Chapter Fourteen
Reegan let the dark, rich soil sift through her fingers. Once it was all gathered in a pile, she patted the mound to secure the tall plant. Instead of climbing, the thin part at the top of the large stalk drooped.
Reaching for a stick and some thin rope, Reegan bound the wilting vine to the sturdy stick to help keep it straight as it grew. Now that it could reach the sun's rays, the plant would definitely grow and thrive.
She sat back and admired her handy work. Looking down at the plant, she felt a kindred spirit. Reegan had been planted in fertile soil. She'd been nurtured by her environment. But she'd never thrived, not truly. In the last few days, she'd been dealt tragedy after tragedy. She hadn't wilted because there was a strong post at her side.
Stay here with me.
Her heart lurched the moment the words had left his mouth. Reegan wanted to stay by Brandon's side forever. Unlike what Pastor Barrett had said, Brandon Lucas was not a stranger. Reegan felt she knew him better than any man of her entire acquaintance. Except, of course, for her brother.
Reegan had never had that type of reaction with any other man. Heck, she'd never truly kissed another man. Well, if she wanted to get technical, there had been Kenny Pratt, but he hadn't counted. Why? Because he’d missed her lips and tongued her nose; an unhappy event neither of them ever brought up again. It was also what solidified Reegan’s belief that the boys of this town preferred boogers.
There had never been a man like Brandon Lucas in this town or in her life. Even now, she wanted to close her fingers around his. She wanted to rest her head against the strong beat of his heart. She wanted to stay inside the safety of his arms. The world could crash and burn while she was with him, and it wouldn’t matter. It would hurt, but she'd be safe in his arms.
"How are you holding up?"
Reegan looked up to see Maggie Banks waddling up to her. The woman was near the second trimester of her pregnancy, and she looked like she was having twins. Two dogs trailed at her feet, her ever watchful army. Reegan was surprised she didn’t see Dylan, Maggie’s overprotective husband, in his wife’s wake. But she supposed the dogs were protection enough.
"It's a bit of a lot,” Reegan said in answer to Maggie’s question.
The Irish Terrier, Spin, pulled up to a stop next to Reegan. The dog’s hind legs hung limp in the wheelchair apparatus that Maggie had fashioned for him. Now, instead of being disabled, the dog was a holy terror. But his bright eyes and enthusiastic sniffs made everyone who came in contact with him fall instantly in love.
Spin rested his head on Reegan’s lap and looked up at her with those doleful eyes. Reegan scratched the little dog’s head and heard him sigh in utter contentment.
Maggie folded herself down into a crossed legged position in the dirt. Reegan worried the woman might not be able to make it back up again. But Sugar, her Golden Retriever, stayed at her side. Once his mistress was seated, the large dog leaned into her back as though he were propping her up.
"You've been through more in the past week than anyone should have to manage in a lifetime,” Maggie said.
Reegan took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp afternoon air. “I’m waiting for the lesson of it all."
Because there had to be a lesson, a silver lining. She knew her parents were in heaven and safe with God. She still wasn't convinced that her brother had met his glory. When her house had burned down, her faith had been shaken.
Reegan had been stripped of everything. Her family. Her possessions. Her belongings. But she had to believe it was all for a reason.
"You know you can stay here as long as you need," said Maggie. “We have plenty of room in our place.”
"Brandon—Corporal Lucas—asked me to stay forever."
Maggie's brows rose. But not in alarm that a stranger had proposed a marriage of convenience to her. The soldier’s wife’s eyes shone bright with approval.
Reegan knew the story of Maggie and Dylan. Maggie had been a regular at the church since she was a girl. Though she’d never come with parents, always on her own. The veterinarian had had a tough beginning as a foster child, but she never lost faith. When Maggie had been kicked out of her apartment for having too many dogs, she'd walked right into a miracle. The miracle happened on this ranch where she met Dylan. They'd agreed to a marriage of convenience so he could stay on the ranch. In exchange, she could keep her dogs here and out of a pound where the disabled brood would've surely met their maker. In the course of events, after the wedding, the two fell madly in love.
