Cloak of the Light

Synopsis

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. His dad was gone. Forever. Drew might only be twelve, but he knew the sting of his father’s death would last a very long time—a lifetime. The pain of loss was a fresh wound to his young, unscarred heart. There were no life calluses to impede the searing ache of death. He sat there, staring at the casket, sorrow hanging heavy on his soul, threatening to pull him down to where he could not breathe. Though the sun darted between the clouds, trying to peek down from time to time, the day was a dark one. Long faces, black dresses, tears, tissues, and “Taps”—the four loneliest notes ever played on a trumpet. Drew tensed up when the colonel knelt down in front of him. He struggled to look the man in the eye. He had quelled his tears, letting them spill only in the privacy of his bedroom. Here, in front of military statues made of flesh and blood, he wanted to be brave for his dad. He stared at the colonel’s whitegloved hand covering the perfectly folded flag being offered to him. His mother had asked that the flag be given to Drew, not to her. He wasn’t sure if the gesture was for her, for Drew, or for his dad. It didn’t matter. He just wanted it over. The colonel’s deep and sober voice resonated through Drew. “This flag is presented on behalf of a grateful nation and the United States Army as a token of appreciation for your father’s honorable and faithful service.” As Drew reached for the flag, he looked into the man’s eyes—and saw there the same sorrow crushing his own heart. And though he knew the words had been spoken thousands and thousands of times, Drew believed the colonel meant them. Tears brimmed his eyes as he took the flag. He pursed his lips to restrain his hurt, but it didn’t help. He felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder and knew that the pain they each bore was additive in a vicious cycle that provided no escape. He leaned in to her. He had heard that time was the salve for such a wound. If that were true, Drew wished a million years could pass in an instant to separate him and his mother from the pain of his father’s death, but instead the seconds took an eternity to pass. The day lasted forever. Drew didn’t want to feel the pain, but he didn’t want to forget his father either.  So he walked through it all, painfully aware that his life was forever, irrevocably changed.  And there was nothing he could do about it. A few days later, Drew and his mother, Kathryn, received a visit from Jake Blanchard. He had attended the funeral but was silent through its entirety. Kathryn invited him in and offered an iced tea. The raw emotions of the week were still evident as the odd trio sat in the living room in silence. Jake held his glass with both hands, either to keep it from falling or to give his hands something to do while he worked up the courage to speak. How ironic that a Special Forces soldier of Jake’s caliber, with years of combat training and experience, could be reduced to a hesitant, irresolute man struggling to say a few meaningful words. Drew had seen his mother have this effect on other men, for she was a beautiful woman, the kind of pretty that could not be diminished with dirt, sweat, or sorrow. In fact, the worse the condition, the more resolute her beauty shone in defiance. Her dark-brown hair usually fell loose across the right side of her olive-toned face. Deep-blue eyes framed by high brows and accentuated cheekbones captured the gaze of both men and women. Drew remembered how he’d blush when his dad talked about how beautiful she was, but he was right. As Drew looked across the room at Jake, he realized that his mother’s beauty was not what was causing the man’s unsettled beginning. Jake finally set the sweating glass of tea on the coffee table before him. “Ma’am, I’m not very good with words, but I do have a few I need to speak.” Jake dropped his gaze to the untouched tea and the ice still circling to find a resting place. His left hand mas