Her Holiday Hero

“How is he? I haven’t had a chance to touch base...” The words faded into the quiet. Jake stared at his clasped hands. “I meant to see how he was once I was better.”

“He’s doing all right. His injuries are healed, and he’s been coping with his PTSD. Making progress.”

Jake lifted his head and gave her a searing look. “So what I heard is true? How’s he dealing with it?”

She couldn’t have asked for a better opening to talk about Shep. Lord, give me the right words to say. This man is hurting.

“Ben has a PTSD counseling group he attends in Tulsa, but he also has a service dog I trained for him. Butch has made a big difference in Ben’s being able to go out and to participate in life without having so many panic attacks.”

His eyebrows crunched together. “He’s cured?”

“No, but the incidences he has are few, especially lately, and he’s been able to work his way through them.”

“I’m glad. He was a good soldier. I missed him when he returned home. Is he working?”

“Yes, at Gordon Matthews Industries as a computer programmer.”

“Does he like it?”

“Yes, he’s really enjoying it.”

“That’s good to hear. Sometimes it’s hard to go back. A lot of men’s lives have been messed up.” Jake stared at the floor for a long moment, lost in thought.

Most likely remembering. The rigid set of Jake’s shoulders made Emma wonder about his particular story. Each soldier had his own, some more traumatic than others. Ben had been flown back to the States eight months earlier due to his encounter with a land mine that had blown up a few feet from him in a field where one of his friends died. He lost part of his left arm while several other soldiers were also injured. But Ben kept in touch with many of the ones still in his old unit—there to help if they needed it. Jake wasn’t staying in touch. Emma nudged Shep, giving him the signal to bark. He did.

Jake lifted his head, turning his attention toward the German shepherd. “He’s a beautiful dog. How long have you had him?”

“Almost nine months. I’ve been training Shep to be a service dog. His specialty is working with people with PTSD.” She watched Jake for a reaction.

He looked at her, a frown pulling his eyebrows down. “Why did you bring him today?”

“Because I like to take him out for a walk when I can and—” she swallowed to coat her dry throat “—I wanted you to meet him.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Her gaze caught his. “Because I think you need a dog like Shep.”

He rose, grappling for his cane. “I have work to do. Thank you for bringing the brownies.” His hard expression shouted, But don’t ever come back!

She didn’t move. “Please. Let me explain.”

He started to say something but pressed his lips together.

She took his silence as an okay. “I want to help you. I know what my brother went through when he came home. He couldn’t hold down a job, even a simple one. He lived with our parents and didn’t leave the house hardly at all—often holing himself up in his old bedroom. He got angry at the least little thing. He had the shakes and would shut down if something even little went wrong. He had nightmares and didn’t want to sleep. When I gave him Butch, I saw how effective the dog was with him. Still is. Butch has a way of calming him down and centering him.”

“That’s your brother, not me.” Jake took his seat again.

From checking with a few of his neighbors, Emma knew Jake rarely left his house. Jake Tanner was hiding out. Easier to stay home than go out in crowds where he had little control of what would happen around him. Ben had been like that at first. Butch had made the difference.

“I can help you if you’ll just give Shep a chance.”

“I’m capable of dealing with my problems. Healing takes time.”

“A service dog can help that along.”

“How? My injury was my leg. I’m up and about. I can walk now.”

“There are other injuries that aren’t so visible. A dog can help with those.”

“What? Emotional ones?” He clasped his cane between his legs with both hands and leaned forward slightly.

“Yes. Dogs can sense when a problem is going to occur and intervene before it becomes worse.”

His grip tightened around the ivory knob on the end of his cane until his knuckles whitened. “I’ve heard of other soldiers using service dogs. I don’t want to have to care for an animal. I’m barely—” He snapped his mouth closed.

“What? Barely holding it together?” Emma asked, returning his unwavering gaze. She hadn’t given up on Ben. Though they were virtual strangers, she could tell Jake needed help. She had promised her brother she would do what she could for his former commanding officer and she would, somehow.

Jake stiffened. “I have work to do.”

She sighed. “Sometimes I can be too blunt. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.”

“I respect a person who speaks her mind, but that doesn’t change the fact I don’t need a service dog. I’m coping.”

“That’s good because Ben wasn’t.”

“It hasn’t been that long since I came home. Recovery takes time.” Jake’s voice didn’t sound as convincing as the man probably wanted.

“Time and help. I agree.”

His gaze pinned her down. “I’m receiving help from my doctor.”

Emma resisted the urge to squirm under his intense glare. “Is he here when you have panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares?”

Jake winced, a mask falling into place as if he were shutting down all emotions.

The problem was a person couldn’t block his feelings forever. They were there in the background, ready to strike when he least expected. Emma said, “A service dog can help a person with those kinds of things. When someone has a panic attack, the dog’s trained to calm him. The animal can be trained to wake up a person who’s having a nightmare. Flashbacks often lead to panic attacks or at the very least, emotional upheavals. A dog can be there at all hours to console, be a companion. Not to mention they’re great listeners.”

A tic twitched in his hardened jaw. “Does he talk back?”

Emma grinned. “I can do a lot with the dogs I train, but I haven’t accomplished that yet. But they can understand a lot of commands, if properly taught. Shep has been trained in all those areas.”

Jake stood. “Thanks for coming.”

Jake’s polite words and neutral expression didn’t totally cover a hopelessness in his eyes. Emma could identify; she remembered how, when her husband died, she’d struggled to pay off his debts. She was still paying the hospital bill every month from the last time Sam was admitted.

Emma followed Jake from the living room. Shep trotted next to her. Ben’s captain opened the front door and moved to the side to allow her to leave.

She stepped outside and pivoted. “Where did the boys attack Josh?”