Page 26 of Four Calling Birds

“What happened?” he asked, lifting my shirt to look at my wound.

“I’m fine, I just pulled it. Sorry.” I tried to laugh, to reassure him that I was okay. “That was a bit dramatic.”

He touched the wound, the space around the stitches, and then looked up at my face, then back at the scarring skin. He almost looked angry, as if the scars were taunting him, and saying rude things about his mother.

“You should take another pill,” he said.

“I’m fine!” I insisted. “I was just surprised to… to…”

I looked at Veder, squinting to see if I could find the man under all that greasy, unwashed hair. He looked back at me, his hands in his pockets, his face downcast, as if he expected me to lash out at him. How strange. He was never one to have that kind of demeanor. He was always such a confident, happy boy.

“What’s wrong, Greg?” I finally pulled out the duck and placed it on the stove grate to cool. “Greg Veder?”

Then I walked over to him, cupping his rough cheeks in my hands. He looked windburned, and sunburned, and dirty all at the same time. He didn’t smell, which was a small mercy. But everything about him looked terrible.

Could this possibly be Greg Veder, the man so handsome he used to make young women swoon with his sheer presence alone? My husband’s former teammate? No. There was no way. But I looked deep into those emerald eyes, and it was him alright. He had a hint of crow’s feet in the corners, but there was still a spark of that young man he had been. Beneath all the shag was the handsome man I had known.

“What happened to you, son?” I asked, turning his head one way, then the other, to see if I could find the angle that would let me into the poor boy’s brain.

“I’m all right, Momma M-” he paused, realizing that he was about to call me by a nickname that might not be appropriate anymore, given the circumstances. “Ms. Charlotte,” he corrected, his ears turning red with embarrassment. “I just… civilian life is different.”

“What have you been doing with yourself?” Mack asked, putting his hand on my shoulder, and pulling me away from the boy.

“Riding the rails, mostly,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Doing some farm work for room and board, that sort of thing.”

“Jesus,” I looked at Mack. “Did he get dishonorably discharged?” Realizing that I had just spoken about him as if he wasn’t here, I turned back to Veder. “Did something happen? Your disability alone should…”

“Nah, Momma,” he said with a shrug of that burly shoulder. “I’ve got my disability and all that, but I just…”

He shrugged again. He was starting to remind me of a teenage boy that had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Leave him alone, Lotte,” Mack whispered into my ear. “You missed a lot in the last few years.”

He planted a kiss on my temple.

Greg Veder looked between us, confused. Then he looked down at his feet again.

“I set up the guest house for you,” Mack said, ready to put on his boots to walk him out the little house.

Greg started to shake his head, his insane hair swishing back and forth. “Is Griff coming?”

He meant Kai Griffith. Kai had been one of the best soldiers my husband had ever seen. He had run into some personal problems, mainly to do with his wife. So many soldiers have marital problems, though. Military life isn’t easy for young couples. I’m sure the kids had worked it out by now.

“Yeah, him, Taz, and Goose.” Mack saying those names brought me back to happier times of backyard barbecues out in Pinehurst, North Carolina. The place I had been born, and where I had met and fallen in love with Mack.

“I think I’ll kick my boots off at the barn,” Greg said, pursing his plump lips.

“Look, man, if you don’t want to stay with them, I can get a room in this house ready for you. It’ll only take a sec…”

“Nah, I think it’s best if I just stay in the barn.”

“It’s not even weatherproofed!” Mack protested; his eyes concerned.

“I’m weatherproof.” He pointed to himself with a smile.

There. Right there! There was the hint of a smile. A smile I had known well when he was a little prankster.

“I’ll probably be more comfortable with a sleeping roll on a haystack anyway.” He turned to walk away, and I reached out to grab his sleeve.

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