by Syndi Powell
This ex-army man
is just the hero she needs
Lawrence Beckett returned from Iraq a hero. Inside, he’s still fighting to find peace. A renovation project introduces him to art specialist Andie Lowman. She has the contacts to help repair a stained glass window—along with a warmth he didn’t know he needed. Fixing the piece becomes a joint effort...but can they learn how to restore not just a beautiful treasure, but also each other?
“Why are you here?” she asked.
Beckett stayed silent for a moment as Andie tried to come up with some reasons. Had he changed his mind about her? He glanced at the cast on her wrist. “I came to apologize,” he said.
“For what?” For her injury? It hadn’t been his fault. Or for pushing her away? When he didn’t expand on his answer, she figured the flowers were a guilt offering. He didn’t say anything further and she gave a short nod. “I need to get back to my class.”
Andie started to walk inside when he called her name. She turned, and he reached for her free hand. “I’m not good with words like you are.”
“What do you want, Beckett?”
“I want you to come back and work on the window with me...”
Dear Reader,
Six years ago, I met an army veteran who had fought in Iraq and Afghanistan. When I thanked him for his service, he got very angry. I asked him why he was so upset, and he answered that I didn’t know what he’d had to do in order to survive. That he had lost more men from his squad to suicide than to combat. I never forgot him or his words, and my hero in this story, Beckett, is based on that brief encounter.
Like the man I met, Beckett suffers from PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder. Beckett has tried everything to forget his time in the war, including alcohol, prescription drugs and therapy. He’s about to meet a black Lab named Phoebe, a trained therapy dog, to help him cope, and a Vietnam war veteran named Russ, who knows how Beckett feels, since he was in the same frame of mind when he came home from war.
I hope that this story opens up conversations about mental health and our veterans. And to the man I met six years ago, I hope he has finally found peace.
Syndi
Soldier of Her Heart
Syndi Powell
Syndi Powell started writing stories when she was young and has made it a lifelong pursuit. She’s been reading Harlequin romance novels since she was in her teens and is thrilled to be on the Harlequin team. She loves to connect with readers on Twitter, @syndipowell, or on her Facebook author page, Facebook.com/syndipowellauthor.
Books by Syndi Powell
Harlequin Heartwarming
Their Forever Home
Finding Her Family
Healing Hearts
Afraid to Lose Her
The Sweetheart Deal
Two-Part Harmony
Risk of Falling
The Reluctant Bachelor
Visit the Author Profile page at www.Harlequin.com for more titles.
Dedicated to my grandfathers,
Robert Layher and Charles Hawkins,
who served in World War II, and my uncle,
Mike Hawkins, who served in Vietnam.
And also to the men and women in the
armed services who fight and sacrifice
so much for our freedoms.
Thank you, and welcome home.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EXCERPT FROM ALWAYS THE ONE BY TARA RANDEL
CHAPTER ONE
“BOSS, WE’VE GOT a problem.”
Beckett paused at the words, resting the sledgehammer he’d been using to tear up the kitchen’s ceramic tile floor. “Rob, I hired you so that we wouldn’t have problems. What’s wrong?”
The younger man shook his head. “I think you need to see this.”
Beckett followed him into the living room of the house they’d started to renovate that morning. He’d been buying places in Detroit neighborhoods, fixing them up and selling them for a profit. His business was still new, not quite two years old, but solid. Rob pointed at the east living room wall. “There’s two walls.”
“Two?” He approached the wall and peered into the foot-wide hole where Rob had taken down the drywall. Reaching for his cell phone from his back pocket, Beckett used the flashlight feature to try to examine what lay behind the outer wall.
Rob was right. There was a second plywood wall behind the first. Why in the world would someone lose square footage by building it six inches out from the original wall?
Beckett turned back to Rob. “That explains why the room dimensions were off from the blueprints.”
“What are we going to do about it?”
“Nothing. For now.” He wanted time to think about it first so they didn’t act rashly. “Why don’t you tackle the master bedroom walls for now. We’ll revisit this wall later.”
Rob gave a nod and left Beckett, who returned to the kitchen. He wanted to get this floor up before quitting for the day. He raised the sledgehammer over his head and brought it down on the ceramic. It felt good to break apart the tiles, straining his muscles as he hefted the hammer above his head again and again to smash it onto the floor. He found the demolition oddly satisfying when work on a house began. Later, he hoped he would find the same appreciation when he handed the keys over to the new owners and deposited their check into his bank account. But for now, he’d revel at the burn in his biceps as he smashed the hammer back down onto the tiles.
After an hour, he stopped his work to wipe his forehead with an old bandanna he kept in the back pocket of his jeans. Rob popped his head into the room. “I’m taking off for the night and thought I’d join some buddies at the pub to celebrate the New Year. You in?”
