by Jenna Mindel
Monica slipped her goggles atop her head and reached for the bottled water like a desperate woman. “Please.”
He watched as she dampened a bandanna she pulled from her pocket, then wiped her face with it. He chuckled at her preening. Her face was only going to get dirty again. “You kept up pretty good.”
“Not in that straightaway. How fast were you going?”
He shrugged and braced for her scolding. “As fast as it would go.”
Her eyes widened. “Cash...”
He held up his hand. “These things go only so fast, and as you can see, we did just fine.”
Ethan chugged his water and burped. “It was awesome.”
Monica shifted her gaze from him to the boy and then back. She shook her head as if Cash was a lost cause.
Maybe he was. He’d always tested boundaries and pushed against restrictions. That trait had served him well in the field. It’s why he’d been recommended for MARSOC.
She looked around. “Where to now?”
Cash downed his water and tossed the empty bottle back in the cooler. “Someplace for lunch.”
The boys jumped up and down, and Ethan asked, “Can we get pizza?”
Cash chuckled. “I don’t know. We’ll have to see what they have.”
Monica finished her water, too. “Do you know where to go?”
“There’s a restaurant right off the trail north of here. We used to go there when we were snowmobiling. Good food, too.” It had been a while since he’d been there and he hoped it was still open.
Monica smiled. “Fine, because I’m getting hungry.”
“Me, too.” He turned to the boys, who were kicking their water bottles along the ground. “Toss those into the cooler and let’s go.”
Owen pointed to the nearby woods.
“What is it, Owen?” Cash wished he would speak already.
The five-year-old shifted from foot to foot and then grabbed at his zipper.
Cash said to Ethan, “Take your brother toward those woods so he can go to the bathroom. But stay within sight.”
Ethan nodded and the two ran toward the trees.
“You’re good with them,” Monica said softly.
“They’re good kids.” Cash kicked at the ground. His brother had done a fine job with his boys.
Cole had done well with his life, too—building a successful business along with a family. He’d been there for their mom, as well, by opening up his home to her. It was more than could be said for Cash. He came home when he could, but that wasn’t often. His mom had no one now—only him.
He felt Monica touch his arm, and tensed. Looking into her eyes, he waited for her to say something, anything beyond the searching look of sympathy she gave him. He backed away. “So what’s with this coloring thing you want to do later?”
She dropped her hand. “Well, it’s something I read about online last night, while looking up information on how kids grieve.”
“Go on.” Cash kept his eyes on the boys. Now they were picking flowers amid the tall grass.
“Coloring can be a way of expressing that grief. Maybe it will help unlock Owen’s tongue if we share pictures we’ve made.”
“We?” Cash didn’t like the sound of that.
“All of us. They follow your lead, Cash. If you open up, they will, too.”
Nope. He didn’t like the sound of that one bit, but he had to own that he was impressed with her knowledge. She’d looked up this stuff online, which was more than he’d done. He believed in the practical approach, of distracting the kid with new surroundings and fun until he talked.
She touched his arm again. “You need to take time to grieve, too.”
Again, he backed away. “This week isn’t about what I need. It’s about the boys. I owe it to Cole to do what I can, and I can’t let death win by keeping Owen’s voice silent.”
Monica’s gaze narrowed. “Win? Life and death isn’t a game.”
In some ways it was. At least to him. Strategies and planning for missions resembled a game at times. Civilian life was where losses took a vicious bite out of him. They weren’t supposed to happen. He’d lost his dad and now his brother. Two of the three men who’d mattered most in his life.
When he didn’t answer, Monica’s tone softened. “So then you’ll color?”
He blew out his breath. It was worth a shot. “Yes, I’ll color.”
She smiled broadly. But not at him. Her gaze was focused beyond him on the boys, who came running toward her with a handpicked bouquet of a few golden daisy-like flowers with dark centers.
“I love black-eyed Susans. Thank you, guys,” Monica gushed.
Owen grinned and Ethan looked pretty proud, too.
Cash chuckled and then clapped his hands together. “Let’s load up.”
The boys scrambled toward the side-by-sides.
Monica stuck the flowers in her water bottle and set the makeshift vase in the UTV’s cup holder.
Cash helped Ethan get settled in while Monica buckled Owen into the bump seat.
“Ready?” he finally asked.
She gave him a thumbs-up.
Starting the engine, Cash waited until Monica started hers and then he gunned it, causing the tires to dig deep and spray dirt and grass her way.
Peering into the side mirror, he spotted her shaking her head.
He might be a lost cause when it came to pushing limits, but tonight he’d try to unlock a couple of his emotional compartments and color for the sake of his nephews. He wasn’t making any promises, though.
He’d spent years perfecting the art of keeping his feelings firmly under control. Opening those doors now might do more harm than good. For this mission of helping his brother’s boys, he’d do what he could to lead them down the path of expressing their loss. It didn’t mean he’d have to fully express his.
Chapter Five
Following Cash, Monica couldn’t get his comment out of her thoughts.
