Cheryl Wyatt - A Soldier's Family

At least they’d been on a training op and not a mission. Still, how embarrassing to crash in front of a class full of rookie PJ wannabes.

“By th-way, tha-was a near perfect dem-n-stration a throng wayda land.” Manny pinched out the words to them. His attempt at humor caused a few pallid faces to wash over with discernable relief. This day would definitely weed out the weak ones.

“If it’s any consolation, we saw that tree jump in your path, Péna.” Pale with worry lines Manny never noticed before, Chance squeezed his shoulder in a gentle grip.

Manny tried to smile at Chance’s attempt to keep his embarrassment minimal. Little late. His pride took a fatal hit when his body crashed through the only grove of trees for a twenty-mile radius at NASCAR speeds. What a clumsy landing. At least he was still here to sulk over it.

Thank You.

He stared at the spot of sky, previously blue, now gunmetal gray, visible through the circle of gawking faces. Would he ever air ski that vast expanse again, or fall through clouds at exhilarating speeds? Would he live through the end of this day?

Manny studied the people around him, creating a diversion from outlandish pain and fear that he’d never freefall again.

He began to feel like a caged zoo animal on display. Where’d all these people come from? His team flanked him on all sides, working, poking, prodding, bandaging, splinting, assessing injuries and vital function. They also elbowed people back continually, sparing Manny’s dignity.

As if picking up on his discomfort, PJ Vince lifted his face and shot the gawkers a lethal look. “Stay back. In fact, I want everyone not medical behind the line.” He jabbed his arm westward. “Over there.”

Team leader Joel eyed Vince then the drop zone crowd as they retreated with soft murmurs and parting words of comfort. Manny figured people were more concerned than curious but he appreciated the cove of privacy his team provided as they rallied around him. These guys were like family. He loved each of them like brothers.

Even Chance, the new guy who kneaded expert fingers around Manny’s ribs as Joel pressed a cold stethoscope against his chest and abdomen.

Manny licked dry lips. “Wha’d all I break?” Though he didn’t really want to know.

“Besides every branch off the south side of a pine tree and your reserve chute? Only X-rays will tell.” Nolan Briggs mouthed his assessment past a syringe clenched in his teeth. He flicked Manny’s arm below a tight tourniquet that pinched his skin.

“You know my blood type.” He’d been poked enough in the last five minutes. Manny was certain hundreds of pine needles splintered every square inch of him, including his tush, which felt like it had borne most of the crash impact. He imagined he looked like a battered porcupine. Had he actually landed on the ground? Or had they pulled him out of a tree?

Joel piggybacked a small bag of antibiotics into his main IV line. “The local hospital doesn’t, and procedure won’t allow them to take our word for it.”

Great.

His first significant skydiving accident and it had to happen in a Podunk town like Refuge.

“They want a type and cross-match for emergency surgery,” Joel finished.

Surgery. That’d be a first, too.

And just weeks after he’d given control of his life back to God. He should have told someone. Now they’d all think the change in him was due to this accident.

“Joel, dude. I need to tell you something,” Manny croaked.

Joel taped tubing across Manny’s arm. “Rest now. Talk later.”

“No, I need to—”

“Péna, tell me when we get you stable and in the chopper.” Joel sounded worried. He never sounded worried. And if Manny was being airlifted instead of ground transported, that meant he must be pretty bad off.

He couldn’t die without telling them. Manny reached up and grasped Joel’s collar. “Listen—”

He squeezed Manny’s fist. “We’re going to get you fixed up, bro. Don’t worry.” Joel ripped open supplies, unfurling more tubing. Oxygen? Manny tried to shake his head but his C-collar neck brace wouldn’t allow it.

How long had he been out?

Nolan spread a warm blanket over Manny as Joel stuck an oxygen tube in his nose. It hissed air up the passages, making his eyes water. By the rattled look Nolan passed Joel, he wasn’t out of the woods yet. Sweat beaded Manny’s forehead despite the chilly temperature. He tugged Joel nose to nose. “No. I need to tell you now.”

That got Joel’s attention. He froze and studied Manny. Gaseous fuel vapors pushed through residual antiseptic fumes. A fog of dust wafted from the helicopter landing.

Manny swallowed, but dryness coated his throat. Or maybe it was actual sand. “I made a big decision last week.”

Joel held Manny’s gaze. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, and I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything, buddy.” Joel braced his arm around the back of Manny’s shoulders. “On three.”

Chance cradled Manny’s head. “One. Two. Three.”

Hands everywhere lifted him. Helicopter paramedics slid a hard orange board under him that smelled like melted plastic and floor polish.

The pressure on his hind end caused his breath to catch.

He exhaled slowly. “There’s a stack of letters in my pack. I need you to find it and see they get mailed.” Manny shuffled the words out quickly because it hurt like crazy to talk.

Joel shook his head and stared Manny down. “No. No. You get better and mail them yourself, Péna, and that’s an order.”

Manny realized by the stubborn jut to Joel’s jaw and the glitter in his eyes that he probably thought these were the kind of letters a soldier writes to family when the soldier sensed he wasn’t coming home.

Joel’s nontypical emotional reaction stunned and touched him to the core. Manny no longer cared if everyone heard. They’d eventually find out anyway because when Manny made a decision of commitment, it was for real and for keeps.

God spared his life. No way could Manny be ashamed of Him.

And Joel had been a huge part of that, his open devotion to Jesus a huge catalyst for Manny’s own hidden faith.

“I had a change of heart, Joel. All that praying you did musta worked on me.”

Joel cut Manny’s uniform top down the middle, starting below his neck brace. “How so?”

“I gave God control of my life last month.”

Joel’s cutting stuttered, then resumed as he flicked Manny a surprised look. “Seriously?”

“I wrote the letters in days following. I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”

Joel shrugged. “We all have.” A relieved grin peeked out both corners of his mouth, though.

Manny dropped his tone. “Most of those letters are to ladies I’ve, well, you know…”

“I Roger that.” Joel leaned aside as a paramedic attached a cardiac monitor lead to Manny’s chest.

“The top letter I wrote last. I didn’t have the right address, or she refused it. It’s to Celia. I know she’s still mad that I propositioned her at your wedding. I don’t blame her. Joel, I was so drunk, I don’t even remember disrespecting her.”

Joel actually laughed. “You have a nice scar on your lip as a monument to your indiscretion. You did proposition her, Péna. She clocked you good for it, too. Amber and I thought you two were going to throw down and brawl to the death right there on the reception-room floor.”

Acute embarrassment hit Manny though Joel’s kind smile never waned.

“And I haven’t taken a drink since.” Nor did he plan to.

Nolan leaned over Manny’s face. “Joel’s right. We’re not letting you off that easy. You’re gonna get better and apologize to Miss Hot Tamale, as you so called her, in person.”