A Soldier's Prayer--A Fresh-Start Family Romance

by Jenna Mindel

  He nodded. “Thanks for staying so we could do this.”

  “It’s been fun.” She meant that, too, glad she’d stayed. Glad her thoughts had been diverted from her diagnosis if only for a while.

  The boys were anxious to get back on the side-by-sides, but Monica couldn’t leave the restaurant just yet. “Sorry, guys, but I need to use the ladies’ room.”

  “Oh no. Can’t we go now?” Ethan tipped his head back, clearly frustrated.

  Monica ruffled the boy’s hair. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

  Ethan didn’t look like he believed her.

  “Take your time.” Cash smiled as he corralled the boys toward the door. “Come on, guys, let’s gas up the machines and get in our gear while we wait.”

  Monica hurried. With no primping other than washing her hands, she made it back outside in time to help Owen fasten his helmet strap.

  “That was fast.” Cash gave her a cheeky grin as he stuffed the gas receipt into his wallet before tucking it in his back pocket.

  “I told you I would be.” Monica finished with the strap.

  “Can we go through another creek?” Ethan’s helmet slipped to one side.

  Cash knelt down to tighten the strap under the boy’s chin. “If we find one.”

  “Yes-s-s!” Ethan jumped up and down, helmet secure.

  Owen copied his brother’s every move.

  “Come on, Owen. Climb up here.” Monica patted the bumper seat and then buckled him in.

  “Let’s take the long way back. There’s a trail that heads north toward Munising. We can cut over to Miner’s Falls before heading back to your uncle’s cabin.”

  “Sounds good.” Monica secured her goggles, slipped behind the wheel, buckled up and started the engine.

  Cash peeled out of the restaurant parking lot with a crunch of gravel.

  Monica shook her head and followed at a more sedate pace.

  It wasn’t long before they reached a hilly stretch of trail that followed the power lines. A swath of mounds and dips in the earth stretched before her. Monica remembered coming here once on a snowmobile, and it had been a natural roller coaster ride with all the ups and downs.

  Ahead, Cash accelerated.

  Monica could hear Ethan’s squeals of laughter as they took those dips at midspeed. She glanced at Owen, whose eyes were wide.

  “Are you ready for this?”

  He nodded.

  “Grab my arm if you want me to slow down or stop, okay?” Monica hoped his lunch would stay put. She hoped he might talk, too.

  He nodded again, and rocked in the bumper seat as if telling her to go.

  Monica’s heart pinched. If this little guy wouldn’t talk during a fun ride, what made her think he’d talk after coloring? What if his issues were deeply psychological?

  Just then he gave her a pointed look, communicating very well with those big gray eyes. He wanted to get moving.

  “Okay, Owen. Here we go.” Monica pressed the gas and off they went along the trail.

  The first dip between hills made her belly feel like it floated near her throat, only to fall to her feet as they crested the next hill.

  Owen giggled and kicked his feet.

  She spotted Cash and Ethan ahead of them, roaring over the last couple of mounds. Encouraged by Owen’s obvious enjoyment of the ride, Monica sailed over the hills and tiny valleys, repeating the sensation of floating.

  One more mound and dip and they finally pulled over next to Cash and Ethan.

  “What’d ya think, Owen? Was that cool or what?” Ethan hollered.

  Owen glanced at her.

  Monica took a leap of faith. “Go ahead and tell him.”

  The boy shook his head and then poked at her shoulder. He wanted her to speak for him.

  She could easily do that. During their ride, she’d glanced at his smiling face and heard his giggles, but answering for him would only give the kid a pass. Owen needed to talk, and she wasn’t going to make it any easier on him to remain quiet.

  Hoping she was doing the right thing, Monica shook her head in response. “Oh no. I’m not talking for you. That’s your job.”

  Owen stared her down, but still didn’t say a word.

  She gave his hand a pat, defeated. “Keep trying.”

  Cash pulled his side-by-side close. “We need to head home.”

