Читать книгу Homecoming Hero - Renee Ryan - Страница 11

All Wolf wanted to do was climb back on his bike and ride. It didn’t matter where. As long as it was anywhere but here. He still had most of his forty-eight hours of leave left. He could go a lot of places in that amount of time, even within the hundred-and-fifty-mile limit they’d given all returning soldiers.

At least J.T. had quit with the probing questions and Hailey had stopped looking at him with all that distrust in her eyes. Like she feared he was going to bolt at any second.

Okay, yeah. He wanted to take off. But he’d made a promise to Clay’s sister.

He wouldn’t break his word.

Pulling in a tight breath, he settled back against the metal chair Hailey had saved for him. He managed to sit through the Mulligans’ introduction before the fidgeting set in. He contained his twitching to a light drumming of his fingers on his thigh. But as the missionaries continued talking, nothing could stop the hard ball of dread clogging in Wolf’s throat.

Open mind, Wolf. You promised Hailey an open mind.

He took another breath. Slow and easy.

“It’s not numbers we’re after,” Harold Mulligan said. “It’s hearts.” The man paused, and then slid his gaze over the crowd with deliberate slowness.

Wolf took the opportunity to study the missionary. The man was just what he’d expected. Tall, scarecrow thin, middle-aged with sandy-blond hair and fervent eyes.

“No obstacles are too big for God,” Harold continued, pulling his wife closer to his side with an affectionate little tug. “Patty and I go where the Lord leads us.”

Patty smiled up at her husband. The woman could be anybody’s mother, thanks to her plump figure, curly helmet hair and polyester pants.

Harold cleared his throat. “Patty and I are on a faith journey that will impact eternity.”

Wolf blinked at that last sentence, only now realizing what was making him so antsy. Mr. Mulligan wasn’t saying anything of substance. He was speaking in fancy rhetoric—one lofty, Christian cliché after another.

Yet, throughout the room, heads bobbed in agreement to each hollow statement.

Had Wolf missed something here?

“We’re doing important Kingdom work,” Patty added with just enough gravity to earn her…wait for it…an other round of head bobbing from the crowd.

Wolf shifted, gritted his teeth. Swallowed hard.

Open mind, dude. Get your mind open.

“Our goal is simple,” she said. “We want to expand God’s Kingdom to unreached places.”

Yet. Another. Platitude.

Wolf couldn’t take much more.

Thankfully, Mrs. Mulligan turned her attention to the open laptop on the table in front of her. “It’s best if you see the people we’ve met for yourself.”

One keystroke later and a PowerPoint presentation popped up on the screen behind her. In the perfect splash of added drama, a contemporary praise song blared through the computer’s speakers.

For five solid minutes, photographs of men with haunted eyes and missing teeth, women holding impossibly small babies and children with lost appendages slid by on the big screen.

Unable to look away, unable to bear the sight of those sorrowful kids, Wolf’s stomach clenched. It was one thing for the men and women of the U.S. military to put themselves in harm’s way. That was their job, what they’d signed up to do in the recruitment office.

But the Iraqi children couldn’t choose for themselves. They had no control. And IEDs didn’t discriminate.

Wolf shifted in his seat.

Why did the missionaries have to show all those blown-up kids, he wondered?

Oh, yeah, right. He knew why.

This was propaganda. At its finest.

Even still, it was impossible to remain unmoved. Wolf swallowed a lump in his throat the size of a cannonball and proceeded to drum his fingers on his thigh. Faster. Harder. His foot joined the erratic routine.

Those kids. There’s too many to protect. It’s an impossible task.

The music hit a crescendo and Wolf glanced over at Hailey.

She was wiping at her eyes and sniffling. Her conviction was palpable, her passion for the wounded kids evident in the slump of her shoulders when one of their pictures hit the screen.

His job just got harder.

As though sensing his eyes on her, she glanced over at him. Helpless despair was etched on her face.

Wolf knew the feeling.

She gave him a wobbly smile. He smiled back, but he was pretty sure the gesture made him look less than enthusiastic.

Sighing, she reached out and covered his hand with hers, squeezed gently then let go. The light contact, though short, had a soothing effect on him—enough to make him relax against the back of his chair and focus once more on the missionaries’ testimony.

All right, he admitted it. The Mulligans might speak in Christian clichés, but their hearts seemed to be in the right place. Wolf still wasn’t comfortable with their presentation. It wasn’t what they were saying that bothered him so much. It was what they weren’t saying.

Not once did they mention the dangers that came with their posting in an “undisclosed location” of the Middle East. And didn’t that say it all?

