A Soldier for Keeps (6 page)

“I’m sure he knows the cost of his sacrifice.” She remembered the stalwart man standing as if alone in the rain. “You never told me about Tim.”

“I can’t stand to.” Giselle bowed her head, the picture of pure grief.

“A brother’s life is a lot to give for this country.” She saw again the raw sadness that had etched into Pierce’s face. She ached for him, too. “It’s understandable you don’t want to give another.”

“I’m just so mad at him. He’s macho, that’s what this is. And headstrong. He just wants his way.” Giselle sounded angry, but as she reached for a tissue from the box on the end table, her tears meant something else.

“You don’t believe those things about your brother for a second.” She thought of the responsibility and discipline it took to do his job, and of the irresistible gentleness he’d shown her—an impressive combination. Her chin tingled with the memory of his touch. “Pierce is a rare, truly trustworthy man.”

“He is.” Giselle sniffled into the tissue, fighting her tears. “I think he should go to college, get his degree and get a nice, safe job. What’s wrong with that? Lots of people do it every day.”

“True.” Lexie remembered what he had said about his commitment to duty. Something stronger than admiration sparked to life within her. Something she simply could not let herself look at. “He’s made his choice. He’s not the one conflicted over this. You are, Giselle.”

“I th-thought you would help me. You don’t understand.” Her words vibrated with heartbreak.

“You can’t save him, Giselle. Only God can do that.” She couldn’t explain why she was hurting, too. Why Giselle’s fears felt real to her, too. Maybe because she already cared too much for the man. “I’m going to help you, Giselle. Okay?”

“Okay.” She sniffled harder.

Lexie handed her another tissue. “You’ve kept Tim’s grief bottled up for too long.”

“But I don’t want to talk about him. I just c-can’t.” Giselle hung her head, so lost.

At least they had gotten to the heart of the problem. Lexie reached for Giselle’s hand, offering sisterly comfort. Later she would call the student counseling center hotline for the particulars on their weekly grief support group. For now, she would offer what friendship she could, sitting with Giselle while she cried.

It had been a bad night, and the morning wasn’t going much better. Pierce tossed his rucksack on the floor of the truck. His morning flight to Wyoming was delayed, and he’d gotten only a few winks of sleep. Last
night’s precipitation had iced dangerously to every surface and the rental truck didn’t come with an ice scraper. Not that any of this qualified as a hardship in his opinion, but he was on vacation and his heart was troubled over Tim, over his family and over Lexie.

He knocked the snow off his boots and hopped behind the wheel. The defroster blazed heat, and only the most stubborn ice remained. He had some time to kill before he had to be at the airport. Hawk was already headed off to their air base, and there wasn’t enough time to drive up to the ski resort.

He buckled in, debating what to do. Scratch that. He was debating over finding a way of avoiding what he ought to do. Lexie had been on his mind, the way she’d drawn him in, the way she smiled, the way he lit up when he was with her. He’d panicked yesterday. That was the plain truth. He wasn’t proud of it. A bad feeling had wedged into his gut. He didn’t like leaving things this way. He wanted a proper goodbye.

He put the truck in gear. The tires spun, caught, and he backed out of the parking spot. It wasn’t as if he was going to fall head over heels for her, he thought as he straightened the wheel. He had learned his lesson about falling for a civilian. So, did that mean he went straight to the airport and waited around for hours? Or did he make that detour?

He didn’t know what made him decide to nose the truck down the main road through town toward the university instead of away from it. It wasn’t rational. He was simply following his gut. It didn’t feel right to say goodbye to her in a text message. She meant more to him than that.

By the time he’d paid for parking and found a spot, the campus was quiet. Classes were in session, which
meant Lexie was probably in one of those brick buildings, copiously taking notes. As he strolled along the main pathway to the quad, he could picture her at a desk, head bent over her keyboard, typing away with her fingers in a blur and her black hair falling over one shoulder.

He took shelter in the annex off the library, where a candy stand sold newspapers and hot drinks. After commandeering a bench, he punched in a text message. “Where R U?”

For all he knew, she had back-to-back classes all morning long, but he had to try. He hit Send. A pair of girls that reminded him of his sister emerged from the library and were debating over candy choices at the stand.

Giselle was wrong. He wasn’t meant to be here. He tried to picture putting on this life. It looked pleasant with a backpack slung over one shoulder, grabbing a hot cup of tea between classes, chatting on the way with a few buddies. Maybe grabbing lunch at the cafeteria a few doors down, talking about books and professors.

