A Soldier for Keeps (4 page)

But not a lot. He wasn’t about to get attached or anything. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d really let someone behind his armor. Maybe he never really had.

“I made some buddies in the Army.” He took a bite of the sandwich. It was pretty good. Better than the chow he was used to. “You met Hawk. I’m tight with my team of guys.”

“I can see that about you.” She neatly gathered up her sandwich with both slender hands. “What about your childhood friends? Do you keep in touch with them?”

“I did for a while after I first got in.” His chest went cold; there it was again, that feeling that he was out of sync with the world. “My high school buddies and me, we don’t have much in common these days. It’s been eight years since graduation.”

“Don’t you go back to visit and see family and friends?”

“Now and then, but I mostly get only short trips. Enough time for a quick family visit and that’s it. Then I’m gone again.” He took another bite so he wouldn’t have to say more.

“You must feel like a world apart. You visit, catch up and disappear for a long time.” She studied him thoughtfully as she pushed a slice of roast beef into place between the thick French bread. “Then the next time you visit, everything is different.”

“That’s it.” How she understood, he didn’t know. He felt some of the iron around his heart ease a tad. “Two weeks ago I was taking machine-gun fire. Now I’m sitting in a dorm lounge eating lunch with you. In another two weeks, I’ll be back in the sandbox.
That’s
real life for me. The rest of this is like a dream.”

“Except this is my life. I can’t imagine yours.” She reached for the cup of iced tea and took a sip. “It must take a lot of fortitude and mental toughness to do your job.”

“You make it sound noble. I don’t know about that. Being a soldier is tough, sure, and there are a lot of things harder in life.”

“Yes, but being a soldier has to be one of the most stressful things ever.” She wasn’t going to let him get away with being humble. “Under pressure, in danger, sacrificing comforts and pushing yourself so hard. It makes my life look simple.”

“Everything comes at a cost, whether it’s good or bad.” He looked remote again, as if he had come close to telling her the truth about himself, as if he had come close to opening up and changed his mind. “What about you? You’re working hard to put yourself through school. You have a goal. You could be out doing some
thing easier with your life, but instead here you are. Forgoing comfort and fun for something more important.”

“That’s how you see your life. As doing something more important?”

“I do.” He took another bite of his sandwich, chewing away and looking quite content to do so.

So he wouldn’t have to elaborate. Oh, she had him figured out. He liked to stay on the surface of things, too. It was safer to stay closed up.

She knew how that was, so she let him have his way. She changed the subject, but not her opinion of him. No, that was going up a notch every time they met. “What does Giselle have planned for you tonight?”

“Some symphony thing. I didn’t ask for details.”

“The music department is putting on its midsemester concert series. It’s really good. Something tells me you’re not the kind of guy who appreciates Bach.”

“That would be safe to say.”

He was entirely far too sure of himself with that grin on his way-too-handsome face, as confident as a conquering hero. But there was more to him, glimpses of authenticity she saw beneath his shields. Bits of sadness and pieces of loss. A measure of courage and a man who tried to do the right thing. Most of all, she saw loneliness. This man, who had carried her to safety and brought her home, who sacrificed his chance for an easier life, felt out of sync with his family. He had lost his friends along the way.

She ached for him. Worse, she sort of liked him. What was the point in fighting it? She took the last bite of her sandwich, hoping she wouldn’t regret what she was about to do. “Maybe you and Giselle need some com
pany. I have season tickets. We could go together tonight.”

“Do you always invite yourself along like that?”

“Never.” She liked that his shadows eased and he seemed brighter, clearer, as if his armor wasn’t deflecting quite as much. “Maybe I would like to go with Giselle, but since you’re there you’ll just have to put up with me, too.”

“I think I can manage it. I’m Army-tough.”

“Isn’t that a commercial?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.” He certainly looked tough enough to stand for what was right and good.

Did her heart sigh, just a little? She couldn’t believe it. Of course, her heart was completely unaffected. Or was she clinging firmly to denial? She took a sip of iced tea, letting its sweet coolness reassure her. No, it was merely respect she felt for her new friend and nothing more.

