The Corporal and the Choir Girl

by Shanae Johnson

  Maggie snapped her fingers, and the dogs all came to attention like good little soldiers. Before she turned on her heel, she called out to Brandon. “I hope we’ll see you for dinner.”

  Brandon gave a noncommittal waggle of his head. Not a nod but not a shake either. The truth was, he wasn't much interested in being in a crowd right now.

  Understanding lit Maggie’s brown eyes, but she didn’t press. The fact that she hadn’t pressed, the realization that she would likely give him space, and that the other soldiers and their wives would likely do the same, made Brandon curious to break bread with them. Maybe he would.

  He'd been on base around military wives and families. He'd always enjoyed their company more than being back in civilian life. They understood him more. If he ever were to retire, he'd want to do it in a place like this.

  Then he remembered Dylan's words. Every soldier who stayed on the ranch had to be married. That was the zoning edict Brandon had tuned out.

  At dinner their first night, Brandon had given a firm shake of his head at the thought. He’d let everyone know that he would be re-enlisting in a few months, and likely re-deploying if he got the opportunity. He would enjoy his time while he was here. Marriage was not in his cards, especially not if he planned to re-enlist.

  Brandon munched on the muffin and made his way over the hill. Having grown up in the city, he wasn’t used to seeing trees and mountains as far as the eye could see. He jumped at the sound of a mooing cow. He had to wait until chickens crossed the path he was on.

  Once he came to the medical building, things began to look more familiar. He walked down the hall until he saw the psychologist’s name on the door. The door was open, and an unassuming, brown-skinned man sat behind a wooden desk.

  Dr. Patel rose when he saw Brandon lurking in the doorway. "Corporal Lucas, it's nice to meet you."

  Brandon looked down at the thin man with a smile bigger than his face. Patel clearly wasn't no nonsense like the military doctors on the base and at the VA Centers. His eyes looked patient and kind, like he had time.

  That still didn't change the fact that the man was a head shrink. Sitting across from him, Brandon didn't feel comfortable under the man's gaze. He sat up straight in the plush chair, ever alert.

  "I've already met with your other team members," said Dr. Patel. "I'm so sorry to hear about your loss. It’s a loss to our entire community. I knew Reece well. His family were all devoted members of my church.”

  Brandon could only nod. He had no words to offer the man. He’d already botched any attempt to provide solace for Reece’s sister.

  "It seems you are all still suffering from the loss.”

  "It's part of the job," said Brandon. "War is dangerous. Not everyone comes back."

  “Yet, when it comes to the living, sometimes they leave parts of themselves behind."

  Brandon wanted to frown, but he schooled his features, waiting for the psychologist to make his speech plain.

  "Sergeant Chase tells me you're having trouble sleeping."

  Brandon chewed at the inside of his lip. But he soon realized that if he thought he'd wait out the doctor, he would lose that particular game of patience. Dr. Patel would be just the type of companion necessary for a stakeout.

  "It's a common problem,” Brandon said. “Soldiers are often sleep deprived in our line of work. Just like doctors on call."

  "True.” Dr. Patel nodded, seeming to consider his words. “But you're not on call any longer."

  The doctor had him there.

  "However, it seems you slept quite well the last two nights. Maybe there’s no problem at all?”

  Brandon recalled the reason he'd slept so peacefully. A beautiful songbird whose song he’d likely stolen with the news of her brother’s demise. The numbness that had been missing the last two days was now creeping into the palm of his hands and up to his ankles. It would likely rob him of his sleep again by this time tomorrow.

  “As you know, this is a rehabilitation ranch. I’ve set your other team members up on healing jobs specific to their injuries.”

  Again, Patel eyed him with that assessing gaze. Brandon wondered what duties he would be prescribed while on the ranch? He knew there was horse therapy there. He’d like to mount one of the powerful beasts. He’d even be fine with the physical, monotonous work of mucking out stalls. Anything to help numb his brain and his thoughts.

  “While you're here, I'd recommend gardening."

