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A Soldier Finds His Way

A Veteran's Heart Romance

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We have just been cleared to land at Stewart International Airport. Again, we ask that you stay in your seat with your belt securely fastened. We should be on the ground shortly."

Lieutenant Edward Giordano rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as landing gear hummed and vibrated his seat. The carrot-top boy in the adjacent seat yanked the tail of his seatbelt tight enough to make grooves in his thighs, glanced up and managed a smile laced with a little fear.

Edward regretted his verbal mistreatment of the child. He'd rejected the boy's offer of temporary friendship and couldn't bring himself to respond to his timid smile. Sure, the kid had fired questions faster than a .50 cal machine gun for half the flight, and had poked him with a pencil-sharp elbow as he colored in his book and hogged the shared armrest.

Even so, his conscience nagged him. He could have tried to be civil instead of chewing the kid out and finally telling him to shut up.

Major Greco's squinty-eyed glare drilled into him from across the aisle. The message was clear. Be nice to the kid, or he'd knock Edward's teeth out.

Turbulence bounced the plane. The boy gripped the armrests and squeezed his eyes shut. Even if Edward could choke up an apology, now wasn't the time to deliver it.

"Welcome to Newburgh." The flight attendant smiled at Edward as he exited the plane.

Greco's boots clomped beside him on the way to baggage claim. Sergeant Dexter and Corporal Jackson brought up the rear, talking loud, and laughing hard, happy to be back home. Edward couldn't fault them. Three months of back-to-back missions, dodging bullets in hot, sweaty Costa Rica had zapped the energy out of the whole unit.

Suitcases burst through rubber flaps and started their journey around the baggage carousel.

The redheaded boy waited across the carousel with his parents as the luggage circled a sign that flashed their flight number and origin. The boy said something to his father and pointed at Edward. The boy's father then shook his fist in Edward's direction. Edward smirked and shrugged it off.

"Jackson," Greco said. "Grab my bag when it comes around, would you please? Get Giordano's too."

"Lieutenant, I'd like to have a word with you." Greco strutted past Edward toward an empty baggage carousel. Edward followed.

"LT, what's wrong with you? That was a nice kid, and you could have treated him a whole lot better. His dad would like to beat the crap out of you, and right now, I'd like to help him. I've got nothing but praise for your abilities as a Special Operator, but as a man, you need a lot of work. From this point forward, when you're wearing your uniform, you will act in a manner befitting an officer in the United States Army. An officer is not rude or unkind to civilians. This includes children." Greco paused. "Look, your brother Hank told me you were kicked around when you were kid, and I'm sorry about that."

Edward clenched his fists and turned to walk away.

"Lieutenant, I'm not finished with you. Attention."

Edward snapped to attention, stood erect, and faced forward.

Greco took a deep breath. "I'm sure whatever you went through as a kid scarred you in some way, but you can't go around venting your anger on every kid you meet. Giordano, I don't know why I put up with you. You're nasty, cranky, and, on the whole, quite intolerable."

Behind Greco, automatic doors to the outside swished open, then closed. A cold wind chased a few scraps of paper inside and swirled the debris around Edward's legs. He didn't flinch.

"My wife, whom you refuse to meet, calls you Lieutenant Sourpuss. You're unlikeable, yet I like you. I don't know why, but I do. The guys like you. You snarl and bare your teeth at us at every turn, yet each one of us knows you'd take a bullet for us in a heartbeat. Underneath that rotten disposition of yours lies a good man. I don't know how I know, but I do."

A seed of a smile sprouted on Greco's face and he stepped a little closer.

"Do you know what my wife said to me last time she saw you at this very airport? She said you were one of the handsomest men she'd ever seen. Not as handsome as me, of course," he added quickly, evoking a grin from Edward. "But she said to remind you that your face wouldn't break if you smiled once in a while. You're wound up tight. Loosen up, son. Dismissed."

Edward relaxed his posture but stood glued to the spot.

Greco took a few steps, but turned back when Edward didn't follow. "What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry I embarrassed you and the men. You're right. I behaved badly and I have no excuse. I'll try to control myself, sir."

"Edward, may I speak to you as a friend and not as your commanding officer?"

He nodded.

"Look, I'm not saying you're crazy or anything like that, but maybe you should see someone, you know, professional. You shouldn't have to live a life of controlling yourself. Work on getting rid of those internal demons instead. Something is eating at you all the time. You don't seem to enjoy life very much, and you should. Come on. Let's go home." Greco patted Edward's back.

The men collected their gear and made for the door.

"I don't suppose I could persuade you to meet my wife today, could I, Lieutenant?" Greco asked.

"Maybe another time, sir."

"Need a ride, Lieutenant?" Jackson asked.

"Thanks, but my brother's picking me up."

"Hey, tell Hank we miss him. He's a great guy, and the best demolition man the unit's ever had."

