by Soraya Lane
“You been back awhile, or fresh off the plane?”
There he went with that look again. “About a week.”
It was like a wall had closed, been built over his eyes, over his face, as soon as she’d started talking about the army. She could take a hint. There was no reason to pry.
“Well, I’ll bet you’re hankering for a nice home-cooked meal, then.”
He nodded. Politely. She was desperate to ask him more. Why he wasn’t sitting right now with his own family having a meal. What had made him come here to visit her so soon after he’d arrived home.
She wondered at how he and William had gotten on. They were so different. Alex was quiet and guarded—or maybe that was just a reaction to her questions. Her husband had been open and talkative. Forward.
But she knew from all the stories he’d told her that it was different at war. That men you might never have made friends with, men you ended up serving with, became as close to you as a brother. She hoped it had been that way with Alex and him.
She began peeling. Potatoes first, then carrots.
“I think what you need is Shepherd’s Chicken Pie.”
He smiled. A half-smile, but more open than before.
“Want to give me a hand?”
He nodded. “Sure.”
“Would you mind slicing those potatoes for me? Knife’s just in the drawer there. And then put them in the pot to boil.”
Alex slipped down off the chair and moved to join her. She should have suggested it all along. Even if he wasn’t sure what to do, keeping him busy and not interrogating him was probably the best way to help him relax and eventually open up a little about William.
She was desperate to hear some stories. If only the task didn’t feel quite so similar to drawing blood from a stone!
“When you’re finished there you can take over the dicing here, and I’ll pop out back to pick some herbs,” she instructed.
His arm moved slowly back and forth, his other hand holding the vegetables in place as he cut them. She’d never thought about it before, but the way a person cooked, prepared food, showed a lot. Her, she made a mess and enjoyed herself, when it came to family cooking especially, but Alex was meticulous. He sliced each ingredient with military precision. If she stepped closer, she’d bet she’d see that every piece of carrot was diced to exactly the same dimensions.
He was a soldier. The way he moved, held himself and carried out tasks, marked him as army. It comforted her.
William had been similar in many ways. Not exactly like Alex, but the soldier aspects still made her think of him.
“You all right there for a moment?” she asked him.
He stopped slicing and looked at her. She could see a softness in his gaze now, a change that showed her she’d been right to just give him a task and leave him be.
“Sure.”
Lisa served the pie. The potato top was slightly browned, the gravy running out over the spoon as she manhandled it into three bowls.
“Lilly, why don’t you take yours into the TV room? You can watch a DVD.”
Her daughter nodded eagerly. Lisa hardly ever let her eat away from the table, but tonight she wanted the luxury of chatting openly to their guest.
Lisa passed her a smaller bowlful, and then set the other two on the table.
“I really can’t thank you enough, Alex. For coming here to see me.”
He quickly forked some pie into his mouth—so he didn’t have to answer her, she guessed wryly.
“I’ve had plenty of soldiers drop by, but none for a few months. Still the odd call sometimes—to check up on me, I guess—but not many house calls.” She paused, but he didn’t respond. She tried again. “William didn’t often tell me the names of his soldier friends. Well, he called them by their last names, so I kind of got lost.”
“Yeah, that’s army for you,” he muttered.
She took a mouthful of dinner herself, and gave him time to finish some more of his.
“The time you spent together—did you…ah…get along well?” she pressed cautiously.
His lips formed a tight line. His face was serious, eyebrows drawn together. His entire body rigid. She’d pushed him too far, too soon.
“Ma’am, I…” He stopped and took a breath. “I’m not really one for talking about what happened over there.”
She felt embarrassed. She should have known better. It was just that she felt like they only had a few hours together and she wanted to hear everything. Was curious to find out more.
“I’m sorry, Alex. Listen to me—interrogating you when you’ve come here out of kindness,” she apologized.
He put down his fork. “I don’t mean to be rude, I just…”
“I understand. My husband was a talker—he liked getting everything off his chest,” she explained.
They both went back to eating. The silence that was suspended between them felt knife-edged.
He knew she wanted him to open up, but he couldn’t. It just wasn’t him. And what could he say? Yeah, William and I got on real well while we knew each other. Before he took a bullet intended for me. Before he died trying to save me.
The food was great. He did appreciate it. But she was treating him like the good guy here. What would she think if she could actually see what had happened over there? Could watch it like a movie before her eyes and see William dive into the line of fire to cover him?
He forced more food down. Anything to put the memories back on hold.
“Where’s home, Alex? Where do your family live?” she asked.
Alex felt a shudder trawl his backbone. He fought the tic in his cheek as he clamped his jaw tightly. He didn’t want to talk about his family. Or lack of. He didn’t want to talk about why he didn’t have a home. “I don’t have a place at the moment,” he bit out tersely.
“But what about your family? They must be excited to have you back?”
He shook his head.
Lisa watched him, her eyes questioning, but to his relief she didn’t ask again. He didn’t want to be rude, but there were some things he just didn’t want to talk about.
