please.”

  He spun around red in the face. “I’m the most surprised by you, Dilly. We talked four or five times, really talked about what it was like for Luna, living here. You told me everything was okay, and I believed you. I didn’t think you were capable of lying.”

  “I’m not. I—”

  “Yeah, I need to not be here right now—” He stopped in mid sentence and stared down the driveway for a moment. Then he shook his head slowly. He turned back and spoke in a low even cold voice. “Does Dan fucking know?”

  Tears streamed down Luna’s face. “Yes.”

  “When did he find out?”

  Luna opened and closed her mouth not wanting to say.

  “Because he promised me. He promised, so he better not have known the whole time.”

  Chickadee said, “He wanted to tell you, but—”

  “Fucking A, I knew it.” Beckett spun around and stalked down the driveway away.

  Luna said, “Oh god, oh no, what am I going to do?”

  Dilly put an arm around her.

  Chickadee raced toward the house. “Where are my keys?”

  _____________________

  Chickadee. returned a minute later with a slam of the front door. She hustled by Luna and Dilly, started her car, and spun out of the driveway. She found Beckett trudging down the road, pulled beside him, rolled down the window, and begged, “Please get in the car Beckett. You need food. You need sleep, a bath. You’ll feel better and—”

  He continued walking, his jaw set.

  “Think of Luna, think about your—”

  Beckett stopped, bringing Chickadee’s car to a halt. He said, staring straight ahead without looking at her, “I am so furious right now, I can’t, just stop.”

  “But Beckett.”

  “Chickadee, stop.”

  She sat in the front seat of the car watching Beckett as walked down the road away.

  Chapter 15

  Beckett was even more furious when he arrived in the university town of San Dilamo. It had taken him two-and-a-half hours. He had forgotten to get money from home, or a phone, or anything. He had begged another ride. Nagging hunger pains were cramping his stomach. He stalked onto a university campus reeking and filthy. He was a nightmare come true. An embarrassment. Crappy part was how he was proving everyone right. He wasn’t capable enough to handle this, clearly.

  As he tromped down the highway, he thought of nothing but kicking Dan’s smug, self righteous, buddy-bullshit down his throat. Because they had been friends. Beckett had believed so anyway.

  He asked at the university and then requested help locating the marine science department. He read the directory, found Rebecca’s office number, borrowed a phone, and called her. “It’s me Beckett.”

  “Beckett!!!”

  “Can I um have Dan’s number?”

  “Oh sure, how are you? We’ve been so worried. Dan and Sarah were frantic, I mean, we all were. How is Luna, cool news, huh? You’re going to be a dad!”

  He closed his eyes. Going to be a dad. “Yeah, cool news,” he said. “When did you find out?”

  She faltered at the coldness in his voice. “Oh — Dan and Sarah hid it from me for a few weeks, but I overheard them talking about it. We’re all really excited.” He didn’t say anything, so she paused then carried on, “Dan and Sarah are both home right now.”

  Beckett leaned on a bulletin board covered in college fliers, scraps of paper, and coupons. “Can I get there on foot from the university?”

  “Sure, it’s a block over on College Row.”

  Beckett hung up without saying bye. He leaned his head against the wall, then forced himself to straighten up.

  Chapter 16

  Luna heard Chickadee’s car door slam. She had been laying with her head cradled in Dilly’s lap, having her hair stroked, comfortingly comforted, with soft sounds and soft pets. Except Shark was sharp and kept jumping up and snapping at her face.

  She pushed the dog away and sat up and listened, but it was only one set of feet crossing the gravel drive, banging up the steps, crossing the porch, and yanking the screen door open.

  Beckett wasn’t with Chickadee.

  Luna dropped her head back to Dilly’s lap.

  Chickadee bellowed, “What the hell is up with that boy?”

  Dilly said, “Hush dear, don’t scare . . .”

  She didn’t mention her, but Luna felt Dilly gesture toward her head. She needn’t have bothered, Luna was already terrified.

  She had lost Beckett.

  He was gone.

  She was alone.

  Chickadee said, “Of course, of course . . .”

  Luna blew out a deep gust of breath and sat up. “It’s okay, talk freely.”

  “I don’t want to scare you dear, but oh, what is that boy thinking?" Chickadee dropped into a chair and then stood up again. "He has never in all my life, in all his life — I gave up so much to come here and take care of that boy and this is the thanks I get?”

  She stalked into the kitchen and banged things around. Returning a few minutes later with a bag of potato chips with, “Crunchy Good,” printed on the bag. She gripped the sides and ripped it open with a popping burst of cheese powder and stuffed a handful in her mouth. “He comes home and then races away, angry—what the hell is he thinking? None of this makes sense.”

