Chapter 1
Keith Carruthers stared out the window. A storm raged outside as Mother Nature battled against the window glass in front of him. He lay in his bed, a bed new to him, in the room that was new to him also. Then again nothing was the same about his life right now. Except there wasn’t a whole lot about it to like.
He didn’t understand why he was here, except that his sister had made it sound like the perfect answer for him. All he could think about was that he shouldn’t have bothered. It wasn’t really like him to be this way, but this listless lack of spirit, not caring about anything, seemed to be the way of his world right now. He hated that because he had never had room for self-pity in his world before, but sometimes life knocked you down, and every time you got back up, you got knocked down again.
He knew the old maxim was to just keep getting up until you finally managed, but what should you do when you no longer cared to try? He’d had thirty separate surgeries on the one leg. Six other times they had operated to remove bits of shrapnel from his back, from his butt, and from his thighs.
He remembered waking up from one surgery and saying, “Doc, just kill me now.”
The doctor had smiled, patted him on the shoulder, and said, “No way, not at this point. You are a work in progress, and we don’t give up on those.”
And he groaned and sank back under, and that had been six months ago.
Now he was here, and, so far, his sister Robin hadn’t been told—or hadn’t shown up at least. But then she worked downstairs in the vet clinic.
He smiled at that because his sister had always been a crazy animal lover, but then his smile fell away. He knew she worried about the animals in her care in a big way, and she worried about him too. It was hard to throw off depression when it sank into you. It dug in and ate the marrow from his very bones, leaving him with nothing but a lackluster viewpoint on everything around him.
He wasn’t suicidal, thank God, though he knew that a lot of people around him worried about it. He also hated taking medication for something he shouldn’t have to take medication for.
He’d always been physically fit, proud of his prowess, of his endurance, and of his strength—until all this happened. It was hardly fair that he got caught by an IED, but, then again, it wasn’t fair that anybody did, and he certainly wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last. The only good thing was he’d been alone. Of course that also meant that he had laid out there for a long time until he got help. But, when help came, he got fast and effective medical aid. He was alive but couldn’t count how many times over the last year or so he had wished he hadn’t been. Only wishing it was a long way from doing something serious about it.
Just then a knock came at his door. He didn’t even bother turning.
“Not even going to say hi to your sister?” Robin said gaily.
He lifted a hand and rolled over slightly, shuddering as the pain racked up and down his spine.
She noticed. She always noticed.
“Hey, sis,” he said. “Why did you drag me here anyway?”
“You’ll see,” she said, with a determined cheerfulness.
But then that was her. She was all about sunshine and roses, doing what she could to help people and animals. He used to be like that, until he’d seen so much of the darkness in life that he wondered if humanity shouldn’t have just been wiped off the planet instead. After all, the people had done very little for the planet Earth. Instead they had stripped it clean and kept busy finding other things we could profit from, like war.
He smiled as she walked toward him. “You still have that spring in your step, as if every day is a good day,” he said.
She chuckled. “Every day is a good day,” she said, then bent down gently, wrapped her arms around him, and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Besides, I brought somebody with me.”
“Oh, great,” he said, “more happy-go-lucky people. Can’t wait.”
“Not so much,” a woman said, her smooth, silky voice coming from the doorway.
He looked around his sister’s arm to see a small woman, leaning against the door, her arms crossed over her chest. She was about five-four, maybe five-three, but her hair was long and loose and fell to her waist and beyond. He looked at her in surprise. “And who are you?”
“I told you that I brought somebody to meet you,” Robin said. “She’s our chef and works in the kitchen here.”
He nodded slowly. “Well, that must be a job and a half.”
She laughed. “I’m Ilse,” she said with a smile. She walked closer and reached out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Gradually he reached a hand out to her and said, “I’m Keith. Nice to meet you too.”
She looked to the window at the storm raging outside. “Good thing we have nice warm meals in here.”
“What’s for dinner?” he asked, although no interest was in his tone because food was not something his body particularly liked anymore.
“Do you eat?” she asked, turning to study him.
He flushed slightly, realizing his sister had probably told her something about him.
“I didn’t tell her anything,” Robin said crossly before he could speak. “You always jump right to thinking I’ve revealed our family secrets or something.”
He rolled his eyes. “I don’t have much appetite,” he said lightly.
Ilse looked at him with a smile and nodded. “I imagine all the medications and surgeries make that a little rough too.”
“What goes in has to come out,” he said, “and it’s not always the smoothest journey.”
Her lips quirked. “Isn’t that the truth? So you’re here, and it’s day one for you,” she said. “So have a relaxing day today, and tomorrow is getting to know your team and all. Can I bring you something from the kitchen for dinner?”
He looked at her in surprise. “I don’t think a chef delivers the food,” he said.
At that, she gave him a full-blown smile. “Well, nothing about this place is normal, or so I’m told. I deliver food all the time. And Dennis, the guy who thinks he runs the kitchen,” she said with a smirk, “delivers food everywhere—inside, outside, even down to the pastures. He’s always on the go, trying to make people happy.”
“No wonder Robin likes it here so much.”
“Absolutely,” Ilse said. She walked to the window and stared out.
As she turned, he realized her hair was slightly damp, which is probably why she wore it down, leaving it long and flowing so it could dry. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw a woman with long hair like hers.
“We don’t see this weather very often,” she murmured.
“No,” he said. “I was just thinking it matched my mood.”
“Nah,” Robin said brightly. “It’s not nearly dark enough.” He turned and glared at her, but she grinned impudently. “That look does not scare me,” she said.
“Why not?” he asked. “It used to work well enough.”
“It used to,” she said. “That was a while back. Now? Not so much. Maybe because you use it so often.”
He shrugged. “Whatever.”