a reason to live(5)

He’d taken off his sunglasses when he approached my mother, and even though pain shadowed their smoky depths, I knew a woman could lose herself in them with no hope of surfacing.

My attention was glued to him as he shook my mother’s hand and gave his condolences in a hard, husky voice. When he’d turned briefly to me, I’d held my breath, uncertain of what to say for once in my life. However, he didn’t speak; he’d just nodded once without making eye contact and then turned to leave. Before I could thank him for watching out for Emma while she was under his command, he’d disappeared into the crowd. That was the last time I’d seen him, but it wasn’t the last time I’d thought about him. Whenever my mind wandered to those awful first days after Emma’s death, Sergeant Sherman always made an appearance.

“You said he lived in Trails End,” I whispered as I stared at Emma’s grave. “Where the bears are . . . Maybe I could disappear there for a while?”

I looked over my shoulder one last time and surveyed my surroundings. Turning back to Emma’s grave, I stared at the offending Barbie for a moment and then kicked it to the side. Then I leaned down and placed the fresh flowers I’d brought on her grave, running my hand lightly over her headstone one last time.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise. Don’t worry about me, pipsqueak. I’ll be just fine.”

***

The wind kicked up from the valley below as Shane looked down at Trails End. He was standing on a lookout just down from Grizzly Pointe after a long day of cutting trees for Max. The town seemed full of life as he watched; the end of a long summer’s day was behind them as they settled in for a cooler evening. He could see the Carnies arriving for the annual carnival. Large flatbed trucks hauling a Ferris Wheel, Bumper Cars, Swing Slides, and Hurricane Rides crept toward the field near the inlet of Crystal Lake.

What had once been a sleepy lumber town had grown in size since his return from Afghanistan; thanks in part to the press that Max and Mia received after opening their nature preserve and fighting off a cop turned killer. Alaskans had fed off the stories coming out of Trails End and came in droves to see the bears. Once here, they discovered they liked this bit of paradise in the wild. Some liked it so much they were building luxury cabins so they could spend their weekends in what Mia had dubbed Pleasantville in the Alaskan Frontier. They even had new commerce. Two souvenir shops had opened in the last three months, and with whitewater rivers close by that boasted 3-5 grade rapids, an older Scotsman by the name of Gregor MacGregor had opened Trails End Rafting Excursions six months ago. Not to mention, with the influx of new visitors and weekend vacationers, Smith Mercantile had begun adding on to their establishment to handle the supply and demand. With construction almost complete, they now boasted an even bigger selection of food and wares.

All this attention and influx of people amused most town folks who knew all along that Trails End was a little piece of heaven on earth. Even Shane found it comical.

“Are we done for the day?” Buddy asked Shane as he continued to stare at the town.

“Yep. Max is back, so I’m heading down to have a drink with him and Mia.”

“Thank Christ for that,” Buddy mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” Shane asked, a grin pulling at his mouth.

“Nothin’. It’ll just be good to have Max back, is all.”

Shane smiled at his obvious relief. Max had put Shane in charge while he was on his honeymoon, and Shane had made sure that the boys met their daily quota, and then some. He’d worked the boys ten hours a day since the sun stayed higher and longer in the sky this time of year. They were exhausted, but he knew they wouldn’t complain when they got their paychecks.

Clapping Buddy on the back before he turned and made his way to his truck, Shane climbed in and groaned. His back ached and his mouth was dry. All he wanted to do was go home and let the day drain away. Especially today of all days. It had been one year exactly since Private Emma Jane Sloan had died under his command, and he was feeling raw again. He’d spent the first six months after arriving home licking his wounds and readjusting to civilian life. The last six he’d found a way to put some of the war behind him by keeping busy. But the 18th of July would forever be branded into his soul; a reminder he’d fucked up and as a result, a kid lost her life.

As much as he’d like to go home and lock the door from the outside world, unfortunately for him, Max and Mia had arrived home earlier that afternoon and Shane had promised to meet them. So, he went home, showered, and then headed to town to pretend he didn’t have a care in the world like he did most days.