That Was Then (Always Faithful Book 1) Read online

  Not This Time

  Always Faithful One

  Leah Atwood

  Copyright © 2017 by Leah Atwood

  Cover Design © Covers by Ramona

  Cover Image © Adobestock.com

  Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are taken from the HCSB®, Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2002, 2003, 2009 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. HCSB® is a federally registered trademark of Holman Bible Publishers.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Note from Leah

  Other Available Titles

  Love in A Fix Excerpt

  “A thief comes only to steal and to kill and to destroy. I have come so that they may have life and have it in abundance.”

  John 10:10

  Chapter One

  Taps played outside Wyatt Deluca’s barracks as the late afternoon sun crept through the blinds of the room’s window. A familiar sound, heard every evening as Old Glory was lowered and removed until the following morning.

  Only, this time was different for Wyatt. Peering out the window, he watched in resolute attention then gave the flag a final salute. Tonight, he’d be gone, on a road to nowhere in particular—figuratively speaking.

  He returned to packing. How did one decide what to keep of the last five years? He pulled out a photo from the nightstand drawer. Tattered edges wavered under his touch. He retrieved his Bible from his laptop bag and slid the picture between its worn pages. The haunting image inflicted more grief than he could bear right now.

  Upheaval already marked his life. Despite the twenty-some positions he’d applied for, he’d yet to receive an interview request, much less a job offer. He never liked being in limbo, but that’s exactly where he found himself. He couldn’t even rent a place to live off base since he didn’t know where he’d be a month from now. Fortunately, his friend, Jared Scott, offered him a place to crash for a few weeks until he hopefully had a job.

  Someone knocked on the door, followed by a “Hey, Deluca. You in there?”

  “Come in.”

  Jared walked through the door, still in uniform. His eyes jumped from pile to pile of belongings scattered through the room. “What happened in here?”

  “I’ve accumulated more than I realized.” Wyatt shrugged and dropped the Bible on top of the laptop case.

  “We’re supposed to meet everyone for dinner in less than an hour, bro, and I still have to go home to shower and change.”

  “Chill. I’ve got it under control.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” Skeptical brows rose high on Jared’s forehead.

  “I’ll finish up and meet you guys over there.” He swept a hand over the room. “All I have to do is throw all this in my bags and trunks.”

  “Didn’t you need me to take some in my truck?”

  Wyatt muttered under his breath. “I forgot about that.”

  Jared pulled out his phone. “I’ll shoot Evan a text and let him know we’ll be late. He can tell everyone else.”

  “Might as well make yourself useful.” He shot Jared a playful grin and threw a duffel bag his way. “Can you shove that pile of dirty laundry in there for me?”

  “Yeah—no, not touching those.” Despite the words, Jared caught the bag and started loading it.

  After what they’d been through, there wasn’t much they wouldn’t do for each other. Blood brothers, in the worst sense of the term. What was touching someone’s dirty laundry when they’d fought together for survival, bled against each other’s wounds?

  Wyatt swallowed. Don’t go down that road. He lifted the plaque his squadron made him as a going away gift. “S. Sgt. Deluca” was engraved in the center, with his stripes below. Above, were replicas of all his awards and ribbons. In the top right corner, the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor. On the left, his squadron’s insignia.

  “I didn’t think it’d be finished in time.” Jared carried the full bag to the bed and nodded at the plaque. “Gunny Brown said he’d have it finished last week and walked in today at zero nine hundred with it.”

  “That explains all the whispering before sending me out to find a non-existent lost bolt.”

  “We had to kill some time.” Jared smirked. “You know you wanted a few more minutes with the Hueys.”

  “If I never work on those aircraft again, it will be too soon.” A sharp edge he hadn’t meant tinged his voice.

  “I know what you mean.” Frowning, Jared tossed the duffel against the bed, hitting the edge of the laptop case.

  The Bible flew to the floor, and the picture fell out, skipping several inches across the tile floor.

  Jared’s eyes cast downward. “I forgot about that one.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  Crouching down, Jared picked up the photo. “We were so young.”

  “Our first mandatory fun day.” Wyatt laughed. “If not for Mike’s antics, it would have been the most boring fun of my life.”

  “Remember that time he convinced the CO’s wife to get in on a practical joke?” A wide smile erupted on Jared’s mouth. “I’ll never forget Major Lucerne’s face when he showed up for uniform inspection with trousers three inches too short.”

  Choking on his laughter produced a snort. “Best prank ever.”

  Their merriment ended abruptly, and a moment of silence fell over the room.

  “It’s not right.” Jared cleared his throat. “It should have been me.”

  Wyatt did the same to strangle the grief. Whoever said time healed all wounds was a liar. The memories haunted him worse now than they had six months ago. “You sprained your ankle and weren’t up for the mission. If anything, why not me? Mike and I switched spots after loading in the helicopter, so I could finish telling Jergens a story. Would Mike have survived if he’d been in my seat?”

