Walker

He turned the knob and opened the door. It squeaked on it's hinges as he pulled on it. He stepped through and looked around. Crap! All the seats in the back were taken and the steps were wooden. The lecture stopped, the entire room went silent. No paper shuffling, coughing, moving about--silent. Absolutely silent. And then the door squealed shut as it closed behind him. As he surveyed the situation he noted that all heads were turned in his direction. He hesitated, but then took the first step trying to make sure his cane was silent as he placed it carefully on the step. The step creaked as he put his weight on it. Shit!

Sam looked at him. Didn't he know that no one showed up late for a Bio 102 lecture from Dr. Mitchell. Better to skip the class and get the notes. But, God, those eyes! Bright, sparkling, scanning the room, taking it all in. She swore he already knew every exit, hiding place, and had taken the measure of all one hundred or so students in the room.

Who or what was this guy? But those eyes showed pain, regret, grief. So there must be some damage, some baggage. Perfect posture, has to be military. Pressed blue slacks. Dry cleaned light blue shirt. And look at those shiny shoes. Navy. There was just something about him....

Her heart alarms went off. NO! STOP! DEAD STOP! Her brain joined in shouting 'HE'S A FIXER UPPER. ANOTHER FIXER UPPER. STOP. PLEASE STOP! DON'T DO THIS. LOOK AWAY.' She tore her eyes away and looked down. Took three deep breaths and focused on her computer.

"Well. Welcome to Biology 102, Mr......"

"Jackson, Sir. Walker Jackson."

"Welcome, Mr. Jackson. There appears to be a seat right there in the middle. Yes. Right next to Miss..." Sam realized he was talking to her.

"Taylor, Sir. Samantha Taylor."

"Good. Samantha if you would be so kind as to remove your shopping bags and purse from that chair?"

"Yeah. I mean, yes. Yes, Sir."

"New purse, Miss Taylor?"

"Uh, yes. It is."

"How nice. Your birthday?"

"Yes, Sir."

Walker made his way to the seat. Still limping some and putting some weight on the cane in his right hand. She stood and folded the seat up to help. He eased himself in front of Samantha, trying to reach the seat next to her without stepping on her feet. He cursed to himself. Oldest lecture hall on campus with seats designed for much smaller people than himself.

"Now, Mr. Jackson. Perhaps you will be kind enough to apologize to the class and to me for interrupting an absolutely riveting lecture regarding Mendelian inheritance and explain why you are so late."

He turned red. Anger building inside. Just take it! He's an ass, he told himself. Deal with it. He would have turned and left, but he needed these hours. So, another deep breath, forcing himself to relax, "I apologize to my fellow students and to you, Professor Mitchell, for arriving late and interrupting your lecture. I hate being late and it will not happen again."

He started to sit. "I'm sure you had a very good explanation for being tardy and starting the class on the third day, Mr. Jackson? Other than your rural southern background."

He clutched the cane tighter. Sam couldn't help herself. A fellow student in need? Her maternal instinct...or something else? She didn't even notice the alarms and warnings being drowned out. The walls around her heart weakening.

Without thinking she reached over and put her hand on top of his and squeezed lightly. He glanced down, but visibly calmed. His shoulders relaxed. Good. He looked like a bomb about to go off. What the hell was Mitchell doing? Didn't he know how these guys were? What could happen if you pushed the wrong buttons?

"Yes, Sir."

"Would you like to share?"

"No, Sir."

"Oh please, Mr. Jackson. I insist."

"I've spent the last six weeks at Walter Reed and requested an early release so I could attend your class. Unfortunately, I was discharged too late to arrive on the first day or on time. Sorry. Sir."

"And would you care to explain why you were there?"

"No, Sir."

"Please. I think the class would like to know."

"An error in judgment, Sir."

"An error in judgment? Like being late for class? Please explain?"

Damn! Sam could see Walker was winding up again. She squeezed his hand and he relaxed again. Another deep breath. Are his eyes getting wet?

"An error judgment, SIR! LIKE TAKING THIS FUCKING COURSE!"

She whispered, "At ease, soldier. Let it flow by." He looked at her and smiled.

He turned, "Excuse me, Miss." He stormed out of the row, but as he started leaving she was pulled into his wake, had to make sure he was OK.

"Mr. Jackson. You come back here. Stop!"

Turning back, Sam screamed, "STOP! For the love of God. STOP! You stop, Professor Mitchell. What are you doing? What the hell is wrong with you? Do you have a death wish or something? I don't know who he is or where he's been, but you are about ten seconds away from being a pile of mush next to that lecturn. And you'd deserve it. Didn't you see his eyes? He's been living on the other side. You're pushing the wrong buttons!"

