Page 13 of Dangerous December (Northern Pines Suspense #8)

And now he’d gone from commanding a unit of skilled marines to becoming a jack-of-all-trades—and an incompetent one, at that.

What did he know about appliances and civilian life skills—and how was he supposed to help these folks at Sloane House turn their lives around, when he couldn’t even manage his own?

Reva, with her polite but brittle, imperious shell, was so far outside Dev’s experiences in the military that she might as well have come from a different planet.

But cantankerous as he was, Carl was at least on familiar ground. If the man had chosen the military and ended up a drill sergeant, he would have been the happiest man alive.

So far, the sofa, a settee and two upholstered chairs had nearly worn trails in the carpet while Carl dithered and barked orders. The first half hour had been amusing. The second had become more than a little trying.

“No,” he growled. “I just wish I could do it myself. Over more to the left. No—too far. Back to the right. Just you wait—someday you’ll have trifocals and a bad heart. See if you can ever get things right for watching your TV.”

Carl’s offhand words were harder to take than this endless exercise in furniture positioning.

Dev already had his hearing loss and bad shoulder. Was this where his life was headed?

Was he going to end up growing old alone, bitter and cranky—still young enough to work, but unwanted? At a point where the minute adjustment of a piece of furniture was a major issue?

The prospect darkened his mood even further, until he felt as if a heavy cloud was pressing him down into a morass of despair. He’d never understood depression. He’d always figured emotions were a choice. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“Devlin.”

He blinked and shook off his thoughts.

Carl frowned at him. “You moved it too far.”

“Yes, sir.” He adjusted Carl’s favorite easy chair a few millimeters to the right. “How’s this?”

Carl settled into the chair. Squinted at the television. Tipped his head up and down. “That’ll do,” he said. “Now, about the dryer vent. Just how much do you know about dryers?”

Only that he’d always done his laundry at the base or at a Laundromat when he traveled, and that someone else kept the machines working.

And that with anything he tackled, Carl would question his every move. “Not much.”

Carl gave him a measuring look. “I think it’s the sparrows again,” he said finally.

“Sparrows?”

“Clothes won’t dry. Happened before—fool birds built nests in the vent to the outside. Jam everything up, lint and all. Vivian called a repair guy once, but later on she did it herself.”

“What?” Dev tried and failed to imagine his elegant mother in coveralls, with a greasy wrench in her hands. Maybe the old guy was hallucinating.

“She used a clothes hanger. Made a big hook and dragged it all out.” Carl scowled.

“I’d do it myself, but I can’t bend down that far.

Frank has his asthma—all that dust and lint really set him off last time.

No use spending good money on a repairman if this will solve the problem and we can do it ourselves. ”

At the reading of the will, Dev had imagined needing to become some sort of pseudo social worker here, which would have been a classic case of the blind leading the blind. He had more than enough baggage of his own.

These people would probably see through him in a minute, if it came to that.

At least this stuff was easy.

Carl grabbed a wire coat hanger from the front closet and unfolded it as they went outside, then rounded the side of the porch to the dryer vent. “Here you go. But don’t step on the hostas.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sure enough, there was at least one bird nest and a mass of lint backed up inside. In ten minutes, Dev had it cleaned out, then he ran to the basement and turned on the dryer. A rush of hot air came through the outside vent.

“Good enough,” Carl said with a grudging look of approval. “Long overdue, but good enough.”

An image of his father’s stern expression flashed into his thoughts. An A-in trigonometry? Maybe next time you can work a little harder. You missed a spot with the lawnmower. All you do is daydream.

Back then, he’d clenched his teeth and quietly taken the criticism, knowing from long experience that it was nearly impossible to earn unqualified praise from the man everyone else in town held in such esteem.

Now he gave Carl a level look. “I didn’t hear about it until this afternoon. If you’d told me sooner, I would have come over.”

“Yes. Well. Of course,” Carl blustered. “I...we just didn’t know. We...didn’t figure you were happy about your mom’s will and all, and you haven’t been here much.”

