Return of a Hero by Lindsay McKenna Read Free Book Online Page B

room with her hand. “I fell in love with it. At the time my dad was over in Vietnam, and I sent him pictures of every room.” Her voice grew warm with love. “He was so excited for me. We traded letters for six months on how I was going to decorate each room. Of course, Mom got in on it, too. We’d send him swatches of material, wallpaper samples and photos from magazines of the furniture I someday wanted to be able to afford.” She picked up the cup, sipping the cooling coffee. “I think my letters and dreams for this house helped my dad. It was a piece of reality from a world other than the one he fought in daily.” Laura shook her head. “I still have all his letters….”
    A lump formed in Morgan’s throat. “Letters from home meant everything to me—” He caught himself. Damn!
    “You were in Vietnam?” Of course, he would have been the right age.
    A frown furrowed his brow. “Yeah, I was over there.” The words came out harsh and clipped.
    Biding time because she heard his anger and pain, Laura drank her coffee. She’d met many veterans who didn’t want to discuss what had happened to them over there, and she felt Morgan was like that, too. Gently she steered the conversation back to her father. “The living room was Dad’s idea—the colors and the fabric. And so was the kitchen.” Fondly she laughed. “At the time we were playing this silly game, I really didn’t have any money for redecorating. But that didn’t matter. At least it offered Dad some sanity while he was over there. And Mom didn’t worry as much, because she had something to do, too.”
    Morgan could no longer sit still. The ghosts were rising in his memory again—the anger and frustration along with them. He paced slowly around the kitchen. “So how did you manage to get this house bought and decorated?”
    Leaning back, Laura sensed he’d moved away from the table. There was a new and different energy around him, and she felt his tension. “Dad was killed in a rocket attack in the seventh month of his tour. What I didn’t realize was that he’d taken out nearly half a million dollars in insurance before he left for Vietnam, just in case he did get killed. My mother and I found out about it when the lawyer read his will to us three weeks later.” She rose, picking up her cup and saucer and moved carefully to the drainboard. “So I bought this house instead of renting it, and Mom and I took each room, just as we’d planned it in our letters to Dad, and decorated.”
    Morgan stood in the center of the kitchen, staring at Laura. There was a sad smile on her lips. “It must have been hard,” he said, his voice hoarse.
    “No, just the opposite really. I cried a lot, because he was a wonderful father and friend to me. So did Mom. But wallpapering and painting each room, then buying the furniture helped us expend our grief and get over his passing.” She patted the drainboard. “This home reflects the love we had as a family. That’s why I love it so much.” She gave him a shy look. “Maybe now you can understand why I wanted to come home from the hospital. I work through trauma better here than anywhere else.”
    Morgan tried to fight his need to hold her, but he walked up to her. Gently placing his hands on her shoulders, he looked down at her. “You’re like this home,” he told her, his voice rough with emotion, “warm, caring and beautiful. Your parents gave you a lot of love, and it shows in many ways.”
    It felt so natural to lean her head against his chest and rest for just a moment. Laura sighed as Morgan’s arms slid around her shoulders, drawing her gently against him. “Right now, I don’t feel very strong, Morgan.”
    She fitted against his tall frame, Morgan thought, a willow in comparison to an oak. The fragrance that was hers alone filled his nostrils. He fought to keep his touch light and comforting, not intimate, as he wanted. “You’re stronger than you think,” he told Laura gruffly, his