Page 28 of Midnight Creed

Just in the last six months she’d created a community of friends—all men, all veterans—and she’d never felt so mentally healthy. Being able to talk about the nightmares, listen to stories more horrible than her own...that was what she needed to feel whole again.

Dora lost her son. Mike had said his mother didn’t want him going to Afghanistan. She’d even gone as far as to say she hadn’t paid for him to be a doctor, only to have him go off and get shot at. As a result, she didn’t like Taylor “exposing Will to so many military men.”

As a mother, Taylor actually understood this. At one time, she may have even agreed with Dora. But Walter, Harold, Jason, Benny and Colfax were some of the best men she’d ever met. And she wanted her son to know them.

“How are my two favorite customers doing?” Walter Bailey weaved his way through the tables.

Will looked up and grinned at him.

“More shrimp?” he asked the boy.

“No, I’m good.” He glanced at his mom, then added, “I’m good, sir.”

“Did you save room for key lime pie? Freshly made this morning.”

“Can we, mom?”

She was trying to get him to slow down on the sugar. “How about one piece and two forks?”

“And coffee for the little lady?”

“Yes, please. Can you join us, Walter?”

“I’d love to. I’ll have Rita bring the pie and coffees,” he stopped and gestured to Will, “and a milk?”

Will nodded.

“I have something to finish,” he told them. “Then I’ll join you. I’m anxious to see that latest creation.” He chin-pointed to Will’s sketch pad, garnering yet another grin.

“I like him,” Will said when Walter was out of earshot. He started working on his drawing again, but suddenly, his head bobbed up as he remembered something. “Do you know what happened to my real grandpa?”

Taylor’s father had died from a heart attack when she was in college. She had told him this, so he was referring to Mike’s real father. In their short time together, Mike had never talked about him. Or at least she couldn’t remember.

“Have you asked your nanna?”

“She said it’s none of my concern. But Miss Rosa knew him. She worked for him a long time ago. She said I look a lot like him. She told me he liked to paint, and that’s probably where I got my...I think she called it inherent talent.” He sounded out the word inherent, breaking it into three words.

“Are there any paintings of his on the walls?”

He shook his head. He’d obviously asked.

“Miss Rosa said he was murdered.”

“Oh, Will, I’m sure you must have misunderstood.”

“Do you know what happened to him?”

She felt bad she had no answer. Usually, Will’s questions about his father were easy. But she knew nothing about his grandfather.

How could she tell her son that his father didn’t talk much about his family? That he’d joined the mobile surgical unit partly to get away from them. And worse, that she never really knew his father very well.

They were never a couple. They were together only a few times, and it was only sex. A stress relief for both of them. No emotions or love attached. In Afghanistan, they worked in close quarters. They drank a whole lot of vodka together to forget the images of the wounded men that they’d spent their days piecing together.

So much tension and urgency. So much frustration because all they could do was staunch the bleeding before releasing their patients to an airlift that could get them to a proper hospital.

The fact that she had gotten pregnant surprised both of them. She remembered Mike saying that maybe it was a sign. Maybe they were meant to have a normal life: a home and family after all the blood and death they’d experienced.

Will was waiting for an answer. She wondered why he was so curious about his real grandfather. And at the same time, she felt a pang of guilt for not being able to provide him with one.