After a few blocks that felt much farther, they reached Harland Hardware. The brick building was like all the others in town, old but well kept, with a blue-and-white-striped awning shading the glass-front door. Red, green and silver garlands were draped everywhere, and a set of speakers was pumping some kind of shop tool Christmas song out to the sidewalk.
“Now I’ve heard it all,” Lisa commented with a giggle. “Did you know drills and saws could even play ‘Jingle Bells’?”
“Nope.”
She’d finally had enough of his distant manner. “Seth, do you think I’ve been pleasant?”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t hate brunettes or waitresses on general principle?”
“Course not.”
She gave him a chance to elaborate, but he didn’t take it. No one had ever treated her so coolly, and she was done putting up with it. Glowering up at him, she demanded, “Then what is it about me that you don’t like?”
“Nothing. Honest,” he added, as if that would help.
“You could’ve fooled me.”
* * *
Lisa huffed so hard, her bangs fluttered above her crystal-blue eyes. As she glared at him, Seth pitied any guy foolish enough to fall for her. Sweet as she appeared to be, behind that amazing smile was tempered steel. No man alive could possibly handle all that attitude.
Even though the top of her head barely reached his shoulder, she didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by him. She also didn’t seem inclined to end their pointless staring contest, so Seth broke it off.
Looking behind her, he was almost surprised to see the latest rechargeable power tools displayed in the store’s large bay windows. A building like this seemed better suited to old-fashioned planes and handsaws. As he reached for the large brass handle on the door, his heart suddenly seized in his chest, and he could barely breathe.
Panic attack, he reminded himself, pulling away from the door to take a deep breath and give his nerves a chance to settle. Hard as he’d worked to get them under control, they still flared up when he found himself in unfamiliar territory. That was why he sometimes froze up when people talked to him. He’d made enough progress in his recovery to understand what caused the bizarre reaction. He just didn’t know what to do about it.
A quick glance around showed him no one was paying any particular attention to him, which was a relief. Lisa’s concerned look told him she’d noticed, though, and he forced himself to act as though nothing was wrong. To avoid her gaze, he looked into the other window, pretending to admire the latest in battery-powered drills.
The face reflected in the glass looked petrified, and he let out a disgusted sigh. It was a hardware store in a Podunk little town, run by a friend of Aunt Ruth’s. Thinking of her gave Seth’s confidence a much-needed boost. Honest errand or sham, she believed he could manage this, or she wouldn’t have sent him. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her. Once his heart had settled into an uneasy trot, he reached for the handle again.
As he opened the door and stepped back for Lisa to go through, the bell overhead chimed in welcome.
“Is that Lisa Sawyer?” The gray-haired man behind the counter gaped in obvious disbelief. “Never thought I’d be seeing you in here, princess.”
“My nickname,” she muttered to Seth. “My big brothers think it’s hysterical.”
“Is it accurate?”
“What do you think?” she demanded in a haughty tone he thought matched her nickname pretty well.
“I think I’d rather not know.”
“Smart man.” As they reached the counter, she greeted the owner. “You should be nice to me, Gus. I brought you someone to talk shop with. Seth Hansen, Gus Williams. Seth is Ruth’s nephew.”
As the two men shook hands, Seth noticed the Semper Fi tattoo on Gus’s forearm. Faded but still clear, he could tell it had been there a long time.
“I’m not much for tools and such,” Lisa announced, wrinkling her cute little nose in distaste. “I’ll be in the decorating section.”
She went left, looking up at the aisle markers as she went. Gus chuckled and called out, “Head to your right, you’ll find that stuff in the back.”
With a melodramatic sigh, she changed direction and turned down an aisle advertising window treatments. Turning back to Gus, Seth was surprised to find the man smiling at him.
“Marines,” he said proudly. “How ’bout you?”
Gus’s quick assessment kicked his pulse up again, and Seth waited a beat to make sure he spoke normally. “How’d you know?”
“Son, it’s written all over you.”
Feeling awkward, Seth ran a hand over his crew cut. Maybe if he let his hair grow out, people wouldn’t peg him quite so easily. Sure, and he could get an earring, too. His mother would love that.
“Oh, it ain’t just the hair,” Gus told him. Leaning in, he added, “It’ll get easier, I promise.”
Inexplicably, Seth blurted out, “It’s been almost two years.”
“Some recover quicker’n others.” Gus frowned. “Some come home but never quite make it back, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Seth had seen a few of them when he was in the hospital. Staring vacantly at nothing, muttering to themselves, imprisoned by memories that might never let them go. Watching them had been the motivation he’d needed to push himself hard every single day, even when his body had protested. With relentless determination, he’d whipped through his rehab in record time.
However difficult normal life was for him, it was a cakewalk compared to others.
“I pray for ’em every day,” Gus confided. “Those poor souls need all the help they can get.”
Seth was careful to keep his expression neutral. While he respected everyone’s right to worship, his own faith in God had withered under the brutal desert sun. The horrible things he’d experienced had convinced him that if there was a divine presence watching over the earth, He was far from the compassionate, omnipotent being he’d learned about in Sunday school. That God would have ended all the wars and restored peace.
Since that had yet to happen, Seth figured the whole thing was nothing more than a nice story aimed at teaching people how they should behave. If the Golden Rule were the law of the land, the world would be a much better place.
Gus seemed to take Seth’s silence for agreement, and he smiled. “If you ever want to jaw with a fellow soldier, I’m a real good listener.”
While most people’s sympathy made him stiffen up defensively, Seth understood that the old Marine empathized with what he was going through. He wondered if his aunt had sent him here hoping he and Gus would hit it off. Knowing her penchant for aiding folks in need, Seth certainly wouldn’t put it past her.
Accepting help was tough for him, but he acknowledged the generous offer with what he hoped came across as a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” Gus rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Now, what can I get for you?”
“Aunt Ruth jammed something in the disposal.”
“Again? That woman sure is tough on her equipment.” Chuckling, he lifted the hinged butcher block to step out from behind the counter. “My professional plumbing stuff’s out back. Have a look around while I fetch it for you.”
“Thanks.”
Whistling along with the power tools’ version of “Deck the Halls,” Gus headed through a