A Soldier's Valentine

by Jenna Mindel

  Still, she hesitated. What if she couldn’t help it and asked what happened after he’d warned her not to? What if she cried? Worse, what if he freaked out again?

  He cocked one eyebrow at her. Challenging her.

  And that shook her into action. Most everyone was seated now, and she wasn’t about to tromp back to her pew way up in the front. So Ginger walked to the back.

  Zach didn’t slide over. He’d slipped back to the edge of the pew closest to the aisle.

  Seriously? Did he expect her to shimmy past him?

  He expected exactly that and the glare he gave her said so.

  She quickly pushed her way through, her knees knocking into his, and settled into the spot between him and his brother.

  Her pastor instructed everyone to open their hymnals and sing “It Is Well with My Soul.”

  Zach reached for the book and Ginger saw the scratches on the backs of his hands. Her heart twisted as she ran her fingers across his swollen knuckles. “Oh—”

  He grabbed her hand and squeezed hard.

  Zach wanted to shut her up again. He didn’t want her calling attention to his reddened skin. He didn’t want her sympathy. Or her tears. Maybe he didn’t want her...

  She pulled her hand back and leaned against the pew. Her pulse erratic.

  He offered to share the pages of the hymnal, but Ginger could barely sing for the lump lodged in her throat. She listened to him, though. Zach’s voice sounded deep and smooth, and in control.

  It is well, with my soul.

  It is well, with my soul.

  It is well, it is well, with my soul...

  As they sang, Ginger turned the words into a prayer. For Zach. Whatever he’d been through over there, fighting for his country and hers, Zach’s soul had been torn up far worse than his hands. Worse than the angry, puckered scar marking his arm.

  She leaned close, sharing the pages of the worn old hymnbook, even though she knew the lyrics by heart. She found her voice and gave it everything she had.

  He glanced at her, eyes wide.

  And she raised her eyebrow in challenge.

  There’d be no shutting her up from this song. She sang for herself, too, a pledge that she was okay. Proof that by trusting in God’s love a person could rise above the pain. Then she made it back to a prayer for him. She hoped that one day, Zach might repeat this hymn with real conviction.

  But that might be more wishful thinking, because the question in her heart remained, scratching with worry—would Zach ever be whole?

  Chapter Nine

  Zach climbed into the passenger seat of Ginger’s red Beetle and waited for the inevitable questions that were bound to follow. Ginger wore her emotions clearly on her face, and she’d looked worried sick. For him. And he couldn’t decide whether to be warmed by that or irritated. He’d find more protection in the latter, but couldn’t quite rouse the effort it took to be mad.

  Matthew and Annie had dinner plans with the baby’s grandparents and Zach couldn’t see them backtracking to drive him home. Not when Ginger was already headed there, so he’d asked her for a ride. And she’d agreed.

  He braced for whatever she might have to say.

  So far, she hadn’t said a word. She started her car but didn’t pull out. She cranked the heat and let the car idle. Rubbing her mittened hands together, she remained silent.

  He couldn’t stand it. “Go ahead.”

  She looked at him. “Go ahead and what?”

  “Ask me. Or should I just admit that I couldn’t handle the worship service today?”

  She bit her bottom lip. “Why? Why couldn’t you handle it? What happened, Zach?”

  He shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

  “Was it a flashback?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Did you have another nightmare last night?”

  He leaned his head back and sighed. “No.”

  Again silence settled like a blanket of newly fallen snow between them. But he knew better. He knew her better, and she was rallying her troops, ready for a full-out charge.

  The sound of the defroster running on high grated on his nerves, so he reached over and turned the knob down to Low.

  Ginger gave him a do-not-touch glare and turned it back up, only not as high as before, and she switched it to floor heat. “Why do you dream like you do?”

  He let out a bark of laughter. If he knew that, maybe he wouldn’t have them so often. He wasn’t about to give her all the gory details but figured he owed her something. “I led my men into an ambush. I could have taken a different route—I almost made that call before our convoy rolled out. I didn’t.”

  Ginger’s gaze narrowed. “You couldn’t have known.”

  “I knew the area. I knew enough.”

  “Zach—”

  He held up his hand. “Spare me. I’ve heard it all. None of it changes the fact that four good men died because of my indecision.”

  “Are your nightmares about that ambush or different?”

  “I relive it every time. Same conclusion. Same deaths. Same dream.”

  “Did the army find any fault with your orders?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. He’d received commendations and that only made it worse. “No. They didn’t. Still gave me my walking papers, though.”

  “So you think blaming yourself is the answer.”

  “Maybe.” He should have been the one to take that hit. Not his sergeant.

  “But it was war. How could it be your fault?”

  He knew that, too, on some level. But that mental knowledge didn’t begin to touch the way he felt. He was single. Alone. Those men had families, wives. He’d seen pictures of their children. Some with the family pet. “Tell that to my sergeant’s wife and his three kids.”

  “Is that who you were thinking about this morning?” She slipped off her mittens and adjusted the heat to Low.

  Zach looked out the window. He’d been thinking about Ginger. “No.”

  “Have you talked to your father about this?”

  “God or my dad?” Zach chuckled.

