Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
Skyler
It turns out my arm is still attached to my body, even though my shoulder was pretty much crushed, and there is some permanent nerve damage. They did extensive repair surgery, and I may face more later depending on how well it heals. One thing’s for sure: I won’t be fighting in Afghanistan anymore, and that’s a relief. I was glad to serve, and now it’s time to figure out what to do with my life. They call this a million-dollar injury—bad enough to get you sent home, but not serious enough to kill you. I wouldn’t be able to shoot anyway since my right hand is mostly numb. I wonder if that will ever go away.
I got sent here to Walter Reed a few days ago, and today I found out that Levi is here too. So I’m standing outside his door. I hear voices inside, and I’m not about to interrupt him because the other voice is female, and it doesn’t sound like a nurse. I can’t wait to see how he’s doing though. Probably pretty banged up. I am too, but at least I can get up and walk around. I’ll be going home pretty soon, but I’ll have to find somewhere that will handle PT for me. It would be nice if I could do it at home, but I’m not holding my breath. Someone will probably need to drive me to a bigger city for a while. We’ll see.
The door finally opens, and my eyes take in the amazing sight of Brooke Spencer. Just like every other time I’ve seen her, I’m struck speechless. This woman is a goddess, even with her clothes rumpled from travel and tell-tale dark worry shadows under her eyes. Those eyes! She’s ethereally beautiful. It takes me just a little too long to gather my wits and extend my left hand, saying, “Hi, Brooke, it’s good to see you. I owe everything to your husband, you know. He saved my life by risking his own.”
“He says the same thing about you saving him. You’re both heroes, if you ask me.”
I’ve always thought she was beautiful, but when she smiles, oh my ever-loving God. I think about that smile all the time; I’ve never seen anything like it. That lucky bastard has the most incredible woman in the world. We exchange pleasantries for a moment, and her voice is low and sexy. I need to stop thinking this way because she’s Levi’s wife . But damn, if I’m not fighting a boner. Maybe I need to find a woman when I get out of here.
Levi and I became friends right after we enlisted, and we were lucky to be able to stay together the entire time we served. We clicked right away. I don’t know Brooke anywhere near as well, and that might be a good thing considering my reaction to her. Since their wedding—where I served as Levi’s best man—Levi spent every possible moment he could with her. Can you blame the guy? I missed his company but didn’t begrudge him one moment of happiness with her. They moved into a crappy little house off-base, and I’ve only been there a few times.
Eventually, she says she has to scoot out to an appointment and tells me how great it was to see me. I’m sure she’s just being nice. Being around her is like talking to a celebrity. I am painfully aware that I’m standing in the hallway in a hospital gown and robe—probably looking like I got hit by a semi. Oh well.
“I hope to see you again soon, Brooke,” I tell her, and off she goes. I slowly push open the door to Levi’s room.
He looks like crap. He faces me and gives me a hollow smile, so I joke with him. “Sorry if I don’t salute. The wing’s kinda banged up.” I tip my head toward my shoulder.
Relief floods Levi’s face, and he grins for real. “You doing okay?” he asks. “I’m so glad to see you up and about.”
“Of course I’m doing okay. You saved my life, Levi. If you hadn’t gotten in the way, I’d be full of holes right now and six feet under. I’m so, so grateful, but I’m also sad you got hurt so badly on my account.” I sit in the chair that Brooke must have just vacated next to his bed. Just the thought of her makes me warm inside. I need to nip that shit in the bud.
“Well, you returned the favor, man. They told me later that you protected me from bleeding out by keeping pressure on me?—”
I interrupt him with a humorless laugh. “The pressure was because the roof fell on us!”
“And having you on top of me also kept the wooden beams from impaling me. I think we’re square on who saved whom that day. I will forever think of you as my hero.” He bows his head, breaking eye contact, and mutters, “For what my miserable life is worth, anyway.”
“What do you mean? You’ll be able to walk again, won’t you?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think my junk works anymore.”
I blink at him a few times before asking, “How would you know that? Haven’t you reacted to sponge baths by cute nurses or something?”
Levi snorts. “Whenever anyone messes around with the catheter, it’s like I’m completely numb down there.”
“Oh! Um…sorry, Levi. Have you asked the docs about it?” My God, it would suck to be numb !
“They say there is nerve trauma from the surgery, but it’s just temporary swelling. I think they’re full of shit and just won’t fess up to the real deal.”
“Wow, so when Brooke was just here…?”
“I kissed her and…nothing. You’ve seen her.” He clenches his hands into fists. His face twists in torment. “I’m not a real man anymore! She needs to move on.”
“Levi, no. Brooke loves you, and she wouldn’t do that. I think you need to give it time and talk to someone.”
“Everyone thinks I need a shrink. I need a functional dick!” He looks devastated, and I don’t know what to say, so I switch the conversation to sports. That seems to relax him, and for a while it’s like we’re back to normal.
After half an hour or so, an older couple rushes in—obviously Levi’s parents, so I give him a squeeze and pat him on the shoulder, but he responds with a funny look on his face. I tell him, “Don’t be a stranger. I’ll be going home in a couple of days.” I leave him to visit with his parents.
The next morning, I find myself discharged first thing. My parents, who’d already been staying in Bethesda, arrive to take me home. On my way out, I knock on the door to his room, but no one answers. I try to call, even send a few texts, but there’s no reply.
