Page 2 of Wandering Souls

Outside, wispy white clouds dotted a blue sky. Morning sun thawed the frost on the plants and a chorus of sounds filled the air.

Crickets chirped. Magpies warbled. A metal shovel struck the earth, its rhythmic impact oddly melodic. Amongst it all, two men spoke their appreciation that spring had finally sprung. They mused over whether more snow would fall and wondered if they’d see good rainfall before summer set in.

The mundane conversation helped soothe her ragged nerves. She recognized one of the voices as the man who’d established the retreat she’d chosen for her recovery:The Sanctuary. James Wright—who insisted she call him Hollywood—wanted to create a safe haven where returned soldiers could heal and find their footing after their service. After just one night, she could confidently say the peace was a blessing.

Abi turned toward the closet and selected a pair of jeans and a sweater. Stripping off her pajamas, she sat on the edge of the bed to put one foot and then the other in the legs of the jeans. This was her new reality, at least until her strength and balance returned. It took skill to avoid glancing at the scars on her thigh, a skill she’d almost perfected. If she didn’t look at them, she could convince herself the pain was merely a strained muscle.

Almost.

Tugging on her sweater, she stepped into a pair of joggers. As she made her way through the one-bedroom cottage, she pulled a coat over her shoulders. Stepping out into the icy morning air, she slipped her arms into the sleeves and zipped it to her chin.

Rubbing her hands together, she made her way across the garden-in-progress to where her host and his companion were digging holes. Potted shrubs were lined up, their deep green foliage dotted with morning dew as they waited their turn to be planted.

“Morning.”

Hollywood looked up and smiled. A light sweat glistened on his handsome brow as his blue eyes appraised her. Her research told her he was mid-thirties but he hardly looked a day over twenty-five. His youthful appearance and genuine happiness both confused her and gave her hope. If a man who’d been held captive and tortured in East Timor could flourish, could she?

“Morning, Abigail. How was your first night?”

“Cold.” She blew on her hands to warm them up. “Is it always like this?”

He chuckled and struck the ground with the shovel. The impact reverberated up through his muscled arms. “Sometimes it’s colder. Be grateful winter is over. We’ve just had our coldest one yet, with more snow than usual.”

A shiver passed through her at the thought. Growing up in tropical Queensland had prepared her perfectly for the heat of Afghanistan, except for the freezing nights. They were more like here, in Victoria’s alpine country than the Middle East.

“So, it should warm up, then?” She glanced at his blond assistant. He looked older and more intense, though his smile was genuine.

“Hopefully. I’m Magnus.” He held out a hand. His firm grip startled her. “Where did you serve?”

“I was stationed in Kandahar.” She had to fight the tightness in her throat.

Empathy softened his features. “What brings you here?”

Abi patted her thigh. “My chopper was shot out of the sky. I brought back some souvenirs with me.”

A wry smile lifted one corner of his mouth and his eyebrows arched high on his forehead, almost reaching his tousled hair. “Souvenirs? Never heard them called that before.”

Hollywood set down his shovel and picked up a large potted shrub by its trunk. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, Abigail.”

“Please, call me Abi.”

He gave a nod and motioned toward the cottage nearest hers. “The man in the cottage over there is Colt Manning. He also served in Afghanistan but is now a doctor at the local hospital. If you need any medical attention, he’d be happy to help.”

She glanced around at the other cottages. “Is anyone else here?”

Hollywood knocked the pot off the root ball of the shrub before putting the plant in the hole. “We have a few finishing touches to put on those cottages and they’ll be filled in no time. We’ve been pulling overtime to get everything ready since word got out.” He smiled. “People who serve their country sometimes need a helping hand to get back on their feet. That’s where I come in.”

The passion and desire to help evident in his voice pleased her. “Thank you.”

He straightened and gave her his full attention. “Whatever you need, don’t hesitate. If I can’t help, I’ll find someone who can.”

“You served in East Timor, didn’t you?”

With a nod, he looked to Magnus. “We both did. We get it.”

Abi noticed the look they shared. Camaraderie. Solidarity. Friendship. They had each other’s backs. She’d read a lot about Hollywood and the team he served in. An elite squad called the Shadow Soldiers, their reputation was second to none. Every article she’d read painted them as fiercely loyal, intelligent and resilient. They’d never have survived capture if they hadn’t been and she envied them. They had each other.

She hadn’t been so fortunate.

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