Full Measures (3 page)

“Do you need me?” he asked softly, as the clerk rang up his Vitamin Water.

“What?” I had zero clue what he was talking about.

He flushed. “Do you need me to carry that out? I mean, it looks kind of heavy,” he finished slowly, like he couldn’t believe he’d said it, either.

“It’s a cake.” He had to be the hottest awkward guy I’d ever met.

“Right.” He grabbed his bag and shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “Would you at least let me drive you home?”

Wow, did he choose the wrong day to try to pick me up. “I don’t even know you. I hardly think that’s appropriate.”

A soft smile slid across his face. “You’re December Howard and I’m Josh Walker. I graduated three years ahead of you.”

Josh Walker. Holy shit. High school. Memories crashed through me, but that Josh Walker couldn’t possibly be the one standing in front of me. No, that one had been a tattooed, motorcycle-driving, cheerleader magnet, not this clean-cut all-American nice guy. “Josh Walker. Right. I used to have a picture of you taped on my closet door from when you guys won state.” Shit. Why did I say that? His eyebrows raised in surprise, and I mentally added
or still do, but whatever.
“If I remember correctly, you had your head stuck too far up your hockey helmet to notice any underclassmen.” But I had noticed him, along with every other girl in school. My eyes narrowed as I assessed the lean cut of his face, only made more angular and freaking hot by quasi-adulthood. “And you had a lot more hair.”

His devastating grin cut through the fog of my brain, distracting me from the pain for a blissful moment. How did a hockey player have such straight teeth?

“See, I’m not a stranger.” He handed me my cake, and his smile vanished, replaced by a flash of . . . pain or pity? “Ember, I’m sorry about your dad. Please let me drive you home. You’re not in any shape to drive.”

I shook my head, tearing my gaze from his sympathetic one. For an instant, I had nearly forgotten. Guilt overran me. I’d just let a pretty face distract me from . . . everything, and it all came rushing back, shredding into me. What was I doing even thinking about him? I had a boyfriend, and a dead father, and no time for this. Dead. I squeezed my eyes shut against the pain.

“Ember?”

“I need to do it. I need to know I can.” I thanked him again for paying and headed back into reality.

I slid onto the frozen leather seat in my car and sat in stunned silence for a moment. How could something as simple as seeing Josh Walker again right a little piece of my soul when the rest had been flipped so wrong? The cold of the seat seeped through my running capris, forcing out the warm thoughts of Josh. The cake on my front seat mocked me with stupid, happy, martial-arts turtles. Gus would love it. If Gus
could
love it. God, what was he going to do without Dad? What were any of us going to do? Panic welled up in my chest, catching in my throat before exploding in a cry that sounded nothing like me. How was I supposed to take care of Mom without Dad? How was I going to do any of this when I wanted to curl up and deny it all?

My composure crumpled, and I sobbed against my steering wheel for exactly five minutes. Then I sat up, dried my tears, and stopped crying. I couldn’t afford to cry or break down anymore. I had to take care of my family.

Chapter Two

This wasn’t my first military funeral, but I had been a kid then, and the death of someone my parents once knew hadn’t really struck a chord with me. Dad’s funeral slowly tore me apart with each tear I held back. Every time someone hugged me, or told me they were sorry, another piece of me shut down, like my maximum pain threshold had been reached.

Riley, my exquisite, perfect boyfriend of three years, drove down from vacationing at his family’s cabin in Breckenridge to be with me. I’m not sure I could really say he was with me, though. He’d been more
with
his cell phone the last few days, and wasn’t even here yet. I couldn’t really blame him. It’s not like I was a joy to be around. Since the notification last week, Christmas had passed with a whisper, the New Year was upon us, and Mom still hadn’t responded to . . . anything. Thankfully, Grams had shown up, all Southern-steel backbone and silver hair, and kept the wolves off the door. No one was threatening to medicate Mom. Yet.

The chapel on post filled quickly. People I recognized and countless soldiers I didn’t took their seats in hushed tones. We’d asked for this to serve as the unit’s memorial, too. I didn’t think any of us could have gone through this a second time. April sat surrounded by a gaggle of her friends, being comforted en masse as she cried, and a small stab of jealousy sliced through me. April was allowed to fall apart. That was a luxury I didn’t get to have, not anymore.

