Scars Page 2

  Reid grunted from behind clenched teeth, hurled aside the bedcover, and sat, gripping the edge of the mattress. Sweat slicked his forehead. He didn’t switch on the lamp on top of the nightstand—the neon greenish glow of the digital alarm clock showed the time as three fifty-eight. Not that it mattered. Most mornings he didn’t sleep past four o’clock anyway.

  He clutched his knee. Fingers digging, kneading and rubbing across the stump, trying to ease the fiery burn. As he knew from experience, the motions were useless. The fierce massage didn’t erase the throb. Even though it wasn’t a part of him anymore, his missing limb pounded like hell. The doctor’s talk of phantom pain echoed in his mind, but that didn’t make the experience less real. Since his release from Walter Reed, this happened less frequently.

  “A matter of time,” he mocked, a cynical edge spiking his tone. In time, they’d said, it might disappear altogether. Damn if I don’t beat this.

  With still an hour before dawn, Reid grabbed the shorts and T-shirt he’d tossed to the floor before crashing into bed last night. When he finished pulling the shirt over his head, Reid reached for the prosthesis, leaning against the nightstand. His new reality, they’d told him encouragingly. He despised the term.

  Fifteen months! Had it been fifteen months since he’d gotten his first orthopedic device? On some days, it felt as if it had been just yesterday. He’d handled getting used to the artificial limb all right; yet coping with the emotional trauma from the explosion that had happened two years ago had been another matter. And hadn’t he just let his anger rip at the physical therapist? But the guy had been cool, saw right through his B.S. and gave him no slack. Nope, he’d called him out on it. Turned out it was what he needed. He’d prevailed. Grit and determination were as much of Reid’s make-up as that rebellious swirl of hair growing in the wrong direction at the front of his hairline. He’d learned to tame that annoying cowlick, too. Donning the artificial leg below the knee was now a part of his routine.

  He made his way to the kitchen, switched on the coffeemaker his mother had prepared the night before, and opened his MacBook. They’d stayed in touch, he and his former team, so checking in the quiet hours of the morning had become a routine. As he scanned, his eye caught an email from his buddy, Tex. Reid scratched the stubble of his chin, itching to open it right away. But coffee first. When the machine stopped brewing, he filled his mug and sat to read.

  On that disastrous day in Afghanistan, not everyone came out as lucky as he—if losing a limb was something to call lucky. Two of his comrades had lost their lives in that roadside blast. The surviving brothers had rallied around the wounded and now shared a bond most of his hometown buddies wouldn’t understand. How could they? It was not their fault.

  “Good Morning, Son.” Amanda McCabe came into the kitchen as Reid filled his mug a second time.

  “Hey, Mom. You’re up early. Want some coffee?”

  “Sure, hon. But why aren’t you asleep?”

  Reid’s steel-gray eyes hardened as he caught Amanda’s gaze shift to the artificial limb. He couldn’t stand the glimmer of pity that crept into strangers’ faces when they glanced at that. But this was his mother, so he kept his voice neutral when he spoke. “Been getting up this early for years now, Mom. Life in the Army conditions you.”

  Life in the Army. Reid missed it—the brothers, the camaraderie, the bonds, even the rigid discipline of ceaseless training that prepared them for war. But it didn’t prepare me for this, he thought. Moving in with his parents at age twenty-nine to lick his wounds knocked his pride. Oh, the petite woman who cooked his favorite meals and offered food as a way of soothing his soul consoled him. Or maybe his mother found much-needed comfort in doing something. Because God knows, there wasn’t anything else to do but to let him rest and heal. And he was thankful for his dad—the quiet thinker- whose eyes dampened when he spoke of the respect he held for Reid. Gratitude washed through him, but it was time to retake charge of his life.

  The email he’d read earlier had been from Houston Miller, his former platoon leader. It swirled around his mind and filled his chest with excitement. A one-year walk across the U.S. to raise awareness of the staggering veteran suicide rate. To fund a nonprofit organization that would focus on preventing the outrageous number of veterans committing suicide every single day. And Houston had convinced him, a leg-amputee, to become part of the journey. It would start a new chapter of Reid’s life and be his rite of passage.

