In Over His Head Page 5

  Brandon took a deep breath before continuing. Reegan was staring at him intently. He noticed then that her eyes were the same blue as Reece’s. It was like looking at the man, like the last time he’d seen Reece when he’d looked back over his shoulder.

  Reegan reached out a hand to him. He’d expected her fingers to be pillow soft. But they weren’t. There were calluses on her fingertips. The polish on her nails was chipped, and there was dirt in the nail beds.

  There was no anger in her gaze as she looked at him. No accusation. Her eyes held so much compassion. That’s what broke him.

  “A group of women entered the perimeter. We weren’t sure if they were friend or foe. Your brother spoke the language and asked permission to go down to them. I should’ve said no. But I hesitated. I wasn’t sure.”

  Brandon expected her to recoil from his admission. She didn’t. Her rough fingers squeezed his bicep like she was supporting him, like she was there for him.

  He frowned at her. Didn’t she understand what he was telling her? It was all his fault.

  “I was wrong. I should have told him to hold his position. It was an ambush.”

  “The women were the insurgents?”

  “I don’t know. We never found out. We tried to get down to him, but there was an explosion. When the dust cleared, they all were gone.”

  She released her hold then. Her fingers relaxed their grip on his bicep. But her hand didn’t leave him entirely. Her palm rubbed up and down his arm.

  She wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was looking skyward.

  Beside them, Brandon heard a small sob. He’d known they weren’t alone, but it was the first time he gave any attention to the pastor’s daughter. Elsbeth Barrett covered her mouth with her hand and looked away. Tears streamed down her already red eyes.

  Brandon was certain he’d get the same reaction from Reegan. But her jaw was firm, determined. Her gaze was clear. And her hand was still on his arm, offering him the support he should have been giving to her.

  "So, you think he was blown up?” Reegan asked. “And that's why there was no body?”

  Brandon hesitated. Explosions left traces. A recovery team had been sent in, and they’d come back with nothing. It was more likely that the insurgents had taken the bodies.

  "Did you go back and look for him? Did they find his dog tags? What about civilians in the area? Did someone question them?”

  "It doesn't work that way."

  Brandon took a deep breath. He felt the heat of the desert licking over his neck at the rapid-fire questions. She didn’t understand. He’d already said too much.

  Her hand finally fell away from him. Brandon was left feeling cold, alone in the bright heat of the Montana afternoon. There were those blue eyes staring at him. Accusing.

  “Well, how does it work?" That beautiful voice rose, shouting at him.

  "I did everything I could." He shouted, shooting up to standing. He was on his feet, towering over her.

  Reegan looked up at him. Not in fear. In shock, confusion, and hurt. The sob that broke from her tore what was left of Brandon’s heart apart.

  "I'm sorry," he said. But his voice was so raw, the lump so big, he wasn't sure the words even got out. Shame colored his vision until both women were a blur. He turned on his heel and, for the first time in his life, he ran away.

  Chapter Ten

  For the third time in three nights, Reegan’s house was packed. Every neighbor from along her block as well as a couple of streets over was in her living room. There were many tears as friends came to grips with the news. There was much light laughter as remembrances of a young, mischievous Reece were told. There was also more food than she could ever hope to eat in a lifetime on the kitchen table.

  This was how her community remembered those who had gone home to heaven. The house had been even more filled when her parents had passed on. Those had been the hardest days of her life, but she'd had Reece at her side then.

  There were plenty of people by her side now. The problem was, Reegan didn't feel as though Reece had passed on. She could still feel him in her heart.

  All of the mourning going on in the family room was making her itch. All use of the past tense when anyone spoke of her brother was giving her a headache. What she really wanted was solitude.

  "Remember how he loved dinosaurs," said Mrs. Peterman from next door. "I brought him a T-Rex, but he wanted a Brontosaurus."

