The Corporal and the Choir Girl

Brandon's eyes slammed open to find Dr. Patel standing a few feet away. Having dealt with PTSD issues, it was clear that the man knew to keep his distance until he was sure the way was safe. Brandon was no threat to anyone other than himself.

"I take it sleep is still eluding you?" The man took slow steps until he came behind his desk. His brown features were smooth and placid as he spoke. He leaned back in his chair, his hands folded on the top of his blank notepad.

Brandon sighed, trying to shake off the daydream. His head felt light after he pushed out the last of his heavy breaths. The tightening in his chest didn’t lighten. But his leg tapping slowed a bit.

"When's the last time you slept?" Dr. Patel picked up his fountain pen. His scribbles filled the spaces were his taps had slowed.

Brandon thought back to the last time he’d slept longer than a few minutes. It had been the first night he was there. Right after hearing Reegan sing at church. He’d awakened feeling a peace he hadn’t known in months. Just the thought of it made his toe-tapping slow down even more, but he hadn’t come to a complete stop.

"It's been a couple of days,” Brandon admitted.

Dr. Patel pulled his notepad onto his lap, blocking Brandon’s view of his notes. “That would’ve been your first night here?”

Brandon nodded.

“After you came from the church?”

Brandon’s gaze narrowed at the man. He watched as the pen moved across the paper, but there were no scritch scratch noises filling the silent beats between his foot tapping any longer.

“Reegan was lucky you were in the neighborhood the other night,” Patel continued.

"Maybe. Maybe not.”

Dr. Patel looked up. The pen went still as he regarded Brandon.

“Maybe I distracted her, and that’s why the fire happened.”

Dr. Patel sat the pen down on the desk. And then the notepad. As Brandon had suspected, there were hardly any marks on the lined paper.

Brandon had the sudden urge to fill that blank sheet of paper with his truth. And so he opened his mouth, and the guilt that had been clawing at him spilled out. “First, I took her brother from her, and now, I’ve taken her home from her."

Dr. Patel was silent for a long moment. He didn’t reach for the pen and paper. He didn’t downplay or deny Brandon’s claims.

After another long, silent moment, Brandon frowned. Why wasn’t the shrink telling him he wasn’t at fault? Wasn’t that his job? To assuage him of his guilt?

"I read the fire marshal's report,” Dr. Patel finally said. “The report said the fire was due to faulty wires."

Brandon chewed at the inside of his lip. The tightness in his chest moved up to his throat, closing off any words.

"I also read the military report on Private Cartwright’s incident.” Dr. Patel leaned forward, folding his forearms over the pad on the desk. The pen rolled off to the side. “You both followed protocol.”

“I hesitated.”

Dr. Patel steepled his fingers and rested his chin. His gaze was like iron as it held Brandon’s. “Many a man has. Decisions are rarely black and white. There will always be shades of gray. It’s the strong man that realizes that in a world of gradations, all he can do is what is right.”

Brandon took a deep breath. He'd heard a Monday morning quarterbacking speech such as that before. It didn't change the fact that he couldn't stop wishing he’d made different decisions. If he hadn’t let Cartwright go down and investigate, the man would still be alive. If he hadn’t startled Reegan, she wouldn’t have come to the front door, and her house wouldn’t have burned down.

Dr. Patel shook his head slowly, as though he could hear Brandon’s thoughts. “Until you let go of your guilt, you won't find peace or rest. That's why I wanted you to tend to something else. To work in the gardens, put the seeds in the soil, clear their paths, and watch the plants grow. But I see you found something else in the garden. News has spread of your proposal.”

Brandon sat back in his chair, angling his body away from the doctor. Dylan and the others had joked that the man might be psychic. Brandon had never believed in unseen powers and reading people’s minds, but now he wasn’t so sure. “How did you find out?”

“Maggie.”

So, it wasn’t a psychic connection, just a gossiping pregnant woman. Reegan must have told her. Brandon had watched Maggie Banks waddling around the ranch. But apparently, she moved fast when she had a juicy tidbit to share.

“Pastor Barrett came to me,” said Dr. Patel. “We are both pastors in the church. He wanted to know what kind of man you were.”

“What did you tell him?” Suddenly Brandon’s limbs and organs were still and silent. He cared very much what the two pastors thought of him.