Page 5 of Her Summer Hope

That battle in Nuristan had been the last firefight they’d been in together…and it had been a close one. The boots probably still held traces of the rocky soil of the mountains overseas. Kyle almost hadn’t made it back, not alive anyway.

That’s why he was doing this.

He crossed his arms and looked over freshly raked gravel and the concrete ringed with new shrubbery. He was satisfied with the work. The ramp that led up to the wide and immaculate main doorway was a symbol of his mission.

No, it was a symbol of the completion of the first phase of his mission.

He wanted to make a refuge here for wounded warriors—men who needed care after being wounded in combat and had no other place to go. Here, they could be among friends if they choose or stay to themselves. They would receive top-notch care courtesy of a team of physicians and surgeons and a safe place to recuperate.

The fifteen-bed chalet kept him sane in the dark hours of the night when he could only hear the rapid staccato beat of the M240s, the more sporadic pops of the enemy’s gunfire, the thumping of mortars, and the screaming of dying men.

Sometimes he felt like he’d spent more time working at night than any other time. Occasionally, one or two of the others would join him in the early hours and they’d work silently, each thinking their own grave thoughts.

Government grants and private sponsors had helped make it all possible and now they only had to wait for the first tenants.

He checked his watch. “Come on. We’ve got time for a ruck before supper,” he said, grinning.

John slammed his hat back onto his head. “Damn it, Rev.”

“You know a ten-miler will do you good,” Kyle smirked, capitalizing on his nickname.

Ever since he’d joined up, he’d been a near-constant source of motivation and optimism for his teammates. He’d always preached positivity and faith and hence earned the nickname Rev. What had started as a joke eventually stuck.

“My back is sore from lifting all those damned breeze blocks you wanted,” John grumbled.

“We can make it fifteen…” Kyle said, trailing off.

“Nah, ten’s good. Let me change my socks and grab my ruck,” the other man said.

Kyle knew the moaning and groaning were all for show. His guys loved a good ruck as much as he did.

“Make sure you load it up too!” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “None of that pansy shit. I want at least fifty pounds on your back!”

He smiled when all he got in return was a middle finger. Sometimes it was good for the guys to be riled up. It kept their minds off things.

He looked over the house and grounds once again, pleased and feeling truly optimistic for the first time in a long time. This time, it wasn’t just for show. He felt the darkness in his soul recede just a little more.

McClellan’s Hope.

He couldn’t save McClellan, but maybe he could help others.

∞∞∞

He kept a grueling pace up the mountain, ignoring the burning in his shoulders and the sting of a rash on his lower back from the weight of the pack. Sweat soaked every inch of his body and dripped from the ends of his hair. He breathed deeply of the pine and cedar-scented air and listened to the heavy breathing of the man behind him.

They’d purchased a hundred acres that bordered the Nantahala National Forest and he planned to take advantage of the fact whenever he could. He also planned to drag the guys along…whenever he could.

John was a team guy as well, and he served many years on Kyle’s Special Forces team. They’d known each other the longest. After a year in, Calvin Murdock came along, then Wyatt Evans a few years later. He was the oldest at thirty-nine, Evans was the youngest at thirty-two and the others fell somewhere in between.

Some days he felt every single one of those years and more.

They had all gotten out of the Army over a span of a year and a half. Fortunately, their ETS dates had coincided with deployments so that none of them had to deploy without one or more of the others along too.

They were brothers and they always would be. The other seven surviving men in the team were either still in or had married and settled down.

There was only one missing from their little group, and they all felt it every single day. They’d all failed him though none had come out and said it out loud. It didn’t need to be said.

James McClellan.

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