A Soldier's Heart

by Marta Perry

  Pain shivered through her. Here was the honesty she’d wanted, but it didn’t do her any good. He was the only one who could change his attitude, and she didn’t think he ever would.

  Michael’s footsteps thudded on the porch and the screen door banged open. Luke turned, relieved to look away from the hurt in Mary Kate’s face—pain he’d put there. He fought to tamp down an unreasonable rush of anger, so that the look he showed Michael wouldn’t scare the kid.

  “Luke, Luke!” Michael raced into the workroom and hurtled himself at Luke. “Come quick. There’s a man outside with a car for you.”

  “A car?” Obviously a mistake of some sort, but at least dealing with it would get him away from Mary Kate and the constant reminder of what he couldn’t have. “All right, tell him I’m coming.”

  He followed Michael out, aware of Mary Kate’s movement behind him. When he reached the back porch he halted, staring.

  There was a car in the driveway, a fairly new sedan. Behind it a truck had pulled in, and he didn’t need to read the lettering on the side to know what it said. Marino Motors.

  Someone got out of the sedan, closing the door and turning. His father.

  Emotions tumbled through him. He headed for the driveway, reminding himself that Michael stood there, looking on, his eyes wide. He’d have to control himself. He couldn’t say any of the things he wanted to say in front of the boy.

  He stalked toward his father, wielding the canes as if they were weapons. His father stood there at the edge of the grass, watching him come. Arrogant, always expecting other people to come to him. Nothing had changed.

  He came to a halt a few feet away, reminding himself again of Michael’s presence, and glanced at his father. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you.” His frown echoed Luke’s. “If you recall, I’ve been trying to talk with you since you got back, but you wouldn’t cooperate.”

  “It’s a few years too late for that.” Why didn’t you come around when I needed you, when I looked up at every knock on the door, hoping it was you?

  “Can’t you let the past go?” He shook his head. “Silly question. Of course you can’t. All right, I’ll just say what I came to say and then I’ll leave.”

  You’re good at that, Dad. Leaving is what you do best.

  His father hesitated, and for an instant Luke almost thought he was ill at ease. But that couldn’t be. His father was always the most self-assured person he’d ever known.

  He gestured toward the car. “I had it fitted up with hand controls after I talked to the clinic director about what you might need. It’s for you.”

  Luke couldn’t have been more shocked if his father had dropped a helicopter in his driveway. He shook his head, trying not to look at the car. “I don’t want it. I don’t want anything from you.”

  “You’ve made that clear enough. But like it or not, you need this. Ask her.” His father jerked his head toward the porch, and Luke realized that Mary Kate was standing there. Listening. “She’s the therapist. She’ll tell you. This is a way for you to be independent.”

  “I said I don’t want it. You don’t listen.” Always sure he was right—that was his father. If he had kids, he’d treat them differently. But he’d never have kids, so he wouldn’t get the chance.

  “I’ve listened.” His father’s face darkened. “I’ve tried to respect your privacy, but if my son needs something I can provide, I’m going to do it. I don’t expect this to make us friends. I just want a chance to give you something and not have to hide it.”

  “What are you talking about?” He took a step toward his father. “Hiding what?”

  “Nothing.” He shot a quick glance at Mary Kate and shook his head. “I didn’t mean anything. Just take the stupid car.”

  Luke looked from his father to Mary Kate, and it all started adding up—all the equipment, the endless hours she put in, the way the clinic director seemed so eager to give him anything he wanted.

  Fury tightened every muscle. “You’ve been paying for my therapy.”

  “Not all of it.” He held out a hand in a placating gesture. “Just the extra things the army didn’t cover.”

  “I’ll pay you back. Now take the car and get out of here.”

  “I don’t want to be paid back. I won’t take it.” His father’s anger rose to match his. “And the car is yours. The keys and the title are on the front seat. Keep it, sell it, turn it into scrap metal for all I care. But I’m not taking it back.” He spun and strode off toward the waiting truck, and in a moment it had pulled out of the driveway and was speeding down the quiet street.

  All the words he hadn’t had a chance to shout pressed against his throat, wanting to come out. Anger still boiled in his veins, with nowhere to go.

  He turned on Mary Kate. “You knew.” He threw the words at her. “You knew, and you never said a word. How could you do that to me?”

  Mary Kate’s freckles stood out against white skin and her eyes blazed. She bent over Michael, patting his shoulder.

  “I want you to go on over to Grammy’s house, okay? I’ll be there in a little bit, after I talk with Luke.”

  “But my car—”

  “Michael, enough. You know you can’t take the car until it’s dry. Go on, now. Tell Grammy I’ll be there soon.”

  Michael pouted, but clearly he knew argument would do no good. “Bye, Luke. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  He managed to nod. “Later.”

  Michael started off down the street. He waited until he thought the boy was safely out of earshot before he opened his mouth. “I want—”

  Mary Kate turned toward the house. “I think you’ve treated the neighbors to enough of a display for one day. Let’s go inside.” And she walked away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was obvious that they were going to have a fight about this. Mary Kate used the moments it took to walk into the house for some intensive prayer.

