Mending the Widow's Heart

by Mia Ross

Glancing over at his shotgun rider, he grinned. “Ready?”

  “Yup.” In emphasis, Chase rattled the box of netting-wrapped candy.

  “You’ve got a strong arm, so make sure you take it easy with those,” Sam cautioned as he slowly pulled the float into place. “You don’t wanna hurt anyone.”

  “Okay.” Familiar laughter filtered through the open back window, and Chase looked back. “Mom really likes the baseball parents. It’s nice that she’s having fun.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “In Boston, she was sad a lot of the time,” the boy continued in a voice that was far too serious for someone his age. “She tried to be happy, but I could tell she wasn’t.”

  Sam couldn’t imagine how tough it had been for them, and he searched for some encouraging words. “Things are better now, though, so that’s good.”

  “I really like it here,” Chase informed him, smiling as the marching band in front of them began the opening tune of a patriotic medley. “It’s easy to make friends when people are so awesome.”

  His observation echoed what his mother had said earlier, and knowing that he’d had a small part in that made Sam feel prouder than he had in a long time. “I’d imagine so.”

  For the rest of their ride, Chase alternated between launching treats out into the crowd and regaling Sam with a long list of his favorite things about Liberty Creek. Sam was pleased to hear that he was near the top, right after Daphne, of course. After a quick breath, the boy went on to say he also prized the bakery that stocked his preferred snacks, Hal’s collection of vintage video games and the quaint church where he attended Sunday school.

  It occurred to him that Chase was impressed by things Sam had taken for granted most of his life. Hearing about them from a kid’s perspective gave him a new appreciation for his hometown and all it had to offer.

  And for the first time in longer than he cared to recall, he felt grateful just to be here.

  The parade slowly made its way down Main Street, pausing here and there when one group or another needed some extra time. The stalls gave him a chance to take in the red, white and blue decorations that had gone up around town in the past few days. And it wasn’t just the business district that was decked out, he noticed. Every house was flying an American flag, and there was enough bunting draped over porch railings and fences to make even the Founding Fathers proud.

  The band led everyone to the war memorial that stood in a quiet corner of the square behind the old-fashioned gazebo that was adored by everyone from tourists to local wedding couples. Careful to stay clear of the people strolling in, Sam pulled alongside the fire trucks and stepped out to help his passengers down from their float.

  “We’re a hit,” Holly told him excitedly, giving Chase an exuberant hug. “A bunch of people waved their favors at us and promised to sign up. If even half of them carry through on it, we’ll be in great shape.”

  “We’d better get that last backstop installed, then,” Sam replied with a chuckle. “Sounds like we’ll be needing it.”

  “Definitely.” She smiled over at Chase. “So, this is a little different from how Boston does things for the Fourth. What do you think of it?”

  “It’s better,” he replied without hesitation. “I never got to be in the parade before.”

  “Good point.”

  They drifted along with the crowd heading for the memorial, where a middle-aged man in formal Army attire was waiting for everyone to arrive. Sam noted that he bore the insignia of a chaplain, and out of habit he braced himself for the onslaught of emotions he’d come to expect whenever he was confronted with a remnant of his military past.

  But it never materialized.

  Not even several minutes later, when the preacher asked them all to bow their heads while he prayed for the safe return of soldiers stationed around the world. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Holly glance over at him, as if she was concerned about his reaction to the religious ceremony.

  It felt good to be able to give her a muted smile to let her know he was fine. It felt even better when her hand discreetly reached out to give his a little squeeze of approval, lingering there until a small choir finished singing the national anthem.

  “And now,” the pastor solemnly announced, “while this is a day of rejoicing, it hasn’t come without a cost. I’d like us to take a moment to recognize those who have fallen in defense of the liberties that we often forget to be thankful for.”

  Standing at the edge of the small park, a lone trumpeter began playing “Taps,” and Sam’s confidence started to falter. When a trumpet off in the distance picked up the melancholy tune, in his memory he flashed back to military funerals he’d attended while he was in the service. Then his imagination took over, giving him the morose impression that the two instruments represented Nate and him, one forever out of reach, the other hopelessly lost without him.

  Head still bowed, Sam held a hand over Nate’s dog tags, wishing for something that could never be. He didn’t register Holly’s fingers wrapping around his until he felt his own grasping them in a desperate attempt to ground himself in reality. Apparently, Chase sensed that something was wrong, and the sensitive boy stepped closer to Sam in a protective gesture that touched him deeply.

  Bracketed by two of the bravest people he’d ever met, he made it through the short but emotionally charged service that not long ago would have driven him off in a rage. And, for the first time since coming home, Sam believed that in spite of all the wrong turns he’d taken along the way, he was finally where he belonged.

  * * *

  What a fabulous group of people.

  Holly was painting one of the long wooden benches that had been donated by the school, and she paused to marvel at the progress that had been made at the baseball complex in just a few short weeks. Unless you’d seen the overgrown property before its transformation, you’d never guess that it had been a de facto wildlife sanctuary and not four perfectly groomed diamonds for kids to use.

