Chapter 40
Last Chances
She screamed as Roy Stockman grabbed her by the hair, dragging her away from the ledge. He spun her around to face him, blood mixed with dirt completely obscuring his features, now unrecognizable as human. The flesh on both cheeks was torn to the bone. Long slashes from sharp claws left little of the face that had once been plain and nondescript. All except for the empty, black eyes that stared down at her with disgust and triumph.
Brinn had no strength left to fight. He gripped her hair tightly and pulled her painfully close. Only his eyes and his face swam in her view. His rank breath and the thick scent of blood choked her attempt to cry out. As he raised her buck knife overhead—the knife that she had depended on for her survival—she felt darkness descend and the sick sensation of death and helplessness envelop her. The dream where she was running in the meadow, legs heavy and leaden with the weight of fear on her back came to her in blurred images. The world faded from view. She blinked her eyes furiously, trying to hold onto the light.
Then the memory of waking in Justin's arms that morning in the cabin, warm and safe, found its place in her mind. She would not give in to the darkness. Stockman could not have her. Not now. Not ever again.
Taking in a sharp breath that infused her with a burst of life, her eyes flew open wide. As Stockman's arm came down, the blade glittering in the sun, Brinn ducked her body under the blow and twisted, disrupting his balance. His grip loosened enough for her to escape. With her right hand, she grabbed his wrist below the hilt of the knife. She allowed the swing of his arm to continue its downward momentum as she guided the long blade into his inner thigh.
The movement was one fluid and graceful slow motion picture in Brinn's mind. The sensation of the blade entering his flesh brought everything to a screeching halt. The man howled in pain. Blood gushed from the wound through the hole in his pants. The stain spread out at an alarming rate. A look of shock covered his face as he dropped to one knee. His eyes were blank as he pulled the knife from his leg and watched the pulsing flow of blood soak the ground. She'd hit the femoral artery. He would bleed out in minutes.
As if on auto-pilot to kill, he slashed at Brinn. She drew her spine into a tuck that barely evaded the slice, and grabbed for the knife once more. She had practiced this maneuver a hundred times. Instinct and training took hold and Brinn twisted the man's wrist while she grasped the handle of the knife, taking control of the weapon and thrusting it into Stockman's throat just as the crack of a gunshot sounded.
He gasped like a fish suddenly ripped from the water, blood spurting from his open mouth. His eyes went wide and he fell to the ground face first, driving the blade clear through to the back of his neck. He didn't move again. Stunned, Brinn stepped back, her legs finally giving way as shock took over. Before she hit the ground, someone caught her.
Brinn turned to the arms that held her tight around the waist from behind, feeling the strength of Justin's body holding nearly all of her weight to keep her standing. He helped her to the rock and sat her down—then collapsed beside her.
"You're okay, Brinn. It's going to be all right. I've got you, now." His voice was tight with pain, but soothing. Brinn released the held breath that kept her muscles tense as she rested into his arms. She stared blankly at the lifeless body of Roy Stockman. His eyes were empty and dead. He would never come after her again. Her nightmare was finally over.
A moment later, the small clearing filled with a dozen search and rescue workers and police. Brinn was immediately surrounded by concerned and capable hands, Justin at her side while the paramedics taped and wrapped his broken ribs and tended her shoulder.
The sun was low in the sky by the time Brinn and her friends made their way off the mountain. After climbing to the high meadow where a helicopter waited, she stopped to say good-bye to the forest that had held her in its arms and kept her alive.
Justin had come after her. He had risked his life for her and in the end, they had saved each other. Justin wrapped his arm snugly around her waist, holding her as if he'd never let her go. The shock had worn off and Brinn welcomed the aching in her flesh. It meant she could also feel the rush of warmth that moved through her with Justin so close. Her heart swelled with joy at the thought of seeing her family and friends again. Above all else, she felt gratitude for the life that coursed through her. Pressed close to her body were her sketch pad and the worn copy of The Diary of Anne Frank.
Above the whir of the helicopter blade, she stood tall and cried out in a loud, high-pitched wail that traveled through the mountains and echoed off the trees, filling the air with a triumphant and savage song.
