“I understand. So, you think he’d approve of you two falling in love?”
“You know, I think he would, since he can’t be here with her.”
Michael nodded. “About that. Are you ready to tell me about the circumstances of his death?”
Rob felt his gut tighten. Clever guy. This was exactly the stuff he needed to talk about without falling apart. He took a deep breath and launched into the story about that day in Afghanistan.
Driving home an hour later, Rob realized it hadn’t been as difficult as he’d thought. He’d thought about the circumstances of Trevor’s death so many times that telling someone about it was almost a relief.
He felt like Michael understood. The man had explained that survivor guilt was common in these situations, and that Rob had things to do in this world, and his life mattered. Why hadn’t he been able to see that before? The guilt felt lighter. He’d make his life count. He laughed at himself. Yeah, he just needed to figure out how. What did life have in store for him? Whatever it was, he wanted it to include MJ.
A short while later, he pulled into the parking lot of the library. He wanted to let MJ know how his counseling had gone. He climbed the steps to the front door, and smiled when he saw MJ’s face light up at the sight of him.
“How was your session?” she whispered when he joined her at the front desk. She pointed toward the break room, and closed the door behind them.
“It was good. It was easier to talk than I thought it’d be. It probably helps that Michael, my counselor, is a veteran and knows what it’s like.”
Her expression was full of love and support. “I know. It’s a world I don’t understand very well. I mean, Trevor told me things he could, but it wasn’t like I’d experienced any of it directly. Frankly, sometimes hearing about the danger was hard to hear, even the watered-down version Trevor shared with me. It’s difficult to think about what our servicemen and women go through, and I haven’t experienced it directly. I’m glad you’ve got a good counselor.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you about it, but they aren’t pictures I want you to have in your head.”
“I understand. It’s not that you don’t trust me; it’s that you want to protect me.”
“Yes. The images are ugly and hard to forget. They haunt me.”
“You wouldn’t want me to imagine Trevor that way.”
He should have known she’d guess the images had to do with his best friend’s death. He nodded slowly. “That’s right.”
“Someday maybe you’ll tell me. I imagine things anyway. Perhaps worse than what happened.”
Maybe she imagined things worse than had happened, but he doubted it. “Someday.”
“Or the time may come when I won’t want to know.”
That’s what he wished. Curiosity about how Trevor died wasn’t something that would help her deal with her grief. Better that she remember him as someone she’d loved as a teenager and a young woman.
He changed the subject. “I talked with Michael about how you’ve helped me with my PTSD.”
“I have? How?”
“You give me an elbow to the ribs anytime I have a nightmare.”
“Oops. I didn’t know you realized that.” She looked guilty.
He couldn’t help snickering. “You wake me up so that the nightmare disappears. It’s brilliant. It works.”
MJ grinned at him. “I’m happy to help. I need to get back to work. I’ll see you at home.” She leaned down and kissed him lightly.
Once he got home, he took Maverick outside and threw a ball for him. When the Malinois settled in for a nap, he grabbed a pad of paper and pen. Time to do some thinking about his future.
He spent the next two hours writing and thinking, making a list of the things he wanted in a future career. He wanted something active, but something he could do despite his injury. He wanted to be around animals. If it involved horses, it would be great. He wanted to live in the country, to have a quiet lifestyle. He wanted to be his own boss. It would be okay to work with someone, but he wanted to be the one to make his own decisions. He wanted to have the right machinery and tools to make his job easier, but he didn’t mind having to maintain or repair a tractor or farm equipment. Dad had taught him how, and he enjoyed using his mechanical abilities.
Doing something sustainable appealed to him—growing his own food, maybe hay for livestock. He needed more information about what sort of crops worked well around here. He didn’t know enough.
He’d need to know the growing season and what the market was like. He made a list of questions, and he’d need to find answers before he could make any real decisions. He’d start with Tyler Mathews. Maybe Tyler could point him in the right direction. He’d bet he could get information from the county extension office, or maybe the Farmers’ Co-op.
He looked at his watch. Time to take a shower. He still had a lot of questions, but he’d made progress.
***
Driving home after their dinner with her family that evening, MJ seethed. Rob hadn’t said more than a few words all evening.
“What’s going on?” she asked as they rounded the corner to her house and pulled into the driveway. “You didn’t say much tonight.” If he said he was “fine,” she’d bop him in the head, but not while he was driving.
“Sorry. I spent a bunch of time thinking about career possibilities this afternoon.”
Okay, that made
