The Inner Struggle: Beginnings Series Book 7 (13 page)

Henry didn’t mind working. Of course he spent so much of his time sewing and perfecting what he called ‘The Henrys, the newest rage in Beginnings diapers. Then again, Ben and the others in fabrics looked at him like he was nuts when he asked them to mass produce it. Ben’s idea wasn’t bad. He merely suggested that Henry have those who wished to have the new diapers, bring their old ones up to be redone therefore saving on supplies. Henry agreed to that. After all, Beginnings wasted nothing, not even all those dread locks that were cut off from the new guy, Mel. Henry enjoyed what Beginnings did with them. He enjoyed it even more when Alexandra came home excited from school showing Dean her artwork of a horse. And there dangling from the back end of the animal as the tail was a dread lock. For the first time ever, Henry could have sworn he saw Dean cringe.

This day wasn’t so bad. Even though it was a Sunday, Henry didn’t care about working. It did seem more and more to him that as the years went on in Beginnings so did Joe’s policy that Sunday was a day of rest. Henry wasn’t resting. Joe made sure of it. He told him he had to fix the things that only he could fix. Then he drove home the point to Henry that he got time off when no one else did.

Henry would mind if he thought he was missing something, but he wasn’t. He had a few more items to take care of then he thought he’d go help Frank stock up for the drop to Robbie and his men. Hopefully that would eat enough time to allow Ellen and Dean to work on that guessing game that Henry hated to admit, but found rather dull. Everything Ellen described sounded the same to Henry. Dean had to be cheating. That would be so like him. There were no kids to help with, well, except Brian. Joe had the others at his house while he prepared for the weekly Slagel Sunday dinner. And as far as Brian went, Henry was still working on the baby aspect in his life. One step at a time he told himself over and over. The true test would come in a few days, as Andrea said, when Nick gets out of the clinic. Then Henry would see where his paternal instincts lie. He had high hopes, confident that he would do well. Ellen was going to stay with Frank for the first week and Henry would be there a lot to learn.. How that was going to work out, Henry still didn’t know. Henry only wished Frank would get a move on with his fatherly tips. Yes, he spit them out so fast and out of the blue but Henry was having a hard time grasping Frank’s method to being a Dad. Deciphering what Frank told him borderlined as difficult as deciphering Alexandra’s phonetic spelling of everything she wrote.

He finished fixing the catch lock on the outer door of the monitoring room of security. How that qualified as something no one else could fix baffled Henry. He set down his tools and opened the door. “All fixed, Mark. She won’t stick and you shouldn’t get stuck in here for hours again.”

“Wouldn’t have been so bad, Henry,” Mark explained, “but for three hours Frank kept saying he was coming to get me.”

“Speaking of Frank, I’m heading to the hanger. Have a good day.”

“Henry,” Mark called out.

“Yes.”

“Could you do me a favor?” He lifted the stack of papers next to his blue mug of coffee. “I finished the weekly perimeter reports. Could you drop them off to Joe’s office on your way there? I want to head on home and catch a nap before the game tonight.”

Henry had to stop and think of what game. Then he remembered Frank’s new game he invented. Frank was always coming up with new team sports aside from the obvious baseball, hockey, and football. He called them strategic games and he got away with it too. Like the paint ball they played once a month, this game helped build maneuver intelligence. To ensure that it was categorized as a military game, only the men who were security and or reserve security could play. Henry actually was thinking about filling his evening with the game himself. “Is it still the same time. After dinner?”

“Yep.”

“Good.” Henry took the papers. “I’ll run this up to the hanger. Oh Mark, Melissa does know about the game right? She was pretty pissed off last time.”

“Marcus is my kid, too, Henry. I told her and she’s all right with it. Besides now she sees it as a form of exercise Marcus just doesn’t get anymore.”

“Yes, well running around a field from a bunch of grown men will do that to you.” Henry looked at his papers. “All right, I’m out of here. There’s a lot of activity this week huh?” Henry noticed the size of the stack.

“Most of that came from the communications room.”

“The communications room?” Henry was surprised.

