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"Good. Guess I'm bustin' in on your date, huh? Hey, wait a minute." His face scrunched up. "Are you the jerk cop in her class giving her trouble?"
Arilyn groaned. "Poppy! That was between us."
Stone laughed. Her skin grew more flushed. He couldn't wait to show her the many ways he intended to make her blush later. "Me? I've been a model student. Besides, aren't you supposed to lead by example? Seems you have a bit of a temper yourself." He tugged at her hair and she gave him the familiar glare he knew and was beginning to like.
"I refuse to allow you to bait me tonight. Stone, this is my neighbor Mrs. Blackfire."
Stone straightened and entered the senior firing squad. He offered his hand. "A pleasure to meet you again, ma'am."
She shook his hand with pure suspicion. "I know who you are. Why aren't you in uniform?"
"I'm off duty now."
"What if something happens and the town needs you? The board said you were short staffed. That's how drug dealers invade small towns, you know. Lack of police supervision."
"That's true. A solid reminder not to bother the police unless it's urgent."
She sniffed. "Are you referring to me personally, Officer?"
Stone grinned. "Were you the one who called three times to make a citizen's arrest on the poor kid who delivers newspapers?"
"I caught him spying through my window. He may have been trying to see me in a compromising position."
A shudder shook him at that visual. Patrick looked amused, though, and seemed to be a bit sweet on her. Interesting. "The paper got caught in one of the bushes and Pete knows how you like it centered on the front porch. You almost got him fired."
"If he can't throw, he shouldn't be hired for such a position."
"He's twelve."
"Good, he'll learn early."
Oh, yeah. This was gonna be a fun night.
Patrick eyed the six-pack of IPA and lunged for it. "You brought beer! My kind of guy!"
He caught Arilyn's eye roll and held back a laugh. "Just one, Poppy! I mean it."
"Yeah, yeah, of course. And it's IPA, my fave. Joan, wine?"
Mrs. Blackfire sniffed. "Half of a glass, please. I noticed that tree branch is still overgrown. It's sticking out on my property. If you had let my tree guy cut it, we wouldn't have this problem."
Arilyn sighed. "You wanted to cut it down, not trim it!"
"A good thing they gave me back my money. I can't afford to waste money with Social Security."
Patrick interrupted, his tone firm. "Joan, I thought we discussed the tree. It's not a danger, and Arilyn won't cut it down. But if we're going to have a nice dinner together, we no longer bring up the tree. Agreed?"
Silence descended. Stone held his breath, even though he had no idea what was going on. Somehow, he sensed a shift and didn't know if it was going to be good or bad.
Mrs. Blackfire grunted. "Fine. Make it a full glass of wine, please."
"You got it."
Patrick smiled and winked.
Arilyn looked surprised. There was definite history between her and the neighbor. In Stone's experience, neighbors made for the most dramatic fights in cop history. Stone walked into the small kitchen and began pouring the drinks. "Something smells good."
She pushed her hair over her shoulder, donned oven mitts, and began serving. "Lasagna."
"One of my favorites." His stomach grumbled on cue. "I skipped lunch."
She shot him a glare. "That's not good, Stone. You should keep a granola bar in your car, or some fruit. It's not good for your body to slip into starvation mode. Messes up your metabolism."
"My shifts have been switched around since I got back to work."
"How long have you been a cop?" Patrick asked.
Stone handed Mrs. Blackfire her wine, uncapped an IPA for himself, and checked on Arilyn. She seemed to have everything under control in the kitchen, so he sat down on one of the stools. He sucked at anything domestic anyway. She might as well find that out now. "Enrolled in the academy after graduation. Worked the Bronx for a number of years, then transferred to Verily." He left out all the important parts.
"Tough neighborhood. Needed a break?"
"You could say that." He pictured Arilyn's ears pricking. "Got into a bad situation on a domestic abuse case. Things got ugly. I had to transfer. I picked Verily."