  The rancid taste of guilt-laced bile rose from his gut. He pounded a fist against the wall and kept his back turned to Jared. Too proud to let through any tears. Too ashamed to face his friend.

  Shuffling ensued behind him, the crinkle of the cheap mattress as Jared sat on it. “No amount of blame can bring him back.”

  “Doesn’t stop it, though, does it?” Semi-composed, Wyatt turned slowly. “I know deep inside of me somewhere that even if I knew the answer, it wouldn’t make a lick of difference, but the what-ifs won’t shut up. Night and day, they take over my thoughts.”

  “You think I don’t understand? Mike wouldn’t have been on the helicopter if I hadn’t been goofing off the night before.” Jared tensed his jaw then swallowed. “At least you get out of here. I have another year left on my contract.”

  “Yeah.” His halfhearted response matched the lack of conviction in
his heart. The best shot at a job offer would keep him in Jacksonville.

  Jared jumped to his feet, a plastic smile in place. “Hey, we’re supposed to be celebrating tonight.” He scooped a pile of DVDs and laid them in an open footlocker. “Let’s finish up and get going.”

  More than willing to feign joy, Wyatt rushed through packing the remainder of his belongings, deciding to keep it all for now, and sort later. “Sure you don’t mind turning your garage into storage for a while?”

  “Nah.” Jared shrugged. “The truck won’t fit inside, so the space may as well get some use.”

  Twenty minutes later, they’d confined all his belongings to a multitude of olive-colored duffel bags, black trunks, and a single suitcase he’d inherited from his first barracks roommate back when he’d first arrived at the air station.

  He drove ahead of Jared, following the loop around the barracks and then to the main road. Up ahead, the digital commissary sign flashed the week’s grocery specials. In a matter of seconds, it became a memory as he drove past the guard shack and off base.

  The reflection of the lit-up welcome sign caught his eye in the rearview mirror. “MCAS New River. PARDON OUR NOISE. It’s The Sound Of Freedom.”

  Emotions filled his lungs. He took a deep breath and used an exhale to push them out. Man, he’d loved that sign as a newbie. Twenty-three years old and finally doing something with his life, he was fulfilling his childhood dream of serving his country. He was one of the Few, one of the Proud. A Marine. Ready to face any obstacle or fight thrown his way.

  What a difference five years made. Not all had changed. He still wanted to serve his country. He was a Marine, even after his official discharge—once a Marine, always a Marine. But ready to fight?

  He was bone weary.

  Even the strongest, bravest man could only see so much carnage before needing an end—or a new beginning. He’d reached that point. Not on the first deployment. Not the night Mike died during the last, but in the midst of a homecoming celebration when Janie came to show her support for a squadron returning without her husband. He’d beat them home a few months prior. In a coffin.

  Sorrow haunted her smile as she courageously gave him, Evan, and Jared a hug to welcome them home. Their best friend’s widow, like a sister to them. Her presence in the hangar that day made Mike’s absence more pronounced.

  One of their family was gone, the dynamic among them forever altered.

  Wasn’t that the nature of life? Ever changing, never idle.

  What he wouldn’t give to reach out a hand and latch on to those carefree days of youth, if only for a moment. To spend the night under the stars, deep in the woods on an impromptu camping trip. To fall in love again without jaded eyes that had witnessed a widow’s despair. To have the future ahead of him with the naiveté of one without life experience.

  The image of a lost love flittered across his memory. Even carefree days had their costs. Utopia didn’t exist—not in the way he craved.

  He’d have to wait until he got to Heaven, and he found comfort knowing he’d see Mike there one day. His faith was weak, but he still believed. Had to believe.

  Jared’s house appeared. Wyatt blinked, realizing he’d driven on autopilot. He’d been there enough to know the way from muscle memory. Parking along the curb, he left the driveway open for Jared to back the truck up to the garage.

  They fell into easy banter as they unloaded his belongings into his temporary home. When all the trunks were neatly stacked in the garage and most of the duffel bags stacked beside them, Wyatt threw the bag with his pillow and blanket over his shoulder and rolled the suitcase into the spare room.

  A futon was pushed against the far wall, and a bookshelf on the right wall stored a combination of books and movies. Beige paint covered the walls. The room was stark, nothing to make it a home, but it beat staying in a hotel. Jared wouldn’t accept money for rent, but Wyatt planned to slip him a check to cover utilities. It was the least he could do.

  He slipped out of his dusty shirt and pulled a navy-blue Henley over his head. His jeans were clean enough. He ran a comb through his hair, then met Jared in the living room.

  Jared handed him a key. “You’ll need this. The same key opens all the doors, including the door from the garage.”

  “Thanks.” Wyatt added it to his keychain. “Riding together or separate?”

  “Together if you don’t mind taking your car. I need a fill-up, and we’re already pushing the time I told Evan.”

