Brandon had no intentions of begetting or getting married. He still wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t going back into the military. He knew for certain he wasn’t cut out for this type of civilian life; one where he’d dress in slacks and narrow-toed shoes and sit on a hard bench for hours each week. And on a Sunday afternoon at that.
No, his life would be of more use in going back into the military. That was how he planned to be of service. That's where he would find his fellowship. That's where all of his relationships were forged. He wasn’t suited for a life of musical chords or whatever. He’d find harmony within the ranks, unity within a unit.
He looked down at his phone, scrolling through the openings and re-enlistment data on the army’s website. He knew Chase and Ortega were finished with their time in active duty, but Brandon decided then and now that he wasn't. How could he be after his last mission and his failure?
There was an itch to get back out there. To make a difference. He’d never felt more human than when he was in service.
It's just that he was so tired. Likely because he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since the explosion. He would take advantage of this downtime. He'd relax at the ranch and try and quell the demons that kept him from sleeping. But make no mistake, he was going back.
His nightmares posed a disadvantage to his fitness to serve but not a big one. What soldier didn't have nightmares about what they’d seen in combat zones? He didn't have suicidal or homicidal thoughts. Just memories and guilt over what could have been, what he should have done.
The chords of an old organ began to play. A shudder went down Brandon’s spine. This was truly his least favorite part of a church service. The part where regular folk who often were tone deaf raised their voices in an old, sleep-inducing hymn.
Well, on the bright side, maybe the song would send him off to some much-needed sleep.
At least the organ was in tune. And the lady playing it appeared to have the needed skill to command it. The group of singers wasn’t half bad, and the song they sang, though not modern, was at least upbeat enough to keep him awake.
Then the soloist stepped forward and hit a wrong note. Brandon felt the impact of the note land somewhere in his gut. It resonated inside him, like a doorbell ringing in the middle of the night announcing the arrival of someone he wasn’t expecting.
Brandon was already irritable from not having slept in over seventy-two hours. He tugged at his collar, feeling lightheaded. His fingertips and toes were numb. His heart rate kicked up. He felt as though he were back in a war zone with rockets flying overhead.
That type of adrenaline was normal in duty. But once in civilian life, where being on high alert wasn't necessary, it was disorienting. And then, like the sun breaking through a cloudy day, a voice rang clear through the cacophony of sound that had just assaulted his ears.
Brandon's heart rate began to slow and settle. The life returned to his fingers and toes as the blood pumped down to the ends of his extremities. He lifted his head and took a deep, filling breath. His eyes locked onto an angel’s.
An angel with flaming red hair, so bright it looked like the most intense rays of the sun. Not just red but with hints of gold and orange. Blue eyes as clear as a cloudless day gazed back at him as pink coated lips moved, ushering words from a slender neck. From those lips came the sweetest melody.
Brandon's entire body relaxed. He felt light, as though he'd gotten a full eight hours of sleep every night for a week. He felt like he could float. In fact, he felt his bottom leave the seat as he stood.
A hand grabbed at him, pulling him back down. Brandon looked over to see Chase eying him quizzically. Still disoriented, Brandon retook his seat, but he didn't tear his gaze away from the songbird.
"That's her," said Chase.
Brandon wanted to tell the man to shut it. He didn't want to miss a note of her song. But he also wanted to know who she was.
"That's Cartwright's sister,” Chase clarified.
The song ended. The booming sound of applause filled Brandon's ears. People got on their feet in praise of the choir and the soloist.
Brandon remained in his seat. Getting up and approaching the songbird was the last thing he wanted to do. He'd have to tell that angel that her brother wasn’t coming home, and despite what his superiors and the report said, it was Brandon’s fault.
Chapter Six
There were hugs and congratulations as Reegan made her way through the crowd of people she'd known all her life. With the services over, most people were making their way to the banquet hall where a potluck was spread over the tables. Reegan held back, not just for the compliments. She held back because she saw that the soldiers had all remained at the back of the church instead of making their way off to the side door that would lead to the food.