“Oh, Ember.” Sam, my best friend from high school, pulled me in for a hug at the back of the chapel while I waited for Gus. I sagged a little against her, willing to let her take some of the weight. “This sucks.”

She always knew just what to say.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I said, speaking honestly for the first time today.

“Where’s Riley?” The perfect café au lait skin of her forehead puckered as her eyebrows drew together.

I plastered a fake smile on my face. “Not sure, but he said he’s coming.”

Her furrows deepened, and I saw a flash run through her hazel eyes before she sighed. “Kayla? She’s still your roommate, right?”

“She’s in Boston with her parents, but she’s flying back to Boulder in the next few days.” I held my breath and waited for the typical sarcastic quip to come from Sam. There was no love lost between Kayla and Sam, and hadn’t been since Sam and I had grown apart last year. I’d gone off to Boulder and become roomies with Kayla, and Sam stayed to go to school here in Colorado Springs. I still loved the heck out of Sam, but it was hard to keep a friendship with such separate lives.

“Right.” Organ music started to play, and Sam squeezed my hands. “That’s my cue. Ember, whatever you need, I’m here.”

“I know you are.”

She gave me a weak smile and headed to sit with her mom, who’d been a really good friend of Dad’s. I guess that’s what happens when you spend years and two duty stations with someone.

“Ember?” I turned to see Mrs. Rose, whose husband had been killed in the attack with Dad. She looked put together in a simple black sheath and matching heels. Her hair was done, makeup perfect and unsmeared. Her two little boys, Carson and Lewis, were immaculately dressed in little black suits.

“Hi, Mrs. Rose. We’re glad you came,” I answered for my family. “How are you?”

Her hands grazed the shoulders of her boys, like she was assuring herself they were still there. “We’re getting by. Your mother?”

My face flushed. “She’s having a hard time.”

Mrs. Rose nodded. “We all grieve in different ways. She’ll come around.” She smiled at her boys. “Let’s find our seats.”

They headed down the aisle, and something dark stole into me, raising my temperature. How could she be okay? How was she so perfectly poised when my mother couldn’t hold it together? The unfairness of everything weighed on me. I wanted Mom to pull herself together like Mrs. Rose had.

My cell phone buzzed, alerting me to a new text message.

Riley:
On my way, but running late.

Ember:
See you soon.

I slid my iPhone back into my purse as Gus emerged from the bathroom. His suit made him appear older than he really was, another thief stealing his childhood away. He fumbled with the long ends of his tie, which must’ve come undone while he was in there. Gus only had two ties, both of which my dad had tied before he left for deployment. The knots would slide up and down as we took them on and off Gus’s head for church, but we were always careful not to untie them. None of us girls in the house knew how to tie a tie. We’d never given it much thought.

“I didn’t mean to do it.” His eyes welled up with tears, siphoning my own. I forced a smile to my face, which became just a little easier each time I had to do it.

“It’s not a problem, little buddy.” I gently wiped away his tears and fixed my concentration on figuring out his tie. A wave of grief overtook me. This was Dad’s job. He was supposed to teach Gus how to tie a tie, drive a car, flirt with a girl. How was Gus going to grow up without Dad’s example? Sure, my father would never walk me down the aisle, never hold my firstborn child, or the second, for that matter. But I’d had him for twenty years while I had grown to quasi-womanhood. Dad was etched into the very fabric of my being. It wasn’t fair that his son only got him for seven years.

My fingers fumbled with the tie, but I couldn’t figure out how to make it work. A pair of large hands reached in between us, and I looked over. Shock almost knocked me on my butt at seeing Josh Walker crouched next to me. A sad smile came to his face.

“Hey, Gus, can I get that for you?”

“Hey, Coach Walker. Sure.”

Coach? Right, Gus had told me, but I hadn’t put it together. The Josh Walker I remembered wouldn’t take the time to coach anyone, let alone a hyper group of kids. What had changed him so much in four years?

Gus turned his beautiful smile on me, and I almost hugged Josh for inspiring it. “Ember, this is my hockey coach.”

“We’ve met, Gus.” I ruffled his hair and stood up slowly, careful to keep my balance on my heels.

