A Soldier's Heart

She hurried outside, relieved to have the inevitable confrontation with Luke put off at least for a few more minutes.

Actually, the interruption stretched even longer as her brothers carried out the rest of the chairs and then helped haul the exercise equipment in. The house seemed to rattle with the tread of heavy feet and the good-humored banter of men moving equipment.

She looked around for Luke, to find him sitting in the archway where he could see what was going on. That was encouraging. At least he wasn’t hiding himself away.

Gabe paused to say something to him, and Luke replied almost easily, as if they’d been talking together every day. Max pressed close to Gabe’s side, as always, and Luke reached out to stroke the golden fur. Something that had been very tense inside her started to relax. Did she dare to hope that this encounter might ease the isolation he seemed determined upon?

She crossed toward them. “Gabe, can you help get the parallel bars in place? I think they should go here, and you’ll have to fasten them in place.”

She gestured to a spot in the center of the floor. Fortunately there were good solid hardwood floors in here, not carpets for Luke to trip on.

“Parallel bars?” Luke’s brows lifted. “Are you planning to turn me into a gymnast?”

“No, I’m planning to help you walk again.” She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

It didn’t come. The black look told her, though, that he was probably just delaying it until they were alone.

Yell all you want, she told him silently. I’m not giving up on you, Luke Marino. I’m going to help you whether you want it or not.

“Hey, M.K., catch.”

Mary Kate turned to see a bright blue exercise ball heading toward her from Seth. Off balance, she grabbed for it, missing and stumbling toward the chair. Before she could land, Luke grabbed her, his strong hands steadying her.

“Sorry,” she muttered, straightening herself. “My brother’s an idiot sometimes. I didn’t mean to run into you.”

“It’s okay.” His hand still encircled her wrist, his fingers warm and strong.

She glanced at him, aware of how close they were, of how dark his smoky eyes were. Awareness seemed to dance between them, and she felt sixteen again. She tried to find something to say, and she couldn’t think of a single thing.

Mary Kate looked around the long table at her parents’ house, savoring the moment. Sunday dinners were a tradition in the Flanagan family, and at first, after Kenny’s death, she’d found it hard to come alone with the children. Now that the sharpest pain had faded, she was back to enjoying these times, with their reminder of the strength of family bonds. They were fortunate, more so than many families, that life had settled all of them in this area.

She especially loved this moment, when the meal was over. The children had run out into the backyard to play and the adults lingered over their coffee cups, reluctant to break the low rumble of conversation and the precious circle of fellowship.

Gabe’s wife, Nolie, leaned forward to pour a little more coffee. “If this nice weather keeps up, we can start doing Sunday picnics out at the farm again.”

Gabe held his cup out for a refill. “That means I’ll have to paint the porch and put up the swing.” He turned toward Mary Kate. “Do you think there’s any chance we could get Luke out for one of our picnics? It might do him good.”

“There are a lot of things that would help him. Getting him past wanting to hide is the tough part.” That occupied her mind whenever she wasn’t busy with something else—what could she do to give Luke an interest in life again?

“Poor boy.” Her mother’s warmhearted sympathy flowed out like a never-failing spring. “If only he wouldn’t shut people out. Everyone wants to help.”

“Luke always had that independent streak.” Gabe seemed to look back through the years. “Even on the football field, he wouldn’t wait for anyone to cover him. He’d just charge in and rely on himself. And he was strong enough that nine times out of ten, it worked.”

That was Luke, all right. If only she could find a way to turn that tenacity and strength to her advantage in helping him heal—“What happened the tenth time?”

Gabe smiled. “He got pounded into the turf, of course. He always shook it off and jumped up again, grinning like it was fun.”

“That’s where he is right now. But this time he’s not shaking it off.”

The other end of the table had gotten into a noisy conversation about baseball, so she lowered her voice to continue with Gabe and Nolie. They were the two people in the family who could most understand what Luke was going through. Gabe, because of his own injury, and Nolie, because she’d helped him accept and overcome.

