Page 48 of A Hero Comes Home

He was smiling at the look of awe on the young girl’s face, a sort of hero worship that he in no way deserved and was really kind of embarrassing, when he went through the swinging door.

And saw Sally leaning against the frame of the open back door leading to the alley.

Staring up into the eyes—two of them, dammit—of a buff guy in a T-shirt and sweats. He wasn’t touching her, but then he didn’t have to. His gaze said it all.

Jake didn’t feel the red tide of rage rising, like it had at the barbecue when the doctor had touched her arm. This was more of a sadness. A soul-deep acknowledgement of how far apart he and Sally had grown.

Sally looked over then, noticing him, and the guilt on her face told him more than any words could who this guy was.

He turned on his heels and limped through the shop and out the front door. He heard Sally call after him, but he didn’t stop. He inhaled and exhaled several times once outside, his chest so tight he could hardly breathe.

Through the open door of the shop, he could see Sally had been stopped inside by a customer who wanted to place a special order. Which gave Jake time to head for home.

Oh, God! Do I even have a home anymore? he thought.

But then he reminded himself that he was a soldier, a man taught to fight the hardest battles. Was he really going to give up so easily? Wasn’t Sally, and his marriage, worth the effort?

On the other hand, if Jake wanted to be a real hero, he would let Sally go. She deserved better than what he’d become, better than what he’d been before, for that matter.

But there was that legend about the Dawson men. One love, for life. What a sad future he’d have without her! Or his kids—oh, God!—his kids!

Jake had a lot of thinking to do.

Chapter 10

Honey wasn’t home . . .

Sally was in the kitchen after the lunch-hour rush, making a list of supplies to be replenished, the baking menu for the next day, and a work schedule for herself and her four employees: José, an assistant baker; along with one full-time clerk, the indispensable and always reliable Mary Lou Tonelli; and two part-timers, college students at home for the summer. Plus, she needed to plan for special bakery items to provide during the Lollypalooza weekend, the theme of which seemed to waver from pirates, celebrating the recent shipwreck gold discovery, to patriotic military, celebrating her very own reluctant hero.

The OBX oldies station on the sound system that played both in the shop and back here was featuring 1970s beach music this afternoon. Suddenly, Sally had an image of a summer day in Central Park and two bands warring over whether West Coast or Southern girls were the best. It was where she’d first met Jake.

She smiled, sadly, at the memory and found herself singing along. She still had a good voice, as evidenced by José, who glanced her way and raised two flour-coated hands from the massive bowl where he’d just set aside several rounds of sourdough to prove for a special event later today, giving her two thumbs-up.

Under ordinary circumstances, with the boys being gone all day on a field trip, she would have spent the extra hours on-site getting caught up. But with Jake being home, she felt pulled in several directions. A million things to do! So many worries! She would need to hire another clerk and perhaps another baker if she was going to be away from the shop as much as it appeared she would have to be now that her husband was home. So far, Jake had been understanding, but it wasn’t fair to him.

She heard a light tapping on the back door, which was open to let out some of the heat. Stepping inside was Kevin, whom she hadn’t seen or talked to since Jake got back. Supposedly, he’d been out on the salvaging boat searching a new site in the Atlantic for shipwreck treasure.

She got up and went over to greet him. “Kevin, how are you?”

He gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before saying, “How are you? I’ve been worried.”

“I’m okay. Surviving.”

“That doesn’t sound too promising.”

She shrugged. Oddly, this man, whom she’d been about to have an intimate relationship with—this good-looking man—seemed no more than a friend to her now. Maybe fate had intervened at just the right moment. “Can I ask you something in confidence, Kevin?”

“Sure.”

“As ex-military, trained in survival scenarios, how could a man end up with no fingernails?”

He frowned at her. “Other injuries?”

She nodded. “A damaged eye and badly injured leg. Lots of old and new scars.”

The alarm on his face was telling.

“Yeah, I’m thinking the same thing.”