Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
Archer viewed the living room of the warm, cozy log cabin. “How long do I stay here?” he asked as Candace placed his duffle in his lap while she carried her things.
“For as long as it takes,” she said, entering her room. “You take the bedroom at the end of the hall. The unit’s accessible and you can hang your clothes while I fix a bite to eat. Do you still like tuna boat sandwiches?”
“Only if you have pickles,” he called, wheeling himself toward his room.
“Done. I’ll meet you in the kitchen in twenty minutes,” she said, putting away her clothes.
Archer opened the closet, surprised to find a cot inside with a note.
You’re important to us. Please use the red button on the wall if you need assistance. This soundproof area is for your comfort during stressful times.
The Winters Family
He chucked his bag on top of it and turned his chair around, heading toward the bathroom.
Splashing water on his face, he took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down.
Archer wondered why Candace offered to stay with him, because when he toured the place, they mentioned veterans shared the cabins, not employees.
Rolling to the kitchen, he came around the corner to find Candace making tuna salad.
“You’re just in time. Please turn the oven on and pour the drinks. I’ll take tea,” she said while grabbing the sandwich bread and spreading the mixture on top.
He paused. Didn’t she realize what he went through? Candace set down the knife and turned to him.
“Do you prefer to cook instead?” she asked, glancing toward the fridge.
He turned the oven on to broil and went to the fridge, pulling out a pitcher of tea. Taking out two glasses, he poured the drinks and put the container back.
A few minutes later, she pulled the toasted goodness from the oven and placed it on plates. Candace winked as she added two pickles to his before setting them on the table.
Wheeling his chair up to the empty spot, he took a bite and moaned. “I haven’t enjoyed one of these since we left college.”
“Don’t you cook? From what I recall, you did a rather good job when you wanted to impress your dates,” she quipped.
“I didn’t have time when I served. Occasionally, we grilled out something, but it didn’t taste like home,” he said, picking up his pickle. “Maybe it boiled down to homesickness.”
Candace smiled. “I’m surprised you didn’t invest in a pickle company by the way you eat them. Tell me, did you ever marry?”
He stared at her over the glass rim while he sipped his drink. “No. Sherry and I came close, but she didn’t like the military life. She wanted someone at home every night and stability. We parted ways amicably, and last I heard, she has three kids and a dog. Do you ever talk to anyone from home?”
Candace glanced down at her sandwich. “No. When we discovered Mama’s breast cancer, I found a job in Seattle. She moved in with me, and I didn’t have any reason to return.”
“Yeah, I guess not. Why did you agree to come here?” he asked softly.
“Kassie needed my help with a patient,” she explained.
“No. I mean, what changed your mind about helping me?”
She set her sandwich on the plate and folded her hands before her. “Because no matter what my feelings toward you are, you served our country and deserve the best care and treatment. You’re floundering and need a helping hand.”
“Why you?” he asked. “You insisted you didn’t want anything to do with me.”
“They thought you might feel more comfortable with someone you know. Since I do, it seemed like the best fit.”
“Don’t pacify me,” he growled. “Do you expect me to believe you suddenly had a change of heart?”
“No. It’s not like you, Archer. You always went the extra mile and worked twice as hard. For you to give up without a fight makes me sad,” she argued. “You know me. Do you think I’d let anyone suffer if I can help?”
“I don’t need your pity,” he gritted, backing up his chair.
Candace stood. “Don’t leave.”
“We aren’t in a therapy session. I’m currently residing here with you,” he said, pushing his chair toward the living area.
“I know. I cooked, and it’s your turn to clean up,” she said, tossing her napkin on the plate and walking around him.
Well, hell. She got him there. He stacked their dishes and put them in the dishwasher. The activity gave him time to calm down. Wheeling toward her room, he softly knocked.
Candace whipped open her door with a bag over her shoulder.
“I’m helping one of the teens this afternoon.
She’s got an amputated foot, too, and she’s not whining like a baby.
The poor kid has the entire world on her shoulders, and you’re an able-bodied man who pushes everyone around, yet you won’t help yourself.
I observed you in therapy, and you’ve barely made it past range of motion exercises.
Do you want complications with your stump or getting fitted for your prosthesis? ”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I feel bad about my unit. Some didn’t make it, and it doesn’t seem fair I survived and Jonah didn’t.”
“You all knew the risks when you signed up,” she said heatedly. “Do you believe Jonah would’ve given you a second thought if you perished trying to save him? Since I planned to marry him, I can say he rarely thought of anyone but himself.”
“He was my best friend. Do you think I like staying here when I know you don’t want to be here with me? I can barely get up and take a piss by myself,” he bellowed.
“You’re alive, despite covering Jonah and nearly losing more than your foot.
Yes, I read your files. I’m not about to let you drown in pity and guilt.
If you don’t want to do the work or bear my constant presence, Seattle has a veteran’s hospital,” she challenged, brushing past him and not waiting for him to respond.
“I’ll be at the hospital if you need me.
I placed my cell number by the house phone,” she said before slamming the cabin door and leaving him alone.
How did he explain his guilt over what he did all those years ago to ruin her wedding day? Did he take a chance to tell her how he ended up at the Winters Foundation? Promising Jonah to make this right now seemed like a bad idea.
He wheeled toward the patio at the back of the cabin and breathed in, appreciating the calming view.
The door opened, and Patch walked outside. “Having a tough day?”
He grunted. It’s not like anyone understood how he felt. He wished Jonah had made it.
Patch chuckled. “I know what you’re thinking. No one understands you, right? Ask me how I know. No amount of grieving or guilt will bring anyone back. You can only live a life worth living and make him proud.”
“Jonah made me promise to find Candace and make things right between us. She’s angry with me,” he explained.
Patch tilted his head back and laughed out loud.
“Listen, if I even think about giving up, Claire threatens to cut my balls off. If she’s angry, it means she still has feelings for you.
It’s when they go quiet, ya gotta worry about.
” Patch visibly shuddered before staring him in the eyes.
“The question becomes, what do you plan on doing about it?”
Archer glanced back at the mountain. He never anticipated the pain of a missing appendage, which no longer existed, or the grief and anger he felt inside at losing Jonah.
Candace didn’t know what it cost him to come here, broken, yet desperate to make things right between them.
Funny how he lost his left foot, and yet he felt like all he did was walk with two left feet, stumbling over everything they asked of him. How did he explain it to Candace?