by Amy Lyon
Millie was in a wheelchair, flanked on either side by his mom, Dottie, and Fancy, Matt’s mother. They were a chattering sight to behold, but all conversation stopped when they spotted him with Sara.
“Mom, I want you to meet—”
“Sara!” Dottie said, opening her arms to wrap Sara in a huge hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Sara’s tentative smile and wide eyes told him she wasn’t accustomed to such an outpouring of affection, but she accepted the hug nonetheless.
Fancy snapped her fingers and Millie started to hum, and the trio of older ladies broke into song.
“Sara, Sara,” they crooned in unison. “Storms are brewin’ in your eyes.”
“Mom, please,” Jackson said, holding out his hand in a plea for them to stop.
But there was no silencing the songbirds.
“Sara, Sara,” they continued. “No time is a good time for goodbyes.”
“Is that—”
“Starship,” Jackson supplied. “You’re being serenaded with an ‘80s love song.”
Sara stared, wordless, as they ran through the chorus again.
Jackson thought about apologizing for his mother, who was usually the instigator of these musical outbursts, but then Sara laughed and clapped her hands.
“No one has ever sang that for me before,” she rested her hand over her heart.
And if Jackson wasn’t mistaken, she seemed genuinely entranced by their performance. He wrapped an arm around her waist and ticked off one more reason to love her.
“I’ve lost count of the times they’ve busted out with Johnny Cash’s Jackson in a public setting.”
“Oh, you like the attention,” Dottie said, patting her son’s shoulder.
“Sara, dear,” Millie said, waving her hand to get her niece’s attention. “Have you seen Sally yet?”
Jackson turned in time to see the color drain from Sara’s cheeks.
“Who’s Sally,” he asked.
“My mother.”
“Your mother’s coming?”
“Not that I know of,” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.
Millie clucked. “Well, she said she’d be here. I swear, that woman is always late.”
Sara’s body stiffened and she glanced over her shoulder.
Clearly, this was a touchy subject, and Jackson had enough sense to keep his mouth shut. The mystery surrounding Sara’s mother, who he’d heard her talk about at dinner the other night, was a subject best broached by Sara herself.
With perfect timing, Andi called out to Sara and motioned for her and Jackson to sit at one of the front tables.
“Saved by the cousin,” Jackson said, trying to lighten the mood.
But Sara’s expression was hard as stone and didn’t soften until dinner was served and light conversation ensued. Finally, she stopped watching the entrances. The chicken dinner hit the spot, which was no surprise since Junonia was without question the best restaurant on the island and drew a good crowd over the causeway from Naples.
The dessert table was even more impressive, a smorgasbord of beach-themed treats.
Sara held up a cookie. “Sand dollar sugar cookies,” she said. “I made them this morning.”
“I didn’t know you were a baker,” he said, adding one of the cookies to his plate.
She winked. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
He laughed. “So you’ve said.”
Back at the table, Sara pulled a piece of paper from her purse. “Time for the toasts.” She wiped her palm on her napkin. “I really don’t enjoy speaking in front of people.”
A jolt hit his gut. “Toasts? I thought that was tomorrow night at the reception.”
“Both nights,” she said. “Wait. You didn’t plan anything to say for tonight?”
He shook his head. He’d prepared a short speech for tomorrow night that offered well wishes to the new couple, but he’d missed the memo on a groom’s dinner toast.
“No biggie,” Sara said, waving the hand she’d just dried off. “Share a memory or two about Matt. Something from high school.”
Moments later, Sara poetically recounted childhood memories with Andi that entranced the crowd while Jackson tried to mentally string together a few sentences that didn’t make him sound like a total buffoon. Girls had it easy with all the feelings and emotions while guys were expected to be macho and funny. Neither of which he felt.
In fact, he’d be more comfortable sharing a few feelings about Matt. After all, the guy was the reason he kept his act together when he returned to Mimosa Key after his military discharge. Tomorrow night he’d talk about Matt’s loyalty, his unshakable faith, his instant connection with Andi, and how they were each great as individuals, but so much better together.
Matt helped Jackson see his military dream may have shattered, but every one of those broken shards was valuable to God, and He had the ability to reassemble them in miraculous ways Jackson couldn’t even imagine.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.
Ultimately, when the microphone landed in Jackson’s hands, he resorted to a few high school football stories and wrapped up with an anecdote that always left Matt in hysterics.
“In a rare taste of victory during our freshman year, the Scorpions were up by fourteen, so the coach gave me a shot as quarterback,” Jackson said. “Matt played center and when I got my hands on that ball I spun around like a top in search of a receiver.”
Matt groaned and put his palm to his forehead.
Jackson continued. “With that ball gripped tightly in my hands, I saw an opening I couldn’t pass up, so I cooked down the field like there was no tomorrow. The turf was surprisingly open and I was locked in on those goal posts. I knew the coach was watching and probably awe-inspired by my performance.”
“Doubtful, J.T.,” Kenny shouted from two tables away.
Jackson’s face grew hot and his nostrils flared. Leave it to Big Mouth Kenny to try to steal Matt’s spotlight. Not happening tonight, Jackson thought, and continued with his story.
