The Soldier's Holiday Vow

by Jillian Hart

  “No. I don’t have the heart left to.” She couldn’t give voice to the loneliness of the last two years and the fears that she had been broken beyond repair. Beyond hope. Beyond God.

  “We are two of a kind.”

  “In some ways,” she agreed.

  He leaned closer, looking as if he wanted to comfort her and didn’t know how.

  She was grateful he didn’t reach out. It was easier to stay frozen inside than to look toward the light. “Are you going to be here alone for the holidays? Or are you flying home?”

  “I haven’t decided. I might head down to Mom’s. My sister will be there. It would be good to see them both.”

  “You haven’t said it, but I can hear it. There’s something holding you back.”

  “It’s tough going down there. My mom never got over my dad’s death. Nearly twenty years later, she lives like a hermit, closed off from what life has to offer.” He shifted in his chair. “I love her, and it’s hard for me to see. I couldn’t save her, either.”

  “Don’t give up on her, Hawk.” Sunlight brightened, tumbling through the windows, finding her. The lemony brightness graced her, emphasizing an inner strength, a glimpse into the real September Stevens. “Everyone needs love in their life. Even you.”

  “Me? When did this conversation become about me?” Sure, he was uncomfortable with the L word. He was too tough for love. Too scarred. “I’ll go visit my mom for Christmas. Fine. We were talking about you.”

  “Were we? I don’t think it’s necessary. I’m fine, too.”

  “Sure, you look it, bandaged and casted. Don’t forget I found you in that hole in the earth. You can’t fool me.”

  “Okay, fine. My arm hurts. My head hurts. I sat in what felt like a grave and worried about dying.”

  “I’m glad I found you.”

  “Me, too.”

  He would never forget the relief or how it had pounded through him with the force of a riptide, leaving him weak down to the quick. Like now, never had he seen a lovelier sight than her alive. The sunshine clung to her, as if it thought so, too. He was thankful to God for this mercy. “You are going to take care of yourself, right? Need me to get you anything? Do something for you?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I have my sister for that.”

  “Yeah, well, I was asking as a friend.” Okay, so he cared for her. He was man enough to admit it. But it was caring on a nonromantic level. “Don’t know about you, but that’s something I could use.”

  “Me, too.” She relaxed, as if a wall went down. When she stood, it didn’t feel as if she were trying to keep him at a safe distance. “Any man who hauls me out of a mine is a friend for life.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He kept pace with her through the kitchen. Nice and amiable, walking alongside her. “I noticed you have a gutter coming loose from your fascia.”

  “My what?”

  “The board beneath the roofline.”

  “Oh. No idea. I haven’t looked up in a while, but there are a few drips when it rains.”

  “This is the Pacific Northwest. It tends to rain a lot here. Hello.” He was chuckling, knowing full well what she was doing. Downplaying the problem because she knew what was coming next. “There’s no avoiding it. We’re friends now. You have to accept my help.”

  “It’s a law? Written into the Constitution?”

  “I’m sure it is. I’ll put it on my to-do list.” She wasn’t getting rid of him easily. He wasn’t a man who walked away from a mission or regrets. He spotted a trio of cardboard boxes next to the big front window. Indentations in the carpet showed that a piece of furniture had been recently moved. “That would make a perfect spot for a Christmas tree.”

  “Which is why I moved the couch. Don’t give me that look. I did it before the accident. Last weekend.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid to ask about that expression on your face. You are planning something.”

  “I’m a planner. It’s who I am.” He didn’t deny it. Regrets could haunt a man when he was belly down in the sand, taking fire. That meant he couldn’t afford to back off now. “Since we’re friends and all, I have a few thoughts to help you out while you are down and out.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I am getting around just fine. My arm is casted, that’s all. The rest of me is good to go.”

  She tried to hide it, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew how loss could strip you of your heart, breaking it off piece by piece until there was no light, no love and no hope left. Sometimes a person needed a hand up, that was all. More than anything he wanted to be that hand for her.

