to make you into something you weren’t. So did I, and I regret all those lessons I forced on you about makeup and dressing to attract the opposite sex. And some of the comments I made about you being a nerd.”
“I was,” Jenny said with a grin. “I still am.”
“I don’t think so,” Lenore said. “I’ve kept up with you. You have a powerful voice. I’m really proud of you.”
Jenny didn’t know what to say. She finally found her voice. “What about Mom.”
“The condo I’m buying is just a few blocks away. We can see her often and avoid the house when Father’s around. In the meantime I’m going to try to convince Mother to ask Father for a divorce, or at least leave him and move in with us. She’s so unhappy although she doesn’t want to admit it.”
“How’s our sister, Stacy? I haven’t seen her since I went overseas?”
Lenore just shrugged. “She says everything is fine. Stacy started a home decoration business which is why she couldn’t get away to see you. Mac supports her and the kids are doing well.” She hesitated, then added, “I don’t want to push you, but I’d really love for you to move in with us after closing on the condo. You wouldn’t have to worry about looking after Charlie. At ten, almost eleven, she’s quite responsible.”
Touched by the unexpected offer, Jenny nodded. “Thanks. I’m not sure what I’m going to do next but it might well be a godsend.” She changed the subject. “Have you mentioned your move here to Mother and Father?”
“I told Father before coming here. My ex didn’t have the guts to tell him about the divorce so I gave him the unhappy news. He disapproved. Of the divorce of course, not the behavior that prompted it. I’m telling Mother tonight.”
“She’ll be happy to have you here and disappointed by the divorce,” Jenny predicted. Like Father, their mother would rather be miserable—which she was—than admit a failed marriage.
“I’ll stay out of the way unless you need support. How does Stacy feel about it?”
“Stacy echoes Father. As always. It’s my fault and I wasn’t a good enough wife.” She paused, then added, “It’s ridiculous to still feel like a child asking permission to go to a movie.”
“Well, I certainly never expected to be here when I hit thirty-two,” Jenny said.
“Just think about moving in with us,” Lenore pled and left the room.
Perhaps now was the time to explore some possibilities. If she moved in with Lenore, their mother would still have them both nearby for company. It was time to start thinking about subjects she could sell to various publications. In addition to the horse therapy idea, another came to mind: rehab and family challenges. For the first time since the injury, she felt excited. Stimulated. It wouldn’t be what she had been doing, but it would be writing. Travel pieces, human interest stuff. A lot of papers used stringers or freelancers. She knew how to find stories, to look under a headline and find something no one else had.
Her thoughts turned back to Lenore. Maybe the move would be good for both of them. Maybe she would get to know her sister and niece better in the bargain.
TWO WEEKS AFTER his last rehab appointment, Travis limped through the Denver airport, using a cane, but no brace or crutches.
He hated the looks tossed his way. Pity. Curiosity.
The cane wasn’t necessary for short walks, but on the longer ones, he sometimes needed assistance.
There was one advantage, though. The agent at the check-in desk in Dulles International Airport took one glance at his military identification and then his cane, and upgraded him to first class. He’d dreaded the long flight from Washington to Denver with his bad leg scrunched up.
He didn’t have any baggage other than his carry-on with an extra pair of jeans, shirt, skivvies and a toilet kit. He didn’t think he’d stay more than two or three days. He just wanted to meet the participants, listen to their plans and then make up his mind as to whether he wanted to return for a longer stay.
In the meantime, he’d looked up other vet programs around the country. They’d ranged from small mom-and-pop programs with weekend stays for the veteran and family to months-long stints aimed at teaching skills that could turn into civilian jobs.
He hadn’t mentioned anything to Danny, who had not yet been released from the hospital. He didn’t want to get the kid’s hopes up. Except he knew Josh Manning well. Manning wouldn’t have contacted him, certainly wouldn’t have paid for his airfare, if he was not deadly serious.
Once aboard the plane, Travis gratefully slid into the window seat and placed his cane underneath. He leaned back and sighed in relief as he stretched his legs out in front of him. The right one ached from the long walk. It was galling to remember the ease with which he used to make a ten-mile trek.
The spacious room meant he could sleep. He had taken a cab to the airport at 5:00 a.m. for the 8:00 a.m. flight and then the flight was delayed.
Once in the air, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He wanted to be fully awake when he arrived. He’d looked up Covenant Falls on the internet and knew it was located on the plateau, in the shadow of the San Juan Mountains. Manning said he would pick him up at the Denver airport and drive him to Covenant Falls.
Not for the first time, he doubted the wisdom of the trip. Was it simply a do-good ploy on his ex-sergeant’s part? And what qualifications did Travis really have aside from a seventeen-year-old college degree? His confidence had melted away over the past two years. Still, the invitation got him out of his nondescript furnished apartment, and he looked forward to seeing Manning. Most important: this program might give him a real goal.
He still hung onto a thread of hope that maybe his career wasn’t over. Maybe—just maybe—a desk job could lead back to the battlefield. He didn’t like war, but he respected the men under his command, and he felt he should be out there with them. A loss of one was like a loss in his own family. Hell, they were his family.
He slept until lunch. The small steak that arrived was tough, and he cut the meat awkwardly with his left hand. The loss of two fingers on his right hand made it unsteady despite all the rehab. He was still learning, still retraining what remained of his hand. He was grateful the woman seated next to him didn’t ask if he wanted help, but he was all too aware of her curious gaze.
* * *
TRAVIS SPOTTED JOSH MANNING the moment he entered the Denver airport baggage area. Josh and he were both around six-two, and though his former sergeant looked relaxed in a pair of jeans, blue denim shirt and jacket, his green eyes held the same steely edge they always had as he studied the incoming passengers.
Josh grinned when he saw him and walked over. “Major, it’s damned good to see you.”
Travis nodded. “Same here, but I’m not Major to you any longer. It’s Travis.” He held out his maimed hand and Josh took it in a strong handshake.
“I was damn sorry to hear about what happened to you,” Josh said. “Are you out now?”
“I’m on medical leave now. I have a little time to decide whether to accept a desk job, if one becomes available. You know how army budget cuts are. There’s no certainty that they’ll have a job for me.”
“Is a desk job something you even want?”
Travis shrugged his shoulders and accompanied Josh toward the door. There was an ease about him that had not been there before, a peace in his eyes that Travis envied. After a long walk, they reached a weathered Jeep with the top up, and he saw a dog sitting like a sentinel in the front seat.
“Amos?” he asked. The former military dog wagged his tail enthusiastically.
Josh