Steadfast Soldier

by Cheryl Wyatt

  “No? What’s it feel like, Airman?” Petrowski asked.

  He cast a hateful look at Vince. “Like he was doing his best to drown me, sir.”

  “He was.” Petrowski’s chin rose. “But since it didn’t work, get back in line. Unless you wanna go home to Mama.”

  “Sir, no, sir. I’m not wimping out.”

  Petrowski grinned. “That’s my boy.”

  The kid released another barking hack. “By the way, sir, my mama’s dead. But if she were here she’d kick my you-know-what for quitting on you like that.”

  “Good. At least one of your parents had sense enough to believe in you. Back in the creek you go.”

  Vince stepped into waist-deep water and intercepted. Pulled out his maroon beret and popped it on the young man’s head. “Like how that feels?”

  “Sir, yes. Very much, sir. More than anything.”

  “Then do what it takes to earn one. I know you can.”

  “Yes, sir.” He swallowed, then peeled the beret off and respectfully returned it to Vince. “I’ll surpass my best.”

  “That’s more like it.” Vince folded the beret and stuck it back in his chest pocket. “By the way, I would not have let you drown. We don’t leave our teammates down there to die. You believe me, Airman? Trust that I will do everything in my power to keep you alive?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I need to know the same about you. Because when you’re on the field, no one is going to be able to carry your weight for you.”

  Joel faced the group. “Reardon’s right. All of you need to learn to lug the dead weight of a man who could be twice your size and combative from hypoxia related to hemorrhage-level blood loss, plus weapons and medical gear.”

  “Copy that, sir. I’ll go again. Put Brock on my back this time.”

  Vince laughed out loud. “I like this kid.” He faced Brock. “Hey, bro, I think he just called you a tank.”

  Brock smiled and flexed his muscles. Everyone knew he was the largest guy on the team, weightwise. A solid wall of muscle, not an ounce of fat anywhere, yet Brock always complained about his freckles and chipmunk cheeks. “Brutal honesty free of charge, compliments of Reardon.”

  Everyone laughed at that.

  Chance hopped on the second young man’s back, clicked the stopwatch and blew his whistle.

  Though it was a bumpy ride, the kid made it in half the time. Of course, Chance didn’t have the heart to shove his face in as much as Vince. Still, the recruit came up sputtering a few times. But this was as realistic as it could get as far as swim-crawling a victim to safety through a hostile, raging river.

  The recruit’s teammates clapped as he came out.

  “Can I go again?” Even breathing hard, he had a determined light in his eyes Chance hadn’t seen in a while.

  Chance eyed Petrowski. He nodded. Chance waded back into the water and motioned to the kid. “Come on then.”

  Despite having already been through the strenuous exercise, the recruit shot like an RPG back into the water.

  Chance hopped on his back and immediately started to shove his face under but paused to look up at Joel.

  Joel moved close and nodded. “Go ahead. Push him, Garrison.” Chance recognized that Joel also saw potential in this kid and wanted to see what he’d do under more insane pressure.

  Chance pressed, then started to let off.

  Petrowski shook his head. “Don’t go easy on him.”

  Though Nolan was the most softhearted on their team as far as training the new recruits, Chance came a close second to Ben. The rest of the guys were hardballs. But the recruits needed that just as much as the occasional leeway.

  “Step it up,” Chance said when the recruit slowed for a breath. “You’re being primed for the real deal.”

  The recruit grunted and sloshed on hands and knees. It was the PJs’ job to test them under harsh pressure and see how they coped with intense physical and emotional stress. Because no enemy alive would have one mite of the mercy the PJ trainers did even in their most brutal moments.

  “Toss me that.” Chance nodded to a sandbag. Brock tossed it in Chance’s lap, making him instantly heavier.

  The kid, strained and winded, thrashed in place, then burst up and said something cocky, something about betting he could swim circles around Chance. Then he added something about how the sandbag could probably swim circles around Chance.

  Chance shoved his face back under the water. And left it. Then Chance laughed. He liked this kid.

