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Drew tapped his brakes and waited as the flock of turkeys meandered across the road in front of his Jeep. Guess his departure from Glen Eyrie would need to wait a few minutes more.
Not that he was in any hurry to leave the peaceful retreat behind.
Or the amazing woman he’d met.
Amazing Grace.
He snorted at his accidental pun, then smiled. God’s fingerprints had been all over his weekend. His life.
And her life.
Her obviously-abbreviated story of the life-altering fire was painful enough without knowing she also suffered nightmares and flashbacks. Although that wasn’t out of the ordinary for anyone who survived a traumatic situation.
Like his buddy Steve.
With the road clear, Drew continued toward the gatehouse guarding the valley’s exit. But his mind circled back to that dinner a few months ago.
He’d met the former SERE Specialist at a restaurant to catch up on life after the man took a surprise early discharge following a TDY in Afghanistan.
While curious about what had happened, he hadn’t asked. Until a waitress dropped a tray of drinks and the sound of shattering glass had the pale-faced soldier diving for cover and reaching for an imaginary gun.
Steve.
Had things gotten easier?
Call him.
Maybe later. Once he was back at his housing and catching up on laundry.
At the intersection, Drew debated turning south toward Garden of the Gods for another hike, but instead headed north.
Call him.
Okay.
Drew pulled onto the shoulder of the road, reached for his phone, and dialed.
It rang. And rang. And rang.
He was about to hang up, when a choked voice answered with a shaky “Drew?”
“Hey. What’s up?” Come on, Steve. Tell me the truth.
“Why’d you call me now?” The man’s voice was hardly recognizable.
Drew offered his own truth first. “I felt like God was telling me to call you, so I did.”
Something like a sob echoed over the line. An emotional outburst the normally stoic man would never let anyone see.
Drew’s pulse raced. “Where are you?”
“Home...”
With a quick glance over his shoulder to check for oncoming traffic, Drew pulled back onto the road. “Stay on the line with me. I’m on my way.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” I need to. Drew took a quick right and headed toward the interstate and the fastest way across town. Now he just had to keep the man talking. “Is anyone else with you?”
“No. I’m all alone.” Another choked sound.
“No. You’re not.” Drew clenched his fist around the steering wheel, then relaxed. God was there and soon Drew would be too. “I’ll be there soon and I can’t wait to see you.”
“Nobody should see me like this. I’m damaged.”
His stomach clenched. “No. You’re a survivor.” He just had to keep the man talking long enough to get there where he could help him in person. “What happened?”
“I’m just so tired because every time I close my eyes to sleep, I can see...” A sniff. “The nightmares won’t end.”
Oh, God. Give me the words. Help me help him.
“I can’t pretend to understand since I don’t even know what combat zones are really like. But you and I both know how important the mind is to survival. And that’s what we’re going to focus on. Survival. Because the only easy day was yesterday.”
A heavy breath sounded in his ear as if Drew’s reciting the SEALS informal creed had the man releasing his tension.
Drew plowed forward. “First things, first.”
“Shelter? Fire? Water?” Steve almost snorted as he recited the top three essentials.
Drew forced a laugh. “Not really. But if you’re tired, we could probably use some coffee. Do you have any?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” As he continued his journey across town, Drew kept up a steady chatter on the phone as he talked his friend through the motions of filling the pot, measuring the grounds for an extra strong brew, and even asked if there were any cookies in the pantry.
Anything to keep him busy and distracted and talking.
Once inside the door, Drew couldn’t ignore the alcohol on the kitchen table...alongside a full prescription bottle. It seemed he’d been prompted to call just in time to avert another tragedy.
By the time they had drained the pot of coffee and finished off a carton of Oreos, Steve was willing to seek additional support to help him through. With Drew’s encouragement, Steve contacted several other mutual Air Force buddies—past and present—to let them know of his struggles. And as Drew had expected, each reminded Steve there was a military brotherhood who had his back. Who wouldn’t leave him alone. Who he could call any time.
After contacting the chaplain’s office for a list of resources, Drew also connected his friend to a licensed therapist. And then a wounded warrior PTSD camp whose mission was to help soldiers survive life after the pain.
Almost like Grace and her Burn Camp.
With the support system rallied, Drew proceeded to make himself at home for the rest of the day. Cleaning up. Ordering pizza. Flipping a coin to determine what movie to watch first. And then attempting to sleep on the lumpy couch.
All while praying for Steve’s emotional healing.
God, show him he’s not alone in the pain. Help him through this valley. Show him Your amazing love and grace.
The next morning, Steve was in much better spirits, especially when another friend showed up on his doorstep prepared to spend a few days. For a long moment, Drew wondered if he should stay in the area for Steve’s benefit.
But with only a few days leave remaining, Drew needed to reconnect with his people.
He was lucky to have a personal support system, while many fellow soldiers didn’t have that network. However, like Steve’s situation, that support only helped if the person was willing to be open and vulnerable about their needs and emotions.
Which meant it was time to have an honest talk with his mom about how Brian’s death had raised so many questions. To ask her to also pray for him to receive wisdom and direction for the future.