  I’m not sure how to handle this, Lord. Please, give me the right words.

  Luke had barely cleared the kitchen door when he slammed it, the sound echoing through the empty house. He leaned toward her, holding the twin canes so tightly that his fingers were white.

  “You knew about this. You knew, and you didn’t tell me.”

  She winced inwardly at the anger in his voice, but she managed to keep her face calm. “Yes, I knew. My supervisor told me when he assigned me to the case that your father wanted to pay for anything you needed.”

  “You know how I feel about him.” A vein throbbed at Luke’s temple.

  “I do, and I’m sorry. For both of you. Can’t you see that, Luke? But my supervisor gave me a direct order. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “We always have a choice. You chose to lie.”

  The careful control she’d been keeping on her emotions slipped. “I did not lie to you. Stop trying to bully me, Luke. You should know me well enough to know that’s not going to work.”

  He glared at her for another moment and then the tension that gripped his whole body seemed to ease a fraction. “No. Nobody was ever able to bully Mary Kate Flanagan.”

  “You were one of my first clients.” She could breathe again, could think about how she might get through to Luke. “Are you really saying that I should have thrown away the job that supports my children for the sake of telling you something you didn’t want to hear? Because that’s what it comes down to. I’m on probation and if I’d made a mistake like that, I’d be gone.”

  He clamped his lips tight, as if to hold back words he couldn’t say. Finally he shook his head. “I suppose not. But that doesn’t make me feel very kindly toward your boss.”

  “He’s trying to run a clinic that serves every client well.” She might not agree with the man, but she had to give him that. “He saw an opportunity to provide the best possible care for you and he took it. After all, it’s not as if you were coming to the clinic and being a model patient.”

  “You’ve got me
there.” He stalked to the table, jerked out a chair and sat down. “All right. I can’t be mad at you and I can’t be mad at your boss. Can I at least resent my father’s actions in going behind my back?”

  She slid into the seat opposite him, relieved that the storm seemed to be over. “I suppose I can’t prevent that. But you have to admit that he was trying to make amends, even if he went about it badly.”

  “It’s too late for amends.” His face tightened again. “He should have done it while my mother was still alive. She might have forgiven him. I can’t.”

  The things her mother had told her about Ruth and Phillip Marino flickered through her mind. She’d have to tread carefully if she were going to say anything at all about his parents.

  “I’ve always thought that no one, probably even a son or daughter, ever really knows what’s going on inside someone else’s marriage.”

  He shrugged, not seeming to get what she was trying so carefully to say. “I’ll have to get someone to haul that car back to the dealership.”

  “Is that really necessary? You heard what your father said. He doesn’t expect the car to make things right between you.”

  “Good. Because it won’t.”

  Not as long as you’re so determined to think the worst of him. Saying that would hardly help matters.

  She tried for a persuasive tone. “Would it be so bad to keep the car, just until you’re ready to move to an automatic? Then you could donate it to someone else who needs it.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with that car.” A muscle twitched in his jaw, emphasizing the words.

  “But, Luke—”

  His palm slapped down on the tabletop. “Leave it, Mary Kate. I’m not taking anything from him. That car is nothing to me but a symbol of everything that’s wrong between us.”

  Her own frustration mounted again, pounding at her temples like a migraine. “Fine. I’ll leave it alone, even if I do think you’re being pigheaded about the whole thing.”

  They were coming to an end, weren’t they? And they’d returned, full circle, to where they’d been that first day—frustrated and annoyed, glaring at each other across a chasm of differences that separated them.

  “My relationship with my father doesn’t concern you.” He turned his face away, as if to dismiss her from his sight.

  “No. I guess not.” She stood, defeat weighing heavily on her shoulders. “If you’re too stubborn to leave the past behind, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  His face swung back, tight and angry. “Is that what you’re doing? Leaving the past behind?”

  “Maybe I haven’t always been successful, but I’m trying.” Tears pricked behind her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them flow. “At least I’m coming to terms with the bad things that have happened to me, instead of taking pleasure in nursing a grudge for the rest of my life.”

  She turned and walked out quickly, before he could say anything in response, because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears.

  Luke stared out the living-room window at the flags that fluttered from every house along the street. It was Memorial Day, and he’d neglected to put the flag out. He’d nearly forgotten what day it was—something about the absence of Mary Kate from his life seemed to have screwed up his internal calendar. He’d gotten used to arranging his routine around her visits.

  Well, that was over now, and best for everyone.

  I did the right thing, didn’t I? The voice of prayer, rusty from disuse, was beginning to come back to him. I can’t ever be a father figure to her children, so I shouldn’t open up the possibility of hurt.

  The trouble was that they’d already been hurt—he, and Mary Kate and maybe even the children. He’d become a part of their lives, like it or not, and now he’d cut them off.

  Because I had to. He couldn’t take care of them, and any relationship with Mary Kate had to include her kids. He had to believe that he was right in this.