That story had repeated four more times with the other soldiers who lived here on the Purple Heart Ranch. And it looked like the tradition would continue with Reegan and Brandon.
"Brandon asked me to marry him. You know, like you all did for the zoning."
The soldiers had thought the zoning regulations were a curse. But the rules had turned out to be a blessing in disguise as they'd each found the woman they'd spend the rest of their lives with. Maybe the same rules would now work in Reegan’s favor?
"Oh, honey," Maggie beamed at her. But she shook her head at the same time, which confused Reegan. Those two words were cautionary, but she said them with joy. "They all say it's for the zoning; a marriage of convenience. It never is. It always winds up turning into lasting love."
Reegan's heart skipped at that thought. Her mouth became parched under the cloudy sky. Her fingertips itched as they sank into the rich soil.
"Is that what you want?" asked Maggie. "Do you have feelings for Corporal Lucas?"
"I barely know him."
Yet she'd spent last night in his bed with him by her side. In a chair. But it was still more intimate than she'd ever been with a man. And there was the way he’d held her that morning before he’d made his proposal. Reegan was certain she could stay in Brandon Lucas’s arms forever.
"Eva and I barely knew Dylan and Fran before we said I do. And look at us."
That was true. It was all shaping up to be another purple-hearted love story. Except for one difference.
“Brandon feels guilty about what happened to Reece,” Reegan admitted. “He even mentioned that he thinks the fire was partly his fault."
"Guilt is a powerful motivator,” Maggie agreed. “But not enough to force a man into marriage. I've seen him looking at you these past few days. Especially that first day when you were singing in church. He looked like he’d found heaven."
Reegan went breathless. A light wind sent a shiver over her skin raising goosebumps. Maggie reached out her hand, and Reegan took it, needing something to hold onto.
"Just be sure it's what you want," said Maggie.
Was it what she wanted? Reegan knew she wanted to sing. She knew she wanted to stay in her home town. She knew she wanted to be held in Brandon's arms. With this arrangement, she could spend forever doing all those things.
She had her answer.
Chapter Fifteen
The tap-tap-tapping sound was incessant, like the clatter of rounds firing and shell casings falling to the ground. Brandon couldn’t stop his restless legs from moving. His entire body felt hot and cold at the same time. He needed somewhere for the energy to go.
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He knew before his lashes touched the tops of his cheeks that the move was a mistake. Heat flared behind his lids. Tingling started in his palms. The muscles in his chest tightened.
He saw smoke in his mind’s eye. But he didn't see brown and orange hues of the desert. He saw the lush green and sturdy red brick of suburban America. The fire raged, and the brick of the house melted as he stood gaping in the street. Instead of a red-haired Reece, he saw the flames of Reegan’s long tresses as she looked up at her home in horror.
Her gaze went wide as the explosion rocked the foundation of her home. The blast knocked her off her feet. Before Brandon could move, smoke sank low to the ground and engulfed her body. He tried to get to her, but his body wouldn’t move. He was standing instead of lying face down, but it didn
’t matter. His feet wouldn’t move. They were mired in something dark, thick, and black as night.
It was guilt.
Brandon’s stomach churned. His breathing came in shallow pants until he roared. Brandon fought with everything in him, but the shame had a vise on him. As his internal battle raged, Reegan was swallowed whole by the gray cloud.
"Corporal Lucas?"
Brandon's eyes slammed open to find Dr. Patel standing a few feet away. Having dealt with PTSD issues, it was clear that the man knew to keep his distance until he was sure the way was safe. Brandon was no threat to anyone other than himself.
"I take it sleep is still eluding you?" The man took slow steps until he came behind his desk. His brown features were smooth and placid as he spoke. He leaned back in his chair, his hands folded on the top of his blank notepad.
Brandon sighed, trying to shake off the daydream. His head felt light after he pushed out the last of his heavy breaths. The tightening in his chest didn’t lighten. But his leg tapping slowed a bit.
