A Soldier for Keeps (3 page)

It was going to be interesting. The wipers on high were not keeping up with the snow. He buckled in, his gaze straying to the rearview mirror, where she was right there in plain sight. Her dark hair was slightly mussed and dappled with melting snow. His heart began to beat faster as he put the rig in gear and put in a prayer for a safe trip. He hoped the pass would be open when they hit it or they would all be stuck at the lodge for a good while.

“Is this your first time rescuing a skier, or is this how all your days off go?”

“My days off are far and few between. Even now, I could be called in.” He released the e-brake and eased away from the curb. “I have packed injured soldiers on my back before, just not on skis.”

“Giselle has only mentioned you in passing, but I know she worries about what you do. If you’re an Army Ranger, you get into a lot of danger.”

“Now and then.” Most of the time, but that was harder to say. He figured a girl as sheltered and as sweet as Lexie might not want to hear about the details he could tell her. “It’s a dangerous world, and the military keeps me pretty busy.”

“You’ve been deployed for a long time. Am I remembering right?”

“It started to feel like a decade.” He circled through the lot, squinting hard for the signs that ought to point him in the direction of the highway. There they were, coated with snow. He couldn’t read them, but he knew he was on the right track. In the vehicle behind them, he could just make out the flash signal of Hawk’s truck.

He took the on-ramp at a crawl. If any cars were on the road ahead of him, he saw no evidence of them. The windshield wipers beat a quick cadence. The defroster blasted air on high. “You know when you watch a movie that’s set ten years ago, and you realize how everything used to be?”

“I do. How funny the clothes back then were, when they didn’t seem funny at the time. And hairstyles.”

“That’s how I feel a lot of the time. I come back from a forward base in the desert and suddenly I can order pizza with cheesy sticks.”

“I love cheesy sticks.”

“And there’s more channels than I can count on the TV. There’s TiVo and call waiting and people rushing around in their cars without worrying about mortar fire. It’s great, don’t get me wrong, just surreal. At first. Until I acclimate, which is just about the time I ship out again.”

“You probably get used to living a pretty sparse existence when you’re deployed. One of my friends, we
used to room together, she married a marine. He did recon, and it sounded as if his life was duty, training and missions.”

“That about sums it up. Free time can be ten minutes a day. Other days, that’s just wishful thinking.”

“And you had an entire afternoon off and I messed it up.”

“You did.” His eyes twinkled at her in the mirror. “Because you were a bad skier, here I am.”

“Hey! I’m not a bad skier. It wasn’t me. Exactly.” She liked that he was laughing; it was a cozy, friendly sound. “There was this teenager. He got in front of me and wiped out. I couldn’t get around him in time.”

“I remember that kid. He was hanging out off the side, scratching his head, like he’d decided to take the harder run, gotten around the first turn and realized he’d made a mistake.”

“That’s the one. I’m glad he wasn’t really hurt, but I could have done without the broken ankle. I have to work tonight. I hate to think about what my boss is going to say.”

“You can still be a resident advisor, right?” He peered straight ahead, concentrating on navigating the dark, snowbound road. “You aren’t lifting heavy boxes or operating big machinery.”

“No, I have a second job. At the library.”

“Two jobs?”

“Graduate tuition at a private university is way expensive. I went to a state university for my B.A., but bad memories.” She could only see part of his face reflected in the rearview mirror. His frown of concentration was interrupted by surprise.

“Kevin went to the same university?”

“Bingo. My mom isn’t exactly happy about it. She thinks I have a better chance of finding a husband at one of the larger universities.”

“A husband? I thought you weren’t looking.” His gaze met hers for a brief moment.

Her heart ached at the hard flash of distrust. Like her, it came naturally these days. The feeling that you could be tricked all over again. “I’m not looking, no, but my mom is hopeful. She loved Kevin.”

“Did she think he was the right guy?”

