“It’ll work out. I knew you two were meant for each other…don’t ask me how. It’s a gift. I sense these things, and I’m rarely wrong. Try and have a little faith. Finding the other half of your heart will be worth it.” She smiled.
Step One accomplished. Relieved to have made a good decision about his treatment, Brodie walked down the hall and listened to the piano music drifting from Allison’s therapy room. She was playing for her soldiers, and he could hear the rich harmonies of another Beethoven sonata. This one was full of passion and fire. God, she was good. He’d heard her play this piece before, and as always, she was brilliant. At the conclusion, there was a moment of silence before the room erupted in applause.
A few staff members had meandered over to listen, as well. She was, after all, one of the foremost pianists in the country. One of the nurses pantomimed a clap as they shared the moment. He liked that her colleagues appreciated her.
Brodie grabbed a bite in the cafeteria and headed to his truck. One down, one to go. Time to address item number two of his plan.
He’d felt at loose ends about what to do now that his military career was sidelined. The last few months, he’d concentrated on recovery. It was time to find something meaningful and challenging to do with his life.
He didn’t need money; he’d wisely invested his salary from Uncle Sam during the years he was deployed overseas. He’d also inherited a little from his grandparents, so finances weren’t an issue. But he needed to work, to be productive. Allison inspired him. She’d given up a lucrative career to do something exceptional, give back to the world. He wanted what he did with the next part of his life to make a difference, too.
The only other thing he knew apart from soldiering was football. His old college coach from Alabama had been hired by UAB from the Tuscaloosa campus this past year. Brodie had heard through the grapevine the Blazers were looking for a quarterbacks coach.
Football taught more than how to take a hard hit. It taught leadership, how to work with a team, dedication, commitment, and sacrifice—all skills that could impact the lives of the players beyond the college years or the gridiron. An idea began to form in his head.
Brodie put in a call to the athletic department at UAB and set up an appointment for the next day. Before he and Brett enlisted, he’d earned his degree in Sports Management. If he couldn’t soldier, maybe he could coach. He still had a few tricks up his sleeve, and the idea of mentoring young men began to grow on him. It just felt right.
Coach Rampart seemed amenable to a meeting, and they set it up. Brodie drove to the athletic building, parked, and found his way to the head coach’s office.
“Brodie, son, it’s good to see you.” The coach pumped his hand in greeting. “I heard you were back from overseas. I trust you’re all in one piece?”
“Hey, Coach. I’m getting there. Thanks for asking. I guess you know why I’m here?”
“The minute you called, the athletic director got me on the phone. My mind was made up as soon as I heard your name. You’ll be an excellent addition to the staff. I don’t know if the salary will excite you, but I’m certain the challenge will. Spring practice is over, but I have film and the playbook for you to study, so…if you want the job, it’s yours.”
He didn’t have much to think over. This was next in the logical progression of his plan. And it was local; he wouldn’t have to relocate. If he could talk Ally into being a permanent part of his life, the location would be a plus. Her work was here—she wouldn’t have to choose between him and Birmingham.
“Coach, if you’re sure you want me, I accept the position. Easiest damn interview I’ve ever had. Thank you for the opportunity. It means a lot.”
“Glad to have you, Brodie.” His old coach stuck out his hand and they shook on the deal.
“I guess you heard about Brett. Damn shame, man. Damn shame. I’m sorry…you two were like brothers. It’s going to seem strange, having you out on the field and him not being out there with you,” Coach said.
He thought about what Ally had said, that she carried Brett with her when she worked with wounded warriors. Weird, but he felt the same way. When he went out on that field, Brett would be right beside him, just like he’d always been. Brodie grinned at his new boss.
“He’ll be there, Coach. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to be working with you again. Hey, is it okay if I take the game film home with me?”