“Yeah, tons of activity going on there.”

“Why?” Henry saw Mark shrug and figured Mark didn’t put any stock into it. Leaving the monitoring room and latching the door that was now fixed, Henry’s curiosity peeked. He searched out the communications report weekly activity and pulled it forefront of the pile. “This can’t be right.” Henry looked at it as he walked with his eyes staring down. “Look at all this activity for one week?” He flipped through the first page, stepped aside when he heard the motorcycle and Frank yelling ‘Henry watch out’ and continued reading. Feeling slightly nauseous from moving and looking at the reports, Henry waited until he was in Joe’s office to read them better.

Once there, he hoped what he saw was wrong, but it wasn’t. Why was there so much activity on a day to day basis in the communication center? It should be limited and done only at shift change. Henry read the activity from two days prior. “Eight a.m. enter, six after eight exit. Change of shift. But what’s this? Nine-forty-two a.m. enter. Nine-forty-three a.m. exit. Ten-twelve enter. Ten-fifteen exit. And this goes on.” Henry flipped a page. “Who the hell is bothering these guys down in communications?” Scratching his head, Henry set the reports on Joe’s desk. He grabbed a piece of paper, scribbling a note to lie on top. ‘Joe, take a look at all the activity in the communications room. Would like to add a keypad in communications to see who keeps going in and out of there? There shouldn’t be this much activity. Four general codes, Security. Council, Monitors, and General Population. Maybe we can break it down. Henry’

Thinking the note was long winded and he’d hear about it from Joe, Henry was certain he got his point across. Wives, friends, whatever, should not be bothering the men monitoring the communications room. And obviously these guys were being bothered.

Leaving Joe’s office, Henry wanted to stop at his office before heading up to the hanger. He wanted to see how many keypads they had left they didn’t need rebuilt. If he had them ready, he’d bring it up to Frank as well, get his opinion. And then Henry decided he would bitch at Frank for nearly killing him with the motorcycle.

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“We’re doing really well with these.” Dean tossed some notes on the coffee table as he sat on the couch with Ellen. “It’s quiet here.”

“Joe has the kids.” She reached forward for her tea. “You’re coming to dinner tonight, right?”

“Don’t I always.”

“No.”

“No, you’re right. I’ll be there.”

“Are you playing the game this evening?” Ellen asked.

“I’m not security. Besides, I want to take a look at Marcus when they finish with him. You know, for signs of fatigue.”

“How did he do two weeks ago?” Ellen set her cup down.

“Better than the men who were chasing him. Of course, Melissa stopped the game early,” Dean shrugged. “Anyhow, I was thinking of something.” He leaned his one arm on the back of the couch.

“Uh-oh.”

“What?”

“You have this look in your eyes. I’m still healing, Dr. Hayes.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Frank has the kids tonight and I thought maybe you and I could just sit for a while.”

“We’re sitting for a while now.”

“Yeah but it’s work related. I’d just like to sit with you for a couple hours. We’ll talk about the kids, whatever, just not about my sight or this damn . . .” Dean reached forward to the folder on her lap, “virus.”

“Oh Dean, there you go swearing and being forceful again.” She snickered. “Sure, I’ll come over.”

“Without, Henry?”

“Sure. Henry doesn’t have a problem with me seeing you alone. In fact, I’ll send him to help Frank with the kids. Put him in good practice for when Nick comes home. Henry really doesn’t mingle that much with the kids.”

“There’s a reason for that, El,” Dean said.

“Yeah, Frank says two fathers are enough.”

“Not that. Henry is not . . . never mind.” He laid the folder on the coffee table. “I think I’ll check on Brian. He’s been sleeping up there an awful long time.”

“I’ll go with you.” She followed him as he stood from the couch.

“No, stay down here. I’ll be right back.”

“Dean?” Ellen stepped closer to him. “Can I ask you something? Are we having the understanding yet?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’m not real good at understanding understandings. Why?”

“Well, it’s just that you haven’t kissed me yet.”

“Would you like me to kiss you?”

