Page 38 of His Wounded Heart

“There’s a sharp bend in the road coming up,” she warns me. The cab of the truck is silent for another five minutes.

“It was bad growing up with Norville. Our mother did nothing but support him. She always took his side. Why they continued to have children considering how they seemed to hate us, I’ll never know.”

I reach out and put my hand on her knee. I need to do something to show her a little bit of comfort. After a minute, she covers her hand with mine.

“Anyway, we’re going to have to tread softly with Azariah. I’ll need to go in first, I think he’ll remember me.”

“Trenda, let me handle this.”

“But—”

“I’ve dealt with a lot of vets who have suffered from PTSD. I know what I’m doing.”

I hear her let out a deep breath and feel her muscles relax under my hand.

“All right.” Two minutes pass. “Actually, that would be great. I wish I could say I was over my phobia about men who are angry and shout at me, but I’m not.”

I turned my hand over so we were palm to palm, then I twine our fingers together. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“Thanks for not thinking I’m a wimp.”

“Honey, you’re the furthest thing from a wimp that I could imagine.”

More silence.

“Thank you,” she finally whispers. I feel those words down deep in my bones. Before I can respond she’s talking again. “On the next right turn we’ll be on top of Azariah’s cabin.”

Before that turn the first splat of rain hits my windshield. It is a splat, no little drizzle of rain for us. I immediately see the cabin when I turn, and it is a whole different animal from what Bertha’s cabin had looked like. Nope, I never imagined a wreath on the door of this house.

There are windows, but as I drive closer, I watch as each window slowly closes with interior shutters. The door has a five inch by five-inch square hole that eventually opens as I park the truck. It is no big surprise as the barrel of a gun pushes out the opening. I park the truck sideways so that he’ll see the full bed of the truck and the driver’s side door. I don’t want him to be able to have a shot at Trenda.

I roll down my window and hold up both hands.

“I have news about Bernie Faulks. Can I get out and tell you, and if you okay it, maybe give you some supplies?”

“I can hear you just fine from where you are.”

I sigh. “My name is Simon Clark. I just retired from the Navy after twenty-nine years. I’m here with Trenda Avery.”

“You didn’t bring those bastards Harmon or Huey, did you?”

“They’re both in prison,” Trenda whispers.

“They’re both in prison,” I yell out to Azariah. “It’s just me and Trenda. She’s the oldest Avery daughter, and she works with Bernie to help gather supplies. We just left Bertha’s place. We have some of her strawberry rhubarb preserves to give you.”

“Oh, you’re smooth,” Trenda whispers to me.

“You do?” the old man asks.

“Yep. She even made something special up for you. She said since you’re such an ornery bastard that you deserved some hot and spicey apple chutney. She said to tell you that she put in extra vinegar.”

I watch as the barrel of the gun draws back into the house, the shutter on the door closes and the actual door opens. An extremely tall and thin man with a long gray beard steps out onto the porch without any kind of weapon.

“Navy, huh?”

“Yeah. What about you?” I ask. I know enough not to get out of the truck until I’m invited.

“Fifth Marine Regiment,” he answers.