Soldier on Her Doorstep (3 page)

There was no way she was going to intervene. She couldn't.

Lisa nodded at Boston to go with them, then held her breath. Alex was either going to bolt at the first chance or respond to Lilly, and for both their sakes she hoped it was the latter.

He was a stranger, so she knew how odd it was, but deep down she hoped he
would
stay for dinner. So they could talk about William. About the war. She felt a bond with him, knowing that he'd probably spent more time with William than she had in the past couple of years. It was an opportunity she didn't want to miss.

Besides, although she'd never admitted it to her family, she was kind of lonely. At nights, mainly. She always had been, but at least she'd known one day it would be a house she would share full-time with William. That one day in the future she would have him home every night for dinner.

Lisa put down her coffee with a shaky hand and decided to change her mind and follow them after all. It wasn't that she didn't trust this Alex with her daughter, she just wanted to make sure it wasn't too much for Lilly. Or for Alex.

Right now she was Lilly's chief interpreter. And besides, she was curious to see how this unlikely pair were going to get along down by the lake.

“H
AS
Lilly always been quiet?”

Alex glanced at Lisa as they turned back toward the house. They'd been walking along the river, back and forth, Alex throwing a stick out into the water, Lilly clapping her hands and wrestling it back from Boston the moment he retrieved it.

It wasn't like he'd asked Lilly much when they were alone—he didn't even know what to say to a child—but she seemed very quiet for a little girl.

“She's been virtually mute with everyone but me since William died.”

Alex nodded thoughtfully. “How old is she?”

“Six.”

He'd wanted to know whether the little girl was able to speak or not, but he didn't want to talk about it. He knew what it was like to have a rough time as a kid, and it wasn't a place he wanted to go back to, even in talking about someone else. When he'd joined the army he'd tried to leave all those memories, those thoughts from his past behind.

“She's having a good day today, though. I thought she'd be too shy to be around you but she's not at all,” Lisa said.

Alex liked that the girl wasn't afraid of him, but he didn't want to get involved. Didn't want to bond with anyone. Not even the dog.

“Boston seems pretty protective of her,” he commented.

That made Lisa laugh. He wanted to jump back, to walk away from her. It all seemed too real, too normal, to just be talking like this after so long thinking, wondering how he was going to cope seeing her, and now to hear her laugh like that…

“That dog is her best friend. I don't know what we would have done without him. Worth his weight in gold,” she told him.

They kept walking. Alex didn't know what to say. Part of him wanted to get in the car and drive—anywhere, fast, just to get away—but the other part of him, the part he didn't want to give in to, wanted to stay. To be part of this little family for a few hours, to see what William had lost, to know what his friend had sacrificed to let
him
live.

“Come on, Lil, let's go back inside.”

She came running when her mother called, but Alex knew deep down that her being so quiet wasn't right. He hadn't exactly had much experience with children, but he knew that she should be squealing when the dog shook water on her, yelling back to her mother when she called. Instead she smiled quietly, not obviously sad or grieving, but obviously mourning her father in her own silent way.

He wished he didn't know what she was going through, but he did.

The army had been his only family for years. It had been the source of all his friendships, the place where he had a home, his support.

So he knew exactly how alone a person could feel.

 

Lisa rummaged in the fridge to find the ingredients she needed. It was going to be an early dinner. The only way she had been able to relieve Alex from being Lilly's sidekick was to order them both inside because it was almost dinnertime. Now she had to rustle something up. Fast.

She thought about the times William had returned from duty. He'd always been ravenous for a home-cooked meal. Hadn't
often minded what it was, so long as it resembled comfort food. The type they missed out on over there in the desert.

“How long were you on tour this time, Alex?” she queried.

He was back sitting on the bar stool, casually flicking through one of her older cookbooks. He looked up. She could see a steely glint in his eye. Got the feeling it was a back-off-and-don't-talk-about-the-war kind of look emerging.

“Months. I kind of lost count,” he finally admitted.

She didn't believe it for a second. Her husband had always known exactly how many days he'd spent away each time. Had probably been able to work out the hours he'd been away from home after each tour if he'd had a mind to.

“You been back awhile, or fresh off the plane?”

