by Ross, Mia
Gus’s quick assessment kicked his pulse up again, and Seth waited a beat to make sure he spoke normally. “How’d you know?”
“Son, it’s written all over you.”
Feeling awkward, Seth ran a hand over his crew cut. Maybe if he let his hair grow out, people wouldn’t peg him quite so easily. Sure, and he could get an earring, too. His mother would love that.
“Oh, it ain’t just the hair,” Gus told him. Leaning in, he added, “It’ll get easier, I promise.”
Inexplicably, Seth blurted out, “It’s been almost two years.”
“Some recover quicker’n others.” Gus frowned. “Some come home but never quite make it back, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Seth had seen a few of them when he was in the hospital. Staring vacantly at nothing, muttering to themselves, imprisoned by memories that might never let them go. Watching them had been the motivation he’d needed to push himself hard every single day, even when his body had protested. With relentless determination, he’d whipped through his rehab in record time.
However difficult normal life was for him, it was a cakewalk compared to others.
“I pray for ’em every day,” Gus confided. “Those poor souls need all the help they can get.”
Seth was careful to keep his expression neutral. While he respected everyone’s right to worship, his own faith in God had withered under the brutal desert sun. The horrible things he’d experienced had convinced him that if there was a divine presence watching over the earth, He was far from the compassionate, omnipotent being he’d learned about in Sunday school. That God would have ended all the wars and restored peace.
Since that had yet to happen, Seth figured the whole thing was nothing more than a nice story aimed at teaching people how they should behave. If the Golden Rule were the law of the land, the world would be a much better place.
Gus seemed to take Seth’s silence for agreement, and he smiled. “If you ever want to jaw with a fellow soldier, I’m a real good listener.”
While most people’s sympathy made him stiffen up defensively, Seth understood that the old Marine empathized with what he was going through. He wondered if his aunt had sent him here hoping he and Gus would hit it off. Knowing her penchant for aiding folks in need, Seth certainly wouldn’t put it past her.
Accepting help was tough for him, but he acknowledged the generous offer with what he hoped came across as a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” Gus rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Now, what can I get for you?”
“Aunt Ruth jammed something in the disposal.”
“Again? That woman sure is tough on her equipment.” Chuckling, he lifted the hinged butcher block to step out from behind the counter. “My professional plumbing stuff’s out back. Have a look around while I fetch it for you.”
“Thanks.”
Whistling along with the power tools’ version of “Deck the Halls,” Gus headed through a door sporting a sign that read No Customers—This Means You. While he waited, Seth cruised the well-stocked store. Neatly arranged shelves and hooks held everything from plumbing and electrical parts to livestock supplies. There was even a section of sturdy work clothes. Several versions of the denim shirt Gus wore hung on a rack beside jeans and steel-toed boots. The prices were reasonable, which told Seth the owner recognized how much money his customers had to work with and made sure they could afford to shop in his store.
“Browsing?” Lisa asked from behind him. When Seth turned, she laughed. “Please don’t tell me you’re seriously thinking of buying clothes here.”
“Maybe.”
“We have some nice stores in town,” she went on. “Just wander up and down Main Street and you’ll find pretty much everything you need.”
Seth looked at the racks, then back at her. “Jeans, shirts, boots. What else is there?”
She groaned. “You sound like my brothers.”
“Is that bad?”
“Mostly.”
When she smiled, he realized she was teasing him, and he felt himself loosen up a little. Apparently, she’d gotten past her earlier frustration with him. While he didn’t do it on purpose, he knew his reticence made it impossible for strangers to warm up to him. He appreciated her cutting him some slack.
“They sound like my kinda guys.” He put a little extra emotion into the comment so she’d know he wasn’t a robot. He wasn’t sure why that mattered to him, but it did.
“Oh, you’d love them,” she assured him. “And my brother-in-law, too. Men’s men, straight through every strand of their mulishly stubborn Y chromosomes.”
Seth laughed. The way she rolled her eyes was so cute, he couldn’t help it. The wattage on her smile actually increased, and he had a tough time paying attention to what she was saying to him.
“...actual shoes, shirts made of something besides denim, a sweater or two,” she said, ticking them off on her fingers. “You know, things to wear when you’re not working.”
Seth couldn’t recall the last time he’d chosen his own clothes. When he was younger, Mom took care of all that. Then he’d worn one type of uniform after another. Lately, it was Mom again, because he didn’t have the inclination to do any more than reach into a drawer for something old and comfortable to wear.
Until today, he hadn’t cared much whether they even fit or not. He wasn’t sure why it mattered all of a sudden, and he decided it was best not to examine it too closely.
“I’ll think about it,” he said, steering her away from the clothing.
While his very entertaining companion chattered on about designer wallpaper borders, Seth hummed over the price of a new table saw. Not bad. Maybe he could barter some handyman help to Gus and get a discount. Then once he got settled somewhere, he could set up a carpentry shop and start making things again.
