Homecoming Hero. Renee Ryan
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But she doubted that was the cause of his jumpiness. She rose slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. “You have something to tell me about Clay?”
“Yes. But sit back down.” He gestured to the chair she’d just abandoned. “Please.”
“If you’ll join me.”
He looked at several pieces of furniture, narrowing his eyes as he went.
Understanding dawned. “Clay didn’t like this room, either.” She allowed herself a short laugh. “He said it was too girly.”
Wolf smiled at that. It was a quick, almost indiscernible lift of his lips, but a smile all the same. Unfortunately, the gesture made him seem somehow…sadder.
Shoulders set, he lowered himself to the love seat facing her. She could practically hear his thoughts colliding into one another as he leaned forward and captured her gaze with his. “You should know that Clay died honorably.”
It was her turn to smile, grateful for those simple, straightforward words affirming what she already knew. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“You’re not surprised.”
“Clay was an honorable man.”
“That he was.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over them.
Hailey swallowed. “Was that what you came to tell me?”
“No.” He broke eye contact, but not before she saw the agony in his gaze.
This conversation was hard on him, that much was clear. Well, it was equally difficult for her. She still missed her brother. Desperately. He’d been the last of her living relatives. After six full months, she often found herself waking in the middle of the night with tears running down her cheeks.
But as bad as she felt over her loss, this man had watched Clay die.
Without thinking too hard about what she was doing, Hailey moved to a spot next to him on the love seat and took one of his hands in hers. When he didn’t pull away, she squeezed gently. Her meeting at the church was no longer important. Giving this man comfort mattered more. Maybe, in the process, she would find a moment of peace, as well.
For several seconds, Captain Wolfson sat deathly still next to her, staring at their joined hands with his brows scrunched together. Confusion? Frustration? She couldn’t read his emotions anymore.
And then a dreadful thought occurred to her. “Did something happen to Clay that the military hasn’t told me? Something…classified?”
“No.” He sucked in a harsh breath. “No. His death was senseless, but not unusual. Our Humvee hit a roadside bomb. Clay lived a few minutes longer than the other three soldiers with us.”
The other three? Counting Clay and Captain Wolfson that made five men in the truck. “Are you saying you were the only one who made it out alive?”
“Yes.” The word came out softer than a whisper. And so sorrowful.
Hailey clasped his hand a little harder. “I’m sorry.”
He squeezed back, then lifted his gaze to meet hers. She gasped at what she saw in his eyes. Pain. Grief. And something else. Guilt, maybe? Was he suffering from survivor’s guilt? She’d heard about the terrible emotion, but had never truly understood it. Until now.
Lord, how do I help this man?
She wasn’t trained for something like this. It was more than she could handle.
Just as despair nearly overtook her, Wolf’s face cleared of all expression and he tugged his hand free. “Clay made one final request before he died.”
A sense of dread whipped through her. She didn’t want to hear the rest. Captain Wolfson had the unrelenting look of a man filled with resolve, the kind of determination a person got when he had to do or say something awful.
As afraid as she was to hear the rest, she had to ask, had to know. “What was my brother’s last request?”
“He asked me to stop you from going to the Middle East.”
Hailey shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “But…that doesn’t make any sense.”
In fact, the very idea was absurd.
Captain Wolfson rolled his shoulders, his gaze never fully releasing hers. “He was adamant.”
“You must have misunderstood. My becoming a missionary was Clay’s idea.”
“Not in the end.” He spoke the words in a hard, ruthless tone while his eyes—those sad, grief-stricken eyes—flared with raw emotion.
Hailey wished she didn’t see the misery in him, didn’t understand it and want to soothe it away. So she focused on what she knew for certain. “You’re mistaken. Clay’s e-mails said otherwise. I saved them all, including the one where he first encouraged me to start the application process.”
“Yeah, well, he changed his mind.” Wolf’s tone hardened even more than before. “When he was bleeding out on the desert floor.”
Hailey recoiled. “How can you say something so awful, so…graphic?”
“Because you’re not listening to me.” He rose abruptly, towering over her with his massive size. He looked every bit the warrior now, a man who had seen and done awful things.
Odd, but she wasn’t afraid of him. Only confused. His words and attitude didn’t match any of what Clay had said to her. “It’s… I mean, I…”
“Hailey. Listen to me.” His voice shook as he dropped to one knee. The gesture brought his gaze at eye level with hers. “Clay was right to send me. You can’t travel to the Middle East right now.”
“But—”
“Listen to me. It’s not safe. Your brother didn’t want you in danger.”
She heard the plea in his voice, saw the conviction in his bunched shoulders. “But, Captain Wolfson, mission work is dangerous. Clay knew that. I know it, too.”
“I don’t care how prepared you think you are, you can’t go in there alone.”
She touched his shoulder, surprised at the tension she felt under her hand. “I won’t be alone. I’ll have others with me. And, of course, I’ll have God.”
“God?” His shocked gaze locked with hers. “The Lord can’t protect you from IEDs.”
She sighed at his vehemence, not to mention his very real anger at God. She had to make him understand the Truth. “If it’s His will, He can. Besides, you’re missing the point.”
“No. You are.”
Looking into Wolf’s angry expression, Hailey knew words wouldn’t get through to him now. But maybe a firsthand account would.
“Come to church with me this afternoon,” she said.
He looked at her as if she’d gone insane.
“We’re having a reception for some visiting missionaries,” she explained quickly. “Including a couple who are permanently based in the Middle East.”
He opened his mouth, probably to protest, but she raised her hand to stop him from interrupting her. “No. Wait. Don’t say anything yet. I want to make a deal with you first.”
His eyes narrowed. “What sort of deal?”
“If you promise to listen to the Mulligans’ story without judgment, then I’ll promise to listen to your arguments with the same mind-set.”
He looked at her for an endless moment. As each second passed, frustration filled his gaze. But then he shook his head at her and said, “You’re not going to listen to another word I say unless I agree to this, are you?”