“Uh, yeah. He came from a good family, not a well-off one, but respectable. He met her on parents’ weekend and charmed her, too.”

“What pick-up line did he use on you?”

Lexie watched the corners of his eyes crinkle just a little, as if he knew he was right on target. Okay, so she had been a little defensive about pick-up lines. “He told me his heart stopped beating the first time he saw my face.”

“Isn’t that from a song or something?”

“At the time I was too charmed to notice how shallow it was. He flashed his dimples at me and he was so attentive. He did everything right.” She remembered how whole her heart had been, how hard she had searched for the right guy. How had she made such a mistake? She had wanted to believe, for one thing, and he had done his best to make her believe. “But I think everything has worked out for the best. I’m happy at MCU.”

“But you’re working two jobs.”

“I don’t mind. A little hard work never hurt anyone, at least that’s what they say. But my mom—” She was talking too much. Revealing far more than she wanted to. Maybe it was the pain medication. Or maybe it was
easier to talk to someone whom she would never see again. “I really disappointed her that I moved so far away. I’m gone all the time now. I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to hear this.”

“Hey, I understand more than you know. I’m the biggest disappointment to my folks in family history.” He paused as flares alongside the road narrowed the three lanes to one. He hit the turn signal and eased to a stop behind a semi. “Sometimes you just have to take the hit and stick with your course. It isn’t easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is.”

“Exactly. I have to find my own way, that’s part of growing into the person you’re going to be.” Listening to the swipe of the wipers and the crunch of the tires in the snow, she thought how strange it was to be with a guy she had so much in common with. “Why are you a disappointment to your parents? Aren’t they proud of what you do?”

“That’s a loaded question. You know what I do, right?”

“You protect this country.”

“I do a very small part, but it’s mine to do.” He fell silent for a moment as they crept past the state patrol’s barricade, where one lane was still open. As far as she could see the road was single file, with red taillights twinkling faintly in the furiously falling snow.

Finally he spoke. “I do what is necessary. My stepfather thinks it’s wrong to carry a gun and use it. My mother thinks I’ll turn violent, like my dad ended up doing. My sister thinks I’m going to get killed, so I should get out while I’m still breathing. And since my younger brother was killed last year on a mission, everyone pretty much agrees with her.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know about your brother.” She
thought of Giselle, the sweet freshman girl who didn’t know what to major in, who missed her mom so much it hurt, who loved Bible study and knitting with her friends in the lounge. She remembered how Giselle had worried about one brother in the military. Lexie hadn’t known she’d lost another.

It is amazing how deep we can bury our deepest hurts, she thought, aching for the girl and for the stoic man in the front seat. She never would have guessed the guy shouting “banzai” harbored a deep loss. She thought about how much time she spent glancing along the surface of her life and of others. It was the layers that mattered and what was hidden beneath. Those were the things so hard to see at first glance, and sometimes at all.

“Was your brother a Ranger like you?”

“Yep. He died in my arms.” His voice sounded hollow, like the spent casing of a fired bullet. He said no more as the twilight became night and the drive off the mountain more treacherous.

He didn’t have to. She could feel his sorrow as if it were her own.

“T
his is it.” The SUV’s headlamps spotlighted the sign tucked in an arrangement of carefully clipped hedges. “Whitman Hall.”

This was the end of the line. Mission over. He’d gotten Lexie’s prescription at the pharmacy and delivered her here, safe and sound. The snow beat at them with blizzard force, but they had made it. He peered up at what he could see of the dormitory through the storm—red brick and yellow rectangles of windows shining against the dark. “What’s your floor?”

“Four.” She paused over the click of a seat belt releasing. “The top floor.”

“Maybe I had better see you up—or as far as they let guys go. You might need help.”

“There’s an elevator just inside the door. I’ll be fine.”

“Sure you will.” He unlatched his belt and shoved open the door. “But I’m helping you inside anyway. Hawk can park this for you in the lot. What do you want me to do with the key?”

