Her Holiday Hero
Margaret Daley
The holidays are right around the corner, but Captain Jake Tanner is struggling to find Christmas cheer. Having survived a devastating attack overseas, his emotional scars run deep.When Jake meets beautiful widow Emma Langford, his heart is unprepared for the feelings she inspires. Training service dogs has taught Emma to recognize those in need. She wants to show Jake that a four-legged companion is the best therapy, but she’s afraid that the closer she gets, the more her own wounds are revealed. Together Jake and Emma will discover it takes a different kind of bravery to open themselves to love—and to healing.
The Soldier’s Gift
The holidays are right around the corner, but Captain Jake Tanner is struggling to find Christmas cheer. Having survived a devastating attack overseas, he has emotional scars that run deep. When Jake meets beautiful widow Emma Langford, his heart is unprepared for the feelings she inspires.
Training service dogs has taught Emma to recognize those in need. She wants to show Jake that a four-legged companion is the best therapy, but she’s afraid that the closer she gets, the more her own wounds are revealed.
Together, Jake and Emma will discover it takes a different kind of bravery to open themselves to love—and to healing.
Caring Canines: Loving and loyal, these dogs mend hearts.
“I didn’t think you wanted to get involved. What changed your mind?”
His gaze was riveted to hers. Intense. Compelling. “You.”
There was so much feeling behind that one word. She attempted a laugh that came out shaky.
“So you’re taking Shep?”
“Maybe. If we’re a good fit. I’ve been reading up on service dogs.”
She shooed him outside. “Then go see Shep.”
His chuckles lingered in the air as he left. The sound warmed her. She closed her eyes for a moment, immediately picturing the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes deepening and the edges of his mouth tilting up. The image sent goose bumps spreading over her. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms as though she could erase his effect on her.
MARGARET DALEY
feels she has been blessed. She has been married more than thirty years to her husband, Mike, whom she met in college. He is a terrific support and her best friend. They have one son, Shaun. Margaret has been writing for many years and loves to tell a story. When she was a little girl, she would play with her dolls and make up stories about their lives. Now she writes these stories down. She especially enjoys weaving stories about families and how faith in God can sustain a person when things get tough. When she isn’t writing, she is fortunate to be a teacher for students with special needs. Margaret has taught for more than twenty years and loves working with her students. She has also been a Special Olympics coach and has participated in many sports with her students.
Her Holiday Hero
Margaret Daley
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
—Psalms 46:1
To all our brave soldiers
who have kept this country safe.
Contents
Chapter One (#u0040cd81-4fdc-5cb7-bd9c-54f89fb58adf)
Chapter Two (#ua4540b6f-498c-5d27-a316-bf7778eed4e0)
Chapter Three (#uf310d36b-ebe2-5a25-b9b7-6798e3b55109)
Chapter Four (#u42cbf765-7dfb-5602-b40c-630a9c94974e)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Jake Tanner had pulled out the desk chair in his home office and started to sit when the front doorbell chimed in the blissful quiet. He would never take silence for granted again. A long breath swooshed from his lungs as he straightened and gripped his cane, then limped toward the foyer. Through the long, narrow window with beveled glass, he could make out his neighbor standing on the porch.
Marcella Kime found a reason to see him at least a couple of times a week. He’d become her mission since he’d returned home to Cimarron City from serving in the military overseas. A few days earlier she’d jokingly told him she missed her grandson, and he would do just fine taking his place. He still wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. He had returned to Cimarron City, a town he’d lived in for a while and visited often to see his grandma. Dealing with family, especially his father, the general, had been too much for him three months ago when he’d been released from the military hospital.
He swung the door open to reveal Marcella, probably no more than five feet tall, if that, with her hands full. “Good morning.” She smiled as she juggled a large box and a plate of pastries. He reached for the parcel.
“The Fed Ex guy left this late yesterday afternoon. I meant to bring it over sooner, but then I had to go to church to help with the pancake supper. You’re always home so I was surprised he couldn’t deliver the package.”
“Went to the VA hospital in Oklahoma City.”
“Oh, good. You went out.” She presented the plate of goodies. “I baked extra ones this morning because I know how much you enjoy my cinnamon rolls. I’m going to put those pounds you lost back on in no time. I imagine all those K rations aren’t too tasty.”
“I haven’t had MREs—meals ready to eat—in six months, and no, they aren’t tasty. In the hospital I was fed regular meals.” But he hadn’t wanted to eat much. He was working out again and building up his muscles at least.
“Oh, my. K rations certainly dates me. That’s what they were called when my older brother was in the army.”
His seventy-five-year-old neighbor with stark white hair never was at a loss for words. After she left, his head would throb from all the words tumbling around inside. He wanted to tell her again that she didn’t need to worry about him, that in time his full appetite would return, but she continued before he could open his mouth.
“I’d come in, but I have to leave. Saturday is my day to get my hair washed and fixed. It needs it. Can’t miss that.” She thrust the plate toward him. “I’ll come back later and get my dish.”
After placing the parcel on the table nearby, he took the cinnamon rolls from his neighbor, their scent teasing that less than robust appetite. “Thanks, Miss Kime.”
“Tsk. Tsk. Didn’t I tell you to call me Marcella, young man? Your grandma and me were good friends. I miss her.”
“So do I, Miss—I mean, Marcella.”
When she had traversed the four steps to his sidewalk, Jake closed his front door, shutting out the world. With a sigh, he scanned his living room, the familiar surroundings where he controlled his environment, knew what to expect. Even Marcella’s visits weren’t surprises anymore.
Jake balanced the plate on the box, carried it into his office and set it on the desk to open later. It was from his father and his new wife—a care package as they’d promised in their last call. Finally, they weren’t trying to talk him into coming to live with them in Florida anymore. He needed his space, and he certainly didn’t want to be reminded daily that he’d let down the general—he wouldn’t follow in his father’s footsteps. He needed a sense of what this house had given when he was growing up—peace.
He snatched a cinnamon roll as he sat in front of his laptop, his coffee cup already on his right on a coaster. While he woke up his computer, he bit into the roll and closed his eyes, savoring the delectable pastry. Marcella sure could bake. Before getting started in his course work for his Ph.D. in psychology, he clicked on his email, expecting one from his doctor at the VA about some test results.
Only one email that wasn’t junk popped up. He recognized the name, a message from the wife of a soldier who had served under him in Afghanistan. His heartbeat picked up speed. He should open it, but after an email a couple of weeks prior where he discovered one of his men had died from his injuries in an ambush, he didn’t know if he could.
His chest constricted. But the woman’s name taunted him. With a fortifying breath, he clicked on the message. As their commanding officer, it was his duty to know what happened to his men, even if he couldn’t do anything about it.
His comrade was going in for another operation to repair the damage from a bomb explosion. Her words whisked Jake back to that day six months ago that had changed his life. The sound of the blast rocked his mind as though he were in the middle of the melee all over again.
Sweat beaded on his forehead and rolled down his face. His hands shook as he closed the laptop, hoping that would stop the flood of memories. He never wanted to remember that day. Ever. The walls of his home office began to close in on him, mocking what peace he felt in his familiar surroundings. He surged to his feet and hobbled around the room, dragging in breaths that didn’t satisfy his need for oxygen.
I’m in Cimarron City. In my house. Safe.
In the midst of the terror that day in the mountain village, he’d grasped on to the Lord and held tight as He guided him through the rubble and smoke to save whomever he could. But where was God now when he needed Him? He felt abandoned, left to piece his life together. Alone.
He paced the room, glancing back at the computer a couple of times until he forced himself to look away. Lightheaded, he stopped at the window, leaning on his cane, and focused on his front lawn. Reconnoitering the area. Old habits didn’t die easily.
He started to turn away when something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He swung back and homed in on a group of kids across the street—two boys beating up a smaller child.
Anger clenched his gut. He balled his hands as another kid jumped in on the lopsided fight. That clinched it for Jake. He couldn’t stand by and watch a child being hurt. Adrenaline began pumping through him as though he were going into battle, pushing his earlier panic into the background. He rushed toward the front door. But out on his porch, anxiety slammed into his chest, rooting him to the spot.
Jake’s gaze latched on to the three boys against the one, taking turns punching the child. All his thoughts centered on the defenseless kid, trying to protect himself. Heart pounding, Jake took one step, then another. His whole body felt primed to fight as it had when as a soldier he vied with the other part of him—sweat coating his skin, hands trembling, gut churning.
No choice.
Furiously he increased his pace until he half ran and half limped toward the group, pain zipping up his injured leg. The boys were too intent on their prey to notice him. When he came to a halt, dropping his cane, he jerked first one then another off the child on the ground. He tried holding on to the one he pegged as the leader while reaching for the third kid, but the boy yanked free and raced deeper into the park with the second one hurrying after him.