“It’s tough, believe me.” Gabe’s hand dropped to stroke Max’s head. The seizures came very seldom now, but often enough that he still needed Max beside him. “Luke’s always relied on his physical strength, and now that’s let him down. It takes some getting used to.”

“And we don’t know what happened to him over there.” Nolie was the quiet one in the noisy Flanagan gatherings, but when she spoke, she invariably had something helpful to say. “There could be other things complicating the situation. When it comes to a previously able-bodied person accepting a disability, the emotional is always as important as the physical.”

“If you—” she began, but the clinking of a glass distracted her. She glanced to the other end of the table, where her cousin Brendan tapped a spoon against his coffee cup.

“Attention, please.” Brendan had shed the clerical garb he’d worn this morning, and his eyes were bright with suppressed excitement. “Claire and I have an announcement to make.” He glanced toward his wife, sitting beside him, and Claire’s face glowed with love.

In the sudden silence, Mary Kate could hear the quick intake of breath from her mother. Was it the thing they’d all hoped and prayed for?

Brendan reached over to clasp his wife’s hand. “We’re expecting a baby in November.”

The table erupted in joyful celebration, and Mary Kate shoved her worries about Luke to the back of her mind. Her throat went tight with tears as she hurried around the table to hug both of them. Everyone knew they’d been trying to get pregnant for well over a year without success, but now it was finally happening.

She hugged and kissed them, heart full, surprised to find that her joy was tinged with a little sorrow. Self-pity? She hoped not. Still, even though she and Kenny hadn’t intended to have more children, she couldn’t stem the wave of regret for what would never be.

She glanced at her watch. “Goodness, look at the time.” She dashed away a single tear, hoping it would be interpreted as joy for Brendan and Claire. “I’d better check on the kids.”

Before she could betray any other emotion, she went quickly through the kitchen. She didn’t want anyone to feel they had to mute their celebration because of her loss. Pushing open the back door, she glanced around the fenced-in yard, counting heads.

Shawna played ring-around-the-rosy with the smaller ones: Gabe and Nolie’s little Siobhan, Seth and Julie’s Davy, Ryan and Laura’s Amanda. Michael—

“Shawnie, where’s Michael?”

Shawna looked up from the tangle of little bodies on the ground. “I don’t know, Mom. He was here a minute ago.”

Her heart seemed to skip a beat. “Michael? Michael!” From the bottom of the steps, the whole yard was in view. No Michael.

The door behind her opened and her mother came out, carrying Mary Kate’s bag. “Your cell phone is ringing.”

She grabbed the bag, yanking the phone out. Michael—

“Mary Kate?” Luke’s deep voice grated in her ear. “Your boy is over here. You want to come and get him?”

Chapter Four

Mary Kate realized she was shaking inside as she started the car, and she took a deep breath, trying to still the rush of panic. Michael was all right. Luke would keep him safe until she got there. It was okay.

No, it wasn’t. If Kenny were here, he’d have found something to make her laugh in this situation, and his steady, even calm would convince her this wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened.

But Kenny wasn’t here, and Michael had done the unthinkable, leaving his grandparents’ yard without a word to anyone. What on earth had made him do that?

Lord, thank You for keeping him safe. Maybe I’m overreacting—I don’t know. I just know that I’m scared and I need guidance. Please, show me the right way to respond to this situation, with both Michael and Luke.

The short drive around the block to Luke’s house wasn’t long enough to settle her entirely, but then, she probably wouldn’t calm down until she had her son in her arms again. She parked in the driveway and ran to the front door, tapping and then hurrying inside.

“Michael Donnelly.” She grabbed him, pulling him against her with an urgent need to know he was in one piece. “Are you okay?”

“Sure, Mommy.” He squirmed free. “I’m sorry. I guess you’re mad at me, huh?” He gave her the angelic look that said he couldn’t possibly have done anything wrong.