"Walker! Walker!" She ran after and followed him through the door and grabbed his sleeve. He spun angrily around, cane rising. She flinched. "Walker! Please stop. Are you alright? Please stop."

He looked at her. His eyes softened. His features relaxed. He took another breath. Mopped his eyes with his handkerchief. A handkerchief? "Thank you, Miss...."

"Samantha...Sam"

"Thank you, Sam. I was about to lose it. I....I... and you helped me a lot in there. What a prick! Oh, sorry, Mi....Sam."

"Why I never..." using a simulated very Southern, 'Gone with the Wind' accent and fanning her face. She smiled and squeezed his arm. Wholly shit, she thought, hard as a rock. It was decided. This was not the last they were going to see of each other. Not by a long shot. The alarms went silent and disappeared after a final, desperate, 'Fixer Upper!'

What was it about him? She remembered her brother saying that he knew the moment he bumped into his wife at the grocery that she was The One. Maybe? Maybe Walker could be her one? Or would he just be another guy to break her heart, again? Too late now. She could feel herself being sucked in. Damn, why did she have to be this way? Why was she always sucked in by broken guys. Why couldn't she find a guy who would fix her? But this one was different, wasn't he? She just hoped there was no one else, no one else in his life...

The door squeaked open. "Mr. Jackson? Walker. May I have a word with you? Miss, uh, Taylor? Would you excuse us?" She nodded and moved away, but not far. She wanted to be close in case it looked like Walker was ready to erupt or something.

"Look, Walker. I'm sorry. What I did was out of line, unprofessional and totally inappropriate. I jumped to the conclusion that you were just another entitled rich kid. This school is full of them. Daddy donates some money to the University and they think they own it. I was apparently very, very wrong.

"Please. Come back inside. I am honored that you chose my class and thank you for your sacrifices. What do you say?"

"Apology accepted. And again, I'm sorry I was late." She watched them shake hands and smile. Mitchell opened the door for him and ushered him in with his arm on his shoulder.

"You too, Miss Taylor. And bring your purse. It's nice, by the way."

"Sorry for the interruption class. I was out of line and apologize once again to Mr. Jackson. So as I was saying, before all of the excitement began, if type A blood is dominant and type O recessive. And the father is AO and the mother is AO how would you determine the likelihood of the child being A or O? Any takers?

Walker looked around. No one had raised a hand. "Yes, Mr. Jackson....."

"I'd set up a Punnett Square and show a three to one likelihood of A to O."

"Very good, Mr. Jackson. So what are your sister's chances?"

"Are we assuming that the paternal alleles are the same?" Prof. Mitchell looked at him. Most of the class was quiet, but there were a few twitters of laughter. And then Mitchell laughed.

"Yes, Mr. Jackson. We will assume she has the same father as you." The class including Sam got it and general laughter erupted, easing the nerves of all.

As the class ended, "Walker? Uh, what are you doing before Bio Lab? Would you like to get some coffee or something to eat or something?"

"Sure. But nothing with caffeine. I'm still kind of wired. And, Sam? Thank you. Thank you for being there and pulling my plug. I...."

"It's alright, Walker. Glad to do it. I'm a psychology major and...well, I volunteer at the VA so I've...met a number of returnees." I don't know who you are, where you've been or what you've done, but I want to be there for you. And I just want to grab you, hold you, and rip your clothes off, she thought. "Please let me help?"

"I don't understand. Why? Why do you want to help?"

"Because, well, because you look like you need a friend. And I think I can help. Well, unless, you know, you have someone else to help?"

He smiled. "Subtle, Sam. Real subtle. No. No one else. So sure, let's get something to drink." She wanted to help, but she also wanted to be close, to be with him. There was just something...She envisioned herself in orbit around him being sucked in by his gravitational field. No escape. She knew how this was likely going to end, but it was already too late.

They got drinks. Coffee, cream, two sugars for her. Water for him. "Where to, sailor? Want to find a seat?"

"What if we walk around? I haven't been outside much and I miss feeling the sun, the breeze on my face. You know, that kind of stuff."

"What? There's a romantic side to a big, rugged guy like you?"

"Of course! I have a complex, multilayered personality."

"Sure. That's what all the guys say. And they end up being about as complex as a rock. And most of their personality is focused on, well, certain anatomical areas. You know." He laughed again.