Had he seemed as surly as Carl?

Unapproachable?

At this rate, the residents would have plenty to complain about if Nora or that other lawyer stopped by, and they would have good cause.

“I just figured someone would call if they needed anything.” Dev cleared his throat. “I’ll start coming to the house every day from now on, just to check in. Maybe we should also have a clipboard inside the back door so you can all leave me notes. Would that work?”

Carl nodded slowly.

“But I’ve got to admit something you probably already know,” Dev added. “Give me a weapon and a mission, and I’m good to go, but there’s a lot of home maintenance that I’ve never done before. So if you have any advice, I’ll be glad to hear it. Even if my pride gets in the way.”

“Deal.” The old man’s voice cracked, revealing just how much it meant for him to feel useful. A moment later his mouth softened into what might pass for a rusty smile.

“I’ll jog back to the motel to get my car. Then let’s take a look at that screen before we go after your shoes, okay? Maybe we can drop it off at a hardware store to be fixed.”

Dev changed into khakis and a navy polo shirt at the motel, clipped his phone to his belt, and climbed into the Jeep. The motor roared to life when he turned the key.

His phone rang.

He palmed it and read the ID screen. He felt his heartbeat take an extra hitch. “Beth.”

“I...um...”

The residents were wary of calling him, and he’d been too self-absorbed to even notice. Now he could hear a hint of wariness in Beth’s voice, and he felt a stab of regret.

“What’s up?”

“Well...I heard you got some news today.”

He tightened his grip on the phone. Reva or Carl must have called her the moment one of them was out of sight.

He felt an instant surge of rebellion at their interference.

His news revealed weakness. Failure. And it was nobody’s business but his own.

“Dev?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Then you shouldn’t sound so angry.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m only angry at myself. Not you.”

She was silent for a long moment, obviously waiting for him to elaborate. “I hear you didn’t get medical clearance for going active again.”

He stared at the faded paint and torn screen on the motel unit in front of the Jeep. Just being here made him feel depressed.

Maybe that was it—it was just the motel. He’d be able to handle everything better once he moved out of here.

“This is like pulling teeth, you know.” She cleared her throat. “Look, I want you to know that I’m sorry. You’ve been hit with a lot of trouble recently, and it just isn’t fair.”

“Fair isn’t a word I’ve been using much lately.”

“So...give me details.”

“My shoulder. Hearing loss.”

“Is this forever? Are you out of the service for good? ”

He gripped the phone tighter. “Only as far as combat is concerned. I can continue in some other area.”

“ If you choose to re-enlist,” she said softly. “But you’d hate being in some office job.”

“What else am I going to do?” The words came out more harshly than he’d intended. “The Marines have been my life since I was nineteen. And even here—how am I supposed to help the people at Sloane House when my own life is a mess?”

She fell silent for a minute. “I was sorry to hear the news, Dev. But now I’m even more sorry.”

He felt an uneasy, guilty prickle at the back of his neck, already knowing what she was going to say. Already knowing she was right.

“I understand it’s bad news. So be it. You’ve still got so much more to be thankful for. Your vision, your mobility. Your life. And your parents left you resources beyond the dreams of most people. Even if you don’t want to live here, you could do a lot of good in this world with that money.”

He sighed. “You’re right.”

“I’ll give you twenty-four hours. But if you dare wallow in disappointment longer than that, then believe me, I’m—”

“I’ll finish my duty here. Then I’ll go back to the Marines and finish out my career. Who knows...maybe after that I can go back to school, or figure out some sort of business.”

“Like security, or law enforcement?”

“I just don’t know. Not yet.”

“Maybe you’ll even decide to come back here, then. It’s a wonderful town, Dev. And for as long as you’ll have been gone, it could still feel like a fresh start. Where else would you go?”

Good question.

He no longer had ties anywhere on the planet...no longer had anyone who cared where he went, or what he did. He’d lost touch with his distant relatives years ago.

But while that had once made him feel free, now it just made him feel...empty.