The Long Road Home

by Cheyenne Meadows

  Logan grinned at her analogy. "Usually. Guess this must be the exception." He paused a beat. "Is that okay? I know it's short notice being today is Friday."

  "No, no. Monday is actually perfect. I had originally taken most of next week off to spend in Nebraska with my family. Well, since that fell through, I've been thinking of calling work and returning early. That way I can save a couple vacation days to use later. I'll keep Monday off, which will give me time to talk to my boss and get the nod to come back on Tuesday." She paused for a second. "Do you want to drive in Sunday? That way you won't have to be up so early with a four hour drive. You can get a full night's sleep here and be ready for your first day."

  "That's a good idea. Are you sure, though? I don't want to intrude or make any problems."

  "I'm positive. In fact, I'm already excited. I'll make up the spare bedroom, go grocery shopping. Get this house shipshape and ready for company."

  "Gonna make more homemade bread?" He crossed his fingers.

  "You want some?"

  "Absolutely."

  "Then I'll see if I can toss together a few more loaves. Can't let the special guest starve, after all."

  Swinging around, he leaned back against his pillows, noticing his reflection in the dresser mirror. A relaxed grin covered his face as he talked to the petite brunette who had left a few short hours ago.

  His expression said it all. A man with a major crush on a woman, who enjoyed sitting around and shooting the bull, making plans for their next time together. The guys in his old unit would tease him mercilessly if they saw his expression right now. Tough warriors weren't supposed to look like teens in love for the first time. They were supposed to carry confidence, seize the day, sweep the woman off her feet, and drag her to his man cave. He snorted at the thought.

  Too bad he couldn't be with them to hear their ribbing. A wave of sadness and regret stole his grin.

  "Logan? Everything okay?" Gwen's voice laced with concern.

  "Yeah. Just thinking."

  "About?"

  He debated how much to tell her. After all, they were just together a couple of days and laying a heavy weight on her shoulders might prove too much for her to bear, especially this early in their relationship. You won't know until you try. Like his drill sergeant always said, he wanted to know what a soldier could stand before he marched with them into battle. Better to know ahead of time than find out in the middle of a firefight.

  Blowing out a slow breath, he focused on the words. "I miss the Army. My old job and the other Rangers in my unit."

  "You want to go back?"

  She hit the nail on the head. "I wish. But with this prosthesis, it ain't happening."

  "Have you thought about what else you might want to do with your life?"

  "Some. Nothing comes to mind. I was damned content where I was, despite the danger. If the bomb would have taken my life instead of just my leg, I would have died happy."

  A pregnant silence greeted him. "You're a warrior, born and bred. I can see that in everything you do. I know it's hard now and will be in the future, but I'm thankful the way things turned out. To have this second chance…" She sighed. "I wish there was some way you could return to the job you love. If not that, then perhaps something similar."

  He accepted her sympathy and wrapped the emotion around himself. "I do, too."

  "You know…"

  "Yes?"

  "I'm sure the people at Walter Reed are full of information and knowledge. Perhaps one of them might have some suggestions. Either the doctors, nurses, or your physical therapists. Surely they've seen other patients who dream of the same thing as you?"

  He considered her idea for a moment. "Probably. Some of the guys are much worse off than me, so they'd face more limitations. Maybe with just a single prosthesis, there's something I can do."

  "I think there's a lot you can do. You just don't know it yet."

  "I hope you're right."

  Her tone brightened. "Of course, I'm right. Condom testers always are."

  He snorted and found his sadness ebbing beneath her encouraging words. "I'll take your word for it."

  "You should. If one of my condoms can't pass the water balloon test, then the country is gonna have one heck of a population explosion."

  Laughter struck out of the blue. "Good point."

  "Logan? Dinner's ready," his mother hollered from the kitchen.

  "I guess I'd better go. Mom has food on the table."

  "Logan?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Thanks for coming to my rescue."

  "No problem. Thanks for making my holiday one to remember."