He couldn’t see it. It didn’t fit. Since he was a little boy, the black and gold Ranger tab had been his dream. He had always wanted to be a Ranger. For better or worse, it was who he was. Tim had understood that. It was why he carried on, for himself and for his brother’s memory. It was his calling.

God,
he prayed,
if You want me on another path, then I will be waiting with eyes peeled for You to show me the way. Otherwise, I will remain committed.

His cell beeped. He thumbed the read button, pulse kicking.

“I’m @ the libe. Where R U?” she’d written.

“Outside the libe. Want lunch?” he sent, half
worried that she would turn him down. He popped off the bench and took a stroll. It wasn’t nerves or anything, well, maybe a little. He was surprised how much he wanted to see her. Why wasn’t she texting back? Had he made a mistake?

“P
ierce?”

Her gentle voice surprised him. He looked up, happiness lighting him at the sight of her. Her hair was down, spilling over her shoulders like liquid ebony. She wore a blue ski cap and her winter coat, crutching in careful steps across the wet brickwork. He raced to meet her. “It’s got to be divine intervention. You don’t have a class?”

“Not until after lunch.” She paused to let him take her backpack. “Thanks. Seeing you was the last thing I expected. Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane?”

“They put me on a later flight. I have some serious time on my hands.” He slung her backpack over his shoulder. It was heavy, and kept by her side as they ambled down the breezeway. “I had nothing to do and the only other person I know in town, whom I’m not related to, is you.”

“I’m glad I won out by default. I’m not complaining.” She let him open the heavy glass door for her. Tables, mostly empty, were pleasantly spaced around
the roomy dining area. They faced the ceiling-to-floor windows looking out at the crisply white campus grounds. “I’m happy to help you waste some time.”

“Excellent.” He nodded toward the tables. She was fully aware of a number of women’s heads turning as she led the way through the room and grabbed a table. Oh, it wasn’t her that was garnering all the attention, but the six-foot-one hunk at her side.

“This place smells good.” He pulled out a chair for her and helped her scoot it in. “Is that pizza?”

“You have a discerning nose.”

“One of my many talents.” His dimples flashed as he leaned her crutches against the window. “What’s your pleasure?”

“Their pepperoni and sausage is divine.” She pulled out the chair beside her, for him to place her backpack on. “Get plenty of cheesy sticks.”

“As you wish.” He winked. “Anything else?”

“A cola would be good.”

“It’s a risky mission, but a worthy one. I’ll be back ASAP.” He left her smiling, striding toward the turnstiles, and disappeared into the food court.

Was that a sigh? She unzipped her coat, annoyed at herself. So, the guy was dazzling. He wasn’t going to affect her. It was simple behavioral theory. Every time she felt a glitter of affection, she would associate it with something negative—how she felt when Kevin showed his true colors. That ought to work.

“Lexie.” Cari Paulson slipped into a chair across from her. “Who’s the hunk?”

“Giselle Granger’s older brother.” She was in research methods and stat with Cari. “Have you started your paper yet?”

“No. Is he your boyfriend?”

“What gave you that idea?” If she leaned a little to the right, she could see him standing at the pizza place. He radiated vitality, dressed in a jacket, sweatshirt and jeans. There was something amazing about him. Something that no other guy in the place possessed.

Wait a minute. There she was, admiring him again. Time to remind herself of what happened when she trusted a man. Disaster. Abandonment. Heartbreak.

“If that guy was taking me to lunch and he wasn’t my boyfriend, he would be by the time lunch was over.” Cari hopped out of the chair. “Just a little advice. See you in class.”

“Yeah.” She blinked. She was hardly aware of Cari crossing over to the far side of the dining room where two other students sat at a table heavy with opened textbooks. She could no longer see Pierce. He had stepped out of her sight, leaving an odd sense of loss. Cari’s words sent a shiver of panic through her.

I have a crush on him, she realized, as she slipped out of her coat and hung it over the back of the empty chair. Pierce was striding toward her carrying two trays. The sight of him filled her like a smile. He walked with unmistakable confidence—she liked that about him. She liked everything she knew about him.

“Lots of cheesy sticks, as ordered.” He slid the trays on the table. “You’ve got it made here. Everything from cinnamon rolls to deluxe pizza, and it’s all good.”

“Surely you get that in the Army.”

