Her Holiday Hero

by Margaret Daley

  Anger flashed through Jake. His willpower stretched to its limit, he remained seated when all he wanted to do was leave. He raised his chin. “Yes. I am, sir.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Because I’ve seen it work for myself and a soldier in my company. It’s not the only thing I’m doing to deal with my trauma, but it is one that I will continue. If it hadn’t been for Shep, I doubt I would have stayed at the ceremony when I saw you coming up onto the platform.”

  The general scowled but behind that expression Jake saw something else—susceptibility to being hurt by another—him. “How did we get to this place?”

  Jake ground his teeth, waiting before he answered. “You wanted to make all my decisions. I’m thirty and perfectly capable of deciding what’s best. I can’t fulfill your dream for me because it isn’t mine.”

  “All I’ve wanted is for you to succeed.”

  “Yes, in the army. I used to think that was what I wanted, but for the past couple of years I’ve been dissatisfied. I didn’t know how to approach you about it. Now it’s a moot point because I’ll always have some problems with my leg when I overextend myself. A soldier needs to be at the top of his game. I’ve accepted I can’t be.”

  “With that dog by your side, I’m guessing you think you have PTSD. You don’t need a service dog for your leg injury.”

  Is that contempt in his words? Jake couldn’t tell for sure. “When you’ve walked in my shoes, then you have a right to say what you think of PTSD. But I don’t think I have it—I know I have it.”

  His father’s mouth dropped open, his eyes wide.

  “I’ve heard you say before you think it’s just an excuse a lot of people use. It isn’t.” Jake rose before he said more. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.”

  “But it’s only nine.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact I’m tired, sir.”

  “I have an early flight in the morning.”

  “Then goodbye. Have a safe trip,” Jake said in a monotone, needing the space between him and his father. Nothing would ever make a difference. He had to face it. He wasn’t the son his dad wanted.

  After removing his coat and shoes, Jake collapsed onto his bed, exhaustion filling every part of him. Without changing out of his uniform pants and shirt, he stretched out to relax a while…

  Through the haze of gunfire, Jake spied the young boy crying, no more than four or five, coming toward him. All he could think about was the child getting killed. He rushed toward him, scooped him into his arms and hurried back to the hut he’d been using as a shelter. After he put the boy on the floor, Jake returned to the window and scouted his surroundings. With a quick glance back to check if the boy was all right, he saw the child playing with a grenade.

  Jake screamed, “No! Put that down!”

  In slow motion the child pulled the pin.

  Nooo!

  Mixed in with the sounds of the explosion were—barks?

  Something scraped across his cheek. He twisted then rolled away. Suddenly he fell, hitting something hard.

  His eyes bolted open as his door slammed against the wall.

  Next to him Shep continued to bark while his father charged into Jake’s bedroom, fear carved into his features.

  “Son, are you all right?”

  Jake ached from landing on his left side. Crashing against the hardwood floor sent a shaft of pain up his leg. But that didn’t dominate his thoughts. He couldn’t shake the picture in his mind of the little boy playing with the grenade.

  “Where did it come from? The child didn’t have it on him. I would have felt it.”

  “Jake!” his dad shouted, kneeling next to him, grasping his arms. “What are you talking about?”

  His heart racing, Jake inhaled then exhaled, the room spinning. The words describing his nightmare came out haltingly, but somehow he got to the end or at least the part he remembered.

  “It didn’t happen exactly like that.”

  “How do you know? You weren’t there.”

  “You forget the camera on your helmet. I viewed all the footage of what was recovered from the ambush. You were wounded but giving one of your men cover as he darted toward the hut, carrying a young crying boy. When your sergeant put the child down in the hut and took his place at the other window, he left his backpack on the floor. You turned, saw the boy with the grenade and as he pulled the pin, you dived for him, grabbed the grenade and threw it out the window. It exploded a few seconds later. The aftershocks knocked you back and that was when you blacked out.”