She hardened her heart. “Sorry doesn’t quite cover it, young man. And don’t bother looking at me that way, because you’re still going to be punished.”

“Your mom’s one tough lady, Michael. She doesn’t let me get away with anything, either.” Luke actually sounded as if he found this amusing—probably because it put her in the position of having to apologize for her children. Again.

She looked at him, praying she wasn’t blushing. That was the trouble with fair skin and freckles—every emotion showed. “I’m very sorry Michael bothered you. That shouldn’t have happened.”

And it won’t, ever again, she vowed.

A rare smile crossed Luke’s face, chasing away the lines of pain and anger. “He’s not a bother. But I knew you’d be worried.”

“That’s nice of you to say.”

And yet she was sure he’d been fit to be tied when he’d called her. Apparently Michael had been exercising his charm during the time it had taken her to drive over.

“I’m sorry if I was a pest,” Michael told him. “I didn’t mean to be. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Why? She wanted to ask the question out loud, but not here, not in front of Luke. She’d have to wait until they were alone for that.

“You weren’t a pest,” Luke said. He reached out to ruffle the red curls. “But you should never come here without your mom’s permission. You know that, don’t you?”

“Can I come if she gives permission?” he said promptly.

“Michael.” Her mother could always put a wealth of meaning into just saying one of her kids’ names. Mary Kate could only hope she’d mastered the trick.

Luke shot her a glance, and then he nodded gravely. “If your mother gives you permission, you can come and see me again. But never go anywhere without permission from the person who’s in charge. A soldier who did that would be going AWOL.”

Michael nodded, looking impressed. “I promise.”

“Good.” Luke turned the chair, moving toward the small cherry writing desk in the corner. He opened the top drawer and took something out. “I have something for you.”

“You don’t have to—” she began, but Luke silenced her with the slight shake of his head.

“This is between Michael and me,” he said. He held out a small box. “Here.”

Michael fumbled with it for a moment and then managed to pop the lid up. “Wow,” he said reverently.

She moved so that she could see the contents of the box, and shock zigzagged through her. She took the box from Michael’s hands.

“He can’t accept this. You can’t give these away.” She thrust the box toward Luke, but he clutched the arms of the chair, refusing to take it.

“They’re mine. I can do what I want with them.” There was a dark undertone to the words, and she wasn’t sure what emotion it expressed. Bitterness? Grief?

She looked down. Against a background of black velvet lay three things. Two she recognized immediately—the Purple Heart and the Bronze Star. It took a moment to identify the third as the Iraq Campaign Medal, with its relief in bronze of the country.

She was at a loss to know how to handle this, and it didn’t help that Michael was tugging at her arm. She frowned at him. “Stop, Michael.”

“But he said—”

“I know what he said, but these are too valuable to give away.”

“I can do what I want with them,” Luke repeated, his face set.

A wave of anger took her by surprise. How dare he use her son to precipitate a situation like this?

“It’s not appropriate for Michael to keep them,” she said firmly. “However, if you’d like to lend them for him to take to school for their display about the military, that would be all right.”

Luke’s dark eyes lifted to her face, and she thought she saw the faintest regret there. “Fine,” he said gruffly. “Do that, then.”

She nodded and closed the box, handing it to Michael. “Go out to the car and wait for me. And don’t open that.”

He took it reverently in both hands and scurried for the door, apparently realizing now was not the time for further argument. Her kids seemed to know exactly how far to push her.

When he was gone, she turned back to Luke. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Sorry.” He evaded her gaze. “I didn’t think about the value. I just thought he might enjoy them.”

She shook her head impatiently. “Of course he couldn’t keep them. But I meant you. You shouldn’t give away something that important. And don’t bother telling me they’re yours to do what you like with, because I don’t buy that.”

“They are.”

“Of course they’re yours, awarded because you served your country honorably and were injured doing it.” She thought of the Bronze Star. “And probably did something heroic in the process, if the Bronze Star means what I think it does.”

