Finding Purpose (Colorado Veterans Book 1) Page 4

  “What’s got you all smiley? I haven’t seen you look that pleased in a long time.”

  “It’s Quincy, a friend of mine from OSU. She’s helping Ms. Polly take care of everything at the house. They need help with boxes in the garage so I’ll be going over there later.”

  I’m not expecting the grin that spreads across her face. “I know who she is. When you were in the hospital in Germany she called me every day. She knew I couldn’t get there so she kept me updated. The Colonel was having a hard time and needed her help. Any interest?”

  My eyes flick to hers and narrow. “No, Mom. She’s pretty put together. She wouldn’t have anything to do with a guy like me. Besides, I have nothing to offer a woman anymore.”

  My mom knows I haven’t dated seriously since I went into the Navy, not since Jenny. One-night stands were the closest I got to women.

  Jenny was my high school sweetheart and although I loved her, I already knew once I was away at college that something had changed between us. I now realize that when my dad died I was able to use that as an excuse to break things off with her. She’d been patiently waiting in our hometown so we could start our life together, but I no longer wanted that. I wanted to serve my country and see the world and have more of an adventure than college in Ohio. I wasn’t ready to work a nine-to-five job and start a family at that point. His death allowed me to do that with good reason. It also relieved me of a lot of guilt when it came to ending things with Jenny.

  I thought my mom was upset with me about the breakup, but it turns out she understood. She said she felt like my dad settled for her and stayed in our town because it was what she wanted. She said she always wondered if he regretted it and she didn’t wish that on anyone. She said that one day, Jenny would’ve realized asking me to stay was selfish and would have been sorry. She was pleased I was strong enough at the time to walk away and live my dream.

  My mother loved my father with a burning passion and I suspected my dad felt the same. Although Mom told me, as the years moved on she began to understand what she took from him, and when he died she mourned the loss of those experiences for him.

  “Honey, you still have plenty to offer a woman. You need to start believing that again. Losing half of your leg hasn’t lessened your worth as a man.”

  I don’t reply because I don’t want to tell her I don’t think I can perform like a man should or that I’ve had issues with prescription medications and alcohol and am very unstable. Or that I feel a lot of guilt that I’m not going to be able to get rid of for being the only one who got to come home. Nope, I just let her statement go without comment.

  One of the first few days I was home and ran into Jenny and two of her three children at the supermarket. It was the first time I’d seen her since right after my father’s death. She looked exactly the same except with a little more weight on her, which I’m assuming is leftover baby weight. That didn’t detract from her beauty in the least though. Other than one child running laps around her legs and the other drooling everywhere, it was obvious she was living her dream. We didn’t say much. We exchanged pleasantries briefly and then said goodbye, but it was good to see her happy.

  I was always worried I’d see her out in town and regret my choice or it would upset her, but seeing her like that only reinforced the notion that I made the correct decision when I ended things.

  She married a guy who graduated a year ahead of us in school, about two years after I left for the Navy. He’s the local car and property insurance salesman in town. They started their family a year later and moved into a huge house in a prominent neighborhood. I heard she’s the president of the PTA and is in charge of the Presbyterian church’s bake sale every year. She’s living the life she wanted.

  I text a response to Quinn, noting I’ll be there about three this afternoon if that’s okay, and go back to dodging my mom’s probing questions.

  Quinn

  I’d love to slap Judson’s arrogant, beautiful face. When I looked up at the funeral and saw him sitting next to Ms. Polly I couldn’t help the smile that appeared. I’m so pissed at my traitorous mind for allowing the lapse in judgment. If I could’ve made a choice with my reaction, I would’ve scowled at him. I’m still really pissed that he didn’t see the Colonel before he died.

  He does look amazing though. Dress blues never looked better on any man, anywhere. They seem to make his already broad shoulders wider, more intimidating. His cleanly shaven face, more handsome with age, forced my heart to beat faster the same way it did all those years ago. Although his eyes were weary, there was still a depth there I wanted to get lost in.