  "You're welcome. I'll see you Sunday?"

  "Count on it." With that said, he clicked off.

  The day couldn't come soon enough.

  Chapter 17

  "Sit down, Logan. I'll get your plate ready."

  "Thanks, Mom. But I can get it myself."

  "Nonsense. I'm already up."

  He took a seat at the dining table and sipped the glass of water on the placemat.

  "This looks good, Tilly." Logan's father carried his chinaware to the stove and loaded up with steaming food.

  His mother bustled around the kitchen, dipping hot vegetables and a pork chop onto the plate before placing the food in front of him. "Thank you. It's Logan's favorite. To celebrate his being home."

  Home forever. Logan cringed at his mother's unintended reminder of his hopeless situation. She'd pampered and fussed over him every minute since he had met them at the airport. First, she lectured him on getting out in the ice to meet them, clucking when he told her Gwen dropped him off so he didn't have to hike in the mess. Five times in the past three hours, she'd inquired if he was comfortable or if she could bring him something. Each time, he had clamped his back teeth and chided himself for his short temper and sensitivity. After all, she only did those things and said what she did out of love.

  "Thanks." He waited for his mother to sit down with her own meal before picking up his silverware and digging in. Though tasty, the awkward tension in the room made each bite difficult to swallow. He drained his glass of water in no time, using the liquid to assist in moving each portion from his mouth to his stomach.

  His mother glanced at his glass. "My, you're thirsty. I'll get you a refill." She started to stand up.

  "No. I'll get it." Logan hastily stood and whisked the cup out of his mother's reach.

  She frowned. "I can get it for you." Standing, she met him at the sink, turning on the faucet. "If you'll just sit down, I'll get this."

  He counted to ten, then refilled his drink, absently turning the faucet off before returning to his seat. "Thank you, Mom. But, really, I can take care of myself."

  "I know you can. It's just that… sometimes a person needs some help. Just until they can get back on their feet." She blushed crimson once her words sunk in. "I'm sorry. I didn't…"

  Logan sighed heavily. "Okay. Let's get this out in the open. I'm not an invalid."

  "I didn't say you were." She sat up straight, her face pinched in annoyance.

  His father leaned back in his chair, his gaze flicking back and forth between the two.

  "Don't baby me. It only pisses me off." He lowered his voice and purposely tried to keep from sounding defensive and petty. But if he didn't nip this behavior in the bud, a larger battle would only come later.

  "Logan…"

  "Tilly, he's a grown man. No man likes to be treated like a four-year-old. You mean well, but you're stepping on his ego."

  Logan shared a look with his understanding father. "Exactly." Reaching out, he grabbed his mother's hand and squeezed gently. "I love you for your devotion and that you want to care for me. I just need to do everything I can for myself."

  "What about your… injury?" She glanced down at his prosthesis visible where his pant leg ended.

  "My stump. It's okay to say the word. Stump or amputation. It's healing. Sitting around and letting people wait on me only makes m
e weaker and the healing process last longer. I'm the same as before, with just a couple of modifications. Let me show you." He pulled up the leg of his sweats, high enough she could see where his prosthesis ended and his stump began.

  She paled, her hand covering her mouth. With a shake of her head, she blinked back tears.

  His heart ached even as his spirits fell into the doldrums. He knew she would have difficulty accepting his disability. Seeing her upset made him hate the situation all the more. "It rarely hurts anymore if that's what you're upset about."

  "I've heard they can do amazing things with modern technology in artificial limbs." His father eyed the titanium rod serving as a leg. "Like the six million dollar man, you can hardly tell someone lost a leg with these new devices."

  Logan met his gaze. "This is the standard issue. I hope rehab at Walter Reed will allow me to update and maybe try some of the newest versions."

  "How will you go on, find a job, live the rest of your life with only one leg?" His mother whispered the question as if afraid he'd take offense.

