A Soldier's Heart

His mind drifted through those growing-up years as he got ready to face the day. He’d been buddies with Gabe, a year younger than he and Mary Kate, and to some extent with the next younger brother, Seth. Sports had done it. The three of them had been involved in every athletic activity Suffolk High offered.

Even his brief romance with Mary Kate and their breakup hadn’t interfered with that friendship. Obviously Mary Kate hadn’t bad-mouthed him to her brothers, or that would have meant the end. The Flanagan boys were notorious for protecting their sisters.

Had Mary Kate needed protecting from him? She wouldn’t have thought so. In her eyes, she was the one who took care of everybody else. Still, he’d hurt her. He knew it and she knew it, even if she’d never told anyone else.

A lifetime ago. He tossed a damp towel in the general direction of the rack and wheeled his way out toward the kitchen. Mary Kate probably never thought of those days. Her life was too full for trips down memory lane, with a job and two kids to take care of.

As for him—he was just a job to her, and that was for the best. Even friendship required more than he had to offer now.

The doorbell rang, followed by the sound of the door opening. Mary Kate, obviously. She’d insisted on having a key in case of emergency, and he hadn’t had the energy to argue with her about it.

He swiveled into the living room and stopped dead. It was Mary Kate all right, but the two men with her weren’t the anonymous hired strangers he’d expected. Seth and Gabe Flanagan seemed to fill the room, and at Gabe’s heels was a big yellow Lab.

Anger at Mary Kate surged through him. He glared at her, and she looked back with a coolly confrontational stare that dared him to make a scene.

Dared him, and won. He’d felt free to vent his anger on Mary Kate when she’d come in uninvited, but he couldn’t seem to do the same to Gabe and Seth. Did that say something about him, or about their relationship?

For a moment no one moved, and then Gabe came forward with his hand extended. “Luke, it’s good to see you again.”

“Gabe. Seth.” At least his handshake was as strong as ever. “I’m surprised to see you. I thought Mary Kate was hiring someone to do this chore.”

Seth grinned. “You know our sister. Never pay somebody else to do something if you can talk a brother into handling it.”

“We’re glad to do it.” Gabe ruffled the dog’s ears absently as he spoke. “How are you doing?”

His throat tightened, but he forced himself to speak normally. He patted the arm of the chair. “I guess you can see. And you guys? Either of you make captain yet?” Flanagans went into the fire service, everyone knew that.

“Seth’s a brigade chief.” Gabe nudged his brother with his elbow. “To say nothing of a husband and father—one little boy and another one on the way.”

“Congratulations.” Hard to picture steady, easygoing Seth being in charge. He’d always been the quiet one among the Flanagan boys. “What about you?” He glanced at Gabe. “You letting your brother boss you around now on the job?”

Gabe smiled slightly, shaking his head. “I got pretty broken up fighting fire. I guess it was after your reserve unit was called up, so maybe you didn’t hear. Left me with seizures, so I wasn’t much good on the fire line.” He stroked the dog’s head. “Max here is a seizure-alert dog.”

For a moment he couldn’t say anything. Mary Kate might have told him before she brought her brothers in here.

“Sorry.” He should say more, but he couldn’t seem to think of anything.

Gabe shrugged. “There’s more to life than firefighting, but don’t tell my dad I said so.” He turned to Mary Kate. “Okay, let’s get at it. Show us this furniture we’re supposed to be moving.”

They trooped off to the dining room, and he heard the scrape of chairs. In a moment Seth and Gabe came back, carrying the table between them, with Mary Kate rushing ahead to open the door. He could hear Seth ribbing Gabe about holding up his end as they went.

Mary Kate came back in. He planted his hands on the chair arms, so annoyed with her he didn’t know where to start. “I told you to hire someone.”

She shrugged, looking ridiculously like the girl she’d been at sixteen in faded jeans and a navy T-shirt emblazoned with the Suffolk YMCA logo. “You heard Seth. I hate paying for something I can get free.”

“This wasn’t about money. You just wanted to get them in here. I suppose that business about Gabe was meant to be a lesson to me.” Even through his annoyance, he had a sneaking suspicion that sounded petty.

Mary Kate held his gaze for a long moment. “Only if you need one,” she said, and walked out.

He sat staring at the kitchen door. Through its window he could see her cross the yard to her brothers, apparently giving them directions about the table. All three disappeared into the garage.

Maybe that was just as well. She’d left him with nothing to say.

A sound had him turning back toward the front door. Two kids stood there staring at him, and with that curly red hair, blue eyes and freckles, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that they must be Mary Kate’s.

He froze, hands gripping the chair, fresh anger welling. Bad enough that she’d brought her brothers here—it was worse that she’d brought her kids to stare at him.

He tried to moderate the scowl he knew he must be wearing. He might be annoyed, but he wasn’t about to scare little children if he could help it. “Are you two looking for your mother? She’s out back.”

Please, just go out there and find her and stop staring at me.

The girl shook her head and took a step backward. The little boy walked right up to him and put his hand on Luke’s arm. “Are you the soldier?”

Are you the soldier? The words echoed loudly in his head, pounding against his skull.

Not anymore. He fought back the urge to say the words out loud. Not when I’m here, helpless, while the men I’m responsible for are still in the line of fire.

Mary Kate stepped into the kitchen and stopped dead, looking through the archway to the living room—at her kids, standing there next to Luke’s wheelchair. Talking to him, with Michael leaning against his knee as if they were old friends.

She fairly flew across the kitchen and into the living room. “Shawna and Michael Donnelly! What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at Grammy and Grandpa’s house.”

Shawna pressed her lips together, looking guilty. Michael turned an expression of blue-eyed innocence on her.

“We were, Mommy.”

“You’re not now.” She couldn’t look at Luke, and she was sure her cheeks were bright with embarrassment. “Who told you that you could come here?”

“Grammy said we could walk to Timmy Nelson’s house to play on the swings.” Shawna found her voice. “We do that lots of times. We stay right on the sidewalk and walk around the block and we don’t cross any streets.”

True, they were allowed to walk to the Nelson place. Mary Kate frowned. “This is not Timmy’s house.”

“Timmy wasn’t home,” Michael said. “And you said you were going to come here and it was only a little bit farther to walk and we wanted to meet the soldier.”

“Lieutenant Marino,” Shawna corrected.

She sent a quick glance toward Luke. He didn’t look happy, but neither did he look outraged, which he had every right to be.

“And you’re here, Mommy,” Michael added.

“You were not invited.” Neither were Gabe and Seth, of course, but that was beside the point.

“Lieutenant Marino doesn’t care,” Michael said. “I was telling him about the letter we got. How everybody liked it. He said that was good.”

At least Luke hadn’t let the children know how he felt about this influx of company. He was undoubtedly saving that for her.

“You should not have come here if Grammy thinks you’re at Timmy’s. What if she goes there and no one’s home? She’ll be worried.” She snatched the cell phone from her pocket and handed it to Shawna. “Go out to the kitchen, both of you, and wait there for me. Shawna, call Grammy and let her know where you are. Tell her you’ll come back with me.”

“Yes, Mommy.” Shawna turned to Luke. “I’m sorry we came when we weren’t invited.”

Luke’s face wore an interesting expression—he was obviously not used to dealing with children. “That’s all right,” he mumbled.

“Goodbye.” Michael patted his arm. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“Thank you.” Luke’s lips actually twitched, she was sure, before he got them under control.

Once the kids were more or less out of sight, she turned to Luke. “I’m sorry—” she began, but the rumble of a truck pulling into the driveway interrupted her. “The equipment is here,” she said quickly. “I’ll go and tell them where to put it.”

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?”