Guarding the Soldier's Secret (11 page)

I want that. Why can’t I have what they have? Is there a significant other for me?

A face popped into her mind—a face with angular features and dark skin, golden eyes and a mouth that smiled with heart-melting charm, and dark stubble lately grown into a full beard. The pang of envy became an ache of yearning, and with an audible gasp and a shake of her head, she forced it away.

She would not yearn. She had no business yearning, not for a man who came and went like a shadow and could never give her more comfort or companionship than shadows would, even if just the memory of him made her heart quicken and pulses pound. If she was going to yearn, it would be for a man she could count on to be her friend and partner and to help her make a life of security and stability for Laila, first of all, and for their future children.

Her stomach quivered at the thought of future children.
But not Hunt’s. They could never be Hunt’s.

She focused with stern resolve on the shadowed lane and the new family and the unknown that lay ahead.

Chapter 8

D
inner was over. At least, nobody was eating anymore, and the grown-ups were sitting around the table talking, and the baby was asleep in his mother’s arms, and Laila was bored. She squirmed around in her chair for a while, hoping someone would notice and tell her she could be excused and maybe tell her what to do or where to go, since she had no idea herself what there was to do in this strange place.

But nobody did notice her, and finally she leaned against her mother’s arm and whispered, “Mom...can I be excused now?”

Her mom said, “Well, I don’t...” and looked at Josie, the lady who had cooked their dinner and was Sage’s mom, and then at Sage.

Josie smiled at Laila and said, “Sure, sweetie, you just make yourself right at home.”

“Can I go outside?” Laila asked, aiming the question at Josie since she seemed to be the boss of the house.

“Yes, you sure can.” Josie got up and came around to help Laila scoot back her chair.

“Don’t get lost,” said the big man with the blond hair and the broken leg so he had to walk on crutches. “And watch out for rattlesnakes.”

Laila caught her breath and looked quickly at him. She thought she saw a twinkle in his eyes, so maybe he was just teasing.

Josie made a shooing-away motion toward the others. “Oh, don’t pay any attention to him. You go on out and explore all you want to. Just you be careful around the pool, okay? Here—you can go right through here.” And she opened up the sliding door to the patio that looked out over the pool, and what seemed to be the whole world spread out below. “Just go down those steps, and there’s a gate you can go through to get to the front.”

Laila mumbled her thanks as she slipped through the door and tried not to run across the patio.

All she wanted to do was get away from
everyone
. She wanted to be by herself for a while. She needed to do that, sometimes, just find a quiet place and think about things. She’d been that way ever since she was little, because she could remember being in a snug hiding place with only a dog for company. She remembered she’d felt safe there.

She pushed the memory away before it could become scary, the way it did sometimes.

At the bottom of the steps she came to a gate with a latch that wasn’t too high up for her to reach. She opened it, and there was Freckles waiting for her on the other side, wagging his tail so hard it made him wag all over. “Hi, Freckles,” she said and gave him a hug. Then she noticed another dog waiting patiently a little ways away. This one had a lot of wrinkles and long floppy ears and sad eyes, so she gave that dog a hug, too.

Freckles went trotting off along the stone pathway that led around to the front of the big house, so Laila followed. The sad-faced dog ambled along beside her, keeping pace without seeming to hurry. Crossing the wide paved space in front of the house, Laila broke into a hop and then almost a run, before she remembered she wasn’t going to be happy in this strange new place her mom had brought her to.

It wasn’t that it was a bad place. The air was warm and smelled good, and even if there weren’t any goats, there were lots of other animals, although it was too bad there had to be
horses
. There was lots of space, and trees and mountains, and the people seemed nice, too.

It wouldn’t be that bad, Laila thought with a sigh, kicking at the pavement, if only...

If only Akaa Hunt was here.

She did
not
understand why they’d had to leave Afghanistan just when they were all having such a good time together—she and Mom and Akaa Hunt. It was funny, but she hadn’t thought about Akaa Hunt for a long time before that, hadn’t even remembered him clearly. But then she’d seen him again, and it was as if he’d always been there inside her. She remembered him very well now, and she missed him a
lot
. She missed him so much, if she was much, much younger she might even cry.

Being with Akaa Hunt had made her happy. For a little while it had been almost like having a dad.

More than anything in the world, Laila wanted a dad. Almost everyone she knew had one. Even if their parents were divorced and the dad didn’t live in the same house, at least he got to take them to the zoo and come to their soccer games and take them for ice cream after.
Pistachio
, Laila thought and had to swallow hard to make the lump in her throat go away.