  Luna asked, “Is he coming back?”

  “Well, I don’t know, I can’t tell what’s in his mind. I’ve a half a mind to tell him not to bother.” Chickadee collapsed in her favorite chair with a huff and absentmindedly put her fingers down so Shark could lick the cheese off her fingers.

  Dilly said, “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do. I’ve never heard of anyone being so ungrateful, so insolent
, such a boneheaded twerp of epic proportions.”

  A tear rolled down Luna’s face.

  “This is what I mean," said Dilly, "you’re scaring Luna.”

  Chickadee glanced at Luna and her face softened. “Dear, this is nothing to worry about — but I can’t believe my nephew would give you one second of pain. He is going to rue this day.”

  Luna asked, “If he doesn’t come home, what am I going to do?”

  Dilly and Chickadee conferred in a glance. Dilly said, “You’ll live here. You’ll be a part of our family the way you already are. This is just a silly—”

  Chickadee said, “Yes of course, Luna, you’ll always live here, this is your home, but Dilly this is not silly. I don’t understand what this is, but silly is not a good descriptor.”

  “You’re right," said Dilly. "Silly is not the right word, but perhaps hiccup, or better yet, screw up, this is merely a screw up. That’s a good word for what this is.”

  Luna was mentally packing, planning. She would take her clothes, pack the gear that was in the south barn, her paddleboard. She would find a ride to Heighton Port and put out to sea. She would head northwest in search of Sky. She could probably accomplish that in a month. Then she’d still have time to plan where she would go to nest for the baby. Her hand rested on her rounded stomach while she listed practical things, like how much food she would need for the trip and how to get a ride to the port.

  While Luna was mentally listing, Chickadee said to Dilly, “You’re making it sound inconsequential, like our nephew, Beckie, didn’t storm around here like a total ass. Maybe you understand what this is about, but if you have some special insight, perhaps you should share it with me. And preferably before I have a stroke.” She shoved another handful of chips in her mouth, her eyes half-crazed, faded-to-moss-green mohawk sticking up in all directions.

  Dilly said, “It’s simply his expectations didn’t match up with his longing, so he freaked. That’s all that was. A freak out.”

  “That was more than a freak out, and what do you mean expectations? I told you, stroke happening, my goddamned blood is going to shut down my synapses and then where will you be, dear Dilly. Where. Will. You. Be?”

  “Hopefully with someone who actually stops talking long enough to hear what other people are saying.”

  Chickadee glared at Dilly. It was the closest to a fight Luna had ever seen them get. She stopped mentally listing her plans for an escape route and listened, mouth agape.

  Chickadee took a second to brush her cheddar fingers on her pants. “Fine, dearest one, I’ll be quiet while you enlighten me.”

  Dilly said, “Well—”

  “But if I have a stroke in silence, it’s your fault.” Chickadee stuck out her tongue.

  Dilly raised her brow and shook her head. “Beckett has gone through something so awful, so soul crushingly awful, and — how many days ago did he disappear?”

  Luna said, “Too many.”

  “Exactly. And his dream of home, the dream that got him here, after all that ordeal, well that dream didn’t materialize when he was standing in the yard drinking out of the spigot. He thought he was coming home to one thing, but we greeted him with another. And the thing was, from the looks of him, there was all primal animal stuff going on in his brain, the kind of pain and anger of a wounded dog, and we could have greeted him with a tray of his favorite cookies, but we probably still wouldn’t have done it right.”

  Chickadee huffed. “You’re saying we didn’t bake the right cookies?”

  “I’m saying Beckett tried to come home and he couldn’t actually do it. He was too frightened of all the things that had changed. He needs a do-over. After he cools down, has something to eat—”

  Luna said, “At Dan’s.”

  “Precisely. And then Beckett will try again.”

  Chickadee asked, “Love, how do you know all that?”

  “Because he told me, in his eyes, when he said, ‘Dilly, I’m the most disappointed in you.’ I got what he was saying. You’ve only got to listen.”

  Luna said, “But how do you know he’ll try again?”

  Dilly hugged her arm around Luna. “Because you’re here, sweetie. He’ll come home for you.”

  Luna nodded. “So I’m going to wait on the porch.”

  Dilly said, “And I’m going to bake some more cookies, they solve everything.”

  Chapter 17

  He banged on their front door. “Dan, it’s me Beckett!”

  Dan opened the door with a, “Welcome home Army!” then, “Phew! You look like hell man.”

  “I want my keys to my bike.”

  “Whoa, what’s with the — you been home? You heard?"

  “Yeah, I heard.”

  “So what’s with the attitude?”

  “The attitude? My attitude?" Beckett's volume climbed. "I just got home from a six months front-line deployment to find my girlfriend, my family, and you, everyone, lying to me.”

