The Damaged Heroes Collection [Box Set #1: The Damaged Heroes Collection] (BookStrand Publishing Mainstream)

by James, Sandy

  “He’ll be back, Brian,” Joy said as she came to lay a small, reassuring hand on his shoulder.

  All Brian did was sip his coffee and shrug. How could he tell her that Lucas wasn’t coming back for probably a good long while, that he’d resorted to his characteristic retreat-in-the-face-of-adversity act?

  “He’ll be back,” she said again, pulling her hand away with a strong note of irritation in her voice.

  He noticed that Janos stared at her back, looking as if he was thinking along the same lines. “Sure he will, Noverke. Sure he will.”

  Joy whirled around to face her brother as she narrowed her eyes and set her fists against her slim hips. “Don’t patronize me, Janos. Lucas is coming back. I know it.”

  “Joy, Lucas... Well, he might not... I mean, he has a habit of...” Brian didn’t want to be purposefully cruel to a woman who deserved much better than his brother had handed her. He owed her honesty. “He won’t be back, Joy. At least not for a while.”

  Her eyes found Brian’s, and he could feel her gaze pierce his heart. This woman honestly thought Lucas hadn’t abandoned her. Damn him anyway. How could he do this to her? “I know you think he’ll be back, but I can’t let you keep spending money on...on...all of this. It’s Lucas’s house and—” He wasn’t prepared for her angry interruption.

  “It’s my house too, Brian. Lucas and I live here. I want it to be beautiful when he comes home. I want it to be a home for...for...” Suddenly turning on her heel, she stomped out of the bedroom, although as small as she was, the hard footfalls were hardly intimidating.

  Janos was the first to break the silent tension. “You can’t change her mind, you know. She’s more stubborn than a mule.”

  Brian sighed. “You don’t know how much I hate this. She can’t keep spending so much money on this...this...pit. This money pit.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Janos said as he ran the steaming machine across one of the last patches of revolting wallpaper. “Take a good look around. This place has potential. Loads of potential. I’m sure if they had to, they could sell the house for a hell of a lot more than Lucas bought it for.” Janos let the steamer fall to his side. “I’m more worried about her heart than her wallet.”

  Brian considered Janos’s words for a moment, feeling relief that Joy wouldn’t be throwing good money after bad. He finally nodded. “I suppose you’re right. You know, I still can’t believe he’d do this to her.”

  “Yeah, well... It’s worse than you think,” Janos enigmatically replied. Turning off the steamer and putting it on the floor, he marched across the room to stare out the window. “Damn it. I told her to stay off that ladder.” Tilting open the window, he yelled out, “Jozsa! Get your ass off that ladder! Don’t give me that look! I’ll come down and pull you off there myself! I mean it, Shortstuff!”

  Brian chuckled as Janos almost echoed the same words he’d used with Samantha when the woman had climbed on a step stool to get the powdered sugar from the top cabinet. But Sam was pregnant and he’d been concerned about her.

  Sipping his coffee, Brian glanced at Janos and saw the concerned expression on his face. Then he heard Janos’s words in his mind. Yeah, well... It’s worse than you think. Choking on his mouthful of coffee, Brian spewed it on the pile of peeled wallpaper. “Good lord, she’s pregnant. Right?”

  Janos gave his head an insolent shake. “Didn’t tell you, did she? I’m not sure anyone knows, including Lucas. The only reason I figured it out was because I’m her brother. I noticed the subtle...changes.”

  Brian narrowed his eyes, silently wishing he could get his hands on his wife. Sam knows. He had no doubt about it. His anger ebbed as he realized she’d dropped hints that he’d chosen to ignore. Damn it, this was just getting worse and worse.

  “I can’t believe she didn’t tell Lucas,” Brian finally said, unable to contain the anger in his voice even though he knew Janos didn’t deserve the hostility. But he was mad right now. No way around it. He wanted to throttle his irresponsible younger brother. “I’m going to talk to her.” He hurried down the stairs to keep from venting.

