A Soldier's Family. Cheryl Wyatt

through it but their marriage had melted under the heat of bitter, burning accusations. It hadn’t made a difference in Theresa’s mind that Manny had just come off a several-month-long mission and had no way of knowing the yard gate had broken or that Seth knew how to unlock a dead bolt.

      Then his wife had died shortly after divorcing him the same year. Authorities had never determined whether her overdose had been intentional or accidental. Regardless, it haunted Manny to this day that he hadn’t prevented it.

      He’d failed—as a father, as a Christian. As a husband.

      This morning he’d failed as a PJ. He hadn’t gauged the wind right when he’d flared his canopy. The jump before, Manny had a tandem diver strapped to him. The person could have died, leaving Manny responsible for yet another person’s death.

      At the hospital, he’d failed Joel as a friend by not trying harder to get along with his wife’s best friend. Everyone sensed the tension. Joel and Amber should be spending their time delirious in love, not playing referee between him and Celia. They should at least try to be civil.

      Seemed every time they came in contact with one another, it was like a match strike to gasoline-soaked flint. Anger flared. It had to stop. Surely they could learn to be mature about this for Joel and Amber, because like it or not, he and Celia would be in each other’s lives from now on.

      He was willing to try. Was Celia? Would he get a second chance to forge a friendship? Or at the very least, put on a pretense of tolerating one another for their friends’ sake? Maybe with God’s help and his newfound faith, he and Celia could truly get past their personality issues.

      Please don’t let me fail again.

      Whether she responded maturely or repelled his efforts was up to her. He’d throw the ball. What she did with it, he couldn’t be responsible for. For Joel and Amber’s sakes, he hoped she’d play like a good sport.

      Celia paced the hall outside Manny’s door, breathing in the antiseptic smells. What should she do? Go wait with Javier and Bradley? Take them home? She certainly couldn’t go back inside that room, knowing how much she’d obviously added to Manny’s discomfort.

      No one wanted to be hovered over or seen at their worst. She of all people knew that.

      She regretted traipsing in there in the first place.

      Then Nolan, oh, man, she could just shake him. How could he betray Manny’s confidence like that? Okay, so she’d give the guy a break. Obviously it had just been nervous chatter. She’d picked up that Nolan was the tenderhearted one on the team. He’d been worried close to physically sick about Manny. He obviously wasn’t thinking clearly when he’d mindlessly blabbed.

      “Miss Munez?” A nurse stepped from the room, followed by Joel and Amber.

      Celia whirled, noting immediately the peculiar expressions coating Amber and Joel’s faces. Celia cleared her throat and faced the nurse. “Yes?”

      “Mr. Péna would like a word with you.”

      “Excuse me?” Celia craned her neck at the woman and pushed curls behind her ear. She couldn’t possibly have heard right.

      “Mr. Péna?” The nurse hiked a thumb at his door. “Would like. To speak. With you.” She pointed a finger at Celia as if Celia didn’t know who or what “you” meant.

      Celia scowled and fought the urge to mimic the nurse’s slowly enunciated speech pattern. Like she couldn’t understand English or something. The kind of technique she and Amber used when teaching letter blends and phonics to students. Celia had a masters in English, for crying out loud.

      Though it practically killed her to be humble, Celia nodded and folded her hands in a gesture of gratitude. “Gracias.” Okay, so she still had a little mean streak.

      Headed for Manny’s door, Celia slanted her eyes at two newlywed grins on smug faces as she passed by on her way to—what?

      World War Three?

      Or a peace talk?

      Doom music sounded in Celia’s mind while she shuffled one foot in front of the other, as if headed for the guillotine. She drew in a fortifying breath, hopefully not her last, and pushed open Manny’s door.

      Ready or not, here it comes.

      “Hey.” He shot her a sheepish grin above covers that went nearly to his scraped chin.

      “Hay? That’s the first stage of horse poop,” she countered.

      By the confusion sifting across his face, Celia wondered if he’d taken a pain shot, after all. Then his expression righted itself. An uncomfortable tension drew the walls too close together, causing the air to get stuffy. She guessed the guy wasn’t one for jokes.

      Her shoulders stiffened under his scrutiny. “So…”

      “So. Why don’t you have a seat?” Manny gestured to the chair. Not the farthest chair from him, but not the closest, either. Okay. This was progress, right?

      Meeting in the middle. Coming to a compromise.

      Mechanical creaks sounded as he raised the head of his bed by pushing a button on the rail before looking back at her. “I wrote you a letter. I must not have got the right address because it came back to me.”

      She dipped her head. “Uh, no. Actually, I sent it back.”

      He nodded as if he already knew. “I wanted you to read it.” He stared intently at her. Dark, searching eyes. Ones she wouldn’t want to mess with in a deserted alley in a dangerous neighborhood. Like the one she’d grown up in.

      She flipped curls behind her ear. “Yeah, well, I didn’t.”

      This conversation was going nowhere.

      Why did he stare at her all serious like that? Did the doctor find a tumor in his MRI or something? The guy wasn’t cracking a smile for nothing.

      “I wrote another letter. Joel has it.”

      “And you want me to read it.”

      “It explains a lot.”

      “Like why you pawed me at the wedding?” She flashed a cheeky grin, but he didn’t laugh.

      Manny spread dark hands over the white blanket. “Look, no matter how we feel about each other, we have to put Joel’s and Amber’s feelings above our own.” His dark face set in consternation with the words. Like he’d rehearsed them almost.

      Wait. What had he said?

      No matter how we feel? Then that meant he still couldn’t stand her, right? He hadn’t respected her at the wedding. Thought she was easy. Well, fine. That worked both ways.

      Or could he just be feeling her out? Seeing if she could be someone he could thaw to and build a friendship with?

      He braced one hand on the side rail; with the other he adjusted a lumpy pillow behind his back. Wishing to spare his independence and dignity, she fought the urge to assist him. He finally managed.

      The pillow made a shushing sound when he leaned back against it. “So, let’s try to get along. At least pretend to when they’re around if we can’t manage it.”

      Pretend? Who’s pretending? Now, that ticked her off. “Fine.”

      But it wasn’t. Why did his words crush her so? Somehow she’d let herself hope friendship with Manny could be real and that she could mean something to him. Something more than a frivolous ending to a drunken evening. Someone he didn’t have to work so hard to try and be civil to. Absolutely no respect.

      Zero.

      Why had she hoped there would be? Because she’d grown to respect him through Joel’s stories. Admiration had grown through what contact they’d had since that day at the school year before last. The team had shown up to surprise leukemia-laden Bradley, who’d wished to meet a real