Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
Early Morning December 23
Jeff pulled his mother’s SUV into the unplowed gravel driveway at the Cantrell house at seven-fifteen in the morning. He was relieved to see the warm glow of lights spilling through the windows. His mother had been correct. The family would be up early in the morning. She was also right about taking her car with good, studded snow tires rather than his rental. He didn’t have any problem making it down the long country road.
He opened the vehicle door and was assaulted by the below freezing air that made the constant wind feel even colder. As he tromped to the side door through two inches of snow that had accumulated overnight, he was thankful for the old snow boots he’d found buried in the hall closet. He was relatively sure he hadn’t worn them since senior year in high school. Jeff had put on several pounds, mostly muscle, in the past eight years so they were a bit tight. Before heading out, his mother had handed him a pair of fur-lined men’s gloves that had probably once been his father’s. At that moment, he didn’t care. They were warm. His blood had definitely thinned while at BUD/S in the California sunshine, which made the falling snow and biting wind pierce through his lightweight jacket. His extra bulk had made his high school winter jacket far too small. He was grateful for the layers of sweaters underneath.
The century-old farmhouse seemed small surrounded by acres of cornfields that had been cut months ago, leaving only the tips of stubble sticking through the newly fallen snow. Jeff managed to weave through the children’s outdoor toys that littered the sidewalk. Glancing around, he couldn’t find a doorbell, so he knocked on the metal storm door.
A woman who looked to be in her early forties peeked through the sheer curtain on the inner door and eyed him head to toe. She made no move to open the door, so he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
“Mrs. Cantrell, I’m Lieutenant Jeff Arwood. I’m here to see you about JT.”
“Let me see your badge,” she demanded in a firm voice.
“Ma’am, I don’t have a badge.”
“Aren’t you a cop?” Her eyebrows pinched together.
“No, ma’am. I’m a Navy Lieutenant, not a law enforcement officer.” He thought he’d better explain a little more. “I talked with JT yesterday after the assembly at school.”
“Oh. You’re the SEAL who spoke at the elementary school.” She unlocked and opened the door. “JT hasn’t been able to stop talking about you. He said you knew his father.”
“I didn’t know his father, but I know of him.” Emphasizing the difference, Jeff kicked the snow off his boots before he stepped into the mudroom. “May I talk to you for a moment about JT?”
“Certainly, young man. Come on in. You must be freezing.” She waved him into the small space. “The coffee should be ready by now.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’d appreciate that.” He noticed where all the coats were hanging on hooks, boots lined up neatly underneath. Using the boot jack next to the door, he slipped out of his, placing them next in line before he took off his coat and hung it on an empty hook.
“Thank you for serving our country,” she said as he walked into the adjoining kitchen. “Everyone in town is so proud of you. Your mother is such a good woman. I’m so glad she’s the new principal at the elementary school. It was about time Paul Brown retired. He was just too old and cranky. He was a mean old goat when he was my principal.”
“I agree with you there.” Jeff studied the woman as she poured him a cup from the coffee-stained glass pot that sat prominently on the well-worn counter. As he stood just inside the kitchen, he could see into the living room where several children played in their pajamas and watched cartoons on a small television that sat atop a low credenza, the drawers open with toys and the blankets spilling out.
The home was clean and well kept. A meager live Christmas tree decorated with handmade ornaments sat lonely in one corner with only a few small presents underneath. It was quite a contrast to the thick artificial tree in his mother’s home that almost touched the ten-foot ceiling. She’d gone overboard this year, trying to make up for their celebration the previous year when she could only bring a few gifts on the airplane.
Mr. Cantrell walked carefully into the room from the door off to the side of the living area.
Jeff crossed to him, hand extended. “Mr. Cantrell, I’m Lieutenant Jeff Arwood. I’d like to speak to you and Mrs. Cantrell about JT.”
The man, obviously in pain, sat gingerly on a kitchen chair at the table that rivaled his mother’s.
“Dan is a painter,” Mrs. Cantrell explained as she handed them both a cup of coffee. “A few weeks ago, he fell off a ladder and broke several ribs. We just thank God that it wasn’t his neck, and the ribs didn’t pierce his lungs.” She glanced toward the living room where the children continued to play. “It’ll be several weeks before he heals. It’s all right though. Luckily this time of year there isn’t much call for a lot of painting around here. Last year he traveled all the way to Rapid City and stayed with his brother much of the winter working on a big job there.” She forced a smile. “This year he’ll be spending Christmas and New Year’s with us.”
“Not exactly by choice,” Mr. Cantrell mumbled.
“Momma C.” JT ran into the kitchen and stopped short when he saw Jeff. “Lieutenant Jeff. You came to my house.”
Jeff kneeled in front of the boy. “Yes, I’m here to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Cantrell about the things in your letter yesterday. Can you give us a few minutes, buddy?”