“What’s your name?” Pain radiating up his bad leg, Jake blocked it as much as he could from his mind and clasped the arm of the last child, smaller than the other two who’d fled and more the size of the boy on the ground.
The assailant glared at him, his mouth pinched in a hard line.
The downed kid still lay huddled in a tight ball. As much as Jake wanted to interrogate the bully he held, he needed to see to the hurt child. He memorized the features of the third attacker then released him. As expected, the third attacker fled in the same direction as his cohorts.
That was okay. Jake could identify him. He wouldn’t get off scot-free.
Adrenaline still surging, Jake knelt by the boy. That sent another sharp streak of pain up his thigh. But over the months he’d learned that if he concentrated hard enough, he could ignore the aches his injury still caused. “You’re safe now. Can I help you? Where do you hurt?”
For a long moment the child didn’t say anything. Didn’t move.
Concern flooded Jake. He settled his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Where do you live? Can you make it home?” Should he call 911? Had the bullies done worse damage than he realized?
Slowly, the child uncurled his body. He winced as he turned and looked up. Jake took in the cut lip and cheek, blood oozing from the wounds, the eye that would blacken by tomorrow, the torn shirt.
“Let me help you home.”
Wariness entered the kid’s blue eyes. “I’m fine.” He swiped his dirty sleeve across his mouth, smearing the blood.
“Who were those guys?”
The child clamped his lips together, cringing, but keeping his mouth closed.
“The least I can do is make sure you get home without those kids bothering you again.”
The boy’s eyes widened.
“Okay?”
The child nodded once then tried to stand. Halfway up, his legs gave out, and he sank to the ground.
Jake moved closer. “Let me help.” He steadied himself with his cane.
When the boy stood with Jake’s assistance, he wobbled but remained on his feet.
“I’ve been in a few fights. I know you have to get your bearings before doing too much.”
The child tilted his head back and looked up at Jake, pain reflected in his eyes. “Did ya win?”
“Sometimes. Can you walk home? If you don’t think you can, I’ll call your parents.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.
“No, I can walk.” The child glanced over his shoulder. “Do you think they’ll come back?”
“Not if they know what’s good for them. I won’t let them hurt you again.”
“I wish that was true,” the boy, probably no more than ten, mumbled, his head dropping. His body language shouted defeat.
“It’s getting worse,” Jake heard the kid mumble to himself. That again aroused the protective instinct in him.
“C’mon. Show me where you live. Is it far?” He looked back to check for the trio who had jumped the child. A male jogger and a couple, hands clasped, were the only people he saw in the park. “I’m Jake. What’s your name?” With his injured leg throbbing, he used his cane to support more of his weight than usual.
“Josh.” The boy dragged his feet as they turned the corner onto Sooner Road.
“Why were those kids bothering you?” The question came out before Jake could censor himself. He didn’t want to get involved. Yet, the second he took the first step toward the fight, he had become involved, knowing firsthand what the boy was going through.
Josh mumbled something again, but Jake could hear only the words, “like to fight.”
“Have those guys bullied you before?”
The boy’s pace slowed until he came to a stop in front of a one-story, redbrick house with a long porch across the front. “Yeah. The big one has since he moved here,” he said, his head still hanging.
“Do your parents know?” Jake studied the top of the child’s head, some blood clotted in the brown hair. The urge to check the wound inundated him. He started to bring his hand up.
Josh jerked his chin up, anger carved into his features while his eyes glistened. “I don’t have a dad. I don’t want my mom knowing. You can’t tell her.” He took a step back. His hands fisted at his sides as if he were ready to defend that statement.
“I won’t.”
The taut set of the child’s shoulders relaxed some, his fingers flexed.
“But you will.”
“No, I won’t. I can take care of this myself. Mom will just get all upset and worried.”
“She’ll know something is wrong with one look at you.” Jake gestured toward the house with a neatly trimmed yard, mums in full bloom in the flower bed and an inviting porch with white wicker furniture, perfect for enjoying a fall evening. Idyllic, as if part of the world wasn’t falling apart with people battling each other. “Is this where you live?”
Josh stuck his lower lip out and crossed his arms, wearing a defiant expression.
Instantly, Jake flashed back to an incident with a captive prisoner who gave him that same look. His heartbeat raced. His breathing became shallow. His world shrank to that small hut in the mountains as he faced an enemy who had been responsible for killing civilians and soldiers the day before. He felt the shaking start in his hands. Jake fought to shut down the helplessness before it took over.
“Josh, what’s going on?” A female voice penetrated the haze of memories.
Jake blinked and looked toward the porch. A tall woman, a few inches shy of six feet, with long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail that swished, marched down the steps toward them, distress stamped on her features.
“What happened to you?” Stooping in front of the boy, the lady grasped Josh’s arms. When he didn’t say anything, she peered up at Jake. “What happened?”
“Is Josh your son?”
“Yes.” The anxiety in her blue eyes, the same crystalline color as the boy’s, pleaded for him to answer the question.
Jake shifted. He’d done what he said he would do. He’d delivered the child safely home. It was time to leave Josh and his mother to hash out what had occurred in the park. He backed away, his grip on the cane like a clamp. He spied the imploring look in Josh’s eyes. “Your son needs to tell you,” he said.
She turned back to the boy. “You’re bleeding, your eye is red and your clothes are a mess. Did you get in a fight?”
The boy nodded.
“Why? That’s not you, Josh.”
The kid yanked away from his mom and yelled, “Yeah! That’s the problem!” He stormed toward the house.
Jake took another step back.
She whirled toward him, her face full of a mother’s wrath. “What’s going on?”
“He was in a fight.”
“I got that much from him.”
“I broke it up and walked him home.” Jake could barely manage his own life. He didn’t want to get in the middle of someone else’s, but the appeal in Josh’s mother’s eyes demanded he say something. “Three boys were beating up Josh.”
“Why?”
“That you have to ask him. I came in after it started, and he wasn’t forthcoming about what was going on.”
“But something is. I get the feeling this wasn’t the first time.”
“A good assumption.”
“I’m Emma Langford.” She paused, waiting for him to supply his name.
He clamped his teeth down hard for a few seconds before he muttered, “Jake Tanner. I live around the corner, across from the park.” Why did he add the last? Because there was something in her expression that softened the armor around his heart.
The woman glanced up and down the street, kneading her fingertips into her temple. “I don’t know what to do. It sounds like they ganged up on Josh. Have you seen them around?”
“No, but I know what they look like, especially one of them close to Josh’s size. The other two were bigger than him. Maybe older.” He could understand a mother’s concern and the need to defend her child. He’d often felt the same way about the men under his command.
“So my child is being bullied.” Weariness dripped from each word.
Jake moved closer, an urge to comfort assailing him. Taking him by surprise. For months he’d been trying to shut off his emotions. Hopelessness and fear were what had him in his current condition: unable to function the way he had before his last tour of duty.
“He never said a word to me, but I should have known,” she said in a thick voice. “No wonder he’s been so angry and withdrawn these past few months.”
“That would be a good reason. Chances are he doesn’t know how to handle it, either.”
“Do you think they live in the neighborhood?” She panned the houses around her as if she could spot where the bullies lived.
“Maybe. They were in the park when the fight occurred.”
“I need to find out who’s bullying my son and put a stop to it.”
“How?” Jake could remember being bullied in school when he was in the sixth grade.
“I don’t know. Confront them. Have a conversation with their parents.”
“Often that makes the situation worse. It did for me when I was a child.” The reply came out before he could stop the words.
“But maybe it would put a stop to it. Make a difference for my son.” Her forehead creased, she glanced back at the house. “I want to thank you for what you did for Josh. Would you like some tea or lemonade?”
He hesitated. He needed to say no, but he couldn’t, not after glimpsing the lost look in the lady’s eyes.
“Please. I make freshly squeezed lemonade.” She started toward her house. “We can enjoy it outside on the porch.”
Part of him wanted to follow her, to help her—the old Jake—but that guy was gone, left in the mountains where some of his men had died.
She slowed and glanced back, anxiety shadowing her eyes. “I’m at a loss about what to do. Tell me what happened to you when you were bullied. That is, if you don’t mind. It may help me figure out what to do about Josh.”
It was just her porch. He wouldn’t be confined. He could escape easily.
