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“Yeah, like that works.”
“Specialist Copus!” Kate yelled down the hall. “What did I tell you?”
“Later, son,” Copus said, drifting in the direction of where he was supposed to be. “And don’t you worry. You and me are going to figure this thing out.”
“What are you doing?”
Arley glanced at her third-oldest sister. There was just enough emphasis on the word what for her to realize that Kate didn’t mean the cardboard box Arley was packing in preparation for the move from the current apartment she couldn’t afford to the one Kate’s new husband had just vacated in the upstairs of Mrs. Bee’s big Victorian house. The Meehans had grown up next door to Mrs. Bee, and Arley felt fortunate that Mrs. Bee wanted her and Scottie as tenants. Arley was very afraid suddenly that Kate was about to rain on her parade.
“Maybe you better tell me,” Arley said.
“Will Baron is a nice guy, Arley.”
“Will Baron?” Arley said in surprise. “What about Will?”
“You’ve put him in a bad situation.”
“What are you talking about? I haven’t seen him since your wedding reception.”
“Where he had some kind of altercation with Scott—”
“That wasn’t my fault! Grace is the one who invited him. Maybe you ought to take whatever this is up with her. And you owe Will Baron big-time, by the way. Your reception could have turned into one big John Wayne movie bar fight, if it wasn’t for him.”
“Never mind that. I understand Will got called in,” Kate said.
“Kate, I don’t know what that means.”
“It means he had to go see his lieutenant, where it was apparently suggested that he not associate with you.”
“What? Are you kidding me? Since when does the army care if I talk to one of their medics for fifteen minutes—tops?”
“I don’t know the details, but I imagine the McGowans had something to do with it.”
“What McGowans?”
“You know what McGowans.”
“I don’t know any McGowans with that kind of clout. Who told you all this—Will?”
“No. I heard it through the grapevine.”
Great, Arley thought. Two sisters who speak in song lyrics.
“So it might not be true,” she said, and Kate raised an eyebrow.
“Okay. Say it is true. You’re telling me that some officer called Will in and told him not to have anything to do with me.”
“I don’t think he actually got lit up—”
“Oh, good,” Arley said, completely mystified as to what that phrase meant, too.
“I imagine it was more a…suggestion,” Kate said pointedly. “With these military types, sometimes it’s hard to tell.”
“Let me guess. The two can pretty much be the same thing.”
“Pretty much.”
“Kate, I am not going to believe the United States Army is run by the McGowan family. What are they going to do to Will if he talks to me again—put him in the brig?”
“That’s the navy. But either way, public image is a lot more important to the military than it used to be. Believe me, an enlisted person’s life is much less aggravating if his or her superior officers are happy and aren’t made to look bad on the golf course.”
“The golf course?” Arley said incredulously, and Kate shrugged.
“Will hasn’t done anything except talk to me at the reception and keep Scott from trying to drag me outside when I didn’t want to go. Oh, and last summer he gave Scottie a piece of turquoise for his rock collection. Now what is the problem with that?”
“I told you,” Kate said. “Public image is a big deal, and who knows what spin the McGowans put on it. The alienation of affection law is still on the books in this state, you know.”
“Well, this is just great. Did anybody happen to remember the divorce is final? Nobody is telling me who I can and can’t talk to. Not the McGowans—and not the U.S. Army. And not anybody else, either!” she added.
“This isn’t about you so much,” Kate said in that quiet way she had when she was right and she knew it. “Will Baron shouldn’t have to suffer the fallout because of your bad marriage, especially when he’s just minding his own business.”
“Well, gee, thanks, Kate. I really needed somebody to point that out. I’m already feeling like a big enough loser—and now I’m taking down the innocent bystanders.”
“Arley, I just want you to get the big picture here.”
“I got it! I have to get in touch with him.”
“Who?”
“Will!”
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“Did you hear what I just said? I need to explain—to apologize.”
“I don’t think he’d want you to. I’m just telling you about this so you’ll be forewarned. The McGowans have their connections, and they’re not afraid to use them.”
“Yeah, well, thanks for that, too. Hopefully, I can get forewarned every time I’m feeling the least bit good about things. And I know all about the McGowan ‘connections.’ It didn’t matter to them one bit that Scott had sleazy women stashed all over town! All that mattered was that I looked the other way so their ‘connections’ wouldn’t be forced to witness an ugly divorce!”
“Hey! This is not my fault!”
“I know that! You’re just…the only one here.”
Kate smiled and gave her a quick hug. “I’ve got to go. I’m glad you’re moving almost home again. It’ll be nice having you and Scottie at Mrs. Bee’s.”
“Does Grace know about this thing with Will?”
“No-o-o-o,” Kate assured her. She gave her a peck on the cheek and left.
Arley stood staring at the cardboard box she’d been packing. She could try calling the hospital. She could leave a message for Will to call her. That would be easy enough. Or…
It occurred to her as her initial aggravation subsided that she was so used to the McGowan way, she wasn’t really all that surprised. They had their prejudices, not the least of which was their disdain for all things military, despite owing a good deal of their fortune to the proximity and spending power of the United States Army. But, for once, Arley decided she wasn’t going to act impulsively. She was going to think about her options, the possible repercussions, and the advantages of being sensible.
