Free A Broken Christmas by Claire Ashgrove

into Major Renfield’s driveway and shut off the engine. Friday morning—the Major would be in his office. Betty, his wife, however, was at home.
    Aimee jumped out of the Jeep. Squaring her shoulders, she approached the door. If luck was in her favor, all the times she’d volunteered to help Betty with this function and that event still carried weight, despite Aimee’s divorced status. Her hand shook as she pushed the doorbell.
    Betty answered through the intercom, “Who is it?”
    Clearing her voice, Aimee thumbed the white button. “Betty? It’s me, Aimee Garland. Do you have a moment?”
    Either Betty had been standing on the other side, or she’d moved from her usual pre-lunch place in the kitchen in record time—the door swung open in seconds. “Aimee! My goodness, it’s good to see you. Come in.” Gold hoop earrings bobbed as she stepped aside and beckoned Aimee inside. “What brings you over here?”
    Aimee stamped her feet on the entryway rug. Her smile wobbled. “It’s about Kyle, Betty. I’m…worried about him.”
    Ushering Aimee to the white couch in the wide front room, Betty nodded in understanding. “Wilson is, too. Is he bad off?”
    “He’s not good.”
    Betty sat on the edge of the chair across from Aimee and folded her hands delicately in her lap. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I didn’t realize you were still in contact with Kyle.”
    So she did know Kyle had cut her off completely. Which meant Major Renfield had probably told her about Aimee’s numerous trips to his office as well. Nothing that particularly surprised Aimee—but a subtle reveal that warned her this wouldn’t be easy. She forced more strength into her smile. “I’m trying to help him get back on his feet.”
    “Oh, good then. You’ve got so much more strength than me. I don’t think I could bring myself to help Wilson given the same…circumstances. But then, you two have been through some tough times together, haven’t you? I mean…with your…loss and all. I don’t know how you do it, Aimee.”
    Good grief, why couldn’t people leave the miscarriage alone? Yes, she’d spent two months grieving to the point she lost her own sanity. Yes, she’d needed another month with some counseling. But she had moved on. It was time everyone else did.
    She changed the subject. “I need to know what Wilson’s told you, Betty. I found pictures of a man, an Afghani man, that Kyle tore up. I can’t help him unless I understand.”
    Betty’s mouth pursed into a hard line. “I…can’t. I’m sorry, but the little I know—” She shook her head. “You understand these things. You’ve been through six years of it. Before that, you served six years of your own. Things went wrong. That’s all I can say.”
    Standard freaking party line. Aimee resisted the urge to scream. She tempered frustration by standing up and crossing to the stone mantel to inspect Betty’s elaborate nativity scene. Fingering a delicate miniature sheep that stood amidst slivers of sliced straw, she said quietly, “Kyle’s crippled, Betty. Who knows if he’ll ever heal fully. I’m a nurse, and I can’t fix what’s damaged on the outside. But I might be able to fix what’s broken on the inside, if someone will give me something to work with.”
    “Aimee, I’m sorry. If you two were still married… You aren’t even enlisted any more. You can’t expect me to—”
    She dropped the sheep and spun around to face Betty once more. “Don’t give me the rank and file lecture! Right now, he’s facing the loss of his career—for Kyle that’s devastating. There’s something else though. Whatever that is, it’s more destructive than his injuries. He needs help.”
    Betty’s face flushed with chagrin, and she looked down at her stylish heels. “I could speak to the chaplain. He would know what to say to convince Kyle speak to a therapist.”
    “A therapist ? Come on, Betty! I spent one month in counseling. I lost a baby at 19 weeks. I gave