All throughout her song, the stiff-jawed soldier hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her. Reegan had even seen him stand up as though he wanted to come to her during the song. He wasn’t looking at her now. His gaze was fixed on the floor as he hung at the back of his group.
She knew because she kept sneaking glances at him. She willed him to lift his head and look at her. She ached for the heat of his gaze to touch her face again.
And if he did look at her, what then? Reegan wasn't sure she could ever date someone in the military. Not with her brother's long absences and infrequent calls.
She and her brother had a special connection. Not just because they were twins but because they were close. It tore at her that she couldn't reach out to him any time she wanted. Especially in the last few years without their parents.
It had been hard being on her own. Even though she was never truly alone. She had a community of people to look after who also insisted on looking after her.
Before her parents had died, they'd assumed Reegan would marry and start a family with her own husband. Her parents were traditional like that. Reegan just hadn't found anyone she'd wanted to marry much less make a home with. So, she'd stayed in the house while her parents were alive and after they'd passed on. She kept it for Reece while he was away. And the money that her parents had left her allowed her to fill her heart's delight which was to sing and help others.
Reegan spotted the soldiers speaking with Pastor Barrett and moving steadily forward. Beside the pastor, she saw Elsbeth. It was a perfect reason to go up and introduce herself to the newcomers.
Reegan took a step forward, only to have coldness shroud her shoulders. The looks on Pastor Barrett and Beth's faces weren't filled with the typical rays of joy they showered on anyone who came into the church’s doors. Pastor Barrett looked disheartened. Beth looked pale.
Reality hit Reegan square in her chest. Three soldiers in uniform, sad faces, it could only mean one thing. Someone in the church had died. Someone whose family was at this service. There were only three people in the service. Aside from Reece, there was Arnold Bishop and Shelly Turner.
Reegan's heart broke to know that either Arnold or Shelly had been lost. Inwardly, she mourned for their parents. She’d just seen them make their way to the banquet hall. Perhaps she should go after them and bring them back. But she didn’t know which family had suffered the loss.
Before she could take a step toward the doorway, her steel-jawed soldier looked up. His dark gaze found hers. His chin was steel once more. His gaze haunted.
The others looked to her too. Reegan couldn't fathom why? Before she could think too much, they were around her.
"These men have come to see you, Reegan," said Pastor Barrett.
“They have?” Reegan asked the question of the steel-jawed soldier whose gaze hadn’t left hers.
"We should go to my office to talk,” said Pastor Barrett.
"Why?" said Reegan.
"Ms. Cartwright," said one of the soldiers. "My name is Sergeant Colin Chase."
Reegan knew that name. "You work with my brother. I remember him telling me about a Sergeant Chase."
The man nodded. He wouldn't want to
know some of the things Reece had said about him. They weren’t mean or inappropriate. Her brother had a lot of fun stories to share about his four-man fire team.
Reegan counted the men. There were three of them. Ortega was on one man's shirt. Lucas was on another. She knew those names. They were Reece's fire team.
Her heart began to pound out of her chest. She clenched her fingers together in anticipation. She looked behind the men, but there was no red-haired private standing in the doorway.
Where was Reece? This had to be one of those internet videos where he'd pop out and surprise her. She couldn't believe she hadn't sensed him near. The two could never sneak up on one another. They were banned from playing hide and seek together when they were kids. They just had a sixth sense about each other. But Reegan didn't sense her brother.
"I'm afraid we have some bad news," said Sgt. Chase.
Reegan didn't look at him. Her gaze connected with the man who’d held her attention throughout her song; Lucas. Corporal Lucas’s eyes looked haunted, not mischievous as though he were in on a surprise for her.
"Why don't you tell us the news here," said Pastor Barrett. "We're all family."
Sgt. Chase nodded.