He took a step toward her, then another, but with each pace closer to the house, his legs became heavier. By the time he mounted the stairs, he could barely lift them. He paused several feet from the front door and glanced at the white wicker furniture, a swing hanging from the ceiling at the far end. Thoughts of his mother’s parents’ farmhouse where he’d spent time every summer came to mind. For a moment peace descended. He tried to hold on to that feeling, but it evaporated in seconds at the sound of an engine revving and then a car speeding down the street.
The sudden loudness of the noise made him start to duck behind a wicker chair a couple of feet away. He stopped himself, but not before anger and frustration swamped him. His heartbeat revved like the vehicle, and the shakes accosted him. He clasped his hands on the knob of his cane and pressed it down into the wooden slat of the porch.
What was he thinking? He should never have accepted her invitation.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I have stuff to do at home.” He pivoted so fast he nearly lost his balance and had to bring his cane down quickly to prevent it.
“Thank you for your help today with my son,” Emma quickly got out.
Sweat popped out on his forehead and ran down his face, into his eyes. He concentrated on the stinging sensation to take his mind off everything rushing toward him. As fast as his injured leg would let him, he hurried toward his house and the familiar surroundings where he knew what to expect. The trembling in his hands had spread throughout his body by the time he arrived in his yard.
Once inside his home, he fell back against the door and closed his eyes, trying to slow his stampeding heartbeat. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he gulped air. He slid down the length of the door and sat on the tiled foyer floor, blocking the deep ache that emanated from his recent injury.
Rage at himself, at his situation swamped him, and he slammed his fist into his palm. Pain shot up his arm. He didn’t care. It wasn’t anything compared to how he hated what was happening to him.
What are You doing, God? I want a normal life. Not be a slave to these panic attacks. Why aren’t You answering my prayers?
Chapter Two
From the front porch, Emma watched Jake Tanner limp down the sidewalk toward the corner at Park Avenue. Mr. Tanner had saved her son from getting hurt worse than he already was. Had the situation with Josh brought back bad memories of the man’s childhood? Was that why he’d left so quickly? Why there was a poignant look in his dark brown eyes? She guessed she shouldn’t have asked him about what happened to him when he was bullied. That couldn’t be easy for anyone to remember.
Mr. Tanner rounded the corner and disappeared from her view. From what she’d seen of the man, it certainly appeared he could take care of himself, even with his injured leg. She was five feet ten inches, and he had to be a good half a foot taller. He might be limping but clearly that didn’t stop him from doing some kind of physical exercise. Dressed in tight jeans and a black T-shirt, he looked well built with a hard, muscular body—a little leaner than he was probably accustomed to.
“Jake Tanner” rolled off her tongue as if she’d said it before. Why did it sound familiar to her? Where had she heard his name? Had she run into him somewhere in town? She wasn’t from Cimarron City but had lived here for years. But then he would be a hard man to forget with his striking good looks.
Had he hurt himself recently? Was the injury to his left leg permanent? Questions began to flood her mind until she shook her head.
No. He made it clear he’d helped Josh, but that was all. Besides, she had her hands full with a child who was angry all the time. And there were her two jobs—one as a veterinary assistant at Harris Animal Hospital and the other as a trainer for service dogs with the Caring Canines Foundation with Abbey Winters, her best friend. Abbey had founded the organization that placed service and therapy dogs with people who needed them. Emma didn’t want any more complications in her life, and she certainly wasn’t interested in dating, even though it had been three years since her husband died, leaving her widowed at twenty-nine with a son.
Who is my top priority—Josh.
Emma threw one last glance at the corner of Sooner and Park, then headed inside and toward Josh’s bedroom. They needed to have a conversation about what had happened today whether her son wanted to talk or not. Her child would not be used as a punching bag. The very thought tightened her chest and made breathing difficult.
She halted outside his closed door, drew air into her lungs until her nerves settled and then knocked. She half expected Josh to ignore her, but thirty seconds later, he swung open the door. A scowl puckered his face, and he clenched his jaw so tightly, a muscle in his cheek twitched, underscoring his anger. He left her standing in the entrance, trudged to his bed and flung himself on his back onto his navy blue coverlet.
“I’m not telling you who those guys are.”
“Why not?” She moved into his room and sat at the end of the bed, facing him.
“You’ll say something to them or their parents.”
“Are you being bothered at school? Is that why you haven’t wanted to go these past six weeks since school started?”
He clamped his lips together until his mouth was a thin, tight line.
“I’m going to talk to your teacher whether you say anything or not. I can’t sit by and let someone, or in this case, several boys bully you.”
“Don’t, Mom. I’ll take care of this. It’s my problem.”
The sheen in Josh’s eyes, the plea in his voice tore at her composure. She wanted to pull him into her arms and never let go—to keep him safe with her. Sam, I need you. This is what a dad handles with a son. What do I do?
She’d never felt so alone as at this moment, staring at Josh fighting the tears welling in his eyes. “I know Mrs. Alexander would want to know. Every child should be safe at school. This is not negotiable. I can’t force you to tell me, but I need to know who is doing this to you.”
“I’m not a snitch. That’s what they’ll call me. I’ll never live it down.”
“So what’s your plan? Let them keep beating you up? What if Mr. Tanner hadn’t seen them and stopped them? What do you think would have happened?”
Josh shrugged, turned away from her and lay on his bed.
Emma remembered Jake Tanner’s words about how talking with the bullies’ parents sometimes only made the situation worse. Then what should she do? What could Josh do? “At least make sure you have friends around you. Don’t go anywhere alone. It’s obvious now you can’t go to Craig’s house through the park. I’ll have to drive you to and from your friends’ houses. I’ll pick you up from school and take you in the morning. I’ll talk to Dr. Harris and figure out a way to do that with my work schedule. If I can’t, I’ll see if Abbey will. She takes Madi to and from school.” As she listed what she would do, she realized all those precautions weren’t really a solution.
Then in the meantime, she’d talk to the school about the bullying. She had to do something to end this. The thought of her son hurting, physically and emotionally, stiffened her resolve to help him somehow whether he liked it or not. She hated that bullies were almost holding her son hostage.
“Don’t say anything to Mrs. Alexander, Mom.”
Emma rose and hovered over Josh. “I have to. It’s my job as your parent. I can’t ignore what happened.”
He glared at her. “I hate you. You’re going to make my life miserable.”
The words hurt, but she understood where they came from—fear and anger at his situation. She knew those feelings well, having experienced them after Sam passed away. “I love you, Josh, and your life right now with these bullies isn’t what you want or deserve.”
Her son buried his head under his pillow.
“I need to check your cuts and clean them.”
“Go away.”
“I’m not leaving. You aren’t alone.”
He tossed the pillow toward the end of the bed. “I wish Mr. Tanner hadn’t interfered. Then you wouldn’t be making such a big deal out of this.”
“Thankfully he did, and believe me, I would have made a big deal out of it when I saw you in this condition whether he’d stepped in or not. I’ll be right back with the first-aid kit.”
Josh grumbled something she couldn’t hear.
As she gathered up what she needed, a picture of Jake Tanner flashed into her mind. Short, dark hair— military style like her brother’s... Emma snapped her fingers. That was it. Ben had mentioned a Jake Tanner on several occasions because he was the army captain Ben had served under in his Special Forces Unit. Could this be the same man?
After she patched up an uncooperative Josh, she left him in his bedroom to pout. When she really thought about Josh’s angry behavior and keeping to himself, she realized it had begun during the summer. She’d hoped his mood would improve when school started and he saw his friends more. But it hadn’t. She’d tried talking to him. He’d been closemouthed and dismissive of her concerns. Why hadn’t she seen it earlier?
She made her way to the kitchen to start lunch but first decided to call her brother. She knew it would nag her not to know whether the Jake Tanner she’d met was Ben’s company’s commanding officer. She remembered Ben’s commenting they both had lived in Oklahoma so it was possible.
She called his cell phone number. “Hi, bro. Do you have a moment to appease my curiosity?” Emma leaned against the kitchen counter, staring out the window over the sink at the leaves beginning to change colors.
“For you, always. What’s going on?”
“Josh was in the park and some boys jumped him and beat him up. Apparently, this wasn’t the first time they’d approached him.”
“How’s Josh?”
“Some cuts and bruises but I think his self-confidence is more damaged than anything.”
“I wish I didn’t live so far away. I could help him. With my new job I’m working weekends, so that doesn’t leave a lot of time to even drive to Cimarron City when Josh isn’t in school.”
She didn’t want Ben to feel this was his problem. He lived in Tulsa and was just getting his life back. “I’m going to talk to the school on Monday about it. But that’s not what I wanted to speak with you about. A man named Jake Tanner broke up the fight and brought Josh home. He lives across the street from where it happened on Park Avenue. Could he be your captain? You said something about his living around here once. Am I crazy to even think it could be the same guy?” And why in the world did it make a difference, except that it would bug her until she found out?