  Heading outside, Brian stopped to leave his cup in the sink. Joy was just coming down the ladder when he got to her. Back on the ground, she looked up at him. “Ah. You know now,” she said, followed by a weary sigh.

  “You didn’t tell Lucas?”

  She just shook her head

  “Why didn’t you tell him? If you had, he might’ve... I don’t know, he probably would’ve... He might still be here.”

  Joy was already shaking her head. “He needed to go. He had to go. This was a journey he needed to make alone. Brian, please give him time.” She laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “He’ll be back.”

  Not willing to crush her spirit, all Brian could do was shake his head. “I need to head home. Thanks for taking care of Lucas’s horses.”

  “You’re welcome, but it was mostly Janos. He’s been staying here now and helping me. He really likes working with them. Lucas was teaching him all about being a horseman.” Joy took her bottle of window cleaner from the ladder and set it on the ground. As she picked up the ladder, obviously intent upon moving to another window, Brian lost his temper.

  “Joy, you can’t be up on that ladder.”

  “Someone has to finish the windows. And I need to finish painting the trim in the foyer. And the nursery still needs—”

  “I’ll get the women. We’re all going to pitch in.” Brian grabbed his cell phone from its clip and flipped it open. After waiting for an answer, he said, “Sam? You, Seth, and Katie need to come out here to Lucas’s place. No, he’s not back yet, but we’ve got work to do.”

  * * * *

  Karen answered his knock. Lucas watched her eyes scan her visitor from head to toe before a hesitant smile crossed her lips. “Lucas Mitchell. Well, I’ll be. It’s so good to see you.” She opened the door wide. “Please come in.”

  Lucas wiped his shoes on the mat and stepped into Brad’s home, courting both fear and relief. “How are you?”

  She motioned for him to follow her; he obliged. “I was just having some iced tea. Would you like a glass?”

  “Yes, please,” he replied, feeling more than a little awkward. As he trailed her down the hall, Lucas took note of every picture of Brad and his family decorating the walls. Each new photo assaulted his heart like a painful stab. His fingertips touched the sleeve that covered his scars. My fault. It’s my fault he’s dead.

  The kitchen was warm, the late morning sun streaming through the windows. Karen grabbed a clean glass from the cabinet, filled it with ice, and poured Lucas some tea from the pitcher sitting on the table. “I just finished making it,” she said in a smooth southern drawl. “I hope you like it sweet.”

  Lucas took a small sip and then nodded. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.” He left the glass remaining on the table although his dry mouth could have greedily consumed the rest of the tea in a couple of long swallows. But if he thought about how arid his mouth was, how thick his tongue felt, he could keep himself distracted.

  Karen refilled her own glass and sat down on the opposite side of the small table. “So why are you finally here?” she asked without any polite attempt to make idle chit-chat.

  Why am I here? He took the coward’s way out. “You asked me to visit.”

  Her gaze settled on his face, making him uncomfortable at first. Her stare was probing then her eyes softened. “You’re still hurting, aren’t you? Lucas, it’s time to let him go.”

  There wasn’t a way to respond to such an impossible statement. It’s time to let him go.

  As if.

  “That’s what the counselor said. Let him go. I just... I wish I knew how.”

  “Have you visited Brad’s grave yet? It might help. It always helps me.” She sipped her tea, regarding him over the sweaty glass with warm green eyes that reminded Lucas so much of Brad he needed to glance away.

  Karen set the glass on the table. Since he couldn’t brin
g himself to look at her, he just stared at the beads of water working their way down the outside of the glass.

  “Lucas?”

  “Hmm.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. I’ve read everything the Army had about what happened to Brad, and it wasn’t your fault.”

  He couldn’t look her in the eye.

  “You’ve talked to a counselor?”

  Lucas gave a cut nod. “The V.A. doc just wanted to throw Prozac at me. That’s not my problem. I’m not depressed.”

  “I don’t think you are, either. What you are is feeling guilty for something bad that happened that you couldn’t prevent,” Karen said, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on Lucas’s arm. “Brad’s death was an accident.”

  “I drove over the damned explosive.”

