Free Hope Rising by Stacy Henrie

wouldn’t stop trying, would you?
    The bird inclined its head to the other side as if nodding. A tight smile thinned Joel’s lips. Then you and I are alike in that way.
    Three more feet to go. A surge of confidence increased his belabored movements. He’d nearly done it—and only a couple of days after coming to the hospital. No one could pity him now. He might never be a father, but he was every bit the strong man he’d been.
    “Corporal Campbell!” Nurse Thornton’s loud cry startled the bird, just as Joel came within touching distance of the windowsill. The creature threw out its brown wings and disappeared from view.
    As if the bird’s very presence had been Joel’s source of strength, he found his injured leg would no longer support him. He caught himself from pitching headlong out the window, then slid to the floor, breathing heavily. Every pair of eyes in the room, including those of the soldier by the window, was now fastened on him.
    “Corporal, what are you doing out of bed?” Nurse Thornton’s glare blazed with unmasked anger as she marched to his side. “If you need to get up, you are supposed to call for one of us.” She shook a finger at him. “Stay put while I go get a wheelchair.”
    Too exhausted and demoralized to argue or explain, Joel was forced to wait there, his weakness and humiliation exposed to everyone in the ward, until she brought the chair. With his energy completely spent, he had no choice but to allow Nurse Thornton to lift him onto the seat of the wheelchair. The wheels emitted a loud squeak with each turn as she pushed him the embarrassingly short distance back to his bed.
    Agony berated his body, but he clamped his teeth against the groan rising into his throat. He’d brought enough attention to himself already.
    “Is there something I can get you?” she asked once she had him back beneath his cover. This time her voice sounded more contrite.
    An instant cure to his injuries. A chance to switch places with Ralph—to let him live, rather than continue this half-life Joel had now. The bitterness of his own thoughts shamed him. He should be grateful to be alive.
    Afraid any reply would reveal the frustration boiling inside him, he settled for a shake of his head in answer to her question.
    “Then please rest.” She tucked the blanket up around him, apparently noticing the way his body had begun to shake from his short excursion. “I expect such behavior from Sergeant Dennis there,” she added in a low voice, “but not you. You’ve been my model patient. In a few more days, we’ll get you up and walking, all right?”
    Joel turned his head toward the wall and promptly shut his eyes. He didn’t want to see the pity on the others’ faces at his folly. Only a few more days, he reminded himself, until he could try again. His leg would heal soon and before long he’d be back to running. At least he had to believe that.
    But not everything will heal , his mind argued.
    He would never be a father, and he wasn’t likely to marry either. He was kidding himself to think he’d find a woman who would agree to marriage when he couldn’t provide her with a child to love and care for. The other choice was to find someone who felt sorry enough for him to agree to be his wife, but Joel rejected that option outright. Better not to marry than marry where he felt no deep and passionate love. It would be Rose all over again if he did.
    His earlier resentment rushed in with all the force of a raging river. Joel clenched and unclenched his good hand, desperate for a diversion from his ruined plans. At home a good, hard run would have cleared his mind. At the front lines, attention to his squad and the details of battle life kept his thoughts focused. But here, confined to a hospital bed, he felt caged, a prisoner of his own grief and anger. What was he supposed to do now? The wings of his future, his hopes, had been stripped from him, leaving him to flounder, flightless, on the hard