Reegan's head was spinning. Something wasn't right. Her gaze went again to Lucas, searching for the answers there as though she was sure he had them.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Cartwright-"
"Reegan."
"I'm sorry, Reegan, but Private Reece Cartwright has been declared missing in action."
Reegan let out the breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. Relief flooded her, and she pressed her hand to her heart. "Oh, my gosh, you scared me.”
The sergeant's eyes widened at her. So did everyone’s. Beth’s hand gripped hers as though to offer her support.
Reegan took a deep breath and let out another sigh of relief. "I thought you were going to tell me he was dead."
"Ma'am ..." Sgt. Chase looked uncomfortable. So much so that he looked beside him to Cpl. Lucas.
"Ms. Cartwright," said Cpl. Lucas. His voice was deep, resonant. Like a baritone’s.
"Please, call me, Reegan,” she said. “We're practically family as we both have to put up with my brother."
Reegan knew she should be feeling worried for her brother, but in the midst of his unit, she knew that all would be well. She knew they would find her brother wherever he went missing and bring him back home.
"Reegan,” Cpl. Lucas began again. He spoke carefully, cautiously. “We can't give you the full details as the mission was classified. But your brother was caught in enemy fire. It was the last we saw of him, and nobody was recovered in the aftermath."
Reegan struggled to understand his words. Cpl. Lucas was telling her something important. Reece wasn’t just missing. "You're telling me he's been captured?"
Once again, the men looked to one another as though they were at a loss.
"It's unlikely," said Cpl. Lucas.
"Then where is he?" Reegan asked.
The men looked at each other again. Cpl. Lucas looked as though he were battling an inner demon who wouldn’t release his words. Sgt. Chase looked to the other man in warning, his features clearly shouted hold it together. But it was clear Cpl. Lucas wouldn't. He turned away from Sgt. Chase and faced Reegan fully.
"It's against protocol to classify someone as deceased when there is no body. But for all intents … your brother … is gone."
Cpl. Lucas’s words were strangled, hoarse, as though he hadn’t used his voice in days. He gave her his full gaze, letting her see into his soul. There was so much pain and guilt and— was that shame there?
Reegan wanted to comfort him. She wanted to pull him inside her arms and sing to him. He was clearly in such pain. But all she could offer was her certainty.
“No,” she said. “He’s not."
Instead of looking relieved at her words, Cpl. Lucas blinked at her in utter disbelief.
"If he were dead, I'd know it. We have a bond. We're twins. We came into the world together. I'd know if he'd checked out on me."
The hall was silent. Her community was used to the Cartwright twins. But clearly, these men weren't.
Reegan was sure Reece hadn't gone on and on about his connection with his sister on the base. But it was true. Reegan knew Reece's heart was still beating because hers hadn't skipped a beat. She'd felt off for days. And now she knew why.
"You're going back to find him?" She addressed this question to Cpl. Lucas. "Aren't you?"
Chapter Seven
For the second time since he’d come to stay on the Purple Heart Ranch, it was the sound of nature that woke Brandon up. Not the natural sounds of the base where he'd hear boots on the ground trudging through gravel. Nor the all-too-common sound of weapons being cleaned outside of tents. Or foul language being slung about as freely as uhs and ums to fill the flub between words.
No, these were the sounds of actual nature. There were birds chirping off in the distance. Dogs barking nearby. Was that a rooster crowing out back? And children giggling in close proximity. There were no children at camp.
Brandon was not in a war zone. He was not on a base. He was on a ranch.
And he'd slept.
All night again.
Well, most of it. Sunday night he’d slept four, nearly five hours. Looking at his watch, he saw that he’d nearly cleared eight hours Monday night. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten that much sleep.
And peaceful sleep at that. Instead of screams and the orange-red of an explosion, he'd dreamed of a red-haired angel singing a sweet tune as she floated down from a sunny, blue sky. The sight of Reegan Cartwright standing in the midst of the choir, the sound of her voice filling the cracks and crevices of his chest, had been the last thing he’d thought about before closing his eyes. That memory of her had carried over into his dreams.