His face tightened again. “I shouldn’t have them.”

“Why not?” She wanted to shake the stubbornness out of him. “You earned them.”

His glare pinned her to the spot with its ferocity. “Because I don’t want medals when I’m here, safe, and my guys are still over there in the line of fire. That’s why.”

“I hear you’re working with that young fellow who’s just back from Iraq.”

Frank Morgan, one of Mary Kate’s favorite patients, slowed the pedals of his exercise bike, looking at her with inquiry in his bright blue eyes. With the fresh pink color of his cheeks and those clear eyes, no one would believe Frank was the eighty-three she knew he was.

“Keep pedaling,” she said, tapping the handlebars. She glanced around the nearly empty room at the clinic. No one else was working at the exercise bikes and treadmills this early in the morning. “How did you hear that?”

He smiled, smoothing back his ruffle of white hair with one hand while he increased the rotation speed. “Ha, makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Truth is, I’m around this place so much, some of those young things act like I’m part of the furniture. Say anything in front of me, they would.”

“Well, if you wouldn’t insist on trying to take your own storm windows off, you wouldn’t have to come in so often. How does your back feel?” She checked her watch. “Can you go another minute?”

“Sure thing. So, how’s that boy doing?”

That was the question that kept her awake at night. How was Luke doing? The incident with his medals had made her feel out of her depth. Maybe he needed to be working with a psychologist, not her. She’d seriously considered admitting to her boss that she felt unprepared to deal with Luke’s problems. But she could hardly say that to Frank.

“He’s coming along.”

He nodded. “Can’t talk about a patient. I know. I guess I wouldn’t want you talking about me to someone else. Still, I have an interest. It’s been a long time, but I remember what it was like when I came home from the war.”

“Really? Which war?” She signaled him to slow down gradually.

“Which war, she says.” He snorted. “The big war, young lady. World War II.”

“I didn’t realize.” She helped him off the bike. “You must have lied about your age to get in, because you’re way too young for that. Ready to work on the resistance bands, or do you want to rest a minute?”

“Lied about my age? No such thing, but I thought I’d never turn eighteen. I was mad to get out there with my buddies.” He picked up the resistance bands.

One thing she could say about Frank—he never balked at anything she asked him to do, taking each new task as a fresh challenge. Luke could benefit from a little of his attitude.

“Was it difficult when you came back?” she asked casually. Maybe she couldn’t talk about Luke to him, but there was no reason she couldn’t try to gain some insight.

He grunted. “I’ll say it was hard. Mind, I wasn’t injured, like your young fellow, but I’d been in a POW camp for nine months—seemed more like nine years, so I wasn’t in great shape. Funny how that is. You come back, and it’s just what you dreamed about all that time, but it’s strange, as well.”

“Strange how?” She adjusted his stance, making sure he was using his back correctly.

He frowned, as if trying to find the right words. “I guess it seemed to me nothing should have changed, but when I came back, life had moved on without me. The worst part was just getting out around people again.” He chuckled. “Couldn’t remember names to save me, even folks like my brother-in-law and my old boss at the gas station.”

Luke seemed to remember names, but he had that same reluctance to be around people. No, reluctance wasn’t a strong enough word. Aversion, maybe. “How did you get over it?”

“My wife, bless her.” His eyes filled with tears suddenly, but he was smiling. “She went everywhere with me, holding on to my arm like walking with me was the proudest thing she’d ever done. She figured out about the names without me telling her and she’d always say the name if we ran into somebody. And cover for me if I jumped at a backfire or something like that. The good Lord knows I couldn’t have done it without her.”

She patted his shoulder. “She loved you. She loved doing it.”

He nodded. “That’s what your young man needs, too. Folks that love him and will help him along, even if he doesn’t act like he wants their help.”

His words echoed in her heart as she took the bands from his hands. “Good job. That’s it for today. Don’t go moving any more storm windows, all right?”

