Page 22 of Silos and Sabotage

“Which color do you think looks the best on me?” She flipped her hair again and struck a pose. “Blonde or brunette?”

He raised his eyebrows instead of looking, since he was busy trying to avoid the potholes in his gravel driveway. It was time to lay some new gravel down. “Both.” He’d probably drool over her no matter what color her hair was.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “It was an either-or question.”

He snorted as he hung a left on the highway to head toward town. “You’re man-slayer material in either color.”

She made a huffing sound. “You don’t look mortally wounded over there.”

“Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving.” He hurriedly changed the subject before he made a fool of himself and starting drooling on his steering wheel. “How soon do you want to show up for your first counseling appointment?” It wasn’t until eleven, but she’d be required to fill out the standard new patient paperwork, which would take extra time.

“I was hoping to get there by ten-thirty, but whenever you can break away is fine.” She twisted around in her seat and stretched to dig something out of one of her shopping bags. She settled back in her seat, waving a square box of tissues at him. “I’m not really looking forward to boohooing my brains out again. But between losing my dad and the last five years of my life, I’ll probably wail my way through this entire box.”

His heart twisted at the reminder of how fresh her grief must still feel to her. “God gave us tear ducts for a reason.” He wanted her to know it was okay to cry. Despite the gargantuan number of tears she’d shed since they’d met, he didn’t see it as a weakness so much as a coping mechanism. She was one of the strongest people he’d ever known. Like a blade of grass growing through a strip of sidewalk, she was resilient. Determined. Unstoppable.

She set the box of tissues in her lap. “My dad was someone who’s definitely worth crying for. He never remarried after my mom died.” She lapsed into silence for a moment, swimming in nostalgia. “I’ve always wondered if it was because of me. He was the ultimate Mr. Mom.” A sad chuckle slid out of her. “The rest of the world saw him as a war hero. Iron-eyed and bullet-proof. But I got to see him in a tutu, sitting across from me and my stuffed animals at tea parties on the living room floor. He had to be lonely, Gage. I mean, really. But he still put me first in everything, instead of worrying about having a social life or trying to date again.”

If he hadn’t been driving, he would’ve taken her in his arms. “I don’t think it’s humanly possible to feel lonely when you’re around.”

She brushed at the dampness forming at the edges of her eyes. “It’s really sweet of you to say that.”

“I’m not just saying it.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “He talked about you like you were his greatest treasure. You gave him more reason than ever to do what he did for a living.” To serve and protect.

He could feel her eyes on him as she considered his words. Her voice was low and soft when she responded. “With as close as we both were to him, it’s kind of crazy we never met in person before now.”

He’d been thinking the same thing. “I think it’s because my relationship with him was built on professional stuff. He was my leader first, then my mentor. We didn’t evolve into friends until much later.” During the latter parts of their respective military careers, though, they hadn’t been stationed anywhere near each other. Their friendship had mostly consisted of emails, phone calls, and texts.

She nodded. “He talked about you, as well. Mostly about how much he admired and respected you as a fellow single parent. Because of that, I always pictured you as someone closer to his age.”

Gage snorted. “Believe me, raising Rock made me feel old at times. He was a handful. Still is.”

She gave an empathetic chuckle.

“All joking aside,” he cast a quick sideways look at her, “it’s possible that now is exactly when we were supposed to meet.”

“Really?” She sounded doubtful. “Just for the record, I’m not a big fan of those everything-happens-for-a-reason speeches.”

“That’s understandable,” he said carefully. “It’s harder to believe it after suffering a big loss.”

“Ugh! You’re one ofthose.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “I bet you go to church every Sunday morning, too.”

“I do.” The only reason he hadn’t gone last Sunday was because he’d been looking after her.

“I became a heathen when my dad died,” she admitted. “It’s a loss I can’t accept. There was nothing right about how he was taken from this world. God shouldn’t have allowed it.”

Gage could feel her pain. It was raw and poignant. “It wasn’t fair,” he agreed, though he didn’t blame God for it. He blamed whoever had done the killing. Someday she would learn to direct her anger where it belonged, too. Anger was both a strange beast and a natural part of the grieving process in a case like this. “That’s why I’m so determined to find who did this to your dad and avenge his death.”

“Me, too.” Her voice vibrated with passion. “I don’t intend to sit around and do nothing more than blubber about it. I want justice. My dad was a Medal of Honor recipient who survived being shot full of shrapnel like a pincushion. He didn’t deserve to leave this world at the end of a coward’s blade.”

“Hear! Hear!” He pounded his fist on the console. “Listen,” he lowered his voice, “I know this is hard for you, but…” He hated how distraught she got every time he brought up the topic, but it was necessary. “Do you mind if we go over the details of what happened again?” They had at least five minutes left of their drive. And every time they talked about the tragedy, her memories seemed to grow clearer.

She bit her lower lip, nodding. “I was in the recovery room after my surgery. Dad was with me.” A ghost of a smile flitted across her lips.

“Was he the only person with you?” This was one of the murkiest parts of her story.

“At first, I thought he was,” she mused sadly. “He was sitting beside my bed, holding my hand and praying. There were tears on his face.”

“And…?” He knew he was pushing her, but she was probably the biggest key to unlocking the truth of what had happened that day. They drove past a few subdivisions. Then the shimmering lake drew into view.

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