  No doubt, it would take time to condition for this endeavor. They hadn’t set a final departure date yet, by the end of summer, their boots would hit the road. Reid would move to Oak Creek, Kentucky, where he and Houston would train together and support each other again. Like they had in the past. And once more, it was time to leave the comfort of home and stride towards a new beginning.

  Give me two weeks, Reid had responded without a second thought. He had a hunch that this bizarre endeavor just might offer a semblance of normal; whatever that may look like.

  First, he needed to break the news to his mother. Reid had kept the lengthy talks and Facetime calls with Houston to himself. The project had given him purpose and hope. His mom wouldn’t care for it, and he understood. But Reid counted on Amanda’s support. In two weeks, he’d pack a duffel bag and move 140 miles south to Oak Creek. At least he wasn’t going to war.

  “Did that car backfiring wake you?”

  “Yes,” Amanda said. “Who in the blue blazes was that at this hour?”

  “Maybe, for a change, the paper came early?”

  The answer to the question came right after he opened the front door. On the horizon, fingers of gray slid open the curtain of darkness; the early morning air smelled as fresh as the dew covering the lawn, preceding an unusually warm April day.

  There, in the dimming light of the street lantern, huddled a form Reid didn’t immediately identify. Instantly alert, he cursed himself for not having brought his gun. Amanda followed Reid out onto the porch and promptly felt herself prodded backward. “Get back inside,” Reid snapped the order as coffee sloshed over her terrycloth robe.

  Damn! A burst of air cleared his lungs.

  He need not have worried. The irregular shape was a dog tied to the lamppost. Scampering to his fours, it appeared to be a mutt of medium size with a dark coat, sporting a white blaze, chest, and paws. Reid’s anger flared. You’ve got to be kidding me. Someone dumped a freaking dog! He—or she—hadn’t barked and still didn’t. Thank God. The old sourpuss next door surely would have something to say about that. Instead, the dog panted with its tongue lolling.

  As Reid approached the animal, the pooches’ eyes struck him as knowing. They spoke a language of their own. Even from a distance, Reid recognized the intensity with which they latched onto him, penetrating Reid’s soul with focus and expectation. Cautiously, he approached. The dog scampered to his feet, circled the lamppost, and realization smacked Reid broad in the face. The mutt paced on three legs; its right hind leg was missing. What the hell?

  In that moment, compassion expanded his chest for the dog who shared a similar fate as his own. “Hey, buddy,” he whispered. Reaching to pet the dog’s head, he noticed the folded note sticking out from under the collar. “What happened to you, kiddo? Who left you here?” A warm tongue flicked against Reid’s wrist.

  He slipped the note from the collar and unfolded the piece of paper.

  His name is Yard. You know… as in three feet. He was just a puppy when they took the leg, and he probably doesn’t remember what it’s like to have four paws. So, it’s all right.

  Reid’s jaw clenched, and the words blurred before his eyes. Gulping a deep breath, he glanced at the space where the dog’s leg should be before he continued reading.

  He is a two-year-old border collie mix, neutered, with shots up-to-date, and a clean bill of health. I’m not allowed to keep him. The new landlord said he has to go. I begged and cried. But the heartless louse said Yard was too big for the apartment. Yard was my compa
nion, but the scumbag landlord didn’t care, and I can’t afford to move to a new place. So, perhaps this is meant to be. You don’t know me, but I saw you at Progressive Physical Therapy, where I was a patient . . . same as you. You looked so sad. And that’s when I knew Yard and you belonged together. He’s been a good dog. I beg you to give him a chance, you won’t regret it. Please, don’t judge me. I just want what’s best for him. He deserves to be with a kind person, and if my intuition is right, you’ll be that fellow. He’ll be a good dog for you, too. Oh, and in the black nylon bag you’ll find his bowls, the treats he likes best, and his absolute favorite red Frisbee. God Bless You.

  Heartbroken in Florence

  “Fuck! That’s rich!” Reid folded the note, shoving it into his pocket. He ran a hand through his short-cropped hair. “So . . . your name is Yard. And you’re damaged goods. Just like me, huh?” The dog tilted his head, listening with attentive eyes. Reid dropped to his knee and ran both hands along the dog’s face. Yard gave a small whine, his eyes darting to a spot behind Reid.

