retrieved his father’s pistol and grabbed a pair of binoculars, he maneuvered his body to the ground. The salt air cleared his senses.
Maybe I’m making the wrong decision.
He walked the trail to the bluffs overlooking Half Moon Bay.
In the distance he could barely see the high waves of Maverick’s surf. The place had called some of the world’s best surfers to their death, but Hunter still craved a battle with the elements.
“You a soldier, mister?”
Hunter looked down at the scrawny boy with wind-strewn hair by his side.”Not anymore.”
“Is that how you lost your leg?”
“Yes, son. In the war.” Hunter made his voice gruffer than usual, hoping the kid would get the hint.
“It must have been scary.”
“Yep.” It had taken him almost a year to admit he’d been scared. His therapist had treated the statement like some kind of miracle. Hunter thought it added to the embarrassment of living.
“You must be brave.”
“Not really.”
What is it going to take for this kid to quit?
The boy shrugged toward the ocean. “You ever surf Maverick’s?”
Hunter took a deep breath. “Never got the chance. And now — ”
“Sorry. I didn’t think. My mom says I do that a lot. Not think.”
Hunter grinned in spite of himself. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Billy.”
“Well, Billy, it’s good to meet you.” Hunter held out his hand. The boy shook it.
“My mom says soldiers are heroes. She has to ’cause my dad’s in the army — just like you were. Weren’t you? Or were you somewhere else?”
Hunter’s shoulders straightened. “I was a Marine.”
“Wow. That’s hard-core.”
Hunter laughed and smiled at the boy. “You going to surf Maverick’s when you’re older?”
Billy shook his head. “No. I’m going to be a soldier like you and my dad. I want to be someone my mom can be proud of. My older brother’s a surfer.” Billy shrugged again as if the statement covered everything you needed to know about his brother.
Billy gazed up at him. “Thanks for talking to me, mister. I feel closer to my dad when I talk to a soldier. I can’t wait to tell my mom I met a real Marine. See ya.” He picked up a sand-covered bike from the ground, hopped on and peddled off.
Thanks for talking to me, son.
Hunter walked back to the Jeep, threw the gun in the glove box, and locked it. He rolled down the windows, cranked up the radio, and took off down the coast.
It was a good day to be alive.
• • •
“There’s got to be something else, Joe,” Hunter said to his friend the next morning in the little shop behind Joe’s house. Rain pounded the tin roof.
Joe shook his head. “Slow season. You know that. Some roofing jobs if the weather ever lets up, but … ” he gestured faintly to Hunter’s leg.
Damn it.
His injury was going to cost him everything. Correction. Already had cost him everything. A vision of Lauren’s face appeared in his mind.
“I’m sorry, Hunter,” Joe said. “I’ll let you know if I find anything that suits you.” He handed Hunter an envelope. “Here’s your paycheck.” Joe regarded him steadily. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Hunter stuffed the envelope in his jeans pocket and walked out of the house. If his best friend couldn’t see him as a complete man, who would?
He slid into the Jeep and glanced at the glove box.
No.
The voice seemed to come from a place deep within him.
You’re better than that.
I hope so.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, got back out of the car, and strode back to Joe’s office. “Can I use your workshop?”
“Sure.” Joe shrugged. “What are you thinking of doing?”
“Building cabinets.”
“Okay.” Joe handed him a key. “Come and go when you want.”
Hunter took the key. “Thanks.” He walked back out the door, got into the Jeep, and roared off to the lumber yard.
• • •
Sunday morning Hunter pressed a shirt and put it on, along with his best khakis. He thought about picking
Maybe I’m making the wrong decision.
He walked the trail to the bluffs overlooking Half Moon Bay.
In the distance he could barely see the high waves of Maverick’s surf. The place had called some of the world’s best surfers to their death, but Hunter still craved a battle with the elements.
“You a soldier, mister?”
Hunter looked down at the scrawny boy with wind-strewn hair by his side.”Not anymore.”
“Is that how you lost your leg?”
“Yes, son. In the war.” Hunter made his voice gruffer than usual, hoping the kid would get the hint.
“It must have been scary.”
“Yep.” It had taken him almost a year to admit he’d been scared. His therapist had treated the statement like some kind of miracle. Hunter thought it added to the embarrassment of living.
“You must be brave.”
“Not really.”
What is it going to take for this kid to quit?
The boy shrugged toward the ocean. “You ever surf Maverick’s?”
Hunter took a deep breath. “Never got the chance. And now — ”
“Sorry. I didn’t think. My mom says I do that a lot. Not think.”
Hunter grinned in spite of himself. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Billy.”
“Well, Billy, it’s good to meet you.” Hunter held out his hand. The boy shook it.
“My mom says soldiers are heroes. She has to ’cause my dad’s in the army — just like you were. Weren’t you? Or were you somewhere else?”
Hunter’s shoulders straightened. “I was a Marine.”
“Wow. That’s hard-core.”
Hunter laughed and smiled at the boy. “You going to surf Maverick’s when you’re older?”
Billy shook his head. “No. I’m going to be a soldier like you and my dad. I want to be someone my mom can be proud of. My older brother’s a surfer.” Billy shrugged again as if the statement covered everything you needed to know about his brother.
Billy gazed up at him. “Thanks for talking to me, mister. I feel closer to my dad when I talk to a soldier. I can’t wait to tell my mom I met a real Marine. See ya.” He picked up a sand-covered bike from the ground, hopped on and peddled off.
Thanks for talking to me, son.
Hunter walked back to the Jeep, threw the gun in the glove box, and locked it. He rolled down the windows, cranked up the radio, and took off down the coast.
It was a good day to be alive.
• • •
“There’s got to be something else, Joe,” Hunter said to his friend the next morning in the little shop behind Joe’s house. Rain pounded the tin roof.
Joe shook his head. “Slow season. You know that. Some roofing jobs if the weather ever lets up, but … ” he gestured faintly to Hunter’s leg.
Damn it.
His injury was going to cost him everything. Correction. Already had cost him everything. A vision of Lauren’s face appeared in his mind.
“I’m sorry, Hunter,” Joe said. “I’ll let you know if I find anything that suits you.” He handed Hunter an envelope. “Here’s your paycheck.” Joe regarded him steadily. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Hunter stuffed the envelope in his jeans pocket and walked out of the house. If his best friend couldn’t see him as a complete man, who would?
He slid into the Jeep and glanced at the glove box.
No.
The voice seemed to come from a place deep within him.
You’re better than that.
I hope so.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, got back out of the car, and strode back to Joe’s office. “Can I use your workshop?”
“Sure.” Joe shrugged. “What are you thinking of doing?”
“Building cabinets.”
“Okay.” Joe handed him a key. “Come and go when you want.”
Hunter took the key. “Thanks.” He walked back out the door, got into the Jeep, and roared off to the lumber yard.
• • •
Sunday morning Hunter pressed a shirt and put it on, along with his best khakis. He thought about picking
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