Chapter 2
Ethan Ward knew it would be bad news the minute he walked into the major’s office. He did his best to hide his limp and pretend the constant ache in his pelvis wasn’t there, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. His team leader, Sergeant Damien “Dobby” Dobson, gave him a sympathetic smile.
Ethan saluted Major Hammond, a humourless man who only cared for the army.
“The army has denied your request to return to work at this time,” Major Hammond said.
Ethan Ward stared down the man. “With all due respect, sir, I’m ready to come back.”
“You’re still walking with a limp, Corporal. You’ll be a liability.”
Ethan growled his displeasure. “I’ve been in rehab for months now. I’m going crazy.” His team had been deployed several times without him and not being there for them, not being part of the action, was killing him. He was letting them down.
“Then I suggest you see a psychologist,” the major said. “We’ll reassess in a month. Dismissed.”
Ethan glanced at Dobby, who gave a slight shake of his head.
Yeah, there was no arguing with the major.
He saluted again and left the room, frustration almost overwhelming him.
What the hell was he going to do for another month?
He’d read a million books, worked religiously on his physio and finished half a dozen video games.
He missed his team mates, the excitement of the mission and the camaraderie they shared.
A feeling of helplessness swirled up inside him, battering him about like the wave of the tsunami had. He was doing everything he could to get back, but it wasn’t enough. Just like his fight against the water had been futile.
His chest tightened as he paused at the entrance of the building and took several deep breaths to calm the anxiety inside of him.
He slammed his hand against the door frame. Damn it! He should be over this fear by now.
His therapist said it was a form of post-traumatic stress disorder, but that was rubbish. If he was going to get PTSD it would be for being shot at, or tortured, or due to any one of the horrific things he’d seen on the job over the years, not because he’d been tossed about by a wave.
He was stronger than that.
He’d had to be.
Dobby joined him and Ethan pushed through the anxiety, standing straighter, breathing slowly.
“I’ve tried everything I can think of.” Dobby clapped Ethan on the shoulder. “Why don’t you get away—have a proper holiday?”
Ethan stared at his friend in disbelief. Neither of them was good at downtime. They had to be moving, doing something active.
“Yeah, I get it. Is there anyone you can visit?”
He’d been raised in a bunch of foster homes and had no family.
All his friends were in the army and due to be deployed soon.
Perhaps it was a sad indication, but his life was the army.
No one else had given a toss about him. No one except Chelsea…
he pushed the thought away. He’d made his decision a long time ago and wouldn’t, no, didn’t, regret it.
“What about the woman you write to?”
Trust Dobby to remember the one person connected to Chelsea.
“Aunt Maggie?” Not technically his aunt, but everyone called her that.
She’d been the closest thing to family he’d had during his final years in foster care.
A woman who had made him feel as if he was worth something.
It had been spending time with her and hearing about her fiancé who had died in the Vietnam War, which had inspired him to join the army and aim for the Special Forces.
Not that she’d been happy about his choice.
He hadn’t seen her in over a year. There hadn’t been enough time between deployments, and he hadn’t written since before the accident, not wanting to admit he’d been hurt, not wanting her to worry.
When was the last time she’d written to him? He frowned. Maybe last Easter.
Perhaps he should check on her. He exhaled and brushed his hair out of his face. “All right.”
Dobby patted his back. “Keep working on the rehab. If anyone can make it back after what you went through, it’s you.”
Ethan grunted. He didn’t want to imagine a life where he couldn’t be in the army. It had been his saviour. He’d given up the one person he’d ever loved for it. His sacrifice couldn’t be for nothing.
He exhaled, his mind working on a new plan. A month. Plenty of time to head to Honeybrook and visit Aunt Maggie. She’d be getting on in age and perhaps he could help her around her beautiful garden. “Fine. Talk to you later.”
He drove home to his small apartment close to the base. His pelvis ached as he climbed the front steps. Of all the bones to break…
No point whinging about it.
Inside he took stock of his life. Almost thirty years old and he might be headed for an early retirement.
After over a decade in the army he knew nothing else.
The few photos he had around the place all featured his army team mates, the most recent from Squadron Six, the Special Forces SAS elite team.