  “What’s going on?” Amanda asked, not lifting her eyes from the animal.

  Reid stood, and when he spoke again, his voice packed heat. “Someone dropped him off, saying he and I would make a good pair.” Reid clenched his teeth, swallowing the four-letter word from leaving the tip of his tongue. “Tell me, what am I supposed to do with him?” Jerking the note from his pocket, he handed the piece of paper to Amanda.

  Amanda wiped at her eyes as she read the message. When she finished, a fat tear rolled over her cheek. “I don’t know, honey, but maybe it’s a sign from the universe. Remember your therapist’s recommendation of looking into a companion animal?”

  Yes, he had wanted to adopt a dog, but that was before the walk across America came up. Adopting a dog now would complicate things, unless the animal could go on the road with him.

  Calm and unafraid, Yard’s eyes didn’t stray from Reid’s face as if reading his thoughts. A small moan pushed from his throat, and lifting a paw, he gently grazed Reid’s leg—an unexpected, yet comforting gesture from this abandoned animal. In that moment, Reid’s initial reaction to take him to the pound dissolved with the nudge of a cold canine nose.

  Smoothing his hand over the dog’s head, he stared at his mom. “Well, then . . .” he growled, “it looks like I’ve got myself a dog.”

  Jeez, he thought. Did the universe not have the damnedest sense of humor?

  Chapter 2

  How had this day gone so sideways?

  Keira maneuvered her sunflower yellow Beetle into her driveway, reflecting on the comfortable pace of her rural Kentucky town where folks knew their neighbors and considered friendly hellos good manners. She felt lucky to live in such a tight-knit community and even tighter family. Lucky to have gotten the teacher’s job at Oak Creek Middle School. But, jeez, sixth graders were such a tangle of emotions, and with the excitement of the school year ending soon, attention spans rapidly declined.

  Was this why she lately felt so out of sorts? Keira closed her eyes and remembered the summer after her college graduation when she’d backpacked across Europe with two friends. The day after graduation, excitement swept her system as she departed, eager to taste the rich culture of the old world, and meet the people who lived in it. For the tiniest moment, she heard the gondolier’s sweet serenade in Venice, wrapped herself in the warmth and cheer of her Irish relatives, breathed the crisp alpine air in Austria, and swooned in the French waiter’s poetic language at a Parisian street café. A longing to recapture this sense of excitement flowed through her soul. Was that it? Had her classroom become her cage? No, she quickly dismissed the thought. She loved her kids; she enjoyed teaching. Although, right now, summer break couldn’t come quick enough.

  Keira pursed her lips and considered Ryan, her best friend’s fiancée, who traveled the globe in his profession as a freelance photographer. His independence and freedom sparked a sliver of envy. Ah, but hadn’t she experienced the steep price of this freedom through her friend’s eyes?

  Keira smiled, but couldn’t deny the pang of jealousy as she thought of Emily and Ryan. She cheered for their happiness, although at one time she wanted to squeeze Ryan’s neck. Because preceding their engagement, he’d bailed on Emily, just ended the relationship with a hollow reason. Keira, too, had once found herself in that desperate pit of heartbreak and emotional suffering Emily went through. She could relate. No man was worth this agony, and so she’d kept relationships at an arm’s length.

  In the end, her friends’ breakup had been no match for the magnetism of their love. Keira saw it in the flicker of Emily’s eyes when Ryan was near, and in Ryan’s touches that said he couldn’t keep his hands off Emily. He really loves her. As she thought of her friend’s happiness, a dull ache slid over her heart. With sudden clarity, she realized that she, too, wanted that kind of love. Yes, she could admit to that. But, with her failed dating record, she had no expectations of this happening soon.

  Irritated, she tucked a lock behind her ear. Could this be the source of her frustration? Or was it that caged feeling combined with no expectation of finding a love like theirs? Keira emptied her lungs in a huff as the day paraded through her mind.

  And today she felt as if life had just flipped her the bird.

  Unfortunately, her unhappy mood started shortly after arriving at the school. Like most mornings, she headed to the teacher’s lounge with a hot brew on her mind. Keira opened the door and stepped straight into Jace’s usual flippant greeting. “Hey, gorgeous.” Only today, his eyes didn’t match the smile on his lips.