Epilogue
Lessons Learned Along the Way
Spring, a year-and-a-half later
It was hot for May. Brinn stared out at the crystalline blue sea, the late afternoon sun settling its rays across the surface, obscuring the world that lay beneath. White foam settled along the shore where the waves lapped softly against the white sand beach. Drawing in a deep breath of salt air, she was infused with happiness. She smiled down at the dozing figure beside her, and watched him sleep. If she could spend her life gazing at him in peaceful slumber, a relaxed, dimpled smile curving the edges of his satiny lips, she would believe that angels and heaven were only a touch away.
Miracles seemed a constant in her life these days. Love, hope, and faith in family all seemed within her reach, while the past drifted further away with each passing day. She considered the Victim's Advocacy group and her therapist as a troop of fellow warriors to help in her daily battles against the pervasive fear and anxiety that shadowed her still, even knowing that her enemy was no longer a threat. Recovery was a blessing but also a work in progress.
Although counseling and school kept her more than busy enough, she and Justin found ample time to spend together. He had successfully convinced her that his kiss with Charlene was completely innocent, at least on his part.
Justin opened an exhibit at the Museum of Art and Design in Atlanta, showcasing his "Savage Cinderella" collection. Brinn surprised him with his old camera, having retrieved it from the mountainside. The original pictures of her by the creek drew rave reviews.
She loved the photographs that he took. Each one captured expressions of emotion that she was just beginning to discover. Sharing herself with the world she'd felt separate from for so long brought healing to her soul and the sense of belonging that she'd longed for. Having spent so much of her life hiding in the wilderness, surrounded by beauty but experiencing only loneliness, fear, and survival, the world was suddenly an open book—a book in which she could discover new freedoms, new places, and new feelings, and write her own story.
The sound of seagulls overhead drew her attention to the cloudless blue sky. She squinted and shaded her eyes. The birds dove into the sea after fish that shimmered just below the surface. She smiled at their natural cunning and skill, remembering her time of catching her dinner within her own two hands. Remembering the day that changed her life—the day she met Justin.
Despite the many challenges of reintegrating into society, building relationships, and managing to learn parallel parking in downtown Atlanta, she felt content with the path before her. She still worked at Mr. Hoffman's store on weekends, much to his delight, but she had big dreams for her future—a future she never believed possible.
In the short term, she made plans with the National Park Service to patrol the High Country through the summer as part of an internship program in the Environmental Sciences department at the University. That way, she could keep an eye on Kitty, who had fully recovered, and her cubs, which were now full grown.
Her parents had apparently worked through whatever difficulties they'd had and Brinn was over-the-moon happy that her mother was expecting a baby boy any day. The thought of being a big sister brought another layer of joy into her life that she couldn't have thought possible.
If she had learned anything good from Roy Stockman, it was about promises. Despite his evil intent, a promise in itself wasn't bad. Being a person of your word was a quality to be admired, not feared. It was the integrity and nature of the person making the promise that mattered.
Brinn promised Kitty she would continue to visit the meadow, promised Sunday dinners with her parents, shopping trips with Abby, and frequent e-mails and letters to Cody, who had returned to active duty. She promised herself that she would always trust her instincts, be honest with Justin, and never run away from her fears again. And finally, she and Justin promised each other that no matter how much they loved each other, they would always maintain their individuality, giving each other the freedom they both needed for healthy growth.
Brinn found that she didn't need Justin's love or a sexual relationship to heal her wounds, although she'd found a peaceful bliss in both. He had been true to his word about that, too. It was beautiful and gentle and when they made love, all she felt was Justin's love for her, washing the memories away like stones being drawn out to sea from the shore before her. Tears of joy welled in her eyes, stinging against the bright sun as she watched the tide retreat.
She finally understood that love was not about owning another person or even belonging to them, but it was about belonging with someone—someone who accepts you for who you are, scars and all. Justin showed her that love is selfless, patient, and kind. Through awkward moments of intimacy, they found laughter to be a potent healer, communication a necessity. Together, they learned to love each other in a hundred small ways every day.
She gazed down again at the young man next to her. The sun highlighted the golden tones in the chestnut waves that blew wildly in the salty breeze. Brinn loved the ocean and the freedom it signified. She and Justin visited often, today being an occasion he referred to as a special day. She hated to wake him, but he had promised her a surprise.
