Page 92 of Her Summer Hope

He was thinking about Madison and her kids, alone in their house.

The image of her, both strong and vulnerable, stayed with him. She might be feeling pretty scared and lonely with her friend Helen in the hospital.

Jace emerged from the shadows, a lit cigarette cupped in his hand. He leaned on the railing, taking a long drag. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” Kyle replied, welcoming the company.

They stood in silence for a while, the only sound the distant calls of night birds and the soft rustling of leaves.

“You did a good thing today, bringing Neil in,” Jace finally said, breaking the silence. “This place... it’s more than just a house. It really is. It's like having all the good parts of the service back again.”

“Without the explosions,” Kyle nodded, his thoughts drifting back to Madison. “Sometimes, I wonder if it’s enough. If I’m doing enough. There’s so much pain, so much struggle out there.”

Jace flicked ash from his cigarette. “Can’t save everyone. But for those you can, it makes all the difference. I feel…better than I have in a while. I’m not there yet, but I’m close enough to see some of the light through the crack in the blinds.”

The words lingered in the air, a simple truth that struck him. Who was helping Maddy see the light, if it wasn’t him?

As Jace said his goodnights and headed back inside, Kyle remained outside, lost in thought.

Eventually, he stood up, stretching his tired muscles. It was time to call it a night. As he made his way to his quarters, his mind was filled with plans for the next day, for the retreat, for the people who depended on him.

In the solitude of his room, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Kyle realized how deeply Madison and her situation had affected him.

He was ready to jump in with both feet. He’d do anything for her.

With that thought, Kyle finally drifted off to sleep.

∞∞∞

Kyle stepped out into the crisp morning air and headed for the shooting range. It seemed like a good place to ease some of his frustration.

However, when he heard the familiar patterns of gunfire, he figured someone else had already beat him to it.

As he approached, the sound of laughter reached his ears.

There, he found John and the new guy, Neil, each taking turns firing downrange. Neil's stance was textbook and fluid, despite the scars and the obvious discomfort he tried to hide.

Kyle leaned against a nearby tree, watching silently.

Neil stepped up, taking a deep breath before steadying his aim. The shot rang out, hitting the target with precision. He still had good form, good control.

"Nice," John complimented, clapping him on the back. "Taking it like life, huh? One shot at a time."

“What are you? Some kind of ragtag psychologist now?” Kyle called out during the lull.

"Hey, Top," John called out. "Come to give us a master class?"

Kyle shrugged, joining them. "Just seeing if our new brother here is settling in okay. Doesn’t look like he needs any pointers.”

Neil fired another round, hitting the target dead center. "I can hold my own, but I won't say no to tips from an old timer."

“Old timer,” Kyle grumbled. “We’re the same damned age.”

“Yeah, but you were in longer.”

“Makes you practically elderly, Top,” John informed him.

The men shared a laugh and Kyle felt a sense of pride watching them. This was what McClellan's Hope was all about.

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