by Faith Potts
“She’s needed that over the past two years,” he goes on, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “I have a feeling last night was one of the last times—if not the last—that she’ll keep that tradition. She’s found another guy to put up with her addiction to Italian food.”
Unable to hide my grin, I glance up at Joe and find him grinning back at me. Alex and I have only been dating for a week, but it’s obvious that this is something special.
“I’m happy for y’all, James. She needs someone who will be good to her.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.” Finishing off the bowl of cereal, I push back from the table and carry my dishes to the sink. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t come over here to tell me that, though.”
“You’re right; I didn’t. I came to offer you a job.”
“A job?” I’m all ears. Since being released from therapy last week, I’ve yet to find an available position I’m capable of fulfilling—besides greasy fast food joints. I return to the table and reclaim my seat.
“Yup, secretary for the ministry. Just keeping up with the paperwork, making sure the bills are paid, scheduling meetings if anyone calls while you’re in the office. We can’t afford to pay much, but it’s a start. Lester did it for a few months before getting accepted for the job at the VA.”
Writing checks and making phone calls isn’t exactly what I had in mind, but I’m in no position to be picky. “I appreciate the offer, Joe. That would be great.”
“Good, I’ll let Gloria know. Come over to the house sometime this afternoon and she can go over things with you. I’m sure she’ll have no qualms about giving up the job.”
I snicker, propping my elbow on the table. I can’t imagine his sweet wife complaining about anything. “That’ll work. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me until you’ve heard my second question.”
I eye Joe carefully. Something in his tone and stance suggest I’m not going to like whatever he says or asks next. “And what would that be?”
“Suppose there was a guy, about your age, battling suicidal thoughts and in need of someone to talk to. Would you be willing to meet with him? Maybe tell your story and seek to encourage him?”
My heart drops to my stomach, my gaze falling to my hand—fingers spread on the tabletop, trying to keep me grounded. This is even worse than I anticipated. After last night’s haunting nightmares, how can he expect me to be an encouragement to anyone? Despite my misgivings and holdbacks, I inquire further when I find my voice.
“How did you find out about this guy?”
Joe waits a moment longer until I look up and meet his concerned gaze.
“I got a phone call last night from a young woman named Brenna Chandler,” he begins. “Her boyfriend got out of the Marine Corps about six months ago. Travis has been dealing with PTSD, although he tried to keep it hidden from her and his family for awhile. About six weeks ago, she said, he confessed to her that he’s almost committed suicide more than once. Each time, he got a call from her or a family member before he went through with it.”
Chills race up my back at his words, at the familiarity of the situation. And the decision is made for me. Yes, I’ll do anything I can for the guy. Because I’ve been there.
“Will he be staying here?” I ask, focusing on my hand that’s been trembling since the question came.
“No, she said he’s living with his brother. Somewhere on the west side of town.”
Slowly, I raise my eyes back to Joe’s face, finding an understanding of my own pain and fear mirrored in his eyes. “I’ll do it.”
He nods, not breaking the gaze. “I hoped you would. I invited Brenna and Travis to tonight’s session. Pray that she can convince him to come.”
|| ~* || ~* || ~* ||
I’m standing in the living room that evening, the voices of Joe, Lester, and Brian tossing around behind me, watching out the window for Travis and his girlfriend. My phone buzzes with a text from Alex, letting me know she’s praying for us all. I join my petition to hers. Please, God, bring them here tonight…
I’ve no more than murmured the prayer when a small black car rolls into the parking lot and parks next to Brian’s truck. A guy and girl climb out. The guy is of average height and sporting a military haircut, and the girl is small with long, dark hair.
She tightens her grip on the guy’s hand as they walk toward the door. Before they reach the sidewalk, he stops again, shaking his head and trying to pull away from her.
“Travis, please.” They’re close enough now that I can hear her through the cracked window. “This will be good for you; I just know it. And I’ll be with you the whole time.”
Looking down at her, still clutching her hand, Travis says something that I can’t hear.
“No…” Brenna’s voice breaks as she seeks to reassure him. “They’re not going to judge you, babe.”
Eyes smarting, I turn away from the window. I shouldn’t be observing this moment between the two of them. Joe snags my gaze from across the room and I nod, letting him know they’re here. When the doorbell rings a moment later, he goes to answer it and greets Travis and Brenna before ushering them into the living room.
He makes introductions as everyone takes seats around the room. I sit in one of the chairs we brought in from the dining room, leaving the armchair to Brian and the couch to Travis and Brenna.
Lester says the opening prayer, and then Joe leads us in a Bible study about temptation and fighting against evil’s darkness. Travis’s gaze never wavers from the far wall, but his contemplative expressions reveals that he hasn’t missed a word.
“Do y’all have anything to share this week?” Joe asks, his eyes darting around the circle.
I speak up without hesitation, knowing I can share my heart to this circle of people without being unfairly judged. “Well, as most of you know, right now I’m forging a new relationship while still working toward getting my life back together. If I’ve learned anything in the past week and a half, it’s to not keep anything hidden. Alex deserves and appreciates my honesty about what I’m dealing with, even when it’s not pretty.”
