2. Ed
2
ED
Three months later…
T he atrium at the center of the Hope Medical Center is dome shaped with glass panes that let the sunlight through and cause the place to overheat. The atrium branches off to the various parts of the center, and the middle is a crossroads of medical staff and patients.
I dodge a group of medical students and head for Stitches, the inappropriately named cafe in one corner of the atrium.
Medical staff wearing scrubs line up at the counter looking overworked and harassed, while slow-moving patients and weary visitors take up the tables.
I choose the last empty table and slink into a chair, hoping the baristas are too busy to notice I haven’t ordered anything.
My fingers tap on the Formica table as I watch the people move around me. I haven’t been out in public much since the accident. I didn’t enjoy being around people to start with, and I like it less now.
There’s a dull ache in my jaw, and I rub it absently. The wire’s been off for four weeks, but it still aches. The doctor prescribed me painkillers, but I’m not taking that shit. I’ve seen what can happen, and I’d rather take the pain.
There’s a flash of blonde hair amongst the passersby and I sit up straight, my body alert. It’s Avery, Jake’s little sister.
She walks briskly across the atrium with a takeout coffee in one hand, which doesn’t give me much hope for the coffee at this fine establishment.
She has tied her hair back into a neat ponytail that bounces as she walks. My heart thumps in my chest as I take in her curvy figure, the way her skirt hugs her hips and her tight blouse.
She’s got a key card around her neck, so she must work here. I can’t remember Jake mentioning what his little sister did. All I remember is she was a kid the first time I came home with Jake, and she was away at college the next time I visited. I never thought to ask what she was studying.
I wish I had now. As I watch Avery’s hips sway with every movement, my mouth goes dry. I swallow hard and a familiar ache shoots through my jaw, reminding me of my injuries. Of my deficiencies.
I pull the cap further down my forehead and slink into my seat. She doesn’t notice me as she hurries past.
“Do you need this seat?”
I’m jolted out of my thoughts by a woman standing over me. One hand is on the spare seat I’m saving for Joel.
I glance around the cafe. It’s not the only seat available.
I try to form the words to speak to her. My jaw twitches with the effort, and all I come up with is a guttural noise that sounds more like a grunt than speech.
She takes a step back, and her hand falls off the chair.
“I’ll find another one.” She turns away, looking confused and upset.
I’ve offended her. I slink further into my chair, hoping no one else tries to talk to me.
This broken jaw left me with nerve damage, and even after the wires came off, it’s hard to form words, which is why I’m seeing the speech therapist today.
The VA arranged it after my doctor and physical therapist weren’t able to make any progress. The only people I see since the accident are medical professionals.
Apart from Joel. Persistent Joel.
I spot him as soon as he enters the building. He strides across the atrium, all six feet something of him, and the crowd parts for him. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL. We’re supposed to blend in, not draw attention to ourselves, but Joel has an energy about him you can’t ignore.
He waves to the women at the reception desk, nods to a passing doctor, and smiles at a woman with a young child on her hip.
He’s as charismatic as he was when he was our team commander.
Only for Joel would I leave the cabin where I’ve been staying and brave a crowd of people.
He nods at me as soon as he enters the cafe and strides over. “You still drink your coffee black?”
I nod. It’s a relief I don’t have to explain myself to Joel. He already knows why I don’t talk.
Joel heads to the counter to place our orders, and a few minutes later, he squeezes into the seat opposite me.
Joel doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “You look like shit.”
His words don’t phase me. I know how I look. I’m sleeping on the floor of an old trapper's cabin, the only accommodation I could find close enough to the medical center. Joel helped me find the place. With no family, I had nowhere to go when I was discharged from the hospital.
I wasn’t expecting my military career to end abruptly. I received an honorable discharge. The Navy has no use for a SEAL who can’t speak.
Joel convinced me to hang around Hope at least until the various therapists I’m seeing are done with me.
Then I got the letter requesting I be at Jake’s will reading this afternoon. I have no idea why he’s left me anything. It’s probably his old military kit. I always admired his high-tech webbing. I guess he’s giving that to me. Too bad I won’t get to use it.
“You need to come stay with me. Get out of that cabin. It was supposed to be temporary.”
I shake my head. Joel offered me a bed at his place. He’s got two daughters, and he was going to put them in the same room and give me the other.
There’s no way I was letting him do that. I’ve heard the stories about his girls. He used to regale us with stories of the fights they got into whenever he was back. His wife would call him in tears, trying to pull the two of them apart.
If they move into the same room, I will not be responsible for what they do to each other. Besides, two adolescent girls don’t need a strange man living in their house.
So I took the cabin and took my luck with the rats. Hell, it’s a bed. I need little more than that.
Joel sighs and looks away. “You’re too damn stubborn, Ed.”
The barista calls out his name, and he gets up and gets the coffees. He sets mine in front of me, and I add a generous pour of sugar. Joel raises his eyebrows and I glower at him, daring him to say anything.
When I was a SEAL, I looked after my body. But now what’s the fucking point? Besides, a hit of sugar is better than a hit of something more addictive.
“I’m doing a thing.” Joel taps his fingers on the table, and I realize today isn’t about me. He’s got news.
“I’m setting up a retreat. A veterans retreat, right here on Wild Heart Mountain.”
Joel mentioned a veteran’s retreat before, a place for ex-servicemen and women to recover. Not the kind of recovery that’s physical, but the kind that’s harder to track. Healing the wounds that are harder to see.
“I’ve got council consent, and the VA is behind it. It’s happening, brother.”
His features widen in a grin, and it’s infectious. I smile for the first time in what seems like an age, and my jaw sends a warning shot of pain through my skull.
“I’m using some of the land where the old Tyson ranch used to be. There’s room for a PT course and a skills area, a climbing wall, and buildings I can convert into cabins.”
He talks about his plans, and I can imagine it as he talks. A place for veterans to come to recover, to get their confidence back through physical activity. A place to remember who they are. He’ll lead hikes into the mountains and to the climbing crags, focusing on the inclusion of veterans with disabilities.
“I’ve got plans, I’ve got funding. The only thing I’m missing is the people to help me run it.”
He stops talking and looks at me. I sip my coffee, and I take a moment to get what he’s getting at.
Hell no. I try to speak, and it comes out as a slurred grumble. Frustrated, I try again. This time, all that happens is the grumble is louder.
A little girl from the table next to me glances up, startled. She sees the scar on my cheek and the strange shapes my face is making as I try to work my mouth into the right words, and she starts to cry.
I shake my head and slink back into my seat.
I’m not fit to be out in public. I scare little girls for fuck’s sake.
Joel holds up his hands. “You don’t have to decide now. The land’s derelict, and it’ll take some work to clear it, then build on it. But there’s a job if you want it. In whatever capacity, I’ll find something for you.”
So now I’m a charity case.
Anger simmers in my chest. It’s a good thing I can’t speak, or I’d tell Joel to fuck off. I’m a SEAL. I don’t need his help, and I sure as hell don’t need his pity.
I pick up my pen and write one word on the notepad.
No.
I spin the notepad around, and Joel nods slowly as he reads it.
“Okay, I expected this.”
He’s not fazed by my anger, and that makes some of it dissipate. Joel knows me too well.
“You come see me when you’re ready. Clearing the land begins this week. If that’s all you want to sign up for, fine. I need men who are willing to work. You don’t need to talk, just work.”
He folds his arms and stares at me.
I guess working is better than not working. I shrug my shoulders.
Joel grins. “Perfect. I’ll text you the address.”
I scowl at Joel, but he’s right. There’s nothing wrong with my body, just a scar on my cheek and the inability to talk. I may as well work.