Bonds Of The Heart

              Thank you to all the families of our troops who let their loved ones go and fight to protect our freedoms. Your sacrifice, and those of your loved ones, does not go unnoticed.

              Thank you to my beta readers. You’re my sounding board. And you give me support, insight, and faith that dreams can come true.

              Special thank you to Cosku T. for helping me come up with the title. Sometimes it helps to just step away from the work, but sometimes it’s best to have a little help from your friends.

              Finally, I want to give a big thank-you to Jessi Alexander, Connie Harrington, and Jimmy Yeary, who wrote the song
‘I Drive Your Truck’
and to Lee Brice for bringing the song to life. It was my inspiration for this book.

             
This book is dedicated to all the brave men and women who proudly serve this nation of ours in all branches of the military, locally and abroad. They have given their lives for the safety and protection of others. They leave families, their loved ones, for this nation we have the privilege to call home. I thank you for all your hard work, dedication and steadfast bravery.

One

***

“Hamilton, we need to get the accounts ready for tax prep by the end of the week. April fifteenth, our favorite day of the year, will be here before you know it. And we all know how Uncle Sam wants his money, when he wants it.” Phil set the file on Blake’s desk and picked up a new one from the stack of manila folders heaped on the chair beside him.

              “We’re already on it Phil. You have Sherman’s file in your hands now and I’m almost done with Smalls. Don’t act like this is our first time.”

              “I know, I know. I’d hate for the partners to not give you the promotion because of our slacking.” That got a good chuckle out of Blake. Slacking wasn’t in the dictionary when it came to Blake Hamilton. The guy was as reliable as it comes, Phil thought.

              “Well, we’ll just see about that. I just enjoy what I do here. If they choose me fine, but I’m perfectly okay with where I am now.”

              Tax day. The one day a year that every person frantically tries to find ways to get more money out of good ‘ol Uncle Sam. What most fail to understand is that one wrong write-off and they could be audited. It was Blake’s job to make sure his clients’ accounts were accurate and that everything was up to par. In the five years he’d been with the firm, he’d never had one mistake. A fact Blake was very proud of. But Blake also knew that no one in life was perfect. At some point in time a mistake would be made. But that didn’t deter Blake one bit.

              Today, Blake and his best friend, Phil Graham, had stacks of files to go through. It was part of their routine come this time of year. Both senior accountants in the firm, they had met just weeks after Blake was hired. Blake and Phil hit it off immediately. Phil was probably the one friend in D.C. that Blake trusted right away. Sure, Blake made a number of acquaintances once he’d moved to the city, but none that he’d trust as far as he could throw them. Phil, on the other hand‒‒Blake considered him like another brother.

              The women in the city were a lot different as well. Thankfully, Phil had been there to help him navigate through some unsteady and, most often, confusing women he’d ever met. But Blake found them interesting in their own way. Eventually he had come to enjoy them more than he had the women in the small Virginia town where he grew up.

              In the big city, the women he’d met and dated liked the finer things in life. After living here for almost ten years, he’d learned that the women in a city like D.C. liked to be treated to a lot more than just dinner and a movie. They wanted to be wined and dined. When Blake first moved to the city, he just assumed that ‘wined and dined’ meant exactly that—wine with dinner. He was immediately proved otherwise.

              One girl he dated after moving to the city had wanted more than just a few dinner dates. She had kindly told him, in no uncertain terms, that she wanted dinner at the more expensive restaurants in town, that she should be treated like royalty and be taken to the opera, the theatre—the one with the ‘re’ at the end meaning actual actors on a stage not the ‘er’ that meant cheap kiddie movies—and to as many high-profile events that he could get her into, as the city was so richly populated with political incumbents and celebrities. Where was his brother for
that
lesson?

              He’d grown up in a small town, called Emberton, a ways outside of Washington, D.C., with his brother, mother, and father. Population of maybe just under fifteen hundred. It was a town where everyone knew everyone. But when he graduated from college, Blake knew that the only way for him to do what he studied for, what he loved, was to get a job in some big city. But he still missed his family often, especially his brother.

              Jared was older than him by two years. He taught Blake everything a man should know: how to drink a beer without getting caught, how to treat a woman, where to hide his stash of ‘girly mags’ and most importantly…sex. Man, he missed his brother.

              “Yeah, yeah I know. So selfless. Hey, how’s your brother doing?” Phil asked, shuffling through the papers in the folder on his lap and jarring Blake out of his thoughts.

              “Good, last I heard. Check out these pictures he just sent me. I swear this Marine thing really suits him. Robbie’s been going on and on about how his dad’s a real life hero, like in his video games.” Blake handed Phil a small envelope containing a handful of photos and turned back to his computer.

              There were a number of accounts waiting for him to complete before the week was out. Being one of the top senior accountants in the firm wasn’t just an honor, it was a privilege. And if he hoped to make partner by the end of the summer, Blake would have to put in more time at the office. Which he didn’t mind.

              “Oh, man. I remember when my uncle would tell us stories of the time he served in Vietnam. They are real life heroes.”

