Soldier's Christmas Secrets. Laura Scott

me. And I—” his voice trailed off for a long moment before he continued “—I was badly injured. I had no memory, no ability to walk, my face was damaged beyond recognition and I still don’t know how I managed to survive.”

      “You—you’re James?” The blood drained from her face and she collapsed in the chair she’d just vacated. “I don’t understand.”

      “I’m Hawk,” he corrected. “I didn’t even remember my name for a full year. I only remember watching hawks flying over my head for days on end, so that’s the name I went with. I picked Jacobson because I had some dim memory of my father being named Jacob.”

      Her heart squeezed in her chest at what he’d gone through. Then she realized what he’d said. “But you did eventually realize you were James, right? And chose not to come home to me. To us.”

      “That’s not entirely true. I didn’t remember you right away, and when I did, there were only bits and pieces. I stayed away because after the crash I saw men combing the woods, searching for me.” Hawk’s expression went cold. “They were not there to rescue me but to kill me. They had guns, Jilly. And if the older couple who’d found me hadn’t sheltered me from those men, I wouldn’t be here now.”

      “But what about five months ago?” she persisted. “You moved in next door to me on purpose, didn’t you?”

      “Yes.” The teakettle whistled and he quickly removed it from the burner. “I came to Milwaukee because I knew you had family here and wouldn’t have stayed at Fort Bragg. Even then, it took me a while to find you in Brookland. Once I did, I couldn’t stay away. I needed to make sure you were safe.”

      She couldn’t argue that he had saved them.

      “I want you to know I won’t hold you to anything,” Hawk continued. “James as you knew him is gone. Hawk was the lone survivor of that plane crash. Where we go from here is totally up to you.”

      “Where we go from here?” The realization of what he was saying sank deep.

      Hawk was James. He was her husband. Lizzy’s father.

      And she had absolutely no idea where to go from here.

       THREE

      Hawk busied himself with making a bowl of instant oatmeal for Jillian. The truth hung between them like a dark storm cloud, threatening to burst, bringing snow and ice pelting down. Telling her the story wasn’t as difficult as he’d anticipated, but he wasn’t sure the truth had fully sunk in yet.

      He’d been honest with her when he’d claimed James was dead. That year he spent hiding in the mountains, recuperating from his injuries, had changed him. James had died in the plane crash, leaving a man called Hawk behind.

      That he’d survived when the rest of his team had died haunted him still. The Callahans would claim God had a plan, but he didn’t believe it. Not the way he used to. He’d lost his entire life that day.

      Even now, sometimes he awoke from a nightmare, hearing his team’s screams as the plane plummeted down into the mountainside. Only to realize it was his throat that was sore from screaming.

      His time on the mountain was a blur. He’d lost track of the days that had passed, the hours that had gone by while he watched a pair of hawks flying high in the sky. He’d dragged himself down the mountain, inch by painful inch, with no particular destination in mind. Thankfully, he’d eventually come across a cabin tucked into the woods. It was actually the garden offering fresh vegetables that had caught his eye. He’d been helping himself to fresh tomatoes and cucumbers when Jolene and Ken Thornhill had found him.

      Ken had carried a shotgun, but one look at Hawk’s scars had him putting the weapon away. Hawk had convinced them not to call the authorities, and the couple, being mountain people and distrustful of the cops anyway, had readily agreed. The Thornhills helped get him back on his feet. Their home remedies worked just as well as any hospital-based therapy.

      Except for the scar.

      And when the men with guns had come looking for him, they’d hidden him in their root cellar until they were gone. Hawk was convinced the men were soldiers sent by Barton to find him and silence him for good. Especially since the plane had gone down after conveniently springing a fuel leak.

      He owed the Thornhills his life. But they hadn’t wanted any form of payment. He’d sent them cash when he’d managed to work enough to get some, but the money had come back to him as undeliverable.

      Shaking himself from thoughts of the past, he carried the bowl of oatmeal to the table and set it in front of Jillian. She hadn’t said anything for the past several minutes and, even now, avoided looking directly at him.

      “Eat,” he encouraged softly. “You’ll need to keep up your strength.”

      She obediently picked up the spoon and took a small bite. Lizzy chose that moment to come out of the bedroom rubbing her sleepy eyes, looking adorable in her pink footie pajamas.

      “I hav’ta go potty.”

      “Sure. This way, sweetie.” Jillian jumped up from the table and crossed over to their daughter, steering her into the bathroom.

      Hawk put the kettle back on to boil, hoping Lizzy liked oatmeal. He had no idea what his daughter liked to eat or her favorite things to do. He’d noticed a dollhouse in the corner of her bedroom and now wished he’d thought to bring some of the dolls along for her to play with.

      At least she had her teddy bear. The one she’d clutched protectively as he’d pulled her from beneath the bed.

      He glanced at his watch, estimating how much time they had before they needed to hit the road. Less than an hour. Doable, but only if Jillian and Lizzy finished their breakfast ASAP.

      The teakettle whistled as Jillian and Lizzy emerged from the bathroom. Lizzy clapped her hands over her ears.

      “Too loud!”

      Hawk winced, nodded and moved the kettle, adding hot water to two more bowls of oatmeal. Then he carried them to the kitchen table, setting one down near Jillian’s bowl and taking his to the other side.

      Jillian lifted Lizzy onto her lap. It pained him to know Lizzy wouldn’t want to sit with him. As he watched, Jillian bowed her head and softly thanked God for the food she was about to eat. He was reminded of how the Callahans always prayed out loud before meals, but he’d never joined in.

      No one spoke for several long moments as they ate. And it was Lizzy who eventually broke the silence.

      “Can we go home, Mommy?”

      The question hit him in the face like a blow. He looked at Jillian, unsure if he should speak up or not.

      “Not today, sweetie.” Jillian hitched the little girl higher on her lap. “Finish up your oatmeal like a good girl.”

      “We can try to find a place that’s kid-friendly,” he offered. “I know a place that rents individual cabins. It’s not too far away and has a playground I’m sure Lizzy would love.”

      Jillian shrugged. “Whatever you think is best. We’ll make the most of wherever we end up, won’t we Lizzy-girl?”

      Lizzy nodded her head, her drooping pigtails bobbing up and down. His daughter’s hair was dark, like his, without any sign of Jillian’s reddish glints. But the rest of her features were mirror images of her mother’s. She’d be just as beautiful as Jillian someday.

      He finished his meal before they did and carried his dishes to the sink. “We’ll need to leave soon.”

      “Okay.” Jillian’s voice sounded resigned.

      There was no point in saying anything further; moving again was necessary in order to keep them alive. And while he still felt terrible knowing