Category:

I stuffed my sweater and a half-eaten ham-and-cheese sandwich into my duffel while the middle-aged woman across the aisle glared at me, irritated my dawdling would make their arrival in Nashville even later. She hadn't offered a hint of friendliness since boarding in Albuquerque. Her eyes traveled the length of me, taking in my ratty bell-bottom jeans, bohemian style blouse, and long hair in need of a good washing. "Hippie," she'd muttered under her breath when she settled across from me. The bus wasn't overly crowded, giving most of us a row to ourselves, but from the look of disdain she cast my way when our eyes met, neighborly conversation during the long journey was out of the question. It was just as well. I could tell by looking at her she'd voted for Nixon.

More glares were sent my way as I maneuvered the cramped walkway to the set of steep steps. No one offered to help with my bulky bag, not even the bus driver who ignored me as he studied a dog-eared map. My feet hardly touched the pavement when he closed the door behind me, put the bus in gear, and drove off, leaving me in a cloud of black exhaust.

With a cough and a choice word for the driver, I considered my next move. Dad knew I was coming. I'd made a collect call from Memphis to let him know when the bus was scheduled to arrive. It was the first time I'd spoken to him in twelve months. After a long pause he said he'd be at the depot and hung up.

Except he wasn't.

I scanned the parking lot. Two sedans and an old pickup truck occupied spaces, but I didn't recognize any of the vehicles.

There wasn't anything to do but go inside and ask to use the office telephone since I'd spent the last of my money on the stale sandwich. For a split second I worried Dad had changed his mind. Maybe he didn't want me here after all. Or maybe Mama had taken a turn for the worse and—

"Mattie?"

The male voice startled me.

I turned to find a tall, jeans-clad man standing near the pickup truck, the open driver's door evidence he'd been inside all this time. A ball cap sat low on his forehead, the bill shadowing his face, and I couldn't determine his identity. Probably someone from high school, but I had no interest in traveling down memory lane with anyone.

"I'm not who you're looking for," I said and continued toward the terminal.

He gave a humorless laugh. "Same ol' stubborn Mattie Taylor."

 

I faced him again, this time narrowing my eyes to study his features, before my mouth went slack. "Nash?"

"Didn't expect to see me here, did you?"

The question would have been laughable if it weren't for the sharp pain that crashed into my heart with his living, breathing presence in Tullahoma. Last I knew, he was a Marine sniper somewhere in a Vietnam jungle.

How had Nash McCallum returned home from war but Mark hadn't?

Slow steps brought him forward. When our eyes met, I saw the boy who'd been Mark's best friend for as long as I could remember.

"I hadn't heard you'd come home."

A moment passed before he shrugged. "Yeah, well, they don't let you stay unless you have all your limbs intact."

His words, low and grim, sent a chill racing down my spine. My eyes darted to take inventory. Clearly he had both legs and both—

My breath stilled.

The left sleeve of his denim shirt was tucked into his waistband. From a distance, I hadn't noticed it was empty.

"I... I didn't know."

"No, you wouldn't have."

Our gazes met again. Was that judgement in his green eyes?