“Sure. We’re going to have a staff meeting day after tomorrow. Bring it back then with your observations. We have three excellent candidates for quarterback this year. Young, inexperienced, but talented. You’ll be pleased. Now, let’s get you over to HR and do your paperwork. The meeting’s at nine. I’ll introduce you to the other coaches and the rest of the team then. The boys are going to love having you around, Brodie. Welcome to UAB football.”
He followed Coach Rampart to the screening room and collected the videos of the previous season’s games. They talked ball, stopped by for a look at the closet-sized office he’d be using, and toured the locker room.
The playbook Coach passed him looked thick and imposing, and the man grinned. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, but you always were a quick study. See you day after tomorrow, son. Let’s see if you’re as impressive on the sidelines as you were out on the playing field.”
“Thanks again, Coach. Thanks for everything.”
He had a lot to catch up on, but Step Two was handled. Now gainfully employed, he sat in the cab of his truck with a silly grin on his face. Satisfaction and purpose warmed his blood. He was back. Brodie Miller had rejoined the ranks of the living. All he had to do now?
Go get the girl.
Chapter Eleven
Allison wasn’t sure dinner Friday night was a good idea. She’d successfully avoided both Brodie and Jess since the confrontation a few weeks ago. But seeing him today, looking hot and sexy, so much like the old Brodie she loved so much, no way could she have refused. The feel of him warm and close, his cologne mixed with the spicy smell that was uniquely his? The “yes” just tripped off her tongue before she could think about it. Well, it was done now, and good or bad, right or wrong, she couldn’t find it in her heart to regret it. After all, it was Brodie. She’d never been able to say no to him.
Her therapy room was full when she arrived. Sam Bennett, her most worrisome case, was wearing a helmet; he’d had a steel plate inserted in his skull the previous week and needed to protect his head from further trauma. She noted the thick bandages surrounding his scalp under the headgear, and his slightly clouded eyes, enlarged pupils—he must be heavily medicated.
She hated that he had to make multiple trips to the VA for treatment. Though he didn’t qualify as an inpatient, he really needed to be under more intense observation. As of right now, there wasn’t any option for Sam or men like him in this part of the country. She was researching a residence facility in New England. It would be wonderful if they could establish something like it down here. But that would take a lot of money, and money was always short at the VA.
She and Dr. Leo had been brainstorming ways to come up with funds for a sort of halfway house for PTSD and TBI patients that would provide comprehensive treatment programs and accelerated exposure to music therapy, a type of boot camp for recovery.
Allison had thought of using Brett’s GI insurance benefit to purchase a house which could be converted to a residential facility. She could cover the cost of purchasing the property, but the renovations and staffing were beyond her ability to underwrite. She had a few ideas about how to raise money for the project and planned to talk with Mary Leo and get her input.
She welcomed her guys and served some light refreshments. Once they were settled and comfortable, she asked if anyone wanted to share before they listened to the music program for the session.
Shepard Booth, a marine from Guntersville, started the ball rolling. He’d had a bad few nights. “It was so damn real. I mean, I knew I was safe…at home…but it didn’
t make any difference. I swear I thought I was back there. I could feel the heat, hear gunfire and mortars exploding around me. I could even taste the dirt in my mouth, feel it in my eyes and down my clothes. I was yelling for the men to fall back, I saw the enemy coming from every direction, and I was scared. When my wife woke me up I almost slugged her. It scared the shit out of me. I could have seriously hurt her. This has got to stop, man. I don’t know what to do.”
Allison came to sit beside him on the sofa. “Shep, do you know what triggered the episode? Did you watch something extremely violent on TV? Did anyone in your family have a problem that you felt you couldn’t handle, any added stressors?”
The man thought a minute and nodded. “Yeah…my daughter, the littlest one. Some of the kids in her class were teasing her about me. Saying her dad was crazy, that he came home from the war a looney-tune. She came home crying from school. It made me feel like shit, you know? She shouldn’t have to suffer because of my crap. It isn’t fair.”