  Monica tipped her head. “Why, what is it?”

  “There’s a storm coming in.”

  She looked up at the sky. There were some clouds, but the sun still blazed, roasting the day. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, I’m not. I received a weather alert on my phone for the area.”

  Monica sighed. So much for a side trip to the falls. That was too far out of the way. “Alrighty, we’ll follow you.”

  He dipped his head and sped off.

  She followed. Glancing at Owen, she took in the child’s frown. “Don’t worry, Owen. We’ll make it back to the cabin.”

  The boy nodded.

  Monica had to hand it to Cash. He certainly was prepared. He’d packed a cooler, as well as a first aid kit, plus he had GPS trail maps and weather alert apps on his phone. He was a marine, so she shouldn’t expect anything less.

  When they hit a straightaway in the trail, he sped up. Monica followed suit, thinking they’d be home in no time at this pace. But after half an hour of them speeding through the woods, the trail turned twisty and they had to slow to a crawl. It seemed like forever before the trees finally opened up to a broad expanse of meadow.

  Monica caught sight of the southwestern sky where dark clouds billowed along the horizon. The temperature had dropped some and the wind had kicked up. They kept up a good speed, but could they outrun the incoming storm?

  By the time they were within an hour of the cabin, thunder rumbled in the distance and the wind really whipped. She spotted a small branch in the trail up ahead and hoped Cash saw it, too.

  He did. He slowed down and drove over it with a bump.

  Monica did the same, glad to hear the giggle out of Owen as they bounced over the obstacle.

  The weather moved in fast. The sunshine was gone and the sky darkened. It looked like evening outside instead of late afternoon. They beat the rain, though, pulling onto the driveway leading to her uncle’s cabin just as thunder rumbled louder and closer. A brilliant flash of lightning nearly made her jump out of her skin. The horrendous clap of thunder that followed made her teeth rattle.

  Owen covered his ears and looked like he might cry.

  Monica gave the boy a reassuring pat as she followed Cash into the pole barn and cut the engine. Leaving the keys in place, she pulled off her goggles and helped Owen get unbuckled. They needed to get into the cabin fast. The pole barn was made of metal and she didn’t want to be inside it any longer than necessary.

  Placing Owen’s helmet on the seat, Monica grabbed the boy’s hand, ready to run.

  “Whoa, slow down. It’s okay, we made it,” Cash told her.

  “I want out of this metal building,” Monica said.

  He grinned. “The barn is grounded, Monica. It has to be in order to have electric wiring.”

  “Oh.” She’d overreacted again. “Still, I’d rather get the boys inside.”

  “Agreed.” Cash looked at Ethan. “Follow Monica while I put everything away and shut the door.”

  She grabbed both boys’ hands and they ran for the cabin. Wind roared around them, blowing leaves off trees and stirring up sand from around the firepit into a mini tornado.

  After slipping inside through the sliding glass door, she finally exhaled. “Phew, that was close.”

  “It was cool,” Ethan said.

  Owen didn’t look like he thought so. His bottom lip seemed a little shaky.

  They watched as Cash clo
sed the large barn door, secured it and ran for the cabin as huge drops of rain darkened his T-shirt. Then it poured.

  Lightning flashed and thunder boomed, shaking the whole cabin. Owen leaned into her.

  “Wow. Look at the trees.” Ethan stared out the slider.

  The trees bent under the torrent of wind as if they were waves rolling in the same direction. Waves that could break.

  “Maybe we should get away from the door,” Monica suggested. It was glass, and if anything came flying at them, it wouldn’t be good.

  They backed away just as Cash entered.

  “You forgot these.” He handed her the water bottle with the black-eyed Susans the boys had picked for her.

  She reached for them. “Thanks.”

  He was soaked, with his hair plastered against his head. “It’s crazy out there. Good thing we got home when we did.”

  “Good thing you’re a marine who’s prepared. You saved our skin,” Monica said.

  Cash looked at her, surprised by the fervor in her compliment.

