In a heartbeat, Shannon was around the tiny table and in Nick’s lap. They held on to each other like the last two people to make it onto the life raft before the ship sank. And they cried.Never in a million years would Nick have thought to find himself weeping in a woman’s arms. It wasn’t manly. It wasn’t macho Italiano, as his father would have said. Only a sissy would cry.Well, this sissy cried his eyes out—after all, he’d been holding it in for five years—and in the process, he felt a new lightening inside himself.Now that his tears were dried, he noticed that Shannon was quieting in his arms. He stood and carried her to the bed and lay down beside her.“You will never know,” she said, her voice unsteady, “what this means to me. What it will mean to my mother after all these years.” With her arms around his neck, she squeezed him tight.“His face still haunts my dreams.” He was rambling, but couldn’t seem to help it. “I wanted more than anything to be able to find someone, to he
He grabbed an old pair of jeans that didn’t smell too bad from the floor of his closet, put on socks and walking shoes, and a sweatshirt. It had been dipping down toward forty degrees when he’d come home.He tiptoed through the house so as not to wake Bev, then struck out through his neighborhood, setting every dog in the area to barking. Can’t pull anything over on these guys. Now, if he’d been a burglar, they wouldn’t have made a sound, he was sure.As much as he loved New York, Nick had come to love this small Texas town, and he’d come to love the quiet peacefulness of night. He would like it even better, he thought, if it weren’t for the faint whiff of smoke on the breeze. The remains of the bonfire were still in the air.At the end of his neighborhood he turned toward Main, intending tocross and amble over toward the school. Might as well do a walk-by while he was out.Sure enough, the smell of smoke grew stronger the closer he got to the school and the field behind it where the
It was the county 911 dispatcher, thank God. He told her their situation and asked that someone contact the fire chief at the scene and have him direct his spray toward the back corner. The woman tried to keep him on the phone, but he had to make preparations in case the fire decided to come in through that broken window before the crew could knock it down. Hewould have to make a stand in the bathroom.He tried to carry Shannon that far, but she was too limp and his leg was too weak. He ended up half dragging her to the tub, thanking God for slow renovations. The tub was an old cast-iron job that, if nothing else, wouldn’t melt and fuse with their skin. Of course, there was every possibility that they could end up beyond caring, but not as long as Nick had so much as one breath left in his body.He left Shannon on the floor next to the tub, then crawled back and pulled the sheets and blanket from the bed. They would make good wet wraps and help filter the air for breathing. He was ab
When Nick woke the next morning, Shannon was gone.No note, no message. Just…gone.He knew without checking that she hadn’t gone to another motel. She was on her way home. It was time; she had no more reason to stay.He wanted to pull the covers over his head and tell the world to goaway, but he had promised to talk to Lon about the fire, let the man ask his questions.He crawled out of bed, stepped into a pair of jeans that didn’t smell like smoke, and followed the aroma of coffee to the kitchen.Bev stood there, leaning against the counter, arms folded over her chest, waiting for him. She didn’t look particularly welcoming. “So you let her go, did you?”He grunted and headed for the nearest empty coffee mug so he could fill it. “Good morning to you, too.”“Go ahead, get yourself a cup. You look like you need it.”“Th—” His voice croaked. Damn smoke. He swallowed and tried again. “Thanks.”When he filled his mug and took a seat at the breakfast table, she joined him.“Nick, I’ve nev
And then she went to bed and dreamed of Nick. The next morning, the ache of missing him was so strong she almost convinced herself to stay home and wallow in her misery.But she did go to work. Whatever had brought on the good mood of the night before had deserted her, but with grim determination, she kept her misery to herself. She would be fine, dammit. She would be terrific.No more putting off that chapter in her manuscript. That night when she got home, she changed into her sweats and settled down on the sofa, with all her writing materials spread out around her. And she sat there and stared.It was one thing to say she was going to write about Nick, but it wasanother actually to do it. Writing about him would be like bringing him into her home with her. Wouldn’t he then haunt her every day and night after that?Someone knocked on her door. They must have played the keeppressing buttons until someone lets you in game because she hadn’t buzzed anyone up. Frowning, she went to th
Saturday Morning, Early December, Tribute, Texas;Amy Galloway parked her eight-year-old car at the curb on the tree-lined street and got out. Her stomach was dancing in her gut as if a volley of rocket-propelled grenades was being lobbed over her head. The house, a ranch-style in pale-gray brick, was as beautiful and welcoming as she’d known it would be. There was no reason to be nervous.From inside the house came what sounded like a female wail of distress.Maybe she had come at a bad time. Maybe she should wait—no. She was here, and she had a purpose. She owed Brenda more than she could ever pay.That wail came from the house again. Someone definitely seemed more than a little upset.Inside the house, someone was more than a little upset.“Daddy, Cindy keeps untying my ribbon,” Jasmine whined at the top of her lungs.Riley Sinclair gave his jaw one final swipe with the razor, then rinsed off the blade before grabbing his shirt and slipping it on. “Cindy,” he called on his way to t
Amy shook her head. “Call me Amy. I’m a civilian now.” “No kidding?” His smile widened. “Is it congratulations or condolences?”While most people assumed she should be ecstatic to be out of the army, this man understood that she might feel otherwise. She appreciated that. “A little of both,” she said honestly.She followed him past the living room on the right, the formal dining room on the left, and into what Brenda had called the great room. Kitchen at one end, television, sofas, a wingback chair and a pair of recliners, along with bookshelves and a full entertainment center at the other.Amy breathed a sigh of relief. Brenda had been such a perfectionist and had talked about how she worked so hard to keep everything in her home neat and tidy and clean, or as much so as possible with three children and a husband. Amy had halfway expected the place to have that look-but-don’t touch appearance to it, like a room right out of a magazine or something.But this was a room a person could
With a storm of emotions rioting through him, Riley listened as Amy told how trucks in front of them exploded and the HumVee Brenda, Amyand others in their unit were riding in had taken so many hits that it quit on them. Bullets were flying at them fast and furious. They were forced toabandon the vehicle and seek cover behind a burned-out tank on the roadside left over from a day or so earlier. One of the guys from the truck behind them ran to join them.“But there was too much open ground. He took a hit and went down ten yards short of cover.”Riley’s stomach rose to his throat. The only reason for Amy to be telling him this was if Brenda…“Brenda laid down cover fire while Johnson and Cohen went after the wounded private from the other truck. Meeker. Don Meeker. Halfway there, Johnson took one in the leg. Brenda and I left cover and went to help.”Riley forced himself to keep his eyes open, rather than squeezing them shut and covering his ears with his hands to deny what he was he