“No, it isn’t. What did your daughter have to say?”
He grinned. “The little squirt hugged me like there was no tomorrow. Patted my damn cheeks and hugged my neck. ‘So what if the kids at school don’t understand what you’re going through,’ she said. She told them I was a hero, her hero, and that she was proud of me. Can you beat that? My kid thinks I’m a friggin’ hero.”
He threw back his head and stared at the ceiling. “It got me in the gut, made me cry like a baby. I gotta get better. I gotta be the man she deserves to have for a dad. But the flashbacks bring back the bad times, the memories, and make me live it all over again. That night, after Sara finally got me awake, I was cold as ice and in a sweat all at the same time. And my wife was crying and begging me to come back to her. This sucks, man, it sucks.”
Allison patted his arm. “I can’t make the memories disappear, but in time they’ll take their proper place in your mind as part of your life experience. The therapy can help you get through them, and every day you’ll get better, feel stronger, until you feel in control again. Keep opening up to your family…don’t shut them out. Your pain is their pain. All of you need to heal. The answer to this is facing your fears, talking out your feelings, and using the music as a tool to restore your body and calm your spirit.”
She turned to the group. “Is everyone using their iPods? Understand I’m not just saying the music can be used to heal. It really works. Music has been proven to be an emotional equalizer, and it’s been effective for centuries. For those of you who have physical brain trauma, studies have shown that when music reaches the brain’s auditory cortex, there’s communication between the cortex and the areas that control emotion, memory, and motor control. That’s tangible healing.” Allison reached over and touched his arm. “For you, Shep, music helps relieve the tension, acts as a springboard for conversation, promotes positive feelings and attitudes. You feel better. That’s why I encourage you all to use your iPods and play the music that has special meanings for yourselves. Make use of the strategies you learn about in our sessions. Try it. It works.”
There had to be some way to provide a more in-depth setting for these soldiers. If the worst cases of PTSD or TBI could be treated in-house, there would be a far greater opportunity for recovery.
“I was raised in Pennsylvania, did you know that?” Sam Bennett stared at her, a mixture of grief and rage on his face. He hadn’t shared much until now, so his words took everyone by surprise.
His brows were heavy over his eyes as he glanced around the group with short, sharp glares. “My family were farmers…Amish. Conscientious objectors. The plain people who don’t believe in violence, in war, in hurting another human being. It goes against God’s law. I was the black sheep, couldn’t adopt the ways or beliefs of my parents. We have this custom, Rumspringa. A time when the young Amish go off and sample what the world has to offer. I did that and never went back. After high school I enlisted in the Navy. I was a Seal, did you know that? The best of the best. Didn’t matter, my family disowned me…haven’t talked to them in ten years.”
Tears welled in his eyes, and her heart turned over. “I loved the Navy…loved everything about being a Seal. It became my family. Turns out I’m pretty good with a weapon, good at killing. The pacifist turned into a sniper.” His laugh was bitter. “And I was damned good. I can’t tell you about any of my missions…”
“Because you’d have to kill us if you told us, right?” one of the other men interrupted. The group laughed with shared battlefield humor.
“Yeah, something like that. Anyway, the folks disowned me, the order rejected me. I was shunned. I understood it was the price I had to pay, and I thought it was worth it to serve my country. Didn’t really matter, until the shit hit the fan. Now I can’t think of anything else but them, the days on the farm, and how much I loved them before I enlisted. And how much I regret hurting them and what, if anything, it all meant in the long run.”
He paused and got up to pace the room. He was a little unsteady on his feet. “My nightmares are about my first kill. I can still smell the fear, hear the directive to search and destroy, feel what it was like to hear the thud of my bullet tear the target’s flesh and the moan as he fell in the dirt and died. It plays over and over in my head until I wish it was me that bled out over there. Death would be so much easier than life like this. I did what I had to do, but I wonder if I’ll always feel like a murderer.”
