Page 96 of A Hero Comes Home

“Jake, simmer down,” Izzie whispered to him. “It was the boys’ idea. They wanted to do this for you.”

And that should make me feel better? “You knew?” The circles of betrayal around him just got wider and wider.

Durand, on the other hand, shared Jake’s dismay, though for other reasons. “If this debacle lands on TV, your mug is going worldwide. The nightly news will make this their Labor Day color story. Nazim and his cohorts could nail you or your family in a nanosecond then to keep you quiet. I’ve got to go and do some damage control.” On those words, Durand made his way out of the aisle, apologizing here and there for stepping on feet.

“Oh, my God!” Jake was just beginning to digest the ramifications of this goat fuck.

“He’s overreacting,” Izzie said.

The people around them were shhh-ing again.

And then the song ended, and the crowd was giving them a standing ovation. In the midst of that chaos, Jake saw his cue, and made his way across the aisle. People patted him on the back as he passed, probably thinking he was going up on the stage to join his wife and kids.

When pigs fly!

He stumbled up the aisle to the back of the ballroom and then out into the hall and through the door. Because he’d left his cane behind and because he was seeing a red mist in his eyes, he stumbled here and there, almost falling down the wide front steps. He hailed a caterer’s truck which was about to take off and hitched a ride to the town square where he was able to make his way to the car parked behind the bakery. From there, he somehow made his way home before he was able to surrender to the mist.

Jake was hardly aware of his actions then as the mist took over. In his rage, he threw dishes, broke chairs, banged his own head against the wall till he felt blood running down his face. He punched a cushion on a rocking chair in the living room till the feathers went flying. It was only when he saw the crack in the window, right through the stained glass border that had withstood a century of wind and storms, but not his rage, that Jake began to calm down. But only enough to realize that he needed to get out of here before his children came home and saw what kind of hero their father really was.

Tears streaming down his face, he went out to the garage to get his go-bag, then made his way upstairs, backward, because his pain was so great, and began to pack. Where he would go, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter.

Some heroes shouldn’t come home.

Chapter 19

She cried him a river . . . until the damn came, as in dammit! . . .

Sally had a hard time getting by all the well-wishers once they’d finished their performance. Everyone wanted to tell them what a wonderful, touching job she and the boys had done with their homage to Jake and other heroes.

Everyone except Jake.

Where was he?

But then Izzie approached, and the worried expression on his face told her all she had feared. “Did he leave?”

Izzie nodded and drew her aside. Her parents, understanding the situation, took the boys in hand, diverting them from their search for their father by promising ice cream cones from a truck that had just pulled up outside.

“What happened?”

He shrugged. “He was probably embarrassed.”

“That’s all?”

“Well, he found out just before your stage act that you’ve been researching Nazim’s torture record, and talking to me about it . . .” He paused.

“Behind his back,” she finished for him.

“He’s feeling betrayed, I suppose. That on top of the fact that Durand told him that his life, and maybe yours and the boys, could be in danger if a video of this performance today went live on national TV and Nazim got it into his head to send someone here to . . .” He let his words trail off again, then added, “Durand was being his usual asshole self, overcautious and premature, but you know Jake would take it seriously.”

“Anything else?”

Izzie shifted from foot to foot, avoiding her eyes.

“What?” she demanded.

“You have to realize that Jake suffers a double handicap, with both his eye and his leg being damaged. If even one of them could be healed, his overall recovery could be much, much better.”

“And . . . ?” Getting info out of Izzie was like watching bread rise. Slooow.