She didn’t need to know he was an orphan. He didn’t need any sympathy, pity. Lisa was best not knowing.
“Well, I’m glad we were able to have you for dinner,” she said after a long pause.
“I promised William I’d find you.” He looked up, braved her gaze. “I set out as soon as I was debriefed.”
She nodded. “Well, I certainly appreciate you coming here.”
“Great food, by the way. Really good,” he said stiltedly.
It didn’t come easy to him. Just chatting. Making small talk. But he didn’t want to get on the topic of family again, and she was making a real effort for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate it, he just wanted to keep certain doors firmly closed.
“I’m going to check on Lilly. Help yourself to more,” she offered.
Lisa pulled the door to Lilly’s room almost shut, leaving it so a trickle of light still traced into the room, and wiggled her fingers at her. She’d read her a story, kissed her good-night, then turned the light out.
She heard Alex down in the kitchen. He might have been in the army for years and be as quiet as a mouse, but he was well trained. He’d cleared the table and started the dishes all before she’d scooted Lilly upstairs to bed.
“You don’t need to do that.” She swallowed her words as soon as she saw the kitchen. The counter had been wiped down, the dishwasher light was on, and the sink was empty. He’d even fed the dog the leftovers.
He shrugged. “It’s the least I can do.”
She didn’t know about that. He’d traipsed from goodness-only-knew-where to get here, brought things to her that meant the world, and started to cheer up a six-year-old who was undergoing serious counseling for trauma. Lilly had been happy and bubbling when Lisa had marched her up to bed.
“Alex—stay the night. Please. It’s too late for you to find somewhere in town,” she said.<
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He looked uncomfortable. She wished he didn’t. A frown shadowed his face. Whatever it was that was troubling him was firmly locked away. She’d seen it written on his face tonight at the table.
“I really appreciate the offer, but you’ve already cooked me dinner and…”
“Don’t be silly.”
The man seemed to have no family. Or none that he wanted to talk about. No place to go nearby anyway. She wasn’t exactly going to turf him out. Not after what he’d done for her. Not when he’d been the man to give William comfort as he died.
“Lisa, I didn’t come here expecting accommodation,” he said abruptly.
She put her hands on her hips. “No, you came from miles away to do something nice for a stranger. It’s me who feels like I owe you.”
He had that awkward look again. On his face, in the angles of his arms as they hung by his sides. He looked up at the clock on the wall. It was getting late. “Are you sure? I can pitch my tent out back.”
Lisa laughed. “Oh, no, you won’t. Come on—I’ll show you the guestroom.”
Alex hesitated. “I’ve got my camping gear…”
“Don’t be silly. The bed is made. You can get a good night’s sleep. Come on,” she said firmly.
He didn’t look entirely comfortable about the situation, but he didn’t argue. She smiled.
Resigned acceptance traced across his face. “I’ll…ah…just grab my things from the car.”
Lisa went to flick the switch on the kettle. She reached for an oversize mug and stirred in some of her homemade chocolate.
By the time he reappeared, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, she had a steaming mug of hot chocolate waiting for him.
“This is for you,” she said, passing the cup to him before walking off.
She led the way up the stairs. She didn’t turn, but she could hear him following. The treads creaked and groaned under his weight, as they had done under hers. She led him to the third bedroom and stepped aside so he could enter.
His big frame seemed to fill the entire room. The spare bed looked too small for him. She stifled a laugh. He looked like a grown-up in a playhouse.
“Just call if you need anything. Bathroom’s the last room down the hall.”
He nodded.
“Well, good night then,” she said.
“Night,” he replied.
Lisa pulled the door shut behind him. And walked away.
The image of him standing forlorn, bag over one shoulder and hot chocolate in hand, stayed with her, though.
She went back down the stairs, careful to avoid the noisy steps, and flicked off the lights. She reached to switch on a lamp instead.
The paper bag Alex had given her rested on the side table. Her fingers took ownership of it. Lisa found herself wondering whether the bag had come with Alex from war or if it was something he had put the items in after he’d arrived home.
She tipped out the contents. A crinkled photo of Lilly fell on to her lap. Lisa retrieved it and held it up to the light. Lilly was maybe four years old in the shot. Her blonde hair was caught into a tiny ponytail, and she was sitting on the grass.
Lisa remembered the day well. William had been between postings. They’d had an entire summer together—probably the best summer of her life. Lilly had been entertaining them right up until that moment, when she’d gotten a bee sting.
It had been William she’d run to for comfort. It always had been when he’d been home. Like she wanted to spend as much time with her daddy before he left as possible.
Lisa put the photo back on the table. She reached for William’s tags this time, and slung them around her neck. The cool hit of metal chilled her chest, but she didn’t remove them. Instead she let her left hand hover over them. Feeling him. Remembering him. Loving him.
Then she took the letters out. There were three of them in total. She guessed he had been waiting for an opportunity to send them.