Joe nods approvingly, giving me the slightest smile. “Don’t ever hesitate, James. She can handle more than you or I realize.”
A new voice enters the conversation, quiet and timid.
“Sometimes… sometimes I just want to stop feeling and caring,” Travis admits, his eyes focused on the floor beneath his feet. “And…even breathing.”
No one misses the way Brenna grabs for his hand, her eyes brimming with tears. Her touch seems to pull Travis from the haze of memories, for he glances around at the group, eyes frightful. “I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, it’s okay.” I’m surprised to hear my own voice reaching out to him. “Don’t be afraid to speak of what you feel. I’ve felt that way, too. Sometimes,” I clear my throat, “sometimes I still feel like that.”
He meets my gaze, his eyes wary and mistrusting. “You mean…you’ve considered…”
“Yeah.” I answer the unspoken question, knowing how much it would’ve meant—would still mean—to be able to talk to someone who understands. “Do you want to talk about it?”
|| ~* || ~* || ~* ||
|| Alex
Weeks pass. Wonderful weeks full of laughter and smiles, learning James’s likes and dislikes, quirks and preferences. He’s working for the ministry, while looking for another job and spending an evening or two a week mentoring Travis. I go to work every day with a smiling Marine on my mind, knowing that time spent with him awaits every weekend and nearly every evening.
Two months into our relationship, Kellon invites me to go with him, Haley, and the kids to the amusement park. “Bring James along,” he offers, and so I do.
Bright and early on a Saturday morning—the Saturday that marks eight weeks since the dance, at that—I pull into the gravel parking lot and whip in next to my sister-in-law’s minivan.
I pause a moment, hand on t
he key, as three towheads pile out of the backseat. “This may be the most exhausting day of my week.”
James just laughs and opens the door. I pretend to be taking an extra minute to stick my sunglasses and phone in my crossover as he climbs out of the truck. Even after weeks of doing everything on his own, he still has some difficulty with crawling in and out of vehicles.
We fall in step behind Kellon and Haley, who are halfway trying to corral the kids and halfway ignoring them and discussing admission prices. After paying for day pass tickets, we pass through the security slots and James’s prosthesis sets off the detectors.
“Hey, hold up a second!” the park employee calls out.
“If he asks me to leave this thing with him…” James mutters under his breath. “I just might say something I shouldn’t.”
Fighting back my laughter, I grab his hand. “Pretty sure when he realizes why, he’ll let us go.”
Sure enough, as soon as the teenager ambles over and does a double-take, he mumbles an apology and hurries back to his station.
“See? Nothing to worry about.”
James grins down at me. “Do I catch a ‘told you so’ hint in your tone, Miss Lorance?”
“Nah. More like a ‘I’m too happy to gloat over being right, so enjoy it while it lasts’ hint.”
He laughs, dropping my hand to wrap his arm around my shoulders as we stroll along, falling farther and farther behind the others. “I’m happy, too. Happy to just be here. I’ve never had much of an interest in roller coasters, but maybe we can watch the kids for a little while and let Kellon and Haley have a few minutes to themselves.”
I smile, leaning into his side as we continue down the crowded path, concession stands and souvenir shops lining both sides. There’s oodles of people in this place, and yet it feels like we’re the only two people in the world.
|| ~* || ~* || ~* ||
The whole day is spent at the park—eating funnel cake, laughing over the kids’ antics, and soaking up the time spent with my guy.
When Jordan gets tired of walking, James swings him up on his shoulders and carries him for awhile. Envious that little brother is getting to do something they aren’t, Adelaide and Sydney sweet-talk James into giving them rides, too. The sight of my handsome guy with a giggling child on his back is the sweetest memory of this day.
As darkness falls, we gather near a fountain at the park’s entrance and witness the fireworks show. Bursts of fiery light rocket into the sky in a boom of glory, erupting and showering back to the earth.
Totally absorbed in the beautiful display, I don’t notice anything amiss until James’s hand pulls free from mine.
The exploding sound of fireworks reverberates behind me, shattering any chance of calling to him. Back to me, he takes a few steps away, pauses, and then continues into the darkening park.
Of course. The noise of the fireworks. I should’ve thought about how it could affect him.
“Auntie Lex.” Feeling a tugging on my hand, I look down and find Jordan standing beside me. I kneel to face him, my heart melting at the tears shimmering in his precious eyes. “What’s the matter, buddy?”
“I don’t like it,” he sniffles, barely audible.
“Aww, I’m sorry, sweetie.” I scoop him into my arms, holding his head against my shoulder. His tiny arms wrap around my neck and he nestles his tear-stained face in my shirt.
Kellon and Haley are seated on the bench to my right, the twins each asleep in their parents’ laps.
“Thank you,” Kellon mouths when he sees Jordan held safely in my arms.
I smile in acknowledgement and turn away from the fireworks. I have to find James, need to know he’s okay.
As I speed-walk down the path, Jordan snuggles into my shoulder, his tears disappearing. I pass only a few families, most being settled in somewhere for the fireworks display.
