A Soldier's Prayer
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Jenna Mindel
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HarlequinChapter One
Monica Zelinsky had to get away and think. Think. She had just turned thirty and yet life as she knew it was over. From here on out she’d be considered a cancer survivor. If she survived. If the cancer didn’t spread. She prayed it wouldn’t.
Running a hand through her long hair, she grabbed a handful and pulled hard enough to sting. She’d lose this. She’d lose it all, after she’d spent over a hundred and fifty dollars for a highlight. Sure, it might be crazy to think of measly dollars when she faced a much bigger cost, but she couldn’t help it. Getting her hair done had always been something she’d looked forward to.
Keeping her gaze fixed on the road ahead watching for the turnoff, she gave full vent to her fears with a disgusted growl. Hair grew back. Her breasts wouldn’t, and removing them was one of the options she had to consider. She’d need chemo regardless of her surgery choices, having been diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer.
This kind of news should alter a person’s priorities real quick, but it didn’t do a thing to dissolve Monica’s insecurities. She’d never been comfortable with her looks, and now... She blew out another breath. She’d get even more uncomfortable before it was all over.
Tightening her grip on the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white, Monica took the two-track road that led to her uncle’s cabin in the middle of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.
She had a little less than a week before meeting with a referred cancer team to go over her plan of attack, they’d called it. A war waged inside her body called triple negative breast cancer. She was considered stage two out of four, and so far no lymph nodes were affected. She’d had no idea, no symptoms—not even family history—to give her a heads-up. This had come out of the blue with nothing to tip her off to a problem until she’d found the hard lump in her right breast.
Monica barely noticed the changing color on the trees. It was late August, but fall came early in the UP. Just like this cancer had come way too early in her life.
Cutting the engine, she got out and stretched.
It had been a three hour drive north and west into the middle of nowhere. Her uncle’s cabin sat deep in the Hiawatha National Forest that ran between Munising and Escanaba. She knew the way by heart. She’d been coming here since she was a kid with her family, mostly her older brothers, especially Matthew. He was the keeper of the cabin keys for her family, although for this visit, Monica had to get a set directly from her uncle.
Scanning the chalet-style log cabin with its dark green metal roof, Monica looked forward to a few days of solitude and more online research. She would pray, think and pray some more, and hopefully prepare for what lay 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 there?”
He’d always thought her attractive, even when she’d been a long-legged, skinny teen. The last time he’d seen her was over two years ago, at her brother’s wedding. Monica had been overly made up and stuffed into a shiny dress. Taking in the sequins on her T-shirt, he figured she liked the sparkle. She didn’t need all the glam. She shone from within and always had.
He cleared his throat. “My nephews. The older one is Ethan, and this little dude is Owen.”
“Hello.” Monica smiled.
Cash’s pulse kicked into high gear. That smile of hers always had the power to knock him off-kilter.
She scrunched her nose. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone would be here. Should I leave?”
“No.” Hadn’t he just prayed for help? It was as if God had answered that prayer by bringing her here. Bringing help until the boys’ mom and grandmother arrived. No way could she go. “Stay. Please. We’re going to grill out for dinner.”
Monica’s bright blue eyes narrowed. She looked torn, as if staying or leaving played a tug-of-war inside her head.
Cash wouldn’t blame her if she left, but he didn’t want her to. Not only could he use her help, but it’d been a long time since he’d seen her. He wouldn’t mind catching up a little.
She crouched down so she was eye level with Ethan. “What do you think? Do you mind if I stay for dinner?”
Ethan still gazed at her as if he expected a crown to materialize on her head. “I don’t mind.”
Monica stood and faced Owen, smiling once again. Her teeth were perfect and bleached white. She’d been one of two Zelinsky kids who had needed braces. “And what about you? Owen, is it?”
Owen hid his head against Cash’s neck, but he nodded.
“He’s sort of quiet these days.” Cash gave her a look that said he’d tell her later.
“Owen won’t talk. He hasn’t since our dad died,” Ethan answered.
“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Monica looked sad. Really sad.
Her bright eyes had always been expressive. Her smart mouth, too. He remembered that there wasn’t much Monica wouldn’t say, and that’s what had endeared her to him when they’d first met. He’d been fourteen and she’d been ten.
Cash set the boy down and spread his arms. “There you have it, the Miller dilemma. Why don’t you guys go wash up and then we can get the burgers made for the grill. Ethan, see that Owen changes his shirt.”