Aside from that, all he had were the usual trappings of the male bachelor; huge eighty-inch television, gaming console and comfortable couch.
His kitchen bench had a couple of stools underneath it, and he ate his meals there.
The small balcony contained a table and chairs for when mates came over, and he had a spare bedroom where they could crash if they drank too much.
Not much, but it was all his.
After a childhood moving from foster home to foster home with only a backpack to call his own, it was a lot.
He sighed and pulled a beer from the fridge.
Why was he getting maudlin? It was like Dobby said, if anyone could pass the medical, it was him.
Perhaps it was because thoughts of Aunt Maggie dredged up thoughts of the girl he’d given up.
He opened a nearby drawer and pulled out an old, worn photograph taken at a local fair during his last summer in Honeybrook. He looked happy standing with his arm around the girl he’d fallen in love with.
Ethan squeezed his eyes closed. The day had been beautiful and warm.
He and Chelsea had borrowed Aunt Maggie’s Landcruiser and driven to the neighbouring town.
He’d spent time at the army stall where he’d enlisted.
It was his way out, his opportunity to take control of his life.
He’d get somewhere to live and could earn a living.
Then he and Chelsea could get married and live happily ever after.
He snorted, shoving the photo back in the drawer and shutting it.
Still na?ve despite all the shit life had thrown at him.
Reality had shoved him back where he belonged quickly enough.
Ethan wandered back into the lounge and sank onto his couch. There was no doubt in his mind he’d made the right decision by breaking up with Chelsea, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt.
He shook his head, as his heart twinged. Surely he’d accepted his decision by now.
Dobby’s partner, Mila, had offered to look up Chelsea on social media for him, but he’d told her not to bother. He was too afraid he’d see she was married. Though he still hadn’t forgotten how Mila had told him he was an idiot for leaving Chelsea without telling her why.
It had made sense to him at the time.
Aunt Maggie never mentioned Chelsea when she wrote, maybe because she’d known how hard it had been for him to leave.
But Chelsea McGinnis was the first and only woman who had truly seen him.
He wished the idea of her happy with a family didn’t cause an uncomfortable twinge of jealousy and sorrow in him.
Ethan sipped his beer. No point wondering. She wouldn’t care what had happened to him after he’d broken her heart.
He shook his head. That was all in the past. Time to consider the future.
He wouldn’t bother calling Aunt Maggie before he went.
Part of him was a little concerned she’d tell him not to come, and then he’d have to fill another month with only his thoughts and physio for company.
Better to surprise her and offer to help her in the garden like he had when he was a teenager.
It had to be getting too much for her these days.
Sixteen acres of gardens had been a lot over a decade ago when they’d both been a lot younger.
He smiled, feeling optimistic for the first time since the incident.
Lilydale Cottage was the closest thing he’d ever had to a home. Though he’d been an employee, Aunt Maggie had never treated him as such, and he’d spent a lot of time working next to her in the garden, either in a Zen-like silence, or chatting about school or a fundraiser she was organising.
Peaceful. Safe.
It would be nice to see her again.
Early the next morning, Ethan passed the wooden sign welcoming him to Honeybrook.
His chest tightened and then relaxed. The two years he’d spent here hadn’t been too bad in the scheme of things.
His foster parents hadn’t wanted an almost adult male in the house, but there’d been a mix-up in the paperwork, which got his age wrong.
The social services worker had talked fast to convince them to keep him, and he’d promised to help around the house.
All he’d wanted was a place to finish school.
Perhaps it was the offer of free labour which had convinced them, because they’d agreed, and he’d taken over all the chores.
Then his foster father had volunteered him to help Aunt Maggie in her garden and Ethan had been ticked off but said nothing.
It turned out to be the best thing to have happened to him.
Aunt Maggie always had fresh, home-made biscuits and slices and a pot of tea for him mid-morning, and slipped him payment for his work.
She’d even arranged for him to open a bank account so his foster parents didn’t know about it.
Neither of them was certain that his foster father wouldn’t take Ethan’s money from him.
Ethan turned off the main street and wound his way through to the edge of town where Lilydale Cottage was located.
He slowed as he caught his first glimpse of it and his instincts went on high alert.