A Hero to Rescue Me (Hero's Crossing)
A Hero to Rescue Me
By
Marteeka Karland
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are no to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright
© 2013 Marteeka Karland
Editor:
Katriena Knights
Cover Art: Marteeka Karland
ISBN: 978-1-304-50607-8
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All references to real places, people, or events are coincidental, and if not coincidental, are used fictitiously. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only. eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.
When Technical Sergeant Chase Carver loses his best friend and brother in arms he never imagines a greater gain could be waiting just around the corner. At least not until he gets a Christmas card from an unexpected source--the bubbly little daughter of the man his best friend gave his life to protect.
Chase's exchanges with Abigail go on far past Christmas, and lift the seemingly never-ending heaviness that has weighted his heart. It's no exaggeration to say the cards, letters, and care packages saved his life. Then he finds out why his care packages are so well put together.
Abigail's Aunt, Melanie, is staggeringly beautiful and in a bit of a mess, herself. In fact, she seems to be in dire need of a hero. Fortunately, Chase is more than ready to take on the job
.
What a fucking shit storm
. Technical Sergeant Chase Carver tried to block out the horrible truth. He’d lost a man in this recovery. More, he’d lost his best friend, a man who’d watched his back since he’d started in pararescue nearly three years before. It was unthinkable. He’d never lost a man under his command since he’d been accepted into pararescue. Yet here he was, trying to care for the men they’d saved while mourning the man they’d lost.
Trying to let the noise from the Chinook helocopter that flew them all to safety drown out the noise of the battle still raging inside his head to no avail, Chase closed his eyes, holding a bandage over one of his own wounds. It was doubtful he’d ever get those sounds out of his mind. Explosions, rapid gunfire, screams of the dying...and the Ritchie’s gurgling death rattle as he died in Chase’s arms just before they evacuated. True, they’d saved eight men, but Chase was seriously wondering if it had been worth the cost.
Even that thought seemed like a betrayal of his friend. Pararescue pledged to save lives and aid the injured, to place those duties above personal desires and comforts so others may live. Well, Ritchie had done that. To the max. Giving his life so the Ranger he’d pulled to safety could be patched up and go back into the fray at a later date.
“Are they taking us home?” The injured Ranger seemed too young for his duties. Must have been pretty fresh out of school. In any case, the man was probably not going to survive his injuries.
“They are. Just hang in there and we’ll all be home soon.”
Home...
If only.
The young man had a young daughter of six, his only surviving relative. Ritchie had put himself in harm’s way so this man would have a chance to go home to his child. How could Chase begrudge that?
Still, the bitterness lingered as he fought his way through the next few weeks of debriefing and medical clearance for his own wounds before he returned to active duty. Once back to pararescue, the weeks seemed to blur into months, numbing the initial pain but not alleviating it. He’d even stopped contacting his family, rationalizing it to himself with the mantra, “I’m too busy.”
Until he got the Christmas card...
My name is Abigail Bowman. Mommy Melanie said I could write to you. We got your name from an adopt a soldier program. I don’t know what that is, but Mommy Melanie said it was good. My daddy was a Green Beret and died a few months ago. I miss him pretty bad. Mommy says maybe we can help each other.
We’re sending stuff for you with this letter. Hope you like it. If there is anything special you need, let us know and we’ll try to get it for you.
Merry Christmas, Sergeant Chase.
Sincerely, Abigail Bowman
P.S. I’d really like it if you called me Princess Abigail, because I’m going to be a princess when I grow up.
A package of various sundries had accompanied the letter. Toiletries, sunscreen, lip balm, protein bars and powder...all kinds of stuff taken straight from lists various organizations had posted on the Internet. Chase smiled. The first time in months he’d felt the urge. The name of the little girl didn’t go unrecognized.
Bowman
. Was she related to the Beret Ritchie had given his life to protect? The chances were good. The Green Berets wasn’t an overly large group.
He’d debated ignoring the letter, like he had those of his family since the incident, or simply sending a thank you note and letting that be it. But when the letters started coming with as much regularity as the military post would allow, he knew he had to do more than send a simple thank you.
The heartfelt letters and sincere well wishes had guilted him into contacting his family, explaining what had happened. He even felt compelled to tell them about the letters he’d been exchanging with the little girl and the woman taking care of her. They’d gladly accepted his apology for trying to cut them out, but only under the condition that he wouldn’t do so again. He hadn’t even thought about it after that first phone call. What kind of man could even consider willingly making his mother cry again?
And so began a correspondence with a little girl who was likely the daughter of the man his best friend had given his life to save. She wrote to him every week and sent packages every month. For the next eight months. The post became the highlight of his week, more for the letters than for the packages, though he appreciated those too. Occasionally, Abigail’s “Mommy Melanie” would send a small note explaining something Abigail had said as if knowing deciphering the youngster’s descriptions would prove difficult. Then he began his terminal leave before he was out of the Air Force completely. He’d resolved the day he stepped on the plane home that he would find little miss Abigail Bowman and thank her personally. For saving his sanity...
“I can’t believe you just said that!” Melanie Wade whispered angrily to her soon-to-be-ex boyfriend. Dan had just sealed his fate as far as she was concerned. “Abigail has lost enough in her life without me abandoning her too.”