Or not.
Chapter Four
“You still here, Baron? Somebody was at the nursing station looking for you.”
Will looked up from the dressing he was changing. The message-bearer was one of the more mobile soldiers on the unit who entertained himself by rolling up and down the hall in a wheelchair all day gathering intelligence. At the moment he was working to get his chair to make a sharp U-turn so he could stop in the doorway.
“Who is it?” Will asked, but he was thinking, “Now what?”
“Don’t know,” the intelligence-gatherer said. “I just heard them trying to decide if you were still here or not.”
Will gave a quiet sigh and finished securing his patient’s fresh stump bandage in place, his mild pleasure that his workday might actually conclude without incident dissipating. He had no real reason to expect the worse—except for the way things had been going lately. Clearly, Coyote, the Navajo mischief-maker, functioned just as well here as he did on the reservation in Arizona, whether anybody believed in him or not.
“Okay, buddy,” he said to his patient. “You’re good to roll.”
“Thanks, man. It was getting pretty rank.”
Will stood back so the soldier could maneuver back into his wheelchair without any unwelcome help, then he cleaned up the area and walked into the corridor past the open doors and through the usual hospital din of miscellaneous television programs, conversations and music.
And a dog barking as quietly as a dog knew how, apparently on cue.
He’d forgotten the dogs were visiting the unit today. He stopped to let a portable X-ray machine roll out of one of the patient rooms, then continued toward the nurses’ station.
He saw Arley first, then the tall red-haired man standing close by.
“Patrick!” he said in disbelief.
“Hey, poco bro,” Patrick said, stepping forward and executing the male clasping-of-right-hands, inside-shoulder-bump greeting with ease. “Long time, no see.”
“What are you doing here?” Will said, still incredulous at finding him on post, of all places. “Is everybody okay?” He hadn’t heard anything good or bad about Patrick in weeks, except that nobody in the family knew where he was—again. Patrick never called or wrote letters. He just showed up—but in Window Rock, not on the other side of the country.
“Everybody’s fine. I came to see you, bro—he’s a good brother, but he’s not all that bright,” Patrick added to Arley, and she smiled. Clearly, he’d made her acquaintance while he was waiting.
“It’s—I’m…surprised,” Will said. The impact of seeing both Arley and Patrick where he didn’t expect to find either of them had left him speechless. He glanced at her. She was wearing a white sundress with yellow buttons, and she looked…so good. He’d forgotten how pretty she was, how…everything.
“So! Patrick! How long are you going to be here?” he asked his brother abruptly, forcing himself to look away from Arley. Patrick was wearing the expensive turquoise-and-silver cuff bracelet their uncle by marriage had had made for him years ago—a good sign that Patrick had a cash flow of sorts and hadn’t been forced to pawn it again.
“That would be hard to say,” Patrick said unhelpfully. He was trying not to grin, clearly enjoying himself for reasons Will had yet to determine. But then Patrick always enjoyed himself, even when he was sober.
But, as glad as Will was to see him, his focus was still on Arley.
“Are you looking for Kate?” he asked her.
“Well, no. It’s…I’m…”
“Ready to go when you are, bro,” Patrick interrupted. “You get to pick the restaurant—I’m buying.”
Will glanced at Arley again. She seemed about to say something more, but didn’t.
“Nice to meet you, Arley,” Patrick said to her, steering her attention in his direction. “Thanks for keeping me company.”
“It was nice to meet you, too.”
It should have been their cue to leave, but Patrick stood a moment longer.
“’Bye, Will,” Arley said and walked away.
He could feel Patrick looking at him, in a way that made him think his irrepressible half brother was on the verge of making some pithy remark.
But Patrick didn’t say anything, and he continued not saying anything all the way to the elevators and out of the hospital. He remained silent as they walked to where Patrick had parked his truck.
“What!” Will said finally when he couldn’t take it any longer.
“You working at the hospital tomorrow?” Patrick asked mildly, as if he’d been waiting for just such an opening.
“Yeah,” Will said cautiously.
“Day or evening?”
“Evening. Seven to seven. If not longer.”
“Good. No reason why we can’t visit and carry furniture.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s moving—Arley. I said we’d help.”
“I can’t help her move.”
“Sure you can.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Will didn’t answer him. He was perfectly aware that it wasn’t because of a conversation between a couple of high-powered men on a golf course that he was refusing. It was because of how much he wanted to help her—and he wasn’t about to share that with his uncontainable brother.
“Look, bro. Her sister’s husband can’t do much carrying yet and everybody else they know with any muscle is either working or gone to the beach. We move a little furniture, maybe we get a beer out if it. No big deal, right?”
“Wrong.”
Patrick stared at him. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “My mistake.”
“Where—?” Will said when they reached Patrick’s beat-up truck—which was in approximately in the same rattletrap condition on the outside as the one Will drove. If they put the best parts of both of them together, they still wouldn’t have a decent-looking vehicle.