Her heart skipped when she unfolded the first one. Saw his neat, precise writing as it filled the page.
To my darling wife.
He’d always started his letters the same way. He hadn’t been one of those soldier husbands who’d been macho and brave with his family. He’d always told her he loved her on the phone, whenever he’d been able to call, regardless of how many men surrounded him. They’d always been close.
Lisa bit the inside of her lip as a wave of tears threatened. Her bottom lip started to quiver and she pushed her teeth in harder. But every word she read, every sentence that pulled her into his letter, made more tears form, until they rained a steady beat on her cheeks.
She could taste them as the salty wetness fell, trickling into her mouth.
William had died months ago, and in the year before that she’d only seen him once—the six weeks he’d spent at home on leave.
But when she read the words he had so lovingly penned for her it made her feel as if they’d never spent any time apart at all. As if he was in the room, his warm body tucked behind her on the sofa, whispering the words in her ear.
They’d been best friends, her and William. Friends before they’d become lovers.
They were friends first—that was what they’d always said to one another. Friends because they would do anything for one another, comfort one another and support one another through anything. Friends because they didn’t want to hold one another back or stop the other from doing what they wanted.
And as his friend she had a strange feeling that he wouldn’t be nearly as upset about the tiny flare of attraction she had briefly—very briefly—felt for the man staying upstairs as most deceased husbands would. He was so different from William, but Alex reminded her in so many ways of him. Made her pine for her husband all over again.
William had always said to her, every time he’d left to go back offshore, that if anything ever happened to him she was to move on and be happy. That she wasn’t to grieve and stay in a black hole of sadness.
It wasn’t that she wanted to move on. Not yet. Not at all. She just didn’t want to feel guilty for being mildly attracted to another man. A flicker of attraction, nothing more, but still something she had wanted to chastise herself for at the time.
With Alex upstairs, she didn’t want to feel unfaithful to William. Because she had felt a stirring within herself. She couldn’t lie. There was no denying it. He had made a tiny beat pound inside her chest.
He was a troubled soldier. She was a widow.
But it didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate that he was an attractive man.
Was it right that she’d asked him to stay the night? She hoped so. From his lack of response earlier, it was obvious he didn’t have anywhere else to go.
And she’d never turn a friend of William’s away.
CHAPTER THREE
LISA watched through the window as Lilly tripped along the lakefront, looking over her shoulder every few steps to check that Alex was following. The child had dragged him outside as soon as they’d finished breakfast, and he’d been forced to accompany her. She wasn’t talking to him, but her expressions said a million words. Boston trotted along behind, his nose tipped to sniff the air.
Lisa moved away to put her coffee mug in the sink, and stopped for a heartbeat to look out the other, larger kitchen window. The water twinkled at her, comforted her. Then a tree, waving, caught her eye. Made her glance at the little cottage only just visible.
She tried not to smile.
That was it!
She had always believed in destiny, and as the cottage peeked back at her an idea hit her.
It was the perfect solution.
It would give Alex time to fish, and she could get to know the man who had seen her husband gulp his last breath and try to help him.
She looked at the cottage again. When they’d first moved here they’d talked about doing all sorts of things to it. Turning it into guest accommodation…making it into a studio for her to write in. But in the end having strangers to stay for a
bit of extra money had worried her more than anything, and the last thing she’d want would be to work on her recipe books away from the kitchen.
The last time William was home they’d had a poke around out there. Dumped some old boxes and wiped some cobwebs away. Then they’d decided it would be for Lilly—as a playhouse while she was young, and as a teenage retreat for when she was older.
They had called it a cottage, but it wasn’t really worthy of the name. Maybe a cabin was more fitting? There was one large room that doubled as the living and sleeping quarters, plus an old bathroom and a measly kitchenette.
Alex caught her eye. He glanced into the house at her. She raised a hand in a wave. He didn’t smile back, but she saw recognition in his eyes. Like he was reaching out to her.
He was afraid.
She decided to go out and rescue him.
She was no therapist, but she could tell when people needed healing, and Alex Dane needed a lot of rest and recovery.
So did Lilly.
Lisa just had to convince him to stay.
Alex felt lost. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it here—the place was magical. A silent lake bordered the property, and it felt as if it belonged exclusively to this parcel of land. But he could see it was huge in size. The neighboring properties would border it too. And on the other side a huge state forest or something equally large loomed.
But even though the place felt magical he still felt uncomfortable. It had been so long since he’d been around people who weren’t soldiers. So long since he’d been able to just relax, act like a normal human being.
He looked back to the house again and saw that Lisa was outside now, walking toward him. She was hard not to watch. There was an openness, a kindness about her face that seemed to draw him in. But these days that kind of face was more terrifying to him than armed insurgents. It made him more nervous, more unsure, than any wartime scenario.
“You like it out here?” she asked as she approached him.
He looked back at the water. “It’s pretty special.”
