A Soldier for Keeps (5 page)

“You mean her campaign to entice you to choose college over the Army?”

“That would be the one. But she won’t give up.” The shadows clung to him. “Neither will I.”

“She’s afraid of losing you.” That was something she could completely understand. Since she’d caught her breath, she crutched forward into the sting of the rain. “Have you always wanted to be a soldier? What made you want to join the military?”

“My dad was Army. When I was a little kid, I didn’t think there was anything greater than wearing the uniform. I still don’t.”

There was the surface answer, she realized. The safest answer, the easiest. “Was he a Ranger, too?”

“Yep. He was on the ground back in Desert Storm. He had it rough. He lost a leg in an attack. He was never the same.”

“I’m sorry for him. That had to be devastating.”

Pierce stayed silent, letting the crescendo of the rising wind speak for him.

She tried to imagine what it would be like to give so much of your life in service. Putting on hold all the wholesome pleasures of life, free time, weekends without obligation, precious time spent with family, and one’s personal dreams for discipline and duty. She tried to imagine what it was like to come home with a dis
ability, or to be the son of a dad who might feel no longer whole.

They were halfway up the path to the dorm before he broke the silence. “Thanks for not saying it.”

“Saying what?”

“That could happen to me, or worse. To die in action, the way Tim did.” His throat worked, the only sign of the wound he held in secret. “Every time a soldier goes on a mission or follows an order, he does so knowing the ultimate price.”

They had reached the front door, where light spilled from the portico like rain. She faced him, searching for the truth he held back, for the truth she could sense. She tried to imagine his brand of courage. “So why do you do it?”

“Because someone has to.”

She saw it in his very essence, in his character and in his honor. How could her first impression of him have been so wrong? He was no ordinary man. He was a rare individual who lived his principles, and in doing so went beyond what was safe.

“Believe me, I know the risk. When I signed up I thought I was going to learn to be tough and brave. To really find out who I was. Well, I did figure out the man I am. I don’t run from a fight, but I don’t go looking for one, either. I’ve seen what happens when people have no rights and freedom, and others no conscience or no compassion.”

She thought of the terrible stories on the international news, where foreign correspondents spoke of genocide and violence. She thought of the threats this nation had endured. Infinite respect for this man brimmed over, leaving tears stinging in her eyes and heavy in her soul. “You stand and fight for us all.”

“When I have to. You don’t realize how precious our personal freedoms are. I’ve seen lands where people have none. The things I have seen—”

She forgot to breathe as he towered before her, all six feet plus of him. He radiated immeasurable commitment and sorrow. He bore wounds from his fighting, deeper ones that were not visible, but she saw them.

“I’ve seen evil and what it can do.” He remained soldier straight, soldier strong. “What you have here is precious. Having the freedom to attend college, choose your course of study and vocation. It’s idyllic. This is everything I work to defend. It’s why I face the fire. I’m going in for another four years so my family can live safe. So everyone’s family can, too.”

How could she not respect this man? How could she not admire him without end or caution? She could not keep a careful distance between them. She could not stay in denial. Not anymore.

“It’s why my brother died. He understood. He wanted me to carry on for him, for both of us. It’s what I intend to do. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” She shifted her weight on her crutches, looking down at the damp cement, so that he could not guess how much she thought of him. “My life now feels very small in comparison.”

“No, that’s not what I want you to feel.” Lines dug into his forehead. “That’s not why I said all of this.”

“I know. I should be doing more. Giving more.” Her life had become so focused on getting her degree. There were tests, papers, research projects and work, all with demands and deadlines. It had consumed her. “I volunteer at church, but it’s not enough.”

“You’re wrong.” He swiped the pad of his thumb
across her cheek, catching a drop of rain wet on her skin. “You do a lot in your own way. Look at how you’ve helped my sister and, I’m sure, every other freshman on your floor.”

“It’s not saving the world.” She thought of all he had given. “It’s so small.”

“No, you’re wrong. Kindness is what makes the difference in this world. I’m surprised at you, Lexie.” He cradled her chin in his hand. “Don’t you read your Bible?”

“Y-you know I do.” She could barely get the words out. His touch kindled a strange, new tenderness within her, one she had never felt before. It baffled her. This was not how she was supposed to be feeling.