  The recruit moved faster but didn’t try to buck Chance off, which meant he’d incited Chance on purpose to ramp up the challenge. Chance grinned as they passed Petrowski. “This one just might make it.” He still had his hand over the young man’s head, and the recruit kept crawling for the finish. The pressure pushed him to excel. Good sign.

  Petrowski walked with them. “Three minutes?”

  “Over.” Chance lifted his hand so the young man could have a breath. But the recruit kept his face underwater.

  Joel laughed. “He’s determined enough. Be sure to pull him up before he passes out.”

  Chance nodded and eyed his watch. Going on four minutes and the kid was still going strong. Strange sounds were coming out of him, like blubbering under water, but hey, whatever it took to get through.

  Petrowski walked the bank monitoring them. “Make him team leader of these recruits. Build his morale. My gut says he’s the type to step up his game with the responsibility. Maybe he can get these other guys to eat a can of Man-up.”

  Chance laughed because that sounded like something Chloe would say. At the end of the stream, Chance hopped off the kid’s back and helped him from the water.

  He rose, heaving air. “Wha-what was my time, sir?”

  Chance eyed his stopwatch. “Under seven minutes to get down the stream. A record. You also held your breath the longest. Go see Petrowski. He wants a word with you.”

  The recruit’s face blanched. “Is he kicking me off for insubordination?”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I called you all sorts of bad names.”

  “I didn’t hear it.”

  “That’s because I spewed all of it underwater.”

  Chance laughed and clamped a hand on the recruit’s shoulder. “You’re all right. But now I know why you stayed under so long. Just don’t tell Petrowski that.”

  “Am I in trouble? ’Cause I really wanna be a PJ.”

  “You’re not in trouble. You’re being promoted to team leader. Go see Petrowski. He’ll give you instructions.”

  The young man’s face lit. “Me? Really?”

  “Really. Now go before we change our mind.”

  The kid, grinning wider than the river mouth feeding the stream, started to bolt toward their commander but spiraled back around. Slammed full frontal force impact into Chance and wound arms around his waist.

  Took Chance a second to realize the kid was giving him some sort of clumsy, grateful, father-son-style hug and not a pathetically ineffective football tackle.

  Which Chance knew took a ton of guts with all the other recruits and PJs watching. Uncustomary emotion surged in Chance, a longing to have sons of his own. He patted the young man’s back. “I think you’re gonna make it.”

  Respect glimmered in the recruit’s eyes. “Coming from you, that speaks tons, man. Means a lot. Thanks, dude, uh, sir. No one’s ever told me anything like that before.”

  Chance watched the kid go. A lump filled his throat.

  The young man reminded him of former street thugs Val and Vince mentored in their neighborhood, ones that Rowan, the edgy youth pastor at his church, had inspired Chance to reach out to.

  Sun beating on his back, Chance decided to make this kid his special mission. He’d do everything in his power to equip him for the PJ pipeline.

  They’d been out here for five horrendously hot, humiliating, dreadful days. And not one young man had quit. That meant their PJ recruit vetting process at the DZ
was working.

  Chance thought of home. And of Chloe. And why those two always merged together in his mind. He hadn’t had the opportunity to tell her he was leaving because Petrowski’d dragged their boots out of bed in the middle of the night and flown them here to the Smokies for a week of pop-quiz training. It kept the seasoned PJs on their toes too.

  Chance needed to apologize to Mary and Chloe. He’d acted like a jerk about Dad. It was still hard. But being out here put things in perspective. At least Dad still had life left in his body. How he lived it was none of Chance’s business. Not in the realm of romance anyway. If Mary made him happy, then Chance would learn to like it. No, love it.

  If Chance was going to bully these PJ recruits into not shrinking back from the hard road, he needed to be willing to man-up too. He had no problem excelling in his military, paramedic and rescue career. But in civilian life? Another story altogether.

