Delilah's Tears

Chapter Five

"Jesus, James. No one expected this." The man is struggling to say...anything. "James passed out from another one of those headaches he's been having this morning, and was rushed to the hospital. He had an aneurysm in the brain. They couldn't stop the bleeding. I'm so sorry, James. He died a few hours later. Goddamn it. My little girl is a wreck. We're all a wreck. Apparently, they were trying to get pregnant. She took a test this morning. No baby. Goddamn it."

A baby? My brother? Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck.

"I'm coming home. Tell Delilah I'll get there as soon as I can. Take care of her."

How the hell did everything go to shit in one day? The only way it could have gotten any worse is if I'd gotten my ass shot off.

My brother is fucking dead. At age 33. Dead. Gone. I'll never see him again. Never talk to him again. Never have a beer with him again.

Babies. They wanted a baby. I'll never have a niece or nephew. Delilah won't be a mommy. John won't ever be a daddy.

Gone. It's all gone. All that's left is me and Delilah, and a freighter full of grief and sadness I'm not sure either of us will overcome. Someone needs to come in here and punch me in the gut several hundred times so I can feel anything other than this swamp of nothingness I've waded into.

I'm about to launch my laptop across the room, but stop. It's my only connection to Delilah. I won't fail her. Ever. No matter what happens in the days, months to come, John, I promise I will take care of your Delilah. I will be there for her. I've got your back on this one, brother. All those times you had mine rolled into one, I'll pay you back by getting your wife through this and making sure she's gonna be okay. If I have to kill a thousand assholes, she'll be safe and cared for.

I promise.

I have no idea what this promise means and I don't give a shit, either. I'll do whatever it takes to honor my brother's life.

****

What the good fuck is it with the damned Army transporting me to the U.S.? I need to get home. Yesterday. My brother's been dead for four days and I'm finally on the way. Like their wedding, I'm close to missing his damned funeral. I was due back yesterday, in plenty of time. Naturally, it got all screwed up.

Ryan picks me up at the airport again, a whole lot less cheery than last time. We grunt hellos and he zooms off to Forest Lawn Cemetery, otherwise silent. What's there to say? My brother is dead and about to be lowered into the earth for all eternity.

I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. Jesus, did Delilah? Was he ever conscious enough again to see her beautiful face one more time? The car rolls slowly along the roads winding through the cemetery. I missed the damned memorial service, and pray the burial hasn't happened. Dear God, at least let me tap on his casket. Give me that.

We come to a stop next to a large shady tree where a small crowd of people is gathered. This is it. Once I step out of the car I scan the group, spotting Delilah and striding swiftly in her direction.

Her long blonde hair is twisted into a sleek bun. Her black dress fits her like the proverbial glove. She glances up as I close in, expressionless, except for a spark of recognition where she allows the vaguest hint of a smile for me. When I reach her, I waste no time engulfing her small, trim body in my big muscular one. Delilah holds onto me as if I'm the only thing keeping her rooted to the earth.

She smells so damned good, feels so damned good. Hell. What is wrong with me? My dick goes steel hard. I have to hold her more loosely than I want, because how wrong is it for her to notice the raging hard-on I'm inappropriately sporting?