A Soldier's Heart

by Marta Perry

  Didn’t she? If he were being honest with himself, he’d face the fact that her predictions were, in some cases, coming true. He still didn’t have much confidence that he’d ever get out of the chair, but he’d begun to feel as if he’d at least be able to take care of himself. Nobody else, of course, but himself. That was enough.

  He glanced toward the door at the sound of footsteps. Mary Kate was a few minutes late, unheard-of for her. The minute he saw her face, he realized that something was up. Her gaze refused to meet his.

  “I’m so sorry, but I—” A faint color came up in her cheeks.

  “Out with it, M.K. What’s wrong?” Maybe she felt, as he did, that their relationship had changed somehow with that trip to the pool, becoming less therapist/patient and more…more what? He didn’t know the answer to that.

  She gestured toward the door behind her. “It’s a teacher in-service day today, so the kids are off school. And my sitter arrangements fell through. I know it’s an imposition, but would you mind if the children played quietly in the kitchen while we work? I guess I should have called, but—”

  “But you figured that if you gave me advance notice, I’d try to cancel the session,” he finished for her. He shrugged, vaguely surprised that he didn’t seem to mind so much having his home invaded by her kids. “It’s okay. Certainly not worth getting upset about.”

  Something startled and wary came into her eyes, as if he’d said something alarming. Then it was gone, so quickly he might have imagined it.

  “Thank you. It’s just that it’s so unprofessional to show up for your therapy with my kids in tow.”

  She opened the door, letting Shawna and Michael in. Michael ran straight to him, as if they were old friends. Shawna hung back a little, but he didn’t think it was because the wheelchair put her off. Maybe she was just enough older than her brother to have shed some of that unconscious openness.

  “Mommy said you went to the pool.” Michael leaned against the chair, his blue eyes wide. “Did you like going swimming again?”

  For an instant he was cutting through the water, feeling the strength in his arms, the flow of water like silk against his skin. “Yes, I sure did. Do you and Shawna know how to swim?”

  “We’re taking lessons at the Y.” Shawna answered for both of them. “If we get good enough, we can be on the swim team.” She tugged Michael’s arm. “Come on. You know what Mom said. We have to take our stuff into the kitchen and stay out of the way.”

  He watched them go, with Shawna shepherding her little brother along. Then he wheeled the chair into the dining room, where Mary Kate was fussing with the equipment. “Shawna’s quite the little mother, isn’t she?”

  Her eyes widened just as Michael’s did. “Do you think so? I always just seem to hear them scrapping. Or rolling around on the floor like a couple of puppies, although Shawna’s less likely to do that anymore. She’s getting too grown-up, I suppose. Or thinks she is.”

  “They probably save their fighting for you.”

  She smiled, but he thought there was something worried behind the expression. It couldn’t be easy, even with the support of her family, to be both mother and father to those kids.

  Well, it wasn’t his business. He had enough to deal with, without worrying about Mary Kate’s family life.

  “What torture do you have in mind for me today?”

  She patted the parallel bars that Gabe and Seth had set up. “I think you’re ready to put some weight on your legs.”

  “No.” That couldn’t be fear he felt, could it? “I’m not ready.”

  “I think you are. Come on, just give it a try.”

  “And break something when I fall? No, thanks.”

  It was unreasonable of her to ask it. Or maybe unreasonable of him to refuse—he wasn’t sure which, and he didn’t like not being sure.

  She pushed at the mats she’d shoved under and around the bars. “Falling is part of it. Remember when you learned to ice-skate? But you have nice soft mats to fall on instead of ice.”

  He gritted his teeth. “You’re talking to me like I’m about six again.”

  “I refuse to say the obvious answer to that—it wouldn’t be professional.”

  “In other words, stop acting like I’m six.” He wanted to lash out at her with anger, but it was becoming harder and harder to do that.

  She bent toward him, putting her hands over his. “Come on, Luke. You can’t kid me. I saw how strong you were in the pool. You can take your weight on your arms as much as you want. Just give it a try, like you did the pool. That worked out, didn’t it?”

  “I suppose.” She was right. He did sound like a sulky kid. He may as well admit it. “All right, I confess. The pool was a good idea, even if getting there—”

  He stopped. Some things Mary Kate didn’t need to know, like the unpleasant aftermath of being in battle.

  She moved the chair into position, seeming to take his acceptance for granted. “I guess it’s hard, getting out again. Hard not to keep your guard up all the time, the way you had to over there.”

  She saw more than he’d thought. He grunted in response, and then pushed the words out. “Overpasses. Vehicles parked along the road. Something that looks like a breakdown. Any of those could be an ambush, or a bomb planted to go off just when you go by.”

  “I’ve heard about the roadside bombings on the news, but I guess I didn’t realize what it would be like. Didn’t they give you any help in dealing with that when you were in the military hospital?”

  “Required sessions with a shrink that are supposed to do the trick.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t see that it did, but maybe I’d be in worse shape without them.” Amazing, that he could say to her what he hadn’t verbalized to anyone else.

