Hap drove up the side of the drive and we unloaded. As the men got the bags, I stood carrying Memphis’s crate with a Memphis I’d reloaded in it. Then Sam led us toward the front of the house facing the ocean.
I followed, Hap followed me. We trundled up a white-painted plank ramp and there it was.
The beach.
The ocean.
Beautiful.
Sam didn’t slow to drink in the view and around he went to a long deck that had two tall flagpoles at each end. One flew an American flag and under it was a black flag and on that there was what looked like a yellow diamond from which two wings jutted out the sides. On the other pole was a black flag with a gray skull wearing a forest green beret with an insignia on it, neon green fire shooting out the sides and crossed rifles at the skull’s jaw.
I stopped and stared at it as Sam went on and Hap came up behind me.
“Rangers,” Hap said and my eyes moved from the flag to him.
“Sorry?”
He extended his head to the flag. “Rangers. Army Rangers,” he stated then his head jerked to the other flagpole. “Airborne.” Then he grinned. “Figure you know the one with the stars and stripes.”
I stared at him a second then I looked at the flags.
Rangers?
I could not say I was hip on all the elite training a man in the Army could do.
What I could say was that I knew what a Ranger was. Everyone did.
They were the baddest of the badasses in the world.
And I’d read the book about Sam and it said not one thing about Rangers.
I looked back at Hap, my brows knit. “Was Sam a Ranger?”
His face changed. The grin stayed in place and he was wearing sunglasses so I couldn’t see if it still lit his eyes but I could tell he was no longer committed to it.
“Maybe I should let Sam tell you about that,” he muttered over the waves crashing against the sand.
Right. Like that would happen.
Woodenly, I turned toward the house, taking it in. It was shingle-sided, the shingles painted gray with gray-ish brown shingles on the roof. The woodwork was white. The deck had a plethora of white Adirondack chairs with curved footstools that, pushed together, made the chairs more like lounges. There were also a couple squat round tables. It led to a deck-long screened porch that, when I walked through, I saw had a rough wood picnic table with two benches on one side of the porch and wide wraparound bench on the other side covered in dark gray cushions strewn with huge, fluffy light gray and bright yellow pillows.
Through the double front doors I was in the house.
I wanted to take it in but I also needed to let Memphis free so I got out of Hap’s way, shoved my sunglasses back on my head, set down her crate, crouched by it and turned her loose. She burst out, emitted a couple of yaps then put her nose to the floor and commenced her voyage of discovery.
I straightened and did the same but with my eyes as Hap moved up the stairs that were in the middle of the space.
To my right, a big seating area. Lots of windows. To my left, another big seating area that included a big flat screen TV. More windows. To the right back, over a bar with stools, a huge, modern, clean kitchen with white cupboards, a big island and lots of gray, dark gray and black speckled, shining granite countertops. Then there was a wall on the other side up which were the stairs with a white wooden railing on their open side and dark wood steps (the same wood as the floors underfoot) leading up to the second floor. On the other side of the stairs was the dining room that had a long, rectangular dining room table, more windows and a low chest.
I was surprised to see it didn’t look expensive, posh or like it had been crafted by a designer’s hand. It looked comfortable, welcoming and very, very masculine. There was a lot of space and there was also a lot of furniture. Then again, there was so much space there could be a lot of furniture and it still seemed airy and roomy and not cluttered. Blacks and grays abounded. Some hints of yellow, army green and red. The furniture was fluffy, wide-seated and invited you to hang out. Any tables were attractive but utilitarian, they were meant to catch keys, mail, books, beverages or a consumed plate of nachos. Decorative touches were minimal.
There were some framed photos and two framed flags that were much like the flags outside. One black with the word “Ranger” in yellow in a banner partially covering a star and under it was a gray skull over wings coming from a sword with blue curved embellishments all in a gray circle. The other was white with a black badge that had the profile of a white eagle’s head in it over a banner that stated “Airborne” in yellow.
And that was pretty much it. No Colts or Bruins jerseys pinned on mats and framed. No shrines to Sam’s life in football, trophies, plaques, team pictures or shots of fabulous plays to be remembered. And no shrines to Sam’s life in the Army, pictures with buds wearing fatigues and casually handling massive, scary automatic weapons or frames displaying patches or medals.
I thought this was interesting but I didn’t know why.
Memphis wandered into the kitchen.
I wandered to the table by the door.
In a frame sitting on the table was a younger Sam wearing a suit, smiling his blinding, trademark gorgeous smile. He had his arm around a handsome man nearly as tall as Sam wearing an Army uniform. The man was also smiling a blinding smile much like Sam’s. His brother Ben. On Ben’s other side was an attractive, older woman with a proud smile and clear Hispanic ancestry, her arm also around Ben but her body was turned to him, tucked close to his side with his arm around her. Sam’s mother, Marisela.
My body jumped and I turned when I heard Sam’s voice saying, “Baby, gonna hit the store.” I watched his long legs then the rest of his body coming down the stairs as he continued, “Hap’s gonna stick around. I’ll get enough to cover us and we’ll go back out tomorrow.” He made it to me and wrapped his arms loosely around me, his chin tipping down to hold my eyes. “I’ll get some beer, coffee, milk and dog food. We’ll get takeout tonight. Hap’s gotta get back to the base so he’ll leave after dinner. You need me to get anything else?”
“Breakfast?” I suggested.
“Got oatmeal. Got granola. I’ll get some fruit and yogurt. Anything else?”
I shook my head.
Sam dropped his and kissed my nose.
He pulled back an inch and I saw the warmth in his eyes when he whispered, “Make yourself at home.”
Make myself at home.
That was nice, so nice.
Boy, I wished I wasn’t pissed at him.
I nodded again.