Appealing at first, the idea quickly turned Seth’s stomach, and he sighed. Looking down at his hands, he flexed his left arm, testing the scar that ran along his chest and circled his shoulder. It still wasn’t completely healed, but he knew he was lucky to have his arm. Thinking of that horrific injury always led him back to the afternoon that had changed his life forever. He’d done his job that day, and by all accounts their mission had been a success. But on a personal level, it had cost Seth far more than he could afford to pay.
Very firmly, he shut the door on those memories. He couldn’t do anything about the past, and these days his future was on pretty shaky ground. So that left him with the present. Sometimes he felt stalled, as if his life had stopped moving forward. The trouble was, he had no clue how to get it going again.
He loved his parents, but their constant worry had become suffocating. When Aunt Ruth had asked for his help, he’d jumped at the chance to come to Harland. He was hoping a change of scenery would help him get his life back on track.
If that didn’t work, he was out of ideas.
Chapter Two
When Lisa arrived at the diner for her shift the next day, lunch was in full swing. So were Seth’s renovations. Trying to blot out the constant screech of his circular saw overhead, she bopped from table to table refilling drinks and making sure everyone had what they needed. Around noon, she helped Ruthy prepare standing orders for the contractor’s crew that was rehabbing the Harland Courthouse, a quaint old building that had stood in the center of town since before the Civil War.
Then, because their busboy was up to his elbows in dishes, Lisa piled the cartons of food and drinks onto one of Ruthy’s catering carts and rolled the whole shebang down the street. The twenty-dollar tip the guys insisted on giving her more than made up for the extra trouble.
As she strolled back into the diner, she realized the sawing had stopped. In its place she heard the sound of hammering, and she wondered if it was time to buy h
erself some earplugs.
“That boy just doesn’t stop,” Ruthy muttered, shaking her head. “He’s been at it since eight this morning.”
Having been raised on a farm, Lisa could appreciate anyone who put that much effort into something. Aggravating as her brothers were, she admired their willingness to work at a job until it was done. Whatever flaws he might have, Seth’s devotion to his task earned him a healthy dose of respect from her.
“He should have something to eat.” She ladled up some of Ruthy’s famous Irish stew and dropped in a spoon. Setting the bowl on a small serving tray, she added a thick hunk of soda bread. “Does he like sweet tea?”
Ruthy’s withering look told her that was a stupid question, and Lisa laughed as she poured him a glass of it. “I’ll take it up to him. Be right back.”
To her surprise, Ruthy stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Thank you, honey.”
“It’s just food.”
The older woman looked confused, then gave her a sad smile. “That’s not what I meant. I’m grateful to you for being nice to my boy.”
Intrigued, Lisa asked, “What was he exactly? I mean, we see lots of veterans in here, but none like him. What happened to him?”
Ruthy didn’t respond, and she tried again. “He was a Navy SEAL.” Nothing. “Black ops. No, wait, he was a spy.”
“I really can’t tell you,” her boss confided while she banded a stack of twenties for the deposit. “I don’t know.”
“But he was military. I could tell that as soon as I laid eyes on him.”
Ruthy’s eyes flicked up to her, then back to the money she was counting.
“Has he always been so frustrating?” Lisa asked, feeling a little frustrated herself.
Finally, her boss stopped fanning bills and looked directly at her. “Seth is a wonderful, caring man who’s been through things you and I couldn’t begin to comprehend.”
Of course, Lisa thought with a mental forehead slap. Post-traumatic stress disorder. That explained his odd reactions to everyday occurrences, his hesitation with her when she was just trying to be friendly. He came across as cold and withdrawn because his emotions were literally frozen inside him.
“That’s so sad. I don’t know much about PTSD, but I could do some research online. Maybe if I understood it better, I could—”
“PTSD,” Ruthy scoffed, which was very unlike her. “That’s the least of his problems. Seth has lost his faith.”
“In what?”
“Everything. Anyone he hasn’t known his entire life, and even some people he used to know well.” Her voice had started to tremble, and she firmed her chin in an obvious attempt to keep back tears. “He thinks God deserted him.”
Lisa couldn’t imagine the closed-off handyman confiding that to anyone, not even his adoring aunt. “Seth told you that?”
Eyes glistening with sorrow, she nodded. “We were all together for Thanksgiving at my sister’s house. He was so sulky, barely talking to anyone, looking mad at the world. I couldn’t bear to see him that way, so I kept at him until we got down to the real problem.”
Frowning, Lisa said, “I remember when Matt was like that. It was awful knowing my big brother was so lost.”
“Lost,” Ruthy repeated. “That’s the word for Seth right now, but I’m not leaving it that way. I asked him to come here, hoping a new place would help him work through his troubles and get back to the way he used to be.”
Lisa smiled. “Does Santa know about you?”
“You’re distracting me.” Waving her away, Ruthy turned the stack of money over to begin counting again. But her pleased expression revealed how she felt about the compliment. “And that food is getting cold.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lisa took the tray and turned toward the steps. “I won’t be long.”
“Stay up there and see if you can get him to take a break. I don’t want him wearing himself out,” she added in a worried tone.
“What makes you think he’ll listen to me?”
