An Aspen Creek Christmas. Roxanne Rustand

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      “And me, too,” Sophie whispered. “This place is so isolated, now I’ll wonder if you’re even safe here.”

      Hannah smiled at them both. “I taught personal safety classes at the community college for four years, remember? And I have 9-1-1 on speed dial. We’ll be fine.”

      But as she watched them drive away, Ethan’s words slipped into her thoughts.

      He’d mentioned an explosion.

      She shivered, imagining all he’d gone through. The pain. The loss of a limb and thus the loss of his life as he’d known it. The surgeries and long, painful therapy. Probably even PTSD.

      Given his proximity to that explosion and the extent of his physical damage, had he also suffered a TBI—traumatic brain injury? Unfortunately it was all too likely.

      A soldier could fully recover from a TBI...or face disabling symptoms for a lifetime.

      During the clinical phase of her physician’s assistant program she’d seen one such problem firsthand when a vet with severe mood swings sent an orderly to the floor at her feet, out cold.

      Ethan had the right to his privacy, but she needed to keep two young children safe. So she would keep on her guard. Watch him carefully. And she would talk to him privately when the moment seemed right.

      But in the meantime, she would also keep her cell close at hand.

      * * *

      Ethan watched the kids as they sat at the table pushing bits of turkey around their plates, their eyes downcast. Neither had eaten enough to keep a sparrow alive.

      Were they remembering Thanksgiving dinners from years past, when their family was still complete? How could that grief and loss ever be repaired?

      “This is the best meal I’ve had in a dozen years,” he said reverently into the strained silence as he forked up another bite of mashed potatoes and rich gravy. “Everything is delicious.”

      Molly looked up from sculpting a mountain range with her potatoes and frowned at him. “A dozen years. Really?”

      He nodded. “I’ve been stationed in various places overseas all that time and almost never made it back for a Thanksgiving dinner in the States. Your aunt Hannah has some mighty nice friends to go to all this effort for you.”

      Tears started down Cole’s face. Hannah moved to his side and wrapped him in a gentle embrace. “I know coming here is a big change, after all those months at Aunt Cynthia’s. And I know how tough it is, honey.”

      Had Ethan’s words about home-cooked meals reminded him of his mom? Cole’s thin shoulders shook and his tears flowed faster. “I...I just want my m-mom back,” he whispered brokenly. “A-and my dad.”

      “I know you do, sweetheart. I miss your mom a lot, too. And I know that right now you both feel hopeless and overwhelmed.” Hannah gently rubbed his back. “You’ll never forget your parents and you’ll never stop loving them. But in time, I promise it will become easier.”

      Molly fixed her gaze on her brother, her lower lip trembling. She abruptly pushed away from the table and fled to her room, slamming the door behind her.

      Ethan had led men into battle. He’d faced off against the enemy too many times to count. But now he stared after the girl with a searing sense of helplessness. “Should I go after her?” he asked finally.

      “Not just yet. Give her some time.”

      Cole pulled away from Hannah’s embrace and slouched lower in his chair, draping an arm over Maisie. The old dog hadn’t moved from his side since they’d all sat for dinner and now she sidled even closer to rest her head on his lap. “Can I go to my room?”

      “Would you like some pie first?” Hannah ruffled his hair. “Sophie brought pumpkin, cherry and a French silk—that’s like a creamy chocolate pudding. Or, I have chocolate chip ice cream.”

      “No thanks.”

      Ethan watched the boy trudge away, the retriever at his side, then stood to help Hannah clear the plates and serving dishes. “I wish there was something I could do, right now, to make them happy.”

      “What it will take is prayer and love, and lots of time. But time is elusive, because it’s all so relative. Now they’re going through this year of firsts—the grief of birthdays and holidays without their mom and dad.” Hannah began emptying the leftovers into plastic containers and loading the serving dishes and glassware into the dishwasher. “They will adjust, but every big life event will bring it all back. Confirmation. Graduation. Weddings. It just goes on, because they’ll wish they still had their parents to share those times. But you know all that—Rob said you two lost your mom early, right?”

      “She walked out on us when we were in grade school and we only saw her once after that. She moved to Maine, remarried, then died at thirty-five. Jay-walking, of all things.”

      “But your grandpa raised you, correct? Rob used to say he was quite a pistol—and the grumpiest person he’d ever met.” She looked over her shoulder while stowing the leftovers in the refrigerator. “It must not have been easy for you boys.”

      “One way to put it, I guess.”

      After living with a single father who’d had a short temper, little interest in parenthood and a career involving a lot of travel, the parade of live-in babysitters had finally ended when Dad ditched Rob and Ethan at their grandfather’s house. Ethan could still hear Dad yelling that he couldn’t cope with them any longer and he wasn’t going to try.

      “I’m so sorry,” Hannah murmured as she began filling the sink with hot, sudsy water.

      He shrugged. “My parents never should have married each other, and having two kids couldn’t cement bonds that didn’t exist. But I guess these things happen.” He eyed the flatware and the stack of plates. “Can those go in the dishwasher?”

      “Not the good china or silverware.”

      “Do you want me to wash or dry?”

      She glanced at the oversize clock above the sink. “Thanks, but it’ll take just a minute to wash these few things and I’ll let it all air-dry. Anyway, it’s already getting dark. Are you heading into town for the night? Or the airport?”

      “Town.”

      She washed and rinsed a plate and gently rested it in the drying rack, then took a deep breath and turned to face him. “And then what? Do you have any plans?”

      When he’d talked to one of his aunt’s attorneys in Dallas and insisted that he wanted to pursue custody, she’d confirmed what Hannah had told him earlier today. There would be monthly visits by a caseworker to see how well the children were adapting to Hannah and their new home before permanent custody would be granted—probably after ninety days if all the reports were good.

      She’d also warned him that he could petition for custody, but if the children were well settled and content in their new home, it was unlikely that the court would agree to any further disruption СКАЧАТЬ