They walked out together. The day was fading in a smear of pink and orange across the sky, and slicing right through the middle was the mountain that seemed to ground the whole Black Heart.
They both drifted to a stop to soak in the view.
“Ever seen anything as beautiful as that?” Crew asked.
“Only between the thighs of a good woman.” Pope’s tone came out deadpan, and then they both burst out laughing.
“You have a one-track mind, my friend.”
“Two-track if you count poker.”
Crew’s lips pursed in concern. He was starting to recognize a pattern in Pope. Women and cards could be addictions, especially to a man trying to bury memories.
Crew would leave that to the therapists. He had his own demons to face—and one was the bonfire around the next corner. He forced his legs to move. “Come on. I can smell the wood burning.”
When they reached the spot, Crew didn’t look directly at the flames shooting up from the big pit, focusing instead on the people seated around the fire.
Other vets, a few of the Malone women and two of the kids in the family. The baby, CJ, was wearing a hat with two bear ears that made him look ridiculous and cute at the same time. And Navy was seated in a lawn chair, a chocolate bar in her hand, looking like she got more on her face than in her mouth.
As soon as the little toddler spotted him, she scrambled off the chair and rushed toward him. Rhae, her mother, intercepted the child, scooping her up in one arm.
“Cwewww!” Navy screamed.
Rhae laughed. “Let’s clean you up first.”
Amused, Crew took a seat on a split log and waited for his little buddy to get her hands and face washed. Pope settled beside him.
A minute later, Rhae carried the child over and plopped her down in Crew’s lap.
“Hey, sweetie.” He smiled down at the little girl with big gray eyes like all the Malones. “Did you visit the horses today?”
“Neigh!” She threw her head back and issued a surprisingly good mimicry of a horse.
Everyone laughed, and Crew felt his chest, tight the moment he saw the flames, loosen a bit.
“You want a s’more?” he asked her.
“Yes!”
Rhae placed a marshmallow on a stick and handed it to Crew to roast for her daughter. The minute she sank on the log on the other side of him, he felt her shift into therapist mode.
“Crew. I’m proud of you for coming to the bonfire.”
He didn’t respond to her praise because he didn’t know how. The bonfire was just a fun ranch activity. It shouldn’t be difficult to face, and he still struggled with humiliation that it was hard for him.
After the toddler ate her s’more, she slipped off Crew’s lap and ran to greet Aunt Willow, who just joined them.
Beside him, Pope shifted, nudging Crew’s arm. “You good?”
It took him a moment to figure out what he meant. Then he took a deep breath and glanced toward the fire without looking at it directly. “After you see your plane go up in flames, you never look at a fire quite the same.”
Crew stayed where he was, hands braced on his knees, letting the heat wash over him.
He was still here. He was still trying.
* * * * *
Gravel and grit crunched under Fern’s rubber boots, a sound she’d never get tired of. Each day she came to work at the greenhouse was another day filled with happiness.
