Carter's Shadow - 43. Chapter 43

West barely slept that night, laying on his back staring up at the ceiling most of the night until the faint blue light just before the dawn poked through his blinds, and he gave up the futile attempt. Getting out of bed he pulled on a striped rugby shirt and a pair of worn jeans.

Padding through to the kitchen he found his father already up and flipping through a newspaper.

"You're up early," Jonathan Harding said, looking up from his paper. "Trouble sleeping?"

West yawned a little and rubbed the sleepers from his eyes as he fumbled in the fridge for the milk and helped himself to coffee. "Yeah," he murmured.

His father watched him pour the coffee and looked up at his son. "When did you grow up?" he asked rhetorically, shaking his head.

West turned to his dad and smiled, coming across to lean on the counter. "Have I changed that much?" he asked thoughtfully, trying to remember any one point over the trials of the last few weeks where he had changed; but each had their significance, each one contributing to helping him become the man he was.

His father set the newspaper down and leaned forward, "Between all that's happened, yes you have. It's not a bad change; just, you aren't a boy anymore. You can see it in your eyes." He shook his head and leaned on folded hands, "Have you decided what you're going to do with Major Carter's offer?"

West drew a deep breath and shook his head, "I'm not sure; I mean it's a lot, right? To get me in there?"

"To Sandhurst?" his father asked. "Yes, the Major's going to have to get you British citizenship; considering his position that shouldn't be too hard for him though he's going to be calling in favours to get it done. Then there's skipping the application process and referring you directly; and considering how soon he expects you to start, I think he's already set the ball rolling on it all."

"T-that's huge..." West marvelled at the complexity of what was being done for him.

"It is," his father agreed, "but that shouldn't force you into a decision you're not ready to make. Take your time and think this through."

West smiled at his dad, heaving out a sigh and rubbing his battered ribs. "I will," he promised.

"Do you still hurt?" his father asked in concern.

West shook his head, "It's going away, I'll be okay." It was the other bruises that would take the longest time to heal, the ones on the inside.

His father stepped forward and took West's chin and angled his son's head under the light to get a better look at the cut on his forehead. "That's going to scar," he observed, letting West go, his brow troubled.

"Yeah," West shrugged, "kind of something I just have to live with..."

"No," his father shook his head, "you know you're allowed to get angry."

"Why?" West shrugged. "Brad's going to go to court, along with the others. I've got a chance to become an officer... and I'm still the same guy I always was... why get angry?"

"Because it's human to get angry," his father said, his eyes searching West's for something, and smiled when West met his eyes and flexed an eyebrow. "Sometimes I wonder where you came from," he mused. "Certainly not from my side, and your mother's relatives are all insane..."

"Maybe I'm adopted," West grinned.

"Nope," his father shook his head. "After the thirty-two hours of labour you subjected your mother to she certainly suggested the idea." He nodded, "You should try to get an hour or two of sleep before school..."

"I can't," West shook his head tiredly, "I've been tossing and turning all night."

His father opened a thermos mug and began to fix himself another mug of coffee to take with him out to the morning farm chores, glancing at his boy, "You could give me a hand with the feed."

West smiled and nodded, going over to slip on a pair of boots and tugging on a jacket as his father held the door open for him, the two Harding men walking down the steps to cross to the barn.

"Do you think that, if I begged, the Major would ship your brother Joey off to military school?" West's father joked as they entered the barn. West grabbed a couple of buckets and looked into the stalls while his father opened another bag of feed with a Stanley knife.

"I don't know if they'd go for that, Dad," West replied, setting the buckets down and pulling on a pair of his dad's work gloves.

"Shame," his father said, tipping the bag out as he looked up towards the house through the barn doors. "He could do with a bit of discipline."

West folded his arms, following his dad's glance across the rain-swept yard, "Any idea when the court date is?"

"A few weeks," his father replied, straightening up and setting the bag aside. "He's still a minor, and it's his first offence, I'm hoping they go easy on him..." He shook his head, "Just, I knew he was up to something, but drugs..." He rubbed his face with the back of his glove as he scooped up a bucket and began to pour it out into the feeding troughs.

"He's still grounded?" West asked, mimicking his father but with the other side.

"Oh I'm pretty sure at the rate she's going his grandkids will be grounded as well. Your mom can be pretty easygoing about a lot of things, just..."

"Drugs," West nodded. "What about Tony?"