  “I mean it. Thank you.” Monica smiled.

  “You’re welcome.” He nodded and pulled at the wet T-shirt, which stuck to him like a second skin.

  His movements revealed a horrific scar from a gash just above the waistband of his jeans. Monica felt her mouth drop as the blood rushed from her head, making her woozy. She gripped the bottle so hard that water shot up over the top and landed with a splat on the floor.

  Cash flushed and gestured toward his room. “I’ll change.”

  “Yeah, do that.” She watched his broad back retreat down the hall before she could finally breathe.

  Quickly, she set the flowers on the island and grabbed a paper towel to wipe up the spill. She couldn’t erase the image of that newly hewn scar still red and puckered from not-too-long-ago stitches from her mind. Like a ragged-edged ribbon, the scar ran across his midsection.

  When had he been injured and how?

  Monica didn’t want to know, but then again maybe she did. One thing she knew for sure—caring for Cash meant a heap of worry and possible loss. It meant facing more scars or worse. She had enough on her plate right now, and falling for Cash Miller was the last thing she needed to do.

  For both their sakes, she wouldn’t let that happen.

  Chapter Six

  Cash changed into dry clothes and kicked himself for not teasing Monica when he’d had the chance to divert her attention from his scar. He’d been stunned into silence at the alarm in her eyes. That look of dismay was burned into his memory.

  In the past, he’d purposefully kept it light when talking about his soldiering, about his entire career. His scar had brought the danger of what he did front and center without a single word. The reality of being in harm’s way had been etched across his belly like a billboard.

  Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the kitchen, where Monica was serving milk and cookies to the boys.

  “Want some?” she offered, without turning around.

  “No, thanks.” He slipped by her to grab a glass from the cupboard. After filling it with tap water, Cash downed it in one long gulp, then refilled it.

  She wouldn’t look at him, but he could feel the tension in her. The curiosity she had over the scar she’d seen. He hoped she wouldn’t ask, because it was a story he didn’t ever want to tell her.

  Combat got super real when it was up close and personal. His experience with face-to-face warfare wasn’t something he liked to talk about. Having recently come close to being disemboweled, he’d rather not relive the moment by telling tales. It was bad enough that he sometimes had sensory flashbacks of the spicy breath belonging to the guy who’d managed to slice him under his tactical vest.

  More lightning flashed, brightening the cabin, followed by a deep rumble of thunder. He glanced outside. Heavy rain ran down the wall of windows, but through the blur he could see the trees straining under the wind. “It’s still coming down pretty hard.”

  “Yup, and the satellite is out,” Monica said.

  “We can’t watch TV?” Ethan sat in a stool on the other side of the island next to his brother.

  “Nope, sorry.” Monica bit into a cookie.

  “Then it’s a good time to color.” Cash looked around. “Where are the crayons?”

  Monica finally looked at him, her sudden smile brighter than the lightning. “That’s right, we were going to draw some pictures. I’ll get the stuff.”

  “Do we have to?” Ethan moaned.

  Cash didn’t feel like doing it, either, but they’d made a promise to Monica so she’d stay. A promise was a promise and he’d do just about anything for another of her smiles. “Not much else to do right now.”

  Monica’s gaze shifted, sharp as a dagger. “We made a deal.”

  “That’s right, we did,” he stated. “Ethan, it’s very important to stand by one’s word. We agreed to do this so Monica would go riding the UTVs with us, remember?”

  Ethan squinted, then nodded.

  Owen looked eager to get started. Maybe five-year-olds liked to color.

  Monica gathered up crayons, colored pencils and a thick pad of white drawing paper from the hall closet. She spread everything out on the kitchen table. “Sorry, no markers.”

  Owen climbed into a chair and reached for paper and some crayons. He didn’t need any coaxing.

  Monica cast him a hopeful glance.

  Cash wondered if they shouldn’t direct the tyke on what to color, but didn’t say anything. This was Monica’s show. She was the one who’d read about this exercise in grief therapy online.

