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

by Jenna Mindel

  “A typical guy response, if ever I heard one.” Monica snorted.

  “That guy you were seeing, would he say something like that?” Cash wanted to know what kind of man had captured her interest.

  Her eyes widened with surprise, and then narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged. This annoying pinch of jealousy was a new sensation. And he didn’t like it one bit, but he had to know.

  Monica sighed. “He bailed before I could give an honest answer to that question. I knew him for years, even worked on community projects with him, but I guess I didn’t really know him.”

  “His loss,” Cash growled.

  He didn’t like the guy. He didn’t like that the man had dumped her, either, but was glad she wasn’t seeing him. Cash hoped she never saw him again. The mere idea that they could eventually get back together turned Cash’s stomach. Which was crazy, when he’d just decided he wouldn’t pursue Monica himself.

  He checked his watch. Eight forty-five was good enough, he supposed. He slapped his jean-clad knees and stood. “I think we should go out front and get started on those fireworks.”

  Both boys jumped up and darted around to the driveway in front of the cabin. They moved pretty well for overdoing it on marshmallows. He reached for the rake Monica held. “I can put that away.”

  She stared at the low flames. “Is it okay to leave it like this?”

  “The ground is damp. It’ll be okay, but I’ll check it again before bed.”

  “Won’t you need the rake?”

  He looked at the large ring of dirt surrounding the now small mound. “That fire’s not going anywhere but out.”

  If he could simply follow that advice when it came to Monica... He needed to let the fire inside him burn out, as well.

  Monica headed for the back door of the cabin. “I need to get the sparklers and then I’ll meet you in front.”

  “Okay.” He put the rake away in the pole barn and shut the door. Walking around to the driveway, he found the boys standing over the canned fireworks he’d set up, looking down with a little too much interest.

  “Ethan, Owen, come here.” Cash knelt on one knee and lay a hand on each boy’s shoulder. “Listen close. These are dangerous and I won’t light any of them unless you stay back. You got it?”

  They both nodded.

  He wasn’t so bad at being a dad, even if only for a while.

  The boys dashed toward the deck, where Monica held up a box of sparklers. “I thought we could light these while we wait for it to get a little darker.”

  “Good idea. Keep them on the deck, though.” He grabbed the box of long matches that he’d left on top of his car.

  He watched as the three of them waved the sparklers around and dipped and twirled. Monica laughed as she waved hers high in the air.

  With the last bit of dusty rose color from the sunset in the background and the sparks flying around her head, she very much looked like the storybook princess the boys thought she was when they’d first arrived.

  A lot had happened since then. In four days, he’d reconnected with Monica on a deeper level. They weren’t kids anymore and that’s what made being around her so tricky. He’d always cared for her, but he’d never let it go beyond that. Until now.

  Monica stashed the last burned-out sparkler stick back in the box and then took a seat on the edge of the deck, the boys on either side of her. With an arm around each of them, she called out, “We’re ready when you are.”

  Cash wasn’t ready for the feelings coursing through his veins and pumping out of his heart. He wasn’t ready for all those color combinations he’d drawn with crayons, as a conduit for more feelings he hadn’t been ready to face. Hadn’t wanted to face.

  “Here we go.” He lit the match and touched it to the first couple of Roman candles and then stepped back to watch the streak of light and color.

  Monica and the boys clapped.

  He bowed, accepting their praise, but he was only getting started. He’d purchased quite a few fireworks here in Michigan that were illegal in North Carolina. He lit two more canisters and stepped back.

  Both caught at the same time and launched into the sky to explode with green and purple lights and rat-a-tap-tap firing sounds.

  This time he heard sincerely captivated sounding oohs and ahhs from the front deck. He’d impressed not only the boys, but Monica, too.

  He went down the line he’d set up, lighting, then stepping back as each firecracker soared into the air and exploded in a shower of sparks and booms.

  Owen held his ears at the last round and leaned into Monica.

  Cash had saved the biggest and loudest for the end. Maybe he should have purchased tamer options, but the look on Ethan’s face made it worth the noise. The kid was in total awe.

  “Thanks, Uncle Cash.”

  Cash stepped closer to the deck. “Had to do something special for our last night.”

  “Are you leaving?” Ethan looked confused.

  “Nope. But Monica has to go tomorrow morning after the driveway is cleared.” He glanced at her.

  He wished he hadn’t because she looked sad, and he didn’t like seeing Monica sad.

  “Do you have to?” Ethan whined.

  “I have to get home to my job,” Monica’s voice was soft and sweet and loaded with regret.

  “Why?” Owen’s voice squeaked.

  Monica flashed him a quick look of surprise before gently cupping the five-year-old’s chin. “What did you say?”

  “Why do you have to go when you don’t want to?”

  That was clear as a bell. Cash knelt before Owen. “You talked!”

  Owen nodded.

  Ethan cheered.

  Monica laughed, but tears welled up in her eyes as she looked into the little boy’s face. “I have to go, Owen. I have things I need to do back home. Important things.”

  The boy still looked confused. Obviously, work wasn’t a good enough excuse for a five-year-old.

