A Soldier's Prayer. Jenna Mindel
ahead. She was definitely short on courage these days, especially after Brady dumped her.
After being interested in him for years, Monica was happy when Brady had finally asked her out, and things had been pretty good. At least she’d thought so. They’d been dating for months now, but he couldn’t handle her cancer sentence and had cut her loose. His departure should hurt, but Monica was more disappointed than anything. She’d hoped for love but that hadn’t happened. Brady hadn’t been right for her. Too bad. She would have appreciated a broad shoulder to lean on.
Stepping inside the cabin, she noticed the window over the sink in the kitchen had been left open. A sink that was full of dirty dishes. Her brothers had been here earlier this summer, but surely they hadn’t left the place like this.
She climbed the knotty pine staircase leading to a cozy loft and dumped her suitcase on one of four beds. Staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows, she smiled. She’d always loved the loft because she could see the vast out-of-doors even at night, catching a glimpse of the stars.
She trudged back to her car for the groceries she’d brought, including a small cooler. Before putting the items away she texted her mother that she’d made it safely. There were several cell service dead zones in the area, but fortunately, her uncle’s cabin wasn’t one of them. She then checked her office messages that were forwarded to her cell. She ran her own web design and branding business, but there was nothing that couldn’t wait until Monday.
Opening the fridge door to transfer the cooler contents, she noticed that it was already stocked. The gallon of milk on the top shelf was nowhere near out-of-date. In fact it looked like a recent purchase. Odd. Monica’s sister-in-law said that Matthew had the keys with him. At least that’s what Annie had thought when Monica stopped by their house to pick them up. She quickly texted her brother to ask if anyone else had come up here. He worked as a first mate on a Great Lakes freighter, so she didn’t expect an answer right away.
Stepping down the short hallway, she checked the other two bedrooms. The larger one looked neat and tidy, with the bed made, the coverlet wrinkle-free, and shoes lined up under a bench that held a duffel bag. The other room was a mess—bunk beds unmade, suitcases open and kids’ clothes strewn about. No one in her immediate family had small children. Babies and toddlers, yes, but not kids big enough for those clothes.
Who on earth was here, and why?
* * *
Cash Miller looked at his two little nephews buckled into booster seats in the back of his Dodge Challenger. Ethan was eight and Owen had just turned five. Cash was giving his sister-in-law a break for a long weekend before she and his mother joined them at the cabin for the rest of the following week. Cash hoped that a men’s camping trip might loosen Owen’s now silent tongue.
Owen had a chocolate ice cream stain all over the front of him. The kid had taken forever to eat his cone and couldn’t keep up with the drips.
“Mom’s going to be mad when she sees your shirt,” Ethan taunted.
“No, she won’t,” Cash said.
“Everyone knows you’re just acting stupid.” Ethan kept badgering his little brother.
“Don’t call your brother stupid.” Cash looked at the eight-year-old through the rearview mirror.
Ethan glared back. “He can talk.”
Cash held back from correcting him. Owen used to talk a blue streak, right up until his father, Cash’s only sibling, had died a few weeks ago. The mind could play nasty tricks and Cash figured the stress Owen suffered from had manifested into a physical thing, affecting his speech. One he hoped wouldn’t remain permanent. It had to be a phase.
He gritted his teeth and silently prayed. God, please let this be a short-lived phase. Help me this weekend. I could really use some help.
One more glance at Owen’s T-shirt and Cash was pretty sure he could get the stain out. Even if he couldn’t, his sister-in-law wouldn’t be mad. Ruth had been beyond relieved when he volunteered to take the boys off her hands for a few days so she could settle his late brother’s estate without distractions. Though his mom lived with Ruth, she wasn’t handling Owen’s silence very well, so Cash had stepped up to help. He had to.
“Uncle Cash?” Ethan’s pot-stirring voice twisted his gut.
What was he up to now? “Yeah, dude?”
“Do you think Dogman will find us at the cabin?”
Cash glanced at Owen. The little guy’s dark eyes widened with fear. He could have cuffed Ethan upside the head for spooking Owen with that old Michigan legend. “No. He won’t find us because Dogman isn’t real.”
“Yes, he is, Uncle Cash. My dad said so,” Ethan challenged.
Cash clenched his jaw to keep from saying something he shouldn’t. His older brother, Cole, had loved telling stories. He used to scare Cash as a kid, much like Ethan did to Owen. “What your dad said was make-believe. Just pretend.”
Ethan scowled and didn’t say another word.
Cash swallowed his own rising anger. He’d had his fill of death and dying. A marine since he’d graduated from high school, he’d seen his share of friends go down, including his first commanding officer, who’d been like a father figure to him. It made getting too close to people a really dumb idea. There one moment, gone the next.
Losing Cole, who’d been in the prime of his life, to a freak logging accident wasn’t something Cash had expected, much less prepared for, and it hurt. It hurt real bad.
He’d taken leave for his brother’s funeral, but now faced the task of helping his nephews accept that their dad was gone for good. Ethan acted out, while Owen had retreated. Regressed, Ruth had called it. Cash had some experience with brothers in arms who’d reacted similarly, but he was no expert. All he knew was that grief had a way of leaking out in strange forms.
Like now. Hearing that Dogman legend tore him up pretty good. The fictional spooky creature was said to linger in the woods of the Lower Peninsula, but folks liked to spread tales of sightings in the Upper, as well. Cole was probably one of them spreading those rumors, considering he’d spent a lot of time in the woods. Owning a forestry business, Cole had been an expert woodsman. He shouldn’t have died like he did, toppling a tree that had twisted backward and fallen on him.
Cash gritted his teeth once again until he got control. He had a job to do and that was keeping two little boys busy with fun for the next four days.
As Cash pulled into the driveway, he spotted a sporty blue Subaru and his thoughts skidded to a halt. They had company.
“Who’s here?” Ethan was out of the car in seconds, running toward the door.
Owen moved much slower, looking wary.
Cash scooped up the five-year-old and followed Ethan inside the cabin. He nearly ran the kid over, because Ethan had stopped cold and was staring ahead.
“Is she a princess?” he whispered.
Owen inhaled sharply.
Cash also stared at the ethereal vision before them, of sunlight pouring in a window behind a tall female with long blond hair. Her slender outline glowed golden in the late afternoon light and the sequined T-shirt she wore shimmered like diamonds.
She made quite the royal vision in jeans and that T-shirt, but one he recognized well. “No, boys. That’s no princess, it’s Monica Zelinsky. How are you, Stork?”
“Nice.” She sneered at the old nickname he’d given her when they were kids. “Cash Miller, is that really you under all that facial hair?”
“In the flesh.” He hadn’t shaved since he’d left base and had a bit of a beard going. He tried to let Owen down, but the kid clung to him.
“It’s been ages.” Monica stepped forward, out of the haze of golden sunlight. “Who do you have