The boys ran for their room, feet stomping and door banging.
Monica smirked as she poked a spot of melted ice cream in the middle of Cash’s T-shirt. “I see you had ice cream before dinner.”
He tensed under her touch. “That’s what uncles are for.”
She cupped his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I’m so sorry about Cole.”
“Thanks.” Tempted to draw her to him, he stepped back instead.
Other than a shared embrace when she’d turned eighteen, Cash hadn’t hugged Monica since his father died when he was sixteen. Not only was she four years younger than him, making such things a little awkward, but any guy worth his salt didn’t mess with his best friend’s little sister. Not ever. Growing up, she had been resolutely off-limits.
Fast forward several years and his change of career from an enlisted marine to the Marine Corps Forces Special Ops Command made serious relationships with women off-limits, as well. At least for him. Becoming a Marine Raider had been his choice, just like steering clear of Monica ever since that one kiss they’d shared on her eighteenth birthday...
“Cash?”
“Huh?” Had she been talking?
“I’m sorry I didn’t make it to Cole’s funeral.” Monica tipped her head and all that gloriously long and stick-straight blond hair slid over her shoulder.
She had always been taboo, and it sure felt like she should be now. He experienced that familiar nip of awareness and like always, he brushed it aside, refusing to let the attraction grow.
“It’s not like we live close anymore. A five-hour drive round-trip makes for a long day.” Although Cash had been glad to see her parents there at the church. Matthew had made it because he was catching his freighter at port in Marquette the following day.
Ethan and Owen came tearing into the kitchen.
“Give it back!” Ethan chased his little brother who scooted out of reach waving a fidget spinner.
“Guys, tone it down.” Cash ran his hand over his whiskered chin. He’d shave when he had to, when he returned to duty on Labor Day, in a little over a week.
The boys tore into the living room.
Owen threw the fidget spinner at Ethan. Then the boys launched themselves onto the couch and clicked on the TV. The fight was over as quickly as it began.
He glanced at Monica and caught the turmoil in her face. “You okay?”
She nodded. “What can I do?”
He narrowed his gaze. “Not much you can do. These things happen.”
Again, the teasing smirk. “I meant dinner. How can I help?”
He blew out his breath, glad for a reason to click off the trip down his pain-filled memory lane. “You can help by making patties while I get the grill going.”
“Deal.” Monica looked into the living room. “Ethan and Owen, do you want to help?”
Ethan groaned, but Owen slipped off the couch and tiptoed toward Monica.
Cash exited the cabin onto the deck. The sun hung low in the sky, but it wouldn’t set for another couple hours. He turned on the gas valve, then lit the grill and shut the lid.
Leaning against the railing of the deck, Cash wondered why Monica would come up here by herself. He’d have to ask her later, if she stayed beyond dinner. Part of him hoped she would. The other part worried that being around Monica for very long was asking for trouble.
“Thank you, Owen.” Monica’s heart melted when the boy smiled, then walked the plate of hamburgers outside for Cash to place on the hot grill.
He might not speak, but the little boy was a charmer, with rich red hair and thick eyelashes that framed dark gray eyes. Eyes a lot like his uncle’s.
Through the sliding glass door to the deck out back, Monica watched Cash cup his nephew’s cheek as he took the plate from him. Despite his rough-and-tumble ways, Cash was a gentle guy. Even though he’d been Matthew’s friend, he’d always taken time to talk with her. He’d made her feel awkward, sure, especially the year she grew to be taller than him by a couple inches or so, but he never made her feel unwanted. Never the annoying tagalong that she’d often been.
The last time she’d seen Cash Miller was two and a half years ago, at her brother Matthew’s wedding. There hadn’t been any dancing and Cash had pretty much ignored her after a brief greeting. He’d hung out with her brothers and then left before she’d had a chance to really talk to him. She wouldn’t mind spending a little time with him now, just to make sure he was okay, and hear what he’d been up to.
“How do you know Uncle Cash?” Ethan climbed onto the stool on the other side of the island.
“Your uncle is friends with my brother. I’ve known him since I was a little older than you.”
Ethan gave her a haughty glare from golden-colored eyes. He, too, had a mop of red hair, although lighter than his little brother’s. “I’m eight.”
“I was ten when I first met your uncle Cash.” Monica grabbed the bag of spring mix she’d purchased, along with some veggies.