  She gave his arm a pat as she chuckled low in her throat. “It must be nice to think you’re that smart. You couldn’t have known the I.E.D was there unless you were omnipotent. Are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Omnipotent.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’ll stop being ridiculous if you’ll stop being ridiculous.” Karen breathed a sigh. “It took me some time to get used to it, but I’ve accepted Brad’s death. You haven’t, and until you do, you can’t be happy. You’ve got to let him go, Lucas.”

  He shook his head, wishing he hadn’t come.

  “Go see him, talk to him. Maybe...maybe that will help you understand.”

  Chapter 27

  Joy sighed and leaned against the cabinet, watching the sun set in the kitchen window. So much was done, but there remained so much more to do. Tomorrow would bring more workers, more time to keep up a brave front. Folding her arms over her breasts, she hugged herself, hoping to draw some strength from somewhere deep inside.

  She finally had to admit to herself that she was trying to work herself to exhaustion. With exhaustion came sleep. And with sleep came forgetting her loneliness.

  Her heart ached. Things weren’t nearly as easy as she wanted everyone to believe. As the days slipped into a full week, holding her chin up had become more stubborn pride than self-assurance. Joy wasn’t about to let any of them know just how frightened she really felt because her fear might cause them to lose confidence in Lucas.

  An errant tear spilled from the corner of one eye, and she quickly wiped it away, chastising herself for even letting it form. “He’ll be back.” She repeated the mantra that kept her from screaming and pulling her hair in despair. “He’ll be back.”

  Janos came into the kitchen, and Joy turned to deal with the dirty dishes stacked in the sink. “Are the horses back in their stalls?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she feared.

  “Yeah. They’re in.” He began to rifle through drawers. “Have you seen the wire cutters? They weren’t in the barn and I need to open some new hay bales.”

  Drying her hands on a dishtowel, she threw it on the counter and reached for the closest drawer. The wire cutters sat amidst all sorts of screwdrivers, scissors, and paintbrushes Lucas had shoved inside. She grabbed the tool and handed it to Janos. He hurried out the door.

  About to shut the drawer full of junk, her eyes settled on a letter she didn’t recognize. Curiosity got the better of her, and she pulled it from the drawer.

  Who does Lucas know in Georgia?

  Joy sat down at the kitchen table, put the letter in front of her, and sipped at her coffee, having an argument with her conscience. It was Lucas’s mail. She had no right to be reading it. But something inside her, some intuition, told her that letter held the key to Lucas’s disappearance.

  “Don’t do it, Jozsa,” she whispered, even as she put her cup down and reached for the envelope. Holding it between her fingers, she tried one more time. “It wasn’t sent to you.”

  I don’t care, her mind replied. I need to know where Lucas went.

  Joy unfolded the letter and read it, each word adding hope to her heart. Lucas had gone to visit his friend. Lucas had gone to say goodbye.

  “He’ll be back,” she chanted. “He’ll be back.”

  * * * *

  It had taken almost a year for Lucas to finally find his way here. He had still been in the hospital recovering from his injuries and had missed all the memorial services. The comforting words, the twenty-one gun salute, the folded flag handed ceremoniously to the grieving mother. The words of condolence and encouragement.

  The condemning stares.

  We know what you did.

  Once he was well, Lucas had never been able to work up the courage to face the hallowed place. He hadn’t wanted to see the stark proof that Brad was really dead.

  Brad. Always smiling. Always laughing death in the face. Always there when Lucas needed him, all the way back to basic training.

  But I wasn’t there when he needed me. I let him down.

  Lucas left his truck in a small gravel parking area and hiked up the gently sloping hill. The place smelled of freshly mown grass. And grief. The warmth of the Georgia sun didn’t reach his blood.

  The grave was obviously well-tended, but knowing Brad’s mother, Lucas had expected that. Not a single weed, lush green grass, and a black shepherd’s hook that held a sad pot of red flowers. The stone itself was gray, carved with Brad’s full name and a cross. Karen had obviously chosen to omit any military symbols. From a wooden dowel that was stabbed into the ground, a small American flag fluttered in the light breeze.

