More Than a Soldier

by Irene Onorato

  Hank moaned. “I have to wear a tuxedo?”

  “Of course. This ain’t no pizza party.” Tony sniggered. “You’d stick out like a sore thumb if you wore that frayed red flannel shirt of yours.”

  “I could tuck it in. Gussy it up a little.” Hank chuckled.

  “Come on, man. Just tell me you’ll be there. I don’t want to be the only goofball who can’t figure out which fork to use for each course.”

  Besides the pain of wearing a tux and having to make sure he didn’t eat with his usual caveman finesse, the evening might be pleasant. It might even be something Cindy would enjoy. “Okay, I’ll go.”

  “Great. I’ll see you there.”

  “Hey, Tony.” Hank listened hard. Silence. He looked at the phone. “Thanks, buddy.”

  Cindy smiled up from the easy chair as he stepped inside. “Find what you were looking for?”

  “Yup.” He dropped the envelope in her lap. “Tony and I worked a few demo jobs together over the last year or so. Good guy. Lives in Queens. If he hadn’t called—”

  “Holy smokes.” Cindy looked up from the card, her whole face bright with surprise. “You really did get an invitation from Prentiss Hollingsworth.”

  “Actually,” Hank sat on the arm of the couch, “if you’ll notice, it’s an invitation for two.”

  The statement must have taken a moment to sink in. She blinked several times. “Are you asking me to go with you?”

  “Will you?”

  Cindy bit her lower lip. A cloud of anxiety moved in over the sunshiny expression she wore moments ago.

  Hank took her by the hand, brought her to the couch, and sat beside her. “Are you worried that this sounds more like a real date than a non-date?”

  Whether his gentle tone did the trick, or something else, he couldn’t tell. But a small smile lifted her lips.

  She fiddled with her fingernails. “That’s part of it.”

  “Part? You mean there’s more?”

  “It’s black tie, Hank. You can go to any formal wear shop, rent a tux for the night, and you’re done. Me? I’d have to buy a gown plus shoes to match. Not only that, it’s starting to get chilly in the evenings. I’d need some sort of wrap.” She wiped her palms on her pants. “I never accounted for those kind of luxuries in my emergency budget.”

  He laughed. “It hasn’t been thirty seconds since I asked you to go, and you’re already stressing about what to wear?”

  She flashed a nervous smile. “You know us girls. We always worry about that kind of stuff.”

  “Tell you what. Don’t think of this as a date, per se, but as a big favor for a friend. The whole point of going is to get my face in front of a guy who could offer me a lucrative job. I’ve got a forgettable mug. But, who knows. Maybe Hollingsworth will remember me as the guy who showed up at the ball with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen hanging on his arm.”

  A blush of pink tinged Cindy’s neck below her earlobes. Her spectacular blue eyes rose to meet his. “Would you mind if—” She squirmed. “Can we start over?”

  “Start over with what?”

  “With you asking me if I’d like to go to the soiree with you.” Her knee pressed against his as she turned toward him. “I feel like I blew it the first go around, but I’d like to get it right this time. Please?”

  Inviting a buddy to a Yankee’s game would elicit a quick yes or no. But asking a woman to an event? What a process. How could such a simple thing end up so complicated?

  Her face glowed with facets of beauty and mystery. No matter how complex, figuring out her innermost workings was definitely worth the effort.

  “Okay.” Hank picked a hand off her lap and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “Sassy, would you care to accompany me to Prentiss Hollingsworth’s dinner party next Friday night?”

  She beamed with pleasure. “I would love to.”

  * * * *

  Hank sat on the park bench with his ankle crossed over a knee and his arms spread across the bench’s back. A leisurely stroll in a city park hadn’t sounded appealing when Cindy suggested it. But now that he was here, it wasn’t so bad after all.

  Near the pond, Cindy dipped into a bag of day-old bread and tossed small pieces to a group of demanding ducks that followed her every move. One grabbed her pant leg and gave it a shake.

