by E. A. West
Another desert scene appeared on the screen, along with another group of soldiers. This time, they stood on a sand dune and had a large piece of heavy cardboard. Although many of them ended up rolling down the dune beside the cardboard, Danny stayed upright all the way down.
Cindy smiled sweetly and patted his chest. “And this is what we’re so thankful to you guys for doing — serving your country by practicing your surfing skills.”
Laughter filled the room, and Danny kissed her temple. “Oh, yeah. We had to keep our sand surfing skills honed. We never knew when we might have to go after a land shark.”
After a few more videos of the veterans in the group and their friends doing everything from dissecting MREs to playing chicken in rolling office chairs, Alex pulled up a video labeled, “Soldier vs. Kids Soccer.”
Cindy lifted an eyebrow as they waited for the video to load. “So, who’s the soldier?”
“I am.” Danny gave her a brief smile. “William Barnett is manning the camera. We were on patrol, and he decided we should work on community relations.”
“Where were you?”
“Afghanistan. Those kids had been through so much, but they loved the chance to play some soccer with us.”
As Cindy watched, Danny, armed and in full combat gear, came onscreen and spoke to a group of boys in a dusty square. A few hand gestures and a mimed soccer kick had the kids grinning and tossing their battered soccer ball toward him. It didn’t take long for the kids to show their superior soccer skills, but everyone obviously enjoyed the normalcy of the moment in the middle of a war.
When the video ended, Alex closed the computer. The guys discussed some of their experiences with kids while deployed, but Danny seemed unusually somber, given the levity of the conversation. She leaned close and whispered, “You okay?”
He nodded, even though his arm tightened around her shoulders and the haunted look to his gaze remained. “That was a good moment in the midst of so many terrible things. Just a few days later, the Taliban set off a bomb near there, killing and injuring dozens, including a couple of the kids I’d played soccer with.”
“I’m so sorry.” Tears stung her eyes as she understood his sober mood.
He shrugged, his embrace loosening a little. “That’s war. It has no discretion.”
Josh walked in and joined the group with a questioning look. “What are we talking about?”
“Doing PR with kids while we were deployed,” Alex said.
“I had some good times with that.” Josh’s expression took on a faraway look, but he quickly shook it off and scanned the group. “What do you guys think about moving tonight’s meeting to a place we can get some food? Maybe the diner?”
The group agreed, and Danny put in a quick call to Lacey to let her know of the change while some of the others called the rest of the regulars to notify them. As everyone headed for the hall, Josh scrawled out a note and stuck it to the outside of the door.
He grinned at Cindy and waved a hand at his makeshift sign. “On the off chance any newcomers pick tonight to check out a meeting, we want them to be able to find us.”
As they walked to their favorite diner just off campus, Danny was back to his normal self again, talking and laughing like nothing had ever happened. She knew better than to believe a week in the psych ward had cured him, but that didn’t prevent her from enjoying the good days.
The other veterans met them at the diner. They took over three tables at the back, and a pair of waitresses came to take their orders. Once their drinks had been delivered with the promise of their meals arriving soon, Josh called for everyone’s attention.
“There’s really not anything new we need to discuss tonight. I assume things are under control with the donation jars and card boxes?”
“Yeah,” Halbert said, swirling the straw in his glass. “We checked over the weekend to make sure they were still in place. Everything looks good, and there were already a few donations and Christmas cards.”
“Good! Let’s hope people keep up with the giving spirit we’ve seen in years past.” Josh looked around the group. “Is there anything else we need to discuss? Concerns anyone has? Difficulties?”
A couple of the guys mentioned trouble concentrating on their homework, and Halbert volunteered to meet with them a couple of nights a week. From what he said, he’d had the same trouble when he first started college and had learned a few tricks to overcome it. After their meals were delivered, Josh put out one last call for anything they needed to discuss. To Cindy’s surprise, Danny lifted his hand. He’d been fairly quiet since they arrived, but that wasn’t unusual. She wasn’t sure if she should be concerned about his subdued expression as he spoke, however.
“By now, I’m sure you’ve all heard that I’m taking the rest of this semester off. I couldn’t have lasted this long if it hadn’t been for this group. Thanks for helping me out and for being such great friends. It means a lot to me.”
Cindy reached over and gave his hand a squeeze as Alex and Josh exchanged a look. They had to know how hard it was for him to bring up his inability to complete the semester. Danny glanced at her and laced his fingers with hers.
Alex focused on him and lifted an eyebrow. “Dude, you better not think going on sabbatical gets you out of spending time with us. After everything you and I have been through, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“He’s right,” Josh said and looked around the group. “I move we make Danny an honorary member of the group. He might not be a student right at the moment, but he’s still a veteran and he’s a good friend to all of us. Anyone want to second the motion?”
Halbert seconded the motion, and everyone voted unanimously in favor of it. Cindy met Danny’s gaze with a smile. This was true friendship at its best, and she prayed he’d accept it and believe he was worth it. He scooted his chair closer and slung his arm around her neck before giving the other veterans a grin.
“I accept the honorary membership. I mean, how can I refuse when my girlfriend, who isn’t even a veteran, is a member?”