  Dan looked left and right down the hall. “How about you come in?”

  “Screw that. I want my keys.”

  “Come in the house Army. I’ll get you the keys.”

  Beckett stepped through the door to the hallway. Sarah appeared around the corner. “Beckett! You’re home!”

  He scowled.

  She glanced at Dan who said, “Beckett’s going to wait here while I go get him his keys, cool?”

  “Yeah, um, okay.” Sarah backed out of the hall. Beckett stood silently, his breath rasping in his throat, his hands clenched into fists, watching her back away.

  Dan disappeared after her calling over his shoulder. “So you’ve been home? You don’t look like someone who’s been home. And you stink like a fish in the sun.”

  “My keys." Beckett's voice was clipped, commanding, erupting from within his madness, the aroma of a cooked meal was wafting down the hall, drifting into his lungs, making his stomach want to scream.

  From a distant room Dan called, “Sure. Sure.”

  Beckett shifted from foot to foot listening to Dan rummaging. Then Dan emerged carrying the keys, "See, just had to get them," dangling them in front of Beckett's face.

  Beckett glowered and reached, but Dan yanked them away. “Nope — not giving it back. Not until you talk to me.”

  Beckett shook his head slowly from side to side. “You’re making a mistake man. We were friends. I can’t believe you’re such an ass.”

  “We are friends. Let me prove it to you." Dan gestured toward the end of the hall. "Come to the kitchen. I bet you miss my cooking.”

  Beckett considered wrestling the keys away. He'd shove Dan against the wall and take them, his fists ached with the want of it. Beating someone, anyone, Dan, would be a relief. He was too mired in pain to pull up out of it — like a drowning man flailing in stormy waves, he wanted to lash out, cause more, make it worse.

  Dan said, “Here’s the thing, I made some food. It’s good too, pasta, marinara, meatballs. You’ll like it, warm and—”

  Beckett’s stomach-brain overtook his animal-brain. He all but growled when he spoke. “I’ll come in for one minute, for food, but I want my keys.” He stalked by Dan down the hall. When he stepped into the kitchen Sarah was already filling a plate with pasta and red sauce. She gestured to a chair and without a word placed the plate in front of it. She filled a glass with ice and water and set it beside the plate and tossed down some utensils.

  Dan slid into a chair across from Beckett and began to eat.

  Sarah sat down beside them and began to eat.

  Beckett was so thirsty he had to tend to that first. He grabbed the glass, drained it, set it down, and stared at a spot in the middle of the table while Dan refilled it. Beckett gulped it down. He needed more water, but he was too famished now, hands shaking, past hungry to near fainting. He had worked through the hunger with pure furious angst until he'd almost forgotten, but now he remembered. It hit him with a full force punch in the stomach. He had to have food. He couldn’t be ceremonious,
or dignified, or even refuse out of anger. He ripped the bread in half, stuffed it in his mouth, chewed twice and swallowed, then devoured the pasta with big gulps of heaping forkfuls. Dan and Sarah exchanged a glance and ate quietly.

  When Beckett got to the end of the plate, Dan jumped up, spooned another giant helping onto it, and pushed it back in front of Beckett who looked at it dazed. Then he picked up his fork and ate that plateful too.

  Finished, Beckett got up with a slam, carried his plate to the sink, washed it angrily, and returned to stand behind his chair. “Thank you for the food, as you can see, it had been awhile, but it doesn’t change anything. I want my keys so I can go.”

  Dan, elbows on the table, still holding his fork asked, “Where you going?”

  “I don’t know. Somewhere else.”

  Dan nodded, scrutinizing Beckett's face. “What did Luna say when you told her you were leaving?”

  Beckett stood for a second glaring at Dan then he shook his head. “I don’t know, nothing, she didn’t—”

  “She said nothing? You told her you were leaving, and she just said nothing?”

  Beckett looked down and shook his head. “It didn’t get that far, I left—”

  “You left angry. You came home from war, saw Luna, and left angry, and now you’re here, running away. Where you going, man? Your home is back there.”

  Beckett’s jaw clenched and unclenched.

  “Beckett, I need you to sit down, so we can talk this out before you go.”

  “I can’t. I just —" Beckett gripped the back of the chair, twisting on the wood. "I don’t know what I’m doing. I just—”

  Dan shoved the chair back from the table with his foot and gestured for Beckett to sit down.

  The force of the chair shoving into Beckett's front caused a collapse, of his straight up fury, spine, legs. Beckett dropped into the seat. “I don’t know what I’m doing at all.”

  Dan said, “True that.”

  “What am I going to do?” Beckett put his elbows on the table and dropped his head in his hands. Sarah got up quietly and left the room.