"When's the last time you slept?" Dr. Patel picked up his fountain pen. His scribbles filled the spaces were his taps had slowed.
Brandon thought back to the last time he’d slept longer than a few minutes. It had been the first night he was there. Right after hearing Reegan sing at church. He’d awakened feeling a peace he hadn’t known in months. Just the thought of it made his toe-tapping slow down even more, but he hadn’t come to a complete stop.
"It's been a couple of days,” Brandon admitted.
Dr. Patel pulled his notepad onto his lap, blocking Brandon’s view of his notes. “That would’ve been your first night here?”
Brandon nodded.
“After you came from the church?”
Brandon’s gaze narrowed at the man. He watched as the pen moved across the paper, but there were no scritch scratch noises filling the silent beats between his foot tapping any longer.
“Reegan was lucky you were in the neighborhood the other night,” Patel continued.
"Maybe. Maybe not.”
Dr. Patel looked up. The pen went still as he regarded Brandon.
“Maybe I distracted her, and that’s why the fire happened.”
Dr. Patel sat the pen down on the desk. And then the notepad. As Brandon had suspected, there were hardly any marks on the lined paper.
Brandon had the sudden urge to fill that blank sheet of paper with his truth. And so he opened his mouth, and the guilt that had been clawing at him spilled out. “First, I took her brother from her, and now, I’ve taken her home from her."
Dr. Patel was silent for a long moment. He didn’t reach for the pen and paper. He didn’t downplay or deny Brandon’s claims.
After another long, silent moment, Brandon frowned. Why wasn’t the shrink telling him he wasn’t at fault? Wasn’t that his job? To assuage him of his guilt?
"I read the fire marshal's report,” Dr. Patel finally said. “The report said the fire was due to faulty wires."
Brandon chewed at the inside of his lip. The tightness in his chest moved up to his throat, closing off any words.
"I also read the military report on Private Cartwright’s incident.” Dr. Patel leaned forward, folding his forearms over the pad on the desk. The pen rolled off to the side. “You both followed protocol.”
“I hesitated.”
Dr. Patel steepled his fingers and rested his chin. His gaze was like iron as it held Brandon’s. “Many a man has. Decisions are rarely black and white. There will always be shades of gray. It’s the strong man that realizes that in a world of gradations, all he can do is what is right.”
Brandon took a deep breath. He'd heard a Monday morning quarterbacking speech such as that before. It didn't change the fact that he couldn't stop wishing he’d made different decisions. If he hadn’t let Cartwright go down and investigate, the man would still be alive. If he hadn’t startled Reegan, she wouldn’t have come to the front door, and her house wouldn’t have burned down.
Dr. Patel shook his head slowly, as though he could hear Brandon’s thoughts. “Until you let go of your guilt, you won't find peace or rest. That's why I wanted you to tend to something else. To work in the gardens, put the seeds in the soil, clear their paths, and watch the plants grow. But I see you found something else in the garden. News has spread of your proposal.”
Brandon sat back in his chair, angling his body away from the doctor. Dylan and the others had joked that the man might be psychic. Brandon had never believed in unseen powers and reading people’s minds, but now he wasn’t so sure. “How did you find out?”
“Maggie.”
So, it wasn’t a psychic connection, just a gossiping pregnant woman. Reegan must have told her. Brandon had watched Maggie Banks waddling around the ranch. But apparently, she moved fast when she had a juicy tidbit to share.
“Pastor Barrett came to me,” said Dr. Patel. “We are both pastors in the church. He wanted to know what kind of man you were.”
“What did you tell him?” Suddenly Brandon’s limbs and organs were still and silent. He cared very much what the two pastors thought of him.
Dr. Patel took a deep breath and picked up his pen again. “I told him that I’m not entirely sure your decision-making isn’t impaired.”
But hadn’t he just said Brandon was blameless? That he was a strong man and shades of gray and … what else had he said? Brandon couldn’t remember the words from just a moment ago.
