Page 39 of His Wounded Heart

Shivers go down my spine. I’d met some men who’d served in the fifth during Vietnam. They were the most highly decorated regiment. Jesus, the battles they’d fought were unbelievable. When I’d been stuck in the middle of the Afghan mountains I’d sometimes think about the men who’d fought battles like the Tet Offensive, and here I was talking to one of those men.

“I’d like to shake your hand,” I say.

“I’d like it more if you’d come inside and share some of the chutney with me, if there’s some kind of bread in that truck for me.”

“There’s definitely bread. Trenda made sure to get you loaded up.”

“All those kids turned out good. None of us could figure out how, but they did.” He turns around and walks back into his cabin, leaving the door open.

“That’s not the same man I talked to last year,” Trenda says. “I hate that about PTSD. It makes people’s loved ones feel like they’re walking in a minefield, never knowing when a bomb is going to go off.”

I look over at her. “You know about that?”

“Yeah, one of the men that Drake serves with has struggled with PTSD. Another had a TBI. Both of them are doing well now, but I’ve talked to both of their wives. It wasn’t an easy path. I doubt I could have handled it.”

“I’m positive you could have. Now don’t try to jump down yourself, wait for me to come get you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, Sir.”

Before I get out of the truck I pull my windbreaker from the backseat and hand it to her. “Put this on so you don’t get wet on the trip into Azariah’s cabin.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Chapter Ten

I jump at the sharp bite of thunder that rattles the cabin. Simon doesn’t even flinch.

“I don’t know why Bertha didn’t just call Renzo,” Azariah says right before he takes another big bite of a chutney-covered roll. “He answers his sat phone when it’s either one of us. He told me outright that he’s not answering it for anyone else.”

I wanted to ask why, but that has nothing to do with finding the man and making sure he gets to safety before this storm really gets bad. I watch as Azariah’s hand shakes when he pulls his satellite phone out of his pocket. His tremors have gotten a lot more noticeable since the last time I was here. He needs to get in and see a doctor.

It’s painful watching him scroll through his phone before he finds Renzo’s number. I want to help him. Simon must have seen my inner debate because he catches my eye and gives a slight shake of his head. He is probably right; trying to help Azariah will be a hit to his pride.

“Renzo,” Azariah starts the call. “I’m sending two people your way.”

The older man frowns. “Hold on. Hold on.” He looks at Simon and me. “You can make it so both of you can hear him talk, too. Right?”

Simon nods, and Azariah hands him the phone. Simon presses a button and the phone goes on speaker.

“I don’t want any damned visitors, Aza.”

“Don’t care if you want ‘em or not. I’m sending them your way. Today the tremors are bad so I can’t get to you, so I’m sending a Navy man your way to drag your sorry ass to my house.”

“If I wanted to go to your house, I would already be there. What do you mean your tremors are bad? I told you, we need to get you in to see a doctor.” I can’t tell if the man is annoyed or concerned. Maybe he’s both.

“I’ve seen enough doctors to last three lifetimes. I ain’t going.” Azariah complains.

“And I ain’t going to your house, and if you send visitors, I won’t be here. We clear?”

“Are you two related?” I ask the old man.

Azariah chuckles.

“Who’s that?” Renzo asks belligerently.

“That’d be one of your rescuers. She’s really pretty. I think you should let yourself be rescued. If I was your age, I’d definitely let her play at being my nurse.”