Perspective.
A hacking cough came from a far corner, and I bent to look around Sondra. The Major sat on an overturned crate, his back hunched, shoulders shaking as he coughed into a fist.
“Been like that a week,” Sondra said, following my line of sight to the middle-aged man who’d given more than fifteen years to his country.
And this is how we repay him.I had the same thought every time I came down here. We had to do better. For the Major. For all of them.
I turned back to Sondra. “Has he gone to the clinic?”
She shook her head. Took another sip of coffee before speaking. “Refuses. Too many bad memories. For some reason clinics and hospitals are triggers for his PTSD.”
I wanted to haul him up and take him to a doctor. He needed medical attention. Antibiotics. Something. But I knew he wouldn’t go, and there wasn’t anything I could do to get him there.
But maybe I could get a doctor to comehere.
I watched him, my chest constricting along with every fit his lungs had to rid themselves of the crud inside. “Think he’ll talk to me today?” I asked Sondra. If he’d had an episode in the last two days, he wouldn’t talk to anyone. But even if he didn’t talk, I could sit with him. Maybe my simple presence would be as comforting to the Major as Tate’s had been for me.
Sondra shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”
The duffel bag fell from my shoulder, and I knelt on the ground beside it. I took out one Ziplock for the Major and passed the duffel to Sondra. “You know what to do.”
Sondra had been my first contact among the homeless. The first few times I’d come to hand out food or other supplies, I’d been met with hesitant skepticism. Of course that could have been due to the underlying fear I probably hadn’t done well to hide. Either way, I’d left everything with Sondra, knowing she’d distribute to those most in need. It kind of became our ritual, although now I stopped to visit with thetenantshere instead of retreating with a break-neck pulse.
Reaching for an empty crate, I turned it over and placed it by the Major. “How’re you doing today, sir?”
He coughed, then tilted his head toward me with a wry grin. “Ain’t dead yet.”
My lips curved. “Victory is yours.” It was how most of our conversations started.
The light in his eyes dimmed. “Haven’t felt very victorious lately. Been thinking. A cursed thing, that.” His mouth twisted, part grimace, part humorless smile. “Don’t try it if you don’t have to.”
I laughed at his deadpan expression. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.” I probably shouldn’t ask. Shouldn’t pry. But I was too curious not to. “What have you been thinking about?”
The Major didn’t seem offended by my forwardness. He studied the ground as if it had hypnotized him. “Regrets.” He looked up and met my open gaze. “I haven’t always been alone, you know. I once had a girl. Beautiful girl. Loved her the best I knew how.”
“What happened?”
“Came to a crossroad, and I had to choose. Career or family. I made the wrong choice.” He blinked and looked away. “Don’t make same mistake I did.”
I reached over and patted his shoulder. He didn’t need to worry. Not about me anyway. Not about choosing between a career or love.
“If you love someone, don’t waste a day by not telling them.” His gravelly voice shook with conviction. “You never know when your time may run out.” His chest rattled in a fearful way as he wheezed. “Someone will only wait for you for so long.”
My heart clenched, afraid that the more pressing time we should be discussing was his own and how long he’d have if he didn’t see a doctor soon. I stood and squeezed his shoulder. “Hang in there, Major. I’m going to see what I can do about getting a doctor out here.”
He gripped my wrist with surprising strength and turned his face to penetrate my gaze. “Remember what I said.”
Though I’d pushed his convicting words aside for the moment to focus on the priority of his health, I knew I’d never be able to forget them. They rang loud, resounding and echoing like a bell through a deep valley. They’d come back to me over and over.
But now wasn’t the time.
I squeezed his shoulder again and offered him a smile. Once I had a commitment from a trusted doctor in hand for a “house” call, I’d let the echo of his words sink in.
Then figure out what I was going to do about it.
I slid my phone out of my pocket and punched in a number. “Beth, I need a favor.”
Eleven
