A Soldier in Conard County

by Rachel Lee

  Then he came through the door, nodded at her and eased into the chair he usually used. Miri didn’t say anything. While silences in social settings sometimes made her feel chatty, she wasn’t inclined to say much right now.

  She served him piping hot soup, then offered him the bowl of crackers. When they were both served, she picked up her spoon, raised it to her lips, then paused. This didn’t feel right at all.

  “Gil?”

  He lifted his head. He hadn’t started eating. “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay?”

  One corner of his mouth curved. “Always.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it. If I’m getting too personal, just tell me to shut up.”

  He picked up his spoon, but instead of dipping it in the chowder, he turned it slowly in his hand, as if watching the play of light. Outside, the banshees of winter began to keen, an eerie howling that always disturbed Miri no matter how many times she heard it. Lonely and haunting, occasionally even threatening. It was just the wind, but she invariably had to remind herself of that.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, turning the question back on her.

  “As okay as I can be,” she retorted. “Having lost my cousin, having lost my parents... What’s the point, Gil? We all suffer losses.”

  “Exactly,” he said as he dipped his spoon at last.

  She had no idea if she’d just been shut down or not. She decided to be pushy, a quality she ordinarily avoided but was well aware that she owned. “You have an extraordinary number of them, though.”

  “Depends on who you’re talking to.”

  God, the guy could be like a lockbox. “I’m talking to you,” she finally said bluntly. She scooped more soup into her mouth and felt it scald her tongue. Idiot.

  “What are you trying to get at, Miri? Just come out and say it.”

  “There’s more bothering you than pain.”

  His face darkened, and for a second or two she thought he was going to leave the table and his meal. Not that it was much of a meal.

  Then he released a long sigh, like air seeping out of a balloon. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot of things on my mind. Sorry. I’ve got to go back for physical therapy and more surgery in a month. Nobody’s making any promises. For all I know, this may be the best I get. But I’m also wondering if I’ll even have a job after this is over. I’m staring at a big blank where once I had a road to follow. I’m trying not to worry about it too much unless I have to, but it’s still hanging out there. I only know how to be one thing, Miri. A soldier. A Green Beret. It’s more than a job, it’s a damn identity.”

  Whoa, she thought. She’d gotten her answer and it was huge. His identity? But then she wondered why that hadn’t occurred to her before. If she lost her teaching job, which was so much a part of her, she didn’t know exactly how she’d handle it. But she had an advantage: a townful of people she knew, tons of friends, and every one of them saw her as essential Miri Baker, no matter what she did for a living.

  It was different for Gil. Why wouldn’t it be? His job was overwhelming, consuming, dangerous...and from what she gathered it didn’t leave much room for anything else. It was an entire lifestyle.

  She lifted another spoonful of the rich, thick soup to her mouth, but spoke before she ate it. “Have you been trying to think of what else you might want to do?”

  “Never had to. Al was always so certain I’d come back to the ranch with him, and while I didn’t think that was the way to go for me, it left the whole question in the distant future. Now the future’s here. Take me out of uniform and I don’t know who the hell I am.”

  He shook his head and resumed eating. Taking the conversation as closed, she, too, started sipping her soup again. Well, sipping and chewing. This brand of canned soup didn’t short either the potatoes or the clams.

  He consumed his entire bowl and she suggested he help himself to more. She wasn’t surprised when he filled up again and put a handful of crackers on top. As a big man, a powerful man even now, his appetite seemed natural.

  But after eating for a couple more minutes, he spoke again. “I keep telling myself they’ll find a place for me. Maybe they will. It won’t be in the field, that’s for sure, but there’s plenty else I can do. Then I wonder if I want to be stuck behind a desk to hand out advice, schedules and discipline. Because that’s probably what I’d wind up doing.”

  “You’re a man of action,” she suggested.

  “Well, I’ve always been in the action. That much is true. Anyway, in my present condition I’m not much good for anything physical. I’m sure it’ll get better with time—”

  “But not necessarily less painful,” she interrupted.

  “No,” he said shortly. “No. But I can live with pain. I’ve been ignoring pain for years. Right now I can’t even trust my hip to hold me, but they’re going to fix that on the next go-round. That’s the hope, anyway.”

  He insisted on helping with the cleanup despite leaning very heavily on his cane. She didn’t protest, understanding the need to help. He wanted more coffee, so she made them half a pot and brought mugs into the living room.

  Even with the heavy insulating curtains drawn, she didn’t need to look to know the wind was still keening. If she checked her email, she was sure she’d find that school was closed tomorrow. It didn’t happen often, but then this kind of weather didn’t happen often.

  Of course, they didn’t often hold a barbecue in January, either. Amused by the contrast between yesterday and today, she sipped her coffee and let Gil enjoy the silence. This situation had to be a bit difficult for him. He didn’t know her, yet he was staying with her, and Al didn’t provide enough of a bridge between them. Gil might have been more comfortable at the La-Z-Rest Motel, which would at least have given him privacy and the freedom to do as he chose.