  “Getting a tree. Putting up lights. Decorating.” He had reached the door and turned, drawing out his time with her. “Seems like doing all that is going to be hard with that cast.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m not going to go all-out for Christmas. I’m going to haul out my little plastic tree—”

  “Plastic? Sorry. No. I can’t allow that.”

  “The last time I looked, you were not in charge of me.” She planted her good arm on her hip. “I’m used to you pushy alpha types. You don’t intimidate me, Mark Hawkins.”

  “I’m not trying to intimidate you.” He grinned, bringing out his dashing twin dimples. He had a smile that could charm glaciers into melting. “I’m helping out a friend. Remember, that’s what we are?”

  “I owe my life to you. How could I forget?” Yes, he really was far too charming for his good—and hers. “I know what you’re up to.”

  “Just trying to help spread Christmas cheer. Do unto others. Help the less fortunate.” He sure appeared innocent.

  “Sure you are.” She could see right through him to the pure kindness beneath. Hard not to appreciate that. “If you really have nothing else to do with your free time.”

  “I’m on leave. The rest of the year is mine.”

  He didn’t need to say the words, because she understood. He was lonely, too. One of his best friends was gone. She knew just what that was like.

  “How about I drop by tomorrow?” He gave the knob a turn. Damp, chilly air puffed into the room. “We’ll see if we can do something about your lack of Christmas spirit.”

  “I may need help.” What she needed was a friend. She liked the idea that maybe he needed her.

  “Then prepare yourself. I fully intend to put you in a festive mood. Consider it fair warning.”

  “Yes, Sergeant.” She couldn’t resist saluting him. He eased onto the front porch, reminding her of the man she’d once lost and the future she was still grappling to find. “You were shot on that mission, but you didn’t say where.”

  “Nothing serious. I healed up okay.”

  She recognized that hollow sound, for it was the way her voice sounded when the past threatened to overtake her. “What happened? No one has told me.”

  “First I took a bullet to the shoulder and then shrapnel in my back. A grenade went off nearby and I covered Tim’s body with mine to protect him.” He waved off the importance, but emotion darkened his eyes. He was not a man to talk of his sacrifices. He had come to the wake, but he’d been more injured than she had realized.

  Caring rolled through her, unbidden and impossible to stop.

  “I’m glad you recovered, Hawk.”

  “Until tomorrow.” He saluted her in return, pivoted on his heel and marched into the watery sunshine. She thought she caught a hint of hope on his handsome face, but she couldn’t be sure.

  Good, she thought, because that’s how she felt, too. Hopeful because he was coming back, encouraged at the prospect of seeing him again. Maybe it was because he was familiar, an old acquaintance. She liked the idea of being friends with him. As he strode toward his bike, she remembered the few group outings they had been on together long ago: volleyball at the park, bowling at Tim’s favorite rink, a barbecue on base. In all of those memories, Hawk had always been laughing, a dependable guy, a steadfast and loyal friend to the man she’d lost.

  She closed the door, and t
he click echoed in the silent house. She leaned against the door, fighting against falling into the hole of grief she had spent years climbing out of. She could no longer feel God, but she had to believe He was somewhere close. Lord, I’m trying to move on and let go. I’ve given my sorrow up to you so many times, too many to count. And yet I’m still holding this burden. It’s like being trapped beneath a deep layer of ice. I can’t see You to find my way out. A little help, please.

  No answer came, and she didn’t expect one. She only hoped her words had a chance of being heard. A motor roared to life outside, muffled by the sturdy walls, and she caught sight of a blur moving beyond the window—Hawk rocketing down the street. She moved to the sill, but he was already gone. Sunshine swept the steady branches of the rhododendrons outside, their green leaves held up toward the sky, as if with faith.

  The back door opened and Chessie’s shoes clicked on the hardwood. Sacks rustled as they came to rest on the kitchen counter.

  “I see he’s gone.” Her voice echoed in the coved ceiling and bounced off the plain white walls. She clomped into sight. “Tell me why you aren’t lying on the couch with your feet up.”