  The cheerfulness struck Keira as forced, even though she supposed he was unaware. Something occupied his mind; something he’d kept to himself, she suspected. Signal received.

  “Hey, Jace.” With measured strides, she closed the distance to the coffee machine and reached for a paper cup. Pouring the steaming liquid, she said, “I missed you at Pat’s yesterday.”

  The townsfolk seldom referred to the pub by its official name, The Bluegrass Craft Beer Brewery. To them, it was just a sign by the door. Pat, sociable, easy-going, and co-owner of the pub, stood as the face of BCBB. Since Thursday evening was karaoke night, it was the place to meet and share a pitcher. “You missed a great time.”

  Her stomach pinched as Keira struggled to deliver the statement without accusation. The question stood between them, soundless and uncomfortable. Seconds stretched like a rubber band, feeling like minutes. Could he peer inside Keira, Jace would see the bunching nerves, the speeding pulse. Instead, she leaned against the counter, appearing calm and collected. Only her jade-green eyes met his in question.

  “Keira.” Jace lifted his hand and raked his fingers through tousled hair, making a mess of the stylish tangle with the beautiful blonde streaks in it. Her stomach flipped at the telltale gesture and the sorrow she’d heard in the single word.

  “What’s happening, Jace? Care to fill me in?”

  The door opened, and before it fully swung out, Jace fixed his eyes on hers. “Not now, Keira. Let’s talk later. Lunch?” Spoken in a quiet voice, she understood what her gut already knew. In the wordless language of locked gazes, she’d recognized the guilt, remorse, and even a hint of regret. Sad popped into her mind. But she dismissed the thought right away because she’d seen the signs. Had known this day would come and couldn’t even be angry.

  The relationship was ending. From the start, she’d known this day would come. Frankly, whatever they’d shared, it had lasted beyond expectations. Lately, though, she’d surprised herself by hoping. Who was she kidding? Only her closest friends knew Jace was more than a colleague, but in truth, she’d warmed to the idea of a future with him. A fantasy. A stupid, teenage-like fantasy. A crushing sadness settled over her as she pushed away from the counter. The coffee suddenly tasted like battery fluid.

  They met at lunch. Jace was going to leave Oak Creek and, at the end of the school year, he’d move back to California. Home. He’d return home
to family and friends. An only child, his parents needed him. That she could understand. Yet . . .

  The afternoon crept at a pace slower than a snail on a lunch break. At last, when the bell signaled the end of classes, Keira just wanted to get out of there. On top of the break-up, her already crappy day only got worse. Her students had behaved like rowdy little monsters—arguing, out of their chairs, disrupting. Had they all caught the stupid bug? Apparently. Lord, do I really want to put up with this, year after year? She’d kept her cool, but admittedly, she’d come close to losing her temper.

  Keira’s neck and shoulders ached; invisible fingers reached into her head and squeezed. All she wanted was to burrow into the soft nest of her bed, pull the duvet over her head, and have an ugly cry.

  She’d made it halfway across the parking lot when the phone sounded out her current favorite country tune. The upbeat notes grated on her nerves. Emily Carmichael. Her friend who would get married at the end of August. And who’d scheduled an appointment with the bridal boutique for today. Today! Freshly dumped and on the feel-good side of bitchy, she’d help Emily shop for her wedding dress. Sweet injustice of life, why not rub it in a little more?

  Could this day get any worse?

  “Hold on a sec . . .” Keira let her bag slide off the shoulder and reached for the key to her little hippie car, a yellow VW Beetle.

  Keira puffed air through pursed lips, lifting the stray strand of hair on her cheek. She screwed her face into a grimace and dropped into her seat; the pinching clasp at her nape had to come off. A flick of her fingers and curls tumbled to her shoulders. Relief! Not much, but enough to release the nagging pressure. At least a little.

  “What’s up?” Keira dipped a hand inside the mysterious black hole of the enormous hobo bag and searched for the mini-size bottle of aspirin she knew was in there somewhere.

  Emily’s voice bubbled from the speaker, “Hey, you. What’s up with yourself?”