I
n the second movement of the first Brandenburg Concerto, she heard a faint rustle as the man seated beside her leaned close.

“Hand me your phone.” His whisper was nearly nonexistent. His hand shot out, palm up.

“Is that an order, soldier?”

“Absolutely.” That single word held a note of humor. “Do it, or it’s the brig for you.”

“Tempting.” She handed the phone over with a smile. The question remained, what was he going to do with it? She had to lean a little closer to find out, didn’t she? It wasn’t as if she wanted to be nearer to him. It was a matter of necessity. She had to know what he was looking up on her phone, right?

“Interesting.” He began hitting buttons. Was he putting in his phone number? Looked like it. When he pressed the phone into her hand, it was warm from his touch.

Something down deep in her spirit shivered, but she denied that, too. Apparently, she was very adept at
denial. Who knew? While she was at it, she decided to deny the pain beating through her ankle and the uncomfortable swelling beneath the cast.

She tucked the phone into her purse and tried to focus on the lilt of the piccolo. But what was she aware of? Pierce as he covertly tugged his cell from his pocket, flipped it open and quietly tapped at the keys.

She was
so
not surprised when her purse began to vibrate silently. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who had texted her. She bent for her phone, and when she saw the screen and his message there, she could imagine the deep intonation of his words and the warmth of his humor.

“Is it me, or is this music boring?” he’d typed.

“It’s U,” she typed in reply.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him grinning. Her phone quaked and there was his message on the screen. “I’d rather be yawning.”

“Sure. Considering the way U ski.” She well remembered her first impression of him, the blur streaking by whooping out “banzai.” Hard to imagine then that she would be sitting with him listening to a symphony. She hit Send.

He grinned at her message and texted back. “I’m not the skier with the broken ankle.”

“True.” How could she deny that one? “It’s nice that U R enduring this.”

“Giselle likes this stuff. Boggling.” His reply came quick, right in time with the crescendo of the music.

“She is a music major.” Lexie glanced over at the girl sitting on Pierce’s other side. Giselle was scowling at him, as if she couldn’t take him anywhere, but it was a loving look more than a censuring one. That fondness said more than anything about the man beside her.

“She’s showing me what I’m missing.” His words flashed on her screen. “Not working.”

“Classical music isn’t your thing?” she asked, expecting a certain reaction as she sent it.

His muffled snort of laughter made her smile.

“Not even close. Is it yours?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s a great luv of mine.” It was only the truth.

“R U kidding?” He looked shocked.

“No. Half the music on my iPod is classical.” Part of her was afraid that she was a geek for confessing it. Then again, maybe it was good he knew this about her right up front. It was proof they could never be more than friends. She kept typing. “U R never speaking to me again, right?”

“Wrong.” His answer was swift, as if there wasn’t a moment of debate. “It’s not so bad. Or U.”

“Neither R U.” She smiled inside as she tapped at the tiny keys. Those three words stared back at her on the screen. Did she send them?

“We’re free.” Pierce peered over her shoulder. “The music is over.”

“No, soldier. That was only the first half.” Up close, she could see the shadows in his eyes, the reminder of some of the things he had revealed to her. No one looking at him would see anything less than a good, decent and strong man. Yes, she liked him. Very much.

“The first half? You mean it’s not over?” Crushed, he glanced around the emptying auditorium. The light crowd of students and townies filed down the aisles and streamed out the exits in search of refreshments. The crisp scent of coffee filled the air. Pierce stood rooted in place. “There’s
more?
”

“It could be worse.” She deleted her message and tucked away her phone.

“How, exactly?” he quipped, but she could tell he was only kidding. “Giselle, Lexie looks pale. I’m taking her home
if
she wants to leave early.”

His hand caught hers, to help her to her feet. She felt the impact of his solid palm against hers, and it was like an avalanche’s sudden strike. The earth went missing from under her feet. His iron-strong hand clasped around hers was her only anchor. Before she could draw her next breath, the floor stabilized, and she was standing without remembering how she’d gotten up. Her hand was still tucked in Pierce’s.