The group laughed, and Josh called an end to the meeting. The conversation and camaraderie continued to flow over dinner, and Cindy was glad to see Danny relaxed and happy. Maybe his easygoing mood would continue for weeks, maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, she knew their friends would stick by him and her, too.
He still had his arm around her, and she leaned against him. When he glanced at her, she smiled and whispered, “I love you, Danny.”
His eyes lit up, and he held her closer. “Love you, too.”
He dropped a light kiss on her lips then turned back to the conversation. She straightened and reached for her fork. She’d never take his admission of love for granted. How could she, when he cared so much about her he was showing improvement just by spending time with her? That and his determination to overcome his PTSD reinforced her belief that with God’s help they could make it together. Danny’s caseworker had been right; love was enough.
Epilogue
Cindy left Dr. Brixton’s office, and Danny pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning on. She slipped her arm through his as they headed for the exit.
“Well?” he said, his voice full of curiosity. “What did he want?”
“He wanted to talk to me about my term paper.” She bit her lip to hide a smile and looked up at him. “He said he read it last night because he couldn’t wait to see how I’d handled the topic of veterans going to college.”
“So, what did he have to say about your paper?”
“He’s giving me an A.”
“All right!” Danny wrapped her in a hug that lifted her off her feet and swung her in a circle. “I knew you’d do great on that paper!”
She laughed as he set her down again. “There’s more. He called a friend of his this morning to discuss my paper. The friend is the editor-in-chief of some national sociology journal, and he wants me to submit the paper to her. Apparently, if she likes it as much as Dr. Brixton does, t
he journal will publish it.”
“I keep telling you people would love to read your papers.” He kissed her and took her hand as they continued down the hall.
“Well, it looks like one of them has a good chance of getting published. Maybe I should consider submitting some of the others somewhere.”
“You should.” Danny grinned and winked. “That way you’ll get your speaking tour, and we can take that trip to Costa Rica.”
Cindy raised her eyebrows. “And what will that do to my reputation, taking international trips with a man I’m not married to?”
He stopped her beside an empty classroom with a twinkle in his eyes. “Well, I hear Costa Rica is a great place for a honeymoon.”
She started to laugh, but then realized he was serious. Her heart raced as he took her hands in his, all teasing fading from his gaze only to be replaced by love.
“What do you say, Cindy? Will you marry me?” He lifted her left hand and kissed her fingers. “We can wait until after you graduate. But I love you, and I want you to be my wife.”
Her mind whirled as she realized the enormity of his proposal. He’d opened himself up to her and left himself vulnerable to devastating hurt if she said no. But did she want to commit to a lifetime with a man who might never be able to hold a steady job? Could she imagine life without him?
Guide me, Father. Help me make the right decision.
Peace filled her. She pulled her hands from his and wrapped her arms around his neck, tears stinging her eyes. He held her close as she whispered, “Yes, Danny, I’ll marry you.”
His arms tightened around her, and he gave her a kiss that left her breathless. She loved this man, and regardless of what difficulties the future brought, they’d weather them together and come through a little wiser and a whole lot stronger.
About the Author
E.A. West, author of sweet and inspirational romance, is a lifelong lover of books and storytelling. In high school, she picked up her pen in a creative writing class and hasn't laid it down yet. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys reading, knitting, and crocheting. She lives in Indiana with her family and a small zoo of pets.
Also by E.A. West
Chapter One
Mid-June—Fort Wayne, Indiana
Cheerful voices surrounded Alasdair Buchanan as he strolled through the Highland games, following the occasional dull thud of a caber hitting the ground. Strains of lively music floated on the warm breeze and stirred him clear through his Scottish soul. A wee bit of home in this foreign land brought him a small measure of comfort in a disconcerting environment.
Although he imagined the games to be a colorful event, to him it was as black as a cloudy midnight on a Highland moor. Ay, ’twas strange indeed to sense everything yet see nothing.
The crowd thickened and Foster planted his big furry paws in the grass, refusing to move a centimeter. Try as he might, Alasdair could not get his guide dog to take another step, even though his cousin, Trevor MacLachlan, tugged his arm and attempted to lead him forward.
“You stubborn cur,” Alasdair muttered under his breath. Raising his voice he addressed his American cousin, who had released his arm. “Trevor, what’s in front of me?”
No response. Alasdair sighed and fought back his rising uneasiness. He knew his cousin to be unreliable, but surely Trevor wouldn’t have left him alone in a crowd such as this. Not when he knew Alasdair had never even been to Fort Wayne until he arrived two days ago.
Alasdair strained his ears, listening for his cousin’s voice. All he heard were unfamiliar voices and a loud speaker crackling to life with the result of the last caber toss. Foster’s stubborn refusal to move only added to his uncertainty. Trevor knew he didn’t handle crowds well, had sworn to stay close since neither Alasdair nor Foster knew the area. So where was he now, when Alasdair needed him to explain his dog’s refusal to take another step?
The training he had gone through to get Foster sprang to mind. He sighed and quit resisting the pressure the dog applied to his harness. “All right, Foster. Have it your way.”
