He gave her a dry look. “The kids.”
“Do the injuries and scars scare them? Not at all. Does it worry them that the same could happen to their dads and moms? On occasion. But they’re young. They have blind faith in their parents, in the Army. In their eyes, you guys are heroes who can do anything.”
Another bit of pink colored his cheeks. At being called a hero? She believed in heroes—not the popular version of celebrities or athletes, but everyday heroes, who saw a job that needed to be done and volunteered to do it, even when it meant facing danger and death every day. People willing to die for their communities or their country, because someone had to do it.
Because the subject seemed to make him uncomfortable, she changed it with an obvious look at his clothes. “You been PT-ing?” Physical training was a daily part of practically every soldier’s life, though in the past few years, it had become just as common for the abbreviation to refer to physical therapy—a daily part of her soldiers’ lives.
“Yeah. I, uh, just stopped to talk to Justin.”
“He’s a good kid.”
“Kid? You can’t be that much older.”
She smiled. Justin was twenty-one. She was twenty-eight going on forty some days. Today, maybe going on thirty-five. “What’s that movie quote? It’s not the years, it’s the mileage?” The last twenty-five months had been like dog years: each one stretching into seven.
But time was moving at a more normal pace now. Sometimes it dragged, sometimes it rushed past, but overall it averaged out. She could breathe. She could think. And if tomorrow wasn’t always better, well, the next day would be, or the one after that. Tuesday always rolled around, and she got to come here and to have dinner with the margarita club.
And those two things counted for a lot.
Dane’s first impulse was to snort. She didn’t look as if she had any mileage on her…though didn’t he know how deceiving looks could be? Most of the guys in the gym looked like they’d just started shaving a week or two ago, while a fair number of them were, in fact, learning to do it again with whatever limitations they’d acquired. Justin, at least, still had all his body parts, though his legs were held together with plates and screws. They were surrounded by amputees, burn victims, and traumatic brain injuries, and Carly Lowry seemed to have the least mileage on her of them all.
Kids excepted, of course. He’d heard something about kids visiting but had assumed a couple, related to one of the patients. Not a whole classful. Not accompanied by a pretty teacher with auburn hair and hazel eyes and damn nice legs.
And a wedding ring on her left hand, he reminded himself. As off-limits, even for looking, as a woman could be.
He should get out of the gym before he noticed that her smile was sweet. Before he gave more than a second glance at her breasts. Before one of the therapists asked just how long he intended to make this break.
Before she realized he was a patient along with all the others.
The thought of discovery created a throb in his left leg—not the part that was there, but the rest of it. It was stupid. He couldn’t hide the prosthesis forever. People back home knew; his mother had made sure of that. All the regulars in this room knew, along with most of his buddies stationed elsewhere. News like that traveled.
But he’d rather hide. He didn’t want sympathy or questions or concern or pity. Hell, he had more than enough pity for himself.
Since Carly didn’t seem ready to move on, he would. He opened his mouth to say I’ve got to go, but the words that came out were totally wrong. “So you’re a teacher.” Stupid. Obvious.
She smiled. “Third grade. The kids are big enough to be fun but not dangerous.”
“Any of them yours?”
The smile didn’t waver. “No. You have any?”
“No.” How much worse would that have made finding out about Sheryl’s affairs? Wondering if his kids were really his? Believing they were, loving them, then finding out otherwise?
Time for another subject change. “You’re not from here.”
Her hair swayed in the clasp that loosely held it as she shook her head. “I grew up in Utah. I went to college in Colorado and came here four years ago. You’re not from here, either.”
“Texas. A little town outside Dallas.”
“Do you still have family there?”
“My mother. A few aunts and uncles. Some cousins I never really knew.” His mother had been an only child, his father a surprise born twelve years after the youngest of his brothers. Anna Mae had never had much use for Bill’s family, so even though they’d all lived in the same county, Dane had rarely had contact with them. “What about your family?”
