“Okay.”
“I’m also looking into getting a donkey.”
“You’re going to put a kid on a donkey?”
“No, dork. Not for riding. Someone who runs an animal rescue called and asked if I had any room here. So I’m thinking maybe. I’ll just make sure he’s as sweet as they say he is. Anyway, I’m thinking of moving Newman into that front turn–out. I think Pete would make a good friend for him.”
“Horses need friends?”
Hannah shot him a too kind look over her shoulder. “Everyone needs friends, Luke.”
She looked at him just a beat too long, probably wanted to ask if he’d been sleeping again to which he would lie and say yes. But thankfully, she didn’t ask and turned back to the horse. He rarely came over to the barn during the day, preferring to work alone on the cabin. But he did try to check in when he knew Hannah was going through morning chores before her first riders of the day arrived.
“Before I do that, I need to make sure that back right corner is secure. I’ve let it go because Banjo’s not going anywhere, but I don’t fully trust Newman.”
“Already done.”
She stopped, stared at him. “Seriously? Luke, you’re already doing too much.”
“I don’t mind,” he said, looking away.
She closed and latched the bottom half of the stall door, then leaned the pitchfork against the wall and rose up to kiss his cheek. “Then you’re a good boy, too.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Luke took the wheelbarrow from her and rolled it out, dumped the pile.
He wasn’t used to it, his sister’s affection. Often wondered how she was able to give it so freely to a brother she barely knew. Maybe there was some kind of subconscious memory from her two-year-old self. However self-absorbed he’d been, he’d loved her ridiculously, even if he hadn’t known how to show it.
When he came back into the barn she was pouring grain into Newman’s feed bucket.
“I started on the bunk beds last night. I went by your measurements, but you might want to take a look, make sure it’s what you had in mind.”
“That’s awesome. And it makes it seem really real.” She moved on to the next stall. “I still wish you’d stay with us. There’s no need for you to rough it.”
“And risk seeing Stephen’s bare ass? No, thanks. I’m good, really. I like it, it’s quiet. And it’s hardly roughing it.”
Hannah had offered the couch in the small house she shared with Stephen and their one–and–a–half–year–old a hundred times. No way did they need someone sleeping on their couch. He’d spent a week on Zach’s before his brother’s lease ran out and he moved in with Nora and Will.
Luke considered it a stroke of luck that his sister needed help building cabins for her camp. So he’d thrown his sleeping bag down on the foundation and spent his days, and nights, building walls.
Hannah was still looking at him. Trying to read him? Wondering if there was a reason he’d rather be alone in the quiet? He forced a smile and that seemed to satisfy her. “Insulation’s in. Most of the interior walls are finished.”
Along with his brothers, Stephen, and a couple more McKinneys, they’d gotten the thirty by forty–five foot space framed and dried-in in a weekend. With Matt’s direction—and some help from YouTube, Luke had managed the plumbing. Matt McKinney had sent over one of his guys for the electrical.
“You don’t even have a kitchen table.”
Hannah said it like it was the worst thing in the world. He wouldn’t point out all the places he’d eaten. “I will soon. I’m working on one with some of the scrap pieces.”
“I don’t know where you’re finding the time to do all this, but I’d like to see it. And I still need to pay you for the lumber and nails and… whatever else.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Luke. You’re not doing the work and paying for the materials too.”
Despite a few nonprofit grants, he knew she and Stephen were putting most everything they had into this place. “I may have lost the receipts.”
“Luke! I need those receipts for taxes.”
She turned to him again and he caught mild annoyance in her eyes, not pity. Progress.
“Sorry. I’ll remember next time.” Like hell he would. He had money from twenty years of service. Except for a truck and a cheap apartment, he hadn’t had any reason to spend it. Other than helping out Hannah and Freedom Farm, he didn’t have a reason now. “Where’s Stephen?”
“He’s dropping Mitchell and Will off at his mom’s for a few hours.”
