A Soldier for Keeps

by Jillian Hart

  Right.

  Giselle was keeping pace with them. “Tell him, Lexie. College is great. Don’t you love it?”

  “I’m certainly glad I’m here.” She knew where this was leading. Poor Giselle. She had to be still grieving her brother, the one killed in action. She cast a furtive glance to the man towering beside her. His jaw tensed. His armor was up. “But remember, college isn’t for everyone.”

  “It should be. Everything is here. Math for the math people. Science, and literature and religion. You like languages, Pierce. You could major in a language and learn Latin or something.”

  “I could.” The strain in his jaw was the only outward sign of his unhappiness. “But it would be hard to do all that between missions.”

  “You aren’t still going to go back in. Mom and Skip don’t want you to, either.”

  “True, but it’s my decision.” A muscle ticked in his neck.

  More stress? She kept crutching, feeling the pain between the siblings. The family had already lost one son. Of course they feared losing another. She reached the exit and that seemed to end the conversation as the three of them waded into the crowded foyer where vendors were making a brisk business. She said good-night to Giselle, who went off in search of her friends, and let Pierce help her into her winter coat.

  “The floor is wet.” His hand lingered on her shoulder, as if he didn’t want to let go. “Want me to carry you?”

  Carry her? Her stomach dropped four inches. Nervous tingles popped like soda bubbles through her system. She knew exactly how hard and dependable his chest was. Memories of being in his arms flooded her. While she held herself as stoic as possible, she could not forget how safe she had felt, how cozy and protected.

  Not that she was attracted to him. She was definitely not looking for love, but the idea of being carried by him tonight felt a little bit like tempting fate. Best to keep things as they were and let the memories of his capable arms sheltering her fade away into forgetfulness.

  If that were possible.

  “I’ll be careful.” She wasn’t entirely sure if she was referring to the floor or her out-of-place feelings. Either way, she concentrated on going slow and making sure the rubber tips of her crutches were solid before each step forward. The problem with going so slowly was that Pierce stayed by her side, a steadfast protector against the bump of the crowd and any sudden fall.

  “I owe you big-time.” He held the heavy glass door for her, raised his face to the wind and let the rain batter him. “Ah, freedom. The truck isn’t far from here. I’ll drive you home.”

  “I’d rather walk.” She glanced sideways at him as she navigated the wet concrete. “I’m not fooled. You liked the music.”

  “It’s not my favorite, but it wasn’t half-bad. Don’t tell my sister that. I’m trying to discourage her at all costs.” The occasional snowflake tumbled to the ground with the rain. Looked like winter had blown itself out. “She means well, but I’m trying to keep the trip a good one.”

  “Why? I thought a soldier like you wouldn’t hesitate to face fire head-on.” Some people could have said that judgmentally or in argument, but Lexie’s alto was pure gentleness. She simply wanted to understand.

  It had been a long time since someone on the home front had. Maybe that’s why he felt his defenses lower enough to let his feelings in. “I’m only here for a visit. I want to keep things with my family good. Before he died, Tim hadn’t done that. He’d come home for a break, argued with them when they asked him to step down, and he died before he could make it right.”

  “And that’s why your sister is giving you the full-court press?”

  “Yep.” He listened to the rush of the rain in the street and the tap of it pattering against his jacket. The wind blew damp and icy, but when he shivered, it wasn’t because of the cold.

  “How did he die?” Her question came softly, easing past every shield he’d barricaded around that memory.

  He smelled blood as it inched down the side of his face—nothing serious—and felt the grit of sand in his eyes. The grenade compression echoed in his ears, making the pop-pop-pop of machine-gun fire merely background noise.

  He heard their point man shout, “Incoming!” Heard Hawk quip, “So much for our covert op,” and as RPG tracer fire flashed like a laser in the dark, he saw what his brain had been trying to tell him. Something was wrong. Way wrong. He cleared his throat and brought himself back to the present.

