Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“My, my, who did you bring home, Liam? And does he know he’s going to be put to work like a common day laborer?” Her smile was lovely. She’d already set down the white mixing bowl of beans and reached out a slender hand to me. “I’m Betsy, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Ma’am, I’m—”
“Oh, I know who you are, Major. Liam has described you often enough. It’s a real pleasure to finally meet you. If it weren’t for you, I’d be a widow right now. Thanks really isn’t enough, now, is it?”
She used our handshake to pull me into a hug, her slender arms wrapping around me and her feminine scent wafting in my face. It was overlaid with sunshine and the outdoors, and I thought for a brief moment how lucky their kids were to have a mother who liked to be outside on a clear summer day.
“I didn’t save his life,” I corrected. “He saved mine.”
“Bullshit,” Doc coughed into his hand. Betsy smacked him lightly on the shoulder and laughingly chastised him for cursing in front of the kids.
Betsy turned to pick the bowl back up. “You’re in time for dinner. We had a huge lunch earlier, so it’s later than normal. Y’all hungry?”
I turned to Doc and must have had a wolfish grin on my face because he said, “One of us sure is, and I could eat too. Poor Major hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in decades, isn’t that right?”
“Feels like it anyway. Can I help?” I offered.
She led me through the old farmhouse toward the kitchen. I noticed sheer curtains lifting in the slight breeze through the open windows in a front living room as we passed through an airy center hallway. Wide wooden floorboards creaked underfoot, and I idly wondered how long the place had been there. When we entered the large kitchen, an older woman turned from the stove and widened her eyes in surprise. I recognized the bright blue eyes immediately.
“Mom, this is Major Weston Marian,” Doc said. “I stopped off at Fort Wolters and kidnapped him.”
Mrs. Wilde wiped her hands on the cotton apron she wore and approached me for a hug, her eyes filling quickly. “It’s an honor to meet you, Major. We’ve heard so much about you.” After a quick squeeze, she pulled back but held on to my upper arms. “Thank you for keeping an eye on my boy over there.”
What the hell had Doc told these people?
“He’s an outstanding medic, Ma’am. I couldn’t have asked for a better lieutenant on my chopper.”
“Enough of that, Mom,” Doc pleaded. “Don’t embarrass the major. He doesn’t know how to take compliments anyway. They’re dangerous to his health.”
It was true. One of the colonels on base had once praised me in front of an entire squadron of pilots for a particularly dicey rescue Moline and I had worked. I’d snuck around back of the hangar afterward just so I could punch something. Unfortunately, the stack of boxes I’d chosen as my target had been full of sharp helicopter parts. I’d sliced my hand and had to ask Doc to stitch it up without telling anyone.
I held up the back of my hand so he could see his handiwork. “Not even a scar. Your stitches are as precise as any plastic surgeon’s. Or the quilt ladies in the church guild,” I teased.
Betsy and his mom laughed and began asking me a million questions, hungry for more stories of Doc in Vietnam. I felt right at home in the farmhouse kitchen. The smells of ham baking, the sounds of the kids playing with wooden blocks in a carpeted corner of the room by a stone fireplace, and the sight of two friendly, maternal faces smiling at me, welcoming me to their home… it was like everything I’d always dreamed about.
Even back in Bakersfield, I’d never had it. My mother was a quiet mouse of a woman who ascribed to the seen and not heard mentality my father seemed to think was commanded by God for all women and children. Our house growing up had been stifling with rules and silence. When my father had been at work, at least Walt, Tilly, and I could cut up and be silly, even if our mother never joined us in our childish exuberance. But when our father was home, no sir. I’d always wondered if that was why I’d felt so at home in the military. I’d been raised to accept authority without question, to follow orders and follow rules, and to keep a stiff upper lip even in adversity.
In short, I’d been raised to be a man. And I’d failed spectacularly in so many ways.
“Wes?” Doc asked softly. His use of my name startled me out of my daze. I caught myself staring at the town Billy and his sisters had made out of wooden blocks.