A Soldier's Prayer--A Fresh-Start Family Romance

by Jenna Mindel

  Cancer...

  He slammed his fists against the couch, then closed his eyes and tried to pray. He didn’t feel much like praying, but he started anyway.

  Lord...

  He stopped. He had no words other than one.

  Why?

  * * *

  Monica woke up late. Really late, but then it had taken forever to fall back to sleep, between her own tossing and turning and listening to Cash’s breathing from downstairs. She hadn’t a clue why he’d slept on the couch, but she’d learned something new about Cash Miller—he snored.

  Slipping down the loft stairs with her packed suitcase, she inhaled the luscious aromas of brewed coffee and something sweet-smelling baking in the oven. She remained quiet in case the boys were still sleeping.

  “Monica!” Owen ran toward her and threw his arms around her legs.

  “Let her get down the steps, Owen,” Cash scolded.

  The little guy backed up and waited.

  Monica took the last two steps. She leaned her suitcase against the railing and hugged Owen. “Good morning.” Then of Cash she asked, “The driveway got cleared, right?”

  “First thing this morning, yes. Took them only an hour. My mom and sister-in-law will be here shortly. They’re early. Want breakfast?”

  She wanted to leave and fast, but her stomach had a mind of its own and rumbled orders to feed it.

  Cash heard the gurgle. “I’ll take that as a yes. Coffee?”

  “Please.” She grabbed the cream from the fridge and then slipped onto a stool at the island.

  How could he act as if nothing had happened between them? As if he didn’t know? She switched rails on that train of thought. This was far better than doom and gloom. Brady had acted offended when she’d told him, as if she were to blame somehow. Like she’d been outside without a coat and had caught a cold. She was glad he’d tossed her aside.

  Cash had simply held her. He didn’t hound her with questions, nor did he get mad. He simply offered her comfort, and she’d actually relaxed, feeling more secure than ever before. So much so that she’d fallen asleep in his arms.

  Cash handed her a cup of steaming brew with a spoon and the dispenser of sugar.

  “Thank you.” She’d told him about the cancer because he needed to know why they couldn’t be. He needed to stop rethinking his goal of remaining emotionally unfettered. Telling him had been the right thing for both of them.

  Wasn’t it?

  “Welcome.” His gazed rested on her for far too long.

  She could feel it, so she looked up into his face and wished she hadn’t. Despite his chipper chatter, his eyes were wild. He looked angry and full of concern and maybe even afraid. For as long as she’d known him, Cash Miller had never before shown her any fear.

  She looked away. She was afraid enough; she didn’t need to see it reflected back at her. “So, what’s for breakfast? It smells amazing.”

  “French toast casserole. It’s almost done.”

  She tried to act normal, like he did. “I’m impressed.”

  He shrugged. “It’s easier than making it one slice at time. Same ingredients, just stuffed into a pan.”

  Owen climbed onto the chair next to her. “Ethan’s talking to Mom.”

  “Oh?” She looked, and sure enough, Ethan exited the bedroom with Cash’s phone in his hand.

  “She wants to talk to you.” The eight-year-old handed it to Cash before launching himself onto the other chair next to her.

  “Yeah?” Cash gazed at her again as he talked to the boys’ mom. “No, I don’t think we need anything. We have plenty of milk. Yep. See you soon.” He ended the call and pocketed the phone. “They’re at the corner store on the main road. You’ll get to meet Ruth.”

  “Appears so.” She’d met Cash’s mom on a couple occasions before—after Cash’s father had died and then again at Cash’s high school graduation, since it was the same as Matthew’s.

  “She’ll want to thank you.”

  Monica tipped her head. “For what?”

  “I told Ruth about the coloring and all that.”

  What all did he say? Monica gave him a pointed look.

  “Nothing about anything else.” He nodded toward Owen.

  The boy drank his milk, but was listening to every word they said, while his brother fiddled with a fidget spinner.

  Monica relaxed. It was better this way, saying goodbye to Cash with the boys and his family here. Less chance of falling apart.

  The timer rang, announcing the French toast casserole was done, and Cash responded with precision and speed. Opening the oven door and using two pinecone-print mitts, he pulled the pan out and set it on the stovetop, followed by a smaller pan covered with foil.

  “What can I do?” she asked, but knew the answer. He had everything under control like always.

  “Not a thing.” He then set syrup and butter and the gallon of milk on the island. “I’ll serve it since it’s hot.”

  “Sounds good.” Monica watched him.

  His biceps flexed where the short-sleeved T-shirt didn’t fully cover his arm. Cash was cut from hours spent lifting and running, but then he was a soldier ready for action at a moment’s notice.

  She’d always hated thinking about what kind of action he might encounter next. Seeing that ugly scar above his belt hadn’t helped. The image was permanently stamped into her mind.

  He set a plate of layered French toast with three sausage links before her and winked. “There’s more if you want it.”

  Her belly growled again, but her appetite was shriveling up and dying. “This should do it.”

