Home Field

by Laurie Winter

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Laurie Winter

  Home Field

  Copyright

  Dedications

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  “Hi, Julie.”

  Reagan’s voice cracked. Get it together, Harrison, you’re not sixteen. He cleared his throat. “Nice to see you again.”

  “Hi.” She went to the back door to let her son out of his booster seat. “Thanks for arranging this. Aiden’s really excited, so I hope you’re ready. He may give you a run for your money.”

  “I’m ready for anything.” His wide smile might seem too eager, so he dialed it back a notch. Spending time with her son would remind him of why he didn’t date single moms. Although he was incredibly attracted to her, he figured a widow with a young son was too much responsibility. At this point in his professional career, he was very careful of who he let into his life. He didn’t need any distractions. This tour with Aiden should shake loose any romantic notions he had toward the kid’s mother.

  Praise for Laurie Winter

  “Lyrical, emotional and utterly romantic, Home Field reminds us of what’s most important in life: home, family and most of all, love.”

  ~Karen Rock, award-winning romance author of

  A League of Her Own

  Home Field

  by

  Laurie Winter

  Warriors of the Heart Series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Home Field

  COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Laurie Hoffman

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Tina Lynn Stout

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Sweetheart Rose Edition, 2017

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1484-6

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1485-3

  Warriors of the Heart Series

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedications

  To my family, who’ve inspired me to chase my dreams

  ~*~

  A special thank you to my early readers:

  Kailey, Carolyn, Sharon, Tara, Jill, Joe, Marie,

  and Colleen, whose invaluable feedback

  helped bring Home Field to life

  ~*~

  To my super agent, Jessica Schmeilder,

  and my Golden Wheat family,

  who have believed and supported my writing

  through every twist and turn

  ~*~

  And most of all to my husband, Paul:

  You are my happily ever after.

  Prologue

  Camp Dorstal, Afghanistan

  May 22, 2012

  A million stars must be out tonight. In the desert, without the city lights, the darkness was only interrupted by white points of light, which spread over John Ellis like a blanket. Tonight the moon waned into a small sliver, which would provide good cover for their mission tomorrow night.

  Long after the sun had set, the heat lingered on. A refreshing breeze carried with it the mingled scents of gasoline, roasted lamb, and sewage. The juxtaposition of a modern military base erected in the middle of a primitive desert.

  Sitting in the darkness, John continued to be haunted by last night’s dream. He’d been with his wife in the place she called Cottonwood Field. She clung to him like a scared child, asking why he’d left her. He looked at her tear-stained face and felt her breath heavy against his neck. The memory was almost too much to bear.

  Julie had asked him to stay, and he wished he could have remained in that dream forever. But something called him back. He’d told her not what she wanted to hear but what she needed to hear. When he’d awakened in his barrack, he was shaking and dripping with sweat.

  Tonight, as he sat in the cool night air, he tried not to think about what his dream could mean.

  Heath walked over to the grungy sofa where John sat. He plopped down next to him and tossed over a cold bottle of water. Worn springs groaned beneath them.

  “Thanks.” John twisted off the plastic cap and took a long drink. “You think they’ll give this mission the green light tomorrow?”

  “Who knows, but I’m itchin’ for a fight. It’s a prime opportunity to get this guy. We may not get another shot.”

  “Yeah, but Central Command might not have the stomach to let us do our job.”

  “Well, you’ve done this long enough to know the drill. We prepare…regardless.”

  John finished off the water and crushed the empty bottle in his palm. The crinkle of plastic temporarily drowned out the hum of choppers in the field nearby. Soon, he’d be boarding one of those birds. For the first time, the idea of going up in the air made him nauseous. “I don’t have a good feeling about this mission.”

  “Your imagination messing with you, huh?” Heath laughed. “After some of our other exploits, this one should be a walk in the park—easy in, easy out.”

  “It looks simple on paper, but I can’t stop feeling spooked.” John rubbed a hand along his rough, brown beard. “What would happen to Julie if I didn’t come back?”

  “Stop talking like that, man.” Heath kicked John’s leg. “You’re not going anywhere, okay.”

  “I need to take care of something.” John stood, and then strode toward the barracks, leaving Heath sitting alone in the dark. John walked into his room and looked at the pictures taped up to the wall. Photos of his life back at home—his mom and dad, Aiden, and Julie. He studied the wedding picture he’d tacked up right next to his bed. That was the happiest day of his life and the image he wanted to see first thing when he woke up. Their wedding day was when he’d finally realized his life was about more than just guns and military operations. She became his family, and she gave him a purpose.