Allison got up and went to the tortured man. “Sam.” She gently placed her hand upon his arm. “Have you thought about contacting your family?”
He shook his head. “Wouldn’t do any good. They never leave the community and come out among the English, and they won’t want me back.”
Shep spoke up. “Then you should go to them, man. Take it from me, family is all that’s important, all that matters. You need them, Bennett. Maybe they’ve had a change of heart. Maybe they want you back as much as you want to go back. Because that’s what I’m hearing. You did what you needed to do, man. You’re no coward. You’re a God-damned Seal. You don’t want to go the end-it-all route. I think what you’re trying to do is find your way home again.”
Allison smiled at Shep. This was how therapy was supposed to work. Her group of guys were beginning to gel, become a team—supportive and empathetic. They were beginning to see beyond themselves, their own self-centered pain, and think about the other man. They were beginning to grow.
They were beginning to heal.
Allison left work that day with the glow of satisfaction radiating within her. If she’d had doubts that she had made a mistake by leaving the concert stage, they were banished forever. Seeing the beginning of healing in these men who’d sacrificed so much was powerful—she wouldn’t trade this feeling for all the accolades in the world. No, this was what she was destined to do, where she was meant to be.
****
Allison and Brodie left their houses at the same time Wednesday morning. She had an appointment with Dr. Leo to go over her ideas for building a veterans center. He seemed headed in the same direction. They waved in passing and followed each other down the mountain to the east end of the campus.
The days sped by in a blur. Allison was just closing up shop on Thursday when her cell buzzed and she saw Jess’s picture on the screen. Her heart stuttered in her chest. She’d missed his easy companionship, but not the complications of her mixed feelings about him and Brodie. He’d been giving her a wide berth, and she hadn’t talked with him in more than a week. She’d been trying not to think about him or Brodie, preferring to concentrate on her work.
“Hey.” His deep, sexy voice hit her in the pit of her stomach. An awkward moment passed. “I should have called. I wanted to, but I wasn’t sure you wanted to talk to me.”
“I always want to talk to you, Jess. The thing with me and Brodie…I…”
“Don’t say anything, Allison. I get it. I could tell from seeing the two of you together that there was something there. He’s a part of you
r life, your brother’s friend…your friend. I guess I just came a little late to the party. But I’m not giving up. You should know that.”
“I understand,” she said softly. God, how could she have feelings about two men at the same time? It was insane. When she was with Brodie, it felt so right. But being with Jess was fun—lighthearted, a relief from the emotional stress of her job. He was such a good guy.
If she were smart, she’d walk away from both of them, but she couldn’t. She loved Brodie, but she cared for Jess, too. Only a lunatic would get involved with two men at the same time. She shouldn’t. She wouldn’t. It wasn’t fair to either of them.
“Anyway, I’m calling because my mom cornered me the other night and made me promise to give you a call. There’s a faculty concert at the university in a few weeks, on the twenty-eighth, and she wants me to persuade you to perform as their guest artist. It’s not open to the community, only for students and faculty, so no pressure. For some reason, she’s convinced I have more influence with you than she would, even though we both know that’s not true.”
There was no doubt about the dejection in his tone. He was hurting. And there was no way she would refuse. Somehow she had to make this right. Maybe the soiree would provide the opportunity.
“Of course I’ll play. Why don’t you give me her number, or better yet, you give her mine. If there is anything in particular she wants me to play, she can let me know. I’ll put the date on my calendar.”
“I don’t have any of the particulars. I’ll let the two of you work those out. Do you have any room on that calendar for me? Say, dinner, a glass of wine…dancing in the moonlight?”
She could tell he was smiling from the timbre of his voice. She wanted to say yes, but the image of Brodie and anticipation of their evening together made her reluctant. “Call me next week, Jess. I…I’m just on my way out.”
“Sure.” The disappointment in his voice was hard to miss.
Sonata by Moonlight Page 10