  Cash gathered them all into his arms for a group hug and whispered a quick prayer of gratitude. “Thank You, God.”

  Monica responded with a watery sounding, “Amen.”

  Resting his forehead against hers while they embraced the boys, he wondered why Owen had said that Monica didn’t want to leave. To him, she’d seemed pretty anxious to go, so why didn’t she tell the kid he was way off?

  * * *

  Monica watched as Cash lifted Owen and tossed him high in the air, only to catch the giggling five-year-old, who egged him on to do it again and again. He talked like he’d never stopped. Like his silence hadn’t been a big deal.

  “Let’s call your mom.” Cash looked beyond relieved.

  She knew this was one less thing he had to worry about after he left. She didn’t want to replace it with added concerns over her.

  He ushered the boys inside, then turned to hold the door for her. “Coming in?”

  She shook her head. “I’m going to hang out here and check the fire. I’ll be in in a bit.”

  He searched her eyes.

  She smiled and waved him away. “Call their mom.”

  Once the door was closed, Monica got up and headed for the backyard and the fire they’d left there. It was nothing but glowing embers now. She grabbed a camp chair and sat down close enough to feel the warmth from it, but the reality of the coming weeks chilled her to the bone.

  Tipping her head back, she gazed up at the moon peeking through breaks in the clouds. Not a good night for stargazing, but a quiet night now that the fireworks were over.

  They had to be over between her and Cash, too. Tomorrow, she’d leave, and that would be that. Back to their own lives, and this weekend would simply be another cherished memory.

  “Thank You, Lord, for bringing Owen’s speech back,” she whispered into the darkne
ss.

  God answers prayer.

  She knew that, but could she rest assured that her prayers for healing would also be answered? She didn’t want to go through any of what waited ahead, and yet what choice did she have?

  “Hey.” Cash touched her shoulder.

  Monica looked up. “I didn’t even hear you come out.”

  “You were deep in thought.” Cash gestured toward the cabin. “The boys are getting ready for bed, but they want you to tuck them in.”

  Monica swallowed hard. A lump of emotion seemed stuck there ever since Owen had spoken. The little guy knew she didn’t want to leave. These past few days concentrating on his issues had worked wonders on getting her mind off her own.

  She stared at Cash’s offered hand and took it, enjoying the feeling of his strength and the warmth of his skin. She didn’t let go as they made their way back to the cabin, glad he didn’t say anything. He didn’t ask anything, either. He simply held her hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb.

  When they stepped inside, she could see the boys were already in the bunk beds.

  “You guys washed your face and hands?” Cash asked.

  “Yes,” they answered together.

  The boys hadn’t washed up very well and Monica chuckled at the blackened and sticky looking streak of marshmallow across Owen’s cheek.

  “Let’s say our prayers.” Cash held Ethan’s hand and reached out his other hand to her.

  She took it and scooped up Owen’s little hand in turn. There was dirt on his wrist.

  “Dear Lord,” Cash started. “Give us a good night’s sleep and protect their mom and grandma’s travel here. And keep Monica safe and well as she heads home. Amen.”

  Monica let go and leaned toward Ethan. “I might be gone before you wake up, so take care, okay?”

  “Okay.” He gave her a hug.

  She bent to give Owen a hug, too.

  “Why are you sad?” The little guy could read her like a book, and now that he talked, it wasn’t cool. Good thing she was leaving before the little tyke uncovered more of her secrets.

  Monica cleared her throat. “Because I’m going to miss you guys. This has been a lot of fun.”

  Owen nodded, seemingly satisfied, and gave her a big hug.

  “Sleep tight.” She gave him a squeeze before letting go and exiting the room.

  Cash followed her out, leaving the door slightly ajar as usual.

  “I should probably turn in, too. Early morning and all.”

  Cash looked through her. “Yeah.”

  She couldn’t move.

  “When are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” His voice was low and coaxing.

  Monica rolled her eyes, feeling them fill with tears. “I don’t want to.”

  He stepped close and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “Why?”

  Monica held on tight, resting her head against his. “Because.”

  He scooped her up in one swift movement.

  “Cash!” She pushed at the solid wall of his chest, but he only held on tighter as he carried her to the couch.

  Monica chuckled when he set her down. “I can’t believe you can carry me. I’m no lightweight.”

  He brushed away one of the tears that had spilled over to run down her cheek. “I’ve lifted heavier.”

  “Really?” Monica squeaked.

  He laughed then. “No.”

  She punched his shoulder. “Thanks a lot.”

  “I’m teasing you.” His gaze turned serious. “What if I told you that I’m going to miss you? I want to see you again when I’m on leave.”

  Her eyes widened. “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not?”

  She scrambled to the far corner of the couch. “Because...”

  “Because why?” His eyes narrowed as if putting puzzle pieces together and not liking the picture one bit. “This guy you broke up with. You’re not thinking of getting back with him or anything, are you?”

  “No!” Monica gasped, then shook her head. She had to laugh, actually. “No.”

  “Good, because I’d have turned him inside out if you had said yes.” His dark gray eyes looked even darker. The sight was pretty intimidating.

