Fleming is living a safe, quiet life in upstate New York, but there
are days he isn’t sure he’s going to make it. The sole survivor
of a devastating grenade attack in Afghanistan, he is still scarred,
physically and emotionally. He hangs on to his faith and tries to
keep moving forward, waiting for the day that something—or
someone—can make him feel whole again.
her biological family and a fresh start. When her journey to find her
brother, Edward, leads to Hank’s front door, she is instantly drawn
to Hank . . . and instantly wary. With her ex-fiancé’s betrayal
still fresh in her mind, friendship is about all she can muster.
threaten, Hank’s protective instincts shift into high gear, and he
realizes everyone has their own battles to fight. But the road to
healing would be much sweeter with the right person by his side . . .
Cindy Giordano hurried across the parking lot, threw open the door to
Wallis and Jameson Architectural Designs, and stepped inside. A glance at
the wall clock brought a sigh of relief. Even with traffic nearly gridlocked,
she’d managed to arrive at work a few minutes early.
The receptionist didn’t return her smile.
“Good morning, Chloe. I thought I’d be late for sure. A tractor trailer
was overturned on Parkview and—”
The usually cheerful and perky Chloe sat chewing her bottom lip, and
worry lines creased the area between her brows. She strangled a No. 2
pencil with a nervous twisting motion as she rose to her feet.
“Is something wrong?”
“Ricky said to send you to his office as soon as you got here.”
Next to Chloe’s desk, a corridor passed through cubicle city to the far
wall where the passageway split into a T. The table that held the coffee
urn, stacks of Styrofoam cups, and fixings stood strangely silent. A man
peeked over a white partition in her direction but turtled his head back
into concealment when their gazes met.
“What’s going on? Why is it so quiet back there?”
Chloe’s pencil snapped in half with a pop. She flinched. “You’d
better go see Ricky.”
“Okay, I’ll do that now.”
Rick Jameson’s door stood slightly ajar. Cindy gave a light rap with her
knuckle and pushed it open more. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, please come in, close the door, and have a seat.” He motioned to
a leather armchair.
Cindy sat with hands folded atop her purse. “What’s up, Ricky? Why
the hangdog look, and why’s everyone so quiet this morning? It’s like a
tomb out there in the cubes.”
The boss ran a hand over his salt and pepper hair. “There’s no decent
way to segue into this, so I’ll just come out with it. You’re a good kid, and
I like you. But, I’ve got to cut back on staff, and I’m going to have to let
you go. Sorry, kiddo.”
“Have I done something wrong?”
“This has nothing to do with your performance. I couldn’t be more
pleased. We’re in a bit of a slump and not making enough money right now.
We decided to lay off the person with the least seniority. Unfortunately,
that happens to be you. Let me know if you need a reference for your next
job.” He slid an envelope across the table.
Cindy picked it up. “What’s this?”
“It’s your final paycheck and a little something extra to let you know
how sorry I am.”
She tucked the envelope into her purse, stood and extended an arm
across the desk.
Sadness filled her boss’s eyes as he cupped her hand between his.
“Thanks for giving me a job, Ricky. It’s been nice working for you.
You’re a good man.”
His lips lifted into a frail smile. “Right now, I don’t feel like
such a good guy.”
“Well, you are.” Cindy went to the door, opened it and looked back
before stepping through. “Take care.”
Bronx, New York. Her father, a first-generation American whose
parents were born in Italy, was an Army veteran who had served with
the 178th combat engineers during WWII. He told numerous stories of
battles, hardships, tragedies and triumphs. The glimpses he gave into
the hearts of many American warriors would later become the
inspiration for much of Irene’s writings.
high school, Irene met James Onorato, a soldier who had just returned
from Vietnam. After dating two weeks, they married, raised three
children, and are still happily married today.
protection technicians, retired from the nuclear power industry in
2014 and now reside in Louisiana. Readers can visit Irene’s website
at ireneonorato.com, and find her on Facebook.
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