  “There was a child? He didn’t die?”

  “No.”

  Relieved, Jake sagged back against his bed frame, holding on to Shep.

  His dad sat next to him, and he felt the general’s stare as he patted Shep. The feel of the dog’s fur as he ran his fingers through it soothed something deep inside Jake, grounding him in the here and now—not the past.

  “He really helps you,” his father said in wonder.

  “Yes. He reminds me of the present. He can sense when I’m troubled and only wants to help me. I’ve had him a month and yet it seems like we’ve been together forever.”

  “You always were a dog lover.”

  How would you know? You were gone half my childhood. But he couldn’t voice that. For some reason his dad was sitting by him and something was different. “That’s not it. I’m learning various calming techniques from my therapist. Shep is one of the tools I use. I don’t want to be debilitated with these panic attacks, afraid to do things because I’m scared I’ll have a flashback. I want my life back.”

  When his dad didn’t say anything, Jake turned toward him. His father’s head hung down, his eyes closed. He clenched his hands then flexed them, over and over.

  “Dad?”

  “I never wanted you to go through what I did. I’ve never been wounded, except in here.” He tapped his temple. “I was sent to Vietnam at the end—not long before we pulled out.”

  “I never knew that.”

  “Because I never talk about it. I was so young, right out of West Point. I thought I knew what to expect in a war situation.” He shook his head. “I had no idea what was in store for me. It was brutal, and I was never the same. I had nightmares and flashbacks for years.” When he looked into Jake’s face, his eyes glistened. “Not many for the past fifteen years. I thank God for that every day.”

  “You never said anything. You always seemed so together, in control.”

  “Because I worked hard to present that facade, especially at home, around others. I had to climb the ranks to general like my father before me. I’d been groomed for that all my life. You think I was tough on you. My father was the toughest man I’ve ever known. You were never to show any weakness around him. It wasn’t acceptable.”

  Jake felt the shudder snake down his dad’s body—a man who was always together. Just like his own father.

  “I thought my reaction to what I’d seen meant I was cowardly, not whole, so I didn’t let anyone know. I never talked it over with anyone. I wanted to but then that would have marked me as a weak man.”

  Jake thought about his own journey to this point. The feelings of being weak, not whole. The denial that anything emotional was wrong with him. Then he met Emma and things changed. He couldn’t deny it any longer, but he still felt weak, not whole.

  “When I saw you after your return, you never said anything about what was really going on other than with your leg injury. I wish you had.”

  “How could I when I knew I wasn’t doing what you wanted me to do?” Jake’s hard stare bore into his father. “You should know since you never told anyone.”

  “But you had the courage to. You’re getting help. I didn’t and the price I paid was isolating myself from my family and friends. I pushed you and your mother away. I…” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I failed you and her.”

  Jake never thought he would hear his dad admit he failed at something. For the first time he didn’t seem larger than life, untouchable. Using the bedpost, Jake pulled himself to his feet then offered his dad a hand. “I don’t know about you, but
I doubt I’ll get any more sleep tonight. Want to put on a pot of coffee and talk?”

  His eyes softened as his dad grasped his hand and rose. “Sounds like a good plan.”

  Maybe we can repair our relationship—actually build one. Jake had enough to deal with. He didn’t want to continue pushing his father away.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Now tell me why Josh isn’t helping you with this?” Jake followed Emma with a grocery cart while the sound of Christmas music filled the store.

  Emma grinned. “Because I thought it was about time you went grocery shopping and I needed someone to push the second cart.” She paused and tilted her head. “Don’t you just love the sound of Christmas music? I could listen to it all year long.” She leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “Don’t tell anyone but I do listen to it. Usually around April and August I need to for a week or so.”

  Jake laid his palm over her forehead. “You really have it bad.”

  “Yep, I love what Christmas stands for. Hope.” During the next weeks she wanted to share that with him.

  Jake scanned the aisle, crammed with other shoppers. “Why does everyone wait till the last minute to get food for Thanksgiving? Look at all the people here.”