  She helped him get a grip on the bars and then braced her feet, preparing to help him up. “It’ll take some time to get over.”

  If she’d oozed sympathy, he wouldn’t have been able to take it, but her calm, matter-of-fact tone made it possible to verbalize the thoughts that lurked at the back of his mind. “What if I don’t?”

  “You will.” She sounded serenely confident. “Just like you’re going to conquer these bars. Ready?”

  She had a firm grip on him. He wanted to say she wasn’t strong enough, but he’d worked with her long enough to know that wasn’t true. She was strong—with him, and with her kids. Probably spiritually, too, in order to cope with Kenny’s loss and still hold on to the serenity of hers.

  “Ready.” He tightened his grip, trying to imagine he was plunging off the high dive for the first time, and muscled himself to an upright position. For an instant it was dizzying, and then quite suddenly he was exhilarated. He was standing for the first time in months.

  “All right—great. Don’t try to move. Just let yourself get used to the feeling. Then slowly let your legs take some of the weight.”

  “I’m okay.” He wasn’t, not really. His arm muscles trembled from the effort of keeping his body vertical and he could feel sweat break out on his forehead. He tried to focus on one of the stylized flowers in the wallpaper.

  “That’s enough for the first time. Let me ease you down again.”

  “No.” He bit off the word. “I’m going to take a step.”

  Mary Kate’s arm tightened around him. “Not yet.”

  He didn’t bother to answer, frowning, concentrating, trying to drag his right leg forward by sheer force of will. Finally it moved, inching ahead.

  “Terrific! Come on, now, let’s not overdo the first time—”

  He was already forcing his left leg forward. It was moving, but his arm muscles trembled, he was losing his grip, he—

  The mat rushed toward him, but Mary Kate’s arms were around him, breaking his fall as she went down with him.

  “Are you all right?” Concern flooded her voice as she grabbed his shoulder. “Luke, talk to me.”

  “I’m fine.” He opened his eyes. Mary Kate’s face was inches away, so close he could a
lmost touch that soft skin. “You told me I’d fall, didn’t you?”

  Her breath came out in a rush of relief. “I didn’t really mean it. Are you sure nothing hurts?”

  “Only my pride.” He ought to feel angry that she’d pushed him into this, or disappointed that he hadn’t been able to do more. Instead he felt good, better than he had in months.

  Maybe that was because he’d made progress. Or maybe it was because his arms were around Mary Kate, and she was looking at him with caring, affection—

  His breath quickened. She wasn’t looking at him the way a therapist looked at a patient. No, it was more the way a woman looked at a man she cared for—lips parted slightly, eyes darkening, skin flushing.

  For an instant he leaned toward her. Another inch and their lips would touch—

  He pulled back abruptly, breathing as if he’d been running. This couldn’t happen. It was about the worst mistake he could possibly make, and just because Mary Kate was warm and sweet and cared about him was no reason to act like a fool.

  She blinked, color rising in her cheeks, and turned away. “Maybe—maybe I’d better get some lunch ready.” Her voice sounded husky.

  “Good idea.” He forced the words out. “We need a break.”

  From the work, and also from each other.

  Mary Kate spread peanut butter on a slice of bread so fiercely that the bread tore. She bit her lip and forced herself to be calm. Thank goodness Luke was leaving her alone in the kitchen. She needed breathing space to cope with what had happened between them.

  This wasn’t just her, feeling a reminiscent attraction for an old high school crush. Both of them had felt it, she knew by the way Luke had looked at her, as if he’d been ready to kiss her. As if, in another instant, their lips would have met.

  And he’d been the one to turn away first. Her cheeks flamed and she blinked back hot tears. How could she have done that? It was wrong on so many levels. She was Luke’s therapist, and that was the only relationship they could have.

  To say nothing of the guilt that swept over her at the thought of Kenny. Feeling something for Luke or any other man was being disloyal to him.

  She slapped the slices of bread together and cut them into triangles. All right, Mary Kate, get a grip. It’s not the worst thing that’s happened in your life.

  She didn’t run and hide at the first sign of trouble. She held her chin up and she coped. So she and Luke were attracted to each other. All right. That didn’t mean they were going to act on that attraction.

  She certainly wasn’t. She’d been caught off guard, but it wouldn’t happen again. Even if Luke hadn’t been her patient, she had her hands full with kids, family, job, adjusting to life without Kenny. There was no space left for romance.

  And Luke’s reaction certainly showed that he didn’t want anything, either. So she’d put a smile on her face and act as if nothing had happened.

  She arranged sandwiches on plates, poured milk and then went looking for the kids. Shawna was on the back porch, absorbed in a game of jacks. But Michael—

  Then she heard voices, coming from the workshop behind the kitchen. Michael was in the shop with Luke.

  Fine. She had to face Luke, in any event. It may as well be now.

  She took a step toward the workshop door, forcing a smile onto stiff lips. Another step, and she could hear Michael’s voice. She froze, unable to move.

  “See, my daddy started making the car with me, but we didn’t get to finish it.” His childish treble might have shaken a bit on the words. “I thought maybe you could help me finish it, ’cause you have this neat workshop and all.”