“But then Matt appeared alongside me, arms flailing as he pointed in the other direction.” There was a low rumble in the room as the audience clued in to the twist. “You can probably guess I was running the wrong way.”
“Rookie mistake!” Kenny shouted.
Jackson’s eyes burned. Just ignore him.
“Matt tackled me right there on the second yard line to avoid a throw back and two points for the other team.” Jackson paused and clapped a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Always steering me in the right direction. That’s a true friend.”
Andi and Sara clapped in unison, followed by the crowd.
Matt rose to give Jackson a hug. “Love you, man,” he said. “Couldn’t have asked for a better best man.”
“Thank God the military wanted you,” Kenny shouted over the clapping. “But you couldn’t even make that work, could you?”
Jackson zeroed in on Kenny as the full force of a fury he hadn’t felt in years hit him right in the chest. He clicked off the microphone, set it on the table and pushed out of his chair. One punch and he could knock that loudmouth right out of his seat.
One punch and he’d be right back where he was two years ago.
CHAPTER TWELVE
If looks could burn, Kenny Fine would be toast.
Sara grabbed her purse and watched from the table as Jackson silently blazed past Kenny and through the exit. The Golden Girls swooped down on Kenny, fingers pointing as they hovered over him like vultures over dead meat.
Serves him right, Sara thought, imagining the verbal lashing the ladies were dealing out.
“You never should have invited him,” Andi grumbled to Matt. “I knew he’d drink too much and say something inappropriate.”
“He’s doing all the sound and lighting for the wedding for free,” Matt said. “I thought he could keep it together for one night.”
Andi nodded and pointed to the doorway. “Go check on Jackson, please. That was a low blow.”
“And call me if you need anything,” Matt added.
Sara hustled through the restaurant to the valet loop where Jackson leaned against a concrete pole, his tie loosened and his hands pressed hard onto his hips.
She slid in next to him. “You okay?”
Jackson’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a breath. “Just needed some air.”
Sara huffed. “Man, I wanted to pop Kenny in the mouth for what he said.”
Jackson grunted. “Me, too. You have no idea.”
Sara laced her fingers with his. “Should we take our aggression for a walk on the beach?”
His face softened and he bobbed his head in gentle agreement. “Probably a good idea to get out of here.” He eased an arm around her shoulder. “Mind if we grab Jax first?”
“I was just going to suggest that,” she said, wrapping her arm around his waist.
In short order, they retrieved the car from the valet and returned to Jackson’s house to pick up the ecstatic golden retriever. Jax was so well behaved and accustomed to taking commands that he didn’t even need a leash for the short walk from Jackson’s house to the beach. When his paws hit the sand, he tore off, running full speed ahead parallel to the waves.
“You’d never know he was injured,” Sara said, barely noticing the way Jax favored his left leg when he ran. “He’s adapted so well.”
“Adapt or perish,” Jackson muttered.
Sara snorted. “That’s very Darwin of you.”
“You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.” He gave her a sideways glance. “How’s that? Best lesson I ever learned and it’s from kindergarten.”
She laughed, glad to hear a little humor back in his voice.
Jackson wasn’t one to dwell in the darkness and she liked that about him. Some people, and canines, too, were better at adapting than others. Jackson seemed to have a knack for sloughing off the kind of baggage that weighed a person like Sara down.
But she didn’t just have baggage. She had a fully stocked cargo ship of baggage with no compass and, consequently, no direction for her future. Sadly, she was the captain of a ship she couldn’t control. No matter which way the wind blew, she bobbed aimlessly.
She sighed and looked out over the horizon where the sun was setting. If only she could find her proverbial port and anchor.
Jackson leaned into her. “Everything okay?”
She cleared her throat. “Actually, I was hoping you’d tell me the story of what happened to you and that canine soldier of yours.”
Perhaps in hearing his story she’d find wisdom for her own life. The secret to the coveted fresh start. And maybe in sharing he’d find a bit more healing.
“It’s not a pretty story.”
“The past is rarely ever pretty. From my experience, at least.”
They’d both been through so much in the last couple of years. There had to be lessons they could glean from each other.
Sara smiled at the thought. Lessons. Now she sounded like Jackson.
He motioned to Jax, who ran a good twenty yards ahead of them. “As I told you, fate brought us together.”
She linked her hand with his. “Tell me how you met. Was it love at first sight?”
Jackson laughed. “Sort of, actually. After a few years in the Army, I had to nail down a specialty. A personality analysis revealed that I had the focus and patience to be a K9 handler, and that sounded pretty cool to me.” He chuckled at the memory. “Stupid kid. I figured, ‘Who doesn’t love to play with dogs?’”
Sara shrugged. “There are worse jobs in the Army.”
“You got that right. You can’t imagine the training we went through. When I got to the training facility in Texas, Jax and I were paired immediately. I wasn’t sure about him at first glance because he’s a golden retriever and most military working dogs are German shepherds.”
She nudged him. “Can’t judge a book by its cover.”
