Chapter Three
Tasha
Because I knew it was important to my parents that I honor my commitments, I showed up at their house on Sunday around one o’clock. But because it was important to me that I didn’t feel manipulated, I evaded my mother’s question about whether or not I’d made it to Mass, either that morning or the night before.
How and when and whether I worshipped God was between Him and me, no matter what my mom believed.
The Crandalls had been family friends since long before I’d been born. Len Crandall was a general, too, and although he and my dad were as different as night and day, they’d always gotten along. Len was the easiest-going, most relaxed Army officer I knew, though I’d heard that he had a more intense side when it came to battle. My dad, though dedicated and disciplined, had a reputation for being compassionate and just, the general most likely to give second and even third chances. His men all loved and respected him.
Growing up, whenever our assignments had put us on the same post as the Crandalls, I’d loved visiting their home. They had five children, and although the two closest in age to me were either too old or too young to be close friends, the crazy and chaotic vibe of the larger family appealed to me. It was such a contrast to my own quiet and orderly home.
Catching up with the couple, then, was a true pleasure. We didn’t have a large extended family; the Army and the people we’d gotten close to over the years were more like my aunts, uncles and cousins. We’d been through the same experiences and spoke the same language. I found myself laughing at the stories General Crandall and his wife shared, empathizing as only an Army brat could do.
I stayed later than I’d planned. It was already twilight by the time my dad walked me outside to where my car was parked in the long driveway. No matter how many times I insisted that I was perfectly capable of getting myself safely to the driver’s seat, my father insisted that he wouldn’t sleep unless he’d watched me drive away.
“Everything going all right with you, pumpkin spice?” It was his special nickname for me from the time I’d been a baby.
“It really is, Daddy. I love what I’m doing, and the clinic is perfect. I’m learning so much.” I paused, thinking of Captain McTavis as I had often over the weekend. “Actually, I have an interesting case right now. He’s a soldier, and he was badly injured during Air Assault school at Campbell.”
“Ah.” My dad nodded. “I heard about that. One of the company commanders with the 94th, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I bit the side of my lip. “I probably shouldn’t say anything about him if you know the guy. Patient confidentiality and all that.”
“Oh, I don’t know him. I just remember when it happened. These kinds of accidents are so rare, word gets around.” He braced one hand on the roof of my car. “How’s he doing? Going to recover?”
“He’s mostly there already.” I shrugged. “The biggest issues are pain management and mobility, and maybe ...” I wasn’t sure how much to say and how to phrase it. I’d spoken to Colonel Debbings, the battalion commander, this week, updating her on Captain McTavis’s compliance and progress. I knew she was pleased and more than a little relieved. But even with her, I hadn’t told the whole truth. “I’m not sure, but I think he might be afraid to get better. Or maybe afraid that he can’t be who he was before.”
“I can understand that.” My father sighed. “It seems to be more an aspect of a certain personality than it is situational. There are soldiers who lose limbs in battle and yet take up life right where they left off. On the other hand, there are those with less traumatic injuries who never quite bounce back, because they’re not willing to accept the change in themselves and in their future.”
“What happens?” Despite his grumblings to the contrary, I had a sense that deep down, Captain McTavis wanted to continue his military career. I hoped that together, we could make that happen.
“Depends on the person. Some come around and embrace life, even with the differences. Others end up separating from the Army. I’m always sad to see that happen.”
“Hmmm.” I hugged my arms around my middle. “Is there anything I can do to help this man accept the change? I’d hate to see him leave the service.”
“Honey, you know better than me. I’m sure what you’re doing to help him heal will make a difference. In the end, it’s his decision, though.” He patted my arm. “Not to change the subject, but I heard you took away your mom’s key to your house.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Uh oh. Am I in trouble?”
He laughed. “Not at all. She told me that as much as she hated to admit it, you were right. I was actually going to compliment you on handling the situation so well.” Leaning down, he kissed the top of my head. “Your mother and I are proud of you, Tasha. Your road was bumpy for a while, but you made it through. I have a feeling that at some point, you might even be grateful for those hard times. They might give you some insight you wouldn’t otherwise have.”
“Maybe.” I opened the car door. “I haven’t quite gotten to the gratitude place yet, Daddy. Right now, I’m still in theI can’t believe I made it through all thatphase.”
“And that’s as it should be.” He stood back as I closed the door and rolled down my window. “Drive safe now, honey. Text your mom when you get home. You know how she—”
“Worries,” I finished for him. “Will do. Love you, Daddy. Thanks for dinner.”
I made my way through the post, quiet during this time on a Sunday. Idly, I wondered if Captain McTavis was here somewhere. I knew from his file that he lived off-post, but maybe he was around visiting friends. He hadn’t shared much about his life with me in the days I’d worked with him this week. Still, I had a sense that he had opened up more to me than he usually did to people.
For a reason I didn’t understand, helping this man heal and return to his old life had become a mission for me. And I didn’t plan to fail.
* * *
“What do you do for fun?”
Captain McTavis paused in the middle of his leg lift. His face was tight as he focused, and sweat had beaded on his forehead. I noticed that his hair was shorter this week than it had been when he’d first appeared at the clinic, and I wondered if this was a good sign, heading back to a regulation military cut. It was still on the long side, but it could be a step in the right direction.
He was working on leg lifts, lying on his side with a neutral spine. I knew it was a greater challenge than he’d anticipated; after we’d spent six weeks of daily appointments with me easing him into the movements and exercises, this week it was time to up the ante.