There he went with that look again. “About a week.”

It was like a wall had closed, been built over his eyes, over his face, as soon as she'd started talking about the army. She could take a hint. There was no reason to pry.

“Well, I'll bet you're hankering for a nice home-cooked meal, then.”

He nodded. Politely. She was desperate to ask him more. Why he wasn't sitting right now with his own family having a meal. What had made him come here to visit her so soon after he'd arrived home.

She wondered at how he and William had gotten on. They were so different. Alex was quiet and guarded—or maybe that was just a reaction to her questions. Her husband had been open and talkative. Forward.

But she knew from all the stories he'd told her that it was different at war. That men you might never have made friends with, men you ended up serving with, became as close to you as a brother. She hoped it had been that way with Alex and him.

She began peeling. Potatoes first, then carrots.

“I think what you need is Shepherd's Chicken Pie.”

He smiled. A half-smile, but more open than before.

“Want to give me a hand?”

He nodded. “Sure.”

“Would you mind slicing those potatoes for me? Knife's just in the drawer there. And then put them in the pot to boil.”

Alex slipped down off the chair and moved to join her. She should have suggested it all along. Even if he wasn't sure what to do, keeping him busy and not interrogating him was probably the best way to help him relax and eventually open up a little about William.

She was desperate to hear some stories. If only the task didn't feel quite so similar to drawing blood from a stone!

“When you're finished there you can take over the dicing here, and I'll pop out back to pick some herbs,” she instructed.

His arm moved slowly back and forth, his other hand holding the vegetables in place as he cut them. She'd never thought about it before, but the way a person cooked, prepared food, showed a lot. Her, she made a mess and enjoyed herself, when it came to family cooking especially, but Alex was meticulous. He sliced each ingredient with military precision. If she stepped closer, she'd bet she'd see that every piece of carrot was diced to exactly the same dimensions.

He was a soldier. The way he moved, held himself and carried out tasks, marked him as army. It comforted her.

William had been similar in many ways. Not exactly like Alex, but the soldier aspects still made her think of him.

“You all right there for a moment?” she asked him.

He stopped slicing and looked at her. She could see a softness in his gaze now, a change that showed her she'd been right to just give him a task and leave him be.

“Sure.”

 

Lisa served the pie. The potato top was slightly browned, the gravy running out over the spoon as she manhandled it into three bowls.

“Lilly, why don't you take yours into the TV room? You can watch a DVD.”

Her daughter nodded eagerly. Lisa hardly ever let her eat away from the table, but tonight she wanted the luxury of chatting openly to their guest.

Lisa passed her a smaller bowlful, and then set the other two on the table.

“I really can't thank you enough, Alex. For coming here to see me.”

He quickly forked some pie into his mouth—so he didn't have to answer her, she guessed wryly.

“I've had plenty of soldiers drop by, but none for a few months. Still the odd call sometimes—to check up on me, I guess—but not many house calls.” She paused, but he didn't respond. She tried again. “William didn't often tell me the names of his soldier friends. Well, he called them by their last names, so I kind of got lost.”

“Yeah, that's army for you,” he muttered.

She took a mouthful of dinner herself, and gave him time to finish some more of his.

“The time you spent together—did you…ah…get along well?” she pressed cautiously.

His lips formed a tight line. His face was serious, eyebrows drawn together. His entire body rigid. She'd pushed him too far, too soon.

“Ma'am, I…” He stopped and took a breath. “I'm not really one for talking about what happened over there.”

She felt embarrassed. She should have known better. It was just that she felt like they only had a few hours together and she wanted to hear everything. Was curious to find out more.

“I'm sorry, Alex. Listen to me—interrogating you when you've come here out of kindness,” she apologized.

He put down his fork. “I don't mean to be rude, I just…”

“I understand. My husband was a talker—he liked getting everything off his chest,” she explained.

They both went back to eating. The silence that was suspended between them felt knife-edged.

 

He knew she wanted him to open up, but he couldn't. It just wasn't him. And what could he say?
Yeah, William and I got on real well while we knew each other. Before he took a bullet intended for me. Before he died trying to save me.