"Well, you know....most rocks are composed of a variety of substances and sedimentary rocks are usually formed in layers. Multiple layers." She smiled at him.

"So you're composed of compressed layers of dead stuff? Do I have that right?" He looked intently at her then scanned the area once again and laughed.

"Not exactly what I was shooting for..."

"Alright. So you took Geology and you have a sense of humor. First, tell me how the heck you knew that stuff about blood groups?"

"I already took the course. Online. But I didn't have the lab. I need the lab to take some other courses and this friggin' school wouldn't let me just take the lab. Even though I talked to them and explained the situation."

"Why didn't you go somewhere else?"

"Really couldn't. I, uh, well I was in the hospital and...well, the Navy wants me close by to provide information and help with planning. If they need it. I'm still technically active duty even though...Even though I can't go back to my former duties."

"So...not a sailor." He shook his head. "OK. So you're going to help me with Biology, which, by the way I really struggled with first semester and I hated the idea of taking Bio 102. That's why I'm taking them in summer school. Six weeks each of concentrated pain then on with my life. And I will help you with....whatever."

"Deal. But if you're going to be a psychologist. Don't you need some biology to see how organisms work and function? To see how the drugs your patients are on actually affect the body. And stuff like that?"

"I guess. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

As they walked down the sidewalk, they heard a white haired woman scream, "MY PURSE! He took my purse!" They saw the twenty something, disheveled man running towards them carrying the purse.

"Oh, shit, Walker. Be careful, he's got a knife!" She jumped between the parked cars, but as the thief ran by, Walker nonchalantly stuck his cane out with his right hand, causing the thief to stumble, and with the other, accelerated him head first into one of the parked cars. He fell to the sidewalk moaning. Walking over, he picked up the knife and pitched it down a storm drain, picked up the purse, and walked down the sidewalk and returned the purse to the woman.

She simply stared at him, then, "Thank you. Thank you so much. I was on the way to make a deposit. And....well, it was a lot of money. I, uh, I own that bakery over there. I should have been more careful. I'm Maggie Smith."

"Walker. Walker Jackson."

"Well, Walker. Let me give you a reward for your help."

"That won't be necessary. Glad to help. Just neighbor helping neighbor."

"You obviously aren't from around these parts."

"No, Ma'am."

"Maggie. Well, Walker, you give me no choice. You get free bakery goods....hell, for life. Walker...I hate to ask, but would you escort me down the street to the bank. Then we can come back, and I'll load you up."

"I'll take you to the bank, Maggie, but then Sam and I have to get back to class. Sam?" Sam was simply staring at him and he stepped over and helped her back onto the sidewalk. "Sam, this is Maggie. Maggie, Sam."

Sam automatically held out her hand and responded, "Glad to meet you, Maggie. But, Walker? What about him?"

"I guess it's up to Maggie, but from what I've been reading, they won't do anything to him anyway. Just release him. And if he thinks he's hurt he can get to the ER..."

As they walked, Maggie and Walker discussed the history of the store, baking, her favorite recipes....Sam watched. Multilayered indeed.

As Sam and Walker headed back for the lab. "Walker Jackson. You do appear to be multilayered. Navy...Seal?" He nodded. "And you cook?" He nodded. "How the heck do you know so much about baking?"

"My grandmother and I used to bake all kinds of stuff. She had a ton of recipes."

As they walked back towards class, he still continued to scan the surroundings and each person that approached them, but said hey and smiled at almost everyone he passed. Many looked surprised but returned a greeting. "OK, Sailor Boy. What's with the saying hello to everyone. You don't know any of them. And what is this 'hey' stuff?"

"Sorry. A North Carolina thing. And, well, it's just what you do. Growing up in the country, you say hey to everyone. You never know when your car or boat might break down and you'll need their help. Or your hay baler will break and you need to borrow one.

"And besides, as my grandma used to tell me, and I don't know where she got it, 'Be kind. Everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about.'" She looked at him. Just like you, right, Walker, she thought? What was it about him? Like a moth to one of the spotlights on her Dad's vacation home. It was wrong. He was all wrong. But...She laughed to herself, 'Daddy, this is my fiancé, Walker.' He would just go ape shit.

Lab ended. "Well, I will say, Mr. Jackson, that this has been the most eventful day I've had...in quite awhile. And, therefore, I think you need to buy me dinner."

He looked down. "I'd love to, Sam, but, uh, I only have a few dollars with me. I mean, I have money, I saved a lot, but I haven't been able to transfer it to a checking account, get a debit card, and all that stuff."