I can’t let death win.
At first she’d taken it as if life and death were a game, but that didn’t quite fit. Cash was a soldier. He knew the cost of death and dying. It was more like he’d personified death into something he could take on and beat. It was as if he personally struggled against it with something to prove. As a marine, how often had Cash faced death? Yet he acted as if he could win by sheer determination. Was that why he lived on the edge? Did he hope to cheat death by pushing himself close to it? What if death finally beat him?
Her stomach clenched at the thought like it always did when she pictured him in combat. Monica hated the idea of him charging into harm’s way nearly as much as she respected him for it.
She saw that Cash had pulled into a parking lot filled with other off-road vehicles, effectively interrupting her dark thoughts. There was a mini gas station attached to the restaurant. This place he’d mentioned was not only open for lunch, but looked busy. Really busy.
Cash unbuckled, got out and stretched. “Might be in for a bit of a wait.”
“We don’t have anywhere we need to be.” Monica shrugged, still tangled in those thoughts. What if Cash died in combat— Stop! She wasn’t going to think like that. Not today. Not ever.
She slipped off her goggles.
He grinned and reached out to run his index finger down her cheek. “You look like a raccoon with all that dirt on your face except around the eyes.”
Monica pulled her head back. “You’re not much better.”
“You don’t have to be so sore about it.” Cash gave her a concerned look.
She forced a smile. She hadn’t meant to snap at him. Part of her was mad at him for doing what he did, leaving for duty maybe to never return. “I’m not.”
“Come on, let’s get a table.” Cash steered both boys toward the entrance of the restaurant.
&
nbsp; Once inside with their names given for the next available table, Monica excused herself. “I’m hitting the bathroom.”
“We’ll go after you, so we don’t lose our place.” Cash kept a hand on a shoulder of each of the boys.
“I won’t be long.” Monica noticed that all three of them had dirty faces, too, so it shouldn’t bother her that Cash had pointed out hers. But it did.
In the ladies’ room, she quickly washed her face as well as her hands. Running her tinted gloss over her lips, Monica looked hard in the mirror. Was there any point in trying to look good? Once the effects of chemo set in she’d look horrible, more like a plucked stork.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This fear was getting old fast. She’d always obsessed over her appearance but knowing she’d soon look really awful took it to a new level. Growing up with two perfectly sized and beautiful sisters, Monica had never felt comfortable in her own skin. Those insecurities grew worse around Cash. Maybe because she was taller than him, but that wasn’t quite it either. Deep down, she’d always wanted him to want a relationship with her but he didn’t and never had. She needed to get over it.
Easier said than done. She pinched her cheeks to force some needed color into her face, squared her shoulders and walked out of the restroom. She looked around and spotted Cash waving.
He and the boys were seated in a booth.
She slipped in next to Owen and grabbed a menu. “Anything look good?”
“You did before you washed all that dirt off your face. There’s something fetching about a woman who’s not afraid to get dirty.” Cash gave her a wink.
“What are you talking about?” Monica wasn’t in the mood for his teasing.
“Can’t you rough it for even a little bit?”
“So I like a clean face. In fact, it’d be a good idea for you to take the boys to wash up before we eat.”
“After we order.” Cash set his menu down and grabbed her hand, running his fingertip over her manicured nails. “What’s with the primping? You didn’t used to do all this.”
Startled at the zing that scurried up her arm, Monica pulled her hand back. “Some people grow up.”
“And some people get caught up in all sorts of images that keep them from being who they are.”
“My business is about projecting the right image, so I have to look professional. How is that such a bad thing?”
He paused, as if trying to choose his words carefully. “It’s not—”
“Who am I supposed to be, then?” Monica cut him off, but really wanted to know. She was a sister, a daughter, a business owner and now a cancer patient. Who did Cash think she should be?
He appeared cornered, yet his gaze was steady with conviction. “You’re meant to be you and you don’t have to live up to anyone’s idea of perfection. I think you’re perfect as you are.”
That was not exactly a clear answer and yet it pierced her soul with warmth. She’d never thought she was pretty enough, always too tall and with too big of a nose. Being awkward as a teen with a mouth full of braces hadn’t helped how she saw herself either. What was she trying to prove and to whom? And why’d he have to see through to that lack of confidence she still carried deep inside?
The boys were watching them with wide eyes, so Monica changed the subject. “Do you two know what you want for lunch?”
“Pizza,” Ethan said.
Monica turned to face Owen. “Is that what you want, too?”
He nodded.
She quickly scanned the menu as the waitress bore down on their table.
“The boys will split a small cheese pizza with ranch dressing on the side. I’ll have a deluxe cheeseburger with french fries, and we’ll also have three Cokes,” Cash ordered.
Monica flashed him a frantic look. She had no idea what she wanted and ended up ordering a chef salad.
“You sure you don’t want something more substantial than rabbit food?” Cash teased after the waitress left.