  Well, she reminded herself, if he needed privacy, he could have gone to the bedroom he was using. She wouldn’t have trespassed there short of a house fire, not when he was in there.

  He was clearly lost in thought, and from the few things he’d mentioned, she suspected he was wrestling with the idea of an entire life change. Not really a unique situation, but unique to him. It was seldom helpful to remember that others had walked this path. Each person who walked it had to whack their own trail through the undergrowth.

  “I never married,” Gil said suddenly.

  “Meaning?”

  “Just that. Never found time, never made time, never met the right person...who the hell knows.”

  “Maybe you could do that now.” What else could she say?

  “Sure. A friend once told me that it was stupid to get married if you weren’t already happy with yourself. Right now...well, I hardly recognize myself.”

  She turned on the sofa, putting her coffee down and facing where he sat on the other end. “You recognize yourself, Sergeant. You’re still Gil York. Moving on to a new phase doesn’t change that. You learned how to be a Green Beret. It’s like we said earlier. If you can learn that, you can learn whatever else you need to know. It may be wrenching for a while, but you can do it.” She tilted her head. “From the stories I heard from Al, getting that beret in the first place was pretty wrenching.”

  Gil closed his eyes for a few seconds before they sprang open, as intense a gray as she’d ever seen them. “You’re right. I sound like a whiny baby.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. Listen to me. Crap, a self-pity party.”

  “Well, when you’re in constant pain and everything’s up in the air...”

  “That’s exactly the time not to indulge.” He shook his head as if to escape an annoying mosquito. “I’m beginning to discover that perhaps I’m not best left alone with my thoughts for too long. I’m used to being busy all the time, making plans for the next step. Not contemplating my navel.”

&nbs
p; She couldn’t help it; a small laugh escaped her. “I wouldn’t call it that, Gil. You’ve got a lot of things to sort out. You’re trying to make plans for an unfamiliar future. That’s hardly contemplating your navel.”

  “It is when I don’t have any parameters. How can I plan when I still don’t know how this will all turn out?”

  “Contingency planning.”

  He gave her a cockeyed smile. “All the answers?”

  At once she felt embarrassed. She was treating him flippantly and he didn’t deserve that. “Sorry,” she said. “I just feel so helpless. Talk away. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

  “I don’t want that.” Then he caused her to catch her breath by sliding down the couch until he was right beside her. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, and, despite her surprise, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean into him and finally let her head come to rest on his shoulder.

  “Holding you is nice,” he said quietly. “You quiet the rat race in my head. Does that sound awful?”

  How could it? she wondered, when she’d been amazed at the way he had caused her to melt, as if everything else went away and she was in a warm, soft, safe space. If she could offer him any part of that, she would, gladly.

  “If that sounds like I’m using you...”

  “Man, don’t you ever stop? Do you ever just go with the flow?” Turning and tilting her head a bit, she pressed a quick kiss on his lips.

  “What the...” He sounded surprised.

  “You’re analyzing constantly,” she told him. “This isn’t a mission. Let it go. Let go. Just relax and hold me, and I hope you’re enjoying it as much as I am.”

  Because she was. That wonderful melting filled her again, leaving her soft and very, very content. Maybe even happy.

  “You are?” he murmured.

  “I am. More than I’ve ever enjoyed a hug.” God, had she ever been this blunt with a man before? But this guy was so bound up behind his walls and drawbridges she wondered if she’d need a sledgehammer to get through.

  But then she remembered Al and the distance she’d sensed in him during his visits. Not exactly alone, but alone among family. These guys had been deeply changed by their training and experience. Where did they find comfort now? Real comfort?

  Her thoughts were slipping away in response to a growing anticipation and anxiety. She was close, so close to him, and his strength drew her like a bee to nectar. He even smelled good, still carrying the scents from the storm outside and his earlier shower, but beneath that the aroma of male.

  Everything inside her became focused on one trembling hope, that he’d take this hug further, that he’d draw her closer and begin to explore her with his hands and mouth.

  Her breasts began to ache with a hardening need to be touched. An electric excitement passed through her straight to her center, until it was all she could do to hold still.

  Her body was making demands of its own, and she was almost afraid to move for fear of rupturing the moment, canceling the growing, hopeful anticipation of his touch. Drawing a breath became difficult, as if all the air had left the room.

  Maybe she moved. Maybe he did. She wasn’t certain, but suddenly she was closer, and his mouth had sealed over hers, depriving her of the last of her breath.

  Reaching up, she forked her fingers into his short hair, pulling his head closer, for an even deeper kiss. His hands, one after another, settled on her back, rubbing up and down, and impatience began to grow. She wanted those hands elsewhere, on her breasts, between her thighs. A primitive drumbeat ran through her blood, drawing her forward into the unknown.

  He released her mouth and she gasped for air, throwing her head back, baring her throat. At last, at last his hand moved to her front, finding her breast, covering it, squeezing gently, and in that moment she hated every layer of fabric she was wearing. She wanted skin on skin, everywhere. Just as she was about to pull herself around, to straddle his lap, he began to pull back.