“My mom, dad, and three brothers are all happily researching, splitting atoms, and splicing genes in Utah. They have two or three alphabets’ worth of letters after their names, and my brothers’ wives are raising five little scientists.” She shrugged, making her hair sway again. It looked silky, the kind that couldn’t hold a tangle if it tried. “I’m the family black sheep. Only one degree.”
“But you’re using it to teach. A noble profession—isn’t that what they call it?”
She gave the snort he’d restrained a few moments ago. “The doctors Anderson believe that those who can, do, and those who can’t, teach.”
Her gaze settled across the room, and he followed it, watching a little girl with pigtails in red overalls talking with flourishing gestures to a captain whose brain injury made conversation difficult for him. Whether he completely followed the girl’s rapid speech was anyone’s guess, but his expression left no doubt that he enjoyed her company.
“The doctors Anderson sound a little full of themselves.”
Carly’s attention jerked back to him. “Oh, they’re not so bad. They weren’t thrilled when I chose to major in education, but they thought I would get at least one PhD. It was a surprise to them when I got a teaching job instead.”
His mother would have been thrilled if he’d gotten a college degree. He would have been the first in the family. She didn’t know that, with the classes he’d taken on post at the ed center and online, he was halfway there. Not that it would matter much. In her mind, it would take more than one degree to make up for being one-legged.
As childish voices rose in the far corner of the gym, Carly sighed and straightened. “I’d better see what’s up. Nice seeing you again, Dane.”
She stuck out her hand again, and he took it. Odd how soft her skin was. He was used to hands that could cause pain—they didn’t call them “physical terrorists” for nothing—but her grip was gentle, better suited to soothing.
He let go the instant he realized he didn’t want to and pushed away from the wall, hoping his body hadn’t stiffened too much with the inactivity. “Yeah, I gotta go.”
With a smile, she went off to referee the fuss, and he headed straight for the door and went to check out with the cadre. In addition to the physical and occupational therapists, physicians, psychologists, and psychiatrists available, each soldier at the WTU was assigned to a cadre with a squad leader, a nurse, and a doctor. As luck would have it, he’d known his squad leader back when they were both stationed in Korea and they’d both lost limbs in the desert. Now the first sergeant was overseeing other soldiers’ transitions, and Dane was struggling with his.
After a stop at the commissary for food, he was home within a half hour. Twenty minutes after that, he had everything put away, had done what little cleaning was needed to suit his standards and was considering doing laundry when someone knocked at the door.
It was Justin Stevens—not just a fellow patient but neighbor, too—leaning more heavily on his crutches than he had at the gym. “Where’d you disappear to?” he asked, limping into the kitchen to get a beer from the fridge and an ice pack from the freezer. Back in the living room, he lowered himself into the chair, propped his right leg on the table and rested the ice pack on his knee before popping the top on the beer.
Dane sat on the couc
h, propping his left leg up. “I was done for the day.” Therapy was never the same. Some days he could push way farther beyond anything he’d done before, and some days it seemed he’d lost ground overnight.
And some days he just had to avoid the people there.
“Did you talk to any of the kids?”
“Not today.” And he didn’t plan to in the future. He would make a point of being elsewhere on Tuesdays, and not just to avoid the kids.
Justin grinned. “You talked to Carly, though. What was that ‘caveman’ stuff about?”
“We, uh, met in a cave.”
After an expectant moment, Justin scoffed. “Yeah, right. You don’t want to say, man—”
“We did. At a park. Last weekend. She was with some friends.”
Justin nodded. “Oh, the margarita club.”
Dane remembered that moment at the red light in Davis, when he’d seen the women in the restaurant, toasting each other with margaritas. He liked his booze about as much as the average guy, but he’d never considered joining a club to celebrate it.
Aiming for casual, he asked, “Where is her husband assigned?”
