A Soldier's Heart

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.