A Soldier Finds His Way (29 page)

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Authors: Irene Onorato

BOOK: A Soldier Finds His Way
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Marcus turned on the lantern. “I was praying for you and the guys earlier today and—”

“And Dexter got shot.” Edward narrowed his eyes. “Just shut up and stay away from me. One more Jesus word out of you and I swear I’ll—” His hammer-like fists waited to strike.

Marcus took a step forward. His smile faded. “I’ll never give up on you, Edward. The love of Christ compels me to—”

Edward’s left hook came up hard and fast.

Marcus’s head snapped to the side and blood sprayed from his nose. The second punch cracked across the medic’s jaw.

Edward twisted his hands into Marcus’s shirt. His fingers clamped deep in the fabric. He pivoted, and tossed the medic to the dirt. Edward fell to a knee and reared back for another blow.

He moved to unload his fury but hesitated.

A look of undeserved compassion stared up at him.

His fist opened and released the grip he had on Marcus’s shirt.

Edward wrapped his hands around his head and began to weep.

How could this be happening to him? He was a professional soldier, a man, not a little boy. Yet he couldn’t stop.

“Where was Jesus when my junkie, prostitute mother delivered me and threw me in a trash can in an alley? Where was He all the years when nobody cared about me? Jesus loves me? I don’t think so.”

He sat back on his heels and picked up Marcus’s Bible. “What’s the magic of this book? Did it help you just now? Did Jesus help you right now?”

Blood-speckled pages glared at him. Words written in red ink next to his thumb nearly shouted from the page.
Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.

Waves of remorse flooded his heart. He stood and backed away. “I-I’m sorry, Marcus. I—” He fled to the makeshift bathhouse.

* * * *

Blood oozed from the knuckles of Edward’s right hand and tinged the tornado of water swirling down the drain. A repulsive beast of a man stared at him in the mirror. He closed his eyes hard to shut him out.

Do you consider yourself to be a good man? And, by what criteria do you measure yourself?

The answer was obvious, and the pain of that knowledge, all-encompassing. Something had to change. He had to change. Edward held the sides of the sink with a white-knuckled grip and hung his head.

“What have I done,” he whispered. “Jesus, what have I done? By Your standards, I’m not a good man. Please help me.”

He splashed water on his face, dried himself with his sleeve, and went outside.

Across the way, Marcus’s silhouette moved around the tent. His gray form bent over, reached forward, and extinguished the light.

The fact that Marcus was up and about brought some relief. He needed to check on him and make sure. After a few steps, he swallowed a lump of shame, changed direction, and slipped into the shadows.

* * * *

A sleepless night of wandering left Edward feeling awful. He tried not to make eye contact with anyone and avoided conversation as he entered the command center for the morning meeting.

The smell of coffee filled the briefing room. The team, and a couple of CIA operatives they’d been working with, stood around sipping coffee before the meeting started. One man was missing. Marcus.

Edward checked his watch. How long would it take for the MPs to come for him? By now they had to know what he’d done. How he’d attacked Marcus without what any sane person would justify as provocation. He pretended to read a notice on the bulletin board and kept to himself.

The door opened. Marcus came in.

“Whoa. What happened to you?” someone blurted. “Did a grenade go off in your face?”

One of Marcus’s eyes was blackened, his nose and mouth were swollen, and his face was bruised. Puffy lips managed a smile. “Naw, I just had me a little altercation last night. Even Jacob had to wrestle an angel every now and then. You should see the other guy.” He shadowboxed a couple of punches. “How’re y’all this fine morning?”

Edward couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What he’d done was inexcusable. He fully expected to be court-martialed or otherwise punished. How could this man be so forgiving? Wasn’t Marcus going to turn him in?

Sergeant Browning entered. He crossed the room, took Greco aside, and delivered a private message Edward couldn’t hear. Seconds later, Browning exited room.

Greco’s face turned serious as his gaze settled on Marcus. He set his coffee down and walked over to where Marcus was taking a ribbing about his shiner and tapped his arm. “Come with me. We need to talk.”

They stepped into the hallway and stopped right outside the door.