“I happen to like salads. And you pretty much ordered the same thing you ate last night, yet you don’t hear me giving you grief.” She sat straighter. It wasn’t a diet thing, although she wondered if that’s what he might be thinking.
What was with him, anyway?
“You just did.” He chuckled and then grew serious. “You look good, Monica.”
She appreciated the brief flush of pleasure at the compliment until his seriousness turned into a grim scowl. “Now what?”
He shrugged and stood. “Nothing. I’m going to take the boys to wash up.”
Monica watched them leave. It was cute how Cash corralled the boys toward the men’s room, guiding them. Protecting them. What wasn’t cute was that his opinion of her meant way too much and always had.
She cringed as she recalled the first time she’d worn makeup around him. She’d been seventeen and he’d been home on leave. She wanted to make him see her as a real girl, not just her brother’s little sister.
She’d gotten a rise out of him alright—but not the grown-up reaction she’d hoped for. His surprise had turned to discomfort when her brother Matthew had teased her about having paint all over her face. She’d been mortified and Cash knew it. He had awkwardly patted her shoulder, telling her she was perfect the way she was.
Just like today with washing off the dirt. No matter what she did in an attempt to charm Cash Miller, it always seemed to backfire on her. Probably a good thing, too.
* * *
Cash hurried the boys back to the table. Casting a long look at Monica, he noticed something dark in her eyes as she traced a groove in the wooden tabletop with her finger. Something was definitely going on with her.
Was it that breakup she’d mentioned? Maybe it had been more serious than she’d let on. Cash’s gut clenched. He’d like to give that guy a few choice words, perhaps starting with his fist.
It suddenly hit him that maybe he’d caused that look of sadness. Surely his teasing, or his comments about her painted nails, hadn’t bothered her. He’d meant it when he said she looked good. Problem was that she looked too good. Still, the Monica he remembered had always given as good or better jabs than any he’d thrown her way.
Just then she caught his gaze and smiled.
It was like hitting a brick wall at full speed, taking away his breath and weakening his knees. Not to mention how his stomach swayed and flipped over. Why had he begged her to stay?
Owen scooted into the booth next to her.
Owen was the reason. His youngest nephew had connected with her and Cash needed to keep that in mind. This weekend wasn’t about him. It was about his nephews, about getting Owen to talk, and Monica might be the key to unlocking the kid’s vocal chords.
He slipped in next to Ethan. “So tell me about this business of yours.”
“I started out with simply a website design service, but then it morphed into consultative marketing and business branding.” Monica sipped her water.
“Branding?” Searing the back end of cattle came to mind.
Monica nodded. “It’s a company’s promise to their customer. It reinstates what they are and what they want to be, via a slogan or image.”
“Is it just you?”
Monica shook her head. “I have an assistant who takes care of the office stuff, like billing and reconciliation of accounts.”
He grinned. “Successful?”
She raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “I do okay.”
Her brother had once told him that she did pretty well. Monica had indeed grown up. To start her own business and actually make it work spoke to her resolve. Making it successful reflected her strength and determination.
She’d never been a quitter. Like a dog on the scent of a buried bone, Monica never gave up when she put her mind to something. Another reason he coveted her help with Owen. He knew she’d gi
ve it her all.
He remembered when she’d wanted to play varsity basketball. She hadn’t even finished eighth grade when she’d sought his help with her foul shot. They’d practiced for hours through the summer months, and come fall, she was the only ninth grader to make the varsity team.
The waitress arrived with their drinks. Monica had ordered an iced tea instead of pop. Dropping four straws on the table, the waitress said, “Your food will be out soon.”
Ethan snatched his straw and blew the paper at his brother.
Owen giggled and did the same back.
Cash dipped his straw wrapper in water, then rolled it between his fingers. He caught Monica’s critical gaze.
“You really shouldn’t.”
He grinned. “They’ll learn it in school, anyway.”
She tipped her head. “Schools have changed. They come down more on this kind of stuff than when we were kids.”
“What are you doing, Uncle Cash?” Ethan zeroed in on him.
“Nothing.” Cash crumpled the perfectly made spitball into the paper strap that bundled the napkin around the silverware.
The last thing his sister-in-law needed was her boys getting into trouble at school. Cole might have egged him on, but his brother wasn’t here. He’d never be here again. Cole had left a huge hole in the world and the reality of that turned Cash’s belly sour.
He looked at Monica.
She gave him an encouraging smile as if she could read his thoughts. As if she understood why he’d put away the spitball.
It was an odd sensation, this link with her. This understanding without words.
Just then the food came and Ethan forgot all about straw wrappers and spitballs. Cash watched as Monica helped Owen unravel his napkin. She showed the five-year-old how to place it on his lap, and Cash was struck by how much like a family they were.
This was what he’d steered clear of since becoming a marine. That sourness in his gut strengthened as he considered what he’d missed. What he’d given up. Had he made the right choice?
* * *
By the time they’d finished eating, Cash had paid the bill before Monica could even offer. “Thanks for lunch.”