They didn’t speak of insurgents or the bounties on Christian ministers’ heads. They didn’t allude to IEDs, except in the subtext—obviously the blown-up children got that way somehow. Bottom line, the Mulligans were giving only one side of the story.

Confused, Wolf searched out J.T. He spotted the pastor lounging against the door frame in the back of the room. His gaze was glued to the screen, his attention completely engaged.

What was wrong with the guy? Surely he saw the flaws in the Mulligans’ presentation.

The missionaries made it sound as if living in the Middle East was some sort of fun-filled adventure, with the added benefit of helping people along the way. Oh, sure, the wife spoke of her loneliness and missing her church friends, but she said nothing—not one word—about burkas or the deep-rooted hatred for Americans.

And nobody in the room but Wolf seemed to notice the glaring omissions.

Lambs to the slaughter.

He couldn’t take it any longer. “I have to get out of here.”

Hailey’s eyes widened. “But you promised,” she murmured. “You said you would stay and listen to the whole presentation.”

“I’ll be back. I just need a moment. I need…” Air.

“I—” She cut herself off and then gave him a short nod. “Okay.”

The woman was certainly playing nice. Wolf appreciated that, until she gave him “the look.” The one people sent him in airports and other public places. That insulting mix of hero worship, horror and sympathy.

Wolf hadn’t expected that from Hailey.

Oddly disappointed, he rose and stalked toward the back of the room. He had a bead on that bright red exit sign and nothing was going to stop him from leaving.

He stepped out of the room without incident. Unfortunately, he was able to enjoy only three minutes of freedom before J.T. had the bad manners to join him.

Well, all right. Good. Wolf had a few things he wanted to say to the pastor.

“What’s up, Wolf?”

Straight to the point. This was Wolf’s kind of conversation. “Those people in there. They aren’t telling the whole story.”

“What are they missing?” J.T. sounded clearly confused.

“Don’t tell me you really send people onto the mission field that unprepared.” Talk about blind faith. Even Joshua had dispatched spies into the Holy Land before engaging in battle.

“What do you mean by unprepared, exactly?”

All right. Maybe Wolf was wrong. Maybe he’d jumped to conclusions. Maybe the real presentation happened later. “What sort of training do you give your missionaries before they leave the country?”

“Training? Oh, you mean preparation.” J.T. nodded in understanding. “Not to worry, Wolf. We don’t send anyone into a foreign country without putting them through an extensive application process.”

Application process? Sounded sketchy to him. “What does that involve, exactly?”

Clearly unhappy with Wolf’s sarcasm, J.T.’s lips flattened. “The usual stuff.”

Right. “Let’s pretend I don’t know what that is.”

J.T. spoke slowly, patiently, as if he were talking to an imbecile. Which they both knew Wolf was not. “We make sure they have a heart for God and a love of His Word. That they understand their job is to plant seeds through relationships. You know, that sort of stuff.”

Now Wolf was insulted. “What about general knowledge of the region, the terrain, the culture? What about basic survival skills?”

J.T. looked at him oddly. “We have classes. They learn how to speak to the unchurched and how to build relationships through common ground.” He was so cool, so in control.

So full of it.

“What about when things go wrong? Are they prepared for that?” Wolf frowned. “I know all about the random kidnappings and ransoms and…worse.”

“There are always safety issues,” J.T. admitted. “But we aren’t naive or stupid. We don’t send our people into the field alone. There’s always a seasoned missionary from that region who guides them along the way, a person who knows the terrain and the culture and, yes.” He held up a hand to stave off Wolf’s argument. “That includes teaching them which areas are safe and which ones to avoid.”

“What do you mean by ‘seasoned’? As in a former soldier, or a cop or even someone who knows how to defend himself properly, someone who hasn’t spent his entire life in country clubs?”

“Ah, I get it now.” J.T. nodded sagely. “You’re worried about Hailey going to the Middle East.”

“Ya think?” Wolf wiped a hand across his mouth, determined to keep his temper in check. “The question is, why aren’t you more concerned? I know you’re former military, so don’t bother denying it.”

“Hadn’t planned on it.”

“Were you ever in Iraq?”

“I was there.” J.T.’s voice came out flat, unemotional. Hard. “Three times. Afghanistan, six.”

Nine deployments to the Middle East? Not possible. For regular Army, anyway. Which meant only one thing. J.T. had been Special Forces.

Now the guy’s behavior really confused Wolf. “If you’ve been over there that many times, you gotta know how dangerous it is to send someone like Hailey into the region unprepared.”

