Returning Home Ch. 03

Clearly, neither of the detectives believed a word he was saying. The waitress had confirmed that they had discussed watching the games, but that meant nothing. Hector continued.

"So, Jim tried to defend himself, but it wasn't really a fair fight. Liam stabbed him multiple times. They pronounced Jim at the hospital. I've told you this a thousand times. Why are we going over it again?"

Hector was still stunned at how it went down. Liam should have never been able to get that knife out. It was obvious that Jim could have killed him at any time during the fight. He also could have beaten him into unconsciousness. Hector even thought it likely that Jim could have simply taken the knife away from Liam.

Sitting across from him, the one playing good-cop did the talking. "Liam's dead. Someone got to him in the infirmary at the jail."

The look of feigned shock on Hector's face was openly exaggerated. The large, tattooed biker resembled a terrifying Scaramouch, overacting his part. "Seriously? Wow. You guys need to work on the security over there."

The talkative detective continued while his partner stayed in the corner, quietly watching. "Yeah, weird though. The guy that did it? He was a member of another MC that we've heard owed you."

"I don't know anything about that, but I'll look into it. Am I good to go? I'd like to get some lunch."

"You're free to go, Hector. Stay close."

He stood and stretched his large frame, cracking his neck audibly. "You got it."

There were rules that Hector used to abide by. Certain loyalties to his men and rules of how things were to be handled. Life was going to get difficult for him, but he didn't really care. In fact, he hadn't cared about much of anything since Jim died.

He wasn't like Jim. Hector didn't have that moral code to keep him in check. Let them come. Unlike Jim, he had no compunctions about killing. If shit happened, it happened.

* * * * *

Ann left her sullen father sulking on the couch as she drove to the lawyer's office. She was sure he thought he would be able to take the car when Ann returned. Things had changed. She had taken his key that morning while he slept. If he wanted to go get drunk, he could walk. She was done paying penance for her mother's sins.

Ann had known and hadn't told him. She had been wracked with regrets for more than a decade. Would they have stopped if she told her mother that she saw them? Would her father have stopped them if she told him? She had no idea. What she did know is that the time was long past to let it go. Ann had been fourteen. She should have never been in that position.

Resting her head on the steering wheel, she sat in the parking lot realizing that this would be her last interaction with Jim. His lawyer needed to meet with her about his will. Jeremy offered to join her, but she politely declined. He was unfailingly polite and seemingly concerned, but he was too closely aligned with Jim for her to form any type of relationship with.

Jim had taken some perverse pride in not killing Liam, just leaving him next to dead. It was as if he found salvation in legalism.Look at me, Ann! Aren't you proud? I found a way to have my revenge without breaking my word. He knew that any action was hers to take or not to take and he didn't give a fuck. As frustrated as she was, she hoped his cheap sophistry eased his soul as he passed.

Mr. Begley escorted Ann to his office as soon as she entered the building.

Ann had been through this once before with her mother's passing, but the attorney must deal with similar situations frequently. His smile was professional, but still kind as he began. "Well, this is pretty cut and dried. You'll need to speak to someone with expertise in estate taxes, but with few exceptions, Mr. Mason left you everything. You're the beneficiary of his life insurance, he left you the house, the property, the hunting cabin; well, pretty much everything."

Pausing, he looked across the large mahogany table. "I'm sorry, Ms. Mason. My assistant called out ill. I don't know where my manners are. Can I offer you a soft drink? Some water?"

Hands on her lap, Ann looked at the box of tissues conveniently left on the table.Was this the point where he stops to allow me to regain my composure? Sorry to disappoint, barrister. I'm all cried out.

"No, thank you. I'm fine. Let's continue."

"Alright. Mr. Mason had a sizable amount of liquid assets. I can have a check for you by the end of the week. I'll have any necessary deeds and titles transferred within two weeks, give or take." He pushed a folder across the table. "That's a complete listing of everything that Mr. Mason detailed. He was a rather detail oriented man. He could have just listed 'contents of home', but he has everything down from tools to spare parts for the truck."

The lawyer pushed an envelope across the table to her.

"There were two items Mr. Mason seemed particularly concerned about. He set up an account with Orion's Auto for the maintenance of the truck. Oil changes, brakes, putting on snow tires and general credit. This is the more... unorthodox item, he also left you gift cards totaling five-hundred dollars to D K Donuts in Boise. That's a lot of doughnuts."

Ann picked up the heavy envelope and scanned its contents. There were two pages from Orion's Auto, the gift certificates, and a brochure from the Boise State University School of Journalism. It had almost been a joke when she was a child. Whenever someone in the family went to the city they brought her back two maple glazed donuts from D K. They couldn't have cost more than a dollar and a half, but she always lit up like it was Christmas morning.

Maybe she did have some tears left. Ann found it difficult to keep the emotion out of her voice. "Thank you. Are we done?"