He smiled, his cheeks as pink and round as a baby’s. “If a man can’t do the things he’s always done, he feels like less of a man.”

“I guess so.” Once again, his words resounded. That was what Luke was feeling, knowing he couldn’t do the things he’d always done, maybe even afraid to figure out what he could do now. “But I don’t want to see you in here with a broken leg next.”

“I’ll behave. I promise.”

“See that you do.” Impulsively she gave him a hug. “I wish I could get the two of you together. You’d be good for him.”

He nodded, obviously knowing who they’d been talking about the whole time. “You figure out a way to do it, and I’ll be there. It’s the least I can do, you know?”

She nodded, her throat tight. It was the least she could do, as well, and she wouldn’t give up on Luke, no matter what.

If Luke hadn’t felt so guilty for putting Mary Kate on the spot with her kid with those medals, he wouldn’t allow her to wheel him down a new ramp into his backyard. Come to think of it, maybe this was her idea of payback. He blinked as she pushed him into the May sunshine.

“Okay, I’ve been out. I’m ready to go back in now.”

Mary Kate set the chair’s brake. “You try it, and I’ll put a stick in your wheel. If you stay in that house any longer, you’re going to turn into a mole.”

He frowned at the ramp that led from the back porch to ground level. “Are you sure this ramp is covered?”

“It’s taken care of,” she said shortly, crossing the grass to look at the flower bed his mother had planted along the porch.

He glanced across the yard, feeling as if he were really seeing it for the first time in a long time. The old apple tree still stood in the corner. He’d had a swing hung from a low branch once, and then later a tree house that had probably damaged a limb or two.

“The garage could use a coat of paint. I guess I should have taken care of things better for my mother.”

“I remember when you and Gabe and a couple of other guys started a band and practiced there.”

That surprised a smile from him. “Until the neighbors complained. We were probably the worst band in the history of garage bands.”

“Then it’s a good thing Mom found an excuse when Gabe wanted to move practice to our house.” She bent over to pull a handful of weeds. “These irises are going to be blooming soon.”

“You’re not being paid to garden.” Although he had to admit that his mother would be ashamed to see the state of her backyard. It had been easy to ignore as long as he was holed up inside, but now he couldn’t. “Grab one of those chairs and come sit down.”

For a moment he thought she’d argue, but then she shrugged and did as he said. She picked up a folding lawn chair and carried it over to him, then sat down.

“I could have brought that down for you.” He’d have done it automatically when he had two good legs. So why was he neglecting it now, just because of the wheelchair? He still could have managed the light aluminum chair.

“Yes, you could,” she agreed, tilting her face to the sun and closing her eyes.

“You didn’t have to agree with me. Like I told Michael, you’re one tough lady.” He was instantly sorry he’d mentioned the boy. She hadn’t said anything about her son since the medal incident.

“I’m sure he thinks so.” She didn’t open her eyes, but her brow furrowed slightly.

“I wish—” he began, and then stopped. “I know you had to punish him for running off without asking permission.” Say it, you jerk. You owe her an apology. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? I’m sure you didn’t encourage him to run off.”

She opened her eyes then and looked at him. With the wind ruffling her curls, it wasn’t hard to picture her as the kid she’d been, and the realization sent an unwelcome wave of tenderness through him.

“No. I didn’t.” He swallowed his pride. “I mean about the medals. I should have realized offering them to your son was inappropriate. I know it put you in a tough spot.”

“Yes, it did.”

He steeled himself, sure she was going to pry into his feelings about the honors, but she didn’t. Her brow furrowed again, and she shook her head slightly. “Sorry. I know you didn’t do it to give me a hard time.”

“I guess I didn’t know enough about kids to foresee your reaction. Or his. Is he okay with putting them on display?”

She looked cautiously relieved that he was talking normally about the medals. “He’s not mad at me, if that’s what you mean. After all, he was the hero of the first-grade class when he brought them in. All the children remember your letter, so of course they’re impressed.”

