* * *
Cash sat back and watched Monica help both Ethan and Owen roast their marshmallows. The fire had burned down some. The boys had loved the towering flames shooting high into the sky. They’d jumped up and down. Ethan had cheered. Cash had loved it, too, regardless of the indulgent smile Monica had given him, as if he should know better.
Yup, she’d make a good mom. He couldn’t believe she wasn’t already married. Her brother said she’d dated some, but never anything serious. He wondered why. He’d wondered a lot of things about Monica over the years. She’d occasionally slipped into his thoughts at the oddest, least opportune times, like during a lull in gunfire, but he’d firmly pushed her aside. That was a good way to get killed, losing focus on the mission at hand over something as simple as a woman back home.
He glanced toward where the sun had set, leaving behind a sky that glowed orange and pink through a clearing in the trees. It was only eight forty, less than an hour before bedtime for the boys.
That would put him alone with Monica—
“There’s the first star, Uncle Cash.” Ethan pointed to the darkening sky just above the clearing.
“That’s Venus, buddy. Not a star at all, but a planet.”
The kid’s eyes narrowed as if he didn’t quite believe him. “Can I still make a wish?”
Cash chuckled. “Sure. Or you can wait a little bit longer for the stars to pop out. Then it’s off to bed.”
Ethan groaned. “Do we have to?”
Cash looked over at Owen, slouching low in the camp chair. His eyelids drooped. “Afraid so, buddy. Big day tomorrow.”
“What about Dogman? Will he come out after we’re in bed?”
Owen’s eyes flew open, wide as half-dollars.
“No, Ethan. There’s no such thing as Dogman. He’s make-believe, only a pretend character in an old story. Stop trying to scare your brother.”
Ethan folded his arms and pouted.
Owen slipped out of the camp chair and climbed onto Monica’s lap.
She welcomed him, wrapping her arms around his waist, then resting her chin on the top of his head. “Owen, did you want to make a wish?”
He shook his head.
“Why not, little dude?” Cash asked, hoping Owen might answer with spoken words. It was why he’d brought the boys to this cabin, hoping a change of scenery and lots of activity might reopen the floodgates of his speech.
He shrugged instead, leaning deeper into Monica’s arms.
“I’ll wish for us, okay, Owen?” Ethan whispered.
Cash battled against the knot that formed in his throat. Why had he told the boys that stupid tradition of wishing on stars? He knew what they wished for—something that couldn’t come true. They wanted their dad back.
Cash wished for the same thing. He’d never had the chance to tell Cole how much he admired him or how much he loved him. There hadn’t been a proper goodbye the last time he’d seen him. They’d slapped each other’s backs, saying they’d see each other later, but later never came. He caught Monica’s watery-eyed gaze across the crackling campfire and nearly lost it.
Why did his brother have to die? He had a wife and two boys to look after. Cash had been the one dancing with death for as long as he could remember. All those deployments and risky missions into enemy territories had left him whole, without critical injury. Why?
Why was life so unfair?
They sat silently by the fire and Cash stared into the flames. When he finally checked his watch, it was well past nine. He glanced at Monica, still holding Owen, who’d fallen asleep.
He stood and reached for the boy. “Time for bed.”
Ethan got up without argument.
Cash shifted Owen to his shoulder and followed Ethan inside.
Monica stayed put by the fire.
“Go to the bathroom, Ethan.” Cash didn’t bother with orders to brush teeth. This was camp and normal grooming habits were pretty much ignored. It’s what made it camp.
He entered the bedroom the boys shared and laid Owen on the bottom bunk. He didn’t want to wake him, so Cash just slipped off the boy’s shoes and socks before lifting the covers over his motionless form, still dressed in his sweatshirt and jeans.
Ethan came in, changed into his pajamas, and climbed up to the top bunk. “Uncle Cash?”
“Yeah, bud?”
“Is she staying the whole time?”
“Monica? I don’t know. If she does, is that okay with you?”
“Yeah.” Ethan nodded. “Owen likes her, and then Mom and Grandma can meet her, too.”
“She’s easy to like.” Cash ruffled the kid’s hair.
No matter how much Ethan teased his little brother, he still looked out for him. He was a lot like his father in that respect. “Your dad would be proud of how you’re taking care of your little brother.”
Ethan looked at him hard. “I wish he was here.”
That knot deep in Cash’s throat tightened up again, but he swallowed through it. “Me, too, buddy. Good night, Ethan. I love you.”
Ethan looked at him, appearing wiser than his tender years. “I love you, too.”
Cash closed the door only halfway, leaving the bathroom light on. He padded into the kitchen, opened the fridge and grabbed a couple cold beverages before heading back out to the fire.
Monica looked up as he approached.
He handed her a can. “Want one?”
“Sure.” She snapped open the tab top and took a sip. “So, what’s the story with your nephews?”
“My sister-in-law was at her wit’s end with Owen not speaking. Since I had the time, I figured I’d try to help. Ruth had some legal stuff with the tree business, so I asked to bring the boys here. The timing worked well.”
“He’ll talk eventually, won’t he?”
“I hope so. I think it’s the stress of losing his dad. I’ve seen soldiers psychologically lose their eyesight, even their hearing, after combat, with nothing physically wrong with them. If Owen is purposefully keeping quiet, I imagine he’ll give up eventually. I’m hoping some activity away from home will flip the talking switch back on.”
Monica’s eyes shone with approval. “It’s good of you to try.”
Cash shrugged and looked away. “They’re my brother’s boys. I have to do something.”
Monica nodded. “How’s your mom?”
His mother had told him that he was all she had left now, and that comment stuck with him, haunting him. He shrugged. “Upset. She moved in with Cole a while back, after she sold the house.”
“That’s good.” Monica shivered and pulled her chair closer to the fire.
“I can throw on a couple more logs.”
“No. It’s fine. I’m going to turn in soon.”
He watched her stare at the flames, admiring her profile. She still had a long nose, but it was straight. He’d thought for sure that he’d broken it once during a snowball fight when he’d hit her dead-on, but she’d kept a stiff upper lip.
She’d always come back with a sharp retort to his teasing. He liked that about Monica.