“Being kind is a great thing. It matters more than you know.” He leaned closer until he was all she could see, the only thing in her field of vision. The dark night and wash of light became nothing when compared to the man towering over her, both strong and gentle.

Everything within her stilled. Her heart had inexplicably opened.

“Good night, Lexie.” His grin was reassuring. “Thanks for coming with me tonight. Even more, thanks for letting me walk you home. I feel better. More clear about what I have to do.”

“Tell your family what you just told me, and they will understand.”

“I will.” He withdrew his touch, but not the feelings of closeness. Those feelings lingered like damp on the air, wrapping around them like an invisible tie. He opened the door for her. “Be careful on the wet floor.”

“That’s my plan.” She couldn’t tell if she went slowly because of the rain or to draw out his leaving. As soon as her crutches hit the carpet inside the foyer,
she pivoted, wanting one last look at him. Would she see him tomorrow? He hadn’t said either way. “Good night, Pierce.”

He let the door close, walking backward out of the fall of the lights. The night claimed him, and she shivered, not from the rain, but because she was no longer close to him.

“Y
ou and Lexie are sure getting along.” Giselle bubbled as he held the truck door for her after the concert was over. Her other two friends, already squeezed in the middle of the bench seat, chatted to each other about some cute cello guy.

Pierce braced himself and waited for his sister to climb into the seat. He could take a lot; he wasn’t going to let her high hopes affect him. He and Lexie were not only getting along, they were clicking. His fingertips buzzed with the memory of cradling her chin. The image of empathy on her face remained emblazoned in his mind. He could not forget the closeness he’d felt to her.

“Why wouldn’t we get along?” he told his sister. “She’s nice. I’m nice—”

“I wouldn’t go
that
far,” she interrupted sweetly.

“Don’t forget I’m heading back to my base in another week.” He shut the door before she could argue with that. The rain had stopped, leaving the feeling of damp mist in the air. The wind battered him as he
ducked his head and circled around to the driver’s side. The minute he opened the door, he started talking before his sister had a chance to do more than open her mouth. “I don’t have time for a relationship.”

“You could make time if you really wanted to.”

Everything about her was dear, from her round, sweet face to her stubbornness. He couldn’t look at her without remembering the fragile little baby—six pounds, ten ounces—that had come home in Mom’s arms. He always saw the little toddler prancing around the kitchen underfoot, banging the flat of her hand against her toy tambourine and singing while Mom made supper. He would always see the little sister trailing after the boys in the woods, stopping to pick a wildflower and add it to the bouquet clutched in her hand.

It was doubly complicated when he couldn’t bear to argue with her. They had such precious little time left.

“Let’s make this the end of the discussion.” He plugged the key into the ignition and turned over the engine.

“For now,” she agreed with a look that said she would come back to it.

He didn’t doubt it. There wasn’t much traffic, the event hadn’t been that well attended, but he waited for a few other cars to pull out before he backed into the lane and wound around the concert hall, following the sinuous, mostly-empty campus roads. He liked the peace of the tall trees and careful landscape. This was the way life ought to be. Protected, safe and happy. He could see why his sister liked it here so much.

The dormitory emerged into sight from behind tall trees, all four stories aglow. Lexie was up there on the top floor, probably with her ankle elevated. Was she
studying? Reading? Watching TV? He didn’t like that he was wondering. He didn’t like the strange dull ache in his chest.

“Thanks for the ride,” the two girls said almost in unison as they hopped out of the truck after Giselle.

He let the engine idle, bolstering himself for his sister’s parting words. He didn’t doubt she would take a shot about Lexie.

“I’ll meet you tomorrow at ten sharp for Sunday service.” That was all she said, but judging by the delight dancing in her eyes, she hadn’t given up her fight to find a reason for him to become a civilian.

He waited while the defroster fought at the film of fog rimming the windshield, made worse by the influx of damp air. Giselle hurried along with her friends, talking and laughing. He knew their big talk was coming; his stomach hardened and the armor went up. He feared tomorrow she would sit him down and force him to talk about Tim.

Sorrow hit him like a freight train, sending him spinning. He shut out the image of Tim’s flag-draped coffin and of the other coffins over the course of his service. He pushed away those feelings, watching as the windshield blurred. Rain smeared on the glass, falling in giant sloppy drops. He flipped on the wipers and caught Giselle disappearing through the doors, safely in her dorm for the night.