“I went to high school with your sister, little man.” Josh made quick work of Gus’s tie, deftly looping it around, pulling it through until it resembled my dad’s own knot. A surge of gratitude ripped through me. Josh had saved Gus’s day.

We took our seats when the chaplain directed. Gus sat next to me, then Mom, Grams, and April. One by one, the speakers came up, giving their best memories of Dad. He had saved so many lives, given so much of himself to those who needed it. He had never failed to inspire me. Well, inspire me in everything but his death. He’d been killed senselessly, helping other people. What was the point, the justice in that? Hysterical laughter bubbled up through my lips, and Grams reached her hand around Mom to steady my shoulder. What, like I was going to figure out the meaning of death and life while sitting here? Preposterous. No one understood the meaning behind war. It was hilarious to think the answer would be bestowed upon me simply because I lost someone I loved. My psych professor would have had a field day with me at that moment.

Midway through the service, a familiar hand squeezed my shoulder, this time from behind. Riley had finally arrived. Rather than feeling comforted, I was annoyed and angry. For someone who professed to love me, I certainly wasn’t high on his list of priorities today of all freaking days. No doubt he had a perfect excuse though, some cat caught in a tree, or a stranded stranger with a flat tire.

An officer stood at the podium and began the traditional roll call.
Oh God, here we go.
As he called out the names of soldiers present, they stood in the congregation announcing their presence. All around me, figures in blue popped up like jack-in-the-boxes, alive and well. I thought I was ready to hear it. After all, I knew it was coming. Our CAO had walked us through this many times. They would call my father’s name, but he wouldn’t answer.

That was the whole point.

“Lieutenant Colonel Howard?” The officer’s voice echoed from the silent church. Every muscle in my body tensed and my teeth ground together. “Lieutenant Colonel Justin Howard?” April’s keen wail split the silence and tears burned their way down my cheeks. I couldn’t so much as raise my hands to wipe them away.
God, just stop calling his name. Please.
But he didn’t. “Lieutenant Colonel Justin A. Howard?” One more time. I just had to make it one more time.

“Why do they keep calling Daddy’s name?” Gus asked.

To prove he’s really gone.

I couldn’t answer him; my vocal cords were paralyzed from fear of what would finally erupt when I spoke. I pulled him closer. “Lieutenant Colonel Justin August Howard?” I knew more was said, but I didn’t hear it. Instead, I was back in my memory, watching Dad kneel down so four-year-old Gus could help pin Lieutenant Colonel rank on his shoulders. We’d all been so happy and proud. I guess we were also supposed to be proud today, knowing he’d given his life for something so much bigger than himself. What people didn’t understand was there was nothing bigger than my dad in my eyes, nothing worth the cost of his life.

Bagpipes belted out “Amazing Grace.” Beside me, my mother finally spoke, whispering my father’s name in a broken plea. “Justin?”

I forced my teeth into my lower lip to keep from crying out, slicing into the soft flesh until the pain I caused could stand against the grief tearing through me.

Once the service was over, I felt like congratulating myself for surviving it, but I still had to make it through the burial. We walked down the aisle behind the chaplain, exiting the service through the main door, where a black limousine waited. Grams pulled my mother inside. April followed soon after with her boyfriend, Brett. I waited outside with Gus, knowing Riley would want to come with us.

He came down the steps slowly, dressed impeccably in a suit his mother had picked out, no doubt. His blond hair was parted to the side, and his blue eyes stood out against the black of the suit. Another spurt of hysterical laughter nearly took me. Riley was a living Ken doll. He pulled me into his familiar arms, wrapping me in the scent of the cologne he’d worn since our senior year. He pulled back to kiss me, and his eyes flared. “Uh, babe?” He recoiled, like he was disgusted.

Josh appeared next to me, setting Gus down after a hug. He pulled out a Kleenex and dabbed at the area just beneath my lip. The tissue came away red, stained with the blood I had drawn with my teeth. He gave me a weak smile and backed away quickly, as though he knew he had overstepped a boundary. Whoa. I ran my tongue across my lip and felt the area I’d abused.

Riley rolled his eyes before he realized who it was. “Josh Walker!” He held out his hand, and Josh shook it. “It’s been a long time, man. You’re coaching my little brother and Gus now, right?”