Broken Soldier: A Novel (19 page)

“What about it,
amor
?”

“For the wedding. It’s close to Christmas. I could decorate how I want. And it gives us time to book.”

“Hmm.” He scuffed the trail, sending stones skittering. “What about the honeymoon? I’ll have class before and after.”

“You can’t take a week off?”

“Right before finals? And as an adjunct?”

“We could delay the honeymoon until your semester ends.”

“Let’s check the calendars when we get back to the apartment.”

It wasn’t perfect, but wasn’t that what marriage was all about? Compromising. And at least they had a date in mind.

S
ITTING in the shared adjunct office for a long lunch just didn’t have any appeal. After two morning lectures, Rafa wanted to get outside into the sunshine and stretch his legs, even if it was cold. What he needed to do, though, was to read essays so he wouldn’t have to do everything at home with Emily.

Surely she’d understand that he wanted a little exercise, too. He trotted out of the building, smiling and nodding at the passing cadets as he made his away across campus to where his truck was parked. The January breeze sliced through his dress pants and sport coat, and he wished he’d brought a proper jacket. It was cold, but not so cold he wouldn’t warm up once he got to running.

In the truck he dug up a pair of sweatpants, a jacket with the word “ARMY” stenciled in big, black letters and his running shoes. He changed in the truck, shivering against the cold. His right knee had an ache to it, but it was the ache of cold weather, not infection.

Rafa trotted across the parking, taking things easy, not trying to push himself, not yet. He pumped his arms, working the kinks from his shoulders. His right sleeve ended in an empty cuff, but unless someone was really paying attention, his missing hand would be hard to notice.

The absence didn’t bother him as much as it had those first few months after he’d left Walter Reed. And if he told himself that enough, he might start to believe it.

An older guy, hair gray as the clouds that scudded over the Rockies fell in beside Rafa as he neared the building that contained his classroom. “Ho, Army, long way from home, aren’t you?”

“You could say that,” Rafa said.

“I reckon you’re our new SERE instructor.”

“You reckon correct, sir.”

The older man laughed. “I’m Hal Peterson. It’s good to meet you.”

Rafa looked over, eyebrows raising appreciatively. General Peterson was second in command of the school. “Rafael Carpenter.”

“I know.” The general’s mouth turned up into a smile. “I didn’t expect to get an instructor with your... background. What’s keeping you in Colorado?”

“Found something I couldn’t walk away from.”

“What’s her name?”

Rafa laughed. “Emily. How’d you know it was a woman, sir? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I may be old, Captain, but I remember what it was like to be young. So how far you planning to run today?”

“Couple miles, I think.”

“If you want to make some cadets feel inadequate, we’ve got a company about to leave the parade ground.”

“It would be my pleasure, sir.” Rafa jogged along beside the general. Even in the cold, he could feel his muscles loosen, feel the old familiar rhythm of a jog start to take over.

The general himself was tall and fit, maybe 50 years old, but had the build of someone that hadn’t stopped doing PT just because he’d been promoted. He reminded Rafa of his dad, actually.

They hit the parade ground at a steady clip and found the cadets lined up in rows, listening to their company commander give instructions. The general fell in beside the group, and Rafa fell in beside the general. The cadets looked over at them, but in their jogging gear, the only thing of note was the name of the service stenciled across Rafa’s chest. More than a few did a double-take, but they knew better than to comment while they were in formation.

The company trotted forward, Rafa and the general with them. Steam rose from each of the runners, and their feet made a low rumble on the packed earth. One of the instructors, a squat, powerful sergeant jogged up beside the general.

“Sir, we’re taking them on a ten mile circuit.”

The general looked over at Rafa. “You want to show these pups how it’s done?”

If Rafa wanted to get a shower before his next class started, ten miles would push him to the limit, but if he got into a good groove and really stretched his legs... “Yes, sir.”

The general chuckled. “When’s your next class, Captain?”

“Fourteen hundred, sir.”

The general did the same math Rafa had just done, then nodded. “Sergeant, we’ll meet you at the parade ground.” The general picked up his pace, Rafa matching him, and they began to overtake the front line of runners.