She didn’t want to be happy in the new place, but she didn’t like being sad, either. She decided it would be okay to run for a little bit, especially since it would make Freckles happy. So she skipped and hopped and stooped to pick up a stick and threw it for Freckles to chase, then ran after him and pretended like she wanted to take the stick away from him. She was having a pretty good time until she noticed they were getting close to the fence and the field where the horses lived.

Laila really didn’t want to see those horses, and besides, it was starting to get kind of dark. She called to Freckles to come back. But Freckles kept going. The sad-faced dog went trotting on ahead, too, and before she knew it, both dogs had disappeared around a bend in the road, leaving her all alone.

Laila didn’t want to be left alone in the almost-dark even more than she didn’t want to see horses, so after a moment, she gave a big sigh and followed the dogs.

When she came around the bend, she was very close to the fence and the field beyond, and there were a whole bunch of horses right up next to the fence. A man was standing there, too, leaning against a fence post, and the horses were gathered around him the same way the kids on Laila’s soccer team gathered around the coach when she was telling them something important. The dogs were there, and the man had turned away from the horses to pet them and rumple their ears. Then he looked up and saw Laila.

The man straightened up and nodded his head toward her and said, “Howdy.”

Laila almost giggled. It wasn’t every day someone said “howdy” to her, although she did know it was a greeting, like the way people in Virginia, where Mom’s family lived, said “hey” instead of “hi.” She didn’t answer, though, because she’d never seen this man before, and she knew she wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers.

But...the dogs seemed to know him, didn’t they? That must mean he was somebody who lived here. And if he lived here, he wasn’t really a stranger.

As she hesitated, the man jerked his head in a way that meant
come
and said in a growly voice, “Well, get on over here, where I can see you. I’m old and I don’t see so good when the light’s bad.”

Even though it was getting dark, Laila could see the man was pretty old. His hair was white, and he had a beard that was white, too. Both Freckles and the sad dog were sitting on their haunches beside his feet, grinning with their tongues hanging out, so she was pretty sure he wasn’t a danger. Still, she stayed where she was.

“What’s the matter? Cat got yer tongue?”

“No,” said Laila, deeply affronted, “it’s right here in my mouth, where it belongs.”

“Ha! So you ain’t dumb. Well, then, tell me your name, little girl.”

She hesitated another moment, then gave in. “I’m Laila.”

“Ah. Pretty name.”

“What’s
your
name?”

“It’s Sam. Sam Malone. I’m your mother’s grandpa—what do you think of that?”

“Oh,” said Laila.

Sam scratched his beard. “So, I reckon that makes me your great-grandpa, don’t it?”

Laila shook her head. “I’m adopted.”

“So what? Your mama’s your mama, and I’m her grandpa, so I’m your great-grandpa. So you’ve got no call to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of
you
,” said Laila. “Just
them
.”

“Them?” Sam looked around in surprise, then over his shoulder at the horses, then back at Laila. “You mean these fellas here?”

Laila nodded. “I don’t like horses.”

Sam jerked his head back. “What? Nobody doesn’t like horses.”

“Well, I don’t. They’re very big. And snorty and stampy.”

Sam looked at her for a long time, scratching his beard. Then he said, “Well, now, I can’t argue with that. They are big. And they do snort and stamp, and they can kick and bite like a sonofagun. But that just makes it all the sweeter when you can get one to eat out of your hand and let you take a ride on his back, don’t it?”

Laila looked at him out of the corner of her eye and didn’t say anything. He made that
come here
motion with his hand again. And although she really didn’t want to go, somehow her feet seemed to, and in a moment there she was, standing right beside Sam and the fence and those horses. They seemed even bigger up close. Their heads hung over the fence, right above hers.

“Show you what I mean,” said Sam. “Here, now, give me your hand.”

Laila looked up at him. His eyes were very bright and there were deep wrinkles around them, and even though her knees felt funny, she slowly held out her hand. His fingers were cool and dry and strong. Then she felt something cool and moist, and she looked down in surprise at the piece of apple lying in her palm.

“Now, you just hold up your hand like that, and this fella here—his name’s Old Paint, and he’s a good old fella—he’ll take that apple right offa your hand.”

“What if he bites me? You said they bite.”