  Ginger gave him a sweet smile that warmed him more than the heater. “Well, both I guess.”

  Zach nodded. Why’d he fear talking to his own father? “I might have worn God’s ears off this morning.”

  “But not your dad’s.”

  “No.”

  “Surely he’d understand better than most.”

  “Yeah.”

  Ginger touched his arm. “Then why not talk to him?”

  Because he couldn’t handle seeing recrimination in his dad’s eyes once he knew the situation. Zach could have changed the route. He’d ignored a hunch. He’d gone with the plan and men had died. He couldn’t change that basic truth. He was to blame no matter how he sliced it.

  “Our minds can be a battlefield all their own.” Her voice held quiet conviction. As if maybe she spoke from experience.

  That didn’t sit well with him, either. They hadn’t moved from the church parking lot. The interior of her car was warm now, but also suffocating in its closeness.

  Nowhere to hide.

  But he didn’t want to leave. Not yet. Not until he discovered what lay behind Ginger’s sunny-blue-skies gumption. “So, you choose to be positive. Look at the bright side of things?”

  “I have to be.”

  “Why?”

  Ginger looked at him. “Would you like to grab something to eat somewhere?”

  His gut turned. “Long story?”

  “Not really, but I’m hungry. And I know a great place for breakfast if you’re interested.”

  He nodded. “I am.”

  Ginger pulled out of the church parking lot, but instead of
heading for Maple Springs, as he thought, she drove the opposite direction.

  And Zach got that tense feeling in the pit of his stomach. Not nearly as bad a sensation as he’d get during mission briefings, but along the same lines. What secrets did Ginger harbor behind that cheerful facade of hers?

  Did he really want to know?

  * * *

  Ginger slid into the vinyl booth of a small diner she’d discovered when she’d attended college. It smelled like strong coffee and sizzling bacon. The chef made funky pancakes of the day ranging from Key Lime to carrot cake. Since they were in the mood for breakfast, the choice had been an easy one.

  The conversation wouldn’t be. She was about to let Zach know what made her tick, and it didn’t feel so good. If knowledge was power, she was about to give her landlord a whole lot of knowing why she was who she was and what she feared.

  A waitress appeared with a pot of coffee and poured it into Zach’s mug.

  “Tea for me, please.” Ginger looked over the pancake specials listed on the wall and smiled. “And I’ll have the chocolate pancakes with raspberry sauce, as well.”

  Zach shook his head and ordered the big breakfast complete with a side of plain cakes.

  “You’ll be happy to know they serve real maple syrup, but it’s not your dad’s.”

  “Monica’s pushing our parents to supply the local restaurants, but my father does things his way and for now that’s craft fairs and the Maple Springs IGA.”

  Ginger nodded. “So that’s where you get it from.”

  “Get what?”

  “Stubbornness.”

  Zach laughed. “Take a look in the mirror, sweetheart.”

  “I’m not stubborn.” She ripped the wrapper off her straw then dunked it in her glass of ice water. “I’m persistent.”

  “So, that’s what you’re calling it? Whatever you are, you were going to tell me why you’re so positive.”

  She twirled the straw wrapper between her fingers until it made a tiny white paper ball. “If I don’t look at the positives in my life, if I don’t constantly count my blessings and stay grounded in what’s true, I’ll believe every lie my father told me.”

  There. She’d said it. And it sounded so trivial compared with what he’d been through, but she wanted to help him, somehow. If that meant baring her soul a little, then she’d do it.

  Zach took the straw paper away from her and stilled her hands with his own. His touch was surprisingly gentle, as was his voice when he asked, “What did your father say?”

  Ginger looked into his blue eyes and saw concern there. “He said I’d never amount to anything and was bound to be a quitter just like him.”

  Zach’s gaze turned cold and steely. “Why would he say that, and more importantly, why would you believe it?”

  “I quit every sports team I ever tried out for, I nearly flunked out of high school and I dropped out of the junior college I attended right here, in this town. Oh, and I quit the Girl Scouts, but I already told you that.”

  “You were young.”

  Ginger wasn’t interested in excuses. “I’m not so young now. The only thing I have to show for myself is that tea shop. I own a business in Maple Springs, Michigan, and that means something.”

  Zach let go of her hands. “Is that why winning the window thing means so much?”

  “I could really use the statewide advertising. I need my shop to survive.”

  “You’re a smart woman, Ginger. You don’t need that shop to prove you’re something special.”

  Easy to say, but did he really mean it? Words had the power to hurt or heal. So, maybe she’d given too much power to the words spoken to her all her life. But Zach’s sweet words couldn’t erase years of rotten ones.

  She sighed. “It means something to my family. To my father, anyway. It’s the one thing he can’t diss. Maple Springs is a place of success. Closing up shop would only prove his point that I failed and quit one more thing in my life.”

  Zach glared. “You’ve nothing more to prove.”

  But she did. “I’m the reason my father had to drop out of school to provide for my mom and me by driving a truck. Not to mention my brother almost died and can’t hear out of one ear, also because of me.” Ginger cocked her head. “Don’t you see that I need to win at something?”