"Justin," Brinn called softly, waiting for him to stir beside her. "Are you ever going to tell me why we came here today? I mean, it's beautiful, but you said there was a special reason for coming." She waited, a bit impatient with him as he yawned and stretched. He looked at his watch, and then finally met her expectant gaze. A smile spread across his face.
"Could you please grab me a drink out of the cooler?" He sat up and waited for her to comply. Her impatience was growing, but she opened the ice chest and reached in for a bottle. She came to a halt.
A small smile quickly grew into a wide grin. Inside, on the top of the ice was a tiny square box. Brinn lifted it out and sent a questioning flick of her eyes toward Justin, now snuggled at her side propped on one elbow and smiling as broadly as she was.
"Go ahead, open it."
Brinn caught her lower lip, and carefully removed the ribbon and paper. Opening the box slowly, she gaped at the contents. The object inside brought an expression of confusion to the surface. She'd half feared it would be a ring. Instead, a key ring lay on a square of cotton, Justin's Saint Christopher's medal at one end and a key at the other. "It's a key," she said.
"Yes, it is." Justin laughed, taking the key from the box and placing it in Brinn's hand. He curled her fingers around it and held her hands in his. His face lit with amusement and his deep brown eyes carried a tenderness that always brought a warm, fuzzy, haze around her heart.
"I thought you might need your own key to the Beemer." Her look of astonishment was clearly ample reward. He added with flushed cheeks, "I know it's not much, but since you didn't want a ring, I hoped this might be a good substitute. Besides, I couldn't ask you to spend your life with me unless I was ready to share all of me with you."
She didn't know what the future held, but with the past behind her, Brinn smiled down into Justin's hopeful gaze, seeing the promise of possibility before her. She held the key tightly in her hand. The solid sharp edges rested in her palm and the small oval medal of protection on the key ring filled her heart with gratitude and certainty.
Brinn looked from her hand into his eyes. "I will never ask for more than you can give, Justin. And this..." She dangled the key between them, "this is more than enough. It shows your belief in me. And that means more to me than anything."
He leaned forward and kissed her lips gently and her heart fluttered and floated upward on the breeze, free and at peace in the bright blue sky of a perfect day in May.
THE END
Follow Brinn, Justin, Cody, and a cast of new characters through a series of novellas. Each story will bring a new adventure, another crime to solve, and more danger for Brinn and company as they delve into the world of human trafficking.
FINDING HOPE, Book One of the Savage Cinderella Novella Series, picks up a year after Brianna Hathaway's return from the wild. As she and Justin struggle to work through her recovery, Brinn must come to terms with who she is and discover her place in this strange new world. When Cody asks for her help in solving a kidnapping case for the FBI, it brings her worst nightmares to the surface. But will it be what she needs to finally put it all behind her and move on? Or will it lead her down a path into a dangerous world? A child is missing...and time is running out.
Read Chapter One Now!
Chapter One
A cold wet nose nuzzled my neck. I squirmed at the intrusion and then huffed out a resigned breath. It would be pointless to pull away, so I slung my arm across Eliot's warm body, his fur soft against my cheek.
"Hey, boy. You ready to go out?" His head popped up in anticipation.
I'd slept miserably, haunting dreams reminding me that the past would never be far enough behind me to escape it completely. I tugged the covers up around my shoulders and inhaled deeply to calm my racing heart. Eliot must have sensed my lingering anxiety. As if he knew I needed comfort more than I needed to jump out of bed and into the chilly air, he gave a warm sigh and curled into my side.
The sound of the shower dying off drew my thoughts to Justin. I peered at the clock. Six-thirty a.m. and the warmth of the sun was already cascading across the quilted comforter. Temps in Atlanta had been mid-June hot, and Justin had the air conditioner cranked down to sixty-eight degrees, attempting to beat the day's anticipated heat. I rolled over when he stuck his head in the room.
"Hey, sunshine."
I yawned and stretched, upsetting Eliot from his place. "Are you off to work already?" Eliot perked up but I patted his side, not quite ready to let him move far away.
