Warning: This is rough first draft and only part of the scene. When I have more time, I'd like to finish it and polish it for a bonus page on my website. Do y'all think it's worth the work it would take or is this boring for you and a waste of my time?
This story is copyright 2010 by Patti O'Shea. Please link to the story if you like, but do not copy.
* * *
Cameron Brody leaned back, propping both elbows on the deck railing, and looked inside the house. His parents were in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner and he could see them talking with each other. There was a lot of smiling, frequent laughter, and he felt something around his heart ease.
Coming home on leave had been the right decision.
He'd almost stayed on post. Cam knew he'd changed a lot since the last time he'd seen his family, but then battle did that to a man.
His brothers had taken off hours ago. It was Friday night and they had things to do, places to be. He'd never been all that close to them, but the age difference made it hard to relate. Cam was twenty-four--he'd been through West Point and fought in the war. His brothers were six and eight years younger--still in high school and more worried about the brand of jeans they wore than about things that really mattered.
As he watched, his dad danced his mom around the kitchen, and with a faint smile, Cam turned, resting his forearms on the railing. He stared off into the woods that surrounded the property and allowed himself to enjoy the warmth of the summer evening. All his life he'd had his parents' love for each other and their love for him as a bulwark against the world. It steadied something inside him to see nothing had changed, that their feelings continued to run deeply. He wanted that, too. Some day.
Cam sighed and watched the birds flit around the trees. His dad had been in combat, he'd been part of Special Operations, and if he could make it through war, so could Cam. But damn, he thought he'd been prepared. His dad had told him what it was like, had been brutally frank about the ugliness of battle, and between that and the simulation training he'd taken, Cam had thought he'd be able to handle it easily.
He couldn't.
Nothing could have prepared him to kill, to watch men around him fall to enemy fire. Nothing could erase what he'd seen from his memory. He leaned farther forward, dropping his head nearly to his hands.
"Are you okay?"
With a jerk, Cam straightened. He hadn't heard his dad come up and he hadn't thought anyone would be able to get the drop on him, not as wound up as he was from being in the field. "Fine."
To Be Continued at some point if y'all like it and think I should keep on writing it.
Copyright 2010 by Patti O'Shea - All Rights reserved.