  His mouth left hers. His hand dropped from her breast. No!

  “Gil?” She could barely summon a whisper.

  “Too soon.”

  Too soon? Who put a timetable on these things? Anger began to seep into the hole left by desire. She wanted to rail, she felt cheated...and she realized she had no right to feel those things.

  Eyes closed, releasing a long breath, she twisted away from him until she slumped against the back of the couch. She had no right to demand he take this further. After all, wasn’t she one of the people who taught kids at school that no meant no? Men could say no, too.

  Eventually she settled down, letting the fever pitch of emotions slip away. Letting sanity return.

  “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Truth. Men can say no, too.

  “You’re very attractive,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I got here.”

  Which didn’t answer anything at all. In fact, it sounded like an attempt to patch up her ego, and maybe that wasn’t fair. But nothing about this was fair. An attraction existed. He’d made the moves once she was in his arms. And his entire reluctance might stem from his own sense of being a leaf in the wind just now. Perhaps even some misguided loyalty to Al.

  The problem was, if he didn’t explain why he’d pulled back, she’d be left guessing. It wasn’t right for her to demand he explain himself. Would she want someone to do that to her if she changed her mind midstream? Heck no. And they hadn’t even gotten to midstream.

  The wind chose that moment to strengthen, sounding desolate as it rattled windows and made the house creak. Winters here could be long and cold, but this kind of savagery was rare.

  Finally, she decided she had to do something. She couldn’t just sit here like rejection personified. Not good for either of them. “Want some more coffee? Or maybe I could rustle up a dessert.”

  “More coffee sounds great right now.”

  Yeah, it probably did. They’d hardly touched the two mugs she’d brought out here. Maybe there’d be enough left in the pot for him. She didn’t want any.

  He started to rise, but she pressed his arm. “I’ll get it. You pace or stretch or whatever you need.”

  She needed the escape suddenly. She wanted to be in a separate room, where she could be in control of when she next saw him, not waiting here for his return.

  She needed to make more coffee. There was so little in the pot it smelled slightly burned. Clattering loudly to let Gil know what she was doing, Miri sought her center, trying to regain her balance.

  The man would be moving on in a few days. She needed to find a way to get through this unscathed.

  Chapter Six

  Miri went to bed rather early, Gil thought. Eight thirty? He must have worn her out with his pity party today. Or offended her by pulling back before exploration could turn into lovemaking.

  He couldn’t blame her for wanting to escape. He was about as much fun to be around these days as a compost heap.

  Anyway, she’d been kind enough to invite him to stay with her rather than at the motel—he’d heard plenty about that place from Al, who’d sworn Gil would stay with the Bakers when he came to visit—and having a houseguest could be wearing. When this weather cleared, he needed to find some way to show his appreciation.

  And all those thoughts, every one of them, were dancing around the immediate issue, the immediate reason she’d probably retreated. He might not let many people inside, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t read them.

  He’d seen the emotions flicker across her face, the disappointment, the short-lived rise of anger, then withdrawal. But there wasn’t any possible way to tell her that he just didn’t want to hurt her. Not Al’s cousin. Not Miri.

  Because if he’d tried to tell her that, he was certain she would have argued, and he could easily imagine some of it. Sh
e was an adult, capable of making her own decisions. True. She could handle it. And maybe she could. But he didn’t want to find out the hard way that she couldn’t. At least now she’d have to give it some thought, rather than giving in to an impulse.

  An impulse he wished they could have shared. He enjoyed women, and not just sexually. He’d had a few relationships over the years, but none of them had been able to make it over the hump of his sudden disappearances...or they hadn’t really suited him as time went by. Regardless, stable relationships outside his unit seemed fungible. He wasn’t at all sure he was capable of nurturing one long term.

  Maybe there was something wrong with him. There certainly was now. Looking ahead at a big blank, with the only red-letter days being his next surgeries, he’d be wise not to get involved.

  On the other hand, Miri called to him as no one ever had. He was still trying to figure that out. Was it because she was like Al in some way? No, she didn’t remind him of Al at all. She was very much her own person.

  Gil had only to close his eyes and remember her playing “Taps” at the funeral to know how strong and determined she was. Few family members could have achieved that without breaking up. It had required steady breathing, steady hands, no choking... He’d honestly thought she might not be able to do it, and that he’d be pulling out the prerecorded CD and the battery-operated player.

  A special dispensation had been made to use a recording of “Taps.” There simply weren’t enough people in uniform, whether reservist or active, to play it at all the funerals. A military person was entitled to that honor, but not only were they dealing with the fresh casualties like Al, but they had veterans from past wars, all the way back to the Second World War, and there were many, many of them.

  But Miri had insisted on doing the honors, and other vets from around here had joined in to give him full honors, from the rifle salute to carrying the coffin. Gil had been surprised, but then wondered what he had expected. Naturally, people who’d known Al would step up.