In the end, I don’t get a chance to say goodbye to Levi before I go.
It’s an eight-hour drive from Walter Reed to my hometown, but I’m grateful for the trip. We pass countryside, cities, and many, many little towns on our way from Maryland to Kentucky. I breathe a little easier when familiar scenery appears out my window.
Finally, our truck turns the corner, and we’re driving down Main Street in Honeybee Hollow, where I was born and raised.
The town has always been filled with great people—the kind who’d give you the shirt off their back if you needed it. In the past several years, however, the town has had something of a renaissance. We’re on the map! We’re known throughout Kentucky (if not the whole country) as the best small town to live in. This is mostly thanks to the Lassiter family. Their son became our tremendously popular mayor and then the youngest-ever governor of Kentucky, and their daughter brought industry back to the town when she bought an abandoned factory and gave people jobs again—making hats , of all things! Those fancy hats of hers sell all over the place now, and with the Kentucky Derby fashion tradition, her original designs are sought after by all the ladies.
But it wasn’t just Madison and Tanner Lassiter who made our town the best. Town pride soared when everyone saw what those two talented young folks could do, and others started figuring out how they could make a significant difference by giving back to the community. We now have a small but thriving business district that includes all the regular stores like Piggly Wiggly, a hardware store, hair salons, Sock Hop—the best hamburger joint in America—plus a nice hotel, a fancy art gallery, restaurants, a coffeehouse/bakery, antique shops, a couple of bookstores—one just for kids—and a whole slew of trendy boutiques. People have opened up bed and breakfasts in historic buildings and older homes. We have a couple of popular bars where you can listen to live music. One features rockabilly and bluegrass, and it’s frequented by the older residents of the community who’ve been here for generations as well as a younger crowd looking for “authenticity.”
The other tavern is more eclectic with a mix of rock, pop, country, and Friday night karaoke. We even have a nature camp just outside of town where corporations send their employees for retreats. Tour buses bring people to town for day trips once in a while, and some of the day trippers end up moving here. Our economy is booming. But even with all this new stuff going on, we’re still a small town; maybe the greatest small town in America, but a small town, nonetheless. Everyone supports the high school’s sports teams, and we have very little crime.
One of the best things about Honeybee Hollow, in my opinion, is its sheer beauty. Sitting at the foot of the Appalachian Mountains, the scenery is incomparable. The air is pure and just makes you feel healthy—even if your head may be filled with demons trying to snatch away your happy thoughts. The best mood enhancer I know of is taking a hike on one of our nature trails. Or fishing. I love to fish right in my own back yard. That might be a challenge for a while with only one functioning arm, but I’ll get better. As for my other hobby…well…I don’t want to think about my artwork. I may never get to do that again.
My family runs a garden center, and it’s been thriving now that town pride is at its highest ever. Except for the years I was in the Army, I’ve worked for them since I was a teenager and enjoy being outside, doing the heavy lifting, and advising people on what to grow.
That is, I used to do the heavy lifting. It’s a lot harder now. I don’t mean to sound like a whiner. I’m as happy as can be that I made it home after that fiasco in Afghanistan.
So why was I itching to leave such an idyllic town in the first place? My parents are uber patriotic and even named me for an obscure vice president they admired. Schuyler Colfax (they made my name easier to spell, thank heaven) served under President Grant and was one of the original abolitionists with an interesting life our history books have mostly ignored. I don’t think my family’s actually related to him though. Anyway, my daddy inspired in me a strong love and duty to country, so I enlisted in the Army after graduating from college. I’d never been out of Kentucky, so I thought I could see the world and maybe learn a trade that I’d enjoy.
I did not learn one. I don’t regard shooting people as a marketable skill. So thank heaven for my grandparents and the property I own. I won’t ever go hungry thanks to their generosity.
Like a dumbass, I didn’t count on us being shipped off to Afghanistan so late in the game. We could have been deployed anywhere at any time, but this was a shock after believing the war there was over. Levi and I were supposed to be almost done with the Army! I’m both thankful he was there with me and sad about it at the same time. I owe him my life for his strategic maneuver that shielded me from gunfire, but I’m sorry as hell he got himself shot because of it.
Months go by. I settle back into life in Honeybee Hollow. At first, it’s rough with my arm and the slower pace of my small town, but I get through it. The biggest issue isn’t my injury, or the PTSD, or even the feeling like everyone else around me has moved on with their lives and I’m still stuck in the same place. No, the biggest pain for me is the absence of Levi. He hasn’t called, texted, or written. I’ve tried everything I can think of to get in touch with him, to reconnect, but it’s been radio silence.
I just wish to God he was still in my life. I miss him so badly, it’s a physical ache. I was worried for a time that I’d lose my arm, but the loss of Levi is like phantom limb syndrome. Pain in what is gone.
Finally, after about six months of silence, I can’t take it any longer. Fort Campbell isn’t so far away, and he lives in Hopkinsville, which is just north of the base. I call my parents to let them know I’ll be gone a little while and won’t be available to help them at the garden center. They’re totally understanding considering what I’ve been through. My parents are the best.
I leave at the crack of dawn the next day, armed with a thermos of coffee for the drive.