“So that’s where he is. Some of my buddies from the old company who made it back were wondering where he went when he was let out of the army hospital a few months ago. He has an email address but hasn’t said where he is when he’s corresponded with any of the guys. I’ve been worried. I should have thought about Cimarron City. He lived there for a while when his father was stationed at the army base nearby. And he used to visit his grandmother there in the summer. I think his grandmother died last year, but I thought since his father is stationed in Florida, that might be where he went.”
“What happened to him?”
“I was stateside when my old company was ambushed and about a quarter of the men were killed, many others injured. Captain Tanner was one of them. A bullet in his left leg. Tore it up. I hear he almost lost it.”
She recalled how emotionally messed up Ben had been last year when he was first released from the military hospital and honorably discharged from the army. He didn’t have a job then—couldn’t hold one down—and lived with their parents in Tulsa.
“How did he seem to you?”
“He couldn’t get away fast enough. I invited him to share a drink for rescuing Josh, and he backed away as if I was contagious.”
“What did you say to him?” Half amusement, half concern came over the line from her brother.
“Nothing. He wasn’t mad at me. He was—” she searched her mind for a word to describe the earlier encounter “—vulnerable. Something was wrong. Maybe his leg was hurting or something like that. I did see his hands shaking. He tried to hide it, and he was breathing hard, sweating. That didn’t start really until he’d been talking to me for a while. Do you think it could be...” She wasn’t a doctor and had no business diagnosing a person.
“Post traumatic stress disorder?”
Ben had recovered from his physical injuries within months of returning stateside, but what had lingered and brought her brother to his knees was PTSD. Last year she’d trained her first service dog to help her brother deal with the effects of the disorder. “How’s Butch doing?”
“He’s great. You don’t know how much he changed my life for the better.”
Yes, she did. She saw her brother go from almost retreating totally from life to now holding down a job and functioning normally. He still lived with their parents, but she’d heard from her mom he was looking for his own apartment. “Are you having any problems?”
“Yes, occasionally, but Butch is right there for me. I can’t thank you enough for him. Do you think you could pay Captain Tanner a visit? See how he is? I know what happened to him was bad, and as tough as he was, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s dealing with PTSD. It can take out the strongest people.”
Like Ben. He’d been a sergeant with an Army Special Forces Unit with lethal skills she couldn’t even imagine. Yet none of that mattered in the end.
“Please, sis. I owe Captain Tanner my life. He pulled me out of the firefight that took me down. If he hadn’t, I would have died.”
“What if it isn’t your Captain Tanner?”
“Was the person six and a half feet, dark brown hair, built like a tank, solid, with dark eyes—almost black?”
“That’s him.” She thought of the man she’d met today and realized she owed him, too. Not only for Ben but Josh. “I’ll go see him. What do you want me to do?”
As her brother told her, she visualized Jake Tanner. The glimpse of anguish she’d seen in those dark eyes haunted her. He’d been quick to disguise it until the end when he started backing away from her. That black gaze pierced straight through her heart, and she doubted he even realized what he’d telegraphed to her—he was a man in pain.
* * *
The following Tuesday, Emma brought a terrier on a leash into the back room of the Harris Animal Hospital where she worked for Dr. Harris, the father of her best friend, Abbey Winters. “I think this gal will be great to train as a service dog. She’s smart and eager.”
“Even tempered?” Abbey, her partner in the Caring Canines Foundation, asked as she looked at the medium-size dog with fur that was various shades of brown.
“Surprisingly calm. That combined with this breed’s determination and devotion can make a good service dog.”
“I’ll take her out to Caring Canines since you’re working with the German shepherd at your house.” The kennel and training facilities of the organization were housed at Winter Haven Ranch where Abbey lived with her husband, Dominic.
“Shep will make a good service dog, too. I’ve even got a possible owner for him. You know I’ve been doing the same training with Shep as I did with Butch.”
“How is your brother?”
“Doing so much better. I talked to Ben twice this past weekend.”
Abbey’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s unusual. Doesn’t your brother hate talking on the phone?”
“Yeah, he prefers video chatting where he can see a person’s face, and the second time that’s what we did. I got to see Butch. Ben looks better each time I see him. Butch has been good for my brother, and if what Ben thinks is true, Shep will be good for Captain Tanner.”
“Another soldier? Is it a physical injury? PTSD?”
“Both. When those kids I told you about yesterday jumped Josh, Captain Tanner was the man who rescued him. After he left my house Saturday, I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d heard that name somewhere. I finally remembered Ben served under a Captain Jake Tanner.”
“So you called your brother to find out. I know how you are when you get something in your head. You don’t give up until you find out the truth.”
Emma laughed. “You’ve nailed me. I called him to see. Ben did some checking around after we talked on Saturday and found out that Captain Tanner has basically withdrawn into his house. Ben has a few connections, and one thought the captain was suffering from PTSD, although he doesn’t seem to be participating in any therapy groups through the VA.”
“How does Captain Tanner feel about having a service dog?”
“I don’t know. I only talked to him that one time. I plan on taking him some brownies as a thank-you for helping Josh. Shep will go with me. I’ll introduce him to the idea of a service dog slowly.”
She wasn’t sure if Jake Tanner would even open the door. She’d use the excuse she needed more information about the three boys who attacked Josh. Not only did she want to help the captain if he was suffering from PTSD, but she did need descriptions of the boys to give her an idea who could be bullying Josh. His teacher had requested any information to help her with the situation at school.
“Shep could help him, but he needs counseling, too. Maybe he’s getting private therapy.”
“Possibly, but Ben doesn’t think so from what he’s hearing from his army buddies in the area. Do you have room in your PTSD group?” Though Emma’s best friend ran the Caring Canines Foundation, she still conducted a few counseling groups.
“If he’ll come, I’ll make room. The members are there to support each other, and talking about it has helped them. But there aren’t any soldiers in the group.”
“Maybe you should start one for people who have been bullied.” Josh was dealing with some of the same symptoms as someone with PTSD—anger, anxiety and depression.
“If I only had more time in the day. Even quitting work at the hospital hasn’t changed much because I’m training more dogs now. There is such a demand for them. So you didn’t get any answers about who’s bullying Josh from your meeting with Mrs. Alexander yesterday?”
“She hasn’t seen anything, and since I didn’t know the bullies’ names and couldn’t describe them, there wasn’t much she could do but keep an eye out for any trouble. Most of the boys in his class are bigger than Josh, so the bullies could be in Mrs. Alexander’s room. Or from the other fifth-grade classes.”
“They could even be sixth-graders. It was a good idea to get him off the bus. It’s hard for the driver to keep an eye on the road and what students are doing at the same time.” Abbey leaned down and stroked the terrier. “Did Dad give his okay on this dog?”
Emma nodded. “Your father checked her over and she’s medically sound. It’s Madi’s turn to name the dog. Let me know what she chooses.” Madi was Abbey’s ten-year-old sister-in-law whom she and Dominic were raising.
“Madi takes her job as name giver very seriously. She’ll stew on it for days,” Abbey said with a chuckle.
“Not too long. I want to start right away and a name helps. Now that I’m winding down with Shep, I have a slot open.” Since she still worked full-time at the animal hospital, she could train only one dog at a time.
Abbey took the leash from Emma. “Good. Before long we’re going to need another trainer, or you’re going to have to quit your job here.”
“Your father might have something to say about that. I’m going to look at training more than one dog. Hopefully that will help.”
“I know, but the requests for free service dogs have increased over the past few months, especially now that veterans have heard about our foundation and the VA has stopped paying for service dogs. Many of the veterans can’t afford an animal from the agencies that charge for them.”
“How are the donations coming?” Emma leaned against the exam table, the terrier rubbing against her leg.
“They’re increasing. My husband is very good at helping to raise money for Caring Canines. Dominic can attest to the good a dog can bring to a person after how Madi responded to Cottonball following her surgery to help her walk again.”
Emma smiled. “And now Madi is running everywhere. You wouldn’t know she had been in a plane crash twenty months ago.”
“She’s telling me she wants to learn to train dogs. I’m having her shadow me.”
“A trainer in the making. There was a time I thought Josh would want to train dogs, but lately nothing interests him.”
A frown slashed across Abbey’s face. “Because he’s too busy dodging the bullies after him.”
“I know God wants me to forgive the boys, but I’m not sure I can. Josh has already had to deal with losing his dad. They were very close.”
“Madi needed a woman’s influence, and I suspect Josh could benefit from a male being in his life.”
“He has Ben when he comes to visit.”
