The Surgeon's Christmas Baby. Marin Thomas

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      “Then, run on a treadmill.”

      Running in place didn’t work. After Alonso left Afghanistan and returned to the States, he’d believed he’d put all the death and destruction behind him. But more of the same had awaited him in the hospital. “You have any hobbies, kid?”

      “My dad taught me how to use a shotgun. I like shooting at targets.”

      Alonso caught Luke staring into space. “It’s tough losing both parents.”

      “It’s not that hard. My dad was a drunk.”

      Alonso had only just met the teen but he felt a special kinship with Luke. Alonso’s father had taken off before he’d entered kindergarten, and he wasn’t even sure if his old man was still alive. Once in a while he wondered what his life would have been like if his father had stuck around.

      Luke leaned against the side of the stall. “What about you? What did you do with your dad?”

      “My father wasn’t involved in my life.”

      “Did you do stuff with your mom?”

      “Not really. My mom worked two jobs. It was mostly just me and my sisters.”

      “Did you guys fight all the time?”

      “No.”

      Luke laughed. “Yeah, right. You were best friends.”

      “There were times when my sisters drove me nuts and I wanted to pick fights with them, but I didn’t.”

      “Why not?”

      “One of them has asthma and if she gets upset she can’t breathe.” Alonso lost count of the times he or his mother had dialed 911 when Lea had trouble breathing. If they’d had health insurance his sister might have gotten the medicine and inhalers she’d needed to stay healthy, but too often her prescriptions went unfilled because there wasn’t any money to pay for them.

      “That must have sucked,” Luke said.

      What had sucked was being forced to stay home from school and take care of Lea, because his mother couldn’t miss work. After a while the school refused to excuse his absences and had expelled him.

      “How old is your sister?” Alonso asked.

      “Twenty-six. She thinks she can tell me what to do all the time.”

      “Are you talking about me?”

      Alonso glanced over his shoulder, surprised Hannah had sneaked up on them. He hadn’t heard her footsteps on the gravel drive.

      “It’s true,” Luke said. “You bully me all the time.”

      “Hey, I’m your guardian. I have to ride herd on you, or you’ll end up in a heap of trouble one day.”

      Hoping to prevent an argument, Alonso said, “We’re finished with the stalls. What other chores need to be done?”

      “Can you drive a tractor?” she asked.

      Luke rolled his eyes. “She wants you to cut the hay.”

      “If it doesn’t get cut soon, the cooler night temperatures will cause mold to grow and ruin the crop.”

      “I can handle a tractor,” Alonso said. He’d had the opportunity to drive different military vehicles while stationed in Afghanistan—how hard could a tractor be?

      “We’ve got a couple hours of daylight left. Enough time to cut half the field.”

      “Sure.”

      “I’ll hook the side rake up to the tractor. I can follow you in the baler.” She glanced at her brother. “I need you to stack the bales as they exit the baler.”

      “Whatever.” Luke marched off.

      “I can put up with your gnarly attitude any day as long as you’re willing to help.” Hannah followed her brother out of the barn. Fifteen minutes later, the three of them stood in the driveway next to the equipment.

      “I’ll ride with Alonso in the tractor,” Hannah said. “Luke, you drive the baler out to the field. After I show Alonso which direction to cut the hay, I’ll take over driving the baler while Luke stacks the hay.”

      An hour later, Alonso was making his third turn around the perimeter of the field. Hannah followed at a distance, Luke stacking the square bales in neat sections on the flatbed.

      The work was monotonous but peaceful. Out here he didn’t have to worry about someone blowing himself up or a young gangbanger staggering into the ER with a bullet in his chest. Alonso checked the side mirrors and saw Luke signaling him. When the baler caught up, Hannah got out from behind the wheel and approached the tractor.

      “We’re losing daylight, so we’ll stop here. Thanks again for helping us out this afternoon.”

      “I enjoyed it.”

      “You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?”

      “Why would I lie?”

      Hannah shouted over her shoulder, “Hey, Luke! Alonso likes driving the tractor.”

      “He’s crazy!”

      She smiled. “Oh, well, it was worth a shot.”

      Alonso’s breath caught in his throat. This was the first time Hannah’s eyes sparkled, and he caught himself returning her smile.

      “We’ll leave the baler out here and take the tractor to the house. Let’s head home and eat.” Hannah drove while Luke and Alonso crowded in beside her.

      “You don’t really like cutting hay,” Luke said.

      “Sure I do.”

      “I bet it’s not as exciting as being in the military.”

      “Depends on your definition of excitement.” Alonso despised movies that glorified war and made superheroes out of men and women who were ordinary people marching off to work each day. “But I get where all this might become a little boring if you grew up with it.”

      Luke poked Hannah’s shoulder. “My sister loves working seven days a week all year long. But I don’t want to be a rancher.”

      Hannah kept her eyes on the path. The rigid set of her shoulders told Alonso that she’d had this conversation before with her brother.

      Alonso sympathized with the teen. He doubted Luke had had much excitement in his life. His parents were no longer alive and his sister was all work and no play.

      Hannah parked the tractor by the barn. “We’re having leftovers for supper.”

      “Your chili’s gross.” Luke stuck his finger in his mouth and made a gagging noise. “My sister’s cooking sucks.”

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