I don’t see James anywhere. And it scares me.
Heart racing, I walk faster, careful not to trip. I’m almost to the park entrance now, where a few employees mill around, getting ready to close everything down for the night.
“Alex.”
I turn to my right, spotting a figure in an area of picnic tables. The tucked-away spot overlooks the firework show, with lenient sound repercussions.
I hurry toward him, not stopping until I’m in front of him. A firecracker releases behind us. But instead of gazing up at the splash of color, I catch the reflection of the explosions in James’s eyes as he watches me.
His arm comes around my shoulders, his kiss meeting my temple. “I’m not a fan of fireworks either, Jordan.”
I tighten my arms around my little nephew and lean into James’s embrace.
We’re safe.
Chapter Fourteen || Alex
A week passes after our amusement park outing, during which I only see James at church on Sunday. I’m working extra hours to help cover for a girl who’s out on maternity leave, and James is splitting his spare time between looking for a better job and mentoring Travis, who’s having a particularly rough time this week.
On Friday night, I pick up dessert on my way home from work and make spur-of-the-moment plans to stop by the apartments.
The phone call I received from Mom on my lunch break—and the dozens of questions about my forging relationship—has left me tired and irritated all evening. I just want to hang out with James for a few hours before heading home to get some sleep.
Stopped at a congested traffic light, I dig my phone out of my purse and dial his number. First ring, second ring… I grin, expecting his voice any second.
But it doesn’t come. The call goes to voicemail. Frowning, I immediately re-dial. That’s not like him.
This time, he answers on the last ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey, James.”
“Oh, hey.”
I glare at the phone. By the tone of his voice, you’d think I didn’t mean a thing to him. “When you didn’t answer at first, I thought you might be avoiding me.”
He mumbles something that I can’t make out—is he yawning?
“Did you just wake up?”
“Actually, yeah. I fell asleep on the couch after I got back from Travis’s house, and I didn’t wake up until Lester threw a pillow at me and said my phone was ringing.”
I cast a doubting glance at the box of cheesecake sitting in the passenger seat. Maybe tonight isn’t the best time. “Oh, I’m sorry to wake you.”
“Eh, it’s alright.” He yawns again, causing me to wonder if he’ll even stay awake through the rest of this conversation—or whatever this is.
“Are you sure?” I shoot back, wincing at the sting in my words. “I mean, you’re not very talkative tonight.”
“Not much to talk about.”
Um, ouch. “That’s never stopped us before. I don’t know what this is about, but—”
“Hey, it’s not you. Okay? I’ve just had a long day, and I’m kind of irritable.”
“You’re not the only one who’s had a hard week,” I snap back. “And, I mean, I just hope you’re not sitting around the apartment tonight feeling sorry for yourself.”
“You know what, Miss Lorance?” James says after a moment of tension-filled silence. “I have every right to feel sorry for myself.”
That again. Why does he have to throw up his injuries whenever he feels threatened? “James…” I run my tongue across my lips, formulate my next words in my mind. “How are you ever going to move on with your life when you’re living in the past?”
“Move on? This isn’t something that’s just going to go away in a few weeks, Alex.”
I draw in a deep breath before throwing something back his way. He’s never spoken to me like this before. I come to the road to the apartments—and I keep going without turning off. If he’s going to wallow in self-pity, I’ll eat cake by myself.
“And another thing,” he spouts off. “You’re one to talk about living in the past. How long did it take you to quit moo
ning over what’s-his-face?”
I blink back tears at his stinging words. A bad attitude is one thing, but throwing Drake up in my face hurt. “How could you drag that into this? At least I don’t expect you to fill the role of God in my life, like you expect of me.”
Silence steals across the space between us. Dark, ugly, dirty quiet, marred by our hateful words.
“Ya know what?” His quiet voice makes me wish I could take it back, take it all back. “I’m done here.”
The phone line goes dead.
|| ~* || ~* || ~* ||
|| James
I hobble up the sidewalk to the end of the apartment complex and stalk toward my door.
My heart is racing after having words with Alex. I feel bad for yelling at her, but she doesn’t know all of it. She doesn’t know how hard it is to answer Travis’s questions about the purpose in working through pain when I wonder myself if it’s worth it. She doesn’t know that nightmares have prevented me from getting more than an hour of sleep at a time all week. She doesn’t know what’s hidden in my dresser drawer. She doesn’t know how close I am to giving up.
I’d hoped that maybe Lester and Brian had gone to bed during my badly-ended phone call and walk around the block. But the glare of the TV is shining through the front window when I get within sight. Great. That means an encounter.
I dig my key from my pocket and let myself back in, slamming the door behind me when I enter the apartment. I saunter past the opening to the living room with my head down. Actually, I don’t saunter. I can’t. Come to think of it, I can’t do a lot of things. And while we’re listing things I’m against, I hate everything about this stupid substitute leg. And that second deployment.
Brian’s voice lets me know that I’ve been caught. “James? You’re back already?”
Trying the play-it-cool approach, I turn toward the room, seeing Brian on the couch and Lester across from him—slouched in his wheelchair. “Yeah.”