“You don’t want to get married again?” Abbey started for the reception area of the animal hospital, leading the terrier on a leash.
Emma followed her down the hallway. “I know you found love with Dominic, but Sam gave me everything I needed. I’ve had my time.” Abbey had loved her husband so much that when he’d died, it had left a big hole in her heart she didn’t think any man could fill.
“That’s wonderful, but he’s been gone for three years. I realized when I met and fell in love with Dominic that we could have second chances, and they can work out beautifully.”
“Says a lady madly in love with her husband. When am I going to fit a man into my life with work, training dogs and raising Josh?”
“When your heart is ready,” Abbey said. They stood at the entrance into the reception area where a client waited with her cat. Abbey winked at Emma and started toward the main door. “See you later at the ranch.”
“I’ll be there today, but tomorrow I’m going to be busy baking brownies and scouting out the situation with Captain Tanner. At the very least, my brother wants a report he’s okay. And if Captain Tanner needs Shep, I’ll do my best to persuade him of the benefits of a service dog.”
At the door Abbey turned back and answered, “He may need more than Shep. Animal companionship is great but so is human companionship.” She gave a saucy grin then left.
Emma faced the receptionist and lady in the waiting room. “Ignore what that woman said. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” Emma turned and headed for exam room one to prepare it for the next client. The sound of chuckles followed her down the hallway, and heat reddened her cheeks.
* * *
On Wednesday, Jake’s hand shook as he reread the letter from the army. He was being awarded the Distinguished Service Medal for his heroic actions in the mountains in Afghanistan.
Why? I’m no hero. Not everyone came home. Those left behind are the true heroes.
Guilt mingled with despair as he fought to keep the memories locked away. The bombs exploding. The peppering of gunfire. The screams and cries. The stench of death and gunpowder.
The letter slipped from his hand and floated to the floor. He couldn’t protect all his men. He’d tried. But he’d lost too many. Friends. Battle buddies.
He hung his head and his gaze latched on to the letter. Squeezing his eyes shut, he still heard in his mind the words General Hatchback would say when he gave him the medal during the Veterans Day Ceremony—six weeks away. And no doubt, his father would be there.
No, he wouldn’t go. He didn’t deserve it. He’d done his duty. He didn’t want a medal for that. He just wanted to be left alone.
The doorbell chimed, startling him. He jerked his head up and looked toward the foyer. He went to the window and saw the delivery guy from the grocery store. Using his cane, he covered the distance to the door at a quick pace and let the young man in.
“Hi, Mr. Tanner. I’ll put these on the counter in your kitchen.”
While Morgan took the sacks into that room, Jake retrieved his wallet from his bedroom and pulled out some money for a tip then met the guy in the foyer. “Thanks. See you a week from tomorrow.”
“I’m off next Thursday. A big game at school. Got to support our Trojans.”
“When will you be working next week?” Jake handed him the tip.
“Friday afternoon and evening.” Morgan stuffed the money into his pocket.
“Then I’ll call my order in for that day.”
“You don’t have to. Steve delivers when I don’t.”
Jake put his hand on the knob. “That’s okay. Friday is fine. I’ll have enough to tide me over until then.” He was used to Morgan. The young man did a good job, even putting his meat and milk into the refrigerator for him. He didn’t want a stranger here. Jake swung the front door open for Morgan to leave.
“Sure, if that’s what you want.” The teen left.
When Jake moved to close the door behind Morgan, he caught sight of Emma and a black and brown German shepherd coming up the sidewalk. He couldn’t very well act as if he wasn’t home, and there was no way he would hurt her by ignoring the bell since she’d seen him. But company was not what he wanted to deal with at the moment.
Then his gaze caught the smile that encompassed her face, dimpling her cheeks and adding sparkle to her sky-blue eyes as though a light shone through them. He couldn’t tell her to go home. He’d see her for a few minutes then plead work, which was true. He had a paper due for his doctorate program.
“Hi. How are you doing today?” Emma stopped in front of him, presenting him with a plate covered with aluminum foil. “I brought a thank-you gift. Brownies—the thick, chewy kind. I hope you like chocolate.”
“Love it. How did you know?”
“Most people do, so I thought it was a safe dessert to make for you. I love to bake and this is one of my specialties.”
“Thanks. You and my neighbor ought to get together. Marcella is always baking,” he said, with the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin, her own smile affecting him.
“And bringing you some of it?”
“Yes.” He stared into her cheerful expression and wanted to shout there was nothing to be upbeat about, but something nipped his negative thoughts—at least temporarily. Her bright gaze captured him and held him in its grasp.
Since Saturday, he’d been plagued with memories of their meeting that day. He’d even considered going to her house and seeing how Josh was. He only got a couple of feet from his porch before he turned around. They were strangers, and she didn’t need to be saddled with a man—even as a friend—who was crippled physically and emotionally.
Jake stepped away from the entrance. “Come in. I have to put away the rest of my groceries.” For a few seconds, panic unfolded deep inside him. He was out of practice carrying on a normal conversation with a civilian after so many years in war-conflicted areas. Sucking in a deep breath, he shoved the anxiety down.
As she passed him, a whiff of her flowery scent wafted to him—lavender. His mother used to wear it. For a few seconds he was thrust into the past. He remembered coming into the kitchen when his mom took a pan of brownies out of the oven. The aromas of chocolate and lavender competed for dominance in his thoughts, and a sense of comfort engulfed him.
Emma turned toward him with that smile still gracing her full mouth. It drew him toward her, stirring other feelings in him. He’d had so little joy in his life lately. That had to be the reason he responded to a simple grin.
“It’s this way.” He limped ahead of her through the dining room and into the kitchen.
“I like this.” Emma put the plate on the center island counter. “It’s cozy and warm. Do you cook?”
“No, unless you call cooking opening a can and heating up whatever is in it. My meals aren’t elaborate. A lot of frozen dinners.” Jake’s gaze landed on the German shepherd. Beautiful dog to go with a beautiful woman, but why did she bring the animal with her? Had his strange behavior the other day scared her somehow? When a panic attack took hold of him, it was hard for him to do much about it, which only made the situation worse.
“That’s a shame. You need to come to my house one evening. I love to cook when I have the time.”
“What keeps you so busy you can’t cook very often?” Jake asked, resolved to stay away from any topic about him as he began emptying the sacks on the countertop. Focus on her. A much safer subject to discuss.
“Training dogs, working a full-time job at the animal hospital and trying to raise a child who’s giving me fits.”
“Things aren’t any better?”
“No. The Cold War has been declared at my house. He didn’t appreciate my talking to his teacher.”
Jake whistled. “Yep, that will do it.”
“Are you taking his side? Are you saying I shouldn’t have talked with his teacher about his being bullied?”
Jake threw up his hands, palms outward. “Hold it right there. I am not taking anyone’s side. That’s between you and your son.”
“I could use your help with this situation.”
He scanned the room, looking for a way out of the kitchen and this conversation. He didn’t want to be in the middle between a mother and son. “I don’t know the boys who ganged up on Josh.”
“But you saw them. Can you describe the culprits? Even one of them?”
“Maybe the smallest kid. Brown hair, brown eyes.”
“Good. Do you have a piece of paper and a pencil?”
“Yes, but...” Staring at the determination in Emma’s expression, he realized the quickest way to get rid of her was to give her what she wanted—at least the little he knew. He crossed to the desk under the wall phone and withdrew the items requested.
Emma took them. “I love to draw. If you tell me what he looks like, I’ll try to sketch a portrait of him. Brown hair and eyes as well as a small frame fit a lot of kids in Cimarron City. So let’s start with what shape his face is—oval, oblong, heart shaped? Is his jaw square, pointy, round?”
Staring at the dog sitting near the back door, Jake rubbed his day-old beard stubble. He’d forgotten to shave this morning. He was doing that more lately. When he glanced down at his attire, he winced at the shabby T-shirt and jeans with several holes in them. If someone who didn’t know him walked in right now, that person would think Jake was close to living on the street. Suddenly he saw himself through Emma’s eyes. And he didn’t like the picture.
The military had taught him always to be prepared and to keep himself presentable. Lately he’d forgotten his training. The least he could do was change clothing. He wouldn’t shave because her visit was impromptu, and he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression—that he cared. He knew better than to care, not with the upheaval in his life.
“Your visit has taken me by surprise. I’ll be back in a minute.” He gestured to the kitchen. “Make yourself at home. I have a large, fenced backyard if you want to put your pet outside. A big dog like that probably requires a lot of exercise.” He wanted to add: I won’t hurt you. I’m only hurting myself.
“That’s great.”