Sam scratched his chin whiskers some more. “Well, now, if this horse were to bite your fingers it’d be because he mistook ’em for somethin’ good to eat. That’s why you have to keep your hand flat, like a plate, see? Now go ahead—try it.”

“O...kay.” Laila wasn’t at all convinced, but she didn’t want Sam to think she was a scaredy-cat. “But if I get bit, my mom isn’t going to like it
at all
.”

Sam made a snorting noise and took her hand and lifted it way up high. The horse made a sound that was almost the same as Sam’s, and Laila caught her breath and closed her eyes and held very still, and she felt a gust of warm breath, and then something soft—like velvet—nuzzled her hand. A giggle rose into her throat and she bit her lip to hold it back.

“There, now,” said Sam. “Better count those fingers.”

The horse bobbed his head up and down and crunched on the piece of apple. Laila couldn’t hold back the giggle any longer. It burst from her, and she wiped her empty hand on her pants and said, “That tickled!”

“See, now, horses aren’t so bad, once you get to know ’em.”

“Maybe,” said Laila. “But I still like goats better.”

“Goats!” Sam jerked back as if she’d said a bad word. “Don’t tell me that. Goats are smelly things, and stubborner than a goldarn mule.”

“Aren’t either! Only the daddy goats smell bad. They’re funny and friendly, and their babies are soft and tiny and
cute
.”

Laila was furious. And then suddenly she wasn’t. Instead, she had that lonely feeling again, like she missed something—or someone—so badly she hurt inside. She was afraid she might cry, and she really,
really
didn’t want to, not in front of Sam.

“You sure do like to argue,” Sam said.

She took a deep breath, but it didn’t help much, and her voice came out sounding very small and trembly. “I don’t either. I just like
goats
,
that’s all. We had goats—I remember them. From when I was little. When I lived with my first mom.”

She stood stiff and tall, with her hands curled into fists, glaring up at Sam, and Sam glared back at her from what seemed a great height, glared from underneath his bristly white eyebrows.

“Huh,” said Sam. “Looks like somebody’s come to fetch you. ’Bout time, too.”

Laila heard footsteps crunching and turned around to watch a dark man-shape coming down the paved road. When he got closer, she saw that it was Sage, the man with the beautiful long black hair who had met her and Mom in the lane when they’d first arrived. She remembered his girlfriend’s name was Abby, and she had a braid like Sage’s, only blond.

Freckles had gone to dance around him as he came toward them on the darkening road. He paused to ruffle the dog’s fur with his hands and said, “Hey, kiddo, it’s getting pretty dark. Your mom sent me out to look for you.” He waited a moment, then said, “I see you’ve met Sam.”

“Ha!” Sam stomped past Laila and Sage and headed up the road, muttering to himself. “Kid doesn’t like horses. Never heard of a kid didn’t like horses. Argues a lot, too.”

After a few steps, he turned around and pointed his walking stick at Sage and said in a scratchy, growly voice, “Get the kid some goldarn goats.” Then he turned back and stomped off into the night.

Sage looked down at Laila. “Goats?”

She nodded. And she didn’t feel lonely or sad or mad anymore. She felt light, as if she had bubbles inside, as she ran up the road ahead of Sage, with Freckles bounding on one side of her and the sad dog trotting along on the other.

* * *

The courtyard was empty but not still. The moon was high and almost full, and the warm summer night was filled with sounds. Yancy could identify most of them: the frogs and crickets and trickling of water from the Spanish-style fountain nearby, the mooing of cattle far off in the valley. The murmur of voices from one of the bedrooms farther down the veranda. Even the unfamiliar yip-yipping chorus from the not-so-distant hills that she was pretty sure must be coyotes. The smells were familiar, too: the sweetness of roses, lilies and honeysuckle, mingled with the spice of sage and pine, and the earthiness of pasture and stream and farm animals.

So familiar, and yet somehow being here filled her with vague feelings of longing and discontent.

There was sadness, deep and aching grief over the loss of friends and colleagues—
that
she understood. And she knew she’d done the best thing she could, bringing Laila here, so it wasn’t that, either. If Hunt was right, her continuing presence in Afghanistan would only put more people she cared about in danger, and most of all, Laila. Coming here to her grandfather’s ranch was the perfect solution. Laila would be safe here, even happy. She’d barely been able to stop talking about the goats Sage was going to get for her—
Because Sam said so!
—and she’d fed a horse an apple—
And it didn’t bite me!
—and she was in love with the dogs, Freckles and the one with the “sad face.”