“And you still see them from a child’s point of view.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Probably.”
“Did you ever see your dad handling the guns? Loading them or cleaning them?”
“Once, he had them on the kitchen table cleaning them. He’d started to show me what he was doing, but mother returned from buying groceries, freaked out, and told me I wasn’t to touch them and to leave the room.”
“So, you’ve picked up your mother’s fear of guns. They wouldn’t have hurt you, because he would have had to unload them to clean them.”
She nodded. “Yes, he said they were unloaded. They argued about, it and I heard him say that.”
“Okay. So, I’m going to start you off with learning the parts of a gun. I’ll show you a shotgun, a rifle, and two handguns—a revolver and a nine-millimeter. I’ll show you how the guns are put together and how they work. Somewhat like what your dad was trying to teach you before your mother walked in.”
“That would be great. He did want me to learn about them.” She smiled. “I think he’d approve of this part of our date.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Good, but let’s not get into the habit of bringing along what your daddy would approve of on our dates. That could get uncomfortable.”
She laughed. “Oh yeah, it could.”
“I’d have had the father and teenage-boy talk, if I’d dated you in high school, I bet.”
“Oh yeah, you would’ve. Daddy was real protective. My stepdad? Not so much. With him, it was all about the money. How much a dress for the prom would cost. I always felt like he saw me as a burden and didn’t like paying for someone else’s daughter.”
“Are he and your mother still married?”
“Yeah, and they still live in Pennsylvania, so I don’t see them much. I stopped going to visit after they never came here. I mean, the ‘it’s too expensive and too far’ works both ways. But I still call mother once a week. That’s what works best for everyone. He keeps her real busy.”
“So, you get along, you just don’t see each other.”
“Something like that. I have real good memories of my dad though. It wasn’t like I needed a new dad. Sometimes, I miss him and start getting sad, but then I remember how he always hated to see me or mother sad, and he’d say something to cheer us up. So, I remember those things until I’m not so sad any more. And it’s gotten better with time.”
“I hear you. Grief isn’t an easy thing at any age. Sounds like you learned how to deal with it really young.”
“Yes, I did.”
“I’ve lost family members, and I’ve lost men on my team who were like brothers. It’s never easy, but we can’t let it pull us down. We have to keep living. That’s what they’d want us to do.”
“Yes. We do. I’m glad we’re going shooting today,” Christie said. And she was. Somehow, he’d taken her fear, and by talking about it, had made it a faceable and beatable thing.
He’s so easy to talk to.That was rare and even rarer in someone she’d just met.
When they reached the shooting range, he parked the car and then got out to come around and open her door. The range was a long, one-story building with a sign on the front stating the name and no other decoration. A little bit of greenery by the front door entrance, but that was it. She’d never have guessed there was a restaurant inside.
He opened the door for her, and she got out. Then he went to the trunk and opened it. Inside were two long gun cases, which he pulled out before closing the lid. “I brought a shot gun, a rifle, and two hand guns. We’ll have to let them check the guns once we enter, and then I can show you how they work before we go onto the range.”
“Okay.” She’d be doing far more than she’d thought she’d be doing when she agreed to this guns and dinner date. And she wasn’t sure she’d remember everything after being introduced to so many kinds of guns, but so far, it sounded all right. Reed was making it easy for her, and she was comfortable around him, if not the guns.
They walked inside and over to the counter where the man working the counter asked for their IDs and for them to sign a sheet. He had to put her into the computer since she’d never been there, but Reed had been many times. Once they’d registered, and Reed had paid for the dinner date, they headed toward a room in the back.
Inside the room were picnic-style tables, and the room looked onto the firing range, which they could see and hear through a glass window. It was loud, busy, and smelled funny. In sensory overload, Christie’s nerves were on high alert.
Bang.
Christie jumped.
Bang.
She jumped again.Bang.
With each bang, she jumped and, now, she cringed and wanted to cover her head. She sank onto the picnic table seat to do just that, dropping the targets and the ammo onto the table. Her hands went up over her ears. Her arms curving over herself protectively.
Bangs and pops kept coming, just like in the theater.
She huddled on the picnic table seat like a frightened mouse. Not aware of anything else, but her fear and the noises of the guns, her heart raced. Her thoughts raced.
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.