  He reached into his foot locker and found the paper and pen he used for writing letters. Taking out two pieces of crisp, white paper, he went to a quiet corner to write. The first letter would be easy. He always knew what to say to Julie. The second one would be a great deal harder. His hand shook as he wrote the words he hoped no one would ever have to read. This one was placed in a blank envelope he’d hand to Heath before they left for their mission tomorrow. Heath might resist John’s instructions at first, but he ultimately trusted Heath would see his wishes carried through.

  John returned to his cot and placed both envelopes in his footlocker for safe keeping. But then again, in Afghanistan, nothing was ever safe.

&nbs
p; Chapter One

  Timber Lake, Wisconsin

  July 26, 2013—14 months later

  Just as Julie couldn’t imagine taking one more step, she stumbled up to her front door and stepped into the refreshing, cool air of her house. Her body screamed that running today might have been the world’s dumbest idea. But as dumb ideas went, agreeing to attend the banquet tonight with a bunch of pro football players tipped the scales.

  A shiver of exhaustion ran up her body. The late July heat and humidity extracted its revenge on anyone who dared to be outside. That “easy” three-mile run had quickly turned into a struggle. She must look like a newborn giraffe, all wobbly knees and shaking legs. Running used to be fun. Now, that form of exercise felt like a punishment. But then again, that was kind of the point.

  Her self-inflicted misery only went so far, though, because today she’d avoided going anywhere near Cottonwood Field. As she wiped sweat off her brow, an image materialized in her mind of wildflowers mixed with the sweetness of first love. Contemplating the past would have to wait for another day, when her heart could handle the memories.

  After moving to the stair banister, she held on for balance and began to stretch, working out the cramps that threatened her lower body. Her stiff muscles tightened in full-on rebellion.

  She walked into the kitchen and shook her head at the card lying by her purse. “I can’t believe I agreed to go to this dinner,” she mumbled under her breath and tossed her cell phone on the counter. She’d been seconds away from declining the invitation when Aiden spied it sitting on the kitchen counter. Sometimes, she wished her little guy hadn’t started reading so early. Aiden had bounced up and down, beside himself with excitement at the thought of his mom getting to meet the Timber Lake Warriors pro football team.

  Where was the little munchkin now? Julie opened the back door to glance around the backyard. “Aiden,” she said to the little boy with a mop of brown curls covering the top of his head. “Tell Grandma I’m home. I’m going upstairs to get ready for tonight.”

  “Okay,” Aiden called back. He darted over to a bright, sunlit patch at the back of the yard. “Grandma, Mom is back from her run,” he yelled out to Julie’s mother, who was on her knees, weeding the small vegetable garden she’d planted in the spring. “She’s going to make herself look beauuuuutiful for tonight.”

  Her precocious son was always so happy and full of life. Somedays, she wondered where all his energy came from. Maybe he had a secret stockpile tucked away. She loved being his mother, he was the axis her world turned upon and the glue that kept her from shattering apart. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for him. Run across burning coals, or even go to a banquet with professional athletes, just to bring a smile to his face.

  The screen door banged closed behind her, and she gingerly walked upstairs. Her laptop sat open on the desk, beckoning her to come on over and check her email one more time. Maybe, just maybe, Senator Guidall’s office would finally have responded. When she’d phoned and emailed his office, she’d hoped to enlist his help in discovering the cause of her husband’s death. A US Senator could provide the influence needed to break through the walls the Army continued to erect.

  Her whole body sank with disappointment. A “0 new messages” icon mocked her from the screen. Zero, a perfect description of her irrelevance. One more person giving her the silent treatment. She slammed her fist onto the desk. The action reignited her anger. The Army stole her future with John, and now they denied her closure. Someone would eventually give her answers.

  Even after a year, emotions were too close to the surface and threatened to bubble over with the smallest provocation. But she would never give up. She owed it to John to see this through.

  She let out her breath, her lungs exhaling the burn of failure. Then she noticed the time. Shoot. Where had the afternoon gone? She shut off the computer and hurried down the hall to the bathroom, needing to get ready for the event that started in less than two hours.

  The thought of attending this banquet alone, without John by her side with his steady support, caused her apprehension to shift into overdrive. Fear turned her normally steel spine into putty. Layers of stinky, sweaty clothes landed on the floor before she stepped into a hot shower. Julie rested her hands on the cool shower tile and let the water run over her body. Steam rose and twirled around her. Very slowly, she relaxed.

  Much too soon, she climbed out of the shower, wrapped herself into a fluffy towel, and made the short march to her room. She still hadn’t decided what to wear. After a brief inventory of her closet, she chose a simple, black dress looped with a gold belt. Black sling-back heels and small gold hoop earrings completed the ensemble. She sat in front of the mirror and pulled her hair into a soft bun. The humidity made corralling her stubborn curls difficult. They’d much rather behave like Medusa’s snakes. After a touch of makeup and a dab of her favorite rose perfume, she was ready to go.