“The honeymooners are back tomorrow?”
“Yes.” She paused on her way to the office and gave Winnie a scratch between the ears. “I think Mitchell is going to miss having Will around. It’s making us think about trying for a second.”
“Trying what for a second what? Oh. Um.” He straightened. Was she actually looking at him like she wanted his opinion? “Well, I don’t know about that.”
“You mean you don’t want to know about it.”
“Yes. I do. Not want to know, I mean.”
She laughed as his face went hot. He took a step back. “Do you want help with turn-out, or not?”
“Yes, but first I could use some help with my To-Do list. Honestly, it’s starting to make me crazy.”
He followed her to the barn office, stopping in the doorway. She sat down at her desk piled with miscellaneous papers and pulled out the notebook he knew was her camp to-do list bible.
“I’m waiting on call backs from two suppliers, hoping for donations,” she said, making a note in her book. “Stephen’s brother Matt has offered to help and I’ve got you, but… am I crazy? To think I could do this? I mean what am I thinking? I need strobe lights in the cabins for the hearing impaired and braille everything for the blind. I want to get as far along as I can before Ava leaves so she can go over everything and tell me what I’ve missed. She’s going to help me get the nameplates ordered for outside the stalls.
“Every path needs lighting and braille markers. I’m scratching the dining hall for now—each cabin will eat breakfast and dinner separately. We’ll do picnic style for lunches.”
Luke shrugged, pretending not to notice the mention of Ava. “It’s camp. Kids are supposed to rough it.” He snagged a cracker from the open package on his sister’s desk. He rarely saw his sister eat a real meal.
“I know, but a lot of these kids require extra consideration. They have medicines that have to be refrigerated and dietary restrictions and—” She pulled at her hair. “I am crazy. I truly am. To think I could have all of this done by June. Certifiable.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy. You can add cabins as you go.” He shrugged. “Consider this first summer a trial run.” She’d already had a summer day camp, now she was looking to expand to overnight. It made sense and it would open it up to a lot more kids who didn’t live close enough to be driven back and forth every day.
“Well, I was definitely crazy to think I could have had this up and running by last fall.”
“I agree, that was a long shot.”
She sighed. “Yeah. But that’s good about the bunks. Thanks, really. It’s a huge help and I can’t wait to see them.”
“No, problem. It’s working out on my end, too.” Because he wasn’t ready to make the leap of signing a lease or buying a house. Plus, the thought of having nothing to do during the long nights made him edgy.
“I’m lucky you’re here,” Hannah said. “And I’m glad you’re here. Even if you weren’t helping I’d be glad. So glad.”
He almost said, me, too, but he didn’t want to lie. He wanted to be glad. He wanted to feel like this was right, that it was where he was supposed to be, but the truth was, he just didn’t know. He couldn’t tell his baby sister that nothing felt right and at least twenty times a day he was sure he’d made a mistake leaving the military.
“Yeah, well. I don’t have anything else to do, so…” He shrugged, shifted, angling for
the door and escape. The long look Hannah gave him made his insides squirm. Guess saying you didn’t have anything to do struck another worry chord in his sister’s heart. And wouldn’t it? Most grown ass men had direction. Purpose. Most forty-year-old men didn’t walk away from the only career they’d ever known with absolutely no plan. Shit.
But his sister was staring at him, waiting on some kind of answer or reassurance. “Just kidding,” he said, and raised his hand, thinking to ruffle her hair but ended up giving her an awkward pat on the shoulder. She was twenty–seven, not two. “I’ll get going on the bunks.” He purposefully left off that he had an appointment later. If he told her she’d ask what it was and he didn’t want to say.
“Okay. Hey.”
He stopped at the door, half afraid she somehow knew.
“Ava’s coming out to ride later.”
His pulse might have jumped a little at that news but he was confident he didn’t let it show. “Okay.”
