Kathy Altman - The Other Soldier

“What’s his name?”

“Chance. Sweet dog, but dumber than chickweed.”

“Hey, boy. Hey, Chance.” At the sound of his name the dog barked and jumped up onto his hind legs. He braced his front paws against Reid’s dress jacket.

“Careful, now. Don’t want to sully that uniform.”

Reid’s fingers tightened in the Lab’s fur and he glanced over at the farmhouse.

Too damned late.

* * *

PARKER’S SHOULDERS ACHED but she didn’t dare ease up on the scrub brush. Best thing in the world for emotional overload? A bucket of warm soapy water, a flat surface and a set of nylon bristles.

Unless there was something in dropkick range. But she couldn’t afford to play soccer with her plants.

Unfortunately the scrubbing thing wasn’t really working, either. She could barely breathe, with all that fury blocking her throat. She’d been doing so well, no longer reminding herself to mail her letter to Tim, or wondering if he was using his sunscreen, or when he’d next get the chance to call home. Keeping it together for Nat—

She sucked in a scalding breath and felt it sear all the way up to her eyeballs. Forgive me, the corporal had said. Now she knew he’d meant for so much more than startling her.

“You’re rubbin’ that worktable like you think a genie’s gonna pop out.”

Parker stopped, stared down at the suds coating the table and slowly relaxed her grip on the brush. Then she whirled and threw the dumb thing at the bucket. The resultant spray of soapy water was nowhere near as satisfying as she’d hoped. She yanked off her lime-green rubber gloves and tossed them after the brush.

“Did he tell you who he was?” She snatched up the hose. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? What made him think he could… Why would he even think I would consider—” She squeezed the nozzle too hard and water jetted off the tabletop and ricocheted back into her face. “Damn it. What I’d like to know is, why is that man even still in the Army?”

Harris took the hose away. “You need to calm down, my girl.” He plucked a handkerchief from his back pocket and held it out. “Nat’s home. Why don’t you go check in with her and I’ll finish up here.”

“I can do it.” She wiped her face, jammed the handkerchief down into her bib pocket and grabbed at the hose. Harris held it out of reach and she frowned. “I can do it. Why don’t you go pester Eugenia?”

He scowled and flushed at the same time. “Don’t you think it’s time you learned to delegate?”

“Don’t you think it’s time you learned I’m in charge?”

He raised an eyebrow. Parker felt a gush of mortified heat sweep up through her chest and into her neck. While she struggled to find the words to apologize, Harris tucked the hose nozzle in the crook of his elbow and took his time unwrapping a stick of gum.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know that, Parker Anne. Anyways, Eugenia and I aren’t datin’ anymore.”

When Harris got that look on his face Parker knew better than to push her luck. She collapsed back against the table, palm to her forehead. What she’d give for a handful of ibuprofen and a caffeinated soda. The last thing she needed to do was alienate her strongest ally. Thanks to Harris Briggs she’d finally come to terms with Tim’s death. And Nat’s nightmares had only just gone on hiatus. Neither of them should have to deal with an in-the-flesh reminder of what they’d lost.

And how they’d lost him.

Thank God she’d sent the corporal away before Nat got home.

“Nat knows to get started on her homework,” she said. “She’ll be fine.”

“She’s bound to have questions.”

She left her hand where it was and talked into her wrist. “About what?”

“About your visitor.”

She launched upright. Oh, no. Oh, God. “She met him?”

“Not met. Saw. And as soon as she saw, she ran.”

Parker’s hands shook. She turned and leaned on the table, palms pressed flat on the soapy surface. “I don’t need this. Nat doesn’t need this. Not now.”

She stared through the plastic sheeting at the row of feathery pine trees that separated the greenhouse from the “garage” that was little more than a leaky barn. “He came a long way for nothing. I don’t have the slightest interest in helping to ease that man’s conscience. If I were in his position I’d never presume to—” Emotion backed up into her throat again.

“The man’s tryin’ to do the right thing.”

Parker turned her head sharply. “You’re defending him?”

“It was an accident. More than a year ago. He wants to apologize. I think, my girl, you should hear him out.”

She shook her head, not believing what she was hearing. “You of all people,” she whispered. “You know what we’ve been through. You’ve seen—” Wait a minute. She turned, and crossed her arms. “I get it. Marines, wasn’t it?”

“That has nothin’ to do with it.”

Oh, please. Then something he’d said finally registered. “What do you mean, he wants to apologize? Isn’t he on his way back to Kentucky?”

Harris’s expression turned mutinous and Parker was tempted to grab the hose and turn it on him. The last time he’d wanted his way, he’d sulked until Parker had given in and ordered a dozen quince trees. Not one had sold.

And she never did get that jelly he’d promised.

He fingered a leaf on a geranium that sported blooms as red as a male cardinal. “He offered to stay. Help out.”

“He what?”

“He wants to make sure you and Nat will be okay.”

“We’ll be a heck of a lot more okay without him around. I couldn’t look at him without thinking of…of Tim.” She gulped, wrapped her arms around her waist and held on tight. “I don’t want him here.”

“He’s a soldier and he deserves your respect. No different from your husband.”

Her body went slack. “It is different. It’s hugely different. Tim never killed anyone.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she recognized the absurdity. She had no way of knowing what Tim had done in theater. She began to pace, shaking her hands as if she’d burned them. “You know what I mean. If he killed anyone it wasn’t an allied soldier.”

“Probably not. But you don’t know that. If he did, wouldn’t you want him to have the chance to ask for forgiveness?”

She stopped pacing. “He really got to you, didn’t he?” Her fingers dug into her hips. “Where is he, anyway?” So help her, if she found out he was anywhere within even a mile of her property…

Harris carefully set the hose aside. “Listen, my girl. Macfarland may be a soldier, but he’s a man first. A man trying to make amends. Remember that five-year-old boy, run down by a drunk driver a few months back? You said then that you didn’t know how the driver could ever live with himself after being responsible for something like that.”

Parker suddenly had trouble breathing. “Are you actually telling me that if I don’t forgive him he’ll kill himself?”

“All’s I’m sayin’ is, think about the consequences of your actions.”

“Too bad this…corporal…didn’t think about his.” He frowned and she scrubbed her palms on her overalls. “This conversation is over. I don’t want to see that man, I don’t want to talk to him, I don’t want him talking to me.”

“What if he goes back to the desert and gets himself killed? You think you might be sorry you didn’t give him a listen?”

“This is unbelievable. He makes a mistake that costs a man’s life and I’m the one getting the lecture.”

“I’m tired, Parker Anne.”

“Me, too. So let’s drop it. Why don’t you go on up to the house and—”