  “It’s like Christmas shopping at the last minute. A habit. I shop right up to the last minute for Christmas.”

  “I didn’t take you for someone who would wait like this.”

  “Are you kidding? This is my second trip. I came yesterday, but my menu keeps growing. I figured you could take leftovers home with you tomorrow. Besides, I thought you could get your own groceries, too.”

  His eyebrow hiked. “You did?”

  Jake pulled up right behind her as she searched the shelves for the spices she needed. The smile on his face caused her pulse to pick up speed. He could do that so easily to her—make her react to his presence. She was falling for him yet trying not to. If he knew he’d run the other way because he had so much to handle right now in his life. A girlfriend wasn’t something he needed.

  Emma waved her hand toward his cart. “You haven’t chosen much for yourself.”

  “Dog food.”

  “For yourself to eat.”

  “I thought you were going to send home leftovers with me tomorrow.”

  “I am but you still need other things to eat.”

  He tossed a container of salt into his cart. “There.”

  “I hope that isn’t all.”

  “I’ll get a few other items,” he said with a chuckle.

  Emma moved to the next aisle, not as crowded as the last one. “You’ll be bringing Marcella with you tomorrow morning?”

  “Yes. Anything else I can do?”

  “Nope.”

  Someone bumped into Jake’s back. He stiffened and pivoted, stepping back. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, then another.

  The young mom with two small kids murmured, “Sorry” and rushed past him.

  Jake watched her for a moment, blinked then focused on Emma.

  “Okay?”

  “Sure. I have to expect that in a crowded store the day before Thanksgiving. Just don’t make me fight over the last turkey.”

  She laughed. “I’ve got the turkey and the ingredients for the dressing already. Now all I need is everything else.”

  “I’m sure my stepmom has their dinner already cooked or at least what she can do ahead of time. Priscilla is one organized woman. Like my dad. That’s probably why they get along so well. Did I tell you Dad asked me to come for Thanksgiving when we talked this past weekend?”

  “What did you say?”

  “I’m not ready to deal with that yet—not us being together but flying on a plane. Giving control to another—the pilot.”

  “Haven’t you figured it out yet? We don’t really have control. God does.” She smiled at him.

  In the fresh vegetable and fruit section with more room, he pushed his cart next to hers. “Right now I get through best when I feel I have some control, some say in what happens. I know the Lord is in control of the universe, but I’m just one of billions. I doubt He’s much interested in my day-to-day life.”

  “Why not? You’re His son and He loves you.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?”

  Jake frowned. “Of course.”

  But the way he looked and spoke made her doubt it. She changed tactics before Jake decided to cut their trip short. “So how’s it going with your father since he was here Veterans Day?” They had talked several times, but Jake hadn’t said a lot about the visit.

  “Awkward at first but this last call was better. It’s been thirty years one way and it isn’t going to change overnight, but at least now I have hope it’ll improve. Just knowing he dealt with issues after Vietnam gives us a place to start.”

  “I’m so glad for you. A person with PTSD needs all the support he can get.” Emma gathered up some sweet potatoes, then moved on to the celery and onions.

  “Is that what you’re doing for me? Because of Ben?”

  Emma swept around, his look trapping her. “That’s the way it started.”

  He took a step toward her. “And now?”

  “We’re friends. I’m doing it because of that.”

  “Anything else?” His earnestness charged the air.

  It was as if no one else were in the grocery store. The intensity emitting from him enticed her closer. “Well, there’s what you did for Josh. He’s getting to be his old self thanks to your assistance. Oh, and the times you helped me to change that tire and to clean up the trash on the porch.” She stared at him—couldn’t look away.

  “Why, Jake Tanner, it’s so good to see you out and about,” Marcella said, coming up and almost planting herself between them. “I’ll be ready at ten tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there to escort you.”