Justin smiled from the bathroom doorway, clad in only a towel, his dark hair dripping water onto his shoulders and running down his bare chest. The sight of him—tall, lean, and muscular from cycling, hiking, and being a twenty-four-year-old male—made my heart race again. This time, not from fear. My face heated and a rush of mixed emotions coursed through me. He slicked back his hair with a brush and pulled both sides into a little V, like a duck's tail, the natural waves already springing to life.
"I'm on deadline this week. Charlene needs those photos for our piece on the power plant that's spewing toxic crap into the air up in Raleigh."
A smile curved my lips. I loved his passion for the environment, his willingness to take risks to serve justice, and his desire to change the world for the better. This story could propel him from nature photographer to full-fledged investigative reporter. Not that my story hadn't put his name on the fast track, but that was a year ago and people seemed to forget a story—and its teller—quickly.
"What are you smiling at?" he asked, the sharpness in his tone dropping away and his scowl softening.
"I admire your commitment to your work. It's nice to see you pursuing your dreams." Despite my happiness for him, a pang of sadness mixed with longing settled into my chest.
Justin laid down the brush and came toward me. He could read me like a neon sign. His approach always sent my heart into overdrive, and I was especially aware when he was unclothed. I gripped the edge of the covers and he slowed his steps, his features growing solemn. Then he lowered down beside me. His eyes found mine as his hand wrapped around my icy fingers. The contact eased my nerves and I relaxed under his touch.
"You'll figure out what you want to do. Give yourself a break. You've been through a lot." His warm brown eyes held a sincere empathy. I knew he was only trying to be kind, but the sadness behind the look dug at the place inside me that still festered with shame.
I couldn't meet his gaze.
A stubborn resolve sank into my bones. It had been a year and a month since I'd returned from living in the mountains of the North Georgia High Country. Yet, sometimes it felt as if it had only been yesterday. Horrific memories invaded my sleep and often seeped into my thoughts at the most inconvenient times and when I least expected them. Therapy had only brought them closer to the surface. A rush of anger flashed through me, intense and biting.
Roy Stockman had taken my childhood from me, and I'd killed him for it. There was no erasing the scars he'd left behind, but I would be damned if I let him take any more. As if reading my mind, Justin ran his finger along the thin white line around my wrist and then gently unclenched my fingers.
"Brinn—you are the smartest, strongest person I know. You'll figure this out."
"Now that school is out for the summer, I guess I should try to get a job," I said, letting our hands twine together in their natural way and relaxing my palm against his.
Other than helping on weekends at the state park, there wasn't much I could do. Life had been all about learning how real society worked since I'd been back. After much study and long hours of tutoring, I'd taken the high school equivalency test and entered college—a dream I never imagined could be possible when Justin first found me in the hills. But what could I really do to make a difference in this strange new world? It would be years of school to get a degree in Environmental Sciences, and I still felt like I was catching up on all the proper education I'd missed.
I'd read everything I could get my hands on in the years I'd spent in the cabin, isolated but for the world I could reach through books. All I'd wanted then, other than to survive each day, was to be normal, go to school, have friends, and be part of a family. Now that I had all those things, there was still something missing. It was as if I had no purpose for being—as if I were still invisible.
Justin leaned over me, capturing my attention once more.
"I told you, there's no need for you to work. I can take care of us for now until you finish your degree. Take all the time you need." He gently kissed my forehead, lingering long enough to flood my senses with his warmth and the wonderful clean smell of something earthy and spicy that made my nose twitch. I brought my hands up to his smooth chest, slid them over his shoulders and pulled him down on top of me.
"And what do you expect me to do all day while you're off saving the world?" I asked, nipping at his lip. He followed, taking me into his arms, and responding with a playful kiss that sent my heart soaring and made my body tingle.
His mouth tasted minty and fresh, so I held him there for a long moment, his soft lips pressed to mine and his torso fitting the curves of my body through the covers. As tempted as I was to steal his towel and show him that I wasn't the fragile girl he'd met the year before, it was also clear that I wasn't in the same league as the vixens I watched on my daytime dramas—or his voluptuous and conniving boss, Charlene. I broke away from the kiss with a sharp inhale and Justin pulled back, his cheeks full of color. A wide grin spread across his face.