  “Tim was hit by enemy fire on a rescue mission.” He put the brakes on the memory and the grief. “I was supposed to have been watching his back, but he fell right in front of me.”

  “You feel responsible.” Not a question, a statement, kindly spoken, as if she not only knew the answer, but the depth of it.

  His soul still bled. “I do.”

  They were silent as they crossed the street, cleared of snow, puddling with rain.

  “It wasn’t your fault.” Her faith in him rang softly but unshakable.

  “It feels that way.” The memory rolled forward again, like a DVD on-screen, in the middle of a scene. The sounds of war faded. The spit of bullets into the wall next to him held no threat. All he could see was Tim on the ground, still and silent. Time had jarred to a stop. His heartbeat had crashed to a halt. The only thought in his mind had been denial. Tim couldn’t be down. He was fine. He would get up any second. Rock fragments needled into his cheek and neck, but he’d felt no pain. He’d felt nothing. Tim wasn’t moving, didn’t look like he was breathing.

  “He’s gone and I’m not.” He felt the weight of his brother in his arms. Heard Tim’s gasp of pain. Shouted out for the corpsman, knowing it was too late. His brother’s last words rang in his memory. “Tell Mom and Dad. I’m not sorry. Do-on’t g-grieve. For. Me.”

  Sadness drowned him. He cleared his throat, forcing the memories and the grief back into the vault. “You’re getting around real good on those crutches.”

  “You, sir, are very good at changing the subject.”

  “I think it’s important to stick with your strong suits.” He gave thanks for the cooling rain, washing away the grit of the memory on his face. “I never asked what you’re majoring in.”

  “I’m in the counseling psychology program.”

  Why wasn’t he surprised? The gentle questions, the faithful understanding and her ability to see deep. She would make a good counselor. “You’ve been analyzing me?”

  “Yes. I might make you a case study.” She winked, crutching slowly along. She had to be hurting, but it didn’t show. Her smile was relaxed and honest. “I’m teasing you. I’m only in the first year of my graduate program, and even if I knew how, I’m not counseling you. We’re friends.”

  She’d gotten closer faster than anyone ever had. That made him uncomfortable right there. He had a lot of choices. One of which was the easiest: he could see her to her dorm, say goodbye and that would be the end of it. Or, he could pull back a little, keep things friendly, but not so close. Knowing he would be leaving in a few days for home would make that easy. There was a third option: he could step up and follow his gut. She wasn’t looking for more than a friend. He couldn’t be more than one.

  “That we are.” He agreed, friends after all. “As I hear it, you’ve been a good support to my sister, as well.”

  “It’s part of my job.”

  “More than that. You’ve helped her a lot this year. I know, because she’s written enough about you. My R.A. this. My R.A. that. It’s taken me a bit to piece it all together, but you were the one who helped her when she was so homesick back in September.”

  “She wasn’t the only one. I had a homesick circle. Everyone gathered in the floor lounge and we had prayer and a support session a couple times a week.”

  “It meant a lot to her. And after meeting you, it means a lot to me.” His voice dipped sincerely, as solemn as the night.

  Why did that make her heart tug? Admiration for the man filled her. The more she got to know him, the more she li
ked him.

  “I’m grateful for the support you’ve given her. You seem to get her.” He paused, as if wrestling with the right words. “We talked some today. That’s why I was sure she was going to let this go.”

  “You mean her campaign to entice you to choose college over the Army?”

  “That would be the one. But she won’t give up.” The shadows clung to him. “Neither will I.”

  “She’s afraid of losing you.” That was something she could completely understand. Since she’d caught her breath, she crutched forward into the sting of the rain. “Have you always wanted to be a soldier? What made you want to join the military?”

  “My dad was Army. When I was a little kid, I didn’t think there was anything greater than wearing the uniform. I still don’t.”

  There was the surface answer, she realized. The safest answer, the easiest. “Was he a Ranger, too?”