Beckett put his bandanna back into his pocket, hoping it looked as if he was seriously considering the invitation, although he already knew his answer. After a moment, he shook his head. “I want to finish tearing up this floor tonight, then prime it for the new tiles.”
Rob glanced at his watch. “It’s already after seven. You planning on working all night?”
If he could, he would keep working on the house for days without sleeping. Because working made him stop thinking and kept him awake. Whereas sleeping only brought bad dreams. He gave Rob a shrug. “You go on. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow is New Year’s Day, and you gave me the day off.” Rob frowned at him. “Are you okay, man?”
Beckett waved off his concern. “I’m fine. I just forgot what day it was. I’ll see you after the holiday.”
Rob peered at him briefly and then nodded. “Maybe you could use a night out with the guys. Come with us, Beckett. I’ll even buy the first round of beers.”
The thought of sitting in a bar with people all around him made his heart stutter. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. “Another time.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
Beckett agreed, but acknowledged to himself that it would never happen. He didn’t go to loud public places like bars or restaurants. He’d put off Rob’s invitations until the guy gave up on trying to include him. Beckett didn’t see the need to be part of the group anymore because he wa
s better off on his own.
He returned to scooping up the floor tiles with a dustpan and tossing them into an empty cardboard box that he had repurposed earlier. He needed to work. To stay busy. To keep his mind occupied and away from thoughts of the past.
His stomach growled as he finished collecting the last tiles. Glancing at his watch, he realized it was almost nine, and he’d eaten lunch more than eight hours ago. No wonder his belly felt as if it was gnawing on itself. He left the house to walk to his truck parked in the driveway, pulled out the cooler he kept stocked with food for times such as this and chose a salami sandwich. He returned to the warmth of the house and took a seat on an overturned plastic bucket. Unwrapping the sandwich, he took a large bite and glanced around the living room as he ate. The wall behind the wall bothered him. What if the second wall hid a structural issue? While his inspector had assured him that the house was sound, it could be hiding a surprise.
He put his half-eaten sandwich down on the bucket and retrieved his sledgehammer from the kitchen. He swung the hammer into the wall, letting pieces of plaster fall onto the wooden floor. He ripped off a piece of the wall and tossed it aside, then hefted the sledgehammer over his shoulder, bringing it down on the next section of the wall. After thirty minutes, he’d opened up most of the first wall.
To remove the rest—the framing—he’d need his saw. What in the world was this wall concealing? Anticipation of what he might discover pushed him to keep going.
With the framing now gone, he started to take down the inner wall even though his muscles protested at their continued use. But he couldn’t stop now without finding out what secrets the house was concealing from him.
Once he’d gotten the wall down to the studs, he paused and stared at the stained glass window that had been revealed. He put a hand against the cool glass and wondered why anyone would ever cover up something so beautiful. They’d even bricked it over on the exterior of the house. True, the cracks in the glass gave it an eerie beauty, but it looked amazing all the same. The window measured at least two feet across and was four feet high, portraying a boat sailing by a lighthouse that sent out shards of light. Red and black glass squares bordered the window.
He took a step back. He didn’t know anything about repairing windows much less stained glass. He fished his cell phone from a pocket and dialed up another friend in the contracting business. The call went to voice mail, so he waited for the beep. “Hey, Cassie. Beckett here. I just found a stained glass window in this house I’m flipping. Do you know anyone who might be able to repair it? I’d hate to tear it out and throw it in the trash. Call me.”
He put away the phone and returned to his sandwich. Sitting again on the bucket, he stared at the window and wondered what it all meant. I promise I’m going to find out.
* * *
ANDIE LOWMAN SIPPED her glass of moscato and debated how much longer she had to stay at the New Year’s Eve party that she’d been dragged to. She would much rather have been home wearing an oversize sweatshirt with leggings and sitting on her couch with the remote control in her hand to watch the ball drop in Times Square. She might be as social as the next woman, but after the past difficult year, she wanted to stay home and nurse her hurting heart. Instead, she had squeezed into a sequined dress and high heels and stood by herself looking around the crammed hall. Most of the crowd was paired off in couples, and she felt out of place in her singlehood. Even her sister, Cassie, had her fiancé, John, with her. She should have brought a friend with her, but most of them had plans with boyfriends or husbands. So here she sat, feeling like a third wheel to her sister’s blossoming relationship.
Speaking of her sister, Cassie joined Andie at the table. “I think I have a job for you.”
Andie rested her cheek against her fist. “I have a job. I work for Dr. Frazier’s office.” After her father’s construction company had been shut down, she’d found a job answering phones for a popular oncologist. Maybe it wasn’t her passion, but at least it paid the bills.
“This one would involve that fancy degree of yours. Interested?”
