A Secret to Shatter by Katie O’Connor

Chapter Fourteen

Until this moment, Ira had never much cared about vehicles. As long as they got him where he needed to go, he was happy. If he owned a car, they never would have gotten all the animals and their paraphernalia into it. As it was, they barely got everything into the jeep.

“What a lot of stuff!” Ira laughed as he closed the back hatch.

Honey’s laugh warmed him to his toes. Her cheerfulness was contagious.

“How about we unload Bill’s stuff at my place first? That way you can pick up your car and take it home. Assuming you trust me to drive those critters home.” He nodded to the back seat where the cats shared a fabric travel carrier alongside the dog’s plastic one.

“Great plan.”

Half an hour later, Ira watched Honey bustle around her tiny kitchen. Her apartment was neat and tidy. It was decorated in peach and brown tones with sparkles of bright colors here and there. It felt earthy and seemed the perfect backdrop for Honey’s natural good looks. Ira choked back a laugh. He was turning into some kind of poet or something.

He peeked around a bit while she was occupied. Her space was clean and uncluttered except for the massive pile of quirky throw pillows on the leather sofa. “Leather?” He asked without meaning to.

“Yup. Second hand from the thrift shop. It’s got years left in it. I had to patch a couple spots, but when I needed to fill the space, it was perfect. I couldn’t see buying new when there are so many used ones to choose from.”

“Makes sense. Some of my stuff came with the house. I’m happy to keep using it. Especially the books.”

He didn’t see a computer anywhere. Not a laptop. Not a desktop. Not even a tablet.

“Didn’t you say you did computer searches or something?” he asked. “I don’t see a computer.”

“Oh, I do. My night job is computer work. My computer is in the office. I’m keeping the door closed to keep the cats out. Don’t want it filled with cat hair. Although I know cats hate closed doors, so I’m not sure the plan’s going to work.”

Something about the way she suddenly turned away had him questioning her honesty. She’d told him once she valued honesty above everything else, yet she seemed to be hiding something. What did she really do on her hidden computer? He was going to have to find a way into that room. Guilt for his own sneaky thoughts struck him. He wasn’t the type to snoop into someone’s private business. Perhaps she’d share them as they got to know each other better.

A second wave of remorse stuck. He’d never told her he was a sniper and had taken lives. That was a big no-no for some. His last girlfriend had dumped him when he went into sniper training.

“Where are the cats?” He asked, mostly to distract himself from the downward spiral of his thoughts. He was going to channel his inner Honey and keep things positive as best he could.

“They scooted under the bed as soon as we arrived. I expect it’ll take time for them to adapt. They were in the shelter way too long. I’ve put their litter box in the ensuite bathroom where they’ll find it easily.”

Bill leaned against Ira’s leg as he stood in the kitchen doorway chatting to Honey. The dog looked up at Ira and grinned when Ira rubbed his ears.

“He likes you,” Honey said as she worked.

“He does seem to.” He couldn’t stop a grin from forming. He was already attached to this mutt. He was beginning to understand the value of service animals for PTSD on a more personal level. Not that he had true PTSD, only a bit of guilt for taking lives. Guilt which led to the occasional nightmare. He had issues, and he was working on them with his shrink. Having someone to talk to about his problems was a good thing. Bill was going to be a great help. He’d spent half the drive over talking to the dog like he was human.

“Grilled cheese work for you? I make them fancy with fried onions and peppers as well as ham inside. I’ve got some cut up veggies too.”

“That sounds great. What can I do to help?” He moved to the sink and washed his hands.

“Silverware is there,” she gestured with her knife, “Can you set the table? Maybe grab the bowl of cut veggies and some dressing from the fridge?”

“Absolutely. Bill, go lie down.” He gently shifted the dog aside with his leg. Bill was sticking close to him, almost within tripping distance. The dependency should change once he adapted to his new life and they took some obedience classes. He chuckled.

“What’s amusing?” Honey asked.

“I was just thinking about how Betty said the dog was fine, but I needed obedience school.”

“She has a point,” Honey said dryly.

Ira gasped and clutched his chest. “Me? Surely you jest. I have no issues. Training or otherwise.” He played along with her joking. “I’m practically perfect in every way.”

“Where’s your umbrella Mary Poppins?” She laughed lightly and elbowed him in the arm. “Can you magic up a set table, Mary, or do I have to do it?”

“Hardy har har. You’re a laugh a minute,” he said through his chuckles.

They ate without much talk, neither of them uncomfortable with the silence. “Tell me about your other job?” he asked, finally giving voice to the question repeatedly popping up in his mind.

“It’s not much really.” She gulped her water. “It helps pay the bills. I research stuff on the internet and get paid for it.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and looked away.

“What kind of things?” He pressed the issue, determined to ferret out her secret.

“Whatever I’m ask to search for. I’m sent emails and I find the information my employer is looking for. Frankly, most of the time it’s dead boring. But, like I said, it pays the bills. I’m actually quite a social person and I love being a waitress, or server, if you prefer the current terminology. But schlepping tables doesn’t pay much, even with tips. Still, people are fabulous and I love interacting with them whenever I can. I love the different festivals we have. Founder’s Day, the Christmas Craft Sale, the Harvest Festival. I hear there’s even going to be a Valentine’s event this year.” She sighed; her face stretched wide in an enormous smile which made his heart thunder happily.

Despite her avoidance of the reality of her second job, her grin made him want to kiss her. Would she taste as sweet as she smelled? She smelled of roses and peppermint. Flowers and candy. She smelled like home.

He paused, a celery stick halfway to his mouth. Home?

