The Soldier's Holiday Vow

“War will do that, I suppose. It’s his choice to do what he does, carrying a gun and shooting people with it.” Chessie had a strong opinion on that. She had strong opinions on just about everything. “Don’t worry, I will stay off my soapbox, but what kind of man does that year after year?”

The kind who cares about others more than himself. September kept quiet. She wasn’t up to any kind of serious discussion about the rights and wrongs of war. Nor did she remind her sister that those words maligned Tim’s memory. Tim who had died trying to save innocent embassy hostages. Hawk had been wounded on that mission, she remembered. The hows and whys were a mystery to her.

“I’m going to swing by and pick up some pizza. That ought to put a smile on your face.” Chessie slid off the chair and hooked her purse strap over her shoulder. “I’ll get a dessert pizza, too. The Stevens girls are going to totally carb out.”

“Sounds just like what I need.” Comfort food all the way. She flung the last junk mail envelope into the bin. There, done with that chore. Not that there weren’t a dozen more needing to be done around here. Clutter was accumulating. She needed to give her family room and kitchen area a serious going-over. Keeping busy would keep her mind off her troubles, right?

“What are you doing?” Chessie scolded from the doorway. “I see you getting up. You’re going to do housework, aren’t you?”

“Why do you say that like an accusation?” September swiped a stack of books off the coffee table and tucked them into the crook of her good arm. “I have pizza coupons you can use.”

“I have some in my car.” Chessie closed the door and crossed through the living room. “That’s it, I’m calling for delivery. Someone needs to keep an eye on you. Now lie down. Do it now, or I’ll make you.”

“This sounds exactly like my childhood,” she quipped, reluctantly putting down the books. “No one can understand the hardship I went through as your sister.”

“Ha, ha.” Chessie tapped her foot, pointing to the arm of the couch where she’d propped two fluffy down pillows earlier. “Feet up. I mean it—”

The doorbell rang. She was saved. She kept her feet firmly on the hardwood floor. “Should I get that?”

“As if.” Chessie huffed out a frustrated sigh as she pivoted on her Mary Janes and marched through the town house. “You stay right where you are, sister dear. You just got out of the hospital and you’re going to take care of yourself even if I have to—”

She opened the door and fell silent. Curious, September leaned forward far enough on the cushions to see a uniformed delivery dude holding pizza boxes.

“Got a delivery for Hawkins,” he announced.

“Hawkins?” That had her moving across the room. She was halfway to the door before she saw the black motorcycle pulling up to the curb out front. Hawk swung off his bike, unbuckling his helmet.

“I’ll sign for it.” He slung his helmet over the backrest while the delivery guy handed Chessie the pizzas. The look on her sister’s face wasn’t a good one.

What was Hawk up to now? Why was he here? She hadn’t recovered from seeing him in the hospital. She hadn’t recovered from seeing him at all. Why did he have to show up looking so alive and vital?

“What aren’t you telling me?” Chessie asked as they watched Hawk sign the charge slip with an efficient scribble.

“Not one thing.”

“I hope you’re right. I’ll take these to the kitchen.” Chessie tapped away, her tone cool.

The sunlight graced him, but he was a man who walked as if he did not notice. He’d turned grim over the last hard years, and his strong, granite face, which had always been quick to grin, was serious.

She held the door for him, watching as he strode up the walkway. She couldn’t stop from caring. Well, not the serious kind of caring. What she felt was sympathy, she told herself, understanding for the man who had rescued her. Nothing more complicated than that.

“Hope you don’t mind.” He slipped the receipt into his wallet. “I figured you wouldn’t be up to cooking and your sister might appreciate a little help.”

“It was nice of you.” She didn’t need to wonder if there was a deeper motive or a hidden agenda. He was a straightforward guy. She liked Hawk; she had always liked him, and why wouldn’t she? He had been a good friend to Tim. He was a good man. That’s what she would concentrate on and not the past, not the hurt. She pulled open the door a little wider in welcome. “Why don’t you come in and have lunch with us?”

“I don’t mean to impose. I wondered if there was anything I could do for you. Run some errands or something.” He crossed the threshold, towering over her. “I’m good at fetching.”

“Are you sure you don’t have anything better to do?”

“Positive.” His humble grin reassured her.

He was merely being kind, the way Tim would have wanted. That realization made her heart squeeze shut. There was the past, yawning wide open, full of everything she had lost. Best to pretend it wasn’t there, a void between them. Dully, she let him take charge of the door and close it.