  If she only knew how many times he'd asked himself the same questions since the attack. "I'm not giving up on life, I'm just learning to adapt to my new limitations. People have been doing that for centuries after war. I can do just about everything I could do before."

  "Just about everything?" his father asked.

  "Everything but be an Army Ranger." Logan's voice trailed off.

  Both his parents looked at him with sympathy. Depressed and disillusioned, he set his fork down and walked back to his bedroom with his head down and confidence in the gutter.

  Chapter 18

  Logan stood in the gunner's position as the armor-plated vehicle slowly crept forward, following a short line of similarly outfitted Humvees. Everywhere he looked up in the hills, heads peeked out and rifle barrels aimed in their direction. He fired, fast and hard, hoping to eradicate every threat before they could take out his men, his team, his whole entire force. Each round shook his arms, made him swear, as the heat from the huge gun added to the oven-like desert. Sweat poured from his head as he aimed, fired, and repeated the action. Tangos sprinted here and there, ducked, then shot back, hitting his men. One by one, each fell. An explosion sent him flying, landing flat on his back on the dusty road. Looking down, he saw blood everywhere and only part of leg where there had been a full one previously.

  Jerking awake, Logan panted, tried to catch his breath as his heart threatened to beat through his chest. He blinked in the dark, orienting himself to his location. Throwing the covers back, he sat up on the side of the bed and rested his head in his hands.

  Shit. Another fucking nightmare. He trembled from the images so representative of his real-life horror. Taking a deep breath, he focused on familiar objects. His bed, dresser. Even the carpet. Glancing around, he found the clock. Four am.

  Wide awake and shaken, he knew from experience sleep was out of the question for the remainder of the night. Adrenaline surged through his system, meaning he'd be awake and antsy for the next few hours.

  Might as well get up and pack. Not like there was much else to do at this time of day. Not to mention, he was more than eager this morning to hit the road and escape the tension-filled apartment. They meant well, but he didn't want them to see him like this. If his injury wasn't bad enough, what would they think if they knew he dreamed about that horrid day and spent some nights pacing the floor?

  As quietly as possible, he put on his prosthesis from feel alone, then walked to the closet. Finding his suitcases, he tugged them out, then went to work.

  Thirty minutes later, he pulled several pairs of sweats out of his drawer, Logan stacked them in one of the large suitcases lying open on his bed.

  He couldn't blame his mother. No. She just needed time to accept the facts, same as he did a couple months earlier. He knew of no way to hurry her along, she had to work through the big change at her own pace. Until then, the home felt tense, edgy. As if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop. Logan grimaced at his unintended pun and shoved some socks into his bag.

  A knock caught his attention. Glancing up, he found his parents in the doorway. "I was trying not to wake you."

  They walked slowly into the room, seriousness covered their faces.

  "You don't have to leave so early." His father's baritone voice sounded loud in the silent room.

  Logan shrugged. "It's a four hour drive. I want to get there, have time to get settled in, and hit the sack early for a busy day tomorrow."

  "I'm sorry. I know you're running off because of me. I just…" Tilly's eyes filled with tears.

  Logan dropped the last sock and hurried over to embrace his mother. "Shh. It's okay. Really."

  She sniffed and hugged him tightly back. "I know. You're strong and determined. You'll zip through with flying colors." Leaning back, she searched his face. "Your leg…"

  "Stump," he supplied.

  "Stump doesn't disgust me. Not at all." She sucked in a breath. "I just think of the pain you must have suffered, what all you've been through, have yet to go through. It breaks my heart."

  A sense of relief and rightness settled on his shoulders. Her words banished the worst of his fears in her gaining ground to acceptance. He kissed her cheek. "It rarely hurts anymore. We can't go back and change things, we can only move forward." He smiled softly and lifted his gaze to find his father with a tiny grin on his face. "Don't worry. I'll do you both proud in rehab."

  His father nodded as his eyes misted. "You already make us proud, son."

