Heaven's Touch by Jillian Hart Read Free Book Online Page B

had pocketed his wallet, and offered his hand. “It’s good to see you back in one piece, son. Hoo-yah.”
    â€œThank you, sir.” Ben saluted the former soldier, who’d fought in the Pacific and been wounded on Iwo Jima. “It’s good to see you again.”
    With a nod as if to say, “You’ll do, Ben McKaslin,” Ed Brisbane moved on, and behind him was another veteran. Clyde Winkler had braved the beaches at Normandy.
    â€œYou make us proud, son.” Clyde clapped Ben on the shoulder as he passed, as if unable to say more.
    Proud? No, Ben figured he’d been passable as a soldier, but when he looked up, leaning on his crutches to follow Amy down the aisle to the closest empty booth, everyone in the diner was on their feet.
    And clapping.
    They weren’t applauding him specifically, he knew, but just that he was the nearest soldier from the Iraqi conflict. The Middle East was so far away, where so many men and women served—soldiers who’d left their homes, families and lives behind to serve and protect. Ben thought of the soldiers he hadn’t been able to save. Of the men and women who’d given their lives for their country.
    He blushed and felt inadequate. “Don’t clap because I didn’t dodge a bullet. That’s not the kind of behavior you want to reward.”
    A ripple of laughter rolled through the diner. Grateful he didn’t have to walk a step farther, he collapsed on the seat and let Amy steal his crutches.
    â€œCoffee.” She returned to pour him a cup. Her diamond engagement ring glittered in the cheerful sunlight slanting through the window.
    Had it been a month since she’d e-mailed him with her news? She’d been excited to be engaged. His sister. The one who didn’t trust men. She must have found a trustworthy one—or one she thought was an upstanding kind of guy.
    We’ll have to see about that. He reached for the sugar canister. “Where is he? Is he on the grill?”
    â€œNo, Heath’s getting some paperwork straightened out. He’s a doctor, but he has to pass the state qualifications. Do you want the huckleberry pancake platter?”
    His favorite. He knew he really was here, because home was where they knew you, and loved you anyway. “Sure.”
    â€œComin’ right up, brother dear.” She padded her way up the aisle, light on her feet, pausing to refill cups and chat with the regulars.
    An odd time warp overtook him. It was as if nothing had changed in all the years he’d been gone. Since he was a little guy no taller than the tables, he’d done time in this diner. The white tile floor was the same, the big drafty front windows were the same, the worn red Formica tabletops, too. The same families and customers had been frequenting this diner for two generations.
    The years seemed to slip away until he felt like the kid he used to be grumbling over the hot grill, angry that his fate in life was to have been born in a family that owned a diner. Not a health club or a yacht or a recording studio in Los Angeles, but a dull little restaurant in the middle of Nowhere, Montana.
    It wasn’t shame he felt. It wasn’t sadness at the lost boy he’d been. But his vision doubled, as if he’d taken a blow to the head. Regrets washed through him like acid rain, eating at his core. He’d come a long way from the angry, rebellious boy he’d been.
    In the air force he knew who he was. Master Sergeant McKaslin, squad leader, a pararescuerwho’d been on every continent on this planet—except Antarctica.
    He’d rescued downed pilots and injured soldiers from live combat and hostage situations and delivered lifesaving medical care. From deserts and jungles and hot zones all around the globe. He knew who he was in his uniform.
    But here, in this town he’d grown up in, he was a stranger. He was not the same Ben McKaslin who’d left at eighteen.