The food was great. He did appreciate it. But she was treating him like the good guy here. What would she think if she could actually see what had happened over there? Could watch it like a movie before her eyes and see William dive into the line of fire to cover
him
?

He forced more food down. Anything to put the memories back on hold.

“Where's home, Alex? Where do your family live?” she asked.

Alex felt a shudder trawl his backbone. He fought the tic in his cheek as he clamped his jaw tightly. He didn't want to talk about his family. Or lack of. He didn't want to talk about why he didn't have a home. “I don't have a place at the moment,” he bit out tersely.

“But what about your family? They must be excited to have you back?”

He shook his head.

Lisa watched him, her eyes questioning, but to his relief she didn't ask again. He didn't want to be rude, but there were some things he just didn't want to talk about.

She didn't need to know he was an orphan. He didn't need any sympathy, pity. Lisa was best not knowing.

“Well, I'm glad we were able to have you for dinner,” she said after a long pause.

“I promised William I'd find you.” He looked up, braved her gaze. “I set out as soon as I was debriefed.”

She nodded. “Well, I certainly appreciate you coming here.”

“Great food, by the way. Really good,” he said stiltedly.

It didn't come easy to him. Just chatting. Making small talk. But he didn't want to get on the topic of family again, and she was making a real effort for him. It wasn't that he
didn't appreciate it, he just wanted to keep certain doors firmly closed.

“I'm going to check on Lilly. Help yourself to more,” she offered.

 

Lisa pulled the door to Lilly's room almost shut, leaving it so a trickle of light still traced into the room, and wiggled her fingers at her. She'd read her a story, kissed her good-night, then turned the light out.

She heard Alex down in the kitchen. He might have been in the army for years and be as quiet as a mouse, but he was well trained. He'd cleared the table and started the dishes all before she'd scooted Lilly upstairs to bed.

“You don't need to do that.” She swallowed her words as soon as she saw the kitchen. The counter had been wiped down, the dishwasher light was on, and the sink was empty. He'd even fed the dog the leftovers.

He shrugged. “It's the least I can do.”

She didn't know about that. He'd traipsed from goodness-only-knew-where to get here, brought things to her that meant the world, and started to cheer up a six-year-old who was undergoing serious counseling for trauma. Lilly had been happy and bubbling when Lisa had marched her up to bed.

“Alex—stay the night. Please. It's too late for you to find somewhere in town,” she said.

He looked uncomfortable. She wished he didn't. A frown shadowed his face. Whatever it was that was troubling him was firmly locked away. She'd seen it written on his face tonight at the table.

“I really appreciate the offer, but you've already cooked me dinner and…”

“Don't be silly.”

The man seemed to have no family. Or none that he wanted to talk about. No place to go nearby anyway. She wasn't exactly going to turf him out. Not after what he'd done for her. Not when he'd been the man to give William comfort as he died.

“Lisa, I didn't come here expecting accommodation,” he said abruptly.

She put her hands on her hips. “No, you came from miles away to do something nice for a stranger. It's me who feels like I owe you.”

He had that awkward look again. On his face, in the angles of his arms as they hung by his sides. He looked up at the clock on the wall. It was getting late. “Are you sure? I can pitch my tent out back.”

Lisa laughed. “Oh, no, you won't. Come on—I'll show you the guestroom.”

Alex hesitated. “I've got my camping gear…”

“Don't be silly. The bed is made. You can get a good night's sleep. Come on,” she said firmly.

He didn't look entirely comfortable about the situation, but he didn't argue. She smiled.

Resigned acceptance traced across his face. “I'll…ah…just grab my things from the car.”

Lisa went to flick the switch on the kettle. She reached for an oversize mug and stirred in some of her homemade chocolate.

By the time he reappeared, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, she had a steaming mug of hot chocolate waiting for him.

“This is for you,” she said, passing the cup to him before walking off.

She led the way up the stairs. She didn't turn, but she could hear him following. The treads creaked and groaned under his weight, as they had done under hers. She led him to the third bedroom and stepped aside so he could enter.

His big frame seemed to fill the entire room. The spare bed looked too small for him. She stifled a laugh. He looked like a grown-up in a playhouse.