  He’d go back and tell Chloe how he felt. He would let her know he was ready to accept whatever happened between Mary and Ivan. He would even try to be happy about it. After all, Mary had given his dad lots to live and rehab for, something to look forward to.

  Chance watched the sappy street-thug PJ trainee. He was meant to reach out to these kinds of kids. Rowan had asked Vince and Chance to help lead the boys in the youth group, and he longed to do it. But the catch to be part of their church leadership was that they had to be ordained.

  Chance knew it was something God was asking him to do. He could help young men in the military, like these and future recruits, and in civilian life the hoards of teens that frequented the DZ because they considered the PJs international heroes.

  The way the youth group was growing, God’s favor was there. Chance wanted to be a part of it, to make a difference, to encourage as many as he could. He wanted to convince them they could make it despite every negative thing they’d been told.

  The recruit met each PJ’s gaze. “No one’s ever told me anything good about myself. Just that I’m not worth much. Thanks for taking time to train us and for serving.”

  Chance’s heart went out to the kid. Totally.

  Today had been the first time someone had shown this young guy he could be somebody and make something useful of his life. More than useful. Extraordinary.

  This one kid alone was reason enough for Chance to take his suffocating grief by the throat and gut it out.

  How many more men was he destined to help? A dozen stood right in front of him. Though the PJs pushed these guys past the grueling max, never once did they tell the recruits they wouldn’t make it.

  If they failed, it was their own doing. The team did everything within their power to prevent it. That was part of Joel’s mantra and what made him such a good leader. He was all about imparting hope and not crushing spirits.

  Especially not one, like this kid, who wasn’t much younger than Chance, yet who’d already been disabled by derogatory words. Chance had a lot to be thankful for.

  He couldn’t imagine growing up with a dad who didn’t fully believe in him. Or one who never said a kind word or encouraged him in whatever he tried. For that reason alone, he’d be happy for Dad. Mary wasn’t Mom, but she was a fine woman and she’d raised a fine daughter. Very fine.

  Chance cleared his throat. No more taking the easy road. He was going home and making Chloe his, no matter what unseen hand tried to shove his face below murky water.

  He wasn’t giving up on her. No more easy way.

  “You’re thinking about Chloe.” Brock smirked.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You look all pathetic and dazed, like you’re wandering around your own little Wonderland looking for Alice.”

  “You’re just jealous.” Chance snorted. “Chance, does she have a friend? Does she have a friend? Can she find a friend for me? You ask me like fifty times a day.”

  Brock headlocked him. “Watch it! I’ll swing my ban hammer over your head. I don’t need a woman to make me happy. Not one woman, anyway.”

  Chance wrestled free. “Did Petrowski hold your head underwater too long yesterday or what?” Chance knuckled Brock’s buzzed red head. “Because that might be the only unpathetic excuse you’d have for not realizing what’s so wrong with what you just said.”

  Brock play-shoved him. “Hey, back off. You just stay in Wonderland, and I’ll have my own private tea parties, minus the tea, with twice as many waitresses now that you’re off the dating scene.”

  The others grinned at their good-natured razzing.

  Chance straightened. “Who says I’m off the scene?”

  “That receipt for a seriously expensive ring that I found in your Jeep and the fact that I’m ticked off you didn’t tell me about it.”

  Chance dipped his head, but Brock wasn’t done.

  “Also the fact that you and Chloe have been exclusive for a while. Unless you’re holding out on me about that too.” Brock feigned hurt. “PJs don’t keep secrets from each other. Especially not us.”

  “Man, I’m sorry. I just wasn’t sure. I bought the ring on a whim and thought about taking it back several times.”

  “Chicken. Bwok-bok-bok. You know you want this.”

  “But does she?”

  “You’ll never know until you ask. As Petrowski put it, drink a can of Man-up. Ask her.”

  “She might say no.”

  “She might. But so what? Since when have you ever taken the easy way, Garrison?”

  True. “Fine. I’ll ask her.”

  “Congrats, bro. Hope she says yes.”

  “Me too.” Though Chloe still claimed misgivings, Chance was praying that God had been working on her.

