Chapter One
Cynthia Jenks scurried away from the protective rail.
She drew a deep breath, crept forward to stare at the dark
swirling water below. Bubbles of foam danced on the
surface. Please God, forgive my weakness . Pure and
simple, she didn’t want to go on without Peter. The deep
ache in her chest hadn’t ceased since she’d received the
news.
She ran her thumb over the gold wedding band on
her left hand. Memories of their wedding day warmed her
like a winter coat. Simple perfection; sun shining on the
honeysuckle weaving its way up and over the arbor at the
entrance of her mother’s perennial garden. Grosbeaks
sang from nearby trees as if to add their congratulations,
while hummingbirds flitted from flower to flower. Her
breath hitched when she remembered Peter’s first words
as her husband. Forever and ever, Cyn. That’s the way it’ll
be for us.
Too much pain. More than she could bear. She hadn’t
lost just a husband. She’d lost her best friend. She raised
a leg and rested her foot on the rail.
“Don’t jump!”
Cyn froze at the familiar voice from behind. Her gaze
remained glued to the ominous, black water. Her ears
roared like thunder. Peter’s voice?Surely, her grief had
kick-started her imagination.She slowly lowered her leg
until both feet rested on the solid grates of the steel
bridge. With trepidation laced with hope, she turned. If
she hadn’t been clinging to the rail, she’d have tumbled to
her knees. No! This couldn’t be happening. Peter died
three days ago. Yet, there he was, not four feet away,
1
Pam Champagne
dressed in BDUs. “Peter?”
A frown creased his pale, handsome forehead as he
stood tall and proud with his hands on his hips. “What’s
wrong with you? How could you consider taking your own
life?”
The sadness in his brown eyes opened a dam of tears.
Guilt rushed in faster than the river’s current flowing
beneath the bridge. She squeezed her eyelids shut. “You
were killed in an ambush south of Baghdad. “You’re a
figment of my imagination.” She slowly opened her eyes,
expecting the ghostly image to have vanished.
She sucked in the chilly air and blinked several times
to clear her vision. Peter remained in the same spot. “Are
you really here or am I imagining you?”
“I’m here. Why are you contemplating suicide?”
Words left her mouth as a croak. “I can’t live without
you.” His expression hardened. He crossed his arms over
his chest—a gesture Cyn knew well. Peter was furious.
“You think killing yourself will make things right? You
who loves life more than anyone I’ve ever known?”
Shame-generated heat burned her face. “We had so
many plans. It’s not fair.”
He took a step closer. She reached out, the need to
touch him too powerful to control. A sob tore from her
throat when her hand passed through his chest. Had she
actually thought the reports had been wrong? That her
husband wasn’t dead?
Peter’s voice softened. “Is this the first time you’ve
cried since you got the news?” He nodded toward the
river. “What’s down there that lures you?”
“Oblivion. An end to my pain.”
Peter chuckled. “Death’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
Given a choice, I’d take life any day.”
She struggled to accept that she was talking to a
dead man. He’d kept his keen sense of humor even in
death. “How did you get here? Will you be able to stay?”
His firm lips turned down. “’Fraid not, sweetheart. It
2
Bridge of Hope
wouldn’t be a healthy arrangement for either of us.”
“But—”
“No, Cyn. Don’t argue. Promise me you’ll go home
and forget this nonsense. If you need help, get it. The base
has an excellent counseling center; people well equipped
to help families cope with the tragedies of war.”
She turned away and focused on the river. “It’s not
fair. We didn’t get to grow old together.”
“That’s true, sweetheart, but we had
Cynthia Jenks scurried away from the protective rail.
She drew a deep breath, crept forward to stare at the dark
swirling water below. Bubbles of foam danced on the
surface. Please God, forgive my weakness . Pure and
simple, she didn’t want to go on without Peter. The deep
ache in her chest hadn’t ceased since she’d received the
news.
She ran her thumb over the gold wedding band on
her left hand. Memories of their wedding day warmed her
like a winter coat. Simple perfection; sun shining on the
honeysuckle weaving its way up and over the arbor at the
entrance of her mother’s perennial garden. Grosbeaks
sang from nearby trees as if to add their congratulations,
while hummingbirds flitted from flower to flower. Her
breath hitched when she remembered Peter’s first words
as her husband. Forever and ever, Cyn. That’s the way it’ll
be for us.
Too much pain. More than she could bear. She hadn’t
lost just a husband. She’d lost her best friend. She raised
a leg and rested her foot on the rail.
“Don’t jump!”
Cyn froze at the familiar voice from behind. Her gaze
remained glued to the ominous, black water. Her ears
roared like thunder. Peter’s voice?Surely, her grief had
kick-started her imagination.She slowly lowered her leg
until both feet rested on the solid grates of the steel
bridge. With trepidation laced with hope, she turned. If
she hadn’t been clinging to the rail, she’d have tumbled to
her knees. No! This couldn’t be happening. Peter died
three days ago. Yet, there he was, not four feet away,
1
Pam Champagne
dressed in BDUs. “Peter?”
A frown creased his pale, handsome forehead as he
stood tall and proud with his hands on his hips. “What’s
wrong with you? How could you consider taking your own
life?”
The sadness in his brown eyes opened a dam of tears.
Guilt rushed in faster than the river’s current flowing
beneath the bridge. She squeezed her eyelids shut. “You
were killed in an ambush south of Baghdad. “You’re a
figment of my imagination.” She slowly opened her eyes,
expecting the ghostly image to have vanished.
She sucked in the chilly air and blinked several times
to clear her vision. Peter remained in the same spot. “Are
you really here or am I imagining you?”
“I’m here. Why are you contemplating suicide?”
Words left her mouth as a croak. “I can’t live without
you.” His expression hardened. He crossed his arms over
his chest—a gesture Cyn knew well. Peter was furious.
“You think killing yourself will make things right? You
who loves life more than anyone I’ve ever known?”
Shame-generated heat burned her face. “We had so
many plans. It’s not fair.”
He took a step closer. She reached out, the need to
touch him too powerful to control. A sob tore from her
throat when her hand passed through his chest. Had she
actually thought the reports had been wrong? That her
husband wasn’t dead?
Peter’s voice softened. “Is this the first time you’ve
cried since you got the news?” He nodded toward the
river. “What’s down there that lures you?”
“Oblivion. An end to my pain.”
Peter chuckled. “Death’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
Given a choice, I’d take life any day.”
She struggled to accept that she was talking to a
dead man. He’d kept his keen sense of humor even in
death. “How did you get here? Will you be able to stay?”
His firm lips turned down. “’Fraid not, sweetheart. It
2
Bridge of Hope
wouldn’t be a healthy arrangement for either of us.”
“But—”
“No, Cyn. Don’t argue. Promise me you’ll go home
and forget this nonsense. If you need help, get it. The base
has an excellent counseling center; people well equipped
to help families cope with the tragedies of war.”
She turned away and focused on the river. “It’s not
fair. We didn’t get to grow old together.”
“That’s true, sweetheart, but we had
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