A Hero to Come Home To (15 page)

She took the next bite almost primly, then nudged the plate a little closer to him. “How do you feel about not being able to jump anymore?”

“Paratroopers have a name for people who aren’t paratroopers: legs. It’s not said with a great deal of respect. From the time I signed on the dotted line in the recruiter’s office, I knew I didn’t want to be a legs.”

“But it’s not by choice.”

He shook his head while he carefully cut a piece of pie, staying away from the ice cream puddling on the plate, scooping up the caramel sauce. “No, but it’s still disappointing.”

“Relieving,” she disagreed. “All those jumps—or landings—are hard on your body.”

“True. I knew guys who came out of Iraq and Afghanistan without a scratch who then broke a half dozen bones in a training jump in Germany or back here in the U.S.”

“Won’t it feel strange if you get out? Being a civilian and all? I mean, just those few months I went home after Jeff died, I felt out of place, and I haven’t lived the life the way you have.”

He was glad she
had
felt out of place. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have come back to Tallgrass, and they never would have met. “Yeah. I’d always figured I’d make a career of it. If I don’t transition out, though, I’ll have to do something else.” There was a lot he could do in the Army with just one leg, but he’d never considered any of it. He’d been happy where he was: jumping out of planes, living in combat zones, fighting for his life.

Now he was going to be support. Or out of Airborne altogether.

“But the good side is, if your leg injury keeps you from jumping, it’ll also keep you from rotating back to Afghanistan, right?”

“Not necessarily. Other am—” He faked a cough, then took a drink. “Other people with worse injuries have gone back. I’ve just got a messed-up leg. There was an Air Force pilot in Iraq who’d lost both legs and went back to flying combat missions. Manpower’s short. What’s an arm or a leg if you can do a job that needs to be done?”

She gave a regretful shake of her head, for the people with worse injuries, he guessed. “I do admire people who do what needs to be done. Jeff was like that. His parents find comfort in it, and I guess I do, too. He always wanted to be a soldier. He believed it was both a duty and an honor to serve, and though it was so wrong that he died so young, he was living the life he’d chosen.”

With a shrug, she smiled. “Part of him really wanted to go Airborne, but he had this fear of heights. Flying wasn’t a problem because he was inside the plane and he could do a pretty good job of ignoring reality as long as he couldn’t see it. But stepping out of it, having to depend on a few yards of nylon—” She shook her head again.

“What was his MOS?”
MOS
was shorthand for “Military Occupational Specialty,” a soldier’s specific job. Dane’s was Mortars.

“Artillery.” She shrugged. “He liked blowing stuff up.”

“Don’t we all.”

She returned to the subject of his future. “I’m guessing you intended to make a career of the Army before you hurt your leg. What were your plans for when you’d done your twenty and retired?”

“I hadn’t decided. Maybe teach and coach football. Become a scuba instructor. Maybe doing wilderness adventures. I always liked taking eight- or ten-day hikes to nowhere. Pack in everything you need, eat what you can trap, sleep under the stars.” He could still teach, once he finished his degree, and coach—not the kind of hands-on coaching his own football coach had done, but he could give advice.

He could still dive, too, but making a career of it, getting in and out of the water…He couldn’t climb a ladder onto a boat, wouldn’t be able to walk out or back in for a shore dive, and in a pool, he could lift himself onto the side, no problem, but unless his prosthetic was right there, he couldn’t go any farther without help.

There was just so much he couldn’t do without help.

Carly was wrinkling her nose when he refocused on her. “I never liked eight- or ten-
minute
hikes. I can’t imagine spending a whole day doing it. When I first saw you in the cave, I was out of breath in part because I was scared, but mostly because I’m so out of shape. My idea of outdoors time is working in the yard or strolling through a park.” She added unnecessarily, “I’m a girly girl.”

“I noticed that,” he said drily. Soft, sweet voice, curves in all the right places—all things that made a man feel…well, like a man. Even if he spent too much time feeling less so these days.

“My father’s done some research into the theory that we were all hermaphroditic at one point, probably around the time we crawled out of the primordial ooze, but a genetic mutation led to male and female chromosomes, which then led to single-sex organisms, which eventually developed into us. Frankly, he didn’t see the point to the development. He would have been perfectly happy being a self-contained unit. Other than for its research value, he doesn’t appreciate things like differences in genders.” She smiled. “I, on the other hand, am very grateful for them.”

“You’re very well adjusted for having been raised by robots.”

“I am, aren’t I?” She took one final bite of pie, then set the spoon on the far side of the plate. “What would you teach?”

“History.”

“Ah, nice and unchanging for the most part. What area?”

“U.S. World. The Civil War is my favorite period, then the World Wars.”