"Yes ma'am. I'll keep in touch as things develop, but what you have there," gesturing to the folder "is pretty comprehensive. Please let me know if there is anything I can do, and again, you have our deepest condolences. He must have loved you a great deal."

She was saddened to realize that he was right. Jim did love her. Just not enough. He didn't care for her enough to live. He didn't cherish her enough to give up his vengeance.

* * * * *

Three weeks later, Ann packed her belongings in what was now her truck. Andy stood at the house entrance, leaning his considerable weight on the door frame, beer in hand.

His voice was clear. Andy had showered and was wearing a clean pair of jeans, but his stained t-shirt marred his effort. It seemed that he had cut back on his drinking since the funeral. "So, that's it? You're leaving?"

"What do you want me to do, Dad? I'm leaving you the car. You'll still get your checks. I'm not going off the grid. You can call. The spring semester starts in three weeks. I need to find a place to stay and get settled in."

"You got your degree. Why're you going back to school? Why not just stay here?"

"It's Boise State, Dad. Not the podunk university I went to. I need to get my Masters. I can't be your caretaker anymore. I can't just sit here waiting for my life to start. I've been waiting too long. You'll be fine."

"Ann, come in the house for a minute."

Ann stood there staring at the truck. She just wanted to be gone. He was sitting in his favorite chair when she walked back in. The beer can on the card table to his left, his hands were fiddling with a long, gray cloth.

"I've been a shit father. I know it. Everyone knows it. I was as bad a father as I was a husband. I'm not gonna sit here and give you excuses or try to explain it away. I know what I've done, what I've lost."

"Dad, you—"

"Ann, let me just say this, okay?" He lifted the cloth. "These were your grandfather's. Gold coins. They were always sort of my, I don't know, my fallback. I want you to take them. Use them for school. Give them to your kids. It's a good amount. I know what you must think of me, but I've always loved you Ann. I can't believe I helped create you. You're the only thing in my life I'm proud of."

He had gold. He had fucking gold and she was paying for his medicine, food and utility bills. Her flash of anger melted as she saw her bear of a father starting to cry.

"Get your degree, Ann. Be happy. Call me once in a while and let me know how you're doing."

He stood and walked her back to the truck, pushing the cloth with the coins in her hand. His hug squeezed the air out of her and she didn't care. She clung to him desperately before starting to push away. Still hugging her, he leaned down, kissed the top of her head and whispered in her ear.

"I'm sorry, Ann. I love you."

She rolled down the windows once she had driven far enough past the slaughterhouse. The stench of death had dissipated, and the temperature had risen. She periodically checked the rearview mirror, never noticing the small smile that found it's home on her lips.

* * * * *

Ann thrived in academia. With the money Jim left her and from the rent from his parent's house, she didn't have to work, but she kept writing. More people attended Boise State than lived in her home town. It took a while for her to crawl out of her shell, but she found that all of the social stigmas that were attached to the poor daughter of the town drunk didn't mean a thing here.

She applied to the school paper and within days they called her for an interview, hiring her on sight. She was a professional journalist and they were aspiring to what she had already achieved. Ann discovered that she had a talent for organizing and became involved in a group that aided in the distribution of meat from hunters to soup kitchens and a peer group that arranged for escorts to walk female students to or from buildings at night.

She spent every Tuesday and Thursday evening volunteering at a home for veterans. Answering phones, filling out paperwork, cooking; she did whatever was needed. It was her way of continuing her families tradition of service. That's what she told herself. It certainly wasn't due to any guilt about Jim. He didn't deserve her sympathy.

She'd sit and talk to the veterans that had visible injuries, slowly trying to draw them out and talk about what happened to them, asking questions she never asked of her cousin. Trying to offer them comfort she never offered Jim.

Many nights after leaving she would wake up in tears. It had nothing to do with Jim.

* * * * *

Ann stepped into the veterans home and stopped, dead still, heart starting to pound. Jeremy was sitting on a couch next to another man about ten years older than him. Jeremy was helping the man fill out some paperwork. Ann stood there and stared until someone brushed past her as they entered.

His back to her, Jeremy was visible from the kitchen where she prepped food the staff and veteran's dinner. Able to overhear some of the conversation, she knew that Jeremy had been helping the residents with job applications. He was alone, shuffling through the papers, making changes here and there.

Putting down the cutlery and leaving the mise en place, she approached the couch. "Hello Jeremy. Could we talk?"

He looked up, startled. "Ann? God, it's great to see you. What are you doing here?"

"I, uh, I go to Boise. Getting my masters. I'm here Tuesdays and Thursdays. Can we... can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Jeremy, what happened to Jim?"

* * * * *

There were certain things that he couldn't tell her. Jeremy needed to find out what had been declassified and what hadn't. It was difficult to assess what she should hear and what she shouldn't. He decided to answer any questions she had, but to speak in broad strokes when necessary.