  Over on the field that was being prepped for the girls’ softball teams, she saw Hal Rogers and his granddaughter raking out the broad swath of dirt that made up the large infield. Lynette had a softball with her, and she stepped into the pitching circle, yelling for Cody to stand in as her catcher. After some warm-up stretches, she whipped her arm around in the windmilling underhand motion unique to the sport and delivered a perfect strike. Shouting his approval, Cody gave her a thumbs-up before tossing the ball back.

  Even in Boston, Holly had seldom seen a field dedicated to junior softball. If more people knew about this one, she mused, they might attract even more girls from the area to join the Liberty Creek teams. More registration fees, more concession revenue—it could only be a positive for the long-term outlook of the league.

  “Uh-oh,” Sam said as he strolled over with a bottle of water that he handed to her. “I know that look. You’re redesigning something in your head, aren’t you?”

  Holly laughed at his description, then took a long swallow of the water she hadn’t been missing until now. Sam seemed to have a knack for guessing what she needed even before she knew it herself. In her experience, that was an unusual quality for a man, and it was one she definitely appreciated.

  When she shared her sports mom epiphany, he immediately nodded. “It’s a great idea, and I’d imagine everyone would jump on board that wagon. You should bring it up at the boosters meeting at the beginning of August.”

  Her last boosters meeting, she added silently, a little saddened by the realization. She’d come to Liberty Creek knowing that their stay would be over when Daphne was fully back on her feet. According to the team of doctors caring for her, three more weeks would do the job, and she’d be her old self again.

  Then Holly and Chase would be heading back to Boston and whatever came next for them. She should start hunting for apartments
online, she supposed. The trouble was, whenever she opened her computer to browse the rental listings, she quickly lost interest and switched to a topic she was more enthused about. Custom jerseys, discounted kids’ cleats, kittens batting at dogs’ wagging tails. Anything, really, other than what she was supposed to be doing.

  Putting aside her shortcomings, she stepped away from the bench and asked, “What do you think?”

  “Looks good,” he replied, eyes twinkling in fun. “You’re hired.”

  “You already hired me, remember?”

  “I remember. Best personnel decision I ever made.”

  “Thank you.” Dipping into a mock curtsy, she grinned up at him. “We’re a good team.”

  “Yeah, we are.”

  His voice had a mellow tinge to it, and the blue in his eyes gradually shifted to a color even a master artist would have trouble matching. Caught up in the warmth of his gaze, she wondered what she could have possibly done to bring it on. Just as she was about to ask, Chase and Cody came racing over to bookend her between them.

  “Mom, can I spend the night at Cody’s?”

  Cody’s very pregnant mother, Sharon, was close behind them, and she laughed. “Guys, I was going to ask. Remember?”

  “You’re too slow,” Cody informed her impatiently.

  “Can’t argue with that,” she said, patting her rounded waist with a smile. “Anyway, Chase is welcome to come home with us if he wants. He can borrow some clothes from Cody, and I’ll make sure they both get to summer rec in the morning.”

  In light of her earlier musings about returning to Boston, Holly wondered if it was a good idea for her son to become more attached to a friend he’d be leaving behind so soon. Then again, life was short, and she was a firm believer in enjoying every minute of it. “It’s fine with me. You’ve got my cell number if you need me for anything.”

  “Sure do. I’m dead on my feet, so we’re heading home now. Have a good night.”

  “You, too,” Holly replied, watching the patient woman trail after the much-faster boys. Sharon said something to them, and Chase spun around to wave.

  “’Bye, Mom! See you tomorrow.”

  Holly waved back, trying not to be bothered by the casual way he’d trotted away from her. It wasn’t that long ago that he refused to let go of her hand at the playground, and before this he’d never even considered spending the night anywhere other than home. She was proud of her little man, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit wistful about the tagalong boy she’d loved since before he was born.

  Other families began getting ready to leave, so she decided the painting would be her last task for the night. Once she’d finished, Sam helped her clean out the brushes and stow them in the equipment shed he’d built nearby. He snapped the combination lock closed and turned to survey the empty fields.

  After several moments, she followed his line of sight but didn’t see anything that would hold his attention for so long. “Is something wrong?”

  “Just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “Nate,” he confessed quietly. To her surprise, rather than the frown that usually accompanied thoughts of his friend, a smile creased Sam’s weathered features. “He really loved playing baseball, and he was great with kids. He would’ve been the first one to sign up for this project.”

  Holly wasn’t sure how to respond, and then inspiration struck. “We should name the field after him.”

  “Henderson Field,” Sam said, testing out how it sounded. “I like it.”

  “If you build the frame, I’ll design the logo and get it painted. We can dedicate the fields at the first practice on Monday.”

  “That’d be great.”

  He was still gazing into the distance, and instinct told her that it was time to discover once and for all what was plaguing Sam Calhoun.

  “Sam?”