  Monica slipped into the chair next to his youngest nephew and watched him draw. “Very nice, Owen. That flower looks like the ones you and Ethan gave me today.”

  So she wasn’t giving any instructions. It was all free-form and willy-nilly. Cash stared at his own blank white page. He didn’t know how to draw, let alone color. He might as well get the conversation going. “I have no idea how to start.”

  Ethan had joined them at the kitchen table and waited, too, looking hesitant as if this was some sort of school assignment.

  Monica spoke slowly. “We can start with what we did today. Or whatever you’re feeling right now. Put that onto paper.”

  Cash cocked an eyebrow.

  She turned back to Owen. “That’s pretty.”

  Cash glanced at the kid’s paper. So far, he’d drawn a big yellow flower under a scrawny tree. So much for the release of grief. His picture looked pretty cheerful.

  Owen shrugged and reached for a dark blue crayon.

  “This is stupid,” Ethan huffed.

  If Cash didn’t get in the game and soon, his oldest nephew wouldn’t take it seriously. It was up to him to get things moving in the right direction. His problem was that there were too many feelings deep down to let them all out on paper, so he started with one thing.

  How did he feel right now? He drew a stick figure in the middle of the page. One solitary brown stick figure. His gut clenched and he felt the muscles along his jaw tighten. He was the last man in his family. The only one left.

  “Who’s that, Uncle Cash?” Ethan looked over his elbow.

  “That’s me.”

  “You better draw a gun, too. Dad says soldiers carry guns.” Ethan grinned.

  Cash glanced at Monica, who was watching wide-eyed. Hearing Ethan reminisce about something Cole might have said had to be a good sign. Ethan had used present tense instead of past, too, as if Cole wasn’t gone. And the boy had shared a good memory about his dad. A positive one. That showed some healing was taking place.

  Could this thing really work?

  The wind whistled outside and rain slammed against the cabin, but inside felt still. Almost too still. Cash cleared his throat. “Maybe we should draw for your dad.”

  Ethan’s face sc
runched up as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “He can’t see them, Uncle Cash. He’s dead.”

  Another punch to the gut.

  Owen set his crayon down and stared, his bottom lip trembling.

  Now Cash had done it. Messed up good.

  “Oh, I’m not so sure that he can’t see them.” Monica’s soft voice saved the day. “Why don’t we color how that makes us feel? Right now, what are you feeling?”

  Cash took a deep breath and opened up. “I feel alone.”

  Ethan looked at him hard. “You got us, Uncle Cash.”

  Cash thought his heart might break. “Thanks, bud.”

  Owen had drawn hearts hanging from the scrawny tree branches. Blue hearts with drops of water falling from them.

  Cash swallowed hard. The poor kid was crying inside.

  Monica saw it, too, and her eyes filled with tears. Not one fell, though. She managed to keep control.

  “What about you, Monica? Aren’t you going to color, too?” Ethan challenged. He still hadn’t made a mark on his own sheet of paper.

  Monica didn’t bat an eyelash. Instead, she nodded. “I will if you will.”

  Ethan scowled.

  She’d called his bluff.

  “I guess we’re all coloring now.” Cash grabbed a couple more crayons and nodded toward Ethan, who had finally picked up a red pencil. Maybe they’d all learn something through this little exercise.

  He didn’t care much for what he’d learned so far, because this had brought up concerns he preferred to bury. He was the last man in his immediate family and the only one his mother had left. If he got himself killed, what would that do to her?

  He faced five years before he could retire. He’d be no good to anyone without that pension, but what then? He’d always been a marine and there was nothing else he’d rather do.

  Staring at his sheet of paper, he silently asked God for direction knowing he shouldn’t expect a clear road map. Maybe the answer was simply trusting God to keep him alive. A challenge, considering the Lord hadn’t been there for his brother when that tree fell. God had let Cole die, leaving his boys fatherless and leaving Cash without a brother.