A Soldier's Family. Cheryl Wyatt

come to the hospital to support Joel.” But not Manny. Other than her prayers, the creep was on his own.

      Amber pulled her coat on. “I’m sorry, Celia. Is Javier still acting up?”

      Celia straightened Amber’s collar, getting whiffs of Amber’s peach shampoo. “Sí. Smoking behind the high school. It’s always something. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” Celia raised her shoulders. “But listen, you have better things to do than hear sob stories about my wayward teen. Go. Be with your husband and I’ll wait here for Bradley.” Celia heaved a breath and braced both hands on Amber’s shoulders. “And…I’ll pray for Manny. And Joel.”

      After receiving the call this morning, she and Amber had obtained emergency subs, and met Joel and his pararescue team at the hospital. Every one of the guys’ forlorn faces slumped, relaying fear they were on the brink of losing the best friend they ever had. They obviously loved Manny, and he them. Maybe there was something to the guy she didn’t see.

      She’d be wise to keep it that way.

      Amber smiled and hugged her. “I appreciate this, Celia. I’ll call you when I know something. I’m praying for you and Javier.”

      “Gracias.” Celia walked Amber out of the house, then watched her pull away before heading to the corner of Haven Street to the bus stop. She glanced down at herself and groaned.

      Paint splatters covered her clothes. Not only that, she sported a shiner from rolling her lawnmower down an embankment at midnight last night. She’d had a difficult time explaining that one to Amber as they’d painted her living room. Rather than go back to school or hang at the hospital, they’d returned here to combat Amber’s worry by tackling household projects.

      Celia swiped fingers through her curls, brushing them over to the side so she wouldn’t appear so unkempt. Not that it would matter to the jovial school-bus driver or the special-needs students aboard.

      She usually wouldn’t be caught dead out of the house unless immaculately groomed, but this kind of emergency called for a hobo day. She just hoped anyone who saw her realized she didn’t usually go out looking so sloppy.

      After meeting Bradley at his bus, the two walked back to get in Celia’s car.

      “Where’s Mom?” Bradley tossed his backpack on the seat beside him and buckled himself in the booster Celia borrowed from Amber.

      “Sweetie, she’s with your dad. He’s having a pretty rough day.” Celia pulled away from the curb.

      Pudgy fingers pushed thick glasses up his freckled nose. “Whatsa matter?”

      Celia drew in a quiet breath. How could she say this so Bradley wouldn’t worry about Joel jumping from now on? “Well, it seems Manny sort of ran into a tree today while skydiving.”

      Bradley’s head jerked back. “Whoa, dude. Is the tree all right?”

      She smiled. Bradley was the bravest person she knew. “The tree didn’t fare all that well, and it looks like Manny may have broken a limb or two.”

      Bradley pulled a lunch box out of his backpack and opened it. Scents of juice, aged bananas and peanut butter swirled around the car. “Will Manny still get to be a PJ?”

      Bradley’s words jarred her to the point her foot went lax on the gas. For the first time Celia held a glimpse of what Manny might be facing. According to Joel, being a PJ was Manny’s whole life. It would crush him if he couldn’t skydive again or rescue people.

      She offered a tender response to Bradley, feeling the angst. “I don’t know, sweetie. Tell you what, that would be a really good thing to pray about. Shall we?”

      Lunch box set aside, he nodded and bowed his head. “I’ll dial and you can hang up,” he said, then started the prayer for Manny.

      When it was Celia’s turn, she could barely speak or see the road for her tears. His simple but heartfelt prayer had elicited something in her. Bradley didn’t see Manny in the same light she did. To Bradley, all the PJs were heroes. To her son, too.

      Celia ended the prayer feeling even worse for hitting Manny. Maybe God had brought Manny into her life to show him grace. Why did she always make life about her?

      In the school lot, a sulking Javier slouched on the curb.

      “I hate detention.” Javier huffed out a dramatic breath and slid into the seat.

      “Then stop misbehaving, Javier. Buckle up.”

      “Don’t want to. It’s a dumb rule.”

      Gravel protested beneath her tires as they stopped. “It’s not about rules. It’s about keeping your teeth out of the windshield. Buckle that seat belt and that mouth.”

      A scowl darkened his eyes as he darted looks out the side window where a clump of kids huddled near the curb. “Wearing seat belts isn’t cool. I’ll buckle down the road.”

      “You’ll buckle up now, hijo, or the car’s not moving.” Javier’s father would somersault in his grave if he heard the tone Javier used with her. Celia bit back an emotional lump.

      Why did Joseph have to die young and leave me alone to raise a troubled son who won’t talk to me? At what point did Javier and I lose touch, Lord? Where did I slip up?

      Maybe it’s because she’d loosened up on discipline for several months after Javier’s father had been shot while on duty during a DEA drug sting. At the time, it had taken everything she’d had just to pull herself out of bed each day. She’d thought it best to go easy on Javier since he was grieving, as well. Then Javier resented her erecting those boundaries and enforcing discipline again. What could she do besides pray he’d eventually come around instead of continue his descent off the deep end?

      Despite her inner turmoil, Celia put on her best “Mommy-Look” and stared Javier down through the rearview mirror.

      His brows knit, but he finally shoved the metal into the clasp. He then jammed fingers through his long hair, flipping it off his forehead, revealing the only eyes she knew capable of sullen scowls comparable to her own.

      Stringy strands fell back over his forehead.

      Her fingers itched as she pulled into traffic. How badly she wanted to get hold of that mess with a pair of scissors. But she needed to pick her battles, and unruly hair ranked low on the totem pole these days.

      “Where we going?” Javier asked, munching a bite of granola bar that Bradley had offered him.

      “The hospital. Manny had a skydiving accident this morning and—”

      The stricken look climbing Javier’s face caused Celia to clench tight the steering wheel.

      For a brief instant she saw the vulnerable little boy he used to be. Though his skin was a darker shade of brown than hers, he paled several degrees. Celia realized he waited for her to finish. Apprehension glittered in his eyes.

      Choosing her words carefully she said, “He’s alive, Javier. But he’s busted up pretty good. A few hours ago, he was coherent and talking.”

      Just not to me.

      “He’s having major hip surgery. We’re going by to see if there’s anything we can do, and to support Joel and the team.”

      Javier stared at her. Uncertainty replaced apprehension. For a second, she felt a connection when he held her gaze and searched her eyes for reassurance. Just like he had the day she’d had to sit him down and tell him his father wasn’t coming home. Why, Mom? Why do these terrible things have to happen?

      The same question hovered in Javier’s eyes now before he averted his gaze to the window, uneaten granola bar abandoned in his lap. The gangly teen with the monstrous appetite was gobbling her out of house and home. If he wasn’t eating, this news had really rattled him. Celia’s heart swelled with love, then compassion for her son. She hoped he’d be okay when he saw the kind of shape Manny was in.