Audra gave a laugh. “I forgot about it too.”
“I’ll go put on a pot of coffee and we can have dessert on the patio when everyone’s through eating.” Marlene left the table.
Audra looked at Cindy. “Chocolate layer cake with chocolate frosting is Edward’s favorite. Marlene made it especially for him.”
“Really? That’s my favorite too. Wonder what else we have in common.”
Edward’s smile oozed with warmth. “I noticed we’re both southpaws.”
“And good looking.” Audra tittered.
“And fearless.” Hank took a swig of his water. “Cindy didn’t think twice before jumping off the rock into the black hole. It reminded me of when Eddie taught himself how to swim. Remember that, Dad?”
Benjamin’s jovial laugh filled the room. “How can I forget? It was the strangest thing I’d ever seen in my life. Tell them about it, Hank. I don’t think I can do it without laughing.”
Cindy leaned with arms crossed on the table. Dex and Audra gave Hank their full attention too.
Hank licked his spoon and put it in his empty bowl with a clink. “Eddie hadn’t been with us very long the first time he went fishing on the lake with me and Dad. We asked him if he knew how to fish. He said yes, but we could tell by the way he studied us as we baited our hooks that he didn’t know anything about fishing. But he caught on fast. Soon, the three of us were standing in the boat, casting into the water.”
Judging by Edward’s silly smile, things weren’t going to end well for him in Hank’s story.
Hank continued. “I was fishing next to Eddie, and to make conversation, I asked if he could swim. He said, ‘What do you think I am? An idiot? Of course I know how to swim.’ So I pushed him overboard. Guess what? He lied.”
Cindy, Audra, and Dexter broke into laughter. Hank chuckled too. “The next day, I was standing at the kitchen sink getting a glass of water and happened to look out the window just in time to see Eddie jumping off the end of the pier. There’s anywhere from twelve to fifteen feet of water out there at any given time. I dropped my glass, shattering it in the sink, and went running out the back door, screaming for Mom and Dad as I went.
“By the time I got to the water’s edge, I saw Eddie’s head gradually come up as he walked along the bottom toward shore holding his breath. His ugly scowl told me I had better not ask what he was doing, so I didn’t say a word. He headed back to the end of the pier, jumped in again, flailed his arms and legs, and sank. Lo and behold, a minute or two later, he came walking out of the water again.”
Cindy laughed and looked at Benjamin. “What did you and Mrs. Shultz do when you heard Hank screaming?”
“We ran out there, of course. But when Hank told us what Eddie was doing, we set up lawn chairs and watched the show. The boy was relentless. I don’t know how many failed attempts at swimming Edward made before he doggy-paddled back to shore. The three of us gave him a standing ovation with cheers and applause. He cracked a bit of a smile, looked at Hank and said, ‘I told you I could swim,’ and tromped back to the house.”
Edward stood with a broad smile. “I think I hear a big piece of chocolate cake calling my name.” He offered the crook of his arm to Audra. “Shall we?”
* * * *
Cindy sat on the sunny side of the blanket while Hank dozed peacefully on the shady half. She scraped up the last bit of frosting on her plate with her fork and pressed the tines hard against her tongue to get every last morsel.
Edward came, squatted, and extended a hand toward her plate. “Can I get you another—”
“Shh.” She crossed her lips with the fork. “Hank’s sleeping.”
“Oh.” Edward lowered his voice. “Want another piece of cake?”
“I was thinking about it. Maybe I’ll walk around a bit and see if I have room first.”
Edward stood and pulled her up. “Leave the plate and fork. We’ll get it later. There’s a trail through the woods over there that’s wide enough for us to walk two abreast while we talk.” He pointed in the opposite direction from the thinking rock and she sauntered beside him.
Cindy sighed as they entered the wooded pathway. “Time is moving too fast. Already, Saturday’s gone. Now that we’ve gone to church and had lunch, Sunday is half spent. What time is your flight tomorrow?”
“One o’clock. We’ll leave the house ten-thirty or so. That’ll give us plenty of time to get to the airport, return the rental car, and get to the gate without rushing.”