“Y-yes,” she stammered. She couldn’t seem to think straight. “My ankle is really protesting.”

“Pierce, I can’t believe you lasted
this
long. It’s a good sign.” Giselle steepled her hands together, shining with happiness. “See? You like it here. I’m going to have you enrolled by Monday. I’m sure of it!”

“That’s a little optimistic, kid.” Affection softened his features, but it did not change his shadows. Darkness seemed a part of him as he hauled the crutches from beneath their seats and held them for her.

His nearness made her dizzy. She wrapped her fingers around the hand holds and pulled the crutches beneath her arms. Transferring her weight, she moved forward. Thank goodness there was no one left in the aisle, since the incline was hard to crutch. It didn’t help that Pierce was at her side, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back as if to steady her. She did not doubt that if she slipped, he would keep her from falling.

Her palms went damp, and that didn’t help the
crutching situation. Her pulse fluttered like a kite in a high wind. Probably from the exertion of heaving her body weight with every step, that was all. Nothing to worry about, right?

Right.

Giselle was keeping pace with them. “Tell him, Lexie. College is great. Don’t you love it?”

“I’m certainly glad I’m here.” She knew where this was leading. Poor Giselle. She had to be still grieving her brother, the one killed in action. She cast a furtive glance to the man towering beside her. His jaw tensed. His armor was up. “But remember, college isn’t for everyone.”

“It should be. Everything is here. Math for the math people. Science, and literature and religion. You like languages, Pierce. You could major in a language and learn Latin or something.”

“I could.” The strain in his jaw was the only outward sign of his unhappiness. “But it would be hard to do all that between missions.”

“You aren’t still going to go back in. Mom and Skip don’t want you to, either.”

“True, but it’s my decision.” A muscle ticked in his neck.

More stress? She kept crutching, feeling the pain between the siblings. The family had already lost one son. Of course they feared losing another. She reached the exit and that seemed to end the conversation as the three of them waded into the crowded foyer where vendors were making a brisk business. She said good-night to Giselle, who went off in search of her friends, and let Pierce help her into her winter coat.

“The floor is wet.” His hand lingered on her shoulder, as if he didn’t want to let go. “Want me to carry you?”

Carry her? Her stomach dropped four inches. Nervous tingles popped like soda bubbles through her system. She knew exactly how hard and dependable his chest was. Memories of being in his arms flooded her. While she held herself as stoic as possible, she could not forget how safe she had felt, how cozy and protected.

Not that she was attracted to him. She was definitely not looking for love, but the idea of being carried by him tonight felt a little bit like tempting fate. Best to keep things as they were and let the memories of his capable arms sheltering her fade away into forgetfulness.

If
that were possible.

“I’ll be careful.” She wasn’t entirely sure if she was referring to the floor or her out-of-place feelings. Either way, she concentrated on going slow and making sure the rubber tips of her crutches were solid before each step forward. The problem with going so slowly was that Pierce stayed by her side, a steadfast protector against the bump of the crowd and any sudden fall.

“I owe you big-time.” He held the heavy glass door for her, raised his face to the wind and let the rain batter him. “Ah, freedom. The truck isn’t far from here. I’ll drive you home.”

“I’d rather walk.” She glanced sideways at him as she navigated the wet concrete. “I’m not fooled. You liked the music.”

“It’s not my favorite, but it wasn’t half-bad. Don’t tell my sister that. I’m trying to discourage her at all costs.” The occasional snowflake tumbled to the ground with the rain. Looked like winter had blown itself out. “She means well, but I’m trying to keep the trip a good one.”

“Why? I thought a soldier like you wouldn’t hesitate
to face fire head-on.” Some people could have said that judgmentally or in argument, but Lexie’s alto was pure gentleness. She simply wanted to understand.

It had been a long time since someone on the home front had. Maybe that’s why he felt his defenses lower enough to let his feelings in. “I’m only here for a visit. I want to keep things with my family good. Before he died, Tim hadn’t done that. He’d come home for a break, argued with them when they asked him to step down, and he died before he could make it right.”

