Read Online Along the Broken Road by Heather Burch - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Heather Burch
Ads: Link
basil?”
Edward turned and glared.
“I love tinkering around in the kitchen. If you’d like, I can swing by on your next meal shift and maybe we can concoct some more original dishes.”
Charlee spun to look at the other table, where wide-eyed artists seemed more than a bit off guard. Wilma’s and Wynona’s heads tilted like lilting boats while Edward looked almost relieved he’d have help in the kitchen. “If you like cooking so much, take my shift,” he said.
Ian leaned back in his seat. “Nah, it’ll be more fun if we do it together.”
When Edward sighed and turned away, Charlee scrutinized the soldier before her. His dark eyes filled with amusement; his lips spread into that dangerous half grin. His hands pressed flat against the table. He’d managed to uproot and undo not only Edward, but the other artists as well. Except Gruber, who just seemed bored with the whole thing. Finally, those dark eyes broke their hold on her and he winked. “Don’t worry. I can cook.”
“Aren’t you tricky?” she whispered back. “I believe your CO would be very proud of you right now.”
One blink. Two. Ian’s gaze moving to the horizon, then far away. His mouth—full of mischief moments ago—lay lax now, slightly open. She watched as the light in his eyes dimmed. The mischief faded, being replaced by something darker, deeper, and if Charlee wasn’t wrong, much more painful.
The pain of a soldier come home.
Did people really know the sacrifice these men made? Ian was damaged. Of that, she was sure, but how damaged? She hoped one summer could repair the hurt. He had a right to enjoy a life free of the sorrows of war.
Her thoughts shifted to her brothers on foreign soil serving their country. Becoming damaged. Would they return with the same ghosts she saw in Ian’s eyes? Would they all return home?
It was a moment before she realized her hand had warmed. Charlee glanced down to see Ian’s hand gently covering hers.
He whispered, “Are you okay, Charlee?”
No. She wasn’t okay. She was a woman who’d lived her dream, only to discover she wasn’t sure it was what she still wanted—and if she didn’t do this, who would take care of the Mr. Grubers of the world? She was an orphan. She was a girl who prayed every night her brothers would make it home and a girl who worried they wouldn’t.
In her own way, she was a soldier. And she was damaged.
Without answering, Charlee rose from the chair. Fear and love drove her across the dance floor, across the yard and around the corner where a tree-lined path led to the sanctuary of her front porch. When she reached the steps, tears stung her eyes because she’d been foolish to think she could have a soldier living on her property without feeling his pain—her brothers’ pain—every day. She loved her brothers, bullheaded as they were. Charlee had convinced herself they’d all come home. Jeremiah was stateside, but that still left the other three. Her dad had died in combat last year. In her mind, her family had given enough. But now she knew there were parts of a soldier that never came home. There were things they left there, on the battleground, things one could never get back.
Charlee continued to cry as she entered her dark house. She cried for her brothers. And she cried for the innocence they’d never have again. When her eyes fell on the urn sitting on the fireplace mantel, she wanted to throw something at it. Don’t you know I’m not equipped for this? I can’t hold a family together when they’re halfway around the world and you’re . . . you’re gone . The kitchen light shone against the smooth porcelain of the urn. No answer from it, no reassurance. Charlee headed to bed without bothering to lock her front door. There was no reason. No one came out here. She was alone.
“I’m not sure what I said.” Ian retraced it in his mind as he stood from the table and moved to the four onlookers. Mortified that Charlee had run away and
Edward turned and glared.
“I love tinkering around in the kitchen. If you’d like, I can swing by on your next meal shift and maybe we can concoct some more original dishes.”
Charlee spun to look at the other table, where wide-eyed artists seemed more than a bit off guard. Wilma’s and Wynona’s heads tilted like lilting boats while Edward looked almost relieved he’d have help in the kitchen. “If you like cooking so much, take my shift,” he said.
Ian leaned back in his seat. “Nah, it’ll be more fun if we do it together.”
When Edward sighed and turned away, Charlee scrutinized the soldier before her. His dark eyes filled with amusement; his lips spread into that dangerous half grin. His hands pressed flat against the table. He’d managed to uproot and undo not only Edward, but the other artists as well. Except Gruber, who just seemed bored with the whole thing. Finally, those dark eyes broke their hold on her and he winked. “Don’t worry. I can cook.”
“Aren’t you tricky?” she whispered back. “I believe your CO would be very proud of you right now.”
One blink. Two. Ian’s gaze moving to the horizon, then far away. His mouth—full of mischief moments ago—lay lax now, slightly open. She watched as the light in his eyes dimmed. The mischief faded, being replaced by something darker, deeper, and if Charlee wasn’t wrong, much more painful.
The pain of a soldier come home.
Did people really know the sacrifice these men made? Ian was damaged. Of that, she was sure, but how damaged? She hoped one summer could repair the hurt. He had a right to enjoy a life free of the sorrows of war.
Her thoughts shifted to her brothers on foreign soil serving their country. Becoming damaged. Would they return with the same ghosts she saw in Ian’s eyes? Would they all return home?
It was a moment before she realized her hand had warmed. Charlee glanced down to see Ian’s hand gently covering hers.
He whispered, “Are you okay, Charlee?”
No. She wasn’t okay. She was a woman who’d lived her dream, only to discover she wasn’t sure it was what she still wanted—and if she didn’t do this, who would take care of the Mr. Grubers of the world? She was an orphan. She was a girl who prayed every night her brothers would make it home and a girl who worried they wouldn’t.
In her own way, she was a soldier. And she was damaged.
Without answering, Charlee rose from the chair. Fear and love drove her across the dance floor, across the yard and around the corner where a tree-lined path led to the sanctuary of her front porch. When she reached the steps, tears stung her eyes because she’d been foolish to think she could have a soldier living on her property without feeling his pain—her brothers’ pain—every day. She loved her brothers, bullheaded as they were. Charlee had convinced herself they’d all come home. Jeremiah was stateside, but that still left the other three. Her dad had died in combat last year. In her mind, her family had given enough. But now she knew there were parts of a soldier that never came home. There were things they left there, on the battleground, things one could never get back.
Charlee continued to cry as she entered her dark house. She cried for her brothers. And she cried for the innocence they’d never have again. When her eyes fell on the urn sitting on the fireplace mantel, she wanted to throw something at it. Don’t you know I’m not equipped for this? I can’t hold a family together when they’re halfway around the world and you’re . . . you’re gone . The kitchen light shone against the smooth porcelain of the urn. No answer from it, no reassurance. Charlee headed to bed without bothering to lock her front door. There was no reason. No one came out here. She was alone.
“I’m not sure what I said.” Ian retraced it in his mind as he stood from the table and moved to the four onlookers. Mortified that Charlee had run away and
Similar Books