Reegan had turned Brandon’s unwanted nightmares into fulfilling dreams with just the power of her beautiful voice. Unfortunately, now that it was the bright light of day, the reality of the situation struck home.
Brandon knew the five stages of grief. For most people, when they were told of tragedy, disbelief was their first emotion. That denial would be followed by anger, bargaining, depression, and finally, acceptance. Reegan hadn't believed a word they'd told her about her missing brother. She was stuck in the first stage of grief, believing that Reece was still alive.
Brandon hoped that wasn't true. If by chance Private Cartwright had been captured, he'd be experiencing unbearable torture and certain death. For Reece's own soul, Brandon hoped the young man was safely ensconced with his Maker, leaning over the gates of heaven to hear his sister sing.
Reegan’s voice had certainly sent Brandon off to heaven while in church and later when he'd rested his head on his borrowed pillow. But the sound of her song was already fading from his memory. And the sleep-stealing numbness was creeping back into his body.
He wondered if it would be possible to hear her sing again? He wasn’t sure he was willing to go back through the church doors, sit on the hard wooden bench, make it through another sermon he didn’t believe in, and face her denial of her brother’s fate for another sweet note.
He had to admit that the notion was tempting. His body felt languid. His mind was clear. Though he could feel memories of the heat of that day crawling across his toes and pinching at his fingertips. It would be back.
For now, Brandon rose to greet the day. He'd been placed in a two bedroom, ranch-style row house all to himself. Ortega was shown to the connecting house on Brandon’s left, while Chase was given the key to the one on his right. In addition to the bedrooms, the homes each sported a full kitchen and dining area, along with a living room.
It was a nice setup. Better than most housing on base. But they’d all been told they could only stay a maximum of three months. Something or other to do with zoning? Brandon hadn't been listening. He hadn't planned to stay that long. As soon as he was cleared, he'd be back on a base
overseas where he was needed.
Washing and dressing quickly, Brandon stepped out of the front door and was greeted by a pack of dogs. The dogs didn't bark menacingly at him. They were each curious of him. He was curious of them. They were a scraggly bunch. They looked like a pack of wounded soldiers.
There was a tiny Irish Terrier with a wheelchair attachment. A quiet Chihuahua who was missing his front leg. And a Pug with a face only a mother could love who had patches of skin missing from her back.
"They don't bite."
Brandon looked up to see two pregnant women ambling down the way. The first was a brunette who Banks had introduced as his wife. Maggie was her name. She had a friendly smile that had put Brandon immediately at ease. There had been something in the woman’s gaze that had told him that if he were ever wounded, she would be the one he’d want to turn to.
Beside her, he saw another woman he recognized. The blonde had been in the choir alongside Reegan. She had a pleasant voice, but it had a fullness to it where Reegan’s was light and airy. She’d been introduced to him as Cassie, the wife of another soldier on the ranch.
"You missed breakfast,” Maggie was saying. “So, we stopped by to bring you a muffin and some berries.”
The dogs sat obediently. Each set of eyes on the food being offered to Brandon. So, the mutts weren’t the welcome crew. They were hoping for a morsel of Brandon’s breakfast. Well, that was too bad. He was far too ravenous to share. And besides, the animals looked well cared for.
“Sgt. Chase and Private Ortega have gone for a ride,” Maggie continued. “Dr. Patel is waiting for you in his office when you're ready. It's just over that hill.”
"Thank you,” Brandon said as he took the offered food. The dogs’ gazes now swung to him, tongues lolling out of their mouths.
Maggie snapped her fingers, and the dogs all came to attention like good little soldiers. Before she turned on her heel, she called out to Brandon. “I hope we’ll see you for dinner.”
In Over His Head Page 3
