No Man Left Behind: A Veteran Inspired Charity Anthology

by Elizabeth Knox

  I’ve talked to Sam about taking on a service dog but he always finds a way to change the subject. When I see him with Careful, they always get along so well.

  I smirked at the memory of Careful’s naming. When he came to me, he was only eight months old and was all legs and big paws. He would run around and slide into everything. Careful was shouted countless times as he grew through his rambunctious faze, and it stuck.

  Climbing into my SUV, I steer toward home to change for work and let the dog out. Working as a homecare physical therapist helps with the training. I’m able to stop by home a few times a day to take care of him.

  I hear Careful barking as I pull into the drive and open the door. I will miss the sweet boy but he has a job to do and that’s to take care of my Sam.

  Trying to dodge icy patches on the walkway, I miss calculate and step on one hidden under a dusting of snow. My ankle twists with a sharp pain running up my leg. I yelp and go flying backwards. Landing on my side, I can feel the scrapes burn on my hands.

  Groaning, I push myself up on my elbows and assess the damage. Lifting my ankle and giving it a little twirl. It’s got an achy soreness to it but I think it’ll be okay. My hands are a mess. Caked in dirt and blood, it mixes together forming a bloody mud. Grimacing at the muck. Sticking my hands in a snowdrift on the side, I rub my hands together to try to clean them. The cold freezes the sting that’s beginning to radiate through my hands.

  Sliding out of the snow, I shake the excess off and climb to my feet on shaky legs. Limping I walk into the house to be met by the dog. He circles me and whines. Sniffing at my hands, he begins to lick them.

  “No, Careful. I understand you want to help but I’d rather use soap and water,” I say gently. I steer him to the back door to the fenced in backyard. Opening the door, I watch him take off tearing through the yard. I smile indulgently before heading to the bathroom. I dig out the first aid kit and set it on the counter. Looking in the mirror, I see the horror that my accident has caused. My clothes are soaked where I’ve landed in a puddle. I turn on the shower and strip them off.

  Stepping under the steaming water, I let the heat warm me. I didn’t realize how cold I was until the hot water hit my freezing skin. My hands burn, but I keep them in the water, adding soap, I clean them. Squinting through the steam, I see that it’s not that bad. The scrapes aren’t that deep and are minimal. Finishing my shower, I wrap my ankle in an Ace bandage and my left hand in gauze. It had one deep abrasion that won't stop seeping droplets of blood. It should scab over by the end of the day . . . Well, as long as I can stay on my feet and don’t take another spill.

  Throwing on my scrubs, I let Careful in the back door. He rushes to his food bowl. I toss a couple of scoops of food in and grab my shoes and coat. Slipping them on, I step carefully out the door.

  I have two appointments this morning, and then I’m meeting a friend for lunch. Wonderful thoughts of Sarah bring a warm smile to my face. Sarah works for K9s for Warriors and if not for her, I may not have gotten Careful or the wonderful plans for him couldn’t be possible.

  Jumping into my Jeep, I steer toward the other side of town to my first appointment. An older gentleman, with reconstructive knee surgery. With it being a small town, the trip was short. Pulling into the drive of the small house, I painstakingly climb out of the vehicle and traverse the wet and icy terrain to the front door with my equipment bag. After knocking on the door, I hear a gruff “Enter.”

  “Hello, Mr. Williams. How are you today?”

  “Sweetie, I told you to call me John. I could be better. My body could stop falling apart on me,” he chuckles as he takes a seat in the straight back kitchen chair. Giving my hand a quick glance, he just shrugs. He knows I’m a klutz.

  “Sure thing, John,” I say with a wink. “So, let’s get started.”

  “Let’s get to it, then,” he responds with less enthusiasm. “You know, you’re a real dandy. You should have had some man snatch you up by now.” I start to work him through his exercises.

  “I don’t want just any man, I want someone special,” I reply, thoughts of Sam dance through my mind.

  “I know that look. You’ve already got someone special.” He laughs then groans as I rotate his knee slightly.

  “Sorry. Have you been doing your routine like I’ve shown you?” I ask, changing the subject and getting back to business.