  "I beg your pardon?” Surely, Brandon had heard him wrong. “Do you mean you want me to pull weeds?"

  "It's soothing watching something grow, caring for something other than yourself.”

  Brandon blinked. Gardening? Dr. Patel couldn’t be serious?

  “You'll find the gardens just over the bridge."

  Chapter Eight

  Reegan dug her hands into the fresh soil of the earth and hesitated. She was about to pull up a weed. But then she questioned why she was doing it. Why should she end the plant’s life just because it decided to start its life next to something others found to be more pleasing to the eye?

  This weed was only guilty of trying to thrive in the best place in the garden. The wild plant had the audacity to sink its roots down in the midst of a group of plants whose seeds had been placed there by human hands. But the weed had found its way there through its own grit and determination. It had as much right to life as the other plants that were tended to and coddled.

  Reegan let the weed stay for a second, before pulling it up at the root. If she didn't uproot it, it would take not only one flower's life, but likely a few more around it as it sucked up the meager resources of the plot of land. Sometimes things in nature killed for their own survival.

  She took a deep breath, breathing in all the fresh life that was on the ranch. As much as Reegan loved going out and helping the people in her community, she loved coming here and helping tend this garden the most. The yard of her family's house wasn't so big, and she easily managed the flowers her mother had planted there since before Reegan was born. She liked the challenge of the acres of pastures that the Purple Heart Ranch provided.

  Here she found solitude in all the acres. Here she could think in the quiet spread of land. Here she could tend to herself as much as she did the plants.

  Most of the soldiers who came to the ranch for healing preferred to strengthen their bodies with farm work and ride horses to feel in control of something outside of themselves. Typically, it was only her and Reed out in the gardens. The soldier was within shouting distance today.

  Reed preferred to work the plants and gain more dexterity with his prosthetic limb. But more and more when he was out there, he wasn’t alone. Most of his time was spent making googly eyes at his wife Sarai to notice what needed to be pulled and what didn't.

  For her part, Sarai, a former model, didn’t get her hands dirty. She chatted with her husband, spoiling the peace and tranquility that Reegan craved. Outside of the garden, Reegan loved Sarai’s chatty nature. Just not when she needed quiet and solitude like today.

  The couple was quiet today. Sarai had her hands in the dirt, but she neither pulled at unwanted plants or planted any seedlings. Reed ran his fingers over flowers that needed no tending. Today, instead of making eyes at each other, the Cannons mostly snuck glances at Reegan.

  Everyone was treating her as though weeds were springing up around her. People who she had been a source of strength for were all waiting at the ready to pluck away anything they thought threatened her light and sustenance. Everyone was treating her with special care, but she didn't need it. She didn't want it.

  No matter how many times or ways they said it, Reegan just couldn't come to believe that her brother was dead. It didn't feel like a fact. And no one could prove it to her. Not when she felt the connection that had been between them while still in the womb beating so strong.

  Earlier that morning, Reegan had been on the phone with the Department of Defense. But they didn't give her anything more t
han the soldiers had. In fact, she knew that Corporal Lucas had given her more than he was supposed to.

  Reegan had seen the soldiers ride out on horseback when she’d pulled up. She hadn’t seen Brandon Lucas’s broad form atop one of the majestic beasts. She wondered where he was. Not that she was looking for him.

  "Hey, how are you today?"

  Reegan looked up to see Beth making her way to her. Beth was dressed in one of her flowery sundresses. But her friend’s features were cloudy and gray. Beth’s eyes were red and bleary. Her smile didn't come anywhere near her eyes.

  Reegan held out her arms to her best friend. Beth sank down to her knees and brought her arms around Reegan. As the two friends held each other, Reegan saw Reed and Sarai make a quiet departure. It was another thing she loved about this community. They’d let one of their own suffer in silence but never alone.