Assured that Steve was in good hands and after promising to check in frequently, Drew said his temporary goodbyes.
As he continued with his original plans of laundry and packing for his trip back to Pine Ridge, he couldn’t help but remember how he’d been able to make a difference.
Twice in just a few days, he’d saved someone.
And neither had anything to do with his official SERE skills.
Timmy’s fall had opened his eyes to the possibility of working as an EMT in the future. Especially if that made him a hero in Grace’s eyes.
But Steve? That had been something more. Something deeper.
Because it was the military?
While a medical services career was intriguing, he’d felt more satisfaction this morning watching a smiling, rested Steve fry bacon than in watching the ambulance pull away.
More satisfaction than years of teaching SERE skills and never knowing if anyone ever actually used that information.
For the first time in days, he had the impression that the compass for his life’s map was honing in on a clear position.
God, show me where I can help those who matter most.
###
TURNING ON HER HEEL, she put the dancing behind her, instead making her way outside to the terrace overlooking the gardens.
There were a few couples scattered about talking in quiet voices, but all ignored her as she made her way to the stone railing.
Kathleen drew in several deep breaths.
She could not bear to pretend ignorance or hide the same intellectual curiosity her adoptive father had nurtured and encouraged.
After staring out over the manicured paths, she lifted her gaze to the stars above London. The same stars that shone over Yorkshire. Over Armston.
If only she was there again. In the place where last she’d felt like she belonged.
And yet, there was comfort in knowing her dear Reuben could see these same stars.
Despite his silence and the absence of letters recently, there was not too great a distance between them. Not where it mattered the most.
She pressed a hand near her waist and the small pocket in her corset where she carried his pendant. Her lady’s maid, by orders of Lady Wiltshire, refused to let her wear the token, but that did not mean she could not keep the evidence of Reuben’s devotion nearby.
Music filtered out the door and she swayed slightly to the melody of a scandalous waltz.
Dancing would be ever so much more enjoyable if she were in Reuben’s arms.
Her pulse leapt as her imagination took over. He would bow and she would curtsy. And then with joined hands plus her hand on his firm shoulder and his at her waist, she could almost feel the breathless wonder of making the requisite turns in full view of society.
The breathless and heady sensation of gazing up into sparkling green eyes glowing with his resolve and adoration.
It was easy to picture for she’d seen the same emotion in them just moments before his proposal last summer.
Before their first kiss.
Before the accident and her father’s written wishes set her on her current path.
Where did she belong?
With her first love. And last.
With Reuben where she could be herself and resurrect their dreams of marriage and family.
###
GRACE RELEASED A DREAMY sigh and pressed her phone with the ebook app to her chest as she snuggled further into the blankets of her bed.
The heroine in the ballroom scene had just been dancing with the finest London had to offer, but still wished it was her childhood friend she was with. If she were in Kathleen’s shoes, what man would Grace pick? A London gentleman or the Yorkshire weaver? What future would that choice lead her toward?
Did Grace have a hero in her own past? Definitely.
The mysterious Andy’s actions had given her a future and every book boyfriend since had been measured against his strength in her time of need. Seeing the fire-scarred hillside while hiking and then talking about her burns had resurrected her memories even more.
She could still remember his voice. His words to let him do his part. And the feeling of being held in strong arms.
But now, even if it had only been a few days, there was a new man in her life. It had started so fast, but felt so right. Because Drew was so sweet. So handsome. So strong.
She grinned at the rush of giddy feelings. She’d never had a guy capture her imagination and ignite a serious crush that quickly or thoroughly.
At least not since the fire.
And now, like the girl in her book, Grace was the one torn between two men; with one and wishing he was the other...
What kind of fool did that make her?
After all, she’d never been able to find out the identity of her rescuer. The newspapers had only mentioned “neighborhood boys” who called in the fire. Their focus had been on the tragedy of lost life and the cause of the inferno more than the rescue itself.
Which meant, she’d be better off focusing on the man in front of her. Giving him a chance. Seeing what might develop over the short time she had left in Colorado Springs.
She’d have to let go of the past in order to move forward.
Which sounded a lot like Drew’s encouragement to stop living in other people’s stories and create her own.
To be honest, she’d been doing exactly that. Between her fiction-addiction, being a historical tour guide, and getting to know the castle’s guests, she was focused on others. And even back home, she’d been fulfilling her guardian’s wishes instead of her own.
But what did she really want?
Grace put her phone on the charger, turned off the light, and nestled beneath the covers to think. To assess her strengths. To dream.
She’d always loved history and reading and the outdoors.
Which had made Glen Eyrie such an ideal situation because it combined those loves.
Too bad the tour guides were volunteers. Although, she could pursue other jobs at the castle. Even if she might get bored with a secretarial or office position, at least she’d have an excuse to stay in the area with its rich history.
Except hadn’t she overheard there weren’t any current openings?