  “Don’t flake, or I’ll never let you forget. You’ll live in PJ infamy with Bwok-bok-bok as your call sign.”

  Chance laughed. “I won’t chicken out.”

  Now, if Chance could just locate that illustrious, elusive can of Man-up.

  No more easy way.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “We never thought it would be the easy way,” Mallory said on the phone to Chloe the next weekend.

  “I know you’re right.” The easy way was avoidance—Chloe’s tendency where romantic commitment was concerned. The hard way would be to call Chance up right now and blurt out how she felt.

  “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

  “I don’t know. I could make a fool of myself, I guess.”

  Mallory snickered. “Since when has that bothered you?”

  “Fine. Stop griping at me so I can get off the phone with you and do it while I’ve got the guts.”

  Mallory let out a shriek and Chloe couldn’t help smiling. “Don’t celebrate yet. He may not want to be with me. I haven’t seen or heard from him in a week. I haven’t seen Brock, either, so Chance hasn’t been by here. Maybe they are on a training mission or he’s doing something else with the PJs, but still…you’d think he could find a phone. He was calling twice a day for months.”

  “There has to be a good reason. Something came up.”

  “Yeah, like his intelligence.”

  Mallory giggled. “Can you ask Ivan where he is?”

  “I guess so. It’s just, Ivan didn’t offer the info and I like to keep our visits professional rather than personal.”

  “In other words, Ivan might figure out you like his son, something that is obvious to everyone already, Chloe.”

  Chloe laughed. “Chance probably finally figured out he should run as fast and as far from me as possible.”

  “I doubt that. Don’t think the worst.”

  “Sorry. I am conditioned to expect the worst. That’s what Mom and I got from Dad. After so many years of him rejecting my pleas for attention, it hurts too much to hope for more.”

  “God has something good for you, Chloe. Hope.”

  “All right. I’ll hope, and you pray!”

  “You know it. I’m also praying about the Refuge clinic situation. Mindy put in her notice here, but I’ll just try
to cover for her. Bert won’t like it, but too bad. He’s unreasonable. Have you heard from the vet yet?”

  “Yeah, that’s a no-go. And I am still waiting to hear a verdict on a business license too. I’ll call you as soon as I do.”

  “Sounds good. Love you. Call me as soon as you talk to Chance. I mean it. Even if it’s three in the morning. I want to know.”

  “Will do. Have you considered what I said about Bert yet? His reluctance to set a date and the fact that he keeps trying to wrench every dream you’ve worked for away?”

  A sigh. “Clow-eee. Enough. But since you took my advice, I’ll pray about it. Seriously. I will ask God to show me the truth if I’m not seeing it.”

  “Good. Love you too. Tell your mom to call her sister. Mom has good news to share. Freaky news.”

  “About Ivan? She already told Linda. How do you and Chance feel about all that?”

  “I’m okay with it. Happy for them. Ivan now works much harder at therapy. Mom’s given him a reason to shape up and rehabilitate. So even if nothing comes of it, they’re both in each other’s life for good reason.”

  “And Chance?”

  “God’s working on him. But he’s having a hard time. Partly because the anniversary of his mom’s death is looming. Tomorrow, in fact.”

  “Could be why you haven’t heard from him. Reach out to him, Chloe. He’ll appreciate that.”

  “Thanks, Mal. ’Bye.”

  After hanging up, Chloe called Chance. It was the first time she’d initiated a call. He’d always called her before. Shimmers of shame sprinkled her that she hadn’t appreciated his effort.

  His voice mail picked up. She scrambled for what message to leave.

  “Hi, Chance. This is Chloe. I’ve been missing you and wondered if you’d be interested in going fishing with us tomorrow. I know it’ll be a tough day, so it might help if you don’t spend it alone. My mom and your dad will be there, so I understand if you don’t wanna come. But, I hope to see you.”

  I love you.

  Chloe swallowed against the words trying to spring from her heart and out of her mouth.