Home to Montana

by Charlotte Carter

  “You’re a lot like her, you know?”

  “That’s nice of you to say.” She wrapped her arms around herself against the chill night air. “Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

  “Not exactly. The fact is, I started remembering how much I wanted her to be proud of me. And how I want you to be proud of me, too.”

  He was looking at her with such intensity, her breath hitched in her lungs.

  “I spent most of the day talking to Pastor Walker.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “He’s convinced me that counseling will help with my nightmares and flashbacks. Not overnight, of course. It’ll take some time. But I’ve agreed to see him twice a week.”

  She wanted to shout hallelujah. “That’s wonderful, Nick. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you.”

  “Yeah, I hope so.” His stance relaxed a little, and he ran the tip of his finger over the edge of the prep table. “Walker talked a lot psychological mumbo jumbo but the main idea is that he’s going to help me remember what happened, think about it real hard, in a place where I feel safe. Like in his office.”

  “That sounds a little scary to me.”

  “He claims it’ll get easier each time I go back there, to Afghanistan, in my head.”

  “I think it’s very brave of you to try to get better.”

  “I don’t know about brave, but I’m going to do it.” A muscle jumped in his jaw and his Adam’s apple bounced. “See, the thing is, I don’t know how long it will take for me to get past my nightmares and flashbacks, but I want to stay here in Bear Lake. And someday, I want you to be my wife.” His fingertips caressed her cheek, a light touch so moving that she felt it clear into her soul. “I love you, Alisa. I think I have since that day when I saw you swinging that big ol’ ax. And I want to marry you.”

  “Oh, Nick...” Without hesitation, filled with joy, she stepped into his arms, and he held her. His jacket was a little rough against her cheek, and he smelled of cleansing rain. She ran her fingers through his damp hair. “I love you, too. I didn’t want to. I was afraid—”

  “I know. Me too.”

  “Yes, I’ll marry you. Today. Tomorrow. Whenever you’re ready.”

  He lifted her chin, covering her mouth with his. His kiss transported her to a world she’d always dreamed of, a place filled with love and caring, a creation built on the foundation of marriage, family and faith.

  When he broke the kiss, Nick was breathing hard. “There’s one hitch.” He brushed another kiss to her lips. “I’m not going to marry you until I can support you and Greg. I don’t want anyone to think you’ve married a bum. So I’m going to be looking for a job.”

  A smile curved her lips. “I think there’s a way we can fix that.” She walked over to the linen cupboard and pulled out a white chef’s coat. “Take off your jacket, soldier. It just so happens, the Pine Tree Diner has an opening for a chef. It seems Mama Machak is falling for Dr. McCandless. So we’re going to need a hotshot chef to carry on.”

  “Sounds like a good deal to me. In fact, now that I think of it, I’ve got a little money stashed away. Haven’t had a chance to spend much in the last few years.”

  “Oh?”

  He slipped on the jacket she handed him. She smoothed it over his broad shoulders. “Very handsome, sir.”

  “Maybe you and Mama would let me buy into the diner, become a partner? Then we can work together to turn this into a real profit-making organization.”

  “I think us being partners in every way is sheer genius.” Her heart overflowing with love and dreams of their future together, she stood on tiptoe to kiss him again. “Welcome home, soldier.”

  Epilogue

  On a spring day in Bear Lake in Pastor Walker’s church office, Alisa smiled as Jolene, her matron of honor, zipped up her cream-colored wedding dress. The simple boat neckline and a calf-length skirt, in contrast to her usual slacks and sweater, made her feel like she was going to a dress-up party.

  Her wedding! She could hardly believe the day had finally arrived.

  Mama, looking beautiful in a violet dress, handed Alisa the bouquet of spring flowers she’d carry down the aisle. Mama had worked herself silly for the reception to be held in the diner banquet room. There were big pots of mushroom soup, trays of paprika chicken and dumplings, authentic goulash, side dishes of sauerkraut, creamed peas, carrot-and-apple salad and apple strudel for dessert waiting for the guests.

  There was a knock on the door. Dr. McCandles appeared and the sound of organ music drifted into the room.

  “It’s time for us to be seated, Ingrid.”

  Smiling, with just a trace of tears in her eyes, she kissed Alisa on the cheek. “Be happy, my little Alisova.”

  “I will be, I promise.” So much joy filled her heart, she was sure it would last her a lifetime with Nick and beyond.

  A few minutes later, Nick’s friends Ned Turner and Ward Cummings arrived to escort Alisa and Jolene down the aisle.

  Taking Ned’s arm, Alisa walked with him to the back of the church and waited while Ward and Jolene made their way down the center aisle.

  Ward whispered, “Nick’s a lucky guy.”

  “So am I.” Her gaze traveled to Nick, wearing a white dinner jacket, standing tall and strong beside the pastor. Sweetly, Nick asked Greg to be his best man. Rags, freshly bathed and wearing a bow tie for a collar, sat proudly at Greg’s side.