More than interested. She’d graduated more than a year before with her master’s degree in art education. Unfortunately, most school districts had cut their budgets in the arts, which meant she hadn’t found a teaching position. She still sent out résumés, hoping for a nibble. At this point, she’d take a part-time position. Anything to keep her teaching credentials current.
Andie sat up straight in the chair and peered at her sister. “Keep talking.”
Cassie grinned in response and leaned in to be heard over the music. “Beckett, a friend of mine, just called and needs your expertise.”
Andie frowned, pausing at those words. “My expertise?”
“With stained glass windows. He’s looking for someone who knows how to repair them.”
The bubble of excitement that had started in her belly popped with disappointment. “You know that my knowledge of stained glass is more on an academic level than a practical one, right? I might have created a few, but I’ve never repaired them.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. If anyone could do this, it would be you, Andie.” Cassie cocked her head to the side. “Isn’t that basically the same speech you gave me when I wasn’t sure I could step into Daddy’s shoes with the construction company? Maybe it didn’t happen the way I expected with Daddy going to jail for embezzling, but you helped me find my confidence. Let me return the favor.”
Andie sighed and tapped her fingers against the wineglass. It wouldn’t hurt to at least look at the window, would it? Depending on the age and condition, she knew several glaziers who might be willing to repair it. “Fine. Text me his information, and I’ll contact him tomorrow.”
Cassie took out her cell phone and handed it to Andie. “Why not call him now?”
“You’re pushy, you know?” Having nothing else to do on this night of beginnings, she accepted the phone and stood. “I’ll take the call outside so I can actually hear him above the revelry.”
Before she could leave the table, Cassie tugged on her wrist. “There’s something you should know about Beckett.” She paused for a long moment, then shook her head. “Never mind. You’ll figure it out on your own.”
With those cryptic words following her, Andie took her sister’s cell phone outside to the patio where several tall heaters had been placed. She found Beckett’s name in the call history and pressed his name before putting the phone to her ear. It rang only once before a gruff voice answered, “Beckett.”
Okay, so that was not what she had expected. “Mr. Beckett, this is Andie Lowman. My sister, Cassie, said that you were looking for someone to repair a stained glass window.”
“It’s about time you called me back. I don’t have all night to be waiting around for you to take care of this.”
She frowned at his tone though she knew he couldn’t see her. If her mother could hear how he was speaking, she would have lectured him on phone etiquette. As it was, Andie took a deep breath before continuing. “Why don’t you first tell me what you’re looking for?”
He slowed his words as if she couldn’t comprehend English. “The window is broken. I want it fixed. Got it?”
“Yes, I understand that part, but—”
She heard him sigh on the other end. “That came out wrong. Sorry, it’s been a weird day. I need an expert, and your sister must think highly of you to recommend you.”
That was much better. “Thank you, Mr. Beckett.”
“When can you get here?”
She thought of the empty space that filled her Saturday morning. “Would this weekend suffice?”
He made a rude noise on the other end of the phone. “What’s wrong with now?”
She glanced at her wrist and noted the time. “Mr. Beckett, it’s close to midnight on New Year’s Eve. Considering the late hour and the festivities of this evening,
Saturday morning would be more appropriate for me to assess your situation and give you the recommendations I might have for its reparation.”
“Using big words doesn’t impress me.” He sighed on the other end. “Fine, 9 a.m. Saturday morning and not a minute later.”
He gave her the address and hung up before she could say another word. She stared at her sister’s cell phone and wondered what this Mr. Beckett would be like in person if this was the way he behaved over the phone.
She returned to the party to find that John had gotten her sister onto the dance floor while the band played an appropriately slow love song. Cassie’s head rested on John’s chest as he waltzed her around the room. Her tomboy sister had turned into a princess.
Part of Andie wished that she could meet a man like the one her sister had found. John was kind, funny and smart. And he was good-looking, but not vain about it. In fact, she didn’t think he realized the effect he had on the opposite sex.
Maybe it was time to start putting herself out more into the world. To start expecting good things to happen. To make strides in finding her dream career. For years, she had been known as the one to fix things. If there was a delivery problem for one of her father’s projects, she called around and found a solution. When a friend had problems with a boyfriend or job, Andie had the right advice for them to fix the issue. But when it came to her own life, she made things worse rather than better.
But that stopped now.
With it being only moments away from the New Year, perhaps she couldn’t have found a better time to make some resolutions about her life. And maybe if she wished for a life filled with passion and love when the clock struck midnight, Cupid might be more than willing to help a girl out.
* * *
ANDIE HANDED THE appointment card across the receptionist desk to Mrs. Prentkowski. “We’ll see you back in six months, Mrs. P. Hopefully it will be a lot warmer weather here in Michigan then.”