  Brad would hate this.

  Brad had been the epitome of sloppy—from his uniform to his footlocker to the way he handled everything frightening with such irreverence and that I’ll-never-die attitude. He had shied away from nothing, always volunteering for the scariest of assignments, always insisting that the impossible could be possible. Always having Lucas’s back. And Lucas had followed his friend all the way to the bitter end.

  Lucas wasn’t sure what to do. Should he bow his head and pray? Should he lay his hands on the gray granite tombstone and try to make some cosmic connection? Should he drop to his knees and blubber like a baby?

  How does a person ask his best friend to forgive him for killing him?

  “You didn’t kill him, you freakin’ moron.” Lucas could hear his own chastising voice, but he still didn’t believe it. Deep down he knew he would always think he had caused Brad’s death. Since he would never be able to forget, he suddenly realized that what he needed to learn to do was forgive.

  Lucas had been the one who volunteered to check the lead on the insurgents just to show Brad that he wasn’t the only one who had balls in Iraq. He’d been the one to ask Brad to go with him. He’d been the one driving the damn Hummer that day when they’d crossed the improvised explosive device.

  And Brad had died.

  Taking a seat on the concrete bench that had a great view of the quiet graves of all the men who had spilled their life’s blood for their country, Lucas felt the crushing weight of grief like he’d never known. Every single body the earth was reclaiming was a life cut short. A man who might never have had the chance to be a husband or a father. A man who might have cured cancer. A man who could have solved the problems with the ozone layer.

  Each one of these men would probably have given his life for his comrades, just as Lucas had wished so many times he could have changed places with Brad that fateful day. At least he’d always made that his wish until he had met Joy.

  Joy. She’d sent him on this journey. The love he felt for her and the love she’d given in return had opened his heart to emotions he’d sealed off long ago.

  “You’d like her, buddy. She’s not your type, but you’d have liked her anyway.” He felt the grin on his own lips when he thought about what Brad’s reaction might have been. Brad always liked leggy blondes, but if he had recognized Lucas’s interest in tiny, dark-haired Jozsa, as Lucas was sure he would have, she would have been the center of Brad’s bull’s-eye.

  Brad would have turned on that Georgia farm boy char
m that came so easily to him. He would have used the southern drawl that rolled so prettily off his tongue to try to turn her head. Not that Lucas would have allowed it, nor would Joy have ever fallen for Brad. And not that Brad would have been serious. He was Lucas’s best friend. The flirting would all have been nothing more than friendly rivalry. Brad would have loved Joy—like a sister. He would have been the best man at their wedding, standing there in the middle of the ceremony, joking about how he’d lost the ring.

  The words finally came. “I’m so sorry, Brad. I didn’t mean for...for...any of this. I didn’t mean...” Lucas’s throat closed up, and he didn’t even try to stop the tears. Even when they became choking sobs that forced him to fall from the bench to his knees. “I’m...so, so sorry.” He clutched at the thick grass with his hands.

  The chaplain had told Lucas it was odd that he hadn’t cried. But he also told Lucas that the hurt would catch up with him. Someday. Post-traumatic stress disorder.

  How long did he kneel there crying for Brad, for a young man’s life that ended much too soon? He had no idea. By the time Lucas regained a tenuous control over his ragged emotions, the sun glowed orange in the western sky. He rose from where he sat in the grass and took those last few agonizing steps to Brad’s grave.

  The scene of the explosion played in his mind again, but for the first time, Lucas considered all angles, all possibilities for what he could have done differently. Stark reality hit him like a slap in the face.

  Brad’s death wasn’t his fault. Just an assignment gone wrong in a place that was deadly. Lucas couldn’t have known he would drive over the I.E.D. He’d tried to save Brad from the burning vehicle, even though his own arm was shredded and bloody, even though the flames licked at him like he was nothing more substantial than a piece of dried kindling. But Brad had died from the force of the explosion before Lucas even had a chance to help him. Lucas had pulled his friend’s lifeless body from that burning Hummer.