"The kid he was with?" West's father paused his pouring to pet his favourite cow of the season; she mooed appreciatively and licked his hand. "He wasn't carrying anything, and your brother swore he wasn't involved--he should get off with a warning." He stooped under the grate to check the cow's flanks, "Wasn't that the boy I caught you kissing with in the yard?"

West nodded, "Yeah, he's a nice guy..."

"Probably a good thing you broke up with him," his father said straightening up. "Though I'm still not sure why you want to date the antisocial McCormick boy."

West smiled and looked down at the mention of Peter, looking up at his dad and shrugging lamely, "He's got... something, I just want..."

"Aside from his butt?" his dad asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"Ok," West held up a gloved hand, "there's just some things I don't want to discuss with my dad..."

"Well, what is it about him?" His dad moved onto the next stall, "He's not the type your mother and I pictured you with. I saw more the Tony type, your mom saw more the Russell Crowe type..."

"Yeah, but Mom likes Russell Crowe..."

"That explains why she keeps calling me Russ..." His father looked wistful.

"'K," West said shaking his head, "Line...over... as in crossing..."

"Right." His father snapped back to the present and returned to work.

West rolled his eyes; it was just typical he would get stuck with the most progressive parents on the planet. He looked at his dad again, the salt-of-the-earth type of guy who seemed to be made for the farm, and loved every second he spent there.

"What made you join the army?" West asked suddenly.

His father turned back, chewing his lip, looking thoughtful at his son, "You want the long answer or the short answer?" He smiled, "Short answer was your granddad made me. The long answer's a little more complicated."

"Is it because you might have been gay?" West swallowed as he asked, knowing he perhaps didn't want the answer he was going to get.

His dad laughed, a deep belly laugh that made him roar as he slapped the gate and startled the calf inside the stall. It took him a few minutes, tears rolling down his face as he laughed, sitting down on the muddied floor of the barn, and grinning at his son, "Ok, it's been a long time since anyone's asked me that..." He wiped his tears with the back of his hands.

"Sorry," West said, smiling himself.

"Your mother used to ask me that; it was her biggest fear that I was...gay." He shook his head, "I did a healthy amount of experimenting--it was the Seventies--but I didn't know for the longest time what I was." He struggled back to his feet, reaching out to calm the frightened calf who stared with baleful eyes at its insane master, "I suppose the army was more your granddad's idea than it was mine, but I still made the choice to go. And no, it wasn't to make me straight... your mother was quite effective at sorting that out..."

"Right," West said hesitantly.

His father glanced at his boy and smiled, "It's why I'm okay with you, I guess; I just know what it was like to go through some of the stuff you went through when you were sixteen." He finished up with his side and came across to help West on his, "You know I'm proud of you, right?"

West closed his eyes and nodded, realizing that if he took the Major's offer and went to Sandhurst, that it was probably one of their last father-son talks. Once he took that step he wouldn't be a kid any more, but an adult. He just needed to look into his dad's eyes and he could see that as far as his father was concerned, West was already there.

West let the bucket drop as he wrapped his arms around his father and held him tightly for a moment, remembering what it had been like to be seven and clinging to his daddy when he'd skinned his knee. Or at Christmas... there were so many memories, happy ones, that he could associate with his family, and he knew he was truly lucky to have each and every one of them. That the love he'd gotten from them was what made him as strong a man as he had become.

Like any house, it was only as strong as its foundation.

"You're taking the offer aren't you?" his father said when West finally released him.

West stepped back, and looked down at the hay-strewn floor of the barn, nodding, "Yeah, I know I have to." He looked up, "It's what I've always wanted to do."

His father nodded, drying his eyes for the second time that morning, "Your mother's going to worry about you every day, you know that, right?" He chuckled, "It gives me an excuse to comfort her."

West smiled and looked up, blinking back his own tears, "I guess I've been trying to find a way to say yes without upsetting everyone..."

"You're going to have to tell him," West's father said, and both of them knew who he meant.

"I-" West closed his eyes and nodded.

"It's not fair on him, he has to know so that he's ready for it. England's a long way away, and even when you get leave, it's not like you can just hop a plane back," his father warned. "When you leave, you'll probably not be back for several years."

"I know," West again nodded, looking up at the ceiling, suddenly torn by what he had to do, and the fact that he'd fallen in love with someone who couldn't go with him. And he realized, just like with Jenny-Lynn, he was going to hurt another person. And he knew his father was right--the only way to stop it from hurting worse, was to do it as soon as he could.