“You can leave it at the security desk. It’s just inside
the front door.” She’d already hopped out of the vehicle and was balancing on her good foot. “I’m not sure how well snow and crutches are going to mix.”

“You don’t have to worry about it tonight.” He gently took her hand, steadied her and lifted her into his arms. She was light and little, hardly a burden at all. If a small spark of tenderness flickered in his chest, he ignored it. He wasn’t that kind of man. “I’ll see you to the door. Got a hold of your crutches?”

“Yes. Oops.” Her grip must have slipped because something bonked his right shin bone. “Sorry about that.”

“I’m tough. I can handle it.” That made her almost smile. The spark flickered again. He tamped it down. Leaving the vehicle running, he marched through the knee-deep snow. The pathway up to the grand entrance was well lit, which made the going easy. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else I can get you?”

“As if you haven’t done enough. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s dinnertime. What about the dining hall? Are you going to manage all right?”

“I’ll figure it out.” She watched him with her wide blue eyes intently, as if she were trying to see beneath the layers.

That was no place for her. He shouldered open the heavy glass door, taking care with her. “I’ll give my sister a call. There’s got to be a house phone here somewhere, right? She can come down and get a tray for you.”

“Are you always like this?”

“Like what? In charge, you mean?” He carried her past the security desk.

“No, I mean bossy.” Not that she minded. She was
quite able to handle a strong-minded man. “I can take it from here, Pierce.”

“You’re independent. I like that.”

“I don’t like leaning on other people. I don’t know if that’s independent or just a sign I need therapy.”

His laughter rumbled like thunder, and she didn’t want to like the sound or hear more of it. She savored one last moment in his arms, feeling his strength and capability. She felt humbled by him and somehow sad as he eased her down gently. She put her weight on her good foot and held his arm while he helped her straighten out her crutches.

He was like a mountain. She sensed his honor and his integrity, the truths he hid beneath his quick grin and charming dimples.

“I guess this is goodbye for now, Lexie Evans.” His hazel eyes warmed, revealing flecks of forest-green and pure gold. “Maybe I’ll see you again.”

“Maybe.” It felt more like a promise as she watched him stride away with his shoulders unerringly straight and strong, strangely unreal, as if untouched by the life around him.

College girls trailed in from the library or social events, flocked with snow, and their conversations punctuated with laughter. The security team—mostly male students—stood around, talking basketball with measured excitement. The scent of pot roast and baking bread wafted from the dining hall, where flatware clinked against stoneware and rang like a thousand bells.

Pierce did not seem a part of it. He was an island unto himself as he strolled out the door. The snowfall and the night stole him from her sight.

But not from her thoughts. No, there was no chance of that.

“Lexie!” Amber McKaslin, one of her freshmen girls, skidded to a stop, a cup of soda in hand. “What happened to you? Are you okay?”

“I’m perfect, except for the ankle I banged up just a little when I was skiing.” It would heal soon enough. “Are you on your way upstairs?”

“Yeah, a bunch of us are going to watch a movie. Do you want to come?”

“Thanks, but I’m going to get something to eat.” Her injury was starting to throb worse, in rhythmic, sharp beats. She would ask one of the kitchen workers to pack a to-go carton for her. “Maybe I’ll drop by later.”

“Yeah, then you can see the sweater I’ve started. I’ve got the prettiest yarn.” Amber started walking backward and stopped. “Maybe I’d better come carry stuff for you.”

“That’s nice. Thanks.” She positioned her weight on her crutches and moved forward. Already she was back to her normal life, but it no longer felt the same. She glanced over her shoulder, knowing that Pierce was long gone but still, something within her looked for him.

“At least we got some skiing in.” There was a thunk as Hawk closed the hotel door. The hotel’s latch clanked in the echoing room. “There’s always tomorrow.”

“For you.” Pierce dropped the food bags on the small round table by the window. His room was modest, but serviceable. “Giselle has my day packed.”