She would never forget the day Matthew had brought Cash home with him from school for the first time. Cash had taken one long look at her and called her a stork. She’d been furious at that moniker because it had been far too accurate. She had been a skinny kid with even skinnier legs, crooked teeth and a big nose. She still had the big nose.
“There’s frozen french fries in the freezer.” Cash entered the kitchen, opened the fridge and grabbed a can of pop, snapping open the tab top with a fizzy click.
“Yeah, so?” Monica tipped her head.
“So, I thought you could make them.” Cash winked at Ethan.
The boy looked at her, then back at Cash with a grin.
“Why can’t you make them?” Monica wasn’t giving in that easily. Especially in front of an eight-year-old watching them with too-wise eyes.
“I’m manning the grill.”
“You’re in here now, with plenty of time to take care of the fries while I set the table.”
“The boys and I eat in the living room.” Cash completely evaded her comment.
“Yeah,” Ethan added, with challenge in his voice.
Monica glanced at Owen, now lying on the couch watching a cartoon on TV, then back at Cash. “What would their mother say?”
Cash rolled his eyes.
Monica had her answer. She wasn’t the boss of any of them, so she merely took plates and set them on the island, while Cash grabbed the bag of frozen fries.
Ha! She’d won that round.
The space between the stove and island was limited. Her breath caught when she turned to fetch the silverware and collided with Cash leaning to throw the empty fries bag in the trash can under the sink.
Cash straightened and gestured for her to go first. “After you.”
Despite her hot cheeks and Ethan’s giggle, she managed a sarcastic-sounding retort, “Why don’t you get out of the kitchen?”
He winked at her. “Exactly what I was hoping you’d say.”
Monica tried to ignore him. She tried even harder to ignore the pesky increase in her heart rate, but that was a lost cause and had been ever since she was twelve.
She opened the fridge to gather condiments, then whipped around to set the bottles on the island. Cash was in her space once again. She dodged left, but he lurched the same way. Bobbing the opposite direction, they did an awkward dance that ended with her dropping the ketchup bottle.
Cash bent to retrieve it at the same time she did and they bumped heads.
“Oww!”
He laughed and gently touched her forehead with his fingers, rubbing where they’d hit. “I’m so sorry.”
She looked into his dark gray eyes filled with mirth and the truth slipped out. “You’re dangerous, Cash Miller. That’s what you are.”
His gaze darkened as it swept her face.
And there it was—that sting of awareness she knew well. Monica could barely breathe as she recalled the one kiss they’d ever shared. It had been her eighteenth birthday party and her parents had hosted a huge cookout. She’d walked Cash to his car because he’d had to head back to base. There, he’d given her the most beautiful crystal stork. To thank him for such a lovely gift, she had hugged him, and that embrace had soon turned into the most wonder-filled kiss she’d ever received.
Did he remember it, too?
She shut down that train of thought quickly. She couldn’t go there. Not now, not ever. She had a nasty medical battle ahead. One that had already chased away one guy she thought she could rely on. There was no way she’d let another man, especially this man, mess her up when she was plenty worried about her future as it was. If she even had a future long enough to enjoy.
Tamping down the panic that crept upon her ever since she received the bad news of her biopsy, Monica set the bottles on the island. Ketchup, mustard, squeezable mayonnaise, ranch and Thousand Island salad dressing all toppled over.
Ethan reached out to help her right them.
That’s when Monica saw the smoke. Glad for the diversion, she hid behind her trusty sarcasm. “Uh, Cash? You better check those burgers.”
He dashed for the deck and opened the barbecue lid. Flames shot up as he flipped the burgers over.
Monica looked at Ethan. “I hope you like yours well done.”
Ethan shrugged.
Monica got busy grabbing cups and the gallon of milk. Anything to keep her focus away from Cash. No way could she stay here the whole weekend. She’d never functioned well around him and it looked as if that still held true.
She’d stay tonight and tomorrow morning tops, then she’d be on her way. Maybe she’d head for a motel in Marquette. It was a pretty college town on the shore of Lake Superior. But Monica didn’t need pretty. She needed to think things through, do more research and jot down a million more questions. She needed to find some kind of inner strength to deal with what lay ahead. Other than her family’s support, she faced this disease alone. Could she beat it? Monica wasn’t sure.
All she knew was cancer waged a war inside her and she was scared. Really scared.