As she walked to the back door, Jake slipped out of the kitchen and hurried to his bedroom. He felt encouraged she wasn’t afraid of him since she was putting her German shepherd outside. Somehow he would beat what he was going through...but he didn’t think he could by the time of the medal ceremony on Veterans Day.
After rummaging in his closet for something nicer to wear, he began to change. He caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door and froze. He didn’t know the man staring back at him in the reflection. He sank onto his bed and plowed his fingers through his unruly hair.
I just want some hope, Lord.
Chapter Three
Jake hadn’t kicked her out of his house yet. That was a good sign. Emma knew how much control meant to him right now because Ben had gone through a period where he tried to manage everything around him. He needed to know what was going to happen next. The trouble was life wasn’t predictable, and that was where Ben had problems. He’d lost his patience and laid-back attitude, but in the past nine months he was getting them back. He was realizing finally that God was the one in control and He was always there to help him through. Did Jake believe in God?
After letting Shep out into Jake’s backyard, Emma glanced around the neat kitchen, an olive-green-and-gold decor—no doubt his grandmother’s touch when she lived in the house. She’d asked Marcella Kime, who went to her church, about Jake and this place. His grandmother had lived here until she died last year. The family hadn’t sold it yet, so Jake must have decided to move in.
One sack of groceries was left on the counter. While she waited for Jake to return, she emptied the bag of food, then prowled the room. Maybe he skipped out the front door. When she heard a bark at the back one, she let Shep into the house.
She knelt and rubbed her hands along his thick black and brown fur. “I think the man is trying to send me a message,” she whispered near the German shepherd’s ear. “He doesn’t know yet that I’m relentless when on a mission. He needs help and you. He’s the reason Ben is alive. I owe Jake.”
She nuzzled Shep, relishing the calmness that came from loving on the dog. In her house, there was always a dog she was training. With her full-time job, bringing a trainee home helped her to be around more if her son needed her. But the animal would eventually move on to another person. She’d found it easier not to have her own dog in case there were territorial issues when a new canine came for training. But maybe one day....
“Did he decide not to stay outside?”
Jake’s question startled her, and she gasped. She swiveled around. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Sorry. I’ve learned to move quietly.”
Emma straightened. “My husband made enough noise to alert the neighbors. Josh is just like his dad.”
“What happened to your husband?”
“He died three years ago. He had epilepsy. It got worse over the years, and then he had a seizure he never recovered from.” While on a ladder putting up Christmas lights because she had mentioned she wanted some. She’d intended for the teen next door to do the chore—not Sam. Guilt nibbled at her composure, and she shut it down. She was here to help Jake and possibly get some information concerning the kids bullying Josh.
“I’m sorry.”
“Life has a way of changing and throwing you a curve when you least expect it.”
He flinched. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
For a few heartbeats her gaze connected with his, and her stomach flip-flopped. The intensity in his look weakened her knees. She grasped the countertop.
As Jake moved to put away the canned goods and boxes from the last sack, she noted his change in clothing, trying to keep her attention somewhere besides those dark, compelling eyes. He still wore jeans but without any holes and a navy blue polo shirt. She saw his actions as a good sign. He wanted to look nicer for her, and that gave her hope.
“We can go into the living room, and I’ll try to describe that last child I caught bullying Josh.”
Emma retrieved the pad and pencil. “I appreciate it. I’m not sure what I’ll do when I find out who the bullies are, but I need to know, if for no other reason than to help my son deal with the situation.”
She went first toward the living area off the foyer. Shep walked beside her. Inside the room, she headed toward the couch. Her foot stepped on something, and she peered down. A sheet of paper—a letter? She picked it up as Jake entered. Her gaze lit upon the subject of the letter.
She swept around. “You’re being awarded the Distinguished Service Medal. Congratulations!”
Jake stiffened. A thunderous expression descended over his features. He limped toward her and plucked the letter from her hands. “No reason to congratulate me because I survived when many didn’t.”
She eased onto the couch behind her, Shep sitting at her feet, close enough that she could stroke the back of his head and neck. She looked up into Jake’s warring gaze as he skimmed the contents of the letter, then balled it up, crossed to the trash can and tossed it.
“They don’t give the Distinguished Service Medal for being wounded. That’s for serving your country above and beyond your normal duties. It’s awarded for meritorious and heroic behavior. It’s an honor you no doubt deserved.”
“How would you know?”
She winced at his reproachful tone. “Because my brother, Ben Spencer, told me what you did for him. You saved his life so I’m not surprised you’re receiving the medal, one of the highest awarded by the government.”
The color drained from his face. “You’re Ben’s sister?”
She nodded.
“How is he? I haven’t had a chance to touch base...” The words faded into the quiet. Jake stared at his clasped hands. “I meant to see how he was once I was better.”
“He’s doing all right. His injuries are healed, and he’s been coping with his PTSD. Making progress.”
Jake lifted his head and gave her a searing look. “So what I heard is true? How’s he dealing with it?”
She couldn’t have asked for a better opening to talk about Shep. Lord, give me the right words to say. This man is hurting.
“Ben has a PTSD counseling group he attends in Tulsa, but he also has a service dog I trained for him. Butch has made a big difference in Ben’s being able to go out and to participate in life without having so many panic attacks.”
His eyebrows crunched together. “He’s cured?”
“No, but the incidences he has are few, especially lately, and he’s been able to work his way through them.”
“I’m glad. He was a good soldier. I missed him when he returned home. Is he working?”
“Yes, at Gordon Matthews Industries as a computer programmer.”
“Does he like it?”
“Yes, he’s really enjoying it.”
“That’s good to hear. Sometimes it’s hard to go back. A lot of men’s lives have been messed up.” Jake stared at the floor for a long moment, lost in thought.
Most likely remembering. The rigid set of Jake’s shoulders made Emma wonder about his particular story. Each soldier had his own, some more traumatic than others. Ben had been flown back to the States eight months earlier due to his encounter with a land mine that had blown up a few feet from him in a field where one of his friends died. He lost part of his left arm while several other soldiers were also injured. But Ben kept in touch with many of the ones still in his old unit—there to help if they needed it. Jake wasn’t staying in touch. Emma nudged Shep, giving him the signal to bark. He did.
Jake lifted his head, turning his attention toward the German shepherd. “He’s a beautiful dog. How long have you had him?”
“Almost nine months. I’ve been training Shep to be a service dog. His specialty is working with people with PTSD.” She watched Jake for a reaction.
He looked at her, a frown pulling his eyebrows down. “Why did you bring him today?”
“Because I like to take him out for a walk when I can and—” she swallowed to coat her dry throat “—I wanted you to meet him.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Her gaze caught his. “Because I think you need a dog like Shep.”
He rose, grappling for his cane. “I have work to do. Thank you for bringing the brownies.” His hard expression shouted, But don’t ever come back!
She didn’t move. “Please. Let me explain.”
He started to say something but pressed his lips together.
She took his silence as an okay. “I want to help you. I know what my brother went through when he came home. He couldn’t hold down a job, even a simple one. He lived with our parents and didn’t leave the house hardly at all—often holing himself up in his old bedroom. He got angry at the least little thing. He had the shakes and would shut down if something even little went wrong. He had nightmares and didn’t want to sleep. When I gave him Butch, I saw how effective the dog was with him. Still is. Butch has a way of calming him down and centering him.”
“That’s your brother, not me.” Jake took his seat again.
From checking with a few of his neighbors, Emma knew Jake rarely left his house. Jake Tanner was hiding out. Easier to stay home than go out in crowds where he had little control of what would happen around him. Ben had been like that at first. Butch had made the difference.
“I can help you if you’ll just give Shep a chance.”
“I’m capable of dealing with my problems. Healing takes time.”
“A service dog can help that along.”
“How? My injury was my leg. I’m up and about. I can walk now.”
“There are other injuries that aren’t so visible. A dog can help with those.”
“What? Emotional ones?” He clasped his cane between his legs with both hands and leaned forward slightly.
“Yes. Dogs can sense when a problem is going to occur and intervene before it becomes worse.”
His grip tightened around the ivory knob on the end of his cane until his knuckles whitened. “I’ve heard of other soldiers using service dogs. I don’t want to have to care for an animal. I’m barely—” He snapped his mouth closed.
“What? Barely holding it together?” Emma asked, returning his unwavering gaze. She hadn’t given up on Ben. Though they were virtual strangers, she could tell Jake needed help. She had promised her brother she would do what she could for his former commanding officer and she would, somehow.
Jake stiffened. “I have work to do.”
She sighed. “Sometimes I can be too blunt. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.”
“I respect a person who speaks her mind, but that doesn’t change the fact I don’t need a service dog. I’m coping.”