The golden retriever-lab mix guided him to the right instead of the left like Trevor had wanted. The crowd thinned out, and Alasdair breathed a little easier. Fewer people meant less chance of accidentally knocking into someone.
“Hey, Alasdair!”
Finally. He turned toward Trevor’s voice, and Foster turned with him. “What happened back there?”
Trevor’s voice came from right in front of him. “You mean when your dog stopped? There were a couple of coolers in front of you. I tried to lead you between them, but I guess your dog thought there wasn’t enough room.”
Somehow, Alasdair trusted the dog’s judgment over his cousin’s. “So, where did you disappear to?”
“To catch up with Mindy.”
“Hey, Alasdair,” Trevor’s girlfriend said in her nasally voice. “Nice kilt.”
“Thank you.” He had a feeling she wanted to say skirt, but he smiled anyway. It hadn’t taken him long to learn that few, if any, in Indiana understood his preference for the traditional Highland kilt over trousers or blue jeans. Few Scots understood it either. His own cousin was first generation American and thought Alasdair mad for preferring a kilt over a pair of jeans. The traditions of the Highlands ran strong in Trevor’s blood, but it appeared modern Western society was stronger.
“Listen,” Trevor said, his voice nonchalant, “Mindy and I are going to meet up with some friends. I know you probably want to hang out here a while longer, so I’ll see you at home. You remember how to get there, right?”
Alasdair tamped down his rising temper. Why had his cousin even bothered to come if he was just going to leave not an hour later?
Trevor grabbed his hand and pressed a key into it. “Here’s the key so you can get in. Have fun!”
On his own in a strange country when he couldn’t see a blasted thing. Right. “Trevor, wait.”
But it was too late. His cousin’s footsteps blended in with dozens of others, leaving Alasdair with only his thoughts and his dog for company.
“I hope you know the way to Trevor’s,” he grumbled as he tucked the key in the leather sporran at the front of his kilt. “Because I have no clue where we are.”
With his dog guiding him around obstacles, he wandered through the fair a little longer. It just wasn’t the same without his sight or at least someone to describe the scene. Not that Trevor had done a smashing job, but his bare-bones description had been enough to help Alasdair imagine the scene based on memories from before the fall that had blinded him.
He stopped, completely disoriented as he tried to figure out which way to go. Equal amounts of sound and food smells came from every direction, giving him no clues as to his best option. Anxiety rose to the surface like the Loch Ness monster coming up for a peek at the tourists; the same anxiety he often experienced when alone in a crowd.
He drew in a calming breath, catching the scents of crushed grass, some kind of fried dough, and more types of perfume, cologne, and soap than he could count. “Foster, you can take the lead. Go to Trevor’s flat.”
He didn’t expect the dog to know how to find Trevor’s place, but as he’d hoped, Foster led him out of the noise and confusion. They crossed a grassy expanse, and the sounds of the Highland games faded to a pleasant background noise. A hushed yet familiar sound filled his ears, and he took a deep breath of the clean scent as the dog stopped.
“Great, you found the river. Good boy, Foster.” Alasdair sighed and wondered about the possibility of finding a merciful soul willing to help a lost, blind Scot back to his irresponsible cousin’s apartment.
As he thrust his fingers into the short black hair he hadn’t seen in nearly four years, he heard the whisper of footsteps approaching on his left. He turned toward the sound as the faint scent of strawberries reached his nostrils, confirming it wasn’t Trevor taking pity on him.
The footsteps stopped beside him, and an angelic female voice with a drab American
accent spoke. “That’s a pretty dog. What’s its name?”
“Foster.” Alasdair’s pulse quickened. The lass sounded close to his age of twenty-four and drop-dead gorgeous. Of course, she could be fifty and ugly as sin, but a pretty voice affected him now the same way a pretty face had when he could see. “I’d let you pet him, but he’s working. When he’s off his harness, he’s the friendliest dog you could ever hope to meet.”
“Well, now, you’re certainly not from around here.” The teasing lilt in her voice made him wish he could see if there was a matching twinkle in her eyes—eyes he would love to know the color of. “Did you come all the way from Scotland just to visit our Highland games?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “No, I came to visit my cousin. We came to the games together, but he abandoned me for his girlfriend.” Something about the young woman prompted him to make a vaguely humiliating request. He laced it with a humorous tone to help protect his pride. “I don’t suppose you’re the kind o’ lass who would take pity on a blind old Scot, are you?”
Her laughed sounded as clear and light as a crystal bell. “Old? You? Not hardly. You can’t be any older than me, and I’m only twenty-three.”
“Ah, lass, I hate to tell you, but you’re wrong.” He grinned as he imagined her eyes widen in surprise. “I’m twenty-four.”
“I stand corrected.” Her amusement brought a smile to his heart. This lass was definitely to his liking. “So, why do you want me to take pity on you?”
Now for the embarrassing part. “I’m lost. I haven’t a clue where I am, other than standing in the grass by a river.”
“You’re in Wilson Park, with St. Mary’s River in front of you and the Highland games behind you. Clinton Avenue is a few hundred yards to your left and Lafayette Street is nearly as far to your right. A few feet to either side of you are maple trees full of brilliant green leaves.”
