Chapter Five
The kitchen was no longer quiet.
What had been a calm workspace when they left had turned into something else entirely—voices, movement, the clatter of dishes, chairs being pulled out, someone laughing from the other room. Aiden moved to the sink, washing his hands, pretending he belonged in the chaos of the Sweet family kitchen.
Drying her hands, Colleen stepped closer, lowering her voice, “You doing all right?”
He nodded, but didn’t look up, didn’t want her to see the discomfort in his eyes.
Taking more time than he was comfortable with, she studied him before nodding. “Okay.”
The back door opened and more voices carried in with it. More footsteps. More greetings, and just like that, the house filled.
Introductions happened fast. He’d already met Garret and Preston, now Carson, and Jill, now there were more names, handshakes, claps on the shoulder.
“Thank you for helping Mom.” This from Rachel, the other sister.
“I was happy to help.”
“Heard you saved the kitchen.” Carson extended his hand. “Appreciate you taking care of that.”
“It was nothing.”
“Nothing, my foot.” Alice Sweet handed a piping hot tray of scalloped potatoes to Sarah Sue, Preston’s wife, and waved her in the direction of the dining room.
“The wall was a soggy mess. Wouldn’t have been too long from now that my whole kitchen could have flooded.
” She let her hand fall on his arm. “You deserve extra dessert tonight.” Now she winked. “I made something just for you.”
Several voices stilled, a few people paused and turned and then came the deluge of comments.
“Special?” Rachel sniffed the air.
Narrowing his gaze at his mother, Carson seemed to be doing his best to read the matriarch’s mind. Before he could utter a word, his wife Jess smiled at her mother-in-law. “All I have to say is if it’s your sour cream blueberry pie, I’ll wrestle anyone in the room for a slice.”
The teasing was fun, but sincere.
Rolling her eyes, Alice Sweet blew out a sigh. “Don’t anyone get your knickers in a twist. I made enough for everyone, but Aiden gets the first slice.”
Heads bobbed and more food made its way to the dining room.
Alice directed the seating arrangements, placing Aiden at her side and Colleen beside him.
Chairs scraped against the hardwood floors, voices layered over each other, and then settled in their seats, heads bowed, grace was said, and once again the din of family chatter reigned.
Adjusting his weight on the hard wooden seat, Aiden shifted slightly in his chair.
The painful ache in his hip had diluted to a dull throb.
Who would have thought that a man could be thankful for a steady, tolerable ache?
A week or two ago he was pretty sure today’s maneuvering would have left him in a world of hurt that would have robbed him of a good night’s sleep and lingered for days.
Maybe, just maybe, he was finally making real progress in his recovery.
He was more than ready to return to his world, but to do that he needed to be in the same shape he’d been in before the explosion sent him and his buddies flying through the air.
Or maybe all this next step therapy was nothing but a pipe dream and tomorrow there would be hell to pay for his attempt at normalcy.
For now, there was a feast to be had and he had no intention of missing one tasty morsel.
The sound of a large family dinner in full swing vibrated around him—Alice Sweet at the head of the table, laughed as she passed a platter of perfectly sliced roast. When the scalloped potatoes made it around, he served himself a hefty portion, surprised at the teasing aroma that rose from the tray. Who knew potatoes could smell so good.
“Do you have a large family back home?” Alice poured gravy over the meat on her plate.
“Yes and no.” He set his fork down on his dinner plate. “I have two sisters, but my dad is one of five and my mom one of four. Dinnertime at our house growing up was pretty simple, but holidays…” he grinned at the memory, “made this look like a small intimate supper.”
“Really?” Colleen tipped her head in his direction.
“I remember as a kid, maybe five or six, my mom arguing she was tired of eating Christmas dinner on folding tables. Next thing I knew, Dad, his brother Vinny, my cousin Joe and I were building a table. Well,” he shrugged, “I may have done more watching than helping, but when it was all done, Mom had two tables in the basement that each held twenty people. If we had more than forty for dinner, the old folding tables got pulled out.”
“Forty?” Alice Sweet’s wide eyes matched the expressions of just about everyone at the table including Colleen.
“Mom, Dad and all their siblings and spouses along with my grandparents were enough people to fill one table. Throw in all the kids, and we filled two. Then add dates and new spouses over time and that basement was filled to the brim with family and food.”
“Basement?” Carson muttered. “We don’t really have those in Texas, but I suppose it can come in handy.”
“Very.” Aiden nodded. “When we weren’t having big dinners, all the kids would play downstairs, out of the adults’ hair.”
“Sounds lovely,” Alice said with a smile, “but who did all the cooking?”
Aiden chuckled. “Originally it was mostly my Nonna and Granny. One was in charge of all things Italian, the other threw in as much Irish as she could. St. Paddy’s day was Granny’s holiday and there isn’t a soul on earth who bakes better soda bread than her.”
Colleen listened to Aiden’s stories of growing up in an Irish Italian family in the Bronx with utter fascination. Nothing he mentioned sounded anything like life in Texas. Granted, she knew living in a big city was different, but somehow, the emphasis on his heritage caught her by surprise.
“I’m sure Nonna wouldn’t mind if I shared her recipe for gravy.”
Her mind having wandered, it took Colleen a few seconds to track the conversation and realize that for an Italian from New York, gravy was actually marinara sauce with meat to serve with pasta.
Apparently, no one there called it spaghetti sauce.
Having finished her pie, she set her fork down.
The din of the Sweet dinner was beginning to wind down, Aiden still sat beside her.