However, even if she had to return to Castle Rock soon, she could still use her remaining time learning even more about General Palmer’s impact on the region and city of Colorado Springs. Most of the information at the castle bookstore—and in her tour research—had to do with the actual castle construction and Navigators History.
But what about the town itself? What other places did the man impact? What other things did he do to change lives?
Unable to resist the urge to indulge her innate curiosity for at least a few more minutes, she retrieved her phone and did a quick online search.
A search that led to a video mentioning an archaeological dig through the castle’s trash pile and artifacts on display at the Pioneer Museum. Then another mention of a bequest for a park that was in the National Historical Register.
With fingers tapping links and eager eyes skimming articles, she landed on the mention of a historical society. Another tap and she saw their hours of operations.
There was nothing to stop her from spending her morning there. Nothing to stop her from going back day after day until she’d answered all her questions.
By Friday, Grace had accumulated a file folder of notes and photocopies sorted chronologically and by topic. Too bad the place was also run by volunteers because it would be her ideal job to research, summarize, and bring to life the regional history in an interesting way.
Mid-morning, the volunteer on duty—a different one from the previous days—stopped by the table where Grace studied an old journal. “What are you doing with all this? Writing a book?”
“No.” Grace shook her head, then shrugged. “Mostly just indulging my curiosity. I’m a tour guide at Glen Eyrie but I couldn’t help wanting to know more about General Palmer, the town he founded, and his railroad.”
The woman raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. Because I just received a request from an author who is coming to town soon and wanted me to start collecting resources for her about the railroads here in the West.”
“Like the ones going in and out of Denver and connecting to the transcontinental rails in Cheyenne? Or the companies in this area?” Grace leaned forward. “As in Palmer’s Denver Rio Grande or the competing Santa Fe? Because their feuding for territory included several gunfights and even threats of kidnapping.”
The volunteer’s eyes widened. “You know more than I do already. Do you mind giving me your name and number to use as a resource in case she’s interested in comparing notes?”
“I’d like that.”
After scribbling out her contact information, Grace returned to her personal research but had a hard time concentrating.
If the author wanted to meet in person, that would give Grace a reason to return to Colorado Springs. Where a certain Air Force Specialist was stationed. Where their evenings could be filled with romantic dates and dinners while she spent her days discussing history and buried in old books.
Except that still revolved around other people’s stories...
No. If she were forging her own path, it would be her story. A story out from under Uncle John’s thumb and his implied control over her life.
She sighed. The little remaining money from her parents’ estate and insurance might have become hers on her 21st birthday, but his opinion still mattered. He and Cherry were the only family she had left and she didn’t want to burn those bridges.
After a glance at the clock, she reluctantly packed up, leaving the historical society documents behind until next week.
Halfway back to the castle for her first tour of the day, her phone rang with a call from Uncle John. “I just spoke to the principal at Mesa Ridge High School.”
Pressure began to build in her chest as she struggled to recall what town it was in. Not Castle Rock. In south Denver? Or around here? “How do you know—”
“I play golf with his brother. I’ve been putting out my feelers on your behalf.” He sounded nonchalant as if overstepping her personal boundaries was normal. “It turns out they’ve got a job opening and are just now sorting through the applications to set up interviews. You can expect a call soon.”
The tone of his voice made it clear he expected her gratitude.
When all she could feel was the bars of a prison cell closing around her.
“Wow.” She barely managed the whispered response.
“Since you’re already down there in Colorado Springs, you should have no problem making an interview.”
At least that answered her question about the location of the school.
And allowed a little breathing room.
If she was employed in town, she could still research the area in her free time. Still volunteer at the castle in the summers. Still be out from under his roof. Still spend time with Drew if anything came of their connection.
She sighed. “I’ll keep my phone close by.”
“Good. Now I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes, but keep me updated on how it goes.”
As if it was a certainty? Perhaps the interview was a given because of his arm-twisting and connections, but the job itself would depend on her credentials, wouldn’t it?
During the rest of her drive, Grace told herself to keep an open mind about the potential teaching position.
Not all teens were critics. And if she weren’t a substitute teacher, the administration might help squash the bullying. And even if there were snide comments, sharing her love of history with the few curious students of the bunch might be worth it.
Especially if it kept her in the same city as Drew.
He might be worth the potential ridicule.
As Grace parked in the Carriage House lot before her tour, she got a call from a local number. From the secretary at Mesa Ridge calling to set up an interview next week.
Her stomach cramped as she scheduled a Wednesday morning appointment, then disconnected.
Several deep breaths did little to quell the panic.
She should at least be open to knock on the door in case that was what God wanted for her. Could use the interview practice. Could always decline the job if it wasn’t a good fit. Right?
If only she was close enough to Drew to ask what he thought. Except she hadn’t heard from him since their hike four days ago.
Then again, he was visiting his mom and had mentioned calling when he got back to town. Not to mention, a few conversations didn’t mean he was a permanent fixture in her life.
Yet.
No, for now she had to be content knowing that meeting Drew—and hearing his challenge to write her own story—had forced her to at least dream again.
Even if that dream had to exist alongside a teaching job for a season.