Hersch piped up. “I live in Whiskey River. It’s not far and well worth the drive.” He glanced at Adam. “The cap’n gets on my case, if I don’t show my face around here.”

“Well, nice meeting both of you.”

“And this here is Sonny Milliken,” Jeffrey said, introducing the man seated across the table.

“Hey, Sonny.” Sam lifted up and reached over to shake his hand.

“Hey, good to have you here,” Sonny said. “Where were you stationed?”

“Bagram. How about you?”

“Did a few rotations in Bagram too, then Fort Hood. Been out about a year.”

Sam looked over at a younger man, an amputee, sitting in a wheelchair by himself, taking up a sketch pad.

“That’s Mike Rendell,” Jeffrey said quietly. “He’s home six months. Doesn’t talk much. Hersh and I have tried, but he’s not ready yet. He’s got a young wife and a little boy, yet he spends most of his time here.”

“They made him up a prosthetic leg and all,” Hersh said, “but he doesn’t use it.”

Sam understood. He’d witnessed a couple of brave soldiers lose body parts in those earlier years, and the lucky ones were the men and women who could accept their injuries and move on with their lives. Others struggled. He couldn’t judge them. He had no idea how he’d react in their position.

Once the introductions were out of the way, Sam was barraged with questions about his tour of duty. The vets discussed what it was like now, as opposed to what it was like when they were enlisted. The older men told stories of the past and Sam understood their bond, the unity that a soldier felt, being in an elite club of servicemen and women that cemented their lives together in a way nothing else could. It was an honor to serve and serve proudly.

Pastries and coffee were set out on a long table up front, compliments of various businesses in the area. Veterans Unite was a place that brought camaraderie even among strangers and Sam felt at home immediately. He thought of Joe and how much he would love this place, too.

He flashed back to grenades going off, the putrid smell of smoke and gunfire burning his nostrils. They’d been on a mission, one that, to this day, no one knew about except the special ops team that designed the plan. But something went awry, the insurgents were tipped off. And they’d been trapped. Sam didn’t see the gunmen aiming at his head and the next thing he knew, Joe was falling on top of him, pushing him out of harm’s way, just as an array of bullets, whizzed by. Joe nearly got taken out. He’d risked his life to save Sam, and he’d never forget it.

“You would’ve done the same for me. We’ve got each other’s back out here.” Joe passed it off as doing his job. Keeping a fellow soldier safe. And they both knew they’d never be able to share the story. Joe would get no glory in saving Sam. To the world, their special team was never there.

But Sam would be eternally grateful, and coming here, being among soldiers, brought it all home again. He couldn’t let Joe down. He couldn’t let Manny Messina’s heart be broken. It’d been hard not to simply tell Joe the truth himself, but he respected Manny too much to breach that confidence. Manny would tell Joe when he was good and ready. That was between father and son, and it wasn’t up to Sam to spill the beans. No, he could only try his best to help them and right now his Messina Farms mission took center stage.

*

The school bellrang and Autumn dismissed her second-grade class. It was the end of the day and several of her students huddled around her desk.

“Miss Messina, my mommy says if I get all my homework done today, I get to ride Annabelle this afternoon. She’s our new mare,” Kirby Rhodes said.

“That should be fun, Kirby. I like her name.”

“It’s my grandma in heaven’s name.”

“Well, that makes it extra special, doesn’t it?”

“Miss Messina. Miss Messina. My daddy is coming home from a business trip. He’s bringing me a surprise,” little blonde-haired Justine announced. “One time he brought me a baby doll.”

“I bet you love her, give her lots of hugs.”

Justine began nodding. “I do. She’s my favorite.”

A few more students came forward to share their stories as well, lingering by her desk. Their crayoned work up on the walls surrounding her, drawings and paintings and numbers, Autumn cherished her little classroom, and the students that didn’t seem to want to leave.

She glanced at her watch. “Boys and girls, I think your folks are outside by the gate, eager to see you. We don’t want to keep them waiting. Thanks for sharing with me today and I hope you all have a lovely weekend.”

The children reluctantly filed out of the classroom one by one and Autumn scooped up her briefcase and file folders.

Nicole Russell popped her head in the door. “Hi. Do you have a minute?”

Autumn was in a rush to get home. She had work to do, but she could spare some time for Nicole. She didn’t know her too well, but she’d always been friendly. She wouldn’t hold it against her that Sam was her brother. “Sure, I have a few minutes. Is it about one of my students?”