The Soldier's Holiday Vow

by Jillian Hart

  “You have to be real when you do what I do for a living.” It was that simple. “You become the job. It’s something you love and feel commitment for. But you know all that. If I could have hobbies, aside from skiing and climbing, I would like to do a lot of things.”

  “You are one of those guys with a long list of things he wants to accomplish before he dies, right?”

  “How did you know about the list?” He hadn’t told anyone about his goals in life—except for God.

  “Good guess.”

  The air had turned damp, the way it did before a good rain. He breathed in fresh air, scenting the nearby sound. He could hear the lap of the waves against the rocky shore between the clomp, clomp of the horse’s hooves.

  “So, what’s at the top of your list?”

  “That’s awfully personal, isn’t it?” He wanted to keep it casual, safely away from the crater in his heart. The one that she was bound to notice and fault him for. The Lord knew it had always been his Achilles’ heel, the reason he might always be alone.

  “Hey, we’re friends. We are supposed to be personal.”

  Hard not to look at her, cute and expecting something from him, and not give it to her. He bit the bullet and admitted the truth. Easier to stare off at the blue-gray sound ebbing against the gravel beach than to let her see his vulnerability. “A family. That’s at the top of my list.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment. He’d surprised her. Sure, that would surprise everyone. He cleared his throat. Since he had gone this far, he might as well say it all. “The free spirit thing is because it’s easier. I don’t want to make commitments.”

  “Being Special Forces comes with a cost.” Her soft alto deepened with understanding. She had paid a price, too. They rode in silence for a moment, taking advantage of the calm of the water. The first drops pattered on the gray rock and the trail ahead of them. The low gray sky turned the sound pewter-gray, and the quiet reverence of the land and water felt as if God had sent the peaceful moment just for the two of them. A healing balm of sorts, to ease the memory of war and loss, of two futures without love.

  “How many kids do you want?” she asked after a long while.

  “I’d like at least two or three, but that wouldn’t depend entirely on me.” His future wife, whoever she might be, had always been an idea, a wish unformed. Maybe because he was never certain he could let any woman close enough to want to stick with him. Now, as the path ahead turned away from the water to cut through the greenbelt of the park, he saw September’s face—his future. “I’ve always wanted enough kids so that we feel like a family, but not too many so that I’m outgunned.”

  “You want a nice balance. Understandable.”

  “I want what I didn’t have growing up. I’m lucky I had next-door neighbors who included me. I was almost a part of the family, I was over at their house so much. It got so that Mrs. Granger would set a place for me at the table without even asking if I wanted to stay. It was just assumed.”

  “I’m glad you had them. How old were you when you lost your dad?”

  “Eight.” The suddenness had been the hardest part. One morning, life was normal. A happy mom, a caring dad and he was a content kid off to catch the school bus. By day’s end, that life was gone for good. Not something he wanted to talk about. That wasn’t why he’d come back. That wasn’t why he’d been dying to see her. He swiped rain from his eyes. “How about you?”

  “Me? No, I don’t want kids.” She tensed, shifting away from him.

  “You don’t want kids? That can’t be.” The words were out before he could think them through. The moment he heard what he had said, he would have given anything to be able to turn back time and keep the thought to himself.

  “Of course I want kids, except I’ll never get married.” She tried to fake a smile, but there was no hiding her sadness. He could feel it on the air and in his soul.

  “Maybe one day?” He gave General a little heel so he would catch up to Comanche. September didn’t turn toward him. Her hair tumbled like a curtain, shielding her from his sight. Her silence hurt, and he felt his hopes slipping. “Down the road, I mean. There might come a day in the far future when you find you can love again.”

  “I won’t do it.” She sounded so sure—sad and sure, all at once. “Never again.”

  His heart cracked right open in two equal parts, leaving him vulnerable and defenseless. He didn’t know what to say, so he stayed quiet. The rocking gait of the horse, the other riders up ahead, the trees singing in the rain, even the chilly damp were all memorable. A glorious day, sure, but it turned out to be one of his darkest.

  “I’m impressed.” September gave Comanche a final rub with the towel—he was fresh, dry, warm and clean—and took a similar towel Hawk was offering her. “Not many guys would volunteer to help with the horses. You did a great job, too.”

  “I even did a decent job with the hoof pick cleaner thing.”

  She laughed; she couldn’t help it. Happiness bubbled out of her. She gave the towels a toss into the laundry barrel and took hold of Comanche’s lead. “This way, cowboy. All we have left to do is to stable them, and we’re done.”

  “Great. I’m starving.”

  “You are always starving.” As the stops for ice cream, a hot dog and, less than an hour ago, an enormous pretzel at a kiosk near the benefit’s booth attested. “I would hate to see your food budget.”

  “Daunting.”

  The man could make her laugh. She led the way down the main aisle. It was quiet this late in the day, the lessons done. Only the die-hard riders, considering the sounds of horse hooves coming from the arena. It had been forever since she’d been this happy. The day felt light, the world around her hopeful and her spirit brightening. Hawk’s friendship was turning out to be a true blessing.

  “Come home with me and I’ll feed you.” She opened General’s gate. “It’s the least I can do for making you ride for hours in the rain.”

  “The pouring rain,” he corrected, leading the black gelding into his stall. “I’m wet to the skin. You might owe me two dinners. Better yet, maybe I should treat you.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “You’re worried, right?”

  “Just a tad. More like curious.”

  “Nope, I’m not going to tell you. You will have to stay in suspense.” General dove into his feed trough. Hawk unclipped the lead and closed the gate. “Fine. I’ll give you one hint. Noodles.”

  “That isn’t a help. A lot of foods have pasta in them.”

  “True.” Trouble danced in his eyes. Definitely a man she was going to have to keep an eye on. He was too charming for his own good. She spoke to Comanche and led him two stalls down. “I could go for carbs.”

  “Awesome. We are in perfect accord.”

  “We are.” And it felt wonderful. The early conversation hadn’t been forgotten—how could it be? Her great sadness about never loving again meant no children, no family of her own, which was a great weight she could not ignore. But Hawk didn’t press her or try to talk her out of her decision, as everyone else had done.

  No, instead of pointing out that she could adopt, or go into foster care or that ten years from now, or even twenty, she could change her mind, Hawk had offered unspoken understanding and spent the rest of the day making her laugh.

  Just as he was doing now. Noodles. Really. What kind of hint was that? There was an Italian restaurant not far away, on the main road. She could go for lasagna, not that she needed the calories.

  He held the passenger door for her—since he had commandeered her keys and her pickup. The trailer was already unhitched, cleaned and stowed, which meant they were free to go and indulge in noodles.

  “How long has it been since this truck has had any work done on it?” He settled behind the wheel and turned the key.

  “The last time I could afford it.” She could tease, too. “I had an appointment, which I had to cancel because I was in the hospital.” />
  “Ah, that would explain things.” It took a few tries for the starter to catch. “You could use a new clutch, too.”

  “It’s on my list. I keep lists, too.” She reached for her seat belt, but he was quick enough to take the buckle from her and fasten it. Thoughtful, since it was harder to do with her hand in a cast.

  “I am well aware of your list, beautiful.” He put the truck in gear and pulled into the gravel drive. Rain smeared the windshield faster than the wipers could keep up, but he drove with confidence and, apparently, eagle-eye vision. “You are keeping track of my faults. Have you made any additions?”

  “Fearless driving. That’s a flaw. There could be a cow in the road and you would never see it.”

  “I would see it.” He oozed far too much confidence, but she believed him. Nor did he seem troubled by her comment. “What else?”

  “You’ve become a good friend.”

  “That’s a fault?”

  “Well, there’s a downside. You will be heading back to places unknown, like Afghanistan.” She focused on the heater vent and adjusted it, although she clearly was looking for a distraction. “And then you will be an occasional e-mail, maybe a phone call now and then.”

  “I always come back. We can hang when I’m in town, right?”

  “Sure.”

  “But it’s not the same.” He got that—he understood a lot. Traffic was heavy and he waited at the crossroads. He wouldn’t lie to himself. He was falling for her. He could try to fight with himself over it; he had more self-discipline than most. But he also knew he wasn’t in control of this. These feelings were bigger and greater than anything he’d known before. There was no way to stop them.

  “We can still spend time together, right?” He tossed that out after pulling into a lane of traffic.

  “Sure. You probably go to a church near the post, but do you want to join me tomorrow?”

  “Just try and stop me.” He signaled and pulled into a puddled driveway. The modest establishment’s sign flashed cheerfully in the fading daylight. “What do you think?”

  “This is a Thai place.”

  “Right.”

  “Noodles.” She laughed. Again. Yep, life was definitely better with Hawk around. Being with him made her world right.

  Even when he was laughing, he was breaking inside. Through a shared meal and lively conversation, he stayed friendly and upbeat on the outside, but all he could think about was her confession she would never marry.

  Never was a big word. One that devastated him. He refused to let her know it as he paid the bill, walked her to the truck and helped her in. The rain had paused, with dampness like vapor in the air and the black clouds above promising another shower.

  This was a one-way street, he realized as he pulled out of the lot. She sat beside him, backlit by streetlights, regaling a tale of a stubborn show pony, a little girl and a huge mud puddle in one of the riding fields. September glowed—there was no other word for it. Her humor, her personality, her being dazzled him.

  “Comanche shook his head through it all, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.” Her laughter rang gently. “The pony wouldn’t stop rolling. Little Hailey was covered in mud and crying—she got her new pink outfit dirty—and I comforted her while trying to get this pony to get up, which he wouldn’t. It started to rain. It took three other people and two hours to get him back on his stubborn feet. I was still finding mud—under my fingernails, inside my boots—the next day.”

  She probably had no idea how adorable she was. How she had him all but wrapped about her little finger. She had no notion he was falling hard and fast or how much being with her hurt him. It didn’t take much to see a future with her—one just like this. With her bright and lively, charming him evermore with one stable tale or horse adventure after another. Always, he would be enthralled. That future could not be. She did not want to walk down that path with him. No, she preferred to be alone.

  Lord, please send me a sign. What should I do? He pulled into the park’s lot and parked next to his truck. “I had fun today.”

  “And helped a good cause.” Her hair had dried in the restaurant, into soft waves from the humidity. The spice-colored locks framed her face and made her look enchanting—someone far too whimsical and sweet to be real.

  “Let me help.” He unsnapped her buckle for her.

  “You are always doing that, always helping me.” She studied him with appreciation—a beautiful sight for him to see. At least he knew she cared. Not the way he needed her to and not anything like how he cared for her, but he would take it.

  “I’m the kind of friend you can depend on.” Nearly killed him to say the word friend, but he meant the rest of it. He would always be there for her, come what may. Beyond duty, beyond devotion, even if she would never love him.

  “I’ll remind you of that come the next fund-raiser.” She didn’t have a clue what he had meant or an inkling of what he felt.

  That was all right. All that mattered was that she looked more like the woman he remembered, full of life and peaceful joy. When he handed over her truck and helped her behind the wheel, he didn’t see anything more than friendship in her manner. It stung, but he knew she was giving him all she could. She thanked him again, gave him directions to the church and waved before she put the truck in gear and drove off.

  She really had no idea. He watched her truck amble through the lot and hesitate on the main road. She turned left, toward home, taking his heart with her.

  The rain returned as gently as if heaven had sent it. The future he saw with September was a wish that could not come true. Alone, battling defeat, he unlocked his truck and hopped behind the wheel. In some ways, it had been a tough day. He feared tomorrow having to be her friend—and nothing more—would be tougher.

  Chapter Nine

  The sanctuary buzzed with conversations and excitement in the moments before the organist started to play. September loved the old-fashioned church with its intricate carvings and plentiful cathedral-style stained-glass windows. Soft daylight made the colors glow as if divinely touched.

  “You’re looking chipper.” Chessie barreled down the row from the left-hand aisle and dropped into the pew beside her. She clutched the program and her big handbag. “How many times have I told you? You put in too many hours at the stables. A little downtime has done you a world of good.”

  “I do feel more rested.” While being off work went against her grain, she liked staying busy and keeping active. But her big sister had a point. She had poured herself into her work and stayed at the stables long after her work hours were over because that had freed her from having to face her grief. Going home knowing there would be no letter or e-mail waiting for her, or no chance Tim would call, had been too hard. It had been easier to stay occupied.

  “I hope you have the good sense not to go back to work too soon.” Chessie, with evidence to support her argument, forged ahead. “You should stay home until the doctor takes your cast off.”

  “I’m going back tomorrow.”

  “To riding?” Chessie frowned. “You can’t do that. What about your arm?”

  “I don’t ride with my arm. Besides, I did just fine on the benefit ride. Which reminds me. You owe me a check to the town’s food bank.” She almost laughed when her sister’s frown deepened. “Relax. I’m working in the office. You don’t have to get so worked up.”

  “I’m your sister. It’s my job.” Chessie tucked her program aside, opened her purse and withdrew her wallet. Instead of writing a check, she stopped to glance around.

  “Looking for someone?” It was so unlike Chessie, she had to ask.

  “Not really.” She released the pen neatly tucked into her checkbook and uncapped it. Something had changed, though. September tried to figure out where her sister had been gazing—toward the front, where a knot of people were talking at the head of the aisle. One of them was a rather handsome man in a navy suit and tie. “Were you looking at that guy?”

/>   “Me? Don’t be silly. I don’t look at men. That would be too forward.” Chessie’s tone held just enough shock that it could have been trying to cover up something else, like vulnerability, maybe embarrassment.

  “He looks familiar. Who is he?” Curious now, she couldn’t let it drop. The organ finished the last refrain and started the first notes of “Amazing Grace.”

  “He used to live down the street from us. Jon Matthews. You might not remember him. He’s back in town now. He took a job at a law firm in downtown Tacoma.” Chessie sounded casual as she tore off the check and handed it over. “He saw me in the parking lot and asked me to go with him to the church’s New Year’s Eve dinner.”

  “Did you accept?”

  “I told him I would think about it. I haven’t seen him since his family moved away in high school, which means I hardly know him. He could have terrible habits and dreadful faults for all I know.” Chessie was hiding something.

  Maybe a schoolgirl crush? Was she nursing affection for this man after so many years? September folded the check in half and slipped it into her purse. Her sister might be abrupt and forceful, but she had a tender heart. Her intentions were always the best. “Maybe you should say yes.”

  “This, coming from you?” Chessie nearly dropped her pen. She tucked it back into the little holder inside her checkbook and zipped her purse. “The last time we had this discussion, oh, a month ago, you told me to avoid romance. It always lets a girl down.”

  “Well, we are both children of divorce,” she pointed out, maybe a little defensively because she had a feeling where her sis was going with this. “We are more realistic than most.”

  “Sure, that must be it. So, why should I say yes? He might be one of those men who are controlling after they marry you. Maybe he has a gambling habit.”