Josh had thought I was nuts inviting another guy to the game. When I explained I’d done it for Lucy, he laughed at me.
“You did it for yourself,” he’d said. “Don’t tell me that you didn’t think how awesome you would appear in her eyes by inviting her best friend.” Waggling his eyebrows, he’d added, “Did you get lucky?”
I set him straight pretty quickly, letting him know my intentions were sincere. All I wanted was for Lucy to be happy.
In retrospect, I supposed my brother was right. If I had Mason in my corner, it would only help my relationship—or want of a relationship—with Lucy. The getting-lucky part? I was still working on that, but when it did happen, we’d both be lucky. It certainly wouldn’t be a one-night stand or a short fling. My feelings for her ran deeper than that.
Before Mason left the ballpark that night, he told me I’d better not hurt Lucy, and to give her time. It had taken me aback a little because I’d never want to hurt her, nor did I think I was capable of it.
The more I thought about Mason’s warning, the more I wondered about Lucy’s past. Did someone hurt her, and if so, why? Who would do that to her? I knew she didn’t have a family, she told me all she had was Mason, so was it her parents who’d hurt her? All I had were questions and no answers.
Maybe that was what Mason meant when he told me to give her time—time to tell me about her past. That I could do.
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The next morning, I headed to the local veterans’ hospital to visit injured vets, but not for my campaign. These visits were personal, and I refused to exploit them. It was important to me to spend time with men and women who were injured as they fought for our country, and were now trying to get back on their feet.
My father was a doctor and volunteered whenever he could to lend a helping hand, or just to sit and have conversations with the patients. Not all of them were from this area, so they didn’t have regular visitors, and always welcomed our visits. My siblings and I had been coming here for years, and although our busy schedules meant we came at different times now, the visits didn’t stop. My favorite time to visit was during the holidays. There was no better gift than to share your time with someone who needed companionship, especially if they were alone during that tough time of year.
Speaking to these brave men and women always filled me with gratitude. They’d been through so much, and although they engaged in battle when they were deployed, some of them still battled here—either with their own demons due to PTSD, or with bureaucracy. I made mental notes of their needs and did my best to address what I could. These people had served well, putting our country and our freedom before themselves and their families, and they deserved all the help we could give them.
For those ready to reenter the work force, I did my best to get them jobs, or at least leads for employment. One woman, Jennifer, had suffered a spinal injury, but thanks to physical therapy she received here, she had fully recovered. She now worked at Josh’s restaurant as a part-time sous chef while she attended culinary school.
This was the way I was raised. Our parents taught us to help people when we were able and to never be judgmental. It was never a question of why; it was a question of why not.
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When I left the hospital, I headed to campaign headquarters for a meeting with Ben. Although my campaign was in its early stages, we’d already rented office space and had set up a headquarters.