Broken Soldier: A Novel (4 page)

She broke the connection between their lips again.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing’s wrong. Well,” she smiled, “other than you still having clothes on.”

His surprised twisted into a smile. “Then perhaps you should do something about that.”

Emily tugged at his shirt, lifting it over his head. What she found surprised her, even though she knew it would be there. The whole right side of his chest was covered in a mass of puckered red scars. She reached out tenderly, stroking him.

“Do they hurt?”

“Not right now.” His hand caressed her hip, tugged lightly on her dress, lifting it an inch.

“You first.” She moved to his waist, unhooking his belt and unzipping his zipper. He worked with her, lifting his hips to let her slide his slacks down. Again, she knew what to expect, but was still unprepared. Even in his boxers, she could see the scars working their way down his leg until the wounds and the leg both ended at a prosthetic cup just below the knee. A long metal rod extended from the cup and ended with a metal foot.

Rafa flinched away from her gaze, and she had a feeling that no woman--at least no woman outside a medical setting--had seen him like this. She could imagine that he must feel vulnerable, and everything within her yearned to hold him and to protect and to love him. She stroked his thigh, felt his trembles.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” she told him.

“I think I’m supposed to say that to you,” he replied.

“Maybe. But right now, I think you need to hear it more. Never, ever think that you’re less of a man because of this.” Emily took his hand and led him toward the bedroom.

Y

“I’m just sweaty.” Emily plucked a hand towel from her gym bag and wiped her forehead.

“Nope, you’re glowing. I take it the second date went well?”

“Extremely well.”

They were at the base of the trail again, at the end of a 10k jog. Rafa had helped her look for cars earlier in the afternoon, then dropped her off at Christa’s. Emily took a long swallow of water.

“How are you doing?” Christ asked. “I mean with Scott and all?”

“I’m good, Chrissy. Better than I thought.” Emily looked off toward the mountains. The first good snowfall of the season had fallen on the high peaks, and they glistened white and pure. “Scott would have wanted me to be happy. I loved him. You know that. He knew that. And I... I think I’m ready now. I’ve taken the time to mourn him and I’ve found my peace with it.”

Christa patted her shoulder. “That’s good. So you think there’s something real between you and Rafael?”

“There could be. I hope there is.”

He was deep and complicated and mysterious, but she relished the opportunity to learn more about him. Not so much to peel away his layers, but to be there as he unveiled them. To help him when he needed help, and to comfort him when he needed comfort.

And maybe, just maybe, to love him when he needed love. 

H

It broke Emily’s heart.

“Do you see the puppy’s face, Harvey?” she asked.

He crossed his arms. “No.”

“Look here.” She shifted a few pieces around, showing him how the poodle’s tan face formed the middle of the puzzle.

“Puzzles are dumb.”

Emily sat up straighter. “Harvey, that’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“My grandma has a poodle. He scares me.”

That wasn’t what she’d expected, but it was something she could work with. “What’s his name?”

“Snowflake. He barks at me when no one is around. And he jumps on me. And I don’t do nothing to make him.” His little cheeks puffed out. “My grandma makes me sit in the corner when he barks at me.”

“Why does she do that?”

“Don’t know.”

“Are you mean to Snowflake?”

Harvey shook his head.

“Have you ever played with his toys? Or kicked him?”

“No, Miss Emily.” He looked away, up and to the left. Even in a child, it was a sign of deceit.

Harvey wasn’t seeing her because he didn’t get along with his grandma’s dog. He was seeing her because his father had finally decided he was bigger than any boy his age should be, and his mother wasn’t doing anything about it. Telling them to lay off the hamburgers and milkshakes wasn’t enough.

“Does your grandma feed Snowflake?”

His head jerked up at that. So whatever it was, it had something to do with food. Harvey nodded.

“And is Snowflake mean to you before or after dinner?”

Harvey’s voice was barely a whisper. “After.”

“Have you ever eaten Snowflake’s dog food?”