He wasn’t trying to get serious, just have a friendship. Especially since she had no idea about his past.

Secrets.

They were a pain in the rump. Both in having them, and wanting to know them. Local gossip, or scuttlebutt in military slang, didn’t have details of her other job.

He took a deep breath and munched his celery. Since he wasn’t innocent in the secret department, he didn’t really have the right to push for hers.

“That was an enormous sigh. Deep thoughts? Lunch not sitting right?”

“The former.” He sipped the soda he’d decided on rather than the ice water Honey had chosen. “Ever get stuck in a thought rut you can’t escape? I’m there now.”

“Always. Which rut are you stuck in? Maybe I can drag you out onto flat ground.”

Could he share? Should he?

“Have you ever done things you don’t regret; things people might not understand?” The questions didn’t properly sum up his turmoil, but they were a starting place for the conversation he was pursuing even though he knew he shouldn’t. Still better to know now if she couldn’t understand or forgive his history, rather than after he became attached to her. More attached.

“I don’t know. I don’t worry much about what people think. For sure I’ve done things people don’t agree with, but I don’t let it bother me. Why? Have you done something people don’t understand?”

Boy, had he ever.

“You were a soldier. There have to be orders you followed which you wondered about or which people not in the line of fire wouldn’t understand. I’m a firm believer that unless you’ve lived it, you don’t get it.”

“I’d agree with that.”

“Want to talk about it? We can sit in the other room and be more comfortable. There’s a nice breeze coming in through the window.” She rose gracefully to her feet and carried her plate to the sink. She rinsed it and slid it into the dishwasher.

He followed her with his dishes. “You know those things don’t require you to rinse the crumbs anymore, right?”

“True, but I only run it about once a week and if I don’t rinse, it stinks. It takes a while for one person to fill a dishwasher, even an apartment sized one like this. I should do dishes by hand, but I’m too lazy.” She grinned. “Pass me yours and I’ll rinse it too.”

“Tell me what you’ve done that people won’t understand,” she urged once they were seated at opposite ends of the couch which sat in the middle of the room, creating a separation between the living area and the entry. She sat cross legged facing him.

He angled his body toward her, one arm resting on the back, his hand hanging over the back. His hand tightened into a fist and he forced himself to relax. Bill, who lay on the floor in front of him, rose to his feet and rested his head in Ira’s lap, as if sensing Ira’s distress. He buried his fingers in the dog’s fur.

“Being a soldier isn’t easy. There were orders to follow. I did what I was told.”

“You do seem to be that type. Solid and disciplined.”

The words sounded like praise. She wouldn’t be praising him if she knew what he’d done or how many people he’d ended. It wasn’t something he enjoyed and he was conversely both ashamed and proud of his record.

“I can’t imagine you doing anything against orders. I can’t see you going on a rampage and shooting up a village, or beating up a squad mate.”

“You’re right. People who do that crap should drummed out of the core and prosecuted.”

She nodded but didn’t speak, silently encouraging him to continue.

Words pushed forward into his mouth and crowded his brain. He swallowed them back. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t tell her.

“I killed people,” he blurted, surprising them both.

Honey tipped her head and looked at him. “I’m not surprised. You were in the army and while Canada’s military is primarily a peacekeeping force, they do, on occasion, use their firearms. And that bothers you. I think it would bother most people.” She paused and patted his arm, like a mother might soothe an upset child. “I’m glad it bothers you. You wouldn’t be the man I thought you were if it didn’t. And if all those deaths were sanctioned by your leaders, I don’t have a problem with it.”

He leapt to his feet. “Of course, they were sanctioned,” he blurted, half angry she was implying otherwise. Then it dawned on him she hadn’t made an accusation; he’d picked it out of the air. “Sorry. Sensitive subject.” Bill whined and leaned against Ira.

“Oh, I understand fully. I didn’t mean to sound like I thought you would go against orders.” She patted the couch. “Sit back down. Relax. I’m not going to boot you out of my apartment.”

He paced a moment until his heart rate eased off before rejoining her.

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

Dang. She was perceptive. He nodded. “I’d rather let it go for today. I’ve bared my soul enough for one day.”

She nodded. “Thanks for sharing. I know it probably isn’t easy for you. We could talk more about it, if you wanted to.” She left the invitation hanging.

“Thanks. I talk to my shrink. She’s a lot of help. Dr. McCarthy. I’m sure you know of her.”

“Why, what have you heard?” Honey pretended to be worried.

Ira laughed. “Nothing, honestly.”

“Hey, no worries. I did see her for a while. I’ve come across some sketchy stuff in my research. Stuff that’s hard to get my head around. I needed someone to vent to. She’s understanding and sensitive. Not to mention the only shrink in town. I don’t mean that as a slur, just Coyote Creek is so small there’s not much need for more than just her. I haven’t seen her recently and hope I never have to again. Some stuff just shouldn’t be available to the general public, if you know what I mean.”

“I do. I totally understand.” He held out his hand for a fist bump.

Instead of bumping him back, she uncurled his fist and threaded her fingers through his. “Want to watch something on TV? This discussion needs to be tabled. No sense revealing all our secrets at once.”

“Sure, why not?” Aside from a shared psychiatrist, she hadn’t revealed any secrets. Yet. He understood relationships weren’t tit for a tat. Not give one, get one. She’d share when she was ready and she did say something about a confidentiality agreement the other day. One thing being in the military had taught him was some things couldn’t be revealed and others shouldn’t. Perhaps she’d learn to trust him enough to share. Mentally, he crossed his fingers in hope.