"Finding Home" Cover

So, here's the cover to my next book, "Finding Home".  It's a Home Series novel that tells the story of Brandon and Mandy and takes place during the same time as "Carry Me Home".  It should be out soon!

Chapter One of "Finding Home" (Brandon & Mandy's story)

The first draft of Finding Home, the fifth book in The Home Series is done!  It is a companion novel to Carry Me Home and takes place at the same time as book three.  It tells the story of how Brandon & Mandy come together and it also sets up for the last Home book, which will tell Gracie's (Jesse & Riley's daughter) story.  I've always liked Brandon and Mandy as secondary characters and I've had fun writing a story where they're the focus.  It should be available in full very soon.  Until then...here's a sneak peek at the first chapter. (Please forgive any tyops...this draft is still ROUGH!)  Thanks!  

Finding Home

The Home Series: Book Five 

One

Summer in Kansas is hot.  Not just hot, but blazing hot, and muggy too.  The sun beats down relentlessly until you think your skin might boil, like literally peel off.  Sometimes I thought about what it would be like to live somewhere else…someplace cool or at least not as humid.  Humidity was not a friend to my wavy blonde hair.  It either made it frizz like I’d stuck my finger in a light socket or coil up like Shirley Temple.  Either way, it was one more trait to add to the very long list of my undesirable ones.  My thighs had always been too thick, tree trunks I called them, and while some girls would dream of a chest like mine, I’d always hated it.  It wasn’t huge, but it was definitely more ample than I would’ve picked for myself.  They were just a pain, a nuisance really, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it, unless, of course, I decided on a breast reduction someday and I was too much of a baby to undergo voluntary surgery. 

I was short too.  Not freakishly short, but short enough to make me look like a box and prevent me from being able to reach things on the top shelf of the grocery store, or my own kitchen cabinets for that matter, as I was doing at the moment.  I was on my tippy-toes, stretching as far as I could for a Tupperware container on the top shelf.  I finally gave up though and slid a stool over.  I grabbed a dish, but I knew it’d be a miracle if I actually found a matching lid.  I felt a bead of sweat slide down between my boobs and I just sighed.  The damn heat.  Our overworked air conditioner was having a heck of time trying to keep up and it didn’t help matters that I’d had the oven going at 400 degrees for the past thirty minutes.  The kitchen felt more like a sweat lodge and I hoped maybe the sweltering heat would melt some of the fat from my thighs. 

I finally found a lid and climbed off the stool just as the timer went off.

The cookies looked awesome, just like I knew they would, when I pulled them from the oven.  The melting chocolate chips had that delicious gleam you can only see just as they’re done baking and they hit the air outside of the oven.  I wanted to bite into one right away to see that gooey chocolate string clinging desperately between the piece in my mouth and the remainder being pulled away by my hand.  I couldn’t do that though because these cookies were for Brandon, not for me. 

They needed to cool before I could put them away so I went over to the sink to clean up my mess before my parents got home from another one of their activities at church.  They were sticklers for order, and everything else for that matter, and if they saw a mess after one of my baking ventures, they’d probably ban me for life from the kitchen.  I just sighed as I scrubbed the mixing bowl I’d used and set it in the drain pan.  I hated living at home still.  I’d just turned twenty-one and I prayed soon I’d be able to get my own place.  It didn’t have to be anything fancy, but at least it’d be away from their tyranny.  I’d always been described as the funny girl, the ditzy girl who made people laugh and it was sometimes hard to keep my positive outlook with two parents who could only be described as sticks in the mud.

“Why’s it so hot in here?” I turned from the sink to see my younger sister, Shay, walk inside.  She looked annoyed and hot as she set her violin case on the table. 

“Sorry.  I just finished baking cookies,” I said, turning back to my dishes as she walked over to the fridge and took a long swig of orange juice straight from the container. 

“It’s like 100 degrees out there. I thought I’d get some relief in here.  The air conditioning is broken at Mr. Fielding’s house,” she said, referring to her violin teacher.  Shay had practice twice a week with him.  She was an amazing violinist, but I never knew if she actually liked playing or if she just stuck with it because our parents basically made her.  There was no denying my sister was gifted musically and they were determined to see her do something with it and actually make something of herself, unlike me: a lowly waitress and community college student who’d probably die in Carver. 

“I said I was sorry.”

“You know how miserable it gets in here when you bake, Mandy,” Shay continued to groan and I had to bite my tongue. 

