It’s tiring.”
As she spoke, Dane and Carly came out of the restaurant. Like Fia, he was limping—probably the cold and damp—but normally, no one would guess watching him that his jeans concealed the prosthesis required by an above-the-knee amputation.
Bennie walked with Fia to Therese’s van, called her good-byes, then hurried to her own car. As she started the engine and turned the heat to high, she watched her friends scatter to their own vehicles and smiled. She’d had her share of heartache—more than her share, it sometimes seemed—but at the end of the day, she was a lucky woman. A little lonely, a little heartsore, but very definitely lucky.
Chapter 4
T hough the week hadn’t been as bad as he’d expected, Calvin was grateful when the weekend arrived. He’d filled out endless paperwork, been examined and interviewed by his care team—doctor, nurses, therapists, a social worker, and a career counselor—and he’d met the rest of the troops in the WTU company. Half of them, like Justin Stephens, had severe injuries, amputations and burns chief among them. More than half had traumatic brain injuries in varying degrees. Some seemed relatively normal, if forgetful. Others had misshapen heads, where portions of their skulls had been blown away, and had lost their communication and motor skills.
And almost everyone had some degree of PTSD. It should have made him feel better that he wasn’t alone, but instead it just made him…weary.
He was weary this Saturday morning as he walked down the stairs from the barracks to the parking lot. His father’s pickup truck was waiting at the end of the sidewalk, and Justice sat behind the wheel, grinning as he watched Calvin approach.
“You know, when I think of barracks, I always picture a huge room with double-stacked cots and fifty men to a latrine,” he remarked when Calvin got in. “This ain’t bad.”
“The apartments help the guys adjust to what it’ll be like when they go home.” Calvin always thought guys , but there were a dozen or so women in the company, too. “I could be in regular quarters since I don’t have any physical disabilities, but they had space available here, so…” He didn’t mention that he also had the option of living at home. He didn’t want to try to explain that he just couldn’t move home again and sleep in his old room, live with his old memories, and bear the scrutiny and worry of his parents and Gran anytime he didn’t behave like the Calvin they knew.
The notion struck him hard, made his breath catch and his chest ache. He was no longer the son Justice and Elizabeth had loved, raised, taught, disciplined, and said good-bye to eleven years ago. Since he’d begged off on seeing them this past week, he didn’t know if they’d realized that.
He didn’t even know who he was now.
Feeling his father’s gaze shift between him and the road as he drove, he forced his fingers to unclench and his jaw to loosen enough to talk. “How’s Mom?”
“She’s fine. Cooking up a storm for you.”
Yep, that was his mother: When in doubt, cook. “And Gran?”
“Oh, you know Emmeline.”
People had been saying that about his grandmother for as long as he could remember. Emmeline Wright was strong-willed—hard-headed, most people said—and independent and didn’t give two cents what anyone thought of her. She had more quirks than the entire rest of the family put together, and anything she did, normal or not, could be explained by a sigh and a You know Emmeline.
Last weekend’s ice had disappeared by noon Tuesday. There had been a few relatively warm days, but today the sky was dreary, clouds hung so low to the ground that he couldn’t tell where they stopped and the sky started, and rain fell at a steady rate. The thermometer display on the rearview mirror of the truck read 44 degrees, making the rain plenty uncomfortable but with no chance of ice.
“How’s your week been?” his dad asked. “What have they
As she spoke, Dane and Carly came out of the restaurant. Like Fia, he was limping—probably the cold and damp—but normally, no one would guess watching him that his jeans concealed the prosthesis required by an above-the-knee amputation.
Bennie walked with Fia to Therese’s van, called her good-byes, then hurried to her own car. As she started the engine and turned the heat to high, she watched her friends scatter to their own vehicles and smiled. She’d had her share of heartache—more than her share, it sometimes seemed—but at the end of the day, she was a lucky woman. A little lonely, a little heartsore, but very definitely lucky.
Chapter 4
T hough the week hadn’t been as bad as he’d expected, Calvin was grateful when the weekend arrived. He’d filled out endless paperwork, been examined and interviewed by his care team—doctor, nurses, therapists, a social worker, and a career counselor—and he’d met the rest of the troops in the WTU company. Half of them, like Justin Stephens, had severe injuries, amputations and burns chief among them. More than half had traumatic brain injuries in varying degrees. Some seemed relatively normal, if forgetful. Others had misshapen heads, where portions of their skulls had been blown away, and had lost their communication and motor skills.
And almost everyone had some degree of PTSD. It should have made him feel better that he wasn’t alone, but instead it just made him…weary.
He was weary this Saturday morning as he walked down the stairs from the barracks to the parking lot. His father’s pickup truck was waiting at the end of the sidewalk, and Justice sat behind the wheel, grinning as he watched Calvin approach.
“You know, when I think of barracks, I always picture a huge room with double-stacked cots and fifty men to a latrine,” he remarked when Calvin got in. “This ain’t bad.”
“The apartments help the guys adjust to what it’ll be like when they go home.” Calvin always thought guys , but there were a dozen or so women in the company, too. “I could be in regular quarters since I don’t have any physical disabilities, but they had space available here, so…” He didn’t mention that he also had the option of living at home. He didn’t want to try to explain that he just couldn’t move home again and sleep in his old room, live with his old memories, and bear the scrutiny and worry of his parents and Gran anytime he didn’t behave like the Calvin they knew.
The notion struck him hard, made his breath catch and his chest ache. He was no longer the son Justice and Elizabeth had loved, raised, taught, disciplined, and said good-bye to eleven years ago. Since he’d begged off on seeing them this past week, he didn’t know if they’d realized that.
He didn’t even know who he was now.
Feeling his father’s gaze shift between him and the road as he drove, he forced his fingers to unclench and his jaw to loosen enough to talk. “How’s Mom?”
“She’s fine. Cooking up a storm for you.”
Yep, that was his mother: When in doubt, cook. “And Gran?”
“Oh, you know Emmeline.”
People had been saying that about his grandmother for as long as he could remember. Emmeline Wright was strong-willed—hard-headed, most people said—and independent and didn’t give two cents what anyone thought of her. She had more quirks than the entire rest of the family put together, and anything she did, normal or not, could be explained by a sigh and a You know Emmeline.
Last weekend’s ice had disappeared by noon Tuesday. There had been a few relatively warm days, but today the sky was dreary, clouds hung so low to the ground that he couldn’t tell where they stopped and the sky started, and rain fell at a steady rate. The thermometer display on the rearview mirror of the truck read 44 degrees, making the rain plenty uncomfortable but with no chance of ice.
“How’s your week been?” his dad asked. “What have they
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