  “Ouch. That hurt, you little bugger.” She swatted the offending duck with the bread bag. “Did you see that?”

  “Sure did. But I think you taught him some manners when you clobbered him.”

  The same duck nailed Cindy again.

  Hank laughed. “Then again, maybe not.”

  “Go away, you vicious beast.” Cindy swung the bag again and chased the fowl back into the water.

  Across the kidney-shaped pond, a young woman set containers from a cooler onto a concrete picnic table while a man, presumably her boyfriend, judging by a passing kiss, squirted lighter fluid into one of the park’s stationary barbeque grills. He struck a match and set the coals ablaze. A small plume of smoke swirled into the air.

  Hank rubbed his temple as disturbing memories of explosions and fire fought their way to the surface. Pain started in the center of his forehead and quickly grew in intensity. Shock waves pounded the area behind his prosthetic eye and pulsated inside his deaf ear. An invisible tongue of fire licked the back of his neck.

  Cindy broadcast a handful of torn bread bits to her feathered admirers and beamed a toothy smile his way.

  He managed to smile back.

  The ducks quacked for her attention. She turned her back toward Hank and continued to feed them.

  He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and ran his left hand over his scarred neck. Cool skin lay under his touch. Why couldn’t he shake the feeling of burning from the inside?

  Phantom pain. That’s all it is. You’re not burning, and the real pain is long gone. Breathe through it.

  Without moving his head, he lifted his eyes for a glimpse of Cindy. Good. She was still entertained by the birds.

  “God, I need Your help,” he whispered under his breath. “Whatever’s happening to me right now, please make it stop.”

  The burning sensation started to ease, and the throbbing in his head diminished. He sat up and willed his shoulders to relax. Within seconds, the pain stopped altogether.

  Cindy wadded the empty bread bag and shoved it in her pocket on her way to the bench.

  Hank leaned sideways and looked past Cindy. “Where’s your entourage?”

  She laughed. “Fair-weather friends. Our relationship ended when the supply of bread was gone. I think I’ll unfriend the whole lot of them on Facebook when I get home.”

  “I don’t blame you. Serves ’em right.” He got up and checked the time on his phone. “One more lap around the park while we think about what we want for lunch?”

  “Sounds good to me. Lead on.”

  Another whiff of smoke brought a twinge of apprehension. Cindy’s hand brushed his as she fell into step beside him. Her touch took his mind off the inner tension.

  Chapter 17

  “There you go, camper—your home sweet home for the next two nights.” Hank gave Cindy a high-five and stood back with her to admire the cabin tent they’d just pitched. “All I had was a small tent I use for hiking, so I borrowed this one from my parents. They said it would go up fast, and they weren’t kidding. What’d it take us? Ten minutes?”

  “If that.” Cindy let out a gleeful laugh. “I had a hard time falling asleep just thinking about this trip. Whispering Timbers. What a great name for a campground. Don’t you think?”

  Hank lifted her bags from the back of the Jeep and pointed with his chin to a large motor home parked at a nearby site. “The timbers might whisper, but once that guy powers up his generator, you’re not going to hear a word of it.”

  Cindy laughed again. “Scrooge.”

  “RVs. Bah. Humbug.” With a chuckle, he set her things just insi
de the tent door. “I met a couple of climbers in the camp office. They drew a map to a couple of climbing walls for us to check out. Would you like to—”

  “Yes! Let me put on my favorite climbing clothes.” Cindy hurried inside the tent and zipped the door behind her.

  * * * *

  Hank shaded his eyes and scanned the rock face while Cindy donned her climbing harness. A couple of voices coming up the trail caught his attention.

  Two men rounded the last leg of the switchback—the same guys who’d drawn the map for him earlier. The taller, wiry-built one smiled and bumped fists with Hank. “Hey, man, I’m glad to see you found this place all right.” He glanced upward. “Looking for the overhead belay anchor?”

  “Yup. I spotted it right as you guys showed up.”

  The second man, short with a mop of carrot-colored hair, smiled at Cindy. “First climb?”