“I’m not saying you should ‘abandon’ her. I’m just saying she’s not your responsibility. You deserve children of your own, not to be saddled raising your sister’s child. Let social services place her in a good foster home. You can still see her—you’ll just be able to have a life outside of her.”
“I’ve same as raised that little girl,” she hissed. “I will
not
give her over so some stranger and trust she’ll be taken care of. I love her like I would my own daughter!”
Dan shook his head, as if she were a child who didn’t comprehend the meaning of love. “Once we’re married and have children of our own, you’ll understand and realize I’m right in this. You need to sever your ties with your brother-in-law.”
“Abigail is my late sister’s daughter. Not just my sister, my
twin
. If you can’t accept her as part of my life, then you need to leave.”
“Oh, come on, Melanie!” He scrubbed his hand through his hair in agitation. “She’s driving a wedge between us. Can’t you see that?”
“How? By wanting me to read her a bedtime story?”
“By demanding your attention every second of every day. We can’t even go on an overnight trip together without her crying and clinging to you.” His face a mask of disgust, Dan took a step toward her. “I will not play step-dad to a girl who isn’t even my wife’s child.”
“The child has lost so much in her short life, it’s no wonder she’s a little clingy! Besides, no one said you had to play ‘step-dad.’ And no one said I was going to be your wife. In fact, I don’t even want you to play boyfriend. You need to leave.” As a rule, Melanie was a docile woman, accepting what life—or anyone else—threw at her, managing the best she could. But she’d never been closer to violence in her life as she was right now. If Dan said one more word...
“I can see you need time to think this through—”
“There’s nothing to think about. Get out. Now.”
There must have been something disconcerting in her gaze because Dan opened his mouth to say something else, thought better of it, then turned to go. Once the door was closed, Melanie gave it a shove for good measure, then locked it.
Prick!
It had been nearly a year since Abigail had lost her father. Perhaps she hadn’t bounced back as quickly as Melanie had hoped, but everyone coped with loss in different ways. Abigail had latched on to Melanie, which was in no way unexpected. What bothered Melanie more than anything was that she’d known Dan wouldn’t accept a child not his own, yet she’d let herself get involved with him anyway.
“Mommy Melanie!” Abigail came bounding in the back door, letter in hand. It had been nearly two months since they’d heard from Abigail’s Air Force pen pal, and then the letter had been for Melanie, asking if he could send the child a present. Melanie had begun to fear something had happened to him.
She smiled at the little girl. “Did you open it?”
Nodding, Abigail plopped down on the couch where Melanie sat beside her, put her arm around the child, and then prompted her to read the letter out loud.
Princess Abbie,
I have a surprise for you. Nope. Not telling. Don’t even ask. I’m sorry I haven’t written to you in a while, but I’ve been very busy. I’ll make it up to you though. Promise. There is a smaller envelope inside this one. Open it and you’ll see my surprise.
Bye for now. Be good for your Mommy Melanie.
Chase
Abigail hurried to dig in the envelope for the “surprise.” Inside were two tickets to see the Lexington Legends’ next home game. The minor league baseball team would be meeting their biggest rivals in less than a week. Abigail squealed, jumping up from the couch, twirling about. “I love baseball!” Which the sergeant had known from the long correspondence.
Melanie smiled, swatting the child playfully on the behind when she continued to create a ruckus. “Go on, little miss. Put the tickets on the counter before you lose them.”
They’d been writing to Chase for about eight months now. Over that time, Melanie had come to feel she actually knew the guy, though most of his letters were written directly to Abigail, as if he knew how important his letters were to the child. Occasionally, he’d send her a short letter thanking her for something special she and Abigail had sent, but mostly he concentrated on the little girl.
They’d gotten his name from a local group aimed at keeping “hometown heroes” in touch with home. Melanie didn’t know Chase Carver personally, but she was certainly glad to have exchanged letters with the man. Lord knew it had helped Abigail come to terms with the loss of her father as well as given her some kind of connection with him.
After several months of letter exchange, Chase had revealed to Melanie how much their letters had meant to him. He’d told her he’d been going through a hard time when he’d gotten their Christmas card and care package, and had almost not written them back. Now, he’d said, he couldn’t imagine the long months without their support. It seemed to bring him closer to them. Once he’d asked Melanie if the man had been Abigail’s father, his letters had come more frequently, and Melanie suspected he needed to heal as badly as Abigail did.
“When is the game, Mommy Melanie?”
“Friday. You’ve got a week.”
“A whole week?” The child pouted prettily.
“Well, yeah. Unless you’ve figured out a way to speed up time.”
“Hmmm...” She seemed to ponder something, her lips pursing, her finger rubbing her chin in thought. “Maybe I’ll make that my science project. A penny that speeds up time. You put it in the gumball machine and it whisks you to Christmas. Or your birthday.”
Melanie laughed. “Or to Friday night?”
“Exactly!” Flouncing off, Abigail sang a decidedly off-key rendition of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.”
All in all, Chase’s letter was the perfect balm for Melanie’s ire over Dan’s callous attitude toward Abigail. Maybe this was God’s way of telling her she needed to reevaluate her life. If a man they’d never met could be this good to Abigail—and Melanie—then surely she could find a man better than Dan Jackson.