“What do you want me to do, Shay?  I can’t undo the baking.”

“Why are you baking cookies, anyway?” She walked over and grabbed one from the cookie sheet before I could stop her. 

“They’re for Brandon,” I said and she nodded.

“That totally sucks what happened to him.”

“It more than sucks,” I said, looking over to my sister.  I don’t think she understood what he was dealing with.  I didn’t really expect her to though, being sixteen and completely consumed with her own life.  She’d always been like that though.  I loved my sister, but she pretty much thought the sun and the moon revolved around her and could rarely be bothered to concern herself with the troubles of others. 

“Is he okay?” she asked and I was surprised at the concern on her face. 

“He says he is.  I’ve only seen him once since he’s been home.  His mom invited me over for dinner tonight though.”

“Hence, the cookies,” she said, grabbing another one, but this time I slapped her hand and she dropped it. “I’m gonna go take a shower to get all this nasty off me.  You’d better pick up this mess or you know Mom and Dad are gonna kick your butt.”

She disappeared upstairs and I was glad to see her go as I finished up the dishes; washing, drying, and putting everything away in its place.  I put the cookies in the Tupperware and turned to look at the kitchen.  Sparking clean, just like my parents expected.

It was almost five o’clock and Mrs. Seaver asked me to be there at five-thirty.  I needed a shower too, but Shay was still hogging the bathroom we had to share.  There was another bathroom in my parents’ room, but we’d never been allowed to use it.  I settled for body spray that smelled like cucumbers and melons to freshen up and I changed into a white sundress.  Looking in the mirror, I realized my hair was hopeless.   If I pulled it up, it’d look like a giant puff ball, so I chose to leave it down instead, long and curly  to the middle of my back, running some argon oil over it, hoping to tame some of the fly-aways.  I went back downstairs, grabbed the cookies and went outside to my crappy car, a 2001 white Honda Civic.  I’d scrounged up enough money to buy it a few years ago and even though it had nearly 200,000 miles and was in desperate need of a paint job, it got me where I needed to go and that, along with the fact that the a/c worked, was all that mattered.  I turned it on, put it in drive and headed to Brandon’s house.

Brandon Seaver had been one of my best friends practically my entire life.  I doubted anyone had a group of friends better than mine, which made it even harder when they all left.  For the most part, we’d known each other since kindergarten.  The only exception was Riley.  She’d shown up during our senior year from Boston.  She was one of those girls who you see walking down the street and instantly makes you feel like a troll.  She was tall with one of those perfect bodies that almost makes you sick…thin with just enough curves to keep her from looking like one of those airbrushed freaky models you see in magazines.  Her thick dark hair that hung down her back and olive skin set her apart from everyone else in Carver.  There was no denying she was stuck-up at first, but I liked her for some reason and she ended up fitting in with our group, especially after she and Jesse got together. 

Jesse was another story entirely.  He was probably the most decent guy I’d ever met and just like Riley, too good looking for his own good.  Once they ended up together, I pretty much thought they’d get married someday and have ridiculously beautiful children with the world’s most perfect hair and live happily ever after.  However, happily ever after they lived not.  The summer after graduation changed everything.  His dad died unexpectedly and Jesse changed.  We all watched as he spiraled into someone we didn’t know, eventually joining the Marines and breaking Riley’s heart.  We hadn’t seen him since.

Shortly after Jesse left, Riley and Holly headed to K-State.  Holly was probably the most grounded one of our group.  She’d always been that way though.  Friendly and accepting, which is how Riley ended up with us in the first place.

Laura stayed around for the first year after graduation, going to the community college with me, but then she got the itch to hightail it out of Carver and picked up and moved in with her cousin in Tulsa.  I was sad to see Laura go since she was all that remained in Carver of our group, but I didn’t miss her as much as the others.  She loved to point out my mistakes or roll her eyes at one of the many stupid things I was known to say.  I knew I was an airhead.  Everyone knew that, but Laura liked to draw attention to it.  All.The.Time.  It was annoying, so when she moved to Tulsa, I was kinda relieved, although I’d never tell anyone that.

And then there was Brandon.  He was the first to leave.  He’d joined the army and I still missed his stupid jokes.  He was one of those people you don’t know why you’re friends with, but also can’t imagine not having in your life.  He was crude, inappropriate, and tactless, but also totally hilarious.  He made me laugh like no one else, so when I got the call that he’d been injured in a roadside attack in Afghanistan and lost his leg, I was devastated.

