Drawing Blood (2 page)

Chapter Two

David

He twitched in spite of himself. Being around his old man made him that way. He couldn’t help it. The uniform wasn’t comfortable, and it was hot in the living room. It stunk like his father had been drinking for three weeks straight … and maybe he had been.

Duncan Cleary looked at him through one squinting, red eye. He was on his side on the sofa, still in his mechanic’s uniform. It was Sunday. David knew the old man hadn’t been to work since Friday.

David had a moment of wondering if his father even noticed he’d been gone for months. It didn’t matter. The faster a long stretch of highway and an ocean got between him and the old fart the better.

“I’m leaving, Pop,” he said briskly, cap in hand. “Time to report for duty.”

His dad coughed, hacking up something disgusting. “Where?”

“Newfoundland first. Then … Europe.”

His father frowned now. “Why the fuck are you heading there?”

David sighed. “That’s where the Army’s heading, Dad. England declared war on Germany. They’ve invaded Poland, France … it’s a pretty important event.”

His father sat up. There was a dried stain on the front of his shirt. It might be vomit. “Don’t be a smart ass.” He coughed again, rubbing his balding scalp. “Who the hell’s going to take care of this place when I’m at work?”

David shrugged. “You’ll be all right. Darlene said she’d check on you. And I’m pretty sure you can buy your own groceries by now.”

A bottle came out of nowhere at high velocity. David side-stepped it and put his wedge cap back on as it shattered against a wall. “I’ll miss you too, Dad.” He was answered with a couple cuss words. “See you later. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

The sun was bright outside. As David strode to his friend’s pick up, he felt a bead of sweat start down his back. Tom Jackson smiled at him, shaking his head. David climbed in the passenger seat, smiling back. “What? What is it?”

Tom put the truck in gear. “Look at you. Who the hell are you? It’s like I don’t even know you.”

“Still me, Tom.”

Tom shook his head and pulled away from the curb. “Nah. Not you at all. You look familiar but … this is important, Dave. This is … for real.”

Dave watched the old neighbourhood fly by outside the window. It was rolled down and the breeze felt great. “I know. And it’s also the only way I’ll ever get to see anything other than this town.”

“Maybe. But if you looked hard enough there might be a way that doesn’t involve you getting shot.”

Dave laughed. “My grandfather fought in the Great War, did you know that?”

“No. Your mom’s dad?”

Dave nodded. “He used to say that your family can piss you off to no end but you have to put up with them or you’re out of the will. But your combat brothers would do anything for you, because without each other you end up dead. Which is more important?”

David could still hear his grandfather wheezing in his arm chair in their living room. He’d inhaled something that had damaged his lungs, his mother told him.
But he’s too mean to just die
, his father would add.

“I like to think that we’re brothers, Dave.  You’re always welcome at my mom’s. You used to practically live at our place after …” he let it trail off.

After your mom died, is what he meant. That’s when his dad had started drinking and hitting him more than usual at least. David hated to feel sorry for himself. Plenty of people had abusive, alcoholic parents. Plenty of people decided that the bottom of the barrel was good enough for them, too. David wanted out. Once his mother had died that was all he could think of. College was not a possibility: there was no money. It had all been spent treating his mother’s cancer.

He had no resentment on that count. His mother had deserved better than what she had in nearly all aspects of life. Her husband, health … everything.

So with no college, what else was there? Working at the garage with his father? Not likely. The old man couldn’t stand him. So all David could do was sign up and get out.

“I think of you as my brother, too,” David said gently.

“Then why are you leaving?”

David couldn’t ignore the pleading in his friend’s voice. Tom had always looked up to David, he knew it. Tom was the youngest of five kids, all girls. His parents were really nice people, they cared for all of their kids a great deal, and they had so much love in that house it practically spilled out every time someone opened a door. At any given time a friend of one of the kids was probably staying there due to a family emergency, ridiculous family dramas, or a teenager that just didn’t want to go home.

David had the opposite upbringing, especially as he hit his teen years. Suddenly the household was a free-for-all, no one in charge the second his mom fell ill. Unstructured, empty. Dave felt a lot of guilt about that. He had likely caused his mother a great deal of stress when she really didn’t need it.

David’s freedom was what Tom never had. At fifteen he was basically a bachelor with no bills to pay. Tom was suffocating under family love and feminine influence. They envied each other for the things they resented themselves.

“If I don’t make it back, you’ll be the only one that misses me. Maybe my sister. If people like you leave to do this and you die, that’s a lot of sad people.”

Tom made a face. “Don’t say that.”

