Page 6 of Bravo

“See you at seven.” I step forward and kiss her cheek then give Bravo the command to sit and stay. Otherwise, he’d follow her out happily and not get the bath he so desperately needs.

“I love you, Bradyn, and I’m so glad you’re home.”

“I love you, too, Mom. And me too.”

She smiles, then closes the door behind her. I take a moment, standing in the silence of my living room as the weight of what I dealt with settles over my shoulders. I can still see their faces. Dirty and bruised. The pain in their eyes only eclipsed by the fear as we burst into that room.

My heart is heavy.

My soul worn.

But they’re at home with their families.

As I do every time I return home, I bow my head. “Lord, thank You for bringing me back safely. Thank You, God, for guiding me to those girls and giving me what I needed to bring them back safely. I ask that You watch over them, wrapping the victims in Your light and Your love. In the name of Jesus, I pray, amen.” I take a deep breath then open my eyes and look down at Bravo, who is watching me curiously, his tail wagging.

“All right. It’s bath time, bud. I didn’t want to say it earlier, but you smell horrible.”

Freshly showeredand dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and the boots I missed almost as much as my bed, I make my way into the small town of Pine Springs. With only a single stoplight—installed last year to most of the town’s disdain—we’re not known for our lavish nightlife. Which, in my opinion, is a gift from God above.

Small towns are a dying breed these days, and I’m grateful mine has stayed relatively untouched. Stoplight not included.

I pull into a spot right in front of the barbershop and put my truck into Park then take a second to just sit in the peacefulsilence. Bravo is back at my parent’s house, undoubtedly being spoiled rotten by my mother, so this is the first time in three months that I’ve been completely and utterly alone.

Honestly, I’m not sure I care for it. The silence is deafening.

I climb out and make my way up to Floyd’s shop, a man who has been cutting my hair since my first haircut over thirty years ago. Before I can even reach for the handle, though, I hear my name.

Turning, I face the street as an elderly woman wearing black slacks and a puffy black jacket crosses quickly. Her cheeks are red from exertion, her expression wide-eyed and excited.

“While I live and breathe! It is you!” she cries out as she reaches me, the lines at the corner of her brown eyes crinkling in delight.

“Hi, Mrs. Shannon.” The woman had been best friends with my grandmother from childhood up until my gran passed away two years ago. She’s an honorary grandmother to me and helped my mom tremendously as she grieved the loss of her mother.

“It is so good to see you!” She envelopes me in a floral-scented embrace, squeezing gently.

“You, too.”

“When did you get back?” she asks, pulling away.

“Just a few hours ago,” I reply.

Her brow arches. “Boy, you look too handsome to have just come in on a plane.”

I laugh. “It’s amazing what a hot shower and a nap will do.”

Her smile spreads. “Fair enough. So, how are you?” It’s a question I get whenever I return home from a mission. While the intimate details of what we do are confidential, the town has a decent enough idea. And given that my mom puts us on the prayer list at church whenever we’re out, I can bet on being asked this same question over and over again until I’ve personally seen every person who lives here.

“I did good work, and I’m glad to be home.”

“You did amazing work, my boy. I may not know details, but I know that you are doing what needs to be done.”

I smile softly even though the weight of her words settles onto my shoulders like a boulder. I do the best I can, but there are plenty of things I’ve done that I’m not proud of. Not that I’d ever be able to get her to see it that way. “Thanks. How are you?”

“God woke me up this morning; therefore I have no complaints.” She smiles. “Well, I better get back to the diner. Francis will be wondering where I ran off to when he gets back from the restroom.”

I chuckle, knowing that her husband would assume that she was doing just this—chasing someone down to ask them about their day. It’s just who she is. I offer another hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too, honey. I’ll see you around. Don’t be a stranger.”

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