“That’s good because Ben wasn’t.”
“It hasn’t been that long since I came home. Recovery takes time.” Jake’s voice didn’t sound as convincing as the man probably wanted.
“Time and help. I agree.”
His gaze pinned her down. “I’m receiving help from my doctor.”
Emma resisted the urge to squirm under his intense glare. “Is he here when you have panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares?”
Jake winced, a mask falling into place as if he were shutting down all emotions.
The problem was a person couldn’t block his feelings forever. They were there in the background, ready to strike when he least expected. Emma said, “A service dog can help a person with those kinds of things. When someone has a panic attack, the dog’s trained to calm him. The animal can be trained to wake up a person who’s having a nightmare. Flashbacks often lead to panic attacks or at the very least, emotional upheavals. A dog can be there at all hours to console, be a companion. Not to mention they’re great listeners.”
A tic twitched in his hardened jaw. “Does he talk back?”
Emma grinned. “I can do a lot with the dogs I train, but I haven’t accomplished that yet. But they can understand a lot of commands, if properly taught. Shep has been trained in all those areas.”
Jake stood. “Thanks for coming.”
Jake’s polite words and neutral expression didn’t totally cover a hopelessness in his eyes. Emma could identify; she remembered how, when her husband died, she’d struggled to pay off his debts. She was still paying the hospital bill every month from the last time Sam was admitted.
Emma followed Jake from the living room. Shep trotted next to her. Ben’s captain opened the front door and moved to the side to allow her to leave.
She stepped outside and pivoted. “Where did the boys attack Josh?”
He took two steps out onto the porch and pointed to the right near the wooded area. “There, and they fled into the trees. You didn’t get around to doing the sketch of the small one.”
“I’ve got another idea if you’re willing.”
His forehead wrinkled, wariness in his eyes. “What?”
“Josh has a yearbook from last year. Would you be willing to look through it and see if you recognize any of the kids?”
“I’ll try.”
She smiled. “Great. I can bring it by tomorrow after work if that’s okay.”
He nodded, a solemn expression on his face.
“Then I’ll see you around six.”
She had started down the steps when he called out, “Tell Ben I’ll be okay.”
With a glance over her shoulder, she said, “You should call him and tell him yourself.”
“I don’t have his number.”
“I can give it to you.”
“Maybe tomorrow.” He turned back into his house and shut the door.
As Emma walked home, she couldn’t get Jake Tanner out of her mind. That haunted look in his dark eyes when she had talked about Ben’s problems, and later what a service dog could be trained to do only reinforced in her mind that he needed help. Her brother had tried to deny it, too, and it had made things worse. She prayed Jake wouldn’t. Tomorrow she had another chance to persuade him to try Shep.
* * *
The enemy surrounded Jake and what men he had left in the small mountain village, gunfire pelting them from all sides. The terrorists were closing in. He was trapped.
He signaled to his men to fall back into a house. He covered them as they made their way inside the shelter, then zigzagged toward it, seeking cover wherever he could. But as he ran toward the hut, it moved farther away from him. Escape taunted him. A safe haven just out of reach.
Someone lobbed a grenade that fell a few yards in front of him. He dived to the side, the explosion rocking him.
Crash!
Arms flailing, Jake shot straight up on the couch, blinking his eyes. He couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. They burned. Everything before him twirled and swayed. He scrubbed his shaky hands down his sweat-drenched face, then drew in one deep inhalation then another. He folded in on himself, his arms hugging his chest, his head bent forward. Afraid even to close his eyes, he stared at his lap until his rapid heartbeat slowed. When the quaking eased, he looked up at his living room in Cimarron City. Not in a tent or hut in Afghanistan.
Safe. Quiet.
His gaze fell upon a lamp on the floor, shattered, along with a broken vase his grandma had cherished as a gift from his granddad. The sight of it destroyed what was left of his composure. His hands began to tremble more. Cold burrowed deep into his bones. He stuck them under his armpits.
Focus on the here and now. Not then. He shuffled through images in his mind until he latched on to one: Emma Langford, Ben’s sister. He zeroed in on her light blue eyes, as bright as sunshine. He shifted his attention to her dazzling smile. He couldn’t look away. The warmth of her expression chased away the chill.
He finally relaxed against the couch cushion. He couldn’t believe he’d invited her back today. That realization earlier had driven him to take a short nap before she arrived since he hadn’t slept much the night before. For that matter, since the nightmares began a couple of months ago, he slept only a few hours here and there.
He couldn’t keep going like this, or he would stop functioning altogether. The very idea appalled him. In the army he’d been a leader of men who went into tough situations to protect and defend. Now he couldn’t even leave his house without fearing he would have a panic attack and appear weak.
Lord, why? You brought me home to this—living in fear? How am I supposed to get better? What do I do?
His gaze returned to the mess on the floor, then trekked to the end table where the lamp and vase had been. He pushed to his feet to clean up the shattered pieces.
The chimes from the grandfather clock in the foyer pealed six times. Emma would be here soon. He hobbled toward the kitchen and retrieved the broom and dustpan. The glass lamp was beyond repair. He swept the shards and tossed them into the trash can.
Then he turned his attention to the vase. His granddad had created pottery bowls and vases in his spare time. This was one of the few left. He picked up each piece and laid it on the end table, trying to decide if he could fix the vase with glue. Maybe it was possible with time and a steady hand.
The doorbell sounded, jolting his heartbeat to a quicker tempo. Emma. She can’t see this, he thought, as though it were a symbol of his weakness. He opened the drawer on the end table and hurried to place what was left of the vase inside, then closed it.
It took him a minute to limp toward the foyer. Maybe she’d left. He hoped not, and that surprised him. When he opened the door, she stood on the porch with that warm smile and her hands full with a slender book and a plastic container.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to get to the door,” was all he could think to say.
“I figured it would. You’re still recovering from a leg injury. It might be a while before you’re up for a jog.” She stepped through his entrance. “I hope you don’t mind, but I made beef stew this morning in the Crock-Pot and had plenty to share with you.” She lifted the lid for him to see.
His stomach rumbled. The aroma filled his nostrils and made his mouth water. He’d had breakfast but skipped lunch. “How did you know I haven’t eaten much today?”
“A lucky guess. I’ll put this in your refrigerator, and you can heat it up when you feel like it.” She walked toward his kitchen. Pausing at the entrance to his dining room, she looked back at him. “Then I’ll show you the yearbook.”
He started to follow her into the kitchen but decided not to and headed for the living room. “I’ll be in here when you’re through.” He wanted to make sure there were no remnants of the broken vase or lamp on the floor.
After searching around the couch, he walked lamely to the leather chair with an ottoman. His left leg ached. He must have wrenched it when coming out of his nightmare. As he laid his cane on the floor by him, Emma came into the room. He lifted his leg onto the upholstered stool.
She took the couch, sitting at the end closest to him. “I’d heat it up in the microwave for about six minutes on high. I put bread in to bake, but it wasn’t done when I left.”
“You make your own bread?” Jake remembered his grandmother baking bread once a week, a good memory. “I used to love that smell when I was a kid and came to see Grandma.”
“I’m not a coffee drinker, but I love to smell a pot percolating. As well as bacon frying and bread baking.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, the best smell I remember from my childhood is my mother baking a cherry pie. I loved to eat it with vanilla ice cream.”
“If I wasn’t hungry before you came, I am now.”
“Good, you’ll enjoy my stew.” She rose and covered the short space between them. “This is the yearbook I was talking about.”
He reached up to take it. Their fingers briefly touched, and his breath caught. He held it for a few extra seconds then released it slowly. Their gazes connected, and Emma paused as though not sure what to do.
He grinned, trying to dismiss the bond that sprang up between them for a moment. “Where’s your German shepherd? I thought you’d bring him again.”
She laughed, letting go of the yearbook, then sat on the couch. “I’ll never force a dog on anyone, even when I think it would be good for him. Besides, Josh was throwing the Frisbee in the backyard for Shep, complaining that he was stuck at home and not at a friend’s.”
“Any problems with Josh in the past few days?”
“Nothing I can pin down. He tells me nothing more has happened, but he comes home from school angry and silent. I have to drag what little I can out of him.”
“I remember those days when Mom tried to get me to tell her about my day at school, especially when the bullying was going on in the sixth grade.”
“How did you handle it?”
“My mom found out and told my dad, who paid the parents of the instigator a visit. Tom Adams’s parents didn’t do anything to him, but Tom was furious at me. I won’t ever forget his name. I did learn one thing. I learned to defend myself if I had to and to let others know I could take care of myself. Also, I made sure I was always with a group of friends. That way it was hard for Tom and his buddies to find me alone. They only attacked when I was by myself.”
