Man Enough (2012)

I knew there was something wrong the second the footsteps stopped, just outside my door.  There was a lump in my throat even as I looked up.  It was McKinley, my father’s aide, and there was a…strange expression on his face. “He’s dead, Jack.”  Dead.  Phil, my brother…my big brother.  The guy who carried me home when I twisted my ankle, who taught me how to look myself in the mirror so I wouldn’t duck away from the bullies anymore.  The guy with the biggest heart in the world. “Eva know?”  I asked, forcing the words around the lump in my throat. McKinley didn’t answer.  Opening my desk drawer, I pulled out my keys and stood up.  “Tell Dad I’ll be home for dinner,” I said, as I brushed past McKinley.  Something about the way he swayed when our shoulders touched, the vacant look in his eyes, caught my attention.  I stopped, really looked at him.  “Wilson,” I snapped, my gaze never leaving McKinley’s face, “take Mr. McKinley to my house.” Wilson responded immediately. “Have a seat, Mr. McKinley,” he said gently.  “I just need to lock a few things up before we go, alright?” I knew from our time in the service together that Wilson could handle things from there, so I took off.  I didn’t bother aiming for my brother’s house.  I just drove.  As it always happened when I had a problem, I wound up there anyway.  Several minutes passed while I sat at the edge of the driveway.  I could see the whole front yard and porch, the garage… It had taken us two weeks to get the garage and house painted for the winter.  We’d finished a mere forty-eight hours before he’d disappeared.  Subconsciously, I rubbed at the paint stain from where I’d touched my steering wheel before wiping my hands.  Shifting back into gear, I eased my car into its place beneath the apple tree.  The birds and the apples made a mess of things, but it was just an old beater anyway. The front door creaked a little as Eva stepped out.  She was thinner than I’d ever seen her, and looked exhausted.  I could barely breathe as I looked at her, the reality of what I had to tell her pressing in on me like a compactor on an old car.  Suddenly, a baby’s wail split the silence.  Eva’s head swiveled in the direction of the sound, and I snapped out of it. “Hey, Eva,” I called as I unfolded myself, coming to my full six feet three inches.  The car door slammed behind me as I vaulted the fence and strode up the walk.  “How’s that boy of yours always know when Uncle Jack’s here?”  A grin had started making tracks across my face before I realized it.  Then I saw the hope in her eyes.  Then she saw the truth in mine.  An uncommonly perceptive woman, she didn’t need any more telling than that.  The light faded out of her face, and she crumpled into my arms.  I winced as I lifted her.  Even in her current malnourished state, her weight was enough to pull at an old souvenir from Iraq.  “Hey there, mister,” I greeted the baby as I settled Eva on the divan.  “What seems to be the problem?”  Scooping him up, I raised him up high.  He gurgled and stuck his fingers in his mouth in delight.  “Yeah,” I laughed at him, “you’re easy.  It’s your mom I’m worried about.  What’re we going to do about her, huh?”  I gave him a quick check-up, found he was in working order, and placed him back in the basinet.  Adding an obnoxiously noisy toy to the equation seemed to satisfy him, so I turned back to Eva. Wake her? or let her sleep?   It didn’t take long to decide on letting her sleep.  Her pulse was a bit fast, but her breathing was normal.  Between taking care of the baby and being worried sick about her husband, she couldn’t have been sleeping well.  Never one to sit still, I headed for the kitchen, wheeling Baby Jim along with me.  He kept me company as I raided the pantry, started dinner, and piled into the dishes.  I suppose it was my clattering about that woke her up, though she didn’t say so.  “They’re sure?”  She asked simply, one hand on Jimmy’s back. “McKinley was,” I answered briefly.  “Haven’t talked to anybody else.” She sank wearily into one of the kitchen chairs.  “What do I do, Jack?”  She whispered.  “I’m so…confused.  I don’t know where to start.” Drying my hands on a dish towel, I leaned back against the counter.  