regular paycheck and the bonuses. Loved being deployed. Some guys sat around and moped. Not Sam. He was the guy who stayed focused. Reminded us why we were there. Found a way to make us laugh.” Chaz stopped, staring up at the Incline. “He’s missed. A lot.”
“Did Sam ever talk about family?”
“No. He wasn’t much of a talker. And when it’s all about the mission, you don’t ask questions.”
Chaz’s answer didn’t surprise him, even as it burrowed deep into the ache inside his chest. “Listen, I know you need to get going.” He stuck his hand out, shaking hands with the other man. “Thanks for this—for telling me about Sam.”
Chaz shrugged into his CamelBak. “No problem.”
“Have a good hike.”
“Always do. Sam used to tear the Incline up. Never knew anyone who could keep up with him.”
Chaz strolled toward the trailhead. It was as if the man had handed him a half dozen puzzle pieces, each one showing him a new facet of his brother. But when he tried to assemble them, there were huge gaps that left an incomplete picture.
eight
H aley wanted to go home—but escape was impossible with the grip Claire had on her hand.
If Haley allowed her emotions to have their way, she would abandon the childbirth class and go lock herself in the house, sit on the couch with a bowl of mint chocolate-chip ice cream covered in chocolate sprinkles, and let the tears flow while she ate until the spoon clanked on the bottom of the dish. And she’d keep the container nearby for seconds and thirds—and cry some more.
“Let go.” Haley leaned close to her friend, tugging her hand away. “I can’t feel my fingers.”
“Then stop looking at the front door like you’re going to bolt.” Claire whispered her warning through her lip-glossed smile, even as she released Haley’s hand with a warning don’t-go-anywhere pat.
“I’m staying.”
What choice did she have? Sam’s son was arriving in less than three months, and she needed to learn all the tricks tosurvive labor and delivery. Faking it wasn’t an option. She had the “making babies” technique down, but birthing them? Other than that it involved pushing at the end, not a clue.
The ebb and flow of voices seemed to hedge Haley in as other couples—each the appropriate husband-and-wife set—followed the instructor’s request to introduce themselves and say when their baby was due. A twentysomething couple who should have been stamped “Too adorable to live.” A soft-spoken couple in their late thirties who looked a bit stunned to be attending the class. A Latino couple who were expecting triplets. Triplets. When the wife announced it, the husband grinned, even as his skin paled. Only she and Claire were the odd women out. Who knew what the other class members thought about them?
Claire’s nudge drew a too-loud “What?” from Haley.
Her friend repeated her whisper-through-a-smile performance, speaking out of the side of her mouth. “Are you going to introduce us?”
“Oh. Sure.” Haley focused on the instructor, Lily, who looked more like a yoga teacher in her black leggings and long white blouse accessorized with a flowing, multicolored scarf. Best to just say it. Fast. Pretend she was reading the ingredients on the side of a box of cereal. “I’m Haley Ames. This is my friend Claire O’Dea. She’s going to be my coach for labor and delivery, because my husband, Sam, was killed in Afghanistan about five months ago.”
Haley braced herself for the murmurs that followed the seconds of silence. She didn’t catch what they said. Probably “Oh no!” or “I’m so sorry.” That’s what people usually said. While the direct delivery was easiest for her, it left other people groping for some sort of adequate response.
As if there was one. If she had been on their side of the conversation, she wouldn’t have known what to say, either.
Lily took control, welcoming everyone and turning their attention to the handouts. “The
“Did Sam ever talk about family?”
“No. He wasn’t much of a talker. And when it’s all about the mission, you don’t ask questions.”
Chaz’s answer didn’t surprise him, even as it burrowed deep into the ache inside his chest. “Listen, I know you need to get going.” He stuck his hand out, shaking hands with the other man. “Thanks for this—for telling me about Sam.”
Chaz shrugged into his CamelBak. “No problem.”
“Have a good hike.”
“Always do. Sam used to tear the Incline up. Never knew anyone who could keep up with him.”
Chaz strolled toward the trailhead. It was as if the man had handed him a half dozen puzzle pieces, each one showing him a new facet of his brother. But when he tried to assemble them, there were huge gaps that left an incomplete picture.
eight
H aley wanted to go home—but escape was impossible with the grip Claire had on her hand.
If Haley allowed her emotions to have their way, she would abandon the childbirth class and go lock herself in the house, sit on the couch with a bowl of mint chocolate-chip ice cream covered in chocolate sprinkles, and let the tears flow while she ate until the spoon clanked on the bottom of the dish. And she’d keep the container nearby for seconds and thirds—and cry some more.
“Let go.” Haley leaned close to her friend, tugging her hand away. “I can’t feel my fingers.”
“Then stop looking at the front door like you’re going to bolt.” Claire whispered her warning through her lip-glossed smile, even as she released Haley’s hand with a warning don’t-go-anywhere pat.
“I’m staying.”
What choice did she have? Sam’s son was arriving in less than three months, and she needed to learn all the tricks tosurvive labor and delivery. Faking it wasn’t an option. She had the “making babies” technique down, but birthing them? Other than that it involved pushing at the end, not a clue.
The ebb and flow of voices seemed to hedge Haley in as other couples—each the appropriate husband-and-wife set—followed the instructor’s request to introduce themselves and say when their baby was due. A twentysomething couple who should have been stamped “Too adorable to live.” A soft-spoken couple in their late thirties who looked a bit stunned to be attending the class. A Latino couple who were expecting triplets. Triplets. When the wife announced it, the husband grinned, even as his skin paled. Only she and Claire were the odd women out. Who knew what the other class members thought about them?
Claire’s nudge drew a too-loud “What?” from Haley.
Her friend repeated her whisper-through-a-smile performance, speaking out of the side of her mouth. “Are you going to introduce us?”
“Oh. Sure.” Haley focused on the instructor, Lily, who looked more like a yoga teacher in her black leggings and long white blouse accessorized with a flowing, multicolored scarf. Best to just say it. Fast. Pretend she was reading the ingredients on the side of a box of cereal. “I’m Haley Ames. This is my friend Claire O’Dea. She’s going to be my coach for labor and delivery, because my husband, Sam, was killed in Afghanistan about five months ago.”
Haley braced herself for the murmurs that followed the seconds of silence. She didn’t catch what they said. Probably “Oh no!” or “I’m so sorry.” That’s what people usually said. While the direct delivery was easiest for her, it left other people groping for some sort of adequate response.
As if there was one. If she had been on their side of the conversation, she wouldn’t have known what to say, either.
Lily took control, welcoming everyone and turning their attention to the handouts. “The
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