  He grunts, not fooled by my tactic. “Yeah, sure . . . I’ve willingly tortured myself.”

  I hide my grin as I clean up and sanitize before packing everything away. “Same time next week?” I ask.

  “Yup, I’ll see you then. And maybe you’ll be more willing to let me in on who your sweetheart is,” he chuckles.

  Shaking my head, I head to the door. With a wave, I’m off to my other appointment.

  A light snow began to fall while I was inside, I limp to the Jeep as quick as I can.

  I drive to the middle of town to Ms. Clines. She had broken her hip and is now recovered enough to start physical therapy.

  Pulling up to the cute little cottage with a white picket fence, I park on the street in front. Grabbing my gear, I walk to the back of the Jeep. Opening the back door, I pull out a new walker with wheels on the front legs and a seat in the middle. This should get her moving.

  Stepping up to the front door, I tap the doorbell. The musical chimes echo through the door. An elder lady answers the door.

  “Hello, dear.” She greets me with a warm smile that reaches her eyes.

  “Good morning, Ms. Clines. How’s your sister today?” I ask, returning her smile.

  “She’s ornery as ever, but I think she’s on the mend,” she answers as she shows me through the house to the sitting room. I observe a white-haired woman sitting upright in a wingback chair. A wheelchair is parked next to it.

  “Hello, Aggie. How has the day been treating you?” I ask as I set up my equipment.

  “It could be better and if my arthritis would cut its shit out,” she grumbles good naturedly.

  “Agnus, language!” her sister gasps.

  “Language, please,” she hmphs.

  “Ladies, it’s perfectly fine. I’ve heard worse,” I giggle at their banter.

  “What do you have there?” Aggie asks as she points to the walker. I cringe, I was hoping to get to that after I worked her hip some. She’s a very independent woman and the accident has really affected her emotionally.

  “That, my sweet lady, is your new ride. It’s time to make you mobile again.” I grin at her.

  “Hmphs . . . We will see, dear,” she remarks.

  We get to work on her exercises, I explain as we move through a routine. After thirty minutes, I can tell she’s getting fatigued.

  “Let’s call it a day and try out your new wheels,” I encourage with a too bright smile that is all teeth.

  “Fine, if it’ll get me to my bed. I’m in need of a midmorning nap,” she states as I giggle behind my hand. The poor woman has been through hell. I show her how to use the equipment, and then help her to her room. Her home health nurse is there waiting. I say my goodbyes and grab my gear before leaving.

  I stop by the house to let Careful out and change my clothes for my lunch date.

  After giving him a dog biscuit and some love, I set off for my favorite bistro that makes the best mini quiche.

  Sarah’s already waiting on me with a table. I smile when I see her. She stands and I close the distance. We embrace for a moment before sitting down.

  “What’s up, sista?” she asks in a laughing tone.

  “Life, lady, life,” I chuckle as she nods in agreement. “What’s up with you?”

  “Girl, the same. How’s Mr. Hot and Bothered?” she asks as she wiggles her eyebrows at me. Glancing up from my menu, I catch her antics and we burst out laughing. The feel-good kind of laugh that makes everything wrong in the world right again just for that moment.

  “He’s fine,” I answer as I return my attention back to my menu. Sarah k
nows all about my obsession with the said Mr. Hot and Bothered. Not only do we work for the same home rehab company, but we went to the same elementary, middle, and high schools, and college. We’re thick as thieves, two peas in a pod.

  “Oh, I know he’s fine and hot as hell, but how’s he doing? Or better yet, how are y’all doing?” she pushes as she watches the waitress approach us. Thanking the big man upstairs for the interruption. We order our drinks and meals. She gives me a hard stare. “So, spill it,” she demands.

  “There is no y’all. I haven’t told him how I feel,” I huff.

  “Seriously?” she deadpans.

  “Fine! I chicken out every time I go to tell him. Sarah, I don’t know . . . I feel like I'm not good enough for him. He’s a damn war hero, for fuck’s sake.” I lay my head in my hands as I shake my head in regret.