"As much as I would love to crawl back into bed and spend the morning with you and Mr. Suck-Up here—" he ruffled Eliot's scruff and patted his head. We'd taken him on after he'd flunked out of the canine police academy. Then we named him after the poet T.S. Eliot, since clearly he was an old soul with a big heart and no attention span for the duties inherent in law enforcement. He wagged his big body in glee at the welcome scratches to his belly.
Justin kissed me one more time. "I've got to get out of here." He crawled off the bed, straightened his towel, and arched a brow in my direction. "You make it very difficult to focus on work." He backed toward the bathroom, his cheeks an adorable shade of pink and his hands covering his obvious interest. "I'll make it up to you this weekend," he added with a lopsided grin. Then he turned and ducked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
The touch of his hands lingered on my arms, my smile dimmed, and the heaviness in my heart returned.
His love and support meant everything to me. He'd been incredibly patient and nothing but encouraging, and yet, like a feather floating from a great height, being pushed and pulled by the wind—no direction or purpose—I felt set adrift. My heart overflowed with love and gratitude for Justin, but how could he ever truly understand? I rolled over with a sigh and stared into Eliot's golden eyes.
"It looks like it's just you and me again, pal." Reluctantly, I threw back the covers, swung my feet over the edge of the bed, and raked my fingers through long strands of straight dark hair, massaging my scalp to ward off a headache. I shivered, slipped my sweats on and stuck my feet into a warm pair of slippers. But before I could reach for a robe to cover my camisole, my cell phone rang. My pulse spiked. It was too early for Mom to be calling—unless something was wrong with the baby. With only a month to go, anything could happen. I held my breath as I reached for the phone.
A sigh of relief escaped when I heard Cody's voice. Then a knot formed in my stomach. Cody Hansen was Justin's best friend. He kept in touch with me as well, but calls had been coming less and less frequently. Why was he calling at the crack of dawn?
"What is it? What's happened?"
"I wouldn't have called so early, but..." he paused and my heart skipped. "There's been a kidnapping." When I didn't respond, he added, "I need your help."
My voice caught and a thundering started in my ears. Cody had left the Marines and joined the FBI. After surviving months of captivity and torture at the hands of Afghani militants, and being rescued by Justin's brother Steve and his unit, he'd gone through a rough patch and was unable to return to duty. I wasn't sure he would find whatever he was looking for in the FBI, but he seemed fit for the job and sounded happy when we'd last spoken the month before.
Now he sounded as stressed as I'd ever heard him. He'd been assigned to missing persons and was working in a new division in Columbia, South Carolina. Justin came out of the bathroom, dressed in light kakis, a short-sleeved shirt, and an uncomfortable-looking tie, his expression morphing to concern when he saw the tension on my face.
"What can I do?" I asked. My gaze met Justin's questioning brow and I mouthed Cody's name. Concern, followed by curiosity flashed behind Justin's eyes. I put up a finger, waiting for Cody's response.
"I know I'm asking a lot, but could you come up to South Carolina to talk to the girl's parents?"
"I don't know how my talking to them could help." Heart-wrenching images entered my mind of what might be happening to the girl at that moment. Then I thought of my own parents and the devastating pain they'd endured in the years I'd been missing, presumed dead. I could only imagine what this child's parents were going through now. "How old is she?" My voice was tight and Justin's expression darkened.
Cody answered slowly. "She's eleven. Her name is Hope Chandler. She was taken yesterday afternoon when she was walking home from school." His voice trailed off. "I can explain in detail when you get here." He paused again. "Will you come?"
"I don't know, Cody. I don't think I can." Tears burned behind my eyes and a stone sat in my throat. I swallowed hard, closed my eyes, and felt a hot tear escape down my cheek. I swiped at it, unwilling to give my fear such power, but Justin came to my side and took the phone. I didn't resist, not at all sure I could have found words to continue.
"What's going on?" Justin paced the room and listened intently for a minute before jumping in, his tone harsh. "You can't be serious. I can't believe you would ask her to do this." A response on Cody's end had Justin's shoulders turning to a solid block. "No way. She's not ready for that." Another few seconds of listening did nothing to soften his expression. "Stop—right. Yep. Later." He hung up the phone and set it on the dresser. "He won't be bothering you about this again." Justin drew me into his arms and I burrowed my head into his shoulder.