“Don’t you have to check in and drop off your bags?”
“No, we do online check in, and we brought only carry-on bags.” Edward laughed. “If it was up to Audra, she’d pack a shipping trunk for an overnight stay. This time, we both had backpacks and a carry-on apiece. Of course, half of mine is stuffed with her things. Can’t figure out why she likes to pack so heavily, especially since Mom and Dad have a washer and dryer.”
“I jammed everything for two nights into a small overnighter.”
“Oh, good, then you’re staying tonight too.”
Her face heated. “I assumed you wanted me to.”
Edward tossed an arm around her shoulder and gave a sideways hug. “You assumed right. Sorry, I should have made it clear I wanted you to stay two nights in the first place.”
“I’m going to miss you and Audra.”
“We’ll miss you too. You’re always welcome to come visit us in North Carolina. We have plenty of room now that Audra and I moved out of my dumpy bachelor pad and into a two-bedroom townhouse.”
Cindy nodded. “That sounds nice. I might take you up on that offer one day. First, I have to get my car fixed, and I have no idea what’s wrong with it.”
“We’ve got that covered. Hank’s going to take a look at it when he drives you home. We suspect it’s the alternator. Something has to be wrong with your charging system for your new battery to die so quickly. If Hank can’t fix it—”
“He can always blow it up.”
Edward laughed with her. “That’s one option. But try explaining that to your insurance company.”
Cindy mimed a phone to her ear. “Hello, State Farm? My car seems to have spontaneously combusted outside my apartment. Is that something that’s covered under my comprehensive policy?”
A woodpecker interrupted their laughter with an assault on an unseen tree. Its machine gun–like barrage reverberated through the timbers, making it impossible to pinpoint its whereabouts. Uphill, a rabbit darted from behind a bush, zigzagged through low-lying scrubs, and disappeared behind a boulder.
Edward’s voice pulled her from nature’s distractions. “Hank told me you got a pink slip from your job. If you need anything—”
“I’m okay. I’ve squirreled away enough money to carry me through a few lean months. I’ll be fine.”
He stopped and blocked her path. “My role as big brother is two days old, but I’ve had a good mentor to show me how it’s done. I can always count on Hank, and he knows I’ll always be there for him. Promise you’ll let me know if you’re ever in need of anything. And I do mean anything.”
Edward’s commanding persona loomed large before her. Leader of men, defender of the nation, shield for the weak. A man like him could catch a bullet in his mouth without chipping a tooth and spit it out with enough force to bring down a buffalo. The wall of protection going up around her seemed as real as if it were brick and mortar.
She crossed her heart. “I promise.”
“Good.” His mantle of military presence dissipated and a relaxed smile took its place. He stepped aside and resumed his leisurely stroll beside her.
A layer of pine needles softened their footfalls. Upper level winds rattled through the treetops and produced a sound like applause, or rainfall—or maybe even water flowing down a rocky streambed. Cindy plucked a leaf from a bush, ripped down its center spine and let each half float to the ground.
They rounded one bend in the path after anoth
er. The terrain shifted like tumultuous waves on the high seas—uphill being on Cindy’s right one minute, and switching to her left the next.
Edward slowed to a stop. “Ready to turn back?”
Hardly. She made a three-sixty turn and peered into the woods, taking in every rock, tree, vine, and bush. “Know what? I think I’d like to stay out here a little longer. Seems I’m always driving past the woods and never stopping to enjoy them. I’ll start back toward the house in half an hour or so.”
“I’ll stay with you.”
“No, I’ll enjoy the peace and quiet of nature alone.” She smiled. “Besides, Audra is probably having withdrawals with you being gone more than a few minutes.”
“All right then.” Edward walked backward a few steps. “But be careful, and don’t stray too far from the path. You wouldn’t be the first person to get lost in these woods.”
“Okay. I’ll be careful. Bye.”
Edward’s steady gait took him down a slight grade, and he disappeared behind an imposing boulder where the trail snaked around a curve. Cindy looked up and down the path. How long had she and Edward been walking uphill without her noticing? She shrugged to herself and ambled onward.