  Pain twisted her heart. She hadn’t seen that unfinished car in months and hadn’t dreamed that Michael still had it. What else was he hiding behind that brave little facade?

  She pushed herself to take the few steps into the workshop. “Hey, is anyone ready for lunch?”

  “Mary Kate—” Luke began, his face troubled.

  She silenced him with a fierce glare. This wasn’t any of his business. She’d deal with it in her own way.

  “I have sandwiches ready for you and Shawna. You can take them out onto the back porch and have a picnic.”

  She shooed Michael through the kitchen and onto the porch, taking her time settling the two of them with their milk and sandwiches. Hoping that by the time she went back inside, Luke would have sense enough to avoid the subject.

  She could see at a glance that that hope was futile. Luke’s dark brows were drawn together in a frown, and he had both hands planted on the arms of the chair as if he’d like to propel himself out of it. She closed the door carefully behind her.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” She went quickly across to the counter, where she had a plate ready for him, and transferred it to the table. “Would you like water or iced tea with your sandwiches?”

  “What I’d like is for you to stop fussing about food and discuss this.”

  Her temper flared. She spun toward him, planting her fists on her hips. “It’s between me and Michael. It’s none of your business.”

  “Michael made it my business when he brought the subject up. You don’t think I suggested working on anything with him, do you?”

  “No.” Anger made her say more than she should. “I think you’re too busy thinking about yourself.”

  She swung away from him, appalled at her unbridled tongue. Before she could come up with an apology, he’d wheeled over next to her and jerked a chair out from the kitchen table.

  “Sit,” he growled. “I’m not having an argument with you when I have to crane my neck.”

  That was another mistake she tried not to make, and something else she needed to apologize for. She knew better than to force a person in a wheelchair to keep looking up at her.

  The trouble was, she didn’t have the least desire to apologize. She sank down on the chair, sure she looked like Shawna having a case of the sulks.

  Forgive me, Lord. I’m behaving badly, I know. I just don’t want anyone coming that far into my children’s confidence, and especially not Luke.

  “Sorry.” She managed to look at him. “It’s just that the car is a sensitive subject for me.”

  “Probably for Michael, too.” His voice went softer, the anger in it easing. “First off, the good Lord knows I’m not ready to take on responsibility for anybody or anything. If that makes me selfish, well, I figure that’s my right.”

  She swallowed, trying to ease the tightness in her throat. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But Michael—”

  “Tell me.” He grabbed her hands when she would have turned away, holding them firmly between his. “What does that car mean?”

  She took a deep breath and let it out. She couldn’t get out of telling him now.

  “Kenny had made one with Shawna, when her class did the project. Michael loved it and just couldn’t wait until he went to school to make one, so Kenny started one with him.” Her voice softened as she remembered the two of them, heads together over the kitchen table, making a mess just when she was trying to get supper on.

  “Michael couldn’t have been old enough to do much of it.” Luke’s fingers moved gently against her hands. Comforting.

  “No, he wasn’t. But Kenny had such patience with the kids. Far more than I do, I’m afraid. He’d let Michael work on it, no matter how long it took. But then—” Her throat closed.

  “That’s when Kenny got sick.” He seemed to understand what she couldn’t say.

  She nodded. “It was such a shock, and it went so fast. You think you have all the time in the world, and suddenly you don’t have any.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She couldn’t accuse him of not caring about anyone else now. His voice was warm with concern and caring.

  “Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “The car just seemed to disappear, and with everything that was going on, I didn’t even notice. Obviously Michael kept it, and now he wants to finish it for the class project.
”

  She’d offered to help him make something for the project, and he’d said no. And now her son had gone to someone who was a virtual stranger for help with his precious car.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  She shook her head, longing to find some way of dealing with this that didn’t involve Luke. “You could tell him you can’t.”

  “I’m not going to lie to the boy.” Luke leaned toward her, his hands still holding hers, his dark gaze very intent. “I didn’t ask for this, and I certainly won’t do anything without your permission. But Michael came to me, and I won’t turn him down. If you want to do that, it’s up to you.”

  “Easy. Don’t try to move it so far at one time.” Mary Kate kept a steadying hand on Luke’s back as he leaned on the metal walker.

  “Baby steps,” he grunted.

  “That’s right, baby steps. There’s nothing wrong with taking it one small step at a time.”

  At the moment, the only step she felt capable of taking was to concentrate on this therapy session and ignore everything that had happened in the week and a half since Luke first attempted the bars. She would not start obsessing about Michael’s request or Luke’s surprising reaction.

  She still struggled with what to do about that. She couldn’t put Michael off much longer.

  And, to be honest, she could hardly blame Luke. If he was willing to help Michael, who seemed able to get through some chink in his armor, why should he look like the bad guy over something that was her decision?

  She’d felt a wave of thankfulness when Michael had accepted her statement that she had to think about whether Luke could help him with the car. After all, Luke was still recuperating, even if he was moving with astonishing speed now that he’d actually gotten his legs under him.