No doubt, Greco was going to question Marcus about what happened. Edward maneuvered himself to where he could see Greco and Marcus through the small rectangular window in the door without making it obvious that he was spying.

Whatever Greco was saying was bad news to Marcus. The medic’s ever-present smile melted, and a worried look took its place. Greco threw an arm around Marcus’s shoulder and led him down the hall, out of sight.

“I hope everything’s all right,” Sanchez said, looking toward the door. A few voices echoed in agreement.

* * * *

As soon as Greco said, “End of brief,” Edward popped off his chair. He wanted to speak to Marcus. No, he desperately needed to speak to him. He hurried to the tent and tore open the flaps.

Marcus wasn’t there, and neither was his duffel or backpack.

“I sent him home,” Greco said, appearing at his side. “His wife’s in the hospital with pregnancy complications. Sounded serious. She might lose the baby.”

“Baby?”

Greco snorted and shook his head. “How could you spend all these weeks living in the same quarters with the man and not know he and his wife were expecting?” He gave his head another shake and walked away.

Edward went into the empty tent. There, on his own cot, lay the medic’s Bible. A note stuck out from the pages. He strained to read the scrawl, written in obvious haste.

 

Edward,

Even an elite soldier can admit he’s lost and needs to find his way. You said you knew the Roman Road. I prayed last night that you would take it.

Keep this Bible, please. And when you get to the bloodstained pages, remember, forgiveness. It’s the key to the “magic” of this book that you asked about.

You need a friend, LT. Let me, and let Jesus be your friend.

Marcus

 

Marcus’s home address in Virginia, along with his phone number followed.

Edward fluffed his pillow, laid back and read the note again. He’d extended two fists to Marcus’s face, and in return, Marcus extended a hand of friendship and forgiveness. Warmth spread through his chest like morphine for pain. He surrendered to sleep.

* * * *

Loud, excited voices woke Edward. He got up, went outside and joined the team. “What’s going on?”

Jackson wore a megawatt smile. “Recon is suspended. We’re going home.”

“When?”

Peanut answered. “Two days and a wake-up. Ten day’s leave, baby. Ten days.” He did a gyrating dance and whooped with joy.

Greco approached with Sergeant Browning. “Okay, guys. Travel arrangements. Give Browning your destination.”

One by one, the guys stepped up and told the sergeant where they wanted to go. Edward hung back until last.

“Lieutenant?” Browning looked up from his clipboard. “Where to?”

“Dulles Airport, Washington, DC.”

 

 

Chapter 30

 

A choir of birds serenaded Audra from the woods behind her apartment. As their song drifted through her bedroom windows, she brushed her hair, swept it upward with a twist, and fastened it with a decorative clip.

In the kitchen, she added a few more items to her shopping list, pulled it from under a refrigerator magnet, and dropped it into her purse that lay open on the table. She picked her cellphone off its charger and thumbed through the icons. No missed calls or messages.

She sat at the kitchen table and stared at the phone for a few seconds before pressing Edward’s number on speed dial. It went straight to voicemail.

“Hi, it’s me, Audra. I was just thinking about you and thought I’d call to say hello.” She straightened her back and put on a smile. Maybe that would help her sound more cheerful.

“I’ve been extra busy with work lately, prepping the kids for finals, getting ready for report cards, stuff like that. Did I tell you I found an apartment the same day I moved out of my parents’ house? Hank helped me find it. It’s small, but nice. Here’s the address.”

She gave the particulars and cleared her throat. “Edward, I—”

A knock on the door made her jump to her feet.

“Someone’s at the door. I have to go. I miss you, Edward. I miss you so much. Bye.”

A small red velvet pouch dangled from drawstrings in her view through the peephole, and outside a familiar voice said, “You forgot the gold.”

Daddy. Audra unlocked and opened the door with a shaky hand.

Her father smiled, or attempted to, but the rest of his face didn’t rally behind it. Without a doubt, he was out of his comfort zone. “May I come in?” His lips twitched.

She stepped aside and allowed him to pass.

To offer a cup of coffee, tea or something to nibble would be inviting him to stay awhile. Whether she wanted that to happen or not would depend on why he came. She closed the door and waited for him to say something.