On a straightaway, Cindy closed her eyes and continued forward. Other than her flip-flops tapping the souls of her feet, not another man-made sound accosted her ears. No trucks, cars, horns, or voices. Only the soft, pleasing stirrings of—
What was that? Instinct drove her into a crouch. Something rattled the bushes a second time. She zeroed in on a clump of shrubs ahead and to her left where leaves showed signs of movement. She picked up a golf ball sized rock and slowly stood erect. Whatever had made the noise couldn’t be very large. The concealment wouldn’t allow for anything bigger than a big, fat house cat.
Cindy crept forward. The bushes shook again. She reared back and pitched the rock as hard as she could. It thumped the ground a few feet from the shrubbery. A turkey jumped clear of the brush with a loud squawk, flapped wildly, and ran to and fro with a clumsy waddle.
“A turkey?” Cindy laughed. “Who’da thunk?”
The gobbler took off with short flights, landing first on a felled log, then on a series of low-hanging limbs.
Cindy jogged to keep up. The terrain steepened. Her breaths came harder and faster. The bird lit on a large, gray rock and looked back at her, eyes wide, wattle swaying.
“There you are. Thought I lost you for a minute.”
He took off again, and Cindy followed.
Ahead, the trees seemed to stop abruptly, and a clear blue expanse of sky filled the backdrop. She stopped and caught her breath.
The turkey had vanished.
With slow careful steps, Cindy approached the drop-off. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she searched the sky for the large bird. Nothing. She grabbed hold of a tree branch and stuck her head over for a peek.
Gobble-gobble, bwaak!
She flinched and turned toward the sound.
The ground beneath her feet dropped a few inches, jolting her and swaying her spine in a backward arc. Arms flailing, her hand found the branch once more. A chunk of earth fell out from under her.
Crack!
The limb splintered with a sickening creak. She tipped out over the void.
“Oh, God. Oh, God! Please.”
Cindy’s scream echoed off the rocks and trees.
Chapter 10
Cricket’s toenails clacked against the tiles, breaking the otherwise silence of the house as Hank went in through the patio door. In the living room, Edward and Dex sat on opposing sides of a chessboard. Dex hunched over the red and black checkered warzone in intense concentration. Edward slouched on the easy chair, hands laced on his stomach, knee bobbing with characteristic impatience.
Hank approached and gave the board a quick look. “Who’s winning?” As if he didn’t already know. Dex made up for his rotten chess playing with relentless persistence. He had to hand it to Dex for never giving up trying to score a win from Edward.
“I’m holding my own. I think,” Dex answered without looking up.
Edward met Hank’s gaze, his face tight and unsmiling. “I may expire before my opponent makes his next move.”
A chuckle bounced out of Hank. He took a cursory look around. “It’s too quiet in here. Where is everybody?”
“Mom, Dad, and Audra went down to the farmer’s market for a couple of minutes, and Cindy is...” Edward glanced at the kitchen clock and pushed himself out of the chair. “It’s been almost two hours. She should have been back by now.”
“Back from where?”
“The north trail. We took a walk while you were napping. She wanted to stay longer, so I—”
“You left her out in the woods, alone?” Dex rose to his feet, his brows bunched in the middle.
Hank patted the air. “Don’t get your hackles all fluffed up. Mom walks that trail several times a week. If it were dangerous, Edward wouldn’t have left Cindy out there by herself. She probably lost track of time.”
He pressed Cindy’s number on his smartphone. A faint ringtone jingled from upstairs. “There’s one option out the window.”
Edward started for the patio door. “I’m going to look for her.”
“Hold on a minute, Eddie. Let’s take Dad’s golf cart. It’ll get us up there faster, and Cindy would probably enjoy a ride back to the house if she’s been walking all this time.”
“Good idea.” Edward changed course for the side door.
“Want me to go with you?” Dex called to Hank and Edward’s back as they crossed the living room.