“Yes, sir.” His gaze flew to Mrs. Cantrell. “Ginnie is beginning to fuss. I already changed her diaper, but I think she’s hungry. Can I make her a bottle?”
With a tired nod, the woman sat down next to her husband at the scarred kitchen table. “That would be wonderful. Thank you, JT.” She looked up at Jeff. “Come sit and we’ll talk.”
Jeff watched as the young boy expertly made a baby bottle with warm water, carefully measuring in the dry powder. Once he affixed the nipple, he shook it like a pro as he left the room.
“He’s just the sweetest boy,” Mrs. Cantrell said, tears welling in her eyes. “I wish so much we could keep him. I wish we could afford to adopt him and make him ours.”
Mr. Cantrell put his hand over his wife’s and squeezed. “After things turn around for us, we’ll see if we can get him back.” He looked at Jeff. “This is really a rough time for us. I wish I hadn’t gotten knocked off that ladder. Just a darn accident.”
Jeff could see the man’s glistening eyes and teeth that clenched as he fought his emotions.
Mrs. Cantrell sniffed and wiped at tears that found their way down her unadorned face. “We can barely do for our own children.” Her gaze wandered to the Christmas tree.
“That’s what I’m here to talk to you about,” Jeff jumped on the opportunity. “Are you familiar with the contents of the letters that JT had?”
Both Mr. and Mrs. Cantrell shook their heads. “Letters? No. We thought there was only one. He came with so few things and was extremely protective of that big envelope. We saw that it was addressed to his brother SEAL,” Mrs. Cantrell explained.
Mr. Cantrell picked up the story. “We thought maybe he had a brother out there somewhere. We asked Ms. Hopewell if he had a sibling, and she reassured us that JT was an only child.” He squeezed his wife’s hand again. “Whatever was inside that envelope wasn’t for us. We were quite surprised when he got home from school yesterday and said he’d given you the letter.”
Quickly summarizing, Jeff explained, “Inside the envelope JT gave me was a letter from his father, Tyler Malone. He was a Navy SEAL, like me. He was killed in combat in Afghanistan.”
“JT was always going on about how his dad was a hero.” The Cantrells exchanged a knowing look.
“Yes, his father was a hero.” Jeff doubted the Cantrells knew about his mother. “And his mother was a naval officer as well. She died of cancer while he was a baby.”
Both their gazes swung toward the boy feeding their infant a bottle. “How terrible,” Mrs. Cantrell said quietly. “That poor boy.”
“Maybe that’s where he gets all this yes sir, no ma’am stuff from,” Mr. Cantrell added while not taking his eyes off the boy under discussion.
Covertly glancing at his watch and realizing the clock was ticking, Jeff pushed on. “The recipient of the letter was asked to find Commander John Carson. He just happens to be my commanding officer. I called him and with his permission I opened his letter. It asked Commander Carson to find Alex Wolf, an old friend of JT’s father. There was another letter addressed to Mr. Wolf.” Jeff had decided to skip the whole Alejandro Lobo, Alex Wolf scenario. The Cantrells didn’t need to know any of that. His gaze darted back and forth between the couple in front of him. “It was Tyler Malone’s final request that Mr. Wolf raise his son.”
Both faces brightened with joy. “Is he going to adopt JT?”
“I don’t know,” Jeff answered honestly. “I’m sure there’s going to be some legalities they have to go through, but Ms. Hopewell was there when I read the letters.” He lowered his voice so only the Cantrell couple could hear him. “Since you asked to have JT removed from your home, that complicates things even more. She’ll probably be here sometime today to take him to a state orphanage. Lizzie told me that it would probably be sometime in January before she could place him in another home.”
Mrs. Cantrell threw her fingers over her mouth. Tears filled her eyes again. “I’m so sorry I ever asked to have him taken away. I love that child like one of my own.”
Jeff held up his hand in the stop position. “Before Lizzie can take him away and to the state orphanage, you have the right to give him permission to take a trip with me. Mr. and Mrs. Wolf would like me to bring JT to them today. They’ve actually purchased plane tickets for us to fly to Washington, D.C., which is where they live. We need to be at the airport by noon. We have to do this before Lizzie gets here to take him away. Will you give me permission to take JT on a Christmas vacation? We’ll let the lawyers handle it after that.”
“Oh, my word.” Mrs. Cantrell grabbed her nearly threadbare blouse over her chest. “Fly? Like on an airplane? Will he be safe?”
Jeff had flown all over the world and never thought twice about boarding an aircraft, civilian or military. The concept seemed a foreign experience to the Cantrells. “I can assure you that flying is very safe these days. I’ll be with JT the entire time until he meets Mr. and Mrs. Wolf.”
“We know your mama and she raised you to be a good man.” Mr. Cantrell held Jeff’s gaze. “Do you promise to take good care of the boy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is this Mr. and Mrs. Wolf…are they good people?” Mrs. Cantrell asked.