  Zach looked as if he’d sucked a sour lemon.

  He didn’t say anything, but Ginger could easily imagine his thoughts. He probably thought she was too sensitive or overly emotional. He’d proved his worth in action. He was a returning war vet. A man of valor and honor despite the guilt he carried around like a sack of cement.

  “You have a wonderful family, Zach. And your father loves you. No mistake you think you’ve made could ever change that.”

  “Now we’re back to me.” His eyes grew stormy.

  “Yeah, I guess we are.” If only she could make him see the pride Andy Zelinsky had in his son. It oozed out of the man like the maple syrup he made. “Have you considered that the reason you haven’t talked to your dad is that he’ll tell you straight up you’re not at fault? Then you’ll have to forgive yourself for—”

  His eyes narrowed. “Coming home alive.”

  Ginger’s stomach tripped and fell. She couldn’t fathom why he’d ever believe that he should be dead, but knew it was a lie. And lies could sometimes feel like truth. She swallowed hard. “I had two choices growing up. I could believe my dad or prove him wrong.”

  Their food arrived and intruded.

  “Want me to pray?” she offered.

  He shook his head. “No. I’ll do it.”

  Was he afraid of what she might pray for? Ginger closed her eyes as Zach recited his family’s dinnertime prayer.

  When he’d finished, Ginger touched his hand. “I haven’t faced anything close to what you have, but believing those men died because of you is not truth.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Whoever ambushed you—Taliban?—they killed your men. Even if you had changed the route, who’s to say the same thing wouldn’t have happened along another road?”

  He stared at her. Obviously these were things he’d already considered, but couldn’t rest in. “Why’d I come home with barely a scratch?”

  Ginger didn’t think that scar on his left arm could be counted a mere scratch. “Because God has plans for you yet.”

  His eyes widened and he gripped her hand. It wasn’t a touch to shut her up. It was the grateful kind of touch that said thanks.

  * * *

  Later that day, Zach stared at their windows. What theme would Ginger choose, and would it be good enough for her to win? After she’d dropped him off, Ginger had changed her clothes and then hopped back in her car for a two-hour drive to Traverse City. She wanted decorating supplies and hadn’t asked him to go with her.

  Not that he would have gone along, but a change of scenery might have been good. They could have grabbed dinner somewhere, but then, that probably wasn’t a good idea, either.

  For simplicity, he kept the same store hours as Ginger and most of the surrounding gift shops. He was open Tuesday through Saturday and closed Sundays and Mondays. Summer months, Ginger said she opened The Spice of Life on Mondays, too, but Zach wasn’t into that. He liked having two days in a row to himself.

  Ginger worked hard. And she’d stay anchored to her sinking tea ship to prove that she could. He might accept her idea of success if she loved what she did. But he didn’t believe she did. He’d seen that spark of excitement in her eyes when she worked with glass. The passion that came with making new things and the same things with new twists.

  Ginger deserved to win, but Zach wasn’t sure about her ideas. The suggestions she’d made so far were nothing to get excited over. But then what did he know? He’d never owned a gi
ft shop before. And he was no whiz when it came to marketing. His sister Monica said as much, when he told her to back off from such a fancy website.

  God has plans for you yet...

  Ginger’s words had paraphrased a scripture he’d clung to for years. Did she confirm what God had promised? If so, was this studio part of a bigger plan that might include her? Or was there more?

  A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

  Zach spotted the sporting goods store owner from next door, outside, holding a box. He opened up. “Can I help you?”

  “This came for Ginger yesterday but was delivered to my place. The sales kid placed it on my desk and I just found it.”

  “Thanks. I’ll make sure she gets it.” Zach looked at the label from a ceramics company.

  He carried the box into his store and laid it on the counter. Ginger still kept the slider locked on her side when she wasn’t around. As building owner, he had keys, but if Ginger didn’t trust him enough to leave her side unlocked, then she’d have to pick up her delivery here.

  Another knock.

  His father stood outside, looking in.

  Zach opened the door. “What’s up?”

  His dad nodded. “I needed a few things at the hardware store and thought I’d stop by. Are you busy?”

  Not yet he wasn’t. He had glass to make, but that could keep for now. “Come in.”

  His father was a tall man, trim yet still fit. He had a serious demeanor and wasn’t comfortable standing around. “I thought we could walk.”

  Zach’s eyes narrowed. This sounded serious. “Let me grab my coat.”

  By the time they stepped outside into the winter sunshine, Zach was worried. “Is Mom okay?”

  His father wrapped his arm around Zach’s shoulders and squeezed. “She’s fine, but she’s concerned about you.”

  Maybe the time for talking to his father had finally come. His mom had pushed for it, and so had Ginger only this morning. Coincidence? Probably not. “I’m fine.”

  Right.

  “What happened, son? Why are you home so early in your career?” His father waited patiently.

  Zach took a deep breath and blew it back out, making a smoky cloud of frozen breath in front of his face. He and his father walked toward the waterfront where the small harbor lay shrouded in snow-topped ice. No boats were moored at the docks. Many were stored in the boat shop parking lot and wrapped in bright blue plastic, lined up and waiting for the spring thaw.