  The flag should be in the kitchen broom closet. That was where his mother had always kept it, and he certainly hadn’t done any rearranging since he’d been home. He headed toward the closet, but stopped before he reached the door at the thud of feet on the back porch.

  Michael’s face appeared, pressed against the screen. “Luke? Are you home?”

  Irrational, to feel so happy to see the kid. “Sure I am. Come in.” Caution intervened. “Do you have permission to be here?”

  “Sure.” Michael let the door bang behind him. “Grammy said it was okay. I’m supposed to remind you that you’re still invited to the picnic with us after the parade today. You’ll come, won’t you?”

  It was tough to fib when he was pinned by the stare of those innocent blue eyes. “I don’t know yet.”

  Coward. Of course you know that you’re not going anywhere near Mary Kate.

  Better change the subject. “Tell you what. I was just going to put my flag up. Do you want to help me?”

  “Sure.” That seemed to be Michael’s favorite word. “We put ours up this morning at our house, and then I got to help Grandpa put up his. So this will be my third flag today.”

  “You’re getting to be a pro at it, then. Let’s take a look in the closet and see if we can find mine.”

  He probably should send the kid straight home, instead of spinning out his visit, but he couldn’t deny that he’d missed him. The house was too quiet without the screen door slamming every now and then.

  He yanked open the closet. Sure enough, there was the flag, rolled up on the upper shelf. He pulled it out and handed it to Michael, then fished around until he found the two pieces of the pole.

  Michael watched as he put the pieces together, then attached the flag. “I bet you put lots of flags up when you were in the army.”

  “Some,” he admitted. He handed the flag to the boy. “Sometimes we marched with them. How about marching that to the front door?”

  He expected Michael to clown it up, but instead, face intent, the boy put the pole over his shoulder. He marched soberly to the front of the house, holding the flag with a reverence that others would do well to copy. Luke followed the small figure, his throat tight.

  He opened the front door. “There should be a bracket right on the post.”

  Michael went first, and then he maneuvered onto the front stoop, cautious of catching the canes in the welcome mat. He took the flag Michael held out and slid it into place. Michael, standing very straight, saluted.

  The small gesture grabbed Luke’s heart and wouldn’t let go. After an instant he followed suit, standing as much at attention as he could while gripping a cane.

  “Good job,” he said once he could speak. “It looks fine, doesn’t it?”

  “Everybody on the street has one.” Michael sounded satisfied, as if that suited his sense of what was right.

  “They do. Everyone’s celebrating Memorial Day.”

  “Grandpa says that Memorial Day is to honor people who served their country. That it’s okay to have fun, as long as we remember what it’s for.”

  Heavy-duty stuff, coming from a little kid. “Your grandpa’s a wise man.” Luke turned back to the house. “I guess you want to pick up your car while you’re here, don’t you?” The car, its red paint shiny, had sat on the kitchen table most of the week, a silent reproach.

  “I guess.” Michael trailed him back to the kitchen. He leaned against the table. “It looks nice, doesn’t it?”

  Something in the boy’s tone alerted Luke that this wasn’t a routine question. “I think it looks excellent.” He sat down, drawing Michael a little closer. “What is it, buddy? You look like something’s wrong.”

  Michael’s gaze evaded his. “It’s just…there’s something I need to do with the car. I thought maybe you could help me with it.”

  What on earth…“If I can, I will. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

  He nodded. “I don’t want the car for the school project. I want to take it to the cemetery and put it on my da
ddy’s grave.” There were no tears in Michael’s eyes. He said the words with perfect calm.

  “I see.” He was the one having trouble with tears. “Can you tell me why?”

  “We were going to make the car together, and we couldn’t, ’cause he got sick. I want to show Daddy that I did it, just like he would want me to.”

  Mary Kate would have a fit if she heard him try to respond to that, but what else could he do? He put his arm around the boy.

  “Michael, you know your daddy’s not there at the cemetery, not really. He’s in Heaven with Jesus.”

  “I know. But today everybody will put flowers and flags on the graves ’cause it’s Memorial Day. Mom and Grammy already went and did that. But I wanted to have something special to put on my daddy’s grave.” His lip trembled a little. “I would’ve done it last year, but I couldn’t finish the car by myself.”

  Please, Lord, let me say the right thing.

  “Why didn’t you tell your mommy that? You could have taken it when they went.”

  “I thought it would make her sad.” Michael turned, giving him the full effect of his wide-eyed stare. “I thought you could take me.”

  There were a thousand reasons he couldn’t and shouldn’t do that, but trying to frame them in a way that a child could understand made him realize that all the reasons were cop-outs. There was only one genuine one.

  “If that’s what you want, I’ll take you.” It looked as if the unwelcome gift from his father was going to see some use after all. “But we have to call your mommy first and make sure it’s okay. I can’t take you anywhere unless she says so. All right?”

  Michael thought it over for a moment, and then he nodded. “Okay.” He leaned against Luke’s arm. “It’ll be okay if you tell her. You’ll know what to say so she won’t be sad.”