The Corporal and the Choir Girl

"You knew him?" asked Chase.

"Not him, his sister. She does volunteer work on the ranch. His parents died three years back before we arrived on the ranch.”

Brandon remembered that. Reece had been given leave during their training to mourn his parents. He’d come back hardened, even more dedicated to his job in the service.

“Reegan sings in the choir. In fact, she’ll be at church right now. It's best to take you there. I think it will be better for her to be surrounded by those she loves when you deliver this news."

Brandon wasn't so sure. He preferred to suffer in silence, in private. But he didn't argue. It would be fine.

Chapter Four

On Sunday afternoon people flocked into the church’s open doors as though it were an Easter Sunday service. Many of the worshippers lingered in the doorways catching up with their neighbors. They stood in the aisles and bent over pews to gossip or extend well wishes or kiss newborn babies. The conversations weren’t overlong as most people had seen each other either the day before or a few days ago. But this was the way of their community, and Reegan reveled in it.

The church members in this congregation were lifelong friends. Everyone knew everyone. People of every age took their seats amongst the pews. Some in their Sunday’s best, which might have been a suit and tie or frilly dress and patent leather shoes. Others were donned in the best that they could do, which might be pressed jeans and a collared shirt or a hemmed skirt with a little scuff to their second-hand shoes.

Reegan watched as the senior pastor, Pastor

Barrett made his way to the pulpit. The man gave her a secret smile as he always did. Pastor Barrett had been the youth pastor when she was a girl. He had been there for her whole life, and she’d spent a lot of time not only under his wing but in his nest making a mess with his young daughter.

Elsbeth Barrett stood at the doors to the church, greeting the stragglers as they made their way in. The pastor’s daughter and Reegan had been best friends from the cradle. They’d shared their toys, their clothes, and their dreams. They’d even shared a best friend between them.

Reece was the third part of their trio. It made sense that because Beth and Reegan got along so well, and Reece was a carbon copy of Reegan but with boy parts, that they should get along too. And they did.

Reece looked at Beth as a second sister. Unfortunately, he never looked at her any other way. Even though somewhere around middle school, Beth’s view of her bonus brother had shifted.

Thinking about Reece made her heart pound. Reegan was missing her brother more and more each day. It had been over a month since the last time she’d heard from him.

The twins had always had a connection. Reegan swore she could feel when he was upset or hurt. She didn’t feel that now, but she still felt … off.

They’d gone longer stretches where he couldn’t communicate. It didn’t make it easier. She knew he’d be home soon for some downtime when his enlistment with the army was up. But she also knew that Reece had every intention of re-enlisting. Service was her brother’s passion, and she was a proud Army Sister.

"You good, Reegan?”

Reegan turned to look beside her. Cassie Ramos sat beside her, her hand resting on her belly bump. The slight young woman was more belly than anything else these days.

"I'm fine," said Reegan. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to step in for me.”

Cassie, who had the soprano voice of an angel, had been doing her fair share of solos since joining the choir only six months ago. But her voice had changed during her pregnancy. It would often pitch lower in the middle of a song. It was as though she were going through an adolescent boy’s puberty.

“Good, cause this kid is kicking up a storm today,” Cassie said. “He’s got too much of his daddy in him.”

Her husband, another armed forces vet, looked up from his place in the congregation as though he’d heard his wife invoke his name. With their young daughter in his lap, Xavier Ramos kept an ever watchful eye on his wife. Reegan had to look away as a secretive smile crept across his face, causing his dimples to make an appearance.

The doors to the church opened again, letting in the last of the setting sun. Four men came in. The first man she recognized.

Dylan Banks walked smoothly down the aisle. Only someone who knew the man would know that his right leg was a prosthetic one, put in place after he lost his leg in the service. The man strode with easy confidence until he found space for himself and the three soldiers behind him.

The other three men were dressed in the familiar green uniform her brother wore. Their faces were serious. Their postures stiff.

Reegan was certain they had likely just come off a base where they’d been steeped in training. Or perhaps they’d come from time overseas. They had that look about them that her brother had when he returned home for his short stretches.

As they sat, their bodies were ever alert. Backs straight. Gazes roaming, darting here and there. Sizing up everyone and everything in their periphery for a sign of threat.

It had alarmed Reegan the first time she’d seen her brother react that way to the people he’d known all his life. But he’d explained that hyper-vigilance was a soldier’s greatest defense.

All three soldiers had dark hair, but Reegan's gaze caught on the one lagging behind. There was no height difference making him taller or shorter than the other two. His body wasn’t broader or leaner than the others either. Though one soldier had striking dimples that rivaled Xavier’s, and the other had striking green eyes which had already caught the attention of a few of the single women in the congregation.

Reegan’s gaze caught and held on the third soldier precisely because he did not look up. He looked bone-weary tired. The dark circles under his eyes called out to her, begging her to run her thumbs beneath them to clear some of the dusk away. The firm set of his jaw urged her to say something to tickle his funny bone. He looked like he definitely needed a good laugh, but she knew that even a grin would be hard won.