  “Because I’m bored of lying still. Let me help put away the groceries.”

  “Not on your life. Get on that couch or do I have to come over there and make you do it?” Chessie might be all bark, but it was concern that softened her dark eyes, worry that furrowed across her brow. “You are my only sister, don’t forget. I could have lost you. So, are you going to do what I ask?”

  “Yes, big sis.” Tired and drained, she retreated to the couch. It felt good to lie back on the soft cushions and fluffy pillows and grab the remote.

  After Chessie was done putting away the groceries, she plopped in the nearby chair. They spent the afternoon watching classic movies and humming along with Fred Astaire. But to her, Hawk wasn’t forgotten. He was like those old songs, familiar and dear, the ones she wanted to sing over and over again.

  The tree lot on the corner of two main roads sparkled with cheerful Christmas lights rimming their blocked-off portion of the grocery store parking lot. Through the rain speckling the windshield, she spotted an older man and his wife trying to stay dry under a small makeshift awning. It had to be a cold job. She empathized, as she often worked in the cold winter rain, too.

  “Looks like we have plenty of choices.” Hawk stopped the truck and killed the engine. The hot air from the heater sputtered out, and the windshield immediately began to fog. “We’re the only customers here.”

  “I can’t imagine why.” She released her seat belt, turning toward him in the seat. Rain pinged on the glass, smearing the outside world like one big Christmas watercolor. “Don’t most people shop for trees in the pouring rain?”

  “I’ve been in monsoons that were drier than this,” he quipped. “Wait a second. I’ll grab an umbrella and come around for you.”

  “Umbrella? Who do you think I am? I’m a Seattle girl. I’m not afraid of a little rain.” She opened her door and hopped down from the truck, lifting her face to the spattering rain.

  Footsteps splashed on the wet blacktop, pounding in her direction. Hawk, glowering at her, as he rounded the front corner of the truck.

  “You could have waited for me to help you down.” He stared at the umbrella, folded and tied neatly in hand. “It’s too late for this now. You’re already dripping wet and loving it.”

  “After being cooped up indoors for so many days, I do love it.” She swiped at the raindrops collecting on her lashes and breathed in the fresh-cut tree scent. “I’m feeling better already.”

  “You look better. There’s color in your cheeks.”

  “See? I don’t need to be pampered. Too bad my sister isn’t here to see. I’m going stir-crazy.” She waved to the couple huddled under their awning. “Good morning.”

  “Hello there,” the husband greeted. “Are you two wanting anything in particular?”

  “We’ll browse around and let you know.” Hawk stepped in, locking his arm through her good one. They must look like a couple out to buy their tree. “Where do you want to start? There’s some good-looking spruce right here. Well shaped and full. That would look mighty pretty in your front window.”

  “I would rather shop around first. See what my options are.”

  “That’s where we are different. I know what I want and when I see it, I grab it and go. Quick in and quick out.”

  “The Ranger way?” She shook her head, enjoying the pleasant squish of puddled water beneath her boots and the symphony of rainfall pattering around them. Holiday lights flashed cheerfully as she followed an aisle past the perfect trees. “I like to take a careful look. Sometimes you find a hidden treasure.”

  “I see what you mean.” His tone was thoughtful, drawing her attention. Suddenly she didn’t feel as if he was talking about the trees surrounding them.

  Heat stained her face, and she looked away. With every step she took, she was deeply aware of him at her side. The force of his noble presence was as tangible as the ground beneath her feet.

  “How about this one?” He paused to admire a noble fir, tall and proud and perfect.

  “It is lovely.” She bit her bottom lip, a habit when she was thinking. “I can’t help but think this tree is gorgeous. Any number of people will want it. It will sell in a snap.”

  “Well, I don’t know. It’s still here, isn’t it?”

  “It’s two weeks before Christmas. A lot of people haven’t come by yet. I’m positive this tree will find a home.”

  “So that means we get it?” He wasn’t exactly paying attention to her every word. He couldn’t. She captivated him, looking like Christmas come early with her spun-sugar pink hat, scarf and mittens and matching coat.