  “That’s bullshit. Not the war hero bit, but you not being good enough for him. Girl, you’re smart, beautiful, and caring. What else can a man want?” she explains.

  Not finding any argument in her statement, I shrug. The waitress returns with our drinks. Taking a sip of the cool liquid, my taste buds are hit with the sweet flavor of orange juice and burn of alcohol of the sparkling wine. Smacking my lips, I take a deeper pull from the glass.

  “Hope, honey, you need to just tell him. I know it's scary to put yourself out there but the only way you’ll know if he likes you as much as you do him is to tell him,” she says as she reaches across the table and lays her hand on top of mine.

  “Thank you, I needed that.” I smile and squeeze her hand.

  “Now, you’re gonna get your badass over there and let him know. Well, after we eat our lunch,” she says with a grin. I cringe at the thought that conversation may ruin my plans for Sam this weekend.

  As the food is placed before us, we dig in.

  “So, I’ll tell him but not until Sunday,” I say as I take another bite. The creamy egg melts in my mouth. The rich earth flavor of the mushrooms and salty porky goodness of the bacon makes me moan.

  “Why wait? Is this another excuse to dodge the inevitable?” she asks with a scowl on her face.

  “No, this is the home visit with Careful. I don’t want to get into something as heavy as our nonexistent relationship when I’m trying to convince him that he needs a service dog,” I murmur.

  “What? You haven’t told him that you signed him up for Careful’s adoption?” she demands.

  “Well, I asked if he would watch him this weekend. I’m planning on telling him after they spend some quality time together. Let me do this my way, I know Sam. He’ll balk at anyone trying to help him,” I say.

  “Fine, but you need to get to telling him about your hot and heavy feelings,” she concedes.

  “I will, I promise,” I assure her. I have no plans to tell him anytime soon. But she doesn’t need to know that.

  We finish our lunch as we chat. Glancing at my watch I see that I have forty-five minutes before I have to head to the house to get Careful ready for his weekend visit.

  We say our goodbyes and I walk down the street to stop at the store. Careful may have weekend plans but I've nothing scheduled. I stock up on snack foods and a couple bottles of my favorite wine.

  It’s a hop, skip, and jump, and I’m back home. Unloading the car, I put up my groceries and pack up the dog supplies.

  Grabbing the leash. “Careful! You want to go for a ride?” I holler. The stomping of four paws can be heard before he slides around the corner of the hall. Skidding to a stop, he wags his tail. I attach the clip of the leash to his collar and watch him pick up his bag by the handle. Smart pooch.

  We load up and we’re off. I roll down the passenger window and giggle as I watch Careful hang his head out of it.

  I’m going to miss this big, goofy dog but if Sam adopts him then I can see him when I visit. Sarah’s comment races through my mind. If . . . If our relationship progresses to the next level, then I can see him as much as I want.

  Chapter Three

  Sam

  After the gym, I drive home to get cleaned up for work. I can’t get Hope out of my head. I wonder where she has to go this weekend that she can’t take Careful with her. With the dog being a service animal in training, he should be allowed everywhere. Shaking my head, I clear it and get on task.

  Throwing on my Paxton Security T-shirt, I slide into my worn blue jeans. I started up Paxton Security Systems with a couple of buddies from the Marines. We're all veterans, some more damaged than others, but we make it work.

  I slide into my old Ford, and head down Main Street, passing the post office to my small office. The town is small and there isn't much use for too many security guards, but we do work in the surrounding area to make up for any lacking clients. Our clientele usually consists of department stores and occasionally a celebrity or two that wants to visit our small ass town.

  Walking into the building, I see Jareth and Fred sitting behind their desks. I give them a nod and continue to my office. Firing up my computer, I see a couple emails that I need to address right away. It is just mostly new clients and one complaint. After reading it, I see that I need to talk to Arnie. It looks like he got a little loose lipped with a snow bunny that was at the mall. Fuck, I hate goddamn tourists, but they pay the bills.

  A tapping is heard at my office door, and I look up and see Jareth. He's got a big ol’ grin on his face and a coffee cup in his hand.

