Home to Stay (The Long Road Home #2) - Maryann Jordan Page 0,7

admit that I could make a cup of coffee.”

They sipped in silence, his grandfather’s fingers sweeping a few of the crumbs on the tabletop to one side. “‘Fraid I don’t keep the house up as good as she did.”

“Don’t worry about that, Gramps. I’m home and have nothing but time right now. I figure there’s a lot I can do around here.” His grandfather held his gaze, and John braced for the question he knew was coming.

“I thought you had a few more years to retirement.” Gramps inclined his head toward John’s face. “That scar by your eye have something to do with you showing up here, getting out early?”

His forefinger lifted, barely skimming the puckered skin. Sighing heavily, he nodded. “I wasn’t ready, but I can’t do my job and protect my team if I can’t see from one side.” The silence remained, something he was used to from his grandfather. He shrugged. “Got a medical discharge. Decent benefits. I can go to the Togus VA Hospital close by when needed.”

“You got plans?”

He stalled, taking another sip, then shook his head. “No. Not anything definite. Up until about two months ago, I was fine. Took a hit and the next thing I know I’m in surgery to repair my eye. All went well except for the peripheral vision on that side. Spent my final weeks in North Carolina with most of my team but figured this was home. Guess I couldn’t see going anywhere else.” He drained his cup, then said, “Thought I’d help out around here while I figure out what I’ll do next.”

Gramps looked out the window as the sun set and nodded. “Good place to find yourself. Or lose yourself, whichever needs to happen.” He pushed himself to standing and clapped John on the shoulder, his bony fingers digging in slightly as he passed by. “See you in the morning, boy.”

Leaning back in the chair, John shook his head, a grin playing about his lips. Gramps was a man of few words and most of those came out gruff, but he didn’t doubt the old man’s affection. Casting his gaze around, he moved to the sink and washed their cups, then he cleaned the frying pan and brought the plate from the living room into the kitchen to wash it as well. Wiping down the table, he grabbed the broom from the corner and swept the floor.

The sun had dipped into the horizon but it was still early. Watching TV held no appeal, so he climbed the stairs and went into his room, already hearing the snores coming from across the hall. Taking a quick shower, he shoved several pillows against the headboard. Grabbing his backpack, he tossed it onto the bed before settling against the pillows. He pulled out the latest novel he had been reading but found it difficult to concentrate. Tossing the book to the side, he reached inside his pack and pulled out the letters from the kids again. Searching through them, he found the one he was looking for—the class picture. Not formal, the kids were centered in a group in the middle of a classroom, an older, silver-haired woman standing to the side, smiling. Flipping the photo over, he read the now-familiar words:

John, the kids wanted to send you a picture so you’d have smiling faces to carry with you.

Ms. Carrington

Ms. Carrington had said that his name came up from the local American Legion, and since the kids wanted to correspond with a local soldier she hoped he was able to accommodate. His teammates had laughed, telling him to man up and write them back. He had no idea what to say. Hell, I’d never even written my grandparents while serving. But one letter led to another—and then he’d started looking forward to them. What he’d said to the men he’d talked to in the USO was true. The kids’ letters made a few shitty days better.

He climbed from bed and slipped the photo into the edge of the wooden mirror frame before returning the letter back into its envelope and setting the whole pack on his nightstand. Turning out the light, he figured it couldn’t hurt to drop by the school sometime to thank the kids and Ms. Carrington. Rolling over, he punched his pillow. Right after I fix a few things around the house while looking for a job.

3

“Gramps, I’m headed to the hardware store.”

“Again?” His grandfather had just settled into his recliner, trying to stifle a grunt