That had been almost a year ago and now he was finally home. 

I don’t know why I was so nervous when I pulled up to his house.  It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen Brandon since he’d been home.  Riley and I had come to see him about a week before and it had been easier than I thought it would be.  Maybe I was nervous now because I was here by myself or maybe it was because I knew I’d probably say something stupid.  I always did.  It was what I was known for.  I’d open my mouth and say something, not realizing it was probably not the best choice of words once they were out and couldn’t be taken back.  I always told myself I had to stop being such an idiot, but I knew it was probably something I’d never be able to change. 

Pushing the nerves aside, I grabbed the cookies and walked up to the front door.  I’d always liked coming to Brandon’s house.  It was yellow and cheery and the yellow ribbon tied around the porch railing was still there.  Mrs. Seaver had put it there when Brandon left for his first tour in Afghanistan and I wondered if she’d take it down now that he was home. 

Mrs. Seaver was like the mom everyone dreamed of having, like one of the mother’s from the old black and white TV shows, definitely the polar opposite of my own mother.  She was always happy and she never raised her voice, which was a feat in itself considering her son was one of the most obnoxious people I’d ever met.  He was always saying something inappropriate and Mrs. Seaver would just shake her head and ignore him.  I think she had to do that to keep her sanity. 

I’d come over and visit with her sometimes after he left for the army, especially after his accident.  It was hard watching her because she was so scared for Brandon.  I never saw her cry though.  She came close, but I think she was trying to save her tears because like she’d told me on more than one occasion, at least her son was alive. 

I rang the doorbell and she greeted me, smiling like always.

“Mandy, honey,” she said, pulling me in for a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for having me.  Here,” I said, handing her the Tupperware. “I made these.  Oatmeal chocolate chip.”

“You didn’t have to do that, but thank you,” she said as I stepped inside.  I loved this house.  It was always so put together, but not so much that it didn’t seem lived in like in my own house.  It always smelled good too. Today, it smelled like lemons. 

I could hear chatter and laughter and I don’t know why, but it made me smile.  It was just so different than my own house.  I followed Mrs. Seaver down the hall and when we reached the kitchen, I was greeted by Brandon’s whole family.  I hadn’t seen them all together in a long time.  Brandon’s two sisters were a lot older than us, so I didn’t know them very well.  Brandon always told us the age difference between him and sisters was so big because his parents realized the older his sisters got, the more disappointed they were and decided they needed to try once more to obtain perfection.  He insisted they hadn’t had any more children after him because they had achieved that perfection.  I knew he’d been kidding, but knowing Brandon, I also figured part of him actually believed it. 

They were all together though now and I noticed how happy they all seemed.  Brandon sat on the couch, his little nephew on his lap, while his sister, Jennifer and her husband took up the remaining cushions.  His other sister, Nicole, was pouring a drink and Mr. Seaver was leaning against the counter, dipping a carrot into ranch dressing.  They all looked at me when I walked in and the way his sisters smiled at me helped ease my nerves, but when Brandon smiled at me, I finally relaxed. 

He seemed so much like the Brandon I’d always known, even though inside, he had to be very different, even if he was acting like he wasn’t.  His light brown hair was cut shorter than he’d ever worn it before joining the army and he still had the pretty blue eyes I’d always envied.  Any girl would kill for his thick eyelashes and he hated when I’d tease him about them.  When he saw me, his mouth curled up into a smirk.  Not a bad smirk, but a Brandon smirk.  That was just how he was.  Sarcastic and annoying, but very loveable too.

“Hi,” I said cheerfully, waving to everyone.

They all greeted me back and his sisters came over and hugged me.  I settled into the recliner next to the couch. 

“Couldn’t pass up a free meal?” Brandon said, leaning over to me after his nephew had bolted from his lap to go watch cartoons on his tablet. 

“Your mom invited me,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. “She likes me, even if you don’t.  I can go if you want me to.”

“Hey,” he said in the typical over dramatic Brandon fashion. “I like you.  You make good cookies and stuff.  Is that what I saw in my mom’s hands?” I nodded and he smiled. “Then you can definitely stay.”

“You only want me for my cookies?” I asked and he started laughing. “What?”

“Sounds a little dirty, don’t you think?” I just rolled my eyes and started laughing too, suddenly relaxing.  This was the Brandon I’d always known and he was back and I don’t think I could ever recall a time I was happier.