“Then you’re out of luck.” Hawk set down the drinks—extrathick chocolate shakes. “I’m hitting the slopes tomorrow. I report on Monday. I’m getting in what fun I can.”

“I’ve got nothing but time.” He didn’t add that once his leave was up and he signed on the dotted line, he would be running from dusk to dawn, too. He decided to enjoy what leisure he had. It was hard earned. He took a seat at the table and hit the remote. The TV flashed to life, and he found a sports show as he dug his burgers out of the bags.

“I’ve been thinking I might not re-up.” Hawk delivered that news as casually as if he’d been discussing whether or not to buy a new pair of boots.

“What do you mean?” Pierce couldn’t register it. “You’re getting out?”

“Considering it.” He looked unaffected, like he didn’t care either way.

Pierce wasn’t fooled. You didn’t get to be a Ranger by not caring deeply about it. “That’s a big decision. What will you do if you stay out?”

“Maybe my uncle can get me a job with the forest service back home. Think I’d make a good forest ranger?”

“They don’t let you jump out of airplanes.”

“That I would miss.” Hawk bowed his head in silent prayer.

Pierce did the same. He had a hard time focusing with his buddy’s news still ringing in his ears. Quit the Army? Go back to civilian life? Pierce couldn’t imagine putting down his weapon or forgoing his commitment to serve.

Lord, please lead my friend down the right path for him. And if You wouldn’t mind helping me along on mine, too, I would appreciate it.
He thought of Lexie, probably warm and snug in her fourth-floor room, with her foot up.
Please watch over her, too. Thank You for my blessings. Amen.

“Are you serious about this?” He unwrapped his first burger and took a bite.

“Pretty.” Hawk dragged three fries through a puddle of ketchup and munched on them. “It’s not the same since we lost Tim.”

“Nothing is.” They hardly spoke of his loss. Even thinking about his brother made the shrapnel of grief cut deeper into his heart. Carrying Tim’s coffin and laying him to rest had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. “I can’t say I haven’t thought about it, too, but quitting isn’t for me.”

That was enough said. They both felt it. Talk turned to the game that came on. But something had changed. The personal price for what they did ran high. No argument there. Some days it felt too high. On other days, it was worth every bit it cost and more.

One price was life. He’d lost a few soldiers under his command and comrades he loved like family. He’d lost Tim, who used to trail him everywhere as a little boy, who could climb trees higher than anyone else had the nerve to and who had once loved to play in the creek that meandered along the property line, separating his folks’ place from Hawk’s family’s land. The three of them had been simple country boys, barefoot and running through the fields and forest, playing childish games of make-believe.

Another cost was the life others had. He’d gotten a good dose of that today seeing the campus. It was a cost he thought about long after Hawk had said good-night and left for his room next door. A cost that troubled him in the dark.

He tossed and turned on the mattress, listening to heat fan from the wall unit, unable to forget the image of Lexie Evans, with snow clinging to her jet-black
hair, balancing on her crutches in the middle of the dormitory hallway. Life had surrounded her, all that she was experiencing, all that she was learning, and the people she had time to get to know.

There was only room in his life for discipline and service. It was his choice, so why was he thinking of her?

“Let me get a pillow for your foot,” Amber was saying as she set Lexie’s backpack on the carpet by one of the chairs in their fourth-floor lounge. “I tore up my ankle when I was running track one year, and the two weeks I was on crutches were torture. What else can I fetch for you?”

“I’m fine. Really.” Lexie leaned her crutches against the brick wall and eased into the chair. Talk about relief. She’d had a light morning since the earlier classes had been cancelled because of the storm, but she was more exhausted than ever. She put her awkward cast up on the pillow-topped ottoman. “Thanks, Amber. I owe you big-time.”