He seemed comfortable at the table. That, or he’d become good at hiding his pain.
She wasn’t sure which was the case tonight.
The man was a mystery. Underneath the military precision and quiet intensity, the way he talked about his family, especially his Nonna and Granny, gave her a warm feeling. The culture was completely different from Texas, but the love felt exactly the same.
“I heard from Aaron this morning.” Sarah Sue swallowed the last bite of pie from her plate. “He’s at his wits end with another German Shepherd.”
“What’s the situation?” Fork dangling in mid air, Alice focused on her first daughter in law.
“With the same handler for a few years. A Marine sergeant. According to the file, they’d been through deployments together. Saved each other more than once.”
“No surprise there,” Carson muttered. “Kade reminds us constantly, a dog may be man’s best friend, but a handler is a dog’s best family.”
“Go on,” Alice urged Sarah Sue to continue.
Sarah Sue heaved a sigh. “They were at Lackland on a temporary assignment—routine recertification—the handler collapsed. The dog—Romeo—alerted, got help. Did everything he should have to save his human, but he died during transport to the hospital. Romeo never saw him again.”
“Let me guess,” Aiden spoke, “Romeo is still waiting for his handler to return.”
“Ten points to the soldier.” Sarah Sue paused. “Romeo is barely eating or drinking enough to stay alive, sleeps most of the day and at night he paces the kennel constantly nosing the doorway.”
“Poor baby doesn’t understand what happened.” Alice’s normal sunny expression crumbled.
“Dogs understand death,” Aiden explained, “the problem is that in order to process it, they need to smell death. The dog will still grieve the loss, but in this case it’s doubly strong, the pain of losing the handler and the confusion of why.”
“Sounds like you know a lot about dogs?” Sarah Sue’s voice was low and reverent.
Aiden shrugged. “I remember when my grandfather passed. I was still in high school. The whole family had gathered and sat vigil with Granny. They had a beagle, Glory. I was talking to my mom in the corner of Grandad’s room when he heaved a deep sigh.
Granny had been sitting at his side, holding his hand.
She looked up at the same time Glory jumped up onto the bed from where she’d been sleeping on the floor, sniffed my grandfather from toe to head and then back again before letting out a small whine and laying down with his head on my grandfather’s free hand.
That’s how we knew it had been his last breath.
Glory was sad, but she didn’t sit by the door waiting for him. She understood.”
“So.” Alice straightened in her seat. “Now it’s our turn.” It clearly wasn’t a question. “Let me know when you’re free to pick him up and we’ll go.”
An air of sadness descended on the room. Slowly, everyone picked up their dishes and made their way to the kitchen. A parade of family carrying dishes, leftovers, and a moment of heartache for a man and dog they’d never known.
“Why don’t you get some fresh air on the porch?” Already loading the dishwasher, Alice Sweet gestured toward the back door. “There’s a clear sky tonight and the weather is finally comfortable to stay outdoors.”
“Both of you.” Jillian gestured at the two guests. “As soon as we’ve cleaned up, we’ll join you.”
“I’ll put on a pot of coffee.” Rachel didn’t wait for comment, she merely turned on her heel and headed straight for where the coffee pot sat on the counter.
“I can hel—” With a mere look, one that reminded Colleen of her own mother reprimanding her brood, Alice cut Aiden off mid sentence and waited until he followed up with a simple, “Yes, ma’am.”
Then the matriarch’s gaze shifted to Colleen.
“Good idea. I’ll follow you,” she directed at Aiden, watching him closely as he made his way outside and leaned against the railing.
“You should sit.”
“I should stand.”
“It’s been a long day with a lot of moving around you’re not used to.”
“Which is why I’d rather stand. I stiffen up when I sit too long.” His gaze remained on some point in the distance.
“Fair enough.” She didn’t like it, but she understood.
“Can I ask you something?” He shifted just enough to lean back on the railing and face her.
“Sure.” She pushed off on her foot and set the porch swing to lightly swaying.
“The equine therapy. Everybody seems very sure about it. That it’s the next step on the road to recovery, but I don’t see what a horse does that months of parallel bars didn’t.”
Stopping the swing, she leaned forward slightly, her hands clasped and dangling in front of her. “When you walk, your pelvis moves in three directions at the same time. Forward and back, side to side, and rotating. Your body does it automatically, without you thinking about it.”
His head tipped slightly and he came close to squinting before nodding at her.
“A horse at a walk produces those same three motions in the rider. Every stride. Whether you’re trying to engage or not. The parallel bars give you something to hold. The moment you hold on, the deep stabilizers—the muscles that should be doing the work—they check out. They don’t have to show up.”
His gaze was intent, so much so she could almost see him processing every word she said. If he used this focus and care during therapy, things were going to go well for him. And she liked that. More than she expected.
“On Boots,” she continued, “there’s nothing to hold. Your body has to find its own balance with every step she takes. Muscles that went quiet after the injury get asked back to work whether they’re ready or not.”
“And they come back.”
“They come back.” She leaned back and set the swing into slow motion again. “It takes time, and it’s not comfortable. But the research is solid and I’ve watched it happen with my own eyes at Farraday’s. Bodies remember what they’re supposed to do. Sometimes they just need the right reminder.”
“When Boots put her head on me,” he looked at his hands, “I felt it. Something in my back just—let go.” He shook his head slightly. “Didn’t expect that.”
Colleen didn’t say anything, she merely smiled. Not even on the horse yet and already they were making progress. How sweet was that?