He wasn’t ready to go back to the boardinghouse and his grandmother’s patient glances, so he stopped in to Tony’s Tavern for a beer. The tavern was close to the highway, and there was usually a motorcycle or two. Inside, the décor was full of neon signs between mounted deer heads. The bar ran the length of the front room, flat screen TVs showed college basketball, and the dartboard had a line of men waiting to use it. In back, he glimpsed a pool table under a spotlight.
The bartender glanced up as Adam hung his coat on a hook by the door, then slowly grinned. “Adam Desantis,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
Adam smiled and strode to the bar, where they shook hands across the top. “Tony De Luca.”
Tony had shaggy brown hair that still seemed long to Adam after the high and tight haircuts of jarheads. But Tony’s expression was open and friendly, and Adam knew there would be no judgment here, no expected answers to questions he didn’t want. Tony was a few years older than him, but they’d known of each other. And talking to someone else would help him forget other bars in foreign countries, and the ghosts of other men.
Adam ordered a beer and took a seat at the bar. “Still playing hockey?”
“I’m on a few teams. I’ve even got my boy playing.”
“Wow, a family man.”
Tony shrugged his burly shoulders beneath the flannel shirt. “Not so good at the family part, but my son and I are a team.”
He set a bottle down in front of Adam, who took a welcome sip.
“Divorced?” Adam asked.
Tony nodded. “You?”
“Out of the Marines now. No family—except my grandma.”
“Glad to see you’ve come back. Valentine always welcomes its heroes. A group of vets meets here regularly for a darts league.”
Adam’s smile faded. He was putting the past behind him and had no wish to relive someone’s idea of the “glory days.” “I’m nobody’s hero, Tony. I just did my job.”
Tony nodded and turned to ring up another customer. When he came back, he asked, “Are you sticking around town for long?”
It wasn’t the first time Adam had been asked. “I don’t know. Depends on how my grandma is doing. And don’t tell me you need a guy for your team. You know I didn’t play.”
“I know. Just wondering if you were looking for something to do.”
“You have no idea,” he said dryly.
“Having fun at the boardinghouse?”
“Word gets around.”
“Hey, you gotta expect that. Heard you were involved in some excitement at the Silver Creek Ranch.”
“Then you heard it was nothing much. Horses are safe.”
“And Brooke.” Tony watched him closely as he dried a beer mug.
“She’s safe, too.” Adam took a swig of beer, meaning that in more than one way.
There was a sudden bark of laughter from the back room, and inside, he felt the flinch he always got at loud noises. His weakness really pissed him off.
Before Tony’s innocent questions could go further—how had he forgotten how nosy everyone was in a small town?—he said, “I’ll check out the game in back.”
Adam could feel Tony watching him as he headed for the back room, but at least it was friendly interest. As he moved down the length of the bar, others gave him curious looks. A couple guys were close to his own age, and if given a moment, he might have recognized them, but he kept moving.
The bikers in their leather vests and jeans had taken over the pool table, and Adam worked his way into the lineup and won a few games. He was a master at the concentration required to line up a good shot, after all his years with the rifle as his constant companion. As a civilian, he didn’t carry a gun, only a pocketknife. It bothered him that he still thought of ways he would defend himself if necessary, but after all those years at war, it was hard to abandon the mind-set. But the bikers were good sports and didn’t mind being defeated.
There were women in the bar, too, and as he left, more than one gave him a “Welcome home, soldier” glance, but he couldn’t muster up the interest. As he got in his pickup, it dawned on him that that was the story of his life lately, no interest in anything. It was time to get on with it, to accept his ghosts, to find a better reason for life than just existing.
Chapter Four
Late the next afternoon, Adam had his head under the kitchen sink, reinstalling the garbage disposal after the sink had clogged, when he saw his grandma’s legs as she walked slowly toward him with the aid of her cane. She was wearing a dress, striped in bright orange, and he knew she hadn’t been wearing that earlier. He would have remembered it. Ducking his head out from beneath the kitchen sink, he squinted up at her. She wore a matching orange bow in her blond wig.