  “It means I feel confident leaving the tree right here.”

  “Right. Because we have to worry about the trees who won’t find a home?” A total guess on his part, but he knew he was right when he was rewarded by her smile.

  “Now you’re getting it, Hawkins.” She took the lead. “I’ll take point. Follow me.”

  “You’ve picked up a few military terms.” He jammed his fists into his coat pockets and trailed after her.

  “Hard not to. C’mon, soldier. I see exactly what I’m looking for.” She forged ahead, undaunted by the virtual forest surrounding them, sure of her mission.

  “I know what you are up to.” He hiked to keep up with her. “You are going for the pity tree.”

  “Pity tree? I don’t think that’s a very nice thing to say. Trees are God’s creations and every one of them is beautiful.” She tossed a grin over her shoulder, as if daring him to argue.

  As if he could argue with the likes of her. Too pretty and smart for a guy like him—besides, she made any arguments vanish. How could any guy argue with her? When she smiled, she made his heart skip three beats, but he didn’t break stride as he caught up to her. He shook his head. “I should have known.”

  “This one is perfect.” She touched a scrawny branch of the slightly lopsided Douglas fir. He’d never seen a sorrier tree—or at least not one that was still green.

  “I’m not even going to try to talk you out of it.” He might not be the smartest tool in the shed, but he knew happiness when he saw it. He wouldn’t take that from her for the world. “You’re sure this is the one you want? There might be a more sickly looking one on the other side of the lot.”

  “I’ve bonded with this one. Plus, it’s a live tree.” She pointed to the big brown planter, presumably of all natural material.

  “Perfect.”

  “I’m glad you think so. You’re more of a kindred spirit than I first thought.” She beamed up at him, a moment of joy on a rainy gray day, and his heart did more than skip a few beats. Everything within him stilled, as if he would never be the same.

  “Can I help you with that?” The owner appeared with a handcart.

  Hawk hardly heard him. In the whimsical flash of the multicolored twin
kle lights, September’s gaze locked on his with appreciation, and guilt hit him like a cluster bomb.

  Chapter Five

  The cotton candy clouds slowly ripped apart, and the rain turned to a lazy drizzle as she let Hawk help her into the truck. His hand at her elbow was a comfort. She felt better today than she had in a long time. Maybe it had to do with getting out of the house and feeling the wonder of the outdoors, the rugged, snowcapped mountains rimming the horizon. Maybe—just maybe—it had to do with the man who pulled her seat belt for her and buckled her in snuggly.

  “Tell me why you aren’t married again?” He was a gentleman and a caretaker. She had a soft spot for the protective, caring type.

  “No woman will have me.” He grinned, flashing those gorgeous dimples of his as if he knew full well the effect they had on a girl. “Probably because I’m deployed all the time. Hard to know a girl long enough that she could see past my faults.”

  “Your numerous faults,” she couldn’t resist correcting.

  “Hey! I’m not that bad. At least, I hope not.” He winked, confident as always, and closed the door. Even through the blur of the wet windshield, he radiated integrity and good humor. Definitely hard not to like the guy.

  The door wrenched open and he hopped behind the wheel. “I hope you’re not keeping count of my faults.”

  “I’ve decided to make a list.”

  “That’s bound to be one mighty long list.” He laughed at that and started the truck.

  A list. That might do it. She would need some way to keep from liking him too much. Hard to say why, but she felt more herself today. She could almost see the girl she used to be in the reflection of the shadowy windshield.

  “Anything you need to get? Any place you need to go?” He put the truck in Reverse and laid his arm over the back of the bench seat dangerously close to her. “Maybe new decorations for your new tree?”

  Sitting there, with the defroster blowing through his short, dark hair and happiness softening the striking planes of his masculine face, he represented everything noble and righteous in the world. His honor shone through, unmistakable. She saw friendship and kindness and a soldier’s loyalty. She had the feeling that if she asked him, he would move the mountains stone by stone.