Patricia Potter

A Soldier's Journey


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to the Bucket. Eve opened the passenger door and invited Joseph inside and showed him a spot behind the front passenger seat. Andy climbed in after him.

      “Thank you for including him,” Andy said. “And thanks for the use of the cabin.”

      “That’s my husband’s doing.”

      “Why?” The question was abrupt and probably rude, but it had been pricking at her.

      “His best friend owned the cabin and was killed saving Josh’s life. Josh had a lot of grief and anger when he left the army. He directed it toward rehabbing the cabin he inherited from his buddy. Rehabbing it was therapeutic for Josh, but when we married he moved in with me. The cabin needed a new resident, and Josh wanted something good to come out of a tragedy.”

      Andy felt an instant kinship with the owner. No wonder she’d felt more at home here than she’d expected.

      They left the cabin, and Eve drove out of the driveway. “That’s a great car,” she said of the yellow Volkswagen. “My husband will go crazy when he sees it. So will Stephanie, our veterinarian. How old is it?”

      “Nearly forty,” Andy said.

      She didn’t add that she’d feared she wouldn’t be able to drive it again after the injury to her hand, but she had practiced for hours until she felt confident she could steady the wheel while working the clutch.

      “I’ll give you a quick tour,” Eve said, interrupting that thought. “The second cottage down from you belongs to Mrs. Byars,” Eve explained. “Her son was killed in the service, and she loves veterans. She’ll probably be by in the next few days with something wonderful to eat.”

      They reached the end of the road. A park was on the right. “That building is our community center. If you don’t have a computer, you can use one there. It’s free. That’s also where the veterans in town meet every Monday night. I’m barred, but you’ll be invited.”

      Eve turned right toward the center, then a left. “This is Main Street,” Eve said. Andy looked at the modest houses lining the street for six blocks before hitting businesses on the left side of the road. “That’s the city hall, along with the police and fire departments. The police are paid, but the firefighters are all volunteers except for the chief. He’s a retired firefighter from Pueblo and receives a small salary for keeping the equipment and conducting training.

      “On the left is the veterinarian practice. Stephanie Phillips is one of the best and most caring vets you’ll find. A few doors down is Doc Bradley. He’s nearing seventy, and a bit grouchy, but he’s a very good general practitioner and can usually be reached day or night. In between the vet and doctor is the real estate and insurance office. A small bank branch is located inside the building.

      “There’s also a small grocery, a general store and a hardware store. The pharmacy around the corner has office supplies, books and small tech supplies.”

      She parked in a space with a reserved sign in front of the city hall. “One of the few benefits of being mayor,” Eve said. “Maude’s is across the street,” she added.

      Andy felt comfortable the moment she stepped inside the diner. It looked much like the one back home where all the kids went after school.

      The diner was busy, but a middle-aged woman who looked as if she was fond of her own food met them. “I’m Maude. You must be Josh’s new veteran,” she said, then looked down at the dog. “Looks like a fine service dog,” she added with a wink. She didn’t wait for an answer but led them to the back booth.

      After they were seated, Andy asked what was good.

      “Josh would say steaks, but I like patty melts.”

      “Patty melts?”

      “Hamburger with onion and melted cheese on rye bread. They are sinful, and I try to limit myself to one a week. I don’t always succeed, but I do try.”

      “You sold me,” Andy said, and they ordered.

      She wasn’t sure how she felt about Maude already knowing who she was. She’d always been a private person except for the close-knit surgical teams with which she’d served...

      The memories came flooding back. Her hand crushed the napkin in her lap. Joseph moved closer to her, put his head on her thigh.

      She looked up and saw Eve’s concerned gaze. “My first husband died six years ago,” she said in a low voice that wouldn’t carry beyond the booth. “We were childhood sweethearts. I loved him very much. He was a coach, ran in marathons, and I thought he would live forever. He died one afternoon while on the field with the football team he coached. He was running with them when he suddenly dropped to the ground. A heart defect no one had detected. If it hadn’t been for Nick, my son... I don’t know what I would have done.”

      Andy suddenly felt betrayed by Dr. Payne. “You know...what happened to me?”

      Eve shook her head. “I only know that pain in your eyes. I saw it in my mirror for a long time. If there’s ever anything I can do...”

      “There is,” Andy said. “I need something to do. I don’t have much money, but Dr. Payne said it was possible to help in the community. I’ve always paid my own way.”

      “What did you do in the army?” Eve asked.

      “You don’t know?”

      “No. Dr. Payne says very little about his recommendations to my husband. Josh probably says even less to me. He figures if you want anyone to know your business, you’ll tell them. He’s a sphinx where other vets are concerned.”

      “I think I’ll like him.”

      “You will. He would tear off his arm to help someone, particularly a vet.”

      “I’ve known someone like that.” Andy bit her lip as the image of Jared popped up again.

      Eve looked at her. “They are rare,” she said. “Are you interested in history?”

      An odd question and quick change of subject. But she nodded.

      “Do you like writing?”

      “I’ve kept a journal, that’s all.”

      Eve’s eyes suddenly lit. “We’re trying to grow the town, create more jobs. We think tourism is the first step. My husband and Nate are finishing rehabbing—rebuilding, really—a very nice inn, but we’re a fair distance from populated areas. We need attractions, and I think that attraction could be our history.”

      “Why?”

      “The town was founded by a Scot who came here in the 1840s, saw the lake and established a trading post. There were Native raids, but he saved the life of a Ute chief and they rewarded him with protection and the chief’s sister as a wife. He basically built the town and became instrumental in the campaign for statehood. Then there’s our falls, where much of this happened.”

      “I’m not a writer,” Andy said. “And shouldn’t someone from the community write about the town?”

      “We don’t need a book,” Eve explained. “Just a short, coherent narrative we can use in a brochure and advertising program.”

      “Wouldn’t someone who lives here be more qualified...?”

      Eve sighed. “There’s a few rivalries around here. And different versions of what happened and where we should go in the future. I think an outsider will be objective and produce a narrative appealing to people outside the community. I want fresh, unbiased eyes.” She paused. “We’ve been thinking about hiring someone, but why don’t you take a stab at it? We don’t need Gone with the Wind.”

      “Where would I begin?” Andy asked, a kernel of interest building inside. She had always liked history, even thought about being a history teacher, but there had been no scholarships for that.

      “Probably the best place