  Marcella waved her hand in front of her face as though the temperature in the store had soared. “Escort. I like that. See you then. Don’t forget we need to discuss those self-defense classes for me and some of my friends.” She returned to her cart. “I’m bringing the cinnamon rolls to hold everyone over until dinner is served. See you, Emma, Jake.”

  Emma watched the older lady wheel her basket of food around the corner before glancing at Jake. The humor in his eyes infected her, and she burst out laughing.

  “I think Marcella Kime has a crush on you.”

  *

  Thanksgiving Day Jake lounged in his chair at the dining room table with seven squeezed around it. Right across from him sat Emma, who had jumped up more times than he could count. This dinner had been a big deal to her—and absolutely delicious from her crunchy sweet potato casserole, moist cornbread stuffing with mushrooms and corn, lemon and herb slow-roasted turkey to his favorite— artichokes au gratin.

  Ben patted his stomach. “I think I have some room for dessert. What is it?”

  “I thought we’d have pumpkin ice cream.” Emma pressed her lips together.

  Ben’s eyebrows slashed down. “What! Pumpkin and ice cream don’t go together.”

  She chuckled, the sound light and sweet. “No, we’re having something a little bit more traditional—white chocolate pumpkin cheesecake topped with shaved almonds.”

  “What happened to the pecan pie you have every year?” Robert, Emma’s father, asked.

  “I made that, too. Just for you, Dad.”

  “Can we have a slice of both of them?” Josh glanced from his granddad to his mom. “I’m still hungry.”

  “Probably because you didn’t eat everything on your plate.” Emma rose and gathered the plates near her.

  “’Cause I was saving room for the dessert. Like Jake.”

  Emma started for the kitchen. “But he ate his dinner.”

  Jake stood, picking up the rest of the plates. “I’ll help you.”

  “Jake, make sure my pieces are big. I’m a growing boy,” Josh said as Jake left the room.

  He couldn’t remember having such a nice Thanksgiving—informal, full of laughter and relaxation. “What do you think of going to the park after we eat and working off some of this wonderful food?”
<
br />   Emma took the cheesecake out of the refrigerator. “Doing what?”

  “It’s time for Josh to work on his batting. He’s got throwing down pretty good. Batting isn’t something we should do in your yard. We need more space. Ben, Robert and I were talking before dinner about doing something so we don’t all end up falling asleep in your living room.”

  She swept around to face him. “You guys can help Mom and me with cleaning up.”

  Jake trapped her against the counter, his arms on either side of her. “Today’s gorgeous for this time of year. Let’s play in the park then I’ll come back and help you clean up. There’s no rule that says it has to be done right after we eat.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “What about the leftover food?”

  “We’ll take care of it before we leave.”

  “We? You and I?”

  “Yep. I may not cook well, but I can wrap food in foil and put it in containers. So what do you say?” He inched closer, her scent of lavender mingling with the lingering aromas of the dishes.

  “You’re not going to expect me to chase the ball, are you?”

  “No, we have Ben and your dad as well as Shep and Butch.”

  “We have a leash law in Cimarron City.”

  “Then you and your mom can hold their leashes and cheer.”

  She cocked her head. “What’s this really about?”

  He shouldn’t have gotten so near her. All he could do was stare at her lips with their hint of red lipstick.

  “Jake?”

  He averted his gaze for a few seconds. “Josh mentioned he used to enjoy playing in the park but hasn’t for a while, even when a group of his friends were doing something. I think it’s because of what Liam and his buddies did.”

  “They’ve been behaving lately.”

  “Yes, but when he thinks of the park he thinks of what happened there last. I don’t want him to be afraid and stay away because of that fear.”

  She lifted her hand and stroked it down his jawline. “You’ve been so good for Josh. Yes, we’ll go. I didn’t realize he was avoiding the park with his friends. They used to play there a lot. I don’t want what happened with Liam to taint those memories.”

  “Hey, you two, what’s taking so long? We’re starved!” Ben yelled from the dining room.