He closed his eyes and swallowed.

His father touched his arm, "If he loves you half as much as you seem to do him, he'll understand why you have to do this."

West squared his shoulders, looking back at the house. The lights were coming on as people were starting to get up, and he looked back at his dad, "I should go shower before Joey uses up all the hot water."

"It's not Joey you have to worry about, it's Sammy," his father chuckled. "I swear that girl's gonna be the death of me when she turns sixteen."

* * *

West shaved and combed his hair the way his mother liked, coming out of the bathroom to the general sound of morning mayhem. His mother was battling to prepare breakfast for three starving kids who were perpetually late in getting ready.

West realized he was going to miss them, as he stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, slipping on a denim shirt. Joey, quieter lately than usual, was shovelling cornflakes into his mouth, trying to ignore his little sister who was mirroring everything he did and said in a bizarre form of 'echo' designed to drive her brother nuts.

"Toast or cereal?" his mother asked, bustling to prepare a packed lunch for Sammy, who had discovered the wonderful world of trade, and insisted on extra cupcakes to exchange with the other kids.

"I'm good," West said with a smile at her, nodding to the coffee pot. "I'll have a cup of coffee instead."

"You and coffee," his mother rolled her eyes. "You're still not supposed to drink it."

"I'm going to have to get used to it," West said, "especially at Sandhurst."

"I thought they drank tea there..." His mother stopped and looked at him, as everyone in the kitchen turned to look at him at the same time. His mother swallowed as she dried her hands, "You decided to go?"

"Yeah," West nodded, "it's too good of an offer not to."

His mother embraced him, sniffling and dabbing her eyes with the edge of the tea towel as she poured him a mug of coffee. Which he accepted gratefully as he joined his brother and sister at the kitchen table.

"You're going to England?" Sammy asked, wide-eyed. "To protect the Queen?"

"Kinda," West said.

"Like one of those men with the red coats and funny hats around the Palace...." She grinned thoughtfully, "Will you meet a prince?"

"Maybe." West shrugged.

"I'm going to marry one!" Sammy declared. "And you can be my soldier."

"Aren't they both a little old for you?" Joey piped up between bites.

"Nah-uh!" Sammy shook her pigtails.

"Great, now she thinks she's royalty." Joey rolled his eyes, and glanced up to where his mother was wrestling with the washer. "Hey West," he asked quickly in a low tone, "can I get that friend of yours' number."

"Which one?" West asked, dropping his tone to match Joey's.

"Blake." He looked again at his mum, who was now aware the two boys were whispering.

"Why?" West asked.

"No reason," Joey said finishing his cornflakes, and taking his bowl to the sink.

"Whatever you're up to," his mother warned, "just remember you're still grounded, young man."

"How could I forget?" Joey grumbled, looking towards the calendar on the fridge with an endless string of red X's through the days he was supposed to be grounded.

"Don't talk back," his mother warned, "or I'll add another month."

Joey winced, knowing full well she was serious; half the X's on there were because he had failed to heed her warnings. He put on his best apologetic look, and turned on the puppy-dog eyes. "Sorry, Mom." He quivered his top lip a little.

"Ha!" his mother snorted shaking her head. "I wasn't born yesterday, go get ready for school. "West, can you drop the kids off at school for me?"

"The Bronco?" West asked, getting up and finishing his coffee as he grabbed his team jacket and slipped it over his shoulders, recovering his back pack at the same time.

"Please, and bring Joey straight home after school; I don't want him out while he's..." she looked at the red X's on the calendar meaningfully.

"No problem," West replied with a smile.

"What am I going to do without you?" she asked, taking a moment to hug her son closely, resting her head against his chest and squeezing him closely.

"Hey," West said warmly, returning the hug, "don't cry..."

She stepped back and dried her eyes again, "I'm sorry, I knew it would be hard, I just..." She straightened herself out a bit, "You're going to look so good in your uniform." She fussed with his jacket, and straightened the championship pin on his 'C'.

"Thanks, Mom," West said, taking a deep breath as Sammy went dashing past them both, her Barbie backpack bouncing as she galloped to beat her brother Joey for the front seat in the Bronco.

West turned and smiled, "I should get going."

His father, banging through the back door, stamped off his boots as he walked over to loop an arm around his wife's shoulders and drew her close, as West said good-bye to them both and walked out to the Bronco.

"He told you then?" Jonathon asked, looking down at his wife who curled against him and cried.