A Soldier's Devotion

Her phone chimed. Her aunt’s doctor’s name appeared on caller ID. Thank God!

Val cast a visual appeal toward Officer Stallings. “Excuse me. I have to take this. Hello?”

“Miss Russo, I don’t have long to talk. I’m here at Refuge Memorial Trauma Care with your aunt. She needs surgery right away. Her vitals are veering toward unstable. We suspect she has internal bleeding. The only way to know where it’s coming from is to open her up. Her hip is also broken. She says you’re her closest next of kin and she’s asking for you. How far out are you?”

Val’s heart rate dipped, and then sped up. “We’re on the way. I would be there by now but I’ve been involved in a car accident.”

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

She fought a tremor in her voice. “I am. Please don’t tell Aunt Elsie about the accident.”

A remembrance of the angry red scrapes on Vince’s skinned-up body and hands caused her arms to ice. Images of his badly damaged helmet swerved through her mind. And to think if he hadn’t been wearing it—

Her arms went from deep-frozen to arctic-numb.

She could have killed him.

“Your aunt is mildly sedated but fairly adamant about seeing you before she goes into surgery.”

“Do you think she’s afraid she won’t come out of it?”

“I’m not sure.”

“She will come out of it, right?”

The extended pause on the line constricted Val’s throat. She shuddered, taking in a breath.

“We hope so. But I can’t promise. With her in her eighties, any surgery is risky. The anesthesiologist is here now. At this point it’s more of a risk to wait.”

“Then don’t. Tell her I was unavoidably detained but I’ll be there when she wakes up.”

Please let her wake up.

“Okay. Be careful.”

Val ended the call so Elsie could get treatment. At least she was a strong believer. God would be with her and give Elsie a sustaining sense of His presence.

But what about the man called Vince? Hadn’t he said he wasn’t one for religion? His eyes and tone had grown belligerent the more she’d prayed. So she’d resorted to praying silently. What if he had internal bleeding, too? The sudden thought struck terror in her.

She’d made a stupid, stupid mistake today.

One that could have cost a hero his life.

Where had he been going in his military garb? Someplace important, no doubt. Or what if he’d been deployed and was just returning home to his family? She hadn’t thought to ask if he wanted her to call his family.

Surely a man like that had a wife and children.

The more her mistake settled in, the more the acid reflux seared her throat. This man Reardon might never forgive her. But the bottomless pain she’d witnessed in his eyes ran deeper than the wreck today. He needed God.

“Everything okay with your aunt?” Stallings’ voice crashed into her thoughts.

“They’re taking her into surgery now.”

Now on Verbose Street, the main one running through Refuge, Stallings began passing traffic. Probably to get her to the hospital sooner, for which she was grateful. “It might far better for you if Reardon knows about the nature of the phone call you received while driving.”

“Maybe,” Val said. “But that still doesn’t excuse it.”

Stallings didn’t say anything for a few blocks.

Hospital in view, she pulled her purse into her lap. “Is there anyone else you know of who could help rebuild the bike?”

Stallings looked at her sharply. “Just his sister. But they’re estranged.”

“What else can you tell me?” Val asked, feeling indebted to the man whose bike she destroyed and whose life she endangered.

“If you can locate her, she builds custom bikes, too. That’s an idea if you really want to replicate that bike close to how his brother built it. She may have helped his late brother design it. But it’s no secret to anyone who knows Vince that he and his sister haven’t gotten along since their brother’s death.”

She probably shouldn’t wonder why. Hard to help it though. Her two options balanced on a mental justice scale. She had to do something to right this wrong.

She shifted in her seat. “Will it anger him more that he doesn’t get his bike fixed the way it was, or if I contact a family member he doesn’t get along with?”

Stallings made a slight coughing sound. “Not sure. Both rank equally high on the danger scale.”

“Would you know how I could contact her?”

Stallings shook his head. “I’m steering clear of this one. You’ll have to search that out on your own then decide whether contacting her is a risk worth taking.”

“If you at least know her name, I’ll obtain her contact information. I have to try.”

“Don’t know her first name.”

“Is she still a Reardon?”

“Far as I know. You might ask Joel, Vince’s team leader. He owns the DZ, Refuge Drop Zone, a skydiving facility west of town. He’s there a lot. I can’t guarantee he’ll know how to locate her or be free with information if he does.”

Stallings looked doubtful enough for discouragement to handcuff her normally bulletproof courage and arrest her determination.

But something about Vince called to her. He seemed an imprisoned soul with tortured eyes, and it had nothing to do with the wreck today. His pain dwelled deeper than the crash, larger than the loss of his bike.

And no matter how long or hard or difficult, she was determined to get to the bottom of it—to ease the trauma life had put him through and to erase the anger that had been directed at her and everything she stood for.

Somehow, this wreck was no accident. She felt God’s fingerprints all over it.

Something stirred in her soul for Vince Reardon’s. As sure as the land had law, she had to get through to him.

“You don’t need to be here,” Vince said to Joel and the rest of the team, who hovered in a restless horde as hospital triage staff wheeled him back to the emergency room after X-rays. “You should be on the field bringing a pilot back to his family. Not here bugging me.”

Why hadn’t they gone?