Knowing her as I did, I knew she wasn’t asking me to tell her how to go on living without her husband. “Start,” I answered, “with the basics.”  With a smile, I nodded at the baby cup and crackers that were just out of Jimmy’s reach on the table. Smoothing his hair a little, she handed him a cracker.  “I’ll spend the night,” I offered, “help you pack a few things in the morning.  You can stay with Dad for a while.”  Sensing a forthcoming protest, I added, “It’ll do him good, seeing you and the baby.”  I relaxed when she nodded.  “I’ve got some business that’ll take me out of town after the funeral,” we both winced at that word, “and I’d appreciate it if you’d stick with him while I’m gone, sort of keep an eye on him.” She looked away.  “And you will tell him the same thing, to keep an eye on me while you are gone.”  It was a statement, not a question.  “Where are you going?”  Now she looked at me, looked me right in the eyes.  Even if I had been going to lie to her, I couldn’t have done it like that.  “There’s a chance they’ll catch his killer yet, Eva,” I answered honestly.  “Maybe I can help.”  Neither of us said anything for a while after that.  “You’re like your brother,” she said at last.  “When your mind is made up…”  Shrugging slightly, she stood and straightened herself a bit.  “Call your father,” she nodded at the phone, “I will check dinner.” ------------------------------------- I was startled to learn from the Officer in charge that the case was closed.  I’d come nearly a thousand miles to help solve a mystery that had apparently unraveled without me.  He explained on our way to the courthouse, where the first day of the trial was about to begin. “We had a pretty good idea where to look for his killer once we found the second body,” observed the officer as he led me through the crowded halls. “Second body?”  I asked, surprised again. “Young woman,” he acknowledged, “former girlfriend of one of our local problems.  In here,” he removed his hat as he opened the door to a courtroom.  “Your brother happened by while she was trying to break up with him,” he shook his head. The explanation ended there.  From the expression on his face, I could tell that defending the weak wasn’t something that happened often on his beat. We both ducked as a shot rang out.  There was blood on his shirt as he slid down the door.  Acting without stopping to think, I ripped open his holster and brought the pistol up.  More shots were being fired, but not in my direction.  Straightening from my crouch, I had my target, a man in a gray jumpsuit and chains, in my sights before he even saw me.  For a moment, as his pistol barrel swung to bear on me, I was a soldier again.  Fighting, killing even, was like riding a bicycle.  Once you’ve learned how… Exhaling slowly, I squeezed off the shot.  The gun slipped from his nerveless fingers to the floor.  I was already moving, my one thought to subdue him.  He was a danger to everyone present.  Adrenaline rushed through me, making the sound of his pistol hitting the floor sound like a slamming door.  A splinter jabbed me in the finger as I vaulted the low, decorative fence between the spectators’ benches and the lawyers’ tables.  Skidding to a halt, I noticed a picture on one of the tables.  I froze, my pistol trained on the prisoner.  The picture was frozen in my mind.  Phil…  This prisoner, I thought dully, is the man who killed my brother. “Finish it!”  Spat the prisoner venomously, his right hand pressing against the hole in his left shoulder.  “Scared?”  He lunged to his feet, trying to scare me. I didn’t flicker an eyelash.  I couldn’t even move.  I was caught between the overwhelming urge to apply just a little more pressure to the trigger and the knowledge that it was the wrong thing to do.  I was barely aware of the rest of the room, of the sound of a guard groaning in pain, of the acrid smell of gunsmoke from the shots he’d fired.  Was it my imagination, or was I the only person in the room that wasn’t injured or terrified? “What’s the matter?” he raged at me, contempt now in his voice, “ain’t you man enough?” Man enough…  Suddenly I could breathe again.  My shoulders relaxed and I almost felt pity. “What would you know,” I asked, genuinely curious, “about being a man?”  I gestured with the pistol, and ordered, “Face down, on the floor.  Now.”