Falling Stars by Charles Sheehan-Miles Read Free Book Online Page B

explained.
    “Don’t be snarky,” she countered. “He was the only real parent Carrie and I had when we were in Belgium.”
    Of course I knew that. Julia had talked about Barry Lewis a lot, so much so that I actually felt a little envious of him. During her father’s tour as a Senior Chief Muckety-muck for NATO in the early nineties, a security detail was assigned to the entire family. It seemed a little crazy, but true enough. I guess if I was that important of a guy, I’d want to make sure my family was protected, too.  
    I hadn’t met Barry Lewis yet, but I’d never clear my mind of the vision she’d described. A lonely girl, eleven years old, with parents too busy to spend time with her, tagging along behind her Marine Corps bodyguard as he worked on his classic cars in the embassy garage. Before we met, Julia was the loneliest person in the world.  
    I didn’t want her to be lonely any more.
    At the end of the driveway, in a loose row, were five cars. All of them classics. Three on blocks, all five of them in various stages of repair and restoration. A truly ancient car, a Ford Model A, was parked a little closer to the house. The Model A was highly polished, chrome and wood paneling gleaming, the whitewall tires flawlessly clean, spokes polished and reflective.
    The trailer was a large doublewide with a wood front deck decorated with potted plants. A dog barked inside as I stopped the car, and a moment later the front door opened and a beautiful German shepherd with a shiny coat of grey and brown ran out of the house, followed by a large man.
    The man wore jeans and a blood red t-shirt with the USMC logo over the pocket. He was almost bald, with a very short fringe of salt and pepper hair, but he didn’t look old. He had thick pistons for arms and the t-shirt was stretched by tightly bunched shoulder and chest muscles. His nose was flat against his face and slightly crooked. This guy was a warrior and knew it, but his face was round and his smile infectious. I couldn’t figure out his ethnic makeup. It would be hard to find a name more Wonder Bread than Barry Lewis, but his facial features were almost Polynesian. I wasn’t going to ask.
    Julia’s breath caught when she saw him. Then she jumped out of the car and ran up the stairs.
    Lewis held his arms out and she threw hers around his neck. She didn’t see it, but I did—his eyes went red and wet with tears as they embraced.
    “Julia Thompson,” he said quietly, his voice catching. “I never thought I’d see you again, baby girl,” he admitted in a ragged, rough voice.
    Jesus Christ, I thought, looking at him. First, he was massive. Frightening. Second, he was clearly completely undone by the sight of Julia as an adult.
      Sean and Carrie stepped out of the car. Carrie was tentative as she watched her sister greet the man.
    Lewis smiled, breaking off the embrace. “You must be little Carrie. Do you remember me?”
    “A little,” Carrie admitted almost shyly. “I remember you were huge, and your blue uniform. That’s about it.”
    “Not surprised,” he said. “You was pretty young last time we saw each other.” He reached out and pulled her into an embrace.  
    Even though she barely remembered him, Carrie’s face did some interesting things, her eyes watering.   And then she said something in a breathy voice that nearly broke my heart.   “Thanks for taking care of my big sis when she needed it.”
    “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” he said good-naturedly, “y’all are gonna make me cry. Let’s get inside.”
    At that, the spell was broken. Julia introduced me and Sean, and the four of us, plus the German shepherd, followed Lewis inside. Just inside the door was a surprisingly spacious and well-kept living area. Two couches sat at right angles to each other, surrounding a glass-topped coffee table.   The central wall was dominated by a 24x36 inch photograph of a much younger Barry Lewis in his dress blues with the three stripes of a