Broken Soldier: A Novel (11 page)

She left, and Rafa turned toward the sink. Another day of cooking, cleaning and working out. If he squeezed in the firing range, it would be an awful lot like his days in the Army. Only without anyone shooting back at him. 

T
HE 
ice in Rafa’s glass shook as he took another drink. Emily watched, trying not to let her concern show on her face. She sat beside him at her parents’ dinner table in their house south of Denver. He had hardly touched his turkey, but she couldn’t blame him. It had that distinctive sandpaper texture that only her mother’s cooking could obtain. Her mother’s and every other person that left the bird in the oven for an hour too long.

“A wedding in Spain, huh?” her father asked. He had long since gone gray at the temples, but judicious use of dye left his hair just as brown at 64 as it had been at 40. Karl to his friends, Karlie to his wife, and just Daddy to Emily. He had introduced himself as “Mr. Hale” to Rafa.

“We’re flying over the week before Christmas,” Emily said, “and coming back just after New Year’s.”

“So is this wedding actually on Christmas Day or...” Emily’s mother, Susanna, picked at her food, not even pretending that it was edible. She had a face lined from nearly forty years in classrooms, lunchrooms and hallways, all spent in some of the highest need Denver schools.

“It’s on Boxing Day,” Rafa said. He was sitting bolt upright in his chair, his back straighter than the flagpole in the front yard.

“Well, I can’t say I like it,” Susanna said, “but if it’s what you want to do, I guess I can understand.” She smiled, trying to disarm the tension.

Emily’s father’s scowl only deepened.

“Mr. Hale,” Rafa said, “Emily explained that you all normally spend Christmas Eve together, but we thought that perhaps we could do it a few days early. Our flight is supposed to leave on the 20
^th
.”

“So you haven’t booked your tickets yet?” He perked up as he saw a place to drive in a wedge. Karl Hale hadn’t made a career in law as a person willing to let a fight go, no matter how small.

“No,” Rafa said. His fist clenched around the stem of his wine glass.

“Daddy, if you’re trying to talk us out of this trip, you’re wasting your breath.” Emily took a deep breath of her own, then continued. “This is the first time you’ve met Rafael, and this trip is partially so I can meet his family. Everyone will be at the wedding.”

“We’ve spent every Christmas with you for 27 years. I don’t see the point in breaking that tradition now. If the wedding is on the day after Christmas, why don’t you just fly out Christmas afternoon?”

“And arrive in Spain jetlagged the morning of the wedding?” Emily’s mother asked. “Be realistic, Karlie. They need time to see Rafa’s family, too.”

“So,” Emily said, desperate to get them onto any other topic, “how’s school going, Mom?”

“It’s good. The kids are starting to get antsy, though. Everyone is looking forward to the break.”

Emily met her mother’s eyes, but her attention was mostly on Rafa in her peripheral vision. His right arm was tucked into his lap with his empty cuff out of sight. The left hand held a fork perfectly still, poised above his sweet potatoes. His entire attention was on her father, and Emily thought she could just about see a vein throbbing on the side of Rafa’s head. She reached over, setting her hand on his arm.

“Rafa, why don’t you tell Mother about your new job?” Emily suggested.

Emily’s mother nodded. “Please, Mr. Carpenter, I’d love to hear it. Emily tells me that you’ve gone from the Army into a teaching position?”

“At the Air Force Academy,” Rafa said. “I start next semester.”

“Oh, that must be exciting. I didn’t realize the services taught at each other’s colleges.”

“They usually don’t.” Rafa stabbed a sweet potato with his fork. “My background is... unique.”

“How’s that?” Emily’s mother asked.

“He was in Special Forces,” Emily said.

“So you left the service as a sergeant?” her father asked. She could always trust her dad to try to work out how much someone made.

“A captain,” Rafa said.

Emily’s father sat up a little straighter at that. “Is that right? OCS or...”

“West Point.”

“I see.”

“Rafa served in Iraq and Afghanistan both,” Emily added. “And he speaks Arabic.”

Rafa looked over, shooting her a look that made her mouth go dry. Was she sharing too much information? She was just trying to help him with her dad.

“I just did what needed to be done. Mrs. Hale, you mentioned something earlier about a blueberry cobbler?”