  The problem was that Reegan wasn’t suffering. Sure, she was torn up that her brother was missing. She was gutted that she didn’t know where he was or what he was experiencing. But unlike everyone else, she knew with every fiber of her being that Reece’s heart still beat. If anyone should know Reece was still alive, she’d thought it would be Beth. But by the woman’s silent tears, Reegan saw even their shared best friend didn’t believe he was still with them.

  “I wrote him a letter over a month ago, and he never responded,” said Beth. “I suppose this is why.”

  Reegan opened her mouth to refute the conclusion of that statement, then closed her lips. She was too weary to dispute what she believed, what she knew.

  “You know military mail can be delayed,” Reegan said instead. “We both have gotten letters from him dated weeks in the past. Once I got one over a month old.”

  Beth pulled away, wiping at her face. “I hope he got the letter before … It was a confession.”

  Reegan didn’t need to ask what kind of confession. Beth had been in love with Reece since she understood what the word meant. For his part, Reece was entirely oblivious.

  He’d once promised to marry Beth so that they could all be real brothers and sisters. He'd been six when he'd made that promise. Reegan suspected Beth had never forgotten. She was sure their friend had been holding out hope that he’d make good on that promise someday soon.

  But when Reece had chosen a military career instead of the call to the pulpit, Beth had had a wake-up call. She'd only started dating after Reece's first tour, and she realized they'd never be together. Reegan suspected that didn't change how her friend felt in her heart. It was evident in the redness of her eyes.

  “I told Reece I loved him, that I always had. When he didn’t respond, I took it as a sign to say yes to start dating Walter. And now Walter’s asked me to marry him."

  “Oh, Beth,” Reegan sighed.

  “I’m going to say yes.” Beth sniffled as she spoke about her impending marriage. It wasn’t a good sign when a bride to be was in tears over the proposal, especially not when she was crying over another man. “Walter is a good man. I can make him happy. Especially if I’m never going to be with the man I truly love.”

  Reegan wasn’t sure what to say. Part of her wanted to tell Beth to wait, that Reece wasn’t truly gone. But another part of her wanted her friend to move on. It was clear that Reece didn’t feel the same way about her as she did about him. But Reegan couldn’t lie, not to her oldest friend.

  "I just don't believe Reece’s gone,” Reegan said. “I still feel him in my heart."

  “I hope to God you're right." Beth took a deep breath. “But if you are, I’ve still got my answer from him. It was never going to be us. I need to accept that and move on.”

  Reegan knew she should feel relief at Beth’s statement, but she didn’t. She wanted her friend to marry for love, not to settle for anything less. And she wanted Reece to be there when Beth did walk down the aisle. He would insist that whatever man won his best friend’s hand had also won her heart.

  Reegan just needed to get someone to believe her and go back and look for her brother. The sun shifted in the afternoon sky and her gaze flicked over the hill. There a man appeared.

  He rose up as though he were walking out of the sun. Corporal Brandon Lucas walked toward them like he was the answer to her prayers.

  At that moment, Reegan knew what she needed to do. She needed to make Brandon Lucas see the light. She needed to make him believe so that he would help her recover her brother.

  Chapter Nine

  Brandon looked down at the pick in one hand and shovel in the other. He'd held heavy artillery. He knew how to put together a rifle and take it apart in the dark. His skills with a firearm were deadly accurate.

  And yet here he was reduced to a gardener. Sent off to battle weeds. Enlisted to sow seeds of string beans.

  He didn't have time for this. He definitely didn’t have any patience for it. He’d come to the ranch to relax and recuperate, not to tend and till.

  He’d figured he'd at least get to ride the horses. He could see Chase and Ortega in the distance trotting on horseback with a few of the other soldiers in residence. And yet here he was walking away from that excitement to commune with nature.

  Wasn't the whole point of this to get him out of his head? Not to leave him alone with his thoughts. He was near to tossing the tools down in the cursed dirt when he spotted a red flame up ahead.

  It was her. Reegan. She held the same tools in her hands that he possessed. Her tools were buried in the earth. The flowers around her stretched their wiry limbs up for her attention. But she wasn’t looking at the blossoms. Her blue gaze was latched on him.

