Chapter Nine #3
He hadn’t considered what to do after the military. Like having a family, he believed he had plenty of time to decide. Before the attack, law enforcement or private security would’ve been an option. Unfortunately, those jobs required the same mental and physical skills as the military.
Tired of the conversation and not wanting to discuss other, he said, “What’re you going to do to keep from getting sick before speaking?”
“The program we created should help. But other than that, I don’t know. I’ve taken workshops and read books, but nothing’s helped much. If you have suggestions, I’d love to hear them.”
“What about hiring a full-time fundraiser?” Owen asked.
“I’ve discussed the idea with the board, but hiring more staff increases the operating budget, which requires more consistent funding.”
“The old ‘you need money to make money’ trap.”
Carly nodded. “Exactly, and my board, like most nonprofit ones, hates to spend money until they have twice as much as needed in the bank.”
“What about having a volunteer help?”
She laughed. “It’s hard enough to find someone qualified for the salary we can afford, but for free? Impossible. Think about it. Who likes to spend their days asking people for money?”
Speaking to the retired teachers had energized him. Sharing what he and his buddies had experienced led to the topic of Horses for Heroes being one solution to help vets. Asking for donations proved an easy step from there. “It didn’t seem so bad.”
“Sure, for one afternoon.”
Carly toyed with the stem of her wineglass and explained her and Holly’s frustration developing a building fund proposal to present to the board next week.
“They want ideas but discovering something fresh is difficult. Without a new angle, walks and runs have become too common. Plus, their scale is too small for a building fund. Other ideas we’ve considered won’t bring in the kind of money we need either. ”
“I have time. I’ll give it some thought.”
A surprised look flashed across her face. “That’s kind of you,” she said as if he were a stranger who’d made the offer simply as polite conversation.
Before he could press her, Caleb and his wife Melissa appeared at their table. “We were heading out but wanted to say hello.”
Lord, did every single man in town have this much trouble when out with a woman? Forcing himself to smile rather than tell his friend to get lost, Owen said, “Good to see you two.”
“You’re still planning on coming bowling next Friday, right?” Caleb asked.
“Cal, I said you could call Owen about that tomorrow,” Melissa said. “We said hello. Now we need to go since they’re on a date.”
Owen braced for the coming storm. Five, four…
“What is with everyone tonight? Can’t two friends grab dinner after a speaking engagement without the rumor mill going into overdrive?” Carly snapped, her pretty face tight with irritation.
Owen froze. Melissa gasped. Caleb stared in confusion.
Carly closed her eyes as her face flamed barn red. When she opened them, her gaze softened. “I apologize. Please forgive me. That was completely uncalled for. Not that it excuses my behavior, but folks have been staring like we’re about to go at it on the table.”
Go at it on the table? Owen broke out in a cold sweat. Why the hell would Carly say that unless she’d had hot daydreams too? Images of him and Carly together, ones not appropriate to have in public, raced through his mind.
“Don’t worry. I understand. This town loves to gossip,” Melissa said, drawing Owen from his erotic fantasy. “As entertainment, it’s second only to watching the Cowboys. The night Cal proposed, half the town called Mom before I got home. If we hear any talk, we’ll set them straight, right Cal?”
Her husband nodded. “Speaking of the Cowboys. Owen, did you hear they’re thinking of cutting—”
“Save that discussion for Friday night.” Melissa clasped her husband’s hand, said goodbye, and led Cal toward the door.
After the couple left, Carly flagged down Amy, ordered another glass of wine and Owen asked for another beer. “Caleb’s the one who asked you to go bowling?”
He nodded. “At the welcome-home shindig. It sounded like a good idea at the time.”
“But?”
Since he agreed, the difficulty of everyday activities had slapped him upside the head. The physical and mental energy required to keep from embarrassing himself proved more demanding. “Everything’s tougher than I expected.”
“You could cancel.”
“I’d have to explain why, or lie. Neither of which I want to do.”
“I suggest leveling with family and friends about what you’re experiencing. Let them help and support you. Concealing issues from your support system uses up emotional and physical energy better spent on your recovery.”
“I can’t tell them that some days I struggle to follow simple conversations because a toddler retains information better than I do?
That other days the ringing in my ears and the dizziness are so bad I want to stay in bed?
” They’d never see him the same again. The conversations around him hammered in his head.
His vision blurred. His stomach roiled and he clenched his fists.
“The only thing worse than what I’m dealing with would be having folks pitying me more than they already do. ”
*
He grabbed his glass and took a long draw on his beer trying to cool the rage boiling inside him.
How had he allowed Carly to dig deep inside him to hit bedrock?
Now that he’d uttered the words, he realized the truth.
He worried what the hell he’d do if he couldn’t return to the Army.
That he couldn’t cut it in the corporate world and would become a burden to his parents.
She reached out to place her hand over his, but he pulled away, and said, “I don’t need your pity either.”
“I don’t do that emotion.”
“Good.”
“But offering help and compassion aren’t the same as pity.”
“Point taken.” He paused.
“If you want to go bowling, use the strategies from the article I gave you. For example, go for an hour or two but leave before you get fatigued and have problems. Set an alarm on your phone to remind you.”
“I made notes to talk to you about that when I read it.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and scanned what he’d written. “Seemed the strategies would create more questions I don’t want to answer. Like why I’m leaving early.”
“Owen, teenage girls don’t angst this much over going out. Quit over-analyzing.”
“I’m not. I’m anticipating potential trouble and assessing the probability of success.”
“Potato, po-ta-toe,” she countered.
“That was my strength gearing up for missions. I brought up possible problems. Then we developed a scenario to prevent or handle it. The ability saved me and my buddies asses more than once.”
Then how come you didn’t anticipate a woman suicide bomber showing up pretending to need help?
Don’t go there now. You can’t handle it.
“Relax. What’s the worst that could happen?” Carly asked, pulling him back to the present.
How had he gotten here when tonight’s plan had been to get Carly to loosen up?
She didn’t smile enough, worked too hard, and acted as if she were in her forties.
Hoping to regain control of the situation, he glanced at his notes again.
One strategy with Carly’s name and a question mark behind it caught his eye.
Maybe he could help them both out. “There’s one tactic I see working.
The one where someone I trust goes along to watch for trouble and act as a buffer. ”
Carly relaxed against the back of her chair. “That’s a great idea. My only suggestion is to outline your expectations with whoever goes with you.”
“You agree that’s the best option?”
Carly nodded.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven a week from tonight.”