Emily’s mom smiled wide. “I sure did. Em, could you help me with the plates?”

Emily rose, unsure about leaving Rafa alone with her father, but unwilling to refuse her mom. She gathered the dirty plates, then followed her mom into the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about your father, dear,” her mother said once they were out of earshot. “He’ll come around. He’s still not over Scott, you know.”

“I thought he’d be happy for me.” Emily piled the plates by the sink and took down the dessert saucers. “If I’d known he was going to give Rafa the third degree, I wouldn’t have brought him.”

“It’s just his way, hon,” her mother said, sliding a premade cobbler from its box. “He’s protective of his little girl.”

“I’m not a child any longer, and I’m not exactly little.”

Her mother looked her over. “Nonsense. You’ll always be his little girl, no matter how old you are.”

Emily wasn’t sure if that was a backhanded compliment or just her mother being thoughtless. She smoothed her slacks over her hips, doing her best to ignore her own insecurities. “Is he really upset about Christmas? I didn’t expect either of you to be thrilled, but I hoped you’d understand.”

“I understand, dear. He’ll come around. Give him some time with your Rafael.” She set the fourth piece of cobbler onto the waiting plate and looked toward the freezer. “Ice cream, do you think?”

“This is plenty, Mom,” Emily said.

When she reached the table, Rafa was talking to her father.

“Three tours,” Rafa said.

“And then you were wounded?” her father asked.

“Yes, sir. The Army wouldn’t have let me go, otherwise.”

Her father nodded, and Emily had the sense that Rafa had just passed some kind of test.

“Well, I for one, am glad you’re here,” Emily said.

“Karlie and I are glad you’re here, too,” her mother said. “When did you say you’d be back from Madrid?”

Rafa looked at Emily. She wasn’t sure if he was looking for permission or support or for her to answer the question.

“The first week of January,” he said. “We were going to figure out an exact date when we booked the tickets.”

“Well, if you’d like to do a late Christmas rather than an early Christmas, that would be fine by us.” Emily’s mother looked placidly at her husband, as if she was daring him to argue.

Emily forced herself to keep a straight face. Her dad was trying not to squirm, and she could tell that he wanted to argue. He finally nodded his agreement.

“I think that would work just fine, Mrs. Hale,” Rafa said. He took a bite of his pie. “And this pie is superb. Thank you.”

“It’s my specialty,” Susanna said. “I bought it at Costco just this afternoon.”

Rafa nearly choked and had to wash down his dessert with a gulp of water.

Emily waited for him to finish coughing, then patted him on the knee. Her dad had always been a prickly pear, but Rafa had weathered him as well as could be expected. She only hoped his family would be friendlier when she arrived in Madrid. The thought of Madrid sent a tingle down her spine. He’d just met her parents, and she was going to meet his. It felt so natural, so right, but at the same time, it still felt like things were moving extremely fast.

She wasn’t so sure she minded, though.

R

“Leg doing okay?” Paul asked. He was hardly short of breath.

Rafa slowed down and leaned over the front of the treadmill, panting. “Yeah.” He sucked wind a little longer. “Lungs getting me. Not the leg.”

Rafa hopped off the treadmill, grabbed his water bottle and paced around the room. The prosthesis didn’t hurt at all. “You remember my cousin Carmen?”

“The one from Málaga?”

“That is her. She is getting married this Boxing Day. Emily and I are going to attend.”

“In Spain?” Paul stopped his treadmill and looked back, surprised.

Rafa nodded.

“Her dad alright with that?”

Rafa’s guard came up immediately. Paul knew about her dad? “Not precisely.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Paul hopped down and started stretching his hamstrings. “He’s been a circuit court judge for fifteen or twenty years. Razor sharp, but crustier than last week’s bread.”

“You know him then?” Rafa followed suit with the stretching, trying to cool down despite his still heavy breathing.

“I know of him in a professional sense, but I’ve heard Emily and Christa talk about him over the years, too. Christmas is the big holiday for Em’s family.”

Rafa studied his kneecap, feeling the burn in his hamstring as he leaned into a hurdler’s stretch. “She did not say anything about it to me when I brought up a trip to Spain.”