“Not that the Army cooks don’t try, but I’ve eaten out of cans for months at a time.” He eased into the chair across from her. “We’ve talked a lot about me lately. It’s your turn.”

“Uh-oh. I don’t think a guy like you would be interested in me.” She took a straw from the tray and tore off the paper. It gave her something to do so she wouldn’t have to see the truth on his face. She was going to bore the poor man.

“Why would you say that?”

“You slide down those ropes out of helicopters and go on nighttime missions, don’t you?” She knew enough about guys to know they liked the pursuit, but once they reached their destinations, many of them moved on. Or, she thought as she poked her straw into the fizzing cola, maybe she simply didn’t want to let him that close to her.

“Don’t think that because I didn’t choose to go to college I don’t value it.” He ripped the paper off his straw and torpedoed it into his soda. His smile was pure trouble. “Why psychology?”

“They say you gravitate toward what you need most, which in my case is maybe therapy.” She was more of a complicated mess than she’d realized, because his smile made her spirit brighten like the east at dawn.

“Therapy? You think you’re dysfunctional? No way.”

“You don’t know me well enough to make that call, believe me.” It was easier to make light of things and to keep him from getting too close again. “I have abandonment issues. I have trust issues. All that leads to commitment issues. I don’t want to let anyone too close.”

“Me, too.” He balled up the straw wrapper and flicked it onto his tray. “That’s not dysfunctional, not in my opinion. It’s being smart. People can let you down. That’s why I like being a Ranger. The guys I work with, we depend on each other. I know the man
beside me won’t let me down, just like I’m going to be there for him.”

“I see that about you.” Yep, she definitely was suffering from a minor crush on the guy. “I understand problems, since I have so many.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Exactly.” She did her best not to look up at him. If she didn’t look into his sensitive hazel eyes, then maybe she could keep this crush thing under wraps. “Do you want to say grace this time?”

“The pizza fumes are getting to you?”

“Something like that.” It was him, purely him. She folded her hands and bowed her head.

“Father,” he began in his rumbling baritone. “Thank You for this borrowed time with a new friend. I have a feeling that down the line we will both be grateful for it.”

Her heart turned over, filling with gratitude. She was grateful, too. She did not trust love, but she trusted Pierce. She trusted his friendship for now and maybe for a long time to come. Maybe that’s all this crush was—simple respect for a new friend. It was a comforting thought. “Amen.”

“Now, let’s dig into the pizza.” He grabbed for a piece with everything on it. “Something tells me you’re a knife-and-fork kind of pizza eater.”

“There is nothing wrong with that.” She took her fork in hand, surprised how good it felt to laugh with him.

“After all night marching down the mountain, I was done. Hawk, he’s the stoic one, he could have been dying and you never would have known it.” Pierce
washed down his last bite of pizza with the last of his cola. Since Lexie still seemed interested, he kept going with the story. “Keep in mind we had our rucks on—forty pounds on our backs. We’d been hustling as fast as we could go since dark. We’d been under mock ambush three times. No chow, no breaks, nothing. Two hours’ sleep the night before. I was toast. Every muscle I had was screaming fire. I came off that mountain and saw a line of pink on the horizon.”

“Dawn?” She sipped on her straw daintily, the way she did everything. “You must have wanted to shout with joy.”

“Sure, but I didn’t have the energy. I just wanted to collapse.” He still remembered that march in Ranger School. Every time life got hard or the battle got tough, he remembered how hard he’d pushed himself and it gave him confidence to keep going.

“I can’t imagine that much marching. Mostly because I’m not very athletic.” She put down her cup, smiling prettily. “I could probably make it a mile if I had to and then I’d collapse. I’m a wimp.”

“No, you’re just not conditioned. You’re no wimp. You broke your ankle and didn’t shed a single tear.”

“I’m sure it was because the cold helped. I was too numb to actually feel it.” She dipped her chin, as if embarrassed, or not used to compliments.

His chest tugged with emotion. He liked her. There was no sense fighting it. “I was in charge, and I didn’t know what I was doing, but I thought I’d got us to our next post. Next thing I hear is our instructor shouting out, ‘Heavy drop will be here in five minutes.’ Guess what fell out of the sky?”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“A tank. It hit the ground like an earthquake. It was the next part of our mission. We trained until midnight, nonstop, but I made it. Hawk made it.” He crumpled up his napkin and dropped it onto his tray. “When Tim went through the next year, he was the top of his class. Best at everything. He had all of our best advice, so I figured Hawk and I made the difference, it wasn’t him.”