“Just thought you might want to come say hi. You two seemed to hit it off at the wedding. She doesn’t know many people here,” Hannah added when he just stood there. “I think she’s getting a little stir crazy with her parents.”
He blinked. “Okay.”
“Jeez,” Hannah said. “Go. Get out before you talk my ear off. You can take Big Al out with you.”
He made his escape, clipping a halter and lead rope to Big Al, a small Shetland pony. He walked Al out to his paddock to join Hazel for some spring grass and sunshine. He hadn’t thought much about horses before coming here, but he liked them well enough. They watched, considered, taking in their surroundings, their jaws moving in slow circles as they chowed contentedly on grass.
“Okay, big guy, go do what horses do.” Al stood still in front of him, his head lowered for a scratch between the ears. “Okay, fine. But you do know you’re not a dog, right?”
Al bobbed his head as if answering which was kind of creepy. He kept rubbing the course strands of the pony’s forelock, and squinted up at the sky. What would he do if he saw Ava again? Since he was on his way to a psych appointment, or transition counselor, as the military liked to call it, it was probably best for both of them if he did nothing.
“Okay, Al. That’s all you get. Some of us have work to do.” Again, as if Al understood him, the pony turned and ambled off, lowering his head to the grass.
Luke left the paddock, secured the latch behind him, thinking of Ava. Ava with the blue eyes, soft skin and a smile that killed him.
8
It was a thirty minute drive to the nearest office of Veterans Affairs In order to finalize his retirement, or any type of discharge, and receive benefits, all soldiers had to make six meetings with a transition counselor spread over the course of three months.
They wanted vets to check in, touch base, and hopefully get men and women to see the benefit of reaching out for help before it was too late. They also helped with civilian job placement and dealing with the differences encountered in civilian life. Sometimes it was just to talk. His least favorite thing to do.
He didn’t resent the new program. Much. He didn’t need it, but he knew guys who did. The suicide rate among returning veterans was staggering, so he had to appreciate the effort. Even so, he’d asked if he could just do all six of his hours in one day. Not the way it worked, so this would make his third appointment. He’d waited a month to get started. Okay, closer to two, but he was in it now.
Financially, he wasn’t pressed to get a job. The only thing he’d ever bought was a cheap house he didn’t sleep in enough for it to matter, and a truck. But he wouldn’t deny he needed a plan. Couldn’t deny he felt at loose ends.
It often felt like all his ends were loose and flying when he preferred things be tied down tight.
“What’s up doc?” Luke said, entering the small office at the end of a dank, cinderblock hallway.
“As I’ve told you before, I’m not a doctor,” Gary said with a shake of his head and an easy smile. “Have a seat.”
“Right.” Luke took the shit brown and puke green upholstered chair across from Gary. Gary Drummond. Military–Civilian Transition Coach was his official title. He had nothing against Gary, a former marine. He actually liked the guy. But however they dressed it up, Gary was a therapist, and even if neither of them said the word, they both knew it.
Luke looked around the office. The beat-up pine desk. Low metal filing cabinet with a first-generation Keurig on top and a tall ceramic mug that said My Wife Thinks I’m Hot. A tall bookshelf on the wall to the left held more crap than books. But there in the center was a medal in a box. He wondered if that was to remind people like him that Gary had indeed served. Help build rapport? A tangible way to say, I know where you’re coming from?
Fifty-ish, Gary was on the shorter side, stocky, with a thick beard and saggy brown eyes that had him always looking like he was recovering from an all-nighter. The wire rimmed glasses, loose fitting khakis, and white and brown checked dress shirt made Luke think nutty professor. “You put in for a bigger office yet?”
Gary sat back, smiled again. “You don’t like my office?”
“Mmm.” Luke cracked his neck side to side. He hadn’t seen him in the winter yet, but fully expected to see the same shirt layered with a navy sweater vest. Weird he noticed so much about Gary’s clothes. “At least you have a view.”