  “Outdoors, yes, but how did you know?” She cinched a leg strap and doubled it back through the buckle.

  “The Cheshire Cat grin is a dead giveaway. Every first-timer is either wearing the smiley cat face or the grey-faced look of sheer terror. There’s no in-between.” He laughed.

  The wiry guy tapped Hank’s arm. “If you’ll let me and my partner free-climb ahead of you, I’d be glad to affix your rope to the belay anchor as I pass by. That’d save you the trouble. By the time you two are rigged for the climb, we’ll be out of your way and around the other side of the rock starting phase two of our ascent.”

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”

  A few minutes later, the climbers disappeared over the topside ledge, leaving Hank’s rope affixed as promised. He attached one end of it to the belay device on his harness while Cindy clipped the carabineer on the opposite end to the loop on hers.

  Smiling broadly, Cindy pivoted on her toes and moved toward the wall. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “Whoa, come back here, you.” Hank grabbed her arm. “You just broke safety protocol, and that’s something we never do before or during a climb. Ever.” His words, spoken more harshly than he’d intended, wiped the smile off her face.

  He released her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so overbearing. I—”

  “You don’t need to apologize.” Cindy’s mouth turned up in an unconvincing smile. “As much as you’ve drilled safety procedures into my head at Sully’s, I deserved to be scolded.”

  Hank stroked Cindy’s upper arm where he’d grabbed her. “Did I hurt you?” Please say no.

  “No, you saved me from running off half-cocked and possibly hurting myself.” Her eyes brightened and the warmth of her smile melted the tension of the moment. “Safety crosschecks?”

  “Yes.” Hank inspected her harness and connections. “Good job. You remembered to lock your carabineer this time.”

  Cindy breathed a small laugh. “Good thing, too. You said you’d thump my head if I forgot one more time. Remember?” She checked Hank’s equipment. “Looks good to me.”

  Hank held fast to Cindy’s harness loop. “Right now, you are the center of my world. The moment you clipped on that end of the rope, I took responsibility for your life. It’s a duty I take very seriously.”

  “I know.” Her eyelids fluttered over delectable blues.

  “When you’re on the wall, use your best climbing techniques, and communicate to me with the commands I taught you.”

  “I will.”

  Belaying for Cindy from the base of the climb would require every ounce of his attention. If she lost her grip, he’d be ready.

  “Remember,” he said, pulling her a little closer. “If you fall, I’ve got you. Trust me.”

  Hank let go of her. “Ready?”

  “Yes, I’m ready. Belay?” Standing tall, Cindy seemed rather proud to use climber’s lingo to verify her readiness to proceed.

  “You’re on belay.”

  She went to the wall and looked back. “Climb?”

  How beautiful she looked with a smile glowing over her shoulder and the zest for adventure sparkling from her eyes. Hank snapped a picture and slipped the smartphone back into his pocket. With a nod, he gave her the official go-ahead. “Climb on.”

  * * * *

  Cindy changed back into the clothes she’d worn earlier and stepped out of the tent. “Sure gets dark fast out here, doesn’t it?” A red-tinged sky hung over the treetops to the west and the thickening shadows in the wooded area behind the site.

  “That it does.” Hank rose from his squatted position by the campfire he’d laid. “All this needs is a match, and we’ll have a good blaze in no time.

  “Is that some of your junk-mail tinder I see under there?”

  “Yup.” He offered a book of matches. “You want to do the honors, or shall I?”

  “I will, but first I’d like to wash up a little before I start digging through the cooler and handling food.” Cindy looked up and down the road. “Any idea where the bathhouse is?”

  Hank unfolded the campground map from his pocket. “Looks like there’s one about, hmm, two and a half miles that way.” He pointed.

  “What? You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I’m kidding. There’s one not far around the bend over there. I’ll go with you. Wouldn’t hurt to splash some water on my face too.”

  * * * *

  Concrete walls amplified the squeak of the door hinge as Hank entered the men’s side of the bathhouse. He coughed into a fisted hand then chuckled when the sound bounced back in surround sound. Shower and toilet stall doors hung open and nothing stirred. He had the place to himself.