  “Yep. He was on the ground back in Desert Storm. He had it rough. He lost a leg in an attack. He was never the same.”

  “I’m sorry for him. That had to be devastating.”

  Pierce stayed silent, letting the crescendo of the rising wind speak for him.

  She tried to imagine what it would be like to give so much of your life in service. Putting on hold all the wholesome pleasures of life, free time, weekends without obligation, precious time spent with family, and one’s personal dreams for discipline and duty. She tried to imagine what it was like to come home with a disability, or to be the son of a dad who might feel no longer whole.

  They were halfway up the path to the dorm before he broke the silence. “Thanks for not saying it.”

  “Saying what?”

  “That could happen to me, or worse. To die in action, the way Tim did.” His throat worked, the only sign of the wound he held in secret. “Every time a soldier goes on a mission or follows an order, he does so knowing the ultimate price.”

  They had reached the front door, where light spilled from the portico like rain. She faced him, searching for the truth he held back, for the truth she could sense. She tried to imagine his brand of courage. “So why do you do it?”

  “Because someone has to.”

  She saw it in his very essence, in his character and in his honor. How could her first impression of him have been so wrong? He was no ordinary man. He was a rare individual who lived his principles, and in doing so went beyond what was safe.

  “Believe me, I know the risk. When I signed up I thought I was going to learn to be tough and brave. To really find out who I was. Well, I did figure out the man I am. I don’t run from a fight, but I don’t go looking for one, either. I’ve seen what happens when people have no rights and freedom, and others no conscience or no compassion.”

  She thought of the terrible stories on the international news, where foreign correspondents spoke of genocide and violence. She thought of the threats this nation had endured. Infinite respect for this man brimmed over, leaving tears stinging in her eyes and heavy in her soul. “You stand and fight for us all.”

  “When I have to. You don’t realize how precious our personal freedoms are. I’ve seen lands where people have none. The things I have seen—”

  She forgot to breathe as he towered before her, all six feet plus of him. He radiated immeasurable commitment and sorrow. He bore wounds from his fighting, deeper ones that were not visible, but she saw them.

  “I’ve seen evil and what it can do.” He remained soldier straight, soldier strong. “What you have here is precious. Having the freedom to attend college, choose your course of study and vocation. It’s idyllic. This is everything I work to defend. It’s why I face the fire. I’m going in for another four years so my family can live safe. So everyone’s family can, too.”

  How could she not respect this man? How could she not admire him without end or caution? She could not keep a careful distance between them. She could not stay in denial. Not anymore.

  “It’s why my brother died. He understood. He wanted me to carry on for him, for both of us. It’s what I intend to do. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” She shifted her weight on her crutches, looking down at the damp cement, so that he could not guess how much she thought of him. “My life now feels very small in comparison.”

  “No, that’s not what I want you to feel.” Lines dug into his forehead. “That’s not why I said all of this.”

  “I know. I should be doing more. Giving more.” Her life had become so focused on getting her degree. There were tests, papers, research projects and work, all with demands and deadlines. It had consumed her. “I volunteer at church, but it’s not enough.”

  “You’re wrong.” He swiped the pad of his thumb across her cheek, catching a drop of rain wet on her skin. “You do a lot in your own way. Look at how you’ve helped my sister and, I’m sure, every other freshman on your floor.”

  “It’s not saving the world.” She thought of all he had given. “It’s so small.”

  “No, you’re wrong. Kindness is what makes the difference in this world. I’m surprised at you, Lexie.” He cradled her chin in his hand. “Don’t you read your Bible?”

  “Y-you know I do.” She could barely get the words out. His touch kindled a strange, new tenderness within her, one she had never felt before. It baffled her. This was not how she was supposed to be feeling.

  “Being kind is a great thing. It matters more than you know.” He leaned closer until he was all she could see, the only thing in her field of vision. The dark night and wash of light became nothing when compared to the man towering over her, both strong and gentle.