“Everything still okay with you guys?”

“Never better. I am a little worried about my mother, though. I told her about Emily, but she didn’t sound excited when I mentioned bringing her to Madrid.”

“She probably still thinks you should marry Lorena.”

Paul said it so matter-of-factly that it was unnerving. Rafa shifted legs, taking more care with the injured side. Lorena had been beautiful and dangerous, and the end of their relationship had left a hollowness inside him that hadn’t been filled until he’d met Emily. “Mother didn’t say anything about her, but I’m sure she’ll be at the wedding.”

“Ouch, is that going to be a problem for you?” Paul asked.

“No.” Rafa said it quickly, decisively, and the moment the word left his mouth, he knew it was true. Lorena had turned him inside out, and when they’d split, he’d thought he would never find another woman like her. As he’d gotten older, he’d come to think that never finding another like her would be a blessing.

Paul stayed quiet, leaving Rafa with his thoughts and his memories.

Lorena was the type that demanded attention from every man in the room and didn’t notice who got hurt in the process. Being beautiful wasn’t enough. She needed more than simple attention, he’d learned to his dismay. And God forbid he so much as looked at another woman, else her jealousy flowed like sweet poison, reminding him of each of his flaws while innocently ignoring her own wandering eye.

When he’d found Emily, he’d found someone better, someone kinder. And someone even more beautiful.

“What do you think I should tell her?” Rafa asked.

“About Lorena? Does Emily know about her?”

“In a general sense. You alluded to Lorena when we were up in the cabin, and I talked to Emily about her a little after that.”

“I wouldn’t say anything else then. It’s been what, eight, ten years since you two split?”

“Something like that.”

“She’s probably moved on then. Hell, she could already be married and pumping out kids.”

“Maybe.”

Rafa wasn’t convinced. Lorena wasn’t the kind of woman to stay married. She wasn’t the kind of woman to stay happy, either. No, if he could be sure of one thing, it was that she was going to cause him embarrassment, if only out of a well-honed sense of revenge. He was starting to think that perhaps he’d be better off staying in Colorado for Christmas. 

R
AFA
 dozed lightly amid the constant humming of the plane’s engines. Emily sat beside him, watching him sleep. She’d tried to go to sleep, too, but hadn’t succeeded. They’d left Denver at 8:00 PM, and it was well after midnight back home. She didn’t have the faintest idea what the time was wherever they were at the moment. She didn’t have the faintest idea where they even were, for that matter. Somewhere over Newfoundland or Greenland or maybe just the Atlantic Ocean.

Rafa stirred slightly, his head shifting on the goofy little pillow he’d bought in the airport. It wrapped around his neck like a donut with a bite taken out. Or like a spinal collar for someone with a broken neck.

Emily slipped her hand under his blanket, stroking his leg. The muscles were tight, evidence of a tenseness he’d been trying to keep to himself since the plane left Denver. He didn’t move as she worked at the knots in his thigh.

“Can I get you anything, miss?”

Emily jerked her hand out of Rafa’s lap and looked up. A stewardess stood in the aisle, looking in on them. Emily felt as guilty as a fifteen year old getting caught smooching with a boy in the theater. “I’m fine, thank you.” Her voice shook.

The stewardess smiled like an indulgent mother. Judging by the dye job and the pancake makeup, she probably was someone’s mother. If not grandmother. “If you need anything, just let me know.”

“I will. Thanks.” Emily watched her leave, then slid her hand back into place. “Calm down, girl. You’re a grown woman,” she said under her breath. Her hammering heart betrayed her pep talk.

Rafa’s eyes opened, and he looked over at her as she rubbed his leg. It took him a couple seconds to focus, but then he was instantly alert. It was unsettling how he could do that, but then he’d had to survive in places where waiting for a cup of coffee to wake up was an impossible luxury.

“Good morning, Prince Charming,” Emily said.

“How long was I out?”

“A couple hours. We’ve still got a ways to go.”

“Hmm. You should try to get some sleep.”

“I will in a little while.”

Rafa leaned back and looked over at her. “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

The travelers around them were asleep. The stewardess was nowhere in sight. Emily slid her hand back to Rafa’s thigh, but a moment later the stewardess came back down the aisle.