  She got absolutely no response, and she feared he’d gotten snared in whatever memories this beautiful piece of land held for him. It took her a couple more tries, but she finally got his attention. Once he was focused on her, she summoned every ounce of her patience. “Tell me what happened to Nate.”

  His entire body stiffened as if she’d physically attacked him, and he made an obvious effort to relax. But the rigid set of his jaw told her that while his muscles had relaxed, his emotions were another issue. “I did.”

  “What really happened. I understand him leaving you his truck, but you drive it as if it still belongs to him and you’re just borrowing it for the day. You have to admit, it’s pretty unusual, and I don’t mind telling you it worries me.”

  “You’ve got enough to worry about.”

  “So don’t add to the list.” Edging closer, she rested a comforting hand on his arm. In her gentlest voice, she said, “Please tell me what happened.”

  Sam’s eyes met hers, filled with such anguish, she wished she’d kept her mouth shut. She hated to put him through this, but her gut was telling her that it was the best thing she could do to help the man who’d been so good to her family.

  “No one knows,” he murmured. “I’ve never told anyone.”

  Why? she nearly asked, but she held it in check because it really didn’t matter why. What mattered was that he was clearly ready to confide in her, and she wanted to make it as easy as possible for him. So she sat down on a bench and gave him an encouraging smile. “Go ahead, Sam. I’m listening.”

  Anxiety flared in his eyes, but they didn’t take on that cautionary steel color she’d learned to be wary of. Instead, they went a murky bluish gray that was gloomy but not threatening. After sitting next to her, he heaved a bone-weary sigh, closed his eyes and dropped his head in shame.

  “Nate died because of me.”

  Holly’s instinct was to blurt out a definitive no, assure him that whatever had gone on in that battle wasn’t his fault. But she sensed that was the last thing he needed, so she opted for rubbing his tense shoulders in a supportive gesture.

  Lifting his head, he angled a disbelieving look at her. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

  “I heard you,” she replied gently, stilling her hand to avoid aggravating him further.

  “And you’re still sitting here with me?”

  Holly chanced a smile. “I’m waiting for you to finish your story.”

  The stern set of his jaw eased a bit, and he shook his head. “You’re nuts, you know that?”

  She recognized an attempt to put her off when she heard one, and she decided the best parry was to remain silent. After what felt like a very long time, he finally seemed to realize that she wasn’t going to let him off the hook, and in a halting voice he began.

  “I’ll spare you the gory details, but we got pinned down during an ambush, and Nate couldn’t walk on his own. We couldn’t reach our unit on the radio, so it was just the two of us, and no one knew where we were. He wasn’t too bad, so we decided he’d be okay while I backtracked to get a medic. Someone must’ve been hidden nearby and saw me leave. They knew he was vulnerable, and they—” Sam paused, swallowing hard enough that she could almost feel the strangling emotion herself. “When I got back, he was dead.”

  “Oh, Sam,” she murmured, gently rubbing his clenched shoulders. She knew there was nothing she could do to ease his suffering, and that helplessness made her want to cry. For the struggling soldier, for Brady—for all the men and women who made it home but discovered that as much as they wanted to return to the lives they’d left behind, it simply wasn’t possible.

  Somehow, they had to trudge forward on paths they hadn’t chosen, fighting their way through the darkness to reclaim a semblance of what they’d once had. Watching this brave, tortured man go through his ordeal again humbled her in a way she’d never experienced. At first, she didn’t know what else to say. And then she did, and she thanked Go
d for giving her the words she needed.

  “You brought him home so his parents could lay him to rest,” she reminded him. “I’m sure that means a lot to them.”

  “That’s what they said to me after they buried him,” Sam replied in a voice laced with the weariness of someone who’d lived that day over and over in his head. “I still don’t get it.”

  Something about the way he phrased the revelation struck her oddly. It took her a few moments, but then she realized why. “Did you go to his funeral?”

  Grimacing, Sam shook his head. “My family went, but I just couldn’t do it.”

  “Have you been to his grave?”

  He clenched his teeth so hard, she could hear them grinding together. “No.”

  “It might help,” she suggested as gently as she could. “It would give you a chance to say goodbye.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  Holly knew she was treading on very dangerous ground, and she chose her words with great care. “Did you ever consider the idea that if you did, you might be able to move past what happened and—”

  “And what? Forget about my best friend?”

  “Of course not, but you need to get back to living your own life instead of constantly punishing yourself for Nate’s death.” He wasn’t buying her argument, so she tried another approach. “Nate was a soldier, and a Ranger besides. He knew the risks he was taking in serving his country, but he did it, anyway. Do you honestly believe he’d want you to blame yourself for something you had no control over?”

  “I could’ve stayed with him.”

  “And then you’d both be dead.” She met his furious gaze with a stubborn one of her own. “I don’t think Nate would’ve wanted that. Do you?”

  “No.” The reply came on a frustrated breath, and Sam gave her a melancholy look that would have melted a heart much harder than hers. “I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t know how to make it happen.”

  “We’ll name the field after him,” she suggested again. “But in the meantime, let’s take a drive.”