Harvey nodded.

Emily held her breath. She’d been worried about that. If he was taking the dog’s food, his problems ran deeper than she’d imagined. “Maybe that’s why Snowflake gets upset with you, Harvey. He shares his food with you, but do you share with him?”

“No.”

“Well, maybe we can find something that you can share with him then? Something like a pretzel. Do you like pretzels?”

He shrugged.

Emily realized that he probably didn’t even know what a pretzel was. “Well, maybe we can get you and Snowflake a little bag of pretzels. It could be your special treat to share together, and then you could let him have all of his dog food.”

He smiled at that. “I like sharing.”

That was an odd statement, coming from a boy his age. Harvey was an only child, and if she’d learned anything about boys like him, it was that they hated sharing when they first encountered it. Kindergarten was always a chore as they learned how to follow the rules of a classroom.

“That’s good. Can you tell me what you share?”

“M&Ms, Starbursts, Diet Coke...” he kept going, giving her what she assumed to be a detailed outline of everything his mother kept in the cupboard.

“Well, Harvey, it sounds like you get plenty of snacks. I have another idea for you, though. Do you ever play outside with Snowflake?”

“Sometimes Grandma lets us. While she watches her shows.”

Emily had to suppress a laugh. She could remember being about his age, and her mother watching her soaps in the afternoon during what was supposed to be nap time.

“Well, I think you and Snowflake should spend some more time playing outside. Does your grandma have a yard?”

He told her about his swing set and his rocking horse in exquisite detail. The chains were rusted and really squeaked when he got to swinging, and Snowflake like to howl along to the noise. That was usually when Grandma made him come inside and take his nap.

Emily listened, nodding thoughtfully. “Do you play with other kids?”

He looked at her with wide eyes, shaking his head. “No.”

“Never? What about at school?”

“Sometimes. They don’t like me.”

Emily chatted with him a while longer, trying to work around obliquely to why he thought the other kids didn’t like him, but she kept coming back to one explanation: “They just don’t.”

Someone knocked softly on the door to the office. Emily glanced up and realized it was the end of their hour. Harvey was smiling, which was a real improvement over how they’d started the session.

“Are you ready to see your dad?”

Harvey hopped out of his chair and followed her to the door. “Bye bye, Miss Emily.”

“Bye, Harvey.” She sent him off with his dad, then went back to her desk to write up her notes.

The poor boy had image problems. She was sure of that. It was almost like looking into a boy-shaped mirror of her own past.

She set her pen down and leaned back in her chair. Her ankles were still too thick, legs still too heavy. She didn’t keep a mirror in the office, but she knew what she’d see: an older, just as thick girl. She had more curves now than she’d had then, true, but the kids didn’t want to play with her, either.

Emily sighed and picked up the pen. The difference between seven year old Emily and twenty-seven year old Emily was that twenty-seven year old Emily still had bills to pay, and if she didn’t take care of Harvey’s file, they wouldn’t get paid.

As she made her notes, her mind wandered to Rafa and then back to Scott. What she’d had with Scott had been special, and he’d been taken from her too early. She desperately hoped he wouldn’t be upset with her for moving on. He’d have wanted her to be happy. Probably. And Rafa made her happy in a way she didn’t think she’d ever feel again.

She finished the notes and placed the pen back in her drawer. No sense in borrowing trouble. It would come soon enough. It always did.

#

Rafa grimaced with every stride. Emily watched him from the corner of her eye. He was sucking wind in a bad way, and favoring his wounded right leg.

“Do you need a break?” Emily asked.

“I’m good.”

He didn’t sound good. He sounded ragged, and it was more than the thin mountain air.

“Well, I need a break.” Emily slowed, her feet scuffing stones and pine needles on the trail. She pointed ahead of them, maybe a quarter mile. “There’s an overlook. Why don’t we take five up there?”

“Okay.” He said it with relief, slowing to walk beside her.