  With a quick nod of appreciation, Logan headed to the closet and pulled out his winter coat to take with him, tossing it on the bed. "Wait until you meet Gwen. You'll love her."

  "She must be something special for you to invite her here and be willing to stay with her in Bethesda." His mother wiped at a stray tear and grinned happily. "Bring her with you when you come home next. I can't wait to get her bread recipe."

  "Considering her job, you should have plenty of condoms on hand. Just in case." His father chuckled until his mother elbowed him in the gut. "Ooph."

  Logan laughed for the first time since they had returned home, the awkwardness forgotten for the moment. "There is that." He placed his paper orders on top of the pile of clothes, then zipped the lid closed. Taking a nearby pile of shirts, he settled them in the remaining suitcase. Not stopping until the luggage bulged with the effort to contain everything he needed, he finally closed the last suitcase.

  "All done." He turned to look at his parents.

  "Good. Then you have time for breakfast before you leave." His mother scurried out the door, presumably heading to the kitchen.

  "When will you be coming back home?"

  "I don't know. A lot depends upon my therapy schedule, how things are progressing."

  "When and if you get tired of your new roommate?" His father's eyebrow arched.

  Logan grinned wide enough to show teeth. "Could be."

  "If she makes the world a brighter place, then she must be pretty special. Hang onto her."

  "I plan to."

  His father slapped him on the back. "Good. Then let's go eat." Together they strode out the door.

  Chapter 19

  Comparing the address written on a slip of paper on his console with the house number, Logan gave a quick nod. This must be it. Pulling into the driveway, he surveyed the white colonial house, charming and inviting. A decent-sized front yard contained a handful of trees and a couple of flower beds, now empty except for dead vegetation, waiting for spring to arrive and new flowers to be planted.

  After shutting off the engine, he opened the truck door and twisted on the seat. The position allowed him to slide down until both his foot and prosthesis hit the ground at the same time. He stood up, quickly checking his balance with a grip on the door handle. At least no ice greeted him. In fact, the entire driveway appeared completely freeze-dried with no sign of the ice storm from a few days back. Probably due more to the bright sunlight
rather than the temperatures hovering around the freezing mark for highs.

  The creak of a door opening drew his attention.

  "You're here!" Gwen raced out the front door wearing a pair of jeans, a thick sweater, and tennis shoes. She darted across the dormant yard, pulling up at the last instant, stopped, and threw herself into his waiting arms. Her bubbly excitement and resulting force would have knocked him down if he hadn't braced himself against the vehicle's frame in preparation of her frenzied greeting. She hugged the stuffing out of him.

  "Uh huh." His heart soared at the enthusiastic welcome, and a persistent smile refused to budge off his face. Returning the embrace, he brushed his lips over the top of her crown. "I take it you missed me?"

  She pulled back enough to look into his face, schooling her features into pretended indifference. Only the mischief in her bright eyes gave her away. "Oh, I don't know. There was television to watch, housecleaning to do, errands to run. Was I supposed to be expecting a houseguest? I guess…" She squealed and giggled as he tickled her sides. "Yes, you beast. I missed you!"

  "That's better." He laughed and relished the moment, leaning against the seat of his truck with Gwen standing in his arms, beaming in definite happiness. Even the bitterly cold breeze of frigid winter didn't deter his joy. Impulsively, he settled his lips over hers and kissed her like he'd been dreaming of doing since she'd driven away after dropping him off at the airport two days earlier. She met his kiss with a welcoming passion.

  He could have stood there forever, doing nothing more than exploring Gwen's delicious lips and mouth, but the necessity to breathe forced him to pull back and stare into her lovely face.

  Her lips were slightly puffy from his attentions, and her eyes sparkled with sensual delight. A grin covered her face as she drew in oxygen in order to catch her breath.

  "Wow."

  He chuckled. "Here I thought I was out of practice."

  She snorted. "If that's out of practice, then I'll burn up in a fireball by the time you're back up to par."