"And you have no clothes except for a pack full of stuff at the hospital and no where to stay, right?"

He looked down again, "Yup. Right again. But, it's alright, I..."

"It's not alright. After all you've been through? No problem. I'm loaded. Well, my dad is loaded. So, I will buy dinner at this pizza place I love. OK?" He nodded. "Then we'll buy you some not so fancy britches and stuff. Annnnd...you can stay at my place."

She couldn't believe she was saying that. She'd never been that forward before. He studied her. "On the couch, Sailor!" Although she imagined changing his mind. And what it might be like. "And we can do all those things and look for a place tomorrow since we have no lab."

"Sam, I can't....it wouldn't be right. I shouldn't....I mean you're... Why would you do that?"

"You should say 'great' and not be such a dweeb, but as some guy once told me, 'Be kind. Everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about.' Plus I might have to borrow your baler some time. What the hell is a baler, anyway?" And dammit, Walker, she thought, I'm in this battle with you. Like it or not.

They ate, picked up her car from campus and drove to a mall. He looked around. An odd look on his face. He was surveying each face, ever doorway, every hall. "Walker? What's the matter."

"Oh, uh, nothing. I, well, it's been quite a while. A lot more people than I'm used to. Whenever I got time off, I went home. No mall there."

"Where is home, Walker?"

"Western part of North Carolina. Between Robbinsville and Andrews."

"Oh, yup. Right outside Robbinsville. Know right where that's at." He looked at her. "No, kidding. No idea. Heck, where's North Carolina?" He looked at her strangely again. "Kidding again, Walker. It's just below the Old Dominion and just north of South Carolina, right?" He laughed. "You'll have to take me some time."

"I think I'd like that."

"Is it in that tail that sticks out?" And she used her hand to draw out a long triangle.

"Yup."

"Never understood why they did that when they drew up the states. Virginia has the same thing. I like those western states with nice straight borders. They're orderly. Heck, four of them come together in on spot. Not like in the East where the borders are all over the place."

"It's because of the mountains, the Appalachians. The borders follow the mountains. Now Virginia decided to split them with West Virginia whereas North Carolina took them just about to Tennessee, but that's the reason,"

"Well, gooolllyyy! Who'd a thunk it? Let's get you some clothes. Shirt?"

"17, and a half, 36 sleeves." She looked him. Because of those friggin' big shoulders, she decided.

"Pants?"

"34, 32's." All trunk, no legs.

"Shoes?"

"13."

"Thirteen! Those are pretty big. But, I guess, you're, what are you, 6'2" or something?"

"Yea. Something like that"

"I'm almost that tall in my heels.. And I love my heels." And she couldn't wait for him to see her dressed to kill. Shit! "Is that OK, Walker? Am I too tall?"

"Heck no. Big strapping girl like you can do all sorts of chores around the farm. And you can protect me from evil doers." She punched him.

"Ow! What the hell are you made of? Really? I'm not too tall? I, well, I didn't get a lot of dates because I was so big."

"Crap, Sam! You're a knockout. I'd have asked you out in a second. Annnd...you're a couple inches shorter than my sister. She used to beat the hell out of me if I got her ticked off. And she married a great guy. He's maybe 5'4"."

She slugged him again, but then hugged him. A full chest, top to bottom type hug. He hugged back. She lingered. It felt just right. Perfect. She'd made her decision. Walker's days of being on his own were over if she had anything to do with it. She pulled back and looked at his eyes. Blue. Those eyes, so beautiful.

"Thank you for saying that, Walker. Sometimes I feel, you know, self conscious. You know...."

"Well, don't. I wouldn't care if you towered over me and made it look like you were my security detail or something." She lightly back hand punched him in the belly. A different spot, but just as hard. "Let's get some clothes. Do you think they have bibs and flannels. You know bib overalls are like kilts. You go commando under them."

"Get out of here...You mean you do? They do? Or rather, don't? God, all i see is pictures of old, fat farmers wearing them. i thought they wore them so their butt didn't hang out all the time." I'm getting you some bibs, she thought.

He laughed. "No. Well, I don't know. Never wore bibs."

Shopping completed, they headed back to her place. One bedroom, but about 400 square feet. Pretty big really for DC. 'Thank you, Daddy,' she thought. Walkable distance to school, but she always drove. "This is a great place, Sam. A little Spartan in appearance. Looks like you've spent no expense on decorating as they say. And the place is, well, it's not like the Navy barracks."