"What if...what if I could have helped those parents?" Uncertainty sounded in my voice, but the words tumbled out. As terrified as I was of dealing with the memories that would be dragged to the surface, I felt I should try to help if there was something I could say or do to ease their pain.
Justin pulled back, his gaze dropping to mine. "I don't think it's a good idea, Brinn. You've come so far. You're finally starting to sleep through the night. Are you sure you want to risk your recovery?" His thumb brushed across my cheek, and an ocean of love and affection rolled through me when he looked into my eyes.
"I know you're only trying to protect me, Justin." I ran my fingers along the soft skin of his clean-shaven jaw. "But I have to think about this. I really want to help if I can."
"I won't stand in your way if it's what you want to do." He could read me all too well and knew better than to argue. "But promise me you won't do anything to risk a setback. You know what Dr. Carlson said."
I nodded, understanding exactly what was at stake. I'd almost had to be hospitalized in the first months of my recovery. My therapy required I relive my past and the resulting anxieties and paranoia had taken their toll. I refused medication—another of my issues left over from Stockman's abuse—and no amount of therapy was going to erase the truth of my torture. My paranoia hadn't been helped by the paparazzi who hounded me for weeks after my return. I was learning to compartmentalize my life into chapters, and I found it best to focus on the present and what was ahead rather than dwelling on things that couldn't be changed. I snuggled deeper into Justin's embrace.
"I promise. Whatever I decide, I'll take care of myself."
Justin pressed his lips to my temple. "I know you will."
Our moment was interrupted by Eliot, who pushed his nose between us and wagged his way through until he'd separated us completely.
"I have to take him out," I said, giving Justin a quick peck on the cheek. "Go save the world. I'll be fine."
I felt Justin's eyes on my back as I rounded the corner into the bathroom. He wasn't buying my tough girl act any more than I was.
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Bonus Content
Heaven Is For Heroes
Chapter 1
The crack of gunfire exploded in the air...once...twice...three times. I flinched with each pop, the smell of gunpowder thick in the warm mist raining down over the cemetery. The crowd around me faded into a mass of black suits, women in dark coats with their high heels sinking into the sodden grass, umbrellas overhead, and a sea of Marines in dress blue uniforms. I clung to my mother in the folding chair beside me.
The military report must be mistaken. Or maybe someone was covering up—lying. But why? My insides shifted and tightened. If Levi's death was anything other than an accident, Mom would never be able to live with the truth. I wasn't sure if I could either.
An eerie silence fell and then was broken by the sound of a bugle blaring out the soulful notes of Taps, the signal for the end of a long day for a Marine...or the end of his life. My grandfather saluted his comrades, his face stony and expressionless, deep lines etched between his brows and around his mouth the only evidence of his sorrow.
The canopy overhead protected us from the rain, but tears soaked my skin. Two Marines lifted the American flag from my brother's coffin, moving with mechanical precision. In their shiny black shoes and perfectly starched uniforms, they stretched the edges taut and began folding and creasing, folding and creasing, until the stripes disappeared into a compact triangle with just the white stars showing against the navy background. One of the folders and creasers, nearly faceless beneath his round white hat with its polished black visor, presented the triangle of flag to my mother, who clutched it to her chest and released another shuddering sob. I gripped her shoulders tighter as she collapsed against me.
I scanned the crowd, tuning out the final words of Father O'Keefe as he committed Levi's soul to God and his body to the earth. Friends, family, neighbors, and military personnel surrounded the scene, rows deep. I recognized my friends from school, half of next year's senior class turning out to show their support. Katie, Samantha and Penny from Somerville all stood up front, crying openly and holding hands. The pain in their eyes reflected what my heart refused to let in. I felt hollow and cold, almost dead inside. A terrible numbness resided in my limbs, as if I'd fallen asleep in a snow bank and my body had frozen there. Except that I was here and there was no escaping the reality. My eyes darted through the faces, each expression as painful as the last.