Outside, Greco dropped his duffel bag and kissed his wife passionately. Before she got in the car, she turned and waved at Edward. He returned her gesture with a nod and a quick flick of his hand. The major gave Edward an informal two-finger salute and slipped into the driver's side.

Jackson's two kids ran to him crying, "Daddy, Daddy," and held on to him as he kissed his wife and stroked her hair.

A redheaded bombshell pulled a red sports car to the curb. Dexter threw his bag in the backseat, hopped in and leaned over for a few seconds of making out.

Edward's team drove off, destined for warm houses, home-cooked meals, and tender loving from women who looked at them as though they'd hung the moon. Lucky guys. Maybe one day he'd enjoy the same benefits. First he'd have to find a woman who could put up with him. Slim chance of that happening.

Hank arrived in his Jeep and jumped out to greet him. "I've missed you, little brother. Come on, let's go home."

Edward threw his duffel bag in the back seat and got in.

"I wish you'd called me sooner, Eddie. I've got a ticket to fly to Miami tomorrow evening. I guess I could cancel. What do you think?" Hank maneuvered his vehicle around a snowplow.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Hank, but go to Miami. Really. I'm bone weary. I can't remember being this tired in all my life. I wouldn't be much company for you anyway. You don't mind if I use the cabin for a while, do you?"

"The cabin would be a great place for you right now. You've got thirty days' leave. Rest and recuperate. It'll be good for you."

Edward slid his seat back and stretched his legs as snow swirled against the windshield in billowy gusts. "How long has it been snowing like this?"

"It started last night. It's going to be a beauty of a storm."

* * *

Edward gritted his teeth. Why Hank would think he'd enjoy taking his brother's mutt with him to the cabin was beyond comprehension.

"Look, if you want to borrow my snowmobile, you're going to have to take my dog. That's the deal." Hank folded his arms across his chest. "Why should I pay thirty bucks a day to board her when she can go with you for a week for free? It's not like Cricket's a lot of trouble. All you have to do is feed her, give her water, and let her out once in a while."

"I know how to take care of a dog, Hank. I just don't want to. Come on, man, give me a break. I'm dead tired, and I need to get away for a while. It seems like forever since the last time I was on leave. I've got thirty days of freedom, and I want to spend it alone, by myself, in solitude, o solo mio. Get it? Can't you lend me the stupid thing without any strings attached? If you were a good brother, you wouldn't ask me to do this."

"If you were a good brother, you'd volunteer." Hank jingled the keys in front of Edward's face. "No pooch, no snowmobile."

"Fine. You win." Edward snatched the keys. "But if I get hungry, I'm eating her. I swear I will."

* * *

At the remote cabin, Edward found the same dirt, dust, and musty closed-up smell as his last visit. Some fresh air, that's what it needed. He opened the door and windows and unloaded the supplies from the snowmobile. He took a deep breath of cold fresh air and listened to the silence of the falling snow, finding a semblance of comfort in the solitude the woods offered. Snow covered the ground and the forecast called for more, but it mattered little to him.

He was glad to be here and relieved the snowmobile had made it the five or so miles from where he'd parked his truck after stalling several times despite its recent overhaul. Hank would be ticked when he heard the knocking in the engine after all the money he'd dumped into it.

The neatly stacked pile of wood he'd cut the previous summer would last quite a while. It had been hard work swinging an ax for hours on end, but now he'd get to reap the benefits. He stoked a good blaze in the fireplace and sat back to chow down on an MRE. Tonight, he hadn't felt like cooking, but how much longer could he endure eating mushy meals from green plastic envelopes?

Cricket sat a few feet from him with eyes that begged for attention. Each time he cast a glance at her, she shifted her weight from paw to paw in anticipation.

"Okay, it's not your fault that you're here. Come here, girl."

She obeyed with puppyish enthusiasm, and he rewarded her with dual scratching behind the ears. He found her to be a nice-looking dog of dubious heritage, somewhere in the eighty-pound range. Gentle in disposition, she appeared to be mostly Lab, with a couple of other breeds mixed in. Her dark-colored coat, smooth and silky soft, made petting a mutually enjoyable experience.

"You and I'll get along fine if you try not to talk too much, okay, pretty girl?" She wagged her tail.

Dead tired and ready for bed, he didn't bother to light the kerosene lamp. "Tomorrow, I've got to air out these smelly blankets. I'm glad I brought a couple of clean sheets."

Great, now he was having one-sided conversations with a dog. He crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. Cricket jumped up on the bed next to him and plunked herself down with a thud.

"Hey, who invited you?" She looked away as if scolded, but he reached over and petted her for a while. "Most of my guys are home in bed with their wives, and here I am, sleeping with a dog." He groaned, turned onto his back, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Howling wind woke Edward in the morning while it was still dark.

Cricket jumped from the bed and went to the door. She pawed it and let out a soft whine.