Emily glanced over, taking in the sight of him, her very own broken soldier. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to be worthy of having Rafael Carpenter in her life, but she woke up every day thankful that he was. Even though the IED had taken the bottom of his right leg and all of his right hand, he still looked amazing. Simple gray jogging shorts hugged every curve of his rump, and his matching Army t-shirt showed off a powerful chest.

Rafa smiled, catching her watching him. “I feel like meat on display.”

“What can I say? I’m a Colorado girl. Always loved a nice side of beefcake.”

That drew a good laugh. “I will accept your compliment, but if I catch you coming after me with a steak knife, we’re going to have a problem.” His smooth, faintly Spanish accent was like candy for her ears. It was good to banter with him, both of their insecurities temporarily suspended.

They moved off the trail at the overlook, and Rafa caught her hand with his, giving her a squeeze. The city of Boulder spread out below them. The lakes on the east side of town glistened in the mid-afternoon sun. It was breathtaking.

She glanced over at him, and caught him looking at her the way she was looking at the valley. Heat rose in her cheeks.

Emily stopped by a log railing and set one foot against a post, stretching her calf. Rafa stood beside her, rubbing his wounded leg. The skin below his PT shorts was puckered and red. When he’d first called them PT shorts, she’d thought that meant Physical Therapy, but he’d explained that in the military it was Physical Training. Even though he wasn’t with an actual unit, he still felt like it was his duty to stay fit.

“Your leg hurting you?” Emily asked.

“I’ll live.” He stood up straight, puffing his chest out like he was just fine, even though she could tell that he had to be in pain. “I used to run up and down hills like this with eighty pounds of gear on my back.”

“Hills?” The valley was long and steep, and the peaks behind them climbed toward the heavens. On the upper slopes, there was already snow.

“If you let yourself start thinking that you have a mountain to climb, you’ll never get out of the valley.”

“Your soldiering sounds an awful lot like my psychology.”

“It is. We both deal with children.” He grinned. “You’ve never seen a manchild until you’ve been inside a barracks. But enough Army talk, no?” He looked out into the valley. “It’s very pretty.”

That was fine. If he didn’t want to talk about his pain, she wasn’t going to make him. She wanted to be more than his friend, and definitely not his shrink. Emily pointed to a spot in the hills, on the nearer side of town. “You can’t quite see it, but my apartment is over there behind that ridge.”

Rafa looked at the ridge, his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing.

“What?” she asked.

He took a couple deep breaths, each exhalation turning to a cloud in the cool mountain air. “The shape of that ridge just reminded me of Afghanistan. We joked that Kandahar Province wasn’t hell, but you could see it from there.” He squeezed her hand again. “The thing is, Kandahar is one of the most beautiful places on Earth.”

“When people weren’t trying to kill you?”

“No, it was beautiful even then. When you are in a war zone, you must always remember that people are trying to kill you. Even when the bullets are not flying, they are planning and maneuvering. The day you forget is the day you go home on a med-evac.”

Emily didn’t respond. He hadn’t talked too much about his experiences in war, and she didn’t want to interrupt him if he was finally going to open up to her about them. She could sense a deep well of emotion within him, and she knew he still needed to come to terms with the things he’d seen. And the person he’d become.

When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “That final day, I thought that we were safe. The tribal leaders we were escorting were among the most respected in the whole province, and they assured us that we were safe.”

He swallowed hard. “We weren’t.”

Emily waited a little longer, hoping he’d open up more, but he just stared into the distance. She had a feeling that he was seeing something other than a peaceful Colorado valley.

“Do you want to walk the rest of the way down?” she asked. “I’m starting to get cold.”

“If you wish.”

He walked beside her, not letting go of her hand. After a few minutes, he spoke again, his voice strained. “My leave is ending soon.”

A pang of fear went through her. He was still technically in the Army, and the talk of Afghanistan made her worry that the government was going to find some way to send him back, prostheses and all. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ve been offered an honorable medical discharge. I talked to my father this week. He said his firm might hire me.”