Page 30 of The Homecoming

She shrugged. “I don’t really know.”

“What happened?” Brandon asked.

She glanced up at him, still on the couch behind her. “I think it was a flashback. His convoy was bombed toward the end of his deployment, but he won’t say anything else about it.”

After the nap, Brandon appeared to have recovered his energy, going about the task of making sure all of the plants and landscaping would be ready to go the moment the spring thaw happened. Autumn didn’t feel refreshed after her nap, remaining exhausted and slightly queasy. She managed to work until five, but needed to rest before driving home.

“What are you still doing here?” Brandon asked as woke her, the room dark.

“Sorry, I just felt so tired, I needed a nap before going home.” She looked around. “What time is it?”

“It’s seven.”

“Crap, I slept for two hours.”

“Are you alright?” He knelt by the couch and placed a hand over her forehead, keeping her from sitting up. “Not feverish.”

She shook her head. “I guess I’m not sleeping well since Dan left and it’s caught up to me, that’s all.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Do you need a ride home?”

“I can drive myself, thank you.”

***

Autumn entered the back gate at her parents’ house and found Jason target shooting with his bow under the glow of the floodlights. It instantly transported her back to long-lost summers with him and Dan in the backyard as they shot arrows at targets. It would get intense; both had a competitive streak a hundred miles long. She longed to see Dan there too, and hear them both trash talk and try to outdo one another. Afterward, they’d go out at all hours and sometimes come back with a dead turkey in spring or a deer in fall. There was usually a story about some gallant animal that was missed by a fraction of a hair—the miss was always the fault of the other guy.

She watched Jason draw arrow after arrow, consistently missing the center. He noticed her watching, “I’m rusty.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m hoping you weren’t the sniper.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Rifles are different, smartass.” He set the bow down. “I’m going to get the arrows, then you come try it.”

“I can’t pull that thing back.”

“I’ll set it to the baby weight,” he called. “Can you pull thirty?” he asked as he walked back with the arrows.

“How on earth would I know that?”

He rolled his eyes. “Here, just try it.” He handed her the bow without any adjustments and though she pulled the bowstring back with all of her might, it wouldn’t budge. Jason laughed. “Alright, fifty’s a no.”

“Fifty pounds?”

“I just wanted to see what would happen.” He smiled and made some adjustments to the top before handing it back to her. “Here, try now.”

She scowled at him.

“It’s at thirty, I promise.”

She took the bow again, pulling the bowstring back.

He nodded. “Good, but your technique is abysmal.”

She almost told him to shut it, but he needed the distraction as much as she did, if not more. “How should I do it, then, Legolas?”

“Don’t grip it so tight,” he said, ignoring her comment. “Loosen your fingers and pull the bow back into your palm.” He made adjustments to her hand and arm. “This isn’t set for your draw length, but it’ll do for tonight. Pull it back, no spaghetti arms here.” He straightened her elbow.

The next thing Autumn knew she was clicking an arrow in and aiming at the target. On her first pull, she missed completely.

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