A Soldier's Reunion. Cheryl Wyatt
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Not possible. Can’t be him. Can it?
Warmth radiated from a presence behind her. She inhaled deeply and forced the shock from her face. She used every ounce of strength to slowly turn around.
The instant his eyes lit on her face, his mouth slid open.
He stared.
Mandy stared.
Though his impressive frame was that of a man instead of a boy now, she’d know him anywhere.
“Nolan?” She hated the breathlessness in her voice. Despised the tears stinging at the sight of him. The welcome sight.
No.
Only because he’s rescuing you. Not because he’s Nolan, the only man you’ve ever loved.
Eyes as kind as she remembered explored her face. He seemed unable to speak for a moment. Or blink.
“Manda Panda?” It came out as a whisper.
The spoken name shot pain through her heart.
She didn’t want to hear it. No one had the right to call her that anymore. Especially not him.
CHERYL WYATT
An RN turned stay-at-home mom and wife, Cheryl delights in the stolen moments God gives her to write faith-driven action and romance. She stays active in her church and in her laundry room. She’s convinced that having been born on a naval base on Valentine’s Day destined her to write military romance. A native of San Diego, California, Cheryl currently resides in beautiful, rustic Southern Illinois, but has also enjoyed living in New Mexico and Oklahoma. Cheryl loves hearing from readers. You are invited to contact her at [email protected] or P.O. Box 2955 Carbondale, IL 62902-2955. Visit her on the Web at www.CherylWyatt.com and sign up for her newsletter if you’d like updates on new releases, events and other fun stuff. Hang out with her in the blogosphere at www.Scrollsquirrel.blogspot.com or on the message boards at www.SteepleHill.com.
A Soldier’s Reunion
Cheryl Wyatt
In his heart a man plans his course,
but the Lord determines his steps.
—Proverbs 16:9
To my critique partners and prayer sisters:
Pamela James, Cynthia Hawkins, Michelle Rogers, Danica Favorite-McDonald, Camy Tang, Robin Miller. I am thankful for your honest assessments and encouragement. Can’t wait until we all share shelf-space.
To my parents, Bill and Lois Blankenship. I
struggle to craft characters with traumatic pasts and dysfunctional families because I was so fortunate to have been born to the two of you. you have encouraged every step of my journey and championed my dreams. I love you and know you love me.
To Melissa, Krista, Sarah, Joan and the Harlequin
team for making my books shelf-worthy. You are incredibly talented.
To God, thank You for reuniting us when we stray.
That you are a God who chases is amazing. Thank You for getting me through the bumps in this story’s road.
To Billy, my personal hero, for filling our home
with hilarity and for being so laid-back you’re horizontal when the house goes askew under deadlines.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
“Briggs, phone! Chief Petrowski’s on the line. Says it’s beyond urgent.”
U.S. Air Force Pararescue Jumper Nolan Briggs rushed past teammates Brock Drake and Vince Reardon, who stopped rigging parachutes and looked up. The airmen grew sniper-still and spotter-alert as did the other PJs in Refuge, Illinois’s skydiving Drop Zone facility.
Nolan grabbed the DZ phone from teammate Chance Garrison. “Briggs speaking.”
“Nolan, I’m tasking your team to a major bridge collapse.”
Nolan pressed the phone tighter against his ear and processed Petrowski’s words wafting across the line. “Major bridge collapse? Where?” Adrenaline pumping, Nolan eyed his teammates.
They stood at his words and marched close in listen-mode.
“Reunion Bridge over Refuge River—hold on,” Petrowski said.
“Refuge.” Nolan hiked his chin to his team while on hold.
The room erupted in activity as airmen grabbed gear.
Nolan had been placed in temporary command while PJ team leader Joel Montgomery traveled abroad with his wife to meet children they were adopting. Second-in-command, Manny Péna, was in surgery to remove pins, following a two-year-old injury incurred during a skydiving accident.
Nolan yanked a notebook from PJ Ben Dillinger’s pocket. As Petrowski, back on the line, talked about the rescue mission, Nolan scribbled information.
Stiffening beside Nolan, Ben straightened. “Hey, babe,” he called for his fiancée, Amelia, near the round tables across the room. She approached, Ben’s brother Hutton following, his Mosaic Down Syndrome causing his eager feet to shuffle.
“Didn’t Reece have a field trip today, across the bridge at the museum?” Ben said of his stepdaughter-to-be as he grabbed Amelia’s hand.
“Yes.” She scanned the note. Her face turned pasty. “Th-they would have been on the way back. P-probably on the bridge.”
Arms numbing, Nolan tightened his grip on the phone as he observed Ben and Amelia. Dread pounded through his body, incinerating the lining of his gut.
The room stilled as implications of Amelia’s words sank in. Ben’s arms steadied her. “Don’t panic. We don’t know for sure she was on the bridge when it went.”
“What if she was?” Amelia, trembling, slid to a chair.
Nolan squeezed Amelia’s shoulder with his free hand. “We’ll handle it. Okay?