Gary looked over his shoulder at the window behind him. An air conditioning system blocked any view if there was one. He turned back, steepled his fingers. “You survived the wedding.”
One good thing about Gary was he didn’t shuffle through papers like he was trying to remember who you were.
“Appears I did.”
“See.” Gary spread his hands. “Told you there was nothing to worry about.”
“Who said I was worried?”
Gary sat back with a friendly expression. That was one thing he didn’t like about Gary. He saw too much. “They both said I do and now they’re married.”
“You happy about that?”
“He’s my brother. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Gary shrugged. “Just making conversation.”
Luke rested his elbows on the armrests, steepled his fingers, mirroring Gary. He waited for Gary to pose a question. Gary waited too. A standoff, Army versus Marines. As a Special Forces fighter, Luke figured he had the upper hand.
“Anything eventful?” Gary finally asked.
“You mean did I get drunk and stumble into the cake singing Sweet Caroline?”
Gary laughed. “Weddings are rife with wayward relatives.”
“Well, I wasn’t the wayward one. Didn’t stab anyone with my salad fork.” Not even the fifth person who’d asked him about life in the Rangers, or the sixth one who’d clapped him on the shoulder and said it must be nice to be back.
“Anyone stumble into the cake? Take the band’s mic to make a drunken statement of love?”
Luke huffed out a laugh. “You’ve been to wild weddings, Doc. But, no. Nothing eventful, unusual, out of the ordinary, or unexpected.” Except Ava. Ava had been unexpected.
Gary leaned back in his chair into what Luke now thought of as his non-threatening pose. “You mentioned last time you didn’t know why you were here. In this town specifically.”
Luke raised a brow. “Jumping right in today, huh, Doc?”
Gary lifted his hands in a small, hey, I’m innocent gesture. It was harmless enough question. Not even a question really, though every comment Gary made was meant to elicit a response.
“Reconnecting with family can be hard. Especially when you’ve been gone so long.”
Luke said nothing. It didn’t feel like reconnecting exactly. He hadn’t ever been connected to his brothers as an adult. This was more like repeatedly seeing people you were supposed to have a deep connection with but didn’t. He hadn’t shared a Christmas or birthday with his siblings in over twenty years.
Somewhere, deep down, maybe he’d thought that if he came back,
he could go back to that time. Do what he should have done, been who he should’ve been. Too bad life didn’t work like that.
“Sometimes going to weddings makes people start thinking about their own future.”
He looked back to Gary. “Is going to a wedding what made you want to get married?”
“No. I met Laura, fell in love, and then I wanted to get married.”
“Please. Tell me more.”
Gary chuckled. “Here. I’ve got something for you. Even if you are a pain in my ass.”
While Gary shuffled through a pile of papers on his desk, Luke thought about what he wasn’t saying about the wedding. That he’d felt more in those moments with Ava in his arms than he’d felt in weeks. Maybe years.
But there’d been something there with Ava before the song hit the second chorus. Before he’d even asked her to dance. Beyond beautiful, she was funny, smart, easy to talk to, and relaxed. And in turn she relaxed him. And maybe she’d needed him, just a little.
Timing is everything, isn’t that what people said? But time was also everything and you never knew how much of it you were going to get. He’d seen that time and time again. “What were you thinking about just now?”
Luke’s mind jerked back, but on the outside he showed no sign Gary had interrupted his thoughts. “Nothing.”
Gary sighed. “So, civilian jobs I thought might interest you.” He slid over a sheet of paper.
Civilian job. Why did that sound like such a dirty word? Maybe because he felt guilty for being on the outside and out of danger. Now that was something Gary would love to talk about.
Luke gave the list a quick look.
“Operations research analyst,” Gary said, tapping his finger at the top of the page. “This could be strategizing business plans and best practices for an organization. It’s a job that comes naturally to a lot of Rangers who’ve been trained in logistics and military strategy. These are research-intensive jobs that involve investigating a company. It’d be primarily behind a desk—”
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