  Nick hadn’t totally tamed the memories of that terrible day in Afghanistan, but he had found ways to accept that he had survived for a reason.

  As the music changed, the congregation stood and Alisa took the first step toward the man she loved. She was sure the Lord had brought Nick home to her.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Reunited for the Holidays by Jillian Hart!

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you have enjoyed visiting one of my favorite places—the fictional town of Bear Lake, Montana, not far from Glacier National Park. The scenery is spectacular, the people friendly and the weather? Well, that depends on the day, as Nick, Alisa and Greg learned when they enjoyed a picnic on the far side of the lake.

  Nick Carbini, the hero of this story, suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). According to a 2009 study by the think tank RAND Corporation, an estimated 20 percent of returning veterans, or 300,000 service members, have symptoms of PTSD or major depression. In 2012, the Veterans Administration acknowledged the problem by adding more counselors trained to treat PTSD.

  It’s not by accident that Rags, the stray dog Nick adopted, wakes him when he has a nightmare and calms him. Both the VA and the Army are conducting studies to determine if the anecdotal evidence that dogs help PTSD patients is valid. Several nonprofit groups are working to directly provide veterans with dogs, and Assistance Dogs International, which represents dog training organizations, conducts extensive training programs.

  We owe our returning veterans more than we can ever repay. I hope every one of them receives whatever treatment they need and a dog to love too.

  Meanwhile, look for more of my books set in Bear Lake, Montana. It’s a great place to visit.

  Happy reading....

  Charlotte Carter

  Questions for Discussion

  Do you think it was right for Nick not to tell Alisa right away about his post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)?

  What other traumatic event besides being in a war might cause someone to develop PTSD?

  How do you feel about the developing relationship between Mama and Dr. McCandless?

  How would you feel if your daughter fell in love with a man who had spent three years in prison?

  Was it reasonable of Alisa to be so wary of all men after Ben deserted her when she was pregnant? Should she have been more o
pen to developing a new romantic relationship?

  Have you ever worked as a waitress? What was that experience like? Would you do it again?

  Would you like to have a summer cabin on a lake? What lake activities would you enjoy?

  Would you want to live in a tourist town? Why or why not?

  What challenges does Alisa face raising a son on her own?

  What is your favorite meal when you eat in a restaurant?

  Is your pastor trained to counsel those who are suffering from PTSD? Are you or your friends close to anyone who has suffered with PTSD?

  Is there a Veteran Affairs facility near you where veterans can go to get help?

  Do you enjoy putting jigsaw puzzles together? How about crossword puzzles or sudoku?

  Have you or a family member served in the military? What adjustments were required to make that service successful?

  In Alisa’s eyes, Nick was a hero. How do you define being heroic?

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired story.

  You believe hearts can heal. Love Inspired stories show that faith, forgiveness and hope have the power to lift spirits and change lives—always.

  Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.

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  Chapter One

  Dr. Brian Wallace plucked the ceramic frog out of the flower bed, tipped it upside down and shook hard. The spare front-door key fell onto his palm as he squinted into the watery afternoon sun. It was good to be home. Late November air crisped over him and he shivered, goose bumps traveling down his arms. Weak from an extended illness, he gripped the railing to steady himself. The long trip from rural Texas had taken a toll on him.

  The old adage There’s No Worse Patient Than a Doctor had never been more true, he thought, as he struggled up the stairs. Easily winded, he paused a moment at the top, thanking God he was here to see the colors of sunset. His near brush with death had marked him. He couldn’t deny it. He’d missed his life here in Fort Worth. He missed his kids—although they were grown, they were what he had left of his heart.

  He ambled to the door, leaned heavily against the wall and inserted the key. The door creaked open. Every part of him vibrated with a mix of weakness and exhaustion. As he crossed the threshold into the comfort of the house, memories surrounded him. It had been years since his children had lived here, but he recalled the pound of music from an upstairs bedroom, the chatter of his daughter on her phone, the drum of feet as one of the boys prowled the kitchen.

  Emotion dug into his chest, claws sharp. Yes, looking death in the face changed a man. It stripped away everything extraneous, leaving what mattered most.

  His footsteps echoed in the lonely living room. He eased onto a couch cushion, sighing heavily as fatigue washed over him like water. Maybe he should have listened to his colleague—he’d valued Dr. Travors’s expertise, which had saved his life—but he’d had enough bed rest. He needed to get home; he needed to be here. The Lord had put a deep call into his heart. He couldn’t explain it as he reached for the phone to try his children again. He needed to see them.

  He dialed his daughter’s number first. Dear Maddie. Many things had crossed his mind while he’d lain on a spare cot in the corner of a migrant worker’s temporary home—a shack beside many others on a remote Texas farm. His failings and regrets hit hard, but none as cruelly as his missteps in his personal relationships. He’d always had a difficult time opening up. He had to try to fix that. He’d been given a second chance.

