The Soldier's Valentine. Pamela Tracy
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MADE GIVING a ticket over expired tags seem trivial.
An hour later, she was greeted and offered a bottled water by the receptionist. Leann took a long drink before choosing a too-hard chair in a too-fancy waiting room, cooling her heels and worrying.
The door opened and Tom Riley, the chief of police, walked in. He was in street clothes, coming in on his own time because a cop’s time was never really their own.
“I didn’t know you had an appointment today,” Leann said.
“Last-minute thing. You okay?” He stopped in front of her.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” he observed.
“I’m still pretty amazed that Ryan’s not only leaving the military but returning here.” Amazed was a good word: dismayed a better one. She’d wanted him to be career: always gone, seldom around.
Chief Riley smiled, greeted the receptionist, refused a bottled water, took the seat next to Leann and wisely changed the subject. “I hear you met Oscar’s brother Gary.”
“At the park Monday night. Then, yesterday again because his dog was barking.”
“Today it’s both dogs,” Chief Tom Riley corrected. “I fielded a call today from their neighbors.”
“They complain about everything.”
“What’s your impression of Gary?”
“He’s very different from Oscar.”
“How?”
Leann thought a moment and then shrugged. She had no real answer, just an uncomfortable feeling that she’d met a man she couldn’t figure out. “I don’t know. Call it intuition.”
Chief Riley merely smiled. He’d gotten so much easier to get along with since he’d married last month. Oscar said that having someone to go home to was making Chief Riley soft.
Tom had overheard and accused Oscar of the same thing. Oscar, married just over a year, didn’t deny it.
Sitting in her lawyer’s office, about to face life changes thanks to the return of her ex-husband, Leann knew there wasn’t a man alive she’d trust enough to marry.
The silence ticked by. Even the receptionist’s fingers, flying across the keyboard, seemed muted. Finally, Chief Riley asked, “You had a chance to check out the whereabouts of Jace Blackgoat?”
“I thought I’d try to head out to Russell’s later. See if Jace has been around,” Leann said.
Russell Blackgoat was the grandfather Leann wished she had. “How much trouble is Jace in?”
“Did you read the report?”
“I know he’s been in a bar fight over in Taber, but that’s two hundred miles away.”
Chief Riley nodded, and Leann wondered why the chief was so concerned. Not only was Sarasota Falls safe compared with many of the cities surrounding it, but the police force was top-notch and thankfully, well-funded. They’d even hired a new officer just last month. Zack Bridges might not look old enough to wear the badge but he’d gone through the police academy and was sincere.
A loud ping sounded. The receptionist hurried back into the room, picked up the phone and said, “Yes, Mr. Balliard.” She listened for a moment, and then said, “Leann, you can go on in.”
Leann gave a tight smile and entered Balliard’s office.
Except for white and dark brown—paint, carpeting and woodworking—the only bright color in the room came from a picture of the American flag that hung behind the desk.
“Please sit down, Leann.” Balliard, a tall African American man wearing a dark suit, striped tie and white shirt, shook her hand and directed her to the seat in front of him.
She sat and looked at the lawyer who would be representing her now that her ex was trying to reestablish a connection with his sons. He shuffled a few papers and then smiled at her, waiting.
“What I really want,” Leann said, “is for custody, visitation, child support and such to continue as it is now.”
“I have to be candid, Leann, that’s unlikely,” Balliard said.
“What does Ryan’s lawyer have to say?”
“Ryan’s moving back home, already has gainful employment and intends to be an involved parent.”
“I don’t trust him,” Leann said. “He forgets birthdays.” She didn’t add that when Tim was a baby, Ryan wouldn’t even change a diaper. Her main memory of his early parenting was asking her to keep Tim quiet, so the baby wouldn’t interrupt Ryan’s TV watching or video gaming.
“Honorable discharge, commendations and a paper trail of consistent child support. Add in his parents assisting with the boys’ care, and Ryan’s got a good case.”
Leann sighed. Joint custody would definitely mean less or no child support: her biggest fear. She’d been raised never having to worry about money. Then she’d married Ryan and worried a little bit, but the military offered base housing, a decent salary, and so on, and the fact that their bank account wasn’t something to brag about didn’t bother her. When she’d divorced Ryan, though, she’d discovered what having no money really meant.
She’d called her parents for help once. She’d never do that again.
She didn’t care, not for herself, but she did for her boys.
Words Leann didn’t allow her children to say almost bubbled out. She’d had a plan. Ryan said he’d be giving Uncle Sam twenty years. Had he stayed true to that plan, Tim would be nineteen and Aaron seventeen. No worries, not really. Now, Ryan was exiting before he’d put in twenty years, affecting his pension and retirement.
“Okay,” she said, keeping her voice strong, “what are my options?”
Balliard folded his hands and leaned forward. “Leann, more than a lawyer, I’m your friend. I’ve known Ryan as long as I’ve known you. Try to work this out without lawyers. What you’ll pay us might equal Aaron’s first semester in college. Talk with Ryan, maybe the two of you can be reasonable. Consider the man he is today rather than the boy you married and divorced. Remember, what you decide affects the boys.”
“They only know him from brief visits.”
“You have to be realistic. Ryan’s parents have told your boys all about his glory days. I’ve been to that house. It has to what amounts to an only-child hall of fame.”
Leann closed her eyes, pictured the hallway, which indeed boasted Ryan’s history from birth to deployment. The only photo they’d taken down was the one of Ryan and Leann’s wedding. It hadn’t been a fancy ceremony since they’d gotten married by the justice of the peace. She’d been three months pregnant. The ink on his enlistment papers was still wet.
Sometimes she wondered how they’d have done if she and Ryan had waited. If she’d gone off to college while he put in his first four years. They’d have matured, had time to be kids before they had kids.
Balliard broke into her thoughts. “You need to prepare for his return home and the loss of some support.”
Tears welled, spilled over, and Leann fought to keep her voice steady. “I can do that.”
Balliard reached across the desk and put his hand on hers. “Look, from here on out, every move you make, every concession you give, should be for the well-being of Tim and Aaron. If you keep that in mind, your ex-husband will have to do the same, because if he doesn’t, the courts won’t look favorably on him.” He held up a hand, anticipating her retort. “If the courts don’t look favorably on him, neither will your sons, and no matter what, he’s their father.”
The one thing