“Kids shouldn’t have to worry about this. Did you have trouble at school?”
“Yes, especially at recess.”
“Josh has been misbehaving so he doesn’t go out for recess.”
“Then it’s probably happening at school. Some bullies can be very sneaky. They might even have a lookout.”
Emma frowned. “When did the bullying stop?”
“Not until we moved here when I became a seventh grader.” He quirked a grin. “I also started growing over the summer and began to lift weights. I wanted to go out for football.” He flipped open the yearbook. “How old is Josh?”
“Eleven.”
“He’s small for his age. I was, too.”
Her eyes grew round. “But you’re what, six-four or five now?”
“Yes. I shot up not long after I was Josh’s age and used my size to help others who were bullied. Lifting weights helped me to bulk up. That’s what I mean by looking as if I could take care of myself. My dad taught me some self-defense but stressed I should only use it if it was absolutely necessary. Telling Tom’s parents didn’t work at all. I think his dad was actually proud of his son for being big and tough.”
“How can a parent...” Her tight voice trailed off into silence.
“I’m telling you what happened to me, so you’ll be aware there could be a backlash. That course of action doesn’t always take care of the problem.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she stared at her lap. “This is when I wish my brother or father lived nearer.”
“Maybe Ben can teach Josh some self-defense.”
“You mean to fight back?”
“Not exactly. There are techniques he can use to protect himself from getting as hurt when he’s outnumbered. One’s to run as fast as he can. He needs to know it’s okay to do that, and if he makes that decision, to do it right away or the first chance he gets. He needs to know he isn’t a coward for running but smart for protecting himself. Also, a child who knows he can defend himself is more self-assured.”
“My brother’s going to be on the road for his job for the next month or so. And my father wouldn’t know how. Not to mention he’s frail.”
Jake didn’t have a reply to that. He didn’t want to commit himself, not with the way his life was going. “You’ll think of something,” he said finally, realizing how lame that sounded. “Many bullies fight because they have low self-esteem. Make sure Josh knows that, and build him up. Bullies try to tear down others. It makes them feel superior. If Josh lets them know they can’t do that, it might help.”
She glanced up at him with that look that sent warm currents through him. “Will you have a talk with Josh and explain some of this to him? He won’t listen to me.”
Chapter Four
The seconds crawled by as Emma held her breath, waiting for Jake’s answer.
His expression went blank, and he stared at his leg propped up on an ottoman. “All I can tell him is how I handled it. I don’t know if that would work for him or not.”
“I’ll have you to dinner and you can talk to him. Anything you can tell him is better than nothing. He shuts me out. I don’t know what else to do.” She hated the desperate tone in her words.
“I can’t come to your house for dinner. I don’t want you going—”
“How about I bring the dinner here? I’ll throw in fresh-baked bread, too.”
Shaking his head, he chuckled. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“No, stubborn is one of the traits I need to work on. When would you like me to bring dinner?”
He pressed his lips together, forming a tight, thin line, then said, “Do you work on Saturday?”
Hope flared in Emma. “I work at the Caring Canines Foundation until the early afternoon. Saturday night would be good for me. How about six-thirty?”
He nodded, then began looking through the pages of the yearbook. Halfway through the book, he tapped a picture. “That’s the smallest one of the three.”
Emma moved to glance over his shoulder at the photo. “Carson McNeil. He was in the same class last year with Josh. I don’t think they’re in the same one this year. His family goes to my church. Josh and Carson were friends at one time. I can’t believe he’s part of the group.”
“Let me see if I can recognize the other two.” Jake continued turning the pages and scanning each child until he pointed to another one in sixth grade.
She leaned forward to read the boy’s name. “Sean Phillips. I haven’t heard of him.” She got a whiff of Jake’s lime aftershave and pulled back, realizing how close she was to him. Her heart raced.
She retook her seat while he continued his search for the third kid. Catching herself staring at him, she dragged her attention away and scanned the living room, taking in the decor. Focusing on anything but the man across from her. As in the kitchen she saw his grandmother’s touches in the knickknacks, a quilt thrown over the back of the couch and a myriad of pictures on the wall. She didn’t see anything of Jake other than a photo of him on the wall in his dress uniform with his arm around his petite, white-haired grandma. Was this a place he would recuperate then move on?
The sound of Jake closing the book drew her away from her survey and back to him. “The third one wasn’t in there?”
“Not that I could tell, but then I didn’t get a good look at him. He was the first to run off.”
“With Sean and Carson’s names, I have something to go on.”
“What do you plan to do?”
“I’m not sure. I guess I need to talk with these boys’ parents, then see what happens.” When his eyes darkened, she asked, “What would you do?”
He stiffened. All emotions fled his face.
“Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked you. This isn’t your problem.” She started to rise.
Sighing, he waved her down. “Since you know Carson’s family, I would start with him. But Josh needs to know what you’re doing.”
“I know. That’s the part I dread more than talking to the parents. Why not Sean’s? He’s more likely the one behind the attack.”
“I noticed he’s older, in the sixth grade. You’re probably right. That means either he or the unknown boy is the leader. Not Carson. You have a better chance of getting something from Carson, and since you go to the same church and know his parents, they may step in.” Jake massaged his left thigh above the knee.
“I think so. Sandy McNeil and I are friends. We’ve lost touch these past couple of years since Carson and Josh aren’t playing together the way they used to, but I can’t imagine her condoning what her son’s doing.”
“But you can’t say that about the other parents. Start with the known first.”
A clock somewhere in the house chimed seven times. Emma glanced at her watch and bolted to her feet. “I’ve overstayed my visit. I need to get dinner on the table.”
“I’m sure I’ll enjoy my supper. It beats opening a can of soup.” Scooping up his cane, he struggled to stand.
As she watched him, she forced herself to remain still and not try to assist him. That would be the last thing this man wanted. He needed to feel he could do it on his own. But that didn’t make the urge to help any less strong. She was here because of Ben, but she would stay because she wanted to.
At the front door, Emma waited until he came nearer before saying, “Thanks for looking at the photos. The more I know about what Josh is going through, the better I’m equipped to help him.”
His features softened as he looked at her. “I hope everything goes okay when you talk to Josh about Carson and Sean. I doubt he’ll be too happy.”
“No, he’ll be angry at me. But I’m his mother, and I’ll do what I have to to protect him.”
“He’ll appreciate it one day.”
“Just not today,” Emma said with a grin. “We’ll see you Saturday night.” She turned to open the door but paused. “Oh, what do you like to eat?”
His eyes gleamed. “Surprise me.”
“Then no big dislikes or allergies?”
“Nope. I do have one request.”
Hand on knob, she glanced at him. “What?”
“Bring Shep with you.”
* * *
Emma’s mouth dropped open. Her large blue eyes fixed on Jake. Surprise flitted across her face. “You’re going to take Shep?”
“I don’t know. I’d like to see if we can get along first. If that’s okay with you.”
She grinned. “Sure. If you two don’t connect, then he can’t do his job. But I know you will. You won’t regret it.”
The sparkle in her gaze lured him toward her. “I have my doubts, but I hope you prove me wrong.” After the last nightmare in a string of many, Jake had to do something. Here at home he could control a lot of his environment, but when he went to sleep, he couldn’t choose his dreams. If a service dog could help him with that, great. If not, then at least he tried.
Sliding her hand into the pocket of her light jacket, Emma looked up. “I almost forgot. I’ve written Ben’s number on this card for you. He wants you to call him when you’re ready, and if you have any questions about a service dog, you can ask me or him.”
Jake took the phone number, not sure if he would. “Thanks. See you Saturday.”
“If you change your mind about picking something special to eat, my number’s on the card, too. I won’t shop until early Saturday afternoon.”
He clasped the edge of the door as she moved out onto the porch. Her lavender scent lingered in the air. For a second he didn’t want her to leave. She descended the steps and strolled down the sidewalk, stopping to wave to him. He waved back.
As he closed his door, he decided he wouldn’t call Ben. It was one thing to admit he had a problem, but totally different to talk with someone about it. He wasn’t there yet. Wasn’t sure if he ever would be. He couldn’t put what was happening to him in words, so how could he talk to anyone about it?
He was committed only to spending some time on Saturday night with the German shepherd, Emma and Josh. No more than that. Other than Marcella from next door and a few delivery people, no one else had been in this house until Emma. In less than a week, he’d seen her more than anyone lately.
He should keep his distance. He was in no condition to get involved with anyone, even as a friend. But while he didn’t have much to give another, the thought of not seeing Emma on Saturday churned his gut.
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