  “That’s fine.” He patted his pocket, mentally checking off his list of wallet, phone, keys.

  Walking to his late-model Land Cruiser, he hit the key fob to unlock the doors. Even the used model had pushed his predetermined budget, but he’d negotiated a once-in-a-lifetime deal. Paired by a hefty down payment, he’d gotten the vehicle he’d wanted. One of the few good aspects of multiple deployments with tax-free combat pay.

  He’d rather have Mike and several other comrades alive.

  Rejoice. Let go of the grief for tonight.

  The truth was, he’d struggled more with Mike’s death in the last week than he had in the last month or so. The only reason he could figure for the sudden attack was guilt for separating from the Marine Corps. Starting a new phase of life was an act Mike would never get to experience.

  He hopped in the front seat and buckled.

  Jared did the same and automatically tuned the radio to a local country station. “How can you drive in silence?”

  “I don’t, usually.” He didn’t mention he’d been too lost in thought on the way over to realize the quiet. They’d forged a fragile semblance of a celebratory attitude, and he wouldn’t ruin the mood.

  The Western Cattle Company Steakhouse was a short ten-minute drive from Jared’s house. Pulling into the parking lot, Wyatt scouted for an empty spot.

  “It’s packed tonight.” Jared pointed to the door. “Check out the line. Hopefully, the gang’s already inside with our names on the list.”

  “I thought they called ahead?”

  “Lance was supposed to. So . . . I doubt it?”

  Wyatt laughed. “Chances are we’ll be waiting a while.”

  After several minutes of circling, a tiny sports car backed out of a spot, and Wyatt maneuvered in with little room left on the sides.

  A familiar car parked two spaces away.

  An odd feeling crept over him. “That’s odd.”

  “What are you muttering about?”

  He pointed at the couple. “Why’s Janie here with Evan?”

  Jared turned his neck to see. “I doubt they are here together. They probably just carpooled.”

  “It’s weird.”

  “Why?” Jared scrunched his face.

  “Janie . . . is Mike’s widow.”

  “And?” Jared shrugged then unbuckled. “Didn’t we all promise Mike we’d look after her if something happened?”

  “Yeah, but…” He dropped the protest. “It just threw me off guard seeing Janie with another man—but you’re right. Janie probably didn’t want to arrive alone. I’m glad she came, though. Tonight wouldn’t be the same without her.”

  “She wouldn’t have missed it. For better or worse, she’s family.”

  Wyatt’s phone rang. A number he didn’t recognize from his hometown. “It could be about a job. I’ll meet you inside in a minute.”

  Jared nodded and hopped out, headed for the entrance.

  After sliding the screen to answer the call, he put the phone to his ear. “Wyatt Deluca, speaking.”

  Sniffles answered him. “Wyatt? It’s Meg.”

  His heart clenched. The sound of her tears nearly unraveled him. Even after all these years. “Are you okay?”

  More sniffles, then the sound of a nose blowing. “No.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I need you.”

  Those three little words. As if he didn’t have enough going on in his life jerking his emotions around. “What’s going on?”

&nb
sp; “Mama died.”

  Chapter Two

  Releasing the words spurred a fresh torrent of tears. Nothing about her current reality seemed true. She sat on Mama’s porch swing, her knees pulled tight to her chest.

  “Still there?”

  Wyatt’s voice melted over her, a warm blanket in her state of grief. “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  “Cancer.” She contained her sobs long enough to draw a deep breath. “It happened so fast. She went to the hospital two weeks ago with severe back pain, thinking she pulled a muscle. Now she’s gone.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Wyatt’s baritone voice dropped an octave. “What can I do?”

  Dare she ask? Her memory drifted to a bittersweet parting seven years ago, a muggy July night canvassed by a starry night and the broken glow of lightning bugs.

  She walked out the door of their single-wide, a wide hobo purse strung over her shoulder. “That’s the last of it.”

  “Okay.” Wyatt stood with his hands in his back pockets.

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  “What am I supposed to say? ‘Don’t go’?” He released a hand from his pocket and ran it through his thick brown locks, wavy from a lack of haircuts in recent months.

  “I don’t know.” She bit her lip to keep from breaking down.

  “Well, sorry. I’ve never been divorced before and don’t exactly know the protocol of goodbyes.”

  Her heart stilled. “I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

  His expression softened. “Me, either.”

  “Are we doing the right thing?”

  “We’re young, Meg. Too young to know.” Confusion—remorse?—flashed in rich java-colored eyes.

  She adjusted the bag on her shoulder, tempted to fling it to the ground and run to his arms a final time. “You’ll be okay paying the rent on your own?”

  “I can handle it.” Callused fingers pressed into his neck. “Still going to your parents?”

  “Yeah.”

  One step at a time, she descended the cement stairs. “I guess I’ll see you around.”