“No,” Edward said, pausing with the side door open in his hand. “Stay here and give us a call if she shows up while we’re out searching for her. Cellular service is spotty up there, but we’ll check in from high ground when we can.”
Hank clucked his cheek and patted his thigh. “Cricket, come.” She sprang from her prone position near the love seat and raced through the door.
The gas-powered golf cart chugged up the gentle slope with ease. Edward steered around the giant boulder and came to a stop with the motor running. “This is where I left Cindy. I’ll cruise onward a few minutes, and if we don’t see her, we’ll come back here and search on foot.”
“Sounds good to me.” Hank motioned forward with a karate chop. “Tallyho.”
Cricket sniffed the air louder and harder at the next bend. Nose lifted high, she paced side to side in the backseat with quick steps and fast turnabouts, her hard, deep breaths laced with excited yips and whines.
“Eddie, slow down, she’s alerting to something back there. Maybe it’s just an animal scent, but—”
Cricket bounded from the vehicle and set off on a dead run up the hill. Edward stopped. “Think we ought to follow her?”
“I’ll trail her.” Hank stepped out of the cart. “Drive on for ten minutes or so, then double back for me.”
The sound of the golf cart engine faded up the path along with Edward’s calls for Cindy. Up the rough terrain, Cricket sprang over a felled log, hit the ground running, and hung a sharp left around a stand of paper birches.
Hank hopped onto the log and made a megaphone with his hands. “Cindy!” He repeated the call in several directions, listened hard for a few seconds, and continued to give chase to Cricket’s distant yips.
Quickening his pace, he closed in on Cricket’s position, and glimpsed the end of her tail as she dashed into the brush. A rabbit darted from a hidey-hole a few yards ahead of Cricket. Zipping this way and that, it crossed within ten yards of Hank’s left flank.
Cricket followed, hot on its tail.
He shook his head and started back to the rendezvous point, leaving Cricket to her game of chase.
Edward pulled up as Hank reached the path. “Did the dog find anything?”
“Yeah, a rabbit.”
Edward arched his back and peered around Hank, his gaze trained on something in the woods. �
��Here comes Cricket.” He crossed the passenger seat and jumped out of the cart. “She’s got something in her mouth. It looks like a— It is! It’s a flip-flop.”
Cricket cantered to Hank, dropped the spongy shoe, and nudged it toward him with her nose. She ran back a few yards, tail wagging, and pink tongue bobbing with every pant.
Edward picked it up and turned it over a few times. “Navy-blue sole, white top, and swirls of color for the straps and toe piece. It’s Cindy’s. No doubt about it. They were slapping her feet the whole way up here. It was hard not to take notice of them. Do you think Cricket can lead us to where she found it?”
“She’s never been formally trained for tracking. By the looks of it, she believes this is a game and wants me to play fetch with the shoe, but we can try. Worst case scenario is we go to the brush where she flushed out the rabbit and start from there.”
Hank dropped to one knee and opened his arms. “Come here, girl.” Cricket came and leaned her weight into his chest. “Give me the slipper, Eddie.”
Cricket sniffed the flip-flop hard, as if trying to vacuum every molecule of scent from it while Hank petted her side. “Where’s Cindy, girly girl? Where is she?”
“Think she understands at all?”
Standing tall again, Hank regarded his brother with a shrug. “I have no idea.”
Hank started back up the hill. Cricket pranced at his side, darting her nose at the flip-flop in his hand. He tossed a stick, successfully diverting her attention, and tossed it again when she brought it back.
“How much farther?” Edward jumped from the log and landed next to Hank.
“Just beyond those birches.”
Cricket ran ahead and turned away from the rabbit brush. Her gait slowed until each paw lifted in slow motion and lowered with extreme caution, as if feeling for a quiet place to alight. Standing still, leaning forward on her forequarters, she moved her head slowly, her floppy ears shifting to catch minute sounds.
Hank stopped, cupped his mouth and shouted Cindy’s name.
Edward did the same, yelling in another direction. Hank tapped his arm and signaled for silence with a finger across his lips.
More Than a Soldier Page 8