Free Along the Broken Road by Heather Burch

he’d been the cause, he stopped at the feet of those who knew her best.
    “Sure have a way with the ladies,” Edward joked.
    Wilma jerked, in unison with a muffled thump under the table. Edward jumped. “Ouch. You kicked me.”
    Wilma pursed her mouth. “Don’t you worry, Ian. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
    Wynona reached out and snagged his hand. “That’s right, honey. It wasn’t you.”
    Ian ran a free hand through his hair. “Could someone tell me what it was then, so we don’t have a repeat?”
    Both sisters opened their mouths, but no words followed.
    Edward took a bite of spaghetti. “Personally, I think it was you.”
    He shifted his chair so Wilma couldn’t land another strike.
    Wynona squeezed Ian’s hand in hers. “Charlee is a very special kind of creature.” Wide, expressive eyes rimmed with tiny wrinkles blinked up at him as if willing him to understand. “She’s unique.”
    “Yes,” Wilma agreed. “Unusual. Complex.”
    Ian coaxed them on, but neither woman said more. He wanted to understand Charlee. Needed to, if his mission was to be accomplished. “And complex, unique, unusual people frequently fly away from dinner without warning?”
    Wilma scooted in her chair. “No. Charlee feels the blows of the world deeply. She’s an empath.”
    A what? Okay, this wasn’t helping. It was like another language.
    Mr. Gruber dropped his hand to the table. “Oh good Lord. What they’re trying to say, soldier, is that you don’t get to know someone like Charlee in one night. She’s got layers. The strongest women sometimes have the weakest hearts. Charlee didn’t get upset with you . . . Whatever you did. You got into her heart and for her that’s a little bit scary. Understand?”
    Around them, the wind kicked up. Yeah. He did understand.
    “Eloquently put, Arnold.” Wynona released Ian’s hand and patted Mr. Gruber’s. Gruber made a face and pulled away.
    “So, what should I do now? Go after her?”
    At the same moment he heard two different answers from the four different artists. The men landed on the side of yes. The women landed on the side of no. He opted to listen to the women on this one.
    “Give her time,” Wilma said and the nod of Wynona’s head had her agreeing. Long white strands floated around Wynona with the breeze, a soft, encouraging smile on her face.
    Ian realized she must have been some knockout in her younger days. And a dancer too. And he had a suspicion she’d been a bit on the wild side. “Okay. Give her time. I can do that.”
    By the time he got back to his cabin, he wasn’t sure. Something about being around Charlee threw him off guard in too many areas. Only one summer then life could move on. With that in mind, he found the journal in the dim light the moon cast through the open window shade.
    Ian angled himself in the chair so that moonlight lit the page. Not that it needed to; he’d memorized so many of the entries all he needed was the first few words to get him started.
    Some were titled; some weren’t. But all were important, each one cutting right to his heart.
Charlee,
The eyes of my mind picture you. Standing on the front porch watching a sunset. It is sunrise here. Bullets zinging over our heads, but that doesn’t change the blue sky. Its umbrella covers us, reminding the boys it’s the same sky they grew up staring at when they were young and would lie on their backs and make shapes from the clouds. I can picture each one as a small child. I can see a father scooping each into his arms. It wasn’t that long ago they rode bicycles and skateboards, not that long ago they learned to drive and perhaps experienced a first kiss. Oh, I look into their young eyes and I see the children they were. But they’re men now. Each one a man with scars and memories no one should have to live with. Of course, it’s not all bad here. They’re building who they are and who they’ll be for the rest of their lives. They’re learning that all days