              Blake recalled the number of stories Jared would tell when he came back from one of his deployments. Robbie would sit at his feet or curled up in bed as Jared recounted numerous missions. Never once did Jared mention the bad things that happened during war. Robbie wasn’t ready for those yet. Death was already a tough concept to understand as an adult, how does someone explain that to a young boy when it related to war and fighting for freedom? Robbie would be turning eleven this year, Blake remembered. Blake take his annual vacation time and head home for the birthday celebration. Jared would be home too this year, the first time in about three years. It was rough for Robbie, but Robbie worshiped his father like a true hero.

              Jared was on yet another tour, this time in Afghanistan. He had been there for the past seven months. His year would be up soon and Blake couldn’t wait for his brother to get back to the states. The two of them were thick as thieves, their mother would say, always finding ways to “turn her hair gray.” Blake smiled at the memories of Jared and him: smoking in back of the high school, the first beer that Jared had slipped him after one of the school dances, off-roading in the back fields with Jared’s old beat-up Chevy. They’d tear up the fields in a cloud of dust. It was where Jared had taught him to drive.

              Phil sank into one of the plush leather high back chairs across the desk and looked through the pictures Blake had handed to him. Various photos sat around the office of young men acting like boys. A few held action shots in the field where those same young boys held rifles and wore body armor. Blake couldn’t forget the first time he saw Jared holding a gun. It was like something out of one of the action movies they had watched as kids. Damn, he was proud of his brother.

              “Mr. Hamilton, your mother is on line one. She said it’s urgent.” Emily said rushing through the door to Blake’s office.

              Blake frowned at the intrusion. Emily, his assistant of two years, normally knocked first. “Thank you Emily. Give me a second, will you Phil?”

              “Sure, go ahead. I’ll just look through these pictures and run the numbers all by my lonesome self.” Phil laughed.

              Blake just shook his head with a smile as he picked up the receiver. “Hi Mom, what’s so urgent?”

              “Oh Blake…” his mother sobbed into the receiver. Blake could feel his heart crack. “There was an accident. When the doorbell rang, we didn’t think anything of it. We just thought it was one of the neighbors. But Robbie…he answered the door.”

              “Is dad all right?”
Please let everyone be okay.

              His mom continued through tears. “When I saw it was an officer and a chaplain, I tried to send Robbie outside. But I think he knows. Oh God, Blake. It’s Jared. He’s not coming home.”

              Phil watched as his friend’s face fell from playful smile to pain and sadness. Blake’s body went limp in his chair; his shoulders slouched, his face went pale. Blake didn’t say a word, only nodded here and there. His eyes glassed over but a tear never fell. When Blake finally hung up the phone, he didn’t move for five long minutes.

Two

***

Los Angeles wasn’t known for many cloudy days, yet today seemed to prove otherwise. The dark clouds rolled with thunder as Erika dug out her umbrella from the closet and shoved it into her purse.

              She had lived in the sunny City of Angels for the past four years. About two years after she graduated from college, she had gotten the chance to be an assistant to an editor at one of California’s largest publishing houses, Byline Publishing House. She had eagerly taken the position and worked hard every day. Nights—sometimes weekends too—when coworkers like Jane were wasting her money on dinner and drinks with friends, Erika was setting up the I.V. coffee drip to finish another manuscript. All the while dreaming of picket fences and kids to watch play behind. All just to prove to her new employer, and to herself, that she could not only be an editor one day but live and survive in a city where people would flock to daily just to try their luck at becoming famous. She didn’t want to be famous. She wanted what every woman wanted: a home, a loving husband, two—maybe three—kids, a dog. In other words, she wanted roots.

              Growing up a military brat wasn’t easy. She had been carted from town to city to base and back again so many times. She wanted just one place to call home. Stay there for more than a few years at a time. So when the opportunity presented itself, giving her the chance to be in one location on her own, Erika snatched it up. She was finally growing her roots. The problem was she didn’t have the rest of her dream.

              Her mother was back East, finally in a town where her father promised they wouldn’t have to move any more. They had settled there the year after Erika moved to California. She had taken some vacation time and gone to help them unpack. It was a nice little town, Emberton, in the middle of nowhere. She doubted it even existed on a map. She’d call it Podunk if she could. But that would be giving it too much credit.

              She missed her parents, especially her daddy. She wasn’t the typical ‘Daddy’s Girl’ in the true definition since he was always on deployments or at the base, but she looked up to her father and loved him with all her heart. He had taught her a lot growing up and was always there for her when she needed him. She would deny it if asked, but she compared a lot of her early boyfriends to her father. None of them had measured up. Still she’d occasionally compare her dates to the man who would always have a place in her heart.

              She packed some papers into her briefcase and heading out the door, Erika thought of her father.

              He was off on yet another deployment overseas. This time in Afghanistan. He was supposed to be retired. He was given the opportunity just a month before this last deployment. But he turned it down to serve his country yet one more time. She loved his dedication to the Marines, but each time he went away she’d worry and lose sleep. She wasn’t able to make it back to Virginia this time to see him off. She couldn’t wait until he’d return in five months, two days, and less than twelve hours.

              Not that she was counting or anything.