  She had a feeling that Cash would be a far worse force to contend with than her brothers. More protective even than her father. Brady wouldn’t have stood a chance. Next to Cash, what did she ever see in Brady, anyway?

  “I told you we weren’t serious.”

  What would Cash think if she told him there hadn’t been anyone serious in her life? Not that she hadn’t tried, but he’d always been there, lurking in the shadows of her heart. Part of her had always hoped that someday they’d—

  She stood. “It’s late. I’m going to bed.”

  He reached for her hand and yanked her back down next to him. “Kiss me good-night.”

  The man played with fire.

  “Just one.” Monica leaned close, planting her lips on his.

  The kiss they shared was quick and hard and over much too soon, so she kissed him again. Evidently, she liked playing with fire, too, and if she didn’t want to get burned to a crisp, she’d better end it now.

  Pulling back, she scrunched her face. “Sorry.”

  He gave her a grim smile. “I’m not.”

  “You should be. We don’t have a future.”

  “Why? And tell me the truth this time.”

  Monica sat back and weighed the cost of telling him. On the one hand, he might find out eventually from Matthew. She knew they still kept in touch. On the other, if he backed away like Brady had, then she’d have her confirmation that they were never meant to be. That’d be safer for both of them, wouldn’t it?

  She took a deep breath and hoped she did the right thing. “I have cancer, Cash. Thursday’s appointment is with a team of doctors to choose which path to best combat it.”

  She watched his face fall, and then fear crept into his eyes—cold and distant. Right before her, he closed up shop and shuttered his soul from view.

  With a sick feeling, she knew she’d just chased Cash Miller away for good.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cash sat back in an attempt to shield himself from the emotional grenade she’d just launched, but it blew up and took him down. The nastiest of words, cancer reverberated through him over and over. His stomach felt as if it had dropped to his feet as the realization of what she’d just told him sank in deep.

  Anger bubbled up next. He may have cheated death, but it always came looking for him by taking the ones who meant the most to him. This time it threatened Monica. His Monica. He wasn’t sure he had what it took to fight it. Like a coward, he wanted to run and never look back.

  How bad—

  “How bad?” His voice cracked.

  “Stage two out of four.” She shrugged, but her pretty blue eyes were filled with sympathy. She was the one who was sick, yet she felt sorry for him.

  The news kicked him in the gut, followed by a numbing sensation that made him light-headed. He felt sorry for himself, too. He didn’t want to think about her suffering in any way. Yet she would. She’d be poked and prodded. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

  “Monica, I’m so sorry,” he finally choked out.

  She gave him a brave smile. “Bad timing, huh? See, we’re not meant to be. Maybe not ever. I can’t stand the thought of you over there getting blown up, and I sure don’t want you saddled with my issues. Who knows how long this might last.”

  It felt like a punch of reality in the face. One he understood all too well. Neither one of them could guarantee they’d be around in the next five years. He didn’t know much about cancer, but he knew it could kill. Just like he could get killed.

  He just sat there, staring ahead, dazed.

  She did,
too.

  She’d finally trusted him with the truth of what was going on with her, and now that he knew, he wished he didn’t. Almost.

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, stretching out his leg so she could lean into him. He only held her, glad that she didn’t push him away. In fact, Monica sank into him, holding on just as tightly.

  He didn’t know how long they stayed that way, but long enough for his leg to fall asleep. Evidently, Monica did, too. Her long, lithe body had gone limp against him a few minutes ago.

  He nudged her and whispered, “Monica.”

  She pulled back and blinked her eyes, trying to focus. “Sorry.”

  He chucked her chin and murmured, “Go to bed, baby. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Cash.” She slipped from the couch and silently climbed the steps to the loft.

  He remained where he was. Frozen yet burning with renewed anger at God. Why did He have to take everyone away from him? Everyone who mattered?

  Cash wanted to holler and break things, but destroying this cabin would do nothing to change what he’d heard. Besides, it’d wake up the boys. And Matthew would never speak to him again if he trashed his uncle’s cabin.

  Monica? She’d understand. She’d always understood too much.

  He stood up and put weight on his leg in an attempt to shake the needles out of it. Grabbing the throw blankets from the other night, Cash lay back down on the couch. Plumping up the pillows, he covered himself. He’d sleep here tonight, in case Monica needed him for some reason.

  His sister-in-law had said her crew would arrive early to clear the driveway. Sleeping on the couch, he’d have a better chance of hearing them. Besides, he wasn’t going to miss saying goodbye to Monica in the morning.

  It dawned on him that they’d never really said goodbye before. In the past, they’d dance around it with a see-ya-later followed by a shove to the shoulder or tug of hair. It would be like Monica to slip out so they wouldn’t have to say those final words. He’d ducked out two years ago at Matthew’s wedding rather than have to say goodbye to Monica.

  He wasn’t going to miss this send-off. Sleeping on the couch, he’d wake up when she came down those stairs and he’d tell her—what? That he’d take her place if he could? He wasn’t sure what he’d say to her. Nothing seemed adequate compared to what she faced in the coming months.