“You understand that lack of sleep leads to a myriad of impairments, one amongst them is poor impulse control and poor judgment?”
Brandon sat up stiff. “That had nothing to do with my relationship with Reegan. Proposing to her was a purely logical decision. She needs a home and a provider. She needs to be around those that care about her and not go to California. I can give those things to her if I marry her.”
A broad smile spread across the doctor’s face. He pushed the pen and the notepad off to the side of the desk. Brandon felt as though he’d passed some test he wasn’t aware of taking.
“She would have a home,” said Dr. Patel. “She’d also have a husband looking after her, tending to her. And she would look after and tend to you."
“Are you trying to say Reegan is my cure?”
Patel shrugged. But he did it with a smug smile. “I’m old fashioned, biblically old fashioned. Of faith, hope, and love; love is the greatest of the three. That’s in Corinthians.”
Brandon wasn’t sure he had any of those three. He wasn’t in love with Reegan. He didn’t think?
But the thought of Reegan as his wife sent a shock of peace all through him. She would be his to provide for. His to protect. His to hold and keep safe. He wanted it more than a good night's sleep.
Maybe taking care of Reece's sister would assuage his guilt. Surely, that was more noble and useful than plucking weeds or talking about his feelings. Brandon was a man of action, a man who'd pledged his life to service and protection. More than anything, he wanted to serve and protect Reegan Cartwright. Not only because he loved looking at her, not only because he loved listening to her sing, but because he simply loved being around her.
Marriage had never been his plan. He'd had every intention of re-enlisting, of going back into service, and fighting for his country. But what if he found something else to fight for? What if he could stay on home turf and protect someone?
"You're a soldier to your core," Patel was saying, making Brandon think again about the man’s psychic ability. "It's a different battle here. You have to decide what you’re fighting for. And who."
Chapter Sixteen
"Aren't you going to stay?"
Reegan watched Brandon hesitate at her words. Oh, no. Had her voice been too needy? Was she being clingy?
They'd driven with Cassie and Xavier into town. The plan was for Brandon and Reegan to drive back in her truck which someone had brought from her house and to the church. So, it was entirely sensible that she ask him that question. He was her ride.
She’d need to know where he was so they could ride back together.
Unless he hadn’t planned to ride back with her. What if he’d planned to stay in town, see some of the nightlife? He was a soldier just off deployment. He’d been away for over a year. And even though he’d asked for her hand, he wasn’t about to get his kicks with her.
Reegan was a modern woman but not that modern. She was considering marrying this man. She wasn’t considering hopping into bed with him.
And maybe that’s why he was thinking about heading out to sample some of the town’s nightlife.
"You don't mind?" Brandon asked.
Just like that, all the tension left her shoulders. Gazing up into Brandon’s eyes, she saw an eagerness there. He wanted to stay, but he was unsure if he was welcome.
"Of course not. I'd like it very much if you did. I want you to hear."
He smiled at her. Just a lift of the right corner of his mouth. But his eyes sparkled as he did so.
Reegan was lost. Her knees felt weak. Her heart fluttered like the butterflies flitting around the flowers she tended in the garden.
“I like hearing you sing,” he said. “I love the sound of your voice.”
“Oh? Well, that’s good. Because I love to sing. I sing a lot.”
“You won’t hear any complaints out of me.”
“Good.”
Somehow, they were standing only an inch apart. Somehow, his fingers brushed her forearm. Somehow, his gaze was fastened to her lips. Reegan wasn’t sure if she wanted to sing for him or pull him in for a kiss?
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
At the sound of the feminine voice, Brandon pulled away from her. His face, so open a second before, shuttered like blinds being closed on a sunny day. Reegan turned to find Dakota Harris. The petite alto reached out her arms and folded Reegan inside.
For a moment, Reegan wasn’t sure what was happening. And then she remembered. Reece. He was still missing, and everyone else thought him dead.
“We’ve taken up a donation for you,” said Dakota. “Clothes and shoes and gift cards so you can replace other things.”
The Corporal and the Choir Girl Page 7
