The Soldier's Holiday Vow. Jillian Hart
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roughly caressed her cheek as the iron band of his arms embraced her. The rope tugged, lifting them off the ground.
She had to will away the memories whispering at the edges of her mind and force them into silence again. Looking back wouldn’t change the truth. It wouldn’t make her whole and strong again. It wouldn’t return Tim to her. Would Hawk understand that? They began to sway, oddly buoyant as the rope drew them upward.
“You doin’ okay?”
She nodded.
“You’re not gonna pass out on me, are you?”
Choosing silence again, she shook her head. Hands were reaching out for her.
“Careful of her left arm,” Hawk called out.
She felt someone grab her good arm to hoist her to her feet. She opened her eyes to see the gloomy bowl of the sky and the brightly lit wooded area. A dozen search-and-rescue team members were busy at work, manning the ropes, running the lights or talking on squawking radios. A search dog barked at his handler, excited by her arrival, as if he had been worried, too. She looked everywhere but at the man with one arm still around her. Even on solid ground, she felt as if she were swaying in midair.
Hawk was talking, rattling off her injuries, unhooking the carabineer connecting them, and her harness fell away. Other soldiers helped her onto a gurney. She didn’t want to, but her head was spinning. She realized the volunteers were from nearby Fort Lewis, where the Ranger battalion Tim had belonged to was stationed. She’d been introduced to some of the men at one time or another, men who were faceless now in the shadowy dark. She let them strap her down and check her vitals.
“You did great.” He knelt at her side, his hair slick with sweat, and his granite face compassionate. “You saved that girl’s life. You knew what to do and you did it.”
“I didn’t do much. I raised her feet. I kept her quiet. I gave her my sweatshirt.”
“It’s the simple stuff that can make the most difference. You kept her as stable as you could until help came.” The gurney bounced as the men lifted her. He stayed by her, carrying his share of her weight. “You did good.”
“I know what you’re doing. You’re distracting me from my injuries so they don’t seem as bad.”
“Someone will splint that arm for you in the chopper. I’m glad you’re okay, September. I’m glad I found you.” He kept his voice casual and easy.
“Thank you, Hawk.”
“Sure thing.” He kept his footing, not easy on the rocky edge of the steep trail. They were closer to the bird now, the engine noise making it too loud to say much. He had enough light to see her better, the silk of her cinnamon-brown hair, her smooth creamy complexion and her lovely, oval face. She was not the same woman he remembered. Gone was her sparkle, her quick, easy manner that twinkled like summer stars. Sure enough, Tim’s loss had been hard on her.
She wasn’t alone with that.
Strange how God worked, he thought, as he ducked against the draft from the blades. While he hadn’t seen her in years, time and the rigors of active duty hadn’t obliterated her from his memory.
Why was it so easy to remember the good times? They flashed through his mind unbidden and unwanted. Seeing her picture for the first time when Tim had dug it out of his wallet after joining their battalion. Meeting her at a bowling party when their scheduled picnic had been rained out—typical Seattle-Tacoma weather. Hearing about her in the letters Tim read when they’d been sharing a tent and griping good-naturedly about their time in the desert. Those were innocent times, before he’d lost one of his lifelong friends. Before he’d had to deal with the harsh realities of war.
“On three,” their sergeant barked, and they lifted her into the chopper. Hawk hopped in after, glancing at Crystal, stabilized and prepped, before his gaze lingered on September’s face. Even in the harsh light, she was beautiful.
“You want me to call anyone?” he asked her, taking her good hand, careful of the IV. “Your mom?”
“Don’t trouble her. I can take care of myself.” That was it, no more explanation. She didn’t meet his gaze.
He could feel the wall she put up between them like a concrete barrier. Was she mad because he had missed Tim’s funeral? His plane had come in late. He’d flown halfway around the world, and military transports weren’t the most on-time birds in the sky. Had she been alone? Tim’s brother, Pierce, had been there, but he couldn’t remember the details, like if her family lived nearby. Anyway, he and Pierce had flown out that night, leaving her desolated in the cold rain.
“Anyone else I can contact?”
“There’s no one.” She turned her head away and swallowed hard, as if she were in emotional pain. The shadows hid her, but he could feel her sadness.
The captain tapped him on the shoulder. Time to go. He hated that he couldn’t say goodbye; she didn’t want to hear it. He hated what his presence was doing to her. Some memories were best left buried. He knew how that was.
His boots hit the ground, and he got clear. Dirt rose up in clouds as the bird took off, hovering off the ground for a moment as if battling gravity, then turning tail and lifting purposefully into the starless black.
“Was that September Stevens, Tim’s former fiancée?” Reno asked as they watched the taillights grow distant.
“Yep.” That was all he could say. Something sat in his throat, refusing to let him say more. He, Tim and Pierce had all been buddies since they were kids. They’d been neighbors back home in Wyoming, running wild in the foothills of the Rockies. They’d called themselves the dynamic trio back then, naive kids in a different world. War had changed that. War changed a lot of things.
He thought of September and her broken heart. There was some serious pain there. He felt for her, but it was why he kept clear of relationships. His life as a Ranger wasn’t conducive to long-term commitment. It was his experience that love didn’t necessarily grow fonder half a world apart. What he did was dangerous. Tim hadn’t been the only soldier buried over the recent conflicts defending this country’s freedom. He couldn’t justify putting a woman through that, waiting and wondering, fearing with every phone call or knock on the door that he was dead. Seeing September was all the proof he ever needed of that.
He couldn’t say why, but she stayed on his mind, a sad and beautiful image he could not forget.
Chapter Two
“How are you feeling today?” The hospital volunteer flashed a sunny smile as she set the bouquet of flowers onto September’s bedside table.
“Better.” In some ways, but not in others. She smoothed the wrinkles out of her hospital gown. For one thing, this had to go. She felt vulnerable in it. She carefully adjusted her casted forearm on the pillow. “I get to go home.”
“Great news.” The volunteer stepped back to admire the small collection of flowers. “I’m going to come by the riding stable you work for. I’ve always wanted to take lessons. I don’t suppose you teach beginners. I don’t even have a horse.”
“You can rent one along with your lesson. It’s done all the time.” September reached for the pen and notepad on the bedside table, ignored the twinge of pain in her skull and the bite beneath her cast. She scribbled down the stable’s phone number. “When you call, ask for me. I’ll give your first lesson free, although you will have to spring for the horse rental.”
“That would be fantastic. Thank you.” The volunteer brightened and looked younger than September had first guessed. Maybe in her early thirties or late twenties. It reminded her that everyone went through tough times. Everyone had a challenging road to walk. The volunteer padded to the door. “Oh, it looks like you have a visitor. A totally handsome one.”
That could only mean one man—Hawk. She didn’t know anyone else who could be described as