  Julie hustled downstairs and through the kitchen, before stepping outside through the back door. “Mom, I’m leaving for the country club.”

  “Have fun, dear.” Mary brushed her dirty hands over her shorts and slowly stood. “Aiden and I will have a wild and crazy night, so don’t hurry home on our account.”

  Grandma’s idea of a wild night equaled ordering pizza, dancing to silly songs with Aiden, playing Chutes and Ladders, and finally crashing at nine pm. Her mom, at fifty-three, had a youthful look and spirit. Julie noticed her chin-length brown hair had picked up more gray, but her skin was still smooth with only a few laugh lines around her eyes. Hopefully, time would be as kind to Julie. “I’ll try to have fun, but I’ll be a fish out of water. I don’t expect to be gone too long. Can’t imagine I have too much in common with a bunch of millionaire football players.”

  Aiden ran around the backyard, carrying a football and dodging invisible defenders. When he saw her, he hurried over and gave her a big hug, his hand splayed out, being careful not to dirty her dress. “Don’t forget to get lots of pictures with the Warriors. Autographs, too, but I really want pictures.” His wide eyes and firm set of his lips told of just how seriously he took this opportunity. “Make sure to get Sam Matthews!”

  “I’ll try, Aiden, but I’m not walking around bothering people during dinner.”

  “You look so pretty, Mommy, those guys will want their picture taken with you!” he said with a crooked grin.

  Julie’s heart squeezed in her chest as she leaned down to kiss the top of Aiden’s tousled hair. Inhaling the smell of him, she wished she could bottle it—a mixture of shampoo, sweat, and sunshine. She saw John’s spirit reflected back in Aiden’s smile…a reminder of everything still good in her life. Going tonight meant so much to her son, offering him some excitement and bragging rights with his new friends.

  Waving goodbye, she walked through the back gate and toward her red Jeep parked in the driveway. Halfway there, Julie stopped, her high heels skidding on the pavement. Panicked, she checked her purse to make sure it contained the lapis lazuli bird John had given her after his first Afghanistan deployment. The stone bird was her security blanket and went with her everywhere.

  After a bit of digging, a flash of blue at the bottom of her purse caught her attention. When she pulled it out, the cold stone bit into the soft flesh of her hand, its sharp edges solid and real. The physical discomfort served as a distraction of the constant pain that tore through her heart.

  She got into the driver’s seat and grasped the steering wheel with shaking hands, knuckles turning white. Anticipation rose in the pit of her stomach, snaking its way up her throat. She hadn’t experienced a case of the butterflies this bad in a long time. Taking a deep, calming breath, she backed out of the driveway, put the Jeep in drive, and started forward down the road.

  ****

  Reagan Harrison tossed the keys of his white Range Rover to the skinny, adolescent boy serving as valet.

  The valet caught them and darted over to the driver’s side of the vehicle. “
I’ll take good care of her, Mr. Harrison.”

  “Thanks, man.” Reagan gave the kid a sincere smile.

  The familiar entrance of Hidden Creek Country Club stood before him. The late-day heat radiated off the cement sidewalk, and small beads of perspiration emerged from his forehead. Slung over his shoulder was his expensive wool suit coat. He wanted to delay putting on the confining thing until absolutely necessary. Most of his formal attire needed to be custom tailored to fit his size and build, which was another reason why he hated having to dress up. The whole ordeal was a huge pain in the butt.

  Reagan strode up the stairs, and then through the front door. A blast of air conditioning hit him like a welcome kiss. Straight ahead stood his teammate and fellow linebacker, DeMarcus Wagner. “Hey, D.” Reagan gave him an easy punch on the arm. “How you feeling after practice?”

  “I could hardly bring myself to come tonight.” DeMarcus’ deep laugh echoed off the marble floor. “I should be sitting in our room with my feet up, playing Xbox.”

  During training camp, the team stayed in a college dorm. The coaching staff proclaimed living together built camaraderie and helped the players focus. Reagan thought the tradition was a cruel form of torture. Not only did he have to live in a dorm for two weeks, but he had a roommate. DeMarcus snored like an old bear.

  “Yeah, today was a rough one, but no training camp practice will keep me down.” Reagan’s deltoids begged to differ. But, if he wasn’t sore then he wasn’t working hard enough—and that was not acceptable. The whole season hinged on the success of training camp. These early weeks set the precedent for the challenges to come. “A bunch of us plan to hit Ed’s bar after we’re done here, since we have tomorrow off. You in?”

  DeMarcus shook his head. “No way. You’re crazy to even think about going out tonight.”

  “Just let me know if you change your mind. After sitting in there for a couple hours, you may feel differently.” He looked at the ballroom doorway. Not that he minded spending time with the military guests of honor, but after a grueling week of training camp, he looked forward to going out and blowing off some steam. “Come on, brother, let’s get a drink.”