They met at Guru Donuts a few days after their initial discussion and he started with the IED that caused Jim's injuries and the ambush that followed it. He told her about the men Jim saved that day and his long road to recovery. She was spared the worst of the details.

Albertsons Library on campus became their meeting place when they realized a donut shop wasn't the best place for their discussions. Ann learned about most of Jim's career, with Jeremy focusing on friendships made and loyalties tested. Her cousin was held in high esteem by the men he served with and she was slowly learning why.

After a month of once a week discussions, she asked him if they could get together at her apartment the following week. It was just more convenient. She wouldn't have to head back to campus after coming home. That's all it was. They would get some food delivered. Or maybe she'd cook something.

Ann wasn't nervous. Her hands were sweating because she had been cooking.

Jeremy seemed to enjoy the tandoori chicken. Not that it mattered too much if he didn't. If he didn't like it, he could just pick up some take-out next time. She didn't care. But he did like it, or at least that's what he claimed.

He grabbed his laptop and pulled up some maps of the Middle East to give her an idea of where they were at different times. They had retired to her small living room, her on the chair, Jeremy on the couch.

As he was about to leave, he leaned in to hug Ann. She took a half step back and extended her hand. Looking confused, he shook it and bid her a good night.

The following week she made baked ziti with garlic bread. He seemed to enjoy it, but she was certain she didn't really care. This was the seventh time they had gotten together. Jeremy seemed to be speaking often in abstracts, details about Jim's service grew more and more scant. As he was leaving, Ann lightly touched his upper arm.

"Thank you. For... for all of this. I never asked if talking about this was difficult for you."

"No, it's fine. I'm actually glad to have the chance to talk about Jim. For a long time, he was the closest friend I had."

"Okay. Next week?"

"Sure. Next week."

Ann stepped close, reached up and kissed his cheek. She immediately regretted it, feeling like an awkward teenager.

The aromas of chili verde swirled through Ann's small apartment when Jeremy arrived the following week. They spoke and ate. She interspersed questions about his family and their car dealerships through the anecdotes about Jim. The stories had turned less serious. Jeremy told her how Jim was the only man he knew that brought a cloth napkin with him in the field. He would swear it was a handkerchief, but he would pull it out and neatly fold it in half when eating an MRE.

They laughed as he told her about pranks they pulled on each other, attempting to let off steam. Ann found it hard to believe that Jim had a sense of humor. So much of her cousin was a mystery to her. She would have learned so much if she had just asked.

They stood at the doorway.

"That was delicious. Thanks. Next week?"

"Jeremy..."

"Yeah?"

Forcing the words out was almost painful. Her pulse was racing. It all seemed so easy in her mind, but panic was setting in. Ann ruthlessly pushed down the fear.

"Don't go."

* * * * *

It was unseasonably warm on the third anniversary of his death. Ann stood there at his grave, her baby in her arms. She noticed for the first time that Jim was almost equidistant between his parent's graves and her mother's.

"Hello, Jim. I'm sorry I haven't been here in a while. Jeremy would have come, but I wanted it to be just us. This is James, your namesake. What would you be? Second-cousins? We would have called you Uncle Jim and you would have been wonderful with him." She paused for a moment. "I thought this would be so much easier not having to look you in the eye. After all those times calling you a coward, I guess I'm no better."

Sensing he was about to stir, she softly cooed as she rocked James.

"I ranted at you. I yelled and blamed you for things and took out all of my anger on you. You just took it. You even felt guilty. You just stood there and took it, while I could see your scars and your limp and how withdrawn you were. You never told me what happened, how you got hurt. I'll never forgive myself for not asking. I was so wrapped up in my own pain that I couldn't see yours."

She wiped away her tears as James tried to grab her nose.

"I was seeing a professional, getting help, slowly getting better, and you came home, alone, to die. I saw the look on your face when I told you that you weren't there for me. The pain, the remorse. I'll carry that with me for the rest of my life. Where the hell was I when you needed me? I'm so sorry. There's nothing I can do to make it better, but I'm going to make sure that James knows that his Uncle Jim was a hero, was loved and was my best friend."

* * * * *

What have I become, My sweetest friend, Everyone I know, Goes away in the end

Hurt, Trent Reznor, - Johnny Cash rendition

* * * * *

Thanks for reading!

As always, I owe a huge debt to the kind people that took a look at this in a much rougher form and were kind enough to share their thoughts and expertise. Amongst others, thanks goes to Todger65, Anomic, NotWise (chapter 1), Steve M, Jack and Alex. Editors and beta readers are the unsung heroes of Literotica. They deserve far more credit than they receive.

I'd like to take a moment to thank the readers that spent some of their precious time voting and commenting. Whether they are positive or negative, if comments aren't intentionally malicious, they are appreciated.