Chapter 4

“How well do you know him, Linda?”

It had been a week since the gender reveal party, yet Shawn's questions about Henry had persisted. At first, I thought it was just typical male jealousy. Being knocked up seemed to make it worse. I thought it was cute, since he had rarely displayed that emotion before, but that time, Shawn would not let it go.

He had just come home from work- on time for once- dressed business casual in his slacks and button-up shirt, and that was the first thing he said to me when he came in.

“We're just work friends, that's all Shawn,” I said.

I laid on the bay window bench. My back ached a bit even though we had added a copious number of pillows, but it was worth the small amount of pain because of the warm golden sunlight streaming in.

I held the book on my belly between two fingers to hold my place as I spoke. “Did something happen to you guys when you went to the kitchen?” I asked, looking up at Shawn. “Henry didn't say anything except that you were a nice guy, so is there something I'm missing?”

“No,” Shawn admitted. “He was very...normal. But that's just it, there is just something about him.”

“What? His strong jaw? Those hypnotic blue eyes?” I replied, being playful after his Indian Jones comment days before. There was no reason to worry since Shawn still had all the confidence and masculinity that first drew me to him. It only seemed to motivate him. In fact, I believe it was a joke about a construction worker's butt that gave me the bun I had in the oven. Gave a new meaning to their motto of Ranger's lead the way, right?

“Yeah, those eyes,” Shawn said. He was looking out of the bay window, thumb massaging the top of his hand. “I've seen the look he had in those eyes before Linda. I don’t want you talking to him anymore.”

“Oh, Shawn,” I said. “You might be reading into things. I mean, he was probably just nervous being around so many people.”

“He ever tell you about his nickname?” Shawn asked. “Did he tell you about Rip?”

“No,” I admitted. It was the first I had heard the word.

“Yeah, I didn't think so,” Shawn replied. He looked down at me, his own dark eyes potent and intense. Like they used to get right before he deployed. “It wasn't just me Linda, the guys saw it too.”

“Terrance and John?” I asked. I began to lift myself up when Shawn lent a hand, and I sat on the edge of the bench, putting my book down. “What did those two jokers have to say?”

“We've been around people like this before, Linda,” Shawn said, voice intensifying. “We were trained to know what the body was saying that the mouth didn't. It's how we survived--,” he began to pace,“-- you wouldn't understand.”

And this is what I meant when I said it took a certain type of woman to date a military man. And it's a learning curve when it comes to Rangers. Shawn could be stoic and quiet, never wanting to talk about what he had to do to protect the country. He said it came from the fear of being judged for those actions. Yet, that was easier to deal with than when he actually did tell me what he had to do.

Those stories took another level of empathy.

Saying I wouldn't understand at that time meant there was still more Shawn had locked away in the closet.

“So, are you going to tell me what you mean by that?” I prodded gently.

“Plus, he had to use the bathroom, but he barely even drank his water. What was he doing back there --” I thought I heard Shawn say as he paced.

Shawn stopped; his gaze intense as he stared out of the bay window again. He didn't answer me as he leaned over the bench, looking into the glare of the sun. Then, without saying a word, he turned and marched towards the front door.

“Hey, where are you going?” I asked, holding my stomach as I stood, and slipped into my slippers, tying my robe around the curve of my belly as Shawn went outside.

“We need to talk about this, Shawn,” I said, following him outside.

The air was a tad crisp, a soft cool breeze against my cheek, but it wasn't anything my robe could not handle. Shawn marched past our driveway, towards the edge of the forest that was across the lawn.

“Are you going to tell me what this all is?” I said, struggling to keep up with Shawn's long strides. My mother always told me for women in our family that the feet were the first to go, and I could feel the swelling in them as I walked, slipping on morning dew.

“Shawn Joseph Mark, you will slow down this instant,” I hated sounding like my mother. I let out a whoop as my indoor slippers slipped on a slick stone. “You're going to make me fall!”

That stopped him cold, and Shawn turned around, holding out a hand. I took his in mine, and he led me towards the edge of the forest. He let go just as he went in a few feet, stopping in the middle of a crop of tall, thick trees. He looked up, head scanning about at the canopy.

“So, you're not going to say a word?” I asked, but Shawn was already in soldier mode, analyzing.

He leaned over one tree, rubbing the bark soft as he would a baby's cheek, then, taking his hand back, he rubbed his fingers together. White flakes fell like dust as he rubbed. Wiping his soiled fingers on his slack, Shawn's eyes searched about several inches higher, examining the bark closer, then stopped and stared intently at something that I could not see from that angle.

Next, he did a full turn around the tree crop, examining each one as he did the first. Without a glance at me, he stood in the middle of the trees, long arms out so he could touch two and began to climb, legs spread out between two thick trunks.

“Shawn!” I shouted and walked into the shadow of the forest canopy. It was much cooler there, and I held my robe closer as I watched Shawn slip down.

“Damn corporate shoes,” he muttered, while taking them off, along with his socks, until he was barefoot on the sodden earth. His button-up shirt was next, leaving him only in a white t-shirt and slacks.

Then he climbed again, making better progress with his bare feet, so much that I had to shield my eyes from the sun that peaked through the leaves. The space between the trees widened the higher Shawn went, and he had to jump and hug the tree he examined first, a move that nearly gave me a heart attack. He shimmied up inch by inch. I could see the coarse tree bark cutting into his arms and the soles of his feet, but I could also see the determination in his eyes as he looked upward.

“You're going to get yourself killed, Shawn!” I shouted as small pieces of bark tumbled down to the forest floor in a rustle.

Sweat glistened off his forehead as he climbed up to what I guessed was at least twenty feet. Head glancing about, he then grabbed onto a tree limb with one hand and tested it with a few shakes. Baby leaves returning from a cold winter fell as he shook. It looked sturdy enough to hold his weight, but I still imagined him plummeting to his death right before my eyes.

Before I could shout again; Shawn had climbed out onto the branch. He hung beneath the branch like a monkey assured of his grip, looking back at the tree trunk that he scanned with his eyes.

I had no idea what he could have been looking at, head upside down like that, yet he stayed that way for at least a minute. Satisfied by what he saw, his feet dropped down and I gasped before he pulled himself to the top of the branch. Crouched and balancing on his toes, he looked up and around, holding onto the tree trunk for balance.

Hand up to my brow, I asked, “What are you looking at up there?”

“Linda, listen to me. This is very important,” Shawn said, controlling his breathing from all the effort. His voice was mirthless, and stern enough to make me pay attention. He went from looking intently to the left, off into the distance, then down to me. “Tell me everything you know about Henry Collins. Everything.”