“I agree, Tony,” Libby said. “And that’s exactly what I am trying to do.”
“You turn the page,” Tony continued. “Turn the page and go on. I had this friend,” he continued. “We called him Frick, because he was always hanging out with this dude named Franken, something like. Frick and Frank, right? We were all stationed in Afghanistan together, the Helmand Province, and Frick and I, we were wounded by the same IED. Killed Franken,” he added casually, as if Franken had caught a bad cold instead of losing his life. “Anyway, we come back to the States, me missing a leg and Frick missing both arms below the elbow, and he finds out his wife has moved on. Only she forgot to tell him.”
“Oh my God,” Madeline said. “How awful.”
Libby couldn’t imagine surviving a bomb, losing limbs, only to find out that everything had exploded at home, too.
“Well old Frick, he was stubborn, and he tried to get her back but she wouldn’t come. She didn’t like him without his arms, you know? Like that changed the man or something.” Tony made a sound of disgust and shook his head. “Let me tell you, Frick took that shit hard. I said, buddy, turn the page. Life goes on.”
No one spoke. They waited for Tony to continue, but Tony shrugged and leaned over his chili.
“So?” Libby said. “What happened?”
“Huh?” Tony looked up. “Oh, he killed himself,” he said. “Had his toe on the trigger.”
Libby gasped and exchanged a look of shared horror with Madeline.
“It wasn’t just his wife, you know,” Tony said. “He might have gotten over that. But it was the no arm thing, too. No job, no woman—that can really get to a man.” He helped himself to more chili. “I would have helped him, but at the time, I was sleeping on my mom’s couch.”
He ate his chili and looked around the table, realizing only then what a rapt audience he had. “Oh, hey,” he said. “I didn’t mean to bring you all down. Shit happens. There’s just not enough places for guys like us. It’s not like anyone comes back from war in good shape, you know?”
“We get the horses now?” Ernest said to Luke, and both Luke and Sam were more than happy to have an excuse to leave the table. Even Tony, shoveling in a few more bites as he came to his feet, wanted to help. “This thing works like a charm on the snow,” he said proudly, patting his prosthesis, and walked out behind the other men.
Libby helped Madeline clean the kitchen; by the time they’d finished, the men had loaded the horses into the trailer. Sam met Libby on the porch, his hands deep in his pockets against the chill. Everyone else had disappeared inside.
“I should go before the roads ice,” he said, and put his arms around her. “You’re shivering.”
“I don’t want you to go,” she said into his coat.
“The horses need to be fed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, and lifted her face to his. He kissed her, his hand cupping her face, his tongue and lips teasing hers, warming her up. When he let go of her, the cold air sank into the space where he’d just been.
He walked down the steps, but paused on the bottom and glanced back up at her. “Are you sure about the committee, Libby? Madeline has a point.”
Libby sighed. “Sam . . . I’m sure. It’s like Tony said—I’ve turned the page.”
She didn’t like the doubtful way Sam looked at her.
TWENTY-TWO
You’ve probably heard by now that I had another seizure, first one in about two months. I don’t remember it. One minute I was watching Biggest Loser and rooting for the cute chick, and the next minute, I woke up in the hospital. I was pissed. I don’t have time for hospitals; I have a van to acquire.
The only good thing about hospitals is the hot nurses. It’s like bellying up to a buffet of women. But get this—this time, I woke up to a guy nurse. Yes! A guy! I said, “No offense, dude, but I am getting you reassigned. I don’t pay to look at a guy’s mug while I’m in here.”
The nurse said he understood, but he was putting a catheter in while he was talking and that made our little chat sort of awkward. Ruined my whole trip, if you want to know the truth.