A Soldier's Family

“I knew Joel wouldn’t let me ride with these pretty flight nurses sans chaperone,” Manny slurred, attempting to break the ice with humor. The flight nurses had all been guys, except one who had to be his mother’s age.

Her eyebrows squished together. “You’re not only out of the helicopter, you’re out of your mind. You’re in the hospital. You had a great crash and a bad nap. Your nurse says it looks like you shattered your hip and your tailbone pretty good.”

“I’m surprised you’re here.” Manny swallowed. He longed for some water but doubted they’d even clear him for an ice chip.

A smirk bracketed her mouth. “Yeah, well, someone has to keep you in line. I made Joel and Amber and the rest of the parachute pack go eat. They’ll be back soon.”

By her rigid stance, not soon enough.

“What are you doing here?”

She folded arms tightly across her chest. “They asked me to come pray for you, so I did.”

In other words, if she had a choice, she wouldn’t be here.

I’m sorry.

The words tickled his tongue to tell her but she turned to stand by the window, putting her back to him. She sniffed and flipped hair over her shoulder.

He could take a far-from-subtle hint. She wasn’t up for chatting. Fine. He had better things to do than stare at her stiff back. Manny faced the wall opposite of where she stood. He counted how many ugly orange flowers coated the wallpaper and lost track of how much time passed.

Anything to delay being first to speak into the silence stilting the room.

Not one word, not even a huff came out of her. When Joel and Amber returned, Celia left without a parting glance at him.

The metal side rail creaked as Joel leaned on it. “What’s up with the scowl, Péna? You two have another altercation?”

Manny cast a sour look at the door Celia blew through as though one more second in the room with him would inflict her with the plague. “She ignored me the entire time.”

But that wasn’t exactly true. She’d been praying with her hand on his shoulder when he’d awakened. He was sure of it.

She’d acted startled, embarrassed even. Snatched her hand away as though his skin had erupted in boils. Then she’d clammed up and closed herself off.

But she hadn’t been fast enough. He’d glimpsed all he needed to. Beneath that tough, street-smart exterior lived a human with feelings. Feelings he wanted to know. What kept that tempest brewing in her dark and alluring eyes?

Call him crazy, but Manny wanted to know her, everything about her. First he had to find a crack in her mortar, then figure out his mode of attack.

He may as well begin with prayer, because it would require the big guns to break that impenetrable shell and to convince her that, by God’s continued grace, he was not the same man who’d blatantly and tactlessly disrespected her at the Montgomery wedding.

“She’ll eventually cool off and warm up to you,” Joel said. “I asked her to put you on the prayer list at church and be in charge of updating it.”

If Manny could snicker painlessly, he would.

“She may put a notation of praise in the bulletin.”

Joel gave his head a firm shake. “No. Celia’s got a temper but she’d never celebrate an accident of this magnitude.” An unmistakable smirk saddled Joel’s mouth. “Even if he did proposition her at her best friend’s Christian wedding.”

Embarrassment assaulted Manny but he felt too sleepy from medications to defend himself. Joel knew Manny’s remorse or he wouldn’t tease. Manny had already apologized to Joel and Amber that he and others had drunk heavily before their worship-oriented wedding. The Montgomery couple had shown only grace toward the team in the aftermath. Manny was the only one as far as he knew who’d acted shamefully toward attending ladies, though. He only remembered waking up with a guilty conscience, a sore lip, a nasty hangover and severely wounded pride.

A horrible thought struck him. What if Celia didn’t forgive him? How would that adversely affect her faith? “I don’t know, Joel. She still seems pretty mad.”

Joel’s expression deadpanned. “Maybe. But a young widow like Celia would never take even microscopic pleasure in another person nearly losing their life.” Joel grinned. “Even if she did order you to drop dead at the punch fountain. Pun fully intended.”

Chapter Two

“Serves him right.” Celia Munez planted freshly manicured hands on her hips, careful not to disturb her damp red nail polish.

“Celia!” Amber Montgomery’s face jutted out and her mouth popped open.

Guilt sucker-punched Celia. She flapped her arms and put resolve in her voice. “Well, fine! Okay. I’m glad he didn’t die. Otherwise, his dented rear bumper would be on fire right now in the devil’s place. Still, what a waste of a perfectly good pine tree.” Not that she meant any of the last part, but it amused her to watch Amber’s eyes bug out.

In addition, she had to put up a front of irritation and indifference toward Manny because she didn’t need anyone knowing she’d been stricken with feeling something totally opposite.

Or how her heart had tugged for intense, emotional moments watching him writhe in the hospital bed this morning. Seeing his body bruised and scraped from head to toe had rattled her then and still haunted her now.

The last person she’d seen in that sort of shape had been her husband in his casket. That day’s images branded her memory. She could still hear gut-wrenching sobs from a younger Javier as he’d clawed and clutched at his father’s police uniform.

Wake up. Please, Dad. Mom and I are so sad. Please, please wake up, get up and come back home with us.

Her son had grieved with open abandon for his father, begging words everyone else in the room only had courage to scream from their minds. Despite soulful pleading, Joseph had lain there cold and still. Four hours after the close of the graveside service, they’d had to literally drag a sobbing Javier away from his father for the last time.

Celia closed her eyes in a vain attempt to shut out images. A blue-silk pillow cradling the head of her soul mate. Funeral home walls obliterated by an onslaught of ornate flower arrangements. The cold of his hand. The unseeing eyes. No warmth. No response. All she’d wanted to do was to throw herself over that expensive box and wail for him like her son.

She shivered at the memories.

They’d assaulted her earlier at Manny’s bedside, and they took her mind hostage now.

Please let Manny be okay. Don’t make his team go through losing one of their own.

Prayers had bubbled out of her for Manny at the hospital, too. She couldn’t help touching his skin, reassuring herself the warmth of life still resided in him despite how bad he appeared.

Wake up. She’d whispered Javier’s words to Manny and begged God to make it so.

Then he had.

Embarrassment had caused her to act feisty toward him. Regret for harsh words seemed the story of her life. As hard as she wished to take it back, life didn’t provide do-overs.

“Actually, Celia—” Amber started then stopped when Celia jerked back to attention.

“Joel mentioned Manny gave his life to God a few weeks ago.” Amber pulled Psych the cat into her lap, and studied Celia.

Too carefully.

It alerted Celia that Amber may be on to her. Amber didn’t keep secrets from her, and she shouldn’t keep them from Amber. Guilt waylaid Celia. Still, she wasn’t ready to reveal what she couldn’t even explain to herself yet.

Better to keep up the front while she could until she managed to figure out these confusing emotions.

“Ha.” The music to the oldies song, “That’ll Be the Day,” played in Celia’s head. She wrestled the temptation to hum it out loud to elicit a reaction from Amber. She hated her immediate tendency to doubt another person’s faith. It wasn’t for her to judge whether Manny was for real or not. Then why did she?