So much love, so much sadness, so much grief. Whether they knew him or not, people turned out to mourn the death of a young hometown soldier. A Connecticut boy killed in combat. My brother...my brother Levi was dead. My mind let the thought in, trying it on as if maybe I could send it back if it didn't fit. The casket, the scent of roses—it all made my stomach curl into a tight knot. What Daddy would have called "angel tears" falling from the heavens, gently caressed the broken hearts of the mourners—it felt surreal. I wanted to believe it was a bad dream, a made for TV movie that me and my family were playing in as extras. My mother shook in my arms, the scent of her strawberry shampoo waking me to the reality. This wasn't a dream or a movie. This was real life—and real death. But I couldn't let myself believe it, because then everything would be different.
The faces blurred. I closed my eyes, my ears disconnected from the words of the priest, and I gasped for breath. Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and heavy. Then my lungs expanded. I was still alive, still breathing. My heart resumed beating. I opened my eyes and swiped at my cheeks, sniffling to gain control. I searched deeper into the crowd, wanting only to see one person.
Then I spotted him, standing shoulder to shoulder with several other Marines in the third row. He was the only man in uniform who stood round shouldered and slouched, leaning on the crutches that held him upright. I couldn't see his eyes beneath his hat, but his face was pale and his lips were drawn in a straight, tight line. I shivered in spite of the balmy June air, the dampness seeping into my bones and chilling me to the core.
The service ended. The crowd slowly dispersed, each person laying a single white rose on the casket as they said a final good-bye. One by one, they turned away, faces sad and tear stained. I waited for Alex to approach, but he didn't. He just disappeared into the crowd. I stood and looked through the sea of umbrellas, catching sight of him flanked by two Marines who were assisting him to a nearby black sedan. Awkwardly negotiating his crutches, he hopped on one foot, his right pant leg drawn up and pinned neatly below his knee, the lower part of his leg no longer there to stand on. My stomach twisted and salty tears burned my throat.
"Jordan, I'm so sorry for your loss." Alex's mother stood in front of me. Her hand rested gently on my shoulder. "Levi was...he'll be missed." I looked back to the casket where my mother was standing with her back to me, my grandfather's arm tight around her waist as she broke down again and cried inconsolably.
"Thank you, Mrs. Cooper. It means a lot to us that you and Alex were here today." My eyes followed the black sedan as it pulled away from the curb. "This must be terrible for him."
"The doctors didn't want him to leave the hospital, but you know Alex...." She pushed a stray wet hair off my cheek, her eyes filled with emotion. "They're taking him back now." She glanced at the Government Issue vehicle working its way along the narrow drive of the cemetery, crawling along in the parade of cars. "I'd like to follow and see him get settled in his room again. Tell your mother I'll stop by soon." By this time, my grandfather was leading my mother away from the casket, nearly carrying her toward the limousine that awaited us.
"I'll tell her." My eyes felt hot and puffy like big caterpillars ready to burst. Everyone had gone and Mrs. Cooper turned to leave. A part of me wanted her to stay. She looked so put together, her blond hair neatly pulled up in a twist, an umbrella protecting her from the rain. I envied the calm professionalism that rolled off of her, the black business suit with pin-striped pants and sensible flats that said she was in control. My own hair hung in long strands, wet on my face, darkened by the rain—not its usual sun- streaked red and gold pulled into a ponytail. The last thing I felt was put together. I called after her. "Tell Alex I'll be by to see him at the hospital as soon as I can."
"I'm sure he'd like that," Mrs. Cooper stopped and turned, her eyes moving to the coffin one more time. The entire surface of the dark mahogany was covered in white roses, not fully in bloom. The scent clung in the damp air as if they knew the box they lay upon would soon be buried under six feet of dirt. Before Alex's mother walked away, she said, "Again...my deepest sympathies, Jordan." She cleared her throat, hesitating a moment longer. "I know it's hard to imagine, but a year from now, everything will feel different." Then she was gone.
I stood by the casket alone, my own flower in hand. A moment of crushing silence gripped me—nothing except for the drizzling rain and the distant caw of a crow. Mrs. Cooper was right. It was difficult to imagine how I might feel a year from now. I understood that time faded the pain of loss, but I also knew that grief had a way of scarring a person. I glanced over at my father's headstone, his funeral so far back in my memory, the images were all but lost. A year from now, things might feel different, but they wouldn't be different. Levi would still be gone, Alex would never have his leg back, and I was pretty certain the scars on my heart would remain raw and painful for a very long time.
