The Corporal and the Choir Girl

Reegan struggled to understand his words. Cpl. Lucas was telling her something important. Reece wasn’t just missing. "You're telling me he's been captured?"

Once again, the men looked to one another as though they were at a loss.

"It's unlikely," said Cpl. Lucas.

"Then where is he?" Reegan asked.

The men looked at each other again. Cpl. Lucas looked as though he were battling an inner demon who wouldn’t release his words. Sgt. Chase looked to the other man in warning, his features clearly shouted hold it together. But it was clear Cpl. Lucas wouldn't. He turned away from Sgt. Chase and faced Reegan fully.

"It's against protocol to classify someone as deceased when there is no body. But for all intents … your brother … is gone."

Cpl. Lucas’s words were strangled, hoarse, as though he hadn’t used his voice in days. He gave her his full gaze, letting her see into his soul. There was so much pain and guilt and— was that shame there?

Reegan wanted to comfort him. She wanted to pull him inside her arms and sing to him. He was clearly in such pain. But all she could offer was her certainty.

“No,” she said. “He’s not."

Instead of looking relieved at her words, Cpl. Lucas blinked at her in utter disbelief.

"If he were dead, I'd know it. We have a bond. We're twins. We came into the world together. I'd know if he'd checked out on me."

The hall was silent. Her community was used to the Cartwright twins. But clearly, these men weren't.

Reegan was sure Reece hadn't gone on and on about his connection with his sister on the base. But it was true. Reegan knew Reece's heart was still beating because hers hadn't skipped a beat. She'd felt off for days. And now she knew why.

"You're going back to find him?" She addressed this question to Cpl. Lucas. "Aren't you?"

Chapter Seven

For the second time since he’d come to stay on the Purple Heart Ranch, it was the sound of nature that woke Brandon up. Not the natural sounds of the base where he'd hear boots on the ground trudging through gravel. Nor the all-too-common sound of weapons being cleaned outside of tents. Or foul language being slung about as freely as uhs and ums to fill the flub between words.

No, these were the sounds of actual nature. There were birds chirping off in the distance. Dogs barking nearby. Was that a rooster crowing out back? And children giggling in close proximity. There were no children at camp.

Brandon was not in a war zone. He was not on a base. He was on a ranch.

And he'd slept.

All night again.

Well, most of it. Sunday night he’d slept four, nearly five hours. Looking at his watch, he saw that he’d nearly cleared eight hours Monday night. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten that much sleep.

And peaceful sleep at that. Instead of screams and the orange-red of an explosion, he'd dreamed of a red-haired angel singing a sweet tune as she floated down from a sunny, blue sky. The sight of Reegan Cartwright standing in the midst of the choir, the sound of her voice filling the cracks and crevices of his chest, had been the last thing he’d thought about before closing his eyes. That memory of her had carried over into his dreams.

Reegan had turned Brandon’s unwanted nightmares into fulfilling dreams with just the power of her beautiful voice. Unfortunately, now that it was the bright light of day, the reality of the situation struck home.

Brandon knew the five stages of grief. For most people, when they were told of tragedy, disbelief was their first emotion. That denial would be followed by anger, bargaining, depression, and finally, acceptance. Reegan hadn't believed a word they'd told her about her missing brother. She was stuck in the first stage of grief, believing that Reece was still alive.

Brandon hoped that wasn't true. If by chance Private Cartwright had been captured, he'd be experiencing unbearable torture and certain death. For Reece's own soul, Brandon hoped the young man was safely ensconced with his Maker, leaning over the gates of heaven to hear his sister sing.

Reegan’s voice had certainly sent Brandon off to heaven while in church and later when he'd rested his head on his borrowed pillow. But the sound of her song was already fading from his memory. And the sleep-stealing numbness was creeping back into his body.

He wondered if it would be possible to hear her sing again? He wasn’t sure he was willing to go back through the church doors, sit on the hard wooden bench, make it through another sermon he didn’t believe in, and face her denial of her brother’s fate for another sweet note.

He had to admit that the notion was tempting. His body felt languid. His mind was clear. Though he could feel memories of the heat of that day crawling across his toes and pinching at his fingertips. It would be back.

For now, Brandon rose to greet the day. He'd been placed in a two bedroom, ranch-style row house all to himself. Ortega was shown to the connecting house on Brandon’s left, while Chase was given the key to the one on his right. In addition to the bedrooms, the homes each sported a full kitchen and dining area, along with a living room.

It was a nic