Jillian Hart - The Soldier's Holiday Vow

“Good.” What a relief. She thought of Patty Toppins, a concerned, caring mom who had to be frantic with terror. Dully, she realized Hawk was kneeling next to Crystal. She cleared her throat. “Let me help.”

“No need.” His gloved hand caught hers and sent a shock through her system.

Alarmed, she wrenched her hand away, bumping into the earthen barrier. Her breathing came raggedly, her pulse thudded too loudly in her ears. Why had she reacted so strongly to Hawk’s touch? Why had he unsettled her? She blinked, realizing another man was circling around to assist Hawk. Someone else roped down without her noticing. Too much was happening, and she couldn’t seem to focus. It must be because of the concussion.

Hawk had already turned back to business, the wide set of his shoulders visible in the eerie shaft of light from above. It was good to see him. It was horrible to see him. She felt useless as the men started an IV for the girl and strapped her into the gurney. The second man hooked in. She caught a glimpse of Crystal’s face, ashen in the harsh lighting, before the ground team hoisted her swiftly upward into waiting hands. The whop-whop of a helicopter told her help had arrived just in time.

“Let me take a look at you, September.” Hawk’s voice, gentle with concern. “You’re hurt.”

“Nothing like Crystal.” It was too hard to look him in the eye, tougher still to see the shadows of the life and the dreams, which were gone. He reminded her of what was lost. Of the determined, competitive, patriotic man she had wanted to marry. A part of her had died right along with Tim. She wished she could step farther away from him, but there wasn’t room enough to escape him. Stuck against the earth with nowhere to go, she was forced to stand while he inched closer. The cold damp seeped through her shirt and she shivered.

“Look up.” Hawk shone a light into her eyes and flicked it away. He did it a second time, frowning.

She wanted to pretend he was a stranger, a man she did not know. It felt as if parts of her cracked again after she’d worked so hard to keep together. Panic crept through her and she pushed away. “I’m fine, Hawk. I just need to get out of here, that’s all.”

“I don’t think you’re fine. You’re going to need stitches.” His gaze raked across her face like a touch. “You’ve got quite a concussion. And what about that arm? That’s going to need surgery.”

“I’m alive. That’s fine in my book.” Maybe she sounded a little harsh, but it had been a terrible day and a worse night. Seeing him suddenly like this was the last thing she could deal with. She couldn’t risk going back to that dark, broken place. “All I need is one of those harness things. Can you call up for one?”

“Better yet, you can ride with me.” He sounded calm and unwavering. He was a fine soldier; seeing her again and remembering what had happened to Tim wasn’t likely to throw him.

Unlike her. She caught sight of the extra harness hooked into his, and her knees wobbled. His hand shot out, steadying her by the elbow, the strength and heat of his touch seared like a burn. She didn’t want to go up with him. “Maybe someone else—”

“We have to hurry, September.” His gaze turned grim, the only hint at what he might be feeling. His shadowed face became a hard mask, impossible to read. “We don’t want to keep the bird waiting.”

“I don’t need the helicopter.”

“It’s the best way.” He had been calm on the night after they had buried Tim, too, a steady rock in the darkness. “I don’t call the shots.”

“But I don’t want—” She couldn’t finish. Her skull felt ready to explode from pain. Her stomach cramped with light nausea. She couldn’t keep arguing with him, but how could she let him take her into his arms? She fisted her hands. She was not strong enough.

“You don’t want to cost Crystal valuable time.” Gentleness blended with cold-hard steel. He wrapped the harness around her hips and secured the strap, so close she could see the whorl of dark hair at his crown and smell the clean scent of his shampoo. His gaze latched on to hers with the force of the earth on the moon. “Put your arms around me.”

If Crystal hadn’t been waiting on her, she never would have done it. One thought of the girl had her wrapping her arms around Hawk’s wide, muscled chest. She laid her cheek against his shirt pocket and squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the night she had refused his sympathy and the kind embrace of Tim’s best friend. His heart walloped beneath her ear. The fabric of his BDUs 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.