Her father looked at the small bag in his hands. His thumb stroked the velvet fabric. He raised sheepish eyes and spoke softly. “Can we talk?”

There was nothing to talk about. If she opened her mouth, she might say some things she’d later regret. She lifted her chin and stared at him.

“I see you’re still too angry to speak. I don’t blame you.” Her dad placed the pouch on the table and reached over and sandwiched one of her hands between his own. She jerked back, but he held fast. “
Cara mia
, I’ve made many mistakes as your father. I came to apologize for the greatest blunder of all. For coming between you and Edward.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“If I had concerns about your relationship with Edward, I should have brought them to you and trusted you to make the right decisions. What I did showed a lack of faith on my part. I’m sorry, Audra. I wish I could undo what I’ve done. Maybe one day you can find it in your heart to forgive your foolish father.”

His sorrowful eyes and contrite tone confirmed the depth and sincerity of his apology. Audra’s anger melted and her tears flowed freely. She didn’t resist when her father’s arms encircled and held her close.

A soft kiss touched her cheek. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

Her father moved back and held her at arm’s length. “And you love Edward, don’t you?”

Audra sniffled and took several uneven breaths. “With all my heart.”

“Your mother and sisters saw it right away. But me,” he shrugged, “I was a little slow to see it.”

A glistening teardrop formed in the outer corner of his eye. He turned his head as if to hide it, but then looked at her, straight on, and let it fall. “When your mother and I were first married, I was an ungodly man who didn’t know how to be a good husband. I was selfish, arrogant, and demanding.”

He gave his head a slight shake. “When I think of what I put her through, and all the times I made her cry—” He shuddered. “It wasn’t until Kyle was born that I realized I needed God to help me to be the husband and father I needed to be.”

Her father stroked her cheek. “I wanted you to have a man that was better than I was.”

Audra picked up the red pouch. “I told Edward about the day you and I found gold in the brook.”

Her father’s face brightened. “You did?”

“Yes, I told him this little bag of gold was priceless.”

“Priceless?” He chuckled.

“It is to me. It holds memories of the magical day you created just for us, a father-and-daughter day I’ll never forget. Ever.”

His smile widened. “Then, maybe we should go put it back in the safe where it belongs.”

She grabbed her phone and purse. “I think we should.”

* * * *

Audra stood on her parents’ porch and hugged Rachael and Robin. “I’ll come back and see you next week, okay?”

“Do you have to go already, Audra?” Sadness shadowed Rachael’s face.

“I’ve been here for,” Audra checked her watch, “more than five hours. I still have to go grocery shopping.” She gave the girl a second squeeze.

“I’m glad you came today.” Mom leaned in, kissed her, and whispered, “It was good to see you and your father laughing together again.” She corralled the girls into the house, leaving Audra and her father alone on the porch.

Dad scooped her into a tight hug. “Let me tell you one more time how much I love you and how sorry I am.”

His display of affection touched and warmed her heart.

She got in her car and started pulling away but stopped, stuck her head out the window and yelled, “I love you, Dad.”

* * * *

Audra pushed her shopping cart to the front of the store and got in line at a cash register. She counted four heaping carts ahead of her. Mutters of complaints came from two women on the adjacent line. Audra stifled a grin. Silly women. What did they expect at five o’clock on a Saturday evening?

Her cellphone rang in her purse. Hank’s assigned ringtone screeched like a band of chimpanzees having a ruckus. The guy in line in front of her turned and laughed. She smiled. If he knew Hank,
Oran-Utan
, man of the forest, he’d understand.

“Hello, Hank.”

“Hi. Haven’t talked to you in a few weeks. Figured I’d check in and see how you’re doing.”

She scooted her cart up a few inches. “I’m fine. Shopping at Walmart. Looks like it’s going to be a while before I can get out of here. Long lines.”

“You think you’ve got it bad? I’m stuck in traffic on the Tappan Zee Bridge. A tortoise passed me a minute ago, and a snail is gaining on me.” Horns honked in the background.

Audra laughed.

“I’m going to be passing by your place on my way home. If I ever get off this bridge, that is. Wanna meet me at that Italian joint where we ate last time? I can call you when I’m a few minutes away.”

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