“You’re right. My decision didn’t come overnight.” He readjusted his position. The new placement of his leg looked almost unnatural. “Long story short, I’m a better pastor than I was a soldier.”
Which raised a lot of unanswered questions. Like the fact that J.T. was sitting here. With Wolf. At Fort Stewart.
“How’d you get on post?”
The guy broke eye contact. “I drove.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
J.T. sighed. “I was given a medical discharge two years ago.” With slow, purposeful movements, he lifted the left leg of his cargo pants. The ratty hem traveled past a shiny, metal ankle and stopped midway up a plastic calf.
A prosthetic. Wolf drew in a sharp breath.
That kind of injury could easily turn a man bitter. Wolf had seen it happen often enough. But J.T. hadn’t let his disability hold him back. Instead, he’d gone into ministry.
What kind of faith did that take?
More than Wolf would ever have.
An unexpected wave of awe and respect filled him. Despite losing a leg in combat, J.T. had a certainty that radiated from him. He knew his purpose in life.
Wolf didn’t have convictions like that. Not anymore. Despite his recent promotion to captain, he didn’t have any real direction, either.
He realized now, as he stared at the certainty in J.T.’s gaze, that he’d lost more than his friends that day on the Iraqi roadside. He’d lost his faith. And no matter how many Army chaplains quoted Romans 8:28 to him, Wolf didn’t believe God worked all things for the good to those who loved Him. Not anymore.
J.T. dropped his pant leg back into place and put on his pastor face. “My turn for a few questions.”
Wolf nodded. J.T. was a brother in arms, one who’d had the courage to reveal his career-altering injury. Wolf owed him the same courtesy. “All right.”
“Why did you seek out Hailey as soon as you arrived back in the States?”
Wolf forced down the litany of emotions the question awakened and focused only on words. Words he could do. “I made a promise to Clay, right before he died.”
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