  “Hoo-hoo!” His owlish hoot echoed two distinct times then faded.

  Cindy’s girly laugh bounced over from the ladies’ room, and she answered his call with her own, “Hoo-hoo!” The wall separating the two rooms dulled everything she said afterward into a string of indecipherable mumblings.

  Hank washed his face and hands then dried with stiff brown paper towels from a wall dispenser. As he opened the bathhouse door to leave, a phone jangled through the wall from the ladies’ room. Cindy answered with a muted hello. He let the door bang shut and went outside.

  The intonation of Cindy’s voice coming from inside the bathhouse indicated growing agitation. Her conversation, if anyone could possibly call it that, would more than likely curdle her mood into something unpalatable and sour.

  Cindy emerged with the expected scowl.

  Hank blocked her way and glanced at the phone she held with a white-knuckled grip. “Telemarketer again?”

  Exasperation filled her sigh. “Yeah, that was him. Again.”

  “Why don’t you just block his calls?”

  Cindy jerked to attention. “Can I? Would I have to call the phone company to do that?”

  “No, give me your phone, and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  Eric Nolan appeared at the top of Cindy’s most recent call list. Hank clenched his jaws. At least now he had a name for the guy who seemed to thrive on making Cindy’s life miserable. What kind of idiot keeps harassing a girl who’s obviously not interested? Loser.

  Cindy looked on as he showed her how to block Eric’s number.

  Her smile returned. “That’s it? Now he can’t call me anymore?”

  “Not from that number.”

  “Thanks. You just lifted an elephant’s foot off my chest.” She laughed. “At least it feels that way.”

  “If he persists in hounding you from a different number, get in touch with the police and report him as a stalker. If he keeps it up after that,” Hank clenched and released a fist at his side, “call me, and I’ll make sure he never bothers you again.”

  * * * *

  Hank scarfed down the last bite of his second hot dog and threaded another onto the end of his roasting stick. Cindy sat next to him on the log he’d dragged over. Her face glowed in the firelight, and a hot dog sizzled on the stick he’d whittled for her.

  He nudged her elbow. “Y
ou’re awfully quiet. Something wrong?”

  “No, nothing’s wrong. I’m just mesmerized by the flames. It’s like watching TV, only better. A lot better.”

  Hank hung his hot dog over the fire. “I agree. No commercials either.”

  “Did you sort through that junk mail real good before we burned it? Wouldn’t want you to miss out on something important.”

  “Like what, a free trip to the Bahamas or a chance to save fifty-percent on my car insurance?”

  She bumped his shoulder. “No, silly. I was thinking of that invitation you got from Hollingsworth. If your friend hadn’t called—”

  “Don’t worry. After talking to Tony, I went through the pile again.”

  Cindy slid her hot dog off the stick into a bun and set it on the paper plate on her lap. “Would you like more potato or macaroni salad? Coleslaw, maybe?”

  “Please.” Hank accepted a scoop of each. “You did a good job with dinner. Quick and simple is the name of the game when you’re camping.”

  “If you liked my dinner, you’re going to love what I planned for breakfast.”

  “Oh? Is it a surprise, or are you going to let me in on it?” He shoveled a forkful of coleslaw into his mouth.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you.” She giggled. “Not only do I have bacon and eggs, but I found some pancake mix that came in its own shaker container. All I have to do is add water, give it a shake, and pour it in a hot pan. Voilà—pancakes. Pretty cool, right?”

  “That is pretty cool. And you know how much I love pancakes.”

  Cindy nodded and took a big bite of her hot dog. “Mmm, delicious.”

  Hank chowed down and stared into the fire.

  Pancakes. A niggling in the back of his mind steered his thoughts back to when he’d packed Cindy’s stuff into the Jeep. He did a mental inventory. Cooler, couple of sacks of groceries, the overnight bag she’d brought to his parents’ house, and another similar, but smaller bag.

  “Sassy?”

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “What?”