  “What are you smiling at? Don't you have some work to do?" I ask as I continue to read through my emails.

  “I'm smiling cuz I want to know if you have called that cute physical therapist of yours?” he responds.

  “That’s none of your damn business. I told you that that's not going to happen. Why would she want a broken-down soldier when she can have anyone?” I growl.

  “There's nothing broken about you. You know you're as good enough for her as any person in this damn world. You got to stop feeling sorry for yourself and get out there and get what you want,” he demands.

  “Are you trying to be funny? Have you not looked at my leg and fucked up brain? There is no way on this side of hell that beautiful woman would want to have anything to do with me.” I shuffle some papers after giving him a deadpan look.

  “We all got some damage, it's how we live our life, it’s how we handle it. You using your damage as an excuse not to be happy and find love is bullshit. I've seen the way that girl looks at you, and I know that she wants you. You just need to get over yourself and everything that's happened. Ask that woman out,” he insists.

  “I'll think about it, but I'm not going to push this issue,” I say to end the conversation. “When Arnie comes in, I need you to send him my way. I need to figure out what happened at that mall. Probably fucking hitting on another tourist again. When is he going to learn? Work’s not where you pick up a woman.” I shake my head in disgust.

  By the time the day is over with, I've got a splitting headache. I was right, he was just trying to pick up another damn tourist. After a long talk and a little bit of yelling, I think I've got him to understand that he needs to cool his shit when he's on the job. I want to beat it in his head, but liability laws and such, would make it not look so good on my end.

  Glancing at the clock, I see that it is almost three. Shit, where has the time gone? I shut down my computer and head out to the main lobby area. I see that the guys have already left for the day or to their shifts at their job sites.

  The drive home is quick and I can already see Hope’s Jeep parked on the street in front of my house. I pull into the drive and throw the truck in park. I walk over to her Jeep, and pull open the driver side door as she greets me with a smile. Careful is in the back and barking his head off.

  “Hey, I hope you didn't have to wait too long. I just had to finish up a few things at the office before I could come home,” I say as I grab Careful’s leash. I give him a quick head scratch and he jumps from the back of the vehicle. I walk him around to the side where Hope is
waiting with a bag.

  “Nope, we just pulled in,” she reassures me.

  I notice her bandages, grabbing her hand I pull it toward me for a closer look.

  “What happened?” I ask concerned.

  “You know me, I lost my footing on some ice and took a tumble.” I give her a doubtful look. “No, seriously, I’m fine. It’s just a scratch. I'll be good as new in a couple of days.” Satisfied with her answer, I nod my head.

  We walk side-by-side up to the house and I open the front door and let the dog in. I hold it open for her and watch her ass as she sashays by. Not wanting to be caught checking her ass out, I quickly turned to shut the door. I’m not fast enough and I see her face light up with a delicate blush.

  “So, I want to thank you for doing this for me. Maybe, this will make you change your mind about possibly taking on a service dog,” she urges as she turns away and sets the bag down on the couch.

  “Is that what this is about? Are you trying to have me watch Careful, so I would want to take on a pet?” I asked.

  “No . . . well . . . maybe . . . and Careful is more than just a pet, he would be a companion and a helper,” she firmly states.

  “Hope . . .” I begin but she cuts me off.

  “Would you just give it a chance? Keep Careful for me for a couple of days and then tell me how you feel after. That's all I'm asking. Just give it a chance,” she utters, almost begging.

  Not wanting to disappoint her, just wanting to do something to see her smile again, I nod my head yes.

  “Oh my God! Thank you! Thank you! You know you can be pig headed at times, but you have the sweetest, softest heart and soul. I mean, I think that's why I . . .” she starts as she rushes up to me and throws her arms around my neck, she pulls me in for a hug.

  I automatically wrap my arms around her and pull her tight. I can feel her big breasts crushed against my chest and all I want to do is taste. “Well, time to go!” she says as she steps back and rushes to the door. I want to know what she was going to say, but before I can get the question out, she’s through the door and halfway to her vehicle.