****

Dinner was delicious and sitting around the table with Brandon’s family was even nicer than I’d expected.  I knew they were all relieved to have him home and safe and they went around the table telling funny stories from their childhood.  I couldn’t stop laughing when Jennifer showed me a picture of Brandon all dolled up in a dress and high heels, complete with a strand of pearls and bright red lipstick.  He looked about three-years-old and his sisters appeared to have had a great time playing dress up with their little brother.  While we were all laughing, Brandon looked annoyed, but he just ignored us. 

His sisters left shortly after dinner.  They both lived in Wichita and had to get home.  I helped Mrs. Seaver clean up while Brandon and his dad played a game of table tennis on the back porch.  When we were done, we joined them outside just as they were finishing their game.  Brandon moved so easily, shifting his weight effortlessly between each foot as he hit the ball back and forth.  You’d never know just by looking at him that his left leg was missing from the knee down. 

I hadn’t known what to expect when Riley and I first came to see him the week before.  He was wearing jeans then too, but after he caught Riley staring at the denim caving in around the prosthesis, he’d shown it to us.  I could still see the silly grin he’d had on his face as he sat in the living room, him in the recliner and Riley and me across from him.

Wanna see it? He’d said and then, before we could respond, he’d lifted up his pant leg, revealing the prosthesis.  He’d tapped it and said, This thing is state of the art.  The best there is out there.  I’m practically normal wearing this thing.  And watching him now, he did seem perfectly normal. 

Brandon cheered excitedly as he smacked the ball across the table.  It zoomed past his dad and landed in a potted plant a few feet away and Brandon slammed his paddle down in victory. 

“I’m calling it quits,” his dad said, admitting defeat by placing his paddle down on the table.

“You don’t want a rematch, Dad?” Brandon taunted as he walked past his dad and fished the ping pong ball out of the plant.

“No, son, I do not.  I’d rather have a gin and tonic.” He patted Brandon on the back and then pulled him in for a quick hug before heading into the house.  

“What about you, Mandy?  Can I interest you in a game?” Brandon asked me and I nodded, standing up and taking the paddle Mr. Seaver had left on the table. “Just be prepared to have your ass handed to you.”

“Brandon.  Watch the language,” Mrs. Seaver said and she shot him a warning look.  She hated when he used bad language and I couldn’t help but think it was a good thing she couldn’t hear him when she wasn’t around.  I was surprised Brandon hadn’t joined the navy because he could definitely put a sailor to shame.

“Sorry, Mandy.  Be prepared to have your hiney handed to you.”

“I don’t know why I even bother.” Mrs. Seaver sighed and headed inside, but not before kissing him on the cheek. 

“I see you haven’t changed much,” I said as Brandon rolled the ball to me so I could serve. “Still as sarcastic as ever.”

“Would you want me to change?” He raised an eyebrow at me and I shook my head.

“You are one of the biggest pains in the butts I’ve ever met, but I wouldn’t change you.”

“Good answer, Mand.”

“Did you expect anything less, Brand?” I grinned and then hit the ball to him, which he promptly hit back with such force I didn’t even attempt to hit it back and I watched as it bounced away into the grass.

“C’mon, Mandy!  You didn’t even try,” he groaned and I laid the paddle down and held up my hands in defeat, setting it back down.

“Because I suck.  I’m not gonna stand here and get annihilated and listen to your trash talking.”

“I wouldn’t trash talk you,” he said, following me and sitting down.

“You would.  You trash talk everyone.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I’ve known you since we were five.”

“But you’ve hardly seen me in the last three years.  Perhaps I’ve changed.”

“You haven’t changed,” I laughed. “You’re still the same jackass you’ve always been.”

“Hey,” he said, jerking his head back. “That offends me, Mandy.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Why don’t you show some respect?  I am a wounded war veteran and a crippled one at that.” I cringed, thinking I might’ve actually offended him, but when I looked over and he was grinning one of his stupid grins and I knew he wasn’t.

“You’re so full of crap, Brandon.”

“I won’t deny that,” he said and then it got quiet for a moment before he looked at me, his eyebrow raising and his head cocked to the side. “Wanna go for a ride?”

“Where to?”

“I dunno.  I’ve been cooped up here since I got home and I just wanna get out.”

“Okay,” I said, standing up.  I watched as Brandon stood up.  He stumbled a little bit once he was on his feet, but I doubt I would’ve noticed had I not been looking for it. 