“They shouldn’t be.” His voice roughened in spite of himself. He knew, as well as anyone, that he couldn’t go back, but that didn’t stop him from feeling he’d let his guys down.

She smiled slightly. “Let’s just agree to disagree about that. I suppose that’s why Michael felt so driven to come and see you.” There seemed to be a question in the look she turned on him.

“Hasn’t he told you what was so important that he broke the rules to come over here?”

“He’s being quiet about it.” She ran her fingers through her mahogany curls, her eyes shadowed. “That’s not like him. Or at least it’s not what he was like before Kenny died.”

“It worries you.” He had a ridiculous impulse to reach out and put his hand over hers, to offer comfort. “It must be pretty rough.”

“It scares me.” Her voice lowered almost to a whisper. “Kenny was always so calm—nothing ever ruffled him. He could laugh at me when I was tying myself in knots with worry, and it would make me so mad, but then I’d be laughing, too.”

He held his breath, afraid to speak for fear he’d say the wrong thing. It was almost as if Mary Kate were talking to herself. Maybe sitting still and listening to her was all the comfort he could offer. If so, that’s what he’d do.

The telephone rang in the kitchen, and she jerked, realization filling her eyes. “I’m sorry.” She jumped up and ran for the phone, probably eager to get away from him.

She was back in a moment, holding the cordless phone cautiously. “It’s your father. He’d like to talk with you.”

His hands gripped the armrests so hard it was a wonder he didn’t bend them. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Luke, don’t you think you should—”

“No.” He bit off the word. He would not explain. His relationship, or lack of one, with his father was none of her business.

She might understand. He could remember sitting on the porch swing at the Flanagan house one evening after walking her home, pouring out all his pain and anger at his father. In any event, she turned and walked back into the house, phone to her ear, probably trying to find some polite way to tell his father that he wouldn’t talk to him if he were the last man on earth.

You didn’t want us. That was the only thing he’d say to his father. You didn’t want us, and now I don’t want you.

By the time Mary Kate came back, he’d managed to shove his father back into the dark recesses of his mind. If she brought it up—

But she sat back down as if they hadn’t been interrupted. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about a change in your therapy,” she said.

“What kind of a change?” She was already pushing him to the limit, he’d have said. What else did she have in mind?

“I know you don’t want to go to the clinic—”

“I still don’t,” he said flatly. He’d had it with places like that at the army hospital. He didn’t need any more therapists with their professional smiles. At least Mary Kate expressed honest feelings with him, instead of trying to jolly him along. “Look, let’s be frank. We both know I’m not going to get out of this chair.”

She swung toward him, reaching out to grab both of his hands in hers. “We don’t know anything of the kind, Luke Marino, so don’t you say that.”

“The doctors said—”

“I’ve read the reports, and they don’t say a word about you not walking again. You have significant muscle weakness and nerve damage, but that’s why the therapy is important. We have to strengthen those muscles and give the nerves a chance to build new pathways. It can happen. You have to have faith.”

It was hard not to be impressed by her passion, but he doubted. Boy, did he doubt. “I know you think holding out that carrot will make me work harder—”

“You need something to make you work harder,” she snapped. “You’re a strong man, Luke. It’s time you started acting like it.”

He pushed her hands away. “What do you suggest?” he asked bitterly. “Wheelchair athletics?”

“It wouldn’t hurt, but I don’t expect miracles from you.” Her smile flickered. “Just take a chance. If you’d come to the clinic, you could use the pool. That would be wonderful for you, but you’re too stubborn to even try it for fear someone might see you.”

“Mary Kate—” He had a sinking feeling she might be right, but he sure wasn’t going to admit that to her. “Tell you what. I’ll make a deal with you.”

“What kind of deal?”

“I’ll go to the pool and try whatever you want, if you promise me I won’t run into another person when I’m there.”

That should deter her. He should be satisfied that he’d silenced her on the subject. Instead, he felt like a jerk again. What was it with Mary Kate that kept bringing out that feeling?