Broken Soldier: A Novel by Clara Frost Page B

Rafa.
    “We’re flying over the week before Christmas,” Emily said, “and coming back just after New Year’s.”
    “So is this wedding actually on Christmas Day or...” Emily’s mother, Susanna, picked at her food, not even pretending that it was edible. She had a face lined from nearly forty years in classrooms, lunchrooms and hallways, all spent in some of the highest need Denver schools.
    “It’s on Boxing Day,” Rafa said. He was sitting bolt upright in his chair, his back straighter than the flagpole in the front yard.
    “Well, I can’t say I like it,” Susanna said, “but if it’s what you want to do, I guess I can understand.” She smiled, trying to disarm the tension.
    Emily’s father’s scowl only deepened.
    “Mr. Hale,” Rafa said, “Emily explained that you all normally spend Christmas Eve together, but we thought that perhaps we could do it a few days early. Our flight is supposed to leave on the 20 th .”
    “So you haven’t booked your tickets yet?” He perked up as he saw a place to drive in a wedge. Karl Hale hadn’t made a career in law as a person willing to let a fight go, no matter how small.
    “No,” Rafa said. His fist clenched around the stem of his wine glass.
    “Daddy, if you’re trying to talk us out of this trip, you’re wasting your breath.” Emily took a deep breath of her own, then continued. “This is the first time you’ve met Rafael, and this trip is partially so I can meet his family. Everyone will be at the wedding.”
    “We’ve spent every Christmas with you for 27 years. I don’t see the point in breaking that tradition now. If the wedding is on the day after Christmas, why don’t you just fly out Christmas afternoon?”
    “And arrive in Spain jetlagged the morning of the wedding?” Emily’s mother asked. “Be realistic, Karlie. They need time to see Rafa’s family, too.”
    “So,” Emily said, desperate to get them onto any other topic, “how’s school going, Mom?”
    “It’s good. The kids are starting to get antsy, though. Everyone is looking forward to the break.”
    Emily met her mother’s eyes, but her attention was mostly on Rafa in her peripheral vision. His right arm was tucked into his lap with his empty cuff out of sight. The left hand held a fork perfectly still, poised above his sweet potatoes. His entire attention was on her father, and Emily thought she could just about see a vein throbbing on the side of Rafa’s head. She reached over, setting her hand on his arm.
    “Rafa, why don’t you tell Mother about your new job?” Emily suggested.
    Emily’s mother nodded. “Please, Mr. Carpenter, I’d love to hear it. Emily tells me that you’ve gone from the Army into a teaching position?”
    “At the Air Force Academy,” Rafa said. “I start next semester.”
    “Oh, that must be exciting. I didn’t realize the services taught at each other’s colleges.”
    “They usually don’t.” Rafa stabbed a sweet potato with his fork. “My background is... unique.”
    “How’s that?” Emily’s mother asked.
    “He was in Special Forces,” Emily said.
    “So you left the service as a sergeant?” her father asked. She could always trust her dad to try to work out how much someone made.
    “A captain,” Rafa said.
    Emily’s father sat up a little straighter at that. “Is that right? OCS or...”
    “West Point.”
    “I see.”
    “Rafa served in Iraq and Afghanistan both,” Emily added. “And he speaks Arabic.”
    Rafa looked over, shooting her a look that made her mouth go dry. Was she sharing too much information? She was just trying to help him with her dad.
    “I just did what needed to be done. Mrs. Hale, you mentioned something earlier about a blueberry cobbler?”
    Emily’s mom smiled wide. “I sure did. Em, could you help me with the plates?”
    Emily rose, unsure about leaving Rafa alone with her father, but unwilling to refuse her mom. She gathered the dirty plates, then followed her mom into the