“Lemme just grab my wallet,” he said and I followed him inside and down the hall to his room.  I knew Mrs. Seaver had changed it into a guest room pretty quickly after he left for the army, but I had to hold back my laughter when I saw it.  I had a hard time imaging Brandon sleeping in it.  Brandon’s room had been covered in football posters and bikini models.  His bed was never made and it usually smelled too. There was always this mystery aroma about it and then Brandon would look under the bed and find a half-eaten sandwich or an apple core or something, discovering the source of the stench.  He was a definite slob and the room now was a far cry from what I’d remembered.  The bed was covered in a frilly floral quilt and there was a fake flower arrangement sitting on a doily in the window.  It smelled good too, like lavender. 

“Nice room,” I snickered as he slid his wallet into his back pocket. 

“Zip it, Mandy,” he glared.

“It’s very masculine,” I continued and he eventually cracked a smile. 

“I’m surprised at you.  You were always the nice one of our group.”

“Still am.”

He didn’t say anything else as he walked by and after we said goodbye to his parents, we headed outside to my car. 

“I see you’re still driving this P.O.S.,” he said, pulling on the handle and sitting down in the passenger seat.

“And I see you’re still not driving anything,” I smirked as I started my P.O.S. and pulled out of the driveway.

“Well played, Miss Dalton,” he said and I glanced over to him quickly.  He was smiling at me and I smiled back. 

“Where’re we headed?”

“Just drive,” he said, rolling down the window and then reaching down to the radio dial and cranking up the volume. 

I did as he said and just kept driving.  Brandon leaned his head back, the warm summer air blowing over his skin.  His eyes were closed, but there was a little smile on his face.  He looked content and I wondered what he was thinking about.

“Are you okay?” I finally asked.

“Yeah.The wind just feels good.  It was so damn hot today,” he sighed and then he breathed in deeply. “I’ve missed the way Kansas smells.”

 I inhaled as well, but all I smelled was the musty upholstery of my old car.

“And how exactly does Kansas smell?”

“Like home,” he said, taking in another deep breath and I don’t know why, but I got choked up at his words.  I’d never left home so I’d never had a chance to miss it.  Brandon had though and he’d almost never got the chance to come home again. 

We drove silently for a while until I pulled the car up to Slate Creek.  There were a few other cars there, which didn’t surprise me.  Entertainment was scarce in Carver and we resorted to sitting in parked cars as ways to have fun.  We used to come to Slate Creek a lot.  There’s nothing really special about it, just picnic tables along the creek.  Creek was actually a deceptive word, because it was more like a small river that eventually poured into Rome Lake.  What I loved about it was the small waterfall that spanned the length of the creek.  Water spilled over the slate rocks making the black rocks smooth and shiny.

I stopped the car once we’d got to the edge of the creek and turned off the engine, but left the key turned a notch so the radio stayed on.  Brandon reached down and turned it up when he heard the beginning of Eric Church’s Give Me Back My Hometown. 

“I love this song,” he said, tapping his finger to the beat on his thigh.  I watched as he bobbed his head and started singing along, his voice surprisingly good.  “These sleepy street lights on every sidewalk, side street, shed a light on everything that used to be. Give me back my hometown.  This is my hometown.  His foot started tapping too and then he reached over to the knob and turned up the volume even more before stepping out of the car without saying a word.  He walked in front of the car and then stopped by my door, opening it and holding his hand out to me.

“I feel like dancing,” he said and I just looked up at him and started laughing.

“Well, I don’t.”

“C’mon,” he whined and reached down for my hand. “You can’t turn a guy down.” I looked up at him and just shook my head. “C’mon, Mandy.  Dance with me.”

“In front of all these people?”

“All these people?  There are like three cars here.  And what does it matter anyway?  You’ve gotta live for now because you don’t know if you’re gonna have a tomorrow.”

He had his usual lighthearted grin on his face, but there was a sincerity behind his blue eyes that told me he meant what he said, and I relented, placing my hand in his and stepping out of the car.  Before I had a chance to compose myself, his hand wrapped around me and he pulled me to him so close, we were touching.  I cringed thinking about my chest pressed against him, but he didn’t seem to mind as he took my hand with his free one and started swaying to the beat.  He seemed light on his feet.  I don’t know why it surprised me.  I guess I just didn’t expect him to move the way he did.  I had no frame of reference though.  I’d never danced with Brandon.  We’d gone to a few dances in high school as a group together, but in all that time, he’d never asked me to dance.  I wasn’t the kind of girl boys asked to dance, especially not guys like Brandon.  I knew the kind of girls he liked…the impossibly beautiful ones.  That definitely wasn’t me. 