  Reegan nodded. She didn’t trust her voice not to ring with irritation or her words to be those of a mourning sister. Because she wasn’t in mourning.

  She felt numb but not empty. She knew what loss felt like. She knew what it felt like when a loved one's spirit left the earth and traveled on. She'd experienced it before times two. This was not that.

  She still felt the link between herself and her brother. But she couldn't explain it to anyone else. No one else got it besides Reece. Her twin never spoke about it, but she knew he'd felt it.

  Once when she'd broken her arm at Girl Scouts camp miles away, Reece had cried out in pain at baseball practice. He'd been walking out to left field and no one was on the mound.

  Reegan didn't feel any phantom pain now. She just felt tired, and cold, and lonely. Was that what Reece was feeling wherever he was? She ached that she couldn't reach out and touch him, comfort him.

  She needed to find someone to listen to her. That someone wasn't Corporal Brandon Lucas. Behind the anger in his eyes, she'd seen a haunted look. Whatever had happened to Reece, he'd seen it with his own eyes and it tore at him.

  Reegan had poked at him, but she didn’t feel ashamed. She had no choice. Her brother was alive and someone needed to go and find him.

  "I put the casserole in the oven, dear,” said Mrs. Russo. The woman owned a diner on the main street and made the best lasagna in the entire state. “I had some trouble with the flame."

  "The wire’s faulty," said Reegan. “I need to get someone out to take a look. I just keep putting it off."

  The house was over a hundred years old. It had been passed down to her father from his father who had taken over from his father. Reegan’s dad had been in the process of updating all the wiring when he’d passed on. Reece said he’d handle it when he got some downtime, but that was over a year ago.

  She’d expected him home next month for some time off. She had a list of repairs they would tackle together. The wiring was at the top of the list.

  "Well, I got it on,” said Mrs. Russo. “It just needs to be there for ten minutes and then you can eat up. I know it’s your favorite.”

  "Yes, she needs to eat,” said Mrs. Peterman. “She's far too thin."

  "You really shouldn't be staying here alone,” said Mrs. Cottman. “You should come and stay with us. You know we’d love to have you.”

  Reegan loved her community, but she loved her independence more. When her parents had passed, her well-meaning neighbors had urged her to move in with them, to date their single sons and nephews. But Reegan loved her home. She had no desire to move or live anywhere else. She did want to get married and have a family of her own. But she hadn't felt that special something with any man in town, and she'd met them all more than once.

  The closest thing she'd felt to a spark was with a certain corporal. If she were honest, it was more than a spark. She'd felt her skin go aflame the first time she'd seen Brandon Lucas in the doors of the church. It had stoked higher that afternoon when he’d knelt before her in spite of their disagreement. When he’d gone down on bended knee, Reegan’s heart had fluttered, and her first thought was that he was going to propose.

  "All right everyone.” Beth’s voice broke through Reegan’s insane thoughts. “Reegan's had a long day. Let's let her get some rest."

  Reegan could've kissed her best friend for her intervention. In fact, when everyone had filed out of the front door, she did. Reegan pulled Beth into a tight hug and didn’t let go for long moments.

  "I can stay," said Beth.

  But Reegan
shook her head. "I just need some quiet."

  With a long sigh and one more squeeze, Beth let Reegan go and filed out the front door. Her walk home was short. The Barretts lived just across the street from the Cartwrights.

  Once the door closed behind Beth, Reegan rested her head against the wood frame. She felt bone weary. The house was tidy, bless the old biddies who cleaned up after the guests who’d come to pay their respects. There was nothing for her to do.

  Reegan headed up the stairs. She wasn't tired. Instead of going into her room, she went into her brother's old room and flipped on the light switch. The electricity hummed in protest but eventually blinked on.

  Everything was the same from the last time he'd been home. That had been at her parent's funeral. She’d made his bed after he’d left and left the comforter on. It had been winter when the funeral was held. The weather was warm now, but she still hadn’t pulled off the familiar blanket.