“And that’s why your sister is giving you the full-court press?”

“Yep.” He listened to the rush of the rain in the street and the tap of it pattering against his jacket. The wind blew damp and icy, but when he shivered, it wasn’t because of the cold.

“How did he die?” Her question came softly, easing past every shield he’d barricaded around that memory.

He smelled blood as it inched down the side of his face—nothing serious—and felt the grit of sand in his eyes. The grenade compression echoed in his ears, making the pop-pop-pop of machine-gun fire merely background noise.

He heard their point man shout, “Incoming!” Heard Hawk quip, “So much for our covert op,” and as RPG tracer fire flashed like a laser in the dark, he saw what his brain had been trying to tell him. Something was wrong. Way wrong. He cleared his throat and brought himself back to the present.

“Tim was hit by enemy fire on a rescue mission.” He put the brakes on the memory and the grief. “I was supposed to have been watching his back, but he fell right in front of me.”

“You feel responsible.” Not a question, a statement, kindly spoken, as if she not only knew the answer, but the depth of it.

His soul still bled. “I do.”

They were silent as they crossed the street, cleared of snow, puddling with rain.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Her faith in him rang softly but unshakable.

“It feels that way.” The memory rolled forward again, like a DVD on-screen, in the middle of a scene. The sounds of war faded. The spit of bullets into the wall next to him held no threat. All he could see was Tim on the ground, still and silent. Time had jarred to a stop. His heartbeat had crashed to a halt. The only thought in his mind had been denial. Tim couldn’t be down. He was fine. He would get up any second. Rock fragments needled into his cheek and neck, but he’d felt no pain. He’d felt nothing. Tim wasn’t moving, didn’t look like he was breathing.

“He’s gone and I’m not.” He felt the weight of his brother in his arms. Heard Tim’s gasp of pain. Shouted out for the corpsman, knowing it was too late. His brother’s last words rang in his memory. “Tell Mom and Dad. I’m not sorry. Do-on’t g-grieve. For. Me.”

Sadness drowned him. He cleared his throat, forcing the memories and the grief back into the vault. “You’re getting around real good on those crutches.”

“You, sir, are very good at changing the subject.”

“I think it’s important to stick with your strong suits.” He gave thanks for the cooling rain, washing away the grit of the memory on his face. “I never asked what you’re majoring in.”

“I’m in the counseling psychology program.”

Why wasn’t he surprised? The gentle questions, the faithful understanding and her ability to see deep. She would make a good counselor. “You’ve been analyzing me?”

“Yes. I might make you a case study.” She winked, crutching slowly along. She had to be hurting, but it didn’t show. Her smile was relaxed and honest. “I’m teasing you. I’m only in the first year of my graduate program, and even if I knew how, I’m not counseling you. We’re friends.”

She’d gotten closer faster than anyone ever had. That made him uncomfortable right there. He had a lot of choices. One of which was the easiest: he could see her to her dorm, say goodbye and that would be the end of it. Or, he could pull back a little, keep things friendly, but not so close. Knowing he would be leaving in a few days for home would make that easy. There was a third option: he could step up and follow his gut. She wasn’t looking for more than a friend. He couldn’t be more than one.

“That we are.” He agreed, friends after all. “As I hear it, you’ve been a good support to my sister, as well.”

“It’s part of my job.”

“More than that. You’ve helped her a lot this year. I know, because she’s written enough about you. My R.A. this. My R.A. that. It’s taken me a bit to piece it all together, but you were the one who helped her when she was so homesick back in September.”

“She wasn’t the only one. I had a homesick circle. Everyone gathered in the floor lounge and we had prayer and a support session a couple times a week.”

“It meant a lot to her. And after meeting you, it means a lot to me.” His voice dipped sincerely, as solemn as the night.

Why did that make her heart tug? Admiration for the man filled her. The more she got to know him, the more she liked him.

“I’m grateful for the support you’ve given her. You seem to get her.” He paused, as if wrestling with the right words. “We talked some today. That’s why I was sure she was going to let this go.”