J.T. remained silent. Wolf could almost see the thoughts running through his head. The sorting, sifting, measuring.

Wolf waited, mainly because he could tell that whatever conclusion J.T. was coming to, the guy wasn’t happy about it.

About time.

“Okay, Wolf, maybe you’re right. What Hailey and the others on her team are gearing up to do is beyond our usual scope here at Faith Community Church.” The admission came hard, if his tight lips and stiff tone were anything to go by.

Wolf let out a relieved breath of air. “So you’ll help me discourage Hailey from going to the Middle East.”

“No.”

And they were right back where they’d started.

“But you just said I was right.”

“I said maybe you’re right.”

Semantics? The guy was arguing over word choice?

“There are some things we have to leave up to God,” J.T. added, his tone full of conviction. “We have to trust that His plans are bigger than ours and that His timing is always perfect.”

“Now you’re talking in platitudes?” Wolf expected better from a former Green Beret. At least a little more realism.

“Not platitudes. Truth. We haven’t lost a missionary yet. Not on my watch.”

Before Wolf could challenge him on that shortsighted rationalization, J.T. went back to thinking. He scratched his chin, but this time not a single emotion crossed his face.

At last he dropped his hand to his side. “I admit you make a good point. Sending missionaries into long-term assignments might require more than the usual preparation.”

“Might?”

J.T.’s eyes narrowed in thoughtful consideration. “We could start with a series of classes on basic survival techniques and see where that leads us.”

Okay. They were getting closer to the same page.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Wolf admitted reluctantly. Very reluctantly. After all, what J.T. suggested didn’t solve Wolf’s immediate problem—keeping Hailey out of the Middle East.

“And I think you’d be the perfect person to teach the class.”

“Me?” Wolf’s heart stopped a beat, and in that single instant he experienced all the pain, guilt and regret of the past six months.

He could not, would not—no, no, no—teach any class inside a church. It was hard enough to be here today. He could not walk into this building on a regular basis.

He wasn’t that much of a hypocrite.

“You’re the pastor, J.T. Shouldn’t you teach the class?”

J.T. dismissed the suggestion with a flick of his wrist. “An active-duty soldier would be better.” His lips curved at a shrewd angle. “And it might be just what you need, too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Although, Wolf wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“It would be a chance for you to give back. And who knows, serving others might help you with your guilt.”

Wolf’s shoulders stiffened. “Who said anything about guilt?”

J.T. simply blinked at him, his gaze saying, It’s right there, soldier. In your eyes.

Wolf looked away from all that wisdom and understanding. He didn’t want an ally. Or a friend. His friends were dead.

And Wolf’s guilt was something he had to bear alone, every day, over and over. No amount of churchgoing or talking or serving others would erase his failure on that Iraqi roadside.

But maybe—just maybe—teaching a survival class to a room full of out-of-touch idealists could serve the one goal Wolf might actually be able to achieve.

If he did his job correctly, with just the right spin, he could prove to Hailey how unprepared she was for a trip to the Sandpit.

“All right, J.T. I’ll teach your class on basic survival skills, but only if Hailey signs up.”

“She will. I guarantee it.” J.T.’s grin turned smug. “All I have to do is use my influence on her.”

Yeah, that’s what Wolf was afraid of.

Hailey glanced over her shoulder, craning her neck in the direction of the door Wolf had disappeared through. He’d been gone a long time. J.T., too.

What were they doing? What were they discussing?

Her?

And wasn’t that the most self-centered thought she’d had all day?

Shaking her head, she concentrated once more on the pictures in front of her. The image of a young boy caught her attention. According to Patty Mulligan, he’d been blown up by an IED. And had lost both his legs.

Hailey squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to see her own brother similarly wounded. Or worse, broken and dying on a lonely desert road.

Oh, Clay.

She didn’t hear Wolf return until he slipped into the seat next to her and whispered, “What did I miss?”

Her eyes flew open, but she couldn’t allow herself to look at the man who had been with her dying brother. What must he have seen? How bad had it been?

Did she really want to know?

“You missed more pictures, a few stories,” she mumbled, not quite looking at him, but not quite ignoring him, either. “Ah.”

She started to shift her gaze back to the screen, but something in Wolf’s tone had her turning her full attention back to him.

Her heart skipped a beat. And then another.

Wolf looked…he looked…happy? No, not happy. Pleased. Captain Wolfson was pleased with himself.

Uh-oh.