He took a sip of his beer and waited for the twenty questions. Hell, it was the truth, and he had nothing to hide. Patrick swigged his beer, stretched out his feet clad in old-man shoes, and nodded. "Yeah, that's how that stuff works. I kinda lost it in Nam years ago. I was commanded to take out a child for getting too close. Kids back then held grenades like stick candy, but it was my instinct to protect. I couldn't do it." His lively green eyes dulled as he got sucked back into the memory. "Damn war was so dirty. Good guys and bad began to blur. Anyway, I refused, citing my moral obligation to protect, so my officer commanded Bill Evans to listen to his order instead. Bill did. Shot the kid right in front of us. I think about Bill all the time. Remember his name, and think of that big chain-type restaurant. I think of how bad I wished Bill had gotten out clean and opened up a food chain empire."
Patrick stopped talking. Arilyn walked over and gently touched his shoulder. "What happened to him?" she asked softly.
Patrick squeezed her hand. "The child died. Child was clean."
Stone fought through the punch of emotion at the waste of war. The things people had to live with in the dark of night, when all they wanted was justice for all.
"Things got bad after that. I started with eight guys. Lost five. Bill was one of them. Sometimes I wonder if he didn't fight hard enough after that incident because he couldn't live with himself anymore."
Arilyn pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "I'm sorry, Poppy. You never told me that story."
Patrick stroked his arm, where his tattoos held the memory of the men he'd lost. "Lots I don't tell people, honey. A man needs some secrets. Some need to bleed out to heal. Others you just live with."
With sheer astonishment, Stone watched as Mrs. Blackfire reached across the kitchen table and grabbed Patrick's hand. They both shared a look that Stone didn't understand, and he didn't think he was meant to.
"My husband died at the Tet Offensive," she said. Her voice lacked emotion, but her face screamed otherwise. "We'd only been married a year. I didn't want him to go, and neither did he, but the draft has no mercy. He accepted his fate with pride and a head held high, even though people spit in his face." Rage shimmered in her eyes. "He was a good man. We decided to wait to have children until he returned. I was stupid back then. I thought he'd come back. He didn't, of course. I lost him with thousands of others. Of course, if he had come back, he wouldn't have been the same anyway."
Stone had heard about the Tet Offensive from some vets who'd made it out. It was the biggest surprise launch of attacks by North Vietnam against the United States and South Vietnam. Massive numbers of troops on both sides were lost, until it was a bleeding black hole in history that no one forgot.
Patrick reached out and put his other hand over hers. "I lost many friends during that mess. It was a bloodbath. Took me a long time even to be able to sleep again at night. What was his name?"
"Ryan Blackfire," she said quietly. "He was quite gentle. Loved reading. Wanted to be a history professor and teach kids about their heritage."
"Joan, your face must have been the last thing he saw. You gave him something worth hanging on to, until the last moment. I know this for a fact. The women we loved were the only thing that helped us keep our sanity and humanity. You gave that to him."
Stone held his breath, not wanting to interrupt the poignant scene. Somehow, the silence that descended was full of understanding and mourning.
Arilyn sank into the last chair, dinner forgotten. They all stared at the elderly woman, who recited her story as if she were reading a book. Stone knew better. Her wounds had never healed. Maybe by her own choice. Maybe not.
&
nbsp; "How old were you?" Arilyn asked.
Mrs. Blackfire removed her hand from Patrick's and shook herself out of her trance. "Old enough. Twenty-two."
"You were so young," Arilyn said softly. "I'm sorry." Simple words that couldn't heal, but by being spoken, it was a start. Stone stared. Arilyn's natural need to heal carved out the lines of her face. Stone bet she ached to wrap her up in a hug but was too scared her neighbor would strike like a cobra.
Stone couldn't imagine Mrs. Blackfire at twenty-two. Happy. In love. Full of life. The woman across the table emanated a bitter strength that told a different story of how her life turned out.
"I made do." Mrs. Blackfire stiffened her spine and her voice.
Arilyn offered a small smile. "You deserved more than that."
Her neighbor looked startled. Cleared her throat. "Are we going to eat, or are you gonna launch into one of your healing chants?"
Patrick laughed and the spell was broken. Stone moved from the breakfast counter to the sturdy pine table and sat down. Arilyn handed out plates filled with steaming lasagna, fresh bread and butter, and a small side salad. Stone took a big whiff. Damn, it smelled good. When was the last time he had a home-cooked meal?
Too long ago to remember.
He took his fork, dug into a huge portion, and popped the bite in his mouth.