"Okay, I'll let you out. But make it snappy. It's freezing out there." A few minutes later the dog scratched at the door and he let her back inside.

The afternoon brought punishing winds that battered the cabin and molded drifts of white into ghostly figures. Only a fool would dare venture outside unless absolutely necessary. He lowered the curtain he'd pushed aside, stepped away from the window and finished tidying the place.

He primed the hand pump at the kitchen sink, filled a pot and placed it on the woodstove to boil. Spaghetti and canned sauce sounded like a good plan. Tonight he'd eat like a king, not a soldier.

There wasn't much to the cabin. Except for the bathroom, it was one big room separated by a makeshift curtain of army blankets. The bed and a dresser were on the other side of the curtain. In the kitchen area, close to the woodstove, stood a small wooden table and two chairs that looked as if they'd survived the Civil War. A small countertop surrounded the sink and water pump. Shelves above and below it held stacks of canned goods and other easily prepared food items, MREs taking up the most space.

A stone fireplace built into the wall near the bathroom provided welcome heat on this cold winter day. Cricket's ears and legs twitched as she lay dreaming on the large braided rug in front of the fire.

He retrieved a book from his duffel and glanced at the recliner. If he sat in it, it would suck him in and lull him to sleep like always. He chose the rocker instead and pulled a wooden crate closer to use as a footrest.

Finally, he could just sit and think. Today, he wasn't a soldier. No battlefield, no guns, no explosions, no bleeding bodies, no responsibilities. On this much-needed leave, he refused to think of that life. He looked forward to being an ordinary guy with a dog in the woods in the middle of a snowstorm. And what a doozy of a snowstorm it threatened to be.

The gutful of spaghetti hit like a sleeping pill. His eyelids fell like lead shades over his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he felt fully rested. A body could only be pushed so far, and he'd pushed his to the limit on too many occasions. He stretched out on the bed, and Cricket jumped up next to him.

"Today's December thirty-first. My birthday."

Cricket put her head on his chest and listened while he petted her.

"My last birthday cake was a chocolate layer, my favorite. Seventeen candles. That was seven years ago today. I never got to eat any of it." He closed his eyes. "Why am I alive? All I seem to do is hurt people. Sometimes life hurts so bad I can barely breathe."

Audra coiled her legs on the easy chair and set the GPS aside. Setting it up had been a snap. In the morning, all she'd have to do was press go, and let the device guide her home.

On the couch, Mike sat close to Vanessa and caressed the hand she'd laid on the thigh of his faded jeans. "I don't get it. You found your way to our house okay. So, why would you need a GPS to find your way home?"

"This was my first solo trip out here since you guys moved. Dad drove the first time, and I didn't pay attention to the roads. He wrote the directions for me but left out several turns and even gave a wrong exit number. Guess he assumed I'd fill in the blanks. Lucky I didn't end up in Timbuktu, wherever that is."

Vanessa smiled. "I think what my sister is trying to say is she has a terrible sense of direction."

"Must run in the family." Mike jerked his elbow back to protect his ribs. "Only kidding, babe."

Audra laughed. "By the way, where in the world is Timbuktu?"

"Not in New York, that's for sure," Vanessa said. "You better hope none of your students ask where it is, or how to say it in Spanish."

"I can see it now." Audra pantomimed headlines in the air. "First year Spanish teacher fired for incompetency."

Mike stood and smiled at Audra. "I'm going to bed. I'll check on Zoe on the way. She's excited about going home with you tomorrow. It's all she's talked about for the past week. I bet she doesn't get much sleep tonight." He leaned over and gave Vanessa a kiss before leaving the room.

Audra joined Vanessa on the couch. They sat at opposite ends facing one another with a blanket over their legs. Vanessa nudged Audra with her foot. "So tell me, how's it going in the boyfriend department? Any new prospects since you broke up with Brad?"

She hated to admit it, but she hadn't had so much as a nibble from the ever-shrinking pool of available men in quite a while.

"No, but after flying solo for three months, I've come up with a vision of the kind of man I'm looking for and what I want out of a relationship."

"Oh?" Vanessa's left eyebrow rose into an arch.

"I want someone strong, courageous, intelligent, and oozing with manly confidence. Maybe I'm setting the bar too high, but I'd also like him to be handsome and nicely put together."

"Why settle for anything less than a hot guy?" Vanessa laughed. "What else is on your wish list?"

"This might sound corny, but I want a man who'll look at me the same way Mike looks at you. His eyes are filled with adoration that confirms his complete and unshakable devotion to you. If someone broke into this house, he would fight to the death to defend you and Zoe."

Vanessa's eyes misted. She snatched a tissue from a box on the end table and dabbed a tear from her cheek. "You're right, he does look at me like that. Sometimes it takes my breath away."

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Excerpted from A Soldier Finds His Way by Irene Onorato. Copyright © 2016 Irene Onorato. Excerpted by permission of KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP..
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