  Her gaze wasn’t friendly. Those long lashes swept low as she narrowed her eyes. Her nostrils flared. Her arms crossed over her chest, and her shoulders squared off in determination.

  She reminded Brandon of a disgruntled kitten. Part of him wanted to toss her a ball of yarn and watch her play. The other part of him recognized the lioness hidden inside that ball of fur.

  For the first time in his life, Brandon contemplated running away from a battle line. Because make no mistake, there was a line drawn in the fertile ground. It ended where the weeds were wilting away, losing a battle to Reegan Cartwright’s pruning.

  He felt her fingers plucking at him. Sifting the soil of his being to get to the root of him. He held still for her, as though she’d taken one of those gardening sticks used to prop up a vine that couldn’t hold its own weight.

  Brandon stood tall, the tallest thing in the entire field. The sun’s rays touched the top of his head first. But he wasn’t interested in the star’s light. He felt warmed through just being in Reegan’s presence. Even though he knew that he was about to get burned, his feet kept moving closer to the heat source.

  "Hello, Ms. Cartwright."

  He didn't know if he was still allowed the use of her Christian name. When she didn't correct him or insist that he call her Reegan, he knew the privilege had been revoked.

  "How are you today?" He tried for politeness. Anything to get a few words from her, to refresh his memory of the sound of her voice. Perhaps once he heard a few more notes, he’d have that peace he’d felt when she sang wash over him again.

  Reegan lifted her chin. She inhaled through her nostrils, her lips still pursed. Brandon held very still. Any second she would give him words.

  Her chin dipped. She tugged the left corner of her lower lip into her mouth. Her gaze bounced from place to place. His face, his shoulders, his chest, and back again.

  Finally, she settled on his face. She let go of her lip and opened her mouth. Her lips trembled as the words came out.

  "I have questions."

  Brandon felt his chest sink. He felt the blazing heat of the desert lick over his shoulders. He felt the hairs on his neck prickle with awareness. Danger, his brain told him. Flee, was the response his body told him.

  She had questions? Those were the only three words he didn’t want to hear from this woman. He’d expected shouting. It had been two days. He’d felt cert
ain she’d moved from the stage of denial and was at anger, perhaps even bargaining. But it looked as though she were still in denial.

  He found himself lowering his body until he was kneeling before her. She let out a little gasp at his supplication. Her features softened. Some of her nerve left her for a moment, and she looked unsure.

  Brandon had the urge to pull her into his chest. He wanted to tell her that everything would be all right. But that would be a lie.

  Reegan still believed her brother was alive. Brandon knew it wasn't possible. If there was even the sliver of a chance, he hoped Reece would meet his end soon instead of face any torture at the hands of the insurgents who they’d come up against.

  "What happened?" Reegan asked, her voice a shaky whisper.

  It was a simple question. It was also the root of Brandon’s nightmares. Brandon swallowed a few times, but the lump in his throat wouldn't pass to let him speak.

  "The last email I got from him, he seemed fine,” she said. “He said he was training for an operation and that he would have to go dark for at least four weeks.”

  Brandon focused on the sound of Reegan’s voice. She wasn't singing, but the timber of it soothed him. Even though she was using her melodic voice to speak his nightmare out loud.

  “That was over six weeks ago.”

  Brandon nodded, meeting her gaze. He sat the shovel and pick down and leaned his elbow on his knee to prop himself up. “We did train. And then we went on an operation in Afghanistan. I can't get into the particulars of the mission. It's-"

  "Classified."

  Now Brandon bit his lip. Everything in him told him to tell this woman everything. But he’d been well trained. “I can’t tell you where. But I can tell you that it was a counterinsurgency mission. We were trying to help keep the peace for the upcoming elections in the region.”

  The anti-coalition militias in Afghanistan were intent on disrupting the local and national elections. Having officials elected in a democratic fashion would undermine their authority. The insurgents detested the idea of unification of the country but more so a national government.