The “honorable” was enough to gut him.
There had been nothing honorable about the demise of the rest of his unit.
Pain shot across Bodie’s chest. Pain of grief and emotion so raw he longed to scream. His ever-present anger, threatening to boil over into rage, constantly simmered at the loss of his brothers-in-arms, and at the loss of his career.
All he’d ever wanted was to be a soldier. To serve and protect his country.
So much for dreams.
He glanced around the town square. Mom-and-pop storefronts provided a fresh facelift for old brick buildings. That’s what he had to do—give his old dreams a fresh makeover. Surely his upcoming job with iSecure would fill that driving need inside him, wouldn’t it? His need to do more? To be more?
He had been more, and now…
His gaze shifted to a flag that whipped in the November wind atop a pole in front of the stately brick courthouse. The material stretched and stood at attention within the wind’s invisible fingers, saluting him.
Bodie nodded his head in silent acknowledgement of that flag and all it represented.
Of what he’d been willing to give to defend that flag.
In acknowledgement of what many had given.
Feeling the pain tighten his chest again, he sucked in a deep breath and stopped his mind from going where it went too often. Wasn’t that what the therapist the military had required he work with told him? To refocus when his mind wandered into dark places?
Fine. He concentrated on the reason he was here in Pine Hill: to find the elderly woman who’d affected his life with her kindness.
His task shouldn’t be too difficult for someone used to tracking down terrorists. Pine Hill, Kentucky, wasn’t exactly the mecca of booming civilization.
Even though he’d never stepped foot in the town, he’d pictured it so clearly. Sarah’s description was burned in his mind, offering him a safe space to escape when memories overpowered him. So, seeing his safe haven come to life brought him an unexpected sense of belonging. Apple-pie America at its best.
And a far cry from his childhood home in Houston, where he was headed after this slight detour.
Not that there was much of a home in Texas. Just his mom, stepfather, and a couple of much-older stepsisters he’d never been close to.
He wouldn’t be there long. The moment he got the go-ahead to start his new job, he’d provide top-notch protection to the rich and famous around the globe. Not the life he craved, but staying in the same place for very long made his feet itch. Always had.
Which was why he’d turned down the Army’s offer of a desk job. A desk job? For him? Never.
He glanced toward the quilt in the passenger seat. He’d be starting his next journey as soon as he’d had the chance to thank Sarah Smith for pulling him out of a dark, dark place.
He’d never heard of Quilts of Valor prior to being presented with the special gift. But that red, white, and blue quilt had given him something to hang on to—literally and figuratively—while he was recuperating.
Which was why he was in Pine Hill, to thank the quilt’s maker in person.
He owed her more than a simple thank-you could convey, but that’s what he’d come to give.
A thank-you, and then he’d be on his way.
Humming along with the Christmas music playing over the church’s intercom system, Sarah Smith sewed white yarn through a cut piece of plastic canvas. The snowflakes she made each year with the pieces of canvas and yarn were some of her favorite homemade Christmas decorations.
She glanced around the room at the mix of women, teens, and children busily making ornaments to be sold at Pine Hill’s annual On-the-Square Christmas Festival. Many of the twenty or so volunteers were the same smiling faces who had helped with Sarah’s past projects—people she adored.
With her employment as Pine Hill Church’s administrative assistant and special projects planner, Sarah was always organizing something. Often, she believed their projects helped those participating as much as—and sometimes more than—they helped the recipients of their work. Giving truly was better than receiving, which was why Sarah loved Christmas so much.
She enjoyed everything about Christmas. The decorations, the smells, the food, the kindness, and good cheer that prevailed. The get-togethers with family and friends that made everything sweeter. If it were up to her, she’d arrange for Christmas to come way more often than just once a year.
“I couldn’t do this without you all,” she told the group of women working at her table. The Butterflies, as they referred to themselves, had an assembly line going to make the plastic canvas snowflake ornaments.
Sarah’s projects would be nothing without the Butterflies to see her ideas to fruition. She could always count on them. The four women had been a part of Sarah’s life from the beginning, and she loved them dearly.
“Yeah, yeah.” Maybelle Kirby’s old blue eyes didn’t lift from where she was hot-gluing sparkly white sequins to a finished snowflake. “Use it or lose it, I always say. And these old bones ain’t got much more to lose, so I gotta keep using.”
Maybelle was Sarah’s favorite—possibly because she had been Aunt Jean’s best friend. The two women had bonded over being young military widows, neither of whom had remarried or had children. Although in her early seventies now, and the oldest of the group of volunteers, Maybelle was a firecracker and knew how to do just about anything Sarah took a fancy to learn. As the church’s previous special projects planner, Maybelle had been adopting do-gooders such as Sarah for years and was a fount of knowledge and encouragement. Sometimes Sarah thought Maybelle missed her role as planner. That was why she made sure she kept the woman involved.
“Besides, someone has to keep you in check,” Maybelle muttered, earning a few chuckles from the others at her table. “Don’t know how you think you’re ever going to meet a man if all you do is work, work, work.”
Sometimes, Maybelle’s involvement wasn’t a good thing. Like when it came to Sarah’s love life—or lack thereof. Though to be honest, it wasn’t just Maybelle. All four women thought it their responsibility to marry Sarah off.
“I happen to love my work,” Sarah reminded, smiling at Maybelle as she added, “Besides, who says I want to meet a man? The last man—and I use that term loosely—in my life sure wasn’t worth taking time away from work or you ladies.”
Richard and his big-city dreams were, thankfully, long gone from her beloved Pine Hill. Although memories snuck in from time to time reminding of how her heart had broken when he’d left her, these days, mostly she just bid him good riddance.
Any man who didn’t want a calm, normal, white picket fence, church-going, Christmas-loving life in Pine Hill wasn’t the right man for her. Plain and simple.