“Or a dog by its breed,” Jackson said. “Jax comes from a strong bloodline with a balanced temperament, and his sense of smell is second to none. He’s trained in weapon, bomb and drug detection, and also health and welfare searches.” He waved a hand at Jax. “I’m telling you, this dog can detect more accurately than any military equipment and certainly better than any human.”
He whistled and Jax stopped, whipped around and bounded back to his handler’s side. “Even at his age, he listens better than most kids.”
Sara smirked at Jackson’s fatherly pride. With each step they took on the hard-packed sand, she felt the tension in his body give way a little bit more. She didn’t want to dredge up his past, but she needed to hear the rest of his story.
Seeing no easy way around the topic, she opted for a direct approach.
“How long did you serve together?”
“Six years.”
“Can you tell me what happened?” she asked, then clarified, “the day you were shot.”
His hand tightened around hers and, even in the fading light of the setting sun, she saw a muscle flick in his jaw.
“We’d been on more than two-hundred missions together.” He let out a heavy breath. “Our job that day was to go ahead of a convoy in Afghanistan to detect explosives. Jax sniffed out IEDs in record time and did exactly what he was trained to do.” He shook his head at the memory. “What we hadn’t planned on was snipers. We’d been told the area was clear. We were able to radio to the convoy to turn back, but Jax and me, we each took hits.”
Sara squeezed his hand. As if Jax sensed the energy of their history in the air, he circled back and walked in step with his handler.
Jackson kneeled down. “Would have been much worse for Jax if he hadn’t been wearing body armor. Still, he took a bullet to his left hip.” He parted fur to reveal Jax’s scar. “Retrievers are notorious for hip dysplasia and that shot didn’t help. They got him three times total, but the other two were stopped by the vest.”
Sara closed her eyes. She couldn’t imagine. “And you were shot twice?”
He nodded.
“You could have been killed,” she whispered.
He shook his head and fluffed the dog’s fur. “Not with Jax by my side. He received a medal of courage for protecting me after I fell. He was a hero, featured in Dogs Life magazine in an article called ‘Canines in Combat’. He was in Top Dog magazine, too. I’ve got the clippings at home.”
“In his scrapbook?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.
He grinned. “Yeah, something like that.”
She leaned into him and rubbed his forearm. “You’re an excellent dog dad.”
“Handler,” Jackson corrected.
“Maybe a handler when you were serving, but now you’re a pretty great dog dad.”
Jackson rapped Jax’s backside and the dog took off again down the beach.
“And what about you?” Sara asked. “You’re a hero, too. I’m sure there was something written about you. You saved a lot of lives.”
“People like the dog stories,” he said, his voice distant. “They’re cuter.”
“I beg to differ.”
He grunted and motioned to a bench in the dry sand. Sara slipped off her sandals and relished the way the soft sand, still warm from the sun, swallowed her feet to her ankles.
“I’m glad you and Jax were able to stay together,” she said, sitting next to him.
Jackson undid his tie and let it hang loose around his neck, then undid two shirt buttons. He reached an arm across the back of the bench. “He wasn’t the same after the accident. He was jittery, spooked by every little noise. He lost his ability to focus.”
“And you?”
“I guess I became a little gun shy, too. Unable to focus and I lost all patience with people.” He glanced he
r way. “And there was one guy who knew how to push my buttons.”
“A guy like Kenny?”
Jackson closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Exactly like Kenny. Finally, one day, I’d had enough.”
“What happened?”
“To use your words, I popped him in the mouth,” he said matter-of-factly. “Busted out one of his front teeth and broke his nose.”
Sara bit her lip. She couldn’t imagine that kind of anger coming from Jackson.
“Around that same time my dad was diagnosed with cancer. My sergeant recommended a leave of absence while I recuperated and had a—” he made air quotes above his head “—‘psychological analysis’.”
“Is that when you came back here?”
Jackson nodded. “Matt was a godsend during that time. I honestly don’t think I would have made it without him. He was so good at seeing the bright side of things, the silver lining, without being pastor-y, if you know what I mean.”
Sara nodded.
“Even though I didn’t want to hear what he had to say and I blew him off several times, Matt being Matt, he pursued me.”
“I’ve come to realize he’s good like that,” Sara said with a smile.
“I knew my military dreams were trashed without some psychologist confirming it for me. And I wasn’t about to sit behind a desk pushing papers. That was a hard enough pill to swallow, but then watching my dad waste away—” his voice hitched and he cleared his throat. “So I decided to get out and was able to receive an honorable discharge. Thankfully, there’s a law that gives handlers first right of refusal for adopting military dogs at the end of their useful service.”
“What a blessing to have Jax with you through everything.”
Jackson nodded, lost in thought, then finally said, “I don’t know how my dad did it, running two shops. It killed me to close down the bait shop, but I couldn’t find anyone to buy it and I was hemorrhaging money.”
“Your dad would understand,” Sara said.
Jackson shrugged dismissively. “I don’t know about that. Being a failure never feels good. I tried to hold it together, but the truth is I completely lost my identity until …”
He trailed off and Sara chewed her lip, unsure what to say. This was the second time he’d called himself a failure and she couldn’t stand the way he beat himself up. She pushed to her feet and stood in front of him, resting her hands on his shoulders.