“Times of turbulence. Were they always your favorite, or just since the war on terror?”

“Nah, people trying to kill me didn’t influence it. I’ve always been interested in those eras.”

“So you can teach something you enjoy and maybe help the future leaders of the world avoid a few mistakes.”

Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.
Dane didn’t have a bad history to repeat where she was concerned. The only serious relationship he’d ever had was with Sheryl. If she’d been less inclined to sleep with other men, they would probably still be together…or would have been, at least, until the IED. Like Justin’s ex, that was something he didn’t quite see her taking on for the long haul.

Not wanting to continue thinking along those lines, he changed the subject. “How were the soldiers today?”

“They were working hard and happy to see the kids. Except…” Her brow wrinkled in a frown. “Justin seemed kind of distant. He didn’t have much to say.”

Given a choice, Dane would rather discuss his all too uncertain future, because he had a pretty good idea why Justin hadn’t been talkative with her. He’d had plenty to say to Dane on Sunday, and he hadn’t been at a loss for words this morning when he’d found out Dane had deliberately scheduled an appointment during the kids’ visit. All those words had ended with
“
Man, you’re a frickin’—”
Then he’d dragged his hand through his hair, muttered something and hobbled away.

Jerk? Idiot?

Coward.

He had medals for bravery—two Bronze Stars and three Army Commendation Medals, all with combat “V” device—but his courage must have bled out in Kunar Province before his buddy had gotten a tourniquet tied off on his leg. He was more afraid of telling Carly what had happened to him than he had been of getting shot at on patrol.

No, not afraid of telling. Afraid of her reaction. Afraid of everyone’s reaction. Her friends wouldn’t be so enthusiastic about the two of them if they knew his physical and psychological limitations.
She
wouldn’t be so willing to spend time with him.

Given everything else he was trying to deal with right now, that was a possibility he didn’t want to face.

L
iam’s family is going skiing on spring break.”

Startled out of her thoughts by Jacob’s voice, Therese glanced across the van at him. He rarely spoke to her when he didn’t have to, and then it was usually responses to direct questions or something he couldn’t avoid.
Teacher says you have to sign this. Coach wants us to stay late.
She couldn’t remember the last time he’d initiated an actual conversation.

“I never learned to ski. It must be fun.”

“I dunno.”

She waited for more, but nothing came. As she turned onto Carly’s street, she was about to write off the brief exchange as an aberration, until he suddenly blurted, “Abby wants to go see Mom on spring break.”

Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Me, too.”

She’d known spring break was coming up soon. The post schools fell under the Department of Defense rather than the local school district, but they kept pretty much the same schedule. Because she didn’t want to imagine an entire week home with the kids, she’d let the break slide from her mind. Easier to ignore than to anticipate the unpleasantness ahead.

The instant she stopped in Carly’s driveway, Jacob opened the door and lunged out. His cheeks were red, his brows knitted in a scowl. Therese was slower to slide out of the van, and her expression, she was sure, was no happier than his.

Of course he and Abby wanted to see Catherine. She was their mom, and since Paul’s death, they’d had only short visits when Catherine breezed through Tallgrass on her way somewhere else. The last time had been right after this school year had started. More than six months ago.

An entire spring break. What were the odds Catherine would agree? And if she did, it would be the first break since Abby and Jacob had come to live with her and Paul that Therese hadn’t spent the five days off in a continual state of tension.

At the front of the van, Jacob scuffed his feet before asking, “Are we going in?”

“Go ahead. Tell Carly I’ll be there in a couple minutes.” Sliding back into the seat, she removed her cell phone from her purse, then watched as Jacob covered the sidewalk in three huge strides, took the steps in another, then knocked at the door. He was a big kid for his age, all arms and legs, and awkward like a gangly newborn colt, and he reminded her so much of his father that her heart hurt.

Carly invited him in, leaning out to wave, and Therese returned the wave before scrolling to Catherine’s number in her cell.

Her finger hovered over the call button. Current wives and ex-wives weren’t supposed to get along, and she and Catherine hadn’t bucked tradition. They’d never come to words, but only because Therese had bitten her tongue so often the teeth marks would probably never fade. After Catherine had made it clear that she wasn’t taking her children back after Paul’s funeral, Therese had limited her contact with her to only the absolutely vital.

Did spring break count as vital? Probably, to Abby and Jacob, or he never would have brought it up. How would such a visit affect them? How hard would it be for them to spend time with their mom only to have to return to Therese and Tallgrass when the week was over? Would it make their living situation even harder? Would they be hostile with renewed feelings of abandonment, or just possibly, if God took pity on Therese, would they appreciate the visit for what it was and, maybe, her for setting it up?