“No, you don’t. You’ve helped me out, like, a million times.” The girl flashed a quick smile, gave a finger wave. “I’ve got to hit the books. I have this killer poetry paper due on Monday.”

“Good luck.” Lexie reached for the TV remote on the coffee table. Her stomach rumbled, but she hadn’t felt up to tackling the cafeteria during the noon rush. She channel-surfed through the movie channels, finally settling on an old favorite. The black-and-white hero was larger than life and entirely heroic. She might not believe in love for herself, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy a good romantic movie.

“Do you want us to get you anything, Lexie?” Rose Everly called out.

“I’m good. Thanks.” She smiled at sweet, thoughtful Rose, who had a thick volume of Dickens clutched in the crook of her arm. “I’m going down later.”

“Okay. Let me know if you need help.” She scampered out of sight, her footfalls light on the stairs.

“Room service.” A familiar baritone rumbled behind her.

“Pierce?” She squinted over the back of the chair, sure she had to be imagining him. He looked good behind the trays of food he balanced. His short, dark hair was wind-tousled and made darker by the navy blue MCU sweatshirt he wore. “I see you made a stop at the bookstore.”

“Yep. If I’m going to spend a day on campus, I’m going to do it right. As an MCU Cougar.” He set the trays on the nearby coffee table. The delicious aromas of French dip, fries and apple crisp scented the air as he dropped into the chair next to her. “Giselle and I were standing in line to get swiped at the dining hall and we spotted you going into the elevator. I thought I’d bring you lunch. Figured you might have a hard time on that slick floor. Everyone has tracked in snow, including me.”

“That’s very gentlemanly of you. I’m totally going to have to change my opinion of you now.”

“You mean it wasn’t good before this?”

“Of course it was, but it’s higher now. That’s hard to do.” She didn’t want to be glad to see him. She shouldn’t be pleased that he had thought of her, but she was. “I can’t believe your sister let you go. She was practically skipping down the hall this morning because her big brother was coming.”

“She’s been bouncing all morning. She hauled me to two of her classes. Then wrote notes to me the entire time, and there was no way I could snooze. I had to pay attention.”

“Welcome to my world.”

“My head is spinning from all the information I couldn’t help absorbing. I’ve always wondered what I missed by not going to college. Now I know. A headache from too much thinking and a backache from packing all those big textbooks around.”

“Those are my two biggest problems,” she said lightly. “Just as I’m sure that your biggest problems are blisters from marching around in your boots and traveling all over the world.”

“Yep, those are my only hardships.” He hauled the coffee table between the chairs as a makeshift table. The last thing he wanted to talk about was his work. The weight of it felt like an anvil, heavy, serious and ever present. This campus was a different world from his. This moment, a separate peace. “How’s the ankle?”

“How do ya think?” Her eyes were sparkling and the color was back in her face. She apparently didn’t want to elaborate. “Will you say grace, or should I?”

“Go for it.” He was curious what she would say. Something standard or something cute? She was the cute type, he could see it now, in her boot-cut jeans, which accommodated her cast, and trendy blue sweater, which brought out the deep sapphire color of her eyes.

“Dear Father.” She bowed her head. Her black hair tumbled forward to curtain her face. “Please keep us mindful of our blessings and of Your grace in our lives. Bless this food and our new friendship. Amen.”

“Amen.” He unclasped his hands and nudged one of
the trays closer, so she could reach it more easily. “So, you think we’re friends?”

“It’s a perilous thought, I know! Any guy who carries me down a mountain is definitely in the friend category. It’s automatic. I think it’s a state law or something.” She daintily unfolded a paper napkin and spread it across her knees.

“It’s probably in the state constitution.” He could quip, too. “So, you really want to be friends?”

“Maybe you have more friends than you can count, but I cherish every friendship I can get.”

He could see that about her. She was friendly and light, but careful somehow. When she spoke to you, it was as if she thought you were important enough to really listen to. As if you had her respect. He liked it. Okay, maybe he just liked her.