  After the funeral, when I asked him about not visiting the Colonel, I was so pissed my head could have blown off of my shoulders. I tried to rein it in. In fact, I promised myself I wouldn’t even ask, but when he approached me I knew I had to. The Colonel loved and adored Judson like he was his own son. He lived for the letters and I knew a visit from him at the end would have meant the world.

  The last few months of taking care of the Colonel and helping Ms. Polly have been really difficult, but they were filled with love, laughter and wisdom. I’d never change the decisions I made to help. It’s been worth every minute. I just have to decide what I want to do next.

  I’m not sure I want to continue down the same path I’ve been on at the Denver Police Department. Being a female police officer is not as difficult as it once was, but there are still a lot of older men on the force who believe a woman’s place is in the home, not working, and especially not on the streets with a badge. Those particular men made my job more difficult every chance they got. I could have reported a couple of them for sexual harassment, but I wasn’t about to stoop to their level. I knew they were trying to get a reaction out of me. Trying to piss me off enough so I’d quit. I held my own but it wore on me after a while.

  My phone buzzes on the nightstand across the room so I grab it. It’s Jeff. Crap, I thought he agreed to give me space. We’ve been dating for two years. I thought things were going just fine until he dropped the marriage bomb on me. I, of course, freaked out. That’s not happening. I have no interest in being tied down. I can’t have kids so what’s the point? Not that I’d cheat on him. In fact, I didn’t date much before him. I just don’t see the point. Marriage is for people who want a family. I can’t have one so I don’t see the need.

  I told Jeff I needed time to think and space to do it when I left Denver. He was pissed I took a leave of absence to take care of the Colonel. He told me I was screwing up my career by doing it. He’s never understood the relationship I had with the Colonel and Ms. Polly, but I don’t give a damn. After the last conversation, I told him I needed him to back off until I could decide what I wanted. I texted to let him know when the Colonel died and to let him know I haven’t decided what I want. He hasn’t responded, until now. I was almost afraid he’d show for the funeral.

  I slide my finger across the screen to reveal the text:

  Jeff: U doing okay?

  Me: Good as can be expected. Everyone just left the house.

  Jeff: Can I c u this week?

  Me: I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m helping Ms. Polly tie up all the loose ends like I promised. I’ll call u in a few days.

  Jeff: I want 2 c u. I miss u.

  Me: I’m sorry. I’m just dealing with a lot and trying 2 keep everything under control.

  Jeff: How much longer do I need to wait? Either u want me or u don’t.

  Me: It’s not that easy.

  Jeff: It’s not as hard as you’re making it. Plenty of women would jump at the chance 2 marry me.

  Me: You know my issues but if u want 1 of the plenty then feel free to go there. My stance on marriage is never going to change.

  Jeff: That’s not what I meant & u know it.

  Me: It sounded like a threat to me.

  Jeff: I don’t want 2 fight. I just want 2 c u.

  Me: Give me a week and I’ll come 2 Denver.

  Jeff:
OK, I love you, Quinn.

  I don’t respond. Instead I turn off my phone and go back to reading my book. I’m not sure that I love him anymore or that I ever did, which is a big issue right now. I don’t want to hurt him. I’m a mess and I’m certain half of it has to do with seeing Judson again, the one man I’m certain I’ve loved.

  I’m sure Marissa from records is happy as hell that I took the leave of absence. That woman has been shamelessly flirting with Jeff for years. I’m sure she threw a party when I left. Hell, for all I know he’s hooked up with her since I’ve been gone. In fact, I’d be willing to wager money he has. Jeff’s not the kind of guy to deny himself what he wants and his libido is higher than most so I’m certain he’s feeding his appetite. The sad part about it is I’m not even mad. In fact, I’m not feeling anything about that possibility at all. Shouldn’t I be upset about the man I supposedly love hooking up with other women?

