“You and Ben are welcome to stay and take care of me in my old age.” Her mom shifted toward the den. “You hear that, honey? I want you to stay forever.”
Ben gave them an eye-crinkling smile that reminded her so much of Noah her insides squirmed, and she killed the rest of her drink. She was so careful not to show how lonely she sometimes felt in front of Ben.
“Harper.” Her mom’s chiding tone reminded her so much of her own childhood, she glanced up instinctively. Her mom took her hand, and her hazel eyes matched the ones that stared back at Harper in the mirror. “You’re marking time in Kitty Hawk. Find something that excites you again. Don’t let Ben—or Noah—be your excuse.”
Harper looked to her son. His chubby fingers fit the small LEGO pieces together turning the robot into a house. She had built her life brick by brick adding pieces and colors, expanding, taking pride, until one horrible day she’d stopped. Maybe her mom was right. Was it time to build something new?
“I’m not sure what I want to do,” she said in a small voice, the uncertainty but also the resignation startling. As a teenager, she’d been confident and ready to chase her dreams. Fate had intervened in a big way.
“I’m not saying you have to figure it out overnight, but I’m thrilled you’re even considering the future.” Her mom squeezed Harper’s hand before retreating. “How’s your friend Allison doing? I know you’ve been worried about her.”
“I got an email from her today.” Harper popped a martini-flavored olive in her mouth, glad to focus on the messiness of someone else’s psyche. “She didn’t say much about Darren, but … I’m worried.”
Nothing Allison wrote in the email raised alarms, but it was exactly what she had omitted that had Harper’s stomach dipping. Not a word about how Darren, her husband, was adjusting after his last disastrous deployment. He was alive, the cuts and bruises long healed, but the damage was more insidious.
From the bread crumbs Allison had dropped in their conversations, Harper feared Darren was exhibiting the hallmarks of PTSD. Allison’s tendency to put a sunny spin on things only increased Harper’s unease. PTSD wasn’t something a wife could coddle away with bandage changes or favorite meals.
“Why don’t you take the weekend and drive down to Fort Bragg? I’m happy to watch Ben.”
As soon as her mom suggested a visit, Harper realized the notion had been lingering in the back of her mind for days. “It would be a good time to go. Everyone is caught up and business is so slow in the winter. One condition”—she wagged her finger at her mom—“Ben is not allowed to tag along to your nudist painting class. That is a talk I’m not ready to have.”
“You make it sound like we all prance around naked. There’s only one naked model, and come to think of it, he’s single and young and I can vouch for the fact you won’t be disappointed. It might not make it to his kneecaps, but…” Her mother cast a gaze meaningfully between her legs. “A fling would do you good.”
“Mom, seriously.” Harper’s laugh ruined her attempt at prudish outrage.
Her mom harrumphed, but an answering smile played at her mouth. “Fine. No nudists while you’re gone.”
“It’ll be a quick trip. I’m sure I’ll find Allison her usual perky self.” The glance she and her mother exchanged did nothing to settle her nerves.
* * *
Two days later, Harper was on the road to Fort Bragg, North Carolina, simmering anxiety keeping her alert behind the wheel. Allison was the consummate officer’s wife. She was friendly and social without coming off as fake or pushy.
After Harper and Noah had settled in a town-house community popular with military families outside the Naval base in Virginia Beach, Allison was the first one to knock on her door with a beribboned wicker basket full of housewarming presents.
It had taken months for Harper to adjust to life as a military wife and Allison had played a big part in her ability to find happiness in the role. They’d formed a true friendship, and as they faced the lonely months with their husbands deployed Allison became the sister she’d never had.
Having her to lean on throughout the weeks after Noah had been killed had made a huge difference. Now Allison needed help, even if she was reluctant to ask for it, and Harper refused to let her down.
As she got closer to Fort Bragg, the number of trucks and motorcycles whizzing by her well over the speed limit skyrocketed, and testosterone rose off the roads like the heat mirages.
She’d forgotten what the bases were like. Full of brash, confident men who lived on the edge of danger. Men who were exciting and overwhelming and sexy all at the same time. Of course, they could also be bossy and tight-lipped and a general pain in the ass.
After negotiating the checkpoints, she drove down streets populated with cookie-cutter base housing. A formation of soldiers jogged through an intersection in their boots and BDUs—battle dress uniforms.
Despite the cold winter air, she fanned her flushed cheeks. The darkest, most selfish part of her missed having a man in her life. In her bed. Acknowledging the fact made her feel weak and guilty.
She peeled her gaze off the clump of pure masculinity and counted down the house numbers. Although Fort Bragg was only a half-day drive from Kitty Hawk, Harper had only been down a few times to visit. After Noah’s death, Allison’s and Harper’s lives had diverged.
For sanity’s sake, Harper had focused on leaving all things military behind, while Allison was in the thick of that world, her husband climbing the ranks, his promotion to Commander in JSOC—Joint Special Operations Command—his latest achievement.
It had garnered a move into a bigger house and upped the unspoken requirements on Allison to entertain. Not that she seemed fazed by the pressure. Her ability to make wives—and husbands—of the officers and enlisted soldiers alike feel comfortable was her gift.
The house sat on a quiet corner. Allison’s three kids played out front wearing nothing but jeans and long-sleeve shirts, unbothered by the chill, their cheeks flushed, their laughter and squeals settling some of Harper’s unease.
“Hi, kids.” She stretched herself out of the car and smiled. “I’m your mom’s friend Harper. It’s been a while since I’ve been down for a visit.”
Libby, who was ten if Harper’s math was right, smiled back. “I remember. You brought us saltwater taffy.”
“I did, and I might just have another box stowed in my bag for a treat after dinner.” She winked, and the kids cheered. “Your mom inside?”
Libby nodded, her smile dimming. “Daddy’s sleeping, so she sent us out to play.”
“I’ll be quiet then.”
A cobblestone walkway led to the front porch. Two rocking chairs with dusty, pollen-covered cushions sat to the side. The kids resumed their game of tag, and Harper watched them a moment before cracking Allison’s front door open and slipping halfway inside.
“Allison? You here?” She kept her voice soft.
No answer. She stepped fully inside and listened. The house was dark, the low ceilings and partitioned-off rooms giving it an old-fashioned feel compared to the openness of her mom’s house.
She followed the tink of silverware down the hall. A room on her left opened into a formal living room with a wet bar along one wall but no TV. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight winnowing between brocade curtains, giving the room a disused feel.
Family pictures led her down the hallway. The kids as babies, toddlers, and their first days of school. Darren in his dress uniform at his promotion ceremony. Allison had invited Harper, but she hadn’t come. Knowing Darren was receiving something Noah had strived for but would never have had been too painful. Selfish. She’d been so selfish in her grief.