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“Maybe I’ll do both.”
“Now we’re talking. Hey. I’ve been wondering.” Delaney lowered her voice. “About the captain. I looked him up, you know. I know he died a couple years ago.”
The room started to squeeze in on her, like the ceiling was getting shorter and shorter. Tabitha drew air into her lungs slowly, held it a few seconds, then let it out for the same count. Then she made a decision. It was time. And Delaney was the right person. She knew that. She’d always known that, from that first moment in Afghanistan when Delaney had come rolling in with her crew to haul them out of the aftermath of that explosion. She’d been so confident. Fearless. Tabitha might’ve lost her mind without Delaney. “Yeah, the chaplain died,” Tabitha said. “My auntie heard about it. Complications from the injuries finally got to him. Auntie sat me down, thinking I’d be upset. I was, of course. But not for the reasons she thought.”
Delaney’s eyes held a sharp glint against the candlelight. “You’d be upset because he died, and it was your job to protect him.” Her words were slow, measured. “That’s what everybody thought.”
“Obviously, I was upset by what happened. But.” Tabitha did some more of her box breathing, then pushed on. “That man made my life a living hell.”
The waitress appeared to refill their water glasses. Delaney waited until she’d passed on to the men to speak. “In what way?” Her voice was soft, but not surprised.
“He didn’t think women belonged in the military, let alone in Afghanistan. And he certainly didn’t think I belonged in Religious Service. I guess, in his mind, all the places in the world are for men...except one.”
“I met plenty of those.” Delaney lifted her fresh water and took a long drink. “Not the religious part, because I’m not into that stuff. But the rest? Yeah. Been there. Did he harass you verbally, physically or both?”
Tabitha choked on her water. Some dribbled out on her chin. “How’d you know that?”
Delaney leveled her with a stare. “Let me guess. He made a lot of remarks about women and their place. He made remarks about your body, your hair, your smile. He’d brush by you. Bump into you. As time went on, these things got worse as he got more aggressive. You didn’t like it, but you never said anything. You didn’t want to be called weak. Or not a team player. Or prove him right, that, you know...you didn’t belong there. You didn’t want to speak out against an officer. A man. A chaplain.”
“It happened to you, too?”
Delaney shrugged. “Same story, different details. Nobody in Motor T, though. My guys were legit. I never made use of the chaplain.”
“It was so much worse to me because he was supposed to be a man of God,” Tabitha admitted. “I tolerated that stuff more from others. But him? He wasn’t supposed to be like that. He was supposed to be better than that.”
Delaney tucked the side of her mouth into a wry half smile that stopped just short of being chiding. “Yeah.”
“But I could handle that,” Tabitha rushed on, before she lost her courage. “It wasn’t right, but I could handle his comments, his criticism, his ‘accidental’ brushes. Then one morning, right before we rolled out, I...I said something.” Tabitha felt her voice getting thinner, losing its power.
Delaney faced her, silent, waiting.
“I told him that God sees all things. And that he would be judged one day for the way he was treating me.”
Silence passed. Delaney laid her fork down on her clean plate, folded her hands together, elbows on the table, and fixed Tabitha with a long look. “Is that the day you hit the IED?”
Tabitha didn’t even have to nod. She felt the unwanted warmth and wetness fill her eyes. “I remember sitting there, after the explosion, just sort of out of my mind. It was like my words had come true, before my very eyes. But I didn’t want it like that.” She shook her head, tears leaking down her face. “Not like that. My only saving grace was that he lived. And then...” Her words choked off. “He died. So much time had passed, but everything came back. Just came rushing back.”
Delaney slid an arm around her waist and drew her in, until her head was against her shoulder. She patted her back and said nothing. For some reason, that was perfect. People were always trying to say things. Say things that they knew nothing about. Tabitha closed her eyes and listened to Delaney’s heartbeat, and the chatter of the uncles, still going on about basketball, and the clink of forks on plates, and her heart slowed. Her breathing slowed. The world slowed.
“I meant what I said.” Delaney drew back and watched Tabitha swipe at her eyes and cheeks. “You’re really good at the spiritual stuff.” She made a gesture with her hand near her heart. “I mean, I don’t know about all the religious things, but, you can see people. You can see what’s inside, what’s eating them up, how to really help them. Don’t give up on that, Steele. Promise me.” Delaney lifted her glass and held it out, suggesting they were going to seal a promise with a water toast.
Tabitha hesitated, but only for a second. Her eyes locked on Trinity, who’d sat up, body rigid, waiting with concern to see if she was needed or not. “I’m alright, Trinity.” Tabitha stroked her head. “Had a little human help this time.” Then she lifted her glass and clinked it to Delaney’s.
The uncles kept talking sports and bikes while Delaney and Tabitha continued their private conversation well past the time the waitress grew impatient to turn over the table to hungry customers pressing against Nonni’s crowded seams. When none of them could sit any longer, they moved to the parking lot to part ways.
“Alright, Pip.” Boom drew her in against his massive chest and crushed her there. “Shop looks great. Your dad’s bike is back. New camera is up and running and you let us know immediately if anybody hassles you again.”
“Got it.” Delaney’s voice came muffled from the folds of Boom’s jacket.
All the men took turns hugging her goodbye and telling Tabitha it was nice to meet her. Then they hopped on their bikes, fired them up and took off, one after the other, disappearing into the night. Tabitha could hear their engines roaring long after they were out of sight.
“Shouldn’t they wait until morning?”
Delaney laughed. “They prefer night riding when they can get it. Less idiots on the road.”
Tabitha felt wrung out but also lighter, like a two-ton weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Delaney, though, still looked troubled.
“You feel better, Steele?” She patted Tabitha’s shoulder.