Justin’s look was long and steady. “She’s in the club, man. The Tuesday Night Margarita Club. They meet at The Three Amigos for dinner and drinks every week.”
Feeling the way he imagined the brain injury patients did at times, Dane raised his brows. “And what does that have to do with her husband?”
“The margarita club is otherwise known as the ‘Fort Murphy Widows’ Club.’” Justin paused. “Staff Sergeant Lowry is dead, man. Has been for about two years.”
Chapter Three
Dinner was always casual: jeans, a sweater, a little bit of makeup. Carly sprayed on cologne, then closed her eyes and sniffed the shower-warmed air. The fragrance was light, sweet. Innocent, Jeff had said when he’d given her the first bottle. He’d smelled it on a woman at the PX, asked her what it was and gone to the perfume counter to buy it, and Carly had worn it ever since.
She liked the scent well enough, but she’d never loved it the way he did. Maybe it was time for a change. After work tomorrow, maybe she should go to the PX and pick out her own cologne. Something not so sweet and innocent.
Feeling vaguely guilty, she switched off the light, then twisted her wedding band as she went down the hall. It was a little early to leave for the restaurant, but she got her purse and jacket anyway and left the house, driving the mile or so to the strip center where The Three Amigos Mexican Grill sat right in the middle of the parking lot.
It stood out like a canary amidst doves. While the main buildings that enclosed the lot made at least an effort to fit in with the sandstone and brick storefronts of downtown, The Three Amigos’ colors were just short of garish: teal, orange, yellow, and lime green. The roof was red tile, and potted silk flowers in bright red filled the planters on either side of the doors year-round. The shaded patio on the east side held wrought-iron tables in a half dozen different styles, a dozen different colors of paint. It marked its little corner of the Tallgrass Center as a Mexican feast for both the eyes and the palate.
The sound of tumbling water greeted her when she opened the heavy door. The first thought that came to mind was the waterfalls from the previous weekend. The cave. Dane. She honestly hadn’t expected to see him again.
But it had been kind of nice.
Skirting the fountain in the center of the lobby, she greeted the hostess, then wove through tables to a rectangular table at the rear of the dining room. They never knew how many would join them each week, but there were always at least eight. She was settling in a chair, back to the wall, when Therese joined her.
“Oh, dear heavens, I need a drink.”
Carly caught the waitress’s attention and held up two fingers. With a wink, the woman headed for the bar. “Let me guess. Jacob is in the fiftieth straight hour of video games without so much as a bathroom break, and Abby has fallen desperately in love with a wannabe bad boy with spiked hair and a nose ring. Any chance she’ll run off with him?”
“The way things have been going, she’d probably move him in with us so I could support him.” Therese shuddered, then made an obvious attempt to loosen up. “No, Jacob does take bathroom breaks, at least, and Abby is hating all things male this week. From what I’ve overheard, the boy she thought liked her asked another girl out, then Mr. Snyder caught her texting at school—giving answers to a test, no less—and took her phone away, plus gave her detention. I had to go pick up her and the phone after work, and I didn’t give it back, and she’s livid.” Therese smiled gratefully as the waitress delivered the two margaritas, then she took a large drink.
Carly’s sip was much smaller. In keeping with their group’s name, she ordered a margarita every week, but she rarely finished one. She wasn’t much of a drinker. She preferred to save her calories for something worthwhile, like chocolate-covered caramels for breakfast.
“Did you ever cheat?” Therese lifted her glum gaze from the glass to Carly. “In school, I mean.”
“No.” Or anywhere else, unless an occasional white lie counted. She’d never stayed out past curfew, never gotten drunk or used drugs and had tried always to be fair and nice. Goody Two-shoes, Jeff had called her.
“Me, neither. I told Abby that, and she came this close to calling me a liar. At least she wasn’t doing it for herself. She’s good at history. She knew all the answers. She was helping out Nicole, who didn’t have time to study.” After a moment, she sighed. “So how was everyone at the transition unit?”
