Page 6 of Everything Changes

“That’s right,” Carey said. “I started out as a volunteer, working with other amputees. I lost my leg in Afghanistan,” he clarified, and there was a quiet chorus of “oorahs” around the table as the other men and women acknowledged Carey’s sacrifice. “After a year or so of volunteering, Bill offered me a full-time position as one of his camp managers. I help run the day-to-day operations, but I still counsel amputees who need it. I also help with the fundraising for part of the year.”

“Are you a shrink? You don’t look like a shrink,” said one of the women at the table, smirking at Carey playfully. “You’re too cute. I’d never be able to concentrate on my therapy.”

A chorus of ribbing started up, a few “pretty boys” tossed around. Jase smiled fondly at Carey’s slight flush. He had never enjoyed being the center of attention, but he took the teasing gamely.

“Nah, I’m not a shrink. But sometimes a man or woman who’s dealing with a loss like this just wants to talk to a peer who’s gone through the same thing, not someone spouting platitudes or boilerplate advice. Not that professional therapy doesn’t have its place,” he hastened to add. “I’ve gone to therapy myself. But it just adds that extra layer on to talk to someone who empathizes with what you’ve gone through like no one else can.” A short silence fell as the table digested his words, and Carey looked faintly embarrassed. “Sorry, I tend to run on about my work.”

“No worries, son,” the chief said kindly. “It’s interesting and important work, and it sounds like you love it.”

“I do,” Carey said quietly.

“Hey! Bill Barkley!” Heads turned toward a man who had come to lean against the table next to them, not really part of their group but someone who had obviously been listening in. “I know about him! Isn’t he some kind of bible-thumping Jesus freak?”

Jase tensed, watching as Carey’s expression turned glacial. “And he’s also one of the finest men I have ever known,” he said coldly.

“Yeah, right,” sneered the man, who was obviously three sheets to the wind. Jase knew his type well: a hanger-on, someone who had washed out of the military and carried a load of bitterness, but yet couldn’t stay away from it. “Probably have to convert to Jesus freakism before he’ll help you, right? Get you to sign away your money in the NAME OF GOD!” The man raised his arms toward the sky in a mocking posture of worship, his voice rising like a cheesy televangelist.

Carey stood up so fast his chair fell back with a loud clatter. Jase rose too, along with several others at the table. No one intervened yet, and Jase could tell Carey was trembling with suppressed rage.

“Like I said, Bill is one of the finest men I’ve ever known,” Carey said in a frigid tone, his fists balled at his sides. “He would never turn anyone away, regardless of their religious beliefs or nonbeliefs. That’s not his purpose. His purpose is to help those men and women who have sacrificed more for their country than most people would even dream of. He helps heal them, and heal their families so they can have a chance at a normal life.”

The man sneered again, but he looked less sure of himself.

“He offers Christian counseling, yes. There are some wounded service people who desperately want it and need it. You disrespect them, sir—” Carey’s voice was coldly disdainful. “—with your ignorant, bigoted remarks.”

The man flinched as several pairs of condemning eyes turned to him, and without saying anything more, he abandoned his half-finished beer and slunk away. Jase put a tentative hand on Carey’s arm, and Carey jerked in surprise, turning to look at him.

His eyes were almost black with anger, and he muttered, “I gotta get out of here.” Without another word he turned and pushed through the gate that led to the street and took off down the sidewalk.

Jase hastily dug in his pocket and threw down several bills to help cover any further tip and then waved tersely to the others at the table. They threw him sympathetic looks, and he left to murmurs of “Sorry about that prick,” and “Wish they would check for military IDs at the door. What a fucking jerk.”

Jase hurried down the sidewalk in the direction Carey had stormed off and saw his friend waiting at the light to cross the street that led to the beach. He caught up to him, and they stood there not speaking as the light changed and they crossed over. Jase jerked his head toward the right, leading Carey in a direction between the high-rise condos he knew had public beach access.

He waited to say anything until they had reached the soft sand and were standing at the ocean’s edge, well away from the waves. The sound of the water was soothing, and Jase closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He saw Carey do the same, and then Jase turned to him and asked quietly, “You okay?”

Carey blew out a breath. “Yeah. I shouldn’t let assholes like that get to me, but they do.”

“He’s an ignorant fucking prick who wouldn’t know loyalty and honor if it bit him on his fat ass.”

Carey snorted. “If he only knew what Bill had gone through, burned in that tank explosion during the Gulf War. Missing most of his face, his hands melted. And it was his faith that got him through, that and the love and support of his wife. Did you know they’ve been married over twenty-five years?”

Jase did know, but he didn’t say anything.

“He lives with constant pain and the stares of strangers who can’t look past his ruined body. But yet, he flies all over the world to be there for the military personnel who need him. And okay, he prays and he leads bible study. And he gets a huge amount of his operating revenue from churches and other religious organizations.”

Jase knew all this already, but he let his friend talk out his anger, standing in silent support at his side.

“But he doesn’t judge anybody else’s choices, and he would never turn away a wounded veteran who needed what he can provide.” Carey blew out another breath. “Fuck that fucking guy at the pub. Fuck him.”

“Nah, I’ll pass. Too ugly for me.”

Jase was gratified to hear that startle a laugh out of his friend, and that he had finally started to relax and let the anger go.

“Come on, Tiger, let’s walk.” At those words Carey elbowed him in the gut, but smiled as they turned to walk along the shoreline. They didn’t speak for a while, and Jase let himself fantasize briefly about holding Carey’s hand as they sauntered along.

To distract himself, Jase said, “So… do you like walks on the beach and snuggling by a roaring fire?”

Carey laughed out loud at the cheesy line used at least once on every online dating site known to man, and he slung his arm companionably around Jase’s shoulders. Jase tensed for a brief second and then relaxed, reveling in the unexpected touch. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from wrapping his arm around Carey’s waist in return and pulling him closer. He wanted to, though. He ached with wanting to.