  He waited for the call to connect. A muffled ringing came from what sounded like his front porch. The bell pealed, boots thumped on the front step and joy launched him from the couch. He set down the phone, listening to the faint conversation on the other side of the door. His kids were here? Theirs were the voices he’d missed during his illness, the ones he’d most longed to hear. He gripped the brass knob, tugged and set eyes on his children. All three of them.

  Praise the Lord, for bringing them here safe and sound. “You got my messages.”

  “You left about a dozen.” Maddie tumbled into his arms. “Dad, you have no idea how good it is to see you. No idea.”

  “Right back at you, sweetheart.” The endearment stumbled off his tongue—he wasn’t good with them—but he had to get better at speaking his feelings. He had to try harder. His dear Maddie, so like her mother. His chest ached with affections too intense to handle, so he swallowed hard, trying to tamp them down as he held her hands in his after their hug was done. “I was gone a little longer than I’d planned this time—”

  “A little?” Her voice shot up. “Dad, you have no idea how worried sick we’ve been over you.”

  “I don’t even know how to say how sorry I am—”

  “What matters is that you’re all right.” Her hands gave his a warm, understanding squeeze.

  “Where have you been?” Grayson, his oldest child, stepped in to join the reunion. Tall, dark and handsome. Pride swelled up, making it hard to look at the boy properly.

  “Grayson.” Those couldn’t be tears in his eyes, of course not. Brian wasn’t a man given to tears. Maybe because he had thought of his two other children when he’d been fighting for his life on that cot. Yet another son and daughter, lost to him forever. His biggest regret of all. Emotion clumped in his throat, making it impossible to say more.

  “We’ve been looking for you.” Grayson’s hug was brief, his face fighting emotion, too. “We found your wallet in a ditch and we feared you were missing. The police—”

  “Missing?” He swiped a hand over his face, grimacing, hating what he’d put them through. “I was in rural Texas, you know that, sometimes without phones or cell service. I would have gotten a message to you kids, but I lost my cell—”

  “I know. We found your phone, too.” Carter, his youngest from his second marriage, stepped in, healthy and whole, back from war. “We were afraid you’d gotten ill. Are you all right, Dad?”

  “Now I am.” He wrapped his arms around Carter, holding him tight. When he ended the hug, he held on, drinking in the sight of the boy—okay, he was twenty-three, but Carter would always be his youngest, a seasoned soldier home from deployment safely. When Brian let go, it was hard to see again. He was grateful to God for returning his youngest son home unharmed.

  “We heard you caught a virulent strain of strep.” Carter ambled into the living room, making himself at home.

  “And that you’d been treating a family who were dangerously ill.” Grayson headed straight for the couch.

  “We feared the worst, Dad.” Beautiful Maddie with her auburn hair and a stylish fashion sense swept through the doorway, anguish carved into her dear face.

  “I never meant to worry you.” He shut the door, swallowing hard. His case had been severe and there’d been days, even weeks, where it hadn’t been certain he would live. He didn’t know what to do with the emotions coiled in his chest, so he shrugged, tried to play things down. “I survived, so it wasn’t so bad.”

  “This is just like you. Always keeping us out instead of letting us in.” Maddie sounded upset, on the verge of anger or tears, maybe both.

  He hated upsetting her. Frustrated at himself, he crossed his arms over his chest. Remember your vow, Brian. You have to try harder. “I didn’t mean it that way, honey. There’s nothing to worry about now. I’m on the mend. That you kids are here, that you came, means everything.”

  It wasn’t easy, but he got out the words.
>
  “Oh, Daddy.” Maddie swiped her eyes. “Don’t you dare make me cry. I’m choked up enough already.”

  “What do you mean? What’s got you choked up? Is something going on?”

  “Dad, you’d better sit down for this.” Grayson patted the seat beside him.

  “This can’t be good.” He studied Carter’s serious face and the troubled crinkles around Grayson’s eyes. “Something happened while I was gone. That’s why you were trying to reach me?”

  “It’s not bad news, but it could give you a real shock.” Grayson cleared his throat, waiting until Brian eased onto the cushion. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to do it. We found Mom.”

  “Uh...” Brian’s brain screeched to a halt, unable to make sense of those words. He was hearing things. No doubt due to his exhaustion and weakened state. “Sorry...say that again? Your mom’s buried. She died when Carter was three. You remember the car accident.”

  “Not Sharla, Dad. Our real mother, at least for Grayson and me,” Maddie added.

  “Your real...? What?” That’s as far as he got. The mention of the mother of his other son and daughter floored him. How could they know? All they could remember was Sharla, his second wife, the woman he’d married when the kids were very young. “Wait a minute. I don’t understand. You’re not making any sense.”

  “I know it’s a shock for you, Daddy.” Maddie settled on the couch across from him. “But it’s true. Take a deep breath. I found our birth mother.”

  “No.” He shook his head, refusing to see how that was possible. The only person Maddie could be talking about was Isabella...his first wife, his high school sweetheart, the woman who’d broken his faith in true love.