Ruthy laughed as if she’d just heard the world’s funniest joke. “Oh, honey, there’s not a man alive who wouldn’t drop whatever he’s doing to talk to you.”
“Not Seth,” Lisa grumbled. “He’s immune to my charm.”
As she headed upstairs, behind her she heard Ruthy mutter, “That’s what you think.”
* * *
Hearing light footsteps on the stairs, Seth expected it to be his aunt coming to check on him. When he glanced up from the oak plank he was measuring for a cut, he was shocked to see Lisa instead. Flustered by her unexpected visit, he stood up so fast he knocked his head on the sharp corner of the wall.
“Are you okay?” she asked, hurrying toward him.
“Yeah.” Rubbing his head, he added, “Just a klutz.”
While she looked up at him, he hoped she didn’t think he was a complete moron. To his relief, she smiled. “You’ve been working really hard up here, so I thought you might be hungry. I left the tray on that table in the hall so the food wouldn’t get sawdust in it.”
He’d been so focused on what he was doing, he hadn’t thought about food at all. The mention of it made his stomach rumble. “Actually, I’m starving.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I showed up when I did.”
Was it good? He hadn’t known her long, but he’d really enjoyed the brief time he’d spent with her. Lighthearted and chatty, she made him forget about everything but how much fun he had listening to her talk.
Then again, she probably had that effect on every guy within ten miles. Seth wished he could just relax and let things happen between them naturally, but he was painfully aware he couldn’t let himself get too attached to anyone in particular. He’d come a long way, but he didn’t think he was ready for a sassy handful like Lisa Sawyer. He knew for a fact she wasn’t ready for him.
That left them at friends, he supposed. For someone who felt adrift in his own life, there were much worse places he could find himself.
“It’s pretty dusty in here,” he said. “You don’t have a mask, so you should really stay out in the hallway.”
“Okay.”
After he’d closed the door behind them, she asked, “Should I get out of your hair, or would you like some company while you eat?”
In reply, he pulled up a wooden chair and brushed off the plaster dust that had accumulated while he was putting up Sheetrock in one of the rooms. When he motioned her to it, she smiled and sat down. “That new floor you’re putting down in there looks nice.”
“The old one was pretty beat-up,” he agreed as he pulled up another chair and started in on his stew. Humming appreciation, he said, “Aunt Ruth’s a great cook, but this has always been my favorite. Thanks for bringing it.”
“There’s plenty more if you want it. She always makes way too much.”
“Then she takes the leftovers to that shelter in Kenwood,” Seth added.
“That’s our Ruthy,” Lisa said fondly. “Feeding the world one mouth at a time.”
After swallowing some sweet tea, Seth said, “You really love her, don’t you?”
“Since I was a baby. She’s my godmother, and she insists I picked her the first time she held me.”
“She was a friend of your parents, then.”
Lisa’s nostalgic smile dipped into a frown, and she nodded. Seth felt awful for upsetting her, and he did something he never did. He asked a near-stranger a very personal question.
“Is something wrong?”
“No,” she responded with a sigh. “My parents are both gone is all. Dad died a couple of years ago, and I miss him most at the holidays.”
Seth had pegged Lisa at about his age, and twenty-eight was way too young to have lost both parents. His heart twisted with an emotion he hadn’t felt in a long, long
time: sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” After a couple of seconds, she appeared to shake off the sadness and asked, “So, do you have any plans after you’re done here?”
“Not really.”
“But you’re not staying in Harland?” When he shook his head, she laughed. “Yeah, me neither. It was great growing up here, but I know every nook and cranny of this place. I want to get out and see some of the world.”
He managed a tight smile that he hoped told her he had no desire to pursue the subject of exploring any part of the world other than where he was currently standing. Thankfully, she switched tracks.
“Your parents must be so proud of you, coming to help out like this,” she said. “Not many people would drop what they were doing to take on this job all by themselves.”
Scooping gravy from the bottom of his bowl, he shrugged. “No big deal.”
“Seth, look at me.”
He dragged his eyes up to meet hers, and she rewarded him with another of her beautiful smiles. So far, he’d noticed six different versions, each one as amazing as the others. Not that he was counting.
“You’re a good guy, and what you’re doing to help Ruthy is really nice. Don’t sell yourself short.”
Her words were like salve to a soul that had taken more than its share of beatings, and he couldn’t help grinning. “Thanks.”
“Anytime. Do you want some more?” she asked, pointing to the bowl he’d scraped clean with the soft bread.
“No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”
Giving him a parting smile, she headed back downstairs. The scent of her perfume lingered where she’d been sitting, and he debated what fragrance it was. He wasn’t much for gardening, so he settled on something flowery. It made him think of summertime when he was younger, when the biggest decision he had to make was where the fish would be biting that day. And which fishing hole attracted the prettiest girls for swimming.
Those were the days, he thought with a sigh, full of simple plans and even simpler pleasures. It was a shame he hadn’t appreciated them more when he had the chance. Pushing the past into the rear of his mind where it belonged, he stood up and got back to work.