“You never let him live it down.”

“Not when he started reminding us of his accomplishments.” The hardest part was remembering. The only thing worse was not remembering at all. He reached for Lexie’s plates and began stacking them on top of his. “Guess it’s about that time. You’ve got class and I’ve got a bird to catch.”

“Is it going to be hard to go home?” Her question was kind and layered with meaning. She wasn’t asking about the conflict with his folks. She was asking about Tim.

“It’ll be my first visit home since his funeral.” He moved her tray beneath his and tried not to feel anything. “I got leave. I escorted him home. I was a pallbearer. I stayed a couple days. My mom was inconsolable. My stepdad couldn’t look at me. So yeah, I think it might be a rocky visit.”

“You can call me anytime. I’m a good listener.”

“I’d like that.” He would miss her when he was gone. There was no sense in analyzing that too much. He wanted to keep things simple. He had another four years ahead of him with no-notice deployments, constant missions and endless training. An arduous road and sometimes a deeply lonely one. He put on his coat. “How are your letter-writing skills?”

“Top-notch. I might not be able to do a Long Range
Reconnaissance Patrol, but I am a faithful letter writer.” She stood to reach for her crutches.

He beat her to it. “I’m going to put you to the test on that.”

“The real question, soldier, is how good of a letter writer are you?”

“Fair to middling. It’s not a skill we tackled in Ranger School.” He held her crutches while she shifted onto them and grabbed her backpack from the chair. “My failing could be one reason Cindy lost interest in me.”

“If she had really loved you, she would have stayed interested.” Lexie seemed sure of it.

“Few relationships can take the strain. I’m just being practical.” He grabbed the trays and spotted the receptacle near the door. He had become a very practical man. “In a year from now, you’ll get an e-mail from me and think, Pierce, now what does he look like again?”

“No,
that’s
what you will be thinking about me.” She kept her head down, and her dark hair fell forward to hide most of her face, but not enough.

He saw the vulnerability there. The fear that even something as safe as a friendship would wind up hurting her in the end.

He was afraid of that, too. Just like he was scared of the deeply felt need to lay his hand against her cheek and lift her face to his. He ached for the closeness they had shared and for her gentle caring. More than that, he wanted to hold her close, to feel her sweet presence against his chest and to know the tenderness of her kiss.

Not going to happen. But still, he wanted it. He tucked it into a wish, like so many other things he could not have. A man made choices and lived with the con
sequences. It was smart to remember how much love could hurt and to stay away from it. Friendship was best. It wouldn’t hurt so much when it was over.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you to class.” He held the door for her. It was starting to get busy with students pouring out of buildings and streaming down the breezeway. He protected her from the jostle as they crept into the traffic flow. He stuck by her as they followed the pathway toward a cluster of stately brick buildings. “What do you have next?”

“Research methods and statistics.” Snowflakes fell between them, clinging to her hair, gracing her with sweetness. “Sounds like a blast, right?”

“Like serious excitement.” He joked. “Statistics is way over my head. Does that mean you have a research project, like an experiment?”

“I’m supposed to start one. It’s going to be part of my master’s thesis.” She paused to get a better grip on her handles and kept going. “The big problem is me. I don’t know what I want to research. I keep praying for inspiration, but so far, nada.”

“It will come to you when you least expect it. I have every confidence in you.” They were approaching the shadow of the building, where fine flecks of snow fell between them like a veil. “Write and tell me how it works out.”

“If you text me your e-mail addy.”

“Deal.” He held the door for her, stepping to the side to allow a few other fast-moving students by. “I hope your ankle heals up quick.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m back to running around without my sticks.” She knew what he was doing, because she did it, too. Drawing out their final parting. It
was funny how fast you could bond with one person, and how you could know a thousand others for twice as long and not like as much. “I’ll keep you in my prayers, Pierce. For a good visit home.”

There was more, but she couldn’t say it. Her feelings were too sentimental and vulnerable, and he might take them the wrong way. She well understood Giselle’s concerns. It was tough to know in a short while he would be heading back to danger, facing gunfire or worse. “Take care of yourself.”

“Sure, as long as you do the same.” He flashed his dimples, showing her his easy smile and charm. The serious man she’d come to know had vanished. Once again he looked very much like the guy shouting “banzai” as he barreled down the mountainside, all carefree confidence. “I’ll be looking for that e-mail.”