“You feel like there’s a lot to stay here for. I don’t share that sentiment.”

Tom spared him a withering look. “I’m going to miss you, that’s all.”

David sighed, feeling like a heel. “I know. I’ll miss you, too, Tom. You’re the only one I will miss.”

At the train station David’s bags were loaded on to the baggage car. He and Tom stood facing each other, hands in pockets, studying their feet. All around them people were being hugged and waved off, the majority of them in various uniforms; blue of the air force, khaki of the army. It was bustling and loud. Women were crying. Hell, even a few of the old men were teary-eyed as they passed by. Everyone had to speak loudly to be heard over the huffing of the steam engines.

“So … I know you’re not the letter-writing type. But you have to know that my sisters plan on writing you,” Tom said, off-hand. It made David laugh. “I’m serious. Teresa has had a crush on you since you hit your growth spurt.”

“That is a bit disconcerting, actually.”

Tom laughed too, then he threw his arms around David. David hugged him back, slapping his shoulder. He felt tears prickling to the surface, but he fought it down. This isn’t the last time you’ll see each other, he told himself. This is just a “see you later” goodbye.

He stepped back, and noticed the redness of Tom’s eyes. His friend sniffed and wouldn’t meet his gaze. That was it. Dave felt his eyes water up without any warning.

“Hey. I’ll be back. I swear it,” he said roughly, looking at his feet.

Tom nodded. “Yeah, you likely will. Only the nice guys die young, right?”

Dave laughed, gave Tom another short hug then made his way to the conductor. He looked over his shoulder as he presented his ticket, but Tom was gone. David was alone, but he was used to that .

“David Cleary!”

The voice rang out completely clear. He turned to his left just before a bundle of blue dress, dyed red hair and perfume was against his chest. Hands held his face, and lips were pressed against his roughly. He was caught off guard, and he kept his eyes open to keep up with who this was.

Molly Black from his high school class; cute as a button and a lot of fun. There’d been a few parties where Molly had been the most fun thing in attendance.

He closed his eyes and kissed her back. He could taste the mint on her breath. His hands found her small waist, holding her close. She sighed when she pulled away, a serious look on a face that had never had a serious thought behind it.

“Be careful, Dave. Come home to us, please.”

He smiled down at her, and her green eyes twinkled up at him. Her smile was known to eat men alive. David would never fall in love with just a smile, but plenty before him had. Actually, they were two of a kind when you got right down to it.

“I will. Keep the home front morale up while I’m gone?”

She gave a wicked smile. “That’s not how you talk to a lady.”

“Next time I see one I’ll keep that in mind.”

She kissed him again, crushing against his chest and clasping his lapels tightly. Then she was off, spiriting through the crowd, leaving only a wake of turned heads and perfume.

He smiled to himself and held the ticket out to the conductor. The older man was shaking his head as though he was the father of the woman who had just molested David, but he had a small smile, too. “God speed son,” he said seriously as David climbed on to the train.

He settled into his seat next to the window, sighing. He took off the cap, smoothing a hand over his hair. The cap got tucked into his belt while he smiled at the few people who walked past. They all returned the smile, which was a strange phenomenon, but every time he wore that uniform out people were incredibly friendly.

He smelled her before he actually saw her. There was a refreshing waft of air as she stopped in the aisle and slid into the seat facing him. Her charcoal suit was well fitted. Her dark brown hair was glossy like it had been carved in place. Her make up subtle but effective. He had become a quick study about the way a woman wore make up.

David’s best guess put her at about twenty-two or three. She looked like the heiress to a large fortune, going by the quality of her outfit and the sparklers in her ears. The engagement ring was hard to miss, too.

She caught him looking at her, and she met his gaze straight-on. Yes, she was from money but she wasn’t shy. He didn’t look away from her eyes, which were wide and dark.  He gave his most charming smile.

She looked down at the book she held, but not without giving a slight private grin of her own.

An elderly lady was now staring down at him. He looked up at her, and her sweet smile had him getting to his feet with all the good manners his mother had taught him. “Please, ma’am. Take the window seat.”

“Oh, why thank you dear.”

He helped her sit, and sank down next to her, complimenting her on her broach and dress. The beautiful woman across from them wasn’t spared another glance. David fully expected to have her desperate for him well before they reached Newfoundland.

Chapter Three

Elliot 

“Honey?” A hand shook his shoulder. “Sweetheart. You should get up.”

He opened one eye to see Janet looking down at him. He couldn’t read this expression. They’d been married two years and he had no idea what this face meant. He’d never seen it before.

