Woodman’s injuries notwithstanding, it was a strange and unexpected time of mending and healing for the cousins. Cain’s priorities had shifted while they were away from home, his experiences in the Navy molding him from an unruly lump of clay, little by little, into the man he wanted to be. He’d learned loyalty and discipline, brotherhood and responsibility, and tied inexorably to this experience and growth had been Josiah—his cousin, practically his brother, and the best friend he’d ever known. He wanted and needed his cousin in his life, and he was determined not to act with the same selfishness he’d exercised as a teenager. Now that he felt the full measure of Josiah’s camaraderie restored, he never, ever wanted to lose it again.
Prior to his transfer from Germany to Maryland, Woodman, who’d held out hope of making a full recovery, was advised that his career as a damage controlman was over and that his file had been remanded for retirement approval. Cain watched in horror as his cousin’s indomitable spirit dipped dramatically, his eyes filling with uncharacteristic tears at the terrible finality of naval retirement at only twenty-one. In a sudden act of solidarity, Cain found himself promising that he’d meet Josiah at Walter Reed so they could drive home together. His cousin seemed encouraged by the idea that he’d have a wingman for the transition home, and Cain kept his promise, strolling into Woodman’s hospital room three days ago and flashing the keys to a rental car.
“Hey, cuz! Ready to go home?” he asked with a grin.
Woodman lifted his eyes, and Cain worked hard not to register the surprise he felt at the changes in his cousin’s appearance. Sitting in a wheelchair by a window, he looked like a caged animal who’d given up the hope of returning to the wild. He still had the muscle tone he’d built up over the past few years, so his chest was wide and strong under a thin blue hospital gown, but his face was bony and sallow, his eyes dull and discouraged, his beard shaggy.
“Cain,” he said softly, mustering a small smile. “Good to see you, man.”
“Josiah.” Cain had sat down in the chair beside his cousin. “You look . . . rough.”
“Don’t lie to me, huh?”
“I’m not a good bullshitter.”
“Since when?”
Cain scoffed softly. “You workin’ out?”
Josiah’s eyes narrowed. “I’m crippled.”
“One foot.” Cain slid his eyes to his cousin’s other foot, which was bare and in perfect condition. “Other one looks A-OK, sailor.”
To Cain’s horror, Josiah’s lips trembled. “I’m not . . .” He cleared his throat and continued in a stronger voice. “I’m not a sailor anymore.”
“Stop talkin’ crazy. You’ll be a sailor until you die.”
Looking down at his lap, Josiah muttered, “Part of me sorta wishes that day would come sooner’n later.”
The rest of Cain stiffened except for his left hand, which darted out and slapped his cousin’s face hard enough to leave a red handprint. Staring at each other in shock, Cain mumbled, “You talk like that again, I’ll break your neck.”
Josiah’s lip started trembling again, but to Cain’s relief, his cousin was on the verge of laughter, not tears. “Well, that’d hurry things along!” he finally said between gasps of mirth.
Cain joined him, laughing along, but inside he was deeply troubled by Woodman’s despondency and made a silent promise to do everything he possibly could to get his cousin back on his feet, proverbially and actually, before Cain had to return to his post.
Over the past three days at Walter Reed, slowly but surely, Woodman brooded less and laughed more in Cain’s company. But in every quiet moment, Cain saw the profound change in his cousin—the frustration and anger brimming just beneath the surface, the fatigue and despair—and he hated it. Of the two of them, Woodman had always been the golden boy, kind and smart, decent and popular, destined for great things. Even in high school, when his torn ACL had sidelined him from Annapolis, Woodman had managed to pick up his spirits, rehab his leg, and find another path for his life. With gusto. But now? He just seemed so goddamned hopeless, and it worried Cain.
Added to his worries about Woodman, he wasn’t that excited about going home after three years away. Things in his life had changed quite a lot since he’d left Apple Valley, and he wasn’t sure of where he would fit in or—in light of his behavior in high school—what his welcome would be like.
Foremost in the changes at home was that the week after Cain left for boot camp, his mother had remarried and moved to Frankfort, almost an hour away from Apple Valley. The timing of her impromptu nuptials suggested that she’d known her new husband, Jim Johnson, for quite some time, and Cain couldn’t help wondering if Jim Johnson had been partially responsible for his parents’ divorce. Either way, he wasn’t particularly eager to meet him.