The Soldier's Holiday Vow by Jillian Hart Page A

future she was still grappling to find. “You were shot on that mission, but you didn’t say where.”
    â€œNothing serious. I healed up okay.”
    She recognized that hollow sound, for it was the way her voice sounded when the past threatened to overtake her. “What happened? No one has told me.”
    â€œFirst I took a bullet to the shoulder and then shrapnel in my back. A grenade went off nearby and I covered Tim’s body with mine to protect him.” He waved off the importance, but emotion darkened his eyes. He was not a man to talk of his sacrifices. He had come to the wake, but he’d been more injured than she had realized.
    Caring rolled through her, unbidden and impossible to stop.
    â€œI’m glad you recovered, Hawk.”
    â€œUntil tomorrow.” He saluted her in return, pivoted on his heel and marched into the watery sunshine. She thought she caught a hint of hope on his handsome face, but she couldn’t be sure.
    Good, she thought, because that’s how she felt, too. Hopeful because he was coming back, encouraged at the prospect of seeing him again. Maybe it was because he was familiar, an old acquaintance. She liked the idea of being friends with him. As he strode toward his bike, she remembered the few group outings they had been on together long ago: volleyball at the park, bowling at Tim’s favorite rink, a barbecue on base. In all of those memories, Hawk had always been laughing, a dependable guy, a steadfast and loyal friend to the man she’d lost.
    She closed the door, and the click echoed in the silent house. She leaned against the door, fighting against falling into the hole of grief she had spent years climbing out of. She could no longer feel God, but she had to believe He was somewhere close. Lord, I’m trying to move on and let go. I’ve given my sorrow up to you so many times, too many to count. And yet I’m still holding this burden. It’s like being trapped beneath a deep layer of ice. I can’t see You to find my way out. A little help, please.
    No answer came, and she didn’t expect one. She only hoped her words had a chance of being heard. A motor roared to life outside, muffled by the sturdy walls, and she caught sight of a blur moving beyond the window—Hawk rocketing down the street. She moved to the sill, but he was already gone. Sunshine swept the steady branches of the rhododendrons outside, their green leaves held up toward the sky, as if with faith.
    The back door opened and Chessie’s shoes clicked on the hardwood. Sacks rustled as they came to rest on the kitchen counter.
    â€œI see he’s gone.” Her voice echoed in the coved ceiling and bounced off the plain white walls. She clomped into sight. “Tell me why you aren’t lying on the couch with your feet up.”
    â€œBecause I’m bored of lying still. Let me help put away the groceries.”
    â€œNot on your life. Get on that couch or do I have to come over there and make you do it?” Chessie might be all bark, but it was concern that softened her dark eyes,worry that furrowed across her brow. “You are my only sister, don’t forget. I could have lost you. So, are you going to do what I ask?”
    â€œYes, big sis.” Tired and drained, she retreated to the couch. It felt good to lie back on the soft cushions and fluffy pillows and grab the remote.
    After Chessie was done putting away the groceries, she plopped in the nearby chair. They spent the afternoon watching classic movies and humming along with Fred Astaire. But to her, Hawk wasn’t forgotten. He was like those old songs, familiar and dear, the ones she wanted to sing over and over again.
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    The tree lot on the corner of two main roads sparkled with cheerful Christmas lights rimming their blocked-off portion of the grocery store parking lot. Through the rain speckling the windshield, she spotted an older man and his wife trying to stay dry