  She went to the shelves on the far side of the room and thumbed through his record collection. Reece preferred vinyl to CDs or digital files. He said he liked the scratch of the needle.

  Reegan found what she was looking for and brought the record downstairs into the living room. She flicked the switch to the old turntable. The red ON light blinked a couple of times before going solid. Reegan placed the record on the B side with the instrumentals.

  The old song was Reece’s favorite. It was a duet. Her brother had a strong baritone to her soprano. They’d always sing this song together.

  After the melodic intro came the high part. Reegan sang the words of the familiar tune. She went mute when the tune changed and made way for the lower notes that required a baritone’s pitch. It was the silence that brought the tears to her eyes.

  The lack of the strong familiar voice left Reegan feeling desolate. She searched her heart, looking for any signs that her brother was no longer of this earth. All she felt was alone.

  Could she be wrong? Could Reece be gone? Could she just be in denial?

  When the tune changed and came back around to her part, Reegan opened her eyes. She was facing the front window. Outside, just beyond the bushes, she saw something moving.

  It was a big something. Like a man. There were old men and young boys on her street. No grown men. Only Reece.

  Reece?

  Could that be him?

  Reegan raced to the door. She flung it wide open. Only to sag against the frame with disappointment when recognition dawned.

  "I'm so sorry," Corporal Lucas said. "I didn't mean to scare you.”

  He held his hands up, as though trying to make himself look small and unassuming. It didn’t work. He was the biggest man she’d ever met in her life.

  His face shifted from placation to alarm. He lifted his head, his entire body going on alert. His nose went up into the air, and he inhaled deeply.

  “Something’s burning.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Brandon hadn't meant to be a stalker. He'd meant to come and apologize for his behavior earlier that day. He’d said he was sorry before turning and hightailing out of the garden, but he couldn't sit still for the rest of the day. The heat of his memories from the ambush, the cold lick down his spine of the shame, the numbness of the helplessness he felt knocked into him like a missile.

  He couldn’t shake it. He had to see her. Not just to apologize, but also to hear her voice again. It was the only salve that had worked.

  Not keeping silent about it. Not talking to one of the VA doctors or the ranch doctor. Not listening to gospel music of the exact same song she’d sang on streaming sites. None of it.

  The only thing he wanted, the only thing he craved was the sound of Reegan’s voice. When he thought of her, the tension throughout his body eased up. When he showed up outside her house an hour ago, just the sight of her through the open curtains loosened the grip of the stressors inside him.

  He needed to apologize again for the tone he’d taken with her. But he also just wanted to be near her, to be there for her. That scene back on the ranch, all those questions she fired at him, he knew she was going through the bargaining stage. Pretty soon, she’d be at acceptance, but not before grief sank its claws in her and rung tears from her eyes.

  Brandon had an insatiable need to be there when it happened. He’d watched through the window like a stalker as she mingled with her neighbors and friends. All throughout the room people were crying or teary-eyed. Everyone except Reegan. She kept that stiff upper lip, much like her brother wore each day Brandon had known the man.

  Though he wanted to be with her, the idea of wading through the crowd of people made him itch. Luckily, the house began to empty soon after he arrived, leaving her alone. Before he could take the steps to knock on the door, she’d started to sing.

  He’d morphed fully into a creepy stalker, and standing outside her window. Peering inside and peeping in as she sang a haunting tune.

  And then, as though she sensed him, she opened her eyes and looked right at him. Brandon felt like a bug on the wall. He held still, certain that if he didn’t move, she couldn’t see him. But she had, and now she was standing in the doorway.

  Her curvy form filled the rectangular doorway. Her red hair flaming behind her, her blue eyes open wide with a look between fear and hope.

  “Reece?”

  She mouthed the name, her voice barely above a whisper. But Brandon heard it. What came out loud and clear was the disappointment when she realized that he wasn’t her brother.