I imagined the deep hole beneath the thin layer of green carpet, an abyss about to swallow my brother. He wouldn't have liked this at all. He told me he would rather be cremated, an idea my mother had immediately dismissed. "Catholics bury their dead so on the last day, they have a body to rise up into when Christ returns," she'd said. I knew Levi well enough to know he wasn't concerned about the "last day" as much as he was about being buried in a box in a deep hole where his body would decay and his flesh would be eaten by worms.
I shivered again, my sweater growing heavy as the drizzle turned to a full-on rain. Long strands of hair had fallen from my barrette and stuck to my cheeks. I brushed them off my face and tucked them behind my ears.
"Oh, Lee, how could you? What have you done?" My eyes burned as the words fell on the moist spring air, my voice weakened by sadness and drowned out by the sound of the rain pattering on the muddy ground. "I'm sorry I didn't..." But there was no point in being sorry now. "I'll...miss you," I whispered as I laid the final rose on the mound of flowers. As I let go, it hit me. I would never see him again. The realization slipped one level deeper into my consciousness, penetrating my carefully placed wall of denial. The searing jolt to my heart dragged a sob from my lips.
Familiar footsteps registered behind me. "You about ready to go?" My grandfather laid a large, firm hand on my shoulder.
"Yeah, I guess so." I wiped the tears and rain from my face. We stood there for another minute, the two of us saying a silent good-bye to Levi, any promise of a future snuffed out in one horrible tragic event. But I knew that was how Levi had wanted it, probably even planned it. He told me more than once that he didn't belong here in this life, that God had made a mistake. He'd been a reckless daredevil since we were kids, self-destructive in a way that wasn't natural. He'd led me and Alex into more trouble than any kid could possibly find on his own. That's how I knew it was all a lie.
The military report had to be wrong. Part of me wanted to let it go and let them be right—to forget what my brother was capable of and blame it all on Alex. But the part of me that knew it wasn't true couldn't let Alex take the blame, even if it meant I had to take as much responsibility as anyone. If I had told someone...things could have been different.
In my mind I could see Levi running headfirst into a bad situation knowing there was a good chance he wouldn't come out alive. His preoccupation with death had been a topic of concern since the first time he cut himself on purpose when he was ten. With every destructive act after that it became clearer—at least to me—that Levi was capable of killing himself. Mom stuck her head in the sand and tried to wish it all away, but I knew what my brother could do. The same way I knew that there was no way Alex would have led them into danger. It must have been Levi's idea. He'd been good at persuading people. The military had the facts wrong. That's all there was to it. "I need to know what really happened," I said, my words coming out stronger than I thought myself capable of.
My grandfather let out a slow breath. "Sometimes it's best to let things be. Your brother died a hero. There is no greater sacrifice than to lay down one's life for a friend. It's a good way to go for a soldier."
My teeth pressed together. "So the truth doesn't matter?"
"It won't change anything. And your mother..." His voice lowered and I heard the weariness creep in. "Your mother needs to believe there is a purpose and a plan in all this." He wrapped a strong arm around my shoulder and led me away from the gravesite. My feet resisted even as I leaned into his broad chest.
"I don't get it, Brig. What purpose is there in a twenty year old being put in the ground? Or Alex losing a leg?" My voice carried the sound of defeat. I walked with him toward the limo, dreading the ride back to the house where, no doubt, there would be another crowd to contend with. Exhaustion ran bone deep inside me, fighting with the growing anger that fueled my need for answers. I recognized my grandfather's tone to mean he wouldn't help me dig into the details surrounding Levi's death. He and my mother would be just as happy to believe a lie. If I wanted the truth, I would have to find it myself.
As I climbed into the back of the limo and slid across the seat where my mother was already reaching for my hand, a rush of adrenalin ran through me. The first place I would start was with the one person who was there when it happened. Whether he was ready to talk about it or not, Alex was going to tell me what I needed to know.
To purchase Heaven Is For Heroes or my second book, On Thin Ice, go to the homepage of my website and choose your retailer. http://www.pjsharon.com.
Thank you so much for reading my books and I hope you'll stick with me as I venture into the dystopian world of The Chronicles of Lily Carmichael, a trilogy set in the year 2057. Book One, Waning Moon, is available now and Book Two, Western Desert is coming in June 2013.