Page 2 of Guard Dog

She looks good. Violet Glass had lost the dark rings under her eyes in the three months since I’d last seen her in person. She’s also smiling, a welcome sight after watching her try to deal with Keith’s permanent absence. She’s had so much weight on her slender shoulders. I am so fucking happy that I’ve been able to take the load from her.

I’ve known Violet for years. Hell, I was in the restaurant with Keith and the team the night they met. He invited her out to the bar, but she hadn’t even been legal yet. They were married a few months later.

I wouldn’t have cared either. Her innocent looks were a beacon to anybody looking for a reprieve from the fucked-up stuff that our jobs exposed us to. She was a peaceful oasis every time we hung out at Keith’s and her place; Violet was all soft curves and light blue eyes compared to the hard angles and darkness we ran across daily. Then they had Peony. Even if Keith never had a chance to see her walk or hear her babble, that baby worms her way into the coldest of hearts.

I always figured Keith was some kind of idiot for volunteering for as many training opportunities and out of country ops as he did. He had heaven waiting for him at home.

His heaven, not mine. Never mine. I will never go there. I can’t. Not with a brother’s wife.

But I can make sure that Violet and Peony are happy and safe and secure while Violet finds herself and moves toward whatever future she decides is best for them. That, I can do.

My help starts with a job, which Violet begins on Monday, and a house, where I’m taking them now. I originally bought it with the intention of flipping it: a tiny, two-bedroom bungalow in the middle of North Dakota was the only thing I could afford at the time. But the renos took longer and cost more than I thought, and by the time I was done, nobody was going to buy it for what I had put into it. So I shifted gears and figured I’d finish it as a rental to make some of my money back before I sold it. Violet won’t be paying anything near market value. She wouldn’t pay anything if I had my way, but she insists, and this is the lowest she’d agree to.

It's a fifteen-minute drive from the garage, along the east shore of Lac Lu, just off the Missouri River. A wide row of trees separates the large front yard from Lake Road. The back yard is mostly woods until it runs down to the lakeshore. As soon as I knew Violet and Peony were staying there, Bish and I ran two hundred feet of snow fencing from one side of the house, into the trees, and back up to the other side to keep any curious toddlers away from the water. Nothing is happening to that precious baby on my property.

Violet parks beside me in front of the double garage. I hand her the keys to the front door, spring Peony from her car seat, and follow her inside.

I did a good job, even if I say so myself. The living room is long and narrow with a woodburning fireplace at the far end. It opens into the eat-in kitchen which has a door to the backyard. Up the short corridor are a single, small bedroom and the primary bedroom. The family bathroom is impressive. Mycousin JD doesn’t say much, but that also means he doesn’t say no when you ask for help. He has a frightening ability when it comes to tiling, and the bathroom floor and bath tiles take it to the next level.

Peony toddles off to explore while I show Violet around. “This is the place you bought, what, three years ago?” she asks. “I remember you saying it was a two bedroom. Hey, you were able to save the fireplace. Wasn’t there a crow’s nest in the chimney?”

I can’t believe she remembers that. We’d been unloading groceries for a barbecue at their place. Violet had been in the kitchen wearing jean cut-offs and a purple Vikings T-shirt, and she’d asked about the paint splashes on my shorts after I’d come back from some leave. The whole conversation took less than a minute. “Squirrels, but close.”

“It’s perfect. You did a great job here.” Then she makes another loop through the house, commenting on all the small details that I obsessed over, making each of them worth the extra effort.

In the kitchen, I point out the milk in the fridge and the cereal on the counter. “Fantastic,” she says. “That’s our favorite.”

She isn’t the only one who remembers things. “The sofa in the living room folds out to a bed, and there are extra blankets on the shelf in the closet. But if you’d prefer not to share with Peony tonight, we can get you a hotel room in Dickenson.”

“We are fine here. We’ll have some supper in town, maybe try some ice-cream at that café, come back here and crash. Then the moving truck will be here with all our stuff, won’t it, sweet pea?” Violet says as Peony reappears, carrying a small brown teddy bear with a pink ribbon around its neck.

“Ba!”

“Bear. Yes. Isn’t that a nice welcome home present from Uncle Deacon?”

“Ba.”

Violet laughs, and it punches me right in the gut. “Let’s go get some supper, and then we sleep, and then we will get all the boxes with all of Peony’s toys,” she says to her daughter. “Where should we go for supper, Deke?”

I can’t say my house. Even if Violet took it innocently, I know that isn’t how I’d mean it. She needs time, and then somebody who doesn’t remind her of what she’s lost. I invited her to Lonesome to give her a springboard into a new life. She trusts me; I promised I’d be here to catch her if she fell.

I can’t trick her into falling…for me.

Chapter Three

Supper at the Halfway Café was an experience that I’ll have to repeat once my brain has regained full function. I barely remember the meal, aside from the fact it was tasty, and the ice cream bar was cool. I fell onto the sofa bed beside Peony and was asleep in minutes.

Until my little munchkin decided to rise with the dawn. Now I’m pouring milk into a disposable cereal bowl while Peony claps along to the song being performed by the singing vegetables on my phone. She gets the first bowlful. Then, after a quick face wash, I send her out to play in the front yard while I watch her from the window and check my phone.

The moving van is outside of Bismarck, less than an hour away. My sister has texted me again after our conversation last night.

TEXT: House handed off to rental company. Have your damage deposit check. Leaving in an hour. See you in a couple days.

MY TEXT:

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