  This morning Ms. Polly made me text Judd, insisting we need his help. His response was not what I expected. I thought he’d make up an excuse about why he couldn’t. I was surprised by the quick yes I received. I’m having a hard time believing that he’ll be here for any of this when he had such a tough time making it before the Colonel died.

  The rumble of his truck and the bang of his door closing reach my ears before I see him. Ms. Polly is still in the house and I’m in the garage surveying the situation, deciding where to start.

  When I turn to greet him, I’m halted in my tracks while visions of a naked college-age Judson assault my memory on rapid replay. My breath hitches and I curse myself for the moment of weakness. The clothes he’s wearing are similar to what he wore when we were in college. Yesterday, he was in his dress blues and looked like the thirty-one-year-old man he should be. Today he looks like he stepped out of a scene from my memory, and when it comes to him there are some really good memories to choose from. If there wasn’t a hardness lingering behind his eyes, which wasn’t there all those years ago, I’d swear we’d gone back in time.

  Shit, it’s going to be a long afternoon. I hate having this reaction after all these years. It’s not like he showed up here in a tux or anything. His broad, ripped shoulders have his old T-shirt pulled tight across his chest and the perfectly worn-out, light-colored blue jeans look so soft from age I want to touch them to find out for sure. They seem to hang perfectly off his narrow hips. Damn that’s hot, even with the little bit of extra weight he’s carrying in his midsection from lack of cardio exercise. Reflexively, I lick my lips and will myself to make eye contact with him. When I do I’m met with his signature smirk that tells me he knows exactly what I was thinking about. I do my best to wipe my expression clean. It’s been years since I’ve seen that smirk, but it still has the same panty-melting effect on me.

  “Hey, thanks for coming,” I comment, aiming for nonchalant.

  His blue eyes twinkle when he answers, “My pleasure. Are you ready to get started?”

  “As soon as Ms. Polly comes back. Whatever we don’t take, she wants us to gather for donation to AMVETS. They’re bringing a truck out tomorrow to tote all of this away.”

  He nods thoughtfully and turns to scan the room.

  “Does she want to keep anything in here?” he asks.

  “Only a small bag of tools to take to her new place. There isn’t room for anything else. She seriously wants us to take whatever we want. I called dibs on the lawn mower; mine took a crap in the fall and I’ve dreaded buying a new one. His is five years old and is in better condition than my car. I plan to buy a little house soon and will need it. Why don’t you have a look around and see what he’s got in here.”

  “It feels weird going through someone else’s stuff, doesn’t it?” he asks, chewing on the side of his lip.

  “Yeah, but it’s also kind of cool. It’s like getting a sneak peek into a private section of his mind. He was even more methodical than I suspected.”

  Judd strolls to the back wall where all of the woodworking tools are neatly lined up and runs his fingers over them while a thoughtful expression plays on his handsome face.

  “The Colonel spent hours teaching me how to use this stuff when we were in Columbus. While most people were out partying, I was doing this kind of stuff with him. We made these amazing nightstands out of cherrywood that I wish I would have taken from him when he offered back in the day.”

  “He still has them,” I mention.

  “He does? I didn’t see them.”

  “They’re in his room. He was really proud of those. He must have told me how you guys made those together about 10 different times. He made Ms. Polly promise that she’d will them to you when she dies.”

  I look up to find his eyes glassy with the knowledge I shared. He turns away abruptly and busies himself with thumbing through some papers on the workbench.

  “So what made you decide to move back here?” I probe, as curiosity gets the best of me.

  “I had nowhere else to go. I have no idea what my next step is and my mom has been asking me to come back for a couple of months. I’m finally at the point where I can do my physical therapy anywhere, so I just decided to do it.” He shrugs and continues what he’s doing. I take a moment, while he’s turned around, to admire the thick thighs and muscled butt his jeans hug with perfection. His T-shirt is worn a little thin, so the collar is stretched a bit and the exposed skin between the collar and his earlobe beckon me to lick a long, slow line until I reach the spot that’s really sensitive for him right behind his ear. His voice snaps me out of the naughty daydream I’m brewing in my mind and I flush, embarrassed at my thoughts. One minute I’m mad at him and the next I’m molesting him with my thoughts. What is wrong with me?

