hurt more than she let him know. She had been adopted when her mother failed to conceive after years of trying. Eleven years later, her mother delivered Gordon, and Kerry arrived four years after that.
Lisa had mothered them, especially after their father was killed, and her mother went to work in a real estate firm. She loved her siblings with her whole heart.
And now...she would be turning their lives upside down. Again. She hadn’t told them she was flying to Colorado. They would just assume she was at the hospital. “What do you think?” Eve said, breaking into her train of thought.
Lisa hesitated. “It’s very nice.”
“I sense a reservation,” Eve said.
“I think you should know why I’m considering this,” Lisa said slowly. “You might change your mind about wanting us.” She’d told Eve on the telephone there were problems, just not how severe they were.
Eve didn’t say anything, just waited.
Lisa spelled out the story, from her mother’s death to Gordon sneaking out after his arrest. “I hoped the arrest would scare him, but it didn’t.” She hadn’t meant to say that. It was another failure on her part and she wasn’t used to failing. She should’ve noticed Gordon’s problems, just as she should’ve caught her mother’s illness before it was too late.
“Losing two parents is a lot for a kid to handle,” Eve said slowly. “I can’t imagine my son dealing with losing me after already losing his father.”
“I should have been there for him,” Lisa said. “I have to do it now and hope it’s not too late.” She paused, then added, “I talked to the caseworker handling his case. She said she would ask for probation and suggested it might be possible to transfer supervision here. Can you do that?’’
“We can. We have a new police chief who’s great with kids.”
“It’s okay, then?”
“I’m sure it will be,” Eve replied. “Sometimes magic happens in Covenant Falls.”
“It would have to be pretty major magic.”
“That happens, too. Someday I’ll have to tell you how I met my husband.” Eve paused then asked, “So what do you say? Does the house and clinic work for you?”
Decision time. “Yes,” Lisa said, her stomach tightening. She was gambling and she didn’t like to gamble. She didn’t see any other choice. “I’m happy to accept the offer.”
JUBAL PIERCE PLUCKED the letter he’d received yesterday from the trash can. He’d read it then and discarded it. This time he reread it slowly and considered the proposal.
His first inclination had been Hell, no.
That was his answer to almost everything these days.
He took a swallow of Jameson Irish whiskey as he glanced around the San Diego apartment he shared with two other SEALs. He was the only one in residence now. The others were on missions. He usually saved the Jameson for the end of successful missions. Now it signaled the end, period.
He couldn’t stay here now. His career as a navy SEAL was over. He knew it. His superiors knew it. His body had been too damaged by two years of near-starvation and captivity—not to mention what it had done to his mental health.
He’d been a SEAL half his life. It had been his entire identity until that rescue mission had gone to hell, and he was taken.
He’d crawled out of a jungle with the last of his strength. After his captors abandoned him, he’d found a key to the chain around his wrists in the bread that his guard had thrown at him. One act of mercy, maybe because he’d saved the man’s life a year earlier. The tribesman probably didn’t think he would make it through the jungle alive. He barely did. He didn’t want to think of those days spent crawling through the jungle more dead than alive.
He’d been offered a slot as a SEAL instructor but turned it down. Too many memories. Too many friends dead. Too many sleepless nights because of nightmares. He looked at those young, fatigued warriors who were trying to survive the almost unsurvivable SEAL training and he saw the faces of his dead teammates. He didn’t have the heart to drive the candidates to be what you had to be to win the coveted trident, the SEAL symbol.
Problem was he didn’t have the heart for anything. He looked down at the glass of whiskey. The Jameson was a reminder of other days when he and his team members had splurged after a successful mission. A last salute to a life he was leaving. If there had been ice, it would have made a merry noise from the shaking of his hand.
He looked back at the letter from Clint Morgan, a helicopter pilot who had once rescued his team from one hell of a bad situation. They had gotten very drunk together that night with Jameson, and although they rarely saw each other after that, they’d stayed in touch. When they did manage to meet, it was usually a boisterous celebration with a lot of drinking. Their last meeting was three months before his last mission...
He picked up Clint’s letter again.
Hey, cannot tell you how happy I am to hear you’re still among the living. I’d heard you were missing, presumed dead, then a few weeks ago heard you’d turned up. I toasted you in absentia with our favorite whiskey. I should have known no mere terrorist could keep you down. David Turner told me you were leaving the navy but he wasn’t sure what you planned to do.
Don’t know if you heard, probably not, but I left the army because of a head injury. I was in limbo until I ended up in a small Colorado town called Covenant Falls, and believe it or not, I’m now its police chief. I’m also a married man as of a month ago. I can hear you laughing now.
In case you’re at loose ends as I was, there’s a cabin available here that is handed down from vet to vet who’s leaving the service and trying to figure out what’s next. It’s on a lake and backs up to the mountains. Fishing and hiking are great. The town is full of veterans and there’s a weekly poker game along with a fine watering hole that caters to us. What more could you want? The cabin, by the way, would be all yours. I lived there for several months and can vouch for its comfort.
The town itself is small, rather quirky, but it has good people. The last three vets who used the cabin decided to stay here, including the former Ranger I mentioned, a battlefield military nurse and yours truly. Anyway, come for a few days at least so we can tell lies, toast friends and drink a bottle of Jameson.
Jubal put the letter down. He’d changed a lot since the last time he’d seen Clint. He hadn’t gained back all his weight and he often woke in a cold sweat. After all the isolation, he was uncomfortable in crowds and had difficulty carrying a conversation. He was mentally adrift.
And then there were the nightmares. He relived the ambush over and over again. He wondered why he lived and those who’d been with him didn’t. One of the things he needed to do was visit the families of his teammates who’d died in Nigeria. He hadn’t been mentally able to do that yet. Maybe visiting Clint could be the beginning of that journey.
No one had loved flying more than Clint, and he’d planned, like Jubal, to be a lifer in the service. If he could make a successful transition, maybe Jubal could, as well. He heard Clint’s