“From everything I’ve read about them, yes.” He wished he knew more about Katlin Callahan. He hadn’t been able to find much online about her. It was as though her social media had been scrubbed, like his and every other special operator in the military.
The Cantrells looked at each other carrying on a silent conversation. Finally, Mrs. Cantrell smiled. “Then we give you permission. What do we need to do?”
“I need your written permission to take him with me,” Jeff explained.
Mrs. Cantrell went to one of the backpacks lined neatly against the wall to the mudroom, took out a three-ring binder, and extracted a piece of notebook paper. She hesitated then grabbed several more sheets. It took a few tries, and more paper, before they came up with the proper language.
After both Cantrells signed the note, Mrs. Cantrell stared at JT. “We wanted to have at least one more day with him.” All the adults watched the children playing well together. “They all think of each other as brothers and sisters.”
Another glance at his watch and Jeff announced, “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Cantrell, but we really need to get going.”
Mrs. Cantrell pasted on a smile. “JT, will you come here, please?” The boy carefully handed the infant off to an older girl and ran over to the adults. “Yes, Momma C? Do you need me to help you with something?”
She tenderly touched the side of the boy’s face. “You’re going on a Christmas trip with Lieutenant Jeff,” she explained.
“Yes.” Jeff tried to sound excited as though this was going to be a great adventure. “We’re going to go to Washington, D.C. Do you know when that is?”
JT bobbed his head up and down. “It’s the nation’s capital. That’s where the president lives and Congress meets.”
“Exactly.” Jeff continued, “We’re going to fly on an airplane.”
A huge smile crossed the little boy’s face. “Aunt Nellie told me that I flew on a plane when I was a baby. That’s when my mom and I came to live with her.” His face fell. “She died in the car crash. Aunt Nellie. My mom died of cancer. But I don’t remember her.” JT’s gaze rose to meet Jeff’s. “How did my dad die?”
The incident flashed through Jeff’s mind. How to explain an enemy ambush to a child? “He died in combat, fighting the Taliban in Afghanistan.”
“He was a hero.” JT said with such confidence.
“Yes, he was.” Jeff needed to change the subject quickly. Time was running out. “We need to get to the airport. You need to pack your bag and bring everything with you.”
“Everything?” JT asked.
Jeff looked at Mrs. Cantrell for help. They hadn’t talked about this part. By the panicked stares the couple was giving him, JT had no idea he was being removed from the home.
Resigned, Jeff explained to the child, “Remember the letter you gave me from your father?” He smiled as reassuringly as possible. “He wants you to be raised by his best friend. That’s why we’re going to Washington. You are going to meet Mr. and Mrs. Wolf. They knew your father really well and they want you to come live with them.”
“Forever?” There was so much optimism in the one word.
Jeff certainly hoped so. Still smiling, he nodded. “Now, JT, you need to quickly pack up all your stuff.”
“I’ll help you gather your things.” Mrs. Cantrell took the boy’s hand and headed up the narrow stairs.
“While they’re collecting his things, Mr. Cantrell, let’s exchange phone numbers,” Jeff suggested.
The other man looked down at the kitchen table. “We don’t got cell phones anymore.”
“Do you have a landline here at the house?”
Mr. Cantrell shook his head side to side. “No. We took that out years ago. Seemed to only get calls from those telemarketer people.”
Jeff wondered what they would do in case of an emergency. He grabbed one of the unused sheets of notebook paper. “Tell you what, this is my cell phone number. When you get back on your feet, give me a call. You’re probably going to have to leave a message because SEALs train a lot.” And get deployed all the time . “I’ll call you back as soon as I can. In the meantime, you can always send a message to my mom at the school. We try to talk at least once a week.”
The older man looked encouraged. “That would be good. We’d like to hear about how things go with JT’s new family.”
Within minutes JT came bouncing down the steps, several plastic grocery bags hanging from each arm. “I got everything, Lieutenant Jeff.”
Jeff wondered if his mother had a spare suitcase. They couldn’t get on the airplane that way. His gaze dropped from the boy’s dark brown hair to shoes that seemed at least two sizes too big. Maybe they had time to stop at the mall on his way to the airport and get him some clothes that fit. Since he hadn’t been able to spend much money during BUD/S or the year of training following, his savings account had enough money to cover clothes for this child. He might have to stay another month or two in the BOQ before being able to rent a place in town, but that was a small price to pay so JT could arrive at the Wolf home in decent clothes.
“Say goodbye to the children,” Mrs. Cantrell ordered JT, sniffing back tears.
There was a knock at the side door.
Wiping tears away as she turned, she announced, “I’ll get that.”
Jeff was so enthralled by the heartbreaking goodbyes between the children that he didn’t bother looking to see who entered through the kitchen.
“You can’t take him,” Lizzie declared.