If you cared about someone, it hurt more when you lost them. He put the truck in gear and circled around, headlights cutting a swatch of light through the dark. He’d come close to caring about Lexie today. She’d gotten too close to the vulnerable part of him. He
wasn’t used to it. He didn’t like it. She made him way too uncomfortable.

That gave him something to think about on the drive back to the hotel.

Thunder resounded through the sky above and echoed in the church vestibule as Lexie balanced on her crutches. Sweet strains from the choir’s opening hymn rose through the open doors to the sanctuary. Hail broke out, dropping like nails on the cathedral roof above.

“We made it just in time.” Amber slipped out of her coat, ignoring the drips as she reached for Lexie’s crutches. “I’ll hold these if you want to take off your coat.”

“I owe you big-time for this.” Lexie’s ankle had swollen so badly, she’d almost considered missing the service. “I’m thankful you volunteered to drive me.”

“I’m just glad I could help you for a change. You’ve done so much for me.” Amber took both coats and hung them up.

The sound of hail reverberated through the sanctuary as they made their way in. The aisles brimmed with students, faculty and families from town. Lexie tried to keep focused on not making too much noise with her crutches, but her thoughts drifted back to last night and Pierce’s touch.

It was
not
the sweetest moment of her life, really, she told herself. Maybe if she said that enough, she’d believe it. It was worth a try, right? She hopped into a back row, slid her crutches under the pew and straightened for the rest of the hymn. Her ankle was throbbing, but that could work for her. It would keep her mind off Pierce.

Amber opened a hymnal and leaned close, sharing it. Lexie took her side of the book and held it open. Her eyes were supposed to focus on the page and make sense of the notes and the words, but did they?

No. For some inexplicable reason her gaze strayed up the end aisle to where a brown-haired man with impressive shoulders and perfect posture stood attentively singing. A shock of tender emotion zinged through her, both surprising and unsettling because she didn’t want to feel this way.

Don’t look at him, Lexie, she thought, ordering her gaze to the hymnal, but it was too late. She was singing the last notes of the hymn along with everyone else and there was nowhere to look but forward.

Why was he directly in her line of sight? As the minister began to speak and the inevitable rustling filled the sanctuary, she couldn’t help noticing that Pierce wore a black suit. The well-cut jacket complimented his muscular physique. Her pulse gave a little leap, remembering last night, of what he had told her and how close they had been. That closeness scared her.

“Let us pray.”

She bowed her head, welcoming the peace of prayer to her confused heart.

He’d caught sight of Lexie during the service, but with his sister in tow, he had been unable to make a beeline through the crowd after her. By the time he and Giselle had made it outside it was snowing again and she was nowhere in sight.

Right now the stack of blackberry pancakes sat like a lump in his gut. The brunch had been tasty, but the topic of conversation had not been. Giselle had done
what he expected, making an all-out attempt to talk him out of returning to duty, once and for all. She’d talked about losing Tim, and how much she missed him, and how thinking about Tim made it feel as if she were dying inside. She didn’t want to go through another loss like that. She didn’t want Pierce to come home in a coffin.

He got that. He did. But it hadn’t changed his mind and now Giselle was angry with him for not seeing reason. He’d done all he could, he told her the truth from his heart. It had made no difference.

He parked in a guest spot in front of the dorm. He didn’t want to break the unhappy silence that had settled between them. If he did, would it make things worse? Frustrated, he didn’t know how to fix the situation. He feared that the one person he could talk to, who might understand, was someone he really ought to avoid.

“I’m too mad at you to talk to you now,” Giselle informed him as she shoved open the door. She might feel mad, but she looked sad. Tears stood in her eyes, hovering, as she slid to the ground. “Have a safe flight home.”

“You take care now.” He stopped short of saying anything more. His chest was knotted up good and tight. He didn’t trust his voice as she shut the door, ducked her head and hurried through the snowfall. The temperature had turned cold again while they had been in the restaurant.

His cell phone beeped. A text message? He dug it out, figuring Hawk was probably keeping him updated on the ski conditions, the lucky dog.

“How did it go?” Lexie had written.

He stared at her name, and the knot in his chest yanked tighter. He began typing. “Good. Considering.”

“Uh oh. How’s Giselle?” her message asked.