“Lord, I don’t know,” she murmured. “This could go wrong in so many ways.”

But time with the mother they loved so loyally could also be very right, couldn’t it?

Hoping she was making the right decision, she pressed the button, and a few seconds later the phone began ringing. It was two o’clock in Los Angeles. Catherine should be at her job as an executive assistant. She would probably glance at caller ID, then let the call go to voice mail. That was what she’d done with each of the other rare calls Therese had placed to her. Was Catherine avoiding her ex’s widow or really that busy?

“Hello.”

Therese needed an instant to realize she was hearing a real voice and not the beginning of a recorded message. She wasn’t prepared, so she stumbled for a greeting. “Oh. Hey. Um, hi, Catherine. This is Therese.” Then she added, “Matheson.”

After a long silence, Catherine said drily, “I remember your last name since, gee, I happen to share it. Remember? I was married to Paul first.”

A marriage that had ended before Therese had even met him. Yet somehow the woman still made her feel as if she had somehow been responsible for it.

“What do you want?”

The kids are fine. Thanks for asking.
But Therese bit the tip of her tongue before replying. “Spring break is coming up in a couple weeks, and Jacob and Abby would like to spend it with you. Could we do that?”

She expected an argument, with a list of all the supporting reasons: it was too little notice; Catherine would have to take time off work or find someone to watch them; the timing wasn’t good; how would she entertain them?; wasn’t it better not to disrupt their routine?; it was too hard on her, still grieving, to see their father in them. Therese had heard them all.

“It’s short notice. The airfare would be outrageous this close to the flight date.”

“I’d pay for the tickets.” Every dime she’d spent of Paul’s life insurance had been on the house or the children. She would be more than happy to shell out a chunk of it for them to see their mom. “And spending money, of course.” Since it wasn’t as if Catherine had contributed to their support once she’d sent them to live with Paul.

But that was okay, Therese hastened to remind herself. Any money Catherine did send would have gone into the kids’ college funds. Between her own salary, their military benefits, and the life insurance, she was perfectly capable of supporting them herself. Thank God.

“When are you talking about?” The skepticism in Catherine’s voice didn’t bode well.

“Two and a half weeks.” Fumbling in her bag, Therese found her wallet and read the dates off the calendar tucked inside. She was only vaguely aware of a car door closing nearby, then footsteps passing her on the way to the house. Dane, she thought distantly. Probably come to help Jacob with the heavy lifting.

“Hm.” A fingernail, usually unnaturally long and red, tapped the phone. “I do have some time on the books, and it’s been a few months since I’ve seen them. I guess…” Catherine sucked in a breath. “Why not? It’ll be a great chance for us to catch up. I’ll take a few days off, and we can do the whole California thing. The beach, Disneyland, Hollywood…”

As she warmed to the idea, Therese chilled inside. Abby and Jacob were so young, and Catherine had fallen far short of good mother material.
What do you think, Paul?

He had let the kids visit their mom before, with no qualms. If he were here right now, he would be fine with it. He probably would have thought of it himself, then suggested with that sly, sexy grin she’d loved that he and Therese use the time to start working on kid number three.

“…me know once you get the reservations. They can come in on Monday and go back on Saturday. Not too early on the return flight. It’s about an hour to the airport from my place.”

Aching lungs forced Therese to breathe. “Okay,” she managed. “I’ll call you.”

“I didn’t know you had real muscle coming in to help.”

Carly, standing in the hallway, glanced up as Therese joined her. “I didn’t know, either. I mentioned last night that you’d volunteered Jacob, and I guess he decided you and I weren’t adequate assistants.”

The
he
she was referring to was Dane, of course. She’d been surprised when he showed up at her door, and…happy. Not only did she appreciate his consideration, but she also more than appreciated watching him work. His biceps bulged under the short sleeves of his T
-s
hirt, the muscles in his back rippling, as he and Jacob maneuvered the bookcase from the wall and into the center of the room. She’d always enjoyed looking at a fine male specimen, as her mother might have put it, and Dane was definitely that.

Therese stepped past Carly and went to the kitchen. “A woman could get used to having him around,” she remarked as Carly followed her into the room.

Oh, yeah.
But outwardly she tried to play cool. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Taking a bottle of water from the refrigerator, Therese snorted. “Yeah. He gets credit for coming to the restaurant last night when he knew we would all be there.”

“He thought you guys would be fun at a strip club.”

Her friend almost choked on the drink she’d taken. After the coughing subsided, she raised her brows. “I wouldn’t be surprised if a few of our bunch have been thrown
out
of strip clubs.”

“Jessy.” Carly scrunched up her face in thought. “Maybe Lucy.”

“And Fia.”