  “I’m sorry,” Brandon said coming closer. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just …”

  The night wind rushed him from the side. It brought a familiar smell. The noxious smell of burning gas. The foul smell of charred vegetation. The fetid odor of hot metal.

  “Something’s burning.”

  He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t wait to be invited in. He dashed past Reegan and into the house.

  He saw the first spark coming from behind the oven door. The pop, crack, and fizzling sounds of electricity forced him to take a step back. When he did, he bumped into the warm flesh of Reegan.

  He might have had time to put out the impending fire. He would never know. His first reaction, his only reaction, was to protect Reegan. He pulled her into his arms, putting his body between her and the short-circuiting appliance.

  Brandon had heard men and women in the service talk about their partners back home as their other halves. Reegan Cartwright fit perfectly into his chest like they’d been one whole person who had been carved apart at birth. Now that she was in his arms, nothing would tear them apart.

  Except maybe the encroaching flames that were licking their way out of the oven.

  He picked her up in his arms and raced through the house. They were over the threshold of the front door when the loud bang sounded. The flames worked fast, eating through the kitchen and reaching for the living room.

  Whipping out his phone, Brandon dialed 911. After the call disconnected, he felt the flames growing stronger as they made their way into the front of the house. Brandon expected Reegan to fight to get back, to try and get inside and save her belongings. But she hadn't struggled. There was no fight in her as she watched the flames eat at her house.

  By now, the neighbors were coming out of the woodwork. People he was sure she'd known her whole life came up to her. Instead of accepting their comfort, Reegan stayed inside Brandon's arms. She rested the side of her head against his chest. The tears he’d expected the first day he met her finally streamed down her face. Her arms were around him, her nails digging into his back.

  The firetrucks had arrived as the flames became visible in the second story windows. Brandon cradled Reegan as they sprayed the blaze. By the time the fire was under control, and only the moonlight lit up the night, the downstairs of the home was charred.

  All around her, people made offers of sheltering Reegan in their homes. She didn’t pay any of them any mind. She clung to Brandon, wordlessly. The only sound was her even breathin
g as her chest heaved, pushing out silent tears from the corners of her eyes.

  He knew she was exhausted. Emotionally as well as physically. He held all her weight. He knew if he let her go, she would dissolve into a puddle. The last thing he wanted was for her to be out of his arms, out of his sight, out of his care.

  "Come back to the ranch," Brandon whispered in her ear.

  For the first time since she’d stood on her doorstep looking down at him in disappointment, Reegan blinked. Her head tilted back as she looked up at him. There was only a small light in her large blue eyes. It took her a moment to focus, and then she nodded.

  Brandon had borrowed one of the ranch's trucks to make the drive back into town. He tucked Reegan into the passenger seat and strapped her in. When he climbed into the driver's seat, he wondered if he should reach for her hand. In the end, she curled away from him and rested her head against the passenger window.

  Guilt hit him on the drive. It ratcheted up as the tires ate up the asphalt to lead them back to the ranch. All the while, Reegan was silent. It all must be hitting her now. Her brother's death as well as the loss of her home.

  All Brandon wanted to do was give her cover and shelter as she felt the effects of her losses. He knew better than to offer her any words. For now, all he could give her was silence.

  When he pulled up on the ranch, he parked the truck and came around to her side. After opening the door, he unbuckled her from the safety belt. She practically fell into his arms.

  Bringing her into his borrowed home, he lay her down in the bed he'd vacated earlier that night. It was the only one made up. He'd find sheets and take the smaller room across the hall.

  Pulling the sheets down now, Brandon placed Reegan’s small body inside. She made no move to undress, so he pulled off her shoes and then her socks. It was so intimate to see her pink toes on the white cotton bedsheets.

  He felt he should look away. Instead, Brandon tucked her under the covers. He prepared to leave her there to her thoughts when she reached for his hand. Her callused fingers felt fragile on his large palm.