“Mad @ me.” And then some, but maybe it was smarter to keep his feelings out of it right along with Giselle’s disappointment. No doubt Lexie would find out about it soon, whenever his sister chose to share it with her.

At least Lexie understands, an unwanted thought reminded him. It should have comforted him, but it only made his trapped, unnamed feelings begin to ache.

“Give her time,” Lexie answered.

He stared at her words on his little screen, bright in the dark, stormy day. He was a man trained to look at a situation and make the right decision. The back of his neck tingled, like it did on the job when he’d missed something vital and was about to make a mistake. His thumbs were on the keys, ready to ask if she could meet him to talk.

Is that what he really wanted? To talk with her? He set the phone on the seat, staring at her words on the screen. Lexie’s advice was meant as nothing more than a friend. They both knew it. But something had changed for him. Something he wanted to push aside and ignore, but that was never smart. That was no good solution to a problem.

He had to examine the tangled knot in his chest, hurting like a set of bruised ribs. What did he really want?

To see her again. The answer came quickly and quietly, as if spooling up from his soul. He could deal with his family. He would probably go back to active duty with their disapproval, but it had happened before.

No, he had a harder time accepting what was truly eating at him. Not only did he want to see Lexie, he
needed to see her. He longed to see her sweet smile and her lovely face and the peace he’d felt with her. He missed her company and companionship and the gentle way she made him smile.

A headache began to throb, and he rubbed at his forehead with the heel of his hand. You aren’t looking for anything serious, buddy. That was his number-one rule. Why did it feel as if he were in real jeopardy of breaking it? He wasn’t looking for disaster. And while Lexie was a friend now, he could look down the path and see how his feelings could deepen for her. That was something he couldn’t risk. He could only get hurt. That was a fact.

Maybe it was time to do the right thing for them both. He grabbed up his phone and typed a return message. “I’m heading out tomorrow.”

It seemed an eternity before her answering message popped onto his screen. Her words were friendly. “To Wyoming?”

“Yep.” He hit Send. He could have said more, but he didn’t. He glanced through the streaks on the windshield to the warm lights of the cozy dorm. Snow landed on the glass, gathering until the wipers swiped them away.

His phone beeped. He looked down at her message. “Have a safe trip.”

The ache in his chest doubled. He winced, knowing what he was walking away from. “Thanks. Take care of that ankle.”

He hit Send and waited before his phone beeped.

“Goodbye.” Her one word said it all.

She wasn’t feeling this way. He would never be a con
tender for a girl like Lexie, if he was looking to be. The ache in his chest became a pain that took his breath away.

He pocketed his phone, put the truck in gear and headed away from the dorm. As he drove through the campus and onto the main street through town, he banished all thoughts of her. But the feeling, and the hurt, remained.

Lexie heard the knock on her partly open door and looked up from her homework. The desk, wedged in the corner by the window, gave her a good view of the snowy trees and courtyard, but she had to twist around in her chair to see who had dropped by. “Come in.”

The door swung open wider, revealing Giselle in a pair of navy blue MCU sweats. Tears stood in her eyes. “Do you have a minute?”

“For you, I have more than a minute.” She closed her book and saved her computer file. “I thought you might drop by. I hear your brother is leaving for Wyoming.”

Giselle nodded, lingering in the doorway. She must have been trying to study, too, because her dark hair was tied back, out of the way.

Lexie gathered up her crutches. “If you want something to drink, I’ve got soda in the fridge.”

“No, thanks.” The girl bit her lip, as if she were thinking hard, or as if what she had to say was difficult.

“Come sit down.” She eased into her overstuffed reading chair and leaned her crutches against the bookcase. The pipes clanked as the radiator came to life, spewing out warm air. Lexie waited as the girl closed the door.

You’re not thinking about Pierce, she reminded her
self. She had to be disciplined about this. At least, until she was clear about why she was feeling this way.

“I was hoping to ask you for a favor. A really big one.” Giselle slumped onto the couch. “It’s about my brother.”

“What about Pierce?” Her thoughts shot to his text messages and their conversation in the rain. All it took was a single thought and a spear of panic burrowed into her heart. She had gotten too close to him. If that wasn’t impending doom, then she didn’t know what was.

“He’s going to go back in for another four years,” Giselle explained, her worry for her brother evident in her voice, on her face, in her posture. “I don’t want anything to happen to him. He can’t see it. He thinks he’s invincible or something.”