They hit the first real hill after about a mile and a half, but the general didn’t slow. His legs kept churning with a metronome’s regularity. The lead runners from the cadet company stayed with them, a couple chatting as they ran. Rafa recognized the pair as students from his SERE class, one of them maybe even the wiseass that had commented about the ‘doggie instructor.’

Rafa looked over at the general, catching his eye, then at the cadets. “Time to make them earn it, sir.”

Rafa accelerated, pushing himself to just below a full sprint. Without a pack of gear on his back, he felt strangely light. The only problem was his footwear. The prosthetic leg he had attached was for casual walking, not the blade he’d become accustomed to for running.

The general picked up on it, too. “You alright, soldier? Wound causing you trouble?”

“I’m good, sir.”

“Drop the ‘sir’ while we’re out here.” The general wasn’t quite struggling to talk while he ran, but Rafa could tell that he was pushing hard, too. “If you’re hurting, fall out and get it addressed.”

“I’ll make it,” Rafa said. He wasn’t going to quit, not in front of the cadets. And if he told Emily he’d even considered it, she’d mock him for weeks.

They continued on, the general glancing over at him occasionally. At the five mile mark, Rafa was well into a rhythm and had the discomfort compartmentalized in the back of his mind. It hurt, but it was just weakness leaving the body.

They passed the Academy chapel, rising in high, peaked sections like God’s own comb dropped into the Colorado landscape. Rafa shook his head at the sight of it. It was nothing like West Point, but at the same time, given the mountains in the background, it seemed fitting.

They kept going, leaving the cadets behind by mile seven, and cruising into the parade ground alone.

Rafa’s shirt stuck to his chest and back, drenched in sweat. As he stretched beside the general, the chill started to seep in though his jacket.

“What unit were you with before your discharge?” the general asked.

“First battalion, Twelfth Special Forces group,” Rafa said.

“Company commander?”

“For a time.”

“Well, I’m glad that lady of yours brought you to us.”

“It wasn’t entirely by choice, General.”

“How’s that?”

Rafa pulled up his right pant leg, exposing the metal pole. He laid his right arm across it. “Can’t exactly keep up in the field these days.”

The general raised an eyebrow. “You kept up out here just fine.”

“All due respect, sir, that’s without a pack full of gear, and these hills are a far cry from the Afghan mountains.”

“Duly noted, Captain.”

They finished stretching as the first wave of cadets flooded into the parade ground. Their sergeant led them through stretches while one of the cadets barked at the late arrivals. The general gave Rafa a nod, then went over to the sergeant at the front of the formation. They exchanged a few words, and the general trotted off toward the opposite side of the parade ground.

Rafa checked his watch, saw that he was cutting it close on class, and headed toward his truck.

“Excuse me,” the sergeant said, jogging over beside Rafa. “General Peterson asked if you’d mind addressing the company.”

“Sergeant, I’ve got a class in fifteen minutes.”

“It’ll just take a minute, Captain. I’ll do the talking.”

What kind of embarrassment did the sergeant have in store? Rafa just wanted to get to class, make it through his first day and get home to Emily, not be held up as some example of what could go wrong in war.

“Cadets, this is Captain Carpenter. You may have noticed him running with us. Or should I say running ahead of us.”

Every eye in the platoon was locked on Rafa, and a few heads were nodding. He had their attention.

“Last year Captain Carpenter lost his right hand and his right leg from the knee down to an IED in Afghanistan.”

The eyes on Rafa went suddenly wide.

“Keep that in mind when we go out for our run tomorrow, people. Dismissed!”

The cadets saluted and headed for the showers.

“I hope it helps inspire them a little, Sergeant,” Rafa said.

“It will, Captain. And it will shut them up about having the Army teaching one of their courses.”

Rafa wasn’t sure whether that was a compliment or a subtle dig. He nodded and turned toward the truck.

“Carpenter,” the sergeant said.

Rafa looked back at him.

“I thought you looked familiar. I recognize you from Baghdad, summer of ’09. You and your men saved some airmen, and one of them was my brother. Thank you, Captain.”

“You’re welcome, Sergeant.” Rafa trotted off, a feeling of hope pushing the cold away. 