“Good. The kids were fine, the soldiers were fine.” Carly twisted her glass a time or two, leaving wet rings on the napkin, before going on. “I saw Dane.”
“Who is—” Therese’s brow furrowed. “The guy from the cave? Really? Where?”
“At the transition unit. He was visiting Justin. I told you about him. The surfer kid from California.”
“Yeah, yeah, younger than my baby brother. Stick to Dane. Was he as cute as we thought? Did he remember us fondly? Did you find out if he was married?”
Carly blinked, then laughed. “Sheesh, you’re channeling Jessy. Let’s see…did we even discuss whether we thought he was cute? I don’t remember. Did he remember us? I assume so, since he was trapped in a small space with us, though he didn’t remark on it.” But he had remembered her name, she thought with a small rush of warmth.
As to whether he was married…the thought hadn’t occurred to her. In her world, there were two kinds of people: those who were widowed and those who weren’t. Of course, those who weren’t broke down into two more groups: those who were married and those who weren’t.
Which one was Dane? Face-to-face with him, she hadn’t given it a thought, but now she wondered. Was he single, involved, or did he go home to a wife every night?
“I don’t know if he’s married.” She shrugged as if she didn’t care. Though he hadn’t been wearing a ring. She hadn’t realized she’d noticed, but obviously she had. “Why? Are you interested in him?”
Therese’s gesture was dismissive. “He’s awfully cute, but he’s not my type.” Then she teasingly added, “I think he might be your type.”
“I’ve been alone so long, I’m not sure I still have a type.”
Reaching across the table, Therese squeezed her hand. “You do. Trust me.”
“Yeah, right. Paul’s been gone longer than Jeff, and you haven’t even looked at another man.” She regretted the words almost as soon as they were out, because they intensified the sorrow that was always barely there in her friend’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Therese.”
“Aren’t we all, sweetie.” After an uncomfortable silence, Therese straightened, her determination to brighten the mood apparent on her face. “Today the new boy in my class said, ‘Miss Twace, the windows are dirty.’ I said, ‘Yes, they are, Kelvin. I’ll give you a dollar to clean them.’ He rolled his eyes and said, ‘I don’t need a dowwar to cwean them, Miss Twace. I need paper towels.’”
“What happened at the bank?”
Jessy waved her hand carelessly, the diamonds in her wedding ring catching a bit of sparkle from the overhead light. “People are idiots. Whatever possessed me to get a job where I have to deal with them every single day of the workweek?”
“You’re in customer service,” Therese said with a snort. “It never occurred to you that meant dealing with idiots?”
The redhead sniffed regally. “I’m an account representative. Which our customers apparently translate to ‘complaint taker.’ Ugh.” Her shudder was delicate, fading as the waitress brought her drink. “Thanks so much, Miriam. One of these every fifteen minutes, and by the time I leave here, I won’t care about work.”
“Or anything else,” Carly retorted.
“Carly saw Dane from the cave again,” Therese announced.
“Really. Was he any less intimidated? More talkative? Did he appear to be involved with anyone else? Is he as cute in uniform as he was in jeans?” Jessy sighed. “I love a man in uniform.”
Coming up in time to hear the last, Marti Levin and Lucy Hart added their own sighs. “Didn’t we all,” Marti said softly.
Melancholy settled over the table for a moment before Jessy scattered it with a blunt command. “Sit. Order your drinks. Be quiet. Carly ran into Dane from the cave again. She’s going to tell all.”
“Ooh. Wait. Here come Fia and Ilena. You can tell us all at once.” Lucy shrugged out of her jacket and scooted into the chair next to Carly.
Ilena, round with pregnancy, her center of gravity shifted, looked graceful next to Fia, who limped, favoring her left side a bit. When she noticed them watching, she shrugged and gave them a lopsided smile. “Too much fun Saturday. I must have pulled a muscle.”
A Hero to Come Home To Page 5