Elliot Murphy raised himself up on an elbow. His wife was in her housecoat and he could tell she’d been up for a while. She had likely made coffee already and started packing for him. He took her hand and kissed her palm. “Come back to bed.”

Janet sighed. “You’ll be late catching your train.” She tried to pull her hand back, but he held tight. Then he got the smile he wanted. “Elliot.”

He pulled her down to the bed, kissing down her throat between the lapels of her housecoat. “Elliot, don’t. The train …”

He cut off her protestations with a kiss, and she kissed him back immediately. He untied the sash of her robe, opening it and pushing her nightgown up over her hips. She pushed him back slightly, smiling up at him. He stilled, letting her run her hands up his bare shoulders to touch his face. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you, too.”

“Don’t be a hero, okay? When things are dangerous, find somewhere to hide. Learn how to say ‘I surrender’ in German. Just make sure you come home to me.”

“
Kapitulation
,” he murmured.

“What?”

“That’s German for surrender.”

She smiled and tweaked his nose. “You’ve been learning German?”

“Not really. Just a few choice phrases.
Die waffen nieder.
”

She raised her eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

“Does it matter?”

She wound her arms around his neck. “Not really. Know anything else?”

“
Wo warst du denn hin?
”

“Mmmm,” she writhed under him and rose up to kiss him.

He laughed. “You like
deutsch zu sprechen
?”

She kissed him again, and he stopped talking as her legs wrapped around his waist.

They made love passionately, but it was brief. He loved watching Janet’s face as she was climaxing. Her eyes softened and her mouth fell open. She made the softest of cries as they locked eyes. As she finished those lovely green eyes filled with tears. She let out a sob, and he had to stop. He held her for a while before she reminded him about the train again.

As he was showering he pressed one hand to the hollow pain in his chest. He stared at the tiles on the wall, the washcloth hanging over the water tap, the shampoo and soap that made up their morning routines; silly nonsensical things. Christ, how he hoped he got to see them again.

He stood in their bedroom, buttoning up his military dress shirt over an undershirt. Janet came in to the room in her slip, hair already perfectly set. He watched her in the vanity mirror, as she crossed to the closet and pulled out a dress, tossing it to the rumpled bed. It was one of his favourites; sunshine yellow with a wide skirt that flared to show her figure.

She wasn’t looking at him. He was tucking his shirt in, still watching her dress. When she came to the vanity to go through the jewellery box he caught her by the arm. “Janet. Hey.” She looked up at him, and her eyes were still damp. He let her go. “Talk to me.”

“About what? Do you really not know why I’m upset?”

He wrapped his arms around her, and she hugged him in return, somewhat grudgingly.

“I fully intend to come home,” he said, rubbing her back.

She nodded. “I know. But it won’t be entirely up to you.”

He had no answer. So he squeezed her tighter. She fit perfectly under his arms; his shoulders could curve around and shelter her completely. “I love you,” he finally said. “More than anything. And this fight is against anyone that could hurt you, Janet. “

“I know why you’re going. It doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

That was a fair enough statement, even though it did nothing for his guilt. But he didn’t deserve anything that would make this acceptable. He was leaving his wife to do something young and single men were supposed to do.

Duty had been bred in to him. His father had served in the Great War. He grew up hearing about the importance of protecting what people before you had died for so their lives were not lost in vain. His father had served under England at the age of sixteen . That’s why Elliot had signed up after high school. Of course, signing up in peace time was easy. It was when conflict arose that the decision became difficult.

He kissed her shoulder, and she stepped back to wipe her eyes. “Oh, I got tears on your shirt.”

He caught her hand as she brushed at the wet spot on his chest. “Janet. I love you.” He felt he needed to say it a lot. It might be years before he got to say it again to her.

“I know. I love you, too.” She kissed him firmly, then went back to finish dressing. He adjusted his collar and fixed the cap at the proper angle, lowered over the right eye. The collar was tight. Not a design for comfort.

The three chevron stripes on the sleeve were all that would differentiate him from every other young man getting on that train. He’d made Sergeant during basic training. Elliot never thought he’d start out service as a non-com, but when he’d looked at the other guys in his platoon it made sense. He was the oldest, the one least gung-ho to go charging off guns blazing. They expected him to stay calm and make smarter decisions, keep the other guys on course.

He didn’t put the jacket on. It was just too bloody warm. He carried it with him out of the bedroom, tossing it across the back of a chair. His bags were packed by the door. One glance back to the bedroom confirmed that Janet was almost ready to go, she had moved on to getting her jewellery in place. He took his bags out to the car, stowing it all in the trunk. As he closed the lid a hand clasped his shoulder and he turned with a start. But it was just his neighbour, Hank Talbot.