C
HRISTA hung her purse over the back of chair, but didn’t pull it away from the table. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

“Everything okay?” Emily asked. It wasn’t like Christa to be late to a lunch date, and Emily had already been waiting on her for ten minutes.

“Yes. I’ll explain in a minute. Just get me a water.”

“Okay.”

Christa slipped off across the restaurant, moving through the lunch crowd toward the restroom. A line was already forming at the hostess stand, men in suits and women in heels.

Emily flagged down the waitress and asked for a water for Christa along with an order of spinach artichoke dip for them to share.

“Sorry about that,” Christa said when she came back. She snagged a chip and scooped half the sour cream dollop from the top of the dip.

“Tough day at the office?” Emily asked.

“The usual. Henderson is still out on vacation and I’m doing his job, too.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Emily sipped her soda. “So I was thinking about going out to look at churches. I need to get an idea of what’s available and what the cost will be. Can you go with me this weekend?”

“Sure. What day?”

“Well, I’m assuming Saturday since the churches are going to be a little busy on Sunday.”

Christa frowned. “You better make it Friday then. They won’t even be open on Saturday, probably.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, my cousin Jeanie complained about it at her shower. Paul and I just used his parents’ church, so we didn’t even have to look.”

“Rafa and I still haven’t nailed down whether we’re going to have it here or Denver or Madrid, so...”

“Madrid?” Christa’s chip clattered to the table.

“Yeah, Madrid. His mother is pushing him pretty hard on it.”

“And what do you think about that?”

“It’s nice of her to offer, but I think it would be easier if she’d just let me handle it.”

“It’s funny how you go to college and the family lets go a little, but as soon as you start planning a wedding, they want to gallop back in and run the whole event.”

Emily shrugged. Her mom wasn’t a problem. It wasn’t even that Maria was a problem. She just wanted them to have the wedding in the cathedral in Madrid, and on the face of it, it wasn’t that unreasonable. She’d offered to arrange it and pay for it, to ease Emily’s mind, except Emily’s conscience wouldn’t let her foot the bill.

“I guess. So what was up?”

“Well...” Christa’s face split into a wide smile. “I was the doctor’s office this morning and...”

Emily’s heart caught in her throat as Christa drew out the pause.

“I’m going to have a baby.”

“Oh, Christa! I’m so excited for you.” Emily grinned so wide her cheeks hurt. “How far along are you?”

“About eight weeks.”

“So you’re due in July?”

“July 27, she thought.”

“Wow. I guess it’s too early to know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Yeah.” Christa washed down a chip with a sip of water. “So I’m trying to eat fairly healthy for a while. No more soda or daiquiris for me.”

“That’s a good plan. What about coffee?”

“Nope.”

Emily shuddered. “You’re a braver woman than I am. So if you don’t feel like looking at churches, let me know, okay? Mom and I can go by ourselves.”

“Em, if you think for a second I’m going to let you have all the fun of wedding planning without my help, you’re crazy. Of course I’ll go with you. Anything I can do, you let me know.”

“Thanks Chrissy. And if you want me to come help paint the baby room, you know you can call me.”

“Ha, you know I will.”

The waitress came and delivered their sandwiches, and Em and Christa chatted more about work and family and kids. While they chatted, Emily thought about the wedding dates. It was a good thing they’d ruled out the summer. The last thing she wanted was for her friend to go into labor in a foreign country, never mind on an airplane.

“So how’s Rafa taking all this?” Christa asked, setting her fork into her empty salad bowl.

“He’s doing fine. The whole business with Madrid and his mom is hard on him, though.”

“You two have a date in mind yet?”

“We’re thinking Thanksgiving right now.”

Christa mulled that. “The baby will be about four months old. If you do decide on Madrid, we could make it.”

“I don’t know. I really don’t want to do it there. I have too many people here that want to go and can’t make it if it’s in Europe.”

“That’s tough,” Christa said.

They settled their bills, and Christa made another trip to the Ladies’ Room.

“I’ll clear my schedule for Friday afternoon,” Emily said as they were leaving the restaurant. “Does that work for you?”