“I didn’t know what kind of pizza you like,” he explained, “so I got a couple different combos.”

“It smells delicious. When it comes to pizza, I’m not picky. As long as it has a crust and cheese, I’m happy. Thanks, Hawk.”

“No problem. I’m glad to see you doing better.” He jammed his hands into his jean pockets, matching his stride to hers as they crossed through the living room. “You gave me a good scare when I first saw you in that mine.”

“I was pretty scared myself.” She ignored the look her sister gave her and reached up into the kitchen cabinets for three plates. “But it was only a few stitches.”

“Don’t forget the surgery. What do you think you’re doing?” Hawk sidled in behind her and took the plates before she could lift them from the shelf. “Go sit down. I’m thinking your sister will agree with me.”

“That’s right,” Chessie answered curtly from across the room.

“I’m fine.” Sure, her arm hurt, but she wasn’t about to be waited on. She could take care of herself.

“You had best stay off your feet, September. You need to heal.” His warm, caring baritone wrapped around her like a wool blanket, soothing and tender. Caring was in the layers of his voice, in the lines crinkling pleasantly at the corners of his eyes, in the space between them.

He really is a nice man, she thought. She simply had to be careful so the memories couldn’t hurt her. So he couldn’t hurt her. She slipped away from the counter and from him. “Nobody needs to worry about me. It was a hard fall, true, but I wasn’t hurt like Crystal. Did you hear? She’s doing better. I heard from her mom that she was already asking when she could go riding again.”

“That’s a good sign. She’s a trooper. I hope she’s back in the saddle before long.”

“Me, too. You were great with her. I know all about your training, of course, but to see it in action, it was impressive.”

“Just your tax dollars at work.” He opened the box tops for Chessie, so she didn’t have to put down her plate to dish up, but his gaze remained firmly on September. “You kept the girl alive until help came. You made a real difference.”

“I didn’t do much, and you already said that earlier.”

“That doesn’t make it less true.” He took the next plate, watching her carefully. “Ham and pineapple or the works?”

“A slice of both, please.” She was ashen, all the color drained from her cheeks, her wide brown eyes too big for her face. Had his presence done that to her? Or her ordeal? She looked fragile with her casted arm in a sling.

“I’ll dish you up. Go ahead and sit down,” he told her. “Join your sister.”

She nodded once in acknowledgment, watching him closely with appreciation or caution, he couldn’t tell which. Maybe a little bit of both. He chose the largest slices and slid them onto her plate, aware of every step she took through the kitchen of granite counters and white cabinets to the seating arrangement in a sunny bay window nook. Her sister spoke to her in low tones, and the murmur of women’s voices was a strange, musical sound he wasn’t accustomed to. But he liked it. He was more used to the sound of plane engines, gunfire in the shooting range and barked orders rising above it all in a no-nonsense cadence.

He reached for the last plate and served himself two slices of the works. Why was he here? He couldn’t quite say. He wanted to believe he’d come because Tim would have wanted him to make sure September was well.

That wasn’t the whole of it. He had to be honest. He closed the tops to the pizza boxes and crossed over to the women. His boots knelled as loud as a jackhammer on her wood floor, or at least it felt that way because when the women looked up, their conversation silenced. One studied him with suspicion, the other with a hint of care. That surprised him. Her caring couldn’t be personal. He’d never had the chance to know September much, it was hard to get to know any civilian with his job, but he knew she was gentle and kind to all she met—even to a guy like him. Emotion tugged within him, distant and unfamiliar, and he dismissed it. He was simply glad for the luxury of her company, that’s all.

“The motorcycle is new,” she began after her sister said the blessing. “I didn’t know you rode.”

“Since high school, but I sold my Honda after I enlisted.” He tried not to look at her. Maybe it would make the unaccustomed feelings within him fade instead of live. “Last year I realized I missed riding, so I got another bike. I figured why not?”

Small talk. That’s what this was. It was uncomfortable. Maybe he shouldn’t have stayed, he thought, as he took his first bite of pizza. The taste of spicy sauce, cheese, dough and pepperoni ought to overpower everything he was feeling, but it didn’t come close. He cared about her. He hadn’t planned on it, but his feelings were there just the same. The threads knotted up inside him tightened; he didn’t dare look at those hidden feelings.

“I had forgotten.” She set her pizza on her plate. The tiniest bite had been taken from the end of the slice. “You, Tim and his brother, Pierce, had dirt bikes when you were kids.”