“So, it’s time to head off?”

Elliot nodded. His neighbour was a few years older, but they’d been immediate friends. Their wives got along famously as well. Hank very nearly read his mind. “Elizabeth and I will look out for Janet,” Hank offered, holding out his hand.

Elliot took it gratefully. “Thank you so much. I appreciate it.”

“You take care, Elliot. We’re proud of what you’re doing. We appreciate it. Making sure Janet’s okay is the least we can do.”

He chucked Elliot’s shoulder and crossed his lawn again, disappearing in to his house without a backwards glance. It was a reaction that he was getting used to from people around his age. The 19 and 20-year-olds were signing up by the handful. But the men just married and in their first house were not as enthusiastic. Too many responsibilities, yet they were still young enough to feel like it should be them, too.

The drive to the station was silent, but Janet held his hand at least. He hated using her guilt to force her to be nice to him but he couldn’t stand it if he left when she was furious. He needed her to hug him and kiss him goodbye like she really meant it.

His parents were at the station, too. His father may have looked elderly, but everything about his posture and walk marked him as a military man. He strode with pride across the platform, shaking Elliot’s hand. His mother was already crying, and when she saw Janet they set each other off in a flood of tears and hugs.

“You take care of yourself. Keep your head up. One foot in front of the other.”

Elliot smiled. He knew his father had a combat story to go with that expression, but he’d never shared it. Maybe he’d get to hear it when he got home.

His father gave him a stiff hug. His mother was much more demonstrative, wailing as she clung to him, holding the back of his neck as she pulled him down so she could kiss both cheeks and hug him so tightly the second time he thought she might crack his spine.

“Meredith,” his father said gruffly. “Meredith, let the boy go. Let his wife hug him.”

She didn’t acknowledge her husband, but she released Elliot and patted his cheek before looking down and away. She went to her husband, but he didn’t hug her. He patted her shoulder but otherwise left her to stand there and wipe her eyes with a handkerchief.

Janet held him tightly, quivering now. She didn’t say anything. Elliot knew she had nothing new to say. She’d said it at home. So he held her as long as they let him, not stepping back until the conductor gave the all aboard.

Janet wouldn’t let him go. She rose on to her toes and pressed her lips against his with fury. It felt like she was angry at first, but as his arms wound around her back she softened the kiss, dissolving back in to everything soft that he had always loved about kissing her.

His father had to tap his shoulder. “They’re going to leave without you, son.”

I don’t care
, he thought irrationally as Janet stepped back and just gazed at him with her bittersweet smile in that yellow sundress he loved so much. She was also wearing the gold chain he’d gotten for her birthday. She’d done all that for him.
I should stay. I can’t leave her.

“You better get moving, Sergeant,” Janet said, nearly in a playful tone.  “How can England win the war without you?”

He smiled and grabbed her for another kiss, dipping her back like he had at their wedding. She was giggling when he released her. “I love you. I always will.”

“And I love you. Forever.”

His throat was closing up. He had to turn and leave, digging his ticket out of his pocket. He tried to ignore the water in his eyes. The prickle in his nose that meant he was dangerously close to crying. The conductor took his ticket, saying grimly, “God speed, son.”

He found the window seat assigned to him then searched the platform for them through the window. Janet stood out from everyone else in that yellow dress. She raised her hand to blow him a kiss. The train set off with a violent jolt, and he raised his hand to wave goodbye. He saw his father put an arm around Janet to comfort her.

He kept his eyes on her for as long as he could, but eventually they were too far away to see. Elliot sank back in his seat, elbow on the window ledge, biting one knuckle. He closed his eyes, burning her image in to his memory. Yellow sundress. Gold necklace with the diamond-crusted heart pendant. Diamond earrings that were a wedding gift from her parents. Her eyes. Her smile. Her hair. Her skin. Her smell.

He took a deep and ragged breath. He had to make sure everything about her stayed with him. When he opened his eyes again tears spilled down his cheeks. He brushed them off roughly, catching the gaze of a woman two rows down from him in a rear-facing seat. She was lovely in an inhuman kind of way and dressed to the nines. The young soldier next to her was speaking with her enthusiastically and she appeared to be listening, but she was looking at Elliot and on her face was … pity.

Elliot looked back out the window. The countryside here was familiar. He tried to savour the feeling of home for as long as he had it, because before long he’d be in another province, speeding further away from the woman he loved.

Janet had a lot of people to make sure she was okay. So why the hell did Elliot still feel like he was leaving her all on her own?