  Everything within her stilled. Her heart had inexplicably opened.

  “Good night, Lexie.” His grin was reassuring. “Thanks for coming with me tonight. Even more, thanks for letting me walk you home. I feel better. More clear about what I have to do.”

  “Tell your family what you just told me, and they will understand.”

  “I will.” He withdrew his touch, but not the feelings of closeness. Those feelings lingered like damp on the air, wrapping around them like an invisible tie. He opened the door for her. “Be careful on the wet floor.”

  “That’s my plan.” She couldn’t tell if she went slowly because of the rain or to draw out his leaving. As soon as her crutches hit the carpet inside the foyer, she pivoted, wanting one last look at him. Would she see him tomorrow? He hadn’t said either way. “Good night, Pierce.”

  He let the door close, walking backward out of the fall of the lights. The night claimed him, and she shivered, not from the rain, but because she was no longer close to him.

  Chapter Five

  “You and Lexie are sure getting along.” Giselle bubbled as he held the truck door for her after the concert was over. Her other two friends, already squeezed in the middle of the bench seat, chatted to each other about some cute cello guy.

  Pierce braced himself and waited for his sister to climb into the seat. He could take a lot; he wasn’t going to let her high hopes affect him. He and Lexie were not only getting along, they were clicking. His fingertips buzzed with the memory of cradling her chin. The image of empathy on her face remained emblazoned in his mind. He could not forget the closeness he’d felt to her.

  “Why wouldn’t we get along?” he told his sister. “She’s nice. I’m nice—”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” she interrupted sweetly.

  “Don’t forget I’m heading back to my base in another week.” He shut the door before she could argue with that. The rain had stopped, leaving the feeling of damp mist in the air. The wind battered him as he ducked his head and circled around to the driver’s side. The minute he opened the door, he started talking before his sister had a chance to do more than open her mouth. “I don’t have time for a relationship.”

  “You could make time if you really wanted to.”

  Everything about her was dear, from her round, sweet face to her stubbornness. He couldn’t look at her without remembering the fr
agile little baby—six pounds, ten ounces—that had come home in Mom’s arms. He always saw the little toddler prancing around the kitchen underfoot, banging the flat of her hand against her toy tambourine and singing while Mom made supper. He would always see the little sister trailing after the boys in the woods, stopping to pick a wildflower and add it to the bouquet clutched in her hand.

  It was doubly complicated when he couldn’t bear to argue with her. They had such precious little time left.

  “Let’s make this the end of the discussion.” He plugged the key into the ignition and turned over the engine.

  “For now,” she agreed with a look that said she would come back to it.

  He didn’t doubt it. There wasn’t much traffic, the event hadn’t been that well attended, but he waited for a few other cars to pull out before he backed into the lane and wound around the concert hall, following the sinuous, mostly-empty campus roads. He liked the peace of the tall trees and careful landscape. This was the way life ought to be. Protected, safe and happy. He could see why his sister liked it here so much.

  The dormitory emerged into sight from behind tall trees, all four stories aglow. Lexie was up there on the top floor, probably with her ankle elevated. Was she studying? Reading? Watching TV? He didn’t like that he was wondering. He didn’t like the strange dull ache in his chest.

  “Thanks for the ride,” the two girls said almost in unison as they hopped out of the truck after Giselle.

  He let the engine idle, bolstering himself for his sister’s parting words. He didn’t doubt she would take a shot about Lexie.

  “I’ll meet you tomorrow at ten sharp for Sunday service.” That was all she said, but judging by the delight dancing in her eyes, she hadn’t given up her fight to find a reason for him to become a civilian.

  He waited while the defroster fought at the film of fog rimming the windshield, made worse by the influx of damp air. Giselle hurried along with her friends, talking and laughing. He knew their big talk was coming; his stomach hardened and the armor went up. He feared tomorrow she would sit him down and force him to talk about Tim.