He smiled, then. A big, carefree grin that made him appear more than a little dangerous. She quickly looked away from all that charm, highly disappointed at the effort it took her to do so.

At last the Mulligans’ presentation came to an end.

Again, Wolf leaned over and spoke in her ear. “Well, that was certainly interesting.”

Again she didn’t like his tone. Nor was she overly fond of the way her body instinctively leaned toward his.

She snapped her shoulders back and sat up straighter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?” One of his eyebrows traveled slowly toward his hairline. “I can’t remark on the speech?”

Funny how his answer put her further on edge. “You know you didn’t mean that as a compliment.”

He shrugged, neither denying nor confirming her accusation.

Enigma. That’s what the man was turning out to be. Brooding one minute. Tortured over some distant memory another. Smiling the next. He was full of secret pain and silent regrets. Oh, and charm. Can’t forget the charm.

Hailey didn’t like the way her heart yearned to peel away the hard layers to get to the real man, the one she glimpsed when he smiled, the person who needed her compassion and understanding.

What was wrong with her? Shouldn’t her mind be solely on her upcoming mission work for the Lord? Especially here. Now.

J.T. rescued her by choosing that moment to address the room.

Hailey leaned forward, determined to pay avid attention to whatever her friend had to say.

Wolf started to speak again. She shushed him.

“Did you just shush me?”

“Yes,” she hissed.

He chuckled softly.

J.T. thanked the Mulligans for their presentation, and then added, “Our guests will be available for the next hour to answer any of your informal questions. But before we break away, I want to let you know about a class I’m thinking about offering.”

J.T. made eye contact with Wolf.

Wolf nodded in response.

“What was that about?” Hailey asked.

Wolf shushed her.

Well. Nervy. The man had some kind of nerve.

“It’s been brought to my attention,” J.T. continued, “that the church might want to offer a six-week training course in basic survival skills to anyone going on a mission trip.”

An excited buzz rose in the room.

“Show of hands. Any interest in something like that?”

Dozens of arms shot into the air.

“Excellent. Look for an e-mail in the coming days,” J.T. said before dismissing the group for a short break until the next missionaries took the stage.

Something felt off about what had just happened. Hailey blinked at Wolf. He smirked back.

“Wait a minute.” She looked hard at Wolf, turned her gaze to J.T. then swiveled back to Wolf again. “Are you teaching the new classes?” Her heart clunked against her ribs at the thought.

“Maybe.” He grinned. “Okay, yes.”

“Because…”

“It’s a good idea?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why do I think your involvement in this is anything but simple and straightforward?”

“Because you have a suspicious mind?”

“Not before I met you,” she muttered.

Chuckling again, he rose and offered her his hand.

She paused, but then realized she was being rude. She accepted his assistance with her trademark graciousness.

When their palms pressed tightly together, a quick spark of…of…something skidded up her spine. Flustered, she pulled her hand free. “Let’s, uh, let’s go…go meet the Mulligans.”

Had she just stuttered? Really?

“Sorry, Hail.” He looked down at his watch, swayed as he did so. “Your two hours were up ten minutes ago. I’m gone.” He turned on his heel, making a beeline for the exit.

She followed him into the hallway. “You’re walking away? Just like that? What about our agreement? Isn’t it my turn to listen to you?”

“I’d love to stay.” He tunneled an unsteady hand through his hair. “But it’s been a long journey home. At the moment I don’t have much talk left in me.”

Of course. Wolf had only just arrived in Savannah. Today. “You must be exhausted.”

“You have no idea.”

She should insist he leave and get some sleep, right now, but she couldn’t let him go with so much unsettled between them. “Let’s have dinner together Friday night.”

“Are you asking me out?” He looked surprised, but not altogether unhappy at the prospect. “No.” Was she? “Okay, yes. I want to talk about—” she lowered her eyes “—Clay.” Which was true, just not the complete truth.

There was something else going on between her and this bold warrior, something that had nothing to do with her brother. Something that was distinctly theirs. But she didn’t know how to voice any of that.

It was probably best not to try.

“Please, Wolf, I want to know more about my brother’s life in Iraq.” She sighed. “You’re my only connection to him now. You…” Her words trailed off.

He touched her cheek softly. “All right, Hailey. Friday night works for me. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

She instantly remembered the motorcycle he’d roared in on. “No.” She took a calming breath. “I mean. I, uh, I’ll cook.”

Which could end up being far worse. She was a notoriously bad cook. B-A-D. Bad.

Wolf didn’t need to know that, though. She had three days to pick up a few basic culinary skills.

If she failed? Well, there was always takeout.