“When did you become such a good dancer?” he asked as spun me, pulling me back to him. 

“I’ve always been a good dancer.  You just never took the time to notice,” I said playfully and he smiled, spinning me again.

“My loss.”  He smiled at me and for the next couple of minutes we just danced and it felt good to be this close to him after I’d feared I’d never see him again.  I was disappointed when the song started to fade and was replaced by a commercial for the local Ford dealership.  He let me go and leaned into the window, turning down the volume so the announcer’s voice was barely audible. “I listened to that song a lot when I was in the hospital.  I can’t believe I actually missed this shithole.”

“Why am I the only person who doesn’t hate Carver?” I asked as we started walking towards the creek, stopping on the edge and sitting down.  I slid my sandals off and put my feet in the water, kicking my feet gently so it splashed up at us.  Brandon was still standing and when I looked up, I suddenly felt guilty that I could dip my toes in the water.  I hadn’t given it a second thought, but now that I was, my feet stopped.

“I don’t hate Carver.” He sat down next to me, but then leaned back onto the grass, resting his hands behind his head and staring up at the sky.  I leaned back too.

“Since when?  You wanted to get out of this town worse than anybody.”

“Since I almost didn’t come home.”

The quiet that settled between us was uncomfortable and I turned my head toward him.  He was still looking up at the sky and I felt a knot form in my throat. 

“I’m sorry.  I always say the wrong thing.”

My voice was quiet, but he turned his head so our eyes met and his lips curled into a little smile.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” I insisted. “I just open my mouth and it comes spewing out.  I’m the queen of word vomit.  You’d think I would’ve outgrown it by now.”

“I hope you never outgrow it.  It’s actually one of the things I love most about you.”  I don’t know why, but I felt my cheeks redden and I looked away, my eyes staring up at the stars again. 

“I was afraid you were gonna die,” I said softly and then I felt his hand take mine.  It was warm and surprisingly soft. 

“Me too.”  His voice was shaky and when I glanced over to him again, his eyes were closed and I wondered what he was thinking about.  His brow was creased and I knew his thoughts were not peaceful ones.  He looked scared and when he opened his eyes, I knew he was. “Sometimes I think I should’ve died.”

“Don’t say that,” I interrupted quickly.

“I wonder why I’m still here and they’re not.” I watched his throat as it bobbed from a hard swallow. 

“You’re here because you’re supposed to be here.”

“That’s bullshit.  I’m here because I’m lucky and they weren’t.”

By the look on his face, I knew he was serious.  He believed it was all luck when I knew it wasn’t.

“It wasn’t luck, Brandon.  You’re here because you’re supposed to be here.” I was trying to choke back the tears.  I’d always been a sap and cried at the drop of a hat, but the tears I was fighting this time were real.  I didn’t want my friend to think it was just chance that he was still alive. 

“You can think that, Mandy, but I don’t.”

“Why don’t you believe it?”

“Because the other guys were better than me.So much better.Harper had a wife and two kids.  Foster only had a couple of months left.  He was gonna be a doctor, but they’re gone and I’m still here.  They’re dead and a cocky asshole like me isn’t.”

My eyes filled with tears as I listened to Brandon, but I bit them back and looked right into his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry about your friends,” I said and then squeezed his hand tightly. “But, I’m glad my friend is still here.  Their lives were no more valuable than yours.”

He didn’t say anything, but he looked away, turning his eyes back to the sky.  He pulled his hand from mine and I wondered if he was mad at me. 

“I don’t know what you’re going through,” I said quietly. “But if you need anything, I’m here, okay?”

“I know,” he answered just as quietly. “You’re always taking care of everyone.”  He stopped talking and he sat up, looking down at me. “I’m glad you’re here, Mandy.  I missed you.”

I sat up too and I leaned in, hugging him tightly as his arms wrapped around me too.

“I missed you too.”

When we let go of each other, we leaned back into the grass, listening to the flowing water of Slate Creek and the humming of the radio.  We didn’t say anything else.  We didn’t need to, but then I felt him take my hand again and he moved his body a little closer to mine.  He was home and he was safe.  I just hoped he realized how happy I was about that.