“And here the only man I’ve ever seen strip was Jeff.”

“Really.”

Carly gazed out the window above the sink at the greening yard, the blooming clover and a bed of sunny yellow daffodils, swaying with the light breeze. “I was only eighteen when we met, and I came from a home where physical displays of affection weren’t exactly the norm. I’d never even kissed a boy until college. In fact, he was the one who introduced Jeff and me.”

Therese came to stand beside her, gazing out at the same view. “Paul and I met when my car quit running in the middle of a busy intersection. He and some of his buddies pushed it into a parking lot for me. They went on. He stayed and fixed it, then I took him out to dinner as thanks. I got home three and a half days later.”

Wow
.
Carly hadn’t imagined that Therese might have had a wilder side before she married, was widowed, and became sole caregiver to two less-than-appreciative kids. Therese just
looked
like exactly what she was: wife, mom, kindergarten teacher, regular churchgoer.

“Aw, now I’ve shocked you, haven’t I?” Therese laughed before her expression turned a little dreamy. “I think I was in love with him by the time our ‘date’ ended. I was already planning to marry him, have babies with him, and make a wonderful little family that would only be enhanced when Jacob and Abby came for their regular visits. I was going to be the new wife who was friends with the ex, the stepmother whom the kids adored, and everything was going to be happy and shiny and perfect.”

She hadn’t gotten any of that, but Carly knew she’d loved Paul with all her soul and had hoped with all her heart. Carly wasn’t sure she could have coped nearly as well in the same situation. For starters, she’d have muzzled the kids, especially Abby, until they learned to behave. Maybe Therese hadn’t earned their love or affection, but she darn well deserved their respect.

With a big sigh that encompassed her entire body, Carly said, “Jeff was perfect, you know. I do love perfect.” In spite of the fact that he’d dropped his clothes where he took them off and left his dishes where he set them down. He hadn’t shared her passion for yard work, never grasped the concept of sorting laundry, and hated to call a professional to fix something around the house even if he couldn’t fix it himself.

Still, he’d been perfect for her.

A sound came from behind them, and she turned to see Dane in the doorway. His expression was so blank, she knew it was by design, and she wondered how much he’d heard about Therese’s meeting Paul and her unrealized dreams.

“We’re ready to move the television,” he said, the same blankness there. “We need you two to move the cabinet for us.” Turning, he was halfway back to the living room by the time either of them took a step.

Because some of the living room pieces were bulky and heavy—and she had no handy empty room waiting to hold them—they’d decided to huddle the big stuff together in the middle of the room, then she could drape drop cloths over them to catch any wild splashes of paint. The giant television Jeff had loved so much, along with the solid piece that held it, was the last thing to go.

“Jake and I will hold the TV while you slide this over there against the couch,” Dane said. “You’ll have to lift it up over the edge of the rug. Can you do it?”

“We are women. We are strong.” Therese positioned herself at the far end, where Jacob stood, ready to test his young muscles with the weight of the TV.

That left Carly the end where Dane waited. She slid in close to him, catching the scents of cologne and faded cotton, laundry fresh. Add in a little bit of sweat from all the work he’d done, and the combination was almost heady. Definitely sexy.

“Okay, Jake, one, two, three.”

As they lifted the television six inches into the air, Carly bent in, half under Dane’s arms, to get a good hold on the china buffet Jeff had inherited from his great-grandmother, and together she and Therese slid it toward the center of the room. They had to grab the lip of the top to get the front feet onto the rug, then they slid it again until it bumped the sofa.

Looking a lot less exerted than she and Therese, Dane and Jacob carried the television the six or seven feet and carefully lowered it back into place.

“You know, the newer flat screens aren’t nearly this heavy,” Jacob remarked.

Carly blinked. She couldn’t remember ever hearing him speak unsolicited. Of course, his comment was directed to Dane, not to her or Therese. Come to think of it, she’d never heard anyone call him Jake, either.
“
My name is Jacob,”
he’d coolly announced to Fia once when she’d shortened his name. But he didn’t seem to mind it from Dane.

Maybe he had more respect for Dane, being a soldier like his dad. Or maybe he thought Dane would be more likely to react unfavorably if he complained.

“Well, I think this deserves a treat,” Carly said. “I stopped at CaraCakes on the way home. Come on into the kitchen so we can sit.”

Therese and Jacob automatically turned that way, but Dane held back. “You know, I’d probably better get going.”

Her stomach knotting, Carly stared at him. They hadn’t even had a chance to talk, and she’d been hoping his unexpected arrival meant he would help her get started with the painting. He didn’t even need to actually do anything; moving the furniture had been enough. Maybe just give her a little advice as she worked. A little assurance.