“Only if you want to. I mean, I don’t want to force you into something that you don’t want to do,” She rambled. “After all, this understanding is primarily companionship based and I . . .” Ellen knew she was talking too much when she felt Dean pull her closer and press his lips to hers. Softly he kissed her. Then as he pulled back, just slightly, he bit his bottom lip, placed both hands on her face, and pulled Ellen to him for more of a kiss.

“Whoa.” Ellen giggled after he was finished. “I just realized how long it has been since I kissed you. Oh Dean, I remember I really liked kissing you.”

Dean stepped back, shook his head, looked at her, then kissed her quickly. “I’m going to check on Brain.”

“But Dean.”

“El.” He ran his hand down his face, stepped to her and kissed her,. “I have to check Brian. “

Ellen watched him walk up the stairs then she glanced at her watch. Whistling badly--she never was very good at that--she walked to the dining room and to the cabinet in there. She opened up the drawer and pulled out a notebook and a pen. Henry knew of the notebook, but as far as Ellen knew, he never looked in there. That was all right with her. If he wanted to, he could. It was her Dean notebook. And though the kiss had nothing to do with what was happening to Dean sight wise, it had everything to do with where they were emotionally when and if the time came that he would lose his sight. Ellen had to build that, besides wanting to, she had to. Dean trusted her already, but she needed him to trust that whatever happened to him, she would not leave his side. And she wouldn’t.

<><><><>

“Man.” Frank shook his head once, looked at his hand and then picked up a sack to place in the helicopter. “Man.” He looked at his hand again.

John Matoose, who was packing a crate, glanced up at Frank.

“Man.” Frank stared at his hand and walked over to the bench where more supplies sat. “Man.”

“What!” John snapped unable to take it anymore, unable to take another ‘man.’ “What Frank?”

“Oh.” Frank walked to him. “Look at my hands. For as good as my body looks, my hands look old. Don’t they?”

“This is what you’re walking around in shock about?”

“Yeah. Look at them.” Frank placed them under John’s face.

“Frank.” John stood up. “They look like the hands of a hardworking man who’s about to turn forty.”

“Whoa!” Frank held those hands up. “I said nothing about turning forty. Where are you getting that from?”

“Everyone know this, Frank.”

“I’m not turning forty.”

“Yes you are. In August.”

“No I’m not.”

“Frank.”

“John. I’m turning, thirty-uh-five.”

“Bullshit.”

Frank gasped loudly. “The nerve of you saying I’m forty.” He shook his head. “You’re just jealous because you don’t look as good as I do and you’re turning thirty-three.”

“I am not thirty-three. I’m not even thirty yet.”

“Yes you are. Look at your hands. Now they look old. In fact they look older than mine. Let me see.”

“Will it shut you up?”

“Respect, John.” Frank looked at his right hand. “You have more scars than me. Look at these ones on your . . .” Frank started to laugh.

“What now?”

“It’s just that.” Frank laughed again. “You’re gonna think this is funny. But . . .” Frank held up is hand and laughed harder. “Remember when Robbie was doing that investigation into the Moses attack on Ellen and Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“Anyhow.” Frank snickered. “Sorry.” He caught his breath. “He had written in there that you had scratches on your hand and that maybe you,” Frank pointed with a smile, “were in on it. Isn’t that funny?” He shook his head and backed up. “Man, my brother and his imagination. Anyhow, I plan on proving that wrong. Just so you know.” Frank winked at John. “I may be dumb about some things but when I want to find something out . . .” He made a clicking sound. “I do. O.K. enough fun, back to work.”

John stood silently breathing in what Frank had just said. What did he just insinuate? Did he just imply he was reopening the investigation? Surely Joe wouldn’t allow it. If Robbie found nothing out through his badgering, Frank couldn’t. Or could he? Frank had a method of getting violent if his gut told him something he couldn’t prove otherwise. What was Frank’s gut telling him? John saw through it, the act, the happy act Frank gave. It was either Frank’s forewarning to John or was he being paranoid. He could be paranoid. Wondering how he got himself so tangled in the mess, John’s mind snapped back to when he first got involved . . .