  “Why did you move in with the Colonel?”

  “They needed help and he refused to let a stranger in his home at night. I guess his old-school paranoia never went away. He asked me when I was visiting after he was diagnosed. I thought about it for a few days and decided to do it. I took a leave of absence from work, packed up most of my stuff and moved in here.”

  “Where were you living at the time?”

  “A little house I was renting in Denver. It’s a cool town, but I had been considering leaving the force for a while anyways so I decided to give up the house. If I move back, I want to buy a little house similar to the one I was living in.

  “I’ve been looking at other career options and have even been looking at a few houses. If I don’t go back to Denver, I’ll probably stay in the area as long as Ms. Polly is living and then maybe go back to Cincinnati later on. My family is a little pissed I never moved back there after my time with the national team. I just wasn’t ready I guess. What’s your plan now?”

  Ms. Polly steps back into the garage before he can answer and says, “Oh good, you found his woodworking tools, Judson. You’re going to take it all, right? Gene was really hoping you would. He always said you were a natural with it.”

  “I can’t take all of this Ms. Polly. It’s too much, besides I don’t even have a house yet.”

  “It’s not too much for a father to give a son, not even close, and that’s what you were to him. I can hold it until you get a place. Now that that’s settled, let’s get the rest of this junk figured out.”

  I laugh out loud because that’s just the way she is. Most women in her situation would probably still be dressed in black while crying their mourning tears, but not Ms. Polly. She has things she wants to take care of, so no one will see her in anything less than warrior-woman mode. It’s how she survived the Colonel’s time in Vietnam and Kuwait and part of what he adored about her. The woman is a rock. I know she misses him but she also wants to get things done.

  Throughout the day I sneak peeks at Judson’s ass as it flexes in those jeans, or admire the way his back muscles contract under the thin cotton of his T-shirt. It’s torture to look and not be able to touch. Ms. Polly catches me once and lets out a little giggle and my eyes bug out at being caught. Judson seems oblivious the who
le time, thank goodness. Although I can’t lie and say it doesn’t bother me a little that he’s not affected by me in the slightest. I guess a guy who looks like him and is a Navy SEAL probably has a bunch of 20-year-old beauty queens laid out for him on a regular basis. A 32-year-old spinster with a few grey hairs isn’t going to get noticed. Besides, I’m still a little mad at him anyway. I sigh out loud and continue working.

  By dinnertime we’re all tired. His limp is more pronounced and Ms. Polly’s eyes are sagging. We eat the pizza she ordered and Judson says his goodbyes, letting us know he’ll be back tomorrow to oversee the AMVETS donation for us because I’m taking Ms. Polly to the Social Security office and to see her lawyer.

  I’ve been lying in bed for two hours trying to go to sleep but not finding much luck in that department. Thoughts of Judson keep rolling through my head. My brain is having a hard time understanding that Judson, the man who cared so deeply for those around him and made love to me 10 years ago is long gone, replaced by one who doesn’t really care about much and definitely not about me. Can time change a man that much? Sure, feelings can fade but basic caring? It doesn’t match with the man I knew or the one from the Colonel’s letters. The man who wrote those letters is not the man I’ve seen.

  I flip the light back on and pull out my romance novel, hoping to have something else to concentrate on for a little while. I’m about three pages into it when my cell phone rings. Who the heck would be calling me this late? Usually it’s Denise, my childhood best friend, when it’s at an odd hour, but she has an undercover case she’s working right now so I know it’s not her. The caller ID indicates that it’s a Colorado Springs number.

  “Hello?”

  “Um… Do you know a dude by the name of Judson Rivers?” a gruff, unfamiliar voice asks.

  I sit up, suddenly worried that something has happened to him. “Yeah, I know Judson. Why?”