  He served up slightly smaller portions to the boys before serving himself. They all sat at the island in a line as if they were at a diner, and Cash said a quick prayer.

  “Amen!” Owen hollered, and dug in.

  Ethan rolled his eyes and doused his plate in syrup.

  Monica looked at Cash. It was as if a switch had been flipped. The younger kid talked as if he’d never been quiet.

  Cash shrugged.

  They ate in silence, the boys happily shoveling in the food while Monica forced herself to eat, and Cash ate normally. After a few minutes, they heard a knock at the front door.

  Both boys ran for it, pushing and shoving each other.

  Monica stood as the two Miller women arrived. Polishing off her last bite, she took her plate to the sink, while the Miller boys gave respective hugs and welcomes.

  “You must be Monica.” Cash’s sister-in-law held out her hand. “I’m Ruth.”

  Monica smiled at the pretty woman with golden eyes before her and grasped her hand for a firm shake. Now she knew where the boys got their red hair. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Thank you for everything you did for my boys. Cash told me how Owen took to you, and, well...” Her eyes grew watery. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  Monica’s own throat grew thick, but she swallowed hard. She was far too emotional these days. “I enjoyed time with them and I really needed this.”

  That was indeed true. This past weekend had been not only fun, but good for keeping her mind off her upcoming appointment. Off her diagnosis. She’d have been miserable here all alone. “Well, I’d best get going. I have work piling up for me back home.”

  Ruth surprised her by reaching out for a hug. “Safe travels. I hope to see you again soon.”

  “Thanks.” Monica returned the woman’s embrace and then turned to greet Cash’s mom. “How are you, Mrs. Miller?”

  “Doing well. Nice to see you again, dear Monica. Give your parents my best.”

  “I will.” Next came the boys. They gave her quick hugs, as they were distracted by what their grandmother had brought them. So Monica took the chance to make her escape.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Cash said quietly, as he
hoisted her small suitcase as if it were light as a book.

  Monica grabbed her empty cooler and braced herself for telling him goodbye. “Let’s not drag this out.”

  He chuckled, but kept walking to her car, where he lifted the rear hatch and tossed in her bag, then waited for her to nestle the cooler next to it.

  She opened her driver’s side door as he shut the back. Needing to put some distance between them, she stood beside her car.

  He closed that distance. Reaching up behind her neck, he gripped the back of her head and gazed into her eyes. “Take care.”

  Her heart beat so hard that she thought maybe he’d hear it, like he’d heard her stomach growls. She didn’t want him to kiss her, but desperately wanted him to in the same panicked thought.

  With one quick glance toward the cabin, she spotted his family looking on. They quickly dashed away from the big windows. “They see us.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I do.”

  “Monica, Monica, Monica,” he teased. “Some things never change.”

  Like going their separate ways again.

  “Some things never change,” she repeated.

  Sliding his other hand around her waist, he drew her close for a simple hug.

  Only it wasn’t simple.

  Her eyes closed and her breath caught and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Bye.”

  He tucked his face against her neck and briefly kissed her throat, then gave her a quick squeeze and let go. “Goodbye, Monica.”

  Wobbly in the knees from hearing him say the one word they’d never said before, she managed to get into the driver’s seat and start the engine.

  He closed her door and stepped back.

  With one last look and brief wave, she backed up and headed for home.

  * * *

  “You’re awfully quiet this evening,” Ruth said, as she dried a dish and put it away.

  He’d washed the dishes and stacked them in the drainer.

  Cash shrugged and walked away from the kitchen. “Not much to say.”

  His mom took the honors of tucking the boys into bed tonight by reading them a story. One with giants and princesses, and he felt the pain of Monica’s leaving all over again.

  His sister-in-law nodded toward them. “The boys want to know if Monica is your girlfriend.”

  “They could have asked me, and the answer would have been no.” He frowned, not liking that reply. Not liking that they’d parted the way they had, saying goodbye.

  Ruth smiled. “I don’t think they thought about it until after she left because you’ve worn a long face ever since.”

  He might as well have been run over by a tank, he thought, and mumbled an unintelligible response.

  “You’re in love with her.” Ruth gave him a pity-filled smile. “I can tell.”

  He shrugged, but didn’t answer. He hadn’t admitted that to anyone, let alone himself. Everyone he loved most died. He didn’t want to love Monica, only to see her fade away and die. If he refused to love her, maybe she’d live... He cringed. That was something his nephews might think.

  After a long silence, he finally said, “She has cancer.”

  “So?”

  “So?” Cash looked at his brother’s wife like it should be obvious.

  It wasn’t to Ruth.

  She set the dish towel down with a fierceness he rarely saw. “Two weeks ago, if you had asked me if I would have married Cole knowing he would die too soon, leaving our boys without a father, I might have said no. The pain was too fresh, but now... It wouldn’t have mattered had he died days after our honeymoon, I would still have married him. Over and over, I would have.”

  He looked at her hard. “Why?”

  “Because any time spent with your brother was worth it. I was blessed with eleven years that were the best of my life. I wouldn’t trade them for anything, nor would I have given them up simply because they’d be cut short and the pain is more than I ever thought possible.”

  Cash didn’t want any more pain. He’d suffered enough losses, might yet suffer still. He didn’t want to build a life with Monica only to lose her too soon. He didn’t want to go through what his sister-in-law described.

  “Maybe I can’t make that trade,” he finally said.

  His sister-in-law touched his forearm, looking mournful. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Me, too.” He headed toward the glass slider leading to the backyard. “I’m going to get some air.”

  She nodded.

  He ducked into the boys’ room first. His mom had moved on to reading The Jungle Book, and Ethan was already out cold, but Owen listened with wide eyes.

  “Good night, buddy.” He kept his voice low.

  “Night, Uncle Cash.” Owen hadn’t bothered to whisper.

  Cash glanced at Ethan, who snorted, rolled over and went on sleeping. He shared an amused look with his mom before slipping outside the door into the darkness.

  Glancing at the stars above, he hated that his nephews would always be affected by the loss of their dad. Cash had never gotten over his own father’s death. He walked around with a hole still inside him. Cole had understood that, too, since he carried the same sensation. The same loss. It was a hole those two boys would now experience.

  Last time Cash checked, that hole had widened when Cole died, but it would swallow him up if Monica didn’t make it. He didn’t even know what kind of cancer she had. Monica hadn’t said. He hadn’t asked, either, not sure he wanted to know.

  He was a coward and no better than that loser who’d dumped her. Had he walked because of the cancer?

  Cash scoured the property, making sure everything had been put back in its place. Passing by the circle of ashes that was once their huge limb pile, he recalled Monica standing in the tall grass. That image of her seemed so clear. He remembered her standing with one hand resting on the rake and the other on her hip. She had that crooked grin on her face. The one she used after mocking him for something.

  He missed her.

  Slipping into the camp chair still sitting by the ring of ashes, he bowed his head between his hands.

  “God...” He didn’t know what to pray.

  He’d prayed for help with the boys a few days ago and God had answered by sending Monica. Why did He do that, only to take her away again?

  You let her go, idiot!

  Cash groaned, but he wasn’t done with God. This was His fault, too. Why had He let Monica get cancer? Why had He let Cole die? Too many questions without answers. It always came back to that.

  “God, you know how I’m feeling. I’m mad as—” He stopped.

  Hadn’t he told the boys that God understood exactly how they felt? God had given His only son to die on the cross so that all who believed in Him might live.

  Cash considered those crayons he’d used that night and how coloring had released something deep inside him. Maybe he should try that again and see if it helped him sort through some of this. He knew fear well, but he’d never been this afraid before.

  Could he stop shutting down and instead open himself up enough to be there for Monica, even if it hurt worse than anything he’d experienced thus far? Even if it meant he’d lose her in the end?

  Cash closed his eyes. He was a marine and marines didn’t leave their brothers in arms to face a battle alone. He could provide Monica with moral support at the very least. Show that he cared for her more than protecting himself.

  That’s the way he faced every mission.

  Maybe it was time to face a new mission in his life no matter how long or short it might be. God had answered his prayer by bringing Monica to the cabin, and God had kept her there until Owen had talked.

  Maybe there was more to her staying than just for the boys. Maybe God knew that Cash needed to talk, as well, but in a langua
ge only the heart understood.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Monica sat in her office and stared at the computer screen. Her assistant had left long ago. It was late, after seven in the evening, and she still couldn’t get this web design right. She worked out of her garage, which had been converted into an office space complete with a bathroom and coffee bar area. For clients, of course.

  Not that many met her here. She typically went to their place of business so she could get a feel for what they did, then nail their branding and online presence. Her own business branding could use a face-lift. The name Website Design and Marketing by Monica seemed pretty generic. Specific, yes, but boring.

  She slumped in her chair and sighed. She’d been home two full days. Tonight would be her second night spent alone like always. Only alone didn’t feel right anymore. She missed Cash. She missed him something awful.

  After rubbing her eyes, she dropped her head in her hands.

  “I thought I’d find you out here.”

  Her mom’s voice brought her head up fast. “Hi.”

  Too late. Her mother had seen her anguish, and her mom’s brow furrowed accordingly. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

  “I’m not. Just trying to catch up.” And keep her mind busy.

  “Monica, it’s going to be okay. Tomorrow’s appointment with the oncology team will answer a lot of our questions.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Monica nodded.

  Oh, how she wished this was one of those times where her mother could put a cartoon bandage over everything and make it all better.

  Her mom planned to go with her, and that was a good thing, since Monica was terrified after all the researching she’d done online. She really didn’t know what direction to take. Go aggressive or play it conservative. She knew her mom well enough to know that she’d opt for the least invasive and painful choice, but that might not be the right one in the long run.