Page 13 of Securing Samantha

“Hey little man, what do you have there?” Whiskey turned the corner of the truck and knelt beside the boy trying to put his plane back together.

The boy instantly stood up and his eyes widened at the sight of Whiskey.

“I didn’t mean to bother you. Mom says soldiers stay here and I need to keep quiet, I don’t want to bug ‘em,” he apologized.

“You didn’t bother me, son. Your plane crash landed, huh? Did it complete an important mission?” Whiskey asked.

“Yeah, Uncle Leo and his team saved some people, and the bad guys shot them down,” he excitedly explained.

“Wow, I hope they make it.” Whiskey smiled at the boy’s rampant imagination. He must’ve heard about the team’s helo crashing.

“Yeah, they make it.” The boy nodded his head. “Uncle Leo and his team are the strongest and bravest men I know. Did you serve as a soldier?” His eyes rounded as he waited for Whiskey to answer.

“I used to,” he responded sadly.

“My dad’s a Navy SEAL. He died saving lots of people. Mom says he was big, strong, and braver than any man she knows.” The child whipped the hat off his head as Whiskey fixed the wing on his plane.

“Ya know, when SEALS go on missions, they usually ride in helos, not passenger planes.”

“I don’t have one anymore. I lost it when the men came and grabbed me and my mom.”

Whiskey sat up and stared at the miniature version of himself. It hit him like a ton of bricks. Of course, how many other kids stayed in the cabins? He mentally slapped himself silly. His heart moved up in his throat as he met identical eyes to his.

“I imagine you must’ve felt scared,” he acknowledged what LJ said to him. He handed the fixed airplane back to his son.

“I am, but I can’t let Mom know. She cries at night when I go to bed. She wishes my dad saved us, but he’s in heaven. I’m the man of the house now. I gotta be brave and strong like my dad,” LJ’s voice grew solemn.

“Aye. Your da’s proud of you, son,” Whiskey’s voice choked with emotion. Samantha’s voice called out for her son.

“LJ O’Neil, you have exactly one minute to find your way back to this deck before I cancel movie night and you’ll spend the evening doing dishes,” her stern voice echoed through the woods.

“I gotta go. Thanks for fixing my plane.” he told Liam before racing back off. “Coming Mom! My plane crashed like Uncle Leo’s,” he yelled.

Whiskey watched his son disappear from sight. He turned and headed toward his own cabin. LJ’s words haunted him. Samantha cried herself to sleep wishing for a man who died in the explosion to come and make her feel safe. The man who came back in his place resembled a broken, weak, old man. One who saw the most unimaginable horrors, endured torture and pleaded with his captors to let him die. This man didn’t possess the ability to protect his wife or make her feel safe. He hid in a corner of the closet praying the rebels never found him after checking all the doors and windows twice and sleeping in the cot in the closet. He didn’t deserve someone as good and loving as his wife, nor his son.

CHAPTER TEN

Leo drove Whiskey to his appointment with Claire and Samantha. Leo took one glance at him and discerned his friend struggled through the night. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. “The guys planned on meeting at the team base for lunch today. We got some leads on the Mayor of Seattle’s dealings and might be helping the task force with intercepting some of the shipment of drugs and human trafficking victims.”

“No. I got things to do.” Whiskey gazed out the window.

“Come on, man. You’ve slumped around the cabin for days. Doc said you refused to go for walks. You barely answer a text sent your way.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” Whiskey stated irritably.

“Does Ash text or talk to you since he moved in with Catherine?” Leo asked.

“No, he’s home with his wife. He doesn’t need to babysit me all day,” he grumpily replied.

Leo frowned in his direction. “Whiskey, we’re concerned. We come by to check in and you barely speak. Or you sit in the closet until we finally leave. We can’t help you. Claire says it’s ultimately your decision to attend those meetings in Seattle. We’ve offered to go with you, and you show no interest. Chase mentioned he and Michael attended the sessions and they helped.”

“Bully for them. Maybe I want to be left alone to do my own thinking. I see Claire three times a week alone plus the meetings with her and Samantha,” he gritted out as he scowled at his friend.

“Listen, my friend. I don’t care if you see Claire five days a week or all seven if you hear what she’s telling you. It’s fine to spend time by yourself, but you aren’t trying any of the things Claire or Doc suggested,” Leo sighed. His frustration showed as he worried about his friend.

“Bugger off, the lot of you. I’m the one who went through it. I think I know what’s best for me and how to work through it. Sitting in a room with a bunch of sad sacks sharing our stories doesn’t sound like fun to me,” Whiskey snapped.

“Those sad sacks remain our